In my experience, everyone seeks to betray themselves in some way. It is cathartic to confess your sins. It is cathartic to release all burdens lingering in your mind, like extracting an arrow. It hurts, but you yearn to feel an absence where your flesh was filled. And the one that wished to admit something will make it known. They will talk overmuch. They will display sentimentality, display offerings of truth from within themselves. These truths can be failures of their past, or, potentially, shortcomings. We are creatures of ego and vulnerability. After all, it is our sense of self that shapes so many of our skills. An admission of shame usually scars us. And when someone gives that to you, it is best for you to offer something back. Give your own admission, but do not give a truthful one. Make false shame. Trade false shame for their genuine articles. And soon you will gain a flood of truth from your adversary, while you yourself will remain as guarded as ever before. -Lady Eileen Harkness “Ah. This matter.” The Ascendant looked down as it considered Shiv’s question. The Deathless wasn’t very good at telling what automata were feeling, but the body language of the machines screamed of discomfort. Or maybe that was just how badly the Avatar was damaged. Most of its chassis was cracked from the battle earlier. It only had one army left, and wires were sparking free from its joints. Considering the coolant leaking out from the Avatar, Shiv guessed it suffered considerable internal damage as well. Kind of a shit deal being Cripple’s Avatar, Shiv thought. A lot of power. But guaranteed to kill you. It occurred to him that he might make an ideal Avatar for Cripple, but considering how the Ascendant had only used automata so far, Shiv had a suspicion humans weren’t so easy for Cripple to access. It also didn’t matter, because Shiv had no intention of serving as a vessel for a god, false or otherwise. “The matter of Blackedge is still in the process of being resolved,” Cripple said at last. Shiv scowled. “Great. Thanks. What does that mean? Are the people inside the Perch still alive? Is Adam Arrow still alive? Is the Tarrasque dead?” The automaton’s vertical optics flickered. “There were many casualties in the town itself. Adam Arrow is currently in our custody—in a medical coma. He sustained severe wounds against the Tarrasque.” Every fiber of Shiv’s being tensed. The fires of anger roared to life inside him, and he poured his anger into Psycho-Cartography before he could be overwhelmed. “He wouldn’t have been anywhere near the felling Tarrasque if you assholes didn’t teleport me out of there. I was draining its vitality. We were going to win.” “Or you would have been struck down by the Tarrasque for good and granted it ten Legendary Skills,” Cripple retorted. “Yeah. And why should a monster get that, right? Better an Ascendant or an Avatar.” Shiv aimed his glare at the automaton, but found it looking away from him. Psycho-Cartography: It is ashamed. Think. We remember something about Cripple the Strongest. The Starhawk called it the only other Ascendant that cares about honor or justice as much as he does. We might be able to use that. “I would prefer that you live instead,” Cripple said softly. “I have no urge to see you slain for cheap rewards.” “Cheap? Ten Legendary Skills are enough to trade a kingdom for. Pardon me if I think you’re just passing shit out of your mouth.” “You are pardoned,” Cripple said with absolute seriousness. “I care nothing for so many Legendary Skills.” The Avatar placed his single hand against its chest. “All who serve me spend themselves utterly and completely. They are martyred in the process of becoming my vessel, and in destruction, they gain great power. Greater than any Legend.” “But it costs them their lives,” Shiv said. “Yes,” Cripple replied honestly. “More than just their lives. It costs them their very spirits. They are worn down until little is left. And they finally perish. It is a dark thing to become my Avatar. I have mourned one hundred and two million Pathbearers since the Republic’s inception. One hundred and two million who have given more than I in poignance and magnitudes.” Whatever acidic retort was resting on Shiv’s tongue rolled back down his throat as he found himself utterly frozen of thought. “One hundred and two million? Broken Moon. That’s…” “You never get used to feeling another person die. Feeling them perish entirely, dissolving on the level of their soul.” Cripple let out a quiet sigh, and even in this cramped Orichalcum cage, the winds rustled with susurrations of sadness. “The Avatar whom I embody right now was named Westerly-8. It was an Aeronaut in the Republic’s Prismatic Navy. After decades of service, it encountered a terrible techplague while fighting over the Vast Atlantic. The Carrier-Automaton it served aboard was downed, and the enemy unleashed Binaric Sicknesses into the waters. The Avatar’s glowing “eyes” grew dim. “Its fate was sealed, then. For it, and for countless other brave Pathbearers fighting for our Republic. While it was recovered, many drifted to the depths, seized by Hive-Kingdom Atlantis for their own fell purposes. Yet, even when Westerly-8 was offered grand rewards and peaceful tenure at Phoenix Academy to live out its final days before the Techplague finally corrupted its source codes, it decided to serve still, and offered itself to me. As did all the Avatars before it.” An awkward feeling of pity came over Shiv. He still despised the Ascendants for kidnapping and imprisoning him, but the Avatar— Psycho-Cartography: Notice Cripple’s words. Our Republic. In defense. He is using a Social Skill on us. The amount of sympathy we feel is exaggerated. Psycho-Cartography 61 > 62 The moment Shiv noticed that, he sneered at the Ascendant once more. “Hey. You do this shit to all your prisoners?” The Avatar lifted its head slightly. “Ah. You speak of my Empathic Seeding Skill. I apologize. It is not something that can be controlled. It also would not work if my words were lies.” “I’m not doubting your Avatar was brave. Pathbearers are brave.” Shiv scoffed, and he remembered Tarlow, the kukri-wielding Dragon-Knight he'd slain to fulfil a Quest and retake Valor's right arm. “Our enemies are brave too. Plenty of them go down fighting. It’s the way of our world. I would have given you sympathy if you didn’t try to pull it out of me.” “I state this again: It is a thing beyond my control.” “Broken Moon. Beyond your control. What kind of god is so impotent?” The Avatar’s remaining hand balled into a fist. Shiv got the impression that he'd struck a nerve. “One beset on all sides by enemies,” Cripple declared with conviction. “One that strains itself to the limit to preserve this Republic. One that is desperately trying to get its battle-siblings to cease their squabbles and come back together. For only together can we stand against the threats coming from all sides.” “So, what? Your excuse for all the bullshit you Ascendants have done so far is that we’re under threat? That’s called living in the Integration, Cripple.” Shiv bit back a snarl and leaned in closer. The chains around him rattled and shook. The red-gold bands of Orichaclum grew brighter and denser, responding to Shiv’s anger—drawing from his willpower to increase its durability. A rush of overflow-tides slipped out of Shiv and curved around his bindings. The Orichalcum held, but he felt it tremble and shudder as he channeled more force into it. It could keep getting tougher, but he could cultivate strength faster—and eventually, he would break it. Despite this, the chains were only a distraction. As the Avatar blurred forward—pointing the cold tip of its metallic finger at Shiv’s throat—Shiv’s innate force glided along the Orichalcum chains holding him in place and circulated the walls. There, they briefly crashed against a few spell patterns, and Shiv saw the intricate mana works flicker and rip. Target that first. Remove the magic. And then we kill ourselves and use Outside Context Problem. Don’t think Cripple understands that skill yet. If it did, it should have kept me sedated. “I implore you to cease your struggles,” Cripple said with a somber tone. “I understand your yearning for freedom. But do not misunderstand my sympathy for hesitation. I will slay you if it means protecting the Republic.” Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. “How often have you said that to a prisoner?” Shiv asked. “Thrice. I meant it more with the two before you. Now. Please. Peace. I do not wish to kill you. I wish only to speak, and to reach a proper understanding.” “Understanding?” Shiv rasped. A thunderclap of kinetic energy slashed out from his body along cleaving vectors. The Orichalcum binds holding Shiv shook and began to scream as the mystical alloy struggled against his Legendary Skill. Then, Shiv began cycling force once more, gathering more overflow as he waited and watched. Keep him off-balance. But wait. Patience. Opportunity. That’s what the Delve taught. We’re sticking to the lesson. “Fine,” Shiv spat. “I’ll give you understanding. I’ll tell you what I know about myself—how and why I think I got this evolution.” “You do not know for certain?” Cripple asked, surprised. “Not even a little,” Shiv chuckled darkly. “Up until a few months ago, I didn’t even have a Path. You knew that?” “Yes,” Cripple said. It shook its head in dismay. “For what it was worth, I was disappointed in the Starhawk for letting such a travesty transpire. I understand Roland Arrow’s feelings, but the crimes of your parents did not give him the legal or ethical right to entrap another citizen of our Republic. It might have been best for you to be placed in Inquisitorial custody. You would have been trained and given purpose there.” Instead of being flattered, Shiv struggled not to bare his teeth. The Ascendant was saying all the wrong things to him. “I came across an Inquisition black site in a gate. You knew that?” Cripple fell quiet. Its Avatar started looking at the ground again. "Oh good, you did know that. Well, you wanna know what else I found at the black site? I found them torturing citizens of the Republic. The Republic you keep bringing up, like it's some kind of shield or slogan for something you want to sell me." Shiv thought about Heather and Tran, thought about how brutally they had been mutilated, how scarred they were of mind and body in the aftermath. "I despise Roland Arrow for everything he did to me. The man just couldn't make up his mind, and I paid for it. But I will tell you this much: no matter how much I hate Roland Arrow, if I had woken up one day and found myself an inquisitor, I would have slit my own throat." The Avatar's posture sagged. "It is known that the Inquisition has to conduct certain operations that stretch boundaries." "What the fuck does that even mean?" Shiv actually laughed out loud. The bitterness in his voice rang out, filling the Orichalcum cell. As he directed his gaze upward, he frowned as he noticed another layer of magic lining the porthole. More magic than with the Wolf-Man’s cell, Shiv thought to himself. They're putting in extra precautions here. There are also a hell of a lot more spell patterns circulating around the walls too. And he didn't recognize some of the colors. Those were probably new Magical Skills, or specialized blends of mana he hadn't faced before. It didn't matter. He had Leviathan of the Shapeless Tides. And when it came time, he would use his might to rip every mote of spellstuff around him apart. When Cripple didn't respond, Shiv pressed the Ascendant, digging into the automaton's weakness. "You know, I don't really get you. You talk to me like you're some kind of honorable warrior, yet here we are in a cell most citizens of the Republic most likely don't know about. And you're trying to justify torture sessions conducted on citizens. Citizens you seem to care about, or so you claim. And then you stand before me, feeling bad?" Shiv leaned back and relaxed. He went slack in his chains and snorted. "You don't make much sense to me, Cripple. You don't want to be here. That's the only thing I'm sure about. Because I don't want to be here either." "It makes little difference what we want," Cripple said. Its words were somber and heavy. That made Shiv narrow his eyes. "Alright, before we get to anything else, I have to understand this. You keep saying can't. Not up to us. This is the kind of shit I would expect to hear from a slave. You're an Ascendant. Literally a god. Or at least a Pathbearer who stole a god's powers." Cripple lifted its head and regarded Shiv with surprise. But the Deathless just kept going. "So what's with all the defeatism? What's with you always surrendering over and over?" "I am not surrendering," Cripple said. Shiv thought he caught a hint of heat in the Ascendant's voice. "I am facing reality. There are many realities. Many limitations. Even for an Ascendant. Even for a god. You do not understand, you lack perspective and experience. You are but a child." "I'm also a Legend," Shiv snapped back. "Let me tell you something about my experience. My experience is that, up until a few months ago, I spent my life hunting vampires and cooking. The former because I wanted a Path, the latter because it was the only other thing I found meaning in. After that, after things at Blackedge went to hell, I was flung down in the Abyss. And guess what? My life got a lot better. I died a lot, but everything got better. Because it was up to me now. And I kept going. That’s my experience. As soon as Shiv mentioned getting flung down in the Abyss, the Avatar shook. "How far?" Cripple asked. Shiv tilted his head. "What? How far did I fall?" "Yes," Cripple confirmed. "How far?" Shiv considered that for a moment. "The… Umbral Wilderness? Penumbra? Something like that. The first landing killed me. Wasn't nearly as tough as I was now. Hell, I was Pathless an hour before. I splattered apart, drained vitality out of a cave biter, got killed by said cave biter over and over again, finally got strong enough to kill it, and things continued on from there." Shiv watched the Ascendant as he spoke. The Avatar was looking down, its glowing optics pointed at Shiv's chest rather than his face, and he knew it was thinking. About what? He wasn't sure. But before he could continue speaking, the Avatar lifted his head once more. "You know about our history," the Ascendant asked. "Our true history." "I know a bit," Shiv admitted. There was no point in lying when he didn't have the full picture, and frankly, he was curious. "I know that the Dust King or whatever cast you and the other Ascendants down." Shiv paused as he licked his lips. "I know that you weren't the only Ascendants, that there were more than thirteen." Revealing that bit of knowledge was a gambit, but it was a gambit Shiv might be able to take somewhere. The Educator was in the back of Shiv's mind, and though it had been a while since he ran into her, he didn't doubt that the Forgotten God would eventually show up again at some terribly inopportune moment. But Shiv decided to apply some preventative measures to make a bit of trouble for the Forgotten God. After all, it seemed that they were not aligned with Starhawk or even the rest of the Ascendants. They were doing their own thing, pursuing their own interests. It saw them aligned with Udraal Thann, Shiv's… What the hell was Udraal? Creator might be the wrong word, Shiv thought to himself, but I don't know how else to refer to him. I don't even know what he did to me. Only that he probably has a hand in me being Omenborn and getting my Path. "Then you know enough," Cripple finally responded. "When we were sent down into the Abyss, all those years ago, the world wasn't as it is now, peaceful and soft." Shiv's nostrils flared. "Hey, Cripple," The Ascendant looked upon him. "Fuckyou. What are you talking about, peaceful and soft? I haven't tasted any peaceful and soft." "And that is the fault of Roland Arrow," Cripple said. "No, even past Roland Arrow. I didn't taste peaceful and soft. And I don't care about peaceful and soft." Shiv pointed some of his innately generated force vectors forward. He leaned toward the Ascendant, and his Orichalcum cage shook from the sudden flood of strength flowing out of Shiv. The bolts that held the chains to the walls began to creak. "I'm System-favored," Shiv started. "You know what that means, right? I'm probably sure you're System-favored too, considering everything you lived through. Well, there's probably one major difference between me and you. I died over and over. In every way possible, I suffered all kinds of deaths. Miserable ones, peaceful ones, painful ones, quick ones. But I died, and I came back. And the System, well, it doesn't seem to know what to do with me. That's why it keeps making things harder and harder and harder." Shiv thought back to everything he'd suffered, every enemy he killed, every challenge he surmounted. One fight after another, one problem after another. It never stopped. And even now, it was still growing in intensity. "That's why I'm talking to you now. Just weeks after I got my Path. How long did it take you to become a Legend? Actually, to hells with that. How long did it take you to become a Master? And did you have to die to do it?” Cripple didn't say. Shiv stopped leaning on the chains. A wolfish grin spread across his face. "Or did you ever even become a master? Did you walk your Path much at all before you drank the divinity out from the Great One? Like one of the vampires?" Before Shiv could say anything more, steel fingers were wrapped around his throat. The Avatar clenched, but Shiv directed his tides back. He warred against the Avatar's skill-fused mix of Physicality and Psychomancy. They were powerful and backed by an Ascendant. They had more might at their disposal compared to Shiv. But that didn't mean he was easy prey now. A current of Psychomancy flowed out from the Avatar's fingers, but it met Shiv's shapeless tides in a sudden crash. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡•𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚⚫𝙣𝙚𝙩 The Ascendant's mana was stalemated. Shiv had been building up overflow exactly to prevent something as well. He wasn't pushing the Ascendant back, but he kept the Avatar's Psychomancy outside his mind. That was triumph enough, considering how easy it was for the Ascendant to beat him down a day before. "Do not compare me to them," Cripple hissed. And now it was openly angry. Shiv's mind whirled with possibilities. He knew the Abyss was a dangerous and fantastic place. In retrospect, he had gotten extremely lucky running into that group of Umbrals. If he'd encountered the First Blood or Compact, his life could have turned out a whole lot different. Maybe he'd be more like Cripple in some ways. As the Ascendant and the newly Legendary-tiered Deathless matched their magically-charged Physicalities against each other, Shiv let out a breath. "Fine, I don't blame you for reacting like that. I don't much like the bloodsuckers either." He remembered what the First Blood did to Angelo’s village. Shiv might not suffer trauma like most people, but the sheer depravity and atrocity he witnessed marked him regardless. Suddenly, Cripple drew back its arm and shook its head. "I apologize for losing control. I should be more composed." A few pieces fell away from its body, and more coolant spilled down its legs, mingling with the puddles of blood. "I faced a great many nightmares in the Abyss." Cripple looked down. "You might have noticed already. But what I display now, I am not ashamed to admit. I am traumatized. I was separated from my comrades early on in our exile. I was taken by Compact, traded to the vampires, then traded back to them again." Understanding bloomed inside Shiv as he made the connection. "You were a slave."