The 108: Book of the Tower, Chapter 41: Contingency

AN: I added qualia points gains to the precedent chapter, which I will reupload soon.

Kimera has never been too concerned with her facial expression, not because she has stellar self-control but because she never really cared, so it’s interesting watching the emotions flood her delicate features one after the other. The process is faster than one would expect too, as it’s more gaining recollections than watching something live. There is suspicion, then shock, then burning interest, escalating surprise, embarrassment, and finally, pure lust. She flushes terribly.

“I gather there was more than research data in those nodules?” I ask with no small amount of amusement. 

But also she literally transferred a sexual memory of herself to herself across timelines and this is a level of kinky I have no definition for.

“I thought I taught you better than this, disciple,” she replies extremely seriously. “Those notes are already an extremely effective method of transfer of emotionally neutral data. Of course I would use the memory nodules to transfer relevant memories, not research notes.”

She sounds so intense that I feel glued to the back of my seat.

“Do you have any notion of the time and effort it takes to conduct all the verifications required before I allow myself to fall in love with you? I will have you know that it is quite time consuming, between the checks for outside influences and the possible impact on my research — very positive, thankfully.”

“Hold on,” I interrupt despite the clear passion. “Last time, we made love right away. And now you’re claiming it takes a long time before you allow yourself to feel love?”

“Disciple,” she exclaims. “Disciple! Surely you know there is an abyss between my tentative approval and what it means when I truly commit? Do you not realize the significance of my commitment?”

“I, uh.”

I feel silly.

“It was very passionate. At least for me,” I eventually say, feeling a bit wounded for some reason. And also flattered. 

“Well, I didn’t save the memory of that specific section, but I assure you that the alternate me would have, in her natural wisdom, wanted to experiment and test you in all aspects including sexual prowess. It is, after all, an important part of a healthy relationship for partners who elect to keep their libido intact in their modded forms. But I digress. You mentioned you had a question as well as something you wish to inform me of?”

I don’t know how I feel about her hyper-rational approach to everything. I clear my throat to reset the conversation. Ugh, at least we’re not doing this in public. I’d die.

“I’ll start with the question,” I force out.

Mostly because I expect things not to go too well after the statement.

“I am listening.”

“Alright. Is there a way to modify someone’s brain to force a personality upon them, provided the difference between the baseline and the modified version is minimal?”

The ethically bankrupt nature of my question doesn’t shock Kimera because she immediately gets where I’m going with this. Right now, I have three methods of escalating usefulness for information sharing. The first is simply to tell alternate versions of themselves information they wish to pass on. I’m doing this with Deza, the police officer, but it’s level zero of scope and of dubious long-term effectiveness. The second level allows people to write themselves encrypted or summarized notes I then transfer to their alternates, with Krane being an example of this. His notes aren’t even encrypted since he blindly trusts me, they’re just really fucking boring. Honestly, I find his total faith in me disturbing, but at least he’s convinced I’m still a naive idiot and that brings me much comfort. The third degree is the memory nodules as they allow a partial and limited sharing of actual memories between subjects. The limits, however, are drastic. First, it’s a tool only available to masters fleshcrafters and above, and second, it stretches the limits of my affinity to the extent that I can only keep under one hour of ‘recordings’ for each of the only two people I am cooperating with at the moment. If I could copy an end-of-loop brain with all the memories on an early-loop mind, I’d be able to bring people with me across loops which would be insane. Also I’d be erasing who they were before but what’s a bit of brainwashing and murder between allies?

I’m under no illusion that the brain modification will be any less delicate, not to mention the critical issue of consent. I just want options I can explore. I would also love the option of turning enemies into mindless suicide bombers by slapping them and handing them a grenade. Hypothetically. 

“It is theoretically possible because we already do high level neural network repair for edge trauma cases, however there are currently no branches of the Garden researching neural network rewrite due to, hmmm, how shall I put it?”

“It’s fucked up?”

“Due to concerns about public image and feasibility. As you must have noticed, our affinity-based memory works with gene material while nodules skirt the edges of what we can normally process. You would need to memorize the brain you wish to recreate down to the very last neuron and axon, and that’s before we get into questions of mapping and rewriting. I would also like to let you imagine, disciple, if it were known that we can rewrite someone’s entire personality. None of us would be left alone in a room with someone important for any reason.”

“Yes… I suppose that tracks.”

“I heartily discourage you from pursuing this avenue of inquiry considering you have a much more, shall we say, unknown and potent tool at your disposal, as far as mind and emotions are concerned.”

I see she did transfer some meaningful memories. Kimera is obviously referring to soul magic. I haven’t identified an existing technique that would allow that on Chronos’ skill machine, which doesn’t mean that it’s impossible. Simply put, there are only handfuls of soul awakened per million inhabitants of most worlds, so the number of high soul awakened is even lower. The population density is simply too low to come up with even a basic knowledge transfer system. I don’t feel a particularly strong affinity to other soul awakened either. I mean, I love Lumie but that’s just because she’s a cinnamon roll. I’m kind of thinking even Demetrion’s soul magic might have never been mastered by anyone besides Demetrion himself. That means I might need to develop the technique myself. Which is fine, I have time. I just don’t think I’ll manage right away.

“I can’t believe you learned the Thetis technique for me!” Kimera blurts, waking me up from my reverie about brainwashing people on a scale never-seen-before. This started as a recruitment tool consideration, dammit!

“Well, you learned the Udulu Tongue Twister first. It was only fair that I reciprocate.”

“I did?” Kimera yells, scandalized.

“You did!”

“Oh, disciple, I must have loved you very much.”

“You did, too. Would you like me to show you why?”

Kimera sighs like it will be a chore.

“My quarters. Now.”

***

I lean over the bannister and look out to a sea of stars. We’re near the back of Enderlith, closer to the center than usual, where there are neither planets nor local sun to outshine them. It’s also strangely calm. A vague sense of being a tiny drum warns me that I’m being subjected to higher than normal ionizing radiation — it’s a new sense I get from my modded skin. The feeling is not unpleasant simply because it’s far below the level required to harm me. There are also modded skins that draw power from the impact but it’s so small the design is more academic than practical. 

I remember being killed in a matter of hours last time I was here at the edge of the station and near the shield, which disintegrates things like micro meteorites and other debris before they can hit the hull at several times the speed of sound. I don’t think it would even dent the thing but whoever designed the system recognized that maybe there would be people there who would want to operate in the area without getting pasted.

But I digress. It’s time. As I jump over the bar, a primordial terror grips my lizard brain, like Vertigo and Thalassophobia had a child. I remember the visceral pain that led me to kill myself for the first time. I’m also thinking about watching the station get away, away, while I slowly die. Then I chase those fears away. Those are pedestrian fears for the unawakened. I have adult fears like getting peeled apart by the literal champion of evil. 

The shield opens to let me through. The radiation grows into a sort of pressure pushing against my skin like an uncomfortable massage while vacuum tries to tear me apart. At the last moment, I shut my nose and mouth. A supplementary membrane grows over my eyes to protect them. The drain on my mana to keep all those systems working is significant although nowhere close to that of a war form. Most of it involves my skin in some measure because I need to not explode, boil, and cook at the same time, and only heavily modded skin allows this. Incidentally, it’s blue and comes from a super rare deep-space organism. I use careful blasts of pressurized blood to orient myself. I’m in zero-G now. It only takes a few seconds for me to reorient myself. It’s like riding a bike. Thanks, Sethri Derelicts.

I’m in space. 

More importantly, I’m alive in space without any protection. I had forgotten how uncomfortably quiet it would be with only the sound of my own pulsing blood keeping me company. Kimera smiles from behind the shield. We’re actually doing this as part of the Garden’s space accreditation test to help me get a few contribution points. I touch her soul, telling her how I’d like to dance with her later, out there outside of the station where the universe doesn’t seem so fucked after all. Also I might be a less terrible dancer in zero-g.

Something blinks on her datasheet. She frowns and shuts me out but I can detect stress before our link fades. I stretch my arms in the universal ‘what’s going on’ gesture, but she shakes her head, signaling me to stay out until the required duration for me to pass. It takes another annoying five minutes before we’re done. Even my acrobatics fail to distract her, though at least she isn’t scowling this heavily anymore. I do pass the test then reenter the station, waiting for her to open up.

“Come on,” I urge.

“I’m not trying to block you off, I was merely trying to think of a solution,” she lies.

“I can help. Is this about me?”

She bites the bullet, or rather, her lower lip.

“It’s about yesterday’s test. With the war form.”

Which I passed with flying colors.

“What happened? They cancelled the test?”

“What? No. Well, yes, but it’s unrelated. There is an issue with the war form’s… origins.”

She meets my eyes and this time I can see the panic.

“The bouncer version you used is a custom model created and copyrighted by Phage. He wants to know how you came to acquire it.”

“Ah, fuck.”

***

Is Phage a genius, lucky, or both? As we return to the Garden, I can’t help but think about it even though I know it’s a waste of time. There is absolutely no way to explain me having the model without getting into some kind of trouble. I’ve already decided what I’d like to do anyway. What I wonder is, did Phage actually plan for this? Did he expect me to be the Avatar of Time and did he seed this in order to trap me with one of his alternate selves?

My gut feeling is that no, he’s far too self-centered for this kind of planning. Someone like him would consider their alternate selves as ‘others’ or as future selves that should get their own sources of entertainment while he would get his. ‘Delayed gratification’ for him probably means unwrapping the candy before he eats it. I think, this is just one of those accidents I will encounter the more loops I go through: like forgetting that a door is closed if I haven’t followed a specific set of steps and failing a loop’s plan because I forgot that one element. It’s bound to happen at some point. Or talking to someone about something their alternate self did. Or calling out someone I’m not supposed to know. Or mention a secret I’m not supposed to be privy to. The list is long, and my stupidity, infinite. It doesn’t mean the loop can’t be salvaged though. I was meaning to go all out without hope of defusing the bomb so we’ll just call that one, ah, limit-testing. 

The return to the Garden is tense. We take one of the trains rather than some personalized transport because it’s actually faster to use the systems operated by the flesh golem. Citizens give us a wide berth. In fact, even the few patricians we come across treat us with polite distance, although I don’t know if it’s because we do their gene mods or Kimera looks like a spiky sculpture with an appointment to the dentist. It’s been a while since I just moved around the station like a tourist before everything goes tits up, and I don’t have to worry about the assassin much while I’m under the guild’s umbrella, so I try to relax. I remember being looked down upon as a pathetic unawakened, then being ignored as a first awakening. Now, with Kimera at my side, I’m someone. It just feels… unjustified, somehow. There is no essential difference between early Steve and me now: I’m still the same person, a bit stronger, perhaps a bit more inured to violence, but still the same. I’m still trying to save the station, use the same moral system. I’m still, I don’t know, a person. I don’t know those people and they don’t know me. I’m only getting respect now because of my appearance. I know I’m being naive, but this still irks me a bit. It’s not their fault either.

While I ruminate my annoyance, we reach the Garden where guards wait for us. Kimera and I are led to an administrative room out of the way. I feel the presence of Phage behind the gate and Antea hovering some distance away within range of my soul perception. There is someone else of appreciable power with Phage, but their souls have the structured solidity of an official.

‘Any advice on how to play it?’ I send to Antea.

‘Don’t lie. He can tell.’

‘Sure.’

I feel a tinge of annoyance from Antea, though it’s not directed at me, per se.

‘We cannot include Phage in our long-term planning. He is unstable and his interests are selfish.’

‘But I can include him in this loop.’

Antea expresses her ambivalence directly into my brain.

‘I will let you decide,’ she finally sends.

Kimera is forced to wait for me at the door. The Garden usually prefers white or red for its furniture, with some gold added in the more opulent parts. This spot is gray and rather austere. The man sitting with us feels ill at ease despite his stoic exterior. He’s also fairly gray including his skin, and reminds me a bit of Mars though Mars is just plain old while my new friend over here merely adopted the look. I sit at a large table facing a curious Phage, realizing this is set up like a tribunal. The gray man speaks first, his voice calm and professional. 

“Good evening, Initiate Prentiss. My name is Gord and I work for the Garden’s Department of Compliance. This is a preliminary disciplinary to address charges of first degree genetic material theft. Initiate Prentiss, you stand accused of unlawfully acquiring the genetic material of Phage’s exclusive Bouncer war form version 17 which carries severe charge up to banishment. As of now, you are not being disciplined. You remain innocent until proven guilty in a possible trial, however you are not authorized to leave the Garden until the matter is closed. Failure to comply will be considered an admission of guilt and treated accordingly.  It is your right to delay this hearing until you seek counsel with your supervisor, should you wish it. Do you understand what I told you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, the purpose of this preliminary meeting is to give you the chance to explain yourself. If Grandmaster Phage is satisfied with your explanation, we can close the matter right away. If you wish to admit to the theft and ask for leniency, this is also an option, and your admission will weigh heavily in your favor when we seek a penalty. Please note that you may ask for counsel and then admit theft within one day of this hearing, should you decide to, so you can take some time to think about it. Finally, and if Grandmaster Phage isn’t please with your explanation, we will adjourn and start the trial process. Do you understand your options?”

“I do.”

“What do you decide?” he asks very politely.

“I’d like to offer an explanation.”

Gord nods, his soul unreadable. I turn to Phage and smile.

“You gave it to me yourself.”

Phage blinks when he realizes I’m telling the truth, but his surprise turns to disappointment almost immediately. 

“You must be delusional.”

“Not at all. I can even show you my memory of the moment.”

I extend my soul, but find no purchase. His remains too nebulous until the diffuse veil of his mind coalesces into something that’s almost solidity which means he’s allowing me in. I share my memories of his den, of his face, of the boredom on his features turning into vague interest. I haven’t convinced him yet so I offer an ‘olive branch’.

‘I’m the Avatar of Time. This memory belongs to one of my alternate selves, but I understand if you are not entirely satisfied with the explanation. I would offer a boon in exchange for the right to use it.’

Phage shifts his posture, resting an elfin chin on his manicured hands. He looks like he’s two meads away from speaking in alexandrines. He’s just missing the harp.

‘Speak.’

‘How would you like to go on an avatar hunt?’

Phage smiles.

***

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Antea says without malice. 

“Not really, but isn’t that the point of my power? I can take risks and find out.”

We’re sitting in her office again, a few days away from the scheduled departure of my little expedition. I have already acquired a song key and a staff as well as some supplies. 

“People will suffer for every failure,” Antea comments.

“Failure is guaranteed. My only option is to make the best of it,” I reply.

The stately matron eventually nods, features morphing into those of a slightly younger woman as the conversation goes on. I don’t know if she even notices.

“My apologies, young initiate. You have clearly given this issue some thought. My words were not only unkind, but also disrespectful of your burden. I am merely… concerned.”

“If you’re concerned, come with us,” I suggest.

Antea shakes her head.

“I already told you: the actions of a grandmaster always come under significant scrutiny. Word will spread and the Garden’s activities will be disrupted. I am too powerful to simply leave at will. You must learn how to solve this crisis with your own strength.”

“But Phage is coming,” I reply with a pointed look.

Antea sighs her disappointment.

“He’s quite irresponsible.”

“Look,” I say. “I know I can’t rely on you for everything in the future, but how about just once? To test Malice’s defenses? That way, I at least know what I’m dealing with. It’s like a scouting operation with no additional cost in a loop that’s already compromised because no matter what I have Phage’s attention now. Not to mention, would you really leave me alone with that madman?”

“Initiate Prentiss…”

“Think about it: it will be fun!”

Antea exhales with all the energy of an exhausted mother, but then her aura sharpens. Her crimson eyes turn to me, and I am reminded that she was not always a researcher.

“Oh, very well. Just this once.”

***

I have two grandmasters, one master since Kimera said she wouldn’t let me go alone (all research would be wasted, disciple, and I would just be worried until I am undone!) and a quartet of third ascension guards plus Krane. Just this group could take over a backward planet in about two months. The odds are fucking stacked. We go through a guarded gate whose soldiers decide we don’t need Depth Guild approval after all. The two grandmasters race ahead through unlit districts while we do our best to follow. 

All those ambush predators I had to avoid get absorbed in a childish game of dibs between two ancient entities with an obvious rivalry. The mad dash feels like watching a horror story parody where the monsters realize they’ve entrapped the Doom Slayer and Thanos at the same time. We follow a slightly different path this time, coming across a well-lit forest entirely devoid of any animal down to the smallest critter. Krane mentions it’s one of those Nature-ruled districts that act as a secondary oxygen generator for the station, one of the many redundancies dedicated to making sure the station’s population doesn’t accidentally kill themselves despite their best efforts. I also decide to take a detour around the moonlit castle that kidnaps people — just in case. 

Kimera loves the song key and demands I serenade her every time we take a break while the others consider the tool with interest. I think Phage would have ripped it off my hands if I hadn’t informed him it took musical and soul knowledge to operate the thing. To my surprise, neither Phage nor Antea appear to know how to play music. Who lives for centuries and never tries to learn music? At all? Is this a high awakened thing? The mind boggles.

Krane barely speaks, only regarding the group of fleshcrafters with suspicion. It pains me to realize this is actually the default answer most Enderlithians have for battle fleshcrafters. They just think we’re weird and slightly off-putting when we bloat ourselves into three meters-tall faceless juggernauts of mutated muscle, and isn’t this the rudest thing? No healing for him if this continues.

Our mad dash ends at the gates of the Spider district in a record three days, and then only because we play it safe. We have one last meal before I unlock the gates. Layers of ropy webbing beckon. 

Limit testing, here I go.

***

Webs stick to my boots as we race down an alley, spider hybrids shrieking all around us. A monstrous battle shakes the crystal walls of the district but down here, the world is dark and quiet. Left, then right. I’m sure the bunker is just across a wall of webbing so I raise a fist, and the guards and Kimera stop.

‘We’re going to break through there. Cover me,’ I send the rest of the group.

I don’t freeze time since it’s tiring, so it takes a few seconds for my red dwarf aura to manifest, following which I just walk through the obstacle which flares with noxious fumes. A furious patrol finds us a moment later. My sight only picks vague shapes of screaming human faces emerging from spidery cephalothorax. I kill them by the expedient method of simply jumping at those in front of me and burning them to a crisp while the rest are dispatched in record time by five war forms. The air soon stinks of bitter cooked meat while some screeches drown the air in the distance. The bunker’s entrance is there. I pull my song key while the rest forms a half-circle around without prompt. I really love working with professionals.

I don’t actually remember the cipher I used last time. It takes a few minutes and two more dead patrols for me to find it again, then I make a note in my soul book because fuck it, I should have done this before. A shape slithers past as soon as I get the gate open without smashing it. Phage is in. We rush down the steps. As I do so, I transform into the bouncer form in case Phage decides to play with his prey.

The cistern is just as I remember it, with malice cultists strewn among the pillars, stinking and confused while a drop on our right leads to a basin and the dry surface where the bomb waits. Unfortunately, they’re very much riled up and alive when we land. Phage apparently spared them to go directly to the avatar, maybe? This time, though, I have strength on my side. Those are second awakening thugs at best and just desperate civilians at worst. We carve through them with barely a pause, the only impact being the weight of their agonized cries on my psyche. Kimera leads the way in her mantis form with blood dripping from her claws in thick rivulets. I look back when we head to the corridor leading down and find a slaughterhouse of cut limbs, exposed entrails, and crushed skulls. The stench is potent. And I feel… nothing. I am large and strong and they’re pathetic, unmodded messes of ineffective gene expressions who never stood a chance. But I’m getting distracted. I get giddy when we enter what’s apparently the cult’s elites’ quarters with the few powerful cultists already dead. The Avatar of Pain stands in the corner, a massive gash on her chest already closing while she wears an expression of pure bliss under her countless piercings. Phage has the thin body of Malice dangling by the throat. The evil bastard’s page cut barely covers his feverish eyes. He’s smiling but I don’t care. Yes! It’s working. We’re doing it! Well, I won’t defuse the bomb this time, but if I play my cards right, maybe as a stopgap measure to prevent Enderlith from exploding I could have Antea carry the bomb to —

“Yes,” Phage says. “Indeed, I see your point.”

What? The fae prince turns his violet eyes towards my war form, expression dreamy.

“Nothing matters anyway. This is all a dream in which I’ll soon be lost so why does it matter? I shall embrace the present. Too long have I skirted the edge while worrying about the opinions of worms and fearful weaklings. I am Phage, the champion. I was a champion before I took upon myself to guard the library for the sake of the undeserving, crafting wondrous form they don’t have an inkling of a chance of using properly. I have wasted my time long enough. Now, I shall enjoy it…”

He smiles, widening until his entire jaw dislocates.

“To the fullest.”

Someone chuckles. I realize the sound comes from behind us. I turn to see Antea enter the private quarters in her pristone matron outfit like she hasn’t killed a village’s population’s worth of spider hybrid plus their matriarch. Her smile is pleasant, almost kind compared to Phage’s unhinged smirk and yet I find her more terrifying, because, despite it all, she’s lucid. She’s infinitely sane in a world gone mad and I don’t know if I’ll ever manage to keep it together for as long as she has. I should feel relieved when she stalks by our side, but I can’t. I just can’t.

“It took you long enough.”

There is a hell of serpentine tendrils and scaly limbs and biting mouths and shearing blade  and biomass like two warehouses dishing it out, and then, silence.

They’re gone, leaving those who’re still mostly human behind. Violence is immediate. Malice disappears then teleports behind me but I have my own problem to neutralize. The Avatar of Pain rushes me with a sort of keening sound that’s half anticipation and half terror, and I freeze time because I need a second.

So, Phage can’t be relied on, but I think there is something deeper at work here. I think Malice has a grasp on him, and that it’s one of their powers. It’s the only explanation that makes sense considering Phage isn’t completely insane and values the Gene Library dearly. But a proper analysis will need to take place later. I can feel the others attacking Malice so I can focus on the avatar in front of me.  I quickly take the measure of my opponent.

It’s the first time I’m seeing her from up close since Krane handled her last time, and despite the horror, the deaths, and the enmity, I can feel nothing but pity for this wretch. The woman might have been beautiful with pleasant features owed more to happy genetics than the artificial touch of a crafter. Sadly, life has shown no mercy. Her white hair is brittle, blue eyes bloodshot and skin sallow, almost sickly. Scars criss-cross every bit of exposed skin including on her face, some half-healed bruises in sickly green. She’s been tortured, or abused, and many of the countless piercings on her body show signs of infection. A terrible rictus reveals yellow teeth, some half-broken. Her hands show nails gnawed to the quick holding a knife she clearly doesn’t know how to use. 

Time is about to return. I feel it like trying to hold down a boulder that no man could possibly contain, the inertia impossible to fight. I know not all avatars were created equal, but I think Pain’s got the short end of a very short stick. Or maybe I just counter her. 

Time returns to normal. I ignore her mad attack, shunting all pain receptors before she can even brush against me. I smash my open hand on her face and feel a feedback on my nervous system, but nothing can get through. She’s so… tiny, and ineffective. Just a flaying victim with a gimmick power. My mana overwhelms her low third awakening reserves. I find the proper connection in the Thalamus, something I’ve done hundreds of times on Obis when treating the wounded. And just like that, I shut down her sense of pain.

The avatar takes a few stumbling steps back while I watch, not willing to attack since she can transfer her wounds on others. Hesitantly, she pulls on an infected piercing near her navel. The skin strains, but her expression remains unchanged. And then, she screams with a broken voice.

“No, please. Please, give it back! Please!”

 Someone else screams behind me. I turn my massive body to see Malice finish peeling off the skin of his left cheek. The guards, who had boxed him in, flinch. Then he disappears. I immediately link everyone through my soul network now that I know I won’t turn into a sea of Pain, her own avatar neutralized for now. I can feel Antea and Phage far above as drifting, manic presences. 

Malice reappears behind the flinching guard. Did he learn nothing? With my warning, the man turns and… gets ripped apart? I freeze time again from the shock because I can’t believe it. The cult’s quarters are unadorned and decently lit, so he can’t remain undetected that easily. I watch Malice’s manic eyes unmoving and I remember he struggled to take Krane down in previous loops. How did he suddenly manage to rip apart a fleshcrafter? With his bare hands? 

I start time again and strike, but Malice is already gone. The guard lives but he’s out for the count and now Malice reappears next to the sobbing wreck of the Avatar of Pain.

“Help me! They took it away!” she wails.

“Sure thing darling.”

Malice grabs her neck and shoulders and slowly pulls, not breaking eye contact with us. The wet sound of cracking bones and tearing flesh echoes in the empty chamber. I wince.

“Finally,” Malice laughs.

Pain looks confused as she dies, blood spraying the charging guards. Jesus. Malice reappears next to Kimera only for Krane’s tower shield to smack him away. We charge again. He reappears next to the wounded guard desperately trying to pull himself back together but before he can plunge his fingers into his victim, I extend my staff to smack him in the ribs. I think he’s surprised by my range. He’s still laughing. Kimera’s feeling a deep sense of revulsion while the guards are starting to panic but I impose calm through our connection. Krane is, as always, unbreakable.

Malice stares at me with an expression of deep hatred, of rage so sudden it’s shocking. He charges but I keep my emotions under control and fight him back. He cannot reach me. I feel him appear and, though he’s faster, my reach and power make up for the difference. We’re doing it. We’re fucking doing it. Treacherous hope blooms in my heart. Krane has taken the wounded guard and we’ve formed a sort of defensive half-circle of war forms plus one tower shield dude. Malice cackles, crossing the door.

Shit, the bomb. We leave in a tight formation with the wounded guard almost back to full functionality. I expect and prevent an ambush. Malice is focusing on me for some reason.

“Is that your girlfriend?” he asks. “Lovely woman.”

It takes a lot of effort to bury the emotion of that one. When he goes for Kimera next, I’m not fully ready and the mounting horror overwhelms me. Malice morphs into a vile creature of unbidden malevolence and suddenly, we can’t stop him anymore. He places his hand on Kimera’s neck.

I use the last of my soul strength to freeze time and already the boulder’s falling. My soul feels raw. I’m at my limit, but I take the emotion and instead of stifling it, I ignite it.

I love Kimera. I’m scared for her. Malice terrifies me. Her dying again and again terrifies me. This entire station terrifies me. The game has been gutting me for half a decade already. I let horror submerge my mind and spool my soul around my extended hand as it was reaching for my loved one, blessedly open in a gesture of terror. And then, I let time go. And my emotions as well.

The blast slams against Kimera who waltzes to the side with a yelp. It also sweeps Krane’s feet from under him, making him tumble and I realize that those are fourth awakenings I just tossed like puppets. 

Malice is catapulted against the nearby pillars, crashing through two of them in a shower of debris before crashing on the far wall with a cry of pain. The impact makes the ground shake and dust fall from the ancient ceiling.

“Founder,” one of the guards whispers. 

“It’s not over!” I tell them.

We race towards the point of impact, but Malice has already disappeared. I feel him downstairs, by the bomb. We sprint over the balustrade. Down is a basin of pure water and further, the spiky brass sphere of the soul bomb like the devil’s cauldron and, to the side, a strange contraption. Made of complex machines linked to copper bars and metal half-spheres, it looks half-finished. The air thrums as we jump down though. Malice smirks as he is lifted in the air. Behind him, images of an empty district shimmer like a mirage. He’s terribly wounded, blood marring his black clothes and angelic face, but it won’t matter.

“I won’t be seeing you later. Enjoy the blast!” he jeers.

Suddenly, the contraption makes a keening sound so grating I’d rather snap all my nails on a chalkboard. We all wince, but the one most shocked is definitely Malice, who starts to vibrate and twitch. I take an instinctive step back, but I don’t have time for more.

Malice explodes, sending chunks of avatar and a mist of blood all over us. The machines then fizzle and die. I feel him die. I don’t think even Antea could survive getting pureed like that. Wow.

Silence returns to the room. The soul in the bomb stirs, the inevitable blast on its way. I blink pieces of Malice away from my eyes.

“Errr.”

Huh.

I guess it explains why he never reappears afterward. 

“That was disgusting, Disciple,” Kimera comments. “Although the feeling of killing two avatars does wonders for my self-esteem.”

Krane comes to stand by my side while the guards fan out to check for survivors and correct the situation in case they find one. A few seconds later, Antea descends the stairs, looking like a tiger who just finished her meal. This is a new Antea wearing full crimson robes with black hair falling down her back in a curly waterfall. Ruby eyes and ruby lips give her a vampire queen’s sexy mother appearance. Also, impressive cleavage. When our eyes meet, her expression grows slightly more subdued.

“Too late,” I inform her. “My opinion of you is already forever changed. You can’t put the femme fatale back in the box.”

Antea huffs. Her soul is the strangest thing: it’s contracting back into the shape of a person starting from some immense creature, like crushing herself into being a normal person again. Maybe she needs a moment of privacy.

Kimera grabs my arm, turning me around to face the bomb. We’re barely protected from the incandescent rage of the soul inside. I feel… slightly awkward.

“Disciple? What next?”

“Well,” I say with embarrassment. “I learned a lot and the limit test was successful. Unfortunately, this is it. I guess… there is something else I could try.”

“One moment!” Antea says, voice a bit shaky.

We all gather and wait while she considers something. Behind me, the soul gets more and more agitated with impotent fury. It’s only a matter of minutes at most now before it fully wakes up. I guess Malice didn’t really have the time to detonate it properly, but the person trapped inside is so strong, it doesn’t matter.

“Books and nodules first.”

“My nodules first!” Kimera yells.

Krane goes to comfort the confused guards while I make last-minute edits and replace a memory for Antea. I’m at capacity for memories for now so I can only add more if some are deleted first which is a fastidious process. We only have a dozen seconds before the explosion when I’m finally done.

“Right. I’ll try to make contact with the soul.”

Closing my eyes, I open myself and reach towards the sun of hatred in front of me.

Death count: 12

Loss count: 6

Qualia points acquired: 

New total available: 2292

Instantaneous soul kill: 2

Space-certified Steve: 2

Assist on Malice kill: 1

Proficient in war form combat: 60