(I) Feast

-, Sculptor Ekkihurst101 (I)

Feast

Cade Morgan clutched his injured arm and ducked into a tent that wasn't his. After a brief moment of pretending to grimace, he staggered towards the other side of the tent, where a flap hung half undone. Beyond the flap was his destination—a secret place beyond the notice of the new Gate Lord.

Cade's breath came fast. His veins were surging with cold terror and rushing adrenaline. He wasn't sure about this. He wasn't sure about anything anymore, but he knew one thing. If he didn't act, then someone else would, and he'd rather take the chance than live beneath the heel of the three new tyrants.

Cade was done. Done with Gate Lords. Done with the Abyss. Done with all of it. He was gonna go back to the surface. He was gonna go find a nice, proper job. He was gonna retire for good. But to do that, he needed to escape. He needed out. But he wanted out as a Master-Tier. Adepts were a dime a dozen. On the surface, in the Abyss, anywhere. Adepts were the core and the meat, and the meat did the dying. Cade was done doing the dying. He was done with all this mercenary shit, to be honest.

Before he went through, he looked around. His heart was pounding hard. At any moment, he expected the pale-eyed monster to reappear. The Deathclad. Morgan made the mistake of looking into the man’s eyes earlier. There was something with his gaze.

Cade had faced down just about everything during his time as a mercenary. Demons, dimensionals, monsters, you name it. He charged down an orc once.

But Shiv—

A wail sounded from a nearby tent, and Morgan shuddered. That was Trish, the only survivor during the first attempt on the new Gate Lord's life. They tried. They didn't get far. Shiv made sure of that. She returned, covered in the blood of her own people, and now her maddened shrieks were mingled among the moans of the sick and spent. And that was the last push Cade needed. He pushed through the tent. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t handle the growing sickness and misery. Waiting here was just going to get him killed. If not by the Gate Lord during a purge, then Lord Scorn when he finally acted to take his gate back.

As he slipped through the half-open flaps, he found himself in another place altogether. A small, cramped room occupied by one other person greeted him. This place was a minor dimension, a Category One dimension disguised as a tent. And it belonged to another Pathbearer named Takeyama. They'd worked together on some other jobs. Enough to have built some rapport. Enough to know what the other could do. She came to him first, passing him a braille note while the Deathclad was talking to the rest of the mercs.

Those were her words, and Cade was more than desperate enough to follow through.

“Welcome,” Takeyama said. “Were you noticed?” Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novelhall.com

“Don’t think so. Fuckin’ hope not. But seeing as I’m not dead…”

Takeyama was one of the few surviving virology Biomancers left within the gate. But she hid those skills from others. Most people just thought she had a thing for poisons and venoms in combat—was actually an assassin. The same people were confused about Cade’s abilities as well. They thought he was some kind of heavy vanguard when he was actually an engineer specializing in bomb crafting. Together… They just might have a chance of ending the Gate Lord and escaping from this rathole instead of being burned alive.

“Good,” she replied. Takeyama gestured behind her. A workshop was set up, one with several tools that Morgan needed. Some raw materials that had been scavenged during their flight to the Surface Gateway, and a shelf filled with books and schematics. It wasn't much, but there were enough components to have him make a particularly concentrated bomb.

Across the workbench was Takeyama's station. There were a bunch of tubes, flasks, beakers, and then there were a few transparent containers slotted into the walls filled with strange tissues and biological fluids. It was kind of unnerving, but Biomancers were always like that. They needed to prod different kinds of organic tissue to figure things out. She also had a set of diagrams she was looking through, and right now she seemed to be digging through pages, studying things connected to the human nervous system, if the text was to be believed.

“We might need to forage for more supplies,” Takeyama mumbled as she flipped through her book. “We will need a stronger explosive for the Gate Lord. But before that, I am planning to develop a paralytic agent for the Deathclad first. He is a Biomancer as well, so I am considering a very subtle—”

A patch of space tore open. Takeyama’s head exploded. The Biomancer's death was so sudden that Morgan barely reacted in time. There was a gulf in space before him. A dimensional rift opened just in front of Takeyama's face. Her skull was gone. She dropped, her body twitching beside a dimensional arrow embedded in the ground.

Cade's mouth fell open. His face was coated in Takeyama's brain matter. Then, something slipped out from the rift and seized him. Something he couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, but that clutched his mind all the same. Cade felt his Magical Resistance shatter entirely as he let out a strangled cry. He tried to fight back, but the very thought was ripped out of him by an unknowable power.

The voice was cold and husky. A woman’s voice. A—Cade felt her notice him.

Cade cried out, and then he was severed, severed from his own body and trapped within his own mind. In the dark of his subconsciousness, Morgan screamed. But then, after a few seconds, he sank into a blessed silence and knew nothing for a while.

"And that's another group," Adam said with a sigh. He lowered his bow and glared down from on high beside the mana core. Next to him, Uva hovered upon her shield. They shared a look of mutual distaste. The ground she covered was larger than Adam's. Her mana strands were going everywhere, interfacing with as many minds as she could, scouring for any hint of potential betrayal.

They'd killed eight additional Pathbearers so far. Those fell into the unacceptable risk category. Uva had silenced ten more, cast into comas and marked for future detainment. To be honest, Adam wasn’t sure how he felt about this whole thing. He understood the need for preventative measures, but he felt more like a conquering tyrant than a liberating Gate Lord. That being said, he was still Gate Lord for a reason. By acceptance gained through respect or fear, the survivors still accepted his authority. Even if some were trying to kill him.

“Uva,” Adam asked, unable to restrain the question burning his insides. “Was killing the virologist really necessary?”

“Very,” she replied. “As was making sure there was no one else working with her.”

“Couldn’t you have…”

“Put her in a coma too? Perhaps. But if I am killed or incapacitated at any point and the gate becomes something you or Shiv have to manage, what happens when someone like that wakes up? Or if we are attacked, and they gain a moment of opportunity to strike at our underside.”

Adam saw the logic, but it felt rather brutal.

“It is brutal,” Uva agreed. “But it is also necessary. This is a lesson taught to Weave over our years of survival. Allowing something terrible to happen because you could not weigh your discomfort and temper your actions with wisdom is a failure. And in the worst cases, a sin. We do not need to be cruel. But we must be decisive now. We may make mistakes. We likely will. But we must do everything we can to achieve the best results we can.”

The Gate Lord grimaced. For the first time, he felt the weight of rulership press against his shoulders. Sometimes, his desired outcome ran hard and was counter to many people's. “I just wish it didn’t need to be this way…”

The Umbral Psychomancer regarded him, and her own expression went from cold and focused to pensive. Her Psychomancy was sprawling. It wove across the last remaining district like a lattice or web. She was also scouting through the Owl's mind as she continued her monitoring duties. Parallel Thinking was a very useful skill. Adam had been trying to develop it. He even asked Uva for advice on why she was up here, giving him the part of her attention rather than everyone below.

She also knew he liked talking in person, hence the in-person aspect. Frankly, with how accommodating and effective Uva was, Adam wondered if she would have been the better Gate Lord.

“No,” she said. “Leadership is more than just policy or decisions. Leaders are someone people can idolize. Someone that can command attention and rouse the public. Good leaders must care. And compared to you, my sympathy is severely lacking.”

“But does that really matter?” Adam asked. “Can you fix that with your Psychomancy?”

She eyed him. “Can you shoot a man on the other side of the world?”

“Yes. But…”

“Yes. Effort, difficulty, and skill. A mind is a delicate thing, and altering a part of yourself without making it suit the entire architecture will cause ego-rejection. That, and it is hard to conceptualize something you are not. There are many obstacles. And there are trade-offs. Right now, I think our arrangement is optimal. You are the Gate Lord they must face. The positive. Shiv is the one they fear. I am just the one they don’t see coming.”

Adam nodded, but his attention drifted to a rising wail. A slave clawed at the body of what looked like their twin in a tent. She screamed and screamed, and other people sobbed beside her. More lives lost to wounds and disease in the aftermath. There were consequences for every action. “I thought we were going to save this place. Not this.”

“What do you think we did?” Uva asked. She sounded curious instead of judgmental.

“I… I don’t honestly bloody know. The things we did to break Confriga down, to break this gate down, have come back around to hurt us. But it’s like we’re being mocked for succeeding. I don’t know how we could have anticipated the Recollector. Hells, we weren’t even prepared to deal with the Educator. It's like our triumphs are twisted into problems and consequences. And I hate it.”

“Such is the System’s way,” Uva mused. She hovered closer to him and gave him her full attention. “Adam. Focus on developing Parallel Thinking. Don’t worry about this. Your need for perfection makes you betray your potential.”

A laugh escaped Adam. So far, despite his best attempts, Adam was easily overwhelmed. There was too much detail, and his training and general disposition made him inclined to focus on specific things, to narrow in, to be precise. That ran counter to Parallel Thinking. Parallel Thinking, at first, was simply switching between two tasks rapidly. Not so good for a marksman, but almost essential for a Psychomancer.

“I’m not sure if it’s the skill for me. Despite being very, very effective.”

"Give it time," she said. "You will adapt. You will achieve it. You have the mind and will. Difficulty should not dissuade you. You just need time.”

"I don't think time is what we have right now," Adam replied. "This gate… I don't know if I'm ready for that responsibility. I have a mind to just abandon it. But the people, and the connection to the Abyss, are necessary. We need that. Blackedge needs this." He let out a slightly humorless laugh. "Did you know that I imagined myself fighting off the entire invading force, potentially sabotaging them from behind, developing a Stealth Skill as I took them down from the shadows? How in my delusions I imagined myself impressing my father and being hailed as a hero? Just like he did."

Uva nodded. "It is an understandable fantasy."

"Yes, fantasy." A feeling of slight disgust filled him. The System was a cruel bastard. "Well. Despite becoming an actual Heroic-Tier Pathbearer, I don't think I would have gotten very far without either you or Shiv. I probably wouldn’t have become Heroic without him at all. Not this fast, anyway.”

"That is very common," Uva replied. "When I first became a Psychomancer, when I first attuned, I was solitary. I had always been more independent than most Umbrals. My mother's death, it affected me in negative ways." Uva didn’t sound fully comfortable saying this, but Adam guessed she just wanted to share for him, to bond with him. And he was grateful for it. "It took nearly being killed in active combat and exposing my team to an enemy Psychomancer for me to understand the importance of having people support you, make up for where you lack, and guard them where they are not ready. Did you have a team at the academy?"

“Yes,” Adam said. “Friends. Quite a few. But it’s… Nothing is like this. I thought I was prepared for actual combat. For the possibility of dying. I’m still terrified. I still can’t stop thinking of how my neck broke. How—how I should have…”

“I know,” Uva whispered. “Would you like to hear my honest confession?”

“About?” Adam said, raising an eyebrow.

“Without my Psychomancy, I would be catatonic right now. The amount of trauma we experienced is great, far beyond the physiological limits of what our brains would normally be capable of handling. I have simply spread my emotional processing out—and it took great effort to do that. You are standing with a few mental adjustments. You have limitations, Hero Adam. But do not turn away from your glory.”

He scoffed lightly. “I’ve been told I have a problem with arrogance.”

“Arrogance is not pride. Arrogance is an urge toward constant and eternal affirmation. Affirmation you give yourself very little of. Don’t starve yourself. And besides, if you are being arrogant, I will let you know.”

The scowl on Adam’s face turned to a slight smile. “Ah. Right. Reliable allies. I suppose I’ll keep an eye on you. And make sure you don’t get too cold.”

“A most acceptable arrangement,” Uva hummed. Her pensive look returned. "There is a lot demanded of us. We have been… drastically altered. There are things we must face about ourselves. I am… glad I do not need to do it alone. I am glad I am not alone. Just know that you are not the only one feeling this pressure.”

"Yes," Adam muttered. “You and I. Shiv, meanwhile, seems as carefree as a bloodhound let loose on corpses in a battlefield.” He laughed. “I’m probably more bothered by his torture than he is.”

Uva’s lips pressed together. "Me as well. It's just that Shiv is…" she tried to find the right words. Some immediate thoughts were a bit insulting. All the others, well, they didn't seem quite accurate either to Adam. "Shiv is a special circumstance."

"Yes." Adam nodded. "Very special. Very, very special. But so are we now." And now Adam was thinking about Shiv's screams. Those screams that bothered him more than they did Shiv. Frankly, a lot of this bothered him more than it did Shiv. Adam was doing everything he could not to think about his near-death experiences, not to think about the Stranger invading his very soul, trying to twist him from within. “How does he just shrug these things off? How does his mind just heal?”

“I am unsure,” Uva admitted. “I am glad for his resilience. But the shape of his mind is…”

“Unnatural? Freakish?” Adam suggested.

“,” Uva said, finally. “Optimized for combat and conflict, especially.”

“And cooking,” Adam added. Both of them shared murmured agreements. “But… Yes. It’s like he’s perfect for this. Little to no fear. No need to process harm. Constant urge to cook or fight. Drastic, surging growth. He is the ideal martial Pathbearer in many ways. Except for the training. And patience.”

Valor said from nearby. The Legendary Pathbearer hovered just under the core, analyzing it constantly, trying to judge how the decay would last. "I talked to him before he left earlier. His mind… I thought it was resilient before. Now I'm almost certain that it was purposefully enhanced with non-human aspects. His psychology is regenerative. There is a state he always defaults to. A baseline of perfect sanity. His mood is variable. How he learns and treats things can develop. But the structure of his consciousness and cognition do not seem altered. I suspect there will be many skills he cannot develop in the domain of the mind. And some skills he can develop that no one else might be able to."