II-51 Core (III)

A lot of Pathbearers will tell you that trying to take a gate or a city or even a town while the Local Lord is still alive is probably the most miserable experience you can have in war. I beg to differ. I think the most miserable experience you can have is if you have is taking the gate, only to find the locals still hate you. 

A quick crash course for all you new Pathbearers out there: taking a gate or city or town or anything that comes with a mana core usually results in a complicated, messy process under the title of Synchronization.

What is Synchronization? Well, since a location’s mana core typically doesn’t start awakened and can't guide its own development, it usually needs to latch on to a lord, one person, one Pathbearer to shape its growth and concentrate its mana. And mana cores often output a hell of a lot more power than any individual Pathbearer does. So you can imagine how miserable trying to take a location is when the local mana core is constantly smashing you with an earthquake, a tornado, and a tsunami of flesh-eating eels all at the same time.

Connected to the term Synchronization is the term Desynchronization. This frequently happens when everyone within the core stops thinking of the local Lord as actually being the Lord. The easy way to do this is simply by killing all the people aside from the Lord, or enough of them that morale completely collapses.

 It sounds simple, but functionally, it's not that easy to do since, well, you have to push all the way into the core. That usually results in 10-to-1 attritional losses, favoring the defender.

The other easy way is to simply destroy the local Lord's good name, to make him seem weak or incompetent or unable to protect them. Understand this: people shape a location and it’s skills, and if at any point all the people collectively decide that their current Lord isn't up to the task, he or she will start experiencing desynchronization. As in, the mana binding him to the core will withdraw and the mana core will turn to an unattuned state. If left there, the mana core will then proceed to the next stage, mana decay, in which all the skills it has accrued and all facilities, environments, and other developments it achieved will collapse.

So back to the problem at hand: you've taken a place, and now you're trying to anoint a new Lord. But if there are any survivors left over, they might not consider the one you appoint to be the new Lord, so it doesn't work. So you have to get rid of all them first and move in your people, except that usually completely cripples the city because there's not nearly enough people, not enough population, not enough history, not enough development, not enough changes. The core enters a state of decay as well. Remember if it has mana, it's shaped by legends, feats, achievements, and struggles just like a Pathbearer. And when you stop being able to surpass your previous struggles, well, you start decaying.

So, weirdly enough, the most dangerous time to be a Lord is right after you kill the previous one. Of course, this isn't a problem if you just intend to destroy the place and leave. After all, if your only intention is to deny a location to your enemy, things become a lot more simple.

-Memoirs of a Master-Tier War Mage

II-51

Core (III)

Adam drove his Wings of the Starhawk into the last raven's face. The spy screamed as intense heat seared into his eyes, and that was enough to distract him from the struggle—enough for Adam to form a final set of hydrokinetic hands and drive his curved, stellarite saber through the man's throat. 

As the raven gurgled, Adam took a step back, out of breath, and shot the dying bastard three more times with his Veilpiercers. And then he shot the raven's corpse again and spat on him for good measure. "Felling rat bastard thought he was going to sneak up on me," Adam muttered.

Skybearer’s Strength (Adept) > 61

Tactical Overseer > 79

Eight. They had eight snipers in the area, all firing at him with Ascendants knew what kind of weapon. Adam stared down at the not-ballista the agent had been using. It was long-barreled, but it also didn't seem to have any arrows anywhere. No bolts either. It had something of a large box connected to its underside that fell out during the fighting, and it ended up spilling small metallic fillings all over the ground. The overall mechanics remained a mystery to him, but what he could tell, however, however, was that it had a trigger, and its scope offered a variety of zooming options. It didn't exactly have a Farsight enchantment like his Spellstring did, but it worked to a similar—albeit lesser—degree.

And for the umpteenth time, Adam wished that he had Shiv's Cloak. "Damn system-favorite Deathless bastard gets everything," Adam grumbled. From nearby, there came a whimper, and he noticed that the room the raven had set up as his firing perch still had people inside. People huddled against the wall, a well-dressed man wearing a waistcoat with what looked like two slaves by his side. Adam regarded them for a moment, and then he fired two shots. 

All three cried out, but the slave collars shattered, as did the walls behind them. Dust blew through the air, and as it cleared, they stared at the Young Lord, all with their eyes wide, mouths open.

"You two," he said, pointing at the slaves. "Run! Find a safe place! You," he pointed at the man, "face down on the ground, and think about what you've done."

"Me?" the well-dressed man whimpered.

"Yes, you. You're a Pathbearer. Or Pathless?"

The man looked confused. "I'm a P-Pathbearer."

"Then hat are you doing with slaves? Why are you debasing your own skills, disfiguring your own struggle?" Adam spat on the ground, and glared at the man with disgust. "I'm not going to kill you, but you sicken me. This entire place sickens me." And then he paused. "But that's fine. Because soon, it won't be my problem anymore. And you won't be Compact's people either."

"What?" the man muttered.

"Gate Lord Confriga is going to die soon," Adam finished. "Tell everyone you know that. Spread the word through the building. Gate Theborn is under new management."

The Young Lord nocked an arrow. But on an impulse, he shaped two more hydrokinetic limbs and snatched the strange weapon the raven had been using. As he fired at the inverted obsidian tower, some four kilometers away, a rift opened, granting him access to a dimensional gateway—one that he promptly flew across. All without ever blowing through the walls or windows of the building. 

And there was a point of pride for Adam. Unlike Shiv, he didn't need to break everything to get the job done. He was neat, he was effective, and once more, he was about to complete a critical objective. But before that, his heart hardened. He needed to see where Valor was… well, alive might not be the right word for Valor.

Yet, as soon as Adam emerged from the other rift, he found himself surprised. There, he found Valor dragging the Graven Cage behind him with a corrosive leash. Valor had retrieved the Graven Cage from Adam’s dimensional pathway before the Young Lord even got back. More importantly, Valor wasn’t dead! Relief washed through Adam, though he still examined the Legendary Pathbearer. There was a deep smear along the back of Valor’s skull, but it seemed to be residue leftover from the projectile more than anything.

"Valor!" Adam cried out. He flew towards his so-called mentor.

"I'm fine," Valor cried. He sounded more annoyed than usual. Was that embarrassment? Adam squinted, using his Seer of Horizons on Valor's wound. Just a scratch after all.

“I’m fine, my body is made of harder materials… And my Toughness is Adept right now. Enough to keep me alive. It wasn’t a direct hit.” Valor muttered. “Now, focus. We still have a deed to finish."

And the Young Lord realized something. Valor was embarrassed. He was embarrassed about getting shot in the back of the head. Adam laughed. He had ammunition to use against Valor now. "Well, I'm glad to see you're all right. It would be a very sorrowful thing if a powerful Pathbearer like yourself was brought low by an act of devious subterfuge, at the hands of Adepts—well, maybe Low Masters at best."

"Adam," Valor sighed. There was a low growl in the old Pathbearer's voice. "Don’t."

"I'm just expressing my worry," Adam said.

Valor positioned the cage right next to the elevator’s adamantine shaft again. 

"It would have been such a pity to tell everyone you died after plunging into molten rivers," Adam moaned dramatically.

Valor interrupted him. "Adam, you've been spending too much time with Shiv. You sound like him when he's mocking you."

Adam paused. Damn Valor, he knew exactly what to say to make even mocking him unpalatable. The Young Lord pouted.

But before Adam did anything else, his paranoia was still burning hot. Immediately, he pulled out his rapier and its edge flashed with gleaming light. As the brightness faded, a clone of Adam appeared, followed by another, followed by another, and soon a small contingent of Adams were holding the perimeter, watching, distracting, their armor serving as a bulwark against any potential snipers.

"Now, let's start," Adam said.

The spatial magic he layered over the shaft earlier had completely dissipated in the meantime. That meant he needed to start over. As he did, though, he constantly summoned new clones of himself to replace the ones that faded, and they helped him set up his Dimensionality spells faster. Valor hummed with approval, and Adam simply shrugged. "I should have thought about that earlier. I do that a lot with the rapier…”

Adam and his clones shaped a series of spells. A new bubble of shadow layered in distortions coated the upper section of the elevator shaft, and as it grew thick enough, Adam prepared a Veilpiercer. He judged the position of the Graven Cage and made a gesture using a hydrokinetic hand, pointing downward. "Valor, perhaps lower it. We're going to have to intercept the Animancy Core when the platform shoots by."

"Correct," Valor said. "But we just need to get the cage nearby. It will snap over the core when it gets close enough."

Adam paused, and he did something that he was trying to practice more: he thought ahead. When the platform descended, it was likely going to be made of adamantium. As such, he could get below it and fire multiple Veilpiercers at the bottom of the falling elevator. If nothing else, it would slow the plunging elevator and keep the Animancy Core from immediately crossing over into the third gateway. It also wouldn't completely rely on his Reflexes. 

He told Valor his plan, and the Legendary Pathbearer simply nodded in approval. "Good, good. Likely unnecessary, considering the capabilities of the cage," Valor regarded his creation. "But still, good. It is important to come up with as many redundancies as possible for your plans."

"Alright then," Adam said, letting out a breath. He was still feeling nervous, still summoning more clones of himself, but so far, no one had taken a shot at him. That didn't mean his paranoia went away, however. He knew there were still Aviary agents sulking about. The mana bombs had stopped. If he had to guess, him killing the snipers made the others go to ground. They were hiding. They couldn't all be dead. Especially with how frequent the bombs were going off just a few moments ago. 

He summoned a corrosive fissure using his vambrace, and then he dipped the tip of his Veilpiercer, infusing it with Necromantic energy. He drew in a long breath, more to still his beating heart, and waited. Waited for his hand to stabilize and his mind to focus. It was all going to be in the timing, even with everything he had planned. 

The Young Lord fired.

A rift tore open right in front of him. 

His dimensional arrow sailed, carving a corroded pathway across the planes of existence. 

The shot finally splashed into the spatial distortions he had layered over the shaft, and they were immediately contaminated. A splash of green, corroding energy consumed the elevator. Adamantine was practically unbreakable for anyone below heroic, but Necromancy was a different kind of power altogether. It dissolved the matter, ruining it, eating through the dense, powerful material, turning it into dust thereafter. 

As soon as that happened, his Wings of the Starhawk flared brighter as he sped through the air. Valor was already flinging the Graven Cage forward using his lash. It sailed, tumbling toward the space where the elevator was certain to fall. Adam arrived immediately below the shaft, a mere five meters between him and the third gateway leading to the Vulteg home dimension. He saw the bottom of the elevator barreling towards him. Immediately he fired three Veilpiercers at once, followed by another, followed by another, and created new clones to aid him. 

A series of impacts hammered the platform's underside. It slowed, no longer threatening to crush Adam and giving Valor just enough time to maneuver the Graven Cage into position.

They continued firing as the platform lowered and lowered, and finally as it cleared the shroud of crackling corrosive energy that melted through the elevator shaft, Adam laid eyes on the Animancy Core for the first time. The underside of Gate Theborn lit up; it was like a bright, brilliant blue star flaring over the molten rivers that crisscrossed the expanse below. It was so bright, Adam had a hard time focusing on it, but more, its radiance pierced his very soul, and seemed to wash through him. 

His skills began to jumble, notifications appeared before his eyes as some of his levels began to jump and then flicker. An unnatural dread washed through Adam, but there was also a sense of wonder, a sense that he was witnessing something at the crux of all integrated reality.

But then the light faded as the cage smashed down over the core. The Graven Cage expanded, the skulls opening their jaws wide as they unfolded like the petals of some undying flower carved from groping limb and pale bones. The crackling power of Necromancy immediately washed over the blinding brilliance of Animancy, and the cage closed around the Animancy Core as the platform kept falling. A clash resulted, with the core’s blinding radiance warring against the eerie green of Necromancy. There were a few pulses of power, but finally, the corrosive, festering magic that lit the open sockets and mouths of the cage’s skulls faded to a faint, bluish glow. 

Each of the protruding limbs staking out from the Graven Cage ignited. A net formed—a net of complicated necromantic sigils, spell patterns that circulated and jumped from the point of each extended limb. Adam wasn't sure what he was witnessing, but it was a complicated spell pattern. And judging from how both the cage and the Animancy Core seemed to stabilize, he guessed it was some kind of mana equalization mechanism.

The platform then plunged through the third gate. Adam barely got out of the way in time. But in the air, the Animancy Core hovered, and Valor let out a breath.

"Well done, Hero Adam," Valor said.

"Yes, you too," Adam breathed. He didn't realize how fast his heart was pumping. That was... there really wasn't that much room between the dimensional gateway and the bottom of the obsidian tower. Adam briefly eyed the shimmering surface of the gateway. Dimensional mana briefly parted to reveal a glimpse into what seemed to be a deep, boundless ocean, colored bright orange, the same molten hue that constituted all the rivers running through the bottom of Gate Theborn. And so Adam realized why the platform had to be made from adamantium. Because nothing else would survive in such an environment.

For a moment, the Young Lord remained tense. He expected something to happen now. Something terrible. A new attack. Snipers to fire. He summoned more of his clones as the last one faded. But as they arrived, drawing veil piercers and looking on toward the horizon, they sensed nothing and neither did he. They had the core. They had the core and nothing bad happened at the final moment. He looked up at the sky and let out a sigh. "Thank you, system, you rat bastard. Thank you for giving me just one moment to breath.

And then, as if to mock him, Adam heard a loud bang come from within the obsidian tower. As he looked up, he saw the faces—well, more like glowing orbs that constituted the heads of two dimensional golems that were staring out through the reinforced glass lining the bottom walls of the obsidian tower. 

And both Valor and Adam shared a mutual breath of frustration.

"Adam," Valor began, exhausted. "It is important never to thank the system. It is a creature that desires strife above..."

"Yes, I know," Adam growled. "Valor, I'm going to shoot an arrow now. Get the Graven Cage through it. I'm going to try to distract these things and..."

And just then, one of the dimensional golems fired a Pyromancy beam at the Young Lord. A beam that he barely dodged.

Wings of the Starhawk (Adept) > 95

He drew four Veilpiercers at once. Two of them smashed into the faces of the golems. Not giving them a chance to press their offensive. He dipped those in corrosive energy too, but the other two arrows he fired created two pathways for the Graven Cage and Valor to escape across. 

They were both manifested next to each other, the rifts practically touching. But in the chaos, Adam hoped to confuse the golems, even if they noticed the dimensional pathways, to give Valor a chance to escape. 

Just then, a massive siren began to wail as the mana core went from dull black and gray to a severe and miserable red. It began to shudder and the air grew impossibly cold. Adam felt his Magical Resistance shudder as his armor sustained the impact on his behalf. The golems fired again, their beams of flame cleaving through the air. His clones were firing back now, and the golems were being buried alive under a series of Veilpiercers. If there was more distance between him and the golems, he suspected he could have blown them apart immediately, but right now, he was just focusing on delaying action.

"'Adam,” Valor cried out, “I'm going back to the anchor. We will store the cage there.”

"'Got it,' Adam shouted.

And then the Young Lord paused as he remembered he added a spell pattern to the anchor and could teleport there directly with Valor. He fought the urge to slap himself. This wasn’t acceptable. In the heat of battle, sometimes, Young Lord Adam Arrow just forgot things when he got too caught up, too anxious.

"'Never mind that!” Adam dodged another two shots. The golems were shooting out now, their bodies trembling with lightning as they chased him. The sound of booming thunder came thereafter and the Young Lord grunted as shockwaves shook his armored form. Limbs of surging water coursing with crackling electricity reached out to grip him, but the Young Lord was already casting his next spell. 

A shroud of shadow wrapped in spatial distortions swept over him, and before Valor or the cage could cross over either of the dimensional pathways he prepared, Adam shot by them and finished the spell. A moment later, the dimensional shroud gripping the Young Lord folded inward and drew them across space. They surged through the insides of Gate Theborn, going from the bottom of the city to a place even deeper: to Guardhead Leu’s special teleportation anchor.

And as they reappeared and landed on the ground, Adam coughed and shook his head. He looked at the cage, trying to make sure it wasn't damaged. He let out another breath as it just hovered in the air, crackling Necromancy shrouding its form. 

Beside him, Valor observed Adam. "Adam? Are you well?"

"Yes," Adam breathed, "I just, I was," he clenched his teeth a little bit. "I—the extraction… I remember thinking about just teleporting back, but I just responded and—”

"People do hasty things in the heat of combat," Valor said. "You are not stupid, you were just overwhelmed. Some more combat experience will be good for you."

"Some more combat experience, yes," Adam said. He nodded as he fought to keep his breath under control. His hands were bloody shaking. Again. He hated it when he did that after fighting. And that, that was why he was most jealous about Shiv. Not, it wasn't the Deathless's strength that Adam wanted, though that would be useful. It wasn't his durability, though Adam quite appreciated more Toughness as well. It wasn't even his ability to take away wounds or to cook insanely well. It was just the lack of fear Shiv had. To do things without every doubting or hesitating. "Bloody system-favored bastard, how does he do it?"

"You know you are system-favored now too, yes, Young Lord?" Valor asked.

Adam eyed the skeleton as he let out a shuddering breath. "Yes, but it's mostly his doing, isn't it? I’m favored because he was favored.”

"Perhaps at the start," Valor continued. "But if you continue surviving, then his flame is no longer his flame, for now you burn as well. You’re going to have to face death and over and over now, Hero. There is no avoiding it. Not with the path you have chosen.”

Adam did his best not to swallow. "Well, I suppose I'll have a lot more planning to do."

"I suppose you will," Valor replied. "But remember this, you are not Shiv."

Adam gritted his teeth, "yes, I know."

"No, this is not an insult, it is not a condemnation. You are not Shiv, and he cannot be you. I see it in your face, I have made that expression before, when I envied someone so much it hurt. In many ways, I was more like you than you by far.”

"You were?" Adam said, surprised at Valor's admission.

"I was, in fact, I don't think there are so many like him at all. It is unnatural for someone to be that resilient, but that might be the very point of his entire existence. And the detriment."

"Detriment?" Adam said.

"Correct. He fights with nothing held back, he gives himself entirely. And if he wasn't who he was, wasn’t as skill and possessed the predatory cunning he did, then his death would have come extremely quickly and frequently. But still, he dies often. He dies without fear. He dies. You are not spared of death. You are not spared of trauma. But you are precise, thorough, and upright. And there you are different from me. I cared little for anyone when I was young. And you care for too many.

"Do not be consumed by your envy. You may do that. It is good to envy. It gives you something to aspire to. But understand that what you did, eliminating the snipers without inflicting any damage, and only being noticed at the end, that is not possible for Shiv. There are times to be blunt, brutal, and unrelenting. And there are times to be rare, precise, and unfailing." Valor turned to regard his Graven Cage. "We are here right now because of all of you. And you did good.”

Adam blinked as his heart finally began to slow. "I, uh, I was..." he trailed off. I didn't know what to say, at least for a moment. "I… It was a good speech… I… thank you?"

"You have been under an immense amount of stress," Valor said. "I am simply telling you what I wish someone would have told me years ago. I might not be able to remember most of my mind, most of my memories, but I can still remember what I felt. And all these years later, envy another for what they have, Adam, but never forget to be proud of yourself and who you are.  And if you continue to strive, someone else will come to envy you at times as well. It is not a bad thing to be admired or to admire. When done properly, it brings us all closer, and it makes us all greater. And the want to ascend is the only defense we have against the system and its endless desire for war. To stand, to be the ones that court the flames of glory—to be consumed by it and to emerge unburned, but rather reforged.

And something inside Adam hardened. "Emerge unburned," Adam echoed. "Right." He looked at the core, or at least the cage that held the core, and something inside him swelled with triumph. 

He stole this. He stole this from Gate Lord Confriga, and the poor bastard didn't even know. In the middle of war, he stole the Animancy Core, managed to cut through an adamantine shaft with Necromancy, and stole the core. And now, and now, because of him, they were going to finish another quest. That's who he was, Adam Arrow, quest finisher. "Keep the core here for now, I think," Adam said. "I'm going to go out again. The others will—”

“They will need you,” Valor said. “And you will need them. Watch over them. You, more than anyone else, are the eyes and pathfinder of the group. So ensure the deed is done, and ensure your companions find the success they need to take this quest to an end. Remember you are all burning together, but you need not burn alone." Valor paused. "Not like I did."

And just then, Adam noticed something about Valor. The Legendary Pathbearer sounded sad, sentimental.

“Valor,” Adam said.

“Hm?”

“You deserved to hear those words from someone too. When you were young.”

The Legendary Pathbearer went unnaturally still. Then he grunted. “Thank you, Adam. Now, go. And leave the weapon. I know what that is. Can Hu will be interested in examining it.”

Adam blinked as he dropped the long-barreled thing. “What is it?”

“It’s a Legacy Empire Model-Zero Gauss-Gyro Mixed Ordinance Platform. A gun, in simpler terms. It is an old weapon. Leave it. I will tell you about it later. You will likely come to like the weapon.”

The Young Lord eyed the long barreled weapon and arched an eyebrow. “Alright. I’ll be back later. When we go for Confriga. I’ll be back.”

***

And there it was again.

That pinprick of pain, over and over again.

Something was striking its Magical Resistance.

Something was piercing deep.

Something, or a lot of somethings.

The attacks were coming at all angles, constantly.

So many little needles smashing against the Shoggoth's very being.

Its Magical Resistance was beginning to crack ever so slowly.

It lashed out, screaming, striking its food.

It gazed upon them and pulled the prey inside.

So many different kinds of prey.

So many.

So many.

Vampires.

Humans.

Elves.

Umbrals.

Machines.

Volteg.

More.

It came through the gap when the Sword Bearer offered the Eldest some of his soul-blood. And the Shoggoth was given unto the Sword Bearer as a weapon. A weapon that was meant to consume Pathbearers. To feed and burn their skills until nothing was left.

And it did that. To everything it could reach. It consumed. It slaughtered. It turned their skills against them and fed and fed and fed…

But it couldn't find the hidden Psychomancer.

That one that kept hitting it, over and over.

But was it one or so many?

The strings, they were confusing.

Maybe it was many.

The Shoggoth hadn't seen Psychomancy mana like that before.

It spotted the strings, every now and then, jabbing out, stabbing it from one of its victims.

But then, but then, more, more, "Stop it!" the Shoggoth roared.

Its voice shook the world.

It howled from its many mouths.

It cast its stomachs out from its many eyes, consuming more prey. It used their Psychomancy to strike back, burning the skill, but it was not enough. The hidden one attacked in waves and receded far away. And they were back—stabbing from everywhere constantly stabbing over and over all angles.

STOOOOOOOPPPP

 "Where! Where are you?" the Shoggoth cried, "Where?"

And above, it could see the displeasure and confusion written upon the Sword Bearer's eye.

And then there was a notification. A warning.

The Stranger has taken notice of the situation.

The Shoggoth didn't understand. It ate so many Psychomancers. So why couldn’t it get the last one. Why?

The Shoggoth wanted to rage, to boil the Unseen One. But it could find them. It couldn’t—

A final string pierced deep, and the Shoggoth’s Magical Resistance cracked wide open.

For the first time, the Shoggoth cried out from someone invading its mind, instead of the other way around.

***

Puppeteer of the Formless Strings > 104

It took the better part of two minutes of hitting, running, jumping from mind to mind, and then striking the strange creature from new angles before its Magical Resistance finally crumbled. With each stabbing strand, Uva found herself getting a little deeper, sinking her awareness briefly into the strange creature's mind.

The knowledge that splashed over into her was discordant, alien, but ultimately fresh. Its mind was like nothing she ever linked with—not even the Jealousy. In fact, the Jealousy felt human compared to this thing.

It was called a Shoggoth. She wasn't sure what that was. But then again, there were creatures from many far-flung dimensions, many strange places, across stranger eons. 

By now, the battlefield was in complete disarray. Confriga had unleashed the creature right upon the abyssal gateway. And there, it conducted the bulk of its slaughter, pushing the Blood Horrors and vampires back. But at the same time, its limbs reached far, grasping the nearby vanguards from Confriga's front line. The defenders were not spared. Worse, the Shoggoth's many eyes unleashed more shadowy beams. Beams that cut through sections of Confriga's army, beams that drew Pathbearers within the Shoggoth's body, and left them trapped.

Inside, Uva could see them writhing, could hear their minds screaming, and slowly they boiled. They boiled alive, their beings dissolving into the black mass that composed the Shoggoth. She wasn't sure what this thing was, but an existential dread washed over her. The Shoggoth shouldn't exist here, not in this plane, not in this reality, not anywhere nearby. She had no idea where Confriga got that sword, or what this monster he summoned was. But she intuitively knew, in a place deeper than her bones, she knew that he could not be allowed to wield Absence against her and her companions. 

When she finally tapped into this thing's consciousness, she would direct it against Confriga, and she would try to take that sword from him, no matter the cost.

"Stop it! Stop! Show yourself! Show!" The Shoggoth howled, and to Uva's displeasure, it howled with an echoing chorus behind it. It howled. Everyone it consumed howled from within it. The very nature of its being was wrong. But unfortunately for the Shoggoth, it still had a mind. And Uva directed every single one of her curling mana strands across all angles to converge. 

They swept over the Shoggoth, slashing into it, collapsing around it in a tightening net that she squeezed and squeezed. Uva ignored the beginnings of mana strain as she pushed hard. And before she truly got exhausted, the Shoggoth broke, its Magical Resistance detonated.

But unlike the cracking of an ordinary Pathbearer, its external shroud splattered apart. No longer was the Shoggoth wrapped in darkness. The protective shadows burst away. Beneath, its true skin was slimy and slick. There were bubbling pustules and festering bumps that expanded across its entire body. And disgusting intertwined strands of drooping flesh dangled before its many mouths, around its many eyes, flapping from its many reaching limbs. 

She saw then that the Pathbearers it consumed were trapped within these pustules, were slowly being dissolved moment by moment, being turned to unattuned mana. And as she wove herself into the Shoggoth, she found herself surprised that she needed literally all of her mind to wrestle its ego into submission. It wasn’t just how large its consciousness felt, but how many parts made her mind recoil—how many parts she had to seal away to protect herself.

The Shoggoth began lashing at itself. "Let go! Let go! What are you doing, creature? Obey me! Kill it!" Confriga roared from above, but the Shoggoth simply swung. Its massive limbs smashed through the bridge connecting to the first building within the gateway. The extension from the abyssal gateway burst apart, but the limb cracked and splattered. It was bleeding, and the Pathbearers contained within its pustule leaked out. 

Suddenly they were screaming, falling through the air, traumatized but still alive. Confriga held his blade up. Absence shimmered unnaturally. Darkness shouldn't be bright. But as he stroked cuts into the Shoggoth from afar, cursing as he tried to bend the monster into compliance, Uva tightened every fiber of her mana around its chaotic, inhuman mind.

It was like trying to tie a rope around water in certain places. The monster leaked through into her, and her mind reeled at the intrusion. But not for long. Psychomancers learned how to control their own minds first, and to block off things they couldn’t deal with. It was essential when facing mentally ill adversaries. She applied the same techniques here. She made knots with her own mind, blocking away the parts of the Shoggoth that were too alien as she tapped into the parts that she understood. It took all of her Parallel Thinking to achieve the feat as well.

Parallel Thinking > 59

And it took every bit of her Parallel Thinking to keep it suppressed as well. It wasn't human at all. It was still close enough to her that she could understand some of its impulses, especially hunger and desire and hatred and curiosity. But it was immense. Even its mind felt cancerous in some ways. Just bulbous clumps of ideas and thoughts clustered together. The best thing she could compare its consciousness to was that of an extreme schizophrenic that was also psionically infectious in some ways.

Uva winced. She suspect she might be among the few Psychomancers in Weave that could deal with something like this.

WHO ARE YOU WHO ARE YOU EAT YOU DIGEST BURN LET GO–

There was no break in its thoughts. The Shoggoth’s mind constantly jumped. It struggled against her, but she severed the link between its ego and its body. She assumed that position, tightening herself as she held back a grimace of effort. But it was done. Just as she had melded her mind with the Jealousy and secured it under her control, so too did she enchain the Shoggoth, albeit partially.

And suddenly, the beast stopped. The beast turned away from the badly battered and mauled forces of the First Blood. There were still Blood Horrors and vampires splashing through the gateway, but they were clearly fewer than before. Most of the Master-Tier vampires were setting up layers of blood sigils, wardings, against the Shoggoththat would allow them to maintain a final foothold in this gate. 

But Uva was no longer interested in them now. She suspected that she did more than enough damage to the invading forces of the First blood. So the Shoggoth turned, and even as Confriga slashed his long blade through the air, splitting parts of the Shoggoth open, hurting it brutally, she directed it forward. And it drew from all the Pathbearers trapped within its being. 

The Shoggothdrew from their very skills, dissolving the skills into raw ambient mana, spending them as it blasted through the air. For a moment, the Shoggoth wasn't a Master—it was Heroic, and it moved at a speed unnatural for a beast that size. The air combusted in fire, and it went beyond that. It detonated, struck the center of Confriga's army, and a blast wave of immense heat crashed over them, an avalanche of an inferno greeting the ever-crashing blizzard unleashed by the Manakor. The sheer struggle between fire and ice released a dense coat of fog in the air, but then the Shoggothwas withering, strained and weakened, and needed to feed more.

And that's when Uva learned another bit about the monster's unnatural nature. It didn't truly have levels of its own. No, it had stomachs. Stomachs all meant to store a skill. Most of them now were listed as unfed. Unfed because the Pathbearers it consumed were gone. Each Pathbearer it consumed was converted into ambient mana, and Uva was horrified to realize it was literally spending their skill levels as currency.

In fact, the Shoggothseemed to have its own interface, but the notifications it go were so alien and incomprehensible that she had to turn her mind away. Every time it used a skill, it was spent. But the Pathbearer usually fully came apart into a slurry of ambient mana before a skill was entirely used up.

The existential dread Uva felt spiked to new heights, whatever this creature was, she suspected it was born to kill Pathbearers like her. And now it needed to feed again. But Confriga was a Pathbearer too.

"So feed," Uva commanded it. And despite its horror and struggle, despite its eldritch nature, it still had hunger, and desire, and Uva bent that to her will most of all.

It lashed out with its eyes. But without the shadowy layer of its Magical Resistance shrouding it, she saw what it was actually doing. And what it was doing was projecting viscous nets out from the center of its irises. Nets that were actually its many stomachs. It caught Pathbearers within those nets, and the sticky substance, immediately held them tight and began to sear them, body and soul.

The sudden betrayal by the Shoggoth caught Confriga off guard, and also his forces as well. "Stop! Stop, you mongrel creature!" Confriga yelled. "You are mine! Your Eldest offered you to me! To serve me! Stop!" He was cutting violently. The Shoggoth was screaming inside Uva. But she didn't care. This wasn't her body, nor was this wasn't her monster. She was just borrowing it.

And then Uva had the Shoggoth digest all the Pathbearers it consumed. She fed all of their power into it, focusing on one skill and one skill alone: Reflexes. The Shoggoth leapt up into the air and was like a mana bomb going off. 

The customs and processing building ceased to be, entirely dissolved from the sheer kinetic force rippling off the hundred-meter long creature's body. All but the hardiest Pathbearers within Confriga's defender core were dissolved into blood, mush, or battered flesh. And even the Master-Tiers were cast back.

That hit might even stun Shiv, Uva thought, proudly. Then, considered the thought further. Well, until he dies and just… gets stronger. Profoundly unfair in my opinion, but quite effective.

The Shoggoth slammed into its former master now. Confriga reeled back, roaring more in frustration and rage than actual fear. He tried to lash his blade down at the Shoggoth, but it bit down on his arm first with a mouth. 

It only ended up breaking all its teeth.

Confriga tore his blade out a second later, and the Shoggoth was almost immediately split in half. Moreover, she felt something clash against the Shoggoth’s very soul.

"Cease!" Confriga roared. He drove his many-petaled wings into the Shoggoth, and it pierced the beast's flesh. Without Magical Resistance, it suffered the impact directly, and the Shoggoth combusted from the inside. But it didn't have organs like a person did. No, it was mostly made up of strange nerve centers and those pustules. So it fought on, unburdened by anything but pain. 

And since Uva wielded it, pain was relegated to the Shoggoth while she maintained a clear head.

"You are meant to obey!" Confriga punched the Shoggoth. For a moment, she expected just a hard impact. However, the Gate Lord's fist struck, and a channel formed—a channel of ever-building force. It drove a deep wound into the Shoggoth's very body. And though it endure for a moment, a hole was blasted clean through the Shoggoth. 

The remains of digested Pathbearers blasted out from the other side. And the Shoggoth screamed. Uva turned the Shoggoth's eyes on Confriga now. Viscous nets splashed over the Gate Lord. But the gate lord let out a roar as he flexed his body. A colossal shockwave of force sent her and the Shoggoth blasting across the gate at agonizing speeds. Parts of the Shoggoth tore away as it was drive against a distant plaza of Gate Theborn. Its arms were dismembered from the impact. Its body was burning from how fast it was flung. It tumbled several more times before it crashed body-first against a tower. 

And that was enough. That was enough to send the entire structure crashing down on the shoggoth. Jagged beams of reinforced metal split into its hewed body, splitting it in half entirely.

And the Gate Lord let out a roar of absolute fury in the aftermath. And it was then that Uva realized the Gate Lord was over five kilometers away. But Confriga didn't have any time to deal with the Shoggoth. 

For the first blasts of Biomancy crashed against him. She heard him grunt in discomfort. She tapped into the mind of a mercenary fleeing from the battle and saw a swelling red tsunami of flesh, of jagged teeth, of wounds splash into his forces. The First Blood were taking advantage of the opening she caused. 

And that pulled Confriga's attention back to the front, back to the true battle at hand. Uva tried to make the Shoggoth rise, but it was too wounded, too battered, too broken. 

Without Pathbearers to digest, it had no more toughness. And so it lay there, slowly bleeding, slowly dying. But it still had breath inside itself, and it could still shout. And at that moment, Uva considered a new and final, asymmetric angle of attack. 

An angle that might make up for her not taking Confriga's blade.

She had the Shoggoth shout a declaration across the city. "Gate Lord Confriga has abandoned us!" it roared loudly at Uva’s commands. "The gate is falling! The First Blood is inside! The gate is falling! It's falling! Abandon all hope." 

And the Shoggoth's voice choked off, but it was loud enough to echo everywhere.

Uva untangled herself from the Shoggoth, at least she tried to. The complexities of its nature were too much, and with a frustrated groan, she pushed herself out forcibly, as she did with the dragon-knights. Its inner body burst apart, every single pustule lining its flesh splattered out, and Uva emerged, staggering into the coldness, into the light, as the Shoggoth melted away into fetid, festering bile.

Puppeteer of the Formless Strings > 105

The smell was horrible, and her Magical Resistance suffered constant damage from the sheer coldness unleashed by the mana core above, and Uva got aboard her shield and prepared to flee until she could find another body to jump into.

But then the mana core flickered, and it shook, and with a final flash, something happened. A notification entered her eyes. 

Desynchronization in progress: Lesser Mashal Confriga is no longer recognized as [Gate Lord]

And Uva smiled. She smiled as she got on her shield and sailed under the districts, underneath the bridges and plazas, avoiding notice. She sailed as Confriga howled in absolute outrage. And for the first time, the temperature in Gate Theborn began to climb.

But that wasn’t the final surprise.

The Stranger’s gaze is now upon you.

Uva frowned. Stranger?

Skill Gained: Eldritch Insight (Master)

Eldritch Insight > 1