(I) Conversations

27 (I)Conversations

Shiv focused as the Biomancers reconnected the tendons for his last broken limb. He watched as they shaped every spell, compelling his biology to react in certain, subtle ways. There were eight Weaveresses and one Umbral working on him. Each seemed to be in charge of a different part of his body: one focused mostly on his skin; another monitored his organs and served as the general director. The rest delved into deep work, working together to rebuild what was destroyed and rejoin what was parted in a meticulous operation.

Though his Biomancy was stronger than before, he still wasn’t an Adept in the lore. Each of the biomancers at Cradle was many times more experienced and quite a bit more powerful in terms of the fields they projected. Even so, they weren’t absurdly stronger than he was—at least, not most of them. Harkness had set another standard for magical power, and Sister Uva was quite a significant Psychomancer in her own right. Shiv didn’t think most of these Biomancers currently treating him were as strong in Biomancy as Uva was Psychomancy, but then there was the one who checked in on him every few minutes.

That one was an automaton. Its body was designed in the general shape of a weaver, but with the mechanical face of an Umbral. Its field seemed to span over half of Cradle—and Cradle was practically five kilometers of building in every direction.

If Shiv had to guess, it was at least well into the Master Threshold, perhaps even a High Master.

Shiv thought.

“We have finished our ministrations, Honored Guest,” a Biomancer said as they backed away. Their spells died, and the crimson glow of their mana faded from reality. Each saluted him, and he returned the salute as best he could. His arms still felt itchy in places and slightly sore, but they had done a good job—no tumors at all.

He thought back to what they’d done and found himself lacking in comprehension more than power. “Thanks. Pretty impressive work you did. Usually, when I’m dealing with a Biomancer, they have to spend some time pulling out tumors.”

A few of the Weaveresses looked at each other, their postures uneasy. “That is a common outcome of inexperience, inattentiveness to detail, or simply urgency.”

“Why do people get tumors anyway? I should have asked earlier,” Shiv said. He remembered Valor’s general explanation, but hearing it from the true experts couldn't hurt. “I know they have a chance to pop up when someone drinks a Potion of Regeneration, but as a fledgling Biomancer myself, I’ve noticed that when someone tries to accelerate their own healing, it seems to cascade across the entire body.”

“Indeed,” the Umbral replied. “The common problem. The hard problem of regeneration. This is something most Biomancers learn early on. Your body is a very complicated organism—a very complicated . The reason you cannot simply accelerate your regeneration is that you are confusing its operations.”

“Confusing its operations—how?” Shiv asked. “I know you all are doing something very carefully on a deep level. It’s like you’re herding a bunch of small motes inside my larger organs and tissues.”

“Your cells,” the Umbral answered. “They determine a great deal about your mortal and biological destiny. If you supercharge your regeneration, to put it simply, it’s like a craftsman cutting corners. Sure, they can finish the order, but what is produced is usually raw and poor in quality in several places, because quality control has been sacrificed in order to achieve maximum speed.”

Shiv blinked, trying to process what she’d just said. “And that causes cancer?”

“Yes,” a Weaveress breathed. “Horrible, body-consuming tumors.”

“In more detail…” the Umbral said, reaching into his body once more as a spell came alight within her hand. Shiv focused, feeling her field prod into his flesh. “...do you feel this?”

He felt a small patch of himself grow still and then accelerate. Slowly, he felt it—a tipping point. Some small things were congealing together, spreading a cancer, and then she broke it apart with a twitch of her finger, dissolving it with a spell.

Shiv's eyes widened in surprise. “How did you—?”

“That is me removing it by strengthening your protective cells, sourced from the immune system. Your body removes cancers all the time. There is one method of removing cancer, and that’s simply focusing your immune system and directing it to cull the cancers. It requires some focus, but it’s relatively easy to do. It’s also something we learn early on.”

Shiv mentally noted that as a good starting point, but it seemed she wasn't done yet.

“But to explain things about cancers in more detail: first, if you accelerate your healing too much, you skip through many checkpoints—many checkpoints that check your cells for mistakes. The cells hold a code, something like a status sheet that we all have from the System. If we supercharge our regeneration, these points will be ignored, and faulty or damaged cells will pass through. Then you have replication errors—little mistakes that slip through more and more, and this becomes something that simply continues growing and growing and growing. As said before, your body has something of an operation to it—a programming, if you understand how the automata function. Some cells are meant to self-destruct, but if you tell them to continue building no matter what, they will survive, multiply, and mutate long after they were meant to dissolve. This is why immortality—even the purely biological version—is rather hard to achieve for anyone but a Master Biomancer.”

“Because of division errors and cell mutations?” Shiv asked, trying to process everything.

“Correct. This is an entire study in itself. If your cells get a little too short in certain aspects of their code, they die. This causes variation and affects natural aging. However, you can activate an enzyme within yourself that rebuilds this, causing the cells to effectively become something akin to immortal. That usually results in cancer as well. To achieve immortal cells or functional regeneration without cancer requires constant vigilance and focus and knowledge. Incredible amounts of each. Again: Master Biomancer.”

Shiv thought he grasped some of that. The entire explanation was fascinating. As he looked inward using his Biomancy again, he felt at the smaller cells. He no longer viewed himself as just organs, tissue, meat, and bone—there was something deeper connecting it all, an unseen network that he had only started to reach into and feel. He nudged them slightly; it felt odd—ticklish. But he yearned to learn more.

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Skill Gained: Practical Metabiology 1 (Initiate)

Shiv smiled broadly at the new skill gained. He decided it was a good time to look at his overall progress. He’d been through a lot, and the urge struck him to see just how far he’d come.

Name: Tanner “Shiv” Lowe

Age: 18

Race: Human

Path: Deathless

Feats :

He Who Rises From Ash Eternal (Unique) - Allows the Pathbearer to quickly learn new Skills and advance existing Skills through repeated deaths.

Skills:

Cooking 23 (Initiate)

Knife Proficiency 29 (Initiate)

Grappling Proficiency 40 (Initiate)

Stealth 21 (Initiate)

Marksmanship 11 (Common)

Baking 9 (Common)

Intimidation 3 (Common)

Striking Proficiency 21 (Initiate)

Barter 10 (Common)

Alchemy 2 (Common)

Engineering 1 (Common)

Pyromancy 4 (Initiate)

Psychomancy 4 (Initiate)

Spear Proficiency 10 (Initiate)

Parry 29 (Initiate)

Biomancy 44 (Initiate)

Disease Resistance 3 (Initiate)

Awareness 6 (Initiate)

Practical Metabiology 1 (Initiate)

Silver Tongue 3 (Adept)

Might of Mass 69 (Adept)

Diamond Shell 79 (Adept)

Foreshadowing 11 (Adept)

Momentum Core 63 (Master)

Vitality Drain 7 (Legendary)

Revenant 4 (Unique)

Blessings:

None

Curses:

None

Shiv let out a breath as he observed all that he achieved. But despite everything, he thought back to Harkness, to how she twisted the oncoming mana bomb aside.

“Well, thanks for the lesson,” Shiv said to the Biomancer. “I think I’ll be coming around a little bit more often. A lot more often, probably.”

He told them about the books he had bought and his interest in furthering his own development in the field. He also mentioned how close he was to achieving his skill evolution.

And this surprised the Umbral. “You… you are at level… 44 for Biomancy?”

“Yeah,” Shiv said. “Why—what’s wrong?”

“It’s… Well, it’s high for someone who never uses it toward the purpose of medicine. What have you been using your Biomancy for? How did you get it this high?”

Shiv coughed. “I've, uh, been kind of using it as a weapon. Throwing bones at people and stuff.”

He neglected to mention that he was also ripping out eyes and giving people wounds—that kind of thing. The Biomancers all looked at each other; one of the Weaveresses shivered.

“Well, he’s never going to be a practitioner.”

“What?” Shiv asked, looking at the Umbral.

“Oh, we practitioners take an oath.”

“An oath?” he asked.

“Yes—to do no harm using Biomancy. It is an oath passed down from practitioners of healing, because we, more than most others, know what it’s like to break a body, to make a wound. It is a burden as much as a gift.” The Umbral went quiet. “It is not a binding oath, not something from the System, but it is still something that we believe in philosophically.”

Interestingly, Shiv remembered some of the Biomancers at Blackedge also having a similar oath. How Biomancy traditions seemed to cross cultures between the surface nations and the Abyss was something he hadn’t expected. Shiv wondered.

“I was just doing it to keep myself alive most of the time,” Shiv said, defending himself.

“We are not questioning your decency, Honored Guest,” the Umbral replied. “Not all Biomancers are pacifists. Many aren’t, especially… those in the field. Because of necessity." The Umbral’s face took on an expression of disgust. “If you are dealing with the Court of the First Blood, who view Biomancy more as a sculpting tool, you often must match mana with mana.”

“Sculpting tool,” Shiv muttered.

“You should see some of the things they do to people. It’s nightmarish.”

“I’ve had firsthand experience,” Shiv said. “I ran into a high vampire on the way here.”

The Umbral’s expression flickered with fear. “And—”

“I’m here. He isn’t.”

“The Composer watches over you,” she said.

Shiv grinned slightly.

“You’ll experience more of the vampiric method if you read that horrible book…” a Weaveress intoned.

he said.

“Yes, that one,” the Umbral said, refusing even to utter its name. She sighed and shook her head. “Well, you are cleared now. I would recommend that you monitor your body. Most of the time, you simply need more nutrition and caloric intake to recover from an operation. However, sometimes diseases or cancers might still develop. If they do, come back to us. We will make sure you are well.”

“All right. Thanks,” he said.

Rising off the chair, he opened the door and found himself standing in an extremely busy hallway. Umbrals, Weaveresses, automata, and other races moved here and there—some carting wounded members of the Arachnae Order, others dealing with existing crises. Cradle was always abuzz, like a little hive. Shiv felt so many bodies around him—so many biologies, architectures, and wounds, and what seemed like deeper . He blinked slightly to maintain his focus. There was so much noise here, so much chaos, and it wasn’t even combat.

“Excuse me, Honored Guest Shiv,” a static-lined voice said from behind him.

He paused and turned to see the automaton that had peeked in earlier—the one that resembled a humanoid spider with the face of an Umbral.

“Oh, hello,” he said, looking at the Master Biomancer. “I just finished my session today.”

“Yes,” the automaton said. “I have been informed by my colleagues that you have concluded your initial recovery process. However, I’ve also heard from one of my field medics that you wish to pursue an education here.”

“Yeah,” Shiv said. “In exchange for you looking into my biology and learning more about surfacers.” He shrugged. “I think that was the arrangement.”

“Indeed, indeed,” the automaton hummed. “I am interested in pursuing this partnership. Quite extremely interested. You are… fascinating,” it continued after a moment of consideration. “Your biology—the way you develop—does not seem to fit your culture or species.”

“My culture or ?” Shiv asked, looking down at himself. His flesh gleamed a little where his skin and muscle bulged out of his simple hospital shirt—nothing nearly as comfortable as the clothes Uva had brought him.

“Your Physicality and Toughness—they’ve evolved into Might of Mass and Diamond Shell, respectively, correct?”

Shiv blinked, surprised that it could tell so easily. For a moment, he was going to ask how it knew, but then he realized it was a Biomancer—it could practically read the details from his flesh. “Yeah,” Shiv said, nodding. “You got keen insight there.”

“No,” the automaton replied, “merely experience.”

A screaming Weaveress was carted past them, actively being healed and maintained from a state of death by two Biomancers accompanying her. As Shiv studied the brutal burns on her flesh, he winced—he had a guess as to how that happened. The mana bomb had to go somewhere. The automaton, however, barely noted the mortally wounded Weaveress.

“I’m saying it’s not normal for a human,” it continued, “because Might of Mass and Diamond Shell usually belong to races that forgo armor and meet their struggles head-on without any equipment—races such as primal dragons, certain demons, the war-blooded variant of the orks, but mostly my own people, for we are our own equipment a lot of the time.”

Shiv considered his recent history. He had done a lot of things himself without sophisticated gear helping him. Mainly just fire, daggers, and ambushes when it came to lesser vampires.

“You could say I am a hands-on kind of guy,” Shiv said.

“I can also say that you also seem to have no compunction dealing harm to yourself or enemies using your Biomancy.” The automaton’s words were no accusation, merely an observation.

The Master Biomancer took a step closer to him. “You are like me,” it said. Shiv blinked. “You are not afraid of warping and twisting the flesh.”

Shiv nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m not. How did you—”

“Your field rests in you and reaches into those around you casually. Without thought. It is considered rude, but the way you grip against my field speaks of a familiarity with violence.”

The Deathless winced and forced himself to slacken his field against the automaton. “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” it said with a hum. “I have been looking for someone without the usual reluctance toward experimentation. And this will be to your benefit as well. The way you treat flesh and use your body is more alike to the high vampires—and so your eventual Skill Evolution will likely deviate from what most Biomancers here achieve.”

“Should I be worried?” Shiv asked. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being compared to a high vampire.

“That is for you to decide. And you have already decided in part when you chose to use your Biomancy as a weapon. We teach the System who we are with each action. We teach our skills what to become. I suspect that your Biomancy will not be that conducive to pure healing and comfort. But it might just allow you to tap into the extremes of bio-modification far more easily.”

Somehow, that sounded both ominous and exciting at the same time.

“I will see you in two days,” it added. “Come speak to me when you arrive at the front desk. Say you have an appointment with Master Biologist Dven Falseflesh.”

Shiv stared at the automaton for a few moments before nodding. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to learning from you.”

“And I as well,” the automaton said. It paused. “The Composer… She says you have something else that both of us will find useful. But that this is a secret that should be yours to tell.”

Shiv understood, and he was grateful that the Composer allowed him this amount of privacy. “It’s something better shown than told.”

Dven nodded slightly, its body giving a mechanical whine.

“Wait,” Shiv called out before the automaton could fully leave. “I’m sorry if this is insensitive, but you’re an automaton. Why are you a Biomancer when you don’t have… you know, biology?”

The automaton turned, its alloyed face unreadable. “To cross over into being a real person, of course.”

There was something joking in its voice—and something that wasn’t.