Chapter 430: The Shadow’s Gecko Pads

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Balancing a tray laden with champagne flute, Jasmine threaded her way among the guests. The advantage of being a woman was that the Empyreans suspected her of nothing. Even the head chef hadn’t for a moment imagined she could be a spy. Being underestimated sometimes has its perks.

A sharp pinch on her backside made her whirl around. The baron responsible stared at her, wide-eyed.

“... Would you like a flute, my lord?” she asked with a deferential smile, remembering her role as a servile maid a heartbeat late.

“Mmh. Yes.” He leered her up and down, then down and up. “Come to my chambers after the feast.”

“With pleasure,” Jasmine replied sweetly, brushing her sleeve over the rim of his glass. Too busy staring at her chest, the noble didn’t notice the powder she slipped into the drink.

The end of dinner, huh? You won’t see it. Hope you’ll think of me while you’re shitting out your intestines. Literally.

With a curtsey, the assassin drifted toward the cluster of wealthiest nobles, an adjective that rhymed with power, and by extension, knowledge.

A group of four seemed particularly talkative. Jasmine positioned herself before a window a dozen meters away; close enough for her high perception to catch their whispers, yet far enough to blend into the scenery.

“... Alliance with those savages? During dinner, their hair was dipping into the soup!” snapped an Empyrean so ancient he might have witnessed the dawn of his race. The relic had more wrinkles than Kazuki had scars.

“What does it matter if they behave like beasts, as long as they slaughter our enemies?” retorted another fossil. A Duke, judging by the ridiculous gold embroidery on his sleeves.

“And when there are no enemies left on Proxima? They’ll want to live off our riches. How will we say no to their Tier Fours?”

“I prefer that problem to the present risk of our civilization’s extinction. Have you seen the Arkanian capital lately? The Juggernaut melted half of it. Alone. Our soldiers will not rush the front line against an enemy of that caliber. I say: let the monsters face the monsters.”

“You shortsighted fool—!”

“Gentlemen, please.” A younger Empyrean raised his hands in placation. “Let’s not count our galaks before they hatch. The Aelbes might tip the balance in our favor, but I doubt they’ll be enough to annihilate our enemies… or us, in case of betrayal. Don’t forget Proxima is a Tier 2 planet; Tier 3 after the third Reunion,” he reminded them. Seeing the fossils’ blank faces, he elaborated, “Which means a Tier 4 will have no way to recharge their batteries with ambient aether. The king and our capital defenses will know how to exhaust and then fell that sort of enemy… assuming they even make it here. After all, the hearthstone is in our hands. Our allies’ striking force will be limited to Tier 3 most of the time.”

A contemplative silence punctuated the conversation as everyone mulled this over. Meanwhile, a servant brought refreshments without being hassled. It didn’t surprise Jasmine as at least two of the nobles no longer had the strength to brandish their lances.

“Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best,” quoted the last of the bunch. “Despite their barbaric manners, the Aelbes aren’t stupid: they have as much to gain as we do from an alliance. Maybe less. For us, securing Proxima is just the first step. If our civilization is to ascend to the scale of this universe, Elysium is the promised land. And Rohan is the key.”

“He’ll surely unlock our princess’s legs tonight,” snickered the old duke.

The following laughters were thick and greasy enough to make Jasmine’s stomach churn.

“By the way, when’s the wedding? I’m getting tired.”

“At your age, better not stay up too late,” taunted the younger noble, before answering, “Midnight, I suppose. The royal vault’s activation conditions are rather strict.”

Oh?

Having gleaned what she needed, Jasmine slipped toward the back wall. Behind a curtain, a hidden passage led to a service corridor that opened into a wine cellar. There, a sommelier poured sparkling liquor whose taste the Shadow found positively bitter. A strange flavor for someone who had refined her palate on bootleg alcohol cut with low-end syrup.

She placed her tray in the hands of a startled maid, slipped behind a barrel, and melted into shadow.

Drawing a small flask from her sleeve, Jasmine sprinkled the rest of her toxic powder into the waiting flutes. Diluted this way, the dose wouldn’t be lethal, but it would ensure that when the bride made her move against the groom and his father, none of the guests would be in any state to interfere.

A satisfied smile on her lips, Jasmine exited the hive of servants, then furrowed two perfectly sculpted brows—one of the perks of a Tier 2 race.

One of the nobles had mentioned the vault immediately after the wedding; that’s where she intended to go. Whether the ceremony took place there or required something from within, that was the place to be. Now to find it, in an immense castle that had neither map nor evacuation plan.

Think, girl. Either you grab the first idiot you find and squeeze the information out of them, or use your brain.

Deciding there was still a bit of time before taking drastic measures, Jasmine began to observe. The guards’ patrol patterns, the density of wards, the strength of enchantments, and the thickness of walls,... all little clues about security priorities.

In theory, only two sections would be heavily protected: the royal apartments and the vault. The megalomania of kings went hand in hand with domination fantasies; their residences were often placed high up, to gaze down on their realm. Conversely, basic psychology dictated that treasure be buried deep to reduce theft.

Hence why finding a heavily guarded elevator whose shaft only went downward made Jasmine smile. She left holistic intelligence to Priam, genius to Esmée, and strategy to Kazuki; the Shadow’s talent was getting into people’s heads. With ten centimeters of steel.

Attuning to her Concept, the assassin sensed the shadows within the tunnel and reached for them. One step forward—

Her brow creased when she failed to ride her Concept. Some kind of prohibitive wards? Felt like space itself was sealed.

Jasmine had never heard of such defenses. Arkana had pursued magic and technology both, but clearly, the Empyreans had outstripped them. At least I know I’m in the right place.

The Champion appeared in an adjacent corridor, considered the situation and decided that forcing her way through a dozen guards would alert the king and Rohan too soon. She needed another way forward.

Her first instinct was patience. The best security breaches were always opened from the inside by a stupid user. Fifteen minutes passed with no servants coming, no guards leaving to piss. The nobles might be clowns, but they weren’t representative of their whole civilization.

Patience was one of the assassins’ most useful qualities, but boredom was beginning to nibble at her resolve when the whir of gears announced the elevator’s arrival. With no music but a well-oiled set of rollers, the doors opened to two guards escorting a man in robes. A mage, Jasmine corrected herself, and he’s carrying a box. A treasure?

After a brief routine check, they passed through the checkpoint, taking a corridor different from hers. The Shadow trailed them until they opened a door. She slipped in half a minute after them, only to find a lavatory. One guard was drinking tap water, the other chatting. A sharp blow to each neck, and both crumpled.

At a urinal, the mage spun around midstream.

“Who are you?!” he asked while watering the floor.

“Saphira, Prometheus’ spy,” Jasmine answered, pressing a dagger beneath his chin. “And you are?”

If interrogation was an art, Jasmine was no artist. Despite this shortcoming, the Guild had taught her the basics: start with easy questions to disarm, to build rapport, to spark the rhythm of answering before driving the knife home—figuratively at first. Basic psychology, mastered innately by most people.

To stack the odds, most people wouldn’t open with a demand; they would ease into it. Had a good day? Any plans for the weekend? Great! Then maybe you could help me move?

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes, it didn’t.

Ignoring the blade poised to shave him clean, the mage raised a hand as if to strike Jasmine.

“You’ll regret—”

With a motion as swift as it was precise, Jasmine sliced off his ear. 

As the man screamed, she caught the bloody organ mid-air. Her other hand pressed the dagger’s tip against the Empyrean’s groin.

“I get it,” she murmured into the severed ear. “For your tiny brain, raised in a misogynistic society, it’s hard to reconcile a pair of tits with the word danger. But here’s a secret: you’d better make sure your answers please me, because the next mistake will be expensive.”

She pressed the cold steel a little harder against the Empyrean’s still exposed penis to drive the point home. This time, the mage nodded frantically. When kindness failed, the Guild recommended a touch of violence to loosen tongues. Never torture, though. Push people too far, and they’ll say anything just to make it stop.

“What is in the treasure box?” 

“P—papers about the properties of solid aether depending on parameters such as environmental pressure or temperature.”

Useless. 

“How do you access the vault?”

“Th–Through a secured elevator.”

“No other entrances?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. That’s the truth, I swear!”

Judging by the terror on his face, Jasmine was glad he had already emptied his bladder; otherwise, he would have done it right there.

“What’s inside the vault?”

Five minutes later, Jasmine tossed the ear in the bin and opened the door. Ready to leave, she frowned upon seeing a figure running toward her. She tensed for an attack, only to recognize the noble who had groped her earlier. His constitution must have been pathetic, as he was already deathly pale.

The baron ran past without seeing her, ignored the three corpses sprawled on the floor, and dashed into the latrines to purge himself.

After a second’s hesitation, the Shadow shut the door behind him and moved away quickly. The poison would finish its work, and she had no intention of hearing a single fart.

Back near the elevator, Jasmine sighed. The interrogation had revealed the vault’s nature but not how to enter it. How the hell was she supposed to get past twelve guards without alerting a single one?

A meticulous inspection of the area revealed dozens of additional wards and a single possible weakness: a tiny ventilation grille above the elevator. Far too narrow for an adult woman, but a child could fit through it. Or a contortionist gifted with Micro.

All that remained was finding a way up there without riding her Concept. Jasmine looked up at the ceiling, darkened by shadow, and frowned. Any raw manipulation of aether would be detected, and while she could form shadow claws, the wards would surely notice holes appearing in the walls.

A memory rose to the surface of her mind. One of the Guild’s most advanced techniques consisted of manifesting solid shadows to coat the undersides of her hands and the tips of her feet with ultra-fine hairs. Inspired by a reptile capable of scaling glass, the biomimetic technique increased adhesion, allowing her to cling to or even climb vertical walls. The sheer number of hairs and their microscopic size made it almost impossible to master.

Maybe because she had something to prove, Jasmine had spent whole nights imprinting the technique’s architecture into her brain. Reaching the first stage had taken seven years. But that was before the System…

Holding out her hand, Jasmine focused on Micro to wake her muscle memory. Muscles had nothing to do with it, but it was the same brain area that controlled its magical equivalent.

Let’s hope I haven’t lost my touch.

Synchronizing her soul with the Shadow Concept, Jasmine summoned and then wove it into thousands, then millions of hairs that branched at their tips until they were several hundred times finer than a human hair. Fifteen minutes later, her palms were covered in a fur of shadow. The final secret of the technique came next: opening her pores to soak the filaments in blood. For reasons she didn’t understand, matter was necessary for the shadow pads to work.

Jasmine complied using Micro, and the System rated her proficiency as adequate.

You have gained the skill: [Shadow Gecko pads - Rare].
[Shadow Gecko pads] - Geckos are reptiles capable of moving across vertical, smooth surfaces such as glass without apparent tracks. Even hanging from ceilings poses no problem. Unlike most creatures, they do not use claws but lamellae covered with setae, which themselves divide into spatulae. These microscopic hairs create molecular-level interactions with the surface, called Van der Waals forces. The sum of these microforces provides immense adhesion.

This skill optimizes the structure of your pads to maximize grip, allowing you to climb most mundane surfaces regardless of inclination—gravity being the only limiting factor. Due to the physical forces involved—temporary fluctuations in the distribution of electrons around atoms—the surface remains undamaged, and your passage undetectable.

Fun fact: In real life, Spider-Man wouldn’t be able to climb walls. He’d have to wear size 145 soleless shoes just so his microhairs could bear his weight.
DEXT +3

That Thaal knew Rose had been teaching Jasmine pop culture impressed her less than the System’s help. Turning a skill into a Skill had immensely eased the burden on Jasmine’s mind. If just a moment earlier maintaining the technique had required as much concentration as juggling twelve balls, it was now as easy as juggling four. Child’s play.

She could now use the skill in real situations, and she had no doubt it would soon become as natural as breathing. Still, nothing was automated: Jasmine remained fully in control of her body.

No wonder the Seven can invade other universes. The System accelerates user growth to a ridiculous degree, even hinting at possible improvement paths. Now I just need to figure out what the hell “Van der Waals” means. I’ll ask Priam.

Satisfied with her new skill, Jasmine placed her right hand on the wall and smiled at the strong adhesion. The sensation was utterly unlike glue or any chemical bond. More like my skin is magnetized to the wall. No, gentler than that. Like the way water climbs a millimeter up the edge of a glass.

Priam would surely put scientific words to the phenomenon, but the explanation could wait. Jasmine placed her left hand above the right and pulled. She grinned as her feet lifted off the ground. This is actually fun.

To release her first palm, the Shadow simply dispersed the shadow filaments. One hand wasn’t enough to stay attached, so she pressed the tips of her toes against the wall and channeled the skill. Then she began crawling up the surface like a lizard.

Jasmine reached the top of the wall within seconds. If gravity hadn’t been tugging her downward, she might have believed she was walking on all fours across the floor. Without slowing, she continued onto the ceiling. Still holding strong.

Elated by her success, Jasmine turned to check for traces and found none. Not even the smallest cut or scratch betrayed her passage. With Micro blocking her sweat and a film of shadow holding her hairs, dead skin and heat, the Shadow was undetectable by mundane means. She pressed on.

Despite the lamps, the ceiling was so high it remained half-lost in gloom. Using the darkness to her advantage, Jasmine crept through the main corridor and followed it to the ventilation grate. None of the twelve guards looked up, too confident in their peripheral vision. A mistake against an assassin of the Champion’s caliber.

Planting a blade between the grille and the wall, Jasmine pried it loose without a sound, then contorted her body to slide inside. The duct was so tight she could barely breathe. Cursing every gram of fat in her chest, Jasmine advanced centimeter by centimeter, praying she wouldn’t get stuck. That would be humiliating. When I get back, I’m pestering Osiris to teach me body-shifting.

Micro, relentless training, the first Agility milestone, and the shadow evolution of the attribute all helped her endure the ordeal. Jasmine replaced the grate with her toes, then crawled three meters in two minutes to finally enter the elevator shaft. The lift sat just below her, waiting patiently for passengers. The assassin skirted around it, stopped underneath, and began to observe.

The landing lay fifty meters below, and through her aether sight Jasmine perceived hundreds of wards, barriers, and magical traps dotting the descent. Another thief might have cursed; the Shadow smiled.

The better a place is guarded, the more I want to break in.

Contrarian spirit and a taste for risk had shaped her youth, and no punishment from her Guild instructors had ever managed to cure her of it. That same defiant streak had driven her, months earlier, to attempt the Impossible Tutorial.

After a brief pause, Jasmine began her descent. The plan was simple: reach the wedding site before anyone else to scout the terrain.

And if I could snatch a trinket or two along the way, all the better.

*

Jasmine - climbing a skyscraper