Rina Callista X15/Aretaphilla Myia X10/Katha Theodoros 20: The Razing of Chunwang
Rina Callista was returning to the Great Battlefield. First of the Single-Pillar Kings of this era, the one who had walked furthest along that path, returning to stand against the tides of contagion that even now extended their way into the iron core that had become of the Coalition of Righteous Powers.
They had a formal name now, she was pretty sure–but between everything going on in recent times, she hadn't had a chance to memorize what was finalized–but her connections should have still been in place. The Sorrowful Blacksmiths were in the depths of a civil war, but the Colossus Footsteps Pass was protected with all of their strength.
She shook her head, smiling wryly at the thought–because the flow of Spirit Stones from the Desert was still critical in the defensive strategy, and the mere fall of a former paragon of artifice to the Blood Path was no reason to let that flow shift. How quickly things changed, but the players always remained the same.
Rina would privately admit to herself–if to nobody else–that it was for the best that the access those of the Blood held to the region was tightly restricted, especially after Silver-Lord Tisamenos' return. If she actually got herself caught up in the civil war, what were the odds of getting a
fourth encounter with a Nascent Soul?
Most of the junior generation didn't even survive the
first one. It was grimly ironic that she had encountered two in battle and lived to tell the tale both times, even if it always required intervention. She had no intention of inviting yet another one.
The most
important thing at the moment was making sure her connections were still good. Aretaphila–as the first Legate to sign on with the Mission–was technically the commanding officer, but she had only popped over the mountains once since the start of this calamity, and while she had gained no small amount of reputation in the process…
To be blunt, she was kind of an asshole, and Rina needed to make sure her contacts and connections were ready for it.
Striking at the Insidious Poison Maze… It'd be madness if it wasn't for the prize involved. Rina only hoped that everything would work out in the end.
The DI had one primary claim to fame after the events of the Jingshen War - a spectacular ability to infiltrate and establish themselves as a massive pain in the ass to try and remove. Granted, this was only done against the Jingshen themselves, but there had been little doubt of the efficacy of the 501st's ability in the depths of the earth.
When the Blood Mists fell, they had cared nothing for elevation or the nature of the delving pit that they had fought in. Even as the Grand Elder had moved to finish off Old Jingshen (after he'd been softened up of course) the ineffable Legate of the 501st had moved to suppress the blood crazed victims of the Mists. Her Single Pillar's emanations warping and twisting the malignant, corrupting influence from inducing a cannibalistic frenzy into a much more palatable berserker rage.
Unsurprisingly, the resulting slaughter had been more impressive in the retelling than the desperate struggle Aretaphila could immediately remember.
The experience had left its marks on her subordinates. Especially one in particular.
"Denarii for your thoughts, Pilus Auxilia?" They were now at the Towers of Flame, the westernmost edge of the remaining Poison-Crushing Siege's held territory. The mustering point for the Bear-Liberating Poison Incursion as their Righteous Path employers referred to Operation
Venatio.
Li Wei turned from staring at the pulsing monuments to pyromania to glance downwards at her before looking away again.
"Considering the vagaries of Fate, Legatus." The Sorrowful Blacksmith exhaled, "It seems strange that you seem…
uninterested in a stronger force entering the city itself."
The Silver King nodded at her Auxilia, "I can hardly bring you in with us - you've been off ever since the Blood Mists lifted. I know you didn't care much for the Sorrowful Blacksmiths given your origins, so what's the problem exactly?"
"Bloodhammer, actually."
The Myia stared at the taller man, waiting for him to explain further.
"He had been my intended patron once I'd plumbed the secrets of your bloodline. As the next Patriarch of the Sorrowful Blacksmiths, he more than anyone else would recognize and elevate me for my work deciphering the Gate of Bronze. There had been a standing offer, in fact. Now with the results of the Blood Mists, I do believe I have nowhere to return to once I've left your accursed Clan behind."
"Normally I would say 'then don't', but you've given this some thought, Pilus Auxilia." The diminutive cultivator replied, "So take this opportunity to figure out what you want to do, and where you want to go." She gestured towards the Towers of Flame, "Maybe finding someone else's secrets to steal will help you with deciding your future path?"
Li Wei snorted dismissively, "I suppose I can spare an hour or two while you lot are on the march." His piece said, the Blacksmith walked off with a confident gait, leaving Aretaphila behind.
The Silver King sighed, this would be a massive undertaking. Originally she'd considered having their forces move in one huge caravan, protected by the Dao Emanations of herself and possibly Rina weakening the ambient poisons enough that antidotes could be sparingly used to the point of bringing the force entire into Poison Maze and laying siege directly to Chunwon. But upon her breaking through to the Third Phase of the Lonely Pillar path, her new Dao Magic had given her a different idea.
While Rina could cycle through the Elements of her own perception of the New World, Aretaphila could shape Qi more directly through the notes of her Demonic Tunes. The Heaven-Shaking Song able to resonate and act independently of her direct vocalizations, compounding upon its own nature as a
song.
And Songs could be
recorded. With that, a new, more
insidious scheme entered her mind. Especially with knowledge that the Ninth Prince and Magnus Centenius would also be working towards the exfiltration of the Elder Bearking from his imprisonment in the city. Rather than laying siege and giving the city and its twisted inhabitants forewarning, a daisy chain of resting points secured throughout the Maze's territory for any who lacked the
Optimatoi's raw discipline or any ability or even knowledge to accompany the Experts back.
Banners festooned with Jade's inscribed with her Heaven Shaking Song to ward the areas, secured further with Rina's own earthworks would form the strongpoints in a path that would collapse and reinforce the inevitably fleeing individuals from the City. An organized, staggered retreat that would help to stave off their likely pursuers as well as stragglers that would flee the city in the confusion that would occur as a result of her plan.
Thankfully, no one was in a position to countermand the DI's lead in the operation…Save perhaps
one. She would need to find Rina to inform her of the plan, probably argue to win the Princess over, and then discuss things with XXI before Magnus went on ahead, and then to gather the additional Experts that would be her hands and legs in making her schemes a reality.
Two silver hands clapped together and rubbed in unconscious glee.
"You want to burn Chunwang to the ground" Were the first words out of Rina when she made it to the meeting point. "I'm not necessarily against this materially, but the issue is doing so and making it out in one piece."
The Silver King simply smiled, only leaning slightly to the side while her appointed assistant turned tea into a fine mist with her mouth. Katha Theodoros, a young Legionnaire who had no business being privy to such high level intelligence, actual rank be damned, could not
believe the audacity of the woman next to her. It was akin to hearing the Archgetes say 'I might want to invade the Fifth Sea'. It was one of those unthinkable things, said by madmen who
might actually go ahead and do them anyways.
So it was with great courage and immense alacrity that the Iron-Blooded, crippled as she might be, immediately stood up and bowed to the vaunted Golden King. "Thank you for allowing this junior an opportunity to meet and greet, Lady Callista, I-I'll be taking my leave now!"
"I'm afraid not," Aretaphila Myia replied coyly, gripping the still-crippled Junior and lifting her by the nape in defiance of conventional understandings of leverage, "You're necessary to apply the Principle of the Unpatinated."
Katha turned a growing look of horror at the much shorter woman, "P-principle of the
Unpatinated?"
The Silver King nodded seriously, "Yes. An old Clan metric: When discussing audacious strategies, there are a number of rules of quality control one must undergo - One of them is said Principle: Always ask an Aspirant so young as to have not taken on their first hint of patina what they think of the plan, if they can not find any obvious downsides to it, then it is not nearly as insane as it may otherwise appear."
The crippled Theodoroi turned a narrowed glare at her superior, "Is this by any chance like the 'Legend of Centurion XXI'?"
A toothy grin flashed in the light filling the warded tent, "You learn quickly
Aspirant."
"After all, we need someone who isn't already walking the path of Singularity to make sure we're not getting too full of ourselves." Rina agreed. "If we just end up bashing our heads against each other, we're just going to end up nowhere, and the point is
winning, not merely undertaking a Forlorn Hope against one of the greatest fortresses in the Region."
With great trepidation, Katha nodded, then slowly retook her position, seated by two Kings. No wonder her Legate singled her out amongst all the other Piluses. Of all times for Shu to gallivant in Qiguai…
Still, she would be lying if she said she did not want to know. So she turned to her Legate, leaning her head against a hand. "So what's your plan, Legatus? I assume it's related to your recent breakthrough."
The Legatus in question turned a challenging look towards her reluctant minion and oldest rival-slash-friend and let out a low whistle, the air around them shuddering from the emanations of her Qi before undulating before their eyes. Rather than
wind as an element, the air around them resonated under her Demonic Tunes, shifting and crashing against itself in a clash of atmospheric pressures and forcibly twisted Qi.
Rina frowned at that, and made a slight, waving gesture with her hand, the vibrating resonation then politely swerving around her, because she's had a long enough day and doesn't want to have her bones shaken just to make a demonstration.
A sealed bottle uncorked itself with a loud pop from a distant corner of the room, the sound of something
sucking accompanied by the crinkling of heavy velum flowing through the air, unfurling itself before landing on the table.
"As you know," The Silver King began, "The Bear Enslavement Sect have done an admirable job of mapping out the Eastern edges of the Poison Maze, its most stable portions going to a bit west of our target; Chunwang." A dainty finger delineated a solid line about a third of the way through the map itself, "We can consider this area to be our operational theater.
She glanced at the other two, waiting to see if they would add anything before nodding, "The normal approach for the
barbaroi - even our ostensible allies - is to rely on the good ol' Theodoroi method of "Ganging up and hitting it 'till it's dead" doesn't really work here. Which we know because the last time the Righteous Powers attempted to infiltrate the city with a Nascent they were repulsed. Probably the other half of the move to beat back the Abyssal Demon Invasion. Which actually succeeded.
"I can confirm," Rina adds. "Based on the records I've managed to retrieve through my contacts, it confirms that the Insidious Poison Maze is sensitive enough to Nascent Power that it will alert the Noble Knowledge Sect's own peak cultivators upon entry, easily time enough to set up a trap."
"This means that attempting to march on Chunwang in full force isn't just dangerous, it's actively counterproductive. Also, the land itself is actively hostile to us." Aretaphila raised both index fingers together in parallel, before crossing them over one another in an the Clan symbol for
decimus
"These problems have one solution." The Legatus took her fingers, and randomly drew a number of circles through the Eye of Poison, then the length of the Noxious Pits, and finally one that was a good day's march away from the city itself, "We'll split our respective Legions as we infiltrate the Maze, and have them create a number of hardpoints or fortlets to act as a logistical chain to guide any refugees back east, or act as a means of reinforcement or survival should the worst case happen.
"Due to my recent breakthrough," Aretaphila flexed her silverine arm proudly, "I can inscribe a jade with a recording of my Dao Magic, and I'm sure that between the two of us the Legatus Callista and I will be able to raise up temporary structures for our proverbial baggage train to set up in, without the need for wasting insane amounts of antidotes resisting the ambient poison."
It was a sound plan in theory, and one that Katha saw before in old Clan and House records. Dividing one's forces to brave hazardous terrain, establishing local strongholds from which to exert force for the duration, accomplishing the mission in record time, then making a fighting retreat before the season ended. Lightning warfare that demanded extremely strong command and control mechanisms, a supernally drilled military whose every officer knew the plan, or both.
The
[Heaven Shaking Song], as it would, might well do the trick. And the
[Halo of the World-Lord] was definitely a good enough communication tool, if what she's heard about the Silverine Bracers is true. So in theory, her Legatus had done the impossible and drawn up a viable plan for a limited intrusion into the single most heavily defended piece of terrain in the Region, short of the unknown territories of the Blood Oak.
In theory.
"So how do you plan to invade the Experiment City?" The inheritor of countless generations of
Protostrators asked, of a question too obvious
to ask. Already, the Principle was paying dividends. "If I'm not wrong, that's the Noble Knowledge Sect's capital, or at least it's one of their major cities. It will be defended by at
least a handful of Core Elders, with reinforcements within hours if not
minutes."
Aretaphila Myia's smirk, if possible, grew even
wider.
"An advance team has already gone ahead to the city to infiltrate and prepare for our arrival. Under
Centurion Magnus Centenius - the
Drunken Squid as well as a series of skilled Experts suited to the task, who will meet the rescue team on site.
Centurion Centenius will sabotage the city from stealth, and his team will gather intelligence on where to find our objective as well as prepare a suitable distraction."
A silver fist
slammed onto symbol for the City of Experiments on the map.
"We'll burn the shitheap off the face of the world, and force all maps to be address those accursed ashes as ChunKWAB from now into perpetuity." What went unsaid, however, was that in addition to the infiltration team under Magnus, the Ninth Prince had voiced his intention to go on ahead and start shit anyway. So starting a riot and leveling the city itself was just adapting to changed circumstances.
So what if she tried to take the credit and play it off as her own idea? It basically
was if this mess was somehow made to work! Plus there was the serendipity of laying down a method to get the escapees free of this proverbial hellhole. Nice, concise, and also able to satisfy the Dao of the Princess and her
[Heaven-Shaking Song].
"Once the city is in an uproar, I'll be taking command of any escapees and the infiltration team with my own abilities to suppress enemy Core Formations. If a Nascent descends upon us there won't be much we can do, but that's the situation no matter what. We'll simply have to hope that the Experts present will be able to survive and flee. But barring such intervention…" Aretaphila's fingers dragged back along the estimated path back to the Poison-Crushing Towers.
"We should be well equipped to exfiltrate no matter who the Noble Knowledge Sect sends after us. Unlike us, they'll need to prepare antidotes en masse in order to navigate the Maze and Eye of Poison, and the DI and 302nd will be able to form a Hoplite capable of repelling a Core Formation as we retreat, especially with the support of the
[World Lord] and
[Heaven-Shaking Song] empowering those Formations.
"Barring any adjustments in methodology or other adaptations upon arriving at Chunwang, that's the plan." The scroll rolled up and returned itself to its bottle, freshly recorked.
"Any questions?"
Rina raises her hand. "I'm sorry, Chun
kwab?, that's… That's not a word, it's not even an onomatopoeia, I don't even know what that means. Wouldn't they just rebuild it out of spite when we're done?"
"Doesn't matter." Aretaphila replied with a knowing wave of her hand, "Word of humiliations like this tend to spread across the region in ways that the impacted party have no way to control. If the we tell the rest of the region that its ChunKWAB and they agree by way of consensus that it is indeed ChunKWAB, then that is how it shall be remembered and referred to by literally everyone. Once the name sticks, their spite won't matter; they're too isolationist to sack up and force the rest of the region to use their name for the city. Total victory."
Katha raised another hand. She suppressed a tremble, keeping it stiffly straight, even as she worried constantly. "You're… You're not seriously expecting me to join the Legion to Chunwang City, are you? I'd normally be all for it, but…" She glanced at her extended arm, bandaged all the way through. The injuries she suffered at the hands of the Silver Archer are not so easily healed.
"...Yeah, I'm still kind of fucked up."
"Of course not, Katha." The Legatus replied with a ominously gentle shake of her head, "I'd never drag a mere
Aspirant into a city like Chunwang, let alone one as crippled as you are right now." Aretaphila let the sentence hang in the air for a moment, letting the atmosphere build.
"...So where am I--"
"I'm sending you to take charge of the Century we're applying towards resisting one of the Maze's new outgrowths. It should be low intensity enough for you to not push yourself overmuch, and as the one of the most famous of your generation your waving of the flag ought to help maintain discipline among your First Realm peers in doing their job." The Silver King's expression softened, radiating matronly affection.
"I'm having you be put in charge of coordinating that deployment. Isn't that
[fun?"
Engaging the Bramble Towers of the Insidious Poison Maze was usually the sort of thing even seasoned aspirants balked at. Trying to brave it while
crippled was a death wish. But Katha smirked confidently at that. "Sounds about right. Thank you for the opportunity,
Legatus."
"I'll see to it that you get hooked into the relay network of my
Bracers" Rina added in, somewhat conciliatory. "Given the nature of the plan, speed and obscurity will serve us far better within the Maze's depths than any degree of martial strength we can bring to bear, so I'll have the majority of my forces supplement the defenses and aid in any withdrawal, should the Maze expand despite our best efforts. You should be fine as long as they don't decide to launch a breakthrough attempt on our wing–and I'm fairly confident we'd be one of the harder targets anyway, so it'll probably fall on someone else's corner anyway."
The City of Experiments. Chunwang. Few places are more terrible, in concept, in execution, in crime against decency. As they say, there is no worse place than Chunwang.
Saying such is tantamount to saying that the sky is blue, or that the sun is hot. To become a place of torture told to countless children as a warning by their parents to keep them quiet before they sleep, it clearly cultivated a reputation of such. But saying that Chunwang is terrible is one thing.
Saria Duca lived it, though for how long she could no longer te.. Decades, at this point.
It was a stupid mistake, one not of her own making. For years they had squatted in the burnt out husk of Fa Yu City, enduring the raids of the Devil Bees all the while in an exceptionally precarious position. Too far from support, too hated to reinforce and too proud to retreat, they had gotten cut down to nubs before the order to retreat was finally given, and only because the Hong Xuan finally broke, and their Elder who lead the expedition finally saw the folly of his pride.
And he died for it, like a coward. Too prideful to face sanction for it at home, before the Clan.
From that point after, Saria could not say. She and her Century had gotten separated from the bulk of the Legion in the retreat, as she had volunteered for rearguard duties. And then the hunters came. The carrion of the Noble Knowledge Sect, here to pick at their shattered remnants for curiosities.
Unfortunately for Saria, she was one of those. Skin of silver amidst a sea of Bronze, a constitution that was both frail yet powerful. A true curiosity indeed. Maybe she should have killed herself, died with the rest of her Century.
Ah, could have been, would have been, should have been. What is is what matters. And what mattered is that Saria Duca was captured by the Noble Knowledge Expert, Zhang Ke, that killed them. And exhausted, she was in no condition to escape her fate, only hope that it came quickly and conclusively.
But the Old Worm, bastard he his, had other ideas.
But all her life, Saria had an unusual constitution. She was weaker than expected for her age and lineage, and when she took the Bronze she only got weaker. Her skin did not darken, her hair and eyes did not lighten. At times she could draw upon deep reservoirs of strength, certainly, but that was neither consistent nor reliable. Even rising into Foundation Establishment did little aid matters. On occasion, she could hit above her Small Realm. With all her strength, maybe verge into the Core stage. But her stamina always, always suffered.
That seemed to entice the old Noble Knowledge bastard, who seemed to delight in experimenting on her. Each day brought new tortures, each session was a new, agonising experience. Poisons, beast blood, all manner of elemental techniques. It was a wonder she was not dead yet.
But not once in these years did Saria wish to die. Begging for death would too easy. And for all that she had given up her old family when she was accepted into the Duca…
'Carry yourself with elegance, and you can endure forever.'
…Some things were useful, even now.
So Saria took the pain, the hunger, the gnawing hate, and focused it. Because dying would achieve nothing. The world desired their death, and that meant that even surviving was a victory. But she did not desire mere victory against the world.
Someday, sometime, when the moment comes, she will kill the Old Worm. Painfully, quickly, and with sudden spite.
Beyond that… Who could say?
Curiouser and curiouser, came the thought.
Even deep into the murky, squalid lands that the "Noble" Knowledge Sect hid their precious experiments in, the poisonous mists did their best to ensnare the senses. Warp the mind. Tear down the foundation of the Self and rot the Dantian into nothingness. Poor luck, them.
Bronze does not tarnish.
Poorer luck.
A
Duca is born into madness, caught in the wake of their shining talent.
Trying to curdle a mind already inured to the insanity of the world? Ha! Only a fool prepares a single weave of defense, generalized against all comers. But this man is no fool.
Wide, confident lips broke into an arrogant smirk in the violet haze of the Insidious Poison Maze. Green Patina uniform across the skin, the Bloods inherent protection brought out and redoubled. Golden eyes glinted, swimming the mirth of the superior as they lay eyes upon the darkly lit City of Experiments.
"Ah, but a City of scientists. Isn't that a thought?" The smile stilled, a single moment of aberrant unnaturality, but the expression relaxed to settle into a type of trained wariness. Eyes darted back and forth amongst the shrouded landscape, the lights of Chunwang chasing away the shadows cast by looming, mountainous trees that formed the structures of the Poison Maze itself. There, in the city, lay a certain objective; a treasure he had been sent to retrieve even as things came to a head. A crime of opportunity, you could say.
Still, there was only a slight window for an Expert to make all the difference, and he
had been dispatched with that in mind. For the Clan. For the Family. For the Blood. Qi circulates in his eyes, supernatural arts drawing him to the pit that held his first objective for the evening.
Wilem Duca blinked, the light in his eyes fading as a purple cloak rose over his shoulders, hood obscuring his features. The Golden Devil blended into the insidious mists, his form wavering and fading away into the ever-pervasive poison.
"The things we do for family…"
Within the Enlightened City of Chunwang were many territories; minor fiefdoms divided between the Three Steward Elders who held joint control over the day to day, and were in charge of it's most vital, most innovative, most
tremendous experiments. Positions of prestige, awarded by the newly formed Council of Noble Wisdoms, the ascended Nascent Souls of the Noble Knowledge Sect. Each Core Formation Elder a proxy of their patron Nascent, nominated and voted into position by majority consensus.
Elder Ghostface - a Mid Core Formation, genius of his craft. Shockingly low in cultivation for such a high ranking position, his ascension to Steward Elder was the only vote that had been truly unanimous. For the Great Ghost Serpents had been the culmination of his life's work: The assemblage of Tortured Souls of the former Flower and Arrow Sect requiring an immensely potent binding agent to restructure their echoes of suffering and grudges, congealing them into an ectoplasmic pseudo-flesh. If each cell in the human body were but a condensed structure that held far more mass in too small a space, then why not extend the metaphor? Each soul, held to the earth by forged misery, cunningly held down and drawn into a Dessicating Press, where the mortal spectres would be compressed. Endlessly compressed, and made to experience the full sensation of the process as they were converted from the echoes of the living into the howling and terrified screeching of an ant. A facsimile of the smallest factor of a great serpent, painstakingly recorded and recreated into a press.
The resulting Ghostflesh Sluice was a masterwork of efficiency, a transformation of a million mortal lives into raw Nascent Soul scale power only matched by the Demonic Altar itself! A marvelous act of conversion and energy efficiency! His rise was all but guaranteed, if only he was given further time and budget to advance his masteries of the undead.
The second Steward Elder was the man known as Elder Burst-Teeth, so named for his mastery of transformative biology through the act of brewed poisons. Where most fleshcrafters relied upon the peculiarities of Dao Magic or the properties of specific Treasures, or even mundane hand-applied molding of flesh, Burst-Teeth was a promising man who saw these methods as finicky. Inefficient. Too niche.
Too slow! A true Pursuer of Knowledge ought not spend all his time working on a single experiment, forced to keep his equipment from falling apart when there was proper research to be done! One's subjects ought to be left to steep, reforming themselves like a fine and potent venom, reducing the need for time and oversight to leave more room for not just the pursuit of Virtuous Innovation, but Cultivation as well! A remarkable talent, in the Great Circle of Core Formation at an early 460 years of age. Though considered otherwise impetuous, he at least was not a coward. A willingness to prove the efficacy of his methods early on in his life lead to him taking his own crafted concoctions, the transformation intended to give him exploding venom glands instead endlessly caused them to split apart from the potent mixture. Hence his Noble name, Burst-Teeth!
Through the further refinement of his methodology, he has developed more and more potent poisons and elixirs - the cause of his rapid advancements in both cultivation and his personal research no doubt!
Lastly…Lastly, of course, was Old Ironbone. The second Great Circle Steward Elder, and until recently the sole Steward of the Experiment City. Responsible for administration and the running of the Chattel Pens, Old Ironbone is the premier fleshcrafter of the Insidious Poison Maze, a title which Burst-Teeth looks upon with envy. The proverbial artisan, Ironbone is a peerless surgeon, more aware than any other of the intricacies of the human bodies most basic building blocs, his treatise on Cellular Adaptivity the foundation of many other advancements taken within the Noble Knowledge Sect in recent centuries. A boon of experimentation and innovation fueled by the breaking of the accursed Poison Crushing Siege throwing open the Chattel Markets for new and diverse subjects!
Of the three, Old Ironbone is the most skilled in combat, enough to suppress any of the many challengers he's faced for his position of Steward for the centuries that he has held the City of Experiments. A curious form of iron, far harder and more malleable than even Spirit Steel serve as his bones, over which he exerts perfect control, projecting them from his flesh to rend his enemies in close combat. On top of that, his mastery of fleshcrafting has lead to him developing secret arts of incredible regeneration, citing the secrets of Cells which he has promised to only reveal when ready to break through into Nascent Soul; an incredible discovery to draw much from the Maze in order to fuel his ascension.
"I…
may sound slightly too excited there," Wilem Duca mutters to himself, glancing at a Jade Slip in his hands, in which is recorded his impressions and research on the City of Chunwang, accumulated since his initial entry into the city with Magnus Centenius nearly a month ago.
The streets of the city were rank, depressing things in spite of the harsh lights that filled it. The aerosolized poisons and venoms in the air endlessly ate at and eroded the buildings of the Experiment City, only ever repaired by Chattel when a building had collapsed, or the decay had compromised a vital laboratory or other useful facility.
The streets of the city were empty, the night time being the period of the Sweepers. Those who cared nothing for your identity, merely whether or not you were strong to resist abduction and reduction to Chattel. To walk the streets of Chunwang was to court a deep, deep fall for those with neither strength to fight nor with knowledge to bargain.
The streets welcomed him, a sense of familiarity in the cloaked man who stalked them. Eyes burning with a fervent thirst, the quiet menace and threat of not violence, but
suffering. The stalk of a predator seeking prey of a specific sort, for not even Sweepers were free of the game that the denizens of Chuwang played.
Wilem Duca stalked the streets of the Experiment City in an unerring line. Footsteps quiet, and unmolested. The streets led him to the depths of Old Ironbone's partition of the city - a place of screams and compressed humanity, the smell of the bloody Chattel causing his nose to twitch. A golden flicker of light accompanied by a deep frown of dissatisfaction.
"Wasteful." He muttered, his gaze turning away from the victims of the City, and towards his current objective: A stinking pit in place of honor, a sunken depression in the city, the center of which held a vast mansion sagging into its own foundations - as rotted through as the rest of the city.
Zhang Ye was the Old Worm, a former assistant of Ironbone that was infamous for his once-upon-a-time rise into prominence, his research on the practice of Familiars and Puppets to serve as a type of biological prosthesis catching Old Ironbone's eye around the beginning of the Archegete's reign. He'd attempted to follow the example of his erstwhile mentor, but for every successful experiment there were scores upon scores of forgotten failures that paved the way for them.
No price was too great for progress, as any true adherent of the Noble Knowledge Sect well knows, but the Old Worm's studies soon proved to be intolerable. Not because of their brutality, for the Sect knows no such line in the sand, but because of their
inefficiency. The Old Worm, they said, was obsessed, and too fixated on what he knew to learn what he
didn't. And so his star had fallen as well, even as he sank decades upon decades of his life into trying to replicate the eponymous Ironbone of his once-sponsor.
And now he locked himself into the mansion at the heart of Chunwang, refusing to rise into Core Formation until he could grasp at those secrets for himself.
A distant master, for some. Perfect prey, for others.
Others like a humble servant of a
higher power. A more
enlightened sort.
The dilapidated mansion was silent as a grave, a long held breath awaiting the exhalation of change within it's molding heart; be it the passing of the Worm at its, or the summoning of Tribulation to mark a new beginning as it became something
new.
Silently, the purple clothed figure stalked those lightless halls. Golden light cutting through the shadows, stepping onto plush carpet. Not even a single defensive array to protect the atelier. Wilem shook his head with a growing smirk.
These Noble Knowledge types were so
soft, so used to enlightenment being freely
taken that they neglected to protect their secrets like the treasures that they were.
Nestled deep within the sinkhole, the mansion's foundations dipped towards the epicenter of it all. Doubtless the property had once held firm earth to buttress it's foundation, but over time increasing expansion ever downwards into the poisoned mantle of the land had lead to the barely covered pit of today. And so Wilem descended. Where hallways split, and there were many doors to choose from, the cowled Expert would test the ground, always and ever following the incline into what would inevitably be the entrance to this disaster in the making.
Deep within the earth, at the bottommost layer of the Worm's Pit was Zhang Ye's most private, most secure lab. The beating heart of his Journey where he sought to unlock the secrets of his once-master's techniques from beyond the reach of even the roots of the Insidious Poison Maze.
A dank, shadowed crypt in which blocks of chittering metal whirred and chirped their alien tongue. Pipes bulged and strained with grotesque flexibility, passing through their misshapen cargo with the elegance of bodily rejection, accompanied by near-inaudible shrieks and cries of pain in from their passage.
There was no natural light in this place, the only source of illumination being sparks of Metal Aspected Qi sparked into the darkness, revealing monstrous equipment which spun endlessly, a viscous silver and gray mixture endlessly stirred despite the attempts to separate them.
In the center of this moaning, groaning, panting and pained obscenity hunched a wrinkled form carrying the air of a weathered Expert. Pale of skin and pallid of flesh, bereft of hair and bearing an inhuman gait. The Worm That Walked made true his moniker, shuffling towards the audible straining of steel accompanied by the crunching of stone. A trembling hand shot out - the meat of it bulging and shifting as if animated by a mind of its own - and with a snap a sliver of jade was grasped between its fingers.
With a crack of thunder, white light illuminated the old man's face; sunken flesh drooping off rounded cheekbones, clenched teeth the only shape to arise from a sunken chin, quivering with poorly restrained anger. Sallow, pitch eyes bulged out from misshapen sockets, clammy skin sweating profusely, the slime-like excretions gathering unto the blunt snout of the creature through the force of gravity alone.
Putrid liquids poured from purple gums, seeping between clenched teeth.
"Damn it all!" Zhang Ye spat, the dark fluids smacking loudly as they hit the befouled floor, "Ten years, and still unable to separate the material enough to produce a coherent analysis!" Black orbs turned to glare at the cause of his frustration; a great slab of dull metal in place of pride amongst his machines. Crafted from the best Spiritsteel he could afford at the height of his influence, the table had been rated to hold anything up through the Great Circle of Foundation Establishment. Lying upon it was the metallic form of a woman. Beautiful of face. Bountiful of body. Animated in spite of being restrained for the better part of decades, experimented upon endlessly. An immense will that frustrated Zhang Ye, behind which lay the secrets to his Enlightenment, the completion of his Dao and the means to surpass the Old Man who had all but abandoned him after stealing his work!
"All this time, Saria Duca, and
still your body refuses to reveal its secrets!" A second gob of putrified blood slapped against the floor, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't write this off as a loss and just kill you here!"
The silver woman's face remained placid, save for a slight wrinkling of her nose.
Save for a light of pure disgust as her eyes gazed upon her decrepit captor.
"Within Old Ironbone lays some secret of the flesh's natural properties, I
know it! He's somehow taken the creatures which make up the body, and
improved them somehow to withstand the rigors he puts them through. A superlative regeneration
not unlike your Golden Devil Clan! He even coated his bones in an organic iron, just like what I found mixed in your blood!" The Old Worm shrieked, spittle flying as he pointed accusingly at the countless spinning centrifuges. The result of years of work to try and separate the young woman's blood into its constituent parts.
All impotently going about their work, even after years of ceaseless cycling.
"
Tell me," The Worm growled, "Once I know, I can empower my constituent parasites to the level of his own bodily organisms! Until then, I can not break through with the certainty of True Enlightenment!"
There was no answer.
"Just
tell me," Zhang Ye hissed, "Tell me what I'm
missing."
"A vision."
Zheng He's eyes bulged out impossibly, his form trembling as masses crawled to and fro beneath his flesh, the pallid skin strained to and fro as the neck rotated bonelessly, the Worm's gaze sweeping to and fro blindly.
"Who was that?!"
"A devil." The voice replied, husky and heady with confidence born of absolute superiority. A chuckle, "Of the noblest of metals, some might say."
"A
devil," Zhang Ye repeated, lips dripping with disdain, "Here to rescue my subject, I'd wager." Lips drawn back in a veiny snarl, "If you're here to lecture me on your vapid morality, then begone! When I crack the secret of your alien blood I'll pass on a missive or something for you to come crawling to me for the knowledge."
The air
cracked with laughter, accompanied by the fizzing of sparks of Qi, echoing endlessly from surface to surface. Up, down, left, right, back, front did Zhang Ye's neck swivel endlessly, beady black orbs seeking its source in futility.
"
Secrets?" The voice sneered, "The Blood holds no secrets from us.
Worm."
"And you choose not to share this bounty? Pah," The Worm spat again, "You backwards aliens, hiding away that which ought to be freely shared." Its eyes swiveled back towards its prisoner for a moment, should his prize become under threat, "With all that you lose, the least you can do is give it to better stewards so it ought not be lost."
"Show me this
better steward," The Devil replied with a throaty chuckle, "All I see is a failure trapped in the second great realm. You beg for scraps of knowledge you're unable to take for yourself. Ambition. Vision." The voice grew serious, "Without those things, you're not some researcher plumbing the world for Truth. Just another slug crawling on the ground; a savage frog lusting for swan meat.
"Look around at this
primitive equipment," The voice drawled on, his voice echoing ominously, "And the filthy state of this hovel of dirt you call a laboratory." The sneer crept back into his voice, "Ten years you've held an ideal sample, and it remains so far past your ability to understand that it may as well be Mt. Tai. You're no scientist." A snort.
"Hell, you're barely even a
person. Lesser than those slaves you keep in pens. At least they
look like a bug didn't crawl up their ass before settling down to invite friends over."
A vein bulged in Zhang Ye's head, before resolving once more into a lump of autonomous, shapeless flesh that crawled down to sink within his baggy clothes. The putrid life fluids flooded freely from clenched, yellowed teeth. Trembling endlessly, the Worm's head bonelessly flopped to and fro in search of the Devil which had entered
his home, insulted
his research!"
"You come to my
home. You
insult my work! What gives you the right, who do you think you are?!"
A new sound is added to the cacophony of the room, a soft
thump as well-heeled boots stamp upon the encrusted floor of the laboratory.
"Well, y'know…" Wilem Duca said with a shrug, as Zhang Ye's jaw slackened in shock and pure, impotent rage,
"I'm something of a scientist myself."
The moment came.
Saria seized it with both hands, with viciousness that startled even her.
Manacles of Spiritsteel, inscribed with arrays that drew away strength from those bound and added it to the restraints, were suddenly overcome as Saria snapped free. Even dry on Qi, even weakened by over a decade of starvation just precisely measured to keep her alive, the manacles shattered around the arms of a Golden Devil.
She moved, faster than sight, faster than fast, the weight of her passage the whispered hiss of a flashing blade. In moments one hand was wrapped rightly around Zhang Ye's neck, and as she saw the sudden fear in the old man's eyes she found that she did not have even the slightest inclination to voice her frustrations.
Her grip, vice-like, closed. Zhang Ye's head flew free of his shoulder blades.
As the poisoned mist fell over the experimentation room, Saria's other hand snapped out and closed around the true Zhang Ye's hand as his puppet body clattered to the ground with wooden thumps, seemingly unaffected by poisons powerful enough to kill a man retroactively.
"W-When did…" the old man hissed, fearful and furious at the same time. She read him like an open book; the poisons that the Noble Knowledge Sect so prized, the ones that he himself no doubt prepared just for her, were having no apparent effect. His eyes darted at the interloper, Wilem Duca. "Y-You! How did you--"
"Me?" Wilem Duca asked, affecting innocence. "I have done nothing, you miserable worm. You are the one who forgot the most important detail."
He leaned in close, smiling broadly and toothily.
"The heart, Zhang Ye. You forgot her
heart!"
Saria Duca squeezed, and Old Worm's forearms fell to pieces. Her hand, flat and knife-shaped, plunged through his abdomen like a hot knife through butter. "Many know the famous words of my Clan," the silver beauty sneered. "Fewer know the words of my family. No pact with unrepentant evil. Destroy the Enemies of the Imperator."
Then and there, the old man realized his folly. She was not proof to his poisons, not really. But he had, in his lust to study the secrets of her unusual body, neglected a crucial fact.
She was Saria Duca, but only by adoption. Her true family, the one from whose bloodline she hails, are comprised entirely of psychotic, remorseless killers. So long as it was in the Imperator's name, there was no price too great, no act too evil.
Every moment the old man had kept her in his custody was merely another signature on his death warrant.
Saria's hand swung up, Zhang Ye fell, blooming like a flower.
Only then did she fall, her knees weakened, not merely from poison but from overexertion. But that too was fine. She did not plan on surviving past this point, only killing Zhang Ye.
The odds of escaping Chunwang were too incredible to even consider. This, at least, was a victory.
"And you're an amazing creature, Saria Theodoros." Wilem extended a hand bearing a vial and a face rag. "
You and I are not so different, you know?"
She looked up at him, eyes irritated and puffy. She took the vial and downed it in a single swallow, then wrapped the rag around her mouth. The poison was not due to kill her for at least a few hours, but this should keep her strong. "It's
Duca, Wilem. why are
you here?"
"Breaking the mother of all omelets, my dear." His hand was still extended. "Care to join me?"
It was not even a consideration. Saria grabbed it, with all the meager strength she could muster. As she stood, the anger that had buoyed her where sustenance could not ebbed away, and the silver beauty slowly, fractionally but significantly, became a wallflower. "Are you alone, or…?"
"Does the Clan ever move alone?" Wilem asked rhetorically, bracing his feet against the filthy floor to pull the surprisingly hefty woman to her feet, "To be honest with you, picking you up is something of a target of opportunity, my dear
cousin."
The patina-covered Expert's expression smoothed out as Saria stood, "The Clan's been requested by the Blood Defiance Federation - were you aware of the name before you were captured?"
"The name might be new but the politics aren't. Is Strength Purity tired of dying for the South?" A nod. Saria sighed. "About time, honestly. Jockeying for positions at a time like this…"
"Right," Wilem continued, "So we have the Legions dispatched to the Great Battlefield en masse to bolster the Righteous Path forces after the ascension of a new Single Pillar King had brought down some kind of mists on us all, attempting to curse everyone in the region with the corruption of the Blood Path. Heaven retaliated as it occurred, right as the Grand Elder brought an end to the Jingshen Clan's Nascent Souls." Blue eyes shone with fervent energy.
Lilac eyes widened in turn. "Wait… Old Jingshen is dead? Lady Jiao, too?"
"Marvelous, isn't it? The desert is
ours, cousin. This little show for the Righteous Powers? It's meant to remind them that we have the strength to go from fighting
them to then
fighting their wars for them." The Centurion chuckled, "And they will
thank us for it." Patina-lined lips curled into a satisfied smirk.
"I… I see." It was a lot to take in for Saria, whose last memory of the Clan was of recovery, and some limited outreach to the Fearless Line. To hear that it had become triumphant in her absence… It was wonderful, of course. But part of her smarted that she was not part of it. On the forefront of the war.
Saria shook her head. These thoughts again. She was no Rina Callista or Riala, she was not suited to the frontline. That demanded strength,
consistently. "So. Why are you here in Chunwang?"
"Yes…" Wilem's eyes shifted from a piece of Zhang Ye's equipment back to the silverine woman, "Of course. The 501st and 302nd Legio along with a smattering of other Clan Chosen have been dispatched to the Poison Crushing Siege to aid in containing its growth as well as engage in a retrieval mission for a captured Bear Enslavement Core Elder." He turned to scan the room, golden light pouring from his eyes as they sought the exit to the laboratory.
"The Noble Knowledge Sect has captured many of those, Wilem. You'll have to be more specific."
"Something Kumaking or whatever, who can even keep track of what these savages call themselves?" Muttering to himself, the Expert gestured for Saria to follow him as they began the laborious process of walking back to the surface.
"The operation was split into two teams," Wilem continued as they moved upwards, "One for infiltration." One finger held itself out, "One for extraction." A second joined it, "I'm part of the infiltration team, tasked with gathering intelligence for meeting with the extraction team when they arrive. Our leader's gone silent on communication, so I found some free time in my
very busy schedule to spend on getting you out of this hole in the ground, Saria
Duca." He turned a toothy grin to her.
Saria scoffed, though there was little heat. Far be it for her to be ungrateful to her liberator, annoying in-law he might be. "Patronizing ass," she said.
"Ah, you wound me. But you'll get a kick out of this; it's a real
who's who of our generation's big names. Aren't you lucky to meet some celebrities? It's not every day you get to meet members of the Indomitable Thirteen!"
Her eyebrow quirked upwards. "Members? Multiple?"
"That's right, infiltrations managed by the Lush Squid himself. Somewhere beneath our feet he's spent the past month setting traps and brewing poisons nonstop. And who should be coming to meet him to lead the breakout? The Ninth Prince, accompanied by the Gold and Silver Kings with their Legions! I knew you hadn't recognized their names, oh cousin of mine."
The streets remain eerily empty even unto the starless twilight, the two scions of the Duca family marching out into the heavily misted fields beyond Chunwang's walls. There were few to watch, for why patrol the city's borders? The point of Chunwang was not to prevent the curious from approaching, but to stop the desperate from
fleeing. And the hulking, oppressive figure forcing the hunched waif into the foreboding poison of the Insidious Maze was as common a sight as any.
Mists grew thicker, an indigo haze steadily deepening into a billowing purple fog that obscured the senses through their proliferate poison. Not even stray qi was left unaffected, swiftly broken down and incorporated into the self-propagating properties of this unnatural growth. Save for a singular aberration. A roiling, righteous heat
pulsed just beyond Chunwang's reach, and it was to this beacon of light that the pair stalked towards.
"Centurion Immunes Duca," Wilem greeted the blazing heat with a smart salute, "It's good to see you're all here on schedule, ah…" There was only a single individual before him, casting out that aura of reproach against the ever-present evil. He blinked, lips setting into a serious line.
"Legatus Callista."
"Good to see that you've made it out" Rina Callista nodded there, lowering the hood of the Qi-Masking Cloak she had requisitioned for the mission. "The security of
Chunwang may not be a candle on the Dawn Fortress, but the capital of any Great Power isn't to be trifled with." Her attention shifted then to Saria–and she
locked on like a hawk given sight of an unexpected, but delightful bonus. "... Centurion Saria Duca?" She said, a trace of wonder in her voice. "We had feared you slain from the survivors of the expedition you were part of, do you know if there were any others taken? We should be able to expand our operation to liberate them as well."
Saria practically jumped in her skin when the Legate addressed her by name and rank. The drive and heat that had driven her to kill the Old Worm hours earlier had all but left her by now, and despite her expectations and, some might even say,
hopes that she would keep some of that belligerent energy, she had already largely returned to her former meekness.
The Golden King knew her name? And she'd only gotten stronger since! No, focus, they are here for a
mission and you are
not about to distract yourself from that! "N-Nay, Legatus. I'm sorry, but I'm the only survivor I know. Honestly, I'm not sure how I survived this long. When Wilem distracted the Old Worm, I fully expected to die taking him down." She breathed deeply, in and out, stilling her still-fraying nerves. Alright.
Now she could ask the question on her mind. "But respectfully, Legate Callista… How do you know my name?"
Rina's face fell at that, and she shook her head. "A shame, I would not see any of our kin languish in a pit like this for a second longer than it took to extract them, still, it is good that you're in one piece."
The Centurion's question did deserve a suitable answer. "I make a point of memorizing the names and ranks of those who fall in the Clan's name, doing good work despite the risk, especially those who have not been
confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt to be slain. One never knows when they turn up alive, and in immediate need of succor, and for that, I cannot afford to spend time waiting for word to be sent from headquarters."
She looked then to Wilem and smiled. "You've done well, very well indeed, I will see to it that you are credited appropriately for the high risk rescue, above and beyond any other results of your mission."
"It's always a pleasure when duty and the job work at aligned purposes, Legatus." Wilem smiled back through his salute, "Still, speaking of the results - I should hope they prove satisfactory." A flex of his fingers produced a jade slip, which was lifted by the tendrils of an invisible hand to be deposited into the Legate's hands at her command. Wilem's eyes widened slightly at the casual display of Dao Magic, before narrowing in contemplation.
"Please, take your time to familiarize yourself with the political situation within the city. Centurion Centenius went dark almost immediately upon arrival, so his whereabouts are unknown. It's my understanding that Legatus Myia was to be in charge of the second phase of this operation…May I ask where everyone else is, Ma'am?"
Rina sends a strand of her Will into the jade slip, rapidly sifting through the data gathered. "... Tch, loose sand indeed," She muttered. "They've gotten fat and arrogant under the protection of their Poison Maze, more interested in competing for who can be the most novel rather than securing their own foundation. I had thought Aretaphila's scheme was overly bold, but it seems she saw further than I did."
She looked up, and considered the information and further. "Three Core Formation Stewards… Tricky, I would give myself good odds against an Early Core in a rapid battle, and I could hold my own against a Middle Core, but the two Great Circles…" She frowned. "Tricky, we'll have to hope that Magnus is brewing up something appropriate when he shows himself, but if he's broken off contact and yet security hasn't been tightened, he's likely preparing to make his move when it would do the most damage." Then, she grinned. "I'm eager to see what the Clan's greatest rising poison master alongside Minervina Barda could do with a secret lair and plenty of time to scheme. As for the rest… They're about, it's dangerous to move in large groups, and it's critical to move quickly before the Maze can lock onto us. We have a mobile headquarters at any rate if we need to link up in the near future."
Saria nodded. "I remember the way Old Worm brought me into the city, and I'm sure Wilem found another road in. A day or two to rest up and recuperate and I can join your mission - if you'll have me, Legatus!" she added hastily, her voice quavering at the end.
Rina continued analyzing the Jade Slip, and frowned. "No time for that unfortunately, we have to go now."
"
Exactly." A voice whispers from beyond the veil of burning light, echoing hauntingly. A susurrus of sound and song permeates the ear of the gathered three, and the presence of a second King makes itself known. The diminutive silver of its body is perhaps duller than that of Saria, but the electric blue in her gaze far outshined the former Theodoros' scion's in terms of intensity.
"Y-"
"You can rest when you're dead." Rina absently raised a fist, and the noise and sound sputtered out. "Now that you've killed the Old Worm, they'll go on high alert at any moment, and our window will close. Which means we need to launch our assault as soon as possible, my apologies."
"Yes, that's correct." The Silver King added, leveling a slight glare at the Callista scion before continuing, "I've been busy managing the distribution of forces." Aretaphila snapped her fingers, and Rina tossed the jade slip to her shorter companion, "Heh, this is good work." Her cyclopic gaze wandered over the two Duca, "Fine work. Things are about to fall apart, thankfully we can send a pretty big signal to get everything started."
Wilem nods at her, "The plan then, Legatus?"
The Thousand Songstress grinned wickedly, "We stand before a den of sin, everyone. Oppressive cruelty even more malicious than that which Heaven laid down upon the
Optimatoi, made worse not because of some long forgotten offense caused by our own actions…But the simple callous disregard for their fellow humanity. Not even the Blood Path are so atrocious."
Aretaphila Myia's single eye hoods lazily, "I've spoken with Anush and Galene," A slight pressure, and the susurrus rises up once more to obscure their conversation, "They're going to wait until I go loud, at which point they'll lead the initial breakouts. There's no way that Magnus will miss that opening. It'll be up to you to link up with them…" The Legatus' expression turns deadly serious, "Legatus Callista. I'll do what I can to support you from the back, and Magnus doubtless has his own measures. But once this starts you two will be in a great deal of danger."
"If I wasn't, then it would mean I'm not hitting them hard enough," Rina smirked. "Just do your part, I'll do mine."
The Jade slip was tossed back at Rina, before a diminutive hand slapped her in the back.
"The kids will be joining me. Any problems?"
"None at all, I can't carry anyone else with me at full speed after all." Rina smugly pats Aretaphila on the head once or twice. "I'll trust you with their security!"
Saria looked at her, frowning hard enough that her eyes were bulging. This broke the fundamentals of planning an offensive. She only
just got out of Chunwang, and now they were all going right back in. It was insane to do that off a gut feeling, whether or not time is short, and it was insane that
she was ready to go with them!
But you were going to kill yourself killing Old Worm. Is this any different?
Saria sighed internally. "Just one. Is there still a slot for me, Legate Myia?"
Said Legate blinked at the Expert, suddenly struck by a sense of faint recognition and nostalgia, "You know what?" She chuckled sardonically, "I was
just wondering what I was missing. A precocious Junior ought to fit the bill quite nicely." Two silver fingers snap with a ringing sound, "Consider yourself field promoted to Temporary XXI, Centurion Duca."
"Aye, Legatus." Saria saluted, smart and firm despite her attire being little more than rags and a cloak. "Your first order of business?"
The Silver King smiled, the expression chiming audibly. "Don't die."
"Centurion Immunes Wilem Duca," Aretaphila began as the three of them returned to the city, cloaked by an obscuring Demonic Tunes Art that surrounded them in an oddly comforting crackling noise, "I trust you understand the operation parameters, insofar as they exist?"
"You've done me a great favor, Legatus." Wilem replied, "A plan so simple as to be impossible to get wrong? What's not to like?"
She giggled in response, "Then you know that a man of your talents is wasted in the scrum. Temporary XXI will be enough," Saria blinked at the moniker, had she been serious? "So I need you to have free rein to throw the enemy into confusion so that the mass of bodies will be telling."
"Hehehe," The man chuckled, "That's quite the load of responsibility you're putting on my shoulders there, Legatus. It's not often that a Duca is let off their proverbial leash."
Aretaphila tilted her head, "Your family existed before the Esteemed Elder, and it will exist long after her. It wouldn't do to judge you all by her…eccentricities."
The Expert turned away to stare into the harsh light of the cities, his purple hood obscuring his features, "...Understood, Legatus." His voice turned harsh, guttural, professional, "May the Imperator's gaze watch over you."
"...Temporary XXI?" Saria shook her head. Not the time. "Nevermind. Any place in particular you want to start this, Legatus? Or do you just need me to run interference and add punctuation?" The dramatic sensibilities of the Thousand Songstress are, after all, well known to the Clan, or anyone who has ever read the Miracle at Pleuron.
"No," Aretaphila replied, "Though my physical stature leaves all before me in awe…" She flexed her bicep a bit for emphasis, "When I'm in the throes of my Song I tend to be unable to defend myself. Especially when in the midst of greater workings of it." Her thoughts returned to Thousand Song and the terrifying moments where she stood alone against Junjie Jingshen, "This time I will be attempting to entrance the entire city of Chunwang in my Song, and this will require me to focus absolutely on my own efforts."
Her sole eye glanced back towards Saria, "I'll need you to protect me from any would be assassins or the like as we empower and lead an army of freed mortal slaves to strike back at their enemies."
"Can I count on you, Saria Duca?"
There was something appropriate about this state of affairs. The younger of the silver Experts never expected to be running escort for one of the Indomitable Thirteen, but it was all too fitting. "Without question," she said, and the declaration rang heavier than just her promise. "By my oath, you won't shed even a drop of blood."
"How reliable, unlike the Actual XXI." The Silver King snorted as Wilem stalked into the shadows of Chunwang, vanishing shortly after. "Now it's just us two silver girls. Why doesn't the Junior tell this world wise Senior about herself while the menfolk finish setting things up for us?"
"...Of course." Saria wondered if she should talk about her life as a Duca, or perhaps before that. A clear note rang out from somewhere she could not place, making the decision for her. "Well, my troubles began when my father didn't know what to do with me…"
The eternal lights of Chunwang flickered.
One great aberration, that lasted only for a blink. A moment where the City of Experiments went dark, enwrapped by Shadow.
Within the heart of the city was a great hall. For debate. For presentation. A monument to the games played by the seminal minds which made Chunwang the beating heart of the Noble Knowledge. A single edifice of proud marble in the style of the Clan, stained a Royal Purple by the poisons which filled the air.
Vera Iustitia est Cogitatio, declared a burnished plate above the
forum of the Noble Knowledge Sect. Not the tallest building in the city, nor the widest. But it was the foundation from which the rest of the City of Experiments eclectically sprung forth like a great wave, a cancer of concrete and more base construction methods.
Lights shone brightly, strobing beams of pale luminescence that fell upon a singular figure. A mess of equipment from another time arrayed about her in an Array carefully constructed by a genius Blacksmith of the generation.
"Were you there at Thousand Song, by any chance?" Aretaphila asked, her cyclopian gaze set upon a thin tool meant to channel her voice through the carefully positioned Amplification Stones.
"No… I was in Clan territories at the time, assisting in that… matter at Seven Tourney's City. The expedition alongside the Hong Xuan was the first I'd ever passed through the Colossus Footstep Pass." She glanced briefly at Aretaphilla before she had to avert her gaze. "I heard about the Siege, though… Some called it the Heaven Shaking Siege."
"Hmm," The Legatus tapped her fingers by her side, "Then enjoy, and feast your ears upon this wonder."
The air shifted, light seeming to boil as it reflected from silverine flesh .Where before the luster on the diminutive figure had seemed lacking compared to that which constituted Saria's own flesh, now a massive, unrelenting
vitality thrummed, emanated from it. A light, mounting pressure began pressing onto the taller woman with every purposeful step the Silver King took. Her strides long, impossibly so in defiance of her physical frame. What had been white light broke and scattered from her flesh, a prismatic riot of colors unknown and unnatural, casting the illusion of a sensuous figure taller and jadelike.
Energy pulsed within the Songstresses sole eye, the electric blue rioting with the powers of Heaven, burning ever brighter as she approached her weapon, her tool, the symbol of her life. The thin metal seemed like a scepter - the stone topping it a jewel.
Reality
wrenched, and a lustrous silver hammer appeared behind the Singer's back, invisible, ineffable will swinging it forward into her back.
"
LISTEN TO MY SONG!" The Sound rang, flung through the air upon winds of Dao Magic, the Single Pillar carrying it with all the weight and pressure of the Heavenly Decree.
What had been a few beams of light became several, the signs of visual arts and the refracting qi and magnification turning on their sights. Three roars of outrage followed, sovereign and commanding.
The Bell rang once more, and this note carried a challenge, the noise drowning out even the raw screams which ever filled the rotted halls of this filthy cyst upon reality. A lance had come at last to sear it in purifying flame, and all its works would tremble and be laid to waste.
Like filthy pus, thousands of cultivators and their war slaves boiled onto the streets of Chunwang, their screams and roars of challenge met against the Clear Summer's Bell and for a moment their vapid arrogance rendered them equal in volume. The two sounds clashed, a high ringing note of Defiance at the Unjust, a rejection of this befoulment of the World. The screams of Whips and Lashes met it, the jangling of chains resisted it, the Jeers of the Enslaver and the Screams of the Enslaved pushed back at it.
But as the streets filled, converging upon the befouled
Forum the three notes had been enough distraction. A great mist of acrid and colorless smog rose up from the streets beneath Chunwang, blanketing its myriad paths in subtle and pervasive ways. Where once had been great bulwarks intended to seal the city against experiments gone wrong, complex mechanisms and arrays found themselves sabotaged, no longer an impediment to the ephemeral tentacles of Magnus Centenius.
A fourth note is struck. A call to arms at last, resonating within the city and the Ghostly-Chains Scouring Fog, empowering it with Heaven Shaking Song as it tore at the bonds which enslaved the victims of befouled Chunwang. A song of broken chains echoed through the streets, through the buildings, seeping into the unseen pits on wings of liberating mist that shone with all the hues of the sun. Freedom, a reminder of what lay beyond the artificial lights of the miserable City of Experiments.
The first to answer announced themselves with a booming, ghostly laugh, accompanied by a chorus of hisses. The Notes latched onto the declaration, the wordless song becoming a percussive beat, the pounding of hearts and feet. Four Hundred were the first wave of freedmen set to accompany the Ninth Prince, and he led with aplomb as his spiritual form shook with the empowering Song.
In the heart of Chunwang, the clamor dimmed, and became doubt as the spiritual bonds of servitude which formed the foundation of all its sins weakened. Rotted. And so the Song told the many warbeasts and enslaved Cultivators…
Resist, and fight. Resist, and rise!
Feel the pulsing beat in your heart and grasp the heat in your breast!
You have two hands, two feet, teeth and the body that god and circumstance gave! So take it all back!
Set your feet, grit your teeth!
AND PULL!
The Noise of Chunwang paused, a note of doubt and fear running through it. The Song united all in its chorus, either willing or not. And so as they were connected by the Singer's performance, the wicked hearts of men felt the coming moment with a terrified anticipation.
ONE!
A great chant met the percussive defiant beat.
"ONE!" She screamed.
TWO!
As one, feet stomped, firming their ground.
"TWO!" She cheered.
THREE!
"AND BREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!" She sang!
A noise of breaking glass, tearing steel, and shorn souls rang throughout the City of Experiments - Freedom had descended upon Chunwang, and with it the burning light of the Sun shorn away the darkness as a Golden Paragon stood mightily in challenge.
The Noise shifted for a third time, as former slaves found that the Song had not left their bodies. Rather bereft of their chains they buzzed with an incredible energy. The burning heat that had united them shifted to anger, shifted to raw hatred.
The Noise of Chunwang became screams uncounted, a million slaves falling upon their oppressors with righteous vengeance. The defiance of their living finally bearing the fruit that they themselves had given up on, broken down like a pestle grinding against stone. The lie was that they had never stood a chance. The truth was that they had merely been waiting for an opportunity to believe. To believe in themselves. To believe in something greater.
To believe in something
better so that they might take it.
The auras of three Core Formation Elders rose up in challenge, not as a Noise but as a Bellows, off key pronouncements of the end of a rebellion, a dirge and echo that sought to bring an end to the Song and its machinations upon their city. But the victims of Chunwang were not the only ones empowered by the Song, and so three Core Formation clashed against two of the mightiest Experts of the Imperial
Optimatoi. Spectral flesh warped and bubbled, an ectoplasm that sought to invade the spirit and corrupt the soul.
Monsters robbed of reason and humanity accompanied the second; a minor orchestra of their own that bayed their challenge against the Royalty arrayed against them. But Freedom poisoned those miserable wretches, and so they turned against their murderer with hate-filled eyes in a moment of lucid resolve.
An Early Core Formation Song rose into the Great Circle in response, and cut off its unruly hands before joining the greater battle.
A mass of formless flesh in the shape of a man faced the harsh light of the Golden King, meeting it's Orichalcum like body with Base Iron, and a percussive clash followed.
The Song echoed across Chunwang, and though so many died, there was draped in the city uncountable smiles of the satisfied amongst the horrified rictus' of the terrified. The prismatic fog fell over them, one and all, obscuring their bodies and dissolving the final links between them as they fell into whatever Doom awaited them.
Beats echoed. Chants roared. Feet stamped. Lights shone, strobing beams of illumination that chased away the shadows and revealed the wicked, and endless font of strength empowering the formerly powerless to resist without tiring or weakness. The strength of the Singer's Dao Heart firmed their own resolve, and their hearts moved as one in righteous intent.
Impossible Odds finally began to play against the Snake God and the Bronze Paragon, the strength of three Great Circle Elders finally pressing across the gulf of Great Realms even through the empowerment of the Song.
The first flame sparked in the flesh looms of the city, a cackling goblin playing a mischievous prank.
The second conflagration arose in the Ecto-Presses, planted there weeks ago by a cunning poisoner. It burned with a venom of terror and panic, that planted itself in the souls of the wicked and filled them with fear for works undone.
A hiss of challenge carried through the air as thousands of smaller fires rose up in timing with the beats of the Song, waving and cheering as they propagated endlessly. Unnatural light was supplanted and overwhelmed by purifying flame, and Chunwang began to burn as the Ninth Prince seemingly began to flag and flee.
The first and richest of the Core Formation auras turned away from what seemed to be an all but finished task, and instead moved to reclaim the heart of his Jewel. A tactless man who sought to interfere with the performance before it was finished.
Old Ironbone strode through the masses of the emboldened and empowered, his namesake weapons cleaving through flesh and Song alike. The strikes of those who sacrificed themselves willingly to wound him were repaired instantly, his miraculous physiology instantly healing and replacing the lost and ruinated flesh.
"Enough of this, Golden Devil." His voice boomed out, matching on its own the Song but not suppressing it. The two Sounds were equal, but for the first time the Heaven Shaking Song found itself unable to sink into and incorporate the other into its greater performance.
Where bright lights scattered across the Silver Songstress, the flames pitched dark shadows over the features of the Eldest of the Three Stewards. Tall, imposing, threatening death as Aretaphila continued her Song.
Thousands of the newly freed boiled from the prismatic fog, every second passing filling them with growing wonderment and heat and energy as they discarded more and further chains. There were none in Chunwang that did not know the name of Old Ironbone. More than anything else, his presence had dyed the city in its colors.
"I had been…
hoping that at least one of your kind would be able to appreciate the wonders of the Forum, but it seems that you have all degenerated to the point where you can not even appreciate the simple wonders of Rhetoric over uncivilized [i\]violence.[/i]" A pale hand stretched out, and Old Ironbone stared at three claws of living iron in contemplation.
With the percussive beats of stomping feet and roaring hearts the vengeful innocents of Chunwang fell upon the great root from which their suffering had sprung.
Kill! Kill! Kill!
They chanted, and the Silver King poured her heart into making their wish come true.
With a casual, brutal ease Old Ironbone danced, his pale skin bursting with metallic implements that carved flesh and spilled blood. A dervish of raw slaughter, terrifying and visceral.
But the victims of Chunwang did not stop. For the first time in their lives so many of them possessed strength. Even as others had taken their chances thanks to the confusion of the riots and fled into the Mists, those who remained were those who had taken heart in the Song and filled with defiance against those who had so harmed them.
The Song resonated with their resolution, but as her awareness of the situation below her grew, she began to hesitate. The point of the Song was to make things
better. Not to kill and discard the innocent like arrows to be expended.
A mass of bodies, even empowered to Foundation Establishment wouldn't be enough. Individual wounds were meaningless against Ironbone's powerful regeneration technique. What was needed was something that could harm him
directly. Wilem's intelligence had noted that Ironbone was not truly invincible. Beneath his raw flesh was a foundation that was not of the same violate substance that the rest was. A strike that did not kill by a thousand cuts. But something
decisive.
Something like a
Formation.
"But how?" Her voice whispered, "What can unite all these people? They aren't like the Clan, united and trained in purpose like we are. What could possibly tie them all together to make a Formation possible?"
One who knew strode forward. Buoyed by song, power flowed, and Saria Duca spoke truly. "There is one thing all the victims of Chunwang share," the child of the Clan spoke, her voice clear like silver. "From every corner, from every place, one thing unites us all, we who have suffered and we who might beg for death! Fear! Hate! Vengeance against Old Ironbone!
"Circumstance has brought us together and suffering has made us slaves, but spite will make us
kin!"
Spite! SPITE! filled the air, resonating from the side of the Singer.
"Who do you hate?!" She cried.
Old Ironbone! They answered.
"Who will you
kill?!" She called.
Ironbone! Ironbone! They swore.
"Together then!" She sang.
Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! They roared as one.
Rising from the beat was a single note, a resonance that carried through the crowds that even now were butchered like cattle at the hands of their old tormentor.
"Wasteful!" The Master of Chunwang decried amongst a mountain of offal, "No matter how many ants you gather, they shall never cow a dragon!"
KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL OLD IRONBONE!
The Note of Spite
thrummed, a single unifying purpose that coursed through every beating heart within the sound of the Song. All hated him. Though many had become the tormentors rather than the tormented, within defaced and burning Chunwang was not even a spec of happiness. Endless torment and misery in the pursuit of wicked means and gruesome knowledge, all was hopeless and striving in a race to the bottom of despair in the hopes of escaping the madness that Ironbone had embodied for all of living memory.
"Kill me?! Kill this Old Ironbone will you?!" The perpetrator cried back against his victims, aura flaring, "You are the foundations upon which the secrets of this Turtle World will be cracked open! A pick of blood and bone that shall pry open the truth of the universe! How
dare you stand there in judgment of me! Centuries cowering in fear of me, imitating me, all in my shadow! Every one of you! And you have the audacity to bite back against this Venerable Elder?!"
But rage unfocused and in offense is a mask for a deeper emotion. A wavering hesitance and doubt. The fires of anger stoked to drive back the creeping chill of
fear.
Even with an all but invincible body, the spirit was weak, grown soft upon its throne and abomination and atrocity. A warble that resonated and was amplified by the fog. The final, primal terror that held all of Chunwang in that aged grip shattered, broken by the clenching of Old Ironbones terrified heart.
The Song quieted, the sounds of the city - burning and crackling of flame - came to the fore once again, like the receding of the tide in the moments before a great and terrible wave.
All felt the moment that last and terrible binding had snapped.
"You can do it!" Aretaphila Myia called out, her voice carrying through the city, "You can take it all back! Everything you've lost! There's nothing left in your way, except
him!"
The air trembled, and Aretaphila Myia stepped back as her
[Heaven-Shaking Song] resonated with it. It had come. A great rumbling, a great roaring, what had been spite and blind hate morphed into something
pure for a single moment.
The final chain of fear and terror broken, Defiance roared in unison with a grim and final resolve. Once more, the Silverine Bellhammer swung, and instantly the woman knew what she had to do.
Memories of a gentle, ancient Bell hidden high in the mountains. A companion but not kin, who sought to impart on her the best parts of what the Myia could have been,
"Echo! Resonate!" She cried, "Mountain Sky Song
Overlay!" The hammer struck, and the Heaven Shaking Song faded away, the empowering and uplifting notes of the Mountain Sky Song sang out once more, just like they had at Pleuron over a hundred years before. Now richer. Now empowered. Everything that Aretaphila had accumulated since then pushing into her first and greatest gift, the hope and desperation and resolve she had felt that day matching that of the thousands before her.
"Can you hear me, my lovely boys and girls?" Her voice carried out, not a frantic tone that it had just been born before. The Song burgeoned, shaking the atmosphere, pressure redoubled as the new form of it flowed out and swept away all doubt.
Yes! Yes! Yes! They answered, feet beginning to stomp in the increasingly more complex sound.
The lows of the music conveyed her feelings of misery; two centuries of struggle and doubt and sadness. How she reached, how she grasped, how she fought. How she despaired.
It was not a match to the endless suffering they had endured. But Saria's own experiences flowed through. Her own spite. Her own rage. It resonated, that bridge between the sacrifice that the Clan endured unflinchingly for the crime of being born, and the terror and regret that came from arriving at Befouled Chunwang through no fault of their own.
Moments lost, never to be regained.
Images of Five Colored Tribulation flashed through. The determination to face down a storm that was of equal strength to a Nascent Soul was shown to them.
"You can do it too." She whispered, after all, what was Core Formation before the full might and majesty of a Nascent Soul?
Images of a wizened old man, purpling with fury at his world coming down around his ears, and the Defiance to challenge him directly in the moments needed for the Shadow to consume him.
"You can!" She shouted, filled with conviction.
As the crowd roared in answer, the Silver King fell to her knees. The everpresent echo of her Dao having seemingly vanished. But it still echoed. Still
resonated. Strobing lights shifted from herself down into the freed men and women of Chunwang, each humming their own tune, each reflecting their own experience. The power of the changed Song empowered them, the stars of the show.
"What the hell am I looking at?" Old Ironbone muttered as he peered, fear and morbid curiosity rooting him in place. The quiet roar of the rushing tide into the void left by silence now rumbling the earth as thousands of Dao Hearts formed and shook the poisoned skies around them. His shriveled researcher's heart was ever enraptured by it's cardinal sin of curiosity, and now the parable of the cat came to collect on its inevitable promise.
Souls roared as one, their wills uniting into a keen edge of silver.
If the Singer had roared against the Heavens and Nascent Souls, then they could manage Old Ironbone at the least.
"Soul resonance?" In that moment Old Ironbone recognized that this was a simple Demonic Tune, a Soul Art of the kind which he had dismissed as inferior to the virtue of cultivating the body in the physical realm.
A sense of regret permeated his heart at what was happening before him. Realizing that even though he had eyes, he could not
see.
Energies roiled in unison, forming a limb of prismatic log, gripping a knife of silver.
It struck.
Snicker-snack.
Ironbone fell to the earth in two pieces, the instrument of his arm fading away, unable to retain itself for longer than the instant it had needed.
With a cry of triumph, the echoing song spread throughout the city in triumph. The thousands fell upon the once invincible Ironbone, and in the mash of bodies Aretaphila Myia could see no more.
"We need to leave," She panted, reaching out her arm for assistance, "Gather up my materials please, with one of their number defeated, the other two Core Formations are sure to fall upon us next even with the Ninth Prince leading them on a lustful scorpion chase."
"Aye, Legatus! Hang on!" Though she was still weakened from decades of torture and no longer buoyed by the Heaven Shaking Song, Saria found no trouble picking up the Silver King. Even as she lifted Aretaphilla Myia upon her shoulder, a crowd gathered around her, the many experiments and victims of Chunwang willing to lay their lives down for the sake of the one who fought for their liberty, who gave them the strength to express their spite.
Cover secured, direction secured, threats addressed. From there, escape was a matter of being fast enough to outrun the bloodshed.
"T-thanks Centurion," Aretaphila muttered in exhaustion, "By the way - you did a great job as Temporary XXI. Better even than your niece, I guess." She panted before adding, "I'm sure you must be very proud."
Time was of the essence, yet Saria stopped in her tracks. She lifted, holding Aretaphilla up by the arms, looking her straight in the eye. Gone is the shy wallflower that Wilem Duca found, for in her place a piece of the iron lady that slew the Old Worm with a single blow stood.
"I don't know what you're talking about,
Legatus," Saria Duca said with a broad smile and a too-sweet honeysuckle tone. Then, she let go, letting Aretaphilla fall to the ground and crumple into a heap.
Evade, burn, parry counterstroke, empower blade and cut.
The
[Paragon Warbody] glimmered in the fel light of the burning City of Experiments, flickers of grey fabric and bright steel crashing against attack after attack, as Rina Callista danced across the skies.
As she had expected, attempting to engage a pair of Elders at the Great Circle of Core Formation was beyond her. Even converting her physique to platonic
Orichalcum was insufficient to keep up, as her output of Essence was outmatched twenty-five fold by
either of the opposing Elders.
Even withdrawing, accepting the Ninth Prince's clever scheme to pin them down, she still had to repulse chasing strikes sent at her, each of which caused even her transcendent bones to creak and the
[Astral Voidguard] to quiver and ablate them.
But at the end of the day, the Ninth Prince was the Region's greatest gadfly, and the Golden King could not be matched in the skies by any beneath Nascent Soul. The stream of attacks steadily abated, and she had a moment to think for once.
The mission seemed to have been a success–she still felt the emanations of Aretaphila's
[Heaven Shaking Song] rippling across the city, and she felt Ironbone's power fading fast–a critical wound or some other trick played. Either way, it meant that the Prince wouldn't be overrun too quickly, and she could
really move.
So she did, tripling her speed to her full combat velocity. Holding some in reserve made the fight far more dangerous, but she had avoided any serious injuries so far, and it meant that she had a better chance than most of slipping through any contingencies that might try to halt her.
*WHOOSH*
…As the gale of deathly air skimming
just behind her, kissing the perimeter of her
Voidguard before sliding past had confirmed was
definitely a real thing. Good to know!
She descended with greater speed on the facility marked out as the Bearking's prison, spinning as she concentrated her strength down into her foot, hardening it with all of her might.
And with a thunderous
CRASH!, she tore through the ceiling, the upper three levels, and came to an abrupt halt within the chamber the Bearking was held in. Experts left to guard reacted quickly–but Rina sharply gestured, and the
[Weight of the World] drove them to their knees, before the Stone of the ground beneath swallowed them, one and all.
He was chained down, suspended with his arms outstretched, hanging by his chest to a rack pulsing with foul energies. Some manner of torture device no doubt–but she didn't have the time or wherewithal to inquire.
All she needed to do was
Break it.
Coils of Flame flashed into being around her arms, spiraling outward as it divided into four segments, each grasping at a separate chain. Formation scripts flashed in protest as the Hungry Flame chewed upon the metal, black steel steadily growing hotter and hotter by the instant, a strain that they could barely hold.
After a moment of this, when they had reached their limit, Rina acted–expressing a Gladius from her Spatial Ring, wrapping it within a veil of Water, and
striking.
White-hot metal strained against oscillating Water, and in a spray of steam and a
screeching of torn metal, the chains
Snapped, leaving the captured Core Elder to slump bonelessly forward.
He would fall flat on his face, were it not for the enlarged cauldron that inflated before him, catching him without issue.
"I'm a cauldron, not a sled," Muqin Guo complained, even as Rina settled a lid on top for safety. "Be nice," Rina chided. "This is a rescue mission, and I can hardly carry him on my own."
There's a huff of distaste, but no further protest as Rina loops a thin wire from the cauldron's handles onto her wrist, and with a huff of exertion, she suspends herself up in the air once more, looking up at the hole she had torn through–and began to accelerate once again.
There's only a moment to think as she rises, the light of the approaching Elders having sensed her play, and breaks off from the Ninth Prince's distraction to strike back. If it had been a head on battle like before, she wouldn't be their match.
But now? As she was?
She grinned, and kicked off of the empty sky below–speed accelerating again and again as she met their charge. They were making good time, their respective methods granting them respectable aerial mobility.
But they were not
As the Wind.
Great teeth fired like cannons, hemming her in, ripping and tearing at the upstart who would challenge two of the Noble Knowledge Sect's mightiest Elders. She weaved between them like a fish in the river, untouched, unharmed. Bursts of Yin Wind and screaming ghosts sought to devour her, but they needed to travel through the sky between–and Rina could always gather more altitude with ease, her foes unable to maintain their velocity
and attack her.
Their dance went on for minutes, but the outcome was clear from the moment they had allowed the Golden King freedom to act. She ever gained distance, and they could do little more than scratch at her defenses.
When her course finally took her beyond the walls of burning Chunwang, no more could they justify the pursuit. Their quarry had gone beyond them–and to give further chase would be to allow the City of Experiments to risk utter destruction, for a project that had already cost much for little gain.
It was over, and what remained was the game of passing off blame, and protecting their lives from the wrath of their masters when an accounting was made.
Far beyond the walls of Chunwang, beyond the gaze of the Eye of Poison and beneath the shadows of the Poison-Crushing Towers of the soon-to-be Blood Defiance Federation, the 302nd and 501st Legions made joint camp, array-hewn towers of bronze and stone and wooden palisade waiting for the return of their overlords. It had been days since the Disciples of the Clan returned from the Bramble Towers to the south, the only sector to have brought low a Tower, if to little avail. Now all that was left was to retrieve their Legates and Centurions, or ascertain their fates, before they could return.
Indeed, it had been days, and still there was no sign. And while the day-to-day management of the Legions and their Forts takes up the vast majority of any Cultivator's day, even after one factors away the time one spends in Cultivation, those are thoughtless tasks to any seasoned campaigner. Less so for those who have to mind the youthful and the foolhardy, but still hardly enough to occupy the mind for any reasonable stretch of time.
And that was of no consolation to Katha Theodoros, Principales of the 501st Legion, the true identity of the enigmatic Centurion XXI, foremost of the DI's Legionnaires and, it has to be said, not used to being the one who has to wait to see if other people die on her.
There were other things weighing heavily on her psyche, of course. Her mission to bring low a Bramble Tower alongside the other foremost Disciples of the Clan lead her deep beneath the Insidious Poison Maze and pitted her against an enemy the likes of which she has no wish of confronting ever again. She emerged victorious eventually, but it was a close run thing up until the very end.
The fact that she emerged healed of her injuries ahead of schedule
and she refined her bloodline to a degree not seen in… only a few hundred years actually, huh… Anyways, the fact that she could be said to have come out of it stronger did
not mean anything at the moment! Because her Legatus was still in Chunwang, the certifiable worst place in the Region. And their deadline for returning was twenty four hours ago.
And, on a personal note, the fact that she was heavy enough to sink into the soil up to her knees was becoming
extremely irritating.
So she continued to man the guardpost alone, continuing a ceaseless watch that has lasted some forty hours by this point, purely because she at least wants to be the first person to know if Aretaphilla Myia is dead. Because while the DI are currently charitably a mob of unruly children and
uncharitably a dysfunctional horde of psychopaths in the making,
she is the method to their madness, and Katha has no interest in trying to figure out how to salvage this sinking ship without her.
The fact of the matter was, 302nd might struggle to continue without Rina Callista, even if they would in all likelihood become a conventional Legion again. But the 501st would
not survive without Aretaphilla Myia.
A whistling noise fills the air, a flicker of motion–barely caught by Katha's sharpened eyes–and a
boom of noise and the sinking of a crater as the Golden King comes to an
abrupt halt before the camp, caked with sweat and covered with dents and scrapes. Nothing serious for a member of the
Optimatoi, but that such damage carried through even in her nigh-invulnerable battle form?
Behind her hovered a great sealed cauldron, and as the color returned to her features, she flopped over on her face. "That was
such a bad idea...." She whispers, though Katha's newly empowered ears could hear it just fine. "Why did we go so openly, we almost
died when we could have been sneakier~~~"
"A-Ah! Legate Callista!" Snapping a salute, Katha quickly pivoted about her heel and faced the fort. "SILVERINE BRACERS! YOUR LEGATUS HAS RETURNED WITH THE CAPTI… T-THE OBJECTIVE!"
Rina's
entire body twitched at that, and she
aggressively pulled herself to her feet, fingers already working on a well practiced movement to bind her hair back up into her bun. "Oh by the Imperator you didn't see that, did you?" Her cheeks darken in mortification. "Y… Oh! Legionnaire Theodoros, you look…" She squints. "Shiny?"
"A trick of the light, Legatus," Katha responded, so firmly you could mistake it for the truth. "As for the other thing, I saw only your graceful landing and the recovered Elder Bearking!" Silverine Bracers soon caught up around them, pulling over carts and chirurgeons to recover the Bear Enslavement Elder and inspect his condition. Over the din and the ruckus, Katha stepped closer to the Golden King. "Uh, Legate Callista… Any word on
my Legate?"
"She's probably fine," Rina observed. "It'd take a lot more than a city full of death and destruction–that was actually incredibly on fire when we left–to stop her."
As if in perfect harmony with that statement the sound of steady marching began to reach the edges of their collective hearing. Creaks of wagons and the shouts of bellowed orders carried over the air, reaching the boundary marked by the Towers of Flame.
Where the purple mists dissipated, two sets of flags became increasingly visible to those gathered at the encampment: The Silver Bracers of the 303rd and the Fist-Against-Flame of the DI Legio. A single, steady step caught the ear of Katha's ear as a familiar voice reached her.
"That damn woman," Lampo Vatatvzes muttered as he reached the gatehouse, alongside the rest of the DI's own command contingent. "Of
course she would make a scene of her return."
The returning soldiery came solidly into view, finally breaking out of the Insidious Poison Maze at last, the columns of 501st and 302nd Legionnaires and Centurions splitting into their respective camps.
Two silver figures approached, reflecting the red flames of the Towers.
Rina–now having her hair back under control, proceeded to gesture in the direction of the show parade that had just been organized. "Case in point."
"...What, that's it?" Katha asked. "If that was all the introduction you managed, you could've damn well made it back in time!"
"Nag, nag, nag," Aretaphila called back with a gimlet stare as she finished approaching, the Silver Duca close at hand. Electric blue roved over Katha's new appearance thoughtfully.
"What happened to your face?"
"...Nothing worth talking about." Katha rolled her eyes, then began counting the prisoners that followed Aretaphilla out in fives and then tens, before concluding at sixty two. Sixty two escapees from Chunwang, along with themselves. And they aren't dying horribly of their treatment. That was something, at least. Katha blinked, turning back to Aretaphilla, and scowled. "Sixty two, huh? Well, I guess it couldn't be helped. The Legion's ready to pack it up when you are, Legatus."
"Getting anyone out was always going to be a long-shot." Rina frowned, more trying to convince herself than anyone else. "The fact we got as many as we did is.. Not bad, I suppose."
"Hmm," Aretaphila paused, glancing at her companion before turning back towards Katha, "Temporary XXI, I now relieve you of your duty after a period of meritorious service." Arms stretched over her diminutive head, "
Actual XXI, I need you to take the knee for a second."
"...Did. Did you just." Standing there, Katha pointed at Rina, then at the mysterious silver Expert, and then everyone else rushing around them, though they did not appear to care about the Silver King's apparent slip of the tongue. "Did you just expose a secret
you emphasized the importance of? Are you
serious?"
"She's Aretaphila Myia," Rina deadpans. "She does what she wants when she feels like it. If it was a secret yesterday, it's something everyone needs to know tomorrow."
For an instant, irritation boiled over into rage, white hot and boiling. Though it subsided just as quickly, for that moment where her emotions overflowed, her body moved on instinct. From one instant to the next, Katha simply appeared in front of Aretaphilla, swinging an open palm at the Silver King's face before she herself even knew it.
The strike never reached her face, the Myia's expression unchanging as her hand gripped the swinging arm and
yanked, causing the already barely controlled momentum of the blow to force the Ironblooded completely off balance. She fell to one knee in the hard packed ground.
"Shining Wizard Art: Third Form
[Overlay]."
An
impact struck Katha Theodoros' chin with a powerful, reverberating
ring. Sinking deeply into her skull as her head was rattled, emanations of the
[Heaven-Shaking Song] reformed aberrant wavelengths of Qi. The scrap of a scrap of an unwanted visitor, a parasite that sought to return the favor of its defeat should the Centurion ever show but a moment's weakness.
The diminutive form of the Silver King completed its arc flipping backwards through the air, landing lightly to turn her only critical eye once more upon her Centurion XXI, "Nice hustle there, Junior. Really appreciate it."
The City Burned.
Embers of Experimentation released the cloying, choked scent of roasted long pork.
"
Quite the
improvement," The Goblin said, breathing in deeply. Appreciating the smoke, inhaling the lingering Soul Shattering Liberating Poison. Already he could feel the shackles that the Duca had placed upon him fading away like the morning dew. Idly chewing on a skewer of well cooked meat, the purple hooded figure walked down into a well tread path into a depressed sinkhole. Curiously untouched even by the embers that had fluttered about the city.
Just as expected, really.
A fine, leisurely stroll through the grounds. Just because he had taken the time to rescue his
dear cousin hadn't meant that he hadn't also taken the time to follow up on a few nagging suspicions as well. The things one did for family, after all. To marry business and duty is an honor.
But to combine the three with
pleasure?
Ah…
Truly divine.
"Well, well, well,"
Sadly, the time for pleasure was all too fleeting. Inevitably, one still had to take care of business. Usually unfortunate, but with experience came the ability to make even the most dull of tasks…
fun.
"You look like a man surprised by something." He said to the Elder Worm before him. Even split in half, the torso still wriggled with a formless tail. Rather disgusting, if you didn't know how to prepare it right.
"...Who are you?" Painfully spoke the crippled form of Old Ironbone, "Are you one of Zhang Ye's petty little rivals? If you have the ability to access his laboratories, I can repair my form and regrow the lost bones-"
"Oh I can do all that, don't you worry." The Goblin smiled, lips wide and genial, "How do we go about it?"
The Crippled Core Formation's eyes narrowed, the experiences of the past few days having rekindled instincts once thought lost, "You didn't answer my question."
"Oh?" The other man pointed at himself, his skin covered in patina, "I guess you could say that Old Worm and I were…acquaintances, of a sort. Involved in his research, even." He chuckled, eyes never blinking, never leaving Old Ironbone.
"There's no reason to do this," The Noble Knowledge Elder said, terror rising in his heart, "If you but heal me, I will take you on as my
new apprentice! Whatever useless research you accumulated that left you beneath my-"
"Useless?" The Goblins head tilted, dropping down to the dank, squalid corner of the Sinkhole into which Old Ironbone had crawled, "
Beneath you?"
The purple cowl obscuring his features tilted, "
My research?
Useless, he says? HeheheahahaHAHAHAHA!
DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I SACRIFICED?!" The man
slammed his boot into Ironbone's skull, the force of the strike sinking it deep into the solid stone beneath.
"
Beneath you?" The Goblin stepped away, finger wagging as he tsked, "No, no. From where
I'm standing, the only one beneath
anyone, crawling like a fat
wriggling worm in some decrepit and filthy
hole in the ground is you, old man." A rust-colored chunk of phlegm lands on the ground beside Ironbone's sunken head, splattering just loudly enough for him to hear.
Swift as the wind, the cowled figure leaned next to the hole, where the arms of the Steward Elder twitched weakly, hands gripping the stone.
"You know, old man. We're not so different, you and I." A gloved hand reached into a satchel, withdrawing a vial of brightly glowing green elixir, "Ages of hard work, our lives poured into a grand theory upon which we would reach acclaim and glory
unrivaled. Praised by our contemporaries.
Immortalized.
"Then along comes some young
nutjob, who passes you in the blink of an eye with the utter madness that they call science. And their special brand of craziness is just so effective.
Too effective. That everyone else fails to see them for
what they really are.
"And then they present a great work to pitch themselves to your hard earned position. They do it
with your own work and call their debasement an
advancement. The humiliation." The Goblin sighed, leaning on his elbow as his yellow gaze turned towards the near-catatonic Ironbone, "I'm sure we could've been great together. Partners, unlike this world had ever seen. Once upon a time."
His gaze turned back towards the vial he had in his hand.
"But I guess I've come around to the idea of giving a lil' madness a try, and you look good enough to eat." He turned back towards Old Ironbone, who's head only now had begun to rise back up from the impression it had been sunk into.
"Besides, any good meal deserves a good drink, wouldn't you say?" Wilem Duca licked his lips in anticipation as he raised an eyebrow at Old Ironbone, hunger in his eyes. He lifted the vial in a mockingtoast.
"Cheers."
"So, I have to ask…" Rina wondered out loud, after the hustle of the return had sorted itself out, and she had a moment to discuss the matter. "How
did you get your name put in for this operation first? It's been bugging me for a while."
"Echolocation."
Rina mulled that over for a moment, then nodded, satisfied.
"Ah."
(Final Wordcount: 18237 Words)
