II-97 Aggression

The act of doing nothing is also a choice. Sometimes it is the proper choice, born of patience, to lure your enemies into a mistake. Most often, though, it is an act of indifference—a mistake—because you cede your initiative to your adversary. You allow them to decide the circumstances of your battle, the conditions of your contest. And so long as someone else decides—so long as someone else acts while you do not—you remain at a disadvantage.

There are moments when this need not apply. If you fight a fool, of course allowing a fool to act will result in their diminishment, for “a fool is as a fool does.” But if you are of any caliber, if you’re a true sword, then what meets you will be other true blades—true threats, proper adversaries.

Prepare yourself accordingly, and when the opportunity presents itself, even at risk, understand that you must seize it—that you must steal the initiative and finish a fight when you can. To let a dragon breathe after you have bled them will only harden their resolve and lead you down a path to certain destruction.

-The Shell of Masteries

II-97

Aggression

“Goldskull, Goldskull, Goldskull, love, where are you? Answer me, answer me,” Lein the Last whispered, panic knotting her chest.

Lein the Last wasn’t used to being unnerved. She had survived hundreds of years of brutal warfare even before arriving in the Claimed Hells—violence, bloodshed, dominance: these were the crucible that forged her. Yet, beyond the threat of death itself, there was only one thing that could shake her spirit. It was her solitary mistake, one she would never admit to her husband. She cared for him—genuinely, truly. 

That was why they played such games, feigning perpetual enmity, pretending their marriage was purely political—a contrivance of convenience and mutual loathing. In the Claimed Hells, deception was the greatest shield, and if anyone knew how deeply they regarded each other, it would destroy them both. So when he proposed this theater—hiding their genuine affection in secret—she agreed, and it pained her still.

It was a strange relationship, even by her standards. She had known lovers, concubines, and countless dalliances, and had borne thousands of children—most of whom she regarded as little more than failures and disappointments. But there was something about him she simply enjoyed. Maybe it was his calmness, the way he surveyed the broader battlefield without ever crushing someone directly. He, like her inversion, sought influence and manipulation beyond brute force. She shouldn’t have liked that. In most, she didn’t. 

But he was special—and now she couldn’t reach him. At all.

She sent one message after another, every time, she received the same notification.

Unable to reach Friend

That shouldn’t be possible. Everyone in the Claimed Hells was linked through Mepheleon’s system. Even if distance stretched from the highest spires to the deepest abyss, messages took no more than a few seconds. Such was the boon of living under the Harbinger’s reign. The only time she’d seen it fail was when trying to message someone beyond the Fathoms. 

That told her one of two things: either her husband was dead—which she refused to entertain—or he’d been spirited away. Kidnapped, perhaps. It was possible. There were Marquises with the power to open rifts in space, specialized freelancers outfits skilled at extracting high-value individuals. Mepheleon claimed omniscience and omnipotence, but Lime had been here long enough to remember every time he’d been found wanting.

With each unanswered message, a quiet seed of dread blossomed in her chest. She forced her mind to the nearest possibility she suspected but dared not believe. Pushing through the streaming gala crowd with casual scorn, she made her way to the frozen cocoon where the Scion of Death and the young master of the Drowned Sky Sect were said to be locked in their showdown.

“Hey, watch where you—” An elf, face painted with shifting runes, recoiled at her approach. They didn’t know who she was. Fortunately, she wasn’t interested in snuffing out their meaningless life right now. Instead, she concentrated on the cocoon’s chill. 

The Essence flowing through it was an impenetrable barrier of frost and decay that strained her senses until it hurt to look. Yet she pressed on, and there—beyond the familiar deathly signature—lay an alien power she never felt before. It was still some kind of Essence, but it felt… purer. Like the kind of energy one would sense in the phlogiston that encompassed the Fathoms.

Source.

But that couldn’t be Source couldn’t manifest within the confines of a realm where a System existed—where there was a threshold of life and dynamic concepts. It was the quintessence of existence, the origin and oblivion of all energies.

Something was happening with the cocoon, and Lein didn’t know what. That wasn’t acceptable. Ignorance was as deadly as any venom in the Claimed Hills, and slowly she recoiled. The Scion of Death’s presence should have reassured her, but something was terribly wrong. The simplest explanation for her husband’s silence was that the Scion himself had died next to his mistress and dragged her into the Final End—the realm of the Hound of the Withered Moon. If Vendrian, the Death’s Bastard, had claimed Goldskull… he should still be fine. Should.

Neither she nor her husband had associations with the Scion, and they shouldn’t be drawn into the realm in his place before the Collectress—

Unless shew as already dead.

The tension grew to be unbearable. Lein immediately barreled through the lesser Sinners as she made her way to find the Old Man. She needed to contact the Collectress—to get into her home.

And Lein the Last wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

***

Within the Cocoon of Deathly Frost, John Bishop—Trespasser and Psionic Saboteur—winced. “Shit.” He’d just sent a message that failed to go through. He was about to activate his Psionic Link to teleport directly into the Final End through the connection he had to Wei’s mind when a hand pressed on his shoulder.

Bishop jumped out of his skin. He froze, then cursed under his breath as he saw who stood beside him. “Really? I told you not to do this shit anymore.”

“Yes, but I elected not to listen. I do enjoy scaring you, John.” Mepheleon, the Harbinger, smiled wanly and sneered. He wore the guise of his mortal self—the form of a bespectacled, thin, British spook from the WWII. “I will tell the boy, don’t worry. You should stay here. Continue the charade. Sow doubt and confusion. I insist.”

“What the hell are you playing at now?” Bishop asked.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just seeing if the boy can manage to kill two Duke-Tier Sinners in a single day. Really quite a thing—seeing all my special little talents gathering together in the Drowned Sky Sect. It’s quite exciting isn’t it?”

Bishop had no idea what the Harbinger was on about now. And it didn’t matter. In the next moment, the Harbinger blinked out of existence, and was gone.

“Shit,” Bishop muttered. Instead of contacting Wei, he shifted to someone else: Sarah Moonscar. “Sarah. I just had a very interesting conversation with Mepheleon. And by interesting, I mean I have no idea what he’s doing, and he’s up to some fuckery again.”

A moment passed, but the reply came faster than he could have anticipated. “He’s trying to build a reputation for Wei. And he’s also using the boy to clean house.”

“Clean house?”

“Lein is an Inheritor asset. And so was Goldskull.”

Bishop grunted. “We guessed as much. But I don’t much like how overt he’s getting—”

“Time is getting shorter. Earth will be soon. And before that, there will be war. The Unfallen and Inheritors won’t wait much longer before they force the matter.”

Great. Perfect. Bishop scowled. Looks even more shit was coming their way.

***

Aspect Advancements Available [745]

Concept Advancements Available [161]

System Updating…

Refining Source

>>>Source Refined: [800/800 ] Lumens

Source Core Ascended > Lv. 38

>[18/100] Aspect Advancements to Core Ascension
>>[7/30] Core Ascensions to [Gate] 3 System Ascension

>>>Source: [1400/1400] Lumens

Authority Advanced > 205

Relativity Advanced > 327

Enlightenment > 157

Omniscience > 160

Fortification > 171

Aspect Advancements Available [145]

Concept Advancements Available [36]

Source Propagation — Allows the host to channel Source out from their body and unravel the stability of the physical matter around them. The more Source is sacrificed, the more the world unravels.

Masteries Demonstrated

>Meditation (IV) — 10%

>Unarmed Combat (IV) — 50%

>Spearmanship (IV) — 44%

>Evasion (V) — 66%

>Thrown Weapons (III) — 94%

>Tactics (IV) — 96%

>Rapier  — 93%

>Marksmanship — 100%

New Selectable Mastery Node

Gunhead (Rare)= Allows the Shell to fire a beam of Source that allows them to transposition between points in space. Distance is converted from (Omniscience).

>0 Months to Generate Upgrade in Core

>>Master Node (Marksman’s Sight)

>>>Corresponding Experiences (100%)

Chainspear Arm (Common) > Spearforging Arm (Rare) = Allows the Shell to forge, project, and control Sourforged spears. Number of spears that can be controlled determined by (Enlightenment). Distance of control within (Omniscience)

>>0 Months to Generate Upgrade in Core

>>Mastery Node (Intercepting Hand)

>>Corresponding Experiences (100%)

Gauntlet of the Breaker (Common) > Fist of Force-Breaking (Elite) = Unarmed strikes delivered through this gauntlet can store and redirect force based on (Authority)

>Requirements
>>3.5 Months to Generate Upgrade in Core

>>Mastery Node

>>Corresponding Experiences (100%)

Aspect Advancements Available [41]

Concept Advancements Available [10]

Class Level > Lv. 92

A spike of power the likes Wei never known surged through him, coursing through his System. As his mediation came to an end, his Shell fused over him as its components evolved. Its left arm began dissolve its chains, instead outright forcing hovering spears of Source he could direct. His right became a massive hammer of a fist, thrumming with potential energy. But most fascinating was his new head—a Gunhead that allowed him to teleport himself as if firing a bullet.

Pairing that with his tremendous Aspect Advancements, and the young master felt like he was a different beast entirely. The Essence within him lashed and tore at the very fabric of existence.

This was power. This was control. This was the path to—

“So how does it feel to truly experience the blessings a system can provide?” Mepheleon asked.

Wei opened his eyes in surprise, but didn’t turn immediately. The Harbinger was here again. Doubtless they wanted something. Why, he wouldn’t even be surprised if the man was part of the scheme somehow. Wei tilted his head and regarded Mepheleon. The Harbinger was in his mortal guise, and the Hound glared at the intruder intently. 

 “It is… surreal,” Wei admitted. “This assassination went better than I could have expected. I thought I something would go wrong.”

Mepheleon sighed. “When our lives are constantly derailed, things rarely go smoothly. If it goes too well, you almost want to self-sabotage.”

Between them, the Hound looked down, its cold gaze shifting from Wei to Mepheleon as it let out a cold breath.

“Why are you here?” Wei asked. “What do you want of me?”

“Oh, I just want to warn you,” Mepheleon said, rubbing his fingers together. “Lein the Last. She is coming. She’s speaking to the old man and will force her way into the Collectress’s home in search of her husbandt.”

“What? How does she know?” Wei asked. His fists tightened. He knew it was foolish to stand and fight but… But maybe it wasn’t. Time flowed slower around him, and the weight of his very being was heavier, pressing down on the fabric of existence itself. She was coming. But she wasn’t expecting him. This was an opportunity. “Did you tell her what I did?”

“Hm. No. She merely did some simple detective work as this was the last place she knew him to be.”

“How does she—” Wei paused and frowned. “They were in contact?”

“Oh yes. A great deal between them is theater.”

“Then, her son—”

“Oh, that poor fool was just a victim. She doesn’t care about that one. But Goldskull… that’s a different story.”

“So I should leave. Escape now?” Wei turned to Vendrian. The Scion was still fused within the Hound, cracks forming around his body.

“Hm. If that is your choosing. But I suspect you might be thinking about something different.” Mepheleon laughed. Wei blinked and faced Mepheleon, who now smiled openly. “You’ve done remarkably well. You’ve killed people you shouldn’t have. But against a Duke…  Then again, you have a System. A very strengthened System. What do you think your odds are?”

Wei licked his lips. “How long do I have?”

“Oh, I would give you a bit over twenty minutes before she manages to spot this patch of coldness once she crosses over. After that, well, I suspect she will force her way down before our dear Scion has a chance to respawn.”

“She can pierce his ice?” Wei asked.

“Quite so. Duke-Tiers are quite powerful. It will be… quite the statement if you best her. You must fight a perfect battle. Dance the edge of her power and strike her over and over again without being struck down yourself. Nearly impossible odds, I’d say.”

“He teases us,” the Shell said, hunger in his voice.

“Why. Why do you want this?” Wei asked. “Why do you warn me against another Sinner. Another of your own.”

“They’re not my own,” the Harbinger snapped. “The Inheritors have wronged me, just as they’ve wronged you. Everyone plays this game—spies everywhere. I can’t strike down my own without evidence. So it falls to you, my desired vanguard. I want you to be feared. If you’re spotted at a scene where multiple Dukes and a Countess of Lust have died—but with no proof that you are the killer… imagine the mystique.”

Wei did. But more importantly, Wei wanted to know something.

Could he kill a Duke now? On his own? By skill and strength.

“Damn him. And damn us for this urge.” The Shell sighed. The moment this opportunity came to pass, his fate was sealed.

“Harbinger. I need request something of you.”

“What?”

“Bring message to Agnesia. Rafeal. My sect. And… my father. Should I fall.”

“Hmmm. No.”

Wei’s nostril flared. “No?”

“No. Sorry, but I don’t think so. Don’t fail. Tell them yourself. Or choose to run.” He laughed. “Truthfully, boy, I will not force this thing of you. But I don’t think I need to. I think you want this. More, I think you can achieve this. And that you can take Earth for us.”

“Why? Wei said. “Why do you help me so? What Karmic Bonds do you wish to sow?”

“Just one that allows me first-access to what lies beyond the portal. And besides, better you be the Concept Breaker than most others. It is a fitting System for you, wouldn’t you agree?”

A moment passed. Then Wei laughed. His laughter grew, and grew, and grew, until he was near mad with amusement. But as abruptly as he began, he stopped. “Hm. Perhaps. Perhaps. We will see soon. And she… she is nothing. She cannot be anything to me. Cannot be… I will have to kill the Dying Queen someday, won’t I?”

“Oh, a lot more than just her,” Mepheleon said, snaking his arm around Wei’s shoulder. “Boy, there are so many things you’ll do. So many kills that I can offer you. But right now, start with this. Start with Lein.”