43 (II)
Fever
Dread Aura > 57
The Inquisitors proved to be more knowledgeable than the automaton by far. Apparently, they knew about the attack on Blackedge months in advance. The woman was even the one that reached out and hired the raven and crows that appeared during the festival. It was as Harkness claimed: The ones he fought were rogue New Albion assassins turned freelancers. Apparently, there was a whole network of them across Integrated Earth.
The Inquisitors were operating directly under Inquisitor Szjik back at the capital. Apparently, the notebook Oldsmith gave Shiv earlier was something called a Sync-Letter. That made it one of two books bound to each other, and what he wrote on one page would appear in the other. Apparently, Master-Advisor Oldsmith and Inquisitor Szjik updated each other nightly about what was happening on their side.
City Lord Havel Van Stormhalt, meanwhile, was above both of them on the totem pole, and was apparently second only to the Auroral Council members, one of whom set this whole thing into motion.
The final bit of essential information had to do with the Animancy Core. Presently, the Gate Lord held it within his personal vault. With how much danger the Animancy Core posed to all lesser forms of magic and even the fabric of someone’s soul, an agreement was drafted between Oldsmith, Vicar Sullain, Compact, and Lord Scorn for Gate Lord Confriga to hold the weapon for the duration of its presence within the gate before it would be handed back to the Inquisition on the surface.
Apparently, the exchange was scheduled for tonight. Due to Shiv’s brawl and subsequent encounter with the Gate Lord, however, that likely wasn’t going to happen anymore.
Which was good for Shiv, because it gave him more time to deal with the problem.
Unfortunately, this was where the good news ended for Shiv. Also, in part, because of his fight with the damn orc. 811’s final words weren’t just some creepy reincarnator’s promise, it was also practically a Curse. Except it wasn’t entirely detrimental, since it also spiked his Cooking levels. Probably because Culinary Berserker was connected to Cooking. He couldn’t level one without affecting the other. Unfortunately, having Culinary Berserker also meant that his original plan of “find a way to kill all the enemies while trying to avoid killing the slaves” was probably going to end with him experiencing mindless bloodlust.
And the only way out is to either not kill for a month—which I don’t think I could do if I tried. Confriga’s a Heroic-Tier Pathbearer, and there are probably more than a few Masters under him too. I’m not nearly strong enough to fight them all at a non-lethal disadvantage. Well, maybe if it was purely physical, but if someone targeted my mana fields enough or broke my mask and used Psychomancy on me…
Shiv sighed as he considered all the problems ahead of him. Shit. I felling miss Uva. She could’ve stopped me from going into that blind rage earlier if she was here. Probably would have stopped me from casually torturing the Inquisitors too. He looked at his left arm and watched a wyrm drift to and fro. The Necromancy wound was fading slowly, but it was like waiting for an injury to heal naturally while he was Pathless. And that’s what I have to deal with. Need to find a way to fight the Gate Lord without him blowing my head apart with Necromancy.
That being said, he wasn’t alone anymore. Both Tran and Heather were Adepts—and reliable. The former had a lot more experience, and the latter was a Jump Mage. That greatly increased his options. There was also Siggy, who knew this place’s underbelly, but… she was mostly doing things because she was afraid of Shiv. Which worked for him, but didn’t make her reliable.
The three people from Blackedge sat inside Oldsmith’s personal study. Shiv kept a watch over his unmoving Inquisitorial prisoners using his Woundeater mana. After the Psychomancer tried reaching out to his fellow Inquisitor once, Shiv reflexively took all the man’s fingers. That sent a rush of relief through Shiv—but also most definitely made his Orcish Skill worse. This was why he ended up choking the prisoners out.
Even then, it took Tran pulling at him to make him let go of the Psychomancer.
“Well, I won’t lie,” Heather said, rubbing her eyes. “Things are looking absolutely abysmal right now. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing we can do. Or that we can’t get out of the gate.”
That caught Shiv’s attention. “What do you mean? The gate’s under lockdown. The paths to the Abyss and the surface are both closed—and I didn’t even get to see where the surface’s exit gate is.”
“Correct,” Heather said, a bit of condescension seeping into her tone. “However, locked is the key word here. A gate is a minor world between worlds born from bridging mana. It cannot truly be sealed, because if mana does not pass through, then there is no space between. A bridge must remain connected, after all. This means that given enough time and focus, I might be able to activate one of the exits. Maybe.”
Stolen novel; please report.
“You can do that?” Shiv said, impressed.
“Maybe,” Heather emphasized again. “My Portomancy has evolved into Dimensionality. I’m not that advanced yet, but considering the size of this place… It’s bigger than Blackedge, but not by that much. I’d say we’re in a Category Eight Gate.”
Shiv stared. “Does that mean the gate’s Heroic-Tier, or…”
The Jump Mage opened her mouth and clearly almost said something disparaging, but then she seemed to remember Shiv's current temper issues. “No, that’s not exactly how it works. Gates output a lot more mana than most Pathbearers. As such, they are rated like mana storms. This is a mid to low gate, I believe. Which means I should be able to slip through. Should. Maybe. With time.”
“Nice, Heather,” Shiv said, grinning. “Glad I saved the two of you.” Both she and Tran eyed Shiv. “It’s not the only reason. You want me to apologize for all the torture and butchery I did again?”
“No, no,” Tran said, raising his hands. “We know. We’re not blaming you. But… It is weird. With it being you. We’re not used to… the new you yet.”
“I haven’t changed,” Shiv said. “I’m just bigger, stronger, faster, a little wiser, and I got some kind of Orcish Skill virus that’s compelling me to torture and kill people by turning slight annoyance into explosive rage.” They kept staring at him. “Alright, yeah, I guess you two have a point.”
“You said you had a mask that could disguise you?” Tran asked.
“Yeah,” Shiv said. He pulled out the Mask of False Paths again, handing it to the Adept Slayer. “It’s a bit damaged from when I came in, but it’s also one of the few reasons I got this far.” Shiv frowned. “I’m probably going to go down and kill Oldsmith in a while. I was thinking about beating it to death with a belt, for obvious reasons, but now maybe I should do it quickly. And then I’ll see if I can take its face.”
Tran shook his head. “No. Don’t. That’ll still feed the skill. You’ve done more than enough for me and Heather, so, I think you should leave some of the, uh, liquidation work to us for now.”
“Liquidation?” Shiv asked.
“We’re gonna fucking kill these people,” Heather seethed. “That sword-bitch especially. And then the Psychomancer. Slowly.”
Shiv frowned at Tran. “Hey, does the Orcish Skill spread between people?”
A dark look came over the Slayer. “No. But getting mentally tortured after being physically mutilated doesn’t help one’s resentment.”
Shiv nodded slowly. He didn’t know how he felt about this. Aside from being frustrated, because a small part of him really, really, really wanted to experiment on them using his Woundeater and—Shiv froze. “You said the Orcish Skill spreads and multiplies to other skills as well.”
“Yeah, it grows through you,” Tran said. “Why?”
“I think the next skill of mine that might turn is my evolved Biomancy,” Shiv muttered. “I can’t stop thinking about using it on people. It didn’t even occur to me that I was torturing them earlier.”
“Yeah…” Tran nodded. “Orcs, man. They’re a real nightmare. System bless the hard bastards at Lone Star for holding them at bay.” He bumped a fist against his chest in salute. “Anyway. Here’s what I think the plan is now. We kill the prisoners—there’s not much more we’re getting out of them, and I’m not risking anything with Master-Tier Inquisitors. You see if you can take the bot’s identity. Then me and Heather are going to do some scouting when we can. You should… stay here for a while and try to fuse your Orcish Skill with your original skill. I’ll try to think of something else in the meantime.”
“What you want us to do about the goblin?” Heather asked. “Because I think I’m just about mad enough that I can make killing her personal for me, too.”
Shiv considered that and then grunted. “Leave her alive for now. She knows things about this place. Oh, and Heather. When you kill the female Inquisitor, bring me her armor and weapon. There’s someone I want to give it to.”
Heather blinked. “I… kind of wanted to take that off her. Especially since they destroyed my gear.”
Shiv laughed and pulled some of his reserve corpses from his mantle. Both Tran and Heather backpedaled, their expressions shifting into confused terror. Shiv ignored them as he used his Biomancy to start assembling two new sets of armor. “If you need armor, I got some diamond-hard ones—and if you give me some time, I think I can get you two some Master-Tier Adamantine-strength bone armors as well. That can harden in response to all kinds of physical trauma. It’s pretty good. I just need to die a few times more to harvest enough bone for that. I’d give my Adamantine exoskeleton to Uva too, but I want her to have something else in case she’s not comfortable wearing my bones.”
Shiv peeled away the skin and extracted the flesh as he spoke. Nearby, he heard Heather and Tran both gag and look away as two new sets of skeletal armor came into shape. “Here,” Shiv said. “Step in.”
Dread Aura > 58
He frowned. He wasn’t using the aura right then, so why’d it level?
Tran swallowed. “I, uh… W-who’s Uva?” he asked, trying to shift the topic.
“Girlfriend,” Shiv said, a slight grin flashing on his face. It dimmed a second later. “She probably would have kept me from doing some of this stuff.”
Heather’s eyebrow rose. “Huh. You sure were busy the past…”
“Two weeks or so?” Shiv guessed. “Yeah. But me and her went through some stuff together, and, uh, I guess one thing led to another. I hope she’s fine.”
“And you would rather us wear your bones? As armor?” Heather blinked.
“It’s good armor,” Shiv said. “Trust me. Now. Who wants to get fitted first?”