V-17 Campus (II)

Listen, the first thing you should do if you end up getting the Foreshadowing Skill is killing yourself. I’m serious. Kill yourself. It–it’s the only way out. The system is a fuck. It wants you to suffer. It wants you to be miserable. It’s gonna break you.

The visions are like a chain of knives scheduled to—to go up your ass. And you gotta deal with them at the last minute. Or… or you get knife fucked. You ever been knife fucked, kids? I have. It takes things from you. Precious things. I’m not the same man. [Sobbing] I used to have a full head of hair. It was like a horse’s mane. It was beautiful. Now I’m nothing. Now I drink just to get by—this thing I’m holding got enough alcohol to burn through a goblin’s gut.

Two—two nights, I got a vision. Was trying to sleep off the worst headache but then I get this vision—you ever see an orc fill a woman with water till her stomach pops? I—they know it fucks me up, so they keep doing it! THE FUCKS KEEP DOING IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT! STOP! STOP! CULTURIST! YOU FUCKKKKK! STOP IT! STOPPP!

Then… then right after that, I get to see—my wife. My second vision was my wife. Got put right inside her head. Twenty-three years of marriage, and I’m there with her in the vision, and leaning over her is my brother, and he’s thrusting away, just—just slapping it hard.

[Sobbing intensifies]

I didn’t wanna know. I mean, I already knew, but I didn’t wanna—I know I’m a cuck, system. I know. I’m never at home. I never get to spend any time with people I care about. I drink. I’m a piece of shit. I drink! I drink! I drink because it’s the only peace I can have! I don’t want these visions anymore, I don’t want to!

Kids! Someone kill me! I’m too much of a coward to do it myself. I need one of you to—no, stop! Let me go! These kids need to kill me! KILLL MEEE!

-Legend-Seer Kevin DeWitt of Killenn, Lone Star to Graduating Cadets from Alamo Academy (A formal apology was issued later by the official Council of Killenn; no response from Legend-Seer Kevin DeWitt)

V-17
Campus (II)

An explosion went off inside Shiv’s head. It was like every overdue vision he avoided experiencing in the past few months were all slamming into him at the same time. His senses went haywire. He plunged deeper into himself—couldn’t feel his own skin or even Irons trying to hold him up. As he fell, something dragged him across time and space, stuffing him deeper into another body, making him see through another set of eyes—a pair that most definitely didn’t belong to him.

Non-Sequitur: Prophetess Andra Culdottier barely managed to break through the protective spells projected by the Prismatic Guard in time to flee from the Ascendants. Many of her fellow prisoners weren’t so lucky. It was only through a combined effort between her, High Marshall Urri of the Vultegs, the automaton known as Divider, and the unseen assassin calling herself Breeze that they managed this escape.

They butchered enough of the Prismatic Guard to collapse a Poly-Magi formation and weaken the wards. When that happened, Andra struck across the narrative threshold of the system itself, casting her Divination mana out through the ruptured barriers before isolating the Dimensionalists among the Republic’s forces and flinging javelins of ice through their bodies.

When they fell, the Spatial Wards weakened as well, and that allowed Divider to teleport them away from the prison.

But that didn’t mean they were free. The capital itself was engulfed by Harlock’s overwhelming power, and the city was effective caged under a divine anchor that refused to let anyone skip out from within its boundaries. Yet, the hubris of the Ascendants could not be denied. They allowed the Jump Stations across the city to remain active, and so Divider managed to access the capital’s network.

Now, after a chain of well-hidden jumps, they were arriving at what could be a true place of temporary sanctuary. A burst of black static deposited the four prisoners within a hidden anchor. Dust coated the floors and walls, and the door connected to this anchor was sealed shut and rusted. More, there were no spells gliding along the walls, and that told Andra more about this place’s abandonment than anything else.

She wasn’t sure where she was—Divider had hidden them long and well in the Jumpspace network established by the Republic, but the machine was just a Hero, and its endurance was ultimately feeble. They needed to recover now, to center themselves and plan ahead.

But for the first time in decades, Andra was free, and the cold blizzard of revenge whistled its hate in her heart. She had been severed from her home, trapped in a pit of misery and madness for far too long. And if the Republic was intent on keeping her bottled in this capital, then she would make them pay for this folly with the lives of its citizens; with the blood of these children.

For only through triumphant retribution could she redeem the honor she lost from being captured, and if she could weaken the center of the Yellowstone Republic, then perhaps that would make up for her shame when she finally returned to the Court of the Shattered Moon in the Everwastes of Torontus.

And so, as the others rested or raged, she cast her Divination out and—

Warning: Skill Compromised

“Wait, what is this? Who is hiding within my soul? Who dares peek from a Prophetess’s eyes! I can feel you, Akbar.”

And then, Shiv watched as a muscular blue arm flaring with brilliant sigils reached forward and shaped a needle-thin javelin between her fingers…

***

“This is not Flamecrown Castle!” Urri raged. The massive Vulteg stomped his feet and hammered his fists against the dirt-coated walls of the anchor. It dented and groaned before his tantrum, but ultimately held. “Jump us again! Again! We go to the heart of the Republic immediately. We slay the weak, mongrel avatars and spit upon the altars of the Ascendants.”

At the Vulteg’s feet was a pile of scattered components. The Divider was utterly used up after jumping the group from point to point, and its segmented worm-like body was in pieces. The length of its spine was disconnected from its triangular head, and the bot’s glowing eyes had two “xs” dotting their insides. “Can’t… Used up… Only secure place found… Hidden in the network. Not meant to be found…”

The Divider’s words died with a final crack, and Urri let out a chuff of absolute scorn. “Pitiful!”

A slight breeze glided past the angry Vulteg and folded around Andra’s arm. The Prophetess of the Jotun stared off into the distance as her body glowed with ripples of Divination mana. Her Magical Skill was vast—Legendary-Tier. She had earned this power by ripping into the system’s guts, deciphering the offal that was its narrative, and digging through every bit of detail she could glean.

As Prophetess, she acquired a favored kind of prey, and that was rival Diviners—or better yet, the unfortunate fools who lacked a true Divination Skill, and were cursed with Foreshadowing instead. As her mana swelled around her, a shadow was cast within her torso. The imprint of another was pressed against her soul, and with how they were flailing, Andra knew they weren’t a proper Skaldweaver.

“Andra?” the winds around her chimed. “What is wrong?”

The Jotun’s scarred face twisted into a vicious, scarred rictus. “A poor fool has peeked across the system’s skirts. They leer at us. They seek to trace us.”

“We’re being tracked?” Breeze cried, sounding aghast. Her terror made Urri freeze just as he was about to slam another fist into the walls, and bade Divider to fuse back together.

The automaton groaned and crackled. “Does that mean we have to move again? Because I don’t think I have the juice for that.”

“No,” Andra proclaimed as she drew her javelin back. “It is their misfortune that their eyes have found us. Fate has led them to witness our presence, and fate has damned them to a fine death at my hands.”

As the Jotun boasted, she reached deeper inward with her power and tied herself to the one imprinted upon her soul. Violet mana crashed against her adversary—only to rebound as if waves striking the prow of a surging ship.

***

Shiv flinched as a stinging pain cracked across his body. It was like smashing chest first through a wall of stone.

***

Andra flinched as her magic recoiled. “Legendary-Tier resistance,” she hissed under her breath. “Who are you?” She held herself back from throwing her spear just yet, and traced a sequence of spell-shapes in the air with her left hand. “Reveal yourself to me.” The shapes ignited with power, and they branded themselves upon the fabric of her inner soul, wrapping themselves tight around the intruder leeching off of her narrative.

Prophetess of Fated Damnation: The Undying Thing struggles inside you, confused and lost. He tries to break free, but he does not understand how to wield the power of stories, and lacks the proper limb to wrench himself free.

His name is [Unknowable] and his Path is [Unknowable]; you can seek his skills, but they are [Unknowable]. He stands below you, walking across the campus grounds. You now know of his presence, just as he knows of yours. You are both located within the confines [Phoenix Academy], and the anchor you reside in is the [Miriam Hall Emergency Reserve Anchor] meant specifically for the faculty. He, like you, is blooded by death and war, and those around him remain blissfully ignorant of the monster striding among them.

He wears the face of another. Upon his Mask of Stolen Paths, a flayed soul is draped, and he uses the likeness and skills of one Marcus Unblood as his facade.

And the shadow within Andra filled with colors and detail. A face appeared. A body followed. A weak, sickly looking boy wearing priestly robes stood a meager sight within the vastness of the Jotun’s body. But this wasn’t the true flesh of her foe—merely the shell. And that bothered Andra. Her power was Legendary, so why was the system denying her details? How could someone’s true name and Path be unknowable to her? She wouldn’t accept it.

A flood of violet mana tore inward, drilling against her foe. Once more, her magic rebounded. It was like she was trying to drill through a mountain of iron using stone tools.

“Rot and Ruin!” Andra cursed. “What manner of being—”

Warning: Flee now, Daughter of the Crone. Flee, or bare your soul and greet the Deathless.

“Deathless?” Andra blinked. A chill washed through her veins.

“Deathless?” Urri bellowed.

Hidden World Quest Activated: Slay Tanner “Shiv” Lowe, the Deathless, before he fully comes into his power and drives your world beyond its current mana stability threshold.

Rewards: Integrated Earth will experience an Ambient Mana Threshold Evolution. Mythic Skill Tier will become available to all Pathbearers within this Ambient Mana Zone. Evolve 10 Skills to Legendary-Tier.

Failure: A specialized Incursion will be triggered to destroy Integrated Earth in 9 years, 2 months, and 0 days.

Prophetess of Fated Damnation (Legendary) 502 > 503

A chain of notifications struck Andra. She let out a gasp of pleasure as power flooded into her. Another Legendary Level had been earned. After a near century of effort—her mind snapped back to focus.

“Deathless,” she rasped. She read the details of the Hidden World Quest and clenched her javelin tight. “Ah. I see. Urri. You know of him.”

The Vulteg let out a bark of fury. “That traitorous shit! He stood against me when I tried to honor Lord Scorn! He is the one who seeks us!” The Vulteg drew in a breath. “Strike him down, giantess. Split his heart and mutilate his bones. He has broken his word against me—he used his tongue to twist my mind and cast me to the Ascendants like a coward. Harlock took my mind! Used me! Strike him down!”

The Vulteg’s mind was addled, and Andra couldn’t make out any real information about the history between Urri and this Deathless aside from the fact that the former bore a great deal of hate for the latter. But then again, there was little that Urri did not hate. But the rewards offered for the head of this Deathless were beyond salubrious. Andra already had two Legendary Skills—but to have ten? That might just make her the single most powerful non-divine on Integrated Earth.

And the Prophetess of the Jotun was nothing if not ambitious.

She reached into her chest with her free and tore the shadow of the Deathless free. She cast him upon the walls of the anchor, and drew back her arm…

***

Shiv saw it all—heard it all; felt himself get ripped out from Andra’s soul. He was drifting, then. A shadow splashed against the wall. He could feel himself surfacing, feel the vision break apart as he returned to his body, but across the anchor, he watched as the giantess drew back her arm. Her frozen lance glistened with power, and Shiv’s instincts screamed for him to dodge.

The scream of a blizzard unfurled into the shape of a dragon around the Jotun, and her horns and runic sigils burned bright. Air flowed around her body, and behind, the ugly tentacled-head of Urri poured hate at Shiv as well.

“System, come the fuck on! Let me go! Let me—”

With a staggering display of willpower and the activation of the Non-Sequitur Skill, he broke free of the vision.

Only a shame that he did so a moment too late.

The Jotun’s arm exploded forward, launching the javelin as if it were a missile. It cracked through the air and slammed into Shiv’s shadow just before he unraveled in a burst of Vitae. Instead of the javelin dashing itself upon the wall, it traveled across the narrative that comprised the world, ripping through the fabric of stories before slamming dead on against Shiv’s throat.

Shiv snapped back into his own body just as his throat was shredded open. A jet of blood spewed free between his fingers and painted Irons’s chestplate. The Deathless rasped as he found himself writhing on the ground, surrounded by concerned faces. He was still wearing the guise of Marcus Unblood, but the wound inflicted upon him ran deeper than his semblance.

Embedded in his throat was a frozen needle pressed against the vertebrae of his neck. A stinging pain radiated out from the injury, and Shiv was startled by both Andra’s throw and his own Toughness. She had pierced his baseline Toughness with ease, but he was still durable enough that her spear was lodged against his bone rather than ripping all the way through.

“Marcus,” Irons said, his brows furrowed but his voice even. Damn, was the man self-controlled. He even used Shiv’s cover name without slipping up. “What just happened. Where did the shot come from? Point!”

Shiv tried to speak, but found it a bit difficult on account of the pointed piece of frost stuck inside his trachea. As he reached up to grab the javelin, he felt the Cyromancy within it swell and rupture. Shiv’s eyes widened. The javelin exploded. The Deathless halted time. Everything came to a stand-still as he sat up and channeled his Shapeless Tides into the expanding blast. His Leviathan of the Shapeless Tides warred against whatever Cryomancy Skill the Jotun had as he flung himself high up into the air. He felt the mana with the javelin seep into his body, trying to infect his flesh—and his other Magical Fields.

Strider of the Unbending Path 160 > 161

Shiv’s eyes widened as he felt the freezing mana slip over into his Psychomancy field first before spreading to the others.

But that was only the beginning. 

Soon his thoughts slowed, and even his vitae congealed within his soul. The Jotun’s frost magic froze everything, with a heavy emphasis on everything. He directed his vectors against the sides of the javelin, and the struggle continued. Even his temporal shell developed a coat of frost, and time dragged against him, ripping pieces free from his body.

In the distance, there came a massive wave of counter-chronomancy. Shiv tried to sigh, but only managed to blow a bloody bubble out from the gaping wound lining his throat. Of course, there would be temporal wards here, probably spatial wards as well. This was an academy. He didn't have long before it struck him, and considering how large it was—seeming like a tidal wave a hundred meters tall—if he let that welling ward strike him, his temporal shell would shatter instantaneously. He also didn't have enough shapeless tides to contend with both the ward and the javelin, so he focused on the latter.

His muscles tightened, his tendons burned. Shiv's head felt light from the sheer amount of blood he was losing. A waterfall of red splashed down his chest, coating the robes given to him by the priests back at the morgue. It looked like Marcus was soaked through, but for Shiv, the front section of his Voidmantid armor was painted a thick, black-red brick. He snarled internally as cracks spread along the javelin. He put in more effort, twisted even harder. The warding rumbled as it drew closer, and he could feel the trembling presence of all the Chronomancy stored within that coming wave. It rumbled next to his ear like a looming avalanche.

Fuck me, does the Republic have a hell of a lot of power. That’s the biggestTemporal Warding I’ve ever seen. Bigger than even the prison. The hells…

"Break!" Shiv all but begged, and with a final surge of effort, the javelin shattered between his hands. An explosion of frost burst out, but Shiv clutched it tight to his chest. It raged against him, trying to freeze him, but where the javelin was focused and piercing, this was wild power tumbling in every direction. Shiv managed to wrestle it into submission, dissipating it bit by bit until it finally came asunder between his fingers. 

The broken remnants of stealth spellstuff untangled from his body, and Shiv watched as fading shapes dissolved into the air. But just then he had other matters to worry about, namely the huge wall of gold that was less than five meters away.

Shiv spiked himself straight down. He impacted the ground with a wicked thud, and the pavement beneath him fractured into the shape of a spider web. Shiv winced but didn't get a chance to try fixing it as the ward crashed over him. True to his expectations, he felt a wrenching sensation as his temporal shell was sheared free from his body. 

Time resumed. The Deathless coughed and gagged. He gripped at his throat and wrapped a mana hydra around it. The wound was crystallized in an instant, and his blood, his magical skills, his thoughts, and his soul resumed their previous fluidity. But he could still feel it, that infectious stasis, that hungering frost. The damned Jotun was a Legendary-Tier adversary, alright, and her skills were weirder than most.

"Marcus!" Irons called out again. Shiv realized he was laying on his side now. He turned over on his chest, and several students cried out in alarm. He looked like a bloody mess. Worse yet, he was drawing far too much attention to himself. This wasn't how he wanted to start his time at Phoenix Academy.

"I'm fine," Shiv managed to choke out. He coughed flecks of dry blood from his throat, and chunks of shredded flesh flew free as well. He spat it on the grass nearby, and some of the students who came to help him gagged at the visceral sight. "I'm fine," he repeated. 

He forced himself to his feet, his mind whirling. He whipped his head around and managed to locate Miriam Hall. He'd been heading there alongside Irons before the vision triggered, and now he understood why. A nasty surprise was nested deep inside the building, one that the students and faculty likely didn't know about either. Considering the rusted and dust-covered state of the teleportation anchor, Shiv wondered if it should have been obsolete at some point, removed even.

"Brother, you need to go see a Biomancer," a leather-armored student said. His blue eyes were wide as saucers, and he kept his distance from Shiv. His hands and fingers were curled, and he was at a loss as to what to do.

"I'm fine," Shiv waved him off. "I just—" And then the Deathless's identity caught back up to him. He wasn't supposed to be himself in this moment; he was supposed to be Marcus Unblood. He grunted uncomfortably and took in the many terrified and pale faces staring at him. There were goblins, automata, humans, elves, and more gathered around to witness his bloodied person. Now it was too late to sell them on the severity of his injuries. 

Well, he thought internally, might as well play up my healing capabilities.

“Old injury," he choked out awkwardly. "There was an abscess in my throat, and I popped it when I fell. Don’t worry. I’ll—clean it up." He looked down at his chest and knew his words were bullshit. The amount of blood that spilled out of him was staggering. A faint feeling of weakness lined his every sinew as well.

He felt a Biomancy field wash over his body and nearly ripped it apart on reflex. "Let me take a look," a girl said. Shiv tried to find where the Biomancer was, only to look down and realize they were shivering beside his ankle. The Deathless's mind went blank as what looked to be a small mouse dressed in yellow sundress channeled her mana at him. Though she unleashed waves of Biomancy, Shiv's Shapeless Tides proved to be an impenetrable threshold.

"I don't understand how—" her words were interrupted as Irons hooked Shiv's left arm and began pulling him away.

"Clear out, clear out!" the captain declared aloud. There was no fear in his voice, simply a sense of authority and urgency. "Don't mingle your mana with his, either. The student has a curse. It triggers at inopportune times and can spread his abscesses to you. Keep your distance." And suddenly, all the people who came over to help were backing away. Concern on their faces lingered, but some of it was self-directed now, as well.

"A curse?" someone called out.

"It's infectious, and it will shred your mana field," Irons made up his bullshit. It was better bullshit than Shiv's. He needed to get better at making stuff up fast for his false identities.

As they hobbled away, Irons leaned in and hissed, "What just happened?"

"Non-Sequitur decided to dump a vision on me," Shiv replied. “Got fucked after that.”

“What?”

“It’s a Foreshadowing Skill Evolution.”

Irons did a double take. "You have a foreshadowing skill?"

"Well, technically it wasn't mine. I got it from Rose." The man's befuddlement only grew, but Shiv didn't have time to explain. "We got bigger problems. There are a group of escaped prisoners on campus."

Suddenly the captain went stiff. All pretenses left him. He seized Shiv by his arms and held him still. "Where?"

"Foreshadowing showed me," Shiv explained. "And they're inside Miriam Hall. Is there some kind of reserve emergency teleportation anchor or something?"

Irons's jaw fell open slightly and he blinked. "There shouldn't be. It's old. Left over from the time of the war. It should have gone dormant years ago."

"Well, apparently there's still enough power inside it for a couple of prisoners to jump inside." Just then, Shiv spontaneously connected a few dots as well. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, "it probably still works because the Neath is keeping it juiced."

Skill Gained: Deductive Reasoning (Initiate) 1

Irons narrowed his eyes, and his expression turned into a near-grimace. "You know where it is?" Shiv asked.

"I believe so," Irons said. "The old schematics..." Whatever else he was about to say was cut off as Shiv felt another vision tear through his mind. This time, however, the vision wasn't happening naturally; it felt like the system was reaching him, was being forced upon him. 

Non-Sequitur: Andra will not be denied. She knows that you are here, and she will not wait for you to strike first. Across the fabric of stories, she alone holds the edge...

Shiv mustered his willpower and triggered his Non-Sequitur skill. He briefly tore out from his body, and the vision collapsed. This time, he didn't take a javelin to the throat. He shook his head and grabbed Irons by the arm. He moved on reflex now, his mind blank, his body active. He rushed into the front doors of Miriam Hall and dragged the captain behind him.

"Good afternoon," a well-dressed woman said. A whip of blonde hair flowed down her back, and her crystal chainmail was as luxurious, gaudy, and absurd-looking as it was choked with enchantments and overflowing mana. She held a stack of books closes to her chest and gave the two of them a nod. "Why, you're looking fine today, Captain Irons, and, oh, my Ascendants!" she gasped. She dropped some of the books when she saw Shiv's bloody body, but the Deathless ignore her.

Irons called over his shoulder as they stormed on. "He's just suffering from a physical curse. I'm going to find him some help."

"The hospital. But that’s—”

"It's not a biological curse," Irons justified. The woman's mouth remained wide open, but there was little they could do about that. Shiv hoped this identity of his wasn't burned, but things were already off to an ugly start, and it wasn't his fault at all. The system was just determined to be a bastard.

The lobby of Miriam Hall was composed of two splitting sets of hallways with a massive memorial wall at its front. The illustrations of countless path-bearers dotted the memorial, titled the Hundred and Eight, for that was how many martyrs it took to hold Miriam Hall to the very end. The other dead didn't get photos; instead, they dotted a trail of etchings and nothing more. A faint sensation of dread followed Shiv as he continued onward.

Irons led him down the left-most hall, and they promptly burst through a set of emergency doors. It was a good thing that evening was coming, for the insides of Miriam Hall were thinning out. Quick steps echoed above them, but they were going down. As they did, Shiv summoned the Last Morsel to his hand and carved bits of shadow away from every place he could see. After that, he shaped a small flame atop his hand as well.

"Alright, plan, plan," Shiv muttered more to himself than Irons. “Shit. Need to figure out how I’m going to approach this without turning everything into a shitshow.”

"How many of them are there?" Irons asked.

"Four," Shiv replied. "Two of them are Legends, not sure about the other two. I think one's heroic. Pretty well-balanced team, too. They got a Jump-Mage, they got something of a shadow, the one that stuck me with the javelin, something between a Vanguard and a combat-mage, and the last one's a Legendary Vanguard as well. Legendary Toughness, don't think Physicality is that high, though." Shiv offered what little information he knew as he watched an ugly look crawl over Irons's face.

"We need to notify the academy," Irons growled. “And Headmaster Hymn especially.”

"What?" Shiv cried out. "And bring the Ascendants down on our heads?"

"Your head. We have two Legendary prisoners here. Understand that you are at risk of being discovered, but I will not risk the lives of my pupils for your self-interest." Shiv wanted to argue with the man, but he didn't have the time, and more importantly, he didn't have a good angle of persuasion. Of course, Irons would be willing to do this. The danger was at his doorstep, and right now it was Shiv, him, and a few orcs against four extremely dangerous enemies.

"Listen, look, just give me a second, okay?" Shiv held onto him. The Captain tried to shrug him free, but Shiv wouldn't let go. For the first time, Irons glared at Shiv, and despite all the tribulations and bloodshed he'd endured, a shiver still climbed up the Deathless's back.

Psycho-Cartography: Don’t flinch. This is an Intimidation Skill, too. It gets worse the more you react.

 "Just a second," Shiv growled through his discomfort. "Look, I think we can use this to our advantage."

"Use what?"

"I don't want the ascendants to come here. I don't want them to know where I am, and I'm willing to bet that the other prisoners don't want that either. It took them a hell of a lot of effort to escape, and if they get discovered, they're probably going back inside another Rubix Well."

"You intend to bluff them?" Irons said with an edge of caution and disbelief in his voice.

"I'm intending to do whatever I can to stop the ascendants from showing up," Shiv said. "It's probably why the prisoners haven't just blasted their way out yet. That anchor's pretty rusted, and even if it wasn't, it might as well be made out of paper for a Legendary-Tier Pathbearer. They're planning just like we are. They got here to hide from Harlock, not to lure his shadows back in. You show me to the anchor, and then you go wait outside. Give me five minutes."

"Five minutes," Irons nearly hissed.

"Okay, fine, give me just three. If I'm not back by then, go get help. But after that, Adam and I need to move. You understand? I'm not going back inside that prison, and I'll be dead for good before I let the ascendants take me again." Shiv meant every word of that. A brief impasse developed between the two men, and Irons let out a growl of frustration before he folded.

"Three minutes," he stressed. “And then I call down the hammer.”

***

"We should go out now. We should find him, tear him apart," Urri snarled. "If you don't think you're mighty enough, then Urri will be—”

“Be silent," the Jotun snarled back. The Vulteg's resilience was awesome, and it was practically the only reason why Andra hadn't killed the High Marshal yet. Threads of Divination mana expended out from her like the branches of a tree, an apt representation of her Divination skill. 

For through the branches and trunk of the system, everything was connected. The Deathless had managed to break free of her divination twice before, and she wasn't sure how. Her heart was in turmoil, for though he was an enticing prize, her battle-honed instincts told her that she faced a truly dangerous threat. Now he was impossibly missing.

She had found him seconds earlier. It was one of the easiest traces she had ever performed. The system-favored burned bright when gazed upon with Divination. They were like bonfires in the middle of dark forests. But this Deathless, he was practically the sun itself, and he bled so much conflict that it clung to those around him. It clung to her as well. She was burning too, slowly catching fire from this single interaction alone. Someone like that didn't just go missing. Earlier, he failed to react to her divination-based attack in time. 

The system told her he lacked the magical means to fight back. That meant he didn't have any divination mana. He relied on Foreshadowing or something like that. Could it be Exposition? No, she couldn't remember anyone using Exposition to fight back against her. With her power, any messages they intended to inflict were easily swatted aside. It wasn't the same with the Deathless. He simply broke free. He was there, then he was gone. 

A Unique Skill, then, she concluded, one that briefly allows him to tread between worlds. Her mother had such a skill, and that was why it proved so difficult for Andra to slay her.

Deductive Reasoning 48 > 49

"Jotun. I will not wait here. I will not! Urri will not wait. Urri will strike down the ape-dogs of this land and crush their feeble machines. And you—”

"I am the only reason we broke free of that perimeter!" Andra shot back at the raging Vulteg. She turned her glare at the simple creature. How this one made it to High Marshal was beyond her. His god must have promoted him like certain tyrants promote their personal pets. The Storm Lord had a century old turtle that could barely speak or count even as a Heroic-Tier monster. And it was still more charming than this Vulteg.

"It's not that I don't want to take his life, Urri," she said, as if a master speaking to a soft acolyte. "It's that I don't know where he is. I need to consider our steps. You can fight bravely and end up back in another cage. Is that what you want? To fail your Lord Scorn? To see this Adam of yours slip through your fingers again?"

With the invocation of Lord Scorn's name, Urri turned away, ashamed and cowed. 

A pet, indeed, Andra thought. "No," she said softly, "we do this carefully. Right now we are safe. The Ascendants don't know where we are. But this anchor, it is hidden for a reason. It still functions for a reason." Andra licked her lips and considered how rusted it was. "I think this is a smuggling anchor. Which means the Neath is operational here." And that filled her old stone heart with joy. The Neath. She could do business with the dragon-brokers. She had a few favors to cash and coin to burn. "We wait," she said again, more certain than ever. "We wait until one of their operatives jumps in."

"And how long will that take?" Urri grumbled. "A week? A month? A year?"

"It means nothing to us. You have that resolve, don't you, Urri?"

"I don’t," Divider crackled from its place on the ground. "Listen, you guys can go a long while without eating, but I practically spent all my charge getting us out of there. If you don't find a way to boost up my core, I think I'm going to go to... to… I got one more jump charted. One more spot left in me if this goes south. But that’s it. I’ll be spent.”

The automaton's stuttering told Andra that it wasn't lying. She did her best to hide the scowl of judgment threatening to creep across her face. These machine-beings were remarkable in certain ways, but often they were more trouble than they were worth.

"Breeze," Andra said, "I will be in need of your skills." Andra felt the hidden path-bearer glide around her body. "I wish to know the layout of the campus. I wish to know what its security looks like, the forces at its disposal, the strongest path-bearer on these grounds, and potential weaknesses we can exploit."

"That'll take a while," Breeze whistled. "I'll have to move carefully. The Yellowstone Republic has a lot of resources vested in this place."

A cruel smile developed on the Jotun's face. "Good. Then perhaps I might be able to strike a blow for Court and Kith before this travesty is through."

Just then, she felt her Divination twitch. The branches of the violet tree coiled in on themselves violently. She felt him. The Deathless. He was near, very close. But she didn't know where, couldn't see him yet. He radiated with power. She could taste the tension in the air, that residue of strife, and it choked her. He was getting even closer now. Her breath came fast.

"What is wrong, giantess?" Urri said. For once, he seemed unnerved as well.

"It's... it's him. I can feel him. He's close. I can feel his heat radiating through the walls, filling this anchor. He's—" and just then, every branch on her tree speared down and pierced through her. As it did, she realized, a moment too late, that the Deathless was in the teleportation anchor among them.

She spun, summoning a wicked scythe of frost. Her blow split the air, but the winds didn't scream. They didn't even move. All halted before her. Wind, energy, magic, soul, thought. Everything was frozen. But not the Deathless. No, he wasn't there. He felt altogether absent for a moment, and then he was back again. 

The tree rattled with intense ferocity, collapsing around her, sinking like a puddle at her very feet. A groan escaped from Andra. For the first time, she felt the full embrace of his residual strife, and it was like being swallowed by a sun-going supernova. It took a great deal to make a Jotun sweat, and when that happened, heart palpitations followed. A feverish weakness crept through her.

"He's inside!" Andra hissed. "He's with us!"

"What?" Urri cried aloud. "Where?" He stomped, whipping his head left and right. The large tentacles connected to his skull crackled about, leaving sonic booms in the air.

"It's the best I can do," Divider choked. "I don't got that much juice left, and I can't feel him either. Where is he? Where?”

Breeze didn't say anything. Instead, she began circulating through the air. Between the lot of them, Andra had the highest awareness, and it was heroic. It didn't do anything for her. She couldn't feel any aberrant vibrations in the air, any shifts in the temperature, any... 

She let out a sudden hiss of pain as something sank into her lower back. It glided up, and she felt a cut travel through her body. More things inside her tore. Blood filled her mouth. But the Jotun didn't double over. She tried to move, but a crushing strength flooded through the wound in her back and clutched her spine, and this time, Andra did let out a piercing cry. This pain was unlike any she'd ever experienced.

"Jotun!" Urri cried aloud, his voice a snarl of pure rage. “Where is he? Where?” But as he stepped forward, Andra felt herself get wrenched up to the side, used as a meat shield to block the Vulteg's advance.

"Yeah, none of that. You come close to me, and I'll crack her spine." The voice was deep and vicious. She felt the Deathless manifest briefly behind her, only to vanish a second later right after. He left this realm again.

What a Unique Skill… I must have it… Andra sucked in a ragged gasp of air and focused herself. This was a humiliation. But how? She felt the presence of his soul, of his narrative significance. But where was he, actually? Even now, she was having a hard time pinpointing his location, like he was spread across multiple places at once. Just then, she felt a presence materialize behind her. 

There was a flash of white and red and a puff of vitality curled around the corner of her vision. As she looked over her shoulder, there stood the Deathless. He had taken his false semblance off. Instead of looking like a feeble boy, he was the size of a juvenile giant, a colossus of a man. His armor was skeletal, and over his skull sockets were compound eyes, reminding Andra of a dragonfly's. 

With a sudden movement, he withdrew something sharp from her back. Andra grunted in pain as a spray of blood flew through the air. To her disbelief, what he held wasn't a blade or even a club. No, it seemed like a frying pan with wicked Orichalcum saws along the edges.

Shaking off her surprise, she began to wield her Cryomancy subtly. She condensed a flow of cold air nearby and started shaping it into the outline of her person. The Deathless surprised her with his tricks, but she wasn't without her own. 

As the winds within the anchor grew more intense, the Deathless tilted his head and barked a command. "Hey, knock that shit off. I know you're there. I can see your vitality. You try anything, and I put her down."

Breeze stilled, but didn’t stop flowing.

"Then you will die," Urri said. "Her life is the only thing sparing you from my hands."

The Deathless scoffed. "Yeah, that and the fact you can't grapple worth a godsdamn, you're dumb as a pile of broken bricks that had a lobotomized dog bleed over them. And you're one of Lord Scorn's special dipshits." 

It was the last insult that affected Urri. His single eye turned bloodshot and red. "You dare speak ill of Lord Scorn's name?"

"I dare to do a lot of things," the Deathless deadpanned. "Right now, I'm daring to discuss terms."

"Terms?" Andra said. The Deathless was audacious. He hadn't killed her immediately. It would be his folly, but for now, she wanted to play along. This one was intriguing.

"Well, I guess there's a reason why you haven't just burst out from the anchor and started massacring people," he chuckled humorlessly. "Not keen on going back to jail, are we?"

"Not even a little," Divider crackled from the ground. It groaned. “I don’t know, guys. Maybe let’s be reasonable. Let’s hear the guy out. Give hope and peace a chance. Mainly because if you make me jump again, I’m gonna be taking a nap—and that might end up being real final for me.”

"Yeah, so, I get that. In fact, we're in the same place there. I'm no big fan of the Ascendants, either. Frankly, I'm a bit sour on this whole Republic thing in general. Hasn't been that great of an experience so far."

"Oh," Andra said. "And so, the enemy of your enemy is…”

“Not your friend at all," the Deathless cut her off. She felt him tighten his grip, and she bit back a rasp of pain. 

"How did you do that?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"How did I do what? Survive you stabbing me through the throat? Cute skill, by the way. Divination? Throwing Proficiency?" She didn't say anything. You didn't give information to intriguing adversaries. 

"Alright, I'm gonna go with that for now," the Deathless assumed. "Well, you got cute tricks, and I got cute tricks, too. We can both play at being mysterious." 

She updated him from being merely intriguing to quite annoying. She would delight in torturing information out of him. Andra had finally finished shaping her simulacrum. Now, all she needed to do was fill its insides with circulating Cryomantic mana. She worked carefully, slowly, and to her delight, she realized her enemy didn't have a very high Awareness Skill either. What an ironic weakness they both shared…

"Whatever the case, I think I know why you're all here. You're waiting for some dork from the Neath to drop by, huh? Maybe they'll pick you up. You probably know that this is one of their drop-off points, don't you?"

"I do," Andra boasted openly. "And it seems you do as well. Have you business with them?"

"Yeah, unwilling business," Shiv admitted, "but maybe business that could benefit us all. I don't got a lot of time. We have around two minutes before this nice and calm conversation turns into a flood of angry Pathbearers ripping through the outside of this anchor to put you guys down."

That changed things immediately. "You told them where we are?"

"Oh, I'm not the one telling them. But my associate is waiting outside. He gave me a bit, so a bit’s gonna have to do. We got around… three minutes, and if things go wrong in that time, then we’re all bound for the cells again. Not really the way I want it. But sometimes we don't have good choices to make. So I'm desperate, which means you're desperate, which means I want a few reassurances."

Andra clenched her teeth. She had no idea if he was telling the truth or not, but assumptions killed. She briefly stopped tracing her simulacrum. "What kind of assurances?"

"The kind that makes sure you guys don't go apeshit and kill a bunch of students. That's enough."

She didn't know how long until his reinforcements arrived, but she wasn't going to risk it. He was trying to force her into betraying herself; into accepting bondage. This was an offense to her dignity and honor—one already tarnished through capture. Worse, his tongue wiggled and lashed at her mind in strange ways; she was not going to wait for him to use his Social witchery on her. Such dishonorable skills made to be greeted with brutal retribution: a sudden strike.

Andra gave Urri a nod and hissed at Breeze. The air went still. Divider sighed. The Vulteg loudly asked her if her neck was hurt because he was dumber than warg dung. 

The Jotun acted. 

She finished shaping her simulacrum and burst into motion. A blade of pure frost whipped through the air, and the Deathless only managed a partial turn of his head before a clean, strong stroke slid through his neck. His body shuddered briefly, and he tumbled to the ground, legs bowing inward. As he went down, black-red ichor spilled over Andra's back, and it turned into a coiling mess of red and white right after.

Strange blood you have, Deathless. But how disappointing. I expected more resilience. 

“Divider,” she began.

Then, another blow struck the back of her skull, and this time she felt a cut glide through bone and split her brain asunder. 

And with that, Andra let out a choked gasp as she went down as well.