V-12 Academy (IV)

Hm? Oh, yes. Headmaster, I'm aware that Master-Instructor Heresine is a spy. And a spy of Aviary, no less. One of their so-called Sparrows. Long-term, deep cover. Not meant for active combat.

I commend you for noticing, but the Inquisition has the matter well in control. As such, I recommend you leave it be.

Why, you ask? Because this is simply what is done between rival nations. You understand this. I know why you wish to stamp this out, but it's a little bit like trying to kill all the cockroaches in an infested house using the bottom of your heel alone. It's woefully insufficient, and it doesn't get the job done. Now, for these matters, it's best to prevent or subvert it beforehand, instead of trying to react and deal with it.

As such, the so-called spy you have uncovered is already nullified. Nullified because the Inquisition has existing cells pre-planted within the Academy. They're there for one purpose and one purpose alone: to reach out to new and subversive elements and turn them to steal information from our adversaries while they're trying to compromise our students. There is no space for them to slip in between the cracks, because we have already colonized the cracks, so to speak.

So, again, Headmaster, I thank you for your concern, but lay that heavy burden in your chest to rest. Your duty is to the children, so focus on them. Leave the rest to me and to the ones that dwell in the shadows of our Republic.

We all have a role to play. Just worry about yours.

-Legend-Councilwoman Veronica Chandler to Legend-Headmaster Hades Hymn

V-12

Academy (IV)

Shiv was taken aback by Merrielmel's fervent pleas. There was a desperate gleam in the enchanter's eyes, and he had the look of a man who was willing to offer an arm and a leg in exchange for the broken gauntlet in Shiv's hands.

"What kind of Heroic equipment?" Shiv asked.

Merrielmel perked up immediately. "Come, let me show you." He reached out and seized Shiv by the wrist, and he tried to pull the Deathless along. Unfortunately, Merrielmel was not a Legendary-Tier Pathbearer in terms of physique. He wasn't even a Master. The outcome was like a blade of grass trying to drag an oak. Merrielmel squeaked as he stumbled back into Shiv, unprepared for how heavy and rooted the Deathless was. Shiv caught Merrielmel's face before he could slam nose-first into the chest piece of the Voidmantid armor.

"Oh, oh, terribly sorry," Merrielmel muttered. He coughed awkwardly and released Shiv. The Deathless raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, next time just ask."

"Of course, of course."

Beside them, Concelhaunt gripped his face and tried to hide his second-hand shame. "Gets this way when he's a little too excited."

***

Merrielmel led Shiv and the others out of the crafting chamber. They cut several corners before they got to another dead end, and this time Shiv found himself staring at a cylindrical crack. It resembled a depressed fracture imprinted upon the stone. He wasn't sure why they all had to be cracked in different ways, but this one leaked Dimensionality mana too. Unbeknownst to Merrielmel, Shiv wasn't alone. There was a certain reserve avatar in his cape, and gliding behind them just underground was a hydra that had been playing the role of hidden surprise all the while.

The cylindrical crack swirled into a whirlpool of black static, and as they stepped through, Shiv found himself awestruck at the large space that greeted him. Instead of being a narrow chamber, humid and choked with clashing mana types, he stood upon marble tiles and glanced down a massive hall that had hundreds of display cases. It was almost museum-like in terms of the arrangement, but the lights above were a bit too bright, and from them radiated faint pulses of dimensionality.

Shiv got his answer to why they were infused with dimensionality as a few of them started ringing upon detecting him. "Ah, sorry, sorry," Merrielmel cried out. He sent a few of his flying drones to crash against the lights. A spark of violet energy filled the air, and the alarms died down in an instant. "It's meant to make sure no one tries to pilfer our finalized products. Our personal products, I must tell you. We make a great many things for the Academy, but for certain things, you know, it's very hard to get permission."

The elf rambled on as Shiv followed behind him. The Deathless was only halfway listening. Merrielmel continued talking about how the administration had no vision, no willingness to fund ambitious projects, forcing him and Concelhaunt to do things themselves. As for the aforementioned things, they resided in the two dozen or so display cases. 

The first thing Shiv noticed about the cases was the glass. Instead of it being natural glass, it was reinforced with a sort of crystalline substance, and to his surprise, when his mana hydras brushed over them, he realized it wasn't a synthetic crystal, but an organic compound. It was complex in its biological architecture, and the renditions that manifested over his hydras were composed of so many interconnected microspells that Shiv struggled to process what he was looking at. It was like systems collapsing on systems, and what's more, the glass was still alive. The crystallized compound was not a dead organism. It was chitinous. Bits of it died, and bits of it re-grew.

"Oh, you have a unique Biomancy Skill Evolution," Merrielmel said, noticing Shiv's mana hydras for the first time. "I was wondering why your Biomancy field was so dense earlier. Hero?"

Shiv considered withholding the information, but something told him he might just get a bit of useful knowledge in exchange if he decided to be open. "Yeah," Shiv said, "Hero. Aegis of Assimilation.”

"Aegis of Assimilation?" Merrielmel choked. "That's very, very unusual. Have you accepted any blessings from a hydra god of some sort? Or have you transplanted bits from a hydra into yourself?" The elf pulled a pair of spectacles out of nowhere and layered them over his eyes. The lenses flashed blood red, and he squinted at Shiv.

The Deathless realized what Merrielmel was doing a moment later. He was trying to scan Shiv's innards. This grew more evident as a sweeping beam of redness washed through Shiv's skin and made it transparent. The Deathless found himself odd instead of offended. "Seems pretty useful. What kind of item is that?"

"Oh, it's one of my personal gadgets," Merrielmel said. He clicked the side of his glasses, and then they flashed with a sudden rush of pyromancy as well. "Oh, you seem mostly human. Large for a human, but still mostly human. There is a strange glow about you, though." He clicked his glasses twice more, and this time they were infused with a bright vitality. That was when Merrielmel's breath caught in his throat. "What is this?"

"It's something you might not want to dig too far into," Shiv said. There was a warning under his breath, but Merrielmel missed it entirely.

"No, no, I've never seen anything like this before. Your vitality, it seems to be blended into..."

"My soul," Shiv finished for him. "And if you try to find out why, you're probably going to get a visit from a certain someone. You don’t want to meet them. I don’t want you to meet them. It won’t end well.”

Merrielmel let his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose. "Who? Someone unwilling to share the fruits of their labor." Merrielmel frowned and then pouted. There was something deeply childlike about his expression. "I must tell you, any scientist who withholds their intelligence and dedication to this world is not worthy of being called a scientist. All our efforts should be to furthering society—”

"And do you know the name Udraal Thann?" Shiv cut Merrielmel off again.

Merrielmel paused. "I... you... you mean..."

"Okay, so you have heard of him," Shiv continued. He folded his arms and leaned down to stare Merrielmel eye to eye. "My dealings are with Udraal. I don't much like Udraal. And someday, if I get the chance—no, when I get the chance—I'm going to tear Udraal in half and stomp him until there is nothing left but paste and dust. And when I'm done doing that, I'm going to reach into his soul and I'm going to break every single skill he has." With the last word, Shiv's syllables trailed off with a rageful growl, and he surprised even himself with how angry he felt. But he meant every word. For what Udraal did, for what Udraal might do, he was going to kill the bastard. And he was going to do it slowly.

Merrielmel's mouth fell open, but then he swallowed. He nodded vigorously and spoke no more about the Deathless's vitae. "Oh, well, come along," Merrielmel chuckled nervously. "There's a great many things you can select from. But please, can I see...?"

Shiv handed his gauntlet over to the elf, and the Enchanter all but chirped as he accepted it, like it was some kind of priceless gem. Which, to Merrielmel, it might as well have been. He needs this to finish his shifting device, the thing he uses to get Outside, Shiv thought back to what the Enchanter had said earlier. And that means I need it too. Otherwise, there's no easy way to reach Uva or Blackedge. Still need to figure out their deal—why they want to reach the Outside. And why the Neath is interested in helping them. And then there’s the Dragon Brokers. More shit to deal with.

The Deathless held back a sigh. Fuck me, the Outside. I hate dealing with the eldritch shit. I hate the Recollector. I hate the Stranger. I hate the Eldest. I... He hesitated when it came to the Dreamtaker. It wasn't like he liked the Dreamtaker, but aside from being a little dubious when it came to not possessing people or talking through their eyes, they were still relatively amiable when it came to Shiv or Uva’s requests. Still a dream-eating entity, though. Just another felling thing I have to deal with.

"Inertium," Merrielmel breathed. He held the gauntlet high and practically worshiped the broken thing. "I still have no idea where you got this. Must be a grand story, a remarkable story. Have you met one of the Farwalkers? The Mage-Slayers? Oh, they despise the system in all its ways. They loathe magic. I can't imagine what favors you might have to do to gain this gauntlet from them." And then Merrielmel gasped. "Don't tell me you killed one of them. How did it feel? Did you kill one of them?"

"Didn't really get it from one of them," Shiv said, and immediately he saw Merrielmel deflate slightly. "I got it from, uh..." Shiv grimaced as he remembered what he had to do. "Got it from a friend, I guess."

"You guess?" Merrielmel asked.

"Yeah, I suppose she's a friend, but... honestly, she died before I could get to know her that well. Wasn’t anything she could do. Or I could do either.”

"Oh," Merrielmel said, and he sounded properly depressed. "I know how that feels. I have several colleagues who are both scholars and warriors. Many of them don't last very long. It is a treacherous thing, living the life of a Pathbearer, especially a martial Pathbearer. I have pleaded with a great many of them, you know, to commit to the science. It's more safe that way. It's where we belong." But Merrielmel coughed as he caught himself rambling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"Not offended," Shiv said. “Just dealing with being alive in the Integration. Sometimes, I forget. But then it reminds me.”

Psycho-Cartography: This one is extremely terrified of practically everything around him. His mind also skips from place to place. Probably very useful if you're someone who has to experiment or test a lot of different possibilities, but in combat, he'd probably be a liability. He'd just get overwhelmed by everything happening and shut down. Him choosing to be a non-martial was likely a wise decision. 

Despite recognizing that rationally, another part of him still scorned Merrielmel in a certain way, and he noted that about himself. 

Psycho-Cartography: You scorn him because you don't like it when people surrender their agency, when people refuse to fight for themselves, refuse to spit in the face of a cruel world. He is, in a word, pathetic. And you like to tell yourself that you're the opposite. You are the so-called Overman that Valor told you about. It makes you feel powerful.

"I am powerful," he said under his breath.

"What?" Merrielmel said.

"Nothing," Shiv replied, following the enchanter. Merrielmel stared at him from the corner of his eye, and then he nodded, unwilling to confront Shiv, retreating into his own anxiety.

Psycho-Cartography: You are powerful, but power is relative. And additionally, the ground is littered with powerful Pathbearers. Silvan was powerful, but then he died unceremoniously, used as a test subject to teach you how to break someone's soul. The Recollector was powerful, but if we were to fight that felon thing again, you'd tear it in half in short order. Roland is powerful, and Roland nearly broke himself trying to protect Blackedge. There are limits to power, and there are other monsters in the world. Power is not enough. You have to be more than powerful. You have to make the right choices as well. Decide who you wish to be.

Shiv stopped to consider these ruminations for a moment. Just how free was anyone? Yes, you could choose to be a martial. You could train yourself day and night. You could push yourself beyond your limits and try to climb as high as you can go. But still, there was no guarantee you might survive. And Shiv had made it this far by not surviving, by being brutal, by being reckless, by never stopping. But who else could be like him? Who else could fight the way he did? Who else could grow the way he did?

Psycho-Cartography: you should be proud of yourself. You should be pleased by your power and everything you've accomplished. The decision, the choice to fight matters. The decisions we made are who we are, because that's how we grow. We use everything we have at our disposal to overcome problems, to step beyond our previous failures. Power or no power, we choose to fight. But remember that not everyone is like us. If you can do that, then you can understand them, and you can understand their fears. 

Shiv stared at the back of Merrielmel's head and felt some of the subconscious judgment he held toward the elf vanish. He didn't really know who Merrielmel was. He didn't know what drove the Enchanter to be part of the criminal enterprise, why he allowed drugs to be trafficked across campus, why he found himself performing underground experiments. Shiv didn't know, and so, before he had all the details, he wouldn't judge Merrielmel. He would try to be as detached as possible.

“Merrielmel,” Shiv asked. “Why are you doing this stuff underground? Why are you with Neath and the Outside. What’s the deal with all this?”

The elf stiffed. “It’s… a personal matter.”

Concelhaunt spat on the ground. “His brother went missing in an experiment gone wrong. Blast happened when he was trying to build a Skipgate.”

“STOP! STOP!” Merrielmel covered his head and ears, wailing. He never stopped walking but lowly hummed to himself, as if trying to self-soothe.

The goblin Smith sighed. “Said too much. Look. Neath has resources; they’re interested in Slipgates—let’s you use the Outside as a medium. Theoretically, could let you get anywhere in the Integration. Practically? No idea. Not sure a bridge like that can work. But we’re close to creating an opening to the Outside. The Inertium might just be our final piece for the stabilizer.”

“And you?” Adam asked. “Why are you involved? And why not petition the administration.”

Concelhaunt’s expression turned haunted. “It was my project. I was the one that set the whole thing up. And I’m gonna be the one that sees it finished. But not with the academy. I think… I think we were sabotaged.”

“What?” Adam breathed. “By whom?”

The goblin turned. “Headmaster Hymn. And no, I don’t felling know why. I just… caught him the day before. In the lab. Doing something… I don’t know why… Don’t know…”

“You’re lying,” Irons said.

“The fuck you say?” Concelhaunt snarled.

Irons didn’t flinch. He just glared harder. “I served under Hymn. This is not his way. He is not that kind of person. You are lying.”

Before they could get more heated, the Enchanter gave a shrill whistle.

"Alright, here, here!" Merrielmel said, interrupting the others with a loud shout. He gestured to his left and right, and Shiv found himself staring at an assortment of weapons. One looked to be a lightning bolt caged within a length of stone, making it resemble something between a column and a spear. The spear crackled impassive constantly, and the stone itself rumbled, barely able to contain the power it bore within. Despite this, Shiv couldn't feel the mana radiating out of the item. In fact, this entire equipment museum was pristine, devoid of any overlapping mana fields aside from the lights above or Merrielmel himself.

"Oh, oh, sorry, I was a little bit too hasty." Merrielmel waved his hands, and then the chitinous glass lining the outside of the display case collapsed. Shiv cocked his head as he watched how each section of the glass receded into another, unfurling as if a fan. The bits of the glass were as if ribs of skin or chloroplasts from plants. In seconds, the glass splashed down like a waterfall, hiding in the gaps between the equipment stands and the outside of the display case. Just then, Shiv felt the crushing power radiating from the storm spear.

"This is the Heavenfall Anvil. It allows one to shape the ground by using bolts of lightning. It possesses a range of well over ten kilometers and grants you the power to root yourself to the earth while lashing the world with lightning."

Shiv lifted an eyebrow as he examined the Anvil in greater detail. It was flashy, but… How many people are me? And do I really need another piece of equipment right now. He knew the answer to that question. Shiv looked over his shoulder and shrugged at Adam. "So what do you think?"

The Gate Lord’s mouth fell open slightly. "What?"

"Yeah, what do you think? Useful or shit?”

For a moment, Adam didn't reply. You’re… You want me to choose something? For myself.”

"Yes," Shiv said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"But you're trading your gauntlet for it."

"Yeah, I'm trading my gauntlet so that you can have something new." The Deathless held up his pan. "Not feeling that greedy. And besides, you can use another edge. Maybe something that'll let you shoot further or get away faster. You deserve it. And if it makes you stronger, it makes all of us better.”

“Soft,” Mortar scoffed.

“Strategic,” Whisper praised.

Adam pressed his mouth together, and Shiv read the thankful glint behind his eyes. The Deathless adopted a smug grin, but then the Gate Lord just scoffed. "Are you going to use this to guilt-trip me if we disagree in the future?"

"Yeah," Shiv said, admitting it without shame.

"You are an utter bastard."

"That I am," Shiv admitted smoothly, "but I just want the best things in life for my asshole."

Irons looked between them, and a flicker of suspicion danced across his face. It vanished a second later. The Gate Lord stepped past Shiv and placed a hand on the anvil. It seemed like a powerful weapon to Shiv, but by this point, he didn't really care that much about destructive power. He was already a sledgehammer. He wanted more options. Frankly, he wanted to develop his technical skills more than anything right now, because that's what he lacked: Multitasking, Practical Metaiology, Memorization, Reading, Writing. All those things mattered, and Shiv was deficient in the basics still.

"No," Adam said, stepping away. "It's powerful, but no. I can feel it, trying to root me in place. It uses me as some kind of conduit."

"Yes," Merrielmel chirped, "I've seen this thing fry an entire squadron! A massive storm manifests overhead!"

"And being made still is being made dead," Adam replied. "I don't have the toughness for this, and with the threats we face, I cannot be static. Do you have something that offers more range and flexibility, or the possibility of rapid repositioning?"

Merrielmel tapped his chin as he considered Adam's question, and then he snapped his fingers. "Come with me!" Merrielmel started sprinting between a few display cases, and as they left, the glass protecting the anvil crashed back together. Shiv narrowed his eyes at the crystalline substance.

As the others followed Merrielmel, Helix leaned in. "Did you feel that?" Helix asked.

"Yeah," Shiv replied, "yeah, I did. It was pretty interesting. I didn't expect it to be organic."

"Then did you notice that there is a superorganism living beneath the marble tiles?"

Shiv paused. "There is?"

Helix tutted in disappointment. "We still need to work more on your awareness. I gave you that armor so that you can use all of your senses, but still you neglect them. It’s a Haeguram. A Slumberwyrm. If you touch the so-called glass, it would shed them and leave larvae inside you.”

“Shit. Really.”

“Yes. So. Pay attention.”

Instead of responding with agitation, Shiv grunted and accepted the criticism. "Yeah, I guess I need to keep my eyes open.”

“Not just your eyes. The world is not a nail. You are not a hammer, at least not always. If you want to be good at Biomancy, you have to open your mind, Insul. If you want to be good at anything, you'll have to open your mind. The simple die ugly deaths."

"I think everyone dies ugly deaths," Shiv retorted. "Just that some get a lot more done before they die."

"True, true," Helix said.

By the time they caught up to Merrielmel and the others, they found Merrielmel gesturing animatedly at a set of revolving rings. They glowed with the texture of focus crystal on the outside, and an inner rim that was made from mithril. The gap between the rings was glistening with dense motes of static darkness. This was a dimensional item, but from within that sheen of Dimensionality came another field that Shiv could feel: a Chronomantic field. He wasn't the only one that sensed it. Kura had her face scrunched as well, and she regarded the two rings as if they were hiding a nest of snakes within.

"This is the Realmrunner's Keyhole," Merrielmel said. "I did not make this item, and neither did Concelhaunt for that matter. We found it, and then restored it."

"Realm Runner," Gone said, and suddenly Shiv tasted the stench of fear. It radiated from the goblin, and it was practically palpable. Faint strands twisted and twirled through the air. It ran from Gone, and it extended skyward, but Shiv couldn't tell where it ended. It went through the ceiling, and it kept twisting, undulating, as if it was trying to connect to something he couldn't see.

"You know who that is?" Shiv asked.

The goblin was silent for a moment, and when Gone went still, Shiv knew that this Realm Runner was probably a threat. "Don't want to talk about it," Gone shook her head.

Psycho-Cartography: Do not push her right now. Listen to her voice. She's not just reluctant. She's traumatized.

Farsight 74 > 75

Adam turned to say something to Gone, but Shiv took a step forward and clapped the gate lord on the shoulder. Before Adam could say anything, Shiv shook his head and simply uttered, "No." Adam, to his credit, understood immediately and fell silent. Once more, Irons looked between them, but his gaze lingered on Shiv a while longer. Instead of seeming suspicious this time, he let a faint flash of approval slip through his rigid expression.

"The Realmrunner is a Legendary Pathbearer," Merrielmel muttered in hushed tones. "A Legendary merchant. A traitor. A traitor of all things, be it wonders, information, stories, and yes, even beings. Monsters and individuals both." Merrielmel shuddered at that, but his shudder was dramatic. 

Comparatively, Gone shivered, and her reaction was a reflex. She scratched at the back of her neck, and just then Shiv noticed a curve poking through the rag she wore. It was a ridge of scar tissue, and as the fabric of her clothes shifted up and down, he saw more of the scarification appear. It didn't look like a remade scar. Instead, it seemed to be decoratively inflicted upon her by means of a brand, if he had to guess. And that offered a few more puzzle pieces as to the enigmatic Realm Runner.

"Anyhow, the Realm Runner is known for being in multiple places at the same time, or so it is claimed. We suspect that he simply has mastery of dimensionality on such a level that he could simply coexist in two spaces."

"Coexist?" Adam said.

"Correct!" Merrielmel cried aloud. The Gate Lord flinched at the sudden excitement exhibited by the elven enchanter. He gestured for Adam to come closer. "It’s just a matter of time—actually, see for yourself! Take hold of the rings," Merrielmel instructed.

The rings lay upon a flat stand, and despite spewing out motes of Dimensionality, they were otherwise dormant. As soon as Adam touched them, however, they both thrummed to life. They rose up into the air, and for the first time, a burst of gravity distorted the space beneath the rings. The display case began to rattle, and soon, as Adam drew the rings back, it glided through the air, weightless.

For a few seconds, Adam was silent, and his eyes darted about. Shiv realized he was reading the notification offered by this new piece of equipment, and as the corner of his lip began to curve, he guessed that Adam might have found something he was interested in.

Equipment Obtained: [The Realmrunner’s Keyhole]

Tier: Heroic

Condition: Perfect

Composition: Mithril; Focus Crystal; Dimensionality

Enchantments > Vector Accelerator; Spatial Pulse; Dimensionality Binder; Slipgate; Eldritch Infusion; Size-Adjustable; Binding; Master Self-Repair

Suddenly, Adam gestured upward, and one of the rings snapped away from the other. It hovered above him, and just then, a burst of dimensionality splashed down. A second later, Adam accelerated upward through the ring before reappearing on the other side. However, the Adam that burst out from the other ring was entirely golden. 

A pressure clenched Shiv, and he reflexively halted time. Kura and Gone did the same, nearby, flashing gold, just as a temporal replica of Adam slipped free from the other ring. He rose just above the display case and fired twice through the air, his Veilpiercers tearing open the space before him. 

At the same time, the real Adam plunged back down through the ring he first passed through and fired two shots in return. Two different sets of Veilpiercers impacted, and bursts of black static opened up in the space above the group. It was like pockets of unstable dimensionality pockmarking the flesh of existence.

"What just happened?" Helix said, blinking. That was when Shiv realized: only he, Kura, and Gone had likely perceived the entire process. Adam was hyper-accelerated when he passed through the ring. However, he wasn't hyper-accelerated in speed alone. Instead, his personal chronology caused him to exist a full second in the future. Effectively, he fired two shots ahead of time, and they only appeared when he returned.

Adam grinned up at the ring hovering overhead and he passed through it once more. This time, when he crashed back down, the other ring remained dormant. It remained that way for a full ten seconds, until suddenly, Adam shot a Veilpiercer into the keyhole. Just then, Shiv felt a sudden temporal pressure squeeze him as he activated his temporal shell again.

This time, when Adam's Chronomantically-constructed self appeared, he tried aiming at his former self before another arrow smashed into the Veilpiercer he was preparing—an arrow that had just been fired a few seconds ago. Adam had effectively disarmed himself across time. It was confusing, even for Shiv.

"Oh, this is useful," Adam breathed. With a gesture, both of the rings suddenly began shrinking before Shiv's eyes. The Dimensionality made both sets tighter, smaller, until they were the size of bracelets, and they slid along Adam's right arm before they locked themselves in place. They turned counter-clockwise to each other, each snapping over and over as if gears inside a clock. "You got something better than this, Enchanter? Because so far, I think we have a winner."

"Well, as you are walking the Path of an Archer, I think you made a wonderful choice as well," Merrielmel said. “Our other pieces… It’s hard to hide some of these creations. A great many are restorations, and Vanguards fall in combat more often that—-ah, I ramble. This is good. This is my recommendation!”

Concelhaunt frowned slightly. "Look, if you're going to take that thing… you should know about the risks."

"Risks?" Adam said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, the risks," Concelhaunt clarified. "The ones that Merrielmel decided not to mention."

"Oh, Concelhaunt, what are you trying to do?" Merrielmel said, his tone aghast.

"I'm trying to make sure that we don't get murdered by the Deathless here, in case his friend bites it."

"What do you mean, 'bites it'?" Shiv's voice dropped to a dangerous growl, and two sets of fear chains hardened between him and the crafters.

"I mean that the Realmrunner doesn't like it when you steal his shit," Concelhaunt grunted. "He's been known to kill Pathbearers if they steal from him. And even though this thing was broken when we found it, if he ever comes across you..."

"If. We don't know if he's still out there or still alive at all."

"But if he comes across you, good odds that this guy might just try to put you in the grave."

"He will, and it doesn't matter," Gone suddenly said. All eyes turned to the goblin. She was staring down at the ground, but she was scratching that scar on the back of her neck. Harder, faster. It was a nervous tick, a trauma response, and more and more Shiv began to wonder what she had suffered at this Realmrunner's hands. "He will hurt you because you're alive, because you're there, because he can hurt you. He doesn't care about anything else but power, but wealth, but getting more. Take something from him, don't take something from him. It doesn't matter. It doesn't."

Adam looked at Shiv and winced. He tilted his head at Gone and made a hugging gesture. Shiv considered the gate lord's request. They didn't know Gone very well, but still, she had been essential in their escape, and so far, he felt like she was among the more moral of the prisoners, especially compared to Kura. 

"Maybe just a pat," Shiv whispered quietly. Adam nodded and he walked over. He made sure to approach Gone from the front and he awkwardly brushed her shoulder with his index finger. The goblin blinked and she let out a quiet breath. She shuffled away thereafter, and Shiv didn't know if Adam's action imparted any comfort or simply made things weirder.

"Well, whatever the risk, I'm keeping this," Adam said, gesturing at the rings on his arm. “It’s… very useful. I think I can attach one to you, Shiv. It will let me cross over and provide you with cover—or anyone else. Or I can use it for scouting.”

Shiv grinned at Adam’s growing excitement. “Glad to see you found something fun here. Not worried about the Realmrunner?"

Adam snorted. "Oh yes, I'm absolutely terrified that there might be another hyper-powerful Legendary-Tier Pathbearer who's coming to kill me. Truly, this is a dark turn for my life."

"It's a bit like getting fucked in the ass by a large object, yeah?" Mortar said. The sudden vulgarness that came from the orc made both Shiv and Adam do a double take. "You know, it makes sense if you think about it. When somebody shoves a cactus up your ass, it's already agonizing and painful. More importantly, it tears your hole open. Now, if they try to fuck you with a knife afterward, it still hurts, but it's likely too wide for the knife to really hurt you. You understand?"

Shiv didn't have the words for a while. 

Adam did. "What?"

"You could have come up with any other analogy."

"He really could have," Whisper deadpanned under his breath.

"Yeah, but it makes less of an impact, huh? Kind of like a cactus."

"Alright," Adam said, turning away. "We got our reward. I think we should move on now. Because Mortar here says anything else that will make me side-eye a plant.”

***

With that done, they returned to the crafting chamber to apply the final finishing touches to Shiv's mask. With the Mind Shield enchantment gone and an opportunity to gain five Adept tier skills or a single Master-Tier, Shiv went for the former. On top of that, however, he requested a Stealth-based Enchantment as well. 

He had a set of boots right now that didn't fit so well with his Voidmantid armor, especially since he was wearing the boots inside the armor. His boots allowed him to dive into darkness or to blink back to a patch of shade he last resided in. But he wasn't always going to have darkness. 

When his Magebreaker still worked, it offered him illusory capabilities, the potential to project a light-forged manifestation of himself as a decoy or to go chameleon. That was what he was looking for.

"Chameleon, you say?" Concelhaunt replied. He used his chassis to scratch his chin, and beside him, Merrielmel did the same thing, but with his own hand. As they conferred with each other briefly, communicating primarily through a set of eyebrow wiggles and incoherent grunts, they finally settled upon a specific mana core that radiated with a bright white glow. It gave off the faint hint of Pyromancy from the heat that spilled forth, but there was also something more, something heavy. There was a weight to this enchantment as well.

"This," Concelhaunt said, "is the Illusory Decoy mana enchantment." He waved at the crystal, and Shiv saw how it resembled a hardened piece of stone. But as he looked at it, he saw something. The stone began to shift, and it started to look like him, a smaller version of him, but definitely him.

"Why is it doing that?" Shiv asked.

"Because if you manage to find an object you like, you can project a beam of light over it. It will scan it, and it will forge an illusory decoy over you."

"So," Shiv said, "it will let me turn into something else?"

"No, not really. You won't gain the mass or all the other properties. You'll just have a light decoy over you. It's pretty useful, but if you're going to run into someone with some advanced scanning capabilities..." The goblin winced. "The simple problem is that this is probably the best we can do with the little bit of mana capacity the item still has. Perfect Semblance is a real hog. But if you ask me, that's the real stealth, you know? Looking like you belong in a place. That allows you to slip by unnoticed."

He was right, in a word, but Shiv wanted as many options as possible. "Alright," Shiv said, "you got nothing else that's better than that?"

"We could just give you flat invisibility, but it's going to be lesser invisibility. Not enough mana space." Concelhaunt sighed.

"How bad is lesser?" Shiv asked.

"Well, you'll be invisible, but you're going to be giving off a lot of distortions. It'll be like a small vortex hovering in the air around you."

So not that invisible at all. Shiv considered that and decided against it. He still had his Silhouette skill he could draw on, even though he had advanced his stealth to Creeping Void. Creeping Void wasn't good for being a student in the Academy, especially since it was a Master-Tier Skill and poor dead Marcus only had an Adept-Tier Toughness skill. "Alright," Shiv said. "Guess that's the best we can do."

"Wait," a voice interrupted them. Can Hu staggered forward. Its legs were still damaged, but it managed to make its approach all the same. "I would like to assist," Can Hu said. "I have knowledge of this equipment." The Penitent paused, and its optics narrowed to pinpricks. "And I don't trust you."

"Me?" Merrielmel said.

"Means the both of us," Concelhaunt clarified. “Listen, we’re—”

"It takes little mana capacity to infuse a Tracker Enchantment into a piece of equipment," Can Hu continued. "I will make certain that you do not find yourself inspired by such ideas."

The crafters seemed hesitant, but Shiv was touched. He reached out and slapped the penitent over the back, and then dove to catch Can Hu before it could topple over. "Shit. Sorry, Can Hu."

"It is alright, Pathbearer. My legs will be rebuilt shortly. Now, let us bring this restoration to a close."

The mask went back into the pool of mercury once more, as did several mana cores and an ingot of adamantine. The forging took place upon the anvil carried on the back of Concelhaunt's chassis. It glowed with a series of gleaming patterns and formed a column that connected to the ceiling. When they pulled the mask free from the mercury, it glistened with a new texture: the texture of adamantine mingled with focus crystal and mithril. As it was placed upon the anvil, it was secured by a heavy weight. It gave a creaking noise and Shiv worried that it might break in half again.

His worry became utter disbelief as Concelhaunt threw blow after blow upon its surface, using his fist-sized hammer. Bursts of mana filled the air, and just beside him, the enchanter wove spell after spell, conducting the twisting patterns that sprouted free from the anvil back into the mask. 

Shiv realized what they were doing. They were weaving the enchantments deeper into the structure of the material. After what felt like an hour, the lights faded, and steam rose from the completed mask.

"That's done," Concelhaunt let out a breath. "Heroic equipment really takes it out of you."

Shiv stood over the mask for a moment and looked down. It felt foreign to him. He was more used to seeing his translucent reflection upon a sheen of bronze. Now, he couldn't see himself at all. It wasn't reflective anymore, but it was sturdier, heartier. As he touched it, the notification loaded. It was still a mask that allowed him to steal Paths and mask his soul.

Equipment Obtained: [Mask of the Stolen Path]

Tier: Heroic

Condition: Perfect

Composition: Mithril; Adamantine

Enchantments > Perfect Semblance; Augmented Adept-Skill Thief (0/5); Illusory Decoy; Binding; Self-Mending

"No Tracking Enchantment," Can Hu reported.

"Thanks," Shiv replied. "Good job. Thanks for keeping an eye out for me."

"It is what we are supposed to do, Pathbearer."

As Shiv took the mask in both hands, he drew in a breath before trying to put it on. He only got halfway before he lowered the mask again. His eyes fell upon the body of Marcus Unblood, and he let out a sigh.

"Is something wrong?" Tequila asked. He looked between Shiv and the corpse. "You regret not picking the blonde one, the one with the large flaps on her chest?"

"Breasts," Helix chided with annoyance. "They're called breasts."

"I'm gonna call them flaps. I think they're ugly."

Helix clenched his teeth and began muttering prayers to the Challenger so that Tequila might suffer a particularly undignified death during his next reincarnation. Shiv ignored the orcs and their shenanigans as he looked down upon the dead boy. 

“Think we should say something,” Shiv muttered to himself. After his earlier thoughts about how not everyone was him, and how not even being a martial Pathbearer could allow one to preserve their own life, he felt a strange sense of sympathy for the dead boy. They were like him: another orphan, first considered a cripple, talented in some ways and utterly worthless in others. 

But Marcus had strived, and Marcus had gained a chance at a better life, despite all the odds against him. And it was a life he wouldn't get to live. But in his stead, Shiv would get to experience everything he should have at Phoenix Academy. There was something deeply wrong about that.

The Deathless stood over the corpse and let out a breath. "Alright, so, hi Marcus. I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know if there's anything after. I don't know a lot of things. I don't really even know you, but this is the best I can do. I wish I did get to know you. I wish you did get to experience the Academy. I wish you could have fixed whatever sickness was bothering you. I wish you could have been the Pathbearer you wanted to be."

"Oh please, Insul what are you doing?" Helix complained. He came to a stop just beside Shiv and shook his head. "This... this is meaningless. He's already..." He was silenced by a glare from the Deathless.

"It's not meaningless," Shiv said. "It's not meaningless because I decided it's not. You understand that, right?" Here was Shiv teaching a lesson to the orc, a lesson the orc should have known well: dominance. Now, sentimentality was justified, for to slight it would incur Shiv's wrath, and Shiv was feeling particularly wrathful for this interruption.

Helix coughed. "I, yes, of course. I have overstepped."

"Yeah, you sure as shit fucking did," Shiv said. "Yeah, where the hell was I? So, uh, fuck. Godsdamn it, Helix." Shiv felt a snarl of anger rising in the back of his throat, and part of him wanted to rip the orc in half and pound the corpse until it was nothing but bloodied paste. But he controlled himself. 

He still needed a Biomancy tutor. More importantly, blind rage was not going to be his way. Now, Shiv was going to be very calculated and very brutal when it came to his rages. Anger was a valuable resource, and he wasn't going to waste it. That being said, he was going to use Dread-Tainted to teach a lesson.

"Alright, here's a reminder." Shiv reached out and gripped Helix by the collar of his silken coat. Immediately, the fear chain between him and the orc intensified and grew exponentially harder as Helix gasped. He started experiencing everything Daughter did as Shiv applied Dread-Tainted to his Leviathan of the Shapeless Tide skill. 

“I—uh,” Helix blinked, trying to shake himself free from the terror-drenched stupor Shiv inflicted upon him. He kept pawing at his face and a specific part of his skull. It was the same part of Daughter's skull that Shiv had driven his hand through.

"This might not be for Marcus. He might not hear this at all," Shiv said to the rest of the room, especially the orcs. "But it's still for me. I don't want to be like Udraal. I don't want to be like Veronica Chandler or the other avatars and Ascendants. I don't even want to be like you." 

He nearly shouted that final line to impress upon the orcs that he was their Insul, but he wasn't one of them. "I want people to matter. I want life to matter. And I will shed blood for it to matter. My kinds will not… eh… Will not…”

“Will not exist on a foundation of softness?" Adam suggested.

"Right, softness," Shiv continued. "It's going to be strong, and it's going to be brutal. And I will fight to see the world I want to be made true. You got an itch? Well, so do I. But it's a different kind of itch. And you respect that. And you respect this boy here. He died for something. He died because I said so.”

With that, some of the orcs flashed bright. Patches of glass grew along their bodies and Helix suffered the most of all. His chest was gleaming underneath his silken coat, and Shiv fought the urge to strike him, to cement his point with a death. Instead, however, the orcs bowed their heads and a few of them chuckled. They were pleased. Orcs didn't just like dominating others; they liked playing the game, and losing brought them pleasure. After all, what was the point of struggle if there was no tension?

Shiv swallowed what remained of his rage. He looked down at Marcus and sighed. "I don't remember where I left off. But yeah, wish things were better. Wish the world was better. I'm gonna try to make it better. I probably would have cooked for you if we met. I might have liked you too. So, sorry I'm gonna burn your body."

As he finished, a brief silence followed. Shiv looked at the other people in the room. Kura was utterly uninterested. Candles was still snoring off by the side. Can Hu gave him a slow thumbs up, and Gone was still scratching at her brand. Adam stepped forward, however, with Irons behind him.

"It's been a while since I offered a eulogy," Adam said. "But let's see if I can remember how it goes." The gate lord cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and drew in a breath. "Oh, wick that never got to be flame, I give upon you my lament. Oh, tale unsung and life unlived, I give to you my sorrow, my regret, and my fondest hopes that your next life may rise to greater heights than this one, cut short of the precipice.

“Though you may have fallen in despair, though you might have only known loneliness and darkness as companions in those final moments, we stand here now. We witness you. We recognize you, a wick that never got to be flame, and in recognition understand that what didn't burn in you will burn in us evermore. Through us may your story continue, and through us may you find that light in the next world to come."

"Praise be the Struggler," Irons finished for Adam.

"Praise be the Struggler," Adam echoed.

Shiv blinked. "That was, uh…”

“That was kind of beautiful," Mortar said. Now it was Shiv's turn to be surprised.

"What?" Mortar replied. "It is beautiful."

"It was," Whisper agreed. "A bit sentimental, but quite poignant."

"I mean, what was that, though? That sounded like you did that before," Shiv said.

"Yes, it's the Eulogy of the Struggler," Adam said, looking to Irons. "Captain Irons taught it to us. It's a prayer some ancients used to offer to the system. But as the system didn't care, it changed over the years, and so it was a set of rites offered between friends and even enemies on the battlefield. For everyone understands another Pathbearer to some extent, for all must struggle in a world unkind, driven only by the rite of might, the rite of blood."

"Rite of might," Shiv said to himself. He looked down at Marcus's face and tried his best to remember it. He told himself that some people never had a chance. With that came an understanding. "Adam, I was pretty lucky, wasn't I, despite everything?"

Philosophy 30 > 32

The gate lord blinked and considered Shiv's statement. "Maybe," Adam said. "Maybe we all are. Maybe we still are. We're still alive and we're still with each other."

"Still alive, still together," Shiv said. There was a lot to be thankful about and a lot to feel burdened by. Despite everything Shiv had learned about his parentage, about his past, about what might loom in the future, he was lucky. There was a great deal of good alongside the bad. He never regretted becoming a Pathbearer. He loved it. He loved it still. 

Even if his deathlessness was a thing born at Udraal's hands, it was his path and he was going to master it. He was going to use it to make this world a better place as much as he could. He wanted to cook more for people and he wanted to hurt less. Fighting, it was still enjoyable. Destruction and power, it was still addicting. 

But death... 

Shiv had seen so much death. So much he was sick of seeing people die for the stupidest things. He was tired of murdering the weak and foolish. All those lives lost for what? Just because some people wanted to maintain their own interests? More often than not, it was because those people were fragile on the inside. They lied to themselves. They were too weak and so other people had to die for them, for meaningless causes fought by meaningless people.

Shiv didn't want to be meaningless. He didn't want anyone to be meaningless. He despised the system as he hardened himself for what he was about to do. He placed his mask on then, and he gave Marcus his final farewell. "Goodbye, Marcus. Well, I'm gonna be taking what's left of your life now. Hopefully, you won't be too embarrassed by what I do."

"Hopefully you'll be able to maintain this cover for longer than two days," Adam said.

"Yeah," Shiv replied. "Hopefully." 

As he focused on Marcus, the boy's body began to burn. As the flesh caught, as his soul kindled, it rushed into Shiv's mask as a surging blaze. This time, he felt the full weight of Marcus's soul briefly imprint on him, and there were several skills for him to pick from.

Just then, Marcus's full set of skills loaded before him, and the Deathless took in the finer details of his Perfect Semblance's new soul. He chose everything that Marcus was supposedly good at: Fieldcraft, Survival, Surgery, Practical Metabiology.

Shiv

Name: Tanner “Shiv” Lowe

Age: 18

Race: Human

Path: 

Deathless

Feats [4/5]:

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

Master of Rage (Master) - Allows the Pathbearer to infuse a skill with rage to increase its effectiveness. Consumes the Pathbearer’s anger.

Causal Scargiver (Unique) - Causes the injuries inflicted by the Pathbearer to be scarred upon their enemy across time and causality.

Dread-Tainted (Legendary) - The Pathbearer has left a divine being scared with terror. Gods have fled your presence. You are now a source of absolute fear. Allows the Pathbearer to lace their skills with the divine entity’s lingering terror.

Skills:

Marksmanship (Common) > 13

Baking (Common) 9

Barter (Common) > 10

Alchemy (Common) 2

Engineering 1 (Common)
Lance Proficiency (Common) 1

Acting (Common) 16

Dodge (Common) 32
Philosophy (Common) 30

Deception (Common) 37
Riding Proficiency (Common) 1
Leadership (Common) 6
Multi-Tasking (Common) 38

Rhetoric (Common) 1
Memorization (Common) 14

Physics (Common) 2

Pyromancy (Initiate) 18

Spear Proficiency (Initiate) 11

Practical Metabiology (Initiate) 43

Psychomancy (Initiate) 28
Hydromancy (Initiate) 15

Whip Proficiency (Initiate) 13
Analyze 1 (Initiate)
Portomancy (Initiate) 6

Frictionless Vector (Adept) 88

Deepest Edge (Adept) 66

Berserk (Adept) 21
Golemancy 1 (Adept) 26

Farsight 51 (Adept) 74

The Chef Unwavering (Master) 64

Strider of the Unbending Path (Master) 160

The Creeping Void (Master) 115

Plaguefueled 58 (Master) 79

Shape of Monstrosity (Master) 139
Psycho-Cartography (Master) 93

Sticks and Stones (Master) 58

Inertial Overdrive (Heroic)  170
Aegis of Assimilation (Heroic)  116
Pillar of Orichalcum (Heroic)  255

Vitality Drain (Legendary) 122

Leviathan of the Shapeless Tides (Legendary) 502 

Vitaemancy (Unique) 116

Non-Sequitur (Unique) 104

Blessings: 

Blessing Gained: Song of the Vigilant - Allows the Pathbearer to maintain absolute focus while the song is active. The song will expand out from the Pathbearer as a web and form a Resonant Perimeter.

Icon of the Paindrinker - Allows the Pathbearer to manifest the icon from their body. The icon will magnify the damage and pain the Pathbearer and all nearby enemies and objects suffer.

Curses:

Omenborn - You radiate menace and inflict unease on those around you, and are more suspectible to unholy corruption. (Cleared by Chapter 4)

Favored Archenemy - An orc will always be able to sense your presence, regardless of guise or appearance. An orc will always have a sense for where you are. Regardless of dimension, world, distance, or time, you are marked for an eternal war.

Hands of the Bloodied - Anything you craft and create will be stained with blood and degrade at an increased pace.

Rituals

Bloodrites of the Vaketh-Insul - Slay enemies of an appropriate quantity and tier to gain an equivalent in orc recruits from the Lone Star Orchestra

Name: Marcus Unblood

Age: 17 

Race: Human

Path: Healer

Skills:

First Aid (Common) 40 

Stealth (Common) 39 

Observation (Common) 36 

Tracking (Common) 35 

Endurance (Common) 32 

Skinning (Common) 28 

Foraging (Common) 25 

Climbing (Common) 21 

Swimming (Common) 19 

Animal Handling (Common) 18 

Cooking (Common) 15 

Woodcarving (Common) 11

Survival (Initiate) 49 

Fieldcraft (Initiate) 48 

Surgery (Initiate) 47 

Practical Metabiology (Initiate) 45 

Silent Movement (Initiate) 42 

Knife Proficiency (Initiate) 41 

Trap Making (Initiate) 38 

Camouflage (Initiate) 37 

Archery Proficiency (Initiate) 33 

Toxin Resistance (Initiate) 29 

Applied Botany (Initiate) 26 

Tanning (Initiate) 22

Ironhide (Adept) 51

Curses:

Mana-Warped - Your connection to mana is fundamentally broken. Your corrupted ambient mana flow has permanently damaged your boy

Fleshwithered - Your cellular regeneration is corrupted. Wounds heal into thick, knotted scar tissue that restricts movement and deadens nerves. Your organs and muscles will constantly wither. Over time, patches of your skin lose vitality, becoming grey, numb, and brittle. Constant medical intervention is required to prevent creeping necrosis.

It shamed Shiv a bit that Marcus was ahead of him in Practical Metabiology, but he also noted how the unblooded boy's highest skill was Iron Hide, a toughness skill. That wouldn't be hard for Shiv to fake at all, so he let it go. Just then, Shiv wondered if he had managed to extract one of those skills from Marcus's body, if he could bring him back to life. Part of him wanted to try, but as Marcus settled into his mask and turned to nothing but ash, Shiv let it go as he selected the Adept-Tier Skills he needed. After, he let Marcus remain at peace.

Adept-Skill Thief (5/5)

Survival (Initiate) 49 

Fieldcraft (Initiate) 48 

Surgery (Initiate) 47 

First Aid (Common) 40

Tracking (Common) 35

Perhaps that was the one advantage Marcus had over Shiv: peace.

No one would bother him again. He would never struggle, and he would never face any pain, unless another life or the afterlife was real. Shiv, on the other hand, was probably going to experience a great deal of torment. But so be it. That was what it meant to be a Pathbearer. That's what it took to exact his revenge on the world itself. Because that's what Shiv ultimately hated: the world, the weakness in people, and the darkness it drove people to, incentivized by the cruel hand of the system.

As the flames settled around Shiv, his outer shell was reforged. He looked down at his arms and hands and found himself wearing... well, nothing. Marcus was dead, covered by a sheet and nothing more. The Deathless grunted as he looked down. "Now this is felling awkward," Shiv muttered to himself. As he looked between his legs, he saw another reason why he felt bad for Marcus. The fucking curse was a nightmare down there. It was withered. Marcus’s voice was also hoarse and weak—vocal cords atrophied. He looked to Merrielmel and Concelhaunt. "Got another favor to ask. You guys got any leftover clothes here, student-sized?"

***

As it turned out, they did have extra uniforms. In fact, they had a few thousand extra uniforms, all packaged in a set of dusty crates. They were old uniforms from decades past, but they were still more than wearable. Shiv found a Phoenix Academy ensemble and dressed himself. All students received a canvas shirt on the inside, silk leggings, and cotton socks. Wrapped over those items was a padded utility vest that was colored black and gold. It had several pouches for potions, elixirs, and other gadgets, along with a belt meant for a few knives on the side. Then there were the leather pants, griffin hide by the feel of it. The boots were likely made from an ogre's flesh, if Helix was correct.

And finally, there was the coat. It was more cape than coat in some ways, with how the back flapped freely. Though the arms and the fabric that cascaded down the sides of Shiv's body were a bright blue, denoting him as a first-year, his back was a stripe of darkness, emblazoned with a golden symbol: the symbol of Phoenix Academy. 

The blazing bird held a great blade between its beak and clutched a quill between its talons. Around it, there was a faint glow, an illusory enchantment that made the symbol seem as if it was actually on fire. If one focused for long, they could also hear the phoenix screech, but since Shiv had an actual encounter with a genuine phoenix, he knew that was the call of a hawk instead. 

To be fair, if a normal person heard a phoenix's screech, their eardrums would likely burst, and their insides would probably combust as well. Phoenixes were not docile creatures, and they very much did not appreciate being disturbed.

"Alright," Shiv said, "how do I look?"

"Well, the uniform looks quite nice," Adam replied, staring him up and down. "A bit old and a bit worn in a few places, but quite nice. The Academy has always cared for the quality of its fabrics. But you yourself..." Adam winced slightly. "I don't know how to say this without sounding ill of the dead, but, well, Marcus is a bit deformed around the torso, but not so much the arms."

"Yes," Adam said, "it's very evident even when you're wearing clothes. You're, uh..."

"I'm gonna run into some assholes?" Shiv asked.

"You might," Adam replied. "More like snide remarks than anything. The rules are you always have to wear your overcoat when on Academy grounds. It's recommended that you keep the pants and vest on as well, but aside from that, you can wear anything you want on the inside: armor, robes, anything. The overcoat is self-repairing, and it usually comes with… Huh… Right. No lapel yet.”

"Lapel?" Shiv asked.

"It's how the university sends you notifications. It's a divination construct," Adam explained. "Usually, the lapel is a small mithril pin. It goes on your overcoat's collar and there someone can scan it using their Analyze skill to see which year you're in, what classification or program you belong to, and which dorm you reside in."

"And I'm guessing poor Marcus didn't get a lapel because he's dead," Shiv guessed.

"Correct," Irons said. "He would need to be formally registered and scanned before he can get a lapel. It requires a one-to-one connection with his soul, after all." That made Shiv a little nervous. "So, I hope your Perfect Semblance works well," Irons finished. “Otherwise, there will be questions when we resolve your registration.”

“We?” Shiv asked.

“You’re going to need an alibi and a justifiable story as to why you’re not dead, won’t you?” Irons asked.

“Got any ideas about how I came back from the dead?” Shiv asked.

The Captain paused and then smirked slightly. “A few. Head trauma is a funny thing. As are certain toxins.” He shot Helix a look. “Can you induce a state of toxicity.”

“Please,” the orc Biomancer humphed. “There is little I cannot do to the body. He will be in whatever state I desire.”

“Good,” Irons said. “Because recovering from a deep poison that stopped the heart is rare but has happened before. To make this seem proper, though, we need you to wake up where Marcus was. Which means you’re taking those clothes off again soon.”

Shiv blinked. “Oh. We’re doing a morgue-awakening-thing.”

Irons nodded. “Indeed.”

“This might be the most demented admissions scheme ever concocted,” Adam muttered in disbelief.