Edit: Yeah, that feels more synergistic. And just look at the initial description of Undying Echo: "The Forebear could withstand unbelievable punishment, only to rise again." It's not like this capability wasn't... foreshadowed.
[X] Forebear's Blade - Echo of the Forebear x2
-[X] 2 Arete: Undying Echo
[X] Forebear's Blade - Form of Rage - 7 Arete
[X] Letrizia - Hollow Star
Well, I'm convinced. And leaving the Form tree incomplete after we got the Second Form would bug me forever.
And in support of that:
I'm so glad we went with Repose; as far as those initial choices went, I felt like it was right after Unshattered for the Old Man Energy it brought to the table. Like, Hunger is the veteran of years of guerilla warfare, he really shouldn't have that much youth left in him after the shit he's been through. Just like his arm, his eye and his companions, that was stolen from him by the Tyrant and the Hidden Ones. Leaning into that with Blade options is great; Unelemental had it 100% right when he said that most of our problems seem like they could be solved by just becoming more like the Forebear.
That said, if he's one of those laughing gods, we'll still definitely, for sure put him into the hypercosmic equivalent of a Punishment Sphere. After the endless shit our boy has gone through, his enemies deserve nothing less. Especially when our patron specifically identified them as being responsible. I really hope he's not one of them though, an amicable meeting between a restored Hunger and the Forebear would be really cool.
He awoke steadily from slumber, the high sun of noon creeping into his eyes through a giant's upraised fingers. Below was the chirping of birds and the slow, drawling hum of cicadas, trees creaking slightly in the breeze.
Slowly, the Armament above him flexed its fingers, steam pouring from countless apertures as it rose clumsily to its full height. From this distance he could clearly see how badly diminished was the weapon's current state: the errant, too-pale flickering of runes stenciled on its flesh; the choking, muffled retort of its damaged mechanical systems; and even the bone-deep weariness reflected in its stance.
Steam, huh? I wonder how that tallies with the black smoke it was emitting earlier. Genuinely feel kinda bad for Versh, I'm quite curious how something so thoroughly beat to shit could be so easily restored the way Hunger implied in their first encounter. We really oughta get in the giant robot one of these days, if only to get some of that sweet, sweet deep lore. Would be tragic for Versh if he summoned us and we ended up never actually using him, even if I prefer to fight on foot. Definitely no Arete purchases though, not unless they don't require Versh.
You and me both. Though he'd slept in, he was nowhere close to fully recovered from yesterday's exertions. His physical body felt fine, perhaps even stronger than before, infused with a portion of the King Fish's thrashing vitality. The wound in his side stung sharply as he raised himself up with his elbows, but it was a brisk sharpness, jolting him awake.
That last part makes me quite curious as to the form the effectiveness boost What Rains May Come would have taken. Would be have busted out some kind of Sanji-Zoro hybrid with powerful kicks and a sword in our mouth? What would happen if we lost use of all of our limbs? Would we create constuct hands from the power of ruin or would we start flying through the might of our legend alone?
But his powers of spirit, what Letrizia called his Astral Rank, was badly depleted still. It was a dull, hollow exhaustion, a blankness of the marrow, his soul's sharpness worn down to a nub.
I previously mentioned that I really enjoyed the way Accretion is portrayed in this quest and the description of us losing our powers ties into it quite well. While Seram has some minor issues losing him Amplitude granted senses, it didn't seem like he was truly diminished by what happened. Maybe that's just a result of the kinda clinical nature of the Gamer interface he got. Meanwhile, Accretion colours most of the way Hunger interacts with the world. It's that blazing spark of heroism that makes an apathetic world give way to his will, making him more than just another faceless nobody destined to live, love and die like anyone else.
While they share a lot of thematic DNA with Solar Exalts, it's more a sign of common ancestry than real kinship. I think it's the difference between simulationism and narrativism. Accretion could be what an Exalt might look like if seen through the lens of a Raksha, though naturally more relevant and powerful.
"Good, you're awake." Gisena came into view, a pale, fatigued cast to her features. Without pausing she unleashed a Tide of Nullity into the open air, then turned and threw another.
"What's going on?" Fighting through the hollowness, he sprang to his feet, the Forebear's Blade appearing his grip.
"We've got incoming," Gisena said, briefly wiping sweat off her brow. "Some kind of portal, but not an Astral effect. And they're persistent, too! Hundreds of attempts over this past hour."
"You should have woken me," he said, coming to her side.
She shot him a cheery smile, with only a hint of strain. "Nope! Both you and Zea were out like a light! And you need your rest most of all, whereas I'm positively brimming with energy!"
Gisena proves herself to be kind, competent and tactically aware as usual. She's really grown on me over time, I hope we can start delving more into her character soon. At the very least, I'd like to see her reaction when we make it to the city and actually see all the flying cars and shit they've got going on. Or maybe a follow up to our night of soulful staring, should we make it out of this Temple alive.
"I'm operational," Letrizia's voice boomed from Verschlengorge, testily flexing a hand. "Or as close to it as we can be in this state."
Hmm. I'm assuming the switching between "I" and "we" is just standard mech pilot diction and not a sign of any kind of communion between the two but maybe that could change if we could share the secrets of Accretion with her? I don't really care enough about Vershlengorge to want to pilot him ourselves but having Letrizia pilot him is almost as good at baseline. Her adding him to her panoply would be a neat way to see some of the potential effects he might offer without getting tied down.
"I suppose it's too much to hope they'd give up," Gisena said. "And running won't do us any good if they have portals. Well, if they're dying to see us, how about we grant their wish?"
Gotta wonder how this must be treating the Gamer and party. Do they percieve this as a load time? Are they just getting really frustrated at this piece of shit game bugging out?
"We'll talk about this later," he growled, advancing upon the now-forming portals. Fuck these so-called interesting times.
"I await your commendation eagerly!" she responded.
You better give headpats to Gisena for her intelligent decision, Hunger. Someone in the group has to be the smart one and considering who's in the driver's seat, it's certainly not you.
There was no more time for talk as the shimmering blue portals finally gained a semblance of solidity. Scarce had the outline of their occupants appeared before he ducked, avoiding the chest-height Tide of Nullity that Gisena fired into the occlusion.
The first intruder appeared with a baffled shriek, the magic of her armor smothered under Gisena's assault, and he swiftly followed up with a pommel-strike to her sword arm, bone splintering under his enhanced strength.
I really should remember the devastating power of the Morschlag. That's going to be my default tactic for anything other than gelatinous oozes now; just smack them with the pommel of our blade. Really, having our sword be shattered was actually an improvement, the sharp bits were just holding us back. Really, really sucks to be here though, huh?
Though they'd ambushed one, the full party had materialized successfully: one man, a mechanical construct, and two other women, all outfitted in rugged armor with an assortment of faintly glowing artifacts.
Oh boy, an almost full Fantasy Isekai Harem JRPG party. Just need to add a few more women and maybe a plucky comic relief character, possibly a mentor old enough not to be competition. And they're dressed like they had to speedrun an outfit in a thrift store after Mardi Gras, just perfect.
"Took 'em long enough," the man whined, eyes sweeping the party. "The fuck? They didn't say anything about adds. You guys deal with those, the monster's mine."
Hmm. Who's "them" in this case? The Astral Lord?
Also, amazing how little of a shit he gives about his companion just having her arm shattered but I suppose if he's a total garbage person like a lot of RPG protagonists can be if you take their player driven actions at face value, it's unsurprising.
"Yes, my lord!" Spoke the others, even as Hunger pulled the first intruder close and plunged his blade into her sternum. A swift stroke brought her life to an end as the remainder of the party advanced on him.
Wow, none of them give a shit. I think Rihaku said something along the lines of her being created for this purpose. If so, that's kind of crazy to make a homunculous that can feel pain for the sole purpose of making a meat shield, especially when you make it look like a beautiful woman because you also want eye candy. Does this guy have a fetish for seeing women in pain or what? What a bastard.
The male leapt forward with a thump of displaced air, his blade glowing brilliant blue before it unleashed an arc of energy into Verschlengorge's direction. Too slow to evade or block, the Armament took the blow across the torso, leaving a great smoldering gouge in the plating on its chest. Hunger frowned.
Ouch. We've really gotta get to the city and fix up Versh, this is just fucking sad. Good thing his slash can't ignore armour though or we would be absolutely screwed. Quite curious to learn about whatever magic he's using to do this; given Seralize's capabilities, I assume he must have at least rudimentary access to Pressure.
Then the attackers were upon him, a nymphlike woman wielding an elaborate sword and a cool-eyed blonde who covered her with crossbow fire. The construct attempted to rush past, targeting Gisena single-mindedly, but he intercepted it easily as null bolts rained down around them. None of them seemed particularly concerned about the loss of their first companion.
"We must disable the mage," the construct groaned, bronze armor clanking as it traded blows with him. Its internals held up poorly against the power of ruin, scars of riven metal opening at each point of contact.
Huh, maybe this guy was the grizzled older male. Between the scars and knowing to geek the mage first, he seems to be the most experiences of the group, even if he got absolutely mirked by Hunger. Cool to see that there's more than just organic beings though, was he described as a construct due to Hunger's past experiences or is he more magical than mech?
"I'll give the orders, mercenary." The swordmaiden said frostily, ducking back to avoid another volley from his Sorceress. "But I do agree. Beth, as we practiced?"
The swordswoman was a striking beauty, her features haughty and regular, crimson hair and pristine blue eyes, though plain in comparison to Gisena. Her companion, 'Beth,' was shorter and mousier, wearing a hood to cover her golden locks.
"Sure," Beth nodded. The two women withdrew.
Trash boy has trash waifus: nobody is surprised. I am however surprised that this guy hasn't picked up a 700 year old dragon that likes looking like a little girl or an ara ara. Perhaps he was still in the middle of building his party? Red hair at least makes it obvious who was first girl.
He took the opportunity to pressure the construct, accepting a blow against the Evening Sky to slice open the thing's neck. It reeled, stumbling backwards, but before he could finish it the crossbow wielder appeared overhead.
Wow, this mercenary got a truly garbage contract to be used as bait by two dipshit kids. Sorry buddy, better luck next time.
"Nice!" Shouted the swordmaiden as her ally fired, several powerfully enchanted bolts hurtling towards Gisena. The Sorceress dipped and weaved, emitting a wave of dispellation, but was caught in the arm. Gisena whimpered but wasted no time, snapping off the bodkin tip and pulling the bolt free. She drew Letrizia's sidearm and began to return fire.
Nice? Influence from Ber or does she also come from an Earth and play games, despite her more noble attitude? Gisena once again proves herself to be top tier, getting shot in the arm and losing no real combat effectiveness. Regret not getting Retinue now but it's just not viable to keep her around in the long term. In the end, I suppose learning to enjoy the moment and let go when it's over is one of the things you've got to learn during your Indenture or end up going crazy.
Growling, he hurled his blade at the midair archer and pounced on the golem, kicking off its chest to propel himself skyward. Beth contorted wildly to dodge his thrown sword, then spun with languid grace to evade Gisena's fire, heedless of leverage or gravity. But she did not see the Forebear's Blade hurtling back as he recalled it to hand.
She gave a startled, hapless shriek as the sword-fragment embedded itself in her side. An instant later he reached her, clothesline to the solar plexus driving her to the earth. Before she could recover his fist rained down with haymaker force, ending her life.
Finally, we got to use the recall feature for the purpose of murder. Kinda funny to hear about her doing sick flips and spins only to get stabbed in the back. Pretty holy shit moment for our boy to just beat her to death with his bear hands. Or I say beat but it just took two punches. Now I'm quite curious to see Ruinous Valour: Zweihander. Could this be another shot at the legendary Muscle Wizard!? Or would those stances help us become one with our blade?
Slow. He was too slow, his instincts numb. He was caught in the flow of the world, instead the rock against which it broke. Had he been anywhere near fighting form, an opponent of this level would never have been allowed to hurt Gisena, and the golem would already be carven scrap.
Yet more of that great Accretion aesthetic. Too bad Hunger; prudent decisions do not a mythic hero make. You gotta live a life of terrible struggle against absurd odds for largely pointless reasons. How else could we really begin motivating the thread, after all? Only imminent death can truly unleash our potential.
But what was the point of dwelling? Nothing to do but fight on. His ring pulsed, feeding him with strength from the intruders he'd felled.
Oh, I'm sure this was a lesson Hunger learned through experience. No point in thinking about your fuckups beyond extracting what lessons you can from them; anything else is just a waste of time and energy. Not the easiest thing to put into practice though.
He pulled free the Forebear's Blade and moved to once again interpose himself between the construct and his Sorceress, but a howl of stark grief stole his attention.
"ELIZABETH!" Screamed the redhead, her eyes wet with tears. "You- you bastard. You'll pay..."
She began to tremble, hair rising in an invisible wind. Furiously he pushed past the golem, unwilling to let her complete whatever technique -
Oh wow, looks like the power aura is a universal trait of utilising Rank. Definitely a cool aesthetic and probably the thing that leads to Rank's physical reality warping at later stages.
Slow. A moment too late he reached her, and by then her eyes had snapped open, infused with amaranthine energy. She blurred, tearing into him, Celtic knot of her sword pulsing as it pressed against his cloak of stars. Her blade sang as it moved, a mournful hum that intensified steadily, increasing her own speed until she dissolved into a whirlwind of slashing strokes.
Interesting weaponry, I wonder what kind of world she comes from. I assume the multiversal melting pot that is the Voyaging Realm is a crossover of all the worlds Rihaku has in his notes. Would be nice to see a cameo or two from other worlds; maybe something from the Unnamed Quest or They Called Me Mad.
"My name is Seralize vi Esterarc. And I am your end, monster. It's not about the money or even the glory. I'LL AVENGE HER IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!"
Perhaps it's the privilege of youth to deny basic truth. After all, Hunger knows well that those who live by the sword die by the sword. Rings a little bit hollow when you admit you got into this fight for money and glory and not say, the oppressed masses of the world.
How many times had he proclaimed similarly, when faced with the Tyrant's cruelty? Had he sounded so ridiculous? The fact that she was distracted by her monologue was the only reason he was able to keep her at bay.
I imagine you didn't talk about how you wanted to do it for a payday and clout, my guy. While self-examination is cool and all, let's not get too crazy here. See, this is why becoming the Forebear is the solution to all your problems. Can't become what you hate if you've already surpassed them in seemingly every relevant value.
Gisena tried to assist, darting to the side, probing for an angle. The badly-damaged construct doggedly followed her, forcing her to disengage.
The force of Seralize's hatred was as a palpable thing. It suppressed his initiative and lent unnatural sharpness to her blows. Her sword fell upon him from all angles, grazing neck and cheek, nicking his ear, scraping against his forehead to send blood into his eye. The Evening Sky lent his flesh the same impossible resistance he'd faced against the pirate captain, else he would have died threefold in one exchange.
I'm curious if this is Rank or if something else is at play here. How does Hunger feel to face in battle? An interlude from someone else's perspective exploring exactly that might be quite neat, at least once we've made it to civilization and have to duel some noble fuckass in a giant robot. Or maybe let Letrizia do it for us, empowering her into a superhuman equal to any outlander would be hilarious.
Was he any better than the Tyrant, in the end? Was vengeance alone a goal worthy of all this?
He jumped back slightly, resignation coming over his features. There was not much left in him, but if he exerted all he had, could he reach her, just this once?
"I get it," he said, looking his would-be murderer directly in the eye. "And I'm sorry."
She nodded bitterly. "As it should be."
With a final vengeful roar, she thrust forward, the gleam of her blade like a falling star. He made no move to intercept, stepping into the blow, taking it into his side, all but collapsing on her.
Imagine thinking you could just talk a guy into suicide with no prior knowledge just because you got real mad. I can only assume she came from a world where most people were just Rank 0 because I can't imagine any other reason for this degree of solipsism. Even the most egotistical noble wouldn't think a commoner could be convinced to die that easily, at least not a noble that ever interacts with commoners as anything more than servile automatons. Really glad we slept in, there's no way she'd have been that dumb without a bit of Rank moving things along.
As the blade sprouted from his back, she let out a grim, tremulous sigh of catharsis, then began to pull her sword free for the finishing blow. The weight of his cloak was like a leaden mantle around them.
Still caught in that impromptu embrace, she was unable to evade when he stabbed her in the spine. The Evening Sky billowed and swarmed, holding her longsword in place to prevent further damage, blanketing them and smothering them, gentle dying of the light. Grimly he twisted his blade, cutting flesh and spirit, fell energies severing body from mind, soul from essence. A mortal wound.
Strike a thousand times, or strike one blow that tells.
Absolutely great to see Hunger putting the first pick of the quest to use. Also, I hope we can pick up some more flexible set of advancements to the Evening Sky so it can act as a second set of limbs or something; I'd love to see the Haloed Destroyer again, especially if we pick up Zweihander and get a conjunctional that lets all of our bonded artifacts channel the power of ruin. Turn our cape into a Stand.
"Hate..." she rasped, blood flecking his cheek. "I... hate you..."
He closed his eyes. "I know."
He tore free the Forebear's Blade and cut off her head.
Better man than I, to not laugh in her face.
Age and treachery, the Tyrant had told him once. Against such forces as that, what was the vigor of youth? Merely the purposeless guttering of an over-bright flame.
Perhaps the Tyrant's curse was an attempt at providing a blessing in disguise? If there's anything these quests have taught us, it's the value of time and experience. Is this an oblique warning from Rihaku to us? To tell us that we'd be better off with prudent decision making and sensible choices than going for death or infinite glory? Too bad we went for the Temple lol. Perhaps after this, once we've finally made it to the city and have time to take stock, we'll finally be able to settle down a bit.
By walking into her strike, controlling the angle, he'd directed the blow down the path of his existing wound, minimizing the damage. Still, the pain was intense even under the soporific numbness of the Evening Sky. She'd widened the cut broadly and managed to nick his intestines. Not a wound that would trouble him much, if he were at full strength. As it was...
Letrizia screamed in pain, and his head snapped around to take in his companions.
Gisena had worn down the construct, which looked to be on its last legs, though she'd taken a nasty scrape from its claws. Verschlengorge was tottering, brought to one knee by the onslaught of bright blue energies hounding it.
Letrizia's opponent nodded to himself as he struck, his eyes steady and calculating, baiting her into an overhead swing before darting sideways to target the joints. Even the Armament's cockpit was exposed, smoke rising steadily from its insides. As he fought, the intruder spoke, an incessant stream of affirmational nonsense mixed with strange jargon.
I enjoy the constrast here. Hunger gets himself intentionally stabbed in the stomach to defeat his enemy and works to optimise the wound to be minimally damaging. Meanwhile, Gisena manages to kite the construct and only gets hit because of a fuckup and Letrizia is damaged due to her inexperience. Is this the power of 11 years of guerilla warfare?
"C'mon Ber, you've got this. Patterns are down solid. One last phase and it's payday. Just gotta do like you do, only it's real life. Done it a hundred times..."
The last invader spared a glance for them, and briefly paused in shock to see his companions scattered and lifeless. His body was not bare of wounds either; cuts and burns covered his skin, and his left shoulder was one enormous bruise, though compared to Verschlengorge he seemed able and hale. He leapt back, dodging a translucent wave from Gisena, scanning the three of them rapidly.
No Gamer's Body? Now we know he's a real scrub. I guess his Gamer's Mind equivalent might just be through sociopathy or dissassociation. Seriously though, how did he not notice Seralize's speech and subsequent death? That's some next level tunnel vision.
"Even Sera? She's allowed to die? Shitfuck. Should have known an Astral Lord would try to fuck me, no matter how shiny the prize." He mumbled to himself, sword raised in a guard position. "Assess."
Does he actually think his life has become a videogame or something? That would at least explain his bizarre surprise that his companions would die. Curious to know what he would have gotten from paying us. You'd assume an Astral Lord would have hired someone a little stronger to secure the job. Or did they think that no-one sane would willingly travel by the side of a Decimator? I suppose that's a fair guess, especially if he could only percieve the Armament itself and couldn't scry into the real world without invading.
Hunger frowned. It almost sounded like this guy had come from Earth, or a realm like it. Not that it mattered at this juncture. Gently extracting the now-dull steel of Seralize's longsword, he prepared to advance on the man. Warmth from the ring on his finger, sending power down his arm. Warmth from the wound as well, leaking strength down his side.
Idly he wondered if he could actually defeat this man. He was getting light-headed. Convincing Seralize had taken too much out of him.
I love how our boy went at him before he even bothered to take stock of his own condition. For all that I prefer prudence, that kind of reflexive aggression has its place. Never let them see you sweat. As a sidenote, is this our more aggressive protagonist yet? The Nameless was pretty conflict shy, Seram picked fights pretty carefully and Arthur was bound by his chains. Meanwhile, Hunger has thrown himself into conflict at seemingly every opportunity. Is this the power of our Ring? I'm pretty sure our growth rate over time blows his out the water, even if it's slower per update.
We've really gotta get the fuck out of the Voyaging Realm. Temple, Ber, maybe a grinding timeskip or two and then we can start engaging with the world we've found ourselves in.
"Information not found..." the intruder whispered, eyes going wide. "System, what the fuck is this? Some kind of hidden boss bullshit?"
Evading another Tide of Nullity, their enemy shook his head. "Fuck it. Gotta bail, come back when I'm higher level. Hey, fuckwad!"
He pointed his sword at Hunger, its flat the cold, unending blue of a cloudless sky. "You're dead, okay? All of you. No one kills my... friends and lives to talk about it. See ya."
"... friends", huh? Don't dump charisma kids, no matter how tempting it may be. Else, you'll end up like this nerd. Probably not a Foremost attempt at a Progressor if he can't ID us; curious to know what his deal is then. I'd quite like to eat his system and then maybe have our cloak eat his sword to begin unifying the skies. Unluckily for him he didn't push the attack, he really should take a page from our book while we'd benefit making notes on his.
So saying, he launched a torrential strike directly at Letrizia's cockpit, a sky-furrowing wave of blue that devoured the land as it traveled. Hunger and Gisena both moved to intercept, but even her focused Nullity only diminished the attack.
Panting in exhaustion, the invader gestured listlessly again. A portal of the same color quickly engulfed him.
Hunger hurled himself at the remnants of the attack, cloak fully spread, managing to divert it off-course, though his arm was seared very nearly to the bone. Gisena approached quickly, holding her bleeding arm.
Damn. While this was a powerful attack on his part, he's still quite obviously strong. Really wish we'd taken What Rains May Come and hunted him down instead of fucking off to this Temple. I think I've found my guiding principle for this quest, the way the Diagram was for the last quest: What Would the Forebear Do? Of course, I realise this is a framework through which I navigate the world and is thus instrinsically not something the Forebear would bother with but just as children attach training wheels to their bikes until they can do without, I must lean on this lens until I truly grasp his mentality.
"Check on Letrizia," he grunted, collapsing. "I'll be fine."
I admit, this made me laugh a lot. Even if he's correst and the situation dire, there's something quite humourous about this mental image. Would be a lot easier to rely on you guys if most of the problems we're facing weren't our fault in some way or the other.
"On it!" Gisena said, running her fingers gently over his shoulder before sprinting for the Armament.
Letrizia was hurt, her left side marred by burns. Gisena carefully set her down on the grass and opened the medical kit. The young duchess whined, twisting away from her ministrations.
"I can stabilize her," Gisena began worriedly, "but she won't be in any fit state to travel. What do you think we should do?"
I'm glad to see that Gisena trusts our judgement, even if she really kinda shouldn't. We'll do our best not to let you down more than we already have.
-
One down, four to go.
P.S: 2646 words
