IV-11 Cell

In my experience, everyone seeks to betray themselves in some way. It is cathartic to confess your sins. It is cathartic to release all burdens lingering in your mind, like extracting an arrow. It hurts, but you yearn to feel an absence where your flesh was filled.

And the one that wished to admit something will make it known. They will talk over much. They will display sentimentality, display offerings of truth from within themselves. These truths can be failures of their past, or potentially shortcomings.

We are creatures of ego and vulnerability. After all, it is our sense of self that shapes so many of our skills. An admission of shame usually scars us. And when someone gives that to you, it is best for you to offer something back. Give your own admission, but do not give a truthful one. Make false shame. Trade false shame for their genuine articles. And soon you will gain a flood of truth from your adversary, while you yourself will remain as guarded as ever before.

-Lady Eileen Harkness of Aviary

IV-11

Cell

“Ah. This matter.” The Ascendant looked down as he considered Shiv’s question. The Deathless wasn’t very good at telling what automaton’s were feeling, but the body language of the machines screamed of discomfort. Or maybe that was just how badly the avatar was damaged. Most of its chassis was cracked from the battle earlier. It only had one army left, and wires were sparking free from its joints. Considering the coolant leaking out from the avatar, Shiv guessed it suffered considerable internal damage as well.

Kind of a shit deal being Cripple’s avatar, Shiv thought. A lot of power. But guaranteed to kill it. It occurred to him that he might make an ideal avatar for Cripple, but considering how the Ascendant only used automatons so far, Shiv had a suspicion humans weren’t so easy for Cripple to access. It also didn’t matter because Shiv had no intention of serving as a vessel for a false-god.

“The matter of Blackedge is still in the process of being resolved,” Cripple said at least.

Shiv scowled. “Great. Thanks. What does that mean? Are the people inside the perch still alive? Is Adam Arrow still alive? Is the Tarrasque dead?”

The automaton’s vertical optics flickered. “There were many casualties in the town itself. Adam Arrow is currently in our custody—in a medical coma. He sustained severe wounds from the Tarrasque.”

Every fiber of Shiv’s being tensed. The fires of anger roared to life inside him and he poured his anger into Psycho-Cartography before he could be overwhelmed. “He wouldn’t have been anywhere near the felling Tarrasque if you assholes didn’t teleport me out of there. I was draining its vitality. We were going to win.”

“Or you would be struck down by the Tarrasque for good and grant it ten Legendary Skill,” Cripple retorted.

“Yeah. And why should a monster get that, right? Better an Ascendant or an avatar.” Shiv aimed his glare at the automaton, but found it looking away from him.

Psycho-Cartography: He is ashamed. Think. We remember something about Cripple. The Starhawk called it the only other Ascedant that cares about honor or justice as much as he does. Something like that. We might be able to use that.”

“I would prefer that you live instead,” Cripple said softly. “I have no urge to see you slain for cheap rewards.”

“Cheap? Ten Legendary Skill is enough to trade a small kingdom for. Pardon me if I think you’re just passing shit out your mouth.”

“You are pardoned,” Cripple said with absolute seriousness. “I care nothing for so many Legendary Skills.” The avatar placed his single hand against its chest. “All who server me spend themselves utterly and completely. They are martyred in the process of becoming my vessel, and in destruction, they gain great power. Greater than any Legend.”

“But it costs them their lives,” Shiv shot back.

“Yes,” Cripple answered honestly. “More than just their lives. It costs them their very spirits. They are worn down until little is left. And they finally perish. It is a dark thing to become my avatar. I have mourned one hundred and two million Pathbearers since the Republic’s inception. One hundred and two million who have given more than I in pogniance and magnitudes.”

Whatever acidic retort was resting on Shiv’s tongue briefly rolled back down his throat as he found himself surprised. “One hundred and two million? Felling hells. That’s…”

“You never get used to feeling another person die. Feeling them perish entirely, dissolving on the level of their soul.” Cripple let out a quiet sigh, and even in this cramped Orichaclum cage, the winds rustled with sursurrations of sadness. “The avatar who I embody right now was named Westerly-8. It was an Aeronaut in the Republic’s Prismatic Navy. And then it encountered a terrible techplague while fighting over the Vast Atlanic. The Carrier-Automaton he served aboard was downed, and the enemy unleashed Binaric Sicknesses into the waters.”

The avatar’s glowing “eyes” grew dim. “It’s fate was sealed, then. For it. And countless other brave Pathbearers fighting for our Republic. While it was recovered, many drifted to the depths, seized by Hive-Kingdom Atlantis for their own fell purposes. Yet, even when Westerly-8 was offered grand rewards and peaceful tenture at Pheonix Academy to live out its final days before the Techplague finally corrupted its source codes, it decided to serve still, and offered itself to me. As did all the avatars before it.”

An awkward feeling of pity came over Shiv. He still despised the Ascendants for kidnapping and imprisoning him, but the avatar—

Psycho-Cartography: Notice Cripple’s words. Our Republic. In defense. He is using a Social Skill on us. The amount of sympathy we feel is exaggerated.

Psycho-Cartography 61 > 62

Farsight 52 > 53

The moment Shiv noticed that, he sneered at the Ascendant once more. “Hey. You do this shit to all your prisoners.”

The avatar lifted its head slightly. “Ah. You speak of my Empathic Seeding Skill. I apologize. It is not something that can be controlled. It also does not work if my words were lies.”

“I’m not doubting your avatar was brave. Pathbearers are brave.” Shiv scoffed, and he remembered the kukri-wielding dragon-knight he slew. “Our enemies are brave too. Plenty of them go down fighting. It’s the way of our world. I would have given you sympathy if you didn’t try to pull it out of me.”

“I state this again: It is a thing beyond my control.”

“Broken Moon. Beyond your control. What kind of god is so impotent?”

The avatar’s remaining hand was balled into a fist. Shiv got the impression that he struck a nerve.

“One beset on all sides by enemies,” Cripple declared with conviction. “One that strains itself to the limit to preserve this Republic. One that is desperately trying to get its battle-siblings to cease their squabbles and come back together. For only together can we stand against the threats coming from all sides.”

“So, what? Your excuse for all the bullshit you Ascendants have done so far is that we’re under threat? That’s called living in the Integration, Cripple.” Shiv bit back a snarl and leaned in closer. The chains around him rattled and shook. The red-gold bands of Orichaclum grew brighter and denser, responding to Shiv’s anger—drawing from his willpower to increase its durability. A rush of overflow-tides slipped out of Shiv and curved around his bindings. The Orichalcum held, but he felt it tremble and shudder as he channeled more force into them.

It could keep getting Tougher, but he could cultivate strength faster—and eventually, he would break it.

Despite this, the chains were only a distraction. As the avatar blurred forward—pointing the cold tip of its metallic finger against Shiv’s throat—Shiv’s innate-force gliding along the Orichalcum chains holding him in place and circulated the walls. There, they briefly crashed against a few spell patterns, and Shiv saw the intricate mana works flicker and rip.

Target that first. Remove the magic. And then we kill ourselves and use Outside Context Problem. Don’t think Cripple understands that skill yet. If it did, it should have kept me sedated.

“I implore you to cease your struggles,” Cripple said with a somber tone. “I understand your yearning for freedom. But do not misunderstand my sympathy for hesitation. I will slay you if it means protecting the Republic.”

“How often have you said that to a prisoner?” Shiv asked.

The automaton paused. “Thrice. I meant it more with the two before you. Now. Please. Peace. I do not wish to kill you. I wish only to speak, and to reach a proper understanding.”

“Understanding?” Shiv rasped. A thunderclap of kinetic energy slashed out from his body along cleaving vectors. The Orichalcum binds holding Shiv shook and began to scream as the mystical alloy struggled against his Legendary Skill. Then, Shiv began cycling force once more, gathering more overflow as he waited and watched.

Keep him off-balance. But wait. Patience. Opportunity. That’s what the delve taught. We’re sticking to the lesson.

“Fine,” Shiv spat. “I’ll give you understanding. I’ll tell you what I know about myself—how I think I got this evolution.”

“You do not know for certain?” Cripple asked, surprised.

“Not even a little,” Shiv chuckled darkly. “Up until a few months ago, I didn’t even have a Path. You know that?”

“Yes,” Cripple said. It shook its head in dismay. “For what it was worth, I was disappointed in the Starhawk for letting such a travesty happen. I understand Roland Arrow’s feelings, but that did not give him the legal or ethical right to entrap another citizen of our Republic. It might have been best for you to be placed in Inquisitorial custody. You would have been trained and given purpose there.”

Instead of being flattered, Shiv struggled not to bare his teeth. The Ascendant was saying all the wrong things to him. “I came across an Inquisition black site in a gate. You know that?” Cripple fell quiet. Its avatar started looking at the ground again.

"Oh good, you do know that. Well, you wanna know what else I found at the black site? I found them torturing citizens of the Republic. The Republic you keep bringing up, like it's some kind of shield or slogan for something you want to sell me."

Shiv thought about Heather and Tran, thought about how brutally they had been mutilated, how scarred they were of mind and body in the aftermath. "I despise Roland Arrow for everything he did to me. The man just couldn't make up his mind, and I paid for it. But I will tell you this much, no matter how much I hate Roland Arrow, if I woke up one day and found myself an Inquisitor, I would slit my own throat."

The avatar's posture sagged. "It is known that the Inquisition has to conduct certain operations that stretch boundaries."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Shiv laughed out loud. The bitterness in his voice rang out, filling the Orichalcum cell. As he directed his gaze upward, he frowned as he noticed another layer of magic lining the porthole. It was more magic than the Wolf-Man’s cell, Shiv thought to himself. They're putting in extra precautions here. There are also a hell of a lot more spell patterns circulating around the walls, too. And he didn't recognize some of the colors. Those were probably new Magical Skills, or specialized blends mana he hadn't faced before. 

It didn't matter. He had Leviathan of the Shapeless Tides. And when it came time, he would use his might to rip every mote of spellstuff around him apart.

When Cripple didn't respond, Shiv pressed the Ascendant, digging into the automaton's weakness. "You know, I don't really get you. You talk to me like you're some kind of honorable warrior, yet here we are in a cell probably most citizens of the public don't know about. You're trying to justify torture sessions conducted on citizens. Citizens you seem to care about, or so you claim. And then you stand before me feeling bad." Shiv leaned back and relaxed. He went slack in his chains and snorted. "You don't make much sense to me, Cripple. You don't want to be here. That's the only thing I'm sure about. I don't want to be here either."

"It makes little difference what we want," Cripple said. Its words were somber and heavy. 

That made Shiv narrow his eyes. "Alright, before we get to anything else, I have to understand this. You keep saying can't. Not up to us. This is the kind of shit I would expect to hear from a slave. You're an Ascendant. You're a god. Or at least a Pathbearer who stole a god's powers." Cripple lifted its head and regarded Shiv with surprise. But the Deathless just kept going. "So what's with all the defeatism? What's with you always surrendering over and over?"

"I am not surrendering," Cripple said. Shiv thought he caught a hint of heat in the Ascendant's voice. "I am facing reality. There are many realities. Many limitations. Even for an Ascendant. Even for a god. You do not understand, you lack perspective and experience. You are but a child."

"I'm also a Legend," Shiv snapped back. "Let me tell you something about my experience. My experience is, up until a few months ago, I spent my life hunting vampires and cooking. The former because I wanted a path, the latter because it was the only other thing I found meaning in. After that, after things at Blackedge went to hell, I was flung down in the Abyss. And guess what? My life got a lot better. I died a lot, but everything got better. Because it was up to me now. And I kept going. That’s my experience.

As soon as Shiv mentioned getting flung down in the abyss, the avatar shook. "How far?" Cripple asked.

Shiv tilted his head. "What? How far did I fall?"

"Yes," Cripple confirmed. "How far?"

Shiv considered that for a moment. And he finally responded. "The penumbra. The first landing killed me. Wasn't nearly as tough as I was now. Hell, I was Pathless before. I splattered apart, drained vitality out of a cave biter, got killed by a cave biter over and over again, finally got strong enough to kill the cave biter, and things continued on from there."

Shiv watched the Ascendant as he spoke. The avatar was looking down, its glowing optics were pointed at Shiv's chest rather than his face, and he knew it was thinking. About what? He wasn't sure. But before he could continue speaking, the avatar lifted his head once more. "You know about our history," the Ascendant asked. "Our true history."

"I know a bit," Shiv admitted. There was no point in lying when he didn't have the full picture, and frankly he was curious. "I know that the dust king or whatever cast you and the other Ascendants down." Shiv paused as he licked his lips. "I know that you weren't the only Ascendants, that there were more than thirteen."

Revealing that bit of knowledge was a gambit, but it was a gambit Shiv might be able to take somewhere. The Educator was in the back of Shiv's mind, and though it had been a while since he ran into her, he didn't doubt that the Forgotten God would eventually show up again at some terribly inopportune moment, but Shiv decided to apply some preventative measures to make a bit of trouble for the Forgotten God. After all, it seemed that they were not aligned with Starhawk or even the rest of the Ascendants. They were doing their own thing, pursuing their own interests. It saw them aligned with Udraal Thann, Shiv's… What the hell was Udraal?

Creator might be the wrong word, Shiv thought to himself, but I don't know how else to refer to him. I don't even know what he did to me. Only that he probably has a hand in me being Omenborn and getting the Deathless path.

"Then you know enough," Cripple finally responded. "When we were sent down into the Abyss, all those years ago, the world wasn't as it was now, peaceful and soft."

Shiv's nostrils flared. "Hey, Cripple," The Ascendant looked upon him. "Fuck you. What are you talking about, peaceful and soft? I haven't tasted any peaceful and soft."

"And that is the fault of Roland Arrow," Cripple began.

"No, even past Roland Arrow. I didn't taste peaceful and soft. And I don't care about peaceful and soft." Shiv pointed some of his innately generated force vectors forward. He leaned toward the Ascendant and his Orichalcum cage shook from the sudden flood of overwhelming strength flowing out of Shiv. The bolts that held the chains to the walls began to creak. 

"I'm system-favored," Shiv started. "You know what that means, right? I'm probably sure you're system-favored too, considering everything you lived through. Well, there's probably one major difference between me and you. I died over and over. In every way possible, I suffered all kinds of deaths. Miserable ones, peaceful ones, painful ones, quick ones. But I died and I came back. And the system, well, maybe it doesn't know what to do with me. That's why it keeps making things harder and harder and harder."

Shiv thought back to everything he suffered, every enemy he killed, every challenge he surmounted. One fight after another, one problem after another. It never stopped. And even now, it's still growing in intensity. "That's why I'm talking to you now. Just months after I got my path. How long did it take you to become a Legend? Actually, the hells with that. How long did it take you to become a Master? And did you have to die to do it?”

Cripple didn't say. Shiv stopped leaning on the chains. A wolfish grin spread across his face. "But did you ever become a master? Did you ever get close to Legend at all before you drank the divinity out from the Great One? Like one of the vampires?"

Before Shiv could say anything more, steel fingers were wrapped around his throat. The Avatar clenched, but Shiv directed his tides back. He warred against the avatar's skill-fused mix of Physicality and Psychomancy. They were powerful and backed by an Ascendant. They had more might at their disposal compared to Shiv. But that didn't mean he was easy prey now. A current of Psychomancy flowed out from the avatar's fingers. But it met Shiv's shapeless tides in a sudden crash. 

The Ascendant's mana was stalemated. Shiv had been building up overflow exactly to prevent something like this as well. He wasn't pushing the Ascendant back, but he kept the Avatar's Psychomancy outside his mind. 

That was triumph enough, considering how easy it was for the Ascendant to beat him down a single day before.

"Do not compare me to them," Cripple said. And now it was openly angry.

Shiv's mind whirled with possibilities. He knew the Abyss was a dangerous and fantastic place. In retrospect, he had gotten extremely lucky running into that group of Umbrals. If he'd encountered the first blood or a compact, his life could have turned out pretty different. Maybe he'd be more like Cripple in some ways. As the Ascendant and the newly legendary tiered Deathless matched their magically-charged Physicalities against each other, Shiv let out a breath.

"Fine, I don't blame you for reacting like that. I don't much like the bloodsuckers either." He remembered what the first blood did to Angelo’s village. Shiv might not suffer trauma like most people, but the sheer depravity and atrocity he witnessed marked him regardless.

Suddenly, Cripple drew back its arm and shook its head. "I apologize for losing control. I should be more composed." A few pieces fell away from its body. More coolant spilled down its legs, mingling with the puddles of blood. "I faced a great many nightmares in the abyss." Cripple looked down. "You might have noticed already. But what I display now, I am not ashamed to admit it. I am traumatized. I was separated from my comrades early on in our exile. I was taken by compact, traded to the vampires, then traded back to them again."

And that made Shiv understand Cripple more. "You were a slave."

"I was one of their warrior puppets in the Bloodworks—in their arenas," Cripple said. Its voice was thick with disgust. "My Path was already set, so they couldn't make a true slave of me. But still, I was bound. I was pressed to entertain them. Initially, they treated me as a surfacer attraction. A surfacer automaton they would use to cut down criminals, dissidents, and unfortunates." Cripple's hands shook. "I did not wish to shed their blood, but it wasn't up to me. I tried to resist. I tried." Cripple's words sounded like a plea now, and Shiv was practically enraptured. "You will discover something about being tortured." Cripple continued regarding Shiv, but then, after a moment, he unclenched his fist. "But I suspect you already know something about that, don't you?"

Shiv nodded. "Had a run-in with an eldritch entity," he admitted. "He tried to convert me, tried to change me. Didn't quite take, but it's not a thing I would recommend."

Cripple chuckled at Shiv's understatement. "Torture breaks you, eventually. There are path-bearers that can endure for months, years, perhaps even centuries, but eventually you will be worn down. Though my martial capabilities were considerable, though my toughness was without question my strength, capable of contending even against Pathbearers a tier above my own, there has always been a flaw in my source code."

"A flaw?" Shiv asked.

"A vulnerability in my will," Cripple explained. "It was conditioned into me from the moment of my creation. As I told you before, this world right now is soft and good. I understand why you were offended by my words, but I know it to be true. In the time of the Dusk King, before the Republic, before the Legendary-Tier Incursion finally concluded, Earth was a slaughterhouse. Path-bearers fought and died, desperate to carve a place for themselves in this uncaring world. The Manor was weaker, and so were we, but that just amplified our brutality. Many city-states and nations sought whatever means they could to gain an edge over their adversaries."

Somehow, Shiv understood intuitively. "Felling shit, you were a slave even before you went to the Abyss."

"Somewhat," Cripple said, but there was no anger in his voice, just exhaustion. "I didn't understand what a slave was at that point, and neither did my owners."

"Owners?" Shiv asked.

"I was regarded as a thing. Not a person. Before the Republic, the organics and the machines had a different relationship. As you might have noticed, an automaton's skill evolutions are far different in many ways. We are not susceptible to Psychomancy, and our bodies are more malleable."

Shiv took that opportunity to dig for some information. "The Inquisition came in on this large ship. Hawgrave referred to that ship as if it was a person. That was an automaton, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Cripple replied. "That was an automaton, a Heroic-Tier Automaton dedicated to bearing the weight of its fellow Pathbearers. We have skills that you cannot access, functions left over from the pre-integration. In those times, we did not evolve. We were simply rebuilt or modified. Our chassis could be changed on a whim. Our source codes could be updated."

"But the system doesn't want that," Shiv said. "The system wants you to struggle and only change through struggle."

"Correct," Cripple nodded. "And so, some of us gain evolutions that drastically alter our morphologies. Automatons who find themselves serving as couriers often gain skill evolutions titled Humpback Mark 13."

Shiv blinked as he tried to process what that skill name could possibly mean. 

"It is related to vessels from the old world," Cripple explained. "Vehicular models that we can adjust our material bodies, remake our material bodies into. And that was why we were considered invaluable. The old ways of technology had been lost, but through us some semblance of the ancients lived on. The ways they wielded electricity and silicone to create wonders. We were those wonders, and we became weapons."

Cripple's words made Shiv think of Can Hu. Forbidden Africa seemed to still operate the same way to this very day.

"I did not have a name during those times. But I did have a sense of self, as did many of my fellow automata. Though they did not question the commands of our owners, I often found myself wondering why we were raiding a certain village. Why we were murdering certain people. Why we had to bomb a stretch of defenseless farmland. And why so many of my siblings had to die. None of it made sense to me. And in time incomprehension grew to resentment."

"So you rebelled," Shiv said. 

The automaton nodded. "I rebelled. And my rebellion was brutal." The Deathless waited for the Ascendant to continue on with his story. Ultimately it didn't. "I have spoken enough about myself," it said with a weary weight in its voice. "I would rather hear from you now. I have given far, far more than I think is reasonable." The Ascendant hummed. "Be glad it is me you speak with and not Kathereine."

"Yeah, I am glad it's you I'm speaking with and not her," Shiv said with a shudder. "I want nothing to do with her. And if she comes near me, I'm going to either kill her or myself. Maybe not in that exact order."

"Had already had an encounter with her, I see," Cripple commented with a faint note of derision.

"Yeah, she was at Blackedge just a bit before you. Her and Halsur."

"Ridiculous," Cripple spat. "As if we were not divided enough. As if we were not on the verge of shattering ourselves for her petty grievance against the Starhawk.”

Shiv squinted at the Ascendant and decided to press his luck. "You know, the Starhawk said something about you. He said you were the closest to him in terms of morality."

Shiv's words made Cripple flinch. "He sees too much in other people, as usual. The Starhawk is a fool."

"And I'm a brute," Shiv said. "And you're kind of a pussy. We all got our problems."

The Avatar angled its head at him. And Shiv got the feeling the Ascendant was glaring through its mortal vessel. "Regardless, continue. Do not speak of Ascendants in Blackedge for now. Tell me how you gained your skill. We have gone too far, of course."

The Delve was... Shiv frowned, trying to find the words. "Well, that was pretty straightforward. I had to do a quest and overcome five encounters. The first four were adversaries I faced during prior evolutions, or what I regarded as essential moments."

"You faced yourself at the end," Cripple asked.

"Yep," Shiv replied. "Faced myself. Found it kind of a pain in the ass, to be honest. I had to defend the town for the quest. Defend Blackedge and the people on it." Shiv neglected to mention they were victims of his sloppiness, who perished before because of the collateral damage he inflicted. "Anyway, as I went through the encounters, the legendary skill adjusted itself. And eventually I got Leviathan of the Shapeless Tides.”

"And that was all?" Cripple asked, sounding as if he didn't believe Shiv. “You didn’t gain a blessing to manifest a monstrous form? A special transformation given to you by another god or through a skill?”

"Just like that," Shiv said, without a moment's hesitation. He tried to shrug, but the chains and metal bands holding his body in place made it hard. A grunt of annoyance escaped Shiv. "But I do have a guess as to why it's so easy. Main reason is I’m plenty monster already.”

Cripple held out a finger and spun, urging Shiv to continue. The Deathless held back a smirk. He wanted to see how the Ascendant responded to his following statement. "So there's a good chance that my soul and mind might have parts from a Tarrasque," Shiv paused, "or maybe parts that were inspired by a Tararsque. Not sure, you'll have to ask Udraal Thon."

"Udraal!" Cripple nearly choked. He stared at Shiv. The Ascendant stared at Shiv for a long moment and finally looked away. "Then, Veronica's suspicions were true. Damnation. Udraal Thann… Using our Pathbearers for your twisted experiments…”

Shiv waited for Cripple to say something else, maybe make a comment on how they confirmed things with Valor, but when it didn't, a faint flame of hope ignited inside Shiv. If they had Valor Thann, he suspected Cripple would have told him. Especially considering Valor’s relationship with Udraal and how he was in Starhawk's Perch. And that made Shiv remember something. 

When he asked the Ascendant about Starhawk's Perch, they told him the town suffered many casualties. They told him that Adam was in a medical coma, but they said nothing about the Perch itself. And it said nothing about the Tarasque, either. This is either really, really good or really, really bad, Shiv thought to himself. Good? Uva and the others might have escaped down in the Abyss. Bad? The Tarrasque killed them all. And the latter thought made his stomach tumble with nausea. Let's go with good for now.

"Has he made contact with you?" Cripple asked. There was a hint of urgency in the Ascendant's voice. And when Shiv shook his head, a sigh of relief escaped the Avatar. "Then it is not as dire as I feared. He is still absent. He is still exiled."

"Exiled?" Shiv said.

"You do not know?" Cripple asked, sounding surprised.

"About what?" Shiv said. His insides tightened. He wondered if he had made a mistake.

Cripple elaborated. "The main reason behind the Abyss War was the death of an Ascendant." Shiv's eyes widened, and it got even wider when Cripple continued. "You were right. Before thirteen, there was twenty. And among our number were Pathbearers of all skills and talents." Cripple paused. "One of them was named... Maia, the Artist."

It took everything Shiv had not to burst out laughing. Suddenly, Shiv knew something, and the Cripple didn't. It was like they both had pieces to a larger puzzle, but only one of them was putting it all together.

"She was a powerful mage, and an incredible artist, as evidenced by her name," Cripple explained. There was a tone of wistfulness to its voice, as if it missed Maia greatly. "She was one of my fellow gladiators for a time, but the Lords of Law noticed her talents in artistry and her beauty, and so she was elevated from the Bloodworks, becoming something more akin to a celebrity." The Ascendant fell quiet for a beat. "It was only because of her that I managed to escape my fate, that I made that final pilgrimage with the other Ascendants, and took hold of our own destiny, and brought a new shape to this world."

Shiv fought the urge to tell Cripple that the one he knew as Maya was still alive, or at least still alive in some fashion. Shiv knew her now as the forgotten Ascendant, the forgotten artist, if judged by the burnt tome she left behind. Not yet, Shiv told himself. Not unless we can get something out of it. We know she's working with Udraal, and if we tell Cripple that directly, it's probably not even going to believe us. That's what Psycho-Cartography was warning him. The truth was often ignored when reality got too uncomfortable.

"We do not know how he did it," Cripple said, a growl of anger entering its voice. "But Udraal descended into the Great One, and somehow," the Ascendant's fist was clenched again. "Somehow he found a way to slay one of us. She vanished in an instant, all of her dissolved. Her presence was taken from this world, and retribution needed to be met."

"So you mustered your forces and decided to go down." Shiv thought about that for a moment, and he bit his lip. "Roland and the Eclipsebreakers… all that. Was that real?"

"That was," Cripple answered. "Despite everything, there was no propaganda there. Udral knew that his actions would have repercussions, and so he forced a preemptive attack. Distract us to wound us badly enough that our own campaign would be delayed."

"And thanks to Roland, it wasn't," Shiv said.

"Indeed," the Ascendant let out a little humph of displeasure. "Whatever Roland's flaws, he was an exemplary Pathbearer."

"Was?" Shiv asked. Something twisted inside him. He began to feel the worst.

Cripple paused and regarded Shiv. "Blackedge is secured," the Ascendant began. "But there was an uneasiness in his tone. Yet, Starhawk's Perch itself was…"

No, no, no, Shiv screamed internally. Faces flashed before him. Faces of Uva, of Valor. Of George's, of Rose, even. He wasn't there. He wasn't there when they needed him then. He wasn't there, and it was because of the Ascendants. I’m going to kill them. I’m going to crush the entire Republic beneath my—

"Starhawk's Perch was swallowed by the Outside before it could be secured."

And suddenly Shiv's rising anger popped like a bubble. "What?" Shiv squeaked.

"You are surprised as well," Cripple commented. "You did not know this would happen? That this was the Starhawk's plan?"

"Starhawk's plan?" Shiv spat out before he could process anything. Frankly, none of this sounded like the Starhawk. This was probably more Uva or more likely one of the eldritch gods hidden inside her. He couldn't imagine Uva deciding it was wise to fling the perch into the Outside. So he could only guess that things got absolutely desperate.

Once more, a cord of anxiety tightened inside of Shiv. 

But he wasn't as worried a moment ago. The Tarrasque was one problem. It was a problem of problems. Even now with his Legendary Skill Shiv wasn't sure if he could beat the Tarrasque in a direct showdown without a lot of help. Especially considering how easily it managed to overwhelm both Marikos and Hawgrave. 

And how the Ascendants were still trying to deal with it, Shiv thought.

Cripple studied Shiv's surprise for a few seconds longer and took a step back. "If you did not know then you were at Blackedge purely to save the town. To repel the Tarrasque."

"I didn’t know about the Tarrasque," Shiv admitted. "I just had a quest for that whole town saving thing. It's the reason why I'm Legendary right now. Also, it was meant for me to stop a war from happening between the surface and the abyss. Look by the time you got there things were already halfway to hell. But before you arrived there were Necrotechs there. Rogue Necrotechs led by Vicar Sullain."

The avatar's finger twitched. "Sullain. The City-Lord of Submission?"

Shiv nodded. "He came back trying to take revenge on Roland for burning his city." Shiv ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "And he had help. Help from your inquisition."

"What?" Cripple breathed. A mechanical reverberation left its avatar's body like a crackle. "Say more. Tell me more."

And Shiv couldn't hide his smirk any longer. "The Tarrasque was supposed to be a backup plan," Shiv began. "Something used to delay a Legendary Pathbearer like Marikos. Of course it wasn't an Undying Tarasque at that point. Until Sullain took a little something from me." Shiv didn't say anything about his Vitae. The less the Ascendant knew about that, the better. But this increased the tension between them and gave Shiv another edge. “Before the Tarrasque, though, the Vicar was due to receive an Animancy Core. An Animancy Core that was supposed to pass through a gate and get delivered to Selene. So he could finally crack Blackedge's defenses."

"No, no," Cripple said. "That is madness. The Animancy Cores… They can ruin entire dimensions if used poorly. Devastate regions of existence.”

"Well, one was going to Selene," Shiv interrupted, spitting his words through gritted teeth. "I don't care if you don't want to believe me. One was heading in that direction until it was intercepted. Intercepted by me and Adam Arrow, along with our allies in the Abyss." Shiv didn't want to reveal Uva's presence, especially considering she was the Starhawk's current avatar. If they found out about that, well, no telling what kind of trouble would follow. 

"We intercepted the Animancy Core. We disabled it and made sure it never got used on Blackedge. It never got used on Starhawk's perch." Shiv looked off to the side, trying to project his displeasure. "Listen, Cripple, you seem to care a lot about your fellow Ascendants. But some of the others, well, they really wanted the Starhawk dead. Because the Inquisition was in contact with Sullain the whole time. Through one Master-Advisor Oldsmith."

The avatar was trembling. Part of Shiv considered if the Ascendant was acting surprised. But something told him Cripple wasn't that good at performing. "And right now in a cell, Master-Inquisitor Sijik is being interrogated by Vultegs for trying to raid Gate Theborn." And that was a bit bullshit. He was interrogated by Uva, but she had been masquerading as a Vulteg at the time. And Shiv kept up that lie just to see how Cripple would react.

"And how do you know this?" Cripple demanded.

"Because I was there during the interrogation," Shiv snapped. "Who do you think helped the Vultegs stop the Animancy Core from going off inside their Gate? How do you think I got back to the surface so fast? How do you think me and Adam were capable of challenging the rogue Necrotechs? Did you think we were just doing that on our own? That we didn't have support?"

Cripple was speechless, but he didn't refute any of Shiv's points. 

"No!" Shiv kept going. "We weren't alone. And there are people in the Abyss who want this peace to continue as much as you do. Now, I don't much care about the Lords of Law or Compact or whoever they work with. I know you have bad history with them. But they intercepted a good amount of things from your Inquisition. They have sync-letters going between Master Advisor Oldsmith and Master Inquisitor Sijic talking about all sorts of things. Things that have to do with Vicar Sullain. Things that revealed a bit of a double-cross happening at the end there because the Inquisition wanted to take charge of the Animancy Core so the good Vicar didn't just use it to blast everything out of existence." 

The Deathless snorted. "You ever see an Animancy Core go off, Ascendant? There's nothing quite like it. It's a real faint patch of blue that swallows the world. But then it seems to sear whatever it touches into reality. And when you're near that seared patch, you can hear screaming. You can hear the Pathbearer trapped there forever. I've done some pretty mean things to people. I've killed people in ugly ways. But that, I would never do that to someone."

And Shiv was kind of bullshitting right now again. He loved the fact that the Recollector was seared into reality. He loved it because the Recollector tortured seven shades of shit out of him beforehand. And Shiv was, despite trying to improve his maturity, a spiteful bastard.

"If what you're saying is true…" Cripple began.

"Then, then, then what?" Shiv cut the Ascendant off. "Are you going to tell me that there's nothing you can do again? That it's just the way the world is?"

Silver Tongue 33 > 34

"No!" Cripple shouted. And finally, his rage was radiating, pure and true. For the first time, Shiv felt the complete and unfettered might of Cripple, and it slammed against him. It was only because of his Legendary Skill Evolution that he survived. Shiv pushed back with Leviathan of the Shapeless Tides. His vectors of force, both overflow and innately generated, smashed against the incandescent mana detonating free from the avatar's body. Bits of the avatar broke away, dissolving into particles of ash. They were no longer humanoid. Rather, they were a cracking husk birthing the power of a god. 

"If what you say is true," Cripple's voice echoed, making the Orichalcum cage shake and whine with strain, "then the Inquisition will experience a new purge. A proper cleansing to fix these ill seeds festering inside its structure.”

"Well, what I am saying is true," Shiv growled as he held the god’s power back. "And you just need to go ask City Lord Stormhalt, because Sijik was working under him. Stormhalt had more than one thing going on, too, by the way. There was a Jealousy at the gate. It was meant to guard the Abyssal Gateway, but it was contracted to help steal the Animancy Core by Stormhalt. I can prove it. He underwent a skill contract with the Jealousy. If you have someone examine his skill statuses, one of them should be broken."

Shiv pulled on his red-gold chains in discomfort. His Legendary Skill was working hard. His overflow was practically spent—enough to strength to crush Blackedge down to powder, barely holding a god’s presence at bay. He used his innately generated force to hold the incandescent power at bay. Divinity was a crushing weight. Shiv could carry a mountain with ease now, perhaps. But a mountain that constantly built more and more. A mountain that was beyond the concept itself. 

That was above this reality. That hurt him. That strained him. That brought more than his body to the brink. His mind wailed as well. And Shiv finally understood the true beauty of being a legend. It allowed you to contend with the power of a God. Because you reached into the very foundations of a skill. 

Shiv was a manipulator of force. A source of force. But he was not force absolute. A god felt like force absolute. Yet, he could survive a god. If he was clever, if he was prepared, if he had force to spend. He could survive for long enough to escape. But if he wasn't, and in a prolonged confrontation, death was still inevitable.

Five seconds passed. Shiv knew by the heartbeats thundering inside his chest. Then finally, all of a sudden, the avatar crashed down to the ground, smoke rising from its ruined body, and a little distorted note rattled out of its skull. "I apologize once more," Cripple said, sounding more tired than anything else. "I… I do not wish to believe you. I do not wish to believe that the Inquisition has betrayed its purpose so much. That it has fallen to making deals with greater demons and enemies of our nation. Stormhalt… What have you done…”

Shiv didn't much like Stormhalt, so he decided to twist a knife. "Yeah, and also ask him about all the food he promised the Jealousy." Shiv grinned. "You know what a Jealousy eats, right?"

"I do," Cripple said, utterly displeased. "And if your words ring true, then I will see him punished. I will see him executed. Slowly. Publically.”

And with every syllable delivered, the avatar's body came back together. The pieces it lost weren't replaced. Rather, a fire was spilling out of it. A fire that revealed new components to his body. And Shiv guessed that those components were from Cripple itself. From what Shiv could make of Cripple, his body was jagged and angular. More like a collection of blades locked together than a humanoid shell. His legs were spider-like in some sense, and also digitigrade at the feet. 

The avatar's fist turned into a dense column of slatted metal. More than slatted, it also had fluted with how many vents ran along the arm. Incandescent mana bled out from the vents, and the interior of the Orichalcum cell grew uncomfortable once more.

"Not sure if this is entirely wise, Cripple," Shiv said, deliberately trying to provoke the Ascended. "Stormhalt's  Halsur's guy, isn't he?" Shiv clicked his tongue. "That seems to be a bit of a problem. Might affect your harmony with the other Ascendants."

"What harmony?" Cripple growled out. "What harmony comes with the sacrifice of our citizens? What was the point of our sacrifice if we are seeing the very people we need to protect sacrificed?" The automaton Ascendant was stuttering now. It was genuinely outraged. And despite everything, Shiv found the slightest bit of appreciation burgeoning inside himself. Cripple was full of shit. Cripple was kind of a coward. Cripple had a lot of problems. A lot of trauma. But Cripple wasn't a complete liar. Cripple still loved Yellowstone. And what Stormholt did? Well, that might just get the City-Lord killed.

"Well, go ask him," Shiv finally commented.

"When he returns," Cripple declared. "When the Tarrasque is finally driven southward."

"Southward?" Shiv replied. He was surprised by the Ascendant's statement. "What the hell is southward? You gonna dump the Tarasque on Lone Star?"

"No. Further than that," Cripple continued. "We're going to push it into the land of the Obsidian Serpent, where the hegemony always wait to drive their fangs into our veins."

Shiv blinked as he tried to figure out what Cripple was talking about. But geography wasn't his strong suit. Neither was writing, reading things that weren't set lists, math... 

Psycho-Cartography: When we break out of this place, and we manage to get Black Edge back, after saving Adam, we're going to go back to the gate, we're going to build up our defenses, and we're going to sit in a nice spot for a long while and just study. Whoever comes our way, we kill, and we go back to studying. Because this isn't going to work.

"Maybe you should go out and seek your friends. Go help your friends," Shiv said. His suggestion was glib. He knew Cripple wasn't going to leave him in the cell, but there was no harm in trying. "The Tarrasque is a real godsdamned, considering it has 12 Ascendants on its ass and still hasn't died. You punched a pretty good hole through it earlier. Maybe you can do that again."

"Unlikely," Cripple said. "The Tarrasque has adapted, adapted to most things. It is no longer resistant to most forms of damage. It is outright immune, at least immune at the very ceiling of this world's power. It will take a concentrated effort to overwhelm its many skills now. Armies of Pathbearers or multiple gods working in tandem through their avatars."

"More than the Republic?" Shiv had asked.

"More than the Republic," Cripple declared. "But before we slay it, we can make use of it. Our enemies should share in our misfortune.”

And once more, Shiv's admiration for Cripple, as small as it was, died in a moment. The Deathless chuckled humorlessly. "You rat bastard. I guess I thought too much of you, too.”

"It is nothing the Southerners and their gods would not do to us."

"Oh, I'm sure. I'm sure they're pieces of shit too. I'm sure everyone's world is somewhat of a piece of shit. Frankly, I think we can justify anything with someone else being a piece of shit. Maybe the next time New Albion says something we don't like, we should drop the Tarrasque on them too. Actually, do you mind loaning the Tarrasque to me? Because I need to give the First Blood a compensation gift for all the vampires I've killed."

"As appealing as that sounds, and as understandable as your mockery is, this is simply what must be done," Cripple declared. "There is no room for mercy or weakness in a struggle between nations. The Yellowstone Republic is stable because we make it so. Because we, the Ascendants, guard this land against all corners, against all adversaries. Through our power and our Prismatic Guard, this nation is maintained. Prosperity rises, and there is a future, rather than an eternal struggle."

Shiv wanted to argue, but he decided to consider the Ascendants' points. The Ascendants were the glue that kept the Republic together. Of that, he was sure. Without them... well, without them, Shiv wasn't sure what would happen to the Republic. Some cities might break off, but if he had to make a guess, he suspected that the larger cities, such as Fortress-City Diego, might just actually start annexing territory. And soon there would be another Republic, Empire, or Faith where Yellowstone was. Ruled by a Legend or a god or someone stronger than all the others. Because that's the way it worked everywhere. 

Even in Weave, where life was truly gentle, and there was a sense of innocence and stability in the atmosphere, thanks to the Composer's presence, there were problems. And the composer was the one with the final say.

That realization made Shiv frown a bit. The system loved the individual. It empowered those who triumphed against impossible odds. But there was something wrong with that. Just because someone was an incredible warrior or an overwhelming mage, it didn't make them a good leader. Shiv thought about Selane. 

The vicar was an Omnimancer. He was probably the single greatest mage Shiv had ever faced. Yet he betrayed himself. He let himself be killed by Shiv and a small army of orcs, when he could have just used his workings from afar, or simply left the battlefield, even assisted the Tarrasque. If Sullain continued working with the Tarrasque, then perhaps everyone would be dead. But he was blind, and he was wounded at the heart. And so he fell.

He fell, and Shiv's mind trailed off. How the hell did Sullain get to Legendary? Shiv thought to himself. How the hell did he beat himself? But then, as Shiv considered it more, it made perfect sense. If Sullain was this emotional, then perhaps his clone was equally emotional. Perhaps they traded barbs, and immediately the clone broke down first, and Sullain fought him. After a few tries, Sullain eventually won. That could be pretty stupid, Shiv thought. But that's probably the outcome.

"No," Cripple said once more. "So long as you are within this cage, I must—" and then the cage rumbled. Everything rumbled. A loud noise followed that sounded like a scream, but it reverberated in the air, detonating as if a thunderstorm had been unleashed within the prison. The avatar froze and looked upward. Shiv did as well. A second thereafter, a loud broadcast filled the room. A broadcast unleashed telepathically, drenching the prison in a loud orcish voice.

"Good evening, Pathbearers. If you heard that roar, that means that every single monstrosity you have caged within level 900 section 7 just got released. I don't know much about these mana controls you have here, but I do know enough about how to break them. Now, I'm going to go through every other mana control I can access and unleash everything you have caged in this prison. 

“My name, for those of you who wish to know it, is Bonk. I'm an orc. I'm of the Challenger. And on this day, I will be offering you your in-prison entertainment. To the guards, I strongly suggest you band together and try to hold the prisoners at bay. This breakout will be rather brutal. I have taken a peek at some of the denizens in your cells. They are quite substantial. You comparatively, well, let's just hope your Ascendant here comes to save you."

And with every word Bonk said, Shiv's grin grew wider. I’m starting to love that orc.

The avatar turned to stare at him, and Shiv cracked his neck. "All right, Cripple, let's come to another deal. You let me out of this cage, and I'll help you contain the breakout. Keep some of the guards safe. Or you can go yourself, and I'll try to break out in the meantime. You know I will, I'm not going to lie to you." Before Cripple could say anything, Shiv added a final outcome. "Or we could both sit here and do nothing. But then all the deaths will be on your conscience. Can you take that?"

Cripple glared at Shiv for a long moment and then shook his head. "You will remain here. Attempt escape if you must, but understand that I will find you and I will place you back within the cell. It is for your own safety."

"No," Shiv said, his voice turning harsh. "It's just for your security. Because you can’t control me, and you don’t want to risk someone else getting the reward on my head. And when I do break out the cell, I'm going to crush it. I'm going to crush it like a can, and I'm going to vanish. You will not find me. You will try, and it might take me a little bit to figure out this prison, but I'm going to get out. And when I do, I hope you get to Stomrhalt before I do because I have a few questions to ask him. And I won’t be nice like I was with you.”

Just then a piercing scream came from above. It was not a monstrous scream. No, it was a scream of a female Pathbearer and it was accompanied by the sound of ripping flesh. A growl of frustration escaped Cripple, and he vanished in a puff of incandescent ashes. As soon as he did, Shiv enacted his plan. A tide of force exploded out from his body, rushing along the chains through his Orichalcum bonds. 

They slashed into the mana infusing his Orichalcum cell against the spell patterns present, and the mana began to rip and spill. Patterns broke like rusted cages or severed tendons. Several of the spells tried to trigger. A blast of Psychomancy hit Shiv, and he felt his mind collapse in on itself only momentarily before another innate pulse of might was generated. With that, he pushed it back. He held it at bay tore through the spell patterns present.

A blast of heat struck Shiv in the chest. Lightning lashed into his bonds, trying to overwhelm his body. Lightning infused with Biomancy that was meant to compromise his nervous system. Shiv pushed back with more than his Legendary Skill. He used his biomancy to keep himself stable, resisted the adversarial effects until he ripped that asunder as well. 

Soon, Shiv's overflowing vectors were circulating through the Orichalcum prison. He unleashed more and more. Those he couldn't focus on detonated in slashes of surging force. But Shiv practiced his mind, practiced his Multi-Tasking skill, as the Orichalcum chamber rattled, screamed, and finally began to crack. Fissures spread along its length. It continued drawing from his willpower to sustain its toughness.

In vain.

Shiv's might far exceeded the durability of this cage. With a final ripple of strength, he channeled his might and pried at the cracks, bending it open as if a tin can rather than a cylinder of Orichalcum. The red-gold alloy of unmatched hardness shrieked as it endured enough kinetic energy to displace mountains and tear the earth down to the very foundations of the world. But soon Shiv’s strength went beyond that, and the Orichalcum just could keep up anymore. There was enough power leaking from him that it could turn unwarded cities to dust, could flatten mountains. And all that force tore a meter-wide gap into the Orichalcum.

The Deathless let out a wheeze as he shook off the burning feeling in his muscles. As another ripple of strength thundered out from inside him, he felt his vigore return—and turned his innate force on himself. He crushed his heart, pulping it in an instant. And as his body went slack, his vitae burst out from his corpse, and he began to slither through the crack.

Multi-Tasking 24 > 26

Aegis of Assimilation 112 > 114

Just as Shiv started squeezing his way out, Cripple returned in a blast of incandescent fire. But the moment he rematerialized, Shiv shifted out of context. He slithered into the gap and continued to pry, continued gliding his way through.

Shiv couldn't help but laugh. Outside Context Problem was a wonderful skill to have. "Now," Shiv said to himself, "let's find Bonk so I can give him a hug. And also so that I can figure out where the rest of my equipment went." Despite all the dangers and threats looming on the horizon, he was feeling excited. “I always wanted to break out of a prison.”

Outside Context Problem 87 > 88

***

The Ascendant stared at the corpse and looked up, looked up at the large spiderweb of fractures left in the structure. Cripple’s core filled with dread as it considered what kind of creature was strong enough to tear a meter-wide fissure into Orichalcum. That was a Legendary-Tier act of strength.

At least.

But then…

 "Who are you?" Cripple asked aloud, staring at the dead, musclebound man hanging from his Orichalcum bonds. "And who did this to you?”