27 Conversations

Your body will undergo changes as certain skills evolve. This is a natural part of your advancement across the Tiers.

Most obvious changes occur when your physicality and your toughness reach adept. Some call this the Hardening, or Crossing the First Boundary. It is when you advance from something that still vaguely lingers in the realm of mortality into becoming a true Pathbearer, one that is capable of wrestling against raging storms and the cruel hand of fate.

There are many ways your body can evolve, and this is most often shaped by your experiences, your focus, and your Path molding you further into the champion you can become.

Other skills—such as reflexes, and even certain magical or intellectual abilities—can also have an effect on your body. For example, someone who is an adept in mathematics might be able to think several times faster when running advanced calculations in their mind. This affects the brain’s structure as well, and it is the genetic modification so often practiced during the pre-system era has long since fallen out of favor, even among the noble families that cling so hard to tradition.

But be warned: these developments are permanent, and a paltry evolution from years of neglect or lack of focus could potentially leave you lacking—or simply not the Pathbearer you were meant to become.

It is one thing to develop a Stonehide after your Toughness hits Adept, but compared to someone who bears Alloyflesh, what is stone before steel?

--The Paths of Ascension, Essential Reading at Phoenix Academy of The Twilight Republic

27

Conversations

Shiv focused as the Biomancers reconnected the tendons for his last broken limb. He watched as they shaped every spell, compelling his biology to react in certain subtle ways. There were eight Weaveresses and one Umbral working on him. Each seemed to be in charge of a different part of his body: one focused mostly on his skin; another monitored his organs and served as the general director. The rest delved into deep work, working together to rebuild what was destroyed and rejoin what was parted in a meticulous operation.

Though his Biomancy was stronger than before, he still wasn’t an Adept in the lore. Each of the biomancers at Cradle was many times more experienced and quite a bit more powerful in terms of the fields they projected. Even so, they weren’t absurdly stronger than he was—at least, not most of them. Harkness had set another standard for magical power, and Sister Uva was quite a significant Psychomancer in her own right. Shiv didn’t think most of these Biomancers currently treating him were as strong in Biomancy as Uva was Psychomancy, but then there was one who checked in every few moments. 

That one was an automaton: their body designed in the general shape of a weaver’s, but with the mechanical face of an Umbral. Their field seemed to span half of Cradle—and Cradle was practically five kilometers of building. 

If Shiv had to guess, they were at least well into the Master Threshold, perhaps even a High Master.

Could’ve used that in the tunnels, Shiv thought.

“We have finished our ministrations, honored guest,” the Biomancers said as they backed away. Their spells died, and the crimson glow of their mana faded from reality. Each saluted him, and he returned the salute as best he could. His arms still felt itchy in places and slightly sore, but they had done a good job—no tumors at all.

He thought back to what they’d done and found himself lacking in comprehension more than power. “Thanks. Pretty impressive work you did. Usually, when I’m dealing with a Biomancer, they have to spend some time pulling out tumors.”

A few of the weavers looked at each other, their posture uneasy. “That is a common outcome of inexperience, inattentiveness to detail, or simply urgency.”

“Why do people get tumors anyway? I should have asked earlier,” Shiv said. “I know they have a chance to pop up when someone drinks a Potion of Regeneration, but as a fledgling Biomancer myself, I’ve noticed that when someone tries to accelerate their own healing, it seems to cascade across the entire body.”

“Uh, yes,” the Umbral replied. “The common problem. The hard problem of regeneration. This is something most Biomancers learn early on. Your body is a very complicated organism—a very complicated machine. The reason you cannot simply accelerate your regeneration is that you are confusing its operations.”

“Confusing its operations—how?” Shiv asked. “I know you all are doing something very carefully on a deep level. It’s like you’re herding a bunch of small motes inside my larger organs and tissues.”

“Your cells,” the Umbral answered. “They determine a great deal about your mortal and biological destiny. If you supercharge your regeneration, to put it simply, it’s like a craftsman cutting corners. Sure, he can finish the order, but what is produced is usually raw and poor in quality in several places, because quality control has been sacrificed in order to achieve maximum speed.”

Shiv blinked, trying to process what she’d just said. “And that causes cancer?”

“Yes,” a Weaveress breathed. “Horrible, body-consuming tumors.”

“In more detail,” she said, reaching into his body once more as a spell came alight within her hand. Shiv focused, feeling her field prod into his flesh. “Do you feel this?”

He felt a small patch of himself grow still and then accelerate. Slowly, he felt it—a tipping point. Some small things were congealing together, spreading a cancer, and then she broke apart with a twitch of her finger, dissolving it with a spell.

Shiv was impressed. “How did you—?”

“That is me removing it by strengthening your protective cells sourced from immune system. Your body removes cancers all the time. There is one method of removing cancer, and that’s simply focusing your immune system and directing it to cull the cancers. It requires some focus, but it’s relatively easy to do. It’s also something we learn early on.”

“But to explain things about cancers more detail: first, if you accelerate your healing too much, you skip through many checkpoints—many checkpoints that check your cells for mistakes. The cells hold a code, something like a status sheet that we all have from the system. If we supercharge our regeneration, these points will be ignored, and faulty or damaged cells will pass through. Then you have replication errors—little mistakes that slip through more and more, and this becomes something that simply continues growing and growing and growing.

“As said before, your body has something of an operation to it—a programming, if you understand how the automata function. Some cells are meant to self-destruct, but if you tell them to continue building no matter what, they will survive, multiply, and mutate long after they are meant to dissolve. This is why immortality—even the biological version—is rather hard to achieve for anyone but a Master Biomancer.”

“Because of division errors and cell mutations?” Shiv asked, trying to process everything.

“Correct. This is an entire study in itself. If your cells get a little too short in certain aspects of their code, they die. This causes variation and affects natural aging. However, you can activate an enzyme within yourself that rebuilds this, causing the cells to effectively become something akin to immortal. That usually results in cancer as well. To achieve immortal cells or functional regeneration without cancer requires constant vigilance and focus and knowledge. Incredible amounts of each. Again: Master Biomancer.”

Shiv thought he grasped some of that. The entire explanation was fascinating. As he looked inward using his Biomancy again, he felt at the smaller cells. He no longer viewed himself as just organs, tissue, meat, and bone—there was something deeper connecting it all, an unseen network that he had only started to reach into and feel. He nudged them slightly; it felt odd—ticklish. But he yearned to learn more.

Skill Gained: Practical Metabiology 1 (Advanced)

As Shiv received a new skill, he decided to look at his overall progress. He’d been through a lot, and the urge struck him to see just how far he’d come.

Name: Tanner “Shiv” Lowe

Age: 18

Race: Human

Path: 

Deathless

Feats [1/1]:

He Who Rises From Ash Eternal (Unique) - Allows the Pathbearer to quickly learn new Skills and advance existing Skills through repeated deaths.

Skills:

Cooking 23 (Common)

Knife Proficiency 29 (Common)

Grappling Proficiency 40 (Common)

Stealth 21 (Common)

Marksmanship 11 (Common)

Baking 9 (Common)

Intimidation 3 (Common)

Striking Proficiency 21 (Common)

Barter 10 (Common)

Alchemy 2 (Common)

Engineering 1 (Common)
Lance Proficiency 1 (Common)

Pyromancy 4 (Advanced)

Spear Proficiency 10 (Advanced)

Parry 29 (Advanced)

Biomancy 44 (Advanced)

Disease Resistance 3 (Advanced)
Awareness 6 (Advanced)

Practical Metabiology 1 (Advanced)

Silver Tongue 3 (Adept)
Evolution: Might of Mass 69 (Adept)
Evolution: Diamond Shell 79 (Adept)
Foreshadowing 11 (Adept)

Momentum Core 63 (Master)

Vitality Drain 7 (Legendary)

Revenant 4 (Unique)

Blessings: 

None

Curses:

None

Shiv let out a breath as he observed all that he achieved. A long way from being a Pathless chef hunting lesser vampires in my off-time. Hells, I’m a long way from being the same guy that fell down into the Abyss. But despite everything, he thought back to Harkness, to how she twisted the oncoming mana bomb aside. And still damn far to go. Looking forward to it.

“Well, thanks for the lesson,” Shiv said to the Biomancer. “I think I’ll be coming around a little bit more often. A lot more often, probably.”

He told them about the books he had bought and his interest in furthering his own development in the field. He also mentioned how close he was to achieving his skill evolution.

And this surprised the Umbral: “You… you are at level… 44 for Biomancy?”

“Yeah,” Shiv said. “Why—what’s wrong?”

“It’s… well, it’s high for someone who never uses it toward the purpose of medicine. What have you been using your Biomancy for? How did you get it this high?”

Shiv coughed. “I, uh, been kind of using it as a weapon, throwing bones at people.”

He neglected to mention that he was also ripping out eyes and giving people wounds—that kind of thing. The Biomancers all looked at each other; one of the Weaveresses shivered.

“Well, he’s never going to be a practitioner.”

“What?” Shiv asked, looking at the umbral.

“Oh, we practitioners take an oath.”

“An oath?” he asked.

“Yes—to do no harm using Biomancy. It is an oath passed down from practitioners of healing, because we, more than most others, know what it’s like to break a body to take a wound. It is a burden as much as a gift.” The Umbral went quiet. “It is not a binding oath, not something from the system, but it is still something that we believe in philosophically.”

Interestingly, Shiv remembered some of the Biomancers at Blackedge also having a similar oath. How Biomancy traditions seemed to cross cultures between the surface nations and the Abyss was something he hadn’t expected. Maybe it’s a Path thing, something that affects their minds, Shiv wondered.

“I was just doing it to keep myself alive most of the time,” Shiv said, defending himself.

“We are not questioning your decency, Honored Guest,” the Umbral replied. “Not all Biomancers are pacifists. Many aren’t, especially… those in the field. Because of necessity. The Umbral’s face took on an expression of disgust. “If you are dealing with the Court of the First Blood, who view Biomancy more as a sculpting tool, you often must match mana with mana.”

“Sculpting tool,” Shiv muttered.

“You should see some of the things they do to people. It’s nightmarish.”

“I’ve had firsthand experience,” Shiv said. “I ran into a high vampire on the way here.”

The Umbral’s expression flickered with fear. “And—”

“I’m here. He isn’t.”

“The Composer watches over you,” she said.

That, and I don’t stay dead, Shiv grinned slightly.

“You’ll experience more of the vampiric method if you read that horrible book…” a Weaveress intoned.

“Ode of Blood and Flesh,” he said.

“Yes, that one,” the Umbral said, refusing even to utter its name. She sighed and shook her head. “Well, you are cleared now. I would recommend that you monitor your body. Most of the time, you simply need more nutrition and caloric intake to recover from an operation. However, sometimes diseases or cancers might still develop. If they do, come back to us. We will make sure you are well.”

“All right. Thanks,” he said.

Rising off the chair, he opened the door and found himself standing in an extremely busy hallway. Umbrals, Weaveresses, automata, and other races moved here and there—some carting wounded members of the Arachnae Order, others dealing with existing crises. The cradle was always abuzz, like a little hive. Shiv felt so many bodies around him—so many biologies, architectures, and wounds, and what seemed like deeper misalignments. He blinked slightly to maintain his focus. There was so much noise here, so much chaos, and it wasn’t even combat.

“Excuse me, honored guest Shiv,” a voice said.

He paused and turned to see the automaton that had peeked in earlier—the one that resembled a spider with the face of an Umbral.

“Oh, hello,” he said, looking at the Master Biomancer. “I just finished my session today.”

“Yes,” the automaton said, “I have been informed by my colleagues that you have concluded your initial recovery process. However, I’ve also heard from one of my field medics that you wish to pursue an education here.”

“Yeah,” Shiv said. “In exchange for you looking into my biology and learning more about surfacers,” he shrugged. “I think that was the arrangement.”

“Indeed, indeed,” the automaton said. “I am interested in pursuing this partnership. Quite extremely interested. You are… fascinating,” it continued after a moment of consideration. “Your biology—the way you develop—does not seem to fit your culture or species.”

“A culture or species,” Shiv said, looking down at himself. His flesh gleamed a little where his skin and muscle bulged out of his simple hospital shirt—nothing nearly as comfortable as the clothes Uva had brought him.

In the aftermath of all he had experienced, he was barely wearing rags. If he walked a little bit further, what remained on his body might peel off, and he would be nude save for his new cloak. Judging by some of the looks he received from the Umbrals—male and female alike—it seemed that some local population might not mind if he became something of a nudist.

“Your Physicality and Toughness—they’ve evolved into Might of Mass and Diamond Shell, respectively, correct?”

Shiv blinked, surprised that the Master Biomancer could tell so easily. For a moment, he was going to ask how they knew, but then he realized they were a Biomancer—they could practically read the details from his flesh. “Yeah,” Shiv said, nodding. “You got keen insight there.”

“No,” the automaton replied, “merely experience.”

A screaming weaver was carted past them, actively being healed and maintained from a state of death by two Biomancers accompanying her. As Shiv studied the brutal burns on her flesh, he winced—he had a guess as to how those burns happened. The mana bomb had to go somewhere. The automaton, however, barely noted the dying Weaveress.

“I’m saying it’s not normal for a human,” it continued, “because Might of Mass and Diamond Shell usually belong to races that forgo armor and meet their struggles head-on without any equipment—races such as primal dragons, certain demons, the war-blooded variant of the orks, but mostly my own people, for we are our own equipment a lot of the time.”

Shiv considered his recent history and thought, That made sense. He had done a lot of things himself without sophisticated gear helping him. Mainly just fire, daggers, and ambushes when it came to lesser vampires.

“You could say I am a hands-on kind of guy,” Shiv said. 

“I can also say that you also seem to have no compunction dealing harm to yourself or enemies using your Biomancy.” The automaton said—none of its words were an accusation, merely an observation. “You are like me,” it said. “You are not afraid of warping and twisting the flesh.”

Shiv nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m not. How did you—”

“Your field rests in you and reaches into those around you casually. Without thought. It is considered rude, but the way you grip against my field speaks of a familiarity with violence.”

The Deathless winced and forced himself to slacken his field against the Master Biomancer. “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” the automaton said with a hum. “I am looking for someone without the usual reluctance toward experimentation. And this will be to your benefit as well. The way you treat flesh and use your body is more alike to the high vampires—and so your eventual Skill Evolution will likely deviate from what most Biomancers here achieve.”

“Should I be worried?” Shiv asked. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being compared to a high vampire.

“That is for you to decide. And you have already decided in part when you chose to use your Biomancy as a weapon. We teach the system who we are with each action. We teach our skills what to become. I suspect that your Biomancy will not be that conducive to pure healing and comfort. But it might just allow you to tap into the extremes of bio-modification far more easily.”

Somehow, that sounded both ominous and exciting at the same time.

“I will see you in two days,” it added. “Come speak to me when you arrive at the front desk. Say you have an appointment with Master Biologist Dven Falseflesh.”

Shiv stared at the automaton for a few moments before nodding. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to learning from you.”

“And I as well.” The automaton said. And paused. “The Composer… she says you have something else that both of us will find useful. But that this is a secret that should be yours to tell.”

His Deathlessness. Shiv understood, and was grateful that the Composer allowed him this at least. “It’s something better shown than told.”

Dven nodded slightly, its body giving a mechanical whine.

“Wait,” Shiv called out before the automaton could fully leave. “I’m sorry if this is insensitive, but you’re an automaton. Why are you a Biomancy when you don’t have… you know, biology?”

The automaton turned, its alloyed face unreadable. “To cross over into being a real person, of course.” There was something joking in its voice—and something that wasn’t.

***

“They’re already bloody done with you?” Adam said, looking Shiv up and down with a curious expression. “You’re barely in there for more than an hour.”

“Probably less,” Shiv replied.

There were even more people coming in through the doors—lots of casualties, lots of injuries. Shiv got to see the aftermath of what happened at Passage, even though he contained most of the damage. Harkness’s final act still incurred quite a few losses: a mana bomb of that much force, that much power, couldn’t just be released into the city casually. And to make matters worse, there was no report that the master assassin had been caught yet. Technically a Legendary assassin now, in terms of skill, Shiv thought darkly to himself. Though she should only be in the Heroic Threshold in terms of levels.

It was partially his fault she’d managed to break through, but in his defense, that moment was something no one could have anticipated—not even Harkness herself, despite her already terrifying Master-Tier power.

As Shiv prepared to ask the young lord if he was ready to return home, he noticed something around the man’s neck. There, dangling from a slim silvery chain, was a red vial—a red vial that Shiv felt to be biological material.

Shiv pointed at it. “What is that?”

“Oh, this?” Adam smirked. “This is a Potion of Disease Immunity—in a pendant. The Abyssal Elves who gave it to me said that I saved her sister in the tunnels.”

Adam seemed rather proud of himself. 

“And you said you weren’t getting rewarded for this quest,” Shiv joked.

“I wasn’t! I’m not the one who got a cape and whatever else you managed to obtain.” Adam’s smile faded, replaced by a scowl. “You… you disgust me, you know that?”

“What?” Shiv said, feeling his own smile grow as Adam’s offense built. 

“Seriously, what is wrong with you? You’re a walking pile of bullshit—that’s what you are. You get killed by a master-tier opponent a few times, you die horribly, and rather than staying dead like the rest of us do, you come back stronger with… with what?”

“Momentum Core,” Shiv replied, speaking as innocently as he could.

“Momentum Core!” Adam practically screamed. “Momentum Core—do you have any idea how many people develop Momentum Core?”

Shiv sneered. “No. Didn’t go to an academy. Is it good?”

“You bastard, you bastard, omen-born gutter-rat child!” Adam spat. 

Shiv threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, yeah, it did feel pretty good to hit her after the core filled up. The discharge—” He clenched his fist. “—I could still feel it. All that power, time seeming to stop around me. Just me, Harkness, and the blow I was about to land. Then the calamity that followed, the devastation, and the damage.” He winced. “Yeah, Momentum Core seemed to break me more than it broke her sometimes…”

“Because you’re using a Master-Tier Reflexes Skill with, what, two Adept Skills for Physicality and Toughness. Of course you’re breaking yourself.” Adam shook his head. “Momentum Core is something that geniuses and true talents on the Path of the Rider or the Path of the Vanguard can achieve. And even they usually do it in armor so thick that they can survive re-entry.”

“Yeah, using it did feel a bit better when I was in my armor,” Shiv muttered.

“Yes—your armor, made from your own bones. That’s… that’s something else: What is wrong with you?” Adam repeated once more.

“Come on, Adam,” Shiv said. “Let’s go back. You can yell at me inside our apartment.”

“Our apartment—your apartment,” Adam grumbled, glaring at the back of Shiv’s head. “Your apartment, because I didn’t get anything. I had to be taken out of this place by you after I woke up surrounded by…” He caught sight of a Weaver, who gave a loud, disgusted snort and turned away. “Spiderfolk! What is wrong with the world? How did my life get this way?” 

As they walked onto the bridge, Shiv stared at a demon-summoning crystal in the distance, the prison flashing bright as more and more injured came in.

Mana bomb… Shiv grimaced. That was Harkness’s moment of glory, but it seemed plenty of other people paid for it.

“So,” the Young Lord said with a sigh, “care for a race?”

“A race?” Shiv asked. “What do you mean, a race?”

“I mean, you have Momentum Core now. Why do we need to take…” Adam gestured generally at the demons.

“The Demons?” Shiv said casually. 

“Don’t call them that. It bothers me.”

“That’s what they are,” Shiv answered. “But… I don’t think that’s possible. I don’t think I can use the core out here.”

“What do you mean, you don’t think it’s possible? You have Momentum Core. Why won’t you use it?” Adam pressed.

“You just want to see how fast I am,” Shiv replied, prodding at Adam for his deliberate attempt to see just how good Shiv’s new skill was..

The Young Lord folded his arms. “No, I’m just… how does it work, exactly? Does it absorb all momentum near you? Do you have to be close? Do you—?”

Shiv shook his head. “Adam, I’m sorry. I’m not using it in public. Every time I use it, it’s like a bomb’s going off around me. Hell, if the Pyromancers hadn’t been there in the tunnels, I think I would have fried more than a few of the Umbrals. And you.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. “My armor would have protected me.”

“Would it protect your open face?”

The Young Lord’s scowl deepened. “I hate you. I despise you so much, Omenborn.”

“Yeah, I heard that before,” Shiv said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s… it’s really my curse, you know? The skill—it’s just too powerful, too strong. My muscles, too.” Shiv flexed. Part of his medical shirt tore. A nurse turned to stare, and crashed into a wall nearby. Adam glared harder. ”Everything about me is growing too fast. This world…it’s becoming like glass. I feel bad for everyone who isn’t me.”

Adam bumped Shiv with his shoulder and started marching forward, muttering curses under his breath. Shiv laughed again as he followed.

“Hey, Adam! Adam, wait! Adam, you’re gonna need to carry me if you want to fly.”

“I am not carrying you. Find your own way back on one of those… things.”

“Well, I guess we’re not having fondue tonight.”

“...I will carry you. Do not ever mention this to anyone again. I’m also going to get to throw you—that’s part of the arrangement.”

“Sure, fine,” Shiv said. He didn’t mind being thrown. “It’s actually kind of fun. Actually, can we stop by the bookstore first?”

As they sailed through the air, Umbrals, Weaveresses, and countless other peoples pointed at them. To Shiv’s surprise, some cheered, waving, calling out to honored guests turned genuine heroes. Even Adam’s scowl softened for a moment.

Shiv noticed. “Oh, you’re enjoying the moment, aren’t you, Young Lord? You’re finally turning your reputation around.”

Adam’s scowl returned. “You disgust me. You sicken me. I hate you.”

“Say that to me after dinner,” Shiv shot back.

“Oh, I will,” Adam said. “You just… you wait. I will say it as many times as I—”

***

“I love you. I revere you. I worship you. Please—may I please have another plate?” Adam said mournfully, glaring at Shiv all the while.

The Deathless grinned at him and nodded. “Oh, okay—you spoke loud enough. I was having a ringing in my ears earlier, so I couldn’t hear you.”

“I despise you,” Adam muttered under his breath.

After returning to the bookstore—scaring the same librarian working there again, claiming the books, and hearing Adam whine all the way back to the apartment—they settled in briefly. Only for Shiv to go right back out in hunt of cooking ingredients. He had a dinner date later tonight, and he didn’t intent to disappoint.

He made a girl a promise, after all.

The dish was clear to him: Lobster Thermidor paired with asparagus, ending on fruit-dipped fondue. The lobster was surprisingly easy to find and rather tender in quality. He managed to source a creamy sauce made from egg yolk, a Weave wine brand known as Deep Marrow, truffles, and some fine-smelling cheese. He also spent some of his Shards on a magical micro-oven and several other appliances needed for the process.

After a few hours of preparation—and Adam complaining the entire time—Shiv finished with the lobster and moved on to the fondue. That was easier: high-quality chocolate (a mixture of dark and milk), some sea salt, heavy cream, and a drip of brandy. Afterward, he cut up strawberries, bananas, pineapples, and cherries to offer a sweet end to the night.

After a hard day of stopping a terrorist attack, suffering incredibly painful deaths, brutal combat, and a bit of learning near the end, Shiv finally got to relax—pairing his high excitement with deep focus and genuine pleasure.

“It makes no sense,” Adam said, ripping another chunk of meat from his personal lobster—Shiv accounted for the Young Lord’s own needs, after all. Its shell was a brilliant, smooth perfection—almost golden in its radiance—and it was fortified by truffles. The young lord savored every last bite.

“How high is your Cooking?” Adam asked.

“Twenty-Three.”

“But how is it only that high?” Adam frowned. “It makes no sense. I’ve eaten from better chefs. They should be—”

“They didn’t have Georges to show them what they were doing wrong,” Shiv answered.

It was true: many chefs had higher potential in terms of cooking skill, but that was just a number. Cooking skill was, in a sense, like his Biomancy—it made them faster, more efficient, more powerful within the kitchen, but it didn’t make them more meticulous. It didn’t make them notice mistakes as often. And that’s why Georges wanted him—because he was always reliable, in spite of his Cooking Skill and not because.

For the third time that day, Shiv looked at the door and scanned his surroundings with his Biomancy field. He couldn’t feel anyone except the neighbors next door. This was a bit invasive: with his magical skill growing, he could peer into other people’s lives.

I might need to get a change of location anyway, Shiv thought, He couldn’t imagine staying here long, knowing everyone’s business. Maybe some place with wards…

“Worried that a certain someone might not show?” Adam asked.

Shiv stared back at the Young Lord before he shrugged. “I hope she does. She said she will. She hasn’t given me any reason to doubt her, but…”

“But she almost died, straining herself to the very limit to keep us all alive. And you’d understand if she’s currently lying in bed, trying to sleep off the worst headache known to man?” Adam finished.

“You’re pretty astute when you don’t talk much. Especially about yourself,” Shiv smiled.

Adam scowled. It was becoming a routine between them. “And you are always a bastard, Shiv.”

“Thanks for using the right name again this time,” Shiv said. “Now, as a reward…” He reached into his cloak and pulled out the other two prizes he got from the quest. “Something to cheer you up after a day of complaining.”

The Young Lord scowled harder. “I did not complain that—oh, that cape seems useful.”

The Cloak of Midnight’s Kindred was surprisingly easy to use. It gave him a faint sense of spatial magic around him—just enough to secure any specific item stored within its minor dimensional pocket. Paired with the cloak’s Shadowsense enhancement, most spots of darkness weren’t so dark anymore. 

Despite offering no true offensive power, Shiv found himself enjoying the cloak more and more. I carried the books and all the cooking ingredients and appliances back easy with this. It adds to the weight, but I can take it. Damn useful. And I can use it to avoid attacks too, like with the rapier…

He placed the Mask of False Paths on the table next to Adam’s plate, then held up the rapier—the blade that Lady Harkness had used to kill him so many times—as a means to bribe the Young Lord’s pride. Shiv didn’t have a chance to examine the items either, so he was looking forward to this.

Adam stared briefly at the mask before he did a double take at the sword. His eyes shot wide.

“Shiv—that’s not a master-level weapon. That’s a Heroic one!”

Equipment Obtained: [Rapier of the Myriad Selves]

Tier: Heroic

Condition: Perfect

Composition: Stellarite

Enchantments > User-Duplication; Pyromancy 50; Self-Sharpening; Self-Mending; Self-Shaping; Speed Amplification; Temporal Warding; Spatial Warding

“Well, that’s going to be useful,” Shiv replied, stunned by how many enchantments were infused in this blade. Considering what Valor said about how enchantments and magic needed someone to invest their hard-earned skill levels, this thing was likely absurdly expensive.

“I’m no sword genius, but I know how to use a blade,” Adam muttered. “Imagine six of me firing my bows, attacking from all angles…Or six of me calling you a bastard at once.”

“Only six?” Shiv replied, deadpan.

Adam’s features cracked into a reluctant smile. “You are a bastard, Shiv.”

“Thank you, Adam.”

“You’re welcome,” Adam said. “Now, what about the mask?” He eyed the Mask of False Path and frowned. “Huh.”

Equipment Obtained: [Mask of False Paths]

Tier: Heroic

Condition: Damaged

Composition: Bronze

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

“I don’t think I’ve seen any of those enchantments before,” Adam said. “Other than Skill Thief. That’s impressive enough on its own.”

“Semblance might be taking on someone else’s appearance, I guess,” Shiv said. “Mind-Shield’s what I’m looking at.”

“Lady Harkness?” Adam asked.

“Yeah,” Shiv said. “You want the mask? Or the sword?”

“Hm. We should test them out in a practical situation.”

“Wise. I’ll put them back in the cloak for now.”

“How attached are you to the cloak?” Adam asked, eyeing the swirling mass of darkness around Shiv.

“It’s equipped. It’s not coming off.”

The Young Lord wrinkled his nose. “Fine. I’ll find a better dimensional storage anyway.”

“Sure you will. It just won’t look as good.”

Adam sneered.

Adam flicked a piece of lobster shell at Shiv. The Deathless caught it. “No littering.”

“Shiv? Adam?” a voice said. Valor had been silent for a while, ever since he departed the Cradle. “I want you to understand something. To receive this much attention from the system—these many quests in these few days—is not entirely a good thing.”

“I know,” Adam said. “I nearly died more times in the past day than I have my entire life.”

“Exactly,” Valor replied. “And that will likely grow more common. You, too, are what some in the Necrotech Legions call the Favored—favored by the system.”

“When you took that rapier from Harkness,” Valor continued, “understand that it was also a declaration—a declaration of making a great enemy. This quest might be over, but your battle against her is far from done.”

Adam shivered slightly. Shiv sported a vicious grin. “Next time—next time I’ll kill her for good.”

“Next time?” Adam said. “I hope I never see that woman again for the rest of my life. It was horrible. I fired arrow after arrow at her—didn’t do anything. Bullshit…”

“Yeah, that’s because you didn’t have Momentum Core,” Shiv pointed out.

Adam flung another piece of shell. Shiv caught it, draining the momentum out of it. “Don’t litter,” Shiv said, more forcefully.

“Don’t mock me,” Adam shot back, heat in his voice. Shiv decided to back off. The Young Lord seemed genuinely incensed by the memory of his impotence.

“Fine. You might not want to meet her, but I will. She… she achieved that Legendary eEvolution because of me, and I’m going to test just how Legendary it is next time I see her.”

“Or she’ll flatten you, fold your arms, and break your mind for good,” Adam murmured.

“Does she scare you, Adam?” Shiv couldn’t resist the taunt.

“Yes,” Adam said honestly, without a hint shame. “She terrifies me, because she is a Psychomancer sadist who tried to pull us apart with her mind. She terrifies me because we couldn’t harm her, not a small army of Umbrals paired with you and me. She terrifies me because I watched her kill you brutally over and over again. Do you know what that was like, Shiv? Watching you come apart time and time again, watching her advance on us afterward? How aren’t you bothered? You’re the one she killed the most.”

Shiv shrugged. “Comes with the territory—was learning her ways.”

“Yes, and she was learning how to butcher you better each time. I don’t know…” Adam swallowed. “I don’t know how you do it.” It took a lot for Young Lord to admit that. “I don’t know how you die over and over without feeling something.”

“Well, I get skills out of it. It doesn’t matter,” Shiv said. 

“It doesn’t matter! You’re dying! You’re dying horribly! You’re being tortured to death! The Umbrals… they told me what you did to save Uva and the others… Does that not bother you at all? Are you just insane?”

“Not insane,” Shiv shook his head. “I think I see things clearly. I just take things as they come.”

“This is not taking things as they come,” Adam said. “This is not feeling what you’re supposed to feel when damage is inflicted.” The Young Lord stared at Shiv, and the Deathless saw something on his face that wasn’t there before: Terror. “I don’t… you know, I don’t like fighting. I like firing my bow. I like sparring and training with people. I like protecting people. I like living up to being a Pathbearer, advancing my skills—but I don’t like killing people, and I certainly don’t like getting hurt.”

A silence followed.

“I’m not like you,” Adam admitted. “I see you die time and time again—these ugly, painful deaths. I see her rip into your mind. You just keep going after her, like you don’t care, like you even enjoy it, like none of this bothers you.”

“It doesn’t,” Shiv replied. “I mean, the mind-slaving thing is disgusting, and I’ll kill her for that alone. But, you know, the fight’s the fight. It’s good excitement—maybe a little too much excitement today. That’s why I’m cooking right now. 

“People don’t just cook and then de-stress after bloodshed and violence and end up fine.”

“Why not?” Shiv asked himself, almost.

“I just… what?” Adam cried. “It’s not my problem. It’s your problem. You’re the wrong one. You’re the weird one. You’re the freak.”

Adam folded his arms. Shiv studied the Young Lord. He wanted to mock him, but maybe Adam was right in some way—maybe there was something else, too.

“Do you think it’s the ritual that did this?” Shiv ventured.

Adam’s face grew featureless. “I thought about that, and I don’t know,” Adam said, anger creeping in. “It’s possible. Maybe you’re just born messed up that way—who knows, considering who your parents are and what they did? But all I know is that you are not like them, even though you’re born because of them—because of what they did to me, to my family, to my entire town. And now, despite all that, you’ve turned out to be… well, you’re still a bastard, but you seem to care about people and try to do the right thing. Yet you’re rewarded so much for what your parents did—all the bloodshed they unleashed. All they took from me…”

Shiv nodded in understanding. “All I can do,” he said, “is play my hand. Life gave me a set—gave you a set, too. And before, I would have been envious of your set. I would have loved to be Adam Arrow. 

“But right now…the shoe’s on the other foot. Is that what you’re getting at?” Adam sneered.

“No,” Shiv replied firmly. “Right now, I don’t care if I’m you or not. I just want to be me, finally. I can’t live in the past. I can’t ask you to surrender the past. I’m going to fight for what I have now—and ultimately for Blackedge. But I’m no slave to what happened. And I won’t bow to what someone else did. Even if that’s why I’m the way I am. I’ll just use it to do better.”

Adam stared at him. “You genuinely mean that? That you wish to protect Blackedge?”

“I do,” Shiv said. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Adam shook his head. “I still… I try not to hate you, but it’s hard. I don’t think I would blame you if you just wanted to stay. You seem to like it here.”

“I like adventuring,” Shiv said. “I like going places. I like doing things, and— a bit—like you. I like helping people. I just don’t like being in a cage. That doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon Georges and the others.”

“Blackedge was your cage,” Adam said.

“No,” Shiv countered. “Roland Arrow was my cage.”

Adam flinched at Shiv’s words.

“But you aren’t,” Shiv added softly. “I don’t think I fully like you yet, Young Lord, but you’re growing on me… like a fungal infection.”

Adam flipped a piece of lobster shell at Shiv; it crashed onto the floor. “You missed that one,” he said.

“I’ll let you have it,” Shiv grinned. Then he breathed. “I’m sorry about your mother. If I could go back and make things different, I would. If I could have made your pain better I would. But you’re a good man—and I’m glad you learned about spatial magic at the academy because I have no idea how you resolves things at the end.”

For a few moments, they stared at each other in silence. Shiv didn’t know if Adam liked him anymore, but something had shifted between them. Then the Young Lord tilted his head and smirked.

“Ah, Shiv.” Adam smiled. “You should, uh, go get the door.”

“Why? What are you—?”

And then Shiv felt her. She entered the periphery of his mana field—his Biomancy sensing the architecture of her body, mapping the contours of her curves.

Shiv blinked. “How did you—?”

“Awareness,” Adam smirked. “Very, very high Awareness. Go get the door, oh esteemed chef. Don’t keep your lady waiting.”