III-37 Infusion

As Pathbearers we constantly evolve. Our skills are engines of metamorphoses. With every experience, every feat, every trial we survive, they grow watered by the stories of our lives, shaped by our rising legend.

From Initiate to Hero, our Skill Evolutions evolve of their own accord. They are shaped by our choices, by our actions, by what we lived through, but we don't choose what they become. It is an unconscious progression, and that seems to be the case of things. But when you reach legend, that case changes. Everything changes at Legendary-Tier.

You delve into yourself for the first time. I remember when I first descended into myself. I came back less than who I was, or so it felt at first. I thought I lost something.

Focus, Udraal. Center yourself.

Legendary. Legendary is where things begin. It's not where they end. Legendary is where you start determining your true path. Your path to the future. No longer can you just let your skills evolve without thinking, without guidance. No. You must become an embodiment of your skill, then. And that embodiment will reshape you utterly. And therefore, a fusion begins. One that allows us to undergo a grander metamorphosis. A spiritual metamorphosis. Greater than anything that came before.

But that is our limit for now. Our ceiling. There is not enough mana on our world to let us evolve faster, to grow stronger, to reach further. But I need it. I need more mana. I need more evolutions. Even with my legendary skills. It is not enough for my projects, for what I want to achieve.

It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enough. It will never be enough. It will never. It will never…

I will. I will find a way. I will find a way and make it enough. I will do that.

I need to consider all my options. I need to consider an incursion. Whichever one I might be able to invoke. The continuation of the project is priority above all.

No matter the cost. No matter the cost.

I will bring her back. And I will break the system. 

Do you hear me system? Do you? Are you even capable of it? I will come for you. I will…

-Udraal Thann’s Animancy Notes

III-37

Infusion

The orcs were some of the finest chefs Shiv had ever worked with, aside from Georges. All it took was getting them to focus on the right thing. Everything led back to dominance with the orcs. Previously, they were trying to dominate him, to humiliate him by proving their own skills superior. In the process, they failed the dish, and now their own pride were on the line. Now, the orcs turned their collective efforts to making sure the food was made and made well, because what was the point of being better than Shiv if they botched the cooking?

There was nothing to be gained from shared failure.

And that got Shiv to realize the orcs weren't just cruel monsters. They were also Pathbearers—Path-bearers who desired to grow, to prevail, to achieve, experience, and more. Every one of the orcs was different from the others in major and minor ways, but all of them cared about being competent. Whatever their personality, the orcs were extremely self-motivated. They didn’t shrink away from defeat or discomfort. The only thing that truly stung their egos was shame. Shame that they betrayed their own strength to show up Shiv.

Because I’m just an interesting whetstone to them, Shiv guessed. They’re not going to betray their strength just to inflict weakness on me. They’re trying to get something meaningful out of this conflict, too.

This understanding accompanied Shiv as he and the Orcs worked to finish the recipe. After handling a few more cuts, he let Whisper do the leaner ones. The orc's control over his knives was spectacular, but his lack of Hydromancy, Pyromancy, and Biomancy made him best suited for the pure-flavored cuts.

Band, meanwhile, reduced the amount of dimensionals he directed, bringing them down to only ten. Instead of hovering in the air and doing flourishes, he was on the ground with Shiv. And he pulled at his bow as if it was a surgical instrument. His eyes were narrow. And he showed Shiv every piece of meat he finished to make sure it went well—neither of them moved on until The Chef Unwavering painted the meat good and bright.

At the same time, Mortar monitored the skillet’s heat. Despite being the most brutish of the orcs on the surface, Mortar was quite the communicator. He persistently and constantly checked with Shiv about the temperature, and did everything he could to achieve the perfect burn.

And off by the side, the sweet smell of rice wine filled the air, as Tequila finished concocting his alcoholic beverage. Shiv wasn't sure how the orc did it that fast, so he must have had a skill, and a good one at that. When he was done, he joined in on marinating the meats as well, and his Awareness of just how suffused every cut was rivaled Shiv's.

Alone, it would have taken Shiv a full day of unceasing work to prepare the pan-seared basilisk with abyssal mango and loomgrape glaze paired with cauliflower, mushrooms, and glass peppers. Together, they did it in around four hours.

When the dishes were done, pillars of delectable smoke climbed high into the air, folding along the underside of the Court Leviathan and coating it in steam. Two mountains rose high below. The first was made up of neatly cut bricks of meat. Equal portions of purple and yellow meats were stacked high at the center were the lean pure-flavored meat were. On the sides were the mixtures—the mango and loomgrape blends stored within the fattened cuts. The pan-seared basilisk with abyssal mango and loomgrape glaze was as colorful as it was flavorful, and it proved a radiant accompaniment to the mushroom-crowned and glass pepper encircled hill of cauliflower that loomed nearby.

The Umbrals and Weaveresses moved in to start delivering some of the food across the gate, but the ones who were present received plates and were invited to dig in on the spot. Rice wine flowed as well, and its alcoholic sting proved the main attraction for some mercenaries who came seeking drunkenness.

Meanwhile, Shiv found himself having a stare-down with the orcs again, but this time, he had Adam and Uva by his side.

“So,” Whisper said, skewering a piece of meat with a gleaming blade and holding it up before the Deathless, “it has come to this. Time to see if our efforts have borne fruit.”

“If not, we’re all in agreement about blaming the Insul, yes?” Tequila asked. Three cigarettes bounced up and down with his moving lips, and he somehow managed a brief sip of rice wine while speaking as well.

“Yeah,” Band growled, grinning at Shiv.

“Can’t be anyone else’s fault by this point,” Mortar chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, kiss my godsdamned ass assholes,” Shiv snorted. He looked down at the food in his own plate and let out an anxious breath. “Alright. Let’s see this is more than shit this time.”

He levitated a piece of fattened meat using his Biomancy and slid it into his mouth. A chunk of yellow-crusted and purple-veined basilisk meat vanished into Shiv’s mouth. With each bite, the flavors of the meal danced together upon his tongue, evolving from sweet, to acidic and sour, to sweet again, with a final lingering sourness to seal the deal.

This was the taste he had been chasing. And it worked. More importantly…

Pan-seared Basilisk with Abyssal Mango and Loomgrape Glaze paired with Cauliflower, Mushrooms, and Glass Peppers has boosted your Toughness and Reflexes and given you Basilisk Venom Immunity.

Skill Gained: Leadership 1 (Common)

The Chef Unwavering 62 > 63

The movements of the world around Shiv slowed slightly, but he felt his flesh harden, felt his nerves ignite with buzzing energy, and felt something swell inside his blood. He guessed the last sensation was him getting venom immunity. That made him frown a bit. Before Plaguefueled, he would have found that to be a spectacular boost. Now, it was getting in the way of one of his best boosting skills.

Need to start adding a section to the recipe list about foods that I can feed other people but shouldn’t eat myself. I’m going to have to develop something like a skill diet.

The orcs ate their fill as well, and each of them nodded or let out grunts of satisfaction.

“A job well done,” Whisper said. “I can feel my nervous system firing. I haven’t gotten that from a meal in a while.”

“I can feel my ass getting firmer,” Mortar said.

“You don’t have an ass anymore, Mortar,” Tequila said as he threw down some more rice wine before he finished chewing his meat. “But somehow, I get what you mean.”

“Chef. Unwavering.” Band growled as he swallowed his piece of the pan-seared basilisk.

Shiv’s attention snapped back to the orc as Adam and Uva bit into their food for the first time. “Yeah. You know the skill.”

“Yeah. Not. Surprised. Student. Of. Georges.” Band chewed on a bit of cauliflower, deliberately ignoring Shiv’s glare.

“What do you know about Georges?” Shiv asked.

“Faced. Him. Once.” Band coughed, as he clutched at his throat.

“And what’s up with your voice? It sounds like you’re shitting a knife up your throat every time you speak.”

“He’s cursed,” Tequila said. “Got into a bit of a fight with a Fae Loreshaper some few years back. Now, he has to use his violin to sing for him. Before, oh, Insul, you should have heard his voice. It was magnificent. And quite devastating. His Physicality was mixed in with his voice, and with each cry came the force of a hurricane.”

“And now you have to fight to spit out every syllable,” Shiv muttered. He almost felt bad for the orc, but Band broke Shiv’s sympathy by just shrugging.

“Just skills. Just a life. Things gained. Things lost. Nothing special.”

The Deathless couldn’t understand that. Losing a skill was one of the truest fears he still had. He never wanted to be like Valor or Can Hu. “Our skills are what makes us who we are. You don’t care about losing them?”

Band regarded Shiv for a moment. The orcs were staring at him as well.

“You have been starved for much of your life, haven’t you, Insul?” Whisper said.

Shiv went stiff. He may have revealed too much about himself. “I eat fine these days.”

“He’s not talking about food,” Mortar replied. “Experiences. Happiness. Struggles. That kind of stuff. You haven’t had enough. You cling to things like someone who fears losing all they are.”

“Just how godsdamned high are all your Psychology Skills?” Shiv asked.

“Master-Tier,” all the orcs said in unison.

“Why?” Shiv whispered.

“Because learning your adversary from the inside out is the easiest way to learn how to break them,” Tequila replied as if he was commenting on the weather. “And learning about people is interesting. It’s fun to hunt. But it’s fun to know why someone does something. There are so many things about us that are similar. Especially you, Deathless. You’re quite orc-like… But then you’re not.”

“We evolve our skills to climb and live,” Whisper said. “But we don’t fear losing them. It feeds the true mastery.”

“True mastery?” Shiv asked. Uva was leaning, her curiosity was piqued by the orcs as well.

“Yes,” Whisper said. “Our skills give us options and power. But before that we were already Pathbearers because there was the want. The desire to grow and become someone else through struggle.”

“You think you’re a Pathbearer now? Because you got skills?” Mortar scoffed. “You lied to yourself, Insul. You were a Pathbearer long before. Even before you knew what you wanted to be, you were doing things to find out who you were. And that’s the truest way to live. Knee-deep in the struggle. Bet it all. Lose it all. Try again. Why else should we suffer if not to enjoy the tension?

Philosophy 7 > 9

Shiv was speechless. The orcs were getting good at consistently surprising him with their philosophies. If he didn’t know what they were—

No. That’s a mistake. I keep going back to what 811 did. But he did that just to provoke me. And he was likely more vicious because I killed his friend. They’re psychopaths. But they’re more than that. And sometimes they see through me.

“Know. Georges.” Band said. “Georges. Was. Friend. Saved. My. Life. Years. Ago.”

And here came more shit Shiv wasn’t expecting. “Band. Can you give me a moment to process my thoughts.”

“No. Eat. Shit. Pussy.”

The casual, growled vulgarity made Shiv cough out a surprised laugh.

“A few years ago, Band would have sang those lines, and they would have sounded great,” Tequila declared.

Band continued on, clearing his throat as best he could. “Was. Taken. Prisoner. Interesting. But. Miserable. Considered. Starting. New. Life. Georges. Prisoner. Too.”

“Prisoner?” Shiv said. He didn’t know this about Georges, but then again, he didn’t know much about Georges at all before he came to the Swan-Eating Toad. All of that predated Shiv. “Who took you prisoner?”

Band grinned. “Fae. Queen. Of. Tongues. Knife. From. Her. Moonsteel. Reward. Given. When. Georges. Won. Asked. For. My. Life. Too.”

The Deathless could only blink in response. Georges was a Heroic-Tier chef that had encounters with an orc and a fae queen?

“The fae have queens?” Uva asked.

“Yes,” Band said. “Only at midnight. Not before. Not after.”

“Why? That makes—” Uva’s question was interrupted by Adam shaking his head.

“I took a course on the fae, Sister. The Fae work very different from most races. Frankly, it’s hard to call them Pathbearers at all. They’re one of the few species that can change their Paths on a whim—but they also lose mana levels from performing certain acts and suffer wounds from words. The fae are… capricious in many ways.”

“Yes,” Band said. “Interesting. Taste. Good. Too.”

“And there’s that profundity transformed into raw brutality,” Adam said, looking wearily at Band. “I still need to speak with you about Vivalde.”

“Might. Not. Want. To. Speak. With. You.” Band turned away from Adam haughtily. “Have. Nothing. I. Want.”

Adam closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Well, you did it, Shiv. You found a bigger bastard than yourself.

“Yeah, he was waiting to do that to you,” Shiv said. Rejection was an easy way for Band to bother Adam and so the orc did.

“Need. More. Social. Skill.” Band told Shiv, deliberately ignoring Adam. The Gate Lord’s glare could have put a hole through a wall.

“So,” Whisper said, watching a few Umbrals pack away chunks of meat, “what do you have next for us, Insul?”

“Some scouting in the morning, some cooking in the afternoon. What might the evening bring?”

Shiv, Uva, and Adam shared a look.

“We need to keep these guys busy,” Shiv said, trying to keep his expressions controlled. “The orcs are great if they have a task, but if we let them just wander around, the likelihood they hurt someone rises fast.”

“You still have First Blood prisoners inside your cape,” Uva reminded him. “That, and we need to make plans to deal with the Inquisition and lift the siege of Blackedge. The intellectual difficulty of these tasks should occupy their attention, somewhat.”

A wall of apprehension formed around Adam’s mind. “So, what, we’re going to invite them into the planning process, too?”

“They’re experienced,” Shiv said, swallowing the discomfort hidden within that statement. “More experienced than any of us. They’ve lived more lives. They’re all at least True Masters, and if we give them a fight, they’ll throw everything they have at it.”

“Talking about what you’re going to do with us?” Tequila said, looking at the trio. His gaze skipped over Shiv and Uva to rest on Adam. “Oh. You’re the holdout.”

“What?” Adam said. The startlement in his voice betrayed his position immediately.

“You press your lips together hard when you have doubts,” Tequila said, tapping his bottom lip. “You’re used to watching other people, Gate Lord. But not watching yourself. Understandable, but still a flaw.”

Mortar let out a grunt of annoyance and pushed Tequila away. “Talking us out of a good fight again, dumb cunt. Just can’t stop being a detective, can you?”

“It was the best job I ever had,” Tequila said, his words muffled behind Mortar’s large, armored fingers.

“Yeah, especially considering you were half the serial killers in the city as well.”

“That's a lie—I was only three of the ten serial killers active at the time. And I killed most of the other serial killers as well, so my presence in the HKPD was still an overall benefit.”

Mortar shook his massive head. “What the mouth here intends to say is that we shouldn’t be idle, yeah? If we’re idle, we’ll find things to do. Things you may not like doing. But if you point us at a proper enemy…”

Adam let out a breath as he eyed Shiv. “Well. You’re just the bloody orc whisperer, aren’t you?”

“What? It’s not hard to understand. And if we get an army of orcs, maybe the best thing to do is have them maraud or something instead of using them defensively at all.”

“Isn’t it adorable when they learn fast,” Mortar laughed.

“Fine,” Adam said. “Let’s…” He looked toward the obsidian tower and thought to himself for a beat. “Okay. Here’s what we will do. First, You all finish doing whatever it is that needs doing with those vampires. Then, Shiv drains some of them for vitality and mends Can Hu’s skills.”

“Shit, the cooking made me forget about that,” Shiv hissed. 

He whipped his head to stare at Uva, and she did a double-take. “Well… Your cooking made me forget, too.”

“In the meantime,” Adam paused to sigh. “Let me get you up to speed about our problems. Our many, terrible, and miserable bloody problems.”

The orcs shared a look, then a collective grin of excitement. 

“You sound miserable, Gate Lord,” Whisper hissed. “Tell us more.”

***

While Adam and Uva led the orcs off to explain the problems and adversaries on the horizon, Shiv dealt with his vampiric prisoners and met up with Can Hu and Valor again to continue what they started earlier.

“Alright, Can Hu, are you ready for another dose?” Shiv asked. Twenty streams of Vitaemancy surged out from the Deathless, connecting him to the vampires interred within the detention center. The vampires themselves were catatonic—rendered so by Uva to ensure none of them could attempt an escape. 

And it wouldn’t be an easy escape, either. The detention center was only a temporary structure, but it was established near the obsidian tower where most of the gate’s current active forces were, and it was also designed to be an oubliette. This meant that it was built straight down into the ground, and the only way out was up.

Up through a series of magical barriers, dimensionals, and Umbral guards. And that was if they could overcome Uva’s Psychomancy in the first place.

Within the concrete cells of the prison were the recently captured vampires—aside from a certain Lucian, who was placed somewhere else at special request of Whisper. The Aviary owl was stored here as well, but on a deeper level compared to the vampires. He was constantly sedated and watched. Soon, he would be moved back to Elaboration along with the vampires for further processing.

For now, they would serve another meaningful purpose—restoring the broken skill of Can Hu.

“I am ready, Pathbearer,” Can Hu said, standing across from Shiv in the central hall of the prison. The way the Penitent moved was more effortless than before. Its joints screamed less, and its chassis had fewer cracks as well. Even so, there was something about the Penitent’s posture that screamed with discomfort.

“Something wrong?” Shiv asked Can Hu.

Can Hu stared at the streams of Vitaemancy connecting Shiv to some prisoners. “I have done things like this before.”

“Fixing your skills?”

“No,” Can Hu replied. “Blacksites. Securing prisoners. Making use of them. I remember implanting them with bombs. Bombs so small that few could sense their presence within the prisoner’s bloodstream. I remember using people as resources. Spending their lives. I remember their faces.”

Nearby, Valor regarded Can Hu and Shiv, but offered no comment. Instead, the Legendary Pathbearer was deep in a trance, his eyes burning with mana as he observed the process.

“Oh,” Shiv said, understanding why Can Hu seemed so awkward. “Yeah. I get it. But these are vampires, so fuck them. They have it coming.”

“Dehumanization has its own cost, Pathbearer,” Can Hu said.

Shiv nodded. “Can Hu. A few days back, I went to a village near the gate. Village, town, I can’t remember which. You can ask Angelo. He’s the only one I brought back. Angelo and the Court Leviathan. Everyone else was gone. The things they did to the people there—men, women, children… I’m not going to forget that. And I’m never going to forgive it. So. My opinion on vampires is unless they’re running from the First Blood, fighting the First Blood, or not associated with the first blood, it’s on sight for me. So, again, fuck them.”

Can Hu stared at Shiv and let out a mechanical sigh. “This hatred will shape you too, Pathbearer. I previously assumed you were going to use animals.”

“Yeah. And that’s what I’m doing right now. Now. Are you ready?”

The Penitent deliberated for a moment longer and straightened himself. “I request that you do not hollow them entirely.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Shiv chuckled grimly. “I need to leave enough of them for Elaboration to have their piece.”

Rationally, Shiv knew why Can Hu felt uncomfortable. But after all he experienced fighting the First Blood, and what he saw in the silo, he was spent on any kind of sympathy for the most of them.

Mass death happened when powerful Pathbearers fought each other. Shiv wanted to avoid collateral damage as much as he could, but sometimes, things just went wrong. What the vampires did wasn’t collateral damage. It was cruelty by culture and choice. At least the orcs had that itch they struggled against—were literally fed by their violence and sadism. The vampires did what they did because they could.

With that thought, Shiv ripped the vitality out from the first of the vampire prisoners before drawing it into himself. Thereafter, he cast his Vitae into Can Hu’s soul, filling an absence space. Seconds passed. The emptiness filled and the shape of something revealed itself. It felt like a mess of jagged fractals to Shiv’s senses. It’s like running my hand over broken glass.

As Shiv continued feeling at the pieces, Can Hu’s body came aglow and white and red. More cracks faded across its shell. And as that skill was restored, Shiv siphoned another vampire to fill another patch of spiritual nothingness. This happened twenty times in rapid succession. By the end, nine skills were restored, and all the vampires glowed dim with weakened vitality.

“It’s taking a lot more to fill up some of those bigger skills,” Shiv said, frowning. “The smaller ones get fed by just one or two vampires. I think they’re Adept-Tier Skills or lower. The Master-Tiers Skills? They require a whole other level of Vitae to patch up.”

“This is expected,” Can Hu said. “Skill Evolutions increase the potency and mana contained within a skill by many magnitudes. But…” Can Hu looked at its manipulator hands. The digits opened and closed almost naturally. A fluidity was returning to his movements. The grinding screams of metal on metal were fading. “It is working. I am… mending… I did not think this was possible.”

“Valor didn’t expect it either,” Shiv replied, drawing his Vitae streams back behind his Vitaemancy field. A faint weakness washed through him. He spent a bit more of himself than he expected, but still, it was worth it to see Can Hu coming back together. “But it’s working. Your skills are just damaged now. Means we can fix them. I hope.”

“I concur,” Can Hu replied. The Penitent took a few steps toward Shiv, and his articulations were practically human-like with how smooth they were now.

“You must’ve glided through the world back when you were whole,” Shiv said, observing the Penitent. “How fast were you?”

“Master-Tier,” Can Hu said. “Speed was not my specialty. I preferred distance and BVR combat.”

“What’s that mean?”

“To fight beyond visual range.”

“Oh, so you’re an Adam.”

“That is a way of categorizing me.”

“Did you have a Shiv?”

Can Hu considered the question? “No. There were some who fought in close quarters with the enemy, but no Penitent ever engaged targets in your manner. It was not conducive for a Penitent to operate in such a way.”

“You guys didn’t have any frontliners?”

“I would not classify you as a frontliner, Pathbearer Shiv.”

“What would you classify me as?”

Can Hu hesitated for a moment before replying. “Effectively suicidal.”

Shiv didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or frown. “Effectively suicidal.”

“Your willingness to harm yourself to obtain ammunition for your magic and inflict harm using your Inertial Overdrive moves you from vanguard to something akin to a veteran suicide bomber that has a method of surviving his suicides.”

And it occurred to Shiv that Adam could probably hear this conversation. “Can Hu… I don’t know if I feel flattered or insulted.”

“It is the truth of the matter. But it is also very effective. I recommend you enjoy your uniqueness, Pathbearer. That is good for your ego.”

And that got Shiv to chuckle. “Alright. Fine. How are you feeling?”

“Better than the prisoners, I suspect,” Can Hu said. Shiv regarded the vampires with his Biomancy. They were all laying motionless within their cells. “But also better than ever before. I… I missed the ease of movement. I have forgotten what it was like to walk without warring against my own machinery. What is lost and regained feels like a blessing. What is beyond your grasp remains a curse.”

“Was that a quote or something?” Shiv asked.

“A concept. For a poem.” Can Hu said. “It was among the first skills I developed after my crippling. It is among the reasons I survived at all.”

As Can Hu said that, Shiv noticed a part of the Penitent flickering. “Wait. Can Hu. Try using that skill again. I want to see something.”

Valor emerged from his silent observation as he regarded the Deathless. “Shiv? What are you trying to do?”

Shiv cast another stream into Can Hu. Once more, he poured his Vitae deep within the automaton. A coldness washed into Shiv, but he ignored it. His face turned into a mask of concentration as he waited for Can Hu to use his skill. “Can Hu. Poetry. Finding the missing skills is easy, but looking for specific unbroken skills is like rooting around blind underwater.”

“Why are you trying to reach his active skills?” Valor asked. He was hovering beside Shiv now, but the Deathless barely noticed him.

“I want to see how they feel. Maybe they can give me an idea about how to put the broken ones back together.”

Valor considered Shiv’s idea and hummed in acceptance. “It is not a bad consideration. But be careful. Do not risk Can Hu’s spirit. If you can restore a skill from being destroyed…”

“I might be able to break an intact skill,” Shiv finished. Then, Shiv reconsidered. “Or… I don’t know, Valor. Grasping at skills inside someone doesn’t feel the same as holding a physical object. They’re there, but they aren’t solid.”

“A conundrum or a path, the Pathbearers do not know,” Can Hu began, reciting words slowly. Just then, Shiv felt a disturbance ripple across his Vitae. He used that to find what he assumed to be Can Hu’s Poetry Skill. “And what lay at the end but… but… questions or…”

As Can Hu tested words and ideas aloud, Shiv found himself condensing his Vitaemancy around a single section within the Penitent’s soul. He traced the pulsating wavelength to its origin. But there he didn’t find a shape waiting for him. There were no pointed edges, and the sensation wasn’t like broken glass. Instead, it felt like an opening—like running his hands along a frame for an open door and passing through.

“The hells,” Shiv muttered.

“What do you sense,” Valor asked.

“It’s like my Vitaemancy is reaching down a hole or something.”

Can Hu paused and zoomed its optics in on Shiv. “I cannot feel anything, Pathbearer.”

“Yeah, that’s good. I think.” Shiv swallowed. He carefully guided his skill deeper into Can Hu, trying not to inflict damage, uncertain about what awaited deeper. “Damn, these skills go deep as—” And then, there came faint susurration. Words. “I hear something. I think it is a voice or… something.”

“You do?” Can Hu asked, surprised. “What is said?”

Shiv didn’t respond. Instead, he listened. He focused on his Vitaemancy. And as he reached deeper into the skill, something reached back across into him. A presence infused his Vitaemancy and filled it with a weight. The whispered noises grew louder, and they revealed themselves to be a chorus of voices reciting different poems; working on their prose. 

Can Hu wasn’t the only one voice among the symphony. And not nearly the loudest, either. “I’m hearing a lot of different people recite poetry,” Shiv said. “Your voice is there.” He looked to Can Hu.” But there’s also a lot of other people. Not sure why?”

“The collective experiences imbued with the skill,” Valor breathed. The Legendary Pathbearer sounded stunned. “Shiv. Do you have any idea what you have just done?”

“No?” Shiv blinked.

“You’re tapping into Can Hu’s yet-formed Skill Delve. When you reach Legendary, your Skill Evolves once more—but it also becomes a location inside of you. It is like an internal dimension formed from every experience you had leading to its creation.”

A slight nervousness swelled inside Shiv. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing.”

“It is something entirely new. Animancy allows you to edit parts of a soul—reshape portions of someone’s personal legend. But what you are doing here is direct access, if your feelings are true.”

“And what does that mean?” Shiv gasped, shivering. He was starting to shake. Weakness was rushing through him. Don’t have much more vitality to spend. 

“I am uncertain,” Valor admitted. He noticed Shiv trembling. “Shiv. Enough. We continue when you regain your vitality. There is no point in overdoing this. Mastery is not to be rushed.”

“Yep,” Shiv grunted in agreement as he pulled his Vitaemancy back. He moved slow, careful not to break anything, but as Shiv extracted his stream of white and red mana from the Penitent’s being. His Vitae merged with a vibrating presence, and each quiver that ran across the stream was followed by words being spoken.

“What is lost and regained feels like a blessing. What is beyond your grasp remains a curse.” Can Hu’s voice echoed from the streams of Vitae. Valor and Can Hu both turned to stare at the stream as it receded into Shiv.

“Can Hu,” Valor began. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes. Yes, I did, Legend Valor.”

Shiv did as well, and as he pulled his Vitae back behind his field, he felt something enter him and settle like sediment within his being. And thereafter, a notification appeared before his eyes.

Animated Skill Infusion Gained: Poetry — Lyrics Like Flowing Rivers 77 (Adept)

“Uh, Valor,” Shiv said. “Do you know what an Animated Skill Infusion is?”

The Legendary Pathbearer just stared at him. “No. I have never heard of such a thing. Why?”

“Well. I think I have some of Can Hu’s Poetry Skill inside me.” Shiv breathed. And from within his body, the muffled chorus of poetry continued. “And… It’s talking inside me.”

Valor stared at Shiv for a moment and nodded. “Stay here. I’m going to call Uva to connect my mind to yours. Do nothing to yourself. Do not even move.”

“I’m… I won’t explode, will I, Valor?” Shiv asked.

“I don’t know,” Valor said. And then he immediately shot out from the prison, leaving a stream of flame behind him. Can Hu and Shiv stared on.

“Can Hu,” Shiv said.

“Yes, Shiv?”

“I can hear my Vitae chanting poetry at me.”

“As can I.”

“It’s kind of scaring the shit out of me.”

“And I as well. Shiv?”

“Yeah?”

“Please do not self-destruct because you imbibed my Poetry. Such a death will offend me greatly.”