Next page on Dec 1st

Look, man. My bad, okay? We good? We're good. Thanks for your understanding. Phew. I was a little nervous you'd be upset.

But yeah, thanks for reading, guys.

Page 3455

While he did trust the officers to do their jobs properly--especially since he’d appointed or promoted almost all of them himself--it was still good to take a hands-on approach with these sorts of things, from time to time. If he didn’t, then he might begin to lose his touch.

And on this particular occasion, all this paperwork was helping to give him a better view of the war effort than perhaps anyone else in the world, right now.

Thus far, the war front in the best logistical position was clearly the defense of northern Melmoore against Ostra, though the southern defense against Corrico was a close second.

Most of the public credit for that seemed to be going to the Surgeon Saint, and judging from the books here, that wasn’t undeserved.

In fact, most of these invoices had been signed by Fen personally. Jackson also noticed copies of numerous handwritten letters by the man, sprinkled among all the accounting records. Each one was providing detailed instructions to his men about where to go next, what to do, and how to do it. He gave information on enemy movements, their numbers, and their access to local resources.

Oil seemed to be of particular concern to Fen. And with good reason, of course. That region was famous for its oil reserves and mining operations, so keeping Abolish off of those deposits was an understandable priority.

It hadn’t taken long for Jackson to begin questioning how Fen was acquiring his information. Usually, such impressive intel was an indication that Sparrows were being deployed, totally unimpeded by the enemy.

But Fen didn’t have command over a team of Sparrows. Or not at first, anyway. Jackson had since sent him one, which indeed only improved things further.

And... maybe he’d also wanted that team to report back to him on Fen himself. To answer that important question about how the Saint was pulling off these not-so-minor miracles.

The answer, according to the team, was something quite unexpected.

Fen had somehow acquired for himself a privileged status within the Old Wardens.

A prestigious reaper enclave. In fact, the prestigious reaper enclave. The most famous one, to which many reapers in the world longed to become a part of.

And so Fen had been using this newfound status as leverage to turn enemy reapers away from Abolish with the promise that they could one day join.

Another delay, sorry

Next page on the 28th. Apologies again, but thanks for reading, as always.

Page 3454

The complexity of the world was partially to blame for that, he felt. When things got messy. And tedious. And exhausting. That was when the temptation to “simplify” often arrived.

He didn’t want to imagine how strong such temptations might be after becoming one with a “god.”

His ego didn’t need that kind of boost. It was hard enough to remain humble, already.

Though, his current circumstances were certainly helping in that regard. He hadn’t felt this pathetic in quite some time.

While it was true that he’d never wanted to be a part of Project Blacksong, it was still tough being stuck here while everyone else was out there fighting so hard.

With so many of their leaders captured, it was impossible to deny the importance of Blacksong, right now. If things didn’t go well... if they suffered another major loss here...

Not to worry.

Abolish was getting absolutely hammered, and not just by the Vanguard.

Jackson stopped and blinked again. Where had that thought come from? Avar?

Silliness. Still making a distinction when there was none. The information was already there. Available to him. If he would just allow himself to see--

Jackson cut the notion off with a shake of his head. Enough.

He returned to his papers. There were plenty to go through. Thankfully, even in his current state, he could still make himself useful.

And it was calming work, too. Perhaps because he’d never really grown out of those early years as an accountant. If anything, his passion for thorough record-keeping and organizational beauty had only ever seemed to grow stronger, much to the chagrin of many of his subordinates and contemporaries.

Where they all saw tedium and hassle, Jackson saw a slow, wonderful march toward perfection. So slow, perhaps, that it might not always make it there, but that was okay. Steady progress was itself satisfying.

For the life of him, he’d never been able to understand why so few others felt the way he did. So many of them wanted to skirt the rules, spend their time on “more important things,” or otherwise avoid “busywork.”

Meanwhile, this was what kept everyone accountable for their actions. And what kept everything operating.

Very few things were more important than that. In fact, maybe nothing was.

The logistics of this war were certainly nothing to take for granted. At the very least, he was glad for the opportunity to go over everything personally.

Couple more days

Thanks for your patience, guys. And happy Thanksgiving to those of you celebrating. I'll have the next page on the 25th at midnight PST.

Page 3453

Rather, he’d always thought of it as what people meant when they talked about one’s “conscience.” A guiding principle, of sorts. Something that seemed to have a life of its own.

But if that were the case, then wouldn’t that mean that Avar truly was a benevolent force? That Avar had been quietly helping him discern right from wrong his whole life?

Mm.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Jackson was too skeptical, though. The more he thought about it, the more he was realizing that the simple truth of the matter here was that he did not trust Avar. Judging from both the folk tales of the Fire God and from Avar’s own admissions to him, it was clear that Avar’s past incarnations were very flawed beings.

And sure, perhaps that had been the human half corrupting the godly half, but wasn’t it equally possible that Avar himself was the problem? He was the only common denominator, after all.

And ultimately, that was why Jackson was so resistant. It wasn’t just about holding onto his own sense of self. It was about ensuring that he did not become some new, tyrannical incarnation.

Because he knew that he could. That was absolutely possible. And he would’ve been an utter fool to think otherwise, to think he was too strong of character or noble of heart to ever allow himself to go down that path.

Hell, even without someone threatening to meld minds with him, the temptation to tyranny was plenty strong enough.

That was a lesson he’d thankfully learned relatively early in his career as a Vanguardian. Sermung had made sure to impress it upon him over the course of many lectures and elaborate field studies.

“Above all, we must refuse the call to conquer,” said the Crystal Titan, once upon a time. “Down that road lies all manner of sweet songs and alluring rationalizations. Appeals to reason. Appeals to emotion. Appeals to ego. Appeals to simplicity. To tradition, even. But that is not us. We are defenders. We are the ones who stand against the conquerors and tell them that the world is not theirs. And if ever we forget that, then it will only be a matter of time until we become our own worst enemy.”

Jackson believed that sentiment wholeheartedly. Believed in its importance. And in its reality.

Over the course of his life, there had been many times when he’d felt the exact “call” that Sermung had been referring to. The temptation to just... solve everything himself.

Page 3452

From what he’d been able to learn--both from archived sources and from his passenger directly--each incarnation was a distinct entity. They all had their own views and personalities that set them apart from those that came before--perhaps even because of those that had come before.

Because Avar was the throughline that connected each new incarnation. According to him, he remembered all of his previous lives and therefore possessed their accumulated wisdom.

Wisdom which he was offering to share with Jackson.

The only problem being that Jackson, as he currently knew himself, would disappear into a newly merged entity. A new incarnation.

How, exactly, Avar had managed to get into his head in the first place, Jackson was still not entirely sure.

This voice speaking to him was certainly a new development, but truthfully, Jackson was beginning to wonder if Avar might not have been quite as “new” of a passenger as he’d first thought.

He wondered if, in fact, Avar might have been with him, silently, for a very long time already.

Perhaps since even before he’d met Hyozen and become a servant.

Because what had prompted Avar’s sudden arrival? The emergence at Jesbol? Why would that have done it? What sense did that make?

Not that things were making much sense, these days.

At the very least, it seemed clear that the emergence had been what brought this voice on. And these... memories. Ones that didn’t belong to him. Those hadn’t been there before, either.

It was to the point, even, where Jackson wasn’t always sure of what he was saying. Like only moments ago, when he told the voice that everything he’d been given had come with a price.

What price? What had he been given?

He felt like he knew the answers to those questions, and yet... he couldn’t quite put his finger on them. It was like he’d forgotten something but that it was also just on the tip of his tongue. If he could only remember.

Frustrating.

Meditation helped, though. He’d been neglecting that practice for years--decades, even--but he was suddenly finding it quite helpful again.

Calming. Relieving. Giving him a bit of the peace he was in such dire need of. If only for a little while.

Yes.

Yes, perhaps Avar had been with him for a very long time, indeed.

Because for as long as he could remember, Jackson had always felt a kind of second presence in his mind. Not a voice, of course, until now. Never anything so clear as that. Or so unsettling, either.

Page 3451

Even these archivers might not be so forgiving, though, if he accidentally incinerated some of these priceless tomes. Hell, he might not even forgive himself if that happened.

But he’d needed to learn more about this Avar character. And about what it truly meant to become a “vessel” for a supposed Primordial.

Unfortunately, none of what he’d learned had made things any simpler. In a way, it might’ve been better if the stories about Avar had all been terrible, because at least that would have made everything clearer. But no. The tales were wildly varied. In some of them, Avar was a benevolent force for good--a warm, nurturing figure who went to great lengths in order to foster and protect those who’d found themselves in dire straits.

One such story told of how Avar bestowed the Secrets of Fire upon the Aruni--theorized by some to have been the first homo sapiens--teaching them how to wield it safely for warmth, cooking, and warding off deadly monsters. It told of how Avar quarreled with other gods, who thought him too enamored with humanity, too generous with his gifts and teaching.

But other stories were more brutal, telling woeful tales of destruction. Of Avar’s flames becoming all-consuming, razing entire cities in a single night.

Such as the Tale of Vanwa. In it, Vanwa is a fishing village under siege from a larger village to the north. It is being raided constantly and having its goods stolen. And when Avar arrives--named Avarith in this story--he teaches the villagers of Vanwa to wield a magical form of fire so that they might defend themselves from their oppressors and protect what they rightfully own.

Which they do. And so Avarith departs, satisfied with the results.

But he returns many years later and discovers that Vanwa has become the oppressor. Where it was once a humble village, now it is a fortress town, possessed of a powerful military that uses the magic he gave them to subjugate its neighbors.

Incensed, he destroys Vanwa utterly, leaving not a single soul alive, not even the children.

And those were only the extreme examples. There were many others that fell somewhere inbetween, where Avar--or whatever the incarnation of him was being called--did not come across as good or bad, but rather just neutral.

It left Jackson feeling uncertain in all sorts of ways.

This business about “incarnations” was particularly curious, he felt.

A few days

Next page on the 20th. Thanks for reading, everyone.

Page 3450

Jackson just growled to the empty room around him. The pain was beginning to abate, but that might have been a result of his irritation more than anything else.

The voice in his head was not like that of a reaper. It was not distinct from himself. It was an inseparable part of him. And he knew it. He liked to pretend otherwise, to act as though these thoughts were not already his own, but deep down, he knew the truth. It was really just a matter of time until he finally gave in.

Or died.

In vain, most likely. Which would be a real shame, wouldn’t it? When he absolutely had the power to make this problem go away.

To make all his problems go away.

Jackson clutched his forehead and tried to steady his breath, as if doing so would help steady his mind, too.

“Please,” he said, more weary than angry now. “Please, just give me peace...”

He already had peace, of course, so this made no sense. He was just being his own worst enemy, as often seemed to be the case.

Nonetheless, the part of him that knew better decided to relent. To let him return to his comfortable denial.

For a while longer, anyway.

When Jackson opened his eyes again, he saw that he had sunken all the way down to the floor without realizing it.

Agh.

How much time had he just lost? Hopefully not much. He checked his phone and was relieved to see that it had indeed only been a few minutes.

He took another deep breath and stood up.

Dull aches still lingered across his body, but at least his head felt clear again.

He found the papers that had fallen to the floor and took small comfort in the fact that he had not accidentally incinerated any of them, this time. That was something, at least. A bit of hope that perhaps he truly was regaining more and more control over himself as time went on.

It was hard to have too much confidence in that theory, though. Especially when those intrusive thoughts sometimes felt like they were growing stronger, too.

The intrusive thoughts of Avar, the so-called God of Fire.

Jackson had come to learn quite a lot about this new passenger of his. That was one of the reasons why he’d decided to come to Intar. The work of the archivers here rivaled even that of those in Luugh.

That, and he was on better terms with these ones.

Page 3449

Now, well over a century later, people didn't say those things anymore. Instead, they whispered behind the Magician's back. Jackson had heard them many times. Talking about what a disappointment their "best and brightest" was against the likes of the Mad Demon. Talking about how incompetent or arrogant he must be, despite almost certainly having never met him.

Jackson hated the idea that, in his own moment of weakness, he might have added fuel to the inferno of self-doubt that he knew brewed within Xander Ulsmith. He was supposed to be a source of inspiration and encouragement for Xander, not the opposite.

He pushed the pain back down. Or rather, his perception of it.

Mind over matter. The age-old trick.

He’d been through fifteen surgeries in the last few months. And the first ones, at least, had certainly helped. But now, they were starting to seem like a waste of time.

That was probably because the Surgeon Saint had conducted the first ones and then handed the project off to others once Jackson had begun to improve. Perhaps that man really was his best hope.

Jackson didn’t blame him for stepping away, though. Fen Frederick had been instrumental to the Vanguard’s success in Melmoore. Jackson couldn’t justify keeping the man here in Intar for no other reason than his own personal convenience.

Plus, there was Project Blacksong to consider. Fen had his own involvement in that. And it was imminent.

Or had it already occurred?

Ugh.

His head throbbed again, despite his efforts.

Dammit. The slightest slip in concentration was enough to bring it back.

If this kept on indefinitely, he didn’t know what he would do.

Well.

Then again...

That wasn’t entirely true, now was it?

No, of course, the actual truth of the matter was that he already knew exactly what he needed to do.

He just didn’t want to accept it.

“Stop,” said Jackson through closed eyes and clenched teeth.

Still, he resisted. Of course he did. That was his nature. A part of what made him such a worthy vessel.

“Shut up.”

No one was saying anything to him. No one but the silent voice in his head that he hated listening to, despite everything that it had given him.

“Given,” he echoed, his voice thick with resentment. “Everything you’ve ‘given’ me has come with a price. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Well, that was one way of seeing things. The wrong way, but a way, nonetheless.

Page 3448 -- CCLXXXIX.

Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Nine: ‘O, tempted Star...’
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)

A small stack of papers slipped off the steel desk and splattered across the metal floor.

Jackson clutched his chest as the all-too-familiar pain shot through him anew. He grit his teeth and growled as he gripped the edge of the desk and tried not to fall out of his chair again. Flames whispered into life at the edge of his fingers, scoring the otherwise silvery metal.

Sudden and debilitating, that’s what this pain was. And if he had Hyozen numb it for him, then something else would go wrong. A hand would stop listening to him. Or a leg. Or an eye.

By now, he knew what the cause was, but in those first days after the disaster at Uego, he thought the blasted Mad Demon might have genuinely cursed him, somehow.

At times, he wondered if a curse might have been preferable. Having his body infested with nanomachines that were apparently programmed to torture him for the rest of his life? That didn’t seem like the more pleasant option.

He'd heard back from the Magician, who had managed to get his hands on various samples of Morgunov's work, and apparently, there were multiple different iterations of these damn nanobots in play around the world, at the moment.

"The ones that have a hold of you are the worst of the worst, by far," the Magician of Light had told him over a satellite call. "They're parasitizing not just your body but your soul, as well. That's why you can't just have Hyozen regrow your body from scratch and be rid of them. They will be regrown with you."

Jackson had been hoping for a solution from the Magician, but as of yet, all he'd gotten was an explanation. He tried not to let his disappointment with the man show too much on his face, but he probably hadn't succeeded. It was hard to even think straight, oftentimes, much less control his emotions.

Agh. Poor Xander. He didn't need Jackson piling more pressure on him, right now.

The Magician of Light had been having a rough go of it himself since the outbreak of this war--and indeed, since long before it started, too. Xander's success as a younger man had come back to haunt him, it seemed. When people started calling him the "Brain of the Vanguard" or the "most brilliant integrator since Skapa," they probably didn't realize the enormity of the burden that they were placing upon the young genius' shoulders.

Page 3447

“Your boss will not be happy with you if he learns about this,” said Gohvis.

“Eh, maybe,” said Jercash. “But a part me think he’d be too excited to get angry with me. Either way, I’m not handing Lozaro over to him. Guy’s too valuable.”

“Why did he come to you for protection?”

“Heh. Well, it wasn’t like he had many options. Couldn’t exactly go to the Vanguard after all he’d done, and Sai-hee isn’t particularly fond of him, either.”

“That’s not what I was getting at.”

“Hmm? Oh, you meant why didn’t he go to you!” Jercash broke for another laugh. “Don’t be jealous, pal! I’m sure you were his next choice!”

“How puerile.”

“That’s rich, coming from you. Look, if you want people to approach you with these sorts of things, then you have to be more approachable. Get it? This whole scary-dragon thing you’ve got going on is cool ‘n all, but it invariably has its costs, y’know?”

“...Are you blackmailing him?” said Gohvis.

“What? No. How would I even do that? Everyone already knows he’s one of the evilest dudes in the world. And I’m pretty sure there’s precisely nothing and no one that he loves in that cold, black heart of his. Hell, sometimes, I think he even hates the very knowledge that he spends so much time trying to amass, strange as that might sound.”

“You’re holding him prisoner, then.”

“Excuse me, but I’m quite capable of acquiring new subordinates without resorting to such things. He’s with me of his own free will, thank you very much.”

“Hmph.”

“Speaking of my subordinates, how many of them survived the battle? Tell me where they are, already.”

Gohvis exhaled a deep breath and began trudging through the snow, heading in the direction of the nearest mountain slope. “I will take you to them.”

Jercash just stood there and watched him for a second before following. “Y-you’re not... you’re not actually going to walk, right? At this snail's pace?”

“...I’m thinking about it.”

“Wow. How is it that so many people have come to look at you as their new lord and savior? Do you think they’d have a change of heart if they learned that the real you is just a giant baby?”

“Do you think your followers would have a change of heart if they learned that the real you is just more lucky than smart?”

“That’s not an insult. I’m incredibly smart, and yet I’m even more lucky than that! Where's the downside, huh?”

“I should’ve let them kill you.”

“...A big, fat, dragon baby.”

“Shut up.”

Page 3446

“You’re the worst friend I’ve ever had, y’know that?” said Jercash.

“I highly doubt that,” said Gohvis.

He was right again, of course, but Jercash wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. He took a deep breath as he began to reassess their situation. “Alright, well, what are your plans moving forward? Do you intend to be more involved in this war now? Or is this it for you?”

“The tide has already shifted against us,” said Gohvis. “I don’t see much point in prolonging this conflict. We should pull all of our forces back and focus on recouping our losses.”

That didn’t exactly answer his questions, but Jercash was also not surprised by the Monster’s opinion here. “You were never in favor of this war in the first place.”

“Nor were you.”

“True. But I’m also a very sore loser.”

“You’ll be much worse than sore if you pursue this much further. Neither Morgunov nor Dozer will come to our aid.”

Jercash actually perked up at that. “Oh? ‘Our,’ you say? So you’ll actually be sticking with me, then?”

“That depends. Will my staying incentivize you to do something stupid?”

Jercash barked a sudden laugh. Gohvis may have been playing coy, but he could tell that the dragon man had no intention of abandoning him here.

Finally, some good news after so much bad.

Jercash took a moment to regain his composure. “Well,” he said, “what if I told you that I didn’t plan on winning, any longer.”

“Mm?”

“What if I just wanted to go and give the Vanguard one last kick in the testicles before calling it quits?”

Gohvis fell quiet for a time. “...Have you actually formulated a new plan of action, already? Or are you just saying that to amuse me?”

He laughed again, more faintly this time. “Oh, I’ve got something alright.” More than just one thing, in truth, though he wasn’t yet decided on which he wanted to go for.

“Elaborate.”

Ah. He’d have to choose right away, it seemed.

Hmm.

Well, which one would Gohvis appreciate the most?

Oho. When he thought of it like that, the answer was abruptly obvious.

“When was the last time you met Lozaro?”

The Monster paused for a rare look of genuine surprise. “You have Lozaro?”

“That’s right.”

“For how long?”

He snickered. “The whole time. He came to me for protection straight away.”

Page 3445

Because who all was near the top, these days? Just him, Gohvis, and Vanderberk.

Which reminded him.

“Do you know Vanderberk’s current status?”

“Dead,” said Gohvis.

Well, fuck. “How?”

“The Hawk got to him.”

Graves, huh? Damn that bastard.

Truthfully, a part of Jercash had been expecting this. It was only a few years ago that the Hawk had been hunting the Weasel down--and not being very subtle about it, either. Jercash had to go to great lengths in order to protect Vanderberk, which eventually deterred Graves. Or seemed to.

With the death of Gunther and Dunhouser earlier in the year, Jercash’s plan had been to keep Vanderberk close to him while he taught him a few things. But with Morgunov starting this war out of nowhere, Jercash had been forced to let Vanderberk go off on his own.

He’d told the stubborn son of a bitch to head for one of the Melmoorian fronts, but did he listen? Of course not. He wasn’t afraid of Graves. The idiot never got it through his thick head that Jercash had been protecting him during their previous encounters with the Hawk.

Agh.

So much effort wasted.

Not that this was the first time.

“I have a feeling that you will see Vanderberk again, however,” said Gohvis. “So if you do, do not be fooled.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“Already, it appears that the Hawk is pretending not to have killed him. He even tried to convince me that he would just capture him, instead.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he intends to make use of his corpse in some way. As some manner of puppet, perhaps.”

Double fuck. “That’s some of the worst news I’ve heard in a long time. Are you sure about that?”

“Moderately. It is an educated guess. You do know that Graves is an illusionist, yes?”

“No. I did not know that. I would’ve warned Vanderberk about that ahead of time, if I did.”

“Ah. Mm." A beat passed. "Too bad.”

Jercash shook his head and sighed. “Gohvis... while I’m grateful for all this sudden assistance, I also can’t help noticing that it’s just a bit late. Is there a particular reason why you’re only telling me all of this now?”

“Yes.”

And when the Monster offered no further elaboration, Jercash deduced the rest on his own. “But you’re not going to tell me what it is.”

“Yes.”

Page 3444

“I... ah...”

“You cannot remember?”

“...No, I can’t. The last thing I can recall about them is... prior to seizing control of Kavia.”

“Oh,” said Gohvis, sounding abruptly surprised. “So you won the Kavian civil war even without their help. Impressive.”

Jercash returned a flat look. “I resent what you are implying, right now.”

“It was a compliment.”

“Sure it was.”

“In any case, it seems they have been missing for quite some time, then. I thought perhaps they had disappeared just before your incursion into Hoss, but if it was before you even finished conquering Kavia, then...”

“Then what? Finish that sentence, please. Why are you suddenly so curious about them?”

“Does this timing not strike you as strange?” said Gohvis. “A bit too coincidental?”

Jercash saw what he was getting at.

“It has been many years since someone last tried,” said Gohvis. “Is it not about that time again?”

That time again...

Yeah, maybe it was.

This was the way with Abolish. It had almost slipped his mind altogether. Which was perhaps the whole idea behind waiting so long.

Minor coup attempts were a common enough thing. A weekly--or even daily--occurrence, at times.

But major attempts...

Well, those were considerably rarer, now weren’t they? Izalog had made sure to teach him all about that long ago, when he’d begun to approach this tier of power and influence. And with the reaper’s help, he’d gone even further and discovered some generational patterns, reaching a few new conclusions of his own about the nature of would-be Abolish usurpers.

Going back all the way to Abolish’s inception, it occurred roughly every fourty years. A major internal event.

Sometimes, it skipped a generation. Other times, it happened a bit early or late. But by and large, the pattern was consistent.

And that hadn’t changed during Morgunov and Dozer’s rule. Instead, the attempts had simply failed every time.

There were several reasons why he and the others were not trying to wrest power away from those two. For some of them, like Jercash, they just didn’t think it was worth the risk. This position was already quite the lofty one--and in some ways, more desirable than the zenith.

For others, though, it was because, time and again, they’d personally seen what became of those who tried.

And then, of course, there were still others, like Gohvis, who were just total enigmas, perhaps too interested in their hobbies or obsessions to care about things like ruling.

But at this point, Jercash supposed that type of mindset was now a bit outdated.

Page 3443

Jercash paused for a deep breath as he thought about his next words. He’d largely been ignoring the magnificent snowscape that he and Gohvis were both standing in, but now he took a moment to appreciate it. These mountains. This biting wind. Cold and lifeless and terrible--but beautiful, nonetheless.

One of the perks of being so old. Being able to stand in brutal places like this, unbothered by the elements--and therefore, able to instead admire the natural wonder of the world that much more.

“Where did you bring me?” he decided to ask.

“The Ridoas.”

Jercash had to stop and blink at that. The Ridoas were the most famous mountains in the world, due entirely to them being the home of the highest peak in the world, Mt. Vinayoaka.

They were also in Luugh, on the other side of the Hardwick Sea, over a thousand miles north of Kavia and Hoss.

“...Bit far to take me, don’t you think?”

“We were being pursued. And you’ve been out for days, by the way.”

Oh.

Oh no.

He groaned. “Still. If it was mountains to get lost in that you wanted, the Waress were right there next to us.”

“I sent decoys there, too. Some of which are still being chased, even now.”

Huh. Well, that was another thing that Jercash had already known about the Monster. His mastery over illusions. Hell, in all likelihood, the Gohvis in front of him probably wasn’t the real one.

“What about my men? Do you know how many survived? Or where they are?”

“Yes, but now that you’ve brought that up, I am reminded of something that I must ask you, first.”

“Shoot.”

“What happened to Koh?”

“Hmm?” Jercash needed a second to think about that. “The dog?”

“Yes. I lent him and Germal to you when you visited my library, but I did not sense them among your forces during the battle.”

“Uh...”

Huh.

That was a good question. What had happened to them? He was having trouble recalling.

In fact... when was the last time he’d seen them? Even that was hard to remember.

He’d gone through all that trouble to get them under his command, so he would’ve noticed if they’d just upped and disappeared.

Gohvis was right. They definitely hadn’t been involved in that last battle. Hell, had they been there for any of the battles?

Next page on the 9th

At midnight PST as usual. Thanks for reading, everyone.

Page 3442

In fact, that was part of the reason he’d been so reluctant to commit his forces to any major offenses early on. He’d wanted to keep plenty of resources stocked up so that he could quickly pivot if and when Sermung showed up. He had some extra special tricks up his sleeve, reserved especially for the Crystal Titan, but if the jackass never showed himself, then what good were they? He was just saving up for a rainy day that never came.

Perhaps the jerk somehow knew. Perhaps his continued absence was intentional for exactly that reason.

With Sermung, it was impossible to know. That much, at least, was certainly intentional. Each of the emperors went to great lengths in order to prevent their actions from becoming predictable, save perhaps Morgunov, who just seemed to do it naturally.

“Who could possibly be giving Morgunov that much trouble if not Sermung?” said Jercash.

The Monster scoffed. “Truthfully? I think he may have brought it all upon himself. Though again, I am not sure.”

Well, that was... quite believable. “When you put it like that, it makes me not want to go help him.”

“You shouldn’t. You’d never reach him in time, anyway. At this point, either he survives or he doesn’t.”

“I could still do with a bit more detail, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s been toying with ancient forces.”

“That’s nothing new.”

“Yes, but I think they may have found a way to toy with him back.”

“Oh?” Jercash connected the dots. “The Vanguard? You think one of these ancient forces has manipulated them against him?”

“Indeed. And by extension, against the rest of us, as well.”

“Ah... and what are these ‘forces,’ exactly?”

“Alas, I cannot tell. They are wary of my sight. Even from afar, they make great efforts to conceals themselves from me.”

His ‘sight,’ eh? Jercash had only rarely heard him mention that. No doubt, if he inquired further about it, Gohvis would refuse to elaborate, but over the long years, Jercash had been able to piece together a few clues about it.

It wasn’t aura sight--or at least, not just that. No, Jercash suspected that it was something more highly developed and powerful. Something that could see across great distances--and probably time, too.

And perhaps, even, into souls.

What that really meant, however, Jercash was not yet sure. Nor did he have any idea what the limitations of said ability might be. Clearly, the Monster was not all-knowing or all-seeing, but...

Perhaps that was the eventual goal.

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“...You really don’t make it easy to be your friend,” said Jercash.

“You throw that word around as if it has merit,” said Gohvis. “You know as well as I that we do not have the luxury of friends.”

“Hmph. I know no such thing. The minute you start thinking that way is the minute that these long lives of ours start to seem like they might not be worth continuing. Friendship is a key component to retaining our sanity.”

The Monster regarded him for another long moment. “...You honestly think you are still sane?”

From anyone else, that question might’ve sounded like a sarcastic taunt, but Gohvis’ tone was one of genuine curiosity, so Jercash held back the biting retort that first came to mind in favor of something more serious. “Of course I do. It’s the rest of the world that’s mad.”

“Mm. Or perhaps you were never sane in the first place and so have no basis from which to discern any difference.”

“If that’s the case, then there’s no point fussing over it, now is there? I am how I’ve always been and clearly nothing will change that.” Jercash’s gaze narrowed as he sized the other man up. “You, on the other hand, seem to be going through something... dare I say, transformative? Something that’s making you behave quite strangely, at the very least.”

The Monster made no response.

Jercash had to push. “What is going on in that head of yours? You went through a lot of trouble to help me out, and yet you’re still acting so cagey.”

“Abolish is on the verge of collapse,” said Gohvis. “If I’d done nothing, the balance of power would have shifted enormously in the Vanguard’s favor.”

Collapse, was it? Jercash might’ve heard a thing or two about that. He decided not to mention it yet, though, in part because Gohvis was not done.

“Your Mad Demon has his back against the wall as we speak,” said the Monster. “I went to his aid as well, but it is not looking good for him.”

Jercash’s brow twitched. “That’s news to me. Is it Sermung’s doing?”

“No. I cannot yet see all angles, but it is not him.”

That was somehow a relief and also not. For this entire war, he’d been waiting on word of Sermung’s movements to arrive. His greatest worry had been that the bastard would decide to show up here first in order to try and get a swift victory for his stooges so that they could move on to a different battlefield, but that had never happened.

Page 3440

Should’ve stuck with his initial game plan. Hit-and-run tactics combined with hostage-taking and purposely drawn-out negotiations. Along with a few of his special trump cards thrown in every now and then, of course. It had been slow progress, but it had been working.

Switching over to a more aggressive, ambush-focused strategy had not been the play, clearly.

Kane and Grant weren’t fools, damn them. They’d closed ranks and done the complete opposite of what he’d hoped, apparently not bothered much at all by the death of their long-serving compatriot.

In retrospect, he supposed he should’ve known better. Heartless bastards, the lot of them. Truthfully, strange as it might’ve seemed, it was actually Abolish which was filled with soft-hearted, emotional thinkers. At least when it came to things like that.

The Vanguard didn’t care about each other. The people they fought and died alongside. They only cared about the billions of planet-killing leeches who didn’t give a single shit about them in return.

How absolutely ass-backward this world was.

“...So you rescued me?” said Jercash, turning to look at the dragon man.

“Yes,” said Gohvis. “Though I’m surprised to hear you phrase it that way.”

“Hmm? Why’s that? Think I’m too proud to call a spade a spade?”

“...Yes.”

“Hah! It pains me to learn even after all these years, you still don’t know me better than that. I’m not one to scoff at a helping hand. Especially from an old friend.”

“Mm.”

“How’d you know to show up when you did? The tide turned so quickly that there was no way word could have reached you in time.”

“I knew of their plan in advance.”

Jercash’s expression flattened, and he blinked dully. “Excuse me?”

“It was their long-simmering Project Blacksong. You must’ve heard something of it yourself by now, no?”

He had, but that was beside the point. “If you knew so much more about it ahead of time, then why didn’t you warn us?”

The Monster was quiet a moment. “...I didn’t feel like it.”

Jercash’s head reared back a little as he blinked a few more times. It was immediately obvious that Gohvis just didn’t want to tell him the real reason, but that answer still left him baffled and offended all the same. He took a second to gather his thoughts as he sighed and rubbed his forehead with one hand.

Page 3439

But at the very least, Jercash certainly had his eye on him now. Karkash had already made a solid first impression on him back in Kavia, when Jercash’s men finally tracked his little group down.

Apparently, the kiddos were the ambitious sort. Which wasn’t exactly abnormal, of course. If you weren’t ambitious, you didn’t have a place in Abolish as anything other than a slave--or something equivalent to one without the label.

But it was still a rare thing to see someone enacting such risky plans without much apparent firepower to back them up.

Karkash and his little buddy--Desmond or something--had gathered a ragtag bunch of maniacs in order to start targeting locations that prominent Vanguardians were known to have some connection to.

A common enough tactic, historically, but Jercash had admittedly not seen it used in a while. Mostly because the Vanguard had cracked down on it extremely hard the last time. These youngsters wouldn’t remember that, of course, but that was no excuse for their reapers. It made him wonder if the sneaky buggers were concealing that tidbit of knowledge from them.

Part of him hoped so. It’d be amusing. Plus, he didn’t want to open his big mouth and destroy their dreams. Abolish needed that type of eagerness.

And whaddya know? So far, they’d surprised him. If they kept this up, he’d have to promote them soon, regardless of their ages.

Not that they’d told him how young they really were. He could just tell. They had that air about them. That dark naivete.

And their auras weren’t exactly up to snuff, either. But perhaps that was a different matter.

With the opening that their unexpected success in killing Carson had provided, Jercash’s plans had been thrown off. With the benefit of hindsight, that was obvious, but at the time, he hadn’t realized what a precarious situation he had been put in. That youthful eagerness had infected him, hadn’t it?

Because naturally, with one of the three big names down, the other two would be looking for revenge, right? Which would make them overextend themselves, right? And of course, their overall might would be at its lowest since the war broke out, right? Therefore, the best course of action was to change tactics and start pushing forward in order to take advantage of a weakened, disorganized enemy.

Right?

Wrong, apparently.

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Man. How could it have all gone so wrong after that? Agh. Pride before the fall, he supposed.

Amateurish of him, really. Letting a little success go to his head like that.

Well. In fairness, killing a marshal when three of them were hounding him day and night was more than just a “little” success.

But still. No excuses.

“You’re awake,” came that familiar double-voice of the Black Scourge. “I was beginning to think Grant had done some kind of permanent damage to you.”

Jercash didn’t turn to look at him yet. He hadn’t sensed Gohvis there a moment ago, but now he did, and he was not surprised. The jerk always did like to sneak up on people. Like a little kid, honestly.

A giant, draconic, little kid.

“Grant...” The name fell almost involuntarily out of Jercash’s mouth. That was right, wasn’t it? He’d gotten into a pitched battle with that son of a bitch, one that he’d felt like he was about to win. He’d manipulated the battlefield in order to create exactly that scenario, after all.

Truthfully, Carson’s death had been more luck than strategy, Jercash felt. While he certainly didn’t mind taking credit for it in front of the men and the general public, he and his top guys all knew the truth. It was a routine assassination attempt. The kind people at this level had to deal with all the time.

It wasn’t actually supposed have to succeeded. It was just supposed to have bought Jercash time.

But then his assassins came back with wonderful news--and the physical proof of their success, to boot.

Jercash could not have been prouder.

The Little Assassins that Could. Led by the Bolt of Kavia. Or the Headhunter, as some had also started calling him. Or Karkash the Thunderbolt, as still others did.

Personally, Jercash preferred the latter, but he knew that these sorts of things tended to take on a life of their own. Whatever stuck, stuck.

He didn’t yet know if the youngster was truly deserving of all the attention, though. Nor would he know for quite some time, he suspected. Unless he’d already gotten killed in the mayhem of the last battle, of course.

That was the way it worked with these meteoric upstarts. The ones that just exploded onto the scene, making big waves out of nowhere. Usually, it was just dumb luck that earned them that first wave, but time always told whether they could sustain themselves, eventually.