V-13 Admission (I)

Phoenix Academy is not the only academy on Earth. It is also not the greatest academy, despite how often I boast of its great achievements and magnificent alumni.

If you want to seek the oldest academy on Integrated Earth, then you're heading far east to Moonwall. You will ascend the Yun Wei Mountain there, and only if you pass a final examination administered by the so-called spirits which guard the place can you enter those grand and hallowed walls. I've seen the grounds, and I can attest that they are not boasting. Those walls are grand, and a part of the academy does reside at the center of our shattered moon. How, you might ask? Well, I cannot say. The secrets lay with Moonwall and Moonwall alone.

If you wish to be honed in the heat of battle, you should go to Dragonrest. There you will learn to be a Pathbearer the iron way, and there your classmates may well be beyond your expectations, for within the bleached bones of Dragonrest, monstrous Pathbearers strive to better themselves on a journey towards higher sapience, while individuals gain blessings, strike pacts, and find strength beyond what mere mortals can offer.

The Horde Lord of Dragonrest, Nalkanor, might well be among the oldest Pathbearers on our world. Though long she has slumbered, she awoke recently after our newest incursion, and now serves as both governor and guardian to her personal academy and her own continent of Atlantis. I've faced her a few times in battle, and I will not mince words. Atlantis and the Republic have always been at war, but it is important to acknowledge the power of your enemy just as much as the feelings of your kin.

Then far south, there is Sorrowash, School of Sacrifice and Sacrilege, where mysteries and secrets are passed down from master to disciple. Sorrowash is selective, but it is also the place to go if you seek a new future, and your past is far too scarred to bear. For there resides one of the great ways to the Fairwoods, and the instructors and loremasters there are of the Eternal Lines of the Fairest. Who else could defy the rule of the Scarred Ones, and who else could force such an accord of the Feathered Wyrm?

Now, you may well think, why has this headmaster, loyal subject to the Republic, boasted so much of these other schools? Does he doubt his own institution? No. It is because I hold no doubt in my Phoenix Academy that I laud the others. For Phoenix Academy offers you breadth. You can become anyone here, and more importantly, you will not be burdened by worries aside from furthering yourself and deepening your knowledge.

All these other academies and institutions are perilous affairs. They are places of intrigue and treachery as much as they are sources of wealth and good power, and so, you enter them at your own peril. Contrarily, should you fail to enter Phoenix Academy, you are in peril. For here we forge warriors and scholars both. 

For here we do not cast you to the wolves, but make you into the hunters who will drive the beasts from the woods.

-Legend-Headmaster Hades Hymn

V-13

Admission (I)

Shiv's time as a Pathbearer was more than tumultuous. For the past few months, his life could best be characterized as an endless stream of extreme fights punctuated by deaths, other strange and absurd encounters, with only a few moments of tranquility, cooking, and company in between. As such, trying to sneak into a morgue seemed like just another misadventure for him.

On the other hand, sneaking into a morgue was less audacious and more outright sacrilegious in certain ways, especially since he was stealing the very soul essence of another person to see this deception through. In the end, this was the best option he had. He didn't have months to wait for someone else to create a false shell and another semblance for him, not when he already had a mask capable of doing such a thing. 

He also couldn't afford the system giving him away every time someone laid eyes on him. It placed a target on his head anywhere he went, and Shiv couldn't afford that. Not if he wanted to operate in the capital and find a way out in time. Not if he wanted to aid Irons in figuring out where his student went or what Daughter had done to the poor girl. 

He needed that flexibility while Adam and the others tried to come up with alternative strategies to find a way out of the Ascendants’ quarantine.

As such, only a few people accompanied Shiv on this initial expedition. Whisper and Tequila wished to experience school life alongside their Insul after giving oaths that they would not vanish any students, and Helix joined them as well. Mortar, in a moment of genuine honesty, decided to remain because: “they’re just too enticingly vulnerable.” 

Grim, but honest. As much as I can ask for from an orc.

Also within Shiv’s Forest of Alloy was Radio, hidden deep and making nary a sound. A good thing too, as Shiv couldn't afford to have the Educator know about its existence.

The Educator, meanwhile, decided to reside in the hidden Coliseum, and that's where most of the prisoners, orcs, Adam, and Can Hu decided to stay. The Forgotten Ascendant wished to interrogate the two crafters about the slipgate they were working on, and Can Hu wanted to assist them. Shiv guessed that the Penitent also had another thing in mind. When Can Hu intervened earlier, it made sure that the crafters weren't infusing any hidden enchantments to subvert Shiv. 

Now, it was likely trying to figure out what the crafters were building, perhaps so it could replicate it in time. Can Hu wasn't a Heroic-Tier Pathbearer in terms of crafting without the unique skill offered by Gate Piety, but it was still knowledgeable enough that it might be able to gain some useful insight through this participation.

Adam himself was burdened. He wanted to go along with Shiv, but he also wished to keep an eye on the Educator—not only her, but also Merrielmel and Concelhaunt as well. At the same time, there were things he needed to discuss with Irons. They had a great deal to catch up about, and it was better that Adam tried to procure more of the man's trust than Shiv. Irons pledged to meet Shiv soon after things were underway, and the morgue sent for a representative from the academy. Hence, the Deathless prepared to disembark from the buried coliseum to steal a spot meant for a corpse.

As the dimensional rift opened before him, allowing him to cross over back into the maze, Adam called out to him at the last moment. "Shiv," Adam said, and proceeded to project one of the keyhole rings locked over his arm like a bracelet. It slid over Shiv's arm, and the Deathless looked down in surprise.

"That's me being in two places at once, right?" Adam said. "Just so I can keep an eye on you. If you need to take it off when you get put in the morgue, just place it in your cape."

Shiv nodded. "Probably not a bad idea at all," he mumbled.

Getting dressed while using Perfect Semblance was a bit awkward. It required him to throw on articles of clothing while he was still wearing his Voidmantid armor. But though it proved to be a snug fit, the Perfect Semblance made it seem like Marcus was the one that was dressed. Ultimately, this had the benefit of ensuring Shiv didn't need to be unarmed when he went into the morgue. No, he just needed to remove the school uniform he currently had on and throw Adam's bracelet into his cape later.

"I'll keep an eye on you through the bracelet," Adam added. He promptly commanded the other dimensional ring to hover over his hand, and as it did, a pulse of static erupted out from it. At the same time, another pulse wrapped over Shiv's hand, and Adam jabbed a finger through. A chronokinetic jab thudded off the inside of Shiv's forearm.

"Seems kind of voyeuristic," Shiv said, then he caught himself. 

"Oh, so nothing's changed for you, huh?" The Gate Lord let out a half-hearted scoff. "I'm taking that back when you no longer need it, and I'm definitely taking it away from you once we find Uva again."

"Well, if you forget, I'm chucking it back at you. None of us want to do that again. One time was enough.”

Adam rolled his eyes. "Yes, but I'm sure you'll find a way to traumatize poor Valor somehow." Shiv clenched his teeth to hide a wince. "You know I'm right," Adam continued.

The Deathless retreated before he had to engage with his friend's argument. Psycho-Cartography told him that his honor could only be defended upon more favorable theses, and exposing Valor to private moments wasn't one.

As he ventured forth out of the maze, he heard footsteps following close behind. He turned, expecting to find Adam, leering at him, trying to take a final shot. "Listen, I didn't really want to..." He trailed off as he found himself staring at the Educator. The woman once known as Maia folded her arms and stared at him with a tense expression. Her face was creased as she licked her lips.

"I suppose you do not trust me enough to let me embark alongside you."

Shiv didn't see the point in lying. "No, not really, Educator." 

She frowned. “Not taunting me with Maia anymore?”

“Look, I don't like you, but I don't see a point in being a dick. We're going to be like adults, right? That's our agreement”

Something almost akin to a scoff and a chuckle escaped from her. "Fine. The Neath has its ways. The Dragon Brokers have operated under the Ascendants' noses for years. They have their relics and powers as well. More importantly, the Ascendants like to use them against each other. They will be able to get you to the morgue. I understand that you are still responsible for yourself first and foremost, and I cannot stress enough how perilous having your identity compromised will be."

"You don't need to," Shiv said. He thought back to his previous stints as a spy, and it demoralized him a bit. At least now he had some experience. More importantly, he was operating on far more favorable conditions. Marcus Unblood was not particularly known in the capital, and more importantly, he was a nobody, not particularly cared for, with little attention directed at him. At most, Shiv expected some surprise from the other survivors in Marcus's expedition, but that was all. Shiv could deal with surprise; he had been dealing with constant surprises all this time.

"Do not allow yourself to be compromised," the Educator stressed again. “We cannot afford your recapture, and that bitch Chandler will not make the same mistake twice.”

Oh, if only you knew she was half the reason I got out, The Deathless looked past her shoulder and gazed upon the temporal echo he had left within the crafting chamber. "If things go wrong, I'll be sure to dip out. I already have a time anchor set up for a retreat.”

"So if you suspect anything, if you feel even a slight bit of suspicion, it's best to cut your losses," the Educator said. "That mask of yours can steal multiple identities. Don't be afraid to burn one."

"I'm not," Shiv replied, suddenly aware of how worried she was. "How important am I to Udraal's plan?" he asked on a gamble.

She fell quiet then, and the silence that clung to her was oppressive and hesitant. It was immediately evident that though she was a Forgotten Ascendant, she didn't hold the power in the relationship. After all, she was performing the labor, operating for her own interest but also for Udraal's as well.

"He's always watching," she said, not directly answering his question. He caught her reaching for her tome reflexively before she pulled her hand back. "Understand that everything you do will be known to him in time, and he will be scheming. He's always scheming, so mind how you step."

"Yeah," Shiv said, "you too. We're just things to him, you and I, just like we're things to each other. But I think we can treat each other better than he treats us." That word left him on a gamble. Shiv wasn't sure how much loyalty she had to Udraal, but when she tightened her jaw slightly, his intuition bloomed. He had taken a shot in the dark, and it might just have landed.

"For me to be free, I need him. I need what he knows. I need to be reborn, whole this time, unchained from my mistake." She sounded ashamed of that admission, ashamed that he knew this much about her at all.

Instead of mocking her weakness, Shiv just nodded. "Yeah, and I can abide by that. What I can't abide by is if you or Udraal hurt anyone I care about, or if you end up hurting a lot of innocent people. That's my line, anyway."

The Educator looked away from him then, but with the way her gaze fell, Shiv thought he gleaned another emotion from her, and it was one of reminiscence and shame. "It doesn't last, you know."

"What?" Shiv asked, trying to figure out the meaning behind her words.

"The morality, the urge to care, the will to fight for those weaker than you. It doesn't last. You lose it. The lucky ones never had it to begin with, but in time, your heart will be less of itself." The way she spoke sounded less like a portended promise and more of a lamenting confession.

Everything hardened inside Shiv, and he decided to take another swing. "You lost a lot of people, didn't you?"

The Educator swallowed then, and a part of her cheek turned to glass. She turned, unwilling to engage with him anymore, and as she beat her retreat back into the crafting chamber, Shiv realized he was developing an unhealthy sense of empathy toward the Educator. 

He still didn't much like her. He didn't much understand her, either. But he thought about who he might be if Adam died, if Uva died, if Valor died, if everyone he cared about right now was taken. He wouldn't break, at least not for long—his mind would not allow for it—but he would probably come out of it less in a great many ways.

It was hard to be kind when you were raw with sorrow.

Shiv shook those thoughts away as he left the maze. As soon as he slipped out into the arena proper, he found the Liaison from earlier waiting for him. There the man stood, rubbing at his luxurious doublet with a piece of cloth. He noticed Shiv approaching and aimed his most refined smile at the Deathless.

"Well, I see our crafters are as efficient as always. An item with Perfect Semblance. That's a rare reward indeed."

Shiv grunted. He didn't much want to speak with the Liaison. The less the Dragon Brokers knew about him, the less they could use against him. "So, are we going?" Shiv said. "Using the sewers again or something?"

"The waterways, yes," the Liaison said. "But before that, I would like to introduce you to one of my colleagues."

"Yeah, look, whatever you have to sell..."

The Liaison held out a hand, bidding Shiv to stop speaking. "It's not a thing of commerce. It's more like a binding arrangement. Think of him as your personal Liaison, for we all need to ensure our interests are fulfilled, don't we?"

Shiv frowned underneath his mask; his perfect semblance replicated the expression. "So are you sending one of you guys to shadow me, to follow me around?"

"No, it's more like I'm shackling them to you." The Liaison looked up, and his features turned vicious. "Cullyweir!" his voice echoed, and it traveled further than Shiv expected. The air around him reverberated, and it sounded like the call was traveling down a distant tunnel, but the maze wasn't nearly long enough for that, and the echo just kept on going. 

All of a sudden, someone else appeared right next to the Liaison.

Shiv moved. His Last Morsel was summoned to his right hand via the Binding enchantment. He exploded toward the threat in a blur of violence. The bladed rim of his legendary frying pan came an inch away from beheading the intruder.

"Stop!" the Liaison called aloud. Shiv barely caught himself in time.

"Listen, if you're going to summon someone, you need to give me some warning. Okay, what the hell am I looking at?"

The creature the Liaison summoned was unlike anything Shiv had ever seen. For one, they were tall, taller than Shiv by a full head, yet they were also far too thin. So thin, in fact, that Shiv had no idea where their organs would go in their pole-width body. They were practically a walking stick figure. A cloak of flowers and leaves swayed behind them, and wonderful fragrances slid into Shiv's nostrils. The delightful flavor of roses crawled down the Deathless's throat, and for a moment he wondered if he was being poisoned. When nothing happened, his paranoia lessened, but his frying pan remained in line with the newcomer's neck.

The first thing that Shiv noted about the strange entity's head was how long its ears were, pointed a near meter into the air. Something about that made Shiv think of the elves, but the rigidity and sharpness of the creature's auditory organs seemed to be on another level of extreme. Its nose was fair, its skin was smooth and pristine, without any imperfections. Its eyes were also too wide and devoid of any irises; they were like two pools of white upon a face of soft pink. The entity's skin color also changed as it gazed at Shiv. Instead of betraying any hint of fear or anger in its body language, it seemed tired, exhausted almost, and faintly Shiv heard a song ringing forth from the creature. It sounded like bells jingling over the horizon, like a rush of leaves tumbling through a grand forest.

"I am Cullyweir," the entity said, without any hint of enthusiasm. In fact, it sounded sapped of all will and on the verge of utter listlessness. "Exile of the Fairwoods. I have given my name. I have been called. I must answer—and all that other drivel…”

Each statement hit Shiv like there was actual weight behind them. Why that was, the Deathless didn't know, but an unsettling feeling sheathed itself in his gut, and instinctively he knew. He knew this creature shouldn't be like this. It also shouldn't be here. It felt dimmed by this world, dimmed by this reality, and the melody spilling out of it was muted as well, oppressed by a realm that wasn't meant to stomach such songs.

"Cullyweir," the Liaison repeated. "Say his name, and he will come to you, carried by wind and fragrance. He will come to you, and he will be able to service you for whatever your needs." And Shiv really didn't like the smile on the Liaison's face.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'my needs'?" Shiv said. A bit of aggression leaked into his words, and the smile faded from the Liaison.

"You must understand that you are in a perilous position. As such, the Neath wishes to offer its services. After all, it is not easy to defy the gods of the Republic, and everyone needs help."

"I already have enough help," Shiv said flatly.

"And more will be required in time," the Liaison insisted. "But even if you don't, we are in business together, and we wish to ensure that our arrangement with you is well taken care of. After all, you are due a meeting with the Dragon Brokers, and we wouldn't want anything unfortunate to befall you before that point, would we?"

It sounded almost like a threat. Almost. Shiv glared at the Liaison. "I will make sure nothing unfortunate happens to me. I can't say the same for everyone else, though. People around me, especially people who piss me off, things don't usually turn out well for them."

A faint trace of something formed between him and the Liaison. It was barely there, but Shiv hid a smile as he felt a trickle of fear wash over from the man. Yeah, that's right, the Deathless thought to himself, you flap those fuckin' peacock feathers as hard as you want, but you remember who you're goddamn talking to.

"Regardless, if you need anything at all, or if you wish to communicate with us," he gestured toward Cullyweir, "you can speak through your personal aid, and he will carry our words between us."

Shiv looked Cullyweir up and down and noted how the strange being couldn't meet his eyes. Shiv had seen that look on others before, on the slaves back in Gate Piety, and he realized why he wanted to rip the Liaison's head off. 

"Is this one a slave?" Shiv asked flatly. Depending on the Liaison's answer, Shiv might come out of this with new enemies.

"He was," the Liaison said casually. "Now he is an employee of the Neath and a favor bound to the Dragon Brokers." He wiggled his nose as he let out a performative sigh. "It is a dark thing for a pattern-based being to own one of the Fairest."

"Pattern-based?" Shiv asked.

"Like us, or the goblins, or the automata. The things that follow incremental logic and exist in a steady reality with a stable level of mana. Cullyweir is Fae. In fact, he is Fairest, eldest of the Fairwoods. Explaining all that he is might take too long, but it's best that you think of him as some kind of magical, wish-granting sea fish that is now being forced to live in a river."

"Why is he forced to live in a river?" Shiv asked. He wanted to hear Cullyweir explain why, but the Fairest didn't respond. Instead, it simply kept its gaze pointed at the ground.

"Because if he were to ever return home to the Fairwoods, then he would experience a final fate: death."

"What the hells did he do to deserve that?" Shiv asked.

The Liaison shook his head. "A truly foul sin for the Fairest. You see, he fell in love with a human woman, and he bred with her, and from them there came an elf."

His jaw fell open slightly. "That's it?"

The Liaison winked at the Deathless, but it was not a friendly wink, more like a taunting gesture. "There are some bloods that simply shouldn't mix, or that is the opinion of the Fairest, those of the border courts at least. Now say his name, for if you do not, he will wilt and suffer and die, because," the Liaison drew in a breath, "I bequeath authority over this melody unto you."

Another weight struck Shiv. This one actually came down upon him like a falling mountain. The floor beneath Shiv fractured and fissured. The Deathless grunted. "What the hell did you—" Before him, Cullyweir began to come apart in flaking bits of gray. He gasped and groaned, and began coming a apart. “You motherf—” Shiv gritted his teeth. "Cullyweir!" he called out, and just then something fused between him and the Fae before him: a connection, a bond. But it was a bond that weighed heavily on his end and light on the Fae's. It was like a chain he could pull at any time, and boiling rage nearly detonated inside Shiv.

Pact Gained: [True Name — Cullyweir]

Suddenly, his pan was pressed against the Liaison's neck, and the man's back struck the far wall of the arena as Shiv's shapeless tides surged forward in a roar of kinetic energy. The Liaison let out a surprised cry and clenched his teeth as he felt the skin around his neck split open. He reached down, trying to grasp his blade, but Shiv got there first and closed his hand around the handle. A burst of Chronomancy detonated outward but remained within Shiv's clenched hand, unable to break through his cycling vectors.

"Alright," Shiv said, barely able to keep a snarl out of his voice. "You said he wasn't a slave. Well, why do I feel like I got a chain inside me?"

"Because that's how a fae soul-pact works," the Liaison said, surprisingly calm. But he really wasn't. Shiv could feel an active river of fear rushing into him now. "If you kill me, it won't really matter. I'm merely a servant, a disposable pawn of the Neath. I'd like to keep my life, but if you slay me, another will take my place. And now that Cullyweir is bound to you, why, the Dragon Brokers and the major interests will speak to you directly. We will never meet again."

The Liaison drew in a harsh and ragged breath, and Shiv pulled his frying pan away. Part of him still wanted to cave the Liaison's skull in, but the real people Shiv wanted to hurt were the so-called Dragon Brokers. Before that, he also wanted to figure out more of this Cullyweir's deal. As he turned to see where the fairest went, he realized that Cullyweir was utterly gone. Instead, in his place were a few leaves, a few petals, and a fading fragrance.

"Oh, he's still there, he's just in the wind, flowing around you. He stands apart from the world most of the time," the Liaison swallowed. "It's quite an uncanny thing when he reappears. All you need to do is say his name, and he'll be invoked."

"And he has to come?" Shiv said.

"He has to," the Liaison smiled. "But we all have to. We're all owned in one way or another."

"Not me," Shiv said.

"Perhaps not yet," the Liaison replied. "But in time, everyone is bound. Chains make for gorgeous necklaces." Despite the man's hidden fear, something told Shiv that killing him would be a kind of mercy, a kind of freedom.

"And what's your chain?" Shiv asked. "What did you give? Soul, skill, or family?"

The Liaison stopped talking for once, and he turned away. Shiv caught that look on his face, the same look he saw on the Educator earlier, and it was shame.

"All three then," Shiv took a blind guess. The Liaison turned brittle, his body becoming as if a sculpture of glass. Shiv laughed bitterly under his breath and left the Liaison there, moving on back down the stairs.

As he got to the bottom of the steps, he retraced his path back to where he first arrived, back to that ruined restroom, to the toilet he had exploded out of. The Deathless sighed as he stared down into the fetid swirl pool that had spawned him. Just then he looked up, and he invoked the name that was now connected to his soul. "Cullyweir," Shiv said softly, unwilling to bark it like a command. Still it echoed out, and still the fairy was forced to come.

"I am here. I heed your words, O Pact-Bearer." Cullyweir yawned as he manifested, and he seemed distant. Indifferent to the point of depression.

"Don't call me that," Shiv said, and looked the fair folk up and down. "Call me Shiv. Listen, you, uh, you don't have to do this. If this is some kind of slave contract, I swear I'll set you free, or something. Whatever the words are." When nothing happened, Shiv looked Cullyweir up and down. "Do I need to reach into the skill or pact and break it apart somehow? How does this thing work?"

"I cannot be free," Cullyweir said emotionlessly. "I cannot be free so long as my blood still lives, and so long as I remain unforgiven by my own kind." For the first time, a sad smile crawled over Cullyweir’s face. "And I will never shed my own blood, so I will not be free."

Shiv didn't know what to say to that, but in his silence, Cullyweir decided to continue on. "I see that you wish to proceed toward your destination, to the Royal Morgue of Archmortalis in East Highvine, yes?"

Shiv stared at Cullyweir, and just then, he felt his body start turning into droplets of fluid. He began to spill into the swirling pool within the toilet bowl, and he realized it was Cullyweir casting the spell, Cullyweir blending with him, wrapping around him. Cullyweir had been with them this entire time. 

That was how they had moved from place to place. The Dragon Brokers and the Neath had a fairy using his magic to serve them. Cullyweir's mana was unlike anything Shiv had ever felt. It was softer, more flexible, less defined. Just like that, Shiv was gliding through the pipes again, and Cullyweir flowed with him. And that had him thinking: If the Neath had a fae on their metaphorical payroll, what else did they have hiding up their sleeves? What other surprises?

It didn't take long for him to arrive at the morgue. He was moving far faster now, with no stops in between. It seemed like Harlock was distracted. Previously, they had halted several times while in transit to the Coliseum. Shiv wondered how the prison break was going, and if anyone innocent had suffered. All actions had consequences, even the ones that were ultimately necessary, even the ones that had good intentions behind them.

After what felt like half an hour, Shiv emerged from the faucet of a sink, stumbling out into a private restroom. A crystal decanter lay upon a tray placed over a bathtub. In it, a rather corpulent man lay with his throat slit. His eyes were bulging and wide as he stared at the soft-white ceiling, and Shiv wondered just what the hells he stumbled in on. 

As soon as Shiv finished solidifying, the door next to him swung open and the Deathless nearly took someone else's head off using his frying pan. Across from him stood a young woman. She was dressed in pitch-black robes, and on her shoulder was a ribbon that portrayed a singing woman with dark hair and predatory eyes. Shiv shuddered as he remembered those eyes. Kathereine, the Songbringer. Had he been discovered by one of her faithful? Was he going to have to...?

"Oh, good, you're here." She looked him up and down and sniffled. "You're the Deathless in disguise, I take it? Morgue’s next block over. I’ll get you there. The other team just handed me the cloak. Just give me a second.”

Shiv blinked. He hadn't told anyone he was coming. Cullyweir, he realized. Now he had a snitch accompanying him. That wouldn't do, that wouldn't do at all. He needed to fix this problem.

"You are the Deathless, right?" she asked again. “Please say yes. Otherwise, I might have to clean up two bodies.”

"I am," Shiv said, doubtful about this one’s abilities. “And I recommend against doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Threats. They only work if you can pull off the murder.”

A silence passed between them. Then, she turned away with a huff. “Take those off."

Shiv blinked. He looked down and realized she was gesturing at the uniform he wore.

"Do it quickly. Harlock won't be distracted for long." From behind her, she pulled out a massive veil of static blackness. The dimensionality radiating from the large blanket made Shiv wary.

"What's that?" he said.

"Mass Swapper," she replied. "You're going to strip down, and you're going to fall into it. As you do that, the decoy body we left in the morgue will be swapped out with you. Your presence will displace it. After that, I will disable the cloak, and you will be left in the morgue. Then, I will be gone, and we will forget we ever saw each other.”

Shiv was practically speechless. The operatives of the Neath might be questionable and criminal, but they most definitely were prepared, and they were quick about setting things up, too. As he stripped away his school uniform, his Perfect Semblance was left nude while he himself remained clad in his armor. He pulled the bracelet Adam gave him off and threw it into his cape. “Alright. Got it. So. Just fall in?”

"Is my understanding that you have the means to induce a specific type of venom upon yourself?" she said.

Ah, right. The suggestion Irons mention—shit, the crafters are informants, too.

"Yeah, I got it," Shiv said, not wanting to explain too much about what he and Helix intended to do. “Don’t need that service from you, too.”

The young woman hesitated a while longer and stepped aside. She gestured for him to descend into the Dimensional sheet, Shiv fell face-first into the blanket without anything else said.

As soon as he did, he felt something slide past him. Another weight, another presence, another body. Before he could turn and catch sight of it slipping through him, he slammed hard against a steel surface and dented it. Shiv grunted as he felt himself jammed tight in a space too small for him. Just then, he found himself laying upon a tray. The air was cold and it glided upon his flesh in waves of unceasing radiation.

Shiv looked over his shoulder and saw another such blanket residing beneath him, but a second later, it flashed a final time as its static dissipated and it finally went dormant. Everything unfolded just as the young woman said. 

And so, in the span of a half hour, he went from being in the coliseum to being a reawakened corpse in a morgue.

Shiv let out a disbelieving laugh. Well, he'd done a lot of weird godsdamn shit, but this was something special. He gave himself a moment and laughed.

"Hey, Helix," he called out.

"Insul." The orc's voice was thin and nasally, ridged with annoyance. "Am I finally needed now?"

"Yeah, hit me with that toxic thing Irons told you to do."

"That 'toxic thing' Irons told me to do?" Helix said, sounding scornful. "Do you not remember the condition, the affliction I'm supposed to inflict upon you at all?"

"Can't quite think about it, can't quite remember right now, no," Shiv said flatly. "Just dose me up so that we have an bullshit excuse for why we’re just waking up. I got some poor attendant to scare shitless.”