Knives & Levels - Chapter 83

Colt sat in the highest seat available on the side of the stadium; it was a tad overkill, and actually, the height of this seat was larger than he ever remembered it being before the apocalypse. Without a doubt, this place had grown larger, maybe even a little larger than when he’d first arrived. He suspected that whatever the faction points went to, Denny must have used some reward to stretch this place out and make it bigger to fit all the people below.

A waste, in his mind, but then he doubted those resources would go to such trivialities again. He had yet to look at the system—he’d have to rejoin the New Nashville faction to get that right—but it was on the lower end of his priorities.

Up here, there was peace and quiet and a magnificent view of the city below—a city scrambling to get itself together and still very much on the precipice of either great things or falling into oblivion. 

“Peace,” Colt said, folding his hands in his lap and relaxing in the stadium seat as much as he could.

Anywhere in the city there was a constant bid for his attention. From Nate trying to pull him into meetings as he desperately tried to sort out a constitution, to Sarah or Julia needing him to ease the friction between the different factions inside.

Everyone had an opinion on how things should go in New Nashville.

And that was good. Let them shout their opinions and get people to vote for them so they could put them into action—Colt just wished they’d stop telling him their opinions when he wasn’t trying to put himself in a spot where he had the power to control their fates.

Up here, overlooking all the lights and people scrambling around, he felt himself at ease.

“Right. Time to sort out the issue.”

This was why he tore himself away from the chaos brewing in the city.

Truth be told, what he was about to focus on was a matter of life and death, and in the past, making sure Jimmy was safe was his number one priority.

The state of his soul. 

Colt’s eyes closed as his breath slowed. He concentrated on the feel of it as it went in and out—the cold air that passed his throat and the way it left in a breathy, hot mess. The count was easy as he settled into the meditation, the sound of the city below catching in his ears every now and again, not to stay but to be absorbed, processed, and let go in the same manner they came in.

His body relaxed, and the tension he felt on his shoulders faded away.

And like that, his body was primed, and his mind was set, so Colt bridged the gap, diving deeper into his internal self.

He found himself on a golden platform in a void; beneath his feet was an impossibly thin barrier, golden and sharp enough, he knew, to slice him in half if he touched it at the wrong angle. But it wouldn’t. It was beholden to him now and had a certain respect as he did it. Cut was both loyal and noble; down below, swirling in the depths of his Soul, he couldn’t say much the same.

Movement, a black swirling mass of power, a beast set that couldn’t stop twirling around and trying to get at its fighting partner here: Momentum.

Momentum took the form of a brilliant white light, a thing that spoke of mass that had a weight to it, screaming that it was more vital than Movement, but also, within his soul, he could see its influence was weaker. Given the opportunity, and if not for the dashes of golden light that fenced the two off—Cut, dividing them— Movement would overcome it and consume it.

Colt stared for a while, watching the two move, watching the two circle, his eyes studying both of them, but mostly Momentum.

“What do I do?” he asked himself, trying to piece together what Nike’s intent had been in giving him this Edict. Surely she could have given him something more straightforward—some kind of wind Edict or some kind of ‘victory’ Edict if such a thing existed.

Momentum and Movement overlapped, and they fought.

A mess.

Colt brought up a hand and pointed it toward Momentum, isolating it; the mass of angry white Edict flowed to him, scrambling in his hand, raging and trying to fight against him, turning its angry attention from Movement to the person who’d taken control of it and dared to raise it into the sky.

He winced and huddled, then stood straight. The way it threw itself around was a hint of what it was capable of: the shifting force within it. Whereas Movement was quick bursts, this had a weight to it, and the direction changed on a dime.

It could be an unstoppable force; it could build on itself. And it was not a movement.

But also, it was easier to handle with his much stronger Soul. Colt grasped it and exerted control, demanding respect and for it to stop throwing its weight around.

It raged out.

He pressed his will firmer.

Then it stopped, waiting.

Colt stared at it for a long while, paused in thought, and understood better what he was dealing with. Momentum was a product of mass and velocity. It was a force in a way that Movement wasn’t—when he’d stripped an object of its speed before using Movement, it was only one half of the equation. If he could get Movement to play along, too, the both of them working together would be a much greater power than anything they could manage alone since they directly fed into one another.

With Momentum, he could diffuse more power into a blow that could build strength in his allies—a rush of ideas went through his head.

A lot of testing. He’d need testing. 

Also, he’d need to advance Momentum to the rank of Lesser—he got a sense looking at the smug Movement far below, its swirling black form twisting and moving in joy as it watched Momentum suffer. They needed to be on the same level.

Once they were there, he could let them feed off one another and empower each other in a recursive Edict loop of Movement and Momentum. What might be achievable if both ancient Edicts warped around and brought out more from one another?

If they weren’t, he couldn’t do as he planned.

“Damn.” Colt ran a hand through his hair as he let Momentum drop back down below.

It felt as powerful as Movement, and given that, he knew that moving it to the next stage would be just as equally taxing.

…And he’d managed to break Movement ahead through the use of an item. Did he understand his new concept enough already to do that? No.

Testing. Preparation.

Colt saw his path forward and also got a slight taste for the power it offered. It was there if he was willing to put in the work and pay the price.

Yes, now he understood. Nike had given him a very fitting gift.

All he needed was to find the proper balance.

###

Rio rubbed at his eyes; his desk was a mess. Wrong. It was all wrong.

The forces at play in this newest world were beyond what they should be—tides of rising Chaos were natural, as were tides of rising Order. It went like that, as they all hung in the balance. One never got too strong and tipped the scale. Though plenty had tried, the natural way of the world asserted itself.

But this was far too deep in the forces of Chaos. The Edicts and laws at play that had altered the course of these worlds were too strong.

There was a knock on his door.

Rio looked up, his eyes burning with pain, using focus the way he had for the last month had a tendency to do that, but as he considered the numbers and wrote his conclusions and reports, he couldn’t tear himself from it. The results were too much.

“Yes?” Rio asked, his voice came out dry and cracked. When had he last drunk water?

Captain Ash walked into the room, his silvered long hair equally a mess, as the Captain had been engaging in his own research with the steady stream of revelations.

“Rio, it’s about time you left this office.” He said, his voice light and his eyes sharp as he took in the wrongness of this place. Rio wasn’t one to leave papers askew. Everything had a place where it belonged, and to not put things back in proper order was a waste of time and brainpower that could be better spent working and devoted to the task at hand.

“Sir?” Rio asked, shuffling the papers, trying to put them back into place now that he’d been forcibly yanked out of his Edict.

How had things gotten this way?

Ash gestured for him to rise, and Rio did just that, shaking the weariness from his limbs. How long had it been since he’d slept? It wasn’t strictly necessary for people like them, who were so high-leveled and advanced in the Edicts and magics of the world, but it did bring a certain clarity to it.

Days had folded away into a month, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling as he moved toward Captain Ash that he’d rather be at his desk, trying to make sense of the thing that made no sense.

“Perspective is key,” Captain Ash said as they walked away, striding into the halls of the Eight Court Squad’s barracks, past lesser soldiers who were preparing and studying away in their various labs and rooms. “And the perspective we’re going to have today, with a contingent from Squad Five, is that of the labyrinth. We’re going to find where this new world brushes against it and take our measurements.”

Rio rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“That’s impossible, " he offered. The labyrinth was a growing place of chaos; it shifted and changed, with the worlds of order attached to it like fruits on a grand and universal tree.

“Impossible is simply a transient state; something is impossible until, that is, someone discovers a way to make it possible. All things in the universe can find a way if there is a path, and the Edicts can spell it into existence.” Ash threw an arm over his shoulder and led him forward, “That said, it’s possible we will be gone for quite a while investigating. The first lieutenant will hold down matters here in our absence so we may focus on the field research. I can think of no one more qualified to help investigate this matter than you, Rio. So what do you say? Are you willing to go with us?”

Rio paused as he considered it. With a captain—no, probably two if Squad Five was getting involved as well, trouble was bound to be encountered in the Labyrinth.

It was simply the universal law. Order could not move through it without Chaos having to get involved, especially if they were trying to locate something as abstract as a thin spot between the Labyrinth and an unconnected world. But he liked his odds with these two behemoths.

Rio took one last look over his shoulder at his rapidly vanishing office.

“It would be my honor, sir.”