Next page on the 17th

Sorry, guys. Thanks for reading, as always.

Page 4078

Even the normal ground level seemed neglected in comparison to the elevated areas above. While garbage and debris weren't necessarily everywhere, they were still quite noticeable--along with entire city blocks full of tented encampments, which Hector could only assume belonged to the destitute.

Though, at the moment, those places were also abandoned.

As his small party moved through the city, at times on the ground and at times hovering through the air on iron platforms, the unnatural state of the city only became clearer. Hector had wanted to find the source of the screaming that Roman heard with his enhanced hearing, but apparently, it wasn't that easy. Roman couldn't discern a direction that it was coming from.

So after a bit of uncertain wandering, they decided to check on the "hypnotized" crowd that Loren had seen.

It was the strangest thing.

Massive throngs of people covered the streets, none of them uttering so much as a peep. They were just walking with utterly blank expressions on their faces. Where to? No idea, but there was at least a clear flow to follow. They were all heading southwest, as calm and orderly as could be.

No one was in their cars, either. All vehicles appeared to be abandoned in the middle or road, doors left hanging open, keys in the ignitions, engines left running.

In the end, the group decided to simply fly overhead and follow the giant trail of people. They didn't rush, though. Hector took had to carry Selena, Nadim, and Loren on iron platforms, but Roman was free to scout around, though Hector asked him not to stray too far.

''Course we're not going too far,' said Voreese. 'I'm not trying to get mindfucked by some spooky bullshit, right now. In fact, maybe I should stay with you and let Roman go by himself.'

"Why do you have to put it like that?" said Roman. "Just say it's the smart the thing to do so that we can relay information back and forth. No need to hurt my feelings."

'Well, think of it this way. As long as I'm still insulting you, you'll know I'm not mentally compromised.'

"Mm. But 'mentally compromised' already describes your normal self. Quite well, actually."

'Shut up and go already. And by the way, I hope you DO get mindfucked, you stupid prick.'

"Love you, too."

'Ugh. Ew.'

Page 4077 -- CCCXXV.

Too much to remember at once, even for him. Countless crimes and crises. Tragedies and faces. Smiling, then agonizing.

Eadric. Cynebald. Aelred. Eadmund. Wynnstan.

Cut in two. Burning alive. Strangled. Skull caved in. Decapitated.

Cenhelm. Leofcild. Hilda. Tata. Cuthberht. Wulfric.

Drowning. Starving. Bleeding out. Buried alive. Stabbed through the neck. Dead in his arms.

Bada. Cenric. Jonathan. Richard. Nina. Martha.

Endless.

Endless.

Endless.

The thought processes were spiraling away from him. He felt them. Going off in different directions. Trying to recall. Trying to see. Memories and the world at once. Trying to address as much as possible. To assess everything. Melancholy be damned.

He contained himself. Pulled everything back. Too dangerous. Too much.

Tenebrach was saying something. Of course he was. Warning him again. And he was replying, too. Reassuring. Everything was fine.

Tenebrach would know it was a lie, but that didn't matter.

Few things did, anymore.

Focus on them. Concentrate. For a bit longer.

Ugh.

Horrible though they could be, the higher realms did offer a strange kind of solace. Since there was so much to worry about in them, so many potential threats, it was somehow easier to not get lost like this.

Here, things were too calm. Too safe. Too quiet.

But that was just a trick of perception, wasn't it? A bias. There was plenty of madness to subdue here, too. He was just too comfortable in his home realm. The familiarity was the problem.

Meditation would help.

There wasn't time. There never was.

No. There always was. Assign the thought processes to them. Stand them by. Calm them down. Calm everything down.

Relax.

Just relax.

Sermung breathed.

He concentrated, and he breathed.


Chapter Three Hundred Twenty-Five: 'The city of the Heart...'
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Andeyal was something else. Hector had always known about it. Seen pictures and video. It was one of the most famous cities in the world, after all.

But man.

Just being here made Atreya feel smaller, somehow. The buildings were absolutely gargantuan. The term "skyscraper" barely seemed like enough to describe them. There were entire roadways up there, too, weaving in between them, apparently connecting to many of those buildings directly. How bad must traffic have gotten in this place for roads like those to be deemed necessary?

More and more, he was starting to understand how that huge area underground could have been left abandoned for so long. With so much going on out here--and up there--did these people ever bother to look down, anymore?

Need a day

Sorry, guys. Next page tomorrow. Thanks for reading, as always.

Page 4076

He sighed as the Abolish random wriggled in his grasp. When had the guy even ended up there? He supposed it hardly mattered. There was no threat here. He was operating on autopilot, and as usual, it would make no difference in the situation's outcome. Everything would be taken care of, easy as could be.

He was even asking the relevant questions without trying. Pressing for names. Connections. Plans. Time frames. General news of the world. Might as well use the opportunity to start getting caught up on things. No doubt, it would take a while.

It always did.

So much downtime for something so simple. Perhaps this was why some of the Primordials had honed their ability to read very deeply into minds and auras. To prevent exactly this kind of sluggishness.

Hmph. But that wasn't really the issue for him, was it? The slowness wouldn't be a problem if he was simply better at being alone with his thoughts. At maintaining a sense of the present. Not dwelling on the past so much.

He'd been hoping to meet Osgar more than anyone else, but thus far, no luck. And thinking about it always got to him. Brought back old weariness.

The melancholy.

One of many possible reminders. He had to pause and rub his eyes, knowing that this wasn't the time.

But it never was, was it? That was the whole problem. Constantly pushing it away. Pretending it wasn't there. Keeping busy. There was always some convenient crisis to distract himself with, wasn't there?

Sermung. Stop. You're drifting again. Listen to my voice.

I know, he told Tenebrach. I don't need another reminder.

Yes, apparently, you do. Concentrate on the situation at hand.

I am. That's the problem. It's not enough. Don't you get it? We could be doing so much more than this, right now. Let's hurry this along already.

Someone was talking to him. One of the civilians he'd just saved. Thanking him for his help.

And he was talking back. Giving her assurances and a smile. Ensuring she could feel safe and warm in his aura. That was so important in situations like this. Everyone in the building needed it.

He recalled many other times in which that had not been possible. When his aura had been too weak. Or when he hadn't even known about such things in the first place.

What horrors he'd witnessed.

Page 4075

And, of course, there were the Primordials to contend with. Thankfully, fighting them was not always necessary, and some were clearly more powerful than others, but regardless, they never made it easy. They were like wrinkles incarnate. Complicating everything they touched.

More difficult still had to be the Elemental High Kings, their Chosen Champions, and their infinite armies. Those realms seemed to have the highest concentration of Chaotic power. The places where the infinite most coalesced. And the Primordials each owed tribute to them, at least in part.

It had taken a very long time to learn that--and even now, he and Tenebrach were not entirely certain of all the details. What were called Primordials in this realm were oftentimes more like special magisters in their home realms. High-ranking counselors to their kings. Given incredible leeway compared to everyone else. Valued for the depth of their knowledge regarding foreign realms and powers.

But not always, naturally. Some were on quite bad terms with their kings, it seemed.

And the Elemental High King of Darkness was on bad terms with them all, no matter their origin. That was why he'd sent his Champion to this realm, long ago, in order to conduct the Prime Hunt.

Or at least, that was as much as Sermung had been able to discern of their inner turmoil over the course of his quest. The problem with the higher realms was that there was always more to learn and never enough time to learn it.

Without a doubt, that had to be why his mentor decided to leave this middle realm the way that he did. Because he'd already given up on ever returning. Once he realized that the Terror could serve as a gateway into those impossible spaces, he allowed himself to be eaten and spirited away.

"I'm sorry, Caedda. The world is in your hands, now."

And by letting his successor slay the Great Terror, the same beast that had 'taken' his life, the legacy of the Vanguard would be maintained despite his sudden absence.

So departed Osgar, the Unbreakable Knight of Andeyal.

Unfortunately, that well-earned moniker suffered quite a bit of ridicule after his 'death,' and now it seemed as though barely anyone remembered it.

But Sermung would never forget. Osgar the Unbreakable may have been a shrewd and half-mad bastard with more spirit than sense, but even with all he'd learned since, Sermung couldn't imagine having anyone else as his teacher.

Next page on the 9th

Thanks for reading, everyone.

Page 4074

It was over as quickly as it began. All aggressors sealed in stone. Very few on this planet could break themselves out of soul-strengthened diamond. This was why defensive auras were so important. Such an aura was typically an outgrowth of the field density of one's soul, but for most servants, that alone would not be enough to shield them from Sermung. Only those who had achieved near perfect soul synchronization with their reaper would have the requisite density. Anyone younger needed something more assisting their aura. Much more.

Which, ultimately, was why Sermung had not had a real fight in this realm in many years. It sometimes made him worry that he was out of practice. Getting rusty.

But the fights in the higher realms were making up for it, no doubt. The only sticking point was how strange they were. Those soul-eaters feasting on Unso had been no pushovers. Not only could they weave together pocket dimensions and distort perception, trapping the mind in a nightmarish psychic prison, but they were also surprisingly strong physically, creating whistling blades that could shrink or grow in size, shredding any material like a swarm of razor-sharp wasps or cleaving entire mountains in two.

Admittedly, though, it had been quite satisfying to make the mountains fight back.

And giving them a taste of their own medicine certainly felt karmic. With Tenebrach being able to assist him in making psychically-reflective crystal prisons, those twisted monstrosities would be feeding on each other's souls until the end of time. Or dimensional collapse, perhaps.

The Idkin could be quite problematic, too, depending on which race he encountered. The hulking ones were especially difficult to deal with, but there were probably even more that he'd never encountered.

And then there were the greatworms, of course. There were plenty of those infesting the higher realms--devouring them entirely, in some cases. Sermung very much did not wish to meet another dimension eater. Battling his way out of that madness had been one of the most unpleasant experiences of his entire life.

But it had also been quite cathartic when he finally learned how to bend that particular reality to his will and slay the beast properly. A useful encounter, in case one of those bastards ever tried to visit this middle realm again. Sermung knew that certain reapers were worried about that, since the last visit had been rebuffed by the Kingsparrows, who were now on the verge of extinction.

Page 4073

That was always a concern, of course, and many precautions had been taken in the event of such a development. But only so much could be done, of course.

Ultimately, it was not the Vanguard's place to take preemptive action against non-servant forces. Nor would it be, for as long as Sermung remained alive--and hopefully longer, if he'd raised his successors correctly. He'd certainly lectured them enough, at least. It was anyone's guess as to whether or not they would listen to him.

Or who it would be.

That particular subject had long been a point of speculation, even to himself and Tenebrach. There had been many times when a clear successor had appeared, only for everything to change. A tragic death. Or a sudden competitor, rendering it not so clear at all, anymore. Or even a retirement.

The latter was quite rare, though. There'd only been one.

Oh. Sermung sensed activity. Some lagging Abolish forces along the trail of misery.

He focused. Harnessed multiple thought processes for faster decision making. Made use of Tenebrach's help, too. Flying at this speed, he needed all the sensory assistance that he could get, lest the whole world zoom by before he could even finish evaluating anything.

It was a small town. A platoon of vile dots was stalking through the halls of a large building. A hospital?

Who were the aggressors? Their auras were thick with malice. Blatant and sloppy. Ruthless and delighted. Anyone he recognized?

No, but what was that? A line. A link. Stretching far and beyond the horizon. All the way into Intar?

A psychic connection? Or something akin to that, at least.

A minion marked by his boss, most likely. Meaning that if something happened to him, the boss would know about it immediately.

Was it worth giving up the element of surprise in order to stop these random bastards from doing whatever it was they were doing?

Of course it was.

He changed course and pressed his senses for greater detail still. Terrified auras. Crying and screaming. Corpses and blood. Fear and merriment.

He had to slow his descent only so that he didn't flatten the whole building. But then he was quick. Working simultaneously on every threatening source at once. There were precisely seventeen on ten different floors. Neutralizing them with crystal coffins was simple enough, but he wanted one to interrogate. Information was king, right now.

Page 4072

The longer he was able to keep his movements a secret, the better. That was something that he had been refining for many years now: suppressing his own aura. His time in the higher realms had been a reminder that, even now, there was yet more to learn. Some of the ancient masters whom he'd encountered had been almost unrecognizable to Tenebrach, who'd met most of them personally.

That was another grave threat to older servants, he knew. Hubris. The sense of having achieved mastery over all.

There was no such thing, Sermung had decided. Hence why Tenebrach's confidence was routinely unfounded.

Alright, you're hurting my feelings, now.

The land of forever rain was a sorry sight, indeed. Pain covered everything. Lingering and crying out. What could have become of the Rainlords? Nothing good, certainly. They would never have allowed this to happen, otherwise.

But they also had a long history of enduring beyond all odds to the contrary. Their subjects, too.

And it seemed he was too late. The trail of misery, while obvious to his senses, was not immediately active. It did not have the kind of radioactive heat that always permeated the collective auras of warzones.

Abolish had indeed already moved on. All the way into Intar?

So bold.

Intar was no pushover, even without the Vanguard's help. A slumbering giant, perhaps, but a giant, nonetheless. The ancestral heart of the Mohssian Empire.

While it was probably true that the country could not field any warriors who were effectively one-man armies, they had the benefit of technological advancement the likes of which could only be achieved by one of the richest and most populous nations in the world. Even Morgunov, for all his boasting, was unlikely to compete with such a massive engine of scientific progress.

In fact, that had been quite the point of contention in the past, earning considerable ire from the Mad Demon, who was of course kept at arm's length by any respectable community.

Even Xander was frequently frustrated by them. They demanded much, promised plenty, and ultimately delivered very little. Some within the Vanguard believed that to be the Intarians' incompetence, but Sermung knew better. He'd snuck into their facilities over the years and observed some of their projects with his own eyes.

They were biding their time. Perhaps those machines would even be turned against the Vanguard, one day.

Page 4071

It had been a while since he'd felt the sky all around him. Wind on his face and in his hair. The world sprawling out around him. Nothing but clouds below and the faintest glint of stars above as evening approached. He'd been stuck in one rock form or another for too long, as of late.

It was important to appreciate these moments while they lasted, he told himself. Live presently. Not just obsess over the future--or the past, occasionally.

The clouds below were rearing up quickly--but not quickly enough. Much as he wanted to enjoy the open air a bit more, time was wasting.

A suit of armor crackled into existence around him. Crystalline and clear but for the way it shimmered, it covered his whole body and increased his descending velocity in an instant, leaving a snapping boom in its wake.

It certainly wasn't necessary. Not in pan-rozum. He could just turn his body completely to crystal and be a literal flying brick. He'd done it plenty of times before.

But this was an older technique. One he'd developed early on, then later refined thanks to his old mentors. Many of them had grown up in some manner of knightly tradition--just as he himself had done--and so they always had a preference for it, even when other techniques began gaining more popularity among newer generations of warriors.

And it still had its uses, of course. In some ways, it even felt superior. Plus, an overreliance on pan-rozum was a genuine threat to older servants, Sermung had found. Over the centuries, he'd seen so many great warriors come and go, and he couldn't help noticing how they often seemed to suddenly "forget" much of what had made them great in the first place once they were finally able to use pan-rozum regularly.

It was like watching a lifelong swordsman give up the blade completely, just because he'd gotten his hands on a gun. There was something tragic in that, even if it was in some ways understandable.

He rocketed down through the clouds, letting his senses guide him toward his destination on the horizon.

Teleporting would have been faster, of course, but he wanted to address this trail of misery before his eyes.

And there were always wrinkles with that power, too. Invitations to onlooking threats. He didn't want to alert them to his presence just yet.

Next page on April 3rd

Thanks for reading, everyone.

Page 4070

He could feel so much of the continent up here. So many souls in distress. Crying out in silence.

He hadn't seen it like this in a very long time.

Indeed. Before visiting the wolf and possibly making things even worse for these beleaguered people, he should at least do something to help them.

Where were the hotbeds of misery?

Lingering traces remained in the lands directly below. A terrible aftermath. Abolish's work, indeed. He was certain of it, now. They'd invaded Sair, eh? And now were making a move into Intar.

Ah. He sensed quite a bit over there. Intar was a gigantic nation--and certainly no stranger to turmoil. But it had been peaceful when he left. And now...

Now it was as bad as he'd ever sensed it. The land itself was crying out to him. To everyone. Tearing itself apart even while invaders were arriving. Taking advantage of the mayhem.

Malicious bastards. Their auras were so obvious. Clouds of wicked intent, moving with delight.

Hmm.

If he moved against them, they would scatter. Then he would be stuck hunting down their frightened remnants for quite a while. Was that the best use of his limited time?

Probably not, Tenebrach told him.

But it sure would feel nice, Sermung countered. And hadn't the two of them learned by now? Obsessing over optimal efficiency was never good. It only led to frustration. The more important thing was to remain flexible, no?

Hmph. Do what you like. A bit of indulgence was well-earned, thought Tenebrach.

Sermung smiled to himself. Thanks, pal.

Just make sure they regret ever being born while you're at it.

Aright, well, that might be a little excessive.

Render them to dust. Show them no mercy. Their fear of you will be key, in the future when you must depart again. So you must make that fear as crippling as possible.

Hmm. Fair point. But in that same vein, they can't spread fear of me if they're all dust, now can they? Plus, it's Abolish. A dramatic show of force is just as likely to excite them as it is to strike fear.

Stop making sense and just do as I say. The wrobels will buff out any psychological errors we make.

Maybe we've been merged too long, Tenebrach. You're power tripping again.

Only because you're undervaluing yourself again. You're the most powerful being in the world. Act like it, for a change.

I'd rather act like myself, if you don't mind. And he leapt from the cliff.

I do mind, as it so happens.

Well, I'm sure you'll get over it.

Page 4069

Well.

This changed things.

Sermung knew something of the Prime Hunter. The Great Wolf. He knew that Koh's victims oftentimes did not die when he devoured them. Instead, they were imprisoned for centuries--or even longer. So there was a chance, at least, that Jonah yet lived.

But freeing him... now that was a whole other matter.

Any prison worth its salt would have to reside within a higher realm. Nothing less would be able to contain the Primordials. Which meant that time would be moving more slowly there, relatively speaking. So if Sermung went to go retrieve Jonah, he would be losing more time again. Much more time, potentially.

Plus, he'd have to find the place, first. Perhaps Koh could help with that, but he doubted it.

And even if he did manage to pull off such a feat, it would not be what Jonah wanted. In fact, it was entirely possible that Jonah had himself orchestrated the events that led to this outcome. Unlikely, perhaps, but possible.

Such a cruel fate for the boy.

Yet another example. Too many to count.

His thought processes faltered. Struggled. Hesitated. Did they even want to learn more? Of the endless misery permeating the world?

That was the problem with knowledge, wasn't it? As much as it empowered, so too did it open one's mind to the abyss.

Sermung didn't need that, right now. That was a foe that he was not prepared to face again. One he might never be.

It seemed to him that the older one got, the more vulnerable to it one became.

Madness. Despair. Two sides of the same coin, he'd come to believe. He wondered, at times, if it hadn't already been tossed. Flipping in the air. Perhaps it was just a matter of which way it landed now.

Foolishness, of course. Deadly, foolish, and an oversimplification.

Ah. He'd made Tenebrach mad again.

Stay on task. Keep looking. Pay attention.

The Hunter was close. Sermung could visit him. It might not resolve anything, but it would at least be informative. And he'd always been curious to see the ancient beast at full strength. He'd never had the privilege before.

Yes. Best not let this opportunity pass by. Theoretically, they were allies.

If it somehow turned into a fight, though... the resulting fallout could be...

Sermung weighed the option in his mind. Consulted Tenebrach's memories.

Perhaps they should attend to other matters first.

Page 4068

And for him, there was yet another aspect to it. Over the course of his long life, traveling all over this realm, he'd seeded the lands of Eleg with crystals--and on top of that, learned to sense naturally occurring ones.

With a deep breath and strong concentration, he had access to a tidal wave of information. This was where the extra thought processes proved helpful. And Tenebrach, too, of course. Parsing through it all would have been significantly more difficult, otherwise.

Let's see now. What could the realm tell him from up here?

The flooded lands below were indeed troubled. Fear and anger running rampant. Agony. Pain. Bloodthirst, too.

But it was funneling into the northwest. Was that Abolish? The trail felt familiar enough. He'd sensed the like so many times before.

Hmm. Any major players in there?

Possibly. He sensed Chaos in there, masking specific presences. An unlikely coincidence. Had they developed a direct link to it? Irritating, if so. Fools playing with forces they could not possibly comprehend.

But that was nothing new, now was it? Standard behavior for Abolish.

Where was everyone? Who could he sense? Dozer? Morgunov? Sai-hee? Bah. Concealing themselves, no doubt. As per usual. They'd all learned long ago to despise his habit of dropping on them unannounced. Would've been nice to catch one of them off guard, though. He did love to surprise them.

Anyone else? Hmm. No Gohvis, Jercash, Gunther, Ivan, or Dunhouser, either. The Kubi, too, were all either hiding or too far away to sense.

And his own men?

Same story, apparently. Well, at least they were being diligent. Someone should have left signs for him, though. Something they knew that only he would be able to sense, in case he wanted to find them.

Yes. He sensed them now. Markers. Invitations. Ready to receive him at any mome--

What was that?

A presence of immense power. Not attempting to conceal itself in the slightest. All but daring anyone and everyone to approach it. And there was a whiff of familiarity to it, too. Something he'd sensed before, though perhaps not in quite the same way.

...Was that the Prime Hunter?

Oh no.

If he was loose, then Jonah...

Sermung searched. His senses stretched across the land. Farther, farther, farther. Where was he? Not on the continent?

He frowned, not wanting to acknowledge what was almost certain to be the truth. He shut his eyes and took a breath, still searching but not with much hope.

Next page on the 28th

Thanks for reading, everyone. In the meantime, here's another joke for you.

I once told my son I loved him. And he believed me. Haha.

Page 4067

Doubtless, there was much to catch up on. And to his surprise, he noticed that neither Xander nor anyone else was already here waiting for him.

Had Xander not been the one to send the signal? It was a very short list of people who could have done that--unless some kind of great shift had taken place, of course.

That was always the fear, wasn't it? That he would return to an annihilated Vanguard. A successful Abolish.

A destroyed planet.

Historically, that had always been their outward objective. But over time, Sermung had come to know that Morgunov and Dozer were a bit different in that regard. Not like most of their predecessors. Sure, they still paid lip service to the idea, especially in front of their men; and sure, they still gave refuge to plenty of truly omnicidal monsters within their ranks. But they did not actively pursue that agenda like in days long past.

Unless, again, something had changed.

He stepped to the edge of the cliff and took in the view of the Waress Mountains.

The center of the Eloan continent. The high winds were frigid and punishing, but they didn't bother him in the slightest. From this high up, he could see so far into the distance that the curvature of the planet was made obvious on the horizon. And near the edge of the surrounding mountain range, a sea of clouds was visible, rarely broken by holes that allowed him to see the flooded land beneath.

This peak that he was so close to belonged to the second tallest mountain in the world, Mt. Ninora. The tallest, Mt. Vinayoaka, was also in this same mountain range, though it was several hundred miles to the north.

That location would have served just as well as this one, but there were not many others. For the purpose of these rocky cocoons, geography was key. Both resonance and altitude were important, along with other minutiae. Xander had explained it all to him in excruciating detail, of course, but in the end, Sermung had only been able to wrap his head around eighty percent of it or so.

Close enough, he'd figured.

He did know that these peaks were quite good for one other thing, though.

Observation of souls and aura. They flowed, too, all around the planet. And from places like this, if one knew how, one could see a lot more than just the physical aspects of this middle realm.

Page 4066

But now, at least, they could take the fight to the enemy much more easily than at any point in history.

Ground could actually be taken.

He sometimes wondered what his predecessors might think of this development. If they would be proud.

Through great fortune, however, he'd already gotten some direct answers to that. And thus far, at least, they had made for quite the heartening meetings. Reminders of the grand quest. The unity of the human spirit. Even across entire Ages.

But it wasn't enough. He was still hoping to encounter more of them and hear their thoughts. He just didn't know how much to get his hopes up. At this point, it was clear that, yes, many of the ancient masters had survived their supposed "death" in the middle realm, but that didn't mean they'd survived their ventures into the higher realms.

He'd found their traces.

Unso, for example. That man, for all his flaws, was still perhaps not deserving of the grisly fate that had befallen him within the Impassable Canyon.

Being turned into a paralyzed husk and feasted upon by nightmare-inducing soul eaters for decades. Maybe even centuries.

Sermung was not sure that anyone deserved that. But at least he'd been able to end the man's suffering.

Moreover, he could not help wondering if such a thing might happen to himself, one day. And how long it might be before someone else came along and did him the same favor.

Tenebrach, of course, assured him that he would never allow such a thing to happen--that he would simply release his soul before it ever came to that. Which, of course, was the reaper's own, classic way of trying to be comforting. Sermung appreciated that much, at least.

But surely, Unso's reaper would have tried to do the same. And there was no trace remaining of whoever that had been. Not even the weakest of aura tethers.

He'd been trying to stop dwelling on that, though. A bad habit.

Keep focused, he reminded himself. Multiple thought processes were a curse, if he didn't keep them in check. At this point, he'd found it much more efficient to stick with just the one and resort to those only when necessary.

Efficient. And peaceful.

He certainly needed as much of that as he could possibly get, these days.

Unfortunately, he very much doubted that this return home would be peaceful at all.

Page 4065 -- CCCXXIV.

Jercash paused, as well. That was an interesting reaction. He decided to wait and see how Bill elaborated.

'You have been bringing our brethren to this realm en masse for quite some time now,' said Bill. 'Fulfilling the long-held desire of all Idkin. You are a hero of the most beloved sort.'

Aha! Jercash couldn't help nodding and laughing. So from their perspective, they just saw a guy that was giving them free passage to their desired destination.

And even if they'd been secretly spying on him this whole time through stealthy psychic channels, they probably still wouldn't have seen much that was of concern to their alien--or partially alien--sensibilities. He doubted they would care much about how he treated his fellow humans, and his studies of the Yigorosks had also not yet progressed to the point of dissection, mostly because he wanted to let as many of them loose on the hapless fools of Intar as he possibly could. Taking them apart, even for the purpose of keeping Lozaro happy, could wait until this current incursion had run its course.

Hmm. But now, it was sounding like starting the dissections might be kicking a real hornet's nest. Perhaps that should be delayed indefinitely. Or at least until he could learn more about these so-called Idkin.

He looked at Lozaro, who seemed to have finally returned to himself. His aura was steady again, and the color and expression on his face had returned to normal. Those yellow eyes had their usual sharpness to them again, too.

Good. Jercash intended to make full use of that twisted brain again today.


Chapter Three Hundred Twenty-Four: 'O, marrow of stone...'
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Finally, the mountain was shifting again. Cracking and moving apart at its spot near the peak.

Unraveling the little rocky cocoon that he'd made for himself so long ago.

Of course, it hadn't actually been that long for him personally, but here in the middle realm, years must have already passed by. It was just a question of how many.

A terrible sacrifice, unfortunately. Giving up so much precious time here.

But it would have been much worse without these cocoons that Xander had helped him develop. The mitigation of the time dilation was what made these ventures increasingly feasible. Frankly, a part of him was still in awe that they'd managed to pull it off as well as they did. For so long, watching his own mentor struggle with this problem, the issue had seemed utterly insurmountable.

Page 4064

Heh. If the guy wasn't such a bastard, Jercash might've felt bad for him. Messing with him was always fun.

But there was no time to take it further. He gave him another moment to compose himself before blinking them both back to the Yigorosks.

That didn't seem to be quite enough time for Lozaro, though, who remained uncharacteristically silent as Jercash picked the conversation with his new squid friend up again.

"So do you have a name?" he asked. "Mine's Jercash, though you probably knew that already, right?"

'Yes, of course. I am called Bill.'

Jercash's mouth opened, then closed again as he processed that. He was beginning to wonder if these squids were fucking with him. "Bill. Huh. That short for something?"

'No,' said Bill, sipping from his hissing pod again. 'Just Bill.'

Or, wait a minute. Did these guys used to be human? Hmm. Now how could he ask that question while minimizing the risk of it coming off as incredibly offensive to their alien sensibilities?

Tough one. Maybe he'd just have to roll the dice and see.

Thankfully, Bill resolved things before Jercash had to make a decision. 'I have the honor of being named by the Originator himself. A fact which sometimes summons jealousy from my brethren, I think. I would advise not broaching the subject in front of them, were I you.'

"Ohhh. The Originator. Right. Hmm. Y'know, I'd like to learn more about him, if you don't mind sharing. You mentioned he would 'return' to this realm, right? So he's been here before?"

'Not just him,' said Bill. 'We were all once children of this realm, just as you are. But we were banished. Or rather, our ancestors were. Long ago.' Another sip.

"How long ago, exactly?"

'Impossible to say for sure. But the Originator found us much later and renewed our dream of the Unity. He became a magnificent pillar. The Hope of All Idkin. We are forever in his debt.'

Jercash stroked his mustache. "Does he already know about me, too?"

'Of course. And I'm sure he is looking forward to meeting you.'

"Oh, really? Wow." Whoever this guy was, he sounded pretty damn powerful. Perhaps quite the imminent threat, too, if he was going be showing up soon. "I'm happy to hear that. Though, to be quite blunt with you, I feel a bit undeserving of such recognition. I'm not sure what I've done to be honored so much."

At that, Bill paused mid-sip and seemed to turn to look at Jercash. Was that his face? There were too many eyeballs to be sure. 'Are you joking?'

Page 4063

Judging by the man's reaction--the words, the microexpressions, and even the aura--Jercash was already quite satisfied. Lozaro wasn't planning anything against him, at the moment. He could just let the matter drop and move on.

In a minute.

First, Jercash had to take his own aura in hand, lean in close to Lozaro with wide-eyes and a smile, place a hand on his shoulder, and ask him one more question. "Is there anything else you've forgotten to tell me?"

And he allowed his domain to surge outward, just enough to envelop the two of them in their own private little world. In his private little world. Giving Lozaro a glimpse into the depths of power which Jercash maintained access to.

The depths of Chaos.

Lozaro, if he was being attentive, would be able to see that the Yigorosks were now there, too. Newly sprinkled among the hordes. Not these intelligent ones, of course. Not yet.

But in time, who knew what was possible? Lozaro would be catching a glimpse of that, too. The possibilities. Shadows of the future. Including his own mutilated husk of a corpse, if need be. His own smeared psyche. His own mind, fractured into a cascade of barely recognizable madness. All very possible. Even probable, one might say.

Jercash could see him sweating, keeping his eyes down, trying not to look around at it all. It didn't matter, of course. In this place, he would see everything that Jercash wanted him to see, even if he plucked out his own eyes to avoid it.

He seemed a bit frozen now, though. Trembling and pale. That was no good.

Jercash gave his shoulder a light jostle. "Answer me, Loz."

"N-no, sir, I-I haven't forgotten to tell you anything."

Hmm. Jercash let the domain linger as he observed the man's aura a moment longer.

Then he let go, and the domain popped like a harmless bubble. "Okay. That's all I wanted to know. By the way, great work, pal! You've really been killing it, lately! I'm proud of you!"

Lozaro, shaking, manged to return a stilted nod.

"In fact, I'd say that I gotta reward you for all your efforts. And before you say anything--I know that's not why you do it. You're just a curious fella by nature. A pure academic. I get it. But I can't let good work go unrecognized, either. So what do you want, huh? Just name it, and I'll see about makin' it happen! I've got a lot of great connections these days, you know!"

The other man merely remained silent, still trying to steady himself, apparently.

"You're too humble by a half, you know that?! Well, that's okay! I'll think of somethin' for ya!"

Page 4062

Then he disappeared into thin air, only to reappear in the bunker, right next to his Chief of Science. He didn't even wait for Lozaro to turn around, instead just wrapping his arm around the man's neck, then blinking away again, back out onto the testing ground. There was no need for the others in the bunker to hear this conversation. The point of humiliating Lozaro was personal amusement, not the destruction of his reputation among everyone else.

And for that reason, he also didn't take them immediately back to where he'd just been standing. Shielding from psychic observation was easy enough, so long as he knew it was necessary, but if the Yigorosks had ears, too, then he wanted to remain out of earshot for a little bit.

Lozaro tried to wriggle out of his grasp, probably out of pure instinct rather than any hope of actually getting away from him. Jercash held onto him for a few moments longer before letting him go, just to ensure the man knew that Jercash had done so on purpose.

"Seems you forgot to mention a few things about the Yigorosks," said Jercash quite calmly, already fully aware that Lozaro hadn't known about them before. "You wouldn't be trying to hide anything from me, now would you?"

Lozaro's normally expressionless face had begun to crack, which delighted Jercash to no end. "O-of course not, sir. I have n-never encountered this particular strain before, lest I would have most certainly mentioned them."

Strain, was it? Did he consider them a virus?

Probably. Eh, didn't matter.

Jercash poked him in the forehead, making him wince. "You sure about that? You know this whole protection gig doesn't work if you lie to me, right?"

"Y-yes, sir. I understand, sir."

He weighed the fellow's expression carefully. As much as he was just doing this to fuck with the guy, there was also an underlying opportunity at play here.

When it came to men like Lozaro--sick and twisted men who were not to be trusted--there was always a possibility that they were planning on betraying him.

Or that they were even in the middle of doing so, right now, without Jercash realizing.

So it was good to run little tests like this, every now and again. Test the waters. See if anything unexpected might be lurking in there. Lozaro was a tricky one, after all. He'd managed to not only piss off Morgunov and live, but also keep living, despite the Mad Demon's occasional attempts to hunt him down.

Page 4061

"I must admit," said Jercash, "I'm a little surprised by how comfortable you all seem here. You seem to know more about me than I know about you." Which was saying something, since he'd been studying their less intelligent brethren for weeks now. Perhaps they had secretly been studying him during that same time?

'Ah, I'm afraid that might be a discussion with the Domoro than with me. I just do as I'm told.' The squid broke for a hissing sip from the pod in his tentacle. 'Except when I'm feeling particularly ambitious. Or inebriated. Or both.'

Huh. So they did identify as individuals, at least. Jercash had been wondering if they were some kind of psychic hive mind.

Which still wasn't off the table, he felt, but it was an interesting thing to note, nonetheless.

"The Domoro?" he asked. "What is that? Or who?"

'Mm? Is that term unfamiliar? The formalized minds of study. Like your Lozaro, yes?'

"Oh, you know of him, too?" Not so surprising, Jercash thought. That guy certainly got around.

'We considered making contact with him, instead, but when we discovered that he was working for you, this seemed more appropriate.' Another long sip.

That might explain why Lozaro hadn't warned him about how intelligent these guys were. He hadn't actually known.

But if they'd been able to evade Lozaro's detection this whole time, then...

Man. He was more curious than ever about how strong these fellows were, but it hardly seemed appropriate to test them now that they were apparently becoming fast friends.

But still, it sure would be nice to know, just in case he ever needed to stab them in the back.

A problem for later. Thankfully, he had plenty of expendable subordinates on hand--many of which would even be reusable, afterwards.

He tossed a glance back toward the bunker, wondering what the onlookers were making of this whole development. He considered calling Lozaro over for some extra consultation, but judging from what he'd just heard, the man probably wouldn't know much.

Might still be worth it just to make fun of him, though.

Yeah, okay.

He pointed at Lozaro and motioned with his index for the man to come over.

Lozaro hesitated visibly. Hmm. Perhaps he was playing dumb, acting like he wasn't sure that it was actually him that Jercash was pointing at from so far away.

Well, he wasn't exactly known for his bravery, now was he? Fine.

"One moment, please," said Jercash to his freaky new friend whose name he still needed to learn.

Page 4060

'Splendid. Then let your allegiance be recognized by all Idkin.'

And a harsh, guttural sound rang out in all directions, making Jercash's eyes look around with mild confusion while his smile remained untouched.

Really? They were allies, just like that?

Huh.

The snake-squids slithered closer, but he could already discern a change in their aura. No hostility whatsoever. Not even any tension.

He was about to inquire further when yet another strange thing stole his attention.

Sparking lights manifested around the Yigorosks, particularly at the tips of their tentacles. Then, at each point, air distorted briefly before a bunch of small, pale and fleshy pods blinked into existence. Their tentacles all wrapped around the pods with a relaxed ease, and then more sparking lights appeared beneath the Yigorosks, soon giving way to a bunch of squishy blobs for them all to lie on. Sit on? He couldn't tell.

And the blobs moved but not much. In fact, the squids seemed to have lost considerable mobility all of a sudden.

Then he heard some truly strange noises--like hissing steam and guttural crying--as he watched the fleshy pods being torn open and pressed up against... the Yigorosks' mouths, maybe?

The questions in Jercash's mind were lost as he could only stare with wide-eyes. Perhaps he was misinterpreting their weird body language, but it seemed to him that these guys... had essentially just whipped out a bunch of cold beers and reclining chairs in the middle of his testing ground.

One of the Yigorosks slid slowly over to him, making that same guttural cry that he was hearing all over the place, though this one seemed a bit more muted.

Jercash didn't even know how to start the conversation now, which was certainly a rarity for him.

'May our friendship prove ever fruitful!' said the squid next to him, apparently.

"Uh. Yeah. Hah."

'It is so nice to relax, finally,' said the alien freak. 'We all knew you were a trustworthy ally, but we have procedural standards that must first be adhered to. You know how it is, yes? Uptight worrywarts making sure everyone and everything is exactly perfect before allowing us to let loose.'

"Heh... hah... yeah..." He very much wanted to ask why they seemed so convinced that he was a 'trustworthy ally' already, but his better judgment was keeping his mouth shut. Perhaps he could find some other way to ask, though.

If he could stop being stupefied by the scene in front of him, that was.

Page 4059

As the Yigorosks approached, his grip on the baton tightened with anticipation. If they leapt at him, he would displace them--or as much of them as possible--in an instant. He had plenty of holding cells prepared for long-term study.

Or did he? If not, they'd just have to double up with other specimens. That would be fun to watch.

'What are your intentions for us, aura warrior?'

Jercash blinked, making his smile disappear with surprise, only to return a moment later. He had to look around in order to make sure someone wasn't pranking him. At this point, he could certainly distinguish a true psychic voice from that of an everyday reaper, but still. This almost felt too good to be true.

"You can speak to me!" he said with absolute delight. "How wonderful!" He searched through the oncoming wall of bladed tentacles, hoping to find the exact source of the voice, but it was quite the challenge even to distinguish their squiggly bodies from one another, let alone who which of them had spoken first.

'You have been gathering our softer brethren in your realm,' came another voice. 'What are we to make of this?'

'Do you seek to aid us?'

'Or a war?'

'That is so often the case with your kind, is it not?'

Oh, boy, so many new voices. And no way to tell who was who. Or were they actually all one? They did say "us," but hmm. His curiosity only continued to grow.

'Tell us your desire, aura warrior.'

And that term. Jercash knew of it. Quite the ancient moniker. And not necessarily appropriate for him.

But he wasn't about to deny something that may yet prove useful.

"I have many desires," he said, still smiling. "As do you all, I suspect. Perhaps we can help each other out. Or do you still consider us aura warriors to be your enemy?"

'Only those who would deny the Providence of the Originator are our enemy. Are you one such being?'

What? Jercash had to avoid making a face, but he still couldn't stop his head from tilting. "The Providence of the Originator. That's a new one. I'm afraid that I'm not quite sure what you're referring to. Could you clarify, please?"

'The Originator will return to your realm and protect it. Would you seek to resist his efforts?'

"Oooh. That Originator. Right, of course. Yeah, I'm sure we'd have no problem with each other!"

Page 4058

For more primitive psychic entities, the lure functionality of this baton was all that was needed. It would keep them wholly occupied and docile while he did whatever he wanted in examining them.

There was a false belief that many seemed to have regarding psychic abilities--even among psychics themselves, Jercash knew--that intelligence was directly correlated with it. This was not true at all. Purely instinctual, unthinking beings could absolutely still exhibit telekinesis and much more.

Such as with feldeaths, for example.

So this baton was nearly ideal for that task. Not so much for feldeaths, perhaps, but for less powerful creatures? Sure.

That was why it was also a fairly good metric for measuring intelligence. If they could resist the lure, then they were either very strong or very smart. And strength was quite easy to gauge, too. Dangerous, but easy.

The other main function of the baton was aura displacement. Strictly speaking, aura was not something that could be directly destroyed or even disrupted, as it was not one singular thing but instead an amalgamation of characteristics blending together.

But displacement was a slightly different trick. Aura was intertwined with spacetime. So manipulating space meant manipulating aura, at least partially.

This was why "domains" had come into the picture, Jercash figured. Strengthened "fortresses" of aura, where displacement was made more challenging. Historically, they had probably been developed as a defense against displacement attacks.

But that didn't make them perfect counters. Domains could be very strong, yes, but only when thoroughly cultivated. And moreover, displacement techniques, by comparison, seemed like they still had plenty of room for advancement, too.

As far he'd been able to tell through his historical research, the study and development of displacement had hit something of a wall over the eons--and multiple times, too. It struck him as no coincidence, either. Likely the doing of the pesky birds--though perhaps that was just his own bias talking. Whoever it was, they didn't want anyone developing even better counters against them.

Unfortunately for them, Jercash had been all over it for decades now. With a bit of help from Lozaro and the boss. Sadly, neither of them seemed to share quite the same interest in the subject as him, but that was fine. They had plenty of important projects of their own to worry about.

And he kinda enjoyed having something like this all to himself, anyway.

Next page on the 15th

Think I need a slightly longer break. Sorry, guys. I'll try to come back with more consistency. Thanks for reading, though, as always.

Page 4057

As for these Yigorosks, they were already proving quite pliable, as well. The baton in his hand drew their interest immediately. He waved it left and right, confirming that their bulbous eyes were indeed following it and not him.

Able to sense its unique aura, no doubt. A good sign. Perhaps they really were psychic.

This baton was actually not one of Lozaro's inventions--a fact which seemed to annoy the man to no end, even if he'd never come right out and say so. Instead, it had been a joint project between himself and Morgunov.

Granted, Morgunov had done most of the heavy lifting in its creation, but Jercash had also dabbled with a bit of inventing over the years. He was nowhere near as brilliant as the boss, nor as prolific, but neither was he an amateur. Plus, Morgunov seemed to appreciate his insight into the way that psychics operated, but at this point, the boss was probably even more of an expert on the subject than he was.

It often went like that. Jercash would spend decades learning about something, deepening his knowledge of the world. And if the boss didn't already know about it, then Jercash would teach him. Then, within a year or so, the boss would somehow know even more about it than he did.

Rather frustrating, if he was honest. But fascinating, too. And kinda funny.

Plus, it wasn't like that happened with every subject. Only the ones that the boss found interesting. And even then, sometimes he'd get distracted by something else, and then Jercash would remain the true expert.

He didn't yet know if that was still the case with psychics. After what the boss had told him about Germal, it was hard to say. Truthfully, Jercash had been planning on dissecting the Liar, eventually. He just hadn't wanted to play that card until he'd gotten to know the man a bit better. And there was that wolf, too, which Jercash had found endlessly more fascinating.

Okay, so maybe he was prone to getting distracted, too.

But the baton. It served multiple purposes. It was a lure, of sorts. Made from the ethereal bones of a hellbeast of Chaos, the soul and feathers of a wrobel, and also the hairs of his favorite dog. That last one didn't actually do anything, but he always liked his inventions to have a tinge of sentimentality thrown in.

Page 4056

When it came to psychics, the best way to detect them was through their aura. With the right knowledge and tools, aura could be examined quite thoroughly, even to the point of being able to see through their attempts to conceal their abilities.

That was one of Jercash's specialties, in fact. He'd been doing it for decades with great delight.

And it certainly hadn't earned him any affection from the nesting wrobels around the world.

Most of them seemed to be under the impression that he wanted to hunt them all down and exterminate them from existence.

Which was completely untrue. Understandable, sure, but untrue.

He would've much preferred to enslave them.

Unfortunately, even after all these years of hunting--and creating multiple specialized teams for hunting--he hadn't seen much luck on that front. Or any at all, for that matter. He and his men had never managed to successfully enslave even one of those stubborn birds.

So yeah, death had always ended up being the solution--hence why it was an understandable point of confusion. But he still fully intended to find a way to enslave them properly, one day. Not just through threats of violence but actual, true psychic enslavement. Just as their ancestors had once done to mankind.

It was only fair, wasn't it?

And he was hoping that, perhaps, these recent breakthroughs with the Yigorosks might prove helpful with that problem, too. More psychic specimens to study could only be a good thing, surely, even if they were a bit unruly.

Plus, he knew full well that some of those feathery deviants were working with the Vanguard, relying on them for "protection" in exchange for operational support.

The fools didn't seem to realize that such an arrangement was basically enslavement, already. If they would've just given him a shot, he was sure that he would've been a much better master than whoever was pulling their strings within the Vanguard.

But that was nothing new, of course. Everyone always thought that he was some merciless, evil oppressor.

They just didn't understand. As long as they complied completely, he was actually quite the benevolent master. He hadn't earned the love of all his men by treating them like trash, after all.

And yeah, sure, the killing and replacing of problematic subordinates with more pliable clones had helped, but that was more of a recent development, really. And it had its limitations, too. His men had loved him way before he started doing that.

Most of them.

Page at 6 pm PST today

Need a little more time with it. Thanks for your patience, everybody.

Next page on the 9th

Thanks for reading, everyone.

Page 4055

Yet another reason why he loved his boss, despite everything.

Why he would always remain loyal.

Even after all these years together, Morgunov still didn't seem to believe that fully, and Jercash didn't blame him. The man had seen more betrayals than perhaps anyone on the planet.

But that was fine. Jercash was long beyond the point of seeking Morgunov's approval or praise. It was only the folly of youth to want such things from a madman.

Jercash's mind settled again as the shimmering scene before him shifted another time. The tentacles rising out of the orange holes were quite numerous now--and thrashing with an obvious frenzy. An eagerness to slice something with their attached blades.

The Yigorosk was a nigh-mythical beast at this point in history. The ancient tales of heroes fighting them had become reductive and simplified. The reality, Jercash had learned, was that these creatures had all manner of different variations to them. Big ones, small ones, smart ones, dumb ones, hairy ones, sticky ones, pointy ones--and slice-y ones, apparently.

His collection was growing, and he could not have been more pleased.

As these new variants revealed their snaking forms fully, his smile only widened.

Wow.

These were less like tentacle monsters and more like true serpents. Still a bit squid-y, perhaps, but definitely quite different.

And they looked to be quite pissed off, too. Those bladed tentacles were rattling so much that it was a wonder they managed not to cut themselves.

Oh, hey, they were coming closer. Wanting to say hello, no doubt. How cute.

Just how dangerous were these suckers, anyway? Time to find out.

He could already sense the ardor coursing through them. Quite potent, too. Probably shouldn't test those blades against his flesh, even though the thought was extremely tempting.

Really, the first thing to test was intellect. He'd found one breed that was psychic, so there were probably more. Not to mention, the Weaver's current state was rather strong evidence of it, as well. She wasn't technically a Yigorosk, of course, but Jercash was also rather certain that her mutations were of a related nature.

In fact, perhaps he'd bring some of these bad boys to meet her next time. He didn't know if she would love or hate that, but either way, he was sure that it would entertain him.

In any case, he had just the tool for this job. He reached into the large bag on his hip and whipped out a baton.

Page 4054

If all of that was so, then Graves had effectively stalemated him on the matter of Vanderberk.

And perhaps all of his clones, for that matter.

Agh. The paranoia was rearing its ugly head again. And bastards like Graves thrived on that, didn't they?

Heh. But in fairness, bastards like Jercash did, too.

There was little point in getting all worked up about it now, he figured. Too many wheels were already in motion. This was just how things were, sometimes.

You prepare as much as you can, scheme as much as you can, but at some point, you just had to let the dice fly and see how they fell.

Yeah. He much preferred thinking about it like that. Excitement. Soon, he'd get to see how Graves' machinations measured up against his own.

He was especially curious to see if the Pale Hawk would be able to protect his fellow marshals. Jercash still owed Kane and Grant something fierce after they spoiled his victory party back in Kavia and slaughtered his men.

He knew they were on the move. Coming here, most like. To Intar. Jercash had all but invited them with that little preamble on Livingston Grand Castle.

Then there was Sermung, of course. Ever the wild card, of late. Perhaps he'd decided to take a page from Morgunov's book.

Jercash was still fully expecting the Crystal Titan to show up at any moment and try to ruin everything, but he had to admit, the man sure was taking his sweet time. Being given this much free rein was certainly a welcome surprise. If he'd known that he would have so long to prepare, then he might have approached things very differently.

Played with his cards a bit more.

How many more aces could he fit up his sleeve? It was hard not to be antsy about the inevitable encounter. Like all this prep work might abruptly be for nothing when Sermung showed up out of the blue and smoked his ass in a minute flat.

Wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

On the subject of payback again, Jercash owed Sermung most of all. In their last meeting, the Titan had him dead to rights. Granted, in that particular instance, it had at least been a long and arduous journey getting there, but still. Jercash knew only too well that, if not for Morgunov's last minute intervention, he would not have survived the Titan's wrath.

Page 4053

In fact, he'd never even told Vanderberk the truth about Vanderberk.

Perhaps that was a mistake in retrospect, but Jercash had never really wanted to find out how he would react to the revelation that he and his reaper were experiments.

Clones, actually. Though, for some reason that Jercash still did not understand, Lozaro hated it when he used that word. Based on some technical gobbledygook, no doubt.

The real Vanderberk and Elinox had died twenty years ago. Truly died. And the new versions of them had needed to be replaced multiple times since then, too.

The latest iterations had been much more stable and reliable, which was why Jercash hadn't minded granting them a bit more freedom to make their own decisions--that was the whole point of the experiment, after all--but he hadn't anticipated Graves getting to them in such a problematic way.

From the way Gohvis had described their deaths this time, Graves intended to use them as psychic puppets--either by reconstituting their corpses or by making full illusory copies.

Either way, it presented him with a major issue. If he had Lozaro make yet another new clone, then Graves could essentially do the same, and then there would be two Vanderberks running around.

But one of them would be a traitor.

That was simply too dangerous to allow, no matter how much more might still be accomplished by continuing the experiment.

He had to be patient, unfortunately. He needed to wait for this traitor copy to appear so that he could deal with it properly and then decide what to do next from there.

But even that plan was rather dubious, honestly. If Graves really could make a traitor clone, then what was to stop him from doing so again and again? If Jercash killed one, then it wasn't like he could suddenly start making his own clones again. It would be a constant threat to the experiment.

Until the Pale Hawk himself was dealt with.

Which was why Jercash started to think that, perhaps, Graves actually wouldn't be sending a Vanderberk clone to infiltrate their ranks.

Because the bastard knew. About the experiment. About the cloning. Somehow.

No one should know about that. Not Gohvis. Not Morgunov. Hell, not even Lozaro and Jercash knew, at times, due to their memory locking strategy.

And yet... when it came to the Pale Hawk, he might still have found some way to learn about it.

That surreptitious motherfucker.

Page 4052

That seemed to be a running theme with Lozaro, unfortunately. Not playing well with others who specialized in R&D. Always running into "creative differences," as he liked to put it.

Even with all he'd managed to provide, Jercash still sometimes wondered if he was worth the hassle.

But at least he wasn't psychic.

Jercash had gotten more than his fill of that type of support. The Weaver was lucky that Morgunov had gotten to her before Jercash did. If she wasn't under Gohvis' protection now, he would have hunted her down years ago and made her pay for her betrayal.

Through her, he'd been able to learn much about the nature of psychics and their terrible powers, but in the end, she hadn't been able to resist trying to bend him to her will.

And it didn't exactly help that she was one of his many ex-wives.

Mixing work with romance was rarely a good idea, of course, but it had taken him more than two centuries to learn that lesson.

He'd definitely learned it, though. He was not going to marry his personal secretary, this time. Never again. No. It didn't matter how much he liked her. Even if she seemed like prime wife material. It simply couldn't happen. Hell, Zenia probably wouldn't even want to, if he asked her.

Regardless, his marriage to Weaver--as brief and turbulent as it had been--had nonetheless proved rather useful in the long-term. It was thanks to her--and others, of course--that he'd developed his own psychic defenses.

One of which he'd picked up from Morgunov.

The deliberate locking away of memories. He always had to do that whenever preparing to meet Gohvis. As much as he enjoyed the big guy's company, Jercash knew only too well that their friendship was ultimately based more on convenience and amusement than anything else.

Which were serviceable enough foundations, sure, but he wasn't about to gamble everything on them.

There were some secrets that needed to remain secret, even from Gohvis.

Which, apparently, was yet another reason why Graves, the Pale Hawk, was such a bastard to deal with. Somehow, he seemed to have gotten wind of Jercash's plans--or some of them, at least. It was the only explanation.

Taking Vanderberk off the board in that particular manner had been an especially cunning move--one that even Gohvis had not fully recognized.

Because, of course, Jercash had never told him the truth about Vanderberk.

Page at 6 pm PST today

Sorry, need a little more time. Thanks for reading, though, as always.

Next page on the 3rd

Thanks for reading, as always.

Page 4051

Either that, or he'd been playing up his poor condition so that Jercash would leave him alone--or just for shits and giggles.

Which seemed increasingly likely, the more Jercash thought about it.

All fun aside, however, he had to remember not to be too pleased with himself. Things might've been looking up for him personally, but these truly were dangerous times for Abolish. The upper echelons of power were now firmly in the kind of flux that had not been seen in centuries.

Gunther and Dunhouse getting fried was one thing. Ivan and Vanderberk getting neutralized added to that. But the Old Man disappearing, too? Now that was something.

Sure, it wasn't the first time, but if nothing else, it was at least proof that the great stalemate was again in real jeopardy. Perhaps it might be genuinely broken, this time.

How absolutely thrilling.

The possibilities were vast, these days. A younger Jercash would have almost certainly been paralyzed by choice, right now.

There were so many eager warriors coming to him for guidance and glory. And so many who noticeably weren't. Doubtless, they had their own agendas that they were pursuing in the fog of this war, but that just made it all the more enticing for Jercash to find out what those wily folks were up to, right now.

The Dozer clan came most prominently to mind. They'd yet to reach out to him, which could only mean one of two things, really. Either they knew where the Old Man was and therefore didn't feel unprotected by his absence, or they'd already reached out to someone else.

And since they'd probably kill themselves before reaching out to Morgunov, it could only be Gohvis.

Heh. Or perhaps they thought to stand against him all on their own. Now that would be amusing.

Regardless, it was worth sending out feelers. A few little eyes and ears. He already knew that they were fighting among themselves, but that didn't mean anything when it came to those people. They were always at each others' throats whenever the Old Man's back was turned.

It would be good to get Vasiliy on his side, though. That fellow would be quite the boon to his forces, if properly motivated. And fear would only go so far. Better to have something ready that would genuinely pique the man's interest.

Lozaro might make that difficult, though. He and Vasiliy had never gotten along.

Page 4050

It wasn't that big, though, comparatively. He'd already witnessed much more intimidating specimens in previous tests.

Much, much more.

That was the main reason he was so excited for this current venture into Intar, right now.

It was always a good time, coming here. Such a fun country. So massive and old. Plenty of places to hide, despite supposedly being "Vanguard territory."

They didn't know this land half as well as they pretended to. Sure, they had the big cities covered, but these rural spots--particularly the ones underground--were so remote and well-concealed that they might as well have been on the other side of the planet.

And this place, especially. He found it quite cozy, despite some of the protestations of his men.

It was the spores, no doubt. Those were quite terrifying, weren't they? Floating through the air like that. Glowing with those faint purple hues. Threatening to get into one's lungs and start growing so rapidly that one began to suffocate within minutes.

All the non-servants in his entourage had to be kept far away from those bad boys. And it wasn't like the servants loved them, either. It was still quite the nuisance to deal with, even if it wasn't deadly.

But that fear was also rather tasty, Jercash thought. The prospect of harnessing it in the war was simply too enticing to the imagination. Andeyal covered in these beautiful little lights? Orange maws and purple fireflies?

Heh. He was getting ahead of himself, of course, but it was to think about.

Jackson would ruin everything if he didn't maneuver just so. And perhaps it was also greedy to be targeting Andeyal. Sure, that would be ideal, but these types of things required flexibility. Vision and opportunity.

All eyes were on him now, he knew. Not just those of his men but the rest of the world, too.

If he played his cards right, this campaign could turn into quite the historical one. He had more tools and manpower at his disposal than he'd ever had before--more than he'd ever dared dream, honestly. The only way it could've been better would be if the boss decided to grace them with his presence--and actually listen to Jercash, instead of running off and ruining everything, as he was sometimes wont to do.

But oh well. Perhaps this was for the best. Morgunov certainly deserved a rest after all he'd accomplished in the Luthic. From the brief conversation they'd had, it seemed like the Mad Demon might actually be out of commission for quite a while.

Page 4049 -- CCCXXIII.

'Our best bet would be to pay a visit to Fen, but if we're trying to avoid the Vanguard, then he's not an option,' said Overra. 'Who's the best doctor you know? Or the best integrator?'

Feromas exchanged looks with Damian. 'There are a couple of options,' said the reaper. 'They're both in Vanguard territory, though.'

'But they're not Vanguard themselves?'

'No.'

'Then either will do.'

'How tolerant of you. Are you sure you are not still being affected by Ettol's manipulation? The Overra I know would be demanding all sorts of details before saying something like that.'

'Oh, you will still be telling me all of those details, but let us get moving already.'

'We'll make a game of it, then. See what you can pry out of me.'

After hearing that, Parson already intended to stop listening.


Chapter Three Hundred Twenty-Three: 'The devil's stew...'
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Beautiful. His eyes were wide with delight as he watched the testing ground ahead of him. That orange light was really something. The way it shone through the holes was somehow so charming, he felt. He could stare at it all day.

The context helped, of course. Sure, he found it quite pleasing from a purely aesthetic point of view, but really, it was the knowledge that all those years of secrecy and fundraising were finally bearing fruit in a visceral, tangible way.

And that smell. Sulfuric. Brought back memories, that did.

The others were all hiding back in the bunker some fifty yards away--even Lozaro himself--but Jercash had truly grown to enjoy these experiences.

He wondered if this was how Morgunov felt all the time. If so, he envied the mad bastard.

But that was nothing new, of course. His love for the man had always been colored with jealoussy.

These holes, though. Lozaro had truly outdone himself, this time. Perhaps Morgunov would be the jealous one now.

In fact, that could actually be a problem, now that Jercash was thinking about it. He'd wanted to surprise the boss with this whole thing, but might it actually be wiser to break it to him softly?

Eh, probably. But where was the fun in that? And even if he got angry at first, he'd most certainly be more appreciative once the dust settled.

Ooh, Jercash spotted a tentacle emerging. And were those blades attached to it? Mantis-like sickles up and down the length of it. That was new.

Next page tomorrow

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Page 4048

"It's no secret that he's been barely been around in recent years," said Parson. "The majority of the Vanguard's operation has fallen upon the shoulders of the marshals."

"That doesn't mean anything," said Damian. "Emperors have always been that way. They do whatever they please and leave their men to take of all the bitch work."

"Sure, but it's been different, lately. When I've seen him conversing with Jackson or Sanko or Kane, he's not been..." Parson struggled for the right word. "A leader."

Damian just stared back at him.

"He defers to their judgment instead of making his own. Almost like he's taking orders from them instead of the other way around."

Feromas jumped in again. 'Well, if he's been gallivanting off in other realms in order to combat these Primordial bastards or whatever else, then it would make sense if he is uninformed about what is currently going on in the world. In which case, it would be wise of him to listen to the people who DO know what is going on.'

Parson tilted his head but had no argument--or at least no words for it. Increasingly, it had been difficult to look upon this modern Sermung in comparison to the one he'd grown up with all throughout his formative years within the Vanguard.

Getting to meet the Crystal Titan at such a young age--thanks to serving directly under Lamont--had given Parson a rare picture of the man in his mind.

Perhaps it was his own folly, but over the years, he'd come to feel as if he knew Sermung better than almost anyone in the world.

But seeing him again in Jonah's vision just now had also been somewhat enlightening. Sermung had even mentioned him. Mentioned worrying about him.

And perhaps duly so.

Parson still needed time to organize his thoughts. This was all too much to process. He could feel himself spiraling in his own head.

Thankfully, Damian's voice pulled him out before he sunk too far.

"Well, in any case, we're still in no better condition physically than we were when we go here. We should get moving and talk on the way."

'Moving to where, exactly?' asked Feromas.

"That's supposed to be your jobs to figure out, you reaper pricks."

'Maybe he really IS back to his old self,' said Overra.

'Well, we need a place where the two of you can recover, but without knowing more about what Morgunov has done to you, how are we supposed to find such a place?'

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Page 4047

"If that's the criteria we're going by," said Damian, "then I have no problem with it. But it also means that there are at least two others who gained Jonah's approval. And we should probably make contact with them, if we can."

It took Parson a moment to realize who he was talking about.

Sermung and Tenebrach.

Yes. From the vision, it was obvious that Jonah trusted them more than perhaps anyone else in the world. Certainly more than anyone here, right now.

'Yet another thing that is easier said than done,' said Feromas. 'Unless, that is, our resident Vanguardians have some way of getting in touch with them.'

'There was a time when that was so,' said Overra. 'When Sermung handed out beacons left and right, telling people to call if they needed help. Parson had one for a good few decades. But no longer.'

Feromas tilted his faceless head. 'Beacons, huh? Can you get another one?'

'Wouldn't matter,' said Overra. 'He stopped answering them altogether.'

'All of them?'

'As far as I know, yes.'

'So someone else out there might still have the privilege.'

'Technically, yes, but I do not know who that could be.'

'Well, who is his favorite subordinate?'

'I don't think he plays favorites.'

'Everyone plays favorites.'

'Sermung is not like everyone else.'

'Tenebrach, then. He must have a favorite.'

"If you ask me, it seemed like Jonah was Sermung's favorite," said Damian.

Another brief silence arrived.

'Well, even if that's true, it's no help to us now,' said Feromas.

"We could always send a Courier," said Damian.

'That won't work, either,' said Overra. 'We've tried before. They just return the letters.'

"You're kidding. How badly does this guy not want to be bothered?"

'Judging from what we just learned in that vision,' said Overra, 'I don't know if that's the problem. Instead, it might just be that the Couriers are unable to reach him.'

'You think he's venturing out into other planes of existence?' said Feromas.

'Maybe. But it's just a guess. He's become very unpredictable over the years. By design, I'm sure. We'd have to ask him directly to find out the full truth of things.'

'You'd think your boss would be a little more forthcoming with his subordinates about such important information.'

'Not if he knows that unwitting saboteurs are everywhere.'

Parson had to add onto that. "And to be honest, I'm not even sure that he considers himself the leader of the Vanguard anymore."

'Excuse me?' said Feromas.

Page 4046

"I doubt it will be that easy," said Parson, standing to his feet again. "The Archivers have a long memory. They're reapers, after all. They'll remember our last visit perfectly. And when they see that we've returned, asking similar questions again, they'll be instantly suspicious of us. And if they have anything to hide, they'll work doubly so to make sure we never find it."

"So we don't go to Luugh, then," said Damian. "Or at least, not first."

"I'm sure the different groups talk to each other," said Parson. "But yes, that is probably wise. We should start with some other target, one that is less likely to turn into a fight."

'Archivers are not fighters,' said Feromas.

'So they say,' said Overra. 'But even if that's really true, there are other ways of combating one's enemies besides martial strength. As we've again just witnessed, no?'

'True,' acknowledged the other reaper. 'Moreover, we don't yet know who all is trustworthy. If the rest of them are as deceptive as this Ettol was, then there's no telling how many other people might be unknowingly compromised by their influence. In my opinion, the only ones we can trust right now--at least on this matter--are the four of us here in this room.'

Damian huffed. "Are you even sure of that much? It would seem we've all been unknowingly compromised before. Who's to say that's not still the case, somehow?"

An uncomfortable silence arrived as everyone looked at each other.

Parson was the one to break it. "Jonah. He's the one to say. He gave his life and left us that message so that we might have this opportunity now." Parson paused for someone to respond but when no one did, he kept going. "Jonah saw everything. He knew all of us. Understood us. And he knew the enemy as well. Knew the hold they had over us. And he still didn't give up on us. Even though maybe he should have."

'What are you saying?' said Overra. 'He should have abandoned us as Ettol's puppets?'

"It would've been the much easier path for him," said Parson. "He might still be alive, right now. In fact, he probably would be."

Damian nodded.

Parson went on. "If Jonah approved of us working together, then Feromas is right. The four of us here can trust each other. None of us are compromised."

'It may be a stretch to say that I trust Overra, though.'

'Hmph, right back at you.'

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Page 4045

And that first encounter hadn't even been the only time. The second encounter with Chaos had been at Bellvine, when those mad creatures began showing up--and more importantly, when Morgunov had gotten ahold of both Damian and Germal at once.

That entire battle had become a mad haze in his memory over the years, but here and now, thinking back on it with this new context fresh in his mind, that particular moment was feeling especially clear.

Morgunov had gotten to Germal. Holding him by his head. Seemingly to 'show' him something. And then done the same thing to Damian, hadn't he?

Parson had fought to free them both, but in the end, he had also ended up in basically the same position, at the Mad Demon's mercy.

And Morgunov had been about to 'show' him something, too, judging from the way he'd been talking. The only reason he hadn't done so... was because...

The wolf.

Parson's mind refocused. Reprioritized. And then he remembered everything Morgunov had said to the beast. Along with everything he'd witnessed in the recent battle.

What monstrous power the wolf had wielded. Incredible all those years ago, but now even moreso.

"Koh is the key," he found himself saying. "The Prime Hunt, yes? That's what Morgunov called it, back when he was possessed at Bellvine. And in this latest fight, Koh... clearly, something changed with him. He turned on Germal. Or Ettol, rather, didn't he?"

"Mm," hummed Damian. "So if we can learn more about him, then perhaps we can learn more about this enemy."

'Easier said than done,' said Feromas. 'It's not like we never tried. Even the Prime Archivers in Luugh couldn't help us when we sought to learn more about Koh.'

'Hmm, I wonder about that,' said Overra.

'What do you mean?' said Feromas.

'The Archivers are supposedly neutral,' she said, 'but I have long had my suspicions about that. Just because they do not side with either the Vanguard or Abolish does not mean that they are without an agenda of their own.'

'Well, of course they have one. Everyone does. But what relevance does that have here? Do you have some reason to believe that they are untrustworthy on this particular subject?'

'Think about it. If these Primordials are such an ancient and powerful fixture of the world, then why is so little known about them?'

'You're implying the Archivers are in league with them?'

'Someone must be. And they seem well-positioned.'

"Sounds worth investigating," said Damian.

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Page 4044

"I'm sure the Vanguard has valuable intel about the state of the world, right now," said Damian. "That's intel we may need."

'Good thing we've got other ways of acquiring it, then,' said Overra. 'And what about you? How's your network of contacts, currently?'

"...Serviceable," said Damian.

'If you've been able to keep tabs on us with it, then I suspect it's better than merely serviceable.'

"I'm not making any promises after going mad for half a century."

And again, Parson found himself circling back to the point that he'd been trying not to dwell on. "...Are you implying that you're cured now?" he said.

"No," said Damian. But then he paused. "I don't know. Truth be told, I can still feel it. The memories are vibrant. It wasn't some other personality like... Jonah struggled with. It was me. And yet now, I... agh, it's difficult to explain."

'Try,' said Overra. 'Do you feel like yourself again?'

"Not exactly. I feel like someone new. I feel more in control than I've ever been, sure, but I also can't forget the..." He trailed off.

Parson had to push him. "Can't forget what?"

The other man leveled a stare at him. "The things I saw."

Impulsively, Parson wanted to ask what he meant, but he stopped himself. He instead had a very sudden and strong feeling that he already knew exactly what Damian was talking about--or a close approximation of it, perhaps.

Parson had his own encounter with the otherworldly, after all. With non-existence in the realm of Chaos. Or the Void. Or whatever it was called.

It hadn't amounted to much, of course, but he'd never forgotten the time he touched that black sludge on the outskirts of Montero in Korgum.

Which also had happened to be his very first encounter with the name Ettol.

Certainly not a coincidence, now that he was looking back on it.

But in his encounter, Parson had merely looked at the madness that lay within Chaos. A detached observer. It hadn't affected him in the slightest. He'd even felt disappointed by it, somehow.

But now... seeing what had become of Damian...

He could understand how lucky he had been at that time. How close he'd gotten to losing himself.

It was now quite easy to imagine what might have happened if he'd been fully immersed in those sights at the time--if he hadn't felt so safely detached.

Not to mention, there was probably so much more that Damian had witnessed, too. Things that Parson couldn't even begin to conceptualize.

Page 4043

'Because you're not thinking straight, right now,' she said. 'We've done many good things, Parson.'

He shook his head. "Have we, really?"

'Of course we have. Don't let your failures blind you. What have you always told the new recruits to the CID?'

Hmph. He didn't even want to answer that. Having his own words weaponized against him in a moment of weakness? That was low, even for Overra.

Damian answered for him, though. "'We exist in a space between black and white. In a world of grays. But that doesn't mean the extremes don't exist at all. It just means they're more difficult to keep track of, sometimes.'"

Parson stared at him. "How do you even know that?"

"What, you think I haven't been keeping tabs on you?"

'Having everyone think we're dead has had its advantages,' said Feromas. 'Thankfully, we didn't waste ALL of that opportunity.'

'Don't lose heart now,' said Overra. 'We're finally nearing the goal line, after all these years. We got so close this time, and on the next attempt, we'll do even better.'

Parson was far from convinced, though. "Shallow words. Do we even care about Morgunov, anymore? After everything we've just learned?"

"Good question," said Damian, earning a bit of surprise from Parson. "These Primordials seem like they might be an even greater threat than Abolish. And we still barely know anything about them."

'You would have us abandon our centuries-long quest?' said Overra.

"For now," said Damian. "It's not like we're in any condition to mount another attack. I say we take this opportunity not just to lick our wounds but also to learn as much as we can about this other threat."

'That's not your sympathy for Morgunov talking, is it?'

"Please."

'You ARE one of his pupils, after all.'

'One of his test subjects,' said Feromas. 'Don't question our loyalty to the cause, Overra.'

'Oh, I'm going to be questioning a lot more than just that, old friend. You'd best get used to it, if we're going to be sticking together for any length of time.'

'Hah. Are we, though? Or shall we go our separate ways again? It won't look good for you, if you're seen with us. We're still associated with Abolish, technically.'

'True, but we also have plenty of enemies within the Vanguard ourselves. Parson and I should return and report back, but that can be delayed. And I don't think we would want to stay long, either.'

Page 4042

Too late. Yet again.

Why was he always too late?

And worse still, what was he doing now? What had all these sacrifices been for?

The Rainlords were coming to mind. Everything he'd put them through, recently.

Ultimately, yes, it had put them back on the path of independence and growing strength, but looking back on it now, in the context of this new continental war--in the context of these ancient machinations with Ettol that he'd never even known about...

He was a fool to think that he could manipulate the world in such a way.

Whether the objective was achieved or not, there were always going to be unforeseen players on the board. And as much as he thought he could take advantage of a situation, there would always be others trying to do the same.

He wasn't a player. He was just another piece on the board.

His mind went to Sermung. He certainly hadn't expected to see the High Commander in that vision. Working directly with Jonah, no less.

And he'd even mentioned Parson by name.

Some forty years ago.

What must he think of him, now?

The more he thought about it, the more Parson could only feel shame.

Damian's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "You gonna start cryin' over there?"

Parson didn't know whether to laugh or yell at him. If he didn't feel so much pity for the other man, it probably would have been the latter.

He pushed himself into a seated position and just stared at the empty space in the middle of the room where the vision had been.

Damian came over to stand next to him. "Told you to give some respect to Germal, didn't I?"

"Jonah," Parson corrected. "Not Germal."

"Right."

Parson sighed. "I don't even know what I'm doing, anymore."

Damian made no response.

Parson looked to Overra now. "Why did we even form our little trio? Hatch our little plan? It's been too long. I can't remember."

Overra had an answer for him, though, of course. 'To break the stalemate.'

He snorted. "In Sermung's favor, right?"

'Of course,' she said. 'To give him and Tenebrach some manner of relief after all they've done for the world.'

"Then why, when I look back on all we've accomplished, do I only see misery? Why, when I look inside myself, do I only feel misery?"