Wish upon the Stars (Original Superhero cultivation sci fi litrpg)

[drake_azathoth]

My Void self remained out of synch with reality as the illusion simulated the aura and physique of the person I'd copied, which, after solidification from Mornax, because a perfect duplicate that even higher ranked watchers couldn't identify without certain special skills.

Click to shrink...

which, after solidification from Mornax, BECAME a perfect duplicate

Thanks for the chapter! Shane and Zeke's relationship remains one of the most inspiring parental relationships I've read lately. Half the love I have for this series is how realistic yet wholesome the relationships in it are. It's like bizarroworld xianxia. And Astaroth is scary stuff.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

Walking among the employees at LeClair's compound as LeClair would have been just asking to get approached, so as soon as I was around the corner, I did a quick switch to another random employee who had left around the same time. I'd gotten a pretty decent catalog of potential forms from the stakeout, given Dantalion's range and the time I'd spent.

The new guy, Bill, was an unobtrusive porter. He didn't talk to anyone and was pretty much always moving around the complex, so I was unlikely to get stopped.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, I stopped outside of a large brass door covered in gears. It was set flush into the wall, and all the gears were built around a central wheel with a handle. You turned the wheel in in a complete rotation and the gears would withdraw bars of metal that were driven into the brick at intervals up the length of the barrier.

Reaching out, I rapped on the surface in a particular pattern. The sheer amount of insignificant details I'd picked up after a few hours of Dantalion research on this compound blew my mind. The longer I stayed, the deeper I got. Names, dates, food preferences, allergies, composition of items. Luckily this place was just a business owned by a C-ranker. If the materials were too advanced my senses would have bounced off. As it was, it had taken me quite a while to deconstruct the safe. I could do one rank higher with enough time invested, but that was my limit for Dantalion.

The clanging of my knuckles on the door rang out through the hallway, breaking the strange stillness of this area of the compound. It was quiet here. Unnaturally quiet. An oppressive, overwhelming stillness that made it seem like someone had killed everyone who had ever set foot here.

One minute after my knock though, the gears began to spin, and the door popped open, releasing a cacophony from the other side. Waiting to see if anyone invited me, I shrugged and pulled it open, stepping inside.

Marco sat suspended from a harness in the middle of the room, a large can of some kind of chemical accelerant burning in a tight, controlled jet. I'd have called it a blowtorch, but the flames looked like they were made of glass and had frozen mist coming off them, so I wasn't sure that was the right word.

In front of him, hanging from the ceiling by a series of thick chains, a giant mechanical spider dangled. He seemed to be working diligently to perfectly merge disparate pieces of metal with the torch, and where it passed, the surface became smooth and conjoined like they were being remade into a single unbroken plane of metal. He was wearing a pair of thick goggles covered in lenses that could be flipped down or up in succession, and he had several of them down and was observing the melting metal.

"What is it Bill?" He called, distracted by his work. "I'm on a deadline today. I need to get this done for the Rayken Expo on Saylar 4 next month, and the transit time is going to be hell. I have three hours to get everything sewn up."

"Think you're going to miss your deadline," I said wryly as I withdrew his contract from my ring. "In fact, I think you're going to miss a lot of deadlines. Your sister sent me."

He paused, flame hanging in the air, tongues off glass fire warping the space strangely before he switched it off. Turning in his harness, he pushed up his goggles to stare down at me in confusion.

His face was shockingly young. Not like actually childish, really, he was probably physically around the same age as me. But he had round cheeks and big eyes that made him seem excessively youthful. One eye was green, the other blue, and under his mop of curly dark hair, they stood out even more than they would on most people.

"How do you know I even HAVE a sister?" he asked suspiciously. "LeClaire can't mention her to anyone. That was part of my-"

"Your contract," I interrupted. "Yeah, I know, I'm holding it right now. I know what it says. But I don't work for LeClaire. Bill does, but I'm not actually Bill, as you may have already begun to surmise. I'm your sister's new boss, and I'll be YOUR new boss too, if you accept my terms and allow me to get you out of here."

He seemed too stunned to react. "I…what?" He was staring at the contract. "Where did you GET that?"

"From the safe," I said with a shrug. "Where else? Now you ready to go? Because I've got stuff to do today. I can explain the details once we're out, but your sister drew up a job contract for you to sign." I produced it and flicked it up to him. "Don't sign it now, wait until we're out, just read it over and let know if it works for you."

Frowning, he scanned the information. Anyone that deep into crafting would be heavy on the Focus, so remembering and reading over a contract wasn't hard. It was a little denser than most documents, but he finished it quickly, then tossed it back.

"You said my sister already works for you?" he asked slowly. "I can believe she helped write this. The rider forbidding me from gambling sounds like her."

"Yeah, I'm not letting you do that," I informed him bluntly. "It got you into trouble last time."

He scowled. "Because they CHEATED. I calculated every possible vector for that horse race. Physical condition, windspeed, I even modeled the potential interaction values and the chances of injury. They were doping those horses. The whole thing was a trap to get me into their service. I don't have a gambling problem."

"That's a relief," I said cheerfully. "That means stopping immediately won't be hard for you at all. Look, your sister told me that you only started gambling to pay for materials to grind your skills. After so long working for LeClaire, I'm guessing that's not an issue anymore, and I'll supply your mats once you're working for me. You'll be too busy to play the ponies anyway. So are you coming with me or not?"

From what Holly told me, the situation with Marco really WAS LeClaire's fault. Marco wasn't so much a gambling addict as a desperate scientist in need of funds. He'd managed to calculate several optimal strategies for gambling when starting out, and had made lots of money for his work. Unfortunately, he'd gotten arrogant and become obsessed with winning. He'd forgotten the first rule of gambling: never bet anything you can't afford to lose.

Honestly I had no issue with gambling, having been to casinos myself, but if this guy was going to be my Master of Development I needed him focused on ACTUAL development and not trying to calculate odds for horse racing. Hence the stipulation.

Holly seemed pretty sure he'd do it. She didn't think he really cared about the gambling itself, he was just unhappy with giving up when he was beaten. Eventually, he sighed and nodded.

"Excellent," I said with a grin. "Now, since we're here and not coming back, why don't you tell me which of these things is valuable so we can steal literally all of it." Breaking into the safe had me feeling heisty, and I had zero qualms about robbing someone who fixed a horse race to trick someone into eternal servitude.

He blinked at me, thrown by the rapid tone shift. "Umm…ok?" he said slowly. "There are a few valuable materials earmarked for other projects, and a couple pieces of equipment that he bought at my request." He raised his hand to show off the glass flame blowtorch. "Like this Freearuk Condenser. The fuel comes from the blood of a rare mutated offspring that belongs to an A-rank monster called a Valbeshir. They are extremely dangerous and difficult to catch, and that's when they AREN'T mated."

"Cool, pass it," I said, holding up my hands. He tossed it over and I put it into my ring. Marco himself didn't have one, presumably for this exact reason, so I was going to need to carry everything personally. Which I was fine with. I had the space.

So we spent the next hour or so grabbing everything that wasn't nailed down. And some things that were. And the nails that were securing them. We ended up with quite a haul. A lot of machines I had no context for, but also some really interesting materials. Various types or rare energy infused ores and metals, gemstones with special properties, and even a few plants still in the pot.

When we were done, I glanced around the room and couldn't help but let out a soft whistle. The floor was totally empty, with big outlines where machines had been, and only the odd bolt rolling away from the empty spaces we'd cleared. We'd even taken the door off its hinges (apparently it was made of some special silencing metal that was pretty expensive on its own), and now it was definitely time to go.

With the security out of the way and the contract retrieved, I dismissed Astaroth and called Murmur into existence. Seeing me turn from Bill the inconsequential porter to a six and a half foot tall behemoth in high grade armor wearing a frankly terrifying mask was understandably jarring for Marco, but after the last hour or so he was getting used to surprises, and he barely even flinched.

"Now that we're under concealment, I can introduce myself properly. My name is Shane Wyndham, have you heard of me?" He nodded slowly and I smiled. "Good, that makes this much easier." He hadn't heard of the cabinet positions, being much too young, so I filled him in on everything, including his own potential position. Then I pulled out HIS contract with LeCLaire and burned it up with a casual flex of Mephistopheles.

He didn't hesitate for a moment after that, requesting the contract his sister had written out and signing it immediately. I just laughed. "Impressive resolve. I like it. Come on, let's go see your sister. Don't worry about anyone noticing us, we won't be seen."

My Dantalion stakeout had given me absurd levels of data about this place, down to the bedrock. Murmur contained Dantalion as well, which was why it deduced and improved stealth from sitting in place for a long time, but after hours of mapping the complex, my Stealth was pretty much unbreakable by anyone who wasn't an A-ranker. It wasn't as good as Astaroth, but it was good enough, especially with another person on hand to hide.

As expected, we ran into no issues strolling out of the place, even after someone noticed the missing door and all the stolen materials and activated a lockdown, we strolled right through the panicking security like they weren't even there.

We met Zeke outside, and he was grinning at me with what I could only describe as overwhelming pride. "You robbed them!" he said enthusiastically. "I was worried you'd just get in and out with no benefits."

"They tricked Marco into eternal servitude," I said with dignity. "They deserved it."

Marco nodded along, and Zeke just laughed. "Of course they did, kid." There was a lot of subtext there. Zeke thought anyone who had something he wanted deserved to get robbed, and that I was making excuses. Which I wasn't. But it didn't matter.

"Come on," I told them with an eye roll. "Let's get out of here." As we walked down the street I left Murmur active, and I chatted with Marco about what it would be like working for me and what his duties would be. It was a nice, pleasant conversation. And if we occasionally got sidetracked discussing where to sell the materials we didn't need…well that was pleasant too. For me at least.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

After rescuing Marco, I finally had all of my cabinet slots filled. Which meant my only major business, barring the big festival if it was still happening, was the trial. Thinking about that though, it reminded me of another thing I hadn't done yet. "We should go visit Roland," I told Callie. "We got so wrapped up in Darren's death we didn't even think to see how he's doing."

I felt bad just thinking about it. Poor Roland had been a victim of an attack same as Darren, and we hadn't even bothered checking in.

It wasn't hard to get directions to his place, and as soon as we did we headed out.

Unlike Darren, Roland did NOT live in the main wings reserved for high level family. Despite his talent and ability, he had a small single unit house in one of the villages. It took a surprising amount of time to make the trip, given all the twists and turns, but when we arrived and knocked on the door, a familiar face answered.

Delia looked EXHAUSTED. The oldest of my cousins from the succession war, Delia and Roland were close friends. I'd expected him to have a parent or something around, but given how good their relationship had seemed maybe she was his sister or something.

She gave us a wan smile when she saw us. "Shane, Callie, good to see you both. Are you here to see Roland?"

"Yeah," I said sheepishly. "We would have come sooner but-"

Snorting, she waved a hand. "Everyone's heard about the trial. You've got bigger problems. He's still unconscious anyway, so it's not like he'd have noticed. Please, come in. Can I get you something to drink?" She let us inside, and I looked around the incredibly spartan housing. Everything looked…worn. Cared for, but very well used. Couches, end tables, all of it was surprisingly low end.

My surprise must have shown in my body language, because Delia chuckled. "Roland is an atavist. You know how some Wyndham's are born without the bloodline? Well sometimes distant relatives with no real family support develop it too. A lot of them end up in the Orphan Branches. It can be hard, because when we hit D-rank and come back, most of us meet our parents, siblings, or grandparents. Roland doesn't have any close relatives in the clan."

I could almost see the story play out before my eyes. Advancing as fast as I had made me pretty uniquely lucky among Wyndhams in some ways. It got me lots of attention and appreciation. Plus I didn't hit D-rank and have to scrape out a living here among all the clan descendants. The image of Roland working his way up from D-rank, living here and barely getting by, was a rough one to swallow.

"So, you said he's unconscious?" I asked Delia, feeling like I needed to focus. "What's wrong with him?"

"They don't know," she grimaced. "Some kind of poison energy. It's lingering in the wounds. We're on the list for treatment, but healers who are strong enough to fix it are rare everywhere, especially the kind we can afford."

I frowned. "Well what about the energy? Does it give any clues to who might be responsible?"

"Not that we can tell. It's tough to say, really. This IS the WCP, and attack scrolls are always on the table. Single use wish based poisons aren't COMMON, but they're not rare either. So it's impossible to tell who the attacker was. Wish, ability, consumable scroll, it could be any of them. Whatever it is, it's nasty enough that the B-rank healer I hired couldn't do anything about it."

"Can you tell me more about what's wrong?" I asked with interest. Purification and healing were two of my strongest powers. If it was a B-rank injury, combined with my Ten Demon Tree's ability to raise the rank for a form or ability temporarily, I had a good chance at being able to clear it out. Much like Mornax, Zagan, as one of my peak forms, were basically unrivaled at the same rank.

She sighed bitterly. "Like I said, we don't really know. The wounds are infested with some kind of lightning locust poison. It's not an animal, but it's not REALLY energy. It propagates, and when the healer tried to clear it out, the faster they destroyed it the stronger it got. Roland's body seems to be keeping it in a deadlock, but any attempts to tip the balance makes it worse."

"Can I see him?" I asked carefully. "I promise I won't do anything without understanding the situation."

I could use Dantalion to examine the wound before I tried anything. While I was pretty sure Zagan would be able to handle the problem, I didn't want to make it any worse than it already was. A thorough examination was the best bet.

She stared at me, her face conflicted, but she knew I had means beyond what most people were aware of. She'd been around for the Void incursion and seen some of the stuff I'd pulled off. Plus I was the upcoming Wishmaster (probably), and that wasn't an office you snagged without being able to walk the walk.

"Alright," she finally said with a deep breath. "Follow me, he's in here." She nodded to a small wooden door in the back of the room, tucked away in a corner I might not have noticed if she hadn't mentioned it.Pushing it open, she ushered us into the room where Roland was bedridden.

He looked TERRIBLE. Pale, sweating, hollow cheeks. Like he was being eaten alive. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and a wound on his side was buzzing with yellow energy insects made of some kind of…decomposing lightning. The yellow of the bugs was a sickening color, not like sunshine or gold, but more like pus from an infection, and just seeing it made me slightly nauseous. The energy was just BLEEDING corruption and disease.

Stepping closer, I triggered Dantalion, focusing on the wound. I winced as my senses locked onto the composition, and I started to shake. One second. Two. Then I cut it off, jerking back and turning to vomit into the corner, barely opening the mouth of my mask in time.

Callie lurched forward, but I held up a hand. "I'm good," I rasped. "Just…a lot. First of all, that's a rank higher than me, second of all, the design is disturbingly optimized. The parasites are evolving second to second. Every time someone tries to get rid of them, or his body tries to fight them off, they get a little stronger. I can't trace the origins because there have already been THOUSANDS of iterations, but I can tell you based on the frankly horrifying construction, this was most likely made by a wish."

Either that or someone who had spent their whole live refining this ability. But no one with THIS much juice in B-rank would have managed to fly under the radar, not even here. The Wish power was a unique ability in that it perfectly maximized stats. It found the absolute most effective configuration of power and created a skill that could execute that.

This attack was the result of a skill like that, I could just TELL. Which was bad. Because it meant whoever the Void had active here was a bloodline holder. Theoretically, it could be a coincidence, or just someone mad with jealousy about me becoming the Wishmaster, but given the timing and the excuse they used, my assumption was that this was Void related. It was the thing that made the most sense.

"Does that mean you can't fix it?" Delia asked anxiously. "He's going to die?"

"No," I reassured her. "It just means I can't STOP fixing it once I start. And it's going to take a while. Callie, can you help me out with some deduction? Don't hit it head on like I did, just focus on point of contact. I'm going to need everything concentrated on the process."

My wife nodded, and I triggered Zagan, elevating it to B-rank with the power of my staff. Life and purifying power rolled through me, bolstering my confidence in a way I hadn't realized I needed. The corruption of the swarm of lightningrot locusts (apparently I'd deduced a name by accident) had actually tainted my consciousness, poisoning me by association just from trying to observe them.

I reached out and took Callie's hand, making sure to flood her with purifying fire before she began her deduction, keeping her safe. Leviathan would have worked better but she couldn't upkeep two forms, especially not for a delicate operation like this.

Within moments, I felt information flooding the bond, and my hand shot out, clamping down over the wound. I poured a torrent of green flames into the injury, and Roland screamed, arching up off the bed. Delia, without even being asked, stepped forward and clamped her hands down on his shoulders, pinning him to the bed so he didn't throw me off.

It was appreciated, but barely noticed because as soon as I made contact, I felt a SURGE of overwhelming disgust as the fucking parasites tried to burrow into ME even as I started burning them away. Closing my eyes, I focused on Callie's information. The locusts were alive, and they were reacting, but with the read from Dantalion, I was able to react to their reaction, directing my power to where it was most needed.

When I'd first seen Roland my eyes had been drawn straight to the wound, but looking back I realized that wasn't the only spot where I'd seen yellow. The locusts had climbed into his veins and were burrowing under his skin along the length of them. The hollowing of his flesh made the subtle writhing yellow of the veins stand out even more, but I'd been so distracted I'd missed them.

Now though, I wasn't missing anything. I was following the flame through the wound and into his veins, splitting off parallels as I diverged to keep track of everything. Callie clutched my hand tightly, directing my assault, telling me where to give ground and where to double down.

It was slow. It was agonizing. And I felt like I was burning alive myself as Zagan continuously ground out the infiltrating power of the parasites as they tried to invade my body and Callie's. One step forward, two steps back. It was a slog. Step by step, I burned away the infection, cleansing Roland's body, and the deeper I got, the harder it became. As I moved forward, they started to adapt, resisting the cleansing fire of Zagan a little longer with each locust.

Not THAT much longer, mind, and I was still eradicating them too fast for them to make up the difference. But barely. The time dragged on, my mind splitting and groaning under the pressure. But I kept it up. I'd trained for this kind of pain. It was nothing to me.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but according to my scan ring was more like five hours, the last of the infection was purged. I dropped Zagan immediately, collapsing to my knees in pain and stress from maintaining a B-rank form for that long. Even as a C-ranker with a Chronicle, that was NOT fun.

Callie caught me, but I could tell she was almost as tired as I was. "Holy shit," Delia said in awe. "Is it…did you do it?"

"Yes," I said bluntly. "Yes we did. And you're welcome." With a groan, Roland, who had been incoherent for the entire time we'd been here, say up, body shaking and skin too tight over his bones.

"Thank you," he rasped. "Thank you so much." His eyes filled with tears, and he slumped back onto the bed to cry silently. I turned away to give him privacy, and Delia pulled him into her arms for a fierce hug. And honestly, despite the strain…it felt pretty good.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

Roland, to my dismay, didn't know much about what happened. "It was kind of sudden," he said fuzzily. "Like I wasn't expecting to be attacked like that so I wasn't really aware of what was happening. I know that's frustrating but I don't have any more to tell you."

I grimaced. I'd been afraid of that. "It's fine, I helped because you're a friend. I'm just glad you're ok." My face fell. "Derran wasn't so lucky."

Roland's brow furrowed. "Something happened to Darren?"

I'd actually met the two of them near the same time, and I knew they were acquainted. It was hard to break the news given the connection, but Roland deserved to know, and as Darren's first cousin, I felt like it was my responsibility to tell him so Delia didn't have to. It was hard to get through, and when I was done, Roland slumped forward, head in his hands.

"Shit," he rasped. "That's…soul destruction? Whoever did it must have been a ruthless bastard. I mean, I get wanting to prevent him from leaking information, but that's beyond the pale."

I knew how he felt. After years (which sometimes felt like decades honestly) as an Ascendant, where death wasn't the end of the line, having someone I knew just…stop like that was disconcerting. And Roland wasn't like me. He HAD been around for decades. Maybe centuries. This must be even more shocking to him.

"Look," I said slowly. "This is my fault, I think. They came after you because they knew I'd ask you to testify. If I make it clear you won't they shouldn't try again."

Roland's eyes flashed. "Did I say I wouldn't?" he snapped. "I'm no coward. You think this is my first assassination attempt? I refuse to be scared away by a near death experience. I WILL testify, and there's nothing you can say to talk me out of it."

I felt my chest tighten in gratitude. "Thanks," I said quietly. "That means a lot." I stood up, clearing my throat. "I'll leave you guys to talk. You just woke up and I'm sure you must be exhausted. Feel better, ok? And if you need anything, anything at all, you let me know. Even if I DON'T become the Wishmaster, I've got some pull with my grandfather. I can help you out if you run into trouble."

"Look at you," he snorted. "All grown up and flexing your connections like a real young master. Must feel pretty good, huh?" His grin was teasing.

"It doesn't suck," I admitted with a laugh. "We can talk tomorrow, ok? Just get some rest."

Nodding weakly, he slumped back onto the bed. Seeing him so exhausted and emaciated was almost scary. Roland was a B-ranker, and not JUST a B-ranker, probably the most combat focused B-ranker among the main bloodline holders. Roland was a swordmaster who focused almost all his wishes on collecting blade skills. His direct combat abilities were comparable to someone like Zeke before he'd broken through, and whatever had attacked him had done…this. I'd thought he was past it originally, but as soon as he finished talking he'd dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. His previous animation wasn't recovery, it was sheer stubborn willpower.

Callie and I said our goodbyes and left Delia to take care of Roland, and Zeke met us outside. He grimaced when he saw me sway a little. "That was reckless," he chastised. "I know you felt responsible and wanted to help, but that poison was no ordinary attack. Even with all your tricks you almost couldn't beat it. And it was KILLING him. Did you consider what energy on that level would do to YOU if it successfully counter invaded?"

I blinked because…no. I hadn't. I'd been so focused on saving Roland that I hadn't even hesitated. But he WAS B-rank. If I'd been seriously infected by the lightningrot locust poison I'd have been a dead man.

"He knew the risks," Callie said firmly. "And he asked for help. Worst case scenario I would have used Gossamer's gem to channel Adam. I don't believe some B-rank poison could counter the intervention of a god." Her tone brooked no argument, and she met Zeke's eyes dead on. "I'm proud of him for risking himself to help a friend, and even more proud for thinking it through enough to have backup."

He rolled his eyes. "You are a terrible influence, you know that? I swear it's his mother all over again. Teaching him to care about others and take responsibility for his actions? What kind of bleeding heart nonsense is that?"

Despite his words, his tone was wry and, if I paid attention, a little proud. Laughing, I turned to head back. While we walked though, I decided to consult an expert on the strange poisons. "So do you think it was a wish that made that poison?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "Ascendant powers can do almost anything, but the wish power is…sterliized. It's technically perfect, but you can always tell wish effects from normal abilities and skills for that exact reason. Everything is optimized. It's sort of soulless. The old man doesn't see an issue with that, and given how strong his bloodline is it's hard to argue it's a genuine weakness, but you can always TELL."

I hadn't ever really considered it from that perspective. Wish powers WERE exceptionally clean and optimized. Not as much as the Wish ability itself, obviously (that was where the multiplier came from, the Wish ability was perfected and could exert power beyond the sum of its parts), but I thought back to things like Benny's early Inventing Skill.

He'd always mentioned how it was so deep and perfectly complete. Of course, I knew that later on that would fade. Not only because of limitations on ranks and Wish costs, but also because technical perfection would have made it impossible to properly adapt Skills on your own once you reached intermediate. In fact, part of the reason I could integrate wished for stats so easily was because of that very effect. The sanitizing prevented me from having to deal with too much recursion, and I suspected it diluted the incoming recursion from other sources at the same time because of the mythology involved.

When we reached the suite, I said my goodbyes to Callie and Zeke and then headed for one of the reading rooms. When I entered, I was amused to find Crell hunched over the book with the charter in it. His eyes were wild, hair disheveled and he looked like he hadn't slept in months, despite having been fine when I left. "Hi…" I said slowly. "You having some problems?"

"It's fucking ENCRYPTED!" he spat, gesturing to the book. "All of it. Each letter is an encrypted LIBRARY of information. Just the short section they referenced contains about two hundred thousand books worth of content. LONG books."

"That…actually makes a lot of sense," I admitted with a sigh. "Otherwise why would people be so reticent to study it? If it was just a normal book, even with incredibly dense writing, no Ascendant would be worried about reading it all. How far into it have you gotten?" I gestured to where he sat poring over the first page.

He pointed murderously at the third sentence. "Here!" he snapped. "I'm HERE."

"Ok, yeah, that's not ideal. I think we're going to need to switch tactics." Crell had been planning to memorize the entire charter, just in case the prosecution busted out some shady legalese bullshit that wasn't referenced in the sections we'd been quoted. Unfortunately, with this news, it was basically impossible for that to happen in time for the trial, whose opening statement I had been informed upon return would be taking place TOMORROW.

So I had to cheat. Luckily, I was exceptional at that. I triggered Beelzebub, then had each of my clones trigger Dantalion. They FURTHER triggered Piece of Mind twice each, which, counting myself in Dantalion, meant FORTY of us working on the same issue. Then we all settled in and started deducing the charter.

To make sure Crell was able to actually read them, each of the clones began inscribing the information into normal books.

Crell, looking relieved, settled in and started digging through the books as my clones produced them. Without the actual DIFFICULTY of decrypting, he was free to just read the information, and considering he was a B-ranker with an exceptionally high Focus, he was finishing them almost as fast as my boys were writing them, at least individually.

Luckily for me, there were forty of us decrypting, and while the clones could only write two books at a time (one hand each), the third parallel was organizing and optimizing the process as they went, which was still enough to keep up with and far surpass Crell's reading speed.

Honestly, it felt kind of relaxing. Sure, Beelzebub took some of my soul strength, but the processing wasn't nearly as difficult as fighting the locust poison, and more than that, the longer I did it the more I optimized the process, perfecting it as Dantalion slowly sucked up more information about the book as a whole.

Book after book was stacked on the table. The original estimate of two hundred thousand volumes was based on the kind of overly condensed super compact script that most Ascendants favored for physical media. I did NOT choose to write it out like that, figuring that it would be faster to read in NORMAL font size. As such, it actually ended up being closer to five hundred thousand books.

Even with Ascendant speed and grace, it took most of the night to finish. I remembered Callie coming in at some point to bring me food, and I was pretty sure I'd fallen asleep at least once, though who knew for how long.

Finally though, I finished. With forty decryption specialists writing twenty six books at a time, I'd gotten far ahead of Crell's reading speed, and after dropping Dantalion, I couldn't help but wince at the throbbing in my head. Rather than soul strain, this was more like mind strain, and it was something I hadn't really experienced before.

I checked my scan ring. "Alright, the opening statements are tonight at six P.M. It's currently…six AM. I'm going to go sleep. I suggest you catch a few hours now and get back to reading when you wake up. You look like hell."

He slammed the book he was working on shut with a sigh. "Yeah. That might be a good idea." He took in the pile. "You can be kind of scary sometimes, you know that?"

I shrugged. "I've got some tricks. For now though, my sleeves are completely empty."

"Fair enough," he laughed. "Just get some sleep, boss. With all this transcribed you've done the hard part. Reading a few hundred thousand books won't be much of a challenge. The hardest part will be trying not to tear the pages while I'm flipping."

I laughed, because he was right. The sheer processing power of a B-ranked brain would put any low ranked supercomputer to shame. I almost laughed when I thought back to the decryption program the guild had used to crack that scan ring back on Callus during my first big caper. Dantalion made the equipment they'd used look like a tin can on a string.

After saying my goodbyes, I stood and stretched, then headed for bed. Callie was already asleep, and I just took off my armor and climbed in under the covers, drifting off to sleep. Helping Roland, helping Crell, and admittedly helping myself a bit with that second one, today had been a surprisingly good day despite everything at stake. As mind drifted off, I wondered what tomorrow would hold, and if any of those surprises would be pleasant. Despite my current optimism, I somehow doubted it, but I'd handle whatever issues arose as they came. Whatever happened, I would damned sure be ready, and that preparation was really all I could do.

 

[The_Tin_Warrior]

I've had this on my list of fics to read for a while finally got around to it over the course of November. Gotta say I regret not reading earlier lol, keep it up love the story, its been my pastime to read it before bed every night. On chapter 831 its good to see your still posting new chapters.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

After I woke up, I did my usual daily stockpiling of scrolls and then went to find Crell. He'd caught a few hours, but managed to read through a huge chunk of the charter, including the necessary sections. The fact that he hadn't managed to finish it demonstrated exactly how densely the damn thing had been encrypted.

I picked up one of the black books, opening the stone cover carelessly and flipping the thin slate pages quickly as I perused one at random. Books that could be used for this weren't exactly growing on trees, especially not so many, so I'd just decided to use Agares to construct them as I went. My clones had engraved the words onto the pages directly, which had been simple enough to manage, and then we'd stashed them back in my ring as they were finished.

Five hundred thousand books was a lot, but luckily, I had a lot of material to work with. The tunnels of rock and dirt I'd scoured in the heirworld had filled my spatial ring with nearly endless piles of materials for Agares to work with, and while I was now almost out, unfortunately, it had at least been enough for this particular task. Honestly, the books were starting to fill up my ring, but luckily the tomes themselves were MUCH smaller than the rocks I'd made them from, so I still had some space to work with.

As I flipped the pages, I studied the engravings. Dull green flames licked the insides of the carved lines, illuminating the information in the books even in darkness. Technically the fire was toxic, but I hadn't really prioritized that aspect of Agares in a long time, and it wasn't a danger to a B-ranker. Or to me for that matter. I made a mental note to hit the books with Zagan before I let any of my friends read them though, if they showed any interest.

"So, how are you feeling, you ready for this?" I asked as I slammed the book shut with a snap. The slate pages were sturdier than they looked, and while I COULD easily break them, casual handling was unlikely to do much damage.

"Ready as I can be," he shrugged. Double checking my armor, I nodded and we left the suite. I knew Zeke would be following behind, but he didn't appear or interrupt. I guess he wanted me to have some time with my lawyer. Speaking of which, I wasn't sure how this whole 'opening statement' thing even worked.

"So…what are we doing during this?" I asked as we walked towards the council chamber. "Because I already told them everything that happened. So do they want us to just repeat that or…?"

He shook his head. "Opening statements aren't about establishing facts, they're about establishing credibility. Remember, the tribunal is basing this off your suitability as a candidate, at least partly. You don't just need to prove you're innocent, you need to prove you're right for the job. Then they'll DECLARE you innocent. Whether you are or not."

"What, so it's just one big popularity contest?" I asked with not a little bit of frustration.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You DO understand how ridiculous of a complaint that is coming from you, right? Like…any Ascendant, really, but especially you."

"Point," I admitted with a grimace. Cultivation was ALL a popularity contest. "So I just, what? Talk a big game? Make him look useless? I'm still not sure what exactly I'm supposed to be trying to accomplish here."

He chuckled. "First will be the reading of the endorsements," he clarified. "That part is…kind of a game, honestly. Basically, you state your endorsements, and then he states his. He can choose to challenge yours, and if anyone you listed chooses NOT to endorse you, it deals a huge blow to your case. Same with him. Basically, it's a game of political chicken. You can claim endorsement from anyone under the sun, but the higher up they are the more likely you get called on it."

"Then can't he just call me on every name and hope he gets lucky?" I asked with concern. Not that I was planning to use any names I wasn't sure of, I had plenty of friends even among the high rankers. But still, there was a lot of room for abuse. And if one of my sure things decided not to back me, it could seriously damage my case.

"Nope," he said with a wry grin. "Because it's meant to illustrate good judgement as well as connections. If he challenges you on an endorsement and it turns out to be reliable, HE takes as much damage to his reputation and standing in the case as you take if he catches you in a lie. Which makes every challenge as risky as calling an endorsement to begin with. Of course, you can challenge HIS endorsements too, but as the one doing the accusing, he's less likely to take the risk."

I knew that the point of this was to flex the power and connections of the potential Wishmaster, and that it was supposed to be a layup for me to set a good tone. There was a reason that no one in my position had ever lost a challenge. But I was pretty sure THIS time wouldn't go so smoothly.

We arrived at the door to the council chamber sooner than I'd have liked. I closed my eyes, calling Sammael into my body and relaxing as my wings spread behind me. I just felt more secure with all the extra power. Not that it would help if shit broke bad, but it gave me confidence, and that was no small thing in this kind of situation. Pushing the door open, we followed the catwalk we'd taken before to the platform overlooked by the towering chairs.

This time, we weren't alone. Devon stood beside me, his mother behind him with a cold, peaceful look on her face. Apparently she was his legal representative. I didn't know if that was good or bad.

On the one hand, she might curb some of his dumber stunts, but if he LOST he'd be executed via soul destruction, and there's no way she'd risk that, so she was damned motivated to win this. Joy. I faced the council. "You have been summoned," Desmond boomed. "For a matter of propriety. Your character must be entered into the record, and then you will state your case. Do you both accept the necessity of these proceedings?"

"I do," we both said in unison. Devon turned to glare at me, but I ignored him. He wasn't worth the attention at the moment. I had bigger fish.

Nodding, Desmond turned to me. "As the defendant, you may be the first to declare your endorsements. You understand the rules of this phase of the process?" I nodded, and he smiled slightly, looking pleased. "Very well, you may begin."

"I claim endorsement by Celia and Nicholas Anders, S-rankers of the Church of the Red Revenant, Elijah Wyndham and Sasha Anders-Wyndham, Ezekiel Cavendish-" I listed a bunch of people I trusted. Sebastian, Fade, Alanna, Killian, all people I knew would support me if I claimed endorsement. When I got to the end of my list, I hesitated. I didn't claim any gods. While I was reasonably sure the ones in my family would support me, they were far too unpredictable. The only god I was SURE would back me was Atlas, and I didn't even know if he counted, seeing as he was dead. But there WAS one big fish I could call on. "I claim endorsement from Morgan Lark."

Devon's head snapped over to glare at me. "Objection!" he snarled. "I challenge! You're a liar! There's no way trash like you has the Vampire's support!"

Desmond frowned, but nodded. "Challenge has been given. Satisfaction must be provided. Summon the character witness." His voice was austere and regal, as impartial and implacable as a moving glacier…and nothing happened. He turned to glare at the other councilors. "I SAID summon the character witness!"

"But like…do we have to?" Warren asked. It was only the three former Wishmasters here, and Warren was the youngest. "He really doesn't like to be disturbed. Like I'm not scared of him," he hurriedly insisted. "But also, I'm kind of scared of him. Last time someone in the WCP pissed him off was Felix. Do you remember what HAPPENED to Felix?"

"No one ever proved that was him," said Cristoph patiently. "Or even that anything happened at all."

Warren glared at him. "I heard him SCREAM. We all heard him scream. For WEEKS. He kept begging us for help!"

"Yes, but it might have been a prank. We never even found him." Cristoph dismissed.

"THAT WAS WORSE!" shouted Warren. "We looked EVERYWHERE. We used WISHES! We didn't even find a body!"

Desmond sighed. "I'll do it," he said impatiently. Standing, he reached into his robe and pulled out a scroll. Breaking the seal with his thumb, he tossed it into the air. The world pulsed as it unfurled, and I realized that this scroll was WAY stronger than one of mine. I suspected this came from an actual council member.

He muttered a few words, and the scroll in front of him sparked with purple flame and then exploded. A column of fire shot into the air, and within moments it condensed into a familiar figure.

Morgan Lark, the strongest S-ranker in the universe, the unstoppable beast of blood who had battled a young god to a standstill from below the divine threshold, stared down at the chamber.

Lark was terrifying. This was a man who could fight S-rankers ten to one, could pin down a hundred enemy combatants his own rank with his Domain, and barely break a sweat. "Desmond," he said mildly. "I was about to have breakfast. You'd better have a good reason for this."

He nodded. "Apologies, Morgan, we called you for a matter of great importance. Our fledgling Wishmaster is on trial, accused of falsifying his succession war results and colluding with the Void. He has named you as an endorsement, and has been challenged."

"Hmm?" Lark said with interest. He turned to glance at me, and I felt my blood all freeze in my veins at even a distant simulacrum of a look from him. This felt…different than last time. Whether because he wasn't holding back or because I was now powerful enough to perceive this kind of pressure, I had no idea, but this didn't feel the same as last time I'd met him.

"Hi Bethy's dad," I said cheerfully, forcing myself to wave. "Sorry to interrupt your morning."

He stared at me. Hard. For a minute. Then two. Then threw his head back and burst out laughing. "I can see Elijah in your bearing, at least a little, but the attitude is pure Nicholas. I heard you gave my baby girl her first real job? Not sure you thought that through all the way, but I appreciate the sentiment. Bethany never has anything but good stories to tell when she calls home about her adventures with you." He glanced at Desmond. "He has my endorsement. Don't call me again."

Then the flames just…went out. Desmond frowned, and I got the impression that hadn't been supposed to happen. I was pretty sure he'd thought he was going to have to dismiss the projection. I sympathized. Morgan might be less effervescent, but he was every bit as frustrating as his daughter.

Speaking of whom, I owed Bethy a thank you. Her good stories about us to her dad had probably just saved my ass. Or at least, delayed its descent into the fire. They had NOT been so fortunate for Devon, however. I turned to see my cousin's face shift to a deep crimson. Before he could speak though, Desmond just shook his head. "You have accused and been refuted. I impose upon you, the first sanction." Above Devon, a phantom image of a stamp with a familiar skull and lamp design manifested, and before my cousin could object, it slammed down, crushing him into the platform. I turned to glare at Crell, who looked just as shocked as I was. Apparently that had been covered in a LATER section of the charter. We really needed to finish that thing after this statement.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

My speech was honestly kind of underwhelming. But…well, I could TALK, so I was doing better than Devon. Whatever that sanction had done to him hadn't been gentle, and his own attempt at an opening statement had been even more rambling and incoherent than MOST of the shit he'd been saying since I'd met him.

His mother looked thoroughly infuriated, but under the pressure of the triumvirate of former Wishmasters she had almost no room to object. Crell and I made it out unscathed and suspiciously quickly.

Despite that, I wasn't pleased. Crell seemed to pick up on it. "You look worried. It went pretty well I thought."

"Too well," I said with a frown. "I know this was just the opening statement, but someone is pushing him into this. I don't believe anyone is bored enough to arrange this kind of challenge just to waste my time. Assuming this is someone's plan, either that person is a complete dipshit, or we're not seeing all the angles. The BEST case scenario is that they have a hidden trump card that'll screw us later in the trial."

"Because if not, it means the trial wasn't ever the point," he sighed. "And if that's true we have no idea what their endgame is, and our one even tangentially solid lead goes up in smoke."

Blowing out a long breath, I nodded. "Yeah. So honestly I HOPE something goes wrong. Hope Devon has a trick up his sleeve. Because if not, then we're missing something BIG, and I don't even want to think about what that might be."

"Ah, cheer up," Zeke said, appearing beside us as if he'd been walking with us the whole time. He slung an arm over each of our shoulders. "If you spend all your time wondering if someone is plotting your horrible demise, you'll never have any fun. It's a completely pointless thought exercise most of the time anyway."

"Why, because it's pointless speculative paranoia and usually nothing comes of it?" I asked hopefully.

He snorted. "No, because they almost always are. There's just no point thinking about it."

"Thanks," I drawled. "That's super helpful." We made it back to the suite soon enough, and Callie and my parents were waiting to confirm I wasn't dead.

My mom, ever the worrier, swept me up into a tight hug when she saw me, and my dad gave me a solemn nod, which was his version of composing a ten page epic on his worries about my safety. "Shane!" my mother said anxiously. "You're ok. What was it like?"

Callie, oddly, was the most serene, probably because she knew what I was capable of best of all. It warmed my heart to know she had so much faith in me.

"It was awesome," I said blandly. "They had pizza, ice cream. They even hired a clown. It was the most fun I've ever had having the course of my entire life decided by a trio of ancient sociopaths who I neither know nor trust."

She rolled her eyes and smacked me in the shoulder, glaring at my dad. "That smartassery is all you. Now why don't you tell me what actually happened?" I chuckled, then filled her in on the events of the day. She frowned. "That's…nice. I'm glad it went well. But I'm not sure that's a good thing, exactly."

"That was my thought," I grimaced. "Not much to do about it for now though. Anyway, Crell is going to get back to reading the charter, but I'm pretty wound up from all this trial stuff. So I was thinking maybe we could head over to the big event. It should be a few days in right? We can meet up with some of the visitors, check out that stuff they have going on. Not just the local tournaments they're having here, but the main tourist stuff."

The majority of the dignitaries were staying in the Back Palace, a connected but separated space that wasn't too vulnerable or close to the core area. "Willit be awkward to show myself though?" I asked after a little thought. "I AM on trial."

"Which none of them have any clue about," my father snorted. "Do you know how BAD that would make the WCP look? Not just the accusation itself, but the result will either be you getting ousted or the humiliation and execution of a direct branch descendant. Consider the fact that none of the accusations against any previous heir have actually come to fruition, why would they possibly disclose something like that?"

I shrugged. "Ok, so then they don't know. What should we go do then? I assume you know some of the events that are happening? What do you suggest for our first outing as a family? Also where are grandma and grandpa?"

"The Back Palace," my mom said with a chuckle. "Apparently, my grandfather decided to send an official representative. Specifically, my Uncle Moon." At my uncomprehending silence, she rolled her eyes. "The Moonlight Pope. You said you met him once, right?"

"I mean, MET is a strong term," I laughed. "I SAW him once, during the god skirmish where Black Sorrow killed Raxus. Isn't it kind of a statement sending him though? He's the second strongest S-ranker in the universe, right? The Church's secret weapon? That almost feels like a power play."

My mom just shook her head. "Uncle Moon doesn't play games. If he wants to make a point he makes it. Grandpa can't even control him most of the time, though he usually doesn't try. Uncle Moon was his first disciple, and he's even on decent terms with my grandmother, which is frankly absurd. He's here to observe and to see me, I think. But it's definitely not a bad sign that he's around. Barring Lark deciding to attend, there's no better guarantee of safety."

I smirked to myself at the idea of Lark showing up in bunny slippers or something, having been summoned during his morning coffee or something. "Well, who did the Empire send? Was it Schrader?"

Schrader had been the third participant in the fight against the vanished gods. An Imperial King, and a combatant on the same general level as Lark and Moonlight, I assumed he was another of the top five strongest demigods, though to be fair I hadn't heard the whole list.

"No," my mom said firmly. "Schrader is an invaluable combat resource. The Emperor can't spare him for a symbolic event. Uncle Moon goes where he wants and does what he likes, so he's not leaving any specific engagement unattended. He's more of a troubleshooter. Or I guess troublestabber. Not to mention he tends to solve problems quickly. There's a reason he's considered second only to Lark below the divine level."

"I'm sorry," cut in Fade, who had appeared out of nowhere. "I couldn't help but overhear, are you implying that the MOONLIGHT POPE is going to be at this event?"

I blinked at him. "I mean, not implying. She just confirmed it. Why, you know him?"

"Do I kn-" he sputtered. "No I do not KNOW the Moonlight Pope. That's like asking someone if they know the Red Revenant himself!"

"But I DO know the Red Revenant," I pointed out. "I'm actually related to him."

"That's not the POINT!" he shouted in frustration. "That's obviously not a NORMAL thing to say. Most people don't know the gods. You're just weird. Similarly, I do NOT know the Moonlight Pope, the Single Sword Sovereign, the Butcher of Radiant Light,the King of the Cutting Edge-"

I held up a hand. "Did you hit your head or something?"

"Uncle Moon has a lot of titles," my mom added with a laugh. "You tend to pick them up when you're an S-ranker. Or even before that. You haven't got any because you've been growing too fast, but Callie has one or two. Godslayer, Demoncharmer, Night Witch. That one was from when she was training with my mom."

Fade looked aghast. "Pardon me for being in AWE of the presence of the most skilled and powerful practitioner of the blade in the known universe. The Moonlight Pope is the idol of every sword wielder who knows what an S-ranker IS. Even on the Heirworld we used to hear stories about the things he's done. His duel with the Devil Prince Corfel right after he broke through to S-rank was the stuff of legends. And his defeat of the Demon Dragon of Velneth Thirty? They wrote SONGS about that!"

"Yeah, really obscure ones," Zeke snickered. "I don't think I've even heard the Ballad of Velneth Thirty. You're a huge fan huh?"

Fade looked embarrassed, but my mom just smiled at him warmly. "It's alright dear, we all have our heroes. There's no need to feel self-conscious about it. Would you like me to ask him to sign something for you?"

"I'm not feeling self-conscious," he said defensively. "I have a perfectly normal level of interest in the Moonlight Pope." He paused, not meeting her eyes. "And yes, I'd like that thank you."

"Well, guess we know where we're going," I laughed. "So where exactly can we find your Uncle his holiness?" My mom snorted at the form of address, but she seemed plenty interested in visiting her Uncle.

My dad chimed in. "Last I heard, he was going to the Sword Dance Symposium. Some of the cousins have been talking about it." We all turned to stare at him and he shrugged. "I've been tentatively reaching out to a few old contacts. To help Shane. Most people are terrified of me, but terror makes everyone really excited to have you on their side."

I couldn't really disagree with that. But the thought of some big sword demonstration reminded me of someone else. "Should we stop in and see if Roland wants to go?" I asked Callie. "I mean, it really seems like the kind of thing he would love, right? And if FADE is geeking out this hard over Moonlight I bet Roland is just as big a fan."

"I think we should leave him be," she said gently. "He just got over a pretty rough ordeal. He can always go if he wants, but pushing him seems a bit intrusive. Why don't we just call and mention it to Delia. She can decide if she wants to tell him, and he can decide if he wants to go."

"That sounds fair," I said with a sigh. "He WAS in rough shape." I shuddered. "That poison was horrible. I thought MY poison was bad. Whoever came up with that was a monster."

I was kind of lost in the thoughts of what had been done to Roland, but I was interrupted by Fade reappearing with Alanna. I guessed she hadn't been eavesdropping, but he'd gone to get her anyway. She didn't seem as excited, probably because she'd come to power trapped in an isolated dungeon where the Moonlight Pope hadn't been talked about, but she did seem kind of enthused, so I assumed he'd filled her in.

I glanced at my mother, who chuckled. "Well might as well go get everyone. Make an evening of it. Even those of you who aren't blademasters might learn a few things. You can gain inspiration from almost anything if you're open to it."

Thinking back on how Alanna had helped me prepare for Fade's combat trial, I realized she was right. I could probably use the Sword Dance Symposium to help refine some of my stances. I had a bunch of them to work on, and I was always trying to keep my physical combat skills balanced with my Skills and techniques. It was all too easy to get reliant on my tricks and not bother to polish the basics. Combat was comprehensive, and I needed to shore up my foundations. Plus I got to see cool sword moves. Sounded like a good time all around.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

The trip to the Back Palace was surprisingly fast, but it was also kind of weird. We headed out into the hallways, making our way down into the underlayer, and then along the underlayer until we reached a large sort of enclosed tunnel. The tunnel was kind of a half roof over a descending stairway, and when we walked down it, we emerged into a large sort of domed atrium.

Aside from being vast, the whole place felt kind of empty. Most of it was tile, with an overhanging walkway of weirdly compressed grey carpet and glass sided metal railings looking out over a long, narrow walkway. Or rather, two walkways, each lined with small carpeted seating areas. The seating areas had letters and numbers over them, and they seemed to be connected to a variety of special archways with labels above them.
In the center of the walkways, a single long strip of black rubber in the shape of an aisle rotated consistently, with black rubber hand rails on either said atop sturdy metallic siding. One of those mobile walkways.

"Where the hell ARE we?" I asked with immense confusion.

"The Terminal," my mom said cheerfully. "You know how the Wishworld connects to all those points in space? Like the gate we came through. Well, the terminal is how you access them. When coming INTO the Wishworld you have to come in through an entry point, but leaving you can access them all through the terminal."

That was complicated, but honestly pretty smart. Giving outsiders access to the core of the Wishworld would have been stupid, but allowing our own people to traverse most of the known universe in much shorter periods of time was brilliant. I marveled at the spatial engineering it must have taken. "So one of these leads to the Back Palace?" I asked as we descended from the overhanging walkway.

"No, that's at the end of the moving path," she gestured to the rubber walkway. "The Terminal also connects most places inside the Wishworld. You just need to know where to get off the path."

Sure enough, there were a series of small gates in the railing of the rubber path, each corresponding to either a sitting area or one of the open hallways that led off seemingly deeper into the Terminal. I blinked around the place. It felt…sterile. Alien. Unwelcoming. "The old man's aesthetic taste isn't exactly warm and homey," I observed.

"No, but it is efficient," my dad said with a shrug. "The old man doesn't worry about homey. He just wants efficiency. The Terminal is pretty much perfectly designed for him. Now everyone hop on, we have a ways to go before we hit the right hallway to access the Back Palace."

I nodded along, but I was already imagining the scene we were heading toward. I had no idea what a Sword Dance Symposium would be like, BUT I had a swordmaster on hand. I turned to Fade. "So, what exactly is the Sword Dance Symposium about?"

"Swords," he said with a smirk. At my unamused look, he rolled his eyes. "Ok. Well, the blade is infinite. It contains endless mysteries, and any technique can be a sword technique if you have the imagination. But there are a certain number of major categories that most sword techniques fall into."
I wasn't familiar with any categorization, but it sounded interesting, especially since Callie was following a sword path with Gossamer now. "Such as?"

"Well, about ninety percent of all swordmasters fall into the first category," he said contemplatively. "I call that one 'cut anything'. It's what it says on the tin. The pursuit of raw severing power. It's the most brute force and simplistic of the sword categories, but it's also the most accessible. People in this category just want to split things in two. Metal, people, planets. All sword paths can lead to the peak, and that one can be as deadly as anything. The Moonlight Pope pursues that path. He swings his sword and the world parts.

"The second category is what I like to call 'cut nothing'," he continued. "Now, this obviously isn't an inability to cut, but rather the ability to exercise a choice. Swinging your sword at something doesn't mean you want to sever it. Masters on this path can pass through objects without actually cutting them, and it lets you do things like bypassing armor. Most sword nurturers are also in this category."

He was about to move on, but paused. "To clarify, the ability to not cut something has a prerequisite of being ABLE to cut it. You can't decide not to cut an object if you're unable to cut through it to begin with, that's not a choice, it's just incompetence. So the second category is pretty intertwined with the first, it's just a different path."

"And the last?" I said, having a feeling he was going to stop at three. Whether a fate sense thing or just intuition I had no idea, but I was sure there was only one more.

"Cut everything," he said with a smile. "This category focuses on mysterious techniques. The ability to sever emotions, dreams, even destiny. Being able to cut the uncuttable. It's one of the rarest subdivisions of swordmasters.

"Of course, once you reach a high enough level they all tend to blend together," he admitted. "All paths converge at the peak. The sword, in its ultimate form, serves the will of the wielder. It cuts what you want it to. Legends say that Sword gods can sever the firmament and ascend to higher planes with a single swing. There aren't any left, so we can't ask them, but considering how incredibly combat focused they are, they don't usually go down easy, so maybe their absence is its own form of proof."

I knew you could become a god on any Path, but that reaching divinity through a Path basically closed that Path behind you. Anyone else who tried to walk it would be competing with a literal deity for renown, and their chances were slim. I supposed sword paths were more of a broad spectrum of paths than a singular path that could be closed. After all, lots of S-rankers used swords. I was curious how it worked though, so I asked Fade.

"It's complicated," he admitted. "Reaching divinity through the sword happens fairly often. It's a common weapon. But that doesn't make you a SWORD god. Sword gods are rare, because in order to become one, you have to essentially monopolize the reputation of every swordmaster. It requires talent so absurd, skill so polished, that from the records I've seen, there hasn't been a true Sword god since before the Aetherbright Empire."

"That's not entirely based on talent requirements," my dad added. "The Sword Path is difficult and time consuming. It's very basic, which means it has extremely high limits, but it also means it's hard to stand out. Paths that INCLUDE the sword, like he said, are common. Void swords, time swords, nightmare swords, swords of holy light, I've seen more sword Paths than I can count, but sticking to JUST the sword…it's a challenge." He raised an eyebrow at Fade. "You didn't do it, did you?"

Fade grimaced. "No. My Path is mixed with metal control. The Hall of Steel isn't the Hall of the Sword, for a reason. Purists have low ceilings. At least, unless they're a lot scarier than me."

His comment reminded me of the Spear Legion, a faction I'd met back on Callus. It seemed like they were purists like he was talking about, and I thought they might have even mentioned something about that at some point, though I didn't remember the details. "I'm guessing the Moonlight Pope isn't a purist either?" I asked, hoping to make my bodyguard feel better.

"Nope," my mom said immediately. "Uncle Moon's Path is the sharpness of the waxing crescent. He embodies the moon cutting the sky as it reaches its apex. It's a cleaner Path than most, honestly. By the time people hit A-rank, Path's tend to be muddled. That's part of why people Author Chronicles. At B-rank you Bind them, and each page enhances an aspect of you Path and abilities. At A-rank you Author those pages, shaping them to more singularly focus on your chosen Path. Uncle Moon has managed a level of refinement in his Saga that most people don't manage. That means he can…" she trailed off, glancing at me. "Nevermind, don't want to get into that right now. You'll find out about it later."

I grimaced, but understood. My parents and Zeke sometimes declined to bring up aspects of cultivation, not because they didn't want to share, but because focusing on things too early could result in mistakes. Like my early presumption that Domains were powerful and should be acquired early on. That was TECHNICALLY true, but getting a Domain without a Chronicle could cripple or even kill you. Accepting a Domain seed from someone else could bypass that issue, but there were all sorts of rules for that, or you might end up locking yourself behind a Path that was already occupied. Bethy was the only person I knew who had managed it successfully, and that was because Morgan Lark had violently murdered pretty much every person on the Path of the Vampire aside from his own family.

Fade looked intrigued, but he forced himself to focus. "Anyway, the Sword Dance Symposium caters to all three categories. Everyone can learn something at an event like this. And the Moonlight Pope being in attendance means we might get to see him unleash his Path. Any technique demonstration from someone like him is bound to be great inspiration."

"Isn't that dangerous though?" I asked. "Like what if his Path is so awe inspiring it changes how you think about the sword and your own Path becomes a derivative of his?"

"Less of an issue with the sword," he assured me. "Swordmasters are all obsessed maniacs. Plus like I said, it all mostly leads to the same place. Regardless, there's always more to learn, and being able to make it your own is a prerequisite of any Path or Skill. Any high ranking Ascendant can knock you off the Path if you don't have a solid mindset, doesn't matter what weapon they use."

That…was a good point. My own Path was so weird and off beat that it was nearly impossible to derail me. I could incorporate almost any concept and keep my core direction intact. It was one of the major strengths of DS Mastery and the resulting Solid Path, in my opinion.

So I was looking forward to learning more and applying it to my current power system. I was looking forward to whatever big change I could feel coming, and adding in some crazy overpowered sword mastery technique wasn't out of the question if something caught my eye at the Symposium.

"Well, enough talking about it," my dad chuckled as he pushed against the rail, sliding open a gate and stepping out onto the tile. We followed him out and he led us down a long tiled hallway. "You can experience the event in person. Because we're here." As we emerged from the hallway, he held out a hand, gesturing to take in the huge fairground covered in straw and orange yellow leaves.

I stared in awe as I processed it all myself. Swords were everywhere. People were juggling them, carving with them, sculpting them from ice, throwing them, riding them, swallowing them, BREATHING them like sword dragons. If you could imagine something to do with a sword, someone here was doing it.

Fade was mesmerized, and I didn't blame him. It was a shocking sight. Callie stepped up next to me, eyes gleaming, and I grinned as I felt how exhilarated she was. She had a lot to learn here too. Maybe I could ask my mom's Uncle Moon to give her lessons. After Aiden of course. By the time I got back from the Void, Callie was going to be even more terrifying than she was now. I couldn't wait.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

The Sword Dance Symposium was in full swing, pun intended. And our particular target was at the center of the action. Looking…very bored. The Moonlight Pope, or 'Uncle Moon' as my mom called him, was a tall stately man with grey hair. Not the grey of old age, but the silvery white-grey of moonlight off polished steel, a uniform color that told me his hair was naturally that color, or that he dyed it frequently.

His expression wasn't half as bright as his hair color as he sat on a raised dais next to a dozen other swordsmen, listening to them all chatter with his chin on a palm as he stared down at a pair of D-rankers duelling.

"That is…disgraceful," Fade hissed. "Look at those idiots. Flailing their blades around like sharp baseball bats. No artistry, no intent. Imagine displaying such incompetence in front of his excellency." His tone was scornful and dismissive, but between his hard gaze and the tightness in his jaw, I could tell he was genuinely offended. I half expected him to attack them.

Luckily, that didn't seem to be necessary, because the Moonlight Pope's stern iron grey gaze, which had been drifting over the contestants, found our group, and a smile split his mature face.

Unlike most of the Ascendants I met, the Moonlight Pope didn't look young OR old. He was pretty firmly middle aged. He looked somewhere around a well preserved forty, which meant he as MUCH older than that. Being the oldest of the Red Revenant's disciples, that wasn't surprising. He would probably have been around when the Revenant was still a mortal, or at least not long after. Still, as a Demigod his lifespan was upwards of fifty thousand years, so it wasn't like sticking around for a while was unusual.

He took a step, and suddenly, he was standing in front of us. It took me a second to process, because it happened instantly. It wasn't speed, there would have been air displacement, he just kind of…ignored the space. I couldn't resist trying to see what had happened, so I focused on Dantalion, shifting my form to pick up any traces. I doubted I'd get any legitimate results because whatever he'd done was WAY out of my weight class, but I wanted to at least check.

To my surprise, I WAS able to pick something up. Or rather, I couldn't NOT pick it up. As soon as I turned my eyes on the empty space, I screamed and doubled over, grabbing my face.

Blood flowed from my eyes sockets in rivers, and I could feel that my eyeballs had been literally clawed from my skull somehow. Given my pain tolerance, the scream had been more of a shout of pain, but I clamped down on even that, hissing between my teeth as I got the agony under control.

"Shane!" my mom said worriedly. "What happened?"

"Ah, that was my mistake," an apologetic voice rumbled. "Sorry about that, Sasha. I used a quick sword step to cross the distance. I wasn't aware your son had such an astonishing analysis technique. I'm surprised he could even spot the traces. That said, just because you CAN do something does not mean you should. Here, allow me." There was a snap, and suddenly…I was fine.

I blinked, shaking my head to clear the blood from under my mask, wiping under my chin with a rag I pulled from my ring. "Sorry," I rasped. "Was just curious. Though now I'm even MORE curious how you fixed it."

"The energy cut your eyes when you tried to study it," he shrugged. "So I cut the damage, and then they were fine."

Demigods, I decided, were absolute bullshit. That was theoretically a technique I could see someone making, but judging by his tone, he hadn't USED a technique. Just sort of…intended it kind of hard. Granted, techniques were related to Domains, and I knew part of the Demigod level was integrating your Domain into yourself. Maybe it was similar to Fade's sword body thing, where anything could be a technique.

It was more impressive than Fade's though, because swords are made to cut, so cutting with a sword technique made sense. HEALING with a sword technique was absurd.

But then, I'd seen people do more with less. In fact, I'd seen a DEMIGOD do that. Morgan Lark had once, in full view of a large group of people, consumed a large amount of dangerous S-ranked lightning because it was 'made of plasma'. I'd dismissed it as crazy Bethy shit by proxy, but maybe it was crazy Demigod shit instead. I wasn't sure if that made me feel better or worse.

"Impressive fortitude though," the Moonlight Pope said with a smile. "Most people would have been screaming their heads off if their eyes were gouged out by sword energy. After that first shout you barely made a noise."

A booming laugh shook the area and a big man stepped up beside him with a grin. My Uncle Sam was beaming ear to ear as he slapped the Pope on the back. "I told you so, didn't i? He's got that Anders grit. None of that wisht washy Wyndham whining." He seemed completely unconcerned with the fact that he'd just potentially offended the whole WCP.

The Pope, meanwhile, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is tact a foreign concept to you, Samuel, or do you just forget to consider what comes out of your mouth before you say it."

Uncle Sam shrugged. "Whatever. If one of their council tries to mess with me you'll cover them, and anyone at A-rank I can more than handle." It occurred to me that my dad, who was one of the most feared A-rankers I'd ever heard of, considered Uncle Sam scary enough to treat him as a potential threat, and had even taken a punch from him to avoid escalating things. Part of that was for my mom, sure, but part of it was probably also his own skill. Exactly how strong WAS my mom's oldest brother?

"Can you two maybe not discuss how impressive my son's resistance to TORTURE is," my mom said sweetly, her eyes glinting with barely suppressed malice. "And don't think for a second I believe that was an accident Uncle Moon. If you were sloppy enough to go around shredding the eyes of random C-rankers, grandpa wouldn't let you leave the Holy Dominion."

He froze. "I…well, that's not…I slipped?" he tried weakly. Her glare pinned him in place and he sighed. "Fine. It was just a little test. I fixed it didn't I? And I didn't MAKE him look. It was still his fault. I was going to magnanimously offer him a reward and make a good impression, I didn't mean anything by it."

I sighed internally. The worst part was that I could tell he meant that. The higher the rank, the more detached from reality people got. At S-rank especially, when the body merged with the Saga, it refined a lot of the humanity out of an Ascendant from what I could tell. The Moonlight Pope was a swordmaster, and swords weren't known for being kind of cuddly. Of course, that didn't mean it wasn't annoying. S-rankers weren't gods, they still had some humanity left, and he SHOULD have known that was a shitty thing to do.

"You're going to teach my wife," I decided aloud. "She got a sword recently, and she needs a teacher."

His mouth gaped open. "Excuse me?" he sputtered. "I'm an S-ranker! I'm a godsdamned Pope! I'm-"

"A very poor guest," I finished. "You came here for my coronation, and playing little tricks on the guest of honor is very rude. It's also a huge waste of all there's people's time. They were distracted by your antics, and as such, a lot of time learning swordplay was stolen. So in return you'll pay that time back teaching Callie. That seems fair, right?"

His expression wavered. "I…but it was only a minute or two!"

"Sure," I said reasonably. "But there are thousands of people here." I did a quick head count. "Four thousand six hundred and fifty, to be precise. Which is ninety three hundred minutes if we use your generous two minute allowance. Which is one hundred and fifty five hours. That's not too long. You'll be done in no time."

My mother was snickering. This was honestly his own fault. If this had been a family meeting, or an informal dinner, I could have let it slide, or at least let him get away with a bribe or something. But this was my coronation. The WCP wasn't like the Church, where people obeyed the leaders out of respect. The WCP was a vicious tooth and claw free for all, and there was no WAY I was showing weakness in front of all these jackals, not even to an S-ranker.

Which he understood, I could tell. This had been partly a test for me as a junior, sure, but it had also been partly a test of the new Wishmaster's bottom line.

While the different lineages of the Church might be mostly harmonious, there were divisions. I knew several of the Popes were at odds. Given my mom's relationship with the Moonlight Pope, I'd assumed he was an ally, but it appeared things were a bit more complicated than that. Despite my dressing down, and his grudging acceptance, my mom was still glaring. I didn't think she was going to forget this anytime soon.

I was ambivalent, honestly. Now that I knew where I stood, a little agony for top tier sword lessons for my wife wasn't a huge deal. I wouldn't be trusting him at my back anytime soon, but then, he wouldn't need to go behind my back to hurt me. Barring the old man's intervention, literally no one here could stop him if he decided to kill me.

So I just put it out of my head. Worrying about getting swatted like a fly wasn't productive, it would happen or it wouldn't.

I was about to ask him about the autograph, if only to break the tension, when there was a low boom and the ground beneath us shook. I was intrigued, figuring something interesting was happening with the fair, but when I saw my grandparents, the Moonlight Pope, and several other powerful people nearby perk up their heads intently, the bottom dropped out of my stomach.

"What was that?" I asked quickly, looking around to try to spot some kind smoke or something. Anything to tell me what was happening.

The Moonlight Pope's face was grim. "Something just fractured the walls of the Wishworld. Something BIG. There are cracks in the world membrane, and something seems to be seeping through."

"What?" I sputtered. "What the hell could do THAT? Is this a Void Incursion?"

My dad shook his head grimly. "Not the Void. There aren't any Void Gods right now, and even if there were they'd be new. No nascent god is going to be stupid enough to try to pick a fight with the old man in his own territory. His authority in here is absolute. Only another god would even think to try it. And the old man isn't just any god. He, the Emperor, and the Queen are the oldest and strongest living deities. Each of them is at the peak of the divine rank. Coming here alone would be suicide, which means-"

"It's more than one," my grandfather agreed. "And I can only think of one force that could field an offensive like that. The Vanished Gods. But even then, they have to be insane to think-" He froze, his expression twisting with disgust. "What IS that?"

But I already knew. I'd been thinking about what the Pope had meant when he said "something was seeping through". If the Vanished Gods were here, that meant Hatescream, and I knew exactly what my grandfather, whose Domain was purification, must be sensing. Liquid Lamentation.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

I was panicking. Liquid Lamentation. I had some bad memories regarding that stuff. Hatescream had used it to corrupt the ruined soul temple to gain access to the ruins of Aetherbright Academy, and even a small amount of it (and not very high ranked either) had enabled his people to hijack a trial that was considered sacrosanct by most of the known universe.

Of course, I'd said none of this out loud, but my distress was obvious, so my mom immediately asked what was wrong. I filled them all in, and my grandfather's lip curled in outrage. "Disgusting," he spat. "No wonder it smells so toxic. But this isn't the stuff you ran into before. It couldn't be. You'd have been dead the instant you got within a mile of that." He jerked his chin in a direction I assumed was indicative of where the sensation was coming from.

"Well, I assume they used higher grade stuff," I said with a shrug. "It's made from tortured souls, so they must have just used…bigger ones. How strong is it?"

The stuff I'd seen at the temple had been so toxic it defied logic. If they were injecting an even stronger mixture… My grandfather grit his teeth. "Strong. Here, come with me." He grabbed me, and there was a brief sensation of displacement, and suddenly I was standing outside the Back Palace, floating in the air beside him. The rest of my family appeared next to me, or at least my parents, grandmother, and uncle.

Off in the distance I could see cracks forming in the air, space itself fractured. Through the cracks, disgusting writhing muck seeped into the space, dripping down to glop onto the meadows below. Where it touched, earth cracked and hissed, blackening and rotting away.

"How much more powerful is that than you remember?" He asked urgently.

"A LOT," I responded instantly. It honestly didn't even look like the same substance. This stuff was more…alive. Like sentient darkness made of hate and hunger. Flickers of red light danced inside the blackness like ruinous stars twinkling in a sick and horrible parody of a sky.

Above us, the sky darkened, and I breathed a sigh of relief as purple lightning gathered. Sadly, I seemed to be the only one relieved. As the lightning rained down on the muck, I glanced at my family. "Ok, that must be the old man, right?" I asked slowly. "Why is that bad? Because you all look like that's bad."

"This is the Wishworld," my dad said. "Inside the Wishworld, the old man's will is manifest. He can alter reality. The fact that he had to manifest a physical force to grind away at that stuff…it's not a good sign. It means it's so corrosive that it's rotting the foundation of his Domain. That's DIVINE corruption. It's taking a substantial amount of time for him to counter it, which means it's taking a substantial amount of focus. And with a second god most likely around…he's going to be fully engaged."

"But we have the Moonlight Pope with us," I frowned. "Barring Lark himself showing up, we should be safe, right?"

The man himself wasn't looking at us. Or at the corruption being combatted by the purple lightning. "Wrong," he said quietly. "Because they didn't just bring the gods. They brought S-rank backup. Laplace."

He nodded to the side of the corruption, where yet another huge hole had been in the empty air. Through it, I saw several dozen figures pour in. Multiple S-rankers easily distinguishable among them.

Hanging back, lazily stepping inside, a tall, dapper man in a black and white suit with a monochrome checkered top hat and a mask of the same two colors strolled unhurriedly through the air. The mask was odd, half white comedy mask, half black tragedy mask, and between his fingers he twirled a swirl patterned black and white cane.

"Who is Laplace?" I asked quietly, worried he might notice us. It seemed like he was distracted by the curtain of cascading purple lightning for now, but who knew what S-rankers could do when pressed?

"One of Hatescream's closest subordinate's," the Pope said grimly. "A monster who glories slaughter. He's a demigod himself, and a strong one. He's not LARK, but he's strong enough to give me trouble." His eyes flicked to my grandparents. "Nicholas, Celia, I'll need your assistance with the others. They only brought a dozen, if it was just them I could have pinned most down, but Laplace is a genuine threat. I won't be able to protect any of you." His eyes flicked back to Laplace. "Shane, I'm sending you back. We'll keep them from penetrating too deeply, stay with your cabinet."

He flicked his sword and I was just…gone. Or rather, I was somewhere else, standing next to my friends. Callie's eyes widened. "What happened?" she asked urgently. "What's going on? Why are they attacking?"

I opened my mouth to answer…and then I froze. Why WERE they attacking? It made no sense. This was one of the most well defended events the WCP held. There were S-rankers from all over here. There was literally NO worse time to do this. Which meant that was the POINT. "This is a fucking distraction," I spat. "The main force of the attack is drawing our attention to the back palace."

I tried to call for Zeke. My dad. My mom. Anyone. No one came. It didn't matter. "Fade," I told my bodyguard. "You're taking point. We're headed for the terminal. We need to get back."

Something was wrong. I didn't know WHAT or what I even planned to do, but I could FEEL that I needed to get back to the main palace. The timing of this attack was too coincidental. Something was happening while everyone was distracted. Did that mean the Vanished Gods were behind the trial? Or were they cooperating with the Void. It didn't matter. We'd find out soon enough.

Of course, it was possible I was about to get murdered by some scary A-rank infiltrator, but I didn't FEEL like that would happen. My instincts were telling me I could make a difference, and all I could do was trust them.

When we reached The Terminal entrance, there was a bit of a struggle to get in. Lots of the weaker members of the visiting parties and even the WCP were trying to get out of the Back Palace. I didn't know where they were GOING, but they seemed very determined to get there, wherever it was.

After a few minutes, we broke through, entering the formerly peaceful terminal, and what I saw chilled my blood.

Slaughter. The entire place was crawling with hungry eyed monsters made of pure darkness, an eerie blue glow shining from their eyes. Mantises, werewolves, birds, manticores. Void Spawn of every size, shape, and description were surging in through the holes in the Void that we'd been assured were all one way.

Grimacing, I flicked my hand out, manifesting my staff. "Alright people, circle up."

Callie spread her wings, Heretic Fire washing over her as Gossamer appeared in her hands, catching fire from within. Fade drew his sword, and as we strode forward, the blade parted crowds of the Void Spawn with brutal efficiency. Even with his constant strikes though, he wasn't killing enough of them. They poured past him, reaching us in staggered groups. I called for Glory, my staff becoming a spear of black flame infused with Heretic Fire.

No matter how many I killed though, it wasn't enough. I triggered Beelzebub, a dozen other me's appearing, and I had several of them shift into Asmodeus. Abel, Bethy, Mel, Chelsea, Gabe, Vicky, Wulf, Dante, and all the others within reach were imbued with the absurd power of Asmodeus, horns growing from their heads as wings exploded from their backs.

We ran through the crowds, Fade drifting in and out as he vanished to deal with some of the B-rank Void Spawn getting in our way.

My staff sang, slicing through dark forms like a knife through butter. We fought through the hordes unendingly, until, finally, we reached the end of the rubber walkway. "Callie!" I yelled as we hit the base of the stairs, only to be stopped by a crowd of Void Spawn. "I need something big!'

She nodded. Raising one hand, I saw her grimace with strain, and her left hand glowed the inverted blue of her Adherent Fire. Lashing out, she shattered the air in the same move I'd seen before, then, with the Heretic Flame still burning on her sword, drove it into the spatial crack. Fragments of space erupted around the crowd, and Callie's blade swept through them, cleaving the horde like a meat grinder as they swept through the group.

With unearthly howls of hate and rage they all burst into flames, dissolving into piles of ash. Callie staggered, and I caught her, passing her back to Chelsea as soon as I could. Fade appeared, stalking up the steps, and a giant Void Spider fell on him from above.

His eyes never even moved to the creature, his arm just flickered and it fell to pieces around him, parting around his body seamlessly. When he reached the top of the steps, he kicked the double doors open, glancing around the hallway carefully before looking back to give us the all clear. "We're good," he assured me. "Now where the hell are we GOING?"

I paused. I didn't actually know that. I knew we were needed here, but not where to go. Except I actually did. I didn't know why, it made no sense to me at all but…"Devon," I said with certainty. "We need to find my cousin, he's in danger."

"Your cousin who accused you of treason?" Callie sputtered. "The one whose FAULT all this probably is?"

"He's an idiot," I agreed. "But that doesn't mean he deserves to die. Besides, if they want him gone, we don't. Something weird is happening here. I have no clue why they want him dead when he's working for them, but I have a feeling preventing it is the only way we get to the bottom of this."

She groaned. "Of course it is. We never should have gone to the Seraphim Tower. Clearly you've picked up all sorts of bad habits."

I grinned at her wildly, but I knew she would follow me wherever I went. I turned to Fade, pointing down a hall. "That way," I said firmly. "Clear us a path, and try to make sure it's a quick one. I don't think we have a lot of time."

He nodded, turning towards the hall. Raising his sword, he took up an odd fencing stance, and above his head, a massive avatar of his sword manifested. A stomp and a thrust and the manifestation tore through the hall. Literally THROUGH the hall, walls, floor, and ceiling. He twisted as he withdrew, and the rotating blade bored a hole through the underground space, creating a long open tunnel.

Everything that had been INSIDE that tunnel just…ceased. The construct was made of pure sword energy, so even the flat of the blade could cut. That one twist wiped away all the physical matter occupying these halls, including the Void Spawn.

I slapped him on the back. "Thanks man, that was just what we needed. Let's go." We took off down the empty tunnel in the direction I felt my gut pulling.

We ran for about twenty minutes, and when we emerged from the tunnel, it was into a huge stone room resembling a buried cathedral. Like someone had sunk a church into the earth. When we came out though, we were forced to stop in our tracks.

Devon was surrounded. Not just by enemies, but by bodies. His guards were all dead, but Devon himself had a nasty looking pair of hooked daggers he was using to rip apart the Void Spawn. Even as we watched though, one of the monsters, a minotaur of some kind, drove its horns through his back into his gut. With a sigh, I spun my staff and charged. No rest for the wicked.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

I'd expected Devon, based on my weaselly impression of him, to be incompetent or pathetic. I was surprised to see that wasn't even remotely the case. Devon moved through the Void Spawn like a wheat thresher, mowing down monsters with the curved daggers. No wonder he felt robbed of the Wishmaster position, he might have had a legitimate shot at it based on this display.

Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't a dick, but I wasn't going to let my cousin bleed to death if I could help it. A quick Life Nova (available even outside of Zagan now that I'd made progress with it) shoved into his gut wound, and he was at the very least on the mend. My staff whirled around him, sweeping away the Void Spawn, the sharp blade of flame at the end of my Glory spear driving them away, giving him some room to breathe.

As soon as I did, the others swarmed us, circling up to defend the two of us, with only Marco joining us inside the circle.

Devon glared at me hatefully. "I was FINE!" he hissed. "I didn't need your help."

"You've been stabbed," I said dryly. "In the guts. I can SEE your lower intestine. You do not have the high ground here."

Snarling, he produced a potion of some kind, pouring it on the wound. Interestingly, the liquid seemed to catch fire, Zagan's flame treating it like fuel as it closed the injury. That was something to file away for later. I wasn't sure what was IN that potion, but I needed to get some asap.

Still, he didn't exactly look stable. I let out a low whistle, and a large green form swept through the air, landing firmly on my upraised arm. I nodded to Devon. "My cousin is wiped out. Can you top him up?"

Archie trilled his agreement, then hopped off my arm onto Devon's shoulder with just a single half beat of his wings. Devon was still sneering, but when Archie landed, he screamed. "Oh gods! Oh, claws, claws, claws!" Archie gave him an innocent chirp, adjusting his grip, and then poured life energy into him. I might have believed it was an accident if the bird hadn't WINKED at me when Devon's gaze was averted. As it was I was just glad my mask covered my face.

"Alright, what the hell?" I demanded as Devon's face began to fill with color again. "Why were they attacking you? And why are they here? And don't give me any bullshit about not knowing, because they almost definitely work for you. What happened? You lose your usefulness when you crashed and burned in the first part of the trial?"

He sneered at me. "Absurd. You're the one in collusion with the Void here, traitor. I have proof. You think your little tricks will protect you, but I'm going to show people what you really are. Just wa-"

There was a screech from beneath us, and one of the guard corpses, eyes blazing Void blue, surged up, baring a mouthful of needle like teeth, and sank its jaws into Devon's throat. Once it had a grip, it lurched back, tearing itself free and taking most of his windpipe with it, hot blood spurting freely into the air.

Cursing, I drove my Glory spear into its head, vaporizing the damned thing before letting my staff return to my soul space. I shifted to Zagan, dropping to my knees with a curse as my hands snapped out to clamp over the wound in his throat. "Fuck!" I snapped as I flooded the damaged area with life fire. "Archie, give me a baseline." My partner screeched, then strong green energy surged through his claws into my cousin.

"Don't you die on me you asshole," I snapped. Because honestly, if I hadn't been here he WOULD have. I could feel the Void Taint in the bite, surging into his body like an infection tainting his blood. I was burning it away as it seeped out, but it was massively slowing down the actual healing. That was why I needed Archie. I was purifying the Void Taint, leaving him to do the actual healing.

"Shane, what happened?" Callie called from nearby, her sword flashing as she bisected a Void Werewolf.

I snorted. "My disphit cousin got his throat ripped out because he was too busy complaining about me to pay attention to his surroundings. Honestly, I'm not even upset. Apparently I was about to listen to a long drawn out diatribe about how I'm a traitor. Seems he really DOES believe his own press, but I'm not sure why. I'm also confused as to why he seems so damned certain he's going to win this trial."

Whatever his so called evidence was, it wasn't accurate, and with Roland as a witness to the whole thing, I wasn't worried. Well, I was a little worried Devon was going to be executed, but I had Crell figuring out a workaround for that.

"Shane!" Callie screamed, her voice surging over both the bond and the intervening distance between us. My head jerked up as I triggered Mornax on reflex, boosting it to B-rank with my staff.

Only after that was done did I glance up to see what Callie was looking at. Sure enough, a giant Void Scorpion was plunging down from above me, stinger flashing toward my eye. The monster was B-rank, which meant while I could block it, I wasn't going to enjoy the process. I grimaced, wishing I still had Glory active. I'd dropped it in order to focus on Zagan, and using that and Mornax at the same time was pretty much all I could handle at the moment, given how much I was already doing with Asmodeus.

I braced for impact, ready to tank the strike to my face, but before the scorpion could get close, there was a flash of light. I blinked in shock as the monster literally DISINTEGRATED into tiny pieces, blowing away on the wind.

There was a click, and I looked down to find Roland sheathing his sword as he stepped out of a side passage. I exhaled in relief. I'd been worried about his health. Given the attack on him last time, I'd thought he might have been a target, but not only did he not look like he'd been attacked again, he looked like he'd recovered well from the last one already.

"Thanks for the assist," I called as he approached. Delia emerged from another corridor, sighing in relief as she saw her friend and joined him.

Roland nodded casually. "I owe you one. Hell, I owe you a dozen. Happy to start evening up the debt." He glanced at Delia. "You were supposed to wait back at my place," he admonished. "You're a strategic target. I'm not worth nearly as much."

"I was WORRIED about you, ass," she sneered. "Not that I should have bothered. Need I remind you that you were DYING not long ago?"

He shrugged. "Dying is a yes or no thing. I was dying, now I'm not. One has nothing to do with the other. Besides, I knew Shane was around, and the kid gets into more trouble than a trombone section. Was I just supposed to let him die?"

She sighed. "No, obviously not." Her eyes turned to me, a warm smile slipping onto her face. "I'm glad to see you're ok, Shane." I hadn't expected she would care that much. Delia seemed to like me fine, but she was also a veritable stranger. I expected Roland to be fond of me because of the whole saving his life thing, but apparently that had endeared me to Delia too. She glanced around. "What are you doing here anyway?"

I nodded down to the still pale Devon. "My idiot cousin almost got himself murdered."

"And you saved him?" she seemed genuinely perplexed. "If he died, it would have been all but impossible for him to pursue the trial. At least before the end of the coronation. Resurrection is possible, but there's no way any powerful Wish user would have thrown in their lot with him during the trial given his poor showing. They'd have waited until it ended and you were crowned Wishmaster to curry favor."

"His dad would have saved him," I shrugged. "Besides, I don't want to see a blood relative die. Devon is a moron, but I'm becoming increasingly sure he isn't malicious."

She frowned at that. "What do you mean?"

"Umm, guys?" Roland said warily. "I hate to break up the debrief, but we have a pack of Void Jackals coming in from the northwest, and I think they're B-rank. You're saying that Devon is the target?"

I nodded. "Almost positive, yeah."

"I'll take him to his mother," Roland said with a grimace. "I agree with you, I don't want to see a member of the family dead because of stupidity. Ayra should be able to save him easily enough. Pass him here."

Delia shook her head. "Let me," she interrupted. "I don't have your combat skills. You can watch out for Shane during this mess. If they don't track Devon, he might need the extra firepower."

Roland hesitated. "I think I'd be faster," he said worriedly, clearly unhappy at the idea of Delia running around with a LITERAL target on her back. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he sighed in resignation. "Alright, go ahead and take him. But come back as soon as he's safe, alright?" I could tell the idea of letting her go out there was really bothering him, and she obviously could too.

"Don't patronize me," she said with a teasing smile. "I'm not exactly a wilting violet. Don't forget, I'm the fastest in our generation." She leaned down and lifted Devon effortlessly. I'd cleared enough of the Void Taint that he was stable, though I warned her to hurry, because it was going to start building up again soon.

My fate sense was completely silent. Apparently the problem I'd been sent to solve was Devon's death. Why that would have negatively affected me I had no idea, but apparently unlike Delia thought, if he'd been killed the trial would NOT have gone smoothly for me. Or I'd have opened myself up to some other danger, who knew?

She vanished out the door, and Roland sighed deeply. I clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't be such a helicopter…" I trailed off. "What actually is your relationship with Delia? I thought you might be related somehow, but given the atavism thing…"

He smiled sadly. "Her sister was my wife. Penny was another candidate I met when I was out growing to D-rank. We fell in love and got married, but she was killed before I returned to the Palace. I found Delia here and told her about it. They'd never actually met, but Delia sort of…adopted me. Her honorary big brother. Delia and Penny were only a few decades apart, but I felt compelled to look out for her."

I squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "She seems like a badass," I commented with a grin. "Could probably take you in a fight. I don't think she'll be that easy to take down. Don't worry so much, ok?"

He snorted. "You know, as the older and higher ranked relative, I should be consoling YOU. Aren't you SCARED of this whole invasion thing?"

"This?" I asked derisively. "This is a Tuesday for me. It'll take more than that to shake m- OH GODS WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?" I screamed, jumping back as what appeared to be a Void…Clown Demon, jumped out of my shadow with a huge knife. Roland bisected it with a casual slash, chuckling at my fear. "Hey, shut up!" I snapped. "Anyone would have been scared of that. That was horrifying." His laughter only got louder, and the very solemn and dignified expression on my face in no way resembled a pout as we rejoined the battle. Honest.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

The invasion ended with a whimper, not a bang, and it put my teeth on edge. Something had happened here, something I hadn't seen yet, and we were all missing it. The timing of the attack was too coincidental, too perfectly staged. The Void invasion striking when the old man would be distracted by the Vanished Gods was obviously intentional.

But I just couldn't see the POINT. Devon's attack implied this partially involved me and the trial, but none of it made SENSE. The Void being involved was understandable, but what where they trying to DO? Accusing me and then letting Devon fall flat on his face, then trying to kill him? Why was Devon so convinced I was guilty, and what proof could he have to offer when the proof shouldn't even exist?

The more questions were answered the less sense this all made, and that meant I was missing something big. I had a terrible knot in my stomach insisting that something AWFUL was coming, and I had no idea what it was.

"Shane, you alright over there?" a concerned voice cut through my analysis, and I turned to see Roland looking at me worriedly. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Several," I admitted. "But they don't worry me much. No, I'm just spiraling a bit. A lot is going on that doesn't make sense. I feel like someone is pulling my strings. I hate the feeling of being right in the middle of something huge and not knowing which way is up. Devon…he doesn't know what's going on, but he has SOME kind of trump card, even if I don't know what the hell it might be."

He smiled at me reassuringly, clapping me on the shoulder. "Hey, don't sweat it. I've got your back. I promise you, I'll testify. Wouldn't miss it for the world. And besides, you have a secret weapon don't you?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, and he rolled his eyes. "Didn't I hear you have some kind of soul connection with your wife? So she must have had a front row seat to everything. Why not have HER testify on your behalf. She was a first hand witness to all of it through you, right?" I could tell he was pretty pleased with himself for coming up with such a clever strategy, and I had to hand it to him, it was brilliant.

"Would they allow that?" I asked slowly, starting to get excited. Callie was always sensing what I was feeling, we didn't talk consistently, but even if my own account wasn't considered compelling (which to be fair, made sense, they couldn't just take my word for it) her awareness of me meant there was no possible way that she could miss something like that.

He shrugged. "I don't see why they wouldn't. I mean, you're being accused of Void collusion right? Isn't her dad some sort of renegade anti-Void deity?"

"It's complicated," I hedged. "But yeah basically. You think that would help my case?"

"Only if they aren't idiots," he laughed. "Between her testimony and mine, I don't think it matters what kind of tricks Devon is planning to play, the end result is basically a foregone conclusion."

Laughing, I threw my arm around his shoulder. "That's genius! Man, you're really saving my ass here, you know? If you ever need anything, just say the word. I can't tell you how big of a load off my mind that is." Sure, it didn't solve the issue of whatever was going on behind the scenes, but honestly I wasn't going to be ABLE to solve that issue. It was out of my league.

This at least wiped away my worries about the trial. I could pass off whatever grand design this was to Zeke and my parents. As the Wishmaster, learning to delegate was a skill I'd need to pick up anyway, might as well start now.

"What's genius?" my wife asked as she appeared next to us, folding her wings as her sword vanished. "Because Shane sometimes has weird ideas about what is and isn't a good plan."

I sniffed officiously. "My plans are fantastic. I'm not dead yet, am I?"

She gestured to me demonstratively, as if to say 'You see what I'm dealing with?', rolling her eyes at my joke, but I spotted her smiling a bit, so even without the bond I'd have known she wasn't really bothered by how I did things.

"Anyway," I said in a leading tone. "Roland had a great idea. Because of our bond, you can testify on my behalf in the trial." I paused. "I mean, if you want to. I know that's kind of a big ask, what with the Void stuff and how much attention you've been getting. If you aren't comfortable with that I-"

She yanked my mask off, pulling me down for a firm kiss to shut me up, then pulled back, laughing. "You're my HUSBAND, idiot," she scolded. "Of COURSE I'll testify. You didn't even have to ask." Her eyes softened as she laid a hand on my cheek. "But it means a lot that you did. If there's ANYTHING I can do to help, I'm there. It's you and me baby. Always."

Roland was smiling at us sadly. "I have to admit I envy you two," he said with a chuckle. "You're a lucky man, Shane. Your wife is an amazing person. Reminds me of my own a little bit. I think what I envy most is that bond though. Maybe if Penny and I had something like that she'd still be alive. Or I wouldn't. I think I'd prefer it that way." He frowned at us. "Do you know what happens if one of you dies? What the bond would do?"

That brought me up short because…no. I had no idea. "I guess I've never considered it," I said slowly. "I mean regular death maybe nothing, but if one of us gets out souls shattered…we're connected pretty deeply." I was staring at Callie with worry. "If something happens to me it might-"

"Good," she cut me off fiercely. "Maybe you'll be a bit more careful. Now that you know your death might mean mine, do you think you'll be as reckless with your life?"

I exhaled loudly. "I don't," I admitted. "Now I'm glad I arranged those defensive shields for us. Even a god won't be able to kill you easily. With one for each of us I don't have to worry about anything happening to your soul in the short term, right? And vice versa."

Roland's eyes were wide. "Wait…defensive shields? Gods? What are you talking about now? I haven't heard this story."

I just laughed. "Nothing crazy. I got a wish from the old man in exchange for some information. I had him pay me with divine ranked defensive shields. They're consumable and single use, but still, they're a hell of an insurance policy."

Callie and I had discussed the shields, and despite our brief consideration to keep them secret, we decided spreading it around wasn't a bad thing. If anything, knowing they were there might keep some assholes from testing them. The reputation of divine countermeasures could be almost as good as the thing itself. Roland certainly looked poleaxed by the revelation.

I couldn't help but be a little smug. It had been a pretty good idea in hindsight. I smirked at my wife. "And you said none of my plans are any good."

"Well, monkeys and typewriters," she said sweetly. "I'm sure you'll do something to prove me right any minute now. Either way, I love you just as much, bad plans and all. I just feel the need to remind you of your flaws sometimes so you don't get a big head."

I snorted, but couldn't help a smile. I could feel her concern for me. She'd picked up on my little panic spiral earlier and was doing her best to fill Benny's shoes by poking at me to take my mind off things. She was a lot gentler about it than my best friend, but I could feel her good intentions, and sent my own reassuring emotions back, along with a heaping helping of adoration.

"Shane!" boomed a familiar but EXTREMELY loud voice. "Shane, where are you?" I turned just in time for a tall blonde form to smash into me at a speed too fast to track. I was briefly worried I'd been attacked, and seeing Callie get grabbed too didn't ease my worry, but I quickly realized we were just being aggressively hugged. My Seal of Solomon DID creak ominously under the pressure though, and I had to croak out a protest.

"Mom, I'm fine!" I wheezed. "But you're crushing me."

Her grip loosened but didn't drop. "I'm so glad you're ok. What were you thinking running back here on your own? With the trial in full swing, anyone could have attacked you."

I patted her on the back, letting her squeeze the life out of me a bit longer before pulling away. "I'm FINE mom. Seriously. What about you guys? Where's dad and Zeke? The grandparents? Did anyone get hurt? What happened?"

She laughed, smoothing my hair down. "Everyone is fine," she assured me. "As for what happened…" her face hardened. "Hatescream. And Stralthrem. They fought the old man head on. Whatever that MUCK that Hatescream was feeding in weakened him, but he burned it off quick enough. It acted almost like poison. Gods and their Domains are linked, and the liquid lamentation messed the old man up something awful. He ended up having to break out the Scroll of Wisdom."

At my confused expression, she chuckled. "Sorry, one of his objects of power. They're even more effective inside the Wishworld. Even with both gods working together they were no match. But he vanished pretty quickly after." She lowered her voice, looking around furtively. "I think he might be injured."

That was…bad. "Liquid lamentation doesn't grow on trees," I said slowly. "That stuff is made from tortured souls. If it affected the old man that must have been A, maybe S-rankers. Where did they GET them all?"

"My dad helped purify the tainted area," she said hesitantly. "He said…there was something in it. Something wrong. Unnatural. He thinks it's from the Void."

I felt my stomach drop. That was worse. Hopefully the old man could study it and adapt. Knowing they had something that could affect a god, even if it was something that was hopefully difficult to make, was not comforting.

I informed her of what I'd discovered. My instinct to come back, saving Devon, and my suspicion that there was more going on. She frowned. "That's…odd. I don't understand what the Vanished Gods would gain from an alliance like that. I mean, travel through the Void is one thing, but they can't actually expect the Void to honor any promises they make."

"Maybe they can," I said slowly. "Remember, the Vanished Gods want to elevate the universe, to push us up to a higher world where they won't be limited by the six or by the constraints of realspace. If they do that, the Void might be let behind. All the noise they hate would be gone in the blink of an eye. I could see how they might be tempted to play nice. Especially if they approached someone who used to be human, and might be more reasonable."

"Morwenna," she said in a worried voice. "I'll mention it to Dad and Uncle Moon, and your father can reach out to the council. It makes sense, but it's concerning. At the very least Morwenna didn't make an appearance here."

I nodded slowly, but I was sure I was right. Morwenna was involved here, somehow. I just didn't know how all of this fit together yet. With a sigh, I shook off the doom and gloom, focusing on my mom. "Anyway, I want to hear all about the battle. Tell me everything." With a laugh, she pulled Callie and I in and dragged us off away from the others, telling us all the details. It was a pretty good story.

 

[Bezarius]

Why do I get the feeling that Roland will betray Shane?
He's probing Shane about Callie and their soul connection, also he seems really surprised about that Soul Defense.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

The first thing I asked for after hearing the story was to examine the scene. My mom wasn't happy about it, but my reasons were sound, so she brought Callie and I along to the blasted area where the liquid lamentation had been seeping into the earth of the Wishworld.

It probably seemed like an unnecessary bit of theater to the high rankers, but I was sure we could glean something useful from the data. Callie and I were probably some of the most familiar Ascendants with the energies of the Void in realspace. Between her Heretic Fire, Adherent Fire, and my own research into the creation of her forms and how integrated her energy was into mine, I was sure I could identify once and for all if Morwenna's hand was in this attack.

We said our goodbyes to everyone else, then headed down to where the liquid lamentation had been dripping through the cracks in the world. When we landed, I stared down at the blasted and cracked ground and had to hold my gorge.

It was…ruined. Not just physically. Dirt was dirt, if you broke it, someone could just till it or dig it up and refill the hole. This was different. Something had torn a hole in the CONCEPT of this dirt. It wasn't dirt anymore at all. It was un-dirt. The corpse of dirt. This was dead earth. And it was more than just the physical and conceptual. The IMPACT of the ground seemed damaged somehow. Cracked. Like it was less real than it should be.

The sensation was sickening, because it was so hard to conceptualize. I could almost see the weight of the earth here in my mind, melted and twisted like candle wax. It was like the general shape of the physical world was there, but it was formed from charred remains. Hollow, missing pieces.

Callie put a hand on my shoulder to steady me, and I nodded gratefully, then closed my eyes, triggered my staff's ability, and entered Dantalion at B-rank.

When I ran up against things that were too powerful to analyze, there were a few different ways it could be perceived to me. The most common were that I couldn't get anything, or sometimes the scan worked but the object was so dense with information that it would take me decades to get anything from it.

What I had NEVER experienced though, was to reach for data and find…nothing. Not a lack, either. The PRESENCE of nothing. It was heavy on the air, suffocating in its immensity. Concentrated nothing, condensed to the level of a collapsing star. Such an abundance of absence that it became a tangible force.

The sensation was horrible. It was like my soul had been walking up a flight of steps and my foot had landed on empty air. I felt a dropping sensation in my get and then I was flailing, falling into the heavy mire of complete nothingness, being swallowed by the un-being of the thing I was trying to understand.

I fell. Spiritually and mentally, I fell. For years. Decades. Centuries. And only seconds. Not even seconds, milliseconds. And then, in the span of a complete lack of a heartbeat, I was through the gap, coming out the other side of the emptiness and plunging into a caustic spiritual pool of filth.

My body dropped to its knees, clawing at its face to remove its mask as it began to vomit, my soul was screaming, crying, tearing at itself with spiritual claws, like the skin of my consciousness had become ants that I was desperately trying to tear away.

"Shane!" I heard from far away. But I couldn't recognize the sound, couldn't process the name. Shane was a person, a being of will and thought. I was none of that anymore. I was pain. Suffering and desperation and anguish. I was a singularity of despair collapsing into a core of absolute misery so dense it punched a hole through the world and dragged everything around it into a screaming oblivion of endless woe.

And then I felt something make contact with me, and there was a flare of green behind my eyes. I heard a birdsong somewhere off in the distance, and my mind cleared, JUST a bit. Just enough for me to disperse Dantalion and SHOVE Leviathan into place where it had been.

I collapsed, panting, eyes unseeing, body coated in sweat. Callie's hand was in my mouth, and I tasted blood. It took me a second to realize she'd shoved the web of her thumb between my teeth to prevent me from biting off my own tongue as I'd seized up. I reached for Zagan, but Archie screeched at me aggressively, hopping off my shoulder and, brushing her hand with a wing, sending a surge of life nova into her injury.

"What the FUCK was that?" Callie spat, her face twisted in terror. "What just happened?"

"I don't," I tried to speak, but my words dissolved into a wracking cough, my throat torn and battered from the screaming. Callie pulled a bottle of water from her ring, propping me up to pour it down my throat slowly. I sipped, letting the cool water refresh my ravaged windpipe. "I don't know," I finally finished. "I…that was…wrong. Something wrong."

My mom had said that too, when she told us about what happened. And my grandfather. "I need to go check the library," I told her shakily. "Dantalion was recording. Just in case we needed to study it, I had clones taking dictation, translating the information into physical form."

"I'll come with you," she said gently, and I nodded.

Closing my eyes, I pushed myself into my soul space. I arrived at the entrance to the library, and looking over to where the tables were, I froze.

Corpses. A dozen of them. Different versions of me scattered across the floor. Eyes clawed out, tongues ripped away, some of their heads had just straight up exploded. The books they'd been writing on were scattered everywhere, coated with blood and thicker, darker things I didn't want to think about.

Liquid lamentation had infiltrated my soul, splattered across the bookshelves and the floors, hissing and burning away at my soul space. I was terrified for a second I was doomed, because I could feel that if that shit had gotten on my Chronicle, I'd have been completely screwed.

Luckily, when I looked over towards my Ten Demons Tome and Tree, both were shockingly untouched. In fact, the whole pedestal where they sat was completely clean. Looking at the floor, the dark sludge had been flung towards the core of my soul space, but before reaching it, had just…stopped. Tracing the barrier, I realized that it formed a complete circle around the SECOND pedestal in here. The one that held a book made of purple flames and lightning.

The book, thankfully, wasn't USED. It had just established its territory and the muck couldn't enter within that range. It suppressed the liquid lamentation by its sheer presence.

Callie made a choked sound, gagging at the sight of so many bodies, all of them me. The clones were still there, which I didn't think they should be. This wasn't real, this was my soul, and the clones were just a form. Beelzebub should have faded when they died, but they were…stuck. Decomposing like real bodies.

They were carriers for the liquid lamentation. Like plague corpses. Leviathan blazed around me, protecting me, and Callie had coated herself in heretic fire, but she threw her arms around me, squeezing me tight.

I held her for a minute, about as shaken as she was, and then I walked over to check on one of the bodies.

It was sprawled on the ground, dragging itself forward. A book sat beside it, full of…something. Unintelligible gibberish. Dark lines of ichor were smeared across the pages seemingly at random, also unreadable. There were more books, torn pages, shredded spines. I ignored them. Reaching down, I hefted the corpse. It weighed less than it should, but I ignored that too. I walked over to the barrier around the defensive shield and with a heave, tossed the corpse at the book.

When it hit the radius where the filth had stopped, it exploded into a rush of white smoke. A bit of darkness rose within the smoke, and I could hear it scream as it dissolved, banished from my soul directly. My fate sense and the crawling corpse had made it clear how I needed to clean them out.

I began the long, slow work of cleaning. Tossing the corpses was the easy part. Gathering all the books was tougher. I flipped through them. Nonsense, interspersed with smears of dark ichor. Perfect. I stacked them all on the table, getting ready to toss them into the field. Callie burned away the splatters from around the library, and it was a slow process. The liquid lamentation was much higher level, and even with only flecks of it, she had to spend ten or twenty minutes to purge a drop.

The pitted and scarred surfaces left behind were even worse, but I'd get to them later. For now I was trying to make sense of the books. The gibberish was…weird. Not uniform size or shape, not all written left to write, or even side to side. I couldn't decipher it for the life of me, no matter how many books I flipped through.

And it wasn't just whole books. Some of the pages had been torn out and littered the floor. I collected them, trying to decrypt what my clones had been trying to tell me.

I flipped through them for hours, searching, and finally, I caught…something. A bit of text was cut off, half a symbol on the edge of a page, and another clone had written what looked like the OTHER half in another book.

With that clue to work from, I started sifting through the books and pages, finding connecting symbols, deducing patterns like I was putting together a puzzle. It was long and slow work, but Callie finished her purification and came to help. We worked for a while together, perfectly in synch and spreading the pages out on the table.

As we did, I noticed something…unsettling. The writing wasn't the only thing that was connected page to page. The streaks of ichor were carried over too, and despite being large and seemingly random, as we laid out the pages, they started to resolve into a shape. Or rather, into a series of letters. My stomach knotted, desperately hoping it didn't say what I was absolutely SURE it said, but we continued on anyway.

We had to tear some of the pages out, because some of them were marked in different places. Sure enough, once we finished it, the paper was scattered in a huge macabre mosaic of semi-nonsensical text and images. Not just words, images of people screaming scratched into pages with what looked like blood and ash.

But the most disturbing part was the ichor. I'd known it was a word, known I wouldn't like what it said, and I had been VERY right. Because it was a word that I recognized. One that had occupied my mind constantly lately. One that, even without context, had chilled me to the bone the first time I heard it. There, scrawled out in the blood of my own multitude of corpses, lay the word 'APOSTATE'. Because of course that was what it said.

Callie stepped up next to me, staring down at the terrible masterpiece. "It's Morwenna," she confirmed, staring at some of the incomprehensible text. "Whatever this is, she helped create it. It's…I don't know what it is. But it feels familiar, and I very much don't like that. I have a feeling this is going to get worse before it gets better. I'm just glad I can't sense the future the way you can. Maybe I'm wrong." I didn't have the heart to tell her I had the same sense. But then, I didn't need to.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

I woke up groaning. Callie was sitting next to me, looking concerned, and my mom and sister were behind her. Zeke was napping in a chair nearby, and my dad was leaning against a wall looking away, though the effect was kind of spoiled by him shooting glances back at me. "You're up," Callie said with a relieved smile. "Did you get it all repaired?"

After Callie helped clear all the lamentation liquid out of my soul space, she'd returned to reality while I continued trying to repair all the damage as best I could. Which was, frankly, not that well. Genesis Burst applied directly to the damaged areas let me slowly fill in the pits and scars on the library, but it took HOURS to repair even a few of the surface level abrasions.

"Most of it," I hedged. "It's still underway. I left a few clones in there to keep at it. I was going stir crazy."

I could still feel the damage. It felt…off. I'd cracked my soul before. It was a natural part of cultivation, even if one you were REALLY supposed to try to avoid. But that was cracking. This was worse. Cracks were light and spread out, but they were mostly even. The damage from the lamentation liquid was irregular and uneven. A deep gouge here, a light scrape there. It was unbearable.

"Did you guys carry me back to the suite?" I asked slowly, looking around.

Callie nodded. "We did. Actually, Bethy did. She used her Domain to bring you back, because she was worried about jarring your concentration and messing up your recovery."

I glanced over to find the tiny vampire sitting with Chelsea, looking at me worriedly. I shot her a grateful smile. Bethy's senses were a lot sharper than most people our rank. Even Callie might not have been able to see as much about my situation from the outside as Bethy. "I appreciate that," I told her sincerely. "It means a lot."

"Of course," she said quietly, with a shaky smile. "You're my bestie. I was…you sounded really bad, Shane. Really bad. The screaming was awful. I've never heard someone sound so absolutely devastated."

Honestly, I was more worried about HER than I was me. I could handle pain, even soul pain. I'd long since subjected myself to infinitely worse. I was almost positive that recursion played some role in my frankly absurd pain tolerance, but even that hadn't saved me this time. Luckily pain tolerance wasn't just an in the moment thing. It was also how you dealt with pain after the fact, and I bounced back fast.

"I'm good," I assured her. "Bit of a rough time of it for a minute there, but I'm mostly healed up, and it's just pain." I grinned at her. "Besides, do you have time to worry about me? Aren't you planning a huge D-rank stampede?"

Her eyes widened. "Wait, how did you know about that?' She turned to Chelsea with a scowl. "You told?"

"She didn't," I assured her. "A little birdie told me." Bethy's ire turned on Archie, who she'd gotten kind of close with when he was staying in her Domain. "You? You were supposed to be the one! You were going to record it all while it was happening!" She slumped back into her chair with a dramatic wail, and Archie just cawed mercilessly. She sat up. "Well why didn't you just SAY it was too heavy?" He cawed again. "How was I supposed to know you actually MEANT it?"

Callie raised a hand. "Um, what is a D-rank stampede?"

"She was going to turn them all into cows and let them loose in the halls with numbers painted on their sides," I said bluntly. "I believe she was ALSO planning to skip a few numbers in the middle. Twelve, thirty two, and sixty eight. That way when people were searching for them, they would think they'd missed a few and keep looking. She might have gotten away with it too, except for one thing."

"It was a bad plan?" Callie asked mildly.

I nodded. "Terrible, yes. Also Archie is very lazy and she wanted to use an oversized high resolution camera."

"It records in nineteen dimensions," she protested pleadingly.

"Bethy, you can't even PERCEIVE that many dimensions," I reminded her. "Where did you even buy that? And how much did you pay for it, because it was almost definitely too much." Despite the tone of our banter, I could see Bethy relaxing. Our familiar dynamic was helping her forget the stress of seeing me go a little crazy.

While my constant need to shut Bethy down when she did things probably seemed negative or destructive to outsiders, Bethy valued our relationship a lot. She'd mentioned to Callie that I was one of the only people that consistently said no to her, even when she was being unreasonable, and that she respected my willingness to stand up to her. To this day I had no clue how much of her…Bethy-ness was faked, but I was happy to play the bad cop, if only because I was always highly entertained by her antics myself.

We chatted for a while before Gabe came and he and Chelsea took Bethy to get something to eat. She'd been waiting her for hours apparently, and I made sure to thank her for being such an excellent Master of Challenge, then turned to my parents.

"What happened?" my mom demanded anxiously, having been holding in her worry as I put my friends at ease. I appreciated it, because that had been a lot.

"The lamentation liquid was…tainted. Something was in it. Something I'm almost positive Morwenna is responsible for. It felt familiar somehow." I turned to Callie. "Did you feel that? Like something about it reminded me a little of…"

She nodded. "Adam," she confirmed. "But not. I mean, it DOES make some sense. Morwenna was there for his initial rise, right? Maybe she like…copied his original power? Experimented with it?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know a lot of things. Have you been able to contact Atlas?"

She shook her head. "I've been trying. I'm not even sure he can BE contacted outside of the space we went to when I formed my Chronicle. He's been dead a long time, and even as his avatar, there are limits. I've been trying to use the gem in Gossamer's hilt to reach him, because your mom said it was an object of power. I feel…something. Like there's an open line there I can't connect to. I'll work on resonating with the gem."

"You should also take my scrolls," I said with a grimace. "I only have about fifty, but any little bit helps. In the meantime, I'm going to let my stats roll in. I need to get stronger. Like…now. With all the buzz from the trial and the coronation, I have to have at least STARTED getting some of that Wishmaster income, even if I haven't been crowned yet. Any little bit will help."

I handed over fifty four scrolls to Callie. It wasn't many, but every little bit helped. I couldn't help but laugh at my own largesse as I had that thought. Fifty four wishes. Back in the day I'd had far fewer wishes per day, and I couldn't stockpile them at all. Not to mention my stat cap was ten points compared to the current one hundred. My income from wishes was incomparable to what I could net now.

But still…it wasn't enough. At my current income it would take me thirty YEARS to hit B-rank without any supplementation from renown. I had always been kind of perplexed how other members of the family could spend decades in D or even C-rank. But doing the math…I got it. It would be even longer at a lower rank with a lower stat cap.

Luckily I didn't need that. I DID have income, and I was sitting on a huge backlog most likely. So I retired to my room to get ready to let the power roll over me. I just hoped it wasn't too big of a percentage of my current value.

Closing my eyes…I let the energy hit. It was quite a bit. It wasn't double what I had, but it was definitely close. Maybe two thirds? It took me a minute to grit my way through the pain as I let the stats bolster me. Shockingly, most of my income was in Might and Focus. Since it was all from the same two sources I supposed that made sense, but it was still kind of staggering exactly how many of the points were concentrated in those stats.

Three hundred and twenty thousand Might, two hundred thirty one thousand Focus, and varying amounts in my other stats mostly coming in at less than a hundred thousand, giving me a current grand total of two point five million, two thousand six hundred and ninety four.

But more than that, I achieved something else. What I'd done earlier was nothing short of staggering. Driving out the energy of actual gods, even with help, was no mean feat. And I had decided that it was a skill I wanted to double down on. When you bound a page of your Chronicle, the skill or technique used in the binding created a powerful enhancement effect. As a thing became part of your legend, it became more legendary, and I was unwilling to let this particular skill bump go.

So I reached for the fact of what I'd done. Describing how to bind a Chronicle page was kind of like describing how to breathe. You can document the general motions, but it kind of misses out on how fundamental an act it is. Your chest moves and air gets sucked in doesn't really cover the miracle of inhalation, and describing the actual act of binding a page doesn't even come close.

But still, I knew how. I'd done it before, I could do it again, and I did. I pulled the truth of my earlier actions around me like a swirling cloak, pushing and condensing it into the Ten Demons Tome. The page was imbued with Leviathan, but also so much more. It was imbued with defiance. With resistance. With the very concept of raging against the Void, the corruption of Hatescream, and against anything that would attack my soul.

I felt the truth of these factors engraving themself into me, slowly integrating into my being in a way that I hadn't really experience before. I got SOME of this during stat increases, and I'd bound a page before, but I had been a little distracted. Now though, I was experiencing a change of my very nature (and one done at my own recognizance) and it was truly staggering.

Even thinking back on what had been done to me, I felt…less. Less bothered, less worried. If that happened again, I could feel that I'd be better prepared, that I was MADE to fight back.

Callie busted into the room, eyes wide as she searched the space frantically. "Shane!" she shouted in a panic, before freezing when she found me staring back at her with a raised eyebrow. "You…I felt, that is…what?"

I chuckled, then described what had happened. She nodded thoughtfully. "That's a smart idea. Increasing your resistance. Maybe I should do the same. I did help you cleanse it, and I have a feeling it might not be a bad thing to be prepared for running into Morwenna's…whatever that is, again."

"That's not a bad idea," I nodded. "But that's your first page, are you sure that's what you want?"

She nodded fiercely. "I never want to watch anything like that again. If I'd been more prepared maybe I could have helped faster. Besides, Morwenna will be targeting me, I'm sure. Might as well be prepared." I nodded, then gestured for her to sit down. I was already down here after my own binding, might as well help her out with hers.

 

[Quenster06]

She was going to turn them all into cows and let them loose in the halls with numbers painted on their sides

Click to shrink...

Who in the heck is Bethy going to turn into cows? I would also ask how, but I trust that she'll find some way to do anything she truly wants to.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

After adding the fifty four hundred points to Callie's Creation stat (she paid with ten charges of Adherent Fire, which I couldn't access through the bond and was VERY interested in researching) and binding her first page, Callie and I decided to take the rest of the night off. It had been a big day, and we were both exhausted. We fell asleep pretty quickly, and the next morning woke up eager to start the day. For some values of eagerness.

"I wish I was dead," I moaned loudly, burying my face in a pillow. "Kill me and put me out of my misery."

My wife snorted. "How were you chosen by an actual goddess of torment to receive her favor, have been LEGITIMATELY tortured by experts, and only last night endured the most painful soul baptism anyone we know has ever heard of, but THIS is where you hit your limit?"

"But it's so UNCOMFORTABLE," I whined. "My head is buzzing, and my throat is scratchy, and the roof of my mouth feels like it got kicked by a horse."

Yes, I, Solomon, future Wishmaster of the Wish Curse Palace, was sick. I had no idea how or WHERE I had caught it, and I'd been briefly worried it might be some sequelae from last night's Apostate adventure, but it turned out, I'd been overthinking it.

As soon as I'd woken up, Callie, who had also been worried, had run off to find my parents, who had promptly informed her…that I had the cold.

I'd tried everything to fix it. Purification, healing, even enhancement. Nothing worked. According to my mother, the common cold had such a reputation as an invincible bane on anyone it touched, that it had recursively mutated to become an invincible super bug. It didn't kill people, at least not ones with a decent amount of Vitality, but it DID wreck anyone who caught it. Basically, the cold had a reputation for making anyone who got infected JUST miserable enough to want to die, but not actually finishing the job. Lucky me.

Even more obnoxiously, Callie was apparently IMMUNE. Recursion turned the cold into a superbug when it came to even Ascendants, but it didn't apply to beings perceived as 'nonhuman'. Callie's racial trait apparently rendered her completely impervious to the dreaded virus, while my own part-time angel status meant nothing.

I was miserable. It didn't even really hurt. Like it did, but it was more of a bone deep ache. Everything was more sensitive, and I was shaky and weak, and my eyes were tearing up and the tears felt like someone was pouring boiling oil down my face. I hated every second of it.

Seeing how genuinely upset I was, Callie dropped her teasing, her face twisting in sympathy. "I know, hon. I can feel it, just…try not to think about it ok? Do you want me to get you some soup?" There was a knock on the door, and I groaned in pain as I wrapped my pillow tight around my ears to block out the loud sound. "I'll get that," she sighed.

"Hey Callie," my mom's voice echoed loudly from the door. So loudly. Like she must have been screaming. Even though it kind of sounded like she was trying to whisper. "How is he?"

My beloved snickered. "He's a whining pile of aches and complaining. Please tell me there's something you can do?" I peeked out from under my pillow helmet, glaring at her reproachfully, but winced and retreated because the light from the hallway was getting in my eyes. We'd been keeping the room dark because it helped my headache.

Sighing, my mother made a noise of sympathy. "Not really. The cold is…complicated. Recursion means you can't really beat it, just endure it. Some things kind of help. Soup, tea, it varies person to person. I actually had my mom make some hot soup for him, I wanted to deliver it in person but given what he's got…"

"Yeah, best leave it with me," Callie agreed. "Don't worry, I'll look after him. Here pass it over."

There was an obnoxiously loud clank of glass on wood, and then my mom called. "Feel better ok sweetie? If it helps, everyone knows the worst colds are always twenty four hour bugs, so that's the form it always takes for us. Just tough it out for a day and you'll be fine."

Callie thanked her and closed the door, walking over to sit on the bed next to me. "Shane? Honey I need you to stick your head out so you can eat this soup."

"No it's cold!" I whined, burrowing deeper into the pillow helmet.

"The soup is hot, though, it'll help warm you up," she coaxed gently, reaching over to wriggle the pillow away from me.

I retreated quickly. "No, it'll burn me!" I whined.

Internally, I winced at my whiny tone. I wasn't PROUD of my demeanor, admittedly. But I'd forgotten how much it SUCKED being sick. Pain was just…different when you were ill. Like even the toughest person would become a whimpering sack of meat when they were under the influence of the dreaded cold. I wondered if this was ALSO recursive. Like maybe this exact phenomena gave the cold some kind of pain tolerance bypass ability.

Sighing, my absolute saint of a wife cleared her throat, then scooped up a spoonful of clear, brothy soup, and began to blow on it. I poked my head out, looking at her suspiciously. She rolled her eyes and then offered it to me. I took the spoon carefully, sitting up, and then swallowed it. She raised an eyebrow. I shrugged sulkily. "S'good," I admitted.

Scoffing disgustedly, she held out the bowl itself. "I'm not feeding you bite by bite. I love you, but there are limits." I took the bowl, sniffing in offense (or as best I could), and then slowly started to eat. She let out a sigh of relief. "Is it helping?"

Despite my current suffering, I forced myself to clamp down on my whiny knee-jerk response, pasting a smile on my face. She was really worried, and I didn't want to make this harder on her. "It's helping," I said, trying to ignore the faint slur in my voice from the post nasal drip. "Feels good to eat something hot."

She smiled softly at me. "No it's not, but it's sweet that you're trying. I'm sorry you're in so much pain, baby, I wish I could help. On the upside, your mom says it's really rare. It's kind of a shock you caught it."

"I'm guessing something about the attack from the lamentation liquid softened me up," I grimaced as I burned my tongue. Not enough to cause damage, but all my sensations were heightened now in the worst way, and with my Perception so high, that was unbearable, especially since it didn't seem to affect my Focus at all, so there was no balance. It felt like my whole body was a raw nerve.

"Maybe," she hedged. "You did get hit pretty bad. But that's more of a soul thing, and the cold is physical. Mostly. I guess maybe there's a soul aspect. Since the damned thing DID mutate from recursion, who knows?"

I snorted, hot soup going up my nose, which set me off on a coughing fit. "Yeah," I wheezed. "Who knows? How much does it suck that we live in a universe where viruses can evolve to higher ranks?" I was just lucky that common wisdom claimed that the cold wasn't fatal, because I had no clue what rank this virus WAS but I was pretty sure it was powerful enough to kick my bucket if it hadn't been against the rules.

"It DOES suck," she allowed. "But I'm also kind of glad." I glared at her and she just laughed. "Not that you're hurting, obviously. But I know you. After what we saw, your first instinct would be to charge off into the unknown and look for any traces of Apostate here. Whatever the hell that is."

"And?" I said sharply. Or, well…dully. I didn't think it was possible to sound sharp when your head feels like it's full of bees. "We need to know what's going on, Cal, people are dying and-"

"And I'd prefer you not become one of them!" she snarled. "Damn it Shane, you don't THINK! This stupid trail of breadcrumbs is basically custom made for you. Step by step, someone is leading you off into the dark to get slaughtered. I know Darren dying shook you. He was family, even if you didn't know him that well, but you can't just run off to investigate without thinking about how it might work out!"

She was crying. I hadn't seen her cry in a long time. I hated it when she cried. "I…" I stammered, not sure what to say. "I'm fine-"

"You sounded like you were DYING you idiot!" she snapped, eyes blazing. "The screaming…I've heard your SOUL crack, and it wasn't that bad. That was…I was so SCARED, Shane. You don't make sounds like that. Not in years. Not even during the Lady's trials. So can you just…take a beat? Take one minute to process and heal and THINK before you run off and get yourself KILLED. Which, in case you forgot, we were recently told might kill ME too if you need any more motivation than my literal begging."

That stopped me cold. Because she was right. I'd been told her life might be tied to mine and I'd almost gotten my fucking soul destroyed less than an HOUR later. "I can't just let this go," I said stubbornly. "It's not even about my own desire to look into it, something is going on, and we might be in danger. If we ignore this I have a feeling it'll come back to bite me in the ass hard."

"Did I SAY to ignore it?" she asked archly. "Did you not just spend days recruiting a small council of people with a variety of useful skillsets specifically designed to make sure you don't need to do everything yourself? Maybe call Wulf back from that stupid goose chase you sent him on and have him do some actual work."

I blinked, because…she was right. I could have done that to start. I was so used to running off to handle shit myself that I'd ignored plenty of important assets. I wasn't convinced Wulf could have found anything from the lamentation liquid, but I'd been planning to chase the lead myself, and that WAS what he was there for. She put her hands on my face, resting her forehead against mine. It felt cool against my overheated skin.

"I'm not mad," she clarified. "I'm afraid. Not of me dying, but of losing you. It means a lot that you're thinking it through now though. I know that it's hard for us to change. All that recursion pushing you down the same road. You're putting in the effort and that's all I'm asking for. Do you want me to contact Wulf for you? And don't say you want me to call him here, if he gets sick he won't be productive, and we don't have the day to waste on a prank."

I grinned at her. "You know me so well. Yeah, have him put feelers out. Anything to do with Apostate, the Void, Morwenna, or the Vanished gods. Cast a wide net. And tell him to report ALL of it. Rumors, whispers, snippets of conversation. I don't care if his girlfriend's cousin's sister's husband's great aunt's hairdresser thought he saw something vaguely void shaped in his TOAST, I want to know."

With Dantalion, I could parse tons of data, but I needed some data to parse. Since I was sick anyway, I might as well do something productive. I tried not to think about the buzzing in my head as I considered processing all that information. This was not going to be a fun day.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

We contacted Wulf through Ellie, who had been watching his back during his investigation into Derran's death. Derran's death was definitely within the scope of our investigative direction, so we didn't exactly refocus, but we did have him expand his scope of inquiry a bit. Sadly, he didn't have anything on hand immediately, so I ended up going to sleep and trying to sleep off my cold, which worked pretty well.

When I woke up the next morning and stocked up on scrolls, I emerged from my cave feeling refreshed and excited. My soul damage had healed up pretty well during my rest and I was feeling almost bouncy after my forced downtime. So, of course, someone had to ruin it.

"We have a problem," Crell said as he dropped into the chair across from me. I met his eyes directly, staring him down as I shoveled a spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth, waiting for him to continue. Taking me silence as an invitation, he slammed down a familiar dark stone book, one of the ones I'd constructed for downloading the charter into. "Look at THIS!" He pointed to the nearest page.

I leaned forward, swallowing before reading aloud. "If the accused shall enter the presence of the tribunal on the fifth day of the seventh month, only then shall the material used for foot covering be transposed to natural fibers, forbidding all animal hides and disallowing manmade materials, save for the use of weaving or stitching."

He paused, turning the book around. "Ah, sorry, wrong page," he cleared his throat in embarrassment, flipping around a bit before turning it around to point at the page."

I refocused. "Should the accuser die under suspicious circumstances, or fear for their life from outside forces, the prosecution may invoke the rite of Signatum Judicium, or sealed judgement, at which time the accuser and accused will be sealed together with the witnesses in an unbreachable space until the final verdict is reached. Signatum Judicium may only be invoked on the final day of the trial, or in the event of the accuser's untimely death, at which time the burden of proof will fall to the first witness."

Frowning down at the book, I put my spoon down, picking it up to flip to the next page. I studied the subclauses related to the Signatum Judicium carefully, then looked back up at Crell. "Explain."

He growled in annoyance. "Basically, it's a clause to be invoked in the event of outside interference. Given the character witness phase, and the importance of the office of Wishmaster, there were concerns that outside forces might attempt to subvert the trial to install their own candidate. The Wishmaster, that is, the original Wishmaster, constructed a special room to ensure the sanctity of the verdict. The Quiet Room.

"The Quiet Room is a Divine Level defensive emplacement with wards out the ass," he continued. "Even a god couldn't breach it with any sort of expedience. It's been slowly improved over millennia by every subsequent Wishmaster, and is considered to be the safest place in the entire Wishworld, to the point that there are several backup plans in place to use it as a fallout shelter in case of a mass attack. And I don't mean a small one like the other day, I mean full on 'the sky is falling' type of shit."

I frowned at him, drumming my fingers. "So you think Devon is planning to invoke the Signatum Judicium?" I mused on the idea. "I mean…maybe? But to what end? Does he think I'm planning to tamper with the trial? Or is this a direct trap? Like is he going to try to kill me in there? Because I'll be honest, I am NOT scared of him. Especially not with Callie there." I focused on the potential dangers. "Who is the first witness?"

"We don't know," Crell snarled. "I've been looking into it, but after the attempt on his life Devon is invoking some obscure double blind jury statute in the charter. He says he's worried you'll kill his witness."

"WHAT?" I snapped, slamming my hands on the table. "That ungrateful little asshole! I SAVED HIS LIFE!"

He shrugged. "He doesn't see it that way. No fixing stupid."

"So, since the invocation can be done in the event of his death or an attack, I'm guessing this was the desired outcome. Which means whoever that witness is, they're almost definitely going to be some kind of assassin."

Sighing, I nodded. "Yeah. There's a limit though, right? No A-rankers or S-rankers were involved in the succession war, at least not anywhere near me. The witness isn't going to be some high ranking badass. It'll be someone closer to our level. B-ranker, I'd bet." Which made me feel a LITTLE better. Aside from Callie, I was going in there with Roland, who was notably the strongest B-ranker in the family as far as I knew.

Of course, that assumed they'd fight fair, which I seriously doubted. Some kind of consumable attack method like my stored attacks maybe? Or a powerful artifact. But it wasn't like they could bring a whole arsenal. And between Callie and I we had two defensive charges that could tank a blow from a god.

Apostate. That had to be involved. I wasn't sure WHY or how, but it would be part of this. The prophecy had involved lots of people too, but prophecies were notoriously vague. The people might have represented everyone watching the trial.

I needed some sort of countermeasure to Apostate. Something that could let me shrug off that horrible corrosion. I still wasn't sure what it WAS, exactly, but I'd been exposed, and I could use that exposure to create some kind of defense. Maybe study the field from the defensive charge the old man gave me. Whatever that was, it had purified all the danger effortlessly. That was probably a factor of power more than anything, but the old man's power was all about efficiency. Whatever the book had done, it had done it PERFECTLY, I was sure, and if I could mimic that, I could create a method of shutting down Apostate before it had a chance to get its hooks in me.

This would be my last pseudo-Domain. The last ingredient in…whatever I was building. Which meant I had a lot of work to do. Lots of research and experimenting. "Hey, are you listening to me?" demanded Crell. "Because I'm not going to be allowed into that room with you, you know? This is a big problem for us!"

"I know," I said mildly. "I was thinking, Crell. Don't worry. I've got some ideas. Thank you, by the way. For finding this. If we hadn't known…" I wasn't sure WHAT they wanted us in that room for, but it couldn't be anything good. Forewarned was forearmed, especially once I got a bit more info about exactly what Apostate was and how it worked. "Before I double down on counter strategies though, any chance we can get OUT of this? Some move we can make to head him off?"

He shook his head. "Nothing reliable. This isn't some tactic. This is a break glass in case of emergency kind of strategy. In order to be in this position, the person in question had to have willingly offered up their soul for complete annihilation if they're found guilty. The presumption is that no one in that situation WANTS an objective and fair trial unless they're actually in the right, and an attempt on their life implies that you, the defendant, has something to hide."

"Except I didn't MAKE an attempt on his fucking life!" I groaned. "I saved it. It's not my fault my cousin lacks the basic deductive skills to differentiate a rescue from attempted murder."

Crell frowned, leaning back and steepling his fingers. "Honestly…I think you're underestimating him. Based on what you've been telling me, Devon isn't stupid. He's not SMART, but he isn't an idiot. It's not that he's imagining things. Someone is making him see things that aren't there. Someone subtle, and very good."

I focused on him intently. Crell was a hell of a manipulator. I'd found him in a dungeon, running an insurgency from inside of the current ruling dynasty of the whole place, having essentially maneuvered the ruler into a position where he'd almost definitely known who Crell was and couldn't do anything about it, despite Crell himself being part of the man's ruling council. He knew how to talk people in circles.

Gesturing for him to continue, I listened. He nodded, continuing his train of thought. "You think this is about intelligence. It isn't. When you manipulate someone, you don't pit yourself against their intellect. That's not manipulation at all. It's just lying outright. The trick is to figure out the way a person sees the world, and shift their viewpoint JUST a bit. Not identifying their blind spot, but making them look just the right way so their blind spot lands EXACTLY where you want it."

"So, what?" I asked in annoyance. "You're saying my cousin is motivated to buy into this shit? I knew that, they're playing on his ego."

He shook his head. "You're not listening. Playing on his ego is part of it. But more than making someone right, if you want them to buy into a deception, you need to make them JUSTIFIED. Don't just tell them something and make them believe it, let them figure it out for themselves. Set the stage so they discover the plot, because then they're in the thick of it. They're invested. He's not just saving his family, he's saving them from a traitor only he discovered."

That made sense, but I still didn't see his point. "Ok…and?"

"And I just told you he's not stupid," he said in exasperation. "Which means the narrative has to have teeth. It has to be believable, and not just to him, it has to be something he thinks he can demonstrate to others, which means-"

"He has proof," I concluded with a frown. "Good proof. Concrete evidence. But there's no evidence THERE. I didn't do it. So what kind of proof does he have and where did he get it?"

He shrugged. "A few options. But if we're talking something damning, only two places. Us or them. Someone involved has to have something compelling. Either another candidate, or some Void being who convinced him that you were working with them the whole time. At that point it mostly becomes a shifting gradient of bullshit. What can they sell, how much will he buy? It's delicate. Like I said, if they feed it to him it won't set right. They'd have had to tease him into discovering it. And if it was a Void entity…"

"It must have happened on the Heirworld," I frowned thoughtfully. "But that's…we hadn't won yet. And I don't think anyone expected us to. Why would someone start laying groundwork for a loss like that when it was such a long shot?"

"Could just be someone careful," he said with a contemplative hum. "Hedging their bets? Or someone who put their thumb on the scale. Helped you win without it being obvious. But for him to believe it, it has to be someone who has some kind of connection to you. Someone you met at some point. Someone with a reason to know."

I sifted through faces. I'd interacted with a lot of people on the heirworld, and I couldn't remember all of them. If it was a Void entity that narrowed it down, not many had survived contact. It could be a candidate, I supposed, but anyone with access could have killed me ages ago and completely sidestepped this whole mess. If one of the other candidates didn't want me to be Wishmaster they could have just taken me out and claimed it was an accident. I shook my head with a sigh. I'd wait until Wulf's information package came in. Then I'd reevaluate. Until then…after breakfast I would start on my final pseudo-Domain. It needed to be a doozie.

 

[Hypnoshadow]

damn shame ill never be able to read this because half of it is locked behind amazon.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

I found myself alone. No connection to Callie, no friends around to bounce ideas off of, none of my normal distractions. This was, of course, by design. This was an important step. I felt like this was a tipping point, like I was being guided to do this by my Fatewalker Path. Like I had always been being guided. This was my destination, my final step, and also the very first step in a brand new way forward.

Which just left me with the unfortunate issue of not knowing what exactly I was supposed to DO here. I mean, I knew what I wanted for my last pseudo-Domain in the abstract, of course. But I also knew that this was going to be the foundation of something bigger. My final expression of a course I'd set all those years ago when I'd first embarked on this journey.

So it had to be big. Couldn't be something simple like an augmented Leviathan, that would be pointless. But I had covered MOST possible outcomes.

I needed to take the concept of rejecting Apostate and make it…more. Turn it into something valuable. Something new. I had combat, utility, creation, information gathering. Everything you could imagine. But it wasn't enough. I was missing something. Some key ingredient. Some final piece of the puzzle.

But I couldn't come up with anything. It was choice paralysis all the way down. What should I pick? Why not something else? What would be most useful? I was double and triple guessing. My fate sense was just letting me down. It was so vague. I just wished I could talk to it directly, then maybe…and then I stopped. Why DIDN'T I just do that? Why didn't I ask my fate sense. Why not manifest the power of the Fatewalker directly. I'd done it with so many of my other abilities.

I closed my eyes, focusing my energy inward. I thought about Apostate. About the trial, about my future. I searched for that spark of insight, that understanding. And I felt it. That slight tug, that brief flare of instinct. I triggered Dantalion, pouring my senses into myself, and when I couldn't catch it, I triggered Limbo, selecting the future I needed, eliminating the possibilities of me missing the trail and then-

Then I wasn't alone. I was sitting at a table, inside the library, and across the table was…me.

"Really?" I asked myself acidically. "A goatee?"

The other me, who indeed had a small black goatee and red horns barely visible under his hairline, shrugged. "It seemed thematically appropriate. After all, this is your deal with the devil, isn't it?"

I frowned. "In what sense?" I asked suspiciously.

He tisked at me. "Come now, don't play dumb. It's embarrassing. We both know you aren't stupid. You had a lot of different directions you could have taken this. You could have combined Beelzebub with Asmodeus and created your own Imperial Guard. They would have been powerful, too. Or you could have doubled down on soul defense, taken the safe route. But you didn't do that. Because you want something more than just another bandage on a gaping wound. You don't want to put another card on the table. You want to flip the damned thing over."

"I need more," I said bluntly. "Need to understand, to learn how to access your foresight. I need…clarity."

"Knowledge is power," the other me nodded. "And power comes at a price. You know that. And you know what the price for this will be. Don't you? What it will cost you to manifest me completely in this form. This isn't a committed pseudo-Domain yet. You could consider this…an exit interview. Or an entrance interview, depending on your perspective. You can choose to back out."

I sighed. "I know. If I use you as the final piece of my pseudo-Domain, I'll break the last remnant of my Doom Sovereign Skill. You're the foundation of that whole ability. My Path won't break, of course, but the Skill will change. Will become something else."

"Change is inevitable," he said gently. "You know THAT too. It's coming for us whether we want it or not. The question is, can you keep up with the changes forced upon you? Are you willing to make the hard choices? The answer seems to be uncertain, or we wouldn't be having this meeting."

Shrugging, I just grinned at him. "What can I say, I wanted a second opinion, and you're kind of the only game in town. Should I call you something, by the way?"

"You already know my name," he said enigmatically. "But there's no need to rush. You haven't finished working up to it. This is a big decision, and you wouldn't be here if you didn't need to talk it out. So…talk."

I glared at him. "Please tell me I'm not normally this much of a smug asshole. You could be nicer about this."

"Nope," he said, raising a finger. "Wrong direction there, boss. I'm not you. I'm PART of you, but I'm a different entity. That's important. It's KEY to this whole thing, actually. Because if you decide to stick with me, that's not going away. Might even get worse. You're at a crossroads here, even moreso than you might be aware of. This choice is going to shape you whole future. You've been taking steps, ones you haven't even been aware of. Some were my influence, some not so much. But this is the last step. This is where you decide if you continue forward, veer off the road, or turn back altogether. Now. Tell me the downsides."

Grimacing, I nodded and collected my thoughts. "No more free upgrades. With the Skill disconnected and turned into something else, I won't rank it up automatically anymore."

"True," he acknowledged. "But since you hit your capstones that's less of a concern now. You don't really need it anymore at this point. It's convenient, but not necessary, and besides that, it comes with an obvious perk."

"No rank cap," I allowed. "All my subskills can continue growing beyond C-rank. I can hit Mythic with any of my forms or pseudo Domains. Even you."

He nodded approvingly. "It's a biggie. Of course, even that has downsides."

"It essentially erases the sole advantage of my current skillset," I sighed. "I'm only able to keep up my absurd levels of utility and skill diversity because it's all part of my build. It grows as I do. If I break that equilibrium I'll have to find a way to grind all my skills individually to keep up with them."

To my surprise, he waggled a hand. "Well…maybe not. I can't go into details, but that might not be as big of a problem as you expect. What's more important is how this will affect your Domain. Because you know that's coming."

I did. My fate sense had been warning me constantly something big was approaching, and my Domain was the next big step in my evolution. I wasn't B-rank, but I DID have a formed Chronicle, which would alleviate the downsides, and I needed to get stronger fast. The only issue was that I had absolutely NO idea what my Domain was going to be. I could feel it…forming. Preparing. That was why I'd needed this meeting. Because this was going to be the big next step that decided what form my Domain would take.

"You can't give me some kind of hint here?" I asked waspishly. "Tell me how this choice will affect the outcome? Hell, shouldn't I be forming it myself anyway? Why the autopilot bullshit?"

"The staff," he said bluntly. "The Ten Demons Tree has been learning from you. Internalizing your patterns, growing alongside you. Every time you use it, every time you create or reference an ability, it shaped the staff a little more. It's a fulcrum on which your Chronicle tilts. You knew when you accepted it that it was going to change things. That it would be an integral part of your Path. When the Ten Demons Tree bears fruit, your Domain will emerge. Not on autopilot, but watered with the choices you've made up to this point. Or did you think using it for all that calculating wasn't going to have an effect? You taught it that it should simulate skills and abilities to their natural conclusions. What do you call it? The Wisdom of Solomon?"

"Suddenly feeling a lot less wise," I said wryly.

He snorted. "Gosh, it's almost like you can see the future." His tone was a little mocking, but mostly just amused. "But in all seriousness it's not as predetermined as it seems. In fact, that's why you're here. This is your last chance to back out. I'm the last bit of nutrients the tree needs. Reforge me into this form, and the conditions are met."

"Or take a step back," I finished. "Take control and assert my dominance over the process…and never find out what this could have been."

He smiled gently. "The tyranny of choice. You can't escape it. You can go left. You can go right. Or you can turn around and go back. But even if you go nowhere, you're still deciding where to go."

"Just tell me one thing," I said after a brief silence. "If I take this path, if I risk everything I've built, invest it all in this…possibility. If it works. Will it change things? Will it make me stronger?"

His gentle smile became a wide, wolfish grin. "It'll be a revolution. And I'm not just saying that because it's the only way I get to exist. The Path you and the tree have set your feet on is truly unique. If you follow through, you have the potential to become something no one has ever seen before."

That brought me up short. That was…way more than I'd expected. What was this Domain that I'd unwittingly created? What had I made in my endless pursuit of constant experimentation? I was wracking my brain and I couldn't think of anything. Whatever the tree was doing, whatever it had learned from me, it had taken it so much further than I was able to.

It was a risk. But also, it really wasn't. I'd made the choices that led here. This wasn't some ineffable force contriving to give me a destiny. This was MY Domain. I'd made it myself. With my actions. With my heart. And looking back, those were things I would NEVER doubt. Every step of my journey, I'd walked forward with my head high. I'd had doubts, sure, and fears. But I didn't have regrets. Not anymore.

I trusted myself. Trusted the path I'd taken. Trusted my love for my friends to have pushed me in the right directions even when recursion might have pushed me another way. When it came down to it, this wasn't a matter of choice. It was a matter of faith. And if I couldn't have faith in the person I was, who could? How could I become a god when I didn't even believe?

"I'm ready," I told him calmly. "I appreciate the sit down, by the way. I know this could have gone a very different way for you. It means a lot that you were willing to break it down for me completely, given what you had to lose."

He shrugged. "What do I have to lose? I don't even exist yet. I'm just a possibility. Until you decide to manifest me, decide to take this Path, I'll only be a shadow, a flicker of potential. Besides, you know who I am, right? This is kind of my whole deal. Bearer of forbidden knowledge, 'to him ascribe all sin', any of that ring a bell?"

I knew what he wanted. He'd said it earlier. It wasn't time yet. Or it hadn't been. It was now. All I needed to do to finish this was make him real. Select this possibility, choose this Path. All I needed to do…was say his name. "I know," I chuckled. "I figured it out before I even got here. Thanks for the assist Azazel. Be seeing you soon." And then I opened my eyes, and the changes began.

 

[Hyperion47]

Azazel is a complex figure from religious and apocryphal texts, primarily known from the Hebrew Bible's Yom Kippur ritual as the destination for a scapegoat bearing sins.

Ominous? I think Foreboding is more appropriate.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

The first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was the sensation of falling. I was, of course, NOT falling. But that didn't stop me from FEELING like I was. The world spun around me like a vortex, and I pitched over as I stood up, smacking into the ground with a dull thud as my perception was consumed by the whirlwind of…whatever was happening.

I opened the bond, sent a quick cry for help to my wife, and then surrendered to my complete loss of equilibrium. I didn't puke, or moan, or show any outward sign of distress, because I had been through worse, but I had to admit, complete disorientation without the ability to stop yourself was definitely unsettling.

Callie pushed the door open, sticking her head in with concern. "Shane? You ok in here?"

"Get-" I ground out as I tried to keep my gorge (which was harder when talking) "Zeke." My Uncle would know SOMETHING about what was going on. She shot me a worried glance and then left, coming back with Zeke not two minutes later. He stepped into the room, strolled over to me, then knelt down and shoved me onto my back. Prying my mask off, he peered into my eyes, then my mouth and then for some reason checked my ears.

"Huh," he said with interest. "You appear to be condensing a Domain. Which is…really weird, honestly. Because you definitely shouldn't be awake during this. Domain condensation is a deeply personal experience that requires extremely delicate micromanaging. If your soul wasn't rock solid stable right now, I'd be concerned."

Closing my eyes to try to fight back the nausea, I ground out. "Why do I feel like I'm on a tilt-a-whirl?"

"If I had to guess, it's because pretty much every bit of Impact in your body is currently being used to build your Domain," he shrugged. "I don't know if you remember what your world was like before you hit a hundred points of Impact, but I can promise you that suddenly going BACK to that state is not pleasant. Not to worry, though. Once your condensation is finished, your body will regulate. Super curious though, how EXACTLY are you doing this?"

I groaned, trying to sit up. Unfortunately, Zeke was right. This wasn't just a visual thing. My hearing was…off. And my skin felt like it was being rubbed with sandpaper. And the air tasted like dust.

"The staff," I explained. "Apparently, it's been consistently analyzing and deducing everything I've done since…" I paused, because I wasn't actually sure. "Maybe since I got it? Anyway, apparently I've reached some sort of tipping point, and it's sublimating all that information into a new groundbreaking Domain."

I didn't mention my incoming Path change, or the possible loss of my Doom Sovereign Skill. I still didn't know how that would manifest. Something about the way Azazel had talked about it made me unsure I'd be LOSING too much. Something was changing, I could FEEL that already, but I wasn't sure what.

Zeke nodded slowly. "The staff IS B-rank. Which makes it more qualified to condense a Domain than you. Normally that wouldn't be possible, but it's your soul weapon, and that connection can be weird. Is it almost done? You should at least be able to tell."

Frowning, I focused internally. I tried to bring up my stat screen first, and I got a painful flare of purple flame behind my closed eyelids. That was annoying, but I was just going to wait and hope it went away. I had no idea where to even START fixing something like that. Still, once I focused, I WAS able to sense…something.

Something was changing in my soul. I couldn't sense the library, though I COULD still sense my Tome (and the old man's). And surrounding them was a sort of weird vortex of Impact and a bunch of other things I couldn't really process.

I shared this with Zeke, and he nodded. "It's condensing. Domain projection is…complicated. It has a lot in common with ranking up actually. When you rank up, energy pours into and elevates your soul and then it overflows out and into the rest of you. When your Domain condenses, all your Impact pours into your soul, sublimates, and then overflows. It carries out into the world around you, essentially expanding your personal reality to the nearby space."

Of course, he was simplifying things for me. I knew there were other factors, like the Void was involved somehow, or would be eventually.

"Anyway, once the sublimation is done, and it's finished condensing, then you can project it." He looked intrigued. "Normally you would KNOW what was going to happen at that point, because you'd have been the one doing the condensing and would know exactly what was coming out. This should be interesting for all of us though."

So we waited, and slowly, I got acclimated to my new condition. I knew it was temporary, but NOT feeling like I was on a high speed carnival ride that never ended was still nice.

Finally, I felt something at the core of my being shift. I let out a long breath as the Impact flooded back into my body, carrying something…new. It stopped at my skin, but I could feel it straining at the edges of me, like I was a water balloon straining just before it popped. "I think it's done," I said cautiously. "So what do I do now?"

Zeke hummed contemplatively. "You should feel it trying to project. The Domain is formed. It WANTS to manifest. All you have to do is let it out. That is, if you're ready."

I closed my eyes again, readying myself for whatever was about to happen. Then, I allowed my Domain to project out of me. The pressure building up under my skin dissipated, and something deep at the core of my soul expanded, pressing my conscious, my sense of self, out into the world. It was like I stopped being a single person in a single place and became a huge dome of space, miles across. The world shifted, and all around us, things changed.

We were standing in a black and blasted plain of basalt. Between the stones, magma bubbled and spat, heat rolling over the barren hellscape. I turned slowly, taking everything in, until finally, I stopped, staring at something…else.

An imperial palace. A huge edifice of grey marble the size of a small city. My Domain was weirdly large. Bethy's wasn't this big. But then again, she had been given a seed of her father's Domain to use, and his was also smaller. I turned to look at Zeke. "Is this…too big? Lark's is smaller. Should mine be small?"

He shook his head. "Not how it works. Different Domains do different things. Lark's is mainly for containment. Being small makes it easier to keep track of prisoners. This one though, I'm not sure what it's for. We should go check out that palace."

I nodded, and Callie stepped up next to me, hand lacing with mine. She wasn't worried anymore, just curious, and I couldn't blame her. I was curious too.

We headed through the scorched plains, eventually arriving at the palace. When we got there, I expected to have to push open the huge doors, but to my surprise, I didn't. The door opened on its own. As I stepped inside, I was greeted by a familiar face. Which was, well, my own. Technically. But with a goatee. "Azazel," I greeted my final pseudo-Domain. "Guess I really did see you soon."

He bowed at the waist. "I bid greetings to his majesty, Solomon the Demonbinder. Welcome, your grace."

"That's new," I said dryly. "You were a lot less formal last time."

"I was a lot less real last time," he said as he stood up. "We all were. But you've ameliorated that particular issue, so it behooves me to act in a manner befitting the shepherd of these wayward sinners. As your last manifestation, I am to be your guide to this, your infernal court. Welcome, your majesty, to Gehenna."

He turned and gestured us through the doors and into a wide amphitheater. It didn't look like an entry hall, so I suspected that the door didn't always lead directly here. But I was a bit distracted by what he'd said, and what I was seeing.

Because the entire amphitheater was filled to the brim with PEOPLE. Strange people. Some of them looked mostly human, with only an odd feature or two. Some of them had familiar strange and unearthly features like flaming hair and horns. Features I recognized.

Mephistopheles. And Agares, and Mornax. And Sammael. Some of them were forms, some pseudo-Domains, and some, I was fairly certain were just skills. Or techniques. But what struck me was the NUMBER. "Seventy two," I said softly. "Seventy two members of the Ars Goetia. This was why I needed just a few more."

"Members of the court of Gehenna," Azazel corrected me. "Due to its synchronization with the legend of your predecessor, the number seventy two was selected as the optimal configuration for the court, but you are not Solomon. At least, not the Solomon who came before. As your uncle has taken the mantle of Janus, so too have you stepped into the shoes of a legendary figure."

I barely even heard him. I was bust counting. Guitar, Piano, First Aid. All Skills I possessed but never used anymore. When I located them, sure enough, the beings representing them were…weak. They felt like G-rankers or something. I turned to raise an eyebrow at Azazel. "What's with them?"

He shrugged. "Unused potential. Demons in Gehenna aren't Skills or Techniques anymore. They're beings. Rather than having ranks, demons have tiers. Those are low tier mostly. One and two. Of course, they can get stronger, and will over time."

Zeke's head snapped up. "They can WHAT?" he said harshly.

"They can get stronger," Azazel said calmly. "We all can. As living beings, and ones with histories and personalities synthesized by the reincarnation tree, we can learn and grow, and the Skills and Techniques we represent grow alongside us."

That brought me up short. "Wait…my Skills improve THEMSELVES?" I asked in disbelief. "Like, even if I do nothing?" I followed that concept to its logical conclusion and the blood drained out of my face. "You said they're not confined by my rank anymore. You told me that during our meeting. That my Skills could continue to grow. That wasn't just about normal rank up mechanics for Skills. That was about TIers right? Like you're tier…what? Seven?" He nodded. "So you could break through to Legendary, or rather Tier Eight, and my own rank wouldn't mean anything."

He nodded, and Callie looked confused. "I don't get the big deal." She smiled apologetically at Azazel. "No offense, self training skills are great, I'm sure. It solves a lot of problems for Shane, but why is that so important."

"Because they aren't SKILLS," Zeke said quietly. "They're DEMONS. Physical creatures. Living breathing entities native to this Domain. Which is STUPIDLY rare on its own, but does happen. But entities have limits. They grow slowly, or with renown. It takes resources, time, fame. Skills just improve with repetition, with knowledge. These demons are embodiments of Skills and Techniques. Which means they grow the same way."

I swallowed hard as I said aloud the thought that had only just occurred to me. "And Skills don't have limits. Or requirements like Chronicles or Sagas. Skills can continue to grow without limits. Which means if all of my demons keep getting stronger…:

Callie's jaw dropped as the logical conclusion we'd all reached hit her like a train. "They could keep growing to S-rank. Or higher. If they keep growing with no bottlenecks, someday, you might have seventy two GODS inside of your soul." As she spoke, the words echoed in the huge chamber, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the space like a divine edict. Azazel had been right. My Domain was something no one had ever seen before. And I wasn't sure if I was thrilled or terrified.

 

[Bezarius]

Yup, Shane just became the one person that everyone want to become their allies or someone to kill immediately.

 

[Hyperion47]

72 demon-gods,that is groundbreaking.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

I needed to sit down. Luckily, I was standing inside of a massive marble palace with lots of seating. So I found a chair and flopped into it, trying not to wince at the clang of armor on marble. "Remind me to get you guys cushions," I told Azazel with a grimace. "These chairs can't possibly be comfortable."

He shrugged. "Haven't really used them yet. Things are still settling. I take it you're still trying to wrap your head around the changes?"

"You mean how my entire system of cultivation has fundamentally deviated from the norm?" I asked wryly. "Yeah, it's still sinking in. How am I going to progress? What even AM I at this point? Am I still an Ascendant?"

Zeke snorted. "Don't be so dramatic. You're a divergent. It happens. Not OFTEN, granted, but it does. In fact, almost every Demigod and higher is some sort of divergent. Normal cultivation doesn't have methods for gathering Impact. You kind of have to blaze your own trail. Like how the Unity created Heroic Cultivation."

"Yeah, why exactly does that count as its own separate method?" I asked bluntly. "I've always wondered about that. Like isn't it just…NOT having a Job?"

"Heroic cultivation is pretty intuitive," he allowed. "But it works because of the infrastructure that the Unity built. The Job system was created because just letting raw renown wear away at you was considered dangerous and reckless. The underlying bedrock of Heroic cultivation is the society of heroes and villains that the Unity created to manage and refine that renown. Rather than change the input, he changed the source. It counts.

"Of course, it IS rare for someone to diverge so early," he admitted. "Most only do it later into S-rank. But it DOES happen. Think about how Lark gets stronger by eating others. Reaching Demigod is doable without diverging, because S-rankers are pretty close, and there are other ways to get Impact, but past that point, there's no other way to become a god. Rather than freaking out about how different you are, it would be best to figure out what this means for you. Can you access your stat sheet yet?"

Wishmaster heir status. C-rank. Ability: Grandmaster Wish- Nine times a day grant a Master wish in return for proper compensation. Wish must be feasibly achievable by the candidate's own efforts within a three day period with current statistics.

Grandmaster Path of the Demonbinder- The budding Domain of a Great King.

Wishmaster candidate points-1000

Might-640,923

Impact-155

Fantasy-325,780

Vitality-331,257

Focus-529,835

Perception-361,873

Creation-312,871

Progress to next rank:2,502,694/10,000,000

Soul strength- Tanzanite Soul Body

Chronicle: Ten Demons Tome (pages bound:2- 1 Zagan, 1 Leviathan)

wish scrolls stockpiled: 9 (5 in the possession of friends to be used over time)

Bonded companion: Archimedes (Life Nova Phoenix)

Weapon: Ten Demons Tree (reincarnation tree staff that lets him simulate alternate lives to perfect his forms, and when combined with the library lets him simulate and deduce techniques in a process called the "Wisdom of Solomon")

Stored: 10 Adherent Fire, 7 shadow attacks, 10 shadow jump (seven in reserve), 10 Stealth charges,10 triple strength tranq blows (ten in reserve), 10 spider leg attacks (ten in reserve), 3 gravity attacks, 1 shadow clone, 18 scan heals (I-rank ability so Shane can hold more)

Financial resources: 0 B-ranked, 0 C-ranked, 0 D-ranked(worth 100 E-ranked, past master rank is a watershed)

Court of Gehenna:

1.Doom Sovereign- Tier 7

2.Valtek- Tier 2

3.Cooking- Tier 7

4.Inventing- Tier 2

5.Balam- Tier 3

6.Fire Manipulation- Tier 1

7.Piano- Tier 1

8.Guitar- Tier 1

9.First Aid- Tier 1

10.Angelic Bond- Tier 6

11.Dust Construction- Tier 5

12. Stone Limb- Tier 6

13.Moonlit Night- Tier 4

14.Consecration of Flame- Tier 6

15.Ripple Running- Tier 3

16.State of Grace- Tier 4

17.Steam Arrow- Tier 4

18.Afterburner- Tier 6

19.Pit of Despair- Tier 6

20.Mountain Stance- Tier 6

21.Heart over Body- Tier 6

22.Mercy Kill- Tier 5

23.Double Trouble- Tier 6

24.Touch of Tears- Tier 5

25.Flurry of Blows- Tier 3

26.Heavy Hands- Tier 2

27.Marked for Death- Tier 4

28.False Fatality- Tier 3

29.Blood Curse- Tier 4

30.Creeping Darkness- Tier 2

31.Final Strike- Tier 6

32.Overlay- Tier 4

33.Song of the Soil- Tier 3

34.Rhythm of the Wild- Tier 2

35.Eye of Revelation- Tier 6

36.Danger Sense- Tier 5

37.Piece of Mind- Tier 6

38.Empty Spirit- Tier 6

39.Belial- Tier 7

40.Abomination Engine- Tier 6

41.Mephistopheles- Tier 7

42.Cosmic Collapse- Tier 6

43.Circle of Damnation- Tier 6

44.Mephisto's Waltz- Tier 6

45.Mornax- Tier 7

46.Zagan- Tier 7

47.Life Nova- Tier 6

48.Genesis Burst- Tier 6

49.Bael- Tier 7

50.Beelzebub- Tier 7

51.Agares- Tier 7

52.Dantalion- Tier 7

53.Sammael- Tier 7

54.Limbo- Tier 7

55.Gluttony- Tier 7

56.Wrath- Tier 7

57.Pride- Tier 7

58.Retribution- Tier 7

59.Murmur- Tier 7

60.Leviathan- Tier 7

61.Behemoth- Tier 7

62.Glory- Tier 7

63.Abaddon -Tier 7

64.Wisdom of Solomon- Tier 7

65.Promethean Fire Soul Body- Tier 6

66.Fate Sense- Tier 6

67.Scent of Truth- Tier 5

68.Damnatio Memoraie- Tier 6

69.Dark Reflection- Tier 6

70. Asmodeaus- Tier 7

71. Astaroth- Tier 7

72. Azazel- Tier 7

It was different. Cleaner in some ways, though also more dense. But beyond that, it was also just…more. I could FEEL them. Each of them. Feel their intent, their emotions. As my eyes scanned the list, I got impressions of them. Zagan's energetic glee, Behemoth's slow regard, Leviathan's fiercely protective nature. Azazel's wisdom.

They weren't just skills anymore. They were actual living beings. They could grow and learn. And each of them was BUILT to be what they were. They knew how to improve, how to get stronger, because it was baked into their very being.

It was kind of scary. I was responsible for all of them now. They were my subjects, my people. But when I thought about it like that, the pressure kind of vanished. I already had subjects. I was going to be the Wishmaster. This was no different. They were my responsibility, sure, but I'd accepted responsibility for far more.

More than that though, I was still catching up to the fact that I had completely changed the game. I'd created something truly new. The Great Book Heavenly Library, the Ten Demons Tree, Doom Sovereign, none of them were dispensable from this new thing I'd created. My experiences had shaped it, my encounters had created it. Gehenna was…well, me. But also not. The staff had simulated real lives for them, all of them perfectly suited to their own progress. The growth potential of my demons was off the charts. No bottlenecks, no renown.

"So…are you all just going to be gods tomorrow?" I asked worriedly. "My soul and Chronicle definitely can't handle that. Maybe one or two of you becoming B-rankers, but nothing beyond that."

Azazel chuckled. "Hardly. Most of us are Tier 7, like you saw, which equates to Grandmaster. Essentially we're as strong as you. But only hypothetically. The forms and pseudo-Domains you made were limited by your own understanding. We're about equal to very low level C-rankers. And we'll grow fairly slowly. For the most part. Your Domain is tied to your Chronicle, and so are we. You've bound pages to Leviathan and Zagan so far, normally that would have been a slight power boost, but given all the changes, it's…more."

I considered it, and it felt like something just whispered the answer to me. "Talent. They'll grow faster. And not just them, the demons…under them?"

"Heirarchies are important in a court," he acknowledged. "Zagan is above Life Nova, for instance. So Life Nova will grow faster, though not to the same extent. Of course, it's a tradeoff. Binding pages to something like Doom Sovereign will dilute the effect. You'd need a lot more of them for it to matter spread across so many demons. Doom Sovereign is one of the core Ministers of the Court. Along with myself and Sammael."

I nodded in understanding. "How about Fate Sense?" I asked. "Isn't that just the same as you?"

He shook his head. "Fate Sense is a natural instinct that all Ascendants have. A factor of the stats affecting your relationship with reality. Your FateWALKER senses are something else. The two did occasionally get mixed up in each other, but they're fundamentally different forces. In fact, that's an example of how Gehenna has changed you. Fate sense is stat based, and is fundamentally impossible to improve without ranking up or gaining stats. The fact that yours can grow is…monumental."

"It's a lot," I admitted. "Almost too much. Like I'm bound to these skills forever now? I can't grow or learn new abilities? Can't invent new techniques?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not. The Domain is part of you. You can change your Chronicle, why wouldn't you be able to change your Domain? You can reincarnate demons into new forms, and even upgrade and refine them manually. Don't forget that we were created by a combined effort of yourself and the staff. I wouldn't recommend tinkering with our matrixes until you learn a bit more about them, but your talent for creating techniques is PART of this Domain."

That made me feel better. I'd been worried all the work I'd done had been pointless. But knowing I could improve the demons myself, that I could add or remove skills and techniques, it really put me at ease.

Azazel noticed that, and held up a warning hand. "The higher ranked a demon is the harder they are to alter. Reincarnating one into a new skill or technique is best done at VERY low ranks. As for alterations, small changes done in stages are your best bet, once you reach that point. For now, I would suggest you learn more about how to work with them as they are."

I nodded. I could still tap into those skills. The connection I felt when I looked at the Domain list told me in no uncertain terms these techniques were all part of me still. In fact, I was pretty sure I could combine my pseudo-Domains into even more powerful forms…eventually. That would inevitably involve reincarnation and not to mention the Domain was weighing heavily on my soul.

The Chronicle and the staff had offset the frankly absurd amount of soul strain I should be under constantly, but adding any more functionality to my Domain in the short term was off the table. I was coming to terms with most of it, but I still had another thing to check on. I stood, turning to glance up to the head of the hall, where a large ornate chair stood.

The chair was tall and dark, made of cracked glowing stone in the style of Agares. On either side of it sat pedestals, one with my Ten Demons Tome floating above it, and the second sporting a purple book of lightning and fire. Above the throne hung an illusory tree, representing my staff, while the weapon itself floated across the throne as if waiting for me to take it up and take my rightful seat.

Walking up the stone steps, I reached out, grasping the staff and bracing it on the floor as I turned to sit down. From this vantage, I could look out over my entire Domain, see the faces of every member of my court. Staring down at them solemnly, I nodded once to myself, this was my power now. This was who I was. And I couldn't wait to see what I could build with it going forward.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

Once I took my seat on my throne, I called for my cabinet. I had to admit, it was a cool feeling sitting up above the throne room, looking at at the rows of bench seating filled with my subjects. I had Archie fly out to get them, and once he was gone, I couldn't help but turn to Zeke. "So…how the hell does this work? I've been in Bethy's Domain before, and seen her use it, but like, how much space is this taking up in the real world?"

He waggled a hand. "Complicated. It's not…it's not like a portal, really, more like a whole bunch of space shoved into a very small area. Domain's are like shallowings, they extrude partway into the Void. Not far enough to run into issues on that side though. Domains don't fully enter the Void until you reach divinity. At which point you join with them and create a world. The process is more complicated than that, but that's the broad strokes."

"So this Domain, despite being HUGE, is only taking up the same amount of space as like…my room?" I asked slowly.

He nodded. "Around that. So once they walk inside, they'll be entering the Domain, at least when you have it projected like this. Of course, it's in your soul in either case, but now that it's been firmly established, you can let people inside directly, without having to take the back way like Callie does."

I nodded along, but wasn't really paying attention. My thoughts were on my next steps. Namely, on what information Wulf was bringing and what I could do with it. Then I blinked. Because I didn't need to do anything. I glanced up. "Dantalion," I called out into the crowd. "Come up here."

The man who emerged from the crowd wasn't what I expected. He looked old for one. Like very old. He was wearing a heavy brown robe, his back hunched with age. "Your grace," he said, his voice creaking as he bowed deeply. "How may I serve?"

I debated telling him to relax, but I knew that it wouldn't make a difference. The Domain was part of me, but the demons weren't ME. They were unique entities, and they would act as their life experience and personality dictated. "I have a subject coming here with news. I need you to analyze the data for me."

Gehenna had fundamentally changed several things about me and the way my abilities worked. The longer I stayed there, the deeper my understanding got. Firstly, there was the concept of incarnation. Though it sounded similar to REINCARNATION it was very different,.

All of my Skill and techniques were still Skills and techniques, but they were ALSO demons. Demons, because of the abilities of the staff, that had entire lifetimes simulated for them, in which their sole purpose was to improve and refine the Skill or technique they were a manifestation of.

I could still use those Skills easily, tapping into them directly as I always had, but I also had a new and more deadly application of my powers. Incarnation. By allowing a demon to possess me, I gained access to their memories and skillsets as they applied to their powers.

Essentially, incarnating allowed me to become a perfect master of my Skills up to the point they had progressed, and I could even do incarnate multiple demons at once. However, the tradeoff was that I had to bear the weight of their experiences in my mind as I did so. More incarnations meant more burden, and while I could use things like Piece of Mind to offset it somewhat, it still placed limitations on my ability to use my various demons.

Because of the Domain's existence though, there was another option. I could also just ASK the demons to do things for me. My demonic subjects were real beings, and while they weren't very well suited for the environment outside of my Domain (they could leave, but staying out long term without me acting as a host would cause them to become listless) they were masters of their own unique applications.

So asking Dantalion to personally search for the answers would be easier and more effective than doing it myself, barring a strenuous incarnation session that I really didn't need to bother with.

Dantalion's face lit up, and he nodded excitedly. "Of course, your grace. I am ever at your service."

"Good to know," I said cheerfully. "And now's your chance." I nodded to the door. "It seems our guests have arrived." Without any verbal reminder, Azazel stepped out of the crowd of demons, approaching the entryway. He flung the massive double doors open, admitting my cabinet and several of my other friends, all of whom looked awestruck. Or most of them did. One in particular looked a bit more…unhappy.

Bethy was pouting like there was no tomorrow. "Your Domain is so much bigger than mine," she complained. "And it comes with all these new friends!"

"Your Domain is full of cute animals though?" I pointed out calmly. "Isn't that better?"

"I brought them in myself though!," she grumped. "These guys were already here when you got the place."

I rolled my eyes, turning to my cabinet members. "Wulf," I called. "You got any information for me? Because I need SOMETHING." I needed to know what was going on, what Apostate was, who the hell the witnesses were going to be, how strong they were, and what they could do so I could devise countermeasures. I was operating at a huge dearth of information, and if I didn't FIX that before I was summoned to The Quiet Room, Callie and I were going to be in a lot of danger.

Wulf, who had been looking around the throne room in awe, shook off his stupefaction. "Huh? Right, information. I have quite a bit. You said find EVERYTHING, so I did." Holding out his hands, he retrieved a huge box from his ring, the whole thing stacked high with folders and paperwork.

I nodded to Dantalion, who hurried forward to take the box, then walking over to sit on one of the benches. He placed his hands on the box, closed his eyes, and the air began to crackle. As we watched, the letters on the pages flickered like sparks of purple lightning, and then they began to climb across the pages toward his hands.

My eyes widened. I hadn't know I could do that. I mean, yes, I realized there were more powerful applications for my forms, and Dantalion in particular, given the interaction it had with the computer back on the heirworld. But this was something totally different. This wasn't just processing information, it was CONSUMING it. I wondered exactly what difference the method of integration made in the process. I trusted it did something, but what exact effect it might have was anyone's guess.

"Well, that's…unsettling," Wulf said from where he was standing. "There's something weirdly intimidating about someone EATING information in front of me. I just hope it's not some kind of omen."

"It's not," Azazel chimed in from nearby. "Your impending horrible death has nothing at all to do with your career."

Wulf froze, staring at him in horror, and I rolled my eyes. "Don't listen to him. His powers don't work like that." I paused. "Probably. I think." I glanced over at where Dantalion was hunched over a box of papers doing things I hadn't considered possible until a moment ago. "You…were joking, right?"

My Minister snorted. "I was, yes. I have a dark sense of humor. Shall I see to your guests while we wait for the results? Not that I'll need to do much, they seem to be well taken care of."

I turned to find my cabinet members being approached by various demons. Marco was talking to Inventing, who was thrilled to pick the brain of a much more powerful inventor. Peter and Holly were talking to Eye of Revelation, Dante to Abaddon, and the various others were quickly being waylaid by various others. I raised an eyebrow at him. "And I'm supposed to believe that was an accident?"

"Doom Sovereign and Sammael WERE hoping for a word," he admitted. "The three of us represent the trinity of your power. Despite our interconnection, we are all independent aspects of your power, with myself representing the more abstruse mechanics of your abilities, Sammael the physical, and Doom Sovereign the breadth of your Skills. When you aren't active here, we'll be the ones keeping the peace and acting as commanders. It would behoove you to actually meet them before you move on with your business, vital though it might be."

"You're right," I sighed. "Where are they? I don't see them around here."

He pointed across the throne room, to where a small stone door glowed with green runes. "You've yet to explore the entire space, my lord. Perhaps you might take the time to do so once matters have come to a close regarding the trial."

When we reached the door, we stepped inside quietly, leaving the others to talk to the demons. Inside, I found a pair of figures. Doom Sovereign looked…regal. He was a tall, pale man with long blonde hair and a black iron crown. He actually looked a lot like the final boss of the DS campaign, though I hadn't played it in years. I nodded to him solemnly, before turning to look at Sammael.

The demon embodiment of my racial trait looked…kind of like me. Not like Azazel did, mind. Azazel was just me with horns and a goatee (for whatever reason), Sammael looked like what I would have been if I'd been born an angel. Callie's features had changed a LITTLE with her conversion, but not too much. I could see now that she must have wanted that to happen.

Despite being mainly human shaped, angels were NOT human. Everything about Sammael, from his cheekbones, to the shape of his eyebrows to his ears was just slightly wrong. Not that he looked bad. It was the opposite. His features were too perfect, too symmetrical. They were inhuman. He seemed to notice me noticing, because he grinned at me. "It's like looking in a mirror, huh?"

"Don't be a smartass," I told him dryly. "I'm still in charge of you." I turned to Doom Sovereign. "How about you, no mocking quips?"

He snorted. "Such behavior is beneath me. A true ruler is magnanimous."

"Yeah, he's not much fun," noted Sammael. "But he IS smarter than he looks. And he's uniquely suited to deploy our forces. I'm not really built for that. Doom Sovereign is your tricksy deck of trump cards side. I'm more the hit it til it breaks type. After all, when you designed me, it was with the intent of creating an angelic form that could stand up to enemies directly."

I rolled my eyes. "I know what I intended. I was the one who intended it. What's your point?"

"My point is that he's got experience and tactical acumen we don't," he said with a sigh. "And he has ideas for how we can handle The Quiet Room. We don't know who or what is coming, but there's ways we can mitigate that weakness. Create contingency plans based on potential outcomes."

I raised an eyebrow. "You can't create contingency plans based on 'anything can happen'. That's not a plan. It's a wild shot in the dark."

"It WOULD be a wild shot in the dark," he acknowledged. "IF we were shooting in the dark. But you seem to be forgetting. We happen to have a flashlight." He jerked his chin at the third member of our little quadret, and I froze, looking at Azazel with an intensity that I imagined was quite offputting.

He sighed. "I can't ensure any results will be certain," he hedged. "But I could probably narrow things down a bit." Walking over to the table at the center of the room, he sat down. "I can make a few predictions, and we can use the data from Dantalion's analysis to narrow them down. So I suppose we should hurry up. He'll be done soon. Come sit down then, let's gaze into the future."

 

[Malcolm Tent]

The process of Azazel divining the future was…complicated. Mostly because it was almost completely new to me. It wasn't based on Doom Sovereign, or on normal Ascendant divination as I'd heard of it. It was more…abstruse. As Azazel explained it, his skills were entirely synthesized by the Ten Demons Tree. He had an entire lifetime of memories of slowly learning to predict the future through trial and error.

"Basically, my powers work on probability," he said as he slowly withdrew a series of small carved bone chips. Symbols were inscribed all over them, but rather than just rhowing them, he began scratching a complicated diagram on the surface of the table. "I can't tell you what's going to happen. I can tell you what MIGHT happen, and I can somewhat sense how likely that is, in the abstract."

"So you can find us the most likely outcomes," I clarified. "Predict the biggest potential dangers?"

He waggled a hand. "Not exactly. My predictions are based on available data, my own perceptions, and my involvement in the incident in question. Just because an outcome is the most likely one I see, doesn't mean it's the most likely in general. But I can somewhat refine things as I go. That's why I'm willing to do this. When Dantalion is finished deducing the data, we can add it to that prediction matrix during the session."

I nodded, not really understanding but pretty sure I wasn't going to get it completely. It made more sense to move on. "Alright, so how do we start?"

He set the bone chips on the table, carefully sorting them and selecting a few after careful scrutiny, then handed me five of them. There were, interestingly enough, seventy two chips. I suspected this little trick used my Domain as a basis, and it was a fascinating thought. My individual demons being able to derive more advanced powers through the Domain itself would be potentially game changing later.

When I mentioned it though, he just shook his head. "As the last demon to form, and also the first in some senses, my presence is intricately bound to the rest of the court, and to yourself. The chips represent you and the others, and I'm not included. It's possible you'll be able to derive more powerful functions from the others as you improve the Domain, but it won't be soon. You can think of this as a special level of access I'm due as your first Minister."

"Ah, so you're second in command around here, and you can use the Domain for a few of your own tricks because of the access level," I clarified as I took the chips. "Good to know. So what do I do here? What does any of this mean?"

He gestured at the formation on the table. "This is the wheel of chaos. It contains all things and transforms all things. The collisions of the variable forms and the curves of the shifting diagrams are an every expanding and rapidly changing tapestry of possibility." He pointed at the bone chips. "These are the lodestones of fate. They represent the journeys of those inscribed. I can't just predict any future, only OUR futures, and not my own. But using yourself and my seventy one brothers as anchor points, I can pivot the lens of the infinite potential outcomes to gaze upon the external mysteries, briefly glimpsing the truth beyond my sphere of influence."

"Huh," I said slowly. "That was extremely unhelpful. I understood exactly none of it."

He snorted. "Don't worry about it. Shake the tiles and throw them onto the formation. I'll do the heavy lifting."

"See, was that so hard?" I complained as I shook the handful of chips.

Tossing them out, a watched the formation crackle with purple electricity as they bounced once, twice, and then, with a snap, they were sucked down onto the table as if magnetically attracted, slamming down on the wood face up and then sliding along the formation until they reached a specific spot.

Azazel hummed with interest, then began carving strange formuli on the table next to the formation. Green flickers of toxic flame spat and hissed in the obsidian material, showing me that everything here was constructed by Agares, not that I was surprised. Finally, he finished.

"I have a few tidbits," he said slowly. "But things are murky. I don't have enough information for a proper reading. Sam, go get Dantalion."

Sammael nodded, rising and striding out of the door. Doom Sovereign watched carefully, trying to see something in the jumble of random information and clearly having as little success as I was. "Dom," snapped Azazel. "Throw these four tiles." He passed them to the regal looking blond, who nodded and did as he was told. Azazel stared down, calculating more, and resumed his carving.

Sammael came back, bringing Dantalion along with him. The hunched elder bowed deeply to me, and then to the ministers, before setting a hand on Azazel's shoulder. His eyes sparked purple, and a surge of electricity poured from one demon to the other. Azazel's eyes glowed the same shade, and he smiled wolfishly. "That's new," he commented.

Dantalion shrugged. "When I consume the information like that, I can redistribute it. Saves the trouble of transcription."

Azazel nodded absently, then picked up another handful of tiles and threw them. The same surge of electricity, the same snap of attracted bone. But this time I was able to see that he wasn't just clocking their final positions. He was studying the paths they took. His formulas were a sort of shorthand notation to track progress.

"First bit of information," he said slowly. "You were right, the Apostate is one of the witnesses. I don't have the data to figure out which, but he WILL be present during the final battle in The Quiet Room."

I nodded. "Ok, good to know. What about the identities of the witnesses? Anything on that?"

He shook his head. "Unclear. I can't get anything that specific. This whole situation is a mess. And I think The Quiet Room is blocking my divination attempts atemporally. Which is absurd, and would be way more shocking if it hadn't been made by a god to keep other gods out of his business. As it is, I'm only getting quick flickers of potential outcomes, and only because we're inside your Domain, and you'll also have it open when the incident is occurring."

That…actually made sense. If Domain's were partial Void shallows anchored to a soul that meant they existed partially outside realspace. Still, I didn't think it was as easy as he was making it sound. If a Domain was enough to bypass The Quiet Room it wouldn't be considered god proof.

Seeing my skepticism, he chuckled. "My abilities leverage advantages we all have. Having so many points of contact, both unique and cohesive, gives me an unusual amount of grip on the possibilities. Especially considering the connective tissue of the Domain itself is the Ten Demons Tree, and we've all been more or less created by the tree, which is connected to your soul. For all intents and purposes, you're asking me to look into my own future, for some values of selfhood. Of course, I can't look at what my fate is as an individual, but there's a layer of separation between yourself and us, even if it can get a little fuzzy."

Doom Sovereign grimaced. "Your esoteric babbling is unnecessary. We seek only results."

"You say that because YOU can't do this," Azazel said waspishly. "But our lord possesses all that I am, as well as access to your own considerable power. He can learn this method, and should he understand it, his safety will increase when he is out of reach of our assistance. Not that I expect that to happen, but better safe than sorry."

"I appreciate that," I told him kindly. "But Dom is right. At least in this instance. I'd love to learn more from you, and I might try incarnation soon to pick this up more easily, but you've explained the basics and now we need to focus. You had him throw, so what kind of feedback can you give?"

He sighed, but nodded. "Very well. I got some very vague responses. Firstly, you'll need to dispatch Dom to fight independently, mobilizing several of his subordinates. I can't get an exact number of enemies confirmed, but there's enough that the forces you're bringing won't match up."

Which meant there would be at least three witnesses on Devon's side. With Callie and Roland as my backup, I was confident in a three on three. For some reason, I'd envisioned Devon bringing two just like I was, but if he had something up his sleeve, it was good to know about it.

I was about to pry more into the possibilities, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. I raised an eyebrow, but nodded to Dantalion to open it.

Crell was waiting on the other side. "We just got word. Devon has invoked the charter. He's requested seclusion in The Quiet Room as the tribunal makes their final judgements. He's citing the recent unrest as motivation to seclude early. He says it's evidence that external forces are attempting to sway the course of the trial."

I frowned as I gestured him inside. "The tribunal aren't buying that, are they? Why would I have been involved in the attack AND helped fend it off. Not just saving Devon, I got heavily poisoned by Hatescream's corrupted land. I'd have to be a moron to let myself get nearly killed by a plan I had a hand in."

"They didn't," he said with a sigh. "But while external forces aren't welcome in the trial, the tribunal IS still part of the elder's council. They're receiving subtle pressure from the other branch leaders."

Left unsaid was that they probably weren't resisting too hard. Non-interference was a point of principle, but The Quiet Room was a backup plan created specifically to ensure that very thing. None of them would consider its use to be interfering, or at least not enough to put up more than a token resistance. They had no reason to distrust Devon or his intentions in this matter, and I couldn't really give them one.

Prophecy was notoriously unreliable, and based on Azazel's feedback, it wasn't supposed to even WORK in The Quiet Room. I grimaced. "They tell us who the witnesses are ahead of time by any chance?"

"Nope," he said tiredly. "We won't find out until you actually get there. And I won't find out at all. Like I said, no lawyers in the box. It's an anti-tampering measure, and for some reason everyone has a deep and fundamental distrust of giving us unsupervised access to the witnesses." He snickered wryly. "Can't really blame them there."

"Granted," I laughed. "But it doesn't make my job easier. You get in touch with Roland already? Make sure he's prepared?" I paused. "Wait, we can bring weapons in, right?" I hadn't even considered what to do if they tried to disarm us. Forget Roland being weakened, Callie and I had our weapons in our SOULS. I had no idea if it was even possible, but I definitely had no desire to find out the answer in either case.

Thankfully, he shook his head. "Nah, it's generally accepted that weapons are kind of superfluous. You're Ascendants. You won't have a problem killing each other one way or the other. However, there IS a time constraint. You've been requested immediately. You're to be locked up until the end of the trial, at which point you and Devon will receive the final judgement together."

I glanced at Azazel, who nodded back solemnly, and I sighed as I stood. "Alright. I'll retract the Domain. You take the others out of here, I doubt they'd react well to me trying to sneak you in." As for the demons…I'd cross that bridge if I came to it. Hopefully it wouldn't be an issue. I had enough problems.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

It was a long walk to the council chamber. Or rather, it felt long. Callie was with me, but the others mostly stayed behind. They didn't want to see me marching off to get locked up for days on end with potential enemies. My parents came with us, and even my dad looked tense. I raised an eyebrow at him as we walked. "Why do you look so morose? We're the ones who are going to be locked up in a box for the next three days."

He frowned. "This feels off. Things aren't proceeding like they should. If you hadn't successfully condensed your Domain, I would have shut this farce down already. As it is, I suppose you can protect yourself, but…"

I nodded. "I get it. I don't like it either, especially not with Callie coming along, but at least we aren't going alone. Roland is one of the top combatants in B-rank in the whole family. Even having Ellie along wouldn't be as safe. He's a friend, and he owes me one besides. I saved his life, remember? He's not going to half ass protection detail."

My mother nodded unhappily. "We know. And no one above B-rank should be entering alongside you. Just don't take anything for granted. Watch out for each other."

Arriving at the council chamber, I was surprised to see Desmond waiting outside for us. At his side, Devon was standing with a pair of men I'd never seen before. When he saw me, he smirked triumphantly. "Ah, the traitor arrives. I see you brought your wife with you. Couldn't find anyone else willing to lie on your behalf?" He didn't mention Roland, but I assumed he was just too scared to talk shit about a powerful B-ranker to their face.

Callie glared at him. "My husband saved your LIFE you ungrateful little twit. I'm starting to think he shouldn't have bothered. Leaving you around to pollute our air with your stupidity is a disservice to the universe. And gods forbid if someone agrees to BREED with you."

I raised an eyebrow at my wife. That was unexpectedly vicious. I guess she was really upset that he was doubling down on this nonsense.

"Don't think I bought his little act," he sneered. "I've long since become aware of your tricks. Having your Void spawn minions try to kill me so you could 'save me' and incur my gratitude? Honestly, did you think I wouldn't figure that out?"

I frowned, because that actually wasn't a completely insane take on the situation, and it would be nearly impossible to disprove. Our arrival just in time to save him WAS incredibly coincidental, I'd even considered that myself. Callie stepped forward, looking about ready to attack him, but I put a hand on her shoulder. "It's fine, love. He's either crooked or stupid, and either way you won't make much headway. Zeke always says: 'never argue with idiots, they'll pull you down to their level and beat you with experience'."

She snorted at that, relaxing under my hand, and I turned to look at my cousin. "So, are you going to introduce the complete strangers you've asked to come here and testify against me? Because I know neither of these people."

The sneer came back, wiping away the outrage from my earlier comments. "Go ahead and pretend. Once we enter The Quiet Room you'll be helpless. We're beyond your ability to harm, and even if we weren't, killing the only witnesses to your crimes will only prove your guilt."

Devon sighed. "We don't have time for this nonsense, both of you save the bickering until you've entered. Opening The Quiet Room isn't something done easily or casually. If Devon hadn't made a legitimately compelling case for possible interference, we wouldn't have agreed to it." His eyes locked on my cousin. "You are aware that should this turn out to be the farce that he claims, your execution will go from a simple soul destruction to a fate of such agony and cruelty that hardened Ascendant warriors will weep in terror at its mere mention, yes?"

For probably the first time since we'd arrived, I saw a look of unease cross Devon's face. He glanced at us, looking at me, then Callie, then at Roland, presumably worried my friend would just kill him. I imagined that option was more tempting than it had been previously. He swallowed hard. "I do," he reaffirmed. "I will not allow his treachery to go unanswered. I will protect this family, whatever it costs me."

To my absolute shock, that actually smelled true. I glanced at the other witnesses. One of them had to be twisting things, whispering in his ear somehow. The question was why did he trust them so much? Why were they able to convince him they knew the truth? "You never answered my question, Devon," I reminded him. "The witnesses?"

He shrugged. "Very well, since you can hardly bully or threaten them at this point, or have your minions do it anyway, I suppose I can share. This is Franklin Delmand, and this is Callister Vex."

Roland snorted. "The PAPER king?" he blurted out. "Your witness is the PAPER king?"

One of the men, a copper haired, sallow faced youth with a curly mop partly covering his steel grey eyes, scowled. "That incident isn't relevant to my credibility! It was a slight crafting error, nothing more."

I cocked my head at my friend, who laughed. "Callister here tried to open a paper company, supplying the family with all its stationary needs. Contracts are big business here, you know? Unfortunately for him, there was a small issue with his crafting process. One that didn't become noticeable for several months after production, specifically after the paper had time to completely dry."

"It's paper," I said dryly. "What kind of issue could be that big of a scandal?"

"It had a tendency to…explode," the bronze haired man said begrudgingly. "But only a little! And only like…five percent of the time. Almost no one died!"

I snorted. "Ah yes, minimal casualties, the hallmark of good stationary."

Roland chuckled, then looked at the other man, an incredibly tall, gaunt behemoth with bulging muscles and a long curly beard. "You I only know by combat reputation. I heard you killed Craven Sever. I fought him once. Scary old man. Every single one of the pages of his chronicle was bound with the death of a rising star of the new generation, someone capable of fighting up a rank. He was getting close to A-rank, wasn't he?"

The big man nodded. "I would have been his hundredth."

I whistled. I'd heard of people like that. A lot of people didn't create their Domain at B-rank, but waited until A-rank or even higher. Theoretically, the more distinguished and impressive your pages, the more powerful your Chronicle, and the stronger the Domain it could bear. Domain strength had a large impact on the eventual power of a god, and on the strength of an Ascendant in general. I'd somewhat cheated by using the staff to share the burden, and the function of my Gehenna Domain was abnormal anyway, but if this Craven Sever guy had bound a Chronicle with pages like that, he'd have been incredibly strong at A-rank.

"Since the defense may not be aware," Desmond said after we finished speaking. "I will introduce the concept of The Quiet Room." We shut up to let him talk. "In situations where outside interference is suspected, the prosecution may invoke the use of The Quiet Room. This room is a place of absolute solitude that defies all means of observation, communication, or manipulation.

"Due to the suspicions from the prosecution, the defense was not notified of this change," despite the words, his tone was knowing, and he smiled slightly at me. They hadn't told us, of course, but we'd been advised to study the charter. Clearly my lack of surprise made it obvious we'd listened, and were prepared for this eventuality. "Of course, to preserve the safety of the two sides, you will be placed on opposite ends of The Quiet Room space. Should you choose to seek each other out to interact, we will be unable to intervene, but as mentioned, any deaths will negatively impact the case of the surviving participants. Do you have any questions?"

"Um, where is The Quiet Room?" I asked slowly, raising my hand subconsciously like a school kid. "This is the entrance to the council chamber, right?"

He nodded. "It is. And it isn't. The council chamber and The Quiet Room are both sealed spaces created by the ancestor. This door represents the entrance to several similar locations, each of them connected directly in the Void at hidden locations. Externally, only the ancestor is aware of their coordinates, and internally, only this one door can be used to access them. This is the most heavily guarded location in the palace, and once inside, your safety and solitude from outside forces will be assured."

It sounded like a reassuring answer, but I could see a slight emphasis in his eyes when he mentioned outside forces. He wanted me to be careful of the other witnesses. I contacted Callie directly as we approached the door. "Did you pick up anything about those two?" I asked through the bond. "Any Void energy?"

She sent me a feeling of denial. "Nothing obvious. But I could only sense them if they were actual Void spawn. Vessels can be unpredictable in terms of feedback. Some of them I can pick up, some of them are more deeply hidden. Even higher rankers might not notice, given the Void's ability to isolate and disguise."

I had been afraid of that. Even back during our legion training with Camden, we'd been told about the abilities of Void stealth. Stealth in general operated by confusing Perception, but the Void's ability to remove things from realspace made it unparalleled for disguise and deception. Wise had demonstrated that again on the Heirworld. I slipped my hand into hers, intertwining out fingers as Desmond pushed the doors open. "The defense will go first," he said solemnly. "After ten minutes, the prosecution will enter. Step off the path at any time to arrive at a random location inside The Quiet Room."

We nodded, stepping out onto a long, winding path of pure white light that led off into darkness. Callie, Roland and I stepped onto the path, setting off into the dark as the door closed behind us. We walked for two or three minutes, then stepped off the path as instructed, and…suddenly we were somewhere else. Standing on a plateau overlooking a great desert.

"Alright," I said with a sigh. "Let's set up camp here. I should get some warning before they find us." I contacted Azazel silently in my Domain, telling him to be on alert.

Roland nodded, flopping down on a rock. "Agreed," he groaned. "That was so tense. Being around high ranking members of the family like that always stresses me out. It's creepy not knowing how much they can tell about you. It's like talking to a person with X-ray vision. Who knows what they're looking at. Glad that's over."

"We appreciate the assist," I told him gratefully. "Without you to bear witness, who knows how this would have gone."

"It's nothing," he assured me. "I owe you. Not just for saving me, but for looking into what happened to Darren. He was my friend, you know? I still can't believe he's gone. Making him suffer to the point he destroyed his own soul…it's horrible."

I froze. Because I hadn't mentioned that to anyone. It was a tidbit that Wulf had uncovered during his research, and it had come from a guard who worked for Derran's parents. I'd only learned about it from Azazel's notebook while he was doing the calculations for his precognition. Roland stiffened, his eyes flicking to mine, meeting my gaze and clearly seeing the realization in them. His expression flattened, growing cold. "Oops." And then he attacked.

 

[Bezarius]

Why do I get the feeling that Roland will betray Shane?
He's probing Shane about Callie and their soul connection, also he seems really surprised about that Soul Defense.

Click to shrink...

"Oops." And then he attacked.

Click to shrink...

I Fucking Called It.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

I was already prepared for an attack as soon as Roland reacted. I didn't manifest my full Domain, not wanting to give too much away, but I did trigger the staff, and summon an upgraded Mornax in front of me.

The air blurred, and suddenly a colossal man with long black hair, slate grey skin, and a pair of large horns manifested in between me and the slash. Crossing his arms with a growl of challenge, Mornax took the blow easily, glaring at the swordsman with hostility. Roland smiled warmly, chuckling as he me easily resolve his attack.

"See, this is why I like you, Shane," he said conversationally. "You're so much more competent than you should be. I don't know what that is, but I can feel that it's B-rank. And judging by how easily it shrugged off that blow, it would be tough for me to get through it."

Despite the unfortunate words, he didn't seem particularly worried about the situation. My face was hard. A lot of things that hadn't made sense up until now had just clicked into place.

"Derran was the one who poisoned you," I said coldly. "We were all wondering how the attacker got past the defenses on his quarters. But you didn't have to get past them at all. He let you in. Because he trusted you."

He shrugged. "Yeah, that was a shame. But it was important to control the narrative on the trial. If you'd had your pick of witnesses, things might not have been so easy to set up. With Darren dead and me 'injured', it was obvious I'd be your first pick for a witness." He grimaced. "Didn't expect the little bastard to have such a nasty card to play at the end. I really do owe you for that. I don't think I would have survived."

"Wouldn't that be tragic," I said acidly. He was being too accommodating. I didn't trust it. His hand had drifted to his belt, and I sent a quick message to Callie through the bond. As he surreptitiously drew a small stone dagger from his waist, she began to prepare an exit strategy. "What I don't understand though is…why? What was the point?

"I get the how," I continued, pacing slightly to draw his attention away from my wife as blue rolled through her hair and wings. "Devon was so certain that I did it because you told him. He had a first hand account from someone who had no reason to turn on me. I'm guessing that's why he wouldn't look at you earlier."

He grinned. "Yeah, I was his first pick for witness, obviously. But I needed to make sure that things went smoothly. Of course, in the original plan he would have died in the attack, but you ruined that. Good thing too, because if you hadn't I wouldn't have learned about your little trump card. It would have been inconvenient for me to fail at the last step because you begged your grandaddy for a favor."

"As for why…" he shrugged. "It's nothing personal. You're just in the way. When I approached the vanished gods envoys about this plan, they weren't exactly sold. Hatescream and Stralthrem were only ones willing to entertain the idea, but they weren't sure about taking on the old man. After that mess at the Heirworld, Morwenna was certainly motivated, but she was also wary."

I frowned at that, why would Morwenna be…and then it clicked. "Callie," I said slowly, my blood running cold. "The trial wasn't aimed at me. It was aimed at Callie. You were the one who suggested I call her as a witness. And you arranged this whole thing so we'd end up in The Quiet Room where no one could interfere. You were worried she'd use Gossamer to call on Atlas. That was why Morwenna wouldn't come, she's afraid of him."

"Seems kind of sad to me," he nodded. "Being scared of a dead man. But without her, the whole assault was dead in the water. Even after she managed to break through to Void God, she's too scared of Atlas to act overtly. Wouldn't assist unless I could get rid of your wife." His smile dropped. "That…that's not my favorite part of this, kid. It really isn't. But don't worry. I'll make sure you don't survive her death. I can do that for you at least."

I felt Callie doing…something. The Adherent Fire was gathering, though what she was planning I had no idea. I also felt power gathering in that knife. It was crackling on the air, spitting and hissing in a way I didn't like at all. That weapon was A-rank, and I was assuming it was designed to trigger the defenses on our souls. I had to assume it had at least two shots.

But I trusted Callie. This was a race to the finish, and I would make sure she had the time she needed. I forced myself to engage with him again. "How could you do this?" I demanded. "This is your FAMILY! Your wife's family! What about Delia?"

"I'm DOING this for Delia," he snapped. "And for Penny. This family is SICK, Shane. Parents giving their own children away, not being allowed to see them for most of their lives? The way they treat the defectives? The old man just lets it happen, the council is complicit, the whole thing needs to fucking go! Burn the rot out!" He laughed bitterly. "It was shockingly easy to arrange. No one pays attention to the B-ranker. I'm no threat to any of them, right?"

"And me?" I snarled. "How did you get past me? I can SMELL lies. Do you have some kind of deception Skill?"

He chuckled. "Nothing that complicated, kid. I just never lied to you. It's a habit I developed as a double agent. Too many ways to detect dishonesty. No, the trick is to tell just ENOUGH of the truth to get people where you want them to go." He paused. "Well, I lied to Devon, but he's kind of a dunce, and I only did it when we were alone."

I was frozen, wracking my brain for conversations I'd had with Roland. 'Derran is dead?' Not a statement of ignorance, a question. 'Whoever did that must be a ruthless bastard', because he was. 'I will testify, and there's nothing you can say to talk me out of it', because this was the core of his plan, and he had no other choice. He smiled at me silence. "Just starting to get it, huh? Well, glad I could help put your mind at ease before the end. Which sadly, has now arrived." He raised the knife, and the shiny black stone of the black gleamed wickedly in the dim light of the evening desert. The air around it was shuddering and flickering like the space was glitching out, and a disgusting green yellow light, like a healing bruise, surrounded it like a halo.

As he finished speaking though, something else happened. Black flame flickered to life in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks like tears, and his body began to shift. His hair lengthened and darkened, turning into black thorned lengths of stony meat, horns grew from his head, and a pair of skeletal wings tore free from his back, ropes of diseased flesh snapping from one side to the other to connect them.

From the second I saw the flames, I knew what I was looking at. I recognized them perfectly. "Apostate," I said coldly.

"Yup," he chuckled. "A little gift from Morwenna, just to make sure I finished your girl off properly. Atlas is tricky, and she wasn't taking any chances. This is her own little homebrewed mix of the original Void fire she gave him and all the nastiest corruption abilities she could find. A counterpoint to his purification. She called it the Apostate Fire, because Heretics and Apostates have so much in common."

He held up the knife. "And this…well this is a little trinket she lent me after I got in touch about your defenses. It's called the Bone Demon's Tooth. Empowered A-rank artifact. Let's see if your monster can stop THIS." Before he even finished talking, his arm had blurred, and the world just…split. Mornax dissolved into nothingness, and I was left staring at a purple glowing book hanging in the air in front of me.

The blow was suspended before the attack, but as I watched, it dissolved harmlessly…taking the book with it.

While I was reacting, he'd already lashed out again, and as I watched, Callie's defensive technique dissolved under the onslaught of the Bone Demon's Tooth. It wasn't enough to even scratch the defensive charges…but it didn't need to be. It just needed to be enough to kill us. Enough to force us to either spend the charges or die.

He raised the knife again, his smile almost apologetic, a gruesome dissonance on his new demonic visage. I triggered double trouble, arriving next to Callie, wrapping my arms around her, she was focusing, and I could feel that whatever she was doing was almost done. She just needed another second. Just a little longer. Roland nodded sadly, sighing at the sight of me next to her. "At least you get to go together. I only have three shots with this thing. But I only need one more. Nice knowing you, kid."

His hand flickered as he swung, and the world slowed down. My eyes were wide, my Danger Sense screaming at me. I grabbed for power, for protection, for anything. My Domain exploded outward, interposing itself between us, stretching the distance, buying me precious milliseconds. The slash crossed the intervening space so fast I could barely track it, sweeping through the plains, and I felt a tearing inside me as my Domain was easily torn apart.

Mornax appeared again. He was part of my Domain, and couldn't be destroyed, not unless I was, though he was diminished after his brief death. Behind him Behemoth manifested, then Leviathan, Mountain Stance, Stone Limb. One by one, my demons interposed themselves between my wife and her attempted murdered.

I screamed, my soul feeling like someone was running it through a meat grinder, and nearly collapsed, barely managing to catch myself. My Domain was coming apart, being torn through like paper. It felt like it was taking hours, but it had been maybe one second since the attack began. One second of casual disregard for my power as the demons who made up my court threw themselves on their swords to buy us any time at all. One second was long enough.

Gossamer manifested as Callie raised her blade, wings flaring as I held on for dear life around them. With a scream of effort, she swung her blade, and space TORE. My Domain didn't stop it, didn't even try. She bypassed it entirely, tearing through the fabric of the world and into the void, dragging me through. The blast of horrifying energy struck even as we passed through the gap, and even the aftershock blasting through the hole in the world cracked my armor, sending us both pitching forward as the portal sealed up.

My Domain retracted, ignoring the Void entirely as it was sucked back into my soul. Which was horrifically damaged. Cracks spiderwebbed along the inside of my spirit, barely held together with willpower and habit.

Callie caught me as I pitched forward, and she was screaming something. Tears ran down her face as her mouth worked. I couldn't hear anything, just rushing in my ears as I tried to read her lips. It took me a moment to get it. My name, desperate pleas not to die, and hey, she said she loved me…that was nice. It was a pleasant final sight as my vision dissolved into blackness. As I lost consciousness, I briefly wondered if this would be the very last time. I hoped not, I'd have hated for my last sight of Callie to be her crying.