IV-16 Riot (III)

…Aside from the Starhawk, the only other Ascendant that holds true subversion potential is the aptly titled Cripple the Strongest. Yet, Cripple will prove to be a fascinating case as it is not its avatars that are vulnerable, but rather than the Ascendant itself.

Unlike the Starhawk, Cripple is not driven by personality ideology. Instead, it is motivated by a crude sense of personal justice and grievance, and often finds itself at odds with the other Ascendants. It also does not have nearly as much political presence as the other Ascendants due to its reclusive nature. That being said, Cripple is one of the more powerful Ascendants due to its unique nature—and with how every avatar that serves it functions somewhat as an active martyr, effectively letting Cripple “Overcharge” them with divine mana during combat to a far greater extent than other avatars.

This makes Cripple the Strongest an exceedingly dangerous foe in direct combat. But its vulnerability is not in the domain of warfare, but the realm of interaction and conversations.

Several of our Sparrows that have served as Cripple’s avatars have offered us a great many details regarding the Ascendants dissatisfaction with the trajectory of its Republic, a deteriorating relationship with the other Ascendants—including the Starhawk—and a growing sense of self-loathing.

We propose seeding more agents in critical Republic facilities and organizations. Especially their Rubix Wells considering Cripple often likes to interview prisoners in person to decide their eventual fates.

Perhaps we should consider “repurposing” some burned assets as well as an opening trial…

-Aviary report on “Cripple the Strongest”

IV-16

Riot (III)

Shiv clenched his fist and began harnessing new overflow vectors as he stared Cripple down.

The Ascendant’s avatar was badly damaged, sprouting only a single arm and a shattered chassis. Wires and divine mana spilled free from the avatar's broken body, painting an incandescent membrane. The membrane painted the faintness of Cripple into existence, and the Ascendant loomed over its vessel like a tower-sized shadow, regarding Shiv with its cyclopean gaze.

"I need you no harm at present," the Ascended declared. “I simply wish to speak.”

Shiv failed to hide a sneer. "Yeah, sure, and I'm not trying to escape right now. I was just feeling like I wanted to take a walk.”

Acascade of heavy impacts shook the walls behind him and made Shiv jolt in response. Holes were being punched through the Orichalcum cube, but Cripple’s wall of fists remained unbroken. Shiv turned briefly and regarded the wall of interlocking fists created by Cripple. Each burning fist was the size of a small building, and they were pressed together, knuckle to knuckle, arm beside arm. It was effectively a greater bulwark than even the Orichalcum behind it. 

Even so, though Daughter couldn’t pierce Cripple’s, faint flecks of black tar seeped out from the cage of fists. Shiv could hear her screaming, could hear the constant sound of battle ringing from within the rents lining the Orichalcum walls.

Daughter and her avatars were still warring against Rebis, and that tar-black essence of hers seemed to be leaking into existence itself. It was like the atmosphere became a soaked page, with blackened substance burrowing deeper into the fabric. Shiv could feel an oiliness clinging to him, and the foul odor returned. As the Deathless gagged slightly, Cripple’s avatar didn’t react. Instead, it held out a hand.

“I speak truth. I do not wish to shed blood nor oil. I simply wish to speak.”

Hope and paranoia came together to form a dense brick at the bottom of Shiv's stomach. He wasn't sure why Cripple was doing this or what game the Ascendant was playing. What he did know was that he needed a great deal of help right now if he wanted to escape from the Daughter. And if Cripple truly wanted to hurt him, it could have joined the fight alongside its fellow Ascendant. 

Shiv was barely able to survive Daughter on her own. Should Cripple join the fray, the battle would already be over. Yet, Cripple wanted to talk, not just to Shiv, but to Adam as well. Maybe, just maybe, Cripple is a bit less of a bastard compared to the other Ascendants…

Psycho-Cartogrpahy: This could be a trap, but we can't see a good angle. If Cripple wanted to recapture us, trying to lull us into a false sense of security is pretty pointlessly complicated. Two Ascendants is more weight than we can carry on our backs. We couldn’t escape Daughter with Outside Context Problem. Frankly, the only reason we’re keeping the Ascendants at bay is because of our Legendary Skill… And Cripple probably knows that.

Shiv lowered his fists, but he placed the temporal anchor where he was, and kept cycling more overflow tides through his body.

"Adam’s not with me, you know that?" Shiv said. "He’s the main reason I didn’t just leave this prison. I know about the time loop you have around the Nadir, and I think I can get through that. But I’m not going. Not without him. If he’s actually here at all. If all this isn’t some kind of strange bullshit trap.”

“I know.” Cripple hesitated. "Whatever you feel toward me and the Ascendants, I am glad that someone still holds a sense of honor toward their brother-in-arms.” Discomfort seized Cripple as its ethereal form turned away from Shiv. Its avatar remained strong—kept its three glowing optics locked to the Deathless in its master’s stead. “You being here, I understand. But Adam Arrow should not be in this place.”

Just then, a loud screech filled the air. “CRIPPLE! I CAN FEEL YOU! CRIPPLE! HE IS MINE! MINE! MINE!”

Daughter’s cry came as a deafening chorus. The sounds of young girls laughing and weeping echoed in the backdrop. Cripple just sighed in response. “I also envy the fact that your brother-in-arms remains sane and stable rather than mad and broken.” More particles of sludge-thick blackness leaked into the world. Shiv pulled himself a bit further away from the cage of burning fists so he wouldn’t come into contact with the divine filth.

"Yeah, well, mind calling your sister-in-arms off first?" Shiv asked. "Because I don't know what kind of conversation we can have if she's still trying to scalp and eat me."

"I fear that there's too little left of Daughter for her to be compelled," Cripple muttered. "It was not always this way. She was more human once, despite everything life inflicted upon her. It was only after her mother applied those alchemical concoctions to her body that she changed past that threshold between child and monster completely."

Shiv blinked. "Wait, her mother did this to her? Broken Moon, does no one have a stable family anymore? It’s a godsdamned shit show everywhere I go.”

"Maiden—her mother—didn't have a choice," Cripple said, its voice was heavy with sorrow. “It was transgression or death. And she chose the only choice she could for her young. But I offer you a solution to both Daughter and myself right now."

The avatar reached up and pried the front of their torso free. Panels of dented metal fell away, and she saw the burning core of the automaton Pathbearer, for the first time. It resembled a layered disk in terms of design, but it was far from pristine. Fractures lined its surface, it leaked brilliant fluid that sparkled with violent crackles of electricity. A sphere twisted and turned at its very center, and Shiv noted how it was dense with not only energy, but also mana and vitality.

"In approximately ten seconds, Daughter will rip through my crude protections. Before that happens, I request that you give my avatar a proper end. It has earned that much, though it deserves far, far more."

Cripple's avatar hovered past Shiv, arriving just in front of a massive incandescent arm that kept Daughter from bursting free out the Orichalcum walls. For a beat, Shiv just watched the Ascendant as he hovered there. Cripple's avatar held out its remaining arm, and the act proved too much for its disintegrating body. The arm snapped at the shoulder, the metal connecting the limb to its body breaking free in a splash of spraying pieces.

Despite this, the avatar betrayed no hint of pain.

"Come, we do not have long," Cripple said. "When you are ready, drive your fist through my avatar's chest, but take care to hold onto the center-most reactor core. Do not destroy it. Without that, we will not be able to communicate after my avatar's demise. Now, come! Give this avatar a proper end!”

Shiv didn't understand how that was supposed to help deal with Daughter, the urgency in Cripple's tone conveyed carried a sincerity that couldn’t be denied. Shiv made the decision to trust Cripple—at least for now. He used some of his Shapeless Tides to reposition himself. Arriving before Cripple, Shiv concentrated a surge of overflow vectors into his hand. He didn't know how strong the avatar's broken body was, but he knew better than to underestimate an Ascendant's vessel. 

Instead of making a fist, Shiv opened his hand and drove his fingers through the avatar’s core. The damaged automaton shuddered before Shiv and gave an anguished growl. Something inside Shiv shuddered as he followed through with the execution. Pity filled Shiv. Just a bit. It was one thing to treat the automatons as enemies, but their avatars—the Waifs used by Daughter and the dying automatons wielded by Cripple—felt like collateral damage. 

Shiv hated collateral damage.

“It is alright,” the avatar whispered. “Fear not the end, Deathless. Even if you might never know it. The true dread comes with regret. With a life unlived and deeds unfinished. I have spent all of myself. I was ash before I was gone. But I burned bright while I was here. Will you?”

Philosophy 14 > 16

The avatar’s words splashed into Shiv’s consciousness and sank deep. Pity became a feeling of companionship as he held out another hand and gripped the broken bot on the shoulder. “I will. I will. I… I wish could have known you.”

The avatar’s optics flickered. “In this moment, you will know me truer than all others besides my god. Now make your hand a fist. Trust in my death.”

That was all that needed to be said. Shiv surged forward, and his fingers sank through the crumbling chest of the avatar. He seized the avatar's reactor core. A flash of mana and power clashed against Shiv’s hand. The Deathless let out a brief hiss of pain as a rush of divine mana splashed between his fingers and burned the flesh on his palm. He sent a flood of overflow tides to rebuff the divine incandescence rupturing out of the avatar and drove godly fire in the opposite direction.

As the avatar came asunder, so too did all cage of fists preventing the Daughter’s exit from the nearby cage. The moment the cage vanished, Shiv watched as a legion of tar-covered shapes exploded free from one of five gaps lining the Orichalcum. Chains of near-blinding vitality connected them to one another, and the Daughter’s laughter clawed Shiv’s awareness like nails leaving bloody furrows upon his flesh. 

The Waifs came for Shiv as a screaming horde, moving so fast he could barely track them through the air. Still, he tried. He tried as he circulated more overflow tides through his body while hardening his pillar.

Multi-Tasking 28 > 29

The Deathless circulated striped force vectors across his body as Cripple’s avatar broke apart into fading pieces. Before Shiv could leave context and halt time, a remaining fragment of the avatar’s head combusted with incandescent mana one final time.

“And before there is not even ash left of this vessel, the memory of fire will roar one final time,” the avatar proclaimed. “Witness, Pathbearer, the might withheld from you in this final death.”

And then the avatar detonated, unleashing a near-solid wave of incandescent force in all directions. It was anything Shiv had ever felt, and he pointed his tides against the incoming explosion and turned away. Yet, the blast did not burn him. It did not unmake him. The explosion wrapped around Shiv like wind might pass around a mountain, leaving him utterly untouched.

The same couldn't be said for the daughter and all her avatars. Where Shiv was untouched, she experienced the avatar’s end like moths consigned to a firestorm. First, the incandescent blast struck her many Waifs like a riptide. They were ripped away from Shiv, tiny bodies dragged out to a metaphorical sea. As they were launched away, Shiv realized they were burning. Screams filled the air. Screams from the Waifs that all bled together as the Daughter’s howl overtook them all.

A ragged shriek of disbelief tore through the world, and Shiv tasted the incredible rage burning within Daughter’s breast. “HOW! CRIPPLE! YOU WORTHLESS—”

At this point, Cripple's avatar had dissolved entirely, and the sheer amount of divine mana it unleashed painted everything around Shiv white. He hovered at the epicenter, as more rippling waves swept out. The Waifs were burning, but as their little bodies melted away, Daughter remained. The nightmarish Ascendant herself was untouched by the blaze, but the waves still battered her—still displaced her further from Shiv.

“No! I must have him! I must sup his blood and drink his marrow! I must!” Daughter broke down into a tantrum, and the many bodies she had reached out to one another. The chains of vitality keeping her bodies connected hardened, and soon she merged into a singular entity—a three-meter tall monstrosity that had too many arms, too many limbs clutching too many knives. The unified Daughter was a nightmarish shadow that drove spikes of indescribable fear into Shiv. Just looking at her made his nerves go haywire.

But Shiv wasn’t quite so human at his foundations, either. Daughter wasn’t the only monster wearing human flesh here. As coherent though fled his mind, Shiv defaulted to violence. Daughter fought her way toward him, a mangled giantess warring against Cripple’s incandescent tides. Shiv darted through the blast with ease, untouched by fire and force. He came for Daughter, infusing both Vitae and Shapeless Tides into his left arm. Daughter snarled. She tried to strike him, but Cripple’s mana collapsed down upon her and began dragging her under the incandescent mana. She tried to push through crashing waves with her arms, but Daughter was but an insect fighting the falling waves of the ocean. Reality could sustain her presence here no longer, and she was beginning to sink like stone. “CRIPPLE! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM DO THIS! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM BREAK YOU—YOU BIG STUPID—”

Her following words turned into a wretched scream as Shiv drove his fist into her skull. His Vitae allowed him to strike at her spirit, while his Shapeless Tides granted him the might he needed to tear at god-flesh. A gasp followed. Daughter’s rage turned to a whimper of true pain as Shiv shredded her insides with a burst of fragmenting vectors.

Even with Legendary Physicality, mutilating the soul of a god was like trying to crush a diamond. Daughter’s Magical Resistance was staggering and abnormal. Rather than lining her outsides, it clenched down on him like pointed teeth when he intruded into her being. But just as Shiv had a hard time gouging her soul, her unnatural inner mana met his Leviathan of the Shapeless Tides and was stopped dead.

A clash followed as Daughter cried out in absolute horror. Whatever Cripple did, it seemed to be ripping her out of this reality. But Shiv wouldn’t let her go—not when he had a golden opportunity to give her a proper souvenir.

“I hope you enjoyed the taste of me earlier, because here comes the motherfucking consequence,” Shiv growled. Icon of the Paindrinker activated. The Deathless wrenched hard against the Daughter and something inside her came apart.

The false goddess wailed, but in the undercurrent of its monstrous voice, a faint sob followed.

Psycho-Cartography: She’s a monster, but there’s a reason why she still acts like a child… She is one mentally. Those screams are not the screams of an adult.

“Okay! Okay! Let me go! I’m sorry! Let me go! I don’t want to play with you anymore! I don’t want to!” Daughter stopped her struggles and pulled her head away from Shiv. He tried to hold onto her, but didn’t have enough tides. A fist-sized hole was left in her face. Daughter shrieked as she ripped her head free from his gasp. As she plunged beneath the waves of incandescence, Shiv could hear her crying and screaming, more child than beast. “Mama! Mama! He hurt me! He hurt me! Mam—”

The incandescence stilled. Shiv couldn’t hear Daughter anymore. Yet, the last thing to fade was a chain constructed from the substance of the Daughter’s tar and Shiv’s Vitae.

Shiv had wounded an Ascendant. What’s more, he earned her fear. The latter sent a rush of delicious power flowing through his being—but it just kept building. He gained more than mere levels for the feat of traumatizing an Ascendant.

Shape of Monstrosity 112 > 119

Feat Gained: 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.

Something snaked under Shiv’s flesh and wriggled in his soul. It didn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, it was a like a new muscle tightening inside him. From deep inside, he could hear Daughter’s sobbing cries of horror and the mark of cold dread he left upon her soul.

Despite the rush of power entering him, Shiv didn’t feel proud. Frankly, he was disturbed by the end. The incandescent waves unleashed by Cripple began to fade, but the Deathless found himself lingering upon a canvas of absolute brilliance.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Cripple said quietly. The Ascendant’s voice echoed from the core Shiv still held in his left hand. “The destruction of my avatar was enough to banish her. You didn’t need to harm her further. She will remember this. And her mother will not forgive this.”

A snort escaped the Deathless, but the voice of Daughter continued to resound in the back of his mind. “I didn’t start this fight. You made your choices, I’m just responding.”

Cripple let out a low sigh. It sounded like it wanted to say something, but kept its words in check. Shiv kind of wished that Cripple would have said something, because now he had to deal with his own thoughts, and he really didn’t want to.

That was… Well, that was something. She was a monster, but her voice at the end sound like a child. I don’t… I really don’t know how I feel about that.

Psycho-Cartography: You shouldn’t. I don’t think she is entirely sane. Whatever her mother did to her, it twisted her. We might have just injured a child and a monster—both in the same body.

Shiv grimaced. He didn’t entirely regret wounding Daughter, but something about injuring someone with the mind of a child left him feeling ill.

Psycho-Cartography: Again, it should. But we need to face the discomfort and make the best choice that we can. There are going to be more situations like this. The system doesn’t care what happens to people across Integration. Children can struggle to. Children can be monsters. The only way we can avoid harming her is if we were far stronger, but Daughter is an Ascendant. And without Cripple, the outcome of this encounter might have been uglier than we can accept.

Psycho-Cartography 63 > 65

“So where the hells am I right now?” Shiv asked. He tried flying around the space, but found himself completely trapped within this blank expanse of divine mana. The Orichalcum cage was gone. The crawlspace was gone. Everything was gone but him and Cripple.

“We are within a Divine Domain,” Cripple said. “The thresholds of Integration here are so solid nothing can break through. Not other gods. Not the Outside.”

The Deathless looked around at the curling flecks of incandescence that characterized the surrounding space. “You don’t do much decorating, do you.”

“Deathless… Do you think I would bring you in my domain proper or simply a vacant portion? There is a limit to my trust.”

“That makes the both of us,” Shiv muttered. Still, this was a glimpse of power beyond his. With his Legendary Skill, Shiv possessed unmatched control and power compared to his prior Skill Evolutions. Yet, he was still limited in many ways. Without evolving more supporting skills, his Legendary Skill wouldn’t reach its full potential. But more than that, a divine domain was something Shiv had no comprehension of at all. He never heard Valor or anyone else speak of such a thing. “What is a divine domain anyway.”

Cripple hesitated before answering. “It is what a skill becomes a dimension unto itself. It is when you go beyond the bounds of power and begin to set your own rules.”

“Does a delve eventually become a domain?” Shiv asked.

The Ascendant didn’t answer that question, instead it spoke to another concern. “I am keeping you here, but I cannot hold you for long. Our time to speak is short, and the dangers facing us are many. I intervened on your behalf because I knew Daughter would be tempted to claim your life for one of her avatars.”

“Well, that explains it felt like she was trying to kill me instead of taking me alive,” Shiv grumbled. “And the other Ascendants just let her, huh?”

“No. She was not supposed to act this way, but she listens to few people aside from her mother, Maiden the Genius. And as you have hurt Maiden’s child, there will be consequences. Know this, Deathless. Prepare yourself.”

“There are already consequences,” Shiv shot back. “Putting me in this prison is a consequence. Ripping me away from Blackedge is a consequence. Using Adam as bait to lure and threaten me is going to be a felling consequence. I know damned well the cost of my actions. Do you know the weight behind yours?”

“I grow increasingly doubtful by the minute,” Cripple responded. “Stormhalt has returned—and he is not in chains. This is unacceptable.”

“And you’re surprised?” Shiv said, frowning at how naive Cripple seemed. “He’s an avatar and a City-Lord.”

“He is but a citizen of the Republic. And we have laws. Rules. Edicts. An avatar is a vessel for the divine to inflict their judgment and mete justice upon the land. Yet, Halsur and Kathereine have found a questionable pawn.”

“Really? That’s how we’re describing all this?” Shiv shook his head in disgust. “Look. Cripple, you pulled my ass out of the fire just now, so let me help you pull your head out of your ass as thanks: Stormhalt despises Roland. He hates Roland so much that his hatred is probably a fourth of the size of mine.”

The divine mana around Shiv shook. “Was that a joke?”

“No,” Shiv replied, dead serious.

Cripple let out a single chuckle anyway. Then grunted in grim acceptance. “I understand that there are points of contention between my siblings. It is an ill thing to accept. Katherine and Halsur are beyond my ability to punish. The former especially. I… There is much I owe her. Things I cannot repay.”

“What things?” Shiv asked.

“Ask, but I will not say,” Cripple answered.

Shiv wanted to push, but his Psycho-Cartography Skill warned against it. He was getting a much better understanding of Cripple. The automaton Ascendant was an honorable Pathbearer—perhaps a little too rigid. Everything that Kathereine and Halsur have done are on the other side of honor when it came to Blackedge and the Starhawk. But when Cripple spoke of Kathereine, Shiv detected a hint of fear and regret in its voice. Cripple wanted to do something, but it couldn’t act. Not openly.

Hence, it came to Shiv. The Deathless was getting a faint understanding of the unseen games being played between the Ascendants even now.

And he found it a bit exciting.

Maybe I should consider politics at some point, Shiv thought to himself. If I manage to live that long. The system really wants me dead. Well. Come and get me.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Shiv finally said. “I’ll dig them out some other way. But let’s get to the point that matters. You wanted to speak with Adam as well, right? Well, the only way we’re going to be able to do that is if I know where he is and if I can get him out.”

“I have a guess as to where they are keeping him in detention,” Cripple said. “He is near the mana core, in the White Rooms.”

Shiv really didn’t like the sound of White Rooms. “Alright. So can you teleport me there or something? Give a shortcut through your Domain.”

“This is not how my Domain functions. More importantly, I cannot allow the other Ascendants to know that I have openly aided you. Right now, Daughter’s story will only account for the fact that you bested my avatar and the destabilization of its body caused her banishment. Anything more overt will have the others suspicious.”

“Which is why we don’t have long to talk in the first place,” Shiv said, connecting another set of dots. “I’m going to have to go after Adam alone, then?”

“That is the case,” Cripple said, though it sounded slightly ashamed. “It will not be easy. Stormhalt and the other avatars will be waiting for you there. They know about your Outside Context Problem Skill.”

Shiv clenched his fists as a rage born of worry welled up inside him. “Shit. How—wait. Adam… They must’ve reached into his mind. Fuck. Are they going to do something to his mind? Make him a mind-slave or something?”

“I don’t know,” Cripple said. “They have enclosed a section of the prison, and the rest of my companions are at odds with each other. Halsur and Kathereine are holding to a narrative. But it is clear that a narrative is all it is. With the Starhawk absent, the only ones that might be able to speak in his stead are you and Young Lord Adam. Right now, Adam is in Stormhalt’s custody.”

“I heard enough,” Shiv said. “Tell me where he is and let me out of this place.”

“The avatars will be waiting for you. Divided though they are about what to do with Adam Arrow, there is no contention about what must be done with you.” Cripple paused. “Little to no contention. Daughter is unpredictable.”

“She’s an insane child that became a god,” Shiv spat back. “And I don’t care if every last Pathbearer in the Integration is preparing to ambush me alongside the Ascendants. I’m getting Adam back, and we’re getting out—”

“Use the prisoners,” Cripple interrupted.

“What?” Shiv asked.

“The Legendary-Tier prisoners of the Nadir,” Cripple continued, sounding more than a little uncomfortable with what it was telling Shiv. “Many of them feel wronged by us. And many will do anything to get their way. Alone, you are certain to fail, but should you be able to gather and direct the other prisoners, there might be a way. You might be able to create an opening to save your friend. I am calling back my wardens. The other Ascendants have decided to use the prison break as an excuse to decide Adam’s fate while I am absent. I know this. They will never admit this. Just as I will never admit calling back my wardens and letting the prisoners run rampant.”

Shiv updated his opinion of Cripple. The automaton was only a certain kind of honorable. When the moment called for it, Cripple was more than capable of being downright dirty. The Deathless smirked. “I understand. I’ll see what I can do with the prisoners. Don’t exact have a Leadership Skill, but I did get a Feat from hurting Daughter. Let’s see how well fear works as a motivator.”

A hum of agreement came from Cripple. “But as I do this, I need a promise from you. The fact that you are returning for your friend has revealed to me who you are—so I will demand your honor and word as a Pathbearer that you allow none of them to escape when this is done.”

Shiv considered that for a moment. He considered lying, but his nature was direct and truthful. Cripple hadn’t bullshitted him so far, and if the Ascendant was trying to do him a good turn, Shiv didn’t want to make a mess of things even if it would make freeing Adam harder. “Not sure if I can promise that, Cripple. I got a few of them with me right now. A wolf-man called Five and Rebis. Rebis is—”

“I know of them,” Cripple said. “The Lupine is not who he says he is. He is an agent of Aviary. He has been here for ten years and here he must stay until he surrenders his cell. Only after will I consider returning him to the Stolen Throne.”

“What?” Cripple’s claim caught Shiv entirely off-guard. “He’s what?”

“Rebis… The Pathbearers used to create him should have been executed. One was Ivar Locke—mass murderer and mind-defiler. Preference for mentally mutilating and enslaving young and defenseless. The other was Helium-3. Traitor to the Republic and the one responsible for the collapse of Washpoint Fortress.”

“What’s a Washpoint Fortress?”

“You do not know?” Cripple asked, surprised. “How? Even children know about this.”

“Yeah, well, Roland Arrow was big on everyone’s education but mine.” Shiv sighed. “Alright. So. Rebis is made from two utter bastards. But he just confused right now.”

“Which is why I said he should have died,” Cripple echoed. “But Enoch has needs, and just as you have loyalty to your own, so to do I have loyalty to mine. I need your promise here. I do not need you to pacify the other prisoners. I simply ask that you leave them behind should you succeed in rescuing Young Lord Arrow. The prisoners here are a danger to the Republic. They cannot be allowed to roam free.”

“And I’m safe?” Shiv said, slightly sarcastically.

“Absolutely not. But I wish to know why the system is so determined to see you dead. More, I will need your aid to reach Matthew. I think… I wish to speak with him about the Great One, and the ritual we are to perform.”

***

Brightness. 

That was the first thing Adam noticed. As consciousness slowly returned to him. His mind throbbed with pulsing pain, and his body felt like it had been broken into pieces, ground beneath a giant's heel, before finally being pasted back together. The parts of him that didn't hurt were utterly numb, and worse, his bladder was screaming at him, begging him to relieve himself. 

Low, droning voices pounded against his skull, like war drums going off beside his ears. The gate lord tried to make noise, but all that came out of his throat was a hoarse whisper. He tried to move, yet felt his body bound tight. Worse, his muscle fibers were on fire. Even the slightest twitch sent waves of pain radiating through him. This time, he didn't give a hoarse cry; a loud hiss escaped him. He tried to writhe in pain, but that only made everything worse. 

Adam was caught in a cycle of agony.

When he finally finished shuddering, he heard someone speak for the first time, their voice pounding through his ears, like he was breaking out from underwater. "He's waking up. Finish with him.”

Before Adam could say anything else, a burst of thunderous pain circulated through his nerves. He tried to arc his back, but he was held tight in place, and the bands that clutched him refused to budge at all. His sinews no longer felt like they were on fire. Instead, they itched as never before, and were promptly drawn taut. It was like his body was trying to stretch itself apart, and no matter how much he tried to fight it, it wouldn't stop. Adam had never had a whole body cramp before, but now that he did, he never wanted to experience this again.

Flashing memories pulsed before his eyes. He remembered flickers of what happened just hours before. He remembered arriving too late to save Shiv from the Ascendants. He remembered the Tarrasque retaliating, driving its body deep into the underside of Blackedge. He remembered a battle that followed, flashes of impossible violence, immense devastation. And then he remembered being struck by who he couldn't quite recall, but he remembered being struck so hard that everything inside him broke, even with the protection of his Legendary armor.

Adam felt weightless, weightless in the present and weightless in the past. He was floating, his body was light, and soon he couldn't feel his body at all. His experience became one of utter depersonalization, and soon he found himself staring at his own form from the third person. He was over the skies of Los Angeles again, twirling, blood spilling out from his mouth, from his eyes, from his every orifice. 

The Tarrasque hung high in the sky, usurping the position of the sun, and its form was bathed in incandescent fire. Divine mana clawed at the beast's magnificent body, but it wouldn't come asunder, it wouldn't die. 

Without Shiv present, no one could rip the vitality free from the Tarrasque, and it fought on. Yet the Ascendants kept it controlled, wreathed in nets of awesome flame. With a blast of world-shaking force, they flung it skyward.

At some point, Adam struck the ground, and he found himself blasting through debris. A curtain of dust rose high into the air and settled over his broken body as a blanket, and through the haze he saw Blackedge, damaged, crumbling, on the verge of falling apart. But then there came a flash, a flash of color, a flash of incandescence, a flash guided by thick streams of translucence. 

Some part of Adam's mind, what little of him still remained in that moment, recognized Uva's power for what it was. Her Psychomancy threads were now large as buildings, and from them leaked both the impossible colors of the outside and the Starhawk's blessing.

A twitch of jealousy passed through Adam. He would have loved to serve in his father's stead. He would have done anything the Starhawk demanded if it meant saving his town, if it meant protecting his friends. But it wasn't to be. He wasn't to be. In that very moment, he knew he was dying, knew there were things inside him broken, almost certainly beyond repair. 

And unlike when he fought the Recollector, he wasn't scared. Not scared at all. Instead, he felt a sense of peace, as if he was an empty vessel. He had done everything he could, strained himself beyond what anyone could ask for, and now he'd fallen—fallen, but not beaten.

Blackedge was swallowed by brighter and brighter colors as a massive fissure opened over it. The town rose, and just as it did, Adam noticed a massive shape descending from on high. The Tarrasque returned, and trails of frayed incandescence clung to its body. It screamed out, bellowing the Starhawk's name, bellowing vengeance against Roland Arrow. But just as it was about to tear through the town, just as a tidal wave of devastation was dragged in its wake, Blackedge vanished entirely, passing into that eldritch outside that bordered reality. 

Adam laughed weakly. Laughed as, even though the fate of his town was uncertain, even though he didn't know what was going to happen to his friends, to his family, Blackedge would not fall at the hands of the Tarrasque, nor would it be destroyed by the Ascendants. No, for a little while longer, his home would endure.

And then the Tarrasque struck the ground, and Adam exhaled. The world shook, the surface upon which he lay was sundered utterly, completely. Adam found himself flung skyward, and once more he was weightless. He surrendered himself to the sensations. Yet, a moment before a massive debris descended to greet him, a cloud of static shadow clashed over his form and clenched him, drew him across space itself. 

And somewhere during the teleportation process, the darkness of dimensionality became the darkness of unconsciousness.

Now he was back, still alive, but wishing he wasn't. The pain was bad. “Broken Felling Moon!” Adam cried out as a rush of fire seared through his every nerve. His eyes snapped open fully, and he found himself staring up at a bright ceiling. The Gate Lord blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurriness from his vision. His ears were ringing as well, and his heart hammered inside his chest, threatening to burst from his ribcage. 

Gone from physical torment to sensory overload, there were spell patterns dancing around him. He was inside a teleportation anchor of some kind. Adam shook his head. No, not a teleportation anchor. 

This resembled a medical chamber. He saw a strange twirling mechanism hanging over him, and it had dangling blades and small fingers twitching on its underside. As it drew back, a cube-like face looked down at Adam, and the many eyes that dotted it flickered.

Automaton, Adam thought. His mind felt sluggish, but he recognized the mechanical Pathbearer for what it was.

"A pair of clusters reconnected," the mechanical path bearer declared, and it leaned back. A whirling, whirring sound followed, and Adam tried to turn his head. It was a considerable struggle for him to do even that. To his right, he saw a tall elven woman wearing a white coat. 

She wore a transparent face shield made from glass, and specks of Adam’s blood dotted its oblong surface. She regarded him without expression, and a faint hint of red mana seeped out from her fingers. That was the color of Biomancy, and if he could see it right now, that meant that Adam brought a look at his notifications, and his eyes widened. He hadn't gained Biomancy, but most of his skills had taken a massive leap. Both his Physicality and Toughness were on the verge of a new evolution. Tactical Overseer as well.

Skybearer’s Strength 100 (Skill Evolution Imminent)

Hydromancy 50 (Skill Evolution Imminent)

Repulsion Shroud 100 (Skill Evolution Imminent)

Tactical Overseer 100 (Skill Evolution Imminent)

My Toughness leveled over ten times, Adam thought to himself. So how hard did that the damn Tarrasque bloody hit me. And how am I even still alive. Broken Moon why am I alive… Gods, pain…

"Is he stabilized?"

The elven Biomancer looked away from Adam and gave the unseen speaker a nod. "He is Master-Avatar."

"Good. Leave us."

"Master Avatar," Adam muttered. The room around him darkened momentarily, and Adam thought they were turning off the lights. But then he realized he was on the verge of blacking out again. He shook his head, forced himself to stay awake. Though fatigue and agony gripped his body, he wanted to face whoever held him prisoner and tell them to sit on a knife.

Three thumping steps sounded in the now empty room. Three thumping steps that made Adam's pulse climb and his anxiety worsen as he looked up at his captor for the first time. 

Adam let out a miserable sigh—a sigh that turned into a vicious sneer.

"City-Lord Stormhalt," Adam slurred. He tried not to, but part of his mouth wasn't working right. "I think I should call you father-in-law, but alas, some unforeseen problems interrupted my wedding. You wouldn't happen to know who caused them, would you?"

Adam might have been broken, but Stormhalt had seen better days himself. Most of his body was burned. He had been healed to some extent, but his restored flesh still resembled badly grilled beef that was still raw in certain places. Patches marring his face and inflamed bulges of pink that protruded in disgusting ways. Stormhalt looked down at Adam as one would an intractable problem. The City-Lord’s eyes were tired and spent.

"She wasn't meant to be a part of this," Stormhalt muttered. "She was meant to stay home and—"

"And what?" Adam forced through his uncooperative lips. "Stay home and listen to your every command. Stay home and stay ignorant of what you promised. Sullain... The deal you struck with the Jealousy. You vermin traitor…”

With each statement, Adam spat, Stormhalt’s gaze darkened. “Everything I did, I did for the good of the Republic."

Something inside Adam snapped. And what came out from him thereafter wasn't a roar of anger, but a loud, scornful laugh. "For the good of the Republic? You were going to give the Animancy Core to Sullain. He was going to use it on the Republic, on one of our towns."

"We were going to intercept him," Stormhalt cried aloud. "We were going to stop him before—"

"Oh, shut the hells up," Adam groaned. "If it weren't for me and Shiv and," then Adam swallowed, refusing to say who his name. Stormhalt didn't need to know. But something stirred in Adam's battered consciousness. If he was their captive, if he wasn't wearing his armor, then where was his Magical Resistance.

"I know about the Umbral," Stormhalt said, "you don't need to keep her from me. I know about everything you've done. Almost everything you've done over the past month or so. The things you've achieved are impressive, but I fear I'm not here for you. I wish to know about your companions, the other two."

Adam fixed Stormhalt with an unimpressed stare. "You just said you knew everything. So why the conversation?" Stormhalt fell silent, and Adam just shook his head. "You don't think before you act very often, do you, City-Lord? You're a little too old to be this way.”

"How?" Stormhalt began. "How did he gain his Path? And why are you in league with a creature created by Udraal Thann? How can you claim to be a loyal son of the Republic when you belong to his father, Valor Thann.”

And it was then that Adam realized Stormhalt didn't know much of anything at all. He might have had a Psychomancer peek into Adam's unconscious mind, but it would take even someone like Uva to dive through another’s memories in vivid detail.

“I would tell you,” Adam began. “But my brain is swollen from a large bastard hitting me, so… If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to get a bit more rest now.”

Stormhalt pressed his lips together, and slowly he leaned forward. He placed a single hand against Adam's chest and continued pushing down. The Gate-Lord tried to move, but he was held in place by bands, bands of reddish gold, that kept him festooned to his hospital bed. Adam tried not to scream in pain as he felt Stormhalt put his weight, apply his weight. The Gate-Lord's spine sounded like a mess of rattling marbles.

"I don't enjoy this," Stormhalt said through clenched teeth. Adam bucked and spasmed. The pain grew. "I don't enjoy hurting you like even if you are your father's son, even if I see his face on yours, I don't. I don’t.”

Stormhalt sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

Adam managed to stop his writhing long enough to stare Stormhalt right in the eye. And despite all the suffering he endured, he managed to smirk, "Liar."

And that made Stormhalt stop. The City-Lord drew his hand back and took a step away.

"Liar," Adam sped again, "you lie about everything. In fact, I think you lie to yourself most of all. That thing with the Jealousy, how many people did you promise it? Again, I can't quite remember. Where are you going to find these people? From the waste of society? The weak? The feeble? The poor?" Adam coughed.

"There are many who are ill and people who have sinned," Stormhalt began, trying to defend himself.

"Like you?" Adam went on the offensive. "Like you, who condemned so many people at Blackedge to their death. My father," Adam swallowed. "My father's not a perfect man. He's done terrible things. But at least he's never condemned another to death. Not without purpose."

And suddenly Stormhalt went impossibly still. "You have no idea who your father is. Young Lord Arrow, you have no idea the things he'd done. You have no idea what he has taken from me. You think this is a thing of jealousy or hatred. No, it is just retribution."

Stormhalt was so furious that he was calm now. And as Adam looked into his eyes, coils of lightning seeped outward. The city lord was trembling. And for a brief moment, Adam wondered if Stormhalt was going to strike him dead. But a sigh escaped from the city lord. His shoulders sagged once more, and he swallowed.

"This was a mistake. I was a fool.” Then, he blinked as a flash of dark lightning burst free from his eyes. “I... yes, my ascendant, I... I understand. I apologize for my indiscretion and lack of thought." He drew in a long breath and gave Adam a pitying look. "I did not wish this for you, Young Lord Arrow. All my hate, all my loathing, that is for your father. For everything that has happened, everything, that is his sin. His sin, but not yours. You are just..." He clenched his fist. "Godsdamn it, I hate you too. I hate you just for looking at him. I despise you as well. I despise you."

The admission escapes Stormhalt like air would a ruptured wheel. By the end, he just chuckled. "I am not a perfect man. I fear I am not even strong. But that is my truth. You should have just told me. You should have just spoke. You should have..."

Stormhalt stopped talking and shook his head. "Now the Psychomancer will have you. And when they are done, I will see you fixed properly. If nothing else than to insult your father. The other Ascendants can protest, but your compliance will be worth the Republic’s security. Or at least that is what I am going to tell them. We are going to carve you hollow, Young Lord. We are going to remove every part that is you and replace it with something that will serve the Republic and more importantly, serve us. For when your father returns, if he returns, we will use you to finish this mistake.”

“No," Adam whispered. 

"We will use you as our weapon to finish this pointless, stupid, miserable travesty. And what little of you is left will watch through your own eyes as a prisoner in your own body as you kill your own father."

Stormhalt screamed by the end, and he seemed to wake to what he was doing. He looked at his hands and he shuddered before turning and running away.

"Stormhalt !" Adam cried out. "Stormhalt, come back. Come on, you felling cock-strap! Come back!" He struggled and strained against the restraints, but it was hopeless. It was hopeless before, it was hopeless now. Even with his strength on the verge of an evolution, he couldn't exert enough force for another level, but he had to try. He had to do something. "Starhawk!" Adam whimpered. "Starhawk, please. Starhawk I need—"

Another shadow fell over him, and this time an older human Pathbearer with a snow-white beard looked down at him. His eyes were the coldest yet. He didn't even regard Adam as a human, and from his crown rippled a wave of translucence. Soon, every one of Adam's secrets and every bit of himself would be compromised.

"No!" Adam spat. "Godsdamn you, stop! I am a citizen of the Republic! You—”

He tried to shape something with his Hydromancy, but his magic flared and broke against him. His manifold screamed as it was ripped asunder, and the room's magical spells flashed. Adam let out a cry of agony, and now his spirit was mauled, mauled by the very wards placed into this chamber. 

It was specifically designed to hold him, he realized. He tried drawing on his Dimensionality thereafter, but a faint burst of static descended from the ceiling and hammered down upon the gate lord. Adam gagged. His vision spun, and he did everything he could not to throw up. He failed, yet still no bile came, only sour spit and snot.

"Struggle. Do not struggle. It makes no difference." The Psychomancer placed his thumb against Adam's head. "Your mind is mine now."

And a spearing lance of pain punched deep into the Gate-Lord's consciousness. Everything went white, then red, then white again. Adam tried to resist, but he could no more resist the Psychomancer 's touch than he could stop thinking.

A miserable howl escaped Adam, and he tried to bite down on his own tongue—if only to protect what he knew and guard those close to him. Yet his jaw spasmed, and he couldn't quite close it. Adam shuddered and called out to the Starhawk again. But when the Ascendant refused to reply, he reached out to another god, one he'd met in person.

Composer, Adam thought, if you can hear me, if you can do anything, anything at all, I will give you everything, everything, anything. Please, don't let them do this. I need to break free. Shiv needs me. Uva needs me. My people need me.

The Composer has noticed your cry. 

“It doesn't matter who you call." The Psychomancer's cold voice echoed inside Adam's skull. He felt like a hollow bell. And with every passing second, there was less of him capable of resisting. Soon, he would be more a glove than a person, and the Psychomancer would be able to weave and wield his thoughts, whichever way he so desired.

Adam was about to break, but then the pressure of Psychomancy vanished altogether, and something wet hit him in the face, wet with the faint taste of iron. Adam's vision cleared once more, and he saw the Psychomancer spasming. The man's throat had been opened. Yet Adam couldn't tell why, had no idea what slit the man's neck wide. 

Blood gushed down and rushing rivers splashing over Adam's face, and the Psychomancer, gagged and clawed at the wound, but he couldn't fall. In fact, his entire body was stiff and rigid. His eyes were no longer cold. Instead, they were filled with fear, confusion, and desperation.

Adam was stunned by the turnaround of events, but a bitter scowl stretched his features as he glared at the Psychomancer with loathing. "Take a step to your left," Adam hissed. "Stop bleeding on me, you shit.”

Despite Adam’s plea, the Psychomancer didn't obey. He continued spilling his lifeblood all over Adam, and soon the Gate-Lord went from startled to exasperated. He spat off by the side, trying to clear the Psychomancer's blood from his lips. He pulled his restraints once more, but it was futile, just like before. Slowly, Adam began looking around the room, trying to figure out what was happening. 

He didn't kill the Psychomancer, so then—

The Biomancer from earlier suddenly came into view. Before Adam could say anything, her hand was over his mouth, and she pressed a single finger in front of her facial-covered lips. "If you wish to live, don't make a sound. They are still watching. But I managed to place an illusion in place." She gestured at one of the spell patterns, and with a twitch of her fingers, two of the shapes within the pattern flickered.

"Who are you?" Adam said.

“Right now, your only friend.”

“My friends have names,” Adam replied.

“Then you can call me Raven,” the Biomancer grinned. “Now, Little Hawk, how would you like to leave this prison?”