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.