46 - System Brainrot [Cherno]

“The Twin Churches are that old plus five-hundred years or so; it is because AB stands for After Banishment, when the Banishment Wheel was completed and set into motion, when the influence of the Outer Gods was… Well, banished from our world. History before then is muddy, but we know for certain that Zaveshism had existed for some time, while the Igarian church was created with the primary purpose of ensuring the Wheel’s continued operation unto eternity.”

“Guess it’s worked out so far if it has really lasted five thousand years. Nonetheless, I doubt my outlook on the church as a whole will ever change, even if I come to trust one particular branch.”

“In the end, it matters not. You will act in accordance to the church’s goals even if you don’t openly involve yourself with it. I do not mean it as a threat, but as a guess regarding your true character. No amount of impenetrable appraisal-blocking smoke can stop the Soft Appraisal of reading another person, and I see an unmistakable righteous flame burning behind your gaze.”

“Oh. So when Garvesh talked about people with brainrot from overreliance on System terms, he meant you.”

“You wound me, it was just a turn of phrase!” the Banisher exclaimed in a faux-taken-aback manner, laughing even as he spoke.

The room fell silent thereafter as the both of them drank more coffee. Casus broached a subject which she had expected him to mention far earlier: “...About the Butchershop. Considering the corpses and the equipment they had, how hard did you lean on anathemism against them?”

“A fair bit,” she said, not wanting to reveal just how heavily she had relied on it.

“You are not radiating enough for me to feel it, and yet… I cannot help but wonder whether you are in any state to walk to Garvesh’s, let alone infiltrate a heavily guarded Hashem compound. Are you sure you wish to help me retrieve my belt? I could simply call in support from the church.”

“I’ll be fine in a few hours. If you have anything for anathema poisoning, great, otherwise we just wait. My arm isolates a limited capacity of anathemic residue, so I don’t have to deal with all of it all at once. It won’t become a problem again once I get a better voidkey, at least not this quickly.”

“A few hours? You’re a monster,” the banisher laughed. “I think there may be something for light anathema poisoning, let me check.”

He got up, walking elsewhere in the apartment. Some time later he returned with a sheet metal box, tarnished and embossed with strange sigils, the scraps of many different seals plastered over it. Many different ampoules, herbs, and pills were to be seen within. Casus opened his third eye for a moment, instantly picking out a small bottle of round, black pills.

“Here, Prospector Agency Purge Pills,” he said, handing her the whole bottle. “They’re for dispelling minor curses, but they work for expelling excess anathema, too… Some of it, anyway. Do not take more than one in a day, unless you wish for ulcers and a ruptured liver.”

“These are Second-order. Must be expensive.”

“Favonia won’t notice. She goes through a bottle of pills ten times more expensive than these every month.”

“I hate being indebted to someone.”

“If it bothers you so, buy a fresh bottle and return it once you can afford it. Garvesh sells bootleg purge pills with fake seals on them for three-quarters of the normal price, but they’re the real thing. An acquaintance of his came into a shipment of the powder that the pills are made of, and he’s been selling them for years since.”

Now that Krahe thought back on it, she had noticed several different types of pharmaceuticals lined up on the shelves, including small bottles of dark, oval pills. A brief appraisal confirmed that they were indeed what Casus claimed them to be, at least as far as her glasses could discern. The bottle also said as much, but she wanted to be as sure as she could be.

“Where’s the bathroom? I’d rather not puke entropy and anathema all over the coffee table,” she grinned. Sleep deprivation was finally starting to catch up with her by this point, she had to fight to not fall asleep.

“Down the hall.”

The meltdown induced by that bitter pill passed her over in one-third of the time a normal meltdown would’ve taken, but it was all the more unpleasant for it. A bathtub was to be found in the bathroom, alongside various other accouterments. It was not ashes and smoke which came out, and it did not erupt from her mouth, nose, or even ears. From her back and down her left arm, as if erupting from her very flesh, tendrils of boiling tar made their way, enveloping her, coiling around her body, slithering under the edges of her leotard and back out the other side, only to leave her and vanish down the drain. She was certain that such a mass would cause a clog, but those serpents of tar were gone with nary a trace, not even the stench of that substance remained.

It left a mark nonetheless; a mark of inspiration. A seed fertilized by the knowledge that one’s Purge Remnants always drew from their dominant elemental affinity… Even if these were artificially magnified by the Purge Pill.

Force of will and flame of thauma, flowing through her clenched hand, alighted it with the glow of an ember. She stoked the flame with anathema, just a spark, not allowing the fusion reaction to start in earnest; in other words, never pulling the figurative screwdriver all the way out.

The light died, and in her palm, thick strands of tar stretched between her fingers, only to coalesce into tendrils, then compress into a single mass at her command. It was no larger than an eyeball. Krahe let the crude construct vanish, and it did so in a puff of smoke and sparks as if it were no more than a pinch of flash powder.