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232 (I) Feed

As the mold and yeast receded and the cooking stations revealed themselves, Shiv felt his heartbeat rise, climbing to his throat, as he beheld the kitchen in its resplendent glory. The Anointed One continued his arrogant mouth noises, but Shiv was no longer listening. Instead, he felt a building feeling inside his gut, a floating sensation. It was similar to what he'd felt when he walked the streets of Weave with Uva. It was the beginning of romance: the budding seed of love.

It took less than a glance for Shiv to see just how successful Monster Mystery Meat was. The Sauce Station was stacked full of gravy, stews, sauces, and more. They ran along the leftmost wall of the room, stretching from end to end, and there was even a curve along the sides, allowing it to surround the other stations, seeming a bit like a pair of handcuffs.

At the center, opposite of the Sausage Station, was the place where the fish and seafood were prepared. To its right: the Roast Station. To its left: the grill. And beside that was the Fry and Vegetable Station. The Pantry was on the other side of the room, in the upper-right corner. Here, all the cold items were stacked and partially prepared: there was a salad left sprawled over the table with a smear of blood splashed over it. Shiv suspected that the chefs were still working when the Faebread began their uprising.

The only station he couldn't see was the Pastry Station, the place where all the desserts, breads, and baked goods originated. There was a good reason for that: it was that station that the cold iron cage had been built around like a jail cell. It occupied its own place in the leftmost corner of the room, just a few steps away from the curving edge of the sauce station. And there, a bulge of yeast and sprawling bread hid its presence.

Even so, Shiv knew it was there. The Chef Unwavering allowed him to sense the station's presence, but it was diminished and wrapped tight in unnatural foodstuff. The cage itself was barred from his sight, doubtless to prevent him from using it against the fae. But he knew where it was, and should the Anointed One prove to be a liar, Shiv would be driving the toasty-fuck’s crust face into those bars until he discovered what color of diarrhea blood sprayed out of a fairy-bread-man-thing’s ass after it was kicked enough.

The Anointed One continued prattling on behind Shiv, but his words were little more than drowning noise.

Shiv decided to take stock of his inventory. The ingredients were all well-supplied, and Shiv fell into a cooking trance as he counted nearly every available resource around him in a half-second with his The Chef Unwavering.

Multi-Tasking 46 > 49

This place was a wonderland, and his skills began to feel like they were being strained to their limits.

She used his Biomancy to unfurl his helmet. It folded around him and collapsed behind his head. He breathed in, ignoring the breadcrumbs surging down his lungs, filling his insides. The fragrances of the kitchen were delightful and myriad, and he was finally here, finally at peace, finally in a place beyond the touch of war and destruction.

He had been yearning for this moment for so long, so long. It didn't matter that he had to deal with the stupidity and absurdity of the Faebread. It didn't matter that his life was constantly embroiled in struggle after struggle, battle after battle. If he could have a moment, just one second here, make one dish, he would feel more himself. He would be nourished, his spirit restored.

For that singular instant, Shiv’s animosity toward the System lessened.

the Anointed One finally snarled.

Shiv heard that. "Just barely," Shiv answered honestly. He looked around and finally frowned. Something was missing. Actually, multiple were missing. "The hells did you clowns do to the utensils?"

He then noticed how the Gingerbread-Knights and the baguettes they rode upon were slowly walking up along the walls. He couldn't see any of the utensils glistening behind the layers of yeast and mold. And even as he swept the ceiling, the only things there were the other chefs. They were wrapped tight, writhing and struggling, but their bodies were devoid of that pale, glistening glow that indicated a tool or substance that could be used for cooking.

The Anointed One chuckled grimly.

A snort of derision escaped Shiv. He used it to hide the genuine anger flaring inside him. The fact that the Anointed One was behaving like a bastard wasn't unexpected. But still, it wasn't that much to ask for—to have a set of tools provided to him. They were already going to let him use the kitchen. This only made things pointlessly inconvenient.

"Fine, I'll provide for myself," Shiv said, folding his arms. He briefly saw a patch of shadows gliding in the corner of his vision, and he realized Adam was moving into position, melding in with the lengths of darkness projected by the grilling station. It was a good spot for the Gate Lord to shoot from if everything went south. It hid the quivering darkness that Adam was submerged in quite well. "But I'm going to need a source of vitality. All you fae are empty of that stuff, so....”

the Anointed Knight asked with derision.

“If I can't drain some life force, I can't come back. If you're going to deny me that as well, I'm going to start draining from reality directly. And the System usually doesn’t like that. Because the mana storms that come out of the ruptures and stuff.”

The Anointed One threw his head back and let out cackling, scornful laughter. "You think to threaten us with Vitality Drain. You do not possess such an ability. That is a power only—"

Shiv didn't bother letting the idiot finish. Instead, he summoned his Last Morsel to his hand and casually beheaded himself. His head came free of his body, spraying blood in a wide arc. Some of that blood splashed upon the Anointed One's chest. The Knight of the Summer Court took a surprised step backward—just in time for Shiv's corpse to strike the ground.

It helped that Shiv used his Biomancy to guide his blood spray.

Shiv huffed.

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But before the Anointed One could bring his halberd to bear and descend into violence, Shiv reached out using his Vitaemancy, and his Vitality Drain Skill roared to full power. He ripped the thin veil of life sustaining the System’s existential membrane asunder, and as a nourishing flood of vitality flowed into Shiv, drawing him closer to a new resurrection, a rupture formed within the kitchen as well.

It tore slowly at first, and the Deathless drank in every drop with greedy, slow, savoring gulps. Every second that followed, the rupture got a bit wider, and the anomalous mana spilled in just a bit quicker. The pathway leading into the room was mostly covered now, and Shiv continued on with his game of chicken.

Vitality Drain 122 > 123

The Faebreads flinched. The Gingerbread-Knights pulled on their reins as their baguettes began to panic and buck as if horses beholding an oncoming storm. The Anointed One froze. He suddenly realized that Shiv did, in fact, have the Vitality Drain skill. More importantly, he realized that Shiv was more than willing to use it within the confines of the kitchen.

Warning: Rupture forming—Mana Storm imminent!

the Anointed One bellowed. Though his words sounded hot with anger, he couldn’t hide another part of his emotions: genuine alarm.

But Shiv didn't comply. He ignored his adversary and continued sapping vitality from existence. Shiv said casually. He cast his thoughts out using his Psychomancy and waited to see how the fae would respond. If they didn't have any vitality to offer, this was what he was going to do. He wasn't going to drain from the chefs. If they offered them to him, he would ignore them, and if they were willing to go to violence over this, then so be it, but there needed to be consequences for the Faebreads’ impudence.

They assumed they were the dangerous ones—that they held all the cards. They didn’t. Shiv would like to protect the people here and preserve the lives of the customers and chefs. However, if push came to shove, he would do everything he could to screw the fairy bastards over, even if it meant exposing himself. If he didn’t do this, there would be no incentive to stop the fae from escalating this matter—from changing the terms of this competition.

Until Shiv was forced into an untenable position where even victory meant certain defeat, he would push. There needed to be a cost, and they needed to understand that he wasn't here because he had no choice.

He intended to be here. He chose to be here. He was here because he wanted to save the chefs and the customers. He wasn't here because they held any power over him.

the Anointed One cried aloud. Suddenly, he raised his upper left arm high, and then he drove his fist into his own chest. The plates of toast that encased his body broke apart.

Shiv winced. He prepared to throw himself at the Anointed One and attempt to stop the fae from tearing the chefs he had fused within his body asunder.

Yet it didn't rip the trapped chefs apart; instead, it drew forth a beating heart that glistened and pulsed with billowing waves of life-force. At once, the room became sweltering with life-giving heat. Shiv stopped sapping from reality and took in the artifact as the Faebreads’ leader held it out toward him.

At a glance, it seemed like a heart, its glistening flesh pulsating with every beat. But upon closer examination, it was more than just an organ of flesh. A series of chains encircled its form, their links alternating between ones crystalline and ones of mithril, with each one bearing a fluid, silvery thread running along their middle as well. It was a weaving of different materials, and they glowed with mercury-colored mana—a variety Shiv had never seen before. Another lore of fae magic, he guessed.

And the Deathless felt a building sense of thirst the longer he looked upon it. More than the chains, however, there was another anomaly marring the heart. There were several faces dotting the sides of the pulsating muscle. Shiv could see eyes blinking at him, brilliant blue eyes. And then there were the small mouths. They opened and closed, trying to mouth words, but he couldn't read them. They lacked lips and were devoid of teeth and tongues. Beholding them filled Shiv with an uncanny sense of dread.

Shiv asked. The longer he stared at the chained heart, the more he desired it, and the more it left him disturbed. He could hear faint mental echoes coming from it. They weren't thoughts—not fully formed thoughts anyway, but they were like imprints of emotion. They were howling screams, an urge to be released, to be freed, or to be slain.

Shiv faintly heard something that reminded him of… The feeling was lost. He wasn’t sure about what that reminded him of. He couldn't hold on to it. It was like trying to cling to moisture in the air with bare hands.

the Anointed One asked. There was a hint of something in his voice. If it was frustration at being outplayed or a hidden snarl, Shiv couldn't tell, but he was hesitant to accept anything the Knight of the Summer Court offered willingly.

Psycho-Cartography:

And that sharpened Shiv’s focus. His paranoia and his combat experience proved greater than any greed he possessed. He shuffled away from the beating heart and started cultivating Overflow Tides, just in case a magical attack would be unleashed from the organ.Shiv said.

The Anointed One let out a rageful snarl as he chucked the heart across the ground. It bounced a few times before coming to a stop before him.

Shiv moved to avoid the heart, slithering to the other side of the room. He carried his body with him and made sure to snatch up his severed head as well. When he got to the other side, he resumed draining reality, making the rupture grow ever wider. The first spills of stormstuff crossed over. A gelatinous membrane of condensed electricity crashed and crumbled, lashing at the mold crusted over the walls.

All around the throneroom, the Gingerbread-Knights drew back their arrows. They calmed their baguettes and prepared to descend upon the Deathless. The breadcrumbs in the air shivered and collapsed around Shiv, forming so many small pieces that it was like he was a hive coated in insects. Everything was on the precipice of violence.

Shiv said, recalling Cullywier’s words from earlier.

The Anointed One hesitated. A tense beat followed as the only sound in the chamber was the crackle of looming thunder.

the Anointed One declared with a growl of frustration.

Shiv cut the bread man off.

The Anointed One snarled with anger, but Shiv wasn't done.

The Anointed One fell quiet for a moment.

That threw Shiv for a loop.

Shiv's paranoia climbed new heights.

the Anointed One declared with clarity and without hesitation.

Shiv regarded the heart once more and flinched as all its eyes fell on him.

The Anointed One barked a vicious laugh.

The Anointed One didn't say anything, but the Deathless felt a sense of pride and loathing radiate out from the Faebread. Yet, with that came something else: A faint trail of unattuned mana connected Shiv to the Anointed Knight, and the first chains of fear bound them together. The Anointed One tried to mask himself, but the Deathless had unnerved him, and with each exchange, that terror between them only grew stronger.

Shiv said to himself.

Shape of Monstrosity 142 > 144

Shiv extended a Vitae tendril toward the heart. Slowly, he touched it. After brushing it once and realizing his life force hadn't been ripped away from him, Shiv wrapped his white and red strand of mana around it and drew it closer. It was like clutching a small star within the heart of his palm. With every second, it radiated warmth; an overwhelming life force that nourished him from the very roots of his skills to the flowing currents of Vitae that composed his shape.

Equipment Obtained:

Tier: Heroic

Condition: Perfect

Composition: Narrativium; Mithril; Focus Crystal; Faeblood; Fulcavium; Elderflesh; Human Flesh; Elf Flesh; Raptor Flesh

Enchantments > Nourish the Heartblood; The Story Thus Far; Enchain the Transgressors; Life for Loreflame; Binding; Fusing; Regenerating; Counter-Scrying