Path of the Immeasurable Swarm [Worm/Cradle]

[GladiusLucix]

The sage who must not be named because oh god what if she hears us?!

Click to shrink...

On the other hand...

---

Even hours after her, admittedly minor, victory, Mercy was still cheering internally. She'd managed to convince Lindon and Yerin to take a short break in their training and have a date night. Eithan had, predictably, popped up immediately after the two had admitted defeat and ushered Lindon off to prepare him, leaving Yerin in Mercy's care. And so, here she was, trying to decide which outfit would be the best choice for their night out.

"Taylor?" She asked the room that was apparently empty of everyone other than herself and Yerin. At her word, an unseen speck of darkness atop a dresser swelled into the form of a hand-sized jumping spider, head tilted to the side interrogatively. Despite the fact that it was entirely black, some details could still be seen; its eyes more glossy compared to the matteness of the rest of its body prime among them.

"What do you think Yerin should wear for her date tonight?" Mercy asked Taylor's minion. She had quickly gotten used to her friend using the constructs in much the same way her Aunt Charity used her owls, though their friends were slower to adjust. It was probably due to her experience with Aunt Charity's owls that let her adapt so quickly.

Taylor turned the eyes of her spider construct across the various outer robes in consideration, before leaping to one in particular. "Eithan says this one will match Lindon the best," said Taylor through the construct, before waving a forelimb at Yerin.

"I hope you enjoy yourself," she said, before the spider began skittering towards to door, shrinking as it went, until it was small enough to fit under the door as it left.

 

[Fencer]

Here have an omake oh what to call it…. Pining for Shadows.

"Lord Ming, we have a small issue with our new guard recruits." The guard captain said from the door of the young lords office.

The Lord Ming did not look up from his paperwork which given all the recent unrest was stacked almost as high as his chest.

"Captain, I know they can't be up to your old standards, most of them are just low golds after all, but I can't shake the city until high and true golds fall out when they already have lives and duties we need them to keep fulfilling. And with the sages gift they'll have what they need to advance even if it's not going to be as quick as either of us might like."

"Er, all do respect my Lord, but that isn't really the issue. Honestly, they might not be as strong as I'd like, but their driven like few recruits I've ever worked with. Train all day without complaint, and if someone starts to flag they rally round them and get that one moving again."

Lord Ming blinked and looked up from his paperwork.

"Well that sounds excellent, so what's the problem?"

"Er well, most of these recruits are young, very young. For starters not a one older than twenty five a lot no older than sixteen. Makes them a bit rowdy but what's left of the old guard can handle that. No the real issue is, well what's driving them, my Lord."

"I don't understand, their motivation is the problem?"

"Yes, my Lord!" The Captain nodded vigorously. "It's, well they all want to serve the Shadow Sage."

The thought of the most terrifying woman he'd ever met filled the Lord Ming's mind.

"What?!"

"It's the damndest thing my Lord!" The Captain finally gave up all pretense of composure and began to pace near the door. "Every one swears they'll make it to Underlord then go on a training pilgrimage to reach Akura territory! Plan to be Overlords by the time they get there and then beg for the right to serve the shadow sage! If one of them starts to falter during training they circle round and demand to know if they think the sage will allow a weekling to carry out her will, never mind fetch her food and drink, or heaven's bless them brush out her hair!"

The Captain threw his hands into the air.

"They're mad, the lot of them! Every last one a love sick fool chasing a woman they think is beyond them and utterly willing to devote themselves to her anyway so long as they can serve her! A couple are even less sane than the rest! Swear that even if it takes them a hundred years they'll advance to Sage or Herald before approaching her so she might consider them an equal and bless them with a chance to win her heart! It's madness! One and all these new recruits are insane! I'd turn them away but there's no one more motivated then they in the whole of the city! I can't afford to turn them loose, but if this keeps on the city guard will be a cult dedicated to the shadow sage!" The guard Captain slumped and turned again to face his ruler.

"My Lord, what do I do with them?"

The Lord had no answer, no brilliant plan. He was in fact still stuck on stunned disbelief. In the end he told the Captain to try and get the less committed to calm down, and start up recruitment again once some of the more driven started to approach peak true gold, he doubted many if any would actually advance into the Lord realm, but if they really were so driven… well, best to not dismiss the possibility.

 

[VagueZ]

Things were not so good in the Seishen Kingdom. They'd been attacked by an Archlord as well, and no Sages had conveniently appeared to protect them. King Dakata had died defending the capital, and only Meira's timely advancement to Overlord had stopped the entire country from being overrun. Her and Kiro had managed to hold onto the western third or so of their territory, near their border with the Frozen Blade School, but the dragons were still pressing them hard.

Click to shrink...

Whoops, I tripped over some inspiration and a thing happened.

The Last Stand of the King​

It was strange, King Seishen Dakata found, but here, at the end of a life of conquest and rulership, with everything falling to pieces around him, he was not as explosively angry as he would have expected.

That was not to say he wasn't angry. He was furious, on a level he didn't think he'd ever been before... but it was a cold fury, a rational one. He would not live to see tomorrow, but he would spend himself as well as he could along the way.

For the moment, he meditated, cycling as best he could, while attendants brought him natural treasures he could burn for soulfire and others brought his armor, his shield, his sword: the treasures with which he had personally carved out a kingdom.

"Sire..." Dakata didn't know which of his ministers it was, with the minister behind him and Dakata facing the wall, and the poor man's voice quavering to the point he didn't sound like himself. "The scouts and oracles agree, the Archlord will be here in less than an hour."

After a lifetime to create it, it now appeared that the Seishen Kingdom would fall in just two days. It wasn't yet two full days since flights of dragons had appeared on their eastern border, smashing defenses and slaughtering all they came across. The Kingdom had responded as best it could, spending ancient secrets and irreplaceable life-saving tools with reckless speed, the accumulated power of the Seishen Kingdom turned to its last defense. It hadn't helped. The Seishen Kingdom's best tools were Underlords and a handful of launcher constructs and boundary fields that, themselves, might measure up to an Underlord at most.

For anything beyond Underlord, the only tool the Kingdom had was Dakata himself. And he was only an Overlord, no match for an Archlord, even in his prime.

"Sire?"

"I heard you." With deliberate motions, the King stills his cycling, and climbs ponderously to his feet. He is not yet an old man, but age has begun catching up to him. He feels it, yet it scarcely matters. His body will hold up well enough for a single fight. His armor was in place, now, so he held out his left hand, and one attendant, struggling despite Truegold muscles, handed him the lion-faced shield he's weathered a dozen fierce battles behind. He held out his right, and the other attendant handed him his blade that has hewn four hundred foes of his rule. "Go. All of you. Do what you can for yourselves and your loved ones."

He did not give any empty words about valuable service and faithful loyalty. What the last day has told Dakata is that none of that matters an iota in the face of an even more iron law of Cradle: the strong take what they choose. The weak endure.

Five minutes later, the King stood erect and alone on a Thousand-Mile Cloud above the keep of his castle. Below and around him, a hundred warriors and constructs peppered the late afternoon with Striker techniques, and as often as not, a dragon of Truegold or Underlord strength responded with an attack of far greater strength.

This was already the dregs of the defense. One of the city's walls had been reduced to rubble and cinder by a single attack that the oncoming Archlord sent ahead as an introduction.

Dakata could not keep himself from scanning the situation with his spiritual sense. It told him nothing he didn't already know: the dragons were making sport of his people. Of his people. Lines of refugees tried to pour out of the capital city, or tried to navigate around it. Those who tried to run to it were already dead, columns of thousands of people slain as a side-effect of the attack on the walls he'd been so proud to help construct. Even this was not even a tithe of a tithe of the death there had already been in the Seishen Kingdom. The Kingdom had had millions of citizens in its eastern reaches. No more.

Finally, the Archlord arrived. With a thunderous clap, a dragon perhaps twenty feet from horn to tail appeared in the air. Mighty wings beat, keeping it hovering in the air as it surveyed the ground with profound satisfaction.

Dakata had slain larger dragons than this. He had never faced one with even a fraction of what the red-scaled figure before him commanded. Whether its appearance had been simply the speed of an Archlord or some movement technique, the dragon gave no sign. It simply fully unleashed its spirit.

Even Dakata flinched and had to fight back sweat as the potent power of fire clawed at him. Some of the Golds on the ground didn't even survive this simple exercise of madra: they burned. Roofs and groves gradually caught fire.

Just the presence of this dragon was a fiery calamity, but Dakata urged his Cloud forward.

Before he could strike, the dragon's eyes latched onto him. "Ah, a human. Allow me to introduce myself." It was a woman's voice, and it sounded strangely cultured, in contrast to her words and actions. "I am Alziordra."

"Why are you here, dragon?" It went against every instinct in Dakata's body, but the truth was that every minute spent talking was a minute for thousands of refugees to get further away.

"No particular reason." Alzi smiled, showing off teeth five inches long. "I have decided to fly in this direction, and so I have done so. Ah, but evening is beginning to fall! I think I shall bed here, in this castle, once I have knocked off the unsightly parts." Slowly, she began beating her wings to circle Dakata, and he urged his Cloud to match her motion. "Why, perhaps you could provide some hospitality. If you swear on your soul to serve me in all things and never to resist me, I'll let you organize my dinner! And then in the morning I'll decide whether to keep you as a servant or just kill you. Does that sound like a deal?"

"Never." And Dakata took a ready stance at last, shield held before him and sword behind, with his body to disguise its exact swing.

Alzi laughed, and it had only mockery in its tone. "You're going to try to fight me with so little advancement and with the body of a human?"

"No." And a Forged sword fell on Alzi like a meteor.

It was Dakata's strongest attack, powered by the full force of his madra and shining with every wisp of soulfire he could command at once. It fell from the sky, longer than a yacht and accelerated by every bit of gravity and will Dakata could muster. Alzi, secure in her superiority, had sensed it, but had allowed Dakata the moment to trigger it.

If Alzi had merely dodged, it would have done vast damage to the Seishen capital below them, but instead she batted at it with one contemptuous swing of her wing. In the face of superior advancement, even Dakata's best attack could slow her for barely a second as she shattered the technique.

It was a second he used, as he darted forward with all the speed the Cloud could muster, but it wasn't enough to land a single blow before she recovered. The dragon reared up and her rear talons flashed. The sun was setting behind Dakata, and he saw the reflection of it on her dark, polished nails. He tried to ram into her, but one talon held off his shield. He swung to injure that talon, but the other one countered his strike, as easily as a swordmaster deflecting a novice's foolish rush.

But, for the moment, Alzi was not striking back. She was playing with him, a cruel smile as she let him try everything. With a sharp exhale he obliged her. The Titan's Blade filled his shield, and it suddenly expanded in size and toughness, a defense more adamant than mere city walls.

With a snort of impossibly hot flame, the Forger technique vanished, seared away. As it went, Dakata's sword replaced it. This, too, had been enveloped and grown by the Titan's Blade, and the massive sword swung quicker than Dakata had ever moved before, a perfect arc aimed to tear one of Alzi's wing membranes. This, too, she batted away, only to find a spread of Striker techniques in its shadow. For just an instant, her eyes widened in mild surprise.

The earth-aspect techniques struck her and vanished. Between her draconic body, her Enforcer technique, and her Archlord advancement, such attacks could not hurt her.

"Enough. I tire of this." For the first time, Alzi went on the attack, and her claws tore the Thousand-Mile Cloud to shreds. With some satisfaction, she looked up to see where he was trying to jump to... only to find the King landing on her back.

Power flowed through his Iron body as he activated the Mountainroot to its fullest. His Iron body made him stronger and more stable all the time. When his madra coursed through it, its effects were magnified. He would not be dislodged easily. This was what he had tried to maneuver to, the only position where he might trade his life for some injury, instead of simply dying futilely.

A surprised Archlady, who had only expected a normal human weight, shook her body violently, halfway between a dog shaking itself dry and a horse throwing a rider.

Dakata held on. He had only a second to steady himself before she tried a Ruler technique, instead. The already unendurably hot air turned even hotter, and Dakata's hair, clothing, even his armor begin to sizzle and melt. He'd already suffered severe burns before he hacked at her neck, his sword held one-handed as the other screamed in pain as he forced it to hold to a ridge of scales hotter than a blacksmith's forge.

Two, three times the sword struck, each time barely chipping her neck scales even as his sword, too, began to melt and crack from the punishment he was dealing out.

With the fourth swing, the sword finally hit flesh, and Dakata was gratified to see a spray of blood, no matter how minimal, even if it was also accompanied by three-quarters of his blade broken off, spinning into the distance.

It was the only victory he was allowed. Finally, his body betrayed him, and he could hold onto her scales no longer. His Mountainroot body disconnected from her, and he peeled away.

He did not plummet far before Alzi fell on him, a scream of frustration as her talons sank into him. She beat her wings, faster and faster, pushing them to the ground. When they hit, he didn't feel it. He couldn't feel much at all. He could see the crater walls around him, though, courtesy of their impact. "Idiot. I told you you couldn't fight me with a human body."

"Wrong." Dakata's negation was spoiled by a cough, but she still understood, and twisted her sinuous neck to consider this strange claim, to judge if he had lost hold of sanity or simply failed to understand. So, Seishen Dakata spoke his final words, to explain it. They were not a whisper. They were a roar of defiance. "Not a human body. The body of a King!" The body of one who would die defending his people.

A frustrated Alzi tore him to pieces.

Then, something even more irritating happened. Alziordra's gaze flicked to the spirit of a newly minted Overlord, still some distance away. Gingerly, she felt the little injury she had taken. It wasn't bad. But it was more than she had expected to take already, and now there was another of these irritating gadflies.

"Oh, never mind, this isn't any fun any longer. I'm not dealing with that today."

Slowly, lazily, Alziordra swept a majestic half-circle in the sky and winged her way back east.

---

Miles away, despite how long and how hard they had pushed their own Thousand-Mile Clouds, Prince Seishen Dakata and Meira sensed the King's death.

"Kiro... don't go." Meira seized the Prince's arm with desperate force. "You can't win. We have to flee. Even the King couldn't stop that dragon."

Kiro's jaw set. The two of them had been flying back from the Viridian Winnower sect, having left as soon as they had heard of the attack. "I have to."

"You can't win if he couldn't. Please, Prince, think about this!"

"I'm not going to fight the Archlord," Kiro argued. "But there's people out there, who still need me. If my father is really dead, that means I'm the King, and millions of people who looked to my father need me now. I have to lead people away, fight off as many of the lesser dragons as I can, and then... then we have to regroup." He shivered as he realized the magnitude of the impossible task before him. "There's going to be food shortages, dragon raids, countless displaced refugees, and no one to help us. That's what I'm going for. I'm going to do what I can for the innocent Golds who need a guide and protector right now."

In the face of his vehemence, Meira, betrothed to the First Prince—and thus now to the King—took a deep breath and let go. "I understand." Until now, Meira had had to serve and save the Kiro. Now she realized the new path her life would have to take. "Your people are my people, and I will protect them as as you do. I will stand by you, Seishen Kiro, not as bodyguard, but as the Seishen Queen."

Meira meant it with every scrap of her being, and she was so busy calculating every lesser dragon she would have to slay to honor her vow that she only barely noticed as the soulfire in her spirit blazed, reached a new level, and baptized her body.

 

[Chaos Theory]

Information Requested: The Tome of Shadows

Beginning Report…

The Tome of Shadows is the colloquial name for a series of five books found three years after the ascension of Akura Taylor. The books were discovered by Daiyu, an orphaned thief from the city of Whitestone, in the personal library of Akura Taylor aboard her cloudship. The library had remained undisturbed by major factions due to concerns that Taylor had faked her ascension.

The books are all bound in black leather and have no text adorning their covers nor spines. The books are all handwritten in an unknown language. An analysis of the languages of Cradle indicates that the language that the Tome is written in is entirely unique to the writings of Akura Taylor with no similarities to any other language past or present.

Upon Daiyu's discovery of the Tome she stole it, believing it to contain secret knowledge from the Shadow Monarch. When she established her own sect a decade later she secured it within the sect's vaults and began discreetly inviting scholars to attempt to translate the Tome. While no scholars were successful in that endeavor they were able to verify that the writing matches a couple of notes known to be written by Akura Taylor. Upon this discovery the Tome was promptly stolen.

Sects that possess the Tome generally go through periods of rapid growth, as such the Tome has been stolen fourteen times and six sect wars have been fought over its ownership. Predictive models indicate that this growth is driven by the ambition of the sect leaders that drove them to acquire the Tome rather than any mechanism tied to the Tome itself. Currently the Tome is in possession of the Forgotten Blade sect.

Suggested Topic: Translation of the Tome of Shadows. Continue?
Approved, report continued.

Given what my supervillain lair was like I am hardly one to judge sticking to a theme, but does absolutely everything need to be either black or purple? It makes it hard to see the furniture and I keep stubbing my t-

Error…

Requested information requires Administrator access. Please contact ████ if access is required. We promise to get back to you shortly after your death.

Report Complete.

 

[derivativeoflife]

Here are the original versions of the first three chapters of the story, which I ended up rewriting almost entirely. The edits to later chapters should be much smaller, so I'm not going to bother preserving the originals.

Spoiler: Silhouette 1.1

Author's Note: This plot bunny jumped on me the other day, so I started writing, and suddenly I had like 6k words. This is the first Worm fic I've posted, but I have another fic which I'm slowly working on and want to get into a more complete state before posting. This fic is the opposite of that. I'm writing this purely for my own entertainment, and I don't have any particular plan for where I'm going with it. That means I'll be updating on a "whenever the inspiration strikes me" schedule, and also the fic might randomly die pretty much whenever. Just want to manage expectations. Anyway, hopefully someone aside from me enjoys this.



I woke up.

For a few seconds, I tried to figure out why I was surprised to be waking up. Then I remembered.

We're so very small, in the end.

A shiver ran through me. I should be dead. Failing that, I should be… something distinctly other than human. But my thoughts were my own, nothing like the haze of violence that was all I could remember since I'd asked Panacea to modify my power.

My power. I tried to reach for any nearby insects and found nothing, just a gaping void where my extra senses used to be. So that was the price I'd paid to restore my humanity. I supposed I should be grateful. It would have been simpler for Contessa to just kill me, although it wasn't as though difficulty was any kind of barrier to her. Still, it hurt. My power had been such a part of me for so long, I wasn't sure who I'd be without it.

Slowly, I pushed myself up on-handed, grimacing as I remembered my power wasn't the only part of me missing. I looked around and frowned at the unfamiliar surroundings. I was in a room with no windows. The walls were black stone, almost like obsidian. The blanket on my bed was a rich purple, and the floor was covered by a carpet with an intricate pattern in the same color. There was an armoire next to the bed, fancifully carved from some kind of dark wood. "Dark" definitely seemed to be a theme with the whole room. That, and rich. Nothing was of a familiar design, but I knew money when I saw it.

The room was lit by a pair of lamps hanging from the ceiling, and there was something odd about them. Both were spheres, maybe six inches across, and glowed with a soft blue. The entire globe glowed evenly, with no indication that they were lit by an interior bulb, and I suspected they weren't electric at all. In fact, looking around, there was no indication of any kind of electrical device anywhere. The only other object of interest in the room was a sculpture sitting on a shelf across the room: a silver owl with violet eyes. I stared at it for several seconds. It clearly wasn't alive, but I had the distinct impression it was staring back at me.

I slowly pushed myself to my feet, pleasantly surprised by the lack of aches and pains I would've expected. I found I was wearing a loose white robe, closed at the front. Clearly someone had been taking care of me, possibly for quite some time. Hesitantly, I approached the owl sculpture, and wasn't entirely surprised when its head turned to follow me. Tinkertech, then, or maybe a projection. "Hello?" I asked it after a moment. "Can you hear me through that thing?"

"I can," it replied. Its voice was female, although I couldn't tell anything else about it.

"Where am I? And who are you?"

"You are in the city of Moongrave on the Southern Ashwind Continent, and I am the Sage of the Silver Heart," replied the owl. There was something strange about its voice. I'd understood what it had said, but the words I'd heard weren't English. "If my suspicions are correct, neither of those things will mean anything to you," it continued. "There are clothes in the armoire behind you, and a guard waits outside your room to guide you to me. Dress, and then we will speak."

With that, the owl dissolved into purple and black mist. A projection, then. Wherever Contessa had dumped me, they clearly still had capes. I turned back to the armoire and opened it. The clothes inside weren't in any style I recognized; they reminded me vaguely of a martial arts uniform. Hoping I wasn't still being watched, I pulled off the robe I'd slept in and put on the new clothes. I was fairly sure I'd put them on right; it seemed pretty intuitive, although tying the belt to keep the tunic closed was a hassle with only one arm. On the plus side, the sleeves were short, so there was no empty sleeve awkwardly hanging over the missing arm.

I gave the room another quick once-over, but didn't find anything else, certainly none of my old possessions. With a deep breath, I opened the door. As promised, a guard was standing just outside. At least, I assumed he was a guard, since he was dressed similarly to me and didn't have any obvious weapons. Then I noticed his fingers ended in black, razor-sharp claws. Another cape, then, and being used for guard duty, no less. That implied whoever had picked me up was a force to be reckoned with. I also noticed the lack of a mask, which probably meant the culture surrounding parahumans on this Earth was entirely different than what I was used to.

The guard stared at me for a moment, then spoke a word which I didn't understand. Since he then turned and started walking away, I assumed it was some variant of "follow." Whatever had allowed me to understand the Sage of the Silver Heart must be an aspect of her power. That meant I'd be pretty much entirely dependent on her until I learned the local language, which wasn't ideal.

The corridor he led me down was more of that black stone, lit with the same blue lamps. At this point, I was pretty sure I was in some kind of palace or castle. A pre-industrial world? It seemed likely. Without modern technology, especially guns, capes would probably dominate this society to an even greater extent. A shame I wasn't one anymore.

I was beginning to wonder just how big this place was. The corridor we followed seemed almost endless, and we had yet to pass anyone else, even a servant. If it was meant to be intimidating, it was certainly effective. Then we turned a corner and came to a window, and it was all I could do not to gape.

The city beyond was a thing out of a fairy tale. Black and blue and violet spires rose up as tall as any skyscraper in Chicago or New York. Every street was lined by tall statues, beautifully carved. A throng of people filled the streets, and above the streets; those were definitely flying carriages, apparently sitting on clouds. More than that, the city was big, so big that the huge, imposing wall which presumably marked the edge of the city was tinted blue by distance.

There was no way one cape could make something like this. It would take thousands, maybe even millions. A whole society of capes working together, all with similar powers. Perhaps a different Entity provided powers here? Or could there be some other mechanism altogether? Hopefully the latter. I had no idea where I'd been sent, but I knew when I was out of my depth. I needed to lose any expectations I had for how things worked, here.

A sharp word had me turning back towards the guard, who was scowling slightly. He spoke another sentence which I couldn't understand, but which I guessed was something along the lines of, "You can stare later." He jerked his head, and I obediently followed him down the corridor, still snatching glimpses out of windows when we passed them.

At last, we encountered more people: A quartet of guards standing in front of a large door. Each of them were dressed the same as the one escorting me, but each had a different deformity. There was one with black veins running down his arms, one with pure black eyes, one whose hair looked like smoke, and the strangest one with an extra pair of black insectile-like arms emerging from his shoulders. More evidence that powers worked very differently here than what I was used to.

Several words I couldn't understand were exchanged, and we were waved through. Inside was a spiral staircase leading up a couple of floors. My guide knocked on the door at the far end and spoke a few more words. "Enter," came the response from the other side. I blinked; I was sure the language had been the same, and yet when the woman spoke, I understood it. I shook my head, passing it off as power nonsense, and followed my guide into the room.

Inside was an office, lavishly decorated. The themes were similar to the room I had woken up in, but it was clear that no expense had been spared, here. The furniture was inlaid with silver and engraved with incredible detail, and stunningly lifelike carvings sat on shelves around the room. Broad windows gave a breathtaking view out onto the city below. But as impressive as the room was, my eyes were quickly drawn to the woman behind the desk.

There was a slight Asian cast to her features, and she appeared young, perhaps only a few years older than me. However, I'd known some dangerous people in my life, and I felt sure she ranked near the top of them. The aura of confidence she projected, as though she couldn't imagine the world would be any way except the way she expected it to be, immediately put me in mind of Alexandria. Most strikingly, her eyes were deep purple, the same shade as the owl's had been. A quick glance around showed me two more owls perched around the room.

"Thank you. You may leave us," she told the guard who had escorted me in. He bowed low and spoke an unintelligible reply, then did as instructed. I stepped forward slightly, unsure if anything would be expected of me, and settled for standing at something approximating parade rest in front of her desk. We regarded each other in silence for several moments. She was the first to break it. "You are not from this world, are you?" she asked.

"No," I eventually replied. "Is that a common thing, here?"

"Not at all. In fact, it is forbidden." She let me stew on that for a moment, then continued. "However, you seem to be quite the unusual case. By definition, anyone who possesses the power to travel between worlds is powerful enough to disrupt the flow of Fate by their mere presence. But you, so far as I can tell, are powerless. And given that you arrived unconscious and terribly wounded, my conclusion is that you did not travel here through your own power. Am I correct?"

"Yes," I said after a moment of trying to interpret what she'd said. "The woman who sent me here… I guess you could say she did me a favor, since the alternative would have been killing me. Apparently she settled for sending me very far away, instead."

The woman nodded. "I suspect there is an interesting story behind that, which I would very much like to hear when time permits. For now, however, I will answer a few of your questions, and ask a few of my own. As I told you before, you are in the city of Moongrave, seat of power of the Akura Clan. I am Akura Charity, Sage of the Silver Heart. The world you find yourself in is known as Cradle. What shall I call you?"

"My name is Taylor Hebert." I thought for a moment. "Taylor is my given name, Hebert is my family name. I think it's the reverse of how it is here?"

"I am not unfamiliar with the custom," she said. "Now, as I said, you are powerless to the best of my ability to determine. But you did have some rather interesting items in your possession when you arrived, specifically your flying construct. It seems to operate on principles which are foreign to this world. In addition, you immediately identified my owl as a Forger technique and determined that I could perceive you through it. So I must ask: Are you in fact as powerless as you appear?"

I noticed she didn't appear even slightly intimidated by having a visitor from a different dimension with potentially unknown powers in her office. Whatever powers I might have been hiding, she seemed utterly confident that she could take me. "I am," I admitted after a moment. "The woman who sent me here took my power, as well."

"The truth," she said, nodding. Did her power have a lie detecting aspect as well? I'd need to walk very, very carefully, here. "That is both fortunate and unfortunate for you. Fortunate, in that you are unlikely to draw the ire of the Abidan. Unfortunate, because Cradle is not a kind world to the powerless. Though I suspect that may be a more universal truth."

I nodded. Earth Bet hadn't been kind towards baseline humans either, especially towards the end. "The Abidan?" I asked after a moment.

"They style themselves as the guardians of Fate," said Charity. "They do not permit interference between worlds. Were one such as I to leave this world, they would not allow me to return. But your impact on Fate will likely be negligible enough to escape their notice."

I slowly nodded again. The way she said Fate made me think there might be more to the word than I was used to. "What can you tell me about this world?" I asked eventually.

"A broad question, but I will do my best," she said with a small smile. "Cradle is a world of the Sacred Arts. To be a sacred artist is to gain mastery over the world by gaining mastery over yourself. All our lives revolve around the Sacred Arts, from the humblest farmer to the greatest Monarch. At its base, the Sacred Arts are the practice of refining your own spirit through the vital aura of the world around you. I have heard that the Sacred Arts are unique among all worlds. Is it true?"

I shrugged. "It certainly doesn't sound anything like my world. In my world, only a small handful of people gained powers, and they were always fixed. You could become more experienced in using your power, but the nature of the power itself never changed or grew."

"Curious," mused Charity. "Power without effort. The Sacred Arts are quite different. They require the utmost dedication to master. Every child in Cradle is taught the basics of the Sacred Arts, and nearly all adults are at least moderately competent, but few possess the determination to travel far on their Path."

"What can you do with the Sacred Arts?"

"You can reshape the world as you see fit," said Charity. She gestured. I felt a tingling on my skin, and suddenly we were somewhere else. We stood a field surrounded by mountains. Dark clouds swirled overhead, lit by occasional flashes of purple lightning. Forests blanketed the slopes around us, except for a huge, hulking black castle in the distance. I stared, mouth open.

"A mere illusion," said Charity with another small smile. She gestured again, and we were back in her office. "My Path is well suited to them. However, I could take us there in truth, if I were willing to expend the effort. Different Paths lend themselves to different abilities, but in the end they all lead to the same place."

I closed my mouth. "And everyone here can do this sort of thing?"

"Yes and no. As I said, few possess the discipline to travel far on their Path. However, for you, the difference between a Lowgold and a Sage is academic. As you are, even a child would have little trouble defeating you. The weakest adult Sacred Artist could kill you as easily as swatting an irritating fly."

That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I was at the very bottom of the pile, like Winslow all over again, except it was even worse because literally everyone else was Eidolon-lite. "Can I learn the Sacred Arts?" I asked.

There was that smile again. "Perhaps. You have a core, although it is very small and diffuse, like that of a newborn. To be expected, if your world does not produce vital aura. There are ways in which your core can be rapidly expanded and refined, elixirs and spirit fruits. However, these things are not given away frivolously."

Well, that was pretty unsubtle. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing as simple as you perhaps think. In the short term, I find you interesting. I would enjoy hearing about your world, when I have a spare moment of time. In exchange, you may stay in my palace for as long as you like. It costs me little enough, and I do like to live up to my name when I can. However, until and unless you learn something of the Sacred Arts, it will not be safe for you to leave."

"In the long term… Your aptitude for the Sacred Arts will be tested. It may be that your background makes you incapable of learning them, in which case you will unfortunately have no choice but to spend the rest of your life here. You may rest assured that you will at least live in comfort. It may be that you have some aptitude for them, in which case an appropriate teacher for you will be found, and you will eventually be free to go and live your own life in whatever way you please. However… I have seen countless hundreds of young sacred artists in my life, and I have learned to recognize those with potential. It is too early to say for certain, but I suspect you may have that potential. If my suspicions are correct, and if you wish it, the Akura Clan will sponsor your advancement, taking you far further along whatever Path you choose than you could travel on your own. You would become part of the Clan."

A recruitment pitch. Not what I had expected, and not one I was willing to accept until I'd learned more about this Akura Clan. "I'll need time to think about it."

"Of course. This is all merely hypothetical at the moment. You have yet to learn even the most basic of cycling techniques. I will have books and dream tablets sent to your room, so you may begin your education. But first, we must see if you are able to sense your core at all. Step closer." With some trepidation, I did as instructed. "I will inject a tiny amount of my own madra into your core. Not enough to damage it, but enough that you will feel it."

"Madra?" I asked.

She tilted her head slightly. "Perhaps there is no equivalent word in your language. It is the stuff which souls are made of, the energy which powers the Sacred Arts. It resides primarily in your core, here." She reached out and tapped me just below my navel. "But with luck, you will be able to learn to cycle it throughout your body. Now, focus. Close your eyes, and pay attention to your body. Feel the natural rhythms, the beating of your heart."

I tried to do as she told me, although I wasn't quite sure what I was looking for. Honestly, it all sounded like a bunch of new-agey bullshit, but bullshit didn't make flying carriages. I tried to set my thoughts aside and focus.

Another tap just below my navel, but this one was… more. It felt like a shock of static electricity, except it stayed in me. Electricity wasn't the right word, either. It tingled, but it also somehow had a taste to it, something I couldn't quite describe. If someone had made midnight flavored icecream, it would have tasted like this.

The tingle spread, and it wasn't pleasant. It felt a bit like bugs skittering beneath my skin, and it was a good thing I'd long ago gotten over any fear of insects. It felt foreign. I tried to get rid of it, and to my surprise, it sort of worked. The tingling sensation spread through my body, but as it spread, it faded, like it was being diluted. After maybe half a minute, the sensation was gone.

I opened my eyes to find Charity smiling, broader than before. "Excellent. You have an innate sense of how to cycle your madra."

"Then I can learn the Sacred Arts?"

"Indeed. But remember that how far you go is up to you. You wish to learn the Sacred Arts so that you are no longer powerless, and at the mercy of others. An entirely understandable motivation. But what is it that you truly want?"

I didn't answer for a while, looking away. I didn't really want to answer at all, but as she'd said, I was at her mercy. Lying wouldn't be a smart move. "I want to go home. I want to see my friends again, if any of them are still alive. Maybe try living peacefully for a change." I shrugged. "But even if I could go back, they'd probably kill me on sight. And… I'm not sure if I even know how to live a peaceful life, anymore."

"Then we may just make a real sacred artist out of you, yet."

Spoiler: Silhouette 1.2

It had been almost three weeks since I'd woken up on Cradle. I hadn't spoken to Charity in person since our first conversation, although she'd sent one of her owls to my room a few times. I'd barely spoken to anyone at all, in fact, although I could now. Apparently someone named Emriss Silentborn had made it her goal in life to spread a single language throughout the entirety of Cradle, and I'd benefited from her efforts. Charity had given me a dream tablet which had me speaking their language like a native in less than a week.

Honestly, I was perfectly fine with not talking to anyone. I was still trying to wrap my head around just how frankly overpowered this world was compared to Earth Bet. Charity had barely shown me a fraction of her real power, but I was pretty sure she could have eaten Eidolon for breakfast. And from what I'd learned about her father, I would've given him even odds against Behemoth. Given that neither of them were even the most powerful person in the Akura Clan, well… I was happy to stay ignored for a while longer.

In the mean time, now that I could read again, I'd been devouring every book and dream tablet I could get my hands on, trying to remedy my ignorance about my new world as quickly as possible. My spare time was spent practice the cycling technique Charity had taught me. She'd told me it was a very basic one and wouldn't do much to increase my power, but that it would help me learn to sense my core and madra channels. I'd definitely improved in that regard. I could feel my core all the time, now, like a fuzzy ball of light sitting under my stomach.

She'd sent a message earlier that we'd be meeting again tonight, for longer. Clearly she hadn't been lying when she said her time was limited, but she'd finally gotten an evening free and wanted to hear about Earth Bet. In return, she promised to teach me more about the Sacred Arts. Books were all well and good, but I was beginning to understand just how high above the "average" Sacred Artist Charity really was. I'd read that there were less than fifty Sages in the entire world, and that was in a world of 300 billion people. The scale of it boggled my mind a little. A few casual pointers from someone like her was literally invaluable. I'd thank my lucky stars that I'd ended up with someone who was not only friendly but also incredibly powerful, except I was pretty sure my lucky star was named Contessa.

As before, a guard was waiting outside my room to take me to Charity. I'd learned the guards here were Truegolds; powerful, but basically ceremonial compared to a Sage. Their main purpose was to make sure no one somehow managed to sneak in and irritate her. Charity was downright warm and cuddly for a sacred artist of her level, but there was nothing like due process on Cradle. If a powerful sacred artist took a dislike to you, no one was going to stop them from turning you into a smear on the wall.

This time, I wasn't led to Charity's office. Instead, I was taken to sitting room which seemed much less formal and much more comfortable. A table sat between two couches, already laden with a mouth-watering spread of food. Charity sat on one couch, holding a block of wood in one hand and a knife in the other. The wood was rapidly taking the form of a bird in flight. She nodded for me to sit across from her, not pausing in her work. I did so, watching in silence as she finished. The amount of skill displayed was incredible, and as far as I could tell, she didn't use her power at all. It was a stark reminder that for all the woman across from me looked youthful, she'd had decades and decades to practice her craft.

After a few minutes, she held up the piece to inspect it. It was just wood, not like her owls, but I still almost expected it to spring into flight. "It's beautiful," I said.

"Thank you," she said, with one of her small smiles. "It's a small thing, but even a small piece of beauty improves the world. Would you like it?"

"I'd be honored."

She passed it to me, and I took the opportunity to examine it more closely. Every single feather had been carved in exquisite detail, as though ruffled by the wind, and the eyes stared ahead fiercely despite being nothing but wood.

Charity set the knife aside, then glanced down at her robe, which had been covered with wood chips. She spoke a single word: "Vanish." Even though it hadn't been spoken to me, I still felt a moment of vertigo, as though an abyss had suddenly opened beneath me. The wood chips blinked out of existence, leaving her robe pristine.

"What was that?" I asked shakily.

"The power of a Sage. Not something you need to concern yourself with for quite a few years yet, I think. Now, shall we eat?"

The meal she'd had laid out was something resembling a cheese plate, with thin crackers and slices of fish and other meat. She didn't hesitate in assembling a miniature sandwich by hand, so I assumed it was fine for me to do the same, although it was a bit tricky with only one hand. It was all delicious, of course. I felt vaguely guilty for benefiting from what was pretty clearly a brutal feudal empire, but, well… All that would happen if I didn't eat was that the food would go to waste, and I'd be hungry.

"So," prompted Charity after a few minutes of eating. "You told me before that in your world, powers were fixed and unchanging?"

I nodded. "Every power was unique, although there were enough similarities to group them into categories. We called people with powers parahumans, or capes."

"Capes? As in the article of clothing?"

"Yeah. Parahumans would dress themselves in kind of ostentatious costumes, to hide their identities. A lot of them used their power to become criminals, but even the parahumans who helped enforce the laws didn't want to risk being attacked in their civilian identities. There was a kind of unspoken rule that you only fought in costume, to try and keep things from escalating too far. People didn't always follow it, but... " I shrugged. "Things could get pretty messy when it was broken, and no one really wanted that, so it worked most of the time."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Sacred artists have a somewhat similar custom, that you should not fight those at a lower stage of advancement than yourself. It is considered dishonorable. Otherwise, there would be little to stop me from decimating the Gold ranks of our enemies, and their Sages and Heralds would do the same to us. After enough conflict, there would be little left to rule but ashes and corpses. As you said, it still happens from time to time, but the stigma is usually enough to prevent massacres."

"The other big difference is that capes were quite rare. My home city had a population of around two hundred and fifty thousand, but there were only about seventy or eighty capes in the city, and that was considered unusually high. Officially, capes didn't even rule, although behind the scenes…"

"Naturally," said Charity. "Tell me about the kinds of powers your capes had."

I told her. We spoke for hours, and I found I actually rather enjoyed it. Charity was a good conversationalist, and she seemed genuinely intrigued to learn about Earth Bet. I told her a bit about my own history as both Skitter and Weaver, although I said nothing about Scion. If she'd asked, I wouldn't have attempted to lie to her, but it wasn't something I liked to think about, let alone share. I was also somehow totally unsurprised that the world I'd been sent to had its own version of Endbringers, and that they were somehow even worse than the ones from my world.

Eventually there was a lull in the conversation. "Thank you," Charity said after a while. "This was most enjoyable. Now, before you depart, we should speak briefly on the Sacred Arts." I leaned forward slightly in anticipation. "It will soon be time for you to advance to Copper. First, however, you must choose a Path for yourself. Your choice of Path is by far the most important choice you will make as a sacred artist. The vast majority of sacred artists do not make this choice at all, and merely follow the ancestral Path of their clan. However, of the six Monarchs in the world, all but one of them follow a unique Path of their own creation. Why do you think that is?"

I frowned. "Is it because Paths which are easier to learn are less powerful?"

"That is certainly a piece of the answer, but not the whole of it. If my honored grandmother had attempted to teach me her own Path, I likely never would have advanced past Underlord, perhaps Overlord. The first time we spoke, I told you that the Sacred Arts are the practice of mastering the world by mastering yourself. A sacred artist on a Path which does not reflect who they truly are will never reach their full potential. That is the single largest reason why very powerful sacred artists are so rare."

I nodded slowly. "Are you saying I should make my own Path, then?" I'd read enough to have an idea of what an ordeal that would be, but when had I ever gotten to do things the easy way?

"Perhaps. The Akura Clan has knowledge of a great many Paths. It may be that you can find one to your liking. But first you must know exactly what you're looking for, which means you must know yourself."

I frowned. If I was being honest, I hadn't been a big fan of myself for quite a while. First Emma had utterly destroyed my self-confidence, and then I'd been forced to do a succession of increasingly awful things just to survive. I wasn't sure I was ready for any seriously introspection. In fact, I'd admit that a big part of why I'd thrown myself into studying so hard was so I wouldn't have time to think about that sort of thing. "Um, any tips?"

"It's not such a difficult task as you might think. In fact, you have a great advantage. Answer this question: How did you fight, when you had your old power?"

Well, that wasn't quite so bad. "I mostly relied on deception. Tricking my opponent into sudden, overwhelming ambushes. Psychological tactics, as well. I think being able to see the entire battlefield at once was the thing I liked the most my power. But…" I frowned. "Like I told you, we didn't get to pick our powers. I learned to live with mine, but when I first got it, I hated it. All I wanted in the beginning was to be a nice, simple Alexandria package. Uh, that means super strength, super toughness, and flight. Especially flight. If I'm getting a do-over, I'm not sure I'd want to go down the same road I did before."

Charity hmmed. "You wanted to fly, and your powers did not give it to you, but you found a way in spite of that, no? The flight construct we found you with?"

"Yeah," I said. They'd given my own things back to me, but Dragon's flight pack was out of charge, and the costume was pretty thoroughly ruined in general.

"And so already you've learned something important. You value flight. Mobility, freedom. Perhaps a Wind path?" I nodded in agreement. That did make sense. "There are other ways to fly, of course. My father possesses the ability, even though he follows a pure shadow path. As for the rest… You fought many of these capes with Enforcer abilities, yes? Those with enhanced strength and resilience?"

"I did."

"Tell me again how those battles played out." I didn't answer, but I didn't really need to. Lung, who's eyes I'd gouged out with a knife. Glory Girl, who I'd left covered with a swarm. Even Alexandria herself, the invincible woman. I'd wanted to be her, and instead I'd killed her. "You won many battles you were not supposed to. Would you have, if you had instead been given the simpler power you wanted?"

"...No. Probably not," I admitted

"Accept who you are," said Charity gently. "Wishing to be someone you are not will make you a poor sacred artist."

I took a deep breath, then sighed. It had been a nice fantasy, but she was right. In my heart, I was always going to be Skitter. I nodded firmly. "So I'm looking for a path which focuses on deceiving the opponent and perceiving the battlefield."

"Perhaps a Path of dream and shadow madra?" asked Charity, her smile widening. "How fortuitous, that you find yourself the guest of one of the world's greatest practitioners of such a Path."

Yeah, fortuitous. Fucking Contessa. I put it out of my mind, my eyes settling on an object across the room. "How do you make your owls?" I asked.

"Infusing forged madra with a facsimile of life is an advanced technique, although dream madra is best suited for it." She eyed me speculatively. "Such a Path would not come into its full power until late in your progression."

"Not like I'm not used to being at a disadvantage," I said.

"It is not a choice to be made in haste," said Charity. "Think on what we've discussed. Continue with your studies and your cycling. Perhaps next time we speak, you will be ready to begin."




This time it was only a week before she sent for me. Again, I was brought to a different place in the enormous palace. This time, my guide led me down, into the foundations. We came to a heavy door marked with with the strange symbols of scripting. "The honorable Sage is waiting inside," he said, standing aside.

I stepped through the door and stopped. I had been expecting a room, but instead the door frame stood seemingly on its own in the midst of an abyss. Dark mist covered everything, lit by a diffuse violet glow. Half-seen shapes swirled in the mist, vanishing the moment you tried to focus on them.

Charity sat maybe ten feet in front of the door, facing away with her legs crossed. Hesitantly, I closed the door and approached. After a moment, she stood fluidly and stepped aside. "Come. Sit." I did as instructed. "This is my personal cycling chamber. You will not find a more potent concentration of dream and shadow madra on Cradle."

I swallowed dryly. How many people had ever sat in this room aside from Charity herself? Not very many, I was willing to bet, and all of them except me had probably been named Akura. I took a deep breath to steady myself. The air here had the same "taste" of midnight as when Charity had injected her madra into my core.

"It is possible to change Paths, but only at the very beginning of your journey. Once you have reached Iron, it will be too late. So I will ask you now, for a final time: Are you sure you wish to forge your own Path? I will offer you what guidance I can, but you will not be able to follow in my footsteps."

"I'm sure. I'm ready."

"Then I will teach you how to cycle vital aura into your core. Close your eyes. Breathe deep. Can you sense the essence of the world around you?"

"I can." It felt… not quite suffocating, but like stepping into a sauna. It pressed against me.

"As you breathe in air, you breath in vital aura as well. Picture it in your mind. It flows in, then out. In, then out. Continue breathing. Now, breathe in the aura, but do not release it when you breathe out. Use the exhalation to cycle it through your body. Can you feel it moving through you?"

It took me a few minutes to feel what she was describing, but I started to catch on. As I breathed out, I could feel the dark aura lingering in my lungs. Slowly, it spread out through the rest of my body. It didn't feel intrusive, like it had when Charity had used her own madra. Instead it felt… familiar. Almost warm and comforting, like snuggling into my old bed in my old house, back when Mom was still alive.

"Let the aura flow through your body. Now, when you inhale, pull it back into your core. Slowly and deeply. Exhale, and cycle your madra through your body. Inhale, and return it to your core."

It was easy to lose myself in it. I'd tried meditation once, at the prompting of some PRT therapist, but it hadn't done much for me. This was different. I could feel my madra flowing through my body. I could almost see it. It gave me something concrete to focus on. It moved slowly at first, sluggishly, but its movement became increasingly rapid as I got a feel for it. After some indeterminate amount of time, I could send it all the way out to my extremities when I exhaled, then draw it all the way back to my core when I inhaled.

"Good. Enough," said Charity.

I started; she hadn't spoken for some time. "How long has it been?" I asked, with a throat that was surprisingly dry.

"Nearly three hours," she replied. I stared, it hadn't seemed like it at all. It definitely had been, though, if the stiffness in my legs when I tried to stand was anything to go by. "Examine your core. How does it feel?"

I finished stretching, then did as she'd told me. "It feels… bigger. More solid, more defined. And it has a different… taste to it, as well. Like this room."

"You've begun to transform the nature of your core from pure madra to shadow and dream. Eventually, your core will begin to naturally produce these types of madra. Then you will be ready to advance to Copper. I will provide some minor natural treasures to accelerate the process, and have a smaller cycling room constructed for your use. Continue to cycle exactly as you have been. It is important that you saturate your body with your madra in preparation for your advancement to Iron."

I nodded. "Thank you. You've… shown me a lot of generosity."

Charity saw right through me, as she often seemed to. "I've given you nothing more valuable than a few hours of my time. Valuable enough, perhaps, but I choose to give it freely. Do not concern yourself with thoughts of debts. I promise you this: If I feel a debt would be incurred, I will inform you before you incur it. I have no use for unwilling servants."

"I… Thank you," I said again. I couldn't pretend I was entirely comfortable with the situation, living here essentially at her whim, but it wasn't as though I had any other options. No, that wasn't fair. She'd treated me fairly, even kindly, and given me no reason to mistrust her. My mistrust was entirely a reflex, since so few people had ever treated me that way. I wasn't prepared to let go of those instincts. I didn't doubt I'd need them again as soon as I set foot outside Charity's palace. But I could at least tell myself that rationally, there was no reason at all to suspect she was sizing my back up for a knife.

If I said it enough times, I might even start to believe it.

Spoiler: Silhouette 1.3

Time had flown by. I could barely believe I'd been in Cradle for six months, now. That was more than twice as long as I'd been in the Undersiders, but the latter seemed like an eternity compared to the former. Probably something to do with how I spent my days cycling and reading, rather than desperately fighting for my life.

I had no real standard to compare my progress to, but Charity said it had been satisfactory. She told me I could have pushed to Copper more quickly, but that it was healthy to spend a certain minimum amount of time at each stage to allow your core to fully stabilize. I tried not to be impatient. In some ways, the peace and solitude was a relief after the past few years, and it wasn't as though I didn't have tasks to occupy my time. But… I was lonely. I tried to keep myself busy enough that I didn't notice how desperately I missed Lisa and Brian and all the others. I enjoyed talking with Charity a surprising amount, but she only had time to see me in person once every couple of weeks, and I'd barely spoken to anyone except her since I'd arrived. I wanted to advance, if only so I could meet new people.

And finally, it seemed I was ready. My core felt dense and dark, saturated with shadow and dream madra. I couldn't do much with it yet, although Charity had set me to learning a few basic script circles for practice. But once I'd advanced to Copper, that would change. I could begin learning proper techniques… or creating my own.

We were back in Charity's cycling chamber. It wasn't strictly necessary, but she said it would make my transition smoother. "You must compress your core," she told me. "It must become far denser before it can grow further. Inhale, and draw your madra into your core as you usually do. But when you exhale, do not spread it through your body. Instead, press it inwards. The process will not be comfortable. Do not let the pain dissuade you."

I wasn't planning on it. I followed her instructions, and immediately felt a sense of pressure on my core. Emboldened, I continued. I could see my core growing smaller as I pushed, and the sense of pressure increased. It was hard work, like trying to crack a walnut with my hand. By the time I'd gotten it down to half its original size, it didn't want to shrink any further. I knew I wasn't done yet, because I could feel it trying to snap back to its initial size. I kept my breaths deep and even, but all my muscles tensed as I focused my will on forcing it to shrink.

With a sharp pain and a snapping sensation, my core seemed to pop. Where before it had been a dense, dark cloud, now it was a tiny point of solid, absolute blackness. I collapsed forward, gasping for breath. My body felt wrung out, like I'd just finished running a marathon at full sprint. I lay there for a few moments, trying to catch my breath, before slowly pushing myself back up. I opened my eyes and gasped.

Instead of dark mists with occasional flashes of color, the room had come alive with swirling, dancing energy in black and violet. It churned around me everywhere like rapids in a river. The colors felt more real somehow than what I could see with my regular sight. The black was more than mere absence; it had actual presence in a way that was hard to describe. It was beautiful.

"Well done," came Charity's voice. "What do you think of your Copper sight?"

"It's a little overwhelming," I admitted, shutting my eyes again. It felt like staring into a very bright light.

"A result of the density of the aura in this room. It will be less so outside. With your permission, I shall relocate us to my sitting room." I wasn't sure what she intended, but I nodded anyway. "Very well. You may wish to keep your eyes closed." Suddenly, I was falling. I instinctively jerked backwards… right into something soft. A couch, I realized when I opened my eyes. The couch in Charity's sitting room, to be specific. She was standing next to me, looking distinctly amused at my reaction. I scowled at her.

I couldn't stay annoyed for long, because I was too busy looking around with my new sight. The globes of light that served as lamps somehow were the refined essence of light. The walls ran with multicolored veins of energy. Some crawled in a way that put me in mind of stone, but others moved much more rapidly, and clearly served some other purpose. It reminded me of electrical wiring, although clearly operating along totally different principles. Charity herself was a void in my sight. I knew she veiled her own power to avoid overwhelming anyone who happened to be nearby. Apparently that also extended to natural aura. When I looked at myself, I could see red lines of blood aura following my veins.

"The sight will fade soon. After that, you'll need to focus to bring it back," said Charity. "Take a moment to catch your breath. I know advancing can be exhausting. If you wish, you can return to your room and rest. Or, if you feel capable of it, we can begin practicing basic techniques immediately."

"I'm ready now," I said quickly.

Charity nodded in approval. "Then observe." She held out her hand, and I focused on it with my Copper sight. Madra slowly pooled in it, black and violet, then solidified into a sphere. "A simple Forger technique. The types of madra you use should lend themselves to it. Cycle your madra into your hand. Let it pool there, gain substance. Release it slowly, or else it will lose cohesion."

I did as instructed. My first attempt sent a spray of black and violet mist from my hand, quickly dissipating. "Slower. Concentrate the madra. Focus it. Do not release it until it feels solid."

It took me several tries to achieve a different result. Charity could produce a solid sphere in moments, even slowing herself down so I could follow along. It took me almost a minute of concentrating my madra before it kept its cohesion when I released it. It didn't form a sphere, either, to my annoyance, instead shaping itself into something vaguely worm-like. The madra worm wriggled several inches through the air away from my hand before once again dissolving into mist. I grunted. "I guess that was a little better."

I looked up to find Charity giving me an odd look. "Did you intend for it to do that?"

I shook my head. "I was trying to make a sphere, like you did."

"A sphere is the simplest form to make. Your madra should have naturally shaped itself as such without you guiding it. Repeat the technique, exactly as you did before." I did. This time, the worm lasted a few seconds longer before vanishing. "Curious," said Charity. "Very curious. You're not directing it?"

"No, it just does that." She tapped her lip thoughtfully. "What is it?" I asked after several seconds of silence.

"Your technique displays properties of living madra. That is an advanced technique, more commonly found at the Lord level. Most Paths do not make use of it at all. It is not unheard of for some sacred artists to have a natural affinity for it, but the cause is usually obvious; a bloodline ability, or a core tainted with unusual madra. I wonder. Perhaps this is some remnant of your former power?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I guess it could be?" Are you there, Passenger? There was no response. "Is it a bad thing?"

"No," said Charity slowly. "No, it is most certainly not a bad thing. Continue practicing. Do not worry about shaping your madra yet. Let it take the form it finds most natural."

I practiced until my core began to feel empty, which really didn't take that long. Charity assured me it would refill quickly as I cycled, as well as continuing to grow. She seemed strangely fascinated by the shapeless worms I could make, capturing one in a bubble of her own madra and examining it carefully as it wriggled. The fact that a sacred artist with as much experience as Charity found me to be unusual… I'd grown used to living in the spotlight, although I'd never really liked it. Attention brought risks, but it was also a tool I'd learned to use. I smiled crookedly. For better or worse, my quiet life of the last few months clearly had an expiration date.




Charity began meeting with me much more often after that, occasionally several times in a week. If she'd taken an interest in me before, now that interest was clearly more than academic. She taught me three more simple techniques to go along with the Forger technique: A basic Enforcer technique to moderately increase my physical abilities, a shadow Ruler technique to create a field of darkness, and a dream Striker technique to briefly confuse an opponent's senses. These were mere foundations, she told me, which I would build my own techniques on.

Our focus, however, was on expanding the Forger technique. She made it clear that I'd be a fool not to build my Path around an advantage as large as naturally living madra. With her guidance, I'd gained a measure of control over both the shape of my living Forger technique, as well as its actions after I'd created it. The form I'd chosen for it was obvious.

Today, I'd once again found myself in one of the palace's many gardens. All of the gardens were beautiful, and being outside helped keep me from going stir-crazy. This one was filled with purple-leaved trees and blue flowers, with a clear space in the middle filled by one of Charity's sculptures, a large, regal looking wolf. I sat on a bench next to the statue, my hand held in front of me, slowly shaping my madra into the form I wanted. After several minutes, a small purple beetle, perhaps half an inch long, took flight from my palm, buzzing up to circle the statue's head.

"That is so cool."

I barely managed to stop myself from jumping. I was so used to being alone, I'd really let my situational awareness go down the tubes. Slowly and deliberately, I turned to see who'd joined me. It was a girl, several years younger than me, maybe eleven or twelve. The family resemblance to Charity was obvious: the same dark hair, the same purple eyes. But where I'd describe Charity as regal, this girl could only be described as cute. She wore the same black and white robes that everyone around here seemed to, with the addition of skintight black gloves going up to her elbows. No, I realized after a moment, those were her Goldsigns. Even if she was only a Lowgold, that was still impressive for her age.

"You're Aunt Charity's super secret guest, right? Are you really from another world? I'm not supposed to know that, I eavesdropped on her and Uncle Fury, except they probably knew I was eavesdropping, so really I guess I am supposed to know that, right? Actually, technically I'm her aunt, and Fury is my brother, but that's weird, so I call her Aunt Charity. I'm Mercy, by the way, what's your name?"

"...Taylor," I said after a moment, once I'd finished processing her barrage of questions. "Taylor Hebert. And yes, I am from another world. I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread that around, though."

"Of course not!" said Mercy immediately. "I'm great at keeping secrets. But that's why you're only Copper, right? Cause the place you're from didn't have the Sacred Arts? But you can already make living Forger techniques! How do you do that? My Path doesn't have any living Forger techniques until all the way to Archlord!"

"I don't know for sure," I told her. "A side effect of coming from another world, maybe."

"What was your world like? How did you end up here? What happened to your arm? Were you some kind of big hero?"

I couldn't help but smile. God she was adorable, with those big eyes that made you want to sneak her an extra scoop of icecream. I had to remind myself that as a Gold, she probably could've taken on any cape beneath Triumvirate tier. But… I was sure Charity knew every single thing that happened in this palace, and that meant this meeting wasn't a coincidence. If she thought I could trust Mercy, then I could, at least as much as I trusted anyone.

"I guess some people called me that. Other people called me much less nice things. Come here, sit down. I'll tell you a story about it."

It hurt a little, how much Mercy reminded me of a younger version of myself, before Mom and Emma. It made me want to protect her, make sure nothing like that ever happened to her, which was stupid. If anything, she'd be the one protecting me. Besides, it wasn't exactly hard to figure out who's daughter she was. Charity didn't talk much about her grandmother, but from the few tidbits I'd picked up, God himself couldn't save anyone who tried to hurt one of Akura Malice's favored children.

Our conversation wandered. Mercy told me a bit about life in the Akura Clan, things which I'd suspected, but which Charity had avoided directly confirming. With so much power at stake, it was inevitable that there would be conflict; the only question was how ugly things could get. Ugly, was the answer. Within the core family, violence was limited to sanctioned duels, but the culture of honor made it relatively easy to pressure people into such duels, and they could get vicious. The winners, like Charity and Mercy herself, could hope to rise above the petty conflicts. The losers, on the other hand, tended to take out their ire on anyone they considered beneath them, which was anyone outside the inner family.

Or, in Mercy's words, they were a bunch of jerks.

It made me glad for Charity's protection, although I had no doubts at all that I'd start being challenged the instant I hit Gold. That was fine. If they thought I could be intimidated, I'd teach them the same lesson I'd taught to Lung, the Empire, the Fallen, the Teeth, and all the others.

Mercy trailed off and looked up. I followed her gaze, and found Charity standing at the edge of the garden. "I hate to interrupt, but it's time to leave, Mercy. I hope you enjoyed your visit."

"I did!" she said, hopping up with a smile. "Bye, Taylor! I'll visit again soon! I can, right, Aunt Charity?"

"As long as keep putting your usual effort into your training, I see no reason why not," said Charity.

Mercy did some kind of ridiculous spinning flip in celebration. "Thanks, Aunt Charity! You're the best! Bye Taylor, see you soon!" With that, she ran out of the garden.

I watched her bemusedly for a moment, then rose to my feet and made my way over to Charity. "You seem to have made a positive impression," she noted.

"I think it would've been hard not to," I said, smiling. "She's…"

"She's special," said Charity, smiling as well. "But you might be surprised. Her talent draws great jealousy, as well as the attention my grandmother pays to her, and it's only gotten worse since she was named heir to the Akura Clan. No one can harm her, of course, but neither do they have to be kind to her."

I gave Charity a speculative look. "That little meeting wasn't arranged just for my benefit, was it?"

"No," agreed Charity. "She needs a friend. You have a good heart, Taylor, but you've also done ugly things in your life. She hasn't truly had to face that sort of ugliness yet, but she will. You will be a good influence on her."

I hesitated. "Does her mother approve?"

"With reservations," said Charity. "Our Monarch remains somewhat skeptical of my interest in you, but withholds her judgement for now. I would take it as a personal favor if you refrained from embarrassing me."

I hesitated more, then finally asked the question which had been in my mind for months now. "And what is your interest in me, exactly?"

She watched me in silence for several moments. "Sages are known to take disciples, on occasion," she said at last. "I did not expect to ever take one, as my Path is unique to me. But our Paths are similar enough that I could still guide you far.

"What would that mean?" I asked slowly. "To become your disciple?"

Again, she considered before answering. "You have been treated unfairly in the past. I will endeavor to gain your trust by being honest with you now. I would be your master. If I gave you a direct order, I would expect you to obey it without question. I would give you such an order only in the most grave circumstances. At all other times, you would be free to question my instructions, for one cannot learn without questioning. My touch upon you would be light by necessity, as I have many responsibilities. You would often be left to your own devices, and I would expect you to continue your own training, much as you have been. I would provide all necessary resources for your advancement. You would serve the interests of the Akura Clan for as long as you were my disciple, but if you felt compelled to depart, I would not stop you so long as you departed in peace. These are my terms."

I took a deep breath, contemplating what she'd said. They were generous terms. More than generous. Again, there was that spark of suspicion that wondered why she'd offer me so much, but I knew the answer: she understood me well enough to know that I'd balk the moment I felt trapped. It left me feeling a bit ashamed, that she had to go to such lengths to gain my trust even after all she'd done for me. I wanted to trust her, I realized. I wanted to be able to trust her, or anyone, again. I still wasn't quite there, yet. But it was up to me to take the first step.

"I accept."