II-89 The Great Equalizer

Existence is unbalanced. Guns are the cure.

I am talking about “guns” in breadth, as there are many things I could classify under the category of guns. Ballistic missiles. Rune-enforced armor. Orbital rods. Plagues. All things that can be delivered without relying overtly on the user’s personal capabilities. Because the truth is that not everyone is equal. In fact, we are so unequal in design by evolution or fate that it is frankly absurd how existence continues to function.

When I first descended into the Fathoms, I glimpsed the ugliness of this truth firsthand. The societies are streaked with a level of hyper-individualism that disgusts even me. Quite a statement considering I would have considered myself a “boostraps” person compared to most. But these people seem to abhor their vulnerable and needy, harvesting all gains for their personal profits and empowerment, while leaving their kingdoms destitute.

This a place where god kings are made, and where cultures fail to ever get beyond the dark ages. Because every possible avenue of flourishing and experimentation is pruned or consumed by the existing powers just to continue their dominance.

And it offended me. Not ethically, of course. People die. The unfortunate perish. By bombs, diseases, or misfortune, they perish under the boot of politics, external interest, or even random calamities. But I was offended by this decay—this stasis that afflicts this place. And I want to return home.

The power that my Class offers me is an illusion. And the people that populate these realms are slaves by design—a horrid existence to even witness.

When I did something on Earth, there was weight. There was meaning to my designs and sales and even sins.

Here, it all just feels so… weightless. Watching a single man capable of burning continents slaughter millions in a day is weightless. Because it didn’t matter. And it’s ridiculous too, because he is still just a man. He is still just a creature of base desire, of emotional need, and physical want. But then he speaks about how others are ants and I realize I need to fix this place properly before they ever even approach Earth.

And the loop closes around, arriving at a simple concept: a gun. An external tool that could make a child kill an adult, that could make the weak powerful, and the powerful feeble…

And how wonderful would such a weapon be in the hands of someone that could appreciate its design.

-Kalrus the Forgemaster

II-89

The Great Equalizer

Few words were exchanged as Kalrus led Wei back down the elevator, leaving his father and the General to talk “Lodge” matters. Instead of heading back to the trench-level of the base, however, they kept going lower, deeper beneath the soil. The young master’s Omniscience revealed caverns being excavated by massive drills, and structural supports being bolted in place. The forces here were expanding more downward than anywhere else, it seemed. But considering how miserable the Base was overall, Wei couldn’t blame them.

“The vibrations you might feel are from the drilling,” Kalrus said. “We’re expanding our subterranean protections to guard ourselves against more Envy incursions.”

“Envy?” Wei said. “They can also traverse the underground.”

“All the Circles can, they just do it the best. Something about their Circle and Classes makes them effective at positioning and movement. It’s not something Wrath can match easily, but they also lack our capability to burrow and build.”

“I would expect construction to be something that Greed is capable of.”

Kalrus threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t you ever give those bloated snake oil degenerates that much credit ever again. They are business admins, snake oil merchants, and professional bullshitters. They sell, but they don’t make. They never make. And they always lie. Understand that when you deal with them, and understand that it's better to take from them by force than any other means.”

There was a hint of vitriol in the orc’s voice, and Wei felt his curiosity piqued. “You seem to loathe them.”

“I don’t loathe them any more than you dislike vermin. They need to be removed. They are bad not just philosophically but functionally. They get in the way of true progress. Some say that war is politics by other means. I say these people are delusional. The sword and the gun are the ways things were settled and force was projected. Politics is the begging that comes after. Life is the rebuilding in between.”

The young master considered Kalrus’s statement for a moment and shrugged.

“No comments?” Kalrus asked, almost tauntingly.

“I can see some sense in your words,” Wei said, indifferent. “The heavens are unkind, but man can be truly cruel. Best to be strong.”

That made the orc snort. “And many will never be strong enough. And sometimes, the power of one comes at the cost of the many and all—the deprivation of future possibilities and growth.”

Wei blinked. He was having a hard time placing the orc. When the Lodge showed him scenes regarding Kalrus, the orc basically sacrificed a slave child to test one of his weapons. But the Sinner before him was talking about boons to society and so forth. It didn’t mesh well. “And why do you care what happens to the masses? Many are damned to be weak?”

Kalrus eyed him with a flat stare. “I don’t care about the masses, I care about the culture. And the culture will never develop proper and strong when it is all a scheme to feed and fatten singular individuals. And these individuals inevitably embark on a suicide run because their society is structured toward decay to keep them fed and comfortable, while elsewhere, another culture fated to consume theirs blooms. Blooms under conditions of enduring strife and competition. Because you need to keep fighting eternally to stay the ultimate practitioner.”

“I…” Wei didn’t really know what to say to that. He studied some philosophy, but truth be told, he found the cryptic words left the ancient and the supposedly wise banal at best and garbage at worst. Politics, meanwhile, was a simple thing for him. His sect was the strongest. The people worked for the Drowned Sky Sect and received protection, allowances, and positions in society. The worthy would also birth children that would become cultivators themselves. It was as just an exchange as any in a cold and ruthless world.

Kalrus’s words were like beholding a strange creature for the first time. It wasn’t so much shock as befuddlement. The orc’s way of understanding and thinking of the world was so alien to Wei that it would take some time for him to understand.

The young master’s thoughts were interrupted as the elevator pinged and the doors opened. A long, gunmetal gray corridor revealed itself to him, and distant sounds of thunderous rattles echoed. Using his Omniscience, Wei spotted some soldiers practicing with their strange weapons: their guns. Each one rattled and launched a projectile of some matter at high speeds. They weren’t the fastest attacks Wei encountered, but they consumed little Essence to achieve highly efficient results, and had an odd interplay with their user’s Classes.

Following Kalrus, Wei found himself led to one such firing range as he took in the gathered soldiers firing more rounds at distant targets. Silhouettes carved from dense slabs of stone were getting holes blown through them. Wei winced slightly at the impacts. He doubted these rounds would kill him, but they would probably bruise or make him stumble if they hit just right.

“You do strange things with their equipment,” Wei muttered, observing how the soldier’s Essences pulsed between each other via their armor, and further amplified the power of their guns. There were also Ciphers lining the insides of the guns for some reason, with a myriad of effects all building off each other. “You are creating a power of the many here. Where each person empowers another?” Wei hummed somewhat approvingly. “My people used arrays to the same benefit at times.”

“It’s not exactly the same, but yes, you can use that analogy if it makes things easier for you,” Kalrus said. He led Wei to an empty firing position at the very end of the range, and there, the young master saw a long, Essence-sealed case waiting for him. “Creating a network of Essence conduits between our soldiers was a necessary bypass to achieve some of the designs I desired. Most Sinners are but Knights and Marquises, after all. And some take substantial effort to get beyond that.”

Wei shot him a questioning look. “Truly?”

Kalrus smirked slightly. “Is your standard of judgment based on yourself?”

“And the people I know.”

‘Then you misunderstand the conditions and circumstances that most face. If any other Sinner attempted what you tried during your climb, they would have perished or been forced to the bargaining table with one of the Circles. Frankly, you should have died several times over, but by fortune and will, you remain. It’s a good story, but statistically, anomalies often make the best stories. They just don’t constitute the bulk of a functional war-fighting force.”

“That is… the other cultivators…” Wei’s words trailed off. He was born to a martial dynasty, as were many of his fellow cultivators. But even among them were differences in talent or determination, and true geniuses needed both. Genius. Some of his masters praised him so, but never his mother.

“Many other cultivators usually end up like the Sage,” Kalrus retorted before Wei began. “Of course, that’s not universal. There are immensely powerful cultivators across the realms. Many that could probably pose a problem to Mepheleon, even. But those cultivators usually retreat into their own personally forged realms, their little pocket dimensions, to play as eternal rulers away from the discomfort of the outer world. All that power wasn’t to build their capacity for struggle, but to escape conflict altogether.”

“We are not cowards,” Wei said, his voice cold.

“That wasn’t what I said,” Kalrus replied, shaking his head. “My statement, plainly, is that most enjoy the sensation of victory more than the struggle itself. But you are different. You might enjoy fighting for the sake of fighting. Because it is an art. Because the tension teases you more than even the allure of sex or wealth. Or because after everything you suffered, it is the only thing that gives you a sense of control—”

“Do not presume to know me,” Wei hissed, striding to face the orc directly. To his credit, Kalrus responded with amusement, but worked to placate Wei as well by holding up his hands. “Very well. I apologize. In fact, let me apologize by showing you the gun.” He stepped past the young master and placed the palm of his hand on the case. Several clicking sounds rattled at once, and Wei looked on with anticipation as the container opened.

Inside was a long, silver-barreled rifle with a polished wooden stock. It was clearly well-oiled and polished, and he studied its mechanisms in detail to glean what he could. Several of the contraptions were odd to him, but he had enough intuition to understand what the trigger did. It seemed “foldable” in a strange way, and there was a sort of slot to load in a bullet from the top. And that was just the thing: Bullet. Just one. It was a black-tipped spike with golden notches carved along its sides, and it was slotted into the gun like a train on rails.

Without asking for permission, Wei reached down and picked the gun up. It felt light. Stupidly light. Something this easy to bear shouldn’t be a tool for violence. He examined its many parts awkwardly at first—but did his best to keep the barrel away from himself and Kalrus. He assumed the same rules applied between guns and spears—keep the killing end away from things you didn’t wish to harm.

“Have you ever used a gun before?” Kalrus asked, interested.

“I am used to using weapons. And I can channel techniques through my spear. I assume the same rules apply.”

“Good assumption. But the Equalizer is far more mundane and… simplistic in other ways. There is a beauty to its simplicity, in fact.”

Wei paused to stare at Kalrus, and only then did he realize most of the other soldiers have stopped shooting. Instead, they were sending each other messages—likely talking about him or recording the moment.

“Would you like me to show you how to properly shoulder the gun?” Kalrus asked.

“Tell me,” Wei replied. “I study better by doing.”

A brief instruction followed. Wei learned a few things about guns. The first was how to brace them against his body. The second was how the parts worked, and how the sight aided targeting. More than the technical details, though, was how easy it felt to use. There were notches on the sights that noted different distances, the ergonomics were far better than the bow, and after briefly moving the gun around, Wei found himself unnerved.

The bow was as much an artist’s tool as it was a weapon. It took years to train a good bowman. Heavens, it took years to train a middling bowman. One needed strength, technique, timing. The gun, comparatively, was a far less demanding mistress, and the trigger felt good against his finger.

“For best practice, don’t finger the trigger if you don’t intend to shoot,” Kalrus said.

Wei took his finger off the trigger. “Can I ask why there is only one bullet?”

“I’ll answer that after you fire the rifle.”

Wei eyed the orc momentarily before shuffling the gun against himself. He stared at the target across from him—and then did a bit of a double-take. So immersed was he with the gun that he faillti-coloredmulticolored, many-breasted nightmare of dismembered limbs made pleasure-pain noises as it struggled against its bonds.

“What is this?” Wei asked, glaring at Kalrus.

“Something to hammer the implication into you. Shoot the demon. Trust me.”

Wei didn’t want to trust the orc. He didn’t trust the orc. He barely trusted himself these days… but there was something interesting at play here, and the young master wanted to see things through to the end. So he let out a breath, and aimed. He didn’t fully understand how to use the sights yet, but his Omniscience allowed for levels of accuracy impossible to most. He leveled the barrel in line with the demon, and after a moment, he clamped his finger hard around the trigger.

The gun roared as the bullet snapped out with a burst of combustion and dispersed energy. Yet, the kick was barely there—feeble to Wei’s current Strength. The projectile failed to impress him overmuch as well, moving at a speed he thought he could easily dodge—slower than the guns the soldiers were using.

Then, after what felt like an eternity of disappointment, it hit. Blood splashed out from the Demon of Lust. It was just a tiny puncture—but then came the true damage. A flash of light pulsed out from the demon as it screeched a cry of true pain. For a moment, its spirit was aglow, brighter and brighter as fractures began to line its surface. Then, it shattered, Essence spraying everywhere before dissolving.

A second thereafter, there was no more demon.

Wei’s mind went blank. As he gawked, Kalrus took the gun from him, “folded” it, exposing the loader—and from nowhere, a new bullet snapped into place. “I… what… how…”

“The returning bullet was the easier part. You can thank Schrödinger for helping with that. It required a bit of his blood—and it didn’t come cheap at all. But the bullet itself might be a greater marvel compared to the gun. It just doesn’t work without it because the Fathoms are still ruled by mythology and symbology.”

“The demon… its spirit…”

“No more spirit. No more Essence. No more Class. No more anything. It’s now normalized. The full weight of reality has been applied to it, and reality knows it can’t exist, that it doesn’t make sense.”

Wei blinked. “Doesn’t exist…”

“Which is also why I appreciate you not flagging me with the gun earlier.”

The young master swallowed. “What if this… this was used on me?”

Kalrus cocked his head. “Well. There’s a good chance you just stop existing. Smaller chance you just suffer a bullet wound like a normal person because of your parentage. Your father had you when he had a Class implanted. So. What do you think?”

There were several things Wei wanted to say. There were several things he wanted to scream. His mouth, however, made a lot of quiet twitching before he asked that burdened him above all others. “Do you have… more of these rifles? Because the sect… could have need of them soon.”