Page 3393

The man exploded into a cloud of blood, and the water that splashed outward from his position was stained a faint pink, drizzling the battleground.

Zeff was taken aback for a moment, having not expected that result.

That moment was too long, though. A blaze of soul-empowered gunfire caught him straight through the torso, tearing him open all the way up through his neck and threatening to detach his head.

Agh. How stupid. He couldn’t help scolding himself even as he mounted a counterattack, materializing an icy spike in the apparent gunman’s mouth and skewering him through the brain. The nameless man dropped instantly, and Zeff encased his entire corpse in ice.

Amateurish. Letting himself get distracted. And over something so trivial, too. If not for pan-forma aiding his regeneration, that might have been a far costlier mistake on his part. And with a clearer mind now, Zeff highly doubted that Riev was truly ended by that one attack, but it had bought him time to concentrate on someone else.

There were plenty of candidates to choose from, too. It seemed like more guards were funneling into the chamber now. Jorga, Mikas, and Marda were still the biggest threats, but the extra crowding certainly wasn’t going to help.

He was much more mindful of the reapers being rescued, however. They were the priority. Anyone not threatening them could be ignored for a bit longer.

But Raga Marda was. The so-called Demon’s Tiger of Abolish. With the aid of Axiolis’ senses, Zeff could sense him already engaging with Diego Redwater and Dimas Sebolt both.

And it did not appear to be going well for them. In fairness, Dimas was doubtless more focused on shielding the reapers he’d just freed, but Diego had less of an excuse, having already lost both an arm and leg while accomplishing little more than scorching Marda’s face and clothes.

The fight space was too cramped over there to resort to the Drillburst again. It would hit Diego and Dimas. But the Demon’s Tiger was not someone he could afford to pull his punches on. According to their intel, this man was at least seventy years old, putting him on similar ground with General Lawrence--a fight which had not gone well for Zeff back at Rheinhal.

True, he’d made considerable leaps in power since then. But just how considerable? How much had he really grown?

One way or another, it was time to find out.

Page 3392

The second he’d heard that Riev was here in Vantalay, he’d known that this would happen. He’d even gotten word, multiple times over the years, that Riev was itching for a rematch.

And if that was truly the case, then Zeff had to assume that the guy had gotten considerably stronger since then. No one would want to fight the same person a second time after having barely escaped with their life unless something had drastically changed.

Sure, the man could’ve just been a completely insane idiot--which was fairly likely, even--but the fact remained that Zeff still had to assume the worst.

He was not about to underestimate his enemy and be caught off guard as a result.

So he didn’t hold back in the slightest. When he sensed Riev making a beeline for him, Zeff did two things: he sealed Riev in a giant block of ice, and he began cooking up one of his most powerful techniques, the Drillburst.

That was the name he’d finally settled on for it, despite Axiolis’ insistence that it be called the “Water Bomb Drill.”

It was the first time he’d bothered naming a technique in many years. All the ones he’d named previously had long since become trivially simple to perform, and so using their names was a needless extra step.

The Drillburst, however, would likely require a very long time before that was the case. It was a technique that previously needed to brew in his mind for several seconds before it could be used, but with the name, that time was cut in half. And by using his hands to create a concentrated orb of howling steam in front of him, the wait could be shortened further still.

And of course, pan-forma helped, as well.

That was the real reason why he considered this one of his most powerful techniques, now. The speed of it. While he could almost certainly pull off something even stronger with enough time, being able to fire off the Drillburst in less than two seconds meant that he could almost turn it into a barrage, already.

Which was what he did now.

Riev broke out of the ice block with obvious ease, but that was perfectly fine, because the Drillburst finished charging. The ball of steam in Zeff’s hands vanished in an instant, and in the next, the thick, watery boom arrived right on top of Riev.

Page 3391

In the next moment, Linus was gone, as was Longvin--both disappearing in a flash of light.

Truth be told, Zeff had been skeptical of bringing the Linebreaker with them. Regardless of the man’s prowess, Zeff couldn’t help be suspicious of just about any non-Rainlord in their party. Having Leo with them was bad enough already, and now this guy presented another potential point of betrayal.

But even so, it was impossible to ignore how useful the man might prove to be here.

Having such a powerful light-wielder of their own in this battle was a fantastic boon. As obnoxious as light-wielders were to deal with from the enemy, they certainly made for great backup as allies. And if they managed to free Rayen Merlo soon, then their potency would double.

In the moment, however, Zeff was thinking none of that. He was focused purely on the battle, on trying to keep track of everyone positions and movements. Who among his kin needed help? Who among the enemy needed to be dealt with?

Enemy reinforcements were soon to arrive, no doubt, so he had to be on the lookout for those, too. The chamber only had the one entrance, but that was no guarantee, Zeff knew. The enemy could arrive from anywhere.

And indeed, when an enormous tremor arrived, he was not surprised. It shook the entirety of Cell Block Y with enough force to cause a momentary cessation of the battle as everyone tried to collectively understand who or what the source of it was.

Before a clear answer could be discerned, the ceiling cracked open like an egg and got sucked up into the sky, revealing a vast blanket of dark clouds. Zeff could already see a half-dozen twisters out there, surrounding the compound and crackling visibly with lightning.

Was that from the battle with Vanderberk? Or enemy reinforcements? Maybe both?

Impossible to tell for certain, but the reinforcements, at least--those had indeed arrived.

Axiolis recognized three of their soul signatures, making the fourth one easy to guess. Riev, Jorga, and Mikas were all obvious, so the last was almost certainly Raga Marda.

And Riev was coming straight for him.

Zeff had been expecting as much. He had a history with Riev Moros, the Stalker of Agvehl. They’d clashed once before, in Lyste. It had been one of the most grueling one-on-one fights Zeff had ever experienced, and even though he’d technically come out victorious in the end, it hadn’t felt that way, considering how much destruction the Stalker had wrought while still managing to escape.

Couple more days

Thanks for the patience, guys. Next page will go up on the 29th at midnight PST.

EDIT: I meant 29th. My bad.

Page 3390

The opening of the assault was arguably the most important. While the enemy was still scrambling and disorganized, that was the moment where they could recover the most reapers with the last amount of interference.

And Dimas Sebolt took full advantage, Zeff noticed. The man’s power of gravity alteration lent itself quite well to the purpose of carrying others, and with a bit of soul power, Dimas was quickly able to acquire more than twenty reapers by himself.

In fact, that was the signal for everyone else to begin the attack. Dozens of reaper cells burst open simultaneously, and then madness ensued.

Cell Block Y might’ve been a massive chamber, but in the middle of the fight, it became instantly cramped. The feeling that one wrong step might get one’s head blown off gave the room an oppressive sensation that stifled movement, but Zeff pressed through, regardless, cutting guardsmen down left and right with discs of bladed ice.

That alone wasn’t enough to keep most of them down, though, which was why he took to attaching a frozen coating to their remains--or if he could spare the extra effort, clapping boxes around them instead, filled with supercooled, pressure-manipulated water.

That alone was enough to keep most of them down. A moderately aged servant did not typically have the defenses needed to withstand this kind of quick-freeze attack on the brain.

Which was why Zeff took particular notice of the ones who were able to resist.

Vanderberk’s men were not yet here, though they were doubtless soon to arrive, so the two he sensed who were already able to withstand his attack were most likely Longvin and Kortell.

Their intel had been able to discover what they both looked like, but here and now, amid the chaos, there was no discerning which was which. Not until they started using their abilities, at least.

Longvin was a light-wielder. And one capable of using pan-rozum, no less.

Those were never fun to deal with.

But it was a tremendous help to know that ahead of time. All of the Rainlords knew that they could not let that man do as he pleased, and so their collective efforts fell upon him as soon it was clear who he was.

A bright light flashed, almost certainly in an attempt to blind everyone and conduct a concealed counterattack on many of them in the blink of an eye. But even before the light receded, Zeff could already sense that the man had been set upon by at least six different materialization users, one being himself.

Not to mention, the Linebreaker was there, too, with his huge arm through all of that material, having already gotten ahold of Longvin, apparently.

Page 3389

They’d decided to divide their efforts into two broad teams. One team’s job was to rescue and shield the captives, and the other team’s job was to neutralize enemy combatants.

Zeff had been quite tempted to choose the latter team. He certainly had enough pent up frustration to make the task a cathartic one. But in the end, he and Axiolis decided to take more of an intermediary role between the two teams. An overseer role, of sorts. Being a materialization user, his power lent itself well to both endeavors. He could easily shield others at range while simultaneously distracting opponents.

Not to mention, this middle ground was a way of keeping himself in check. If he were to fully let loose and go entirely on the offensive, it would endanger the reapers. While he might have been confident that he could control his ability with great precision, even he had to acknowledge that he was not in the most emotionally stable of mindsets, at the moment. And fighting emotionally was not what this mission called for.

Even with all his years of meditative training, all the time spent honing his mental discipline, reigning in his emotions was a struggle. The trick, Axiolis kept telling him, was to not think about himself. To think only of the others around him, of what they needed.

‘You are a ghost on the battlefield. You do not exist. You do not matter. What matters is everything else. Everyone else. Our kin. Listen and see them. React and think only for them.’

Easier said than done, to say the least.

But Zeff Elroy, the Water Dragon of Sair, did his best.

Pan-forma helped immensely. Being able to rely on Axiolis’ reaper senses to keep track of everyone made the chaos feel much less so. Plus, his awareness of the relative strength levels at work here helped him to prioritize which areas he should pay the most attention to. He didn’t, for example, have to worry about anyone in close proximity to Darktide. That man would take care of everyone around him.

The same could most likely be said for Evangelina and Dimas. Salvador and Diego were perhaps the most worrisome, but Leo and the Linebreaker were obviously the biggest wildcards here. While they were both potentially Melchor’s equals or even stronger, without knowing them personally, Zeff could not bring himself to consider them reliable.

Taking a few days

Next page will go up on the 25th at midnight PST. Thanks for reading, everyone.

Page 3388

Axiolis, too, seemed like he might know, but the reaper was being obnoxiously cagey about it.

‘I can understand Melchor’s reluctance to come out with it,’ said Ax. ‘Depending on who it is, their identity could become a distraction for us, which is one thing that we most certainly do not need, right now.’

Zeff could only partially agree with that, considering how much of a distraction the mystery already seemed to be to some of the others.

But whatever. Personally, he didn’t care all that much. If Darktide trusted this imposter, then that was enough for him. At the moment, the only thing that mattered to him was getting everyone out of Logden as quickly and safely as possible.

And to that end, the freeing of the reapers was paramount. While certainly, all the frozen heads they’d retrieved were an important starting point, without the accompanying reapers, those fifty warriors couldn’t be revived just yet. No doubt, they would be in for a rude awakening when they started being resurrected in the middle of the fight.

The plan also became clearer as the Rainlords gathered more intel on the guardsmen--as well as the other servants that Vanderberk had brought with him.

They’d confirmed the presence of Raga Marda, Jorga Dahno, Riev Moros, and Mikas Cross among Vanderberk’s personal forces. The guardsmen were considerably less threatening by comparison, but the Rainlords were still quite wary of the ones named Longvin and Kortell.

Thankfully, Jan Cross and the Seeker were not here, having been confirmed to be leading the assault on Ridgemark. Those two would have complicated matters considerably.

But on the whole, despite how threatening many of these opponents were, Zeff actually quite liked their chances here. With the likes of Darktide, Leo, Evangelina Stroud, himself, Dimas Sebolt, Salvador Delaguna, Diego Redwater, and even the Linebreaker of Ridgemark on their side, he felt they were more than a match for the enemy.

Sure, the opponent had plenty of hostages, but the Rainlords could choose when and where to strike. While infiltration was obviously made more difficult with the enemy being aware of their Invisibility, it was still far from useless.

And so, their first assault was timed to be in conjunction with that of the imposter’s attack on Vanderberk. While the biggest threat was busy, the Rainlords were going straight for Cell Block Y, where all of the reapers were being kept.

Page 3387

Apparently, they had an unknown ally in this venture.

Word arrived from the captured Raul Blackburn via his reaper, Arumoro. Someone had infiltrated Vanderberk’s ranks--and not only that, they’d managed to disguise themself as none other than Thaddeus Croll, the Killer of Krohin, who had been a problem for the Rainlords ever since the first team of them arrived here in Vantalay.

Quite the turn of events, to say the least. And naturally, Zeff and the others had not been keen to trust this new stroke of luck. Sure, maybe they were due for it after enduring so much misfortune in recent months, but still. This seemed far too good to be true.

And if they were talking about luck as a resource, then surely they’d already used up too much when Raul Blackburn stumbled upon the location of their captured brethren in the first place.

Interestingly, however, Zeff’s own reaper, Axiolis, was noticeably quicker to trust this new development than the rest of them.

‘You will no doubt think I am talking nonsense,’ the reaper had told him in private, ‘but this has always been the way of our people, even back in the days of the Armans, before the great invasion from the East. Tribulation comes calling, and it threatens to destroy us utterly. But then, whether through our own unbending resolve, divine providence, or some combination thereof, the tide begins to shift. Quite literally, on some occasions, heh.’

And while Zeff certainly still had his doubts, the reaper was at least partly proven right when word then arrived for Melchor Blackburn.

‘Grip the torch with both hands.’

That one sentence from the Croll imposter had shifted things rather dramatically.

They were words that belonged to Bernardino Blackburn, a turn of phrase that the man had been particularly fond of, apparently. Zeff had never known the man personally, but Axiolis did--as did, of course, Melchor and his reaper, Orric.

That connection to Bernardino was no minor thing.

And it sparked considerable intrigue in their minds, too. In the entire world, there could not have been many people left alive--servant or reaper--who had known the man well enough to not only learn that phrase from him but also to understand its significance to the Rainlords as a whole.

The imposter then promised to reveal his identity to him once the battle was done, but by Zeff’s estimation, Melchor already seemed to know who it was--or have a very good guess, at least.

Page 3386

While certainly, on a purely pragmatic level, it would have been beneficial to them to do so, there was far more at play in these circumstances than pragmatism alone could account for.

Between all of their collective histories and that of their reapers, they had too much experience and knowledge of the Weasel’s exploits. No matter how reasonably the man might have wanted to present himself now, Vanderberk was a mass murderer who gave orders to other mass murderers.

And not only that, he was known for doing so gleefully.

To say that such a person could not be trusted to keep his word would have been the understatement of the century. And even if, somehow, that were not a factor, there was also the basic moral component of it to consider.

“The rain fears not the torch.”

Those were their words, even now after all they’d lost. No. Especially now.

More than ever, they knew that they could not bend here.

And so, it had not taken them long in order to decide on their plan of action.

They were going to fight.

The mission to retrieve all of their captive kin from Logden Prison had proceeded fairly well at first. There were roughly four hundred souls to account for, and considering how few of these Invisibility rings they had at their disposal, they made respectable progress the first day, retrieving almost fifty frozen heads from cold storage.

Fifty warriors who could contribute to the fight, in other words.

Everyone was nervous now, and Zeff Elroy was no exception. There were still so many non-servants in the prison. They were always going to be harder to free than a bunch of frozen heads, but now that Vanderberk was here and all the guardsmen were on the lookout for invisible infiltrators, the task was yet more daunting.

The potential for casualties here was very high.

Not to mention, part of Zeff’s motivation for coming here was to recover his son, Francisco, who should have been among the frozen heads. But thus far, there was no sign of the boy or his reaper, Dennex.

At this point, Zeff was beginning to think that they might not even be here. And with how dangerous the situation was, he didn’t know if that would be a disappointment or a comfort.

There was, however, one confusing piece of good news that arrived before the fighting broke out.

Page 3385 -- CCLXXXV.

Hmm. Maybe that had made him sound dumb, but oh well. Hector wasn’t about to try and argue that no, actually, he had really been trying to double check intel he’d gotten from the ancient, mythical Fusion Forge that he’d recently acquired.

He did still have another conversational line open to him, though. “Is there any way of corroborating the information that you’re providing?” he asked. “I’m not entirely convinced that the internet is less trustworthy than a reaper who was trying to kill me a couple days ago. No offense.”

‘Aha. None taken.’ Grigozo paused. ‘Corroboration... With regard to their ages, the only method I could think of would be to... ask other reapers who might know. As you’re no doubt aware, age is a sensitive subject for many servants.’

Hector was indeed aware of that. Increasingly, it was clear that public perception of a warrior’s strength was almost as important as the strength itself--hell, maybe even more so, in some cases. Hector didn’t think that was quite what Grigozo was getting at here, though. Unlike in his own case, Banda and Bloodeye’s true ages, according to Grigozo here, were actually significantly older than the public knew.

In a situation like that, Hector supposed the only reasoning behind it would be to make enemies underestimate them. Certainly, that factor alone might make all the difference in the world when it came to a life-or-death battle.

But it still seemed a bit weird, maybe because it was so exactly opposite to the problem that he’d been struggling with for what felt like ages, now. Ultimately, he wondered what the superior strategy was. To be feared and respected? Or to be underestimated?

At the moment, he couldn’t even imagine reaching a point where the latter was an option for him.

The conversation continued for a while longer, but eventually, the main doors to the Moonlight Hall swung open, and the arrival of Carlos Sebolt brought things to an abrupt end.

The man was looking directly at Hector, though he spared a glance for the reapers who would overheard what he was about to say. “News, lord. From... abroad.”


Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Five: ‘O, sudden encounter...’
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)

It was a mess. As he knew it would be. As they all knew it would be. Once word arrived that Vanderberk wanted to “negotiate” with them, none of the Rainlords had been in doubt.

There could be no parley with such a man.

Page 3384

As he tried to come to grips with this earth-shattering revelation, the silent sound of Garovel’s voice managed to regain his attention.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ said the reaper, wrapped in the echo of privacy.

He didn’t know how to explain, especially considering they were still in the middle of a different conversation. ‘Egh... I’ll tell you later.’ And he tried to put it out of his mind--or at least into a background thought process.

But then he remembered that there was more to it than just the Candle being wrong. Naturally, when he’d first realized that details about Bloodeye already existed in his head, he’d made sure to double check that information against what was available on the internet. That, after all, was how he’d even come to conclusion that the knowledge had been from the Candle in the first place and not just some random, made-up bullshit that had come to him in a dream or something.

Of course, now that he was having more elaborate dreams involving historical figures, maybe his view of that latter part had also changed.

Ugh.

Why did this have to be so confusing, huh? Why couldn’t more things just be magical and flawless? Sorting through all that information was already an enormous task, and now he had to factor in an extra possibility of error, too?

Hmm. Now that he was thinking about it, though, he supposed it was also possible that the Candle was right and that Grigozo was simply lying here, instead. Hector didn’t see what reason the reaper would have for doing so, especially regarding such a seemingly minor subject; but hell, maybe there was more to it, somehow.

He decided to interject into the reapers’ conversation in order to double check. “Ah--pardon me, but uh, regarding Bloodeye’s age. You said he was one hundred and seventy-six, right?”

‘Yes,’ said Grigozo, sounding abruptly uncertain.

How to handle this question...? Ah. “I happened to read on the internet that Bloodeye was only one hundred and thirty-three. Is there some reason for the discrepancy here?”

There arrived a pause, and then the reaper gave a slight laugh. ‘Are you serious?’

What? Hector made no response. He merely kept his face flat and his eyes steady.

Grigozo’s mirth seemed to dissipate. ‘Er--apologies. I would’ve thought it obvious that you should not trust publicly available information like that when it comes to highly ranked members of Abolish. Or the Vanguard, for that matter. Misinformation abounds. By design, no doubt.’

Page 3383

Hector could appreciate that--or the sentiment of it, at least. Previously, he’d thought that he and Garovel were more in line with the Vanguardian mission of proactively engaging the enemy, but after all they’d been through, he was starting to wonder if they might actually have more in common with the approach that Ericoros was describing.

Not that it always had to be one or the other. Context certainly made a difference, he felt.

‘At the risk of sounding like a contrarian,’ said Garovel, ‘I am not sure you can rightly say that she fosters those sentiments in ALL of her followers when we were just talking about how much of a problem Ariana was.’

‘Hmph. Yes, you are semantically correct. I should not have said all. But the broad point remains true. And I’m sure I do not even need to begin listing examples of how certain Vanguardians throughout history have not lived up to their purported ideals, either.’

‘No, you do not.’

The conversation continued on the same subject for a bit longer, with the reapers going back and forth but not really giving much ground or providing new details. Eventually, however, Garovel shifted topics with a new question, addressed to Grigozo.

‘Oh, by the way, I was meaning to ask, how old was Banda, exactly?’

‘One hundred and forty-one,’ said Grigozo. ‘Why do you ask?’

Hector’s eyes widened, and he blinked a couple times.

‘Just curious,’ said Garovel. ‘Do you know how old Bloodeye is, too?’

‘One hundred and seventy-six,’ said Grigozo.

Wait, what the fuck?

The reapers were still talking, but Hector had stopped listening. All of his thought processes were suddenly stuck on what he’d just heard.

Those ages.

Banda had been that fucking old?

But even more importantly...

Hector had thought he already knew how old Bloodeye was. One hundred and thirty-three. That was the information that he’d pulled out of the Candle. He still had no idea where the Candle had gotten that number from--and maybe he never would, either--but now that Grigozo was contradicting it...

What did this mean? Hold on. Didn’t it mean... that...?

Oh god.

It meant that the Candle wasn’t always accurate, didn’t it?

So all the information that had been fed directly into his brain by the Forge...

He had to take it all with a grain of salt now, didn’t he? It wasn’t just some kind of magically perfect reservoir of indisputable knowledge, was it?

One of his hands slowly found his forehead as his gaze sunk to the nightrock floor.

Aw, fuck, dude...

Page 3382

‘Even if what you say is true,’ said Garovel, ‘that does not render Sai-hee without blame, no? A leader takes responsibility for her subordinates, especially in the eyes of the public. If this Ariana was such a loose cannon, then Sai-hee can at least be faulted for not dealing with her before the situation exploded into so many lost lives.’

‘I do not mean to claim that Sai-hee is some perfect being who always makes the right decision,’ said Ericoros. ‘And your assessment is a fair one, even if there was considerably more nuance that is perhaps not worth getting into, right now. On the whole, I can certainly understand the Rainlords’ perspective in that conflict.

‘But with that being said,’ Ericoros went on, ‘the Lord Darksteel here asked about what she is like, not about what mistakes I think she may or may not have made in the past. When it comes down to it, I believe she is the best and most magnanimous of the current four emperors. But due to the other three, she is also constantly being put in impossible situations--situations, need I remind you, where she must take into account the safety of over two billion people who live under her protection.’

Garovel held up his skeletal hands defensively. ‘That’s completely fair. I’m not trying to say that she has it easy or that she could just snap her fingers and fix every problem in the world. I’m just trying to have a balanced view of things.’

‘I know that desire well,’ said Ericoros. His skeletal mouth twisted slightly and impossibly, looking a bit like a smile, which was a surprise to Hector. ‘You are trying to maintain neutrality. If anything, that makes me think that you would quite like Sai-hee, should you ever be fortunate enough to meet her.’

Garovel chortled. ‘I probably would. But then again, maybe that’s not saying much. I like most people. I’m full of love, me. Too understanding and benevolent for my own good, you know.’

Hector resisted the urge to roll his eyes, though he did smile. “Leo mentioned that she saved your hometown. Or that her people did, at least.”

‘Yes, and that is exactly what I mean when I say that she is the best of the emperors. While her goals may not be so lofty as “saving the world,” she nonetheless does more to protect innocent people than anyone else, in no small part because she fosters that same sense of stewardship and preservation in all of her followers.’

Page 3381

‘That is no great surprise,’ said Ericoros, which surprised Hector. The reaper rarely chimed in, deigning usually to merely listen--at least while Hector was present, that was. ‘The emperors are all in a category of their own. Fear of them permeates every side of every conflict.’

‘Even among Sai-hee’s people?’ asked Garovel.

At that, Ericoros was quiet a moment, and Hector wondered if perhaps that had been too brazen of a question for the reaper’s liking. '...Yes,' said Ericoros. 'Exceptions no doubt exist, especially among the stupid, but for a certainty, there was always a subdued level of fear within our ranks. It would be arrogant and foolish to claim otherwise.’

Garovel merely bobbed his skull in acknowledgment.

Hector had a question for Ericoros now, too, though he wasn’t holding out hope that the reaper would actually answer it. “What is Sai-hee actually like?”

As expected, the reaper made no response.

Hector tried a slightly different angle. “I ask because Leo didn’t have very nice things to say about her, but from what I understand, you don’t feel the same way. I’d be interested to hear a more detailed opinion from someone who thinks highly of her.”

Ericoros exhaled a nonexistent breath. ‘I suppose that is fair...’ He paused, perhaps to gather his thoughts. ‘Sai-hee is... she is a very complex person. And it is true that my affection for her will likely never fade. She has a deep compassion for others that is difficult to fully articulate. Perhaps if you would consider Sermung to be a fatherly protector of the world, then Sai-hee might be thought of as a more motherly one. She is kind beyond measure and treats everyone like her children.’

Hmm. Well, he’d already heard a few counterpoints to that claim of kindness, at least. He didn’t want to interject, though.

Garovel, however, apparently did not harbor the same reservations. ‘Kindness, eh? I’ve never met her myself, so I’m not saying you’re wrong, but the woman is known to have done some rather UNKIND things throughout the years. Her conflict with the Rainlords being just one example.’

‘Ah, yes, the Richland affair,’ said Ericoros. ‘That was a horrible circumstance, yes, but it was not Sai-hee’s doing. Rather, it was the fault of Ariana, who had always been impulsive and... “passionate,” as some described her. “Emotionally unstable” might have been the more apt term, in my estimation.’

Page 3380

‘So you don’t think Sermung is like that, then?’

‘I do not,’ said Garovel. ‘But I do think he has a very different view of the world than the rest of us. And I also think he deserves a bit of slack, too, after all he’s done for humanity. It’s easy to forget that he doesn’t ACTUALLY have an obligation to anyone or anything. It’s no individual person’s responsibility to save the entire world, nor should it be. But people constantly act like we deserve his protection and power, like he owes us, when the reality is the opposite. If anything, WE owe HIM. And in times past, people in his position have made that exceedingly clear, demanding tribute as an overlord, for example. The fact that he doesn’t try to pull that stunt makes him saintly enough, as far as I’m concerned.’

‘...Wow,’ said Hector. ‘I knew you liked Sermung, but I didn’t realize quite how much. You’re like a super fan.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve just had this conversation many times before--and often with people who were much more argumentative than you. So I’ve developed strong opinions. Especially lately.’

‘Ah...’

‘I can only imagine how difficult it is to keep a level head when you’re in a position like his. And considering how long he’s been doing it for, I’m prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he’s deciding to not get involved in this war, then he’s probably got a good reason.’

Hector hoped he was right, but he didn’t know if he shared the reaper’s point of view, either.

And at the risk of setting Garovel off again, he ended up broaching a similar subject with Grigozo and Ericoros later.

“What is Abolish’s general view of the war?” he asked. “Are they afraid of Sermung stepping in?”

‘I can only speculate what the higher ups have in mind,’ said Grigozo, ‘but I can say with relative certainty that the prevailing sense of morale has been high. Apart, perhaps, from the conflict in Melmoore. I heard that things were going quite poorly over there. But according to most reports, the men were optimistic about their chances of winning.’

Quite the difference from the Magician of Light’s assessment, Hector noted. But then, it only made sense that opposing sides would have opposing views.

‘As for Sermung himself,’ Grigozo went on, ‘there is always an underlying fear of him in everything that Abolish does. The men rarely speak of it, but it is there.’

Page 3379

Choosing where to go and who to help. How to allocate his limited time and power. These were becoming increasingly important things to think about, and he was starting to get the feeling that this was--in some small way--how the big, famous warriors and influential people throughout history must’ve felt.

No matter how good his intentions or how powerful he grew, there was only so much he could do at one time.

‘But that’s all the more reason why we have to keep going,’ said Garovel privately. ‘And to keep pushing, too. It’s important to remember that, no matter how crazy things might get, there are plenty of other people out there who are trying to do the same things we are. Trying to protect the world. And yeah, maybe we might not all get along or agree with one another, but ultimately, there’s still a certain level of solace to be taken in simply knowing that it’s not all on our shoulders alone.’

‘...Do you think Sermung feels that way?’ asked Hector. ‘I mean... if anyone has the weight of world on his shoulders, it has to be that guy, right?’

The reaper paused. ‘I can’t claim to know how the Crystal Titan thinks or what he ultimately believes, but I suspect it’s different from what most might expect of him.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, take this war for example. We’ve been paying close attention to the news from all over the continent, even deploying scouts to collect our own information and corroborate others’. And yet we’ve heard neither hide nor hair of Sermung’s whereabouts. Conventional wisdom would tell us that Sermung should’ve popped up by now, at least when Morgunov made his move on Sair. But no. He’s still quiet.’

Hector had to bob his head a little. ‘Yeah, I suppose that’s true... Do you think he’s... busy with something else? Or that he just, er...?’

‘...Or that he just doesn’t care?’ finished Garovel.

‘I didn’t want to put it quite like that, but... yeah. I mean, if he’s really like six hundred years old or whatever, then I guess I could understand if he’s gotten... disillusioned with keeping up the fight. I’m sure I’d be different, too, after living that long.’

‘You’ve hit on quite a popular subject throughout history,’ said Garovel. ‘And not just in regard to Sermung, either. Whenever there’s a definitive “strongest” in the world--and they’re not an evil son of a bitch--those types of questions start cropping up without fail.’

Page 3378

It seemed obvious, however, that these dreams were--in part, at least--the things that he’d partitioned off in his mind after his trip through the Candle. The most compelling evidence was simply that he’d never dreamt much before. The timing was too strange, otherwise. All the memories and information that the fusion forge had shown him must’ve now been manifesting themselves in this new way.

He felt like this was a good sign. A sign of progress. Perhaps this would be happening with increasing frequency as his mind continued to process everything. Or maybe a dream was even an indicator that a particular memory had completed its processing.

Weird to think of it like that. Shouldn’t he have known for sure? It was his brain, after all.

In any case, Hector’s main focus for the time being was still Grigozo and Ericoros. Now that there was no immediate threat to Warrenhold to worry about, those two captive reapers were the most pressing subjects to Hector’s mind. Plus, the castle was still mostly empty as they waited on word from abroad--in particular, from Vantalay.

From the reports he’d received, Hector was keenly aware that the situation over there was at its most tenuous. The Rainlords had been fighting for weeks now in order to find and free their brethren, and now they were on the verge of pulling it off. Only the final assault on Logden Prison was standing in their way, and Hector hoped to hear good news soon.

It was tough not to worry, of course, but these were the Rainlords. When it came down to it, he had quite a bit of faith in them. He’d witnessed their strength firsthand.

They weren’t going to let anything stand in their way.

He did wish he could’ve gone with them, though. And now that Warrenhold was seemingly safe, the temptation to fly to their aid was stronger than ever.

But until he received word that was truly dire, he intended to stay put. The Rainlords would be fine without him. Warrenhold wouldn’t. And sure, while it seemed like Bloodeye wasn’t going to launch another attack just yet, Hector didn’t think it was worth risking everything on that hypothesis.

But this was definitely an illuminating experience in its own way. Decisions like this weren’t trivial--that was for sure. And he could only imagine how many more like it he might have to make in the future.

Page 3377

“Whatever mighty deeds you might perform, however many people might speak your name, whatever riches you might acquire, it will all become as valuable to you as dirt before long.” The farmer wasn’t even looking at him, now. Instead, he’d grabbed a shovel by a fencepost and started digging a hole in the ground by his cobble porch. “Until you have conquered yourself, you have conquered nothing at all.”

After that, the lord was quiet. For quite a long while, in fact. He and all his men merely stood there, watching the farmer dig.

“...What is your name, farmer?” asked the lord.

The farmer, however, did not answer.

The irritation on the lord’s face was apparent. “Please, tell me. My name is Unso. I should like to know your name before you enter my service.”

“Perhaps you are hard of hearing. I serve no lord but my own.”

“You will enter my service, or I will kill you where you stand. In either case, I must know your name, for ‘twould be a shame if your tombstone had to remain blank.”

And what followed was a light so blinding and persistent that Hector thought the dream to be over. But when it finally abated, the lord named Unso had been torn asunder, head removed from his shredded shoulders. On the end of the farmer’s shovel, a reaper was skewered, smoking and dying.

The army was already scattering. Some of them had fallen to the ground and were scrambling back to their feet, though it didn’t look like the farmer had done anything to them.

Once it was over, Hector was able to continue watching the scene for a bit longer. It reminded him of his time within the Candle, the way it could manipulate visions of the past for him. He tried to do that here, to rewind or fast forward, but there was no response. The scene was merely played out, allowing him to wander about and look at things.

He tried to look at the farmer’s face in greater detail, to get a true picture of who the guy might’ve been, but it didn’t seem possible. His awareness in this place was strange. Being half-asleep was likely the issue. He felt like he couldn’t fully concentrate. Couldn’t really absorb details.

It was only after he awoke that he truly began to process what he’d seen, and even then, he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.

Page 3376

The accompanying footage was split between three different screens, each showing giant columns of black or gray smoke filling the sky.

Young Mr. Yavan took notice as well. “Seems the world has nothing to offer but bad news, lately.”

And David kept watching. It soon became clear there were at least three eruptions currently accounted for, one each in the nations of Kavia, Melmoore, and Vantalay.

Somehow, Prince David doubted that was a coincidence.

-+-+-+-+-

Of late, Hector had been dreaming more often. Almost every time he slept, in fact. And they were quite random, too.

But very real.

On this occasion, he saw the life of a simple farmer. Or what seemed to be one, at first. A man arrived on his land. A man of terrible power and influence. A man who’d brought an army with him. Because apparently, this was not the first visitation. The leader’s subordinates had been pressuring the farmer for a while now without ever being able to make him budge.

There was fear in the army’s ranks but not in the leader.

A long discussion was had. That comprised most of the dream, in fact.

“...To speak with such insolence, do you not know of me, farmer?”

“I do not. Nor do I care.”

“I am the new lord of your lands, farmer.”

“Congratulations. But I serve no lord other than the one who lives in my heart. If it is tribute you seek, you will have to look elsewhere.”

The lord laughed mightily. “I’ve not met a man as fearless as you in a long time! Or, perhaps, is it merely ignorance that makes you speak so?! Surely not! The army at my back must make your situation quite clear, no?! Or are you blind, as well?!”

“I see your army. Make sure they don’t trample my crops.”

Another mighty laugh. “If every man under me was as fearless as you, good sir, I’d have conquered the entire world by now.”

“Mm, but would you have conquered yourself?”

“Pardon? What do you mean?”

“To satiate one’s hunger, only a modest meal is needed.”

“Ah... you do not know my Hunger, then. For mine never seems to end.”

“I know of that well. The Hunger you speak of. That hunger is not of this world, and therefore nothing of this world can satisfy it, other than a corrected mind. A conquered mind.”

The lord was not laughing, anymore. Instead, he was listening carefully.

Page 3375

The kid made another face like he didn’t understand--or didn’t want to, perhaps. “Regardless, what do you want from me? It’s obviously not nothing.”

David exhaled a curt breath. “What I want from you, Mr. Yavan, is good policy.”

“What?”

“I want the right people to be in the right places at the right time.” He paused for another swig. Damn, this place made good tea for a bar. “Sometimes, being smart is enough. Or being hard-working is enough. But other times, it’s not. Other times, someone just needs a little helping hand in order to reach their full potential. And one day, if you ever find yourself in a position where you can help others out in a similar manner, then I hope you will remember this. Because it really can make all the difference in the world.”

Carlito was silent, just staring at him.

David could no longer tell what might be going through the young man’s head. Ah well. Maybe the kid needed a moment to gather his thoughts. David’s eye drifted across the bar, landing on the television hanging in the high corner behind the bartender.

There was some kind of breaking news footage there, but it only held his gaze for a split second before Carlito grabbed his attention again.

“I see. You make it sound nice, but really, you’re not doing anything different from Intarian politicians. A favor now in exchange for a favor in the future.” There was no disgust or disappointment in the kid’s tone. He was merely stating it as if it were fact.

David bobbed his head admissively but still had to counter. “Yes and no. I do want us to be friendly in the future, of course, but strictly speaking, politicking in the manner you’re describing is... generally not advisable, in my opinion. Doing someone a favor in exchange for some vague future promise is a good way to open oneself up to being backstabbed or otherwise let down, instead. No, I wouldn’t do this for you if I didn’t genuinely wish to help you or think that you deserved it.”

The kid said something more, but David’s attention had shifted back to the news footage. And stayed there.

Because what he read on the bottom scroll made his mind lose track of what they’d been talking about.

“Multiple Major Volcanoes Erupting Across War-Torn Eloa,” it read.

Page 3374

“Ah.” This certainly wasn’t the first time David was hearing that about Jacobson. It was always hard to know how true such rumors truly were, though. When it came to politicians, the ability to make friends was key, and when people thought you were nice, that task usually became easier.

It also made it easier to stab people in the back, perhaps even without them realizing it.

But Carlito’s assessment carried a bit of weight to it, David felt. Perhaps it wasn’t all nonsense, after all.

“You mention that last part as if it’s not even that important to you,” said David. “Surely, after the hell you have endured under Garvey, the general disposition of your new boss should be a higher priority to you.”

At that, Carlito sat back up in his chair and eyed David for a moment. “...Eh. At the end of the day, I’d still rather work for someone who can make a real difference in the world than someone who is just nice to me.”

Heh. Yeah. This kid was definitely going to become a big name around here, one day.

Carlito slumped back down again. “Of course, ideally I could have both...”

David took a sip of his iced tea. “As it so happens, I know someone on Jacobson’s team,” he said.

Carlito’s head popped up off the table, though he didn’t say anything.

“I could put in a good word for you, if you like,” said the prince.

The kid’s eyes widened, and he blinked at him. “Y-you could? I... but I...” Then his expression rediscovered its composure. “In exchange for what, exactly?”

Prince David gave him a flat smile. “Why would it need to be in exchange for anything?”

Carlito returned a look. “Because nothing in this world is free.”

“Well, now, that’s just not true. Why, just the other day I visited the grocery store over on Nara Street, and they were giving away free samples of these lovely little fudge cakes.”

Carlito still just looked at him.

“You’re a very jaded young man, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

David smacked his lips and sipped from his drink another time. “That is something you’ll have to overcome, if you wish to make it much further in this business.”

“What do you mean?”

“Being jaded. Don’t get me wrong. It’s useful--and, in fact, necessary--to doubt people. To see through their lies or pick up on the subtext of what they might be saying. Sure. But the most important skill for a politician to have is the ability to make friends. And a lot of people will find that jaded disposition quite off-putting, if you don’t keep it close to your chest.”

Page 3373

“This Senator Garvey sounds like a real piece of work," Prince David was saying. “I never would’ve guessed, judging from how well he presents himself in front of cameras.”

“Yeah,” said the young man on the other side of the table, slumped forward in his chair and nursing an iced coffee against his temple while he rested his eyes. “I’ve had nightmares, you know, where all I hear is his voice, yelling at me from every direction. Oh... man... I feel like it’s going to happen again tonight, too...”

“Hence the coffee in spite of the late hour, hmm?”

“Yeah... I have to be up in a few hours, anyway, so maybe I’m better off just staying awake...”

David frowned at the poor kid. “Perhaps there is something I can do to help.”

The kid didn’t even look up at him. “That’s nice of you to say, but I don’t see how. I’ve just gotta tough it out for a few more... years, probably.” He groaned.

“You could find a different senator to work for.”

“You make it sound so easy. Without someone from the other senator’s team to vouch for me, it’s basically impossible. These jobs are hell, but that’s only because the competition for them is so fierce. Honestly, I’m lucky to be here at all. At least, that’s what they keep telling me...”

“If you could work for someone else, though, who would you pick?”

“...You mean out of anyone?”

“Mmhmm.”

The kid needed a moment to think about that, apparently. His name was Carlito Yavan, and while his current state might have seemed rather pathetic to any onlookers in this downtown bar, this young man right here was actually one of the most talented lobbyists David had ever seen. And not just when the kid was up there on the debate stage of the Congressional Hall, either.

Fortunately for Prince David, nobody else seemed to have noticed yet.

“...Well, I mean, the dream pick would obviously be Senator Jacobson. In five years’ time, he’ll be campaigning for the presidency--and probably winning, too, because both his policies and his team are rock solid. And of course, he’s a great orator, which is a huge leg up over, uh... some of his likely competition. And on top of that, I hear he’s actually a super nice guy, too, which is a bonus.”

Page 3372

That had bothered him, at first--especially because it hadn't been that way during his previous visits here, back in his student days. When he'd merely been a foreign princeling with an amusing quip for every occasion, the big players had been more than happy to give him the time of day. To have him entertain their guests for them. And to try and mold him, too. To impress themselves upon an impressionable young mind.

But now that he was older and an official ambassador of Atreya, they were clearly less interested in him. More wary, perhaps. It didn't help that half or more of the people he'd been familiar with had been replaced, either. What an obnoxious system of governance. How was anyone expected to get anything done when they were constantly having to build new relationships after every election? And find new funding before each one? Even now, he almost found himself reluctant to get to know some of these people, seeing as any number of them could be gone within the next three years.

In that sense, perhaps their dismissiveness towards him was warranted. Perhaps they didn't want to bother building a rapport with him, either.

But again, that had only bothered him at first. The reason it didn't bother him anymore was because he'd learned to adjust the angle of his approach. And to see the reality of things, as well.

The terrible truth of the matter was that these supposed big shots didn't know what the hell they were talking about most of the time, anyway. They were elected to look like they did. It was the people behind them--sometimes even beneath them--who were actually thinking deeply about and trying to influence political policy here in Intar. The ones writing and proofreading speeches, the ones whispering in ears between meetings, the ones cutting checks during fundraisers--those were the ones he needed to pay more careful attention to.

Optics in this country were truly a fascinating thing. Obnoxious and tedious beyond measure, but fascinating, nonetheless. Since his arrival, he’d had to learn almost an entirely new skill set in order to even begin navigating the political landscape here with any sort of success.

And to that end, being foisted upon assistants and secretaries wasn't actually so bad. These were the overlooked, the barely thought about--despite the fact that they were present for so many important conversations, silently observing and learning.

Lending these hard-working young folks a friendly ear was therefore no trouble at all.

Page 3371 -- CCLXXXIV.

He wanted to say something more, maybe try to clarify a point or two, but nothing felt appropriate. Truthfully, everything he’d said was already far more than he’d ever intended. Hell, maybe he should try to take something back, instead.

Bah. No. Backtracking was unbecoming of an emperor, no matter the situation. And he’d said what he meant.

At length, however, Gohvis unwrapped himself from his tail and stood up.

“There is still much I must tell you,” the boy said. “That conversation without Engomat’s presence still needs to happen. But I suppose it can wait. For now, we really should go to the others’ aid before it is too late.”

Dozer blinked at him. It took a moment to fully understand. But even after he did, he decided to remain seated in his chair. “I already told you that I have no intention of involving myself in this war.”

“Unfortunately for you, you are already involved. Sanko is here, waiting to jump in and assist me in killing you, should I have needed it.”

“Mm. Yes, I thought I sensed her presence earlier. It must be hard for her to show even this much restraint. Shall we deal with her together, then? I should quite like to be rid of her once and for all, and with your help, the deed might finally become trivial.”

“No. I have no desire to kill her.”

Dozer nearly sighed again, resorting to a frown, instead. “You are either betraying me or betraying her. Which will it be?”

“A false choice. Think what you want, but I will move in accordance with my own dictations. Not yours or anyone else’s.”

Agh. The brat.

And yet, Dozer also couldn’t help smiling a little. Maybe it wasn’t just a story they’d been telling each other. Maybe the boy really was his son, after all.


Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Four: ‘Rumblings in the distance...’
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It had been another long day. Prince David of House Lumenbel was a guest in this country, but it increasingly felt as if that meant very little. The major political players within Intar seemed to view him as nothing more than a nuisance to be pushed off onto their assistants and secretaries. He'd been here for months now, and yet he'd still never gotten the opportunity to sit down and speak with any of the big names for more than five minutes at a time.

Page 3370

But that was the real trick of it, wasn’t it? The real danger here.

Gohvis was his son.

But also not.

Not truly.

It was a game. A story they’d both agreed to tell each other, long ago.

And for his part, Dozer knew that he’d allowed himself to soften too much because of it. He’d let himself indulge in the fantasy of fatherhood, as he’d done many other times throughout his life.

Despite how much some of his followers might have protested otherwise, Dozer was under no illusion that he was some flawless being. Fatherhood had frequently been his weakness. No doubt, it stemmed from a place deep within his psyche that he would never truly be rid of.

Fostering abandoned youth. Helping the helpless to see the truth of this world.

These things, in retrospect, had always been of little practical utility to him and his empire. But so often, he couldn’t resist the allure.

And Gohvis here... was arguably the pinnacle of that weakness.

From an outside perspective, it would undoubtedly seem nonsensical. He supposed he owed the boy an explanation, at least.

“Son... the truth of the matter is that this concept of ‘trust’ you are referring to... is flawed.” Dozer scratched his brow as he eyed the lad carefully, watching his stony expression and half-expecting him to launch into an attack at any moment. “I might have outwardly ‘trusted’ Suresh, yes. I will not deny that. But you see...” He couldn’t help breaking for a brief laugh, now. “That was because I never actually liked him, son.”

Gohvis’ reptilian stare did not budge. “...What?”

Dozer shook his head, wondering if it was even possible for the boy to understand. “Trusting Suresh was easy. Trivial, even. Because I knew that doing so wouldn’t weaken me. I knew that he was a threat and that, ultimately, any ‘trust’ between us could only go so far. But with you, it is different. You are my son.”

At that, the giant black dragon man opened his mouth, but no words came out. Then he closed it again and merely looked confused.

“You,” Dozer continued slowly, “actually have the power to weaken me, if I allow it. Which is why I must not.”

Silence arrived.

Dozer waited.

Perhaps there’d been a better way to explain it, but Dozer couldn’t think of it, even as he continued to mull his words over in his mind.

Page 3369

“Tell me.” There was a rare tinge of anger in Gohvis’ voice now. “Long have I pondered these questions. Each time I have broached the subject in the past, you have evaded or deflected or denied me outright. So if you are finally ready to be candid with me, to acknowledge that it has not all been some insecure concoction of my own mind, then you must tell me the whole truth of it, Father. Have I not been a good son to you? What is the ultimate source of this distrust you have in me? It cannot merely be that man’s death, can it?”

And again, Dozer nearly laughed. He shook his head, instead, knowing all too well that his son would find such condescension nigh intolerable during a moment like this. If there was to be any hope of salvaging anything between the two of them, right now, then he had keep himself steady. He needed to not be indulgent. “...You freely admit to be working with the Vanguard, and yet you still wonder why I might distrust you?”

“No,” said Gohvis. “While that is what things have come to, I speak of before. In the past. I was never anything but loyal to you. Is it so strange that I should begin to consider other options when you have been so persistently impossible to please?”

Dozer bobbed his head. “It is not. I understand that part of you very well.” He took a moment to both measure his next words and also give his son a chance to respond again, but when Gohvis merely waited, he continued on. “And truthfully, on some level, I respect you for that decision. You are stepping out of my shadow, if only a little. Any halfway decent father should feel at least a modicum of pride in that.”

Gohvis just stared at him with those deathly red eyes of his. After the slight emotion they’d shown earlier, now they were back to being as impossible to read as usual.

He was waiting for more, Dozer knew. Because the main question had still not be addressed.

Why did he struggle to trust Gohvis as he had trusted Suresh? Suresh, a man who had even become openly hostile to him toward the end.

Why should his son be held in such comparably low esteem to a man such as that? Especially when the two were quite similar in many ways?

He had to admit. The boy’s confusion was understandable.

And tragic, perhaps.