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.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every day at noon PST by ~400 words.
Tuesday, March 24, 2026
Monday, March 23, 2026
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.
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.
Sunday, March 22, 2026
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.
'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...'
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
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.
Saturday, March 21, 2026
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 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?'
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 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?'
Friday, March 20, 2026
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!"
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!"
Thursday, March 19, 2026
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 18, 2026
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.
'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.
Tuesday, March 17, 2026
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.
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.
Monday, March 16, 2026
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!"
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!"
Sunday, March 15, 2026
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 11, 2026
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.
Tuesday, March 10, 2026
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.
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.
Monday, March 9, 2026
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.
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.
Saturday, March 7, 2026
Friday, March 6, 2026
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.
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.
Thursday, March 5, 2026
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 4, 2026
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 3, 2026
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.
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.
Sunday, March 1, 2026
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