(I) Terror

-: Aviary Training Manual71 (I)

Terror

Something was wrong. Something was out there. Something…

But Master Psychomancer Moravega couldn't find the enemy. They were out there; a strand of mana had touched him twice. He knew it touched him. He knew it struck his mind, but it was so subtle, so fine that he couldn't react to it in time. And both strikes diverted his focus from pinpointing the rampaging Aviary agent as well.

Someone was helping the Corpse Shedder. Someone kept attacking him over and over as he tried to support the gate’s defense. And that same someone had shattered the minds of his disciples.

The act was done with surgical efficiency. It was nothing like the Jealousy. That Greater Demon was a Psychomantic brute; this was done by a scheming mind. One that eliminated observers and compromised the most vulnerable minds to create openings…

And so Moravega stood within his chamber, clenching two jutting focus crystals that protruded from the ground. Focus crystals that connected him to more focus crystals, and additional Enchantments to amplify his potent Psychomancy. But even with all of this, even with his building empowered by a mana chain connected to the core of the gate itself, he still wasn't sure where the enemy Psychomancer was.

And he needed to be sure. He needed to be sure soon. Otherwise, Confriga…

Moravega shuddered. Confriga had torn one of Moravega's disciples apart in front of him. The poor girl. Her only mistake was voicing how her master needed more time, how she wasn't sure where the Corpse Shedder was. And that was all it took. All it took for the Gate Lord to shift his attention away from Moravega. She might have just saved her master, but it cost her everything.

Her memory fueled the waves of cascading Psychomancy cascading out from Moravega. His Master-Tier Skill Evolution, Panoptical Stalker, was the main reason why Confriga wanted him as Head Psychomancer.

Back on their homeworld, he was a hunter of other people like himself: those who developed the skill of Psychomancy. And he proved good at intercepting information and eliminating enemy mind mages. A little too good.

Such was how he ended up in the Gate Lord’s service, in fact.

Moravega discovered that a High Marshal had stolen a portion of his second in command’s rightful loot after a hard-fought campaign in a far-flung dimension. Among the items was a Master-Tier armor of remarkable value. Moravega tried reporting this, being the dutiful Vulteg that he was.

And Moravega learned the naivety and misunderstanding he had about his own culture. The High Marshals knew each other . After centuries of struggle, despite all the bad blood between them, the Vulteg High Marshals held their positions due to a simple reason: solidarity.

Solidarity against even their own god, Lord Scorn.

Thus was how the High Marshals endured, becoming something of a pseudo-shadow council that actually ran the day-to-day of Vulketh. Their world and civilization were supposed to be Lord Scorn's to wield, but their god was distant, uncaring, indifferent. The only thing he truly wanted from his Vultegs was for them to serve him for random wars and tests from time to time. That, and for them to keep his old enemies from bothering him.

And thus, Moravega was rewarded for his service with a , a promotion into the most unwanted post for any proper soldier. He was drafted into Lesser Marshal Confriga's command, a command known to be fatal, dangerous, and ultimately miserable, due to the Lesser Marshal's wretched personality and casual willingness to butcher his own.

And so, Moravega spent every bit of his power, every bit of his focus, reaching and searching. His Psychomancy blasted out in waves, his mana layered and pulsing. It made him intermittently strong and weak when it came to power, but also hard to predict—and even harder to see coming. The effects of the Panopticonic Pulse never lasted long, its constant edge of surprise making him so dangerous against another Psychomancer.

But still, Moravega progressed with caution. He was not confused about his position in the world. He tried, briefly, to match the Jealousy a year ago. Moravega was a fool to do so. The creature noticed his pulse, allowed him to reach into its mind, and then showed him its . Memories of just how many Psychomancers it had consumed—greater Psychomancers than he.

Moravega nearly broke from the knowledge alone.

If he was facing another Heroic-Tier Psychomancer—

Just then, a rush of secondhand pain crashed into the Master Psychomancer’s mind. Moravega cried out as he felt two of his disciples about ten floors below him. He responded immediately, turning his complete power downward. He didn’t hesitate as he pushed into the mind of the dimensional meant to guard the two disciples that just—

Moravega gasped as he found himself staring out from the badly butchered body of a flame dimensional. The dimensional had been split clean in half, and from its eyes, he saw a room drenched in blood and death. His disciples lay in pieces. Other dimensionals were splattered against the walls, and one looked like it had been cut into so many pieces he couldn’t tell what it had been.

Then, Moravega saw The shape leaving the room. The faint outline of a large humanoid figure. It turned the corner, but he cast his Psychomancy field at the hidden enemy. If this butcher thought—

Something speared into Moravega’s mind. It cut deep. He cried out and pushed back with his Psychomancy. The attacker retreated from the angle they just struck, but stabbed in a dozen other places. His memories fractured. A splitting pain passed through Moravega as his skull felt like it was shattering from within. He unleashed a broad burst of Psychomancy that sent the foe scurrying, but then they were gone again.

As he cast out his waves of mind magic, he detected nothing.

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Nothing again. They were taunting him…

Moravega clenched his teeth as he considered how to respond. his mind echoed telepathically through his tower. He would have his disciples provide him with defensive measures, and focus entirely on finding the invisible—

He couldn’t feel any of his disciples.

Worse, he felt he was only one of two thinking beings left in his entire building. Moravega’s blood ran cold. There were over thirty guards here—one was Master-Tier! And his disciples numbered ten as well. How could—He pushed these thoughts away as he directed a magical attack at the physical target. It would be enough to hollow an undefended mind—to stun someone with Master-Tier Magical Resistance.

Yet, the second that he did, the hostile group of Psychomancers slashed at his mind again.

Moravega growled—but this time, his enemy didn’t move away in time. This time, he caught onto them—

Only for him to realize the true nature of his adversary. There were of mana strands crashing against his mana, injecting bursts of damaging telepathy into his consciousness. It was like being stung from every direction at once. Following the strands, he found his enemy well over five kilometers away. To engage him at this range, they had to be a Hero after all. Moravega’s stomach dropped.

Then, they materialized before him, creating a psionic projection of themselves. In a dense haze of Psychomancy, an Umbral stood before him. Her hair was short, and her features were sharp and hard—as if shaped from discipline and unrelenting focus. Her eyes gleamed a particular dark shade of blue, and her armor—Moravega did a double take. He had seen that armor worn by one of Oldsmith’s “guards.” Was she some kind of Inquisitor as well? An Inquisitor?

“You are quite skilled,” she said. Her voice was low and husky, but her gaze was hard and cold. “A remarkable Skill Evolution. A shame. I wish I could take you alive and dedicate you to Elaboration.”

“Who… are you?” Moravega growled. Mustering his courage, he prepared himself for a duel against a Heroic-Tier Psychomancer—

Then suddenly, Moravega gasped. A Stellarite blade punched clean through his chest, and Moravega felt himself casually lifted into the air. With a final exertion of will, he craned his neck and stared. He stared at what seemed to be a translucent outline. And he saw the Dimensionals guarding his doorway in pieces on the ground. His door had been cut clean through. The butcher that killed his disciples chuckled as he faced them. “M-monster,” Moravega whimpered.

“Corpse,” the unseen adversary replied. And then they dragged the blade up through Moravega’s chest and cleaved his head in twain. A flash of pain, then heat, coldness, and slowly, the fingers of death clamped the Vulteg, pulling him away bit by bit, until there was nothing left.

Deepest Edge > 59

Silhouette > 58

Practical Metabiology > 29

Woundeater > 69

Dread Aura > 73

Shiv looked down at the dead Psychomancer with a moment’s consideration.

she replied.

He hummed with amusement.

Shiv asked.

Uva replied.

And between the two of them, a slightly vicious thrill was born. It was rather fun to be hunting prey with someone you cared for. And it was slightly intoxicating to discover that they enjoyed the act as much as you did. Together, they had cleared out Moravega’s personal tower with clinical efficiency.

Whatever Uva couldn't break immediately with her mind magic, Shiv killed with his Biomancy or kukri. Together, they could avoid anyone raising any alarms until they wanted them to. Once someone entered the silent tower, they would find one of Shiv’s corpses waiting for them as a taunt.

Shiv said as he slipped out of the front door. The dimmed mana core was once again digging its frigid fingers into the world, and the air was humid. He would need to watch out so his breath wouldn't alert anyone to his presence. His outline was barely perceptible, and he slipped below two hovering air dimensionals who didn't even notice that he was there.

Uva tugged on his mind with a mana strand, and he followed along, walking beneath the mana core’s cold rays without any discomfort. The low temperature coated all windows around them in condensation, and a thick mist hung in the air as Shiv strolled through the cobblestone streets, following Uva's mana strands and observing the movement patterns of his enemies. They were on edge. He could tell that from their body language, from the whispering mental interference Uva picked up for him, offering him snippets of detail and warning him of what was to come.

They were scared. Scared of the Corpse Shedder getting them next. Scared that Confriga would butcher them in a fit of rage. His passive Dread Aura made everything worse for them. Some dimensionals and guards looked ready to explode from the stress, and Shiv looked forward to pushing them more.

Uva said, studying the gate’s population more vividly than Shiv did.

Shiv asked.

The Umbral Psychomancer paused as she considered that.

She paused.

Shiv listened to Uva’s words as he drew closer to the target destination.

A brief note of surprise came from Uva.

Uva offered as a counterpoint.

Shiv said.

Shiv looked over the edge of the bridge he was crossing and spotted an unmoving slave lying on a bridge further below, frozen stiff. There were no life signs from the body. The Umbral’s heart had stopped hours ago.

Uva asked, curious.

Shiv said.

Uva was speaking of the guards, the slavers, the mercenaries.

Shiv said.

Uva hummed.

Shiv asked.

Shiv paused. He was almost at his new target.

she replied.