II-18 Jealousy (II)

An Envy and a Jealousy are technically the same creature at different points of their life cycle. Born of the Dimensional-Lord Scorn’s attempts to create a perfect lifeform to, and he demands that everyone quote him under pain of death to, “incentive those dumbfuck Psychomancers to channel their dumbfuck mind magic powers somewhere else where that dumbfuck shit doesn’t end with a dumb motherfucker getting killed.”

Though he assumed his attempts ended in failure, and he abandoned the unfinished Envies to one of the many barren worlds he left destroyed during one of his many conquests, the Envies instead survived, adapted, and evolved to gain sustenance from another’s mind and memories. In fact, this is the reason they are called Envies—because they are not naturally capable of consciousness or thought on their own, and are instead filled with an echo of Lord Scorn’s rage, despising what was denied to them.

As parasitic infants, the Envy is drawn to and seeks out any creature capable of higher thought to drain their minds hollow. After approximately ten years spent in this state, the Envy harnesses all the minds it consumes and begins to undergo a state of metamorphosis—going from mindless amphibian carnivore to the colossal Jealousy that can inhabit practically any environment so long as they consume a requisite amount of minds to retain their consciousness.

Ultimately, every surviving Jealousy grows to become a titan of intellect and body, eventually choosing to bind themselves to certain places as guardians or overlords that demand tribute of minds. Their very nature also makes them quite a reliable dimensional to call upon should you have memories and minds to offer, and if you need something to ward off enemy Psychomancers or root out spies.

However, the Jealousies are not invincible, for while they feed, their mana briefly enters an unattuned state as they work to process the many minds flowing into them, leaving them in a fugue state and vulnerable to attack.

Hence, they usually create “nests” for themselves as well—places hidden, guarded, or difficult to reach while they are at their most vulnerable…

-Dimensionals, Demons, and Dominions: A Dimensionalist’s Guide to the Integrated Worlds

II-18

Jealousy (II)

Equipment Obtained: [Mask of False Paths]

Tier: Heroic

Condition: Fine

Composition: Bronze

Enchantments > Perfect Semblance; Adept-Skill Thief (0/1); Advanced-Skill Thief (0/2); Heroic Mind-Shield; Self-Mending

Steal Advanced-Tier Skill [2/2] Dodge

Shiv regarded his new Perfect Semblance in the mirror with a measure of discomfort. The Umbral looking back at him was bedraggled, weary, and broken. His white hair was falling out in clumps, leaving bare patches on his scalp. A heavy steel collar hung around the stranger’s neck, sporting a single slot for a chain to be inserted. The Umbral’s face was a mess of scar tissue—the kind left over from violent whippings and abuse.

An entire history of violence was outlined across the slave’s body, and now the poor bastard was dead. All Shiv knew about the dead Umbral was his name, his skills, and his Dodge Skill. This Perfect Semblance, more than any other, filled with a deeper loathing for Compact and the vermin that ran this gate.

Leu obtained this body with ease—simply finding one that found its way down the chute into the habitat for the district’s waste disposal, serving as feed for her slugs. The way she plucked the corpse out of the muck and filth with her Aeromancy made Shiv feel a particular way he hadn’t before. While he had risen as Pathbearer, striding beyond death and fear, there were so many others who were outright damned by their Path. People like the dead Umbral boy he was pretending to be.

Name: Ul Festik
Age: 14
Race: Umbral

Path:

Slave

“Slave,” Shiv said, speaking to himself in the mirror. A foreign voice carried his words, a hard, rasping voice that was too worn from yelling and screaming. “What kind of Path is that? What the hell kind of life did you lead, stranger? Did I kill you during my fight with the orc? Could you have escaped it? Could you have fought hard enough to overcome your life and change your Path? Could I have in your place?”

“Master Shiv? Are you finished with the process?” Leu’s voice came from outside, and Shiv shook himself free from introspection. There was nothing he could do for poor Ul Festik anymore. If there was an afterlife, the Umbral was there, with whatever god he believed in, or whatever happened after true death.

“Yeah,” Shiv said, eyeing the body once more. He clenched his jaw, but the expression looked wrong on a face so young and wounded. “Well. If you’re listening somewhere, Festik, I’m going to kill them. The slavers. Confriga. Every bastard I can find. Might not give you peace, but it’ll give me satisfaction. And it will bring this bullshit to an end. That’s all I can do for now.”

As he left Leu’s changing room, the Vulteg Guardshead observed him for a moment and used her Analyze Skill on him once more. “Remarkable,” she breathed. “I cannot pierce your disguise at all.”

“Now only if my Acting was better,” Shiv grunted. He regarded Leu for a moment, a complex set of emotions swelling inside him regarding his new ally. She had been remarkably helpful thus far, providing information, a powerful item as an offering, and even a plan that allowed him to move in and out of the gateways even while they were technically sealed. Yet, despite having done all that, she was doing this out of a personal desire to slay Confriga, and not much more.

“Guardshead, I got a question for you. Do you care about any of the slaves?”

The Guardshead paused. “The slaves? Why do you ask such a thing, Master Shiv?”

“Well, to put it bluntly, I despise slavers. I despise people that butcher and abuse people weaker than them. And everything that’s happened in is gate makes me want to kill all the guards and this gate just pisses me off more and more. Does it bother you? I mean, with everything you have to do here? You see the slaves come pouring down to feed you slugs and… It’s just wrong to me.”

Leu replied immediately. “Ah. I understand your question now. Unsurprising for a disciple of the Legend Valor Thann to seek the Virtues of Ascension.” Shiv didn’t know what the Virtues of Ascension were, but he let her talk without interrupting, because he was more interested in what she had to say. “The system is a cold presence in our lives. An imposing and cruel presence that demands from us conquest, blood, and struggle. The Vulteg learn this from the moment they hatch, with only our clutch-kin as those we might trust during infancy—and even then, starvation has a way of breaking even natural instinct.

“When we finally mature and greet the shore, we are hunted immediately by our elders, with most seeking to capture and condition us to their cause. The fortunate ones escape and flee to one of the Freeholds—places of higher virtue in our dimension, inspired in part by the philosophies of Great Pathbearers. More find themselves bound and guided into specific Paths—and burdened by curses.”

“So, what, you’re saying this is all just normal to you?” Shiv asked. “That it’s part of life?”

Leu considered that for a moment. “Do you know Lesser Marshal Confriga despises the very concept of slavery, despite being a practitioner of it?”

This took Shiv by surprise. “What?”

“It is true. But not in the sense you might expect. Confriga believes in the Ideals of Exaltation, that one must stand for their strength and values alone, and that the taking and use of slaves debases one’s legend and corrupts their Skill Evolutions. It is part of the reason his rage burns so hot here. He was not given the title of Gate Lord as a reward, but punishment. This place is his prison as much as it is the slaves, as much as it is ours.”

“So even Confriga doesn’t want to be doing this… But he has to?”

“But it is convenient, and the Compact is pushed forward by slavery, is held up by slavery, and we are bound to the Compact per arrangements between our Lord Scorn and their Lords of Law. Confriga likes to imagine himself to be a Pathbearer striding forward by way of his own will, but ultimately, he bends quickly before a higher, stronger tide.”

Leu paused and her head-tentacles went slack. “The simple answer is that I do not care about the slaves. I do not think of them. They are usually numbers on a sheet I see, represented in a notification or a document I receive. They do not look upon me on the streets, and I do not see them even when they are before me, as I am governed by a single desire.”

“Killing Confriga,” Shiv said.

“Correct. If you ask if I would release the slaves, if I had been noble or kind… I do not know. My people are fractured. Broken. We have no singular governing philosophy. Most of our thoughts are inherited from the world without and granted unto us by Lord Scorn. Our god… is not a god of ideology, but mercurial emotion and spite. He cares little for most things and is selfish above all. But violent and vile though he can be, he is no absolute tyrant. He merely wishes for us to serve as his buffer, and for him to be left alone atop his great and lonesome tower besides.”

Shiv tried to imagine such a god, but failed. With the Auroral Council so distant from his life, the only god Shiv truly knew was the Composer, and it was telling that a spider-wasp goddess seemed so very human beside the one Leu just described.

“I am not a full person,” Leu said. “I refuse to be until I kill Confriga. This… the only reason I survived to adolescence is my clutch-brother. And the only reason I will live again is when Confriga joins him in the Great After of death. After this… after this perhaps I will have my own reckoning. For what I am. For I have done to achieve my triumph.” She turned a curious eye on Shiv. “I have a question for you in return, Master Shiv. Might I ask?”

“Sure.”

“Do you feel regret for those you killed during your struggle against the orc? I understand that a battle between Masters is a desperate affair and that the small are so easily crushed underfoot, so it is—”

“Yes,” Shiv answered without hesitation. He grimaced. “It’s more shame than pure regret. Some of those deaths I don’t think I could have prevented at all. But the longer I think about it, most of those who died were because I was rough and raw, doing everything I could to hurt and kill the enemy instead of thinking about those around me.”

“And you would have acted differently?”

“I would have launched us downward, for one,” Shiv said. “Instead of smashing through building after building and brawling 811 where all the people are, I could have taken him down into the molten lakes, and we could have brutalized each other there.”

Leu hummed in acknowledgement. “It is hard to make the wisest choice when the heat of conflict is upon you.”

“Hard is not an excuse,” Shiv said. “People died. Places that didn’t need to be broken were broken. A real Pathbearer should be more… careful? Or focused. Controlled.” He gave a humorless laugh. “And that is where I need the most work. Experience. And control.”

“But you also do not seem to be burdened by this?” Leu asked. “Your words sound more like an acknowledgement than true sorrow.”

“It’s just a feeling. And there’s nothing I can do but try to make it better.” Shiv shrugged. “That’s the way I see things, anyway. I did bad the first time. Because the world bends to power, others paid for it. So. I’m going to get better, and next time, no one will pay for it.”

The Guardshead went quiet. “I am jealous of your nature, Master Shiv. You see the world simply.” Leu sounded like she had some disagreements regarding his philosophy, but she didn’t push on it, and Shiv let it go.

“Hey, Shiv,” Tran said, coming over with his glowing enchanting hammer in his right hand. The armor the Slayer took from the Inquisitors had a trail of half-finished spell patterns dancing over it. “How’s the mask? Did the enchantment take?”

“Yeah,” Shiv said. “It’s coming back together pretty good. Thanks. I’ll make this up to you.”

“Yeah? Well, you can make me dinner again if we get out of this alive.” Tran paused. There was a bit of tension in his body. “Listen. About that—about the plan in general, I really don’t think you need to do this. The Guardshead already said that the Greater Demon will need a few hours to recover from the feeding, and we can all just slip out during that time—”

“I’m still coming back in, Tran. Even if you aren’t. The Jealousy has to die at some point, and there isn’t a better chance than now. Look, are you worried about me dying for good and Leu finishing you two off because she might think you two are loose ends who know too much about her whole revenge thing? Is that what’s bothering you?”

Tran’s expression turned ugly at that. Leu looked between them, but said nothing. “I—no, look, I do care if you live or die, Shiv. But there’s also the fact that we’re probably not going to make it very far without you if someone catches on. You’re the only one who knows where they’re going in the Abyss, and you said there are fire elemental watchtowers and aerial threats just over the gate. We’re not outrunning that, and there’s a good chance that Heather’s spatial magic will get intercepted by another Portomancer or a Dimensionalist if we’re spotted.”

“Do you doubt my character, Adept Tran?” Leu said. There was an edge to her words.

“I don’t know your character, Guardshead Leu,” Tran replied, as diplomatically as he could. “And after getting my mind ripped apart by what were supposed to be my own people, I’m not doing that great on the trust thing with anyone. I mean, would you have bothered helping me or Heather if Shiv wasn’t going to help with your revenge?”

Leu considered that for a moment. “No. I would not. You offer me nothing and there is too much risk. But I would not betray you now. I have both of you listed as Dimensionalists tasked with maintaining gateway stability in the guard roster. So long as you behave accordingly, you will not be noticed, and your presence at either side of the gateway will not draw overmuch suspicion. If things do go wrong, slip back into the gate, and I will simply arrive to take you all into custody. I am the Guardshead here, after all.”

Tran still looked worried.

“She’s risking more than most of us,” Shiv said. “If either of you get taken alive, they might just pull these memories out of your head. Same goes with me. But without more support, it’ll just be us against the rest of the gate and the core.” The thought sent a rush through Shiv. He wondered how much damage he could do between each of his deaths—or until they broke his mind for good. “I’m up for that fight if it comes to me. Are you?”

The Slayer shook his head. “Hell no. I—I need out of here. Heather and I need to… The things they did to us.”

“Yeah, okay,” Shiv said, reaching out to steady the man. “I told you: I am not going to leave you, so just be ready. Leu said that the Jealousy will be teleported inside the gate after it presses a tendril against the Abyssal Gateway. And then, after a few hours, when it finishes feeding, it will be teleported back out—and I’ll be coming with it. We’ll use the dead Jealousy crashing down in front of the gateway as a distraction to make a jump out of here. Then Heather will share whatever spatial magic thing Leu showed her for the gateways to another Dimensionalist, and then I’ll slip back in to kill Confriga and capture the Animancy Core.”

“A series of mana bombs will also be going off within various critical buildings,” Leu added. She gestured at Shiv with a tentacle. “I thank you for your corpses. This will make the appearance of a larger Aviary sabotage operation look more severe and compel the Gate Lord to tighten the lockdown even more.”

The Slayer seemed like he had more to say, but he just sighed. “Shiv… Good luck. Try not to die.”

Shiv snorted. “Yeah. I’ll try not to stay dead.”

“Um. So. What about me?” A voice came from behind Shiv, and found himself eyeing Siggy. The goblin Pathbearer had both arms behind her back, and her courage was on the verge of crumbling again. “What happens to me…”

“Well, it’s either that or I kill you,” Shiv said. “Can’t have you running around in this gate full of Psychomancers with everything you know.”

“Yeah, I got that part but… you know, what happens after the escape?”

“I haven’t thought that far,” Shiv said, honestly. “I’ll decide if we successfully escape and are still alive by the end of this.’

Siggy’s courage broke again. Shiv didn’t even need to use Dread Aura to do it this time.

“Anyway. The hard part will be killing the Jealousy, and that’s up to me. So the rest of you just keep loose and stay ready. Odds are, you’ll be far and away from this place for good by the end of the day.”

***

Shiv was wrong. The hard part wasn’t going to be killing the Jealousy, but not butchering the guard that was breathing his foul breath in Shiv’s face as he locked the chains in place.

“Damn shame about some of these slaves,” the guard said. He sniffled and rubbed his nose as he leered at Shiv one final time. “This one especially. He looks like he still has some life in him. Why do—”

“Adept Cormand,” Vulteg Overseer said, glaring at the burly guard with her one eye. “If you touch Jealousy’s food, and it gets a fresh memory it doesn’t like the flavor of because of you, I will personally keep you alive until the next year, in which you will be offered as a sacrifice in place of a lucky slave.”

The miserable sack of flesh named Cormand stuttered and looked away from Shiv. “I was just sayin’…”

“And I have spoken,” the Vulteg Overseer hissed. “Secure the cattle and then move them. Nothing else. Now. Do your duty.” She looked over the slaves gathered in the fetid, cramped room and shook her head. “Why you humans desire to touch any of the wretches is beyond me. I must praise Lord Scorn for being born without miserable, mammalian impulses.”

Cormand just spat as the Overseer left the room. “Yeah, well, I’m glad I’m not a felling squid-headed bitch.” He gave Shiv and a few others a final, miserable sneer. “Sorry, sweet things. Another life.”

Sooner than you might think, Shiv said, making a mental note to come find this one. The same way he made a mental note to resolve the matter of Oldsmith when he first entered the gate.

Getting smuggled into the slaves selected to be the Jealousy’s next meal wasn’t particularly hard. All of them were selected as those deemed too sick, too defiant, or too incompetent to be worth anything. With the slaves being transferred from individual buildings and districts across the gate, Shiv slipped in among them with Leu’s help and let the guards move him along. Playing the role of a miserable, broken slave was mostly easy. Shiv didn’t need to talk much. But if Cormand actually tried touching him, Shiv would have ruptured all his brain vessels. 

Pathbearers didn’t always drop dead for no reason, but it wasn’t unheard of. The system was a capricious entity at times.

As Shiv found his collar joined to the other slaves in his group by the same chain, he took a moment to study them. A good portion of them seemed old or ill, but more than a few looked young, badly beaten, angry, and scared. A few of them eyed the single-handed hammer Cormand had hanging from his hip, but none went for them.

If their skill levels were anything like what Shiv’s Perfect Semblance had, he understood why. Those on the Path of the Slave had most of their martial skills emptied out, with Festik having Striking Proficiency at some point, but now the level was blank. It seemed, once one embarked on this Path, conventional resistance became impossible. Only the magic skills still seemed viable for combat, but there was one other issue with being a slave.

Curse: Sigil of Supplication - A sigil imprinted on the back of your neck that inflicts immense pain on the Pathbearer if they do not obey the commands of the ones that “own” them.

However bad Shiv’s childhood was, it was nothing compared to this. Being unable to resist anyone’s commands, being little more than cattle to be abused and forced in one direction or another, was as close to hell as Shiv could imagine. He would rather live on the streets forever, hated by everyone who saw him, than deal with this. At least he got to make some of his own choices growing up.

Cormand commanded the slaves to rise. Some did. The others tried to resist at first, but each of them cried out in agony seconds after as their sigils flared. To Shiv’s surprise, the spells inscribed on the backs of their necks were crimson. This was Biomancy in origin, and he could feel the effects of the sigil. It wasn’t even doing anything overly complicated, just hyper-stimulating the nervous systems of the slaves.

Wretched as it was, Shiv studied the effects with his field as best he could.

It would be deliciously amusing to inflict the very same spell on Cormand when Shiv found him again in the future. The other slavers too for that matter.

Practical Metabiology > 16

“Where—where do you think they’re taking us?” one of the slaves at the back of the group asked. She was a human, and looked younger than most, but there was a furious spark in her eye directed at Cormand. When no one else answered her, she swallowed and lapsed into silence, but never stopped glaring at the slavers. She probably fell in the too defiant category. Her courage was also holding admirably strong when Shiv examined the other slaves with his Dread Aura.

I think I’m going to keep an eye on her.

That's when Shiv noticed another thing about the group. There were no automata. They were all predominantly human, with a few Umbrals thrown in for good measure. Maybe that was a coincidence, but Shiv thought not. With how many automata were being brought into the gate as slaves, he guessed that this might be a taste thing for the Jealousy. Mainly because he could feel His Chef Unwavering shaking inside him as well, lightning the people around him as ingredients—him as well.

Wait, does this mean I can prepare people as a dish for a Greater Demon? Though the thought disturbed Shiv, it made sense. It was within the duties of a chef, after all, even if it was a bit horrific.

Their walk to the Jealousy’s hidden den took well over an hour. After getting off an elevator and marching across a plaza, Shiv found the streets even more controlled. There were dimensionals everywhere—especially those flying eyeball things that constantly scanned minds. There was a sizable presence of Vulteg as well, now, each of the tentacle-headed demons leading their own group of Pathbearers. Above, the sun shone colder than ever, and the gate was practically freezing over. Some slaves cried and shivered under the oppressive temperature. Shiv wasn’t bothered, but he could feel what was happening to the others beside him and clenched his jaw. I can feel the frostbite sinking into them…

As the group slowed, Cormand pulled harder, commanding them to keep up. Those that didn’t suffered the sigil again. As people cried out around Shiv, the rage inside him build, going from a flame to repressed inferno. He hated this place. He hated the bastards that ran it. He hated Compact. And he hated Confriga for being too weak to follow his own beliefs.

An older slave fell to Shiv’s left. He caught the man before he could bring the rest of the group down. They were just past the entrance of a particular dilapidated looking building when it happened. The brief interruption to their march provoked Cormand to turn and clench his fist. “What part of march don’t you understand? You worthless—” He came forth, swinging a wild haymaker at the old man. Shiv blocked the blow reflexively—and felt the slaver’s knuckles and wrist shatter against his elbow.

Cormand let out a wild howl of pain as he clutched his right hand. Shiv regarded the man with a wince. Shit. Well. This is going to look weird. Uh, think… Godsdammit, I’m the worst spy in existence…

The guard’s eyes were wild with rage as he regarded Shiv. He immediately went for his hammer with his working hand and swung the weapon as hard as he could across Shiv’s face. Blows snapped into Shiv at whip crack inducing speeds. Several other slaves were launched from their feet as Cormand vented his outrage. The girl from the rear of the group shouted and tried to get in front of Shiv to blunt some of the beating. The Deathless just frowned harder.

Great. This is going to be even worse, now. Alright. Let’s see how I’m going to bullshit my way out of this.

After a good minute of swinging, Cormand staggered back, gasping for breath.  His eyes widened as he stared at Shiv. The Deathless was annoyed but entirely unharmed. “I… you… how…”

“They will never believe you,” Shiv began, just saying shit to fill time and think longer. “They will never believe you couldn’t hurt a slave with that hammer. Or the other guards will call you weak.” He increased the pressure of his Dread Aura and drove it against Cormand. The guard’s bravery dented inward.

“What… what…” Cormand said, gasping like a fish on land. “How did you…”

Shiv took his chain and shook it. “Keep the group going. The Overseer isn’t going to believe that you stopped to punish a slave. If she comes back, I’ll just tell her you couldn’t help sampling the goods along the way, and dropped the hammer on your hand in the process. Your hand, which is definitely broken. Now. We’re going to keep going. You’re going to get us to where we need to be, and you won’t mention this to anyone. Because it didn’t happen.” Shiv shaped a Woundeater wyrm and sent it out to consume the damage inflicted on the guard's arm. In a slither of red, the wyrm returned to Shiv—and he nullified its mana with his Magebreaker Gauntlet, causing the crystallized wounds to splash against the Inertium and amplify its vibrations.

Woundeater > 53

Several slaves stumbled back from Shiv. The defiant girl at the back of the group gawked. Shiv chanced a quick look up and around to make sure no one else saw this little scene, and continued his intimidation. “Cormand. Look at me.”

The guard blinked, staring briefly at his own repaired hand, trembling as he gazed upon Shiv with terrified eyes. “W-who are you.”

“A slave,” Shiv said, pressing his Dread Aura harder. Cormand’s courage started collapsing. The guard backed away from him. “That’s what you’re going to believe I am. That’s what you’re going to say. I took those wounds from you. I can return them to you any time I want. And I will if you ever mention this to anyone. I’m in your mind too. I know who you care about and what you treasure. I got people in this gate watching you. Not even the Gate Lord will be able to keep you safe if you tell anyone what just happened. You understand? Nod if you understand.”

Cormand did. “Y-ye—”

“Pick up godsdamned chain up and keep moving, then,” Shiv snarled. “Wipe that fear off your face. You do that, and your arm stays fixed. Don’t, and I’ll break everything else but the arm.”

Dread Aura > 63

Silver Tongue > 10

The terrified slaver did as he was commanded, picking up the chain and pulling the group on. When he tried to chance a glance at Shiv, the Deathless squeezed the guard’s once-broken arm with his Woundeater mana, and Cormand nearly pissed himself. The pace of the group quickened, but now the other slaves were staring at Shiv. Shit. Cascading series of stupid, problems…

“None of you say anything either,” Shiv growled at the slaves. He hated using his Dread Aura on them, but he couldn’t have them breaking his cover either. Most of slaves bent to terror almost immediately. The girl behind him flinched, but now had her eyes locked to him.

Dammit, Shiv cursed. Not what I need right now.

As they moved deeper into the unmaintained building, Shiv found the rooms to be empty and the floor to be carpeted with dust. This place hadn’t seen people in a while, but as they got to the end, another heavily armored guard waved them in toward a working elevator. “Cormand. You’re the last group—and late. What’s the hold up?”

“O-one of the fu-fucking slaves tripped,” Cormac stuttered, his body still shaking with terror.

Shiv cringed. Too much Dread Aura. Shit.

The other guard frowned at Cormand. “You alright? Shit, man, you didn’t take any Drift before this shift did you?”

“N-no. I just… feel sick. Like I got the fever.”

The other guard winced. “Alright. Get those slaves in and punch out. I’ll cover for you. Say one of the cattle tried to run.”

Cormand couldn’t help looking at Shiv one last time. Shiv squeezed the man’s arm again. This time, Cormand did piss himself. “Y-yeah,” Cormand said, clenching his legs together. “T-thanks. I need to… to…”

He stumbled away from the group, shooting terrified looks over his shoulder at Shiv.

The Deathless struggled to keep a straight face. He better not tell anyone. I hope that Psychomancy bullshit got to him. No idea how I was going to get through that without Dread Aura.

Another major benefit that came with Intimidation: Even if someone knew you were lying, you could scare them into willing ignorance.

As Shiv and the other slaves go on the elevator, the guard eyed them and shook his head. He waved his hand over a series of mana symbols, seemed to solve some kind of puzzle as he assembled the shape of a final spell, and finally tapped that one as they went down.

Shiv could still feel the girl in the back looking at him. She hadn’t said anything yet, but he was just waiting for something to go wrong.

“It’ll all be over quick,” the guard said with a sigh. Shiv regarded the armored figure, and felt how tight the man’s posture was. “It won’t feel good, but your minds will go quick. That’s something, right?’

Shiv realized the guard was trying to comfort himself about what was going to happen. The guard knew. The other slaves looked confused, but Shiv simply glowered at the man. He wanted to pull the coward in half, but he held back. Made enough of a mess as is. I’m gonna need to take Acting lessons or something. Every attempt I made at spying has been a real disaster. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I look forward to fighting the damn Jealousy. At least that will be straightforward.

As the door opened, Shiv found himself led out into a cavernous expanse. This place didn’t look like it was part of the building, and the temperature went from frigid to scorching. Several slaves that lacked shoes cried out as they stepped on the rough, stone floor. In front of them, a massive set of curved doors was open, leading into a wide open chamber that looked like…

A teleportation anchor?

There were hundreds of other slaves being led in ahead of them, and guards slowly filtering out. Shiv could see the Vulteg Overseer from earlier hovering in the air. She briefly regarded him before a spatial distortion swallowed her, causing her to vanish from sight. His group was the last to enter those two, massive metal doors—and judging from the sheen, Shiv guessed that they were made from reinforced titanium or something.

Inside, Shiv found himself being packed in tight with a mass of other slaves. True to his guess, this place was mostly human, with a few Umbral. They were all glowing like ingredients, too. A real ominous sign of what was to come. The fact this place practically counted as a kitchen made him instantly realize there was about 1344 slaves. The information slammed into him as The Chef Unwavering’s focus rushed through his body. It was a pretty dark way for the skill to activate, but frankly, Shiv wanted every edge he could get now.

His assessment that this place looked like a teleportation anchor was more right than he could have thought as well. There were complicated spell patterns circulating along the walls—though far fewer in variety compared to the average anchor.

Still. What the hell is it with the system making me brawl big godsdamned monsters in teleportation anchors?

 “That’s the last of them!” A guard called. “They’re packed in. Everyone else out! Out before the doors close.”

“Yeah,” another guard barked, laughing. “Don’t want to end up like MacDowell. Poor shit.”

As the guards began rushing out, the large curved doors groaned, squealed, and started to shut. Most of the slaves were frozen in terror. Shiv sensed collective courage was in ruins, and that more than a few were still suffering from the sigils. The stench in the air was also almost unbearable. Too many bodies packed too tight together. Adam might just drop dead from, Shiv gagged.

As he slowly pushed past several slaves, he studied the colossal doors, punched it once with his fist. A small dent was left there, but he wasn’t going to be hammering his way out. Probably not even with Momentum Core. This place was meant to serve as a cage for something much bigger than him. A cage, or a nest.

“Hey,” the girl at the back of his group called out as she pushed free from a mess of sobbing, shaking bodies. Shiv ignored her for a moment as he studied his surroundings some more. Looking up, the ceiling was high. A few hundred meters at least. Shiv blinked. Just how far down did we go? We must be beneath even the molten rivers to have this much space. That explains the heat too…

It was then that he noticed something else. There were ten enormous “handhold” looking protrusions lining the inside of this teleportation anchor. Each of them gleamed slightly, and Shiv realized they were focus crystals. Oh, shit, that’s not good. That’s a lot of focus crystal… for a whole lot of monster. This is going to be a miserable godsdamned fight if I can’t break those crystals. He looked at all the slaves around him and winced. And how am I supposed to keep most of you poor bastards alive?

“Hey!” the girl gripped his arm. “Who are you? And why did you just let that man take all of us! You have magic! I saw you use magic on him—to fix his arm after you broke it? Who are you?”

Shiv stared at her and frowned. He didn’t blame her for being upset, but he also wasn’t going to let her know who he was—especially with him planning how he was going to attack the Jealousy the moment it got distracted with draining everyone's minds.

But an amusing thought occurred to him. Something that might piss off the Gate Lord even more if this girl somehow survived. “I’m with New Albion, here to sample some exotic calamari.”

“What?” She said, “What’s that? And what’s calamari?”

Shiv’s frown returned. “Right. She was a slave and a young one at that. She might know less about the world than he did after falling into the Abyss.”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Shiv regarded her for a moment with discomfort. “Listen, when the fighting starts, I need you to get as many people as you can and curl up against the wall. I’ll try to keep the fight away from you. If I can. Somehow.”

“Fight? What fight?” the girl asked.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her what was about to come, but it wasn’t in his nature to lie. “In a while, a Greater Demon is going to come in and feed on your minds. The moment it does, I’ll use that as a distraction to attack and try to kill it. Things will get bad, so the best thing you can do is keep your head down, curl up, and press your back against the walls.”

Her eyes widened in confusion and horror as she looked at him, but to his surprise, she just swallowed and nodded. “Okay. Okay. I can do that. But… how are you going to kill a Greater Demon alone?”

Shiv grinned at her. “One death at a time is my general plan, but we’ll see how this goes soon.”

And then, waves of immense pressure washed over Shiv. A chorus of wailing confusion and discomfort sounded from all the slaves trapped within the great anchor. In the air above, an expanding sphere of teleportation began to swell, and from within its confines slipped the first of the Jealousy’s great tentacles. The Jealousy wrenched itself free from the spatial bubble even before it finished expanding, popping out like an octopus might from an egg. Shiv could see its shell-like body—its outer flesh something of dense and jagged chitin that looked more right on a crab.

Then came the monster’s single, baleful eye, and it glowed bright with mana like a hateful star.

Beneath its glare, the slaves screamed in terror, their collective courage turning to dust. The Jealousy, meanwhile, felt like an unbreakable mountain in terms of morale. Shiv intended to change that by the end of this fight.

As the final pulse of teleportation magic died down as the Jealousy hooked its massive limbs through the focus crystal grips bolted against the anchor, Shiv saw the spell patterns lining the walls circulating the faster and faster. He drew upon his Biomancy and reached into his cloak, seizing two adamantine bone drills. Alright, you big ugly shit, let’s see what you’re made of.

“Hmmm. Tasty little minds!” The Jealous proclaimed with a cackle of glee. The telepathic voice the creature used was sharp and high, and not at all what Shiv expected. The way it projected a literal flood of Psychomancy mana down on all the slaves also nearly caught him off guard. All around Shiv, slaves twitched. The girl’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as translucent tendrils of mana spread out from her orifices like near-invisible tendrils.

Shiv didn’t use his Magebreaker to parry the blow coming for him. Instead, he felt his mask shudder as he pretended to be incapacitated too. He needed it to start feeding before he attacked. Only then—

Then, the Jealousy stopped. Its mind mana suddenly shifted across the room. “Something—something is suspicious!” The Deathless froze. The Jealousy’s mana crashed down specifically on Shiv—on the group he came with. “Not right. There was a memory that is not right. Slaves can’t fight back. Slaves cannot Intimidate. Wrong memory? No. Cannot be misremembered. Too many consistent memories between minds. Has to be true. Has to be… to be…”

And as the Jealousy rambled through his stream of thought, Shiv cursed himself one final time. The other slaves remembered Shiv’s encounter with Cormand—a very recent, very memorable encounter that was fresh in their minds. Why it slipped his mind this might happen, Shiv didn’t know. Now, the Jealousy was scanning through these memories too, focusing on his group specifically. His group and him.

The Jealousy’s eyes snapped to him and widened.

I am the godsdamned worst spy in existence, Shiv muttered mentally. And promptly launched two of his bone drills right at the monster’s eye.