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[>>Now replaying: Log 1.51.16.9 - A Beginning of Voices]
Date: 8.9.175 AA / 4404 LTC
Location: The Bunker at Haven-Of-Progress // Zephyro’s Domain
//Remembered, if outlived, //
//It gets problematic when it’s no longer about the game, but about the psychology behind it.//
//Numbers go up. It’s a basic human need to gather, and we all love to see something grow. It gives us a sense of peace, of security, and (/%&&§//
[>>DATA CORRUPTED]
E1 %One side called her the Witch Queen. The Mage Lords baked that into their religion, somehow. Made her out to be this demon from one of the 13 hells sent up to disrupt the “natural order.”
E2 %Yeah, and the other side called someone who burns down palaces with children inside a “Saint.”%
I wrapped the chain around Pharus’ handle to stop the censer from dragging over the floor, then sprinted for the crowd, trailing teal flames. There did not seem to be an option to turn the weapon off anymore.
Inside the crowd, I found complete madness. The old and wounded had gathered around the edges, effectively boxing in the people in the middle. I thought the crowd would have burst apart like a superheated bubble as people tried to escape the violence, but it just huddled together more, not towards the danger. Without being able to see what was attacking them, they must believe that there were more Ferals pushing in from the outside.
No one had time to make way for me if they even noticed me at all, so I had to push myself through the press of bodies. Elbows and shoulders and hands pushed back as the mob enveloped me. I smelled sweat and fear, saw flashes of wide eyes and bared teeth gleaming panic.
My anger was right there, offering to insulate me from all of it, to cloak me in a shell of supremacy where dread would find no purchase.
It took me everything I had not to reach for it. I couldn’t. If I lost control in the upcoming fight, Pharus’ new form would slice through the crowd like a scorching scythe through autumn’s harvest.
Luckily, the press of the crowd lessened up ahead, with people fleeing away from the source of the harrowing screams. I had to struggle harder for a brief moment, but then I was through, excess momentum sending me stumbling into a clearing within the throng of people. In its middle laid an elderly man two with two Feral rats—significantly larger than I remembered—bearing down on him. As I stumbled to a halt, they both looked up in unison, red eyes glowing faintly cyan with stolen Logic, jaws dripping red with blood.
I exhaled, wishing my breath wouldn’t tremble as it did, then grabbed Pharus’ chain and let it drop free for a couple of centimeters. The censer slid down with a barely audible jingle as my fear mounted. Somewhere, deep in my mind, buried under the memories of year-long wars, Stax laughed.
> “Ha! Of course I’m afraid. We all are, aren’t we? Every time we draw steel. It’s what makes it so exciting.
> “Sure, they call us brave. I like that! But bravery is not ignoring your fear.
> Bravery is acting despite it.”
One rat took a step towards me while the other delivered a killing blow to its victim. As the Feral pulled the Logic into itself, both of them glowed red. Their muscles bulged in unison, and their movements became an iota smoother, more predatory. The worst part was that they looked normal, and I meant “outside world” normal. There wasn’t a trace of metal to be found on their bodies, and I was sure that couldn’t be a good thing.
[KXng’X-Mi_d-1]
[Absolute danger level: medium]
[Relative danger level: medium]
[KXng’X-Mi_d-1]
[Absolute danger level: medium]
[Relative danger level: medium]
They shared the exact same readout, but I didn’t get any more clues than that. I briefly considered upgrading Ardor but held back. The Ferals came closer, and this time, outside of that comfortable cocoon of hate, it was me who took a step back. I cursed myself for showing weakness as the Rats perked up and approached, climbing over glitching, dried-out corpses they had left in their wake. I twirled Pharus in my hand, a reflexive gesture, and it sent the censer roaring through the air, traveling in a perfect circle around my weapon while trailing blue flame.
This time, the rats were not impressed. Without hesitation, they charged. I took another step back and bumped into a teenager who was desperately trying to shield an even younger kid with her own body. I almost dodged, but then I realized that would place the people behind me in danger.
The rats were almost there. Fear swelled, its icy cold seeping into my concentration, slowing my thoughts.
The anger was right there.
I could just let it in.
Who, it purred, cared about a few civilians anyway? They were just constructs, weren’t they?
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
No. That was a line I wouldn’t cross. I wouldn’t be that.
With that realization, a memory of Stax’s eyes danced through my mind.
> “By the Might of Magic, Sam! How can it be you don’t even know how to hold a sword properly? You are a woman grown! What ever did you do before your Gift awoke?”
> I stay quiet, smiling tiredly and panting from exhaustion. I won’t tell him about my past before Tobes and he knows it, but he sure likes to try and make me spill the beans.
> “I have seen sheltered princesses fight with more grace than you,” he tries to goad me again, but he’s grinning, and his eyes are dancing with humor.
> I flip him off, still too out of breath for a witty retort.
> He laughs.
> “Okay, look. It’s going to take me some time to turn you into a graceful, virtuous, dashing fencer like me. So for the duel tomorrow, here’s my advice:
> When in doubt, hit it as hard as you can, as often as you can, and pray that your armor holds.”
Without thinking, I did exactly that. With a cry that sounded more confident than I felt, I dropped close to the ground and swiped my flail right-to-left. The censer hit the Feral in front, and blue flames spread around the impact point. The beast screeched and fell to the side as the head of my weapon bounced back and up. I leaned forward and put the energy of that movement into the follow-up, sending my weapon crashing deep into the fallen Rats’ flank. Bone crunched, fire roared, spreading further than before.
My head snapped up, frantically trying to locate the other Feral as I braced for a counterattack, but it never came. The other beast lay to the side, in exactly the same pose as the first, shuddering as it tried to get to its feet. In a snap decision, I twirled my weapon, made the chain quickly wrap itself around my hand, then hit the first Feral with the flaming cage as though I were still wielding a mace.
The hit broke the beast, and both of them died in perfect synchronicity.
It was creepy as hell.
{INCOMING LOGIC - 130 LB}
{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 170 LB}
{INCOMING LOGIC - 130 LB}
{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 300 LB}
As I got up and my adrenaline ebbed, realization dawned twofold.
One, I had been incredibly lucky to not hit any bystander with Pharus. Hell, with how long its chain could be, I needed to be careful to not hit myself.
Two, I was still thinking clearly… or at least so I believed. I had just killed two Ferals without dipping into my anger. The thought made me feel… terrified? But why?
Even with a gun to my head, I would have felt less fear, and still wouldn’t have been able to explain where this primal sense of dread came from.
I needed to think of something else, so I shook my head to clear it and looked at the crowd. There were a lot of kids, more than I would have thought, but aside from that, it was a perfectly normal crowd. Men, women, old, young, they reminded me of Novus Apex, and I briefly wondered what became of those who survived the Mage Lords’ genocide. Then my mind was drawn to the defenders at the city gates. How many of them had survived? How many of them had ended up like Kasha? Looking around, I didn’t see anyone I recognized.
They all stared back, as if unsure what to do. No one moved until someone started to kneel.
“No!” I blurted out, “None of that!” When the crowd froze in shock, I sheepishly brushed a loose strand of black hair behind my ear, then fell back to the state of mind that had gotten me through these sorts of situations before. God, but I hated it when people kneeled.
“We don’t have time for pomp and ceremony. You, you, and you.” I pointed at the three people least shaken-looking people I could find. “It’s now your duty to get the children into the palace, first and foremost.”
I didn’t know what it meant if an AI rendered as a child in this world, and I didn’t care. They were children. Then I addressed the entire crowd, doing my best to give them what I believed they needed; To make them feel they were not alone.
“I know you are afraid, but this is not the time to give into panic. If we want to get through this, we can’t let fear run its course. Trust the Vizier, honor his commands, and have faith. We will see another day.”
Look who’s talking, I thought, wishing there was someone to give me a pep talk like that. Or hopefully, a better one. It was far too short, and the words rang hollow in my ears.
Unfortunately, anyone I know who could deliver a better speech had died on the long road from Veltruvia to Novus Apex.
The people looked at me for a second longer, but then the moment passed, like a disciplinary hearing coming to an end. Despite the lack of finesse and nuance in my speech, a ragged cheer rippled through the crowd.
I let them have their brief moment of celebration, even though I didn’t relish it at the least. I was used to the burden and could handle it, even if it barreled down on my feelings with all its familiar portents.
Before long, loud voices rose above the din and started to sort the throng of people into somewhat orderly lines. The people seemed thankful for the guidance, even though hunched shoulders and erratic glances still belied a fear merely repelled, not conquered.
I didn’t know how I did it, but the crowd seemed to have calmed down. The very second the attention slid off me, I hurried back in Zephyro’s direction. We both were much weaker apart, needed each other, especially in the off chance that smoke monster was still out there.
This time, the crowd parted around me like I’d grown accustomed to in my last life, and progress was quick. Just in time, too, because when I finally stepped out of the throng, I took one glance at the Vizier in the distance, cursed, and broke into a sprint.
Despite what I had wanted to believe, the fog hyena hadn’t been dealt with.
Of fucking course.
Perhaps it had been blown away by my explosion of Logic and needed some time to reform itself. Perhaps it had teamed up with the rats, letting them take the brunt of the damage in their mad dash toward the citizens while it hid. Perhaps it had employed guerrilla tactics, using its gaseous form to hide while it took potshots at prey far tastier than workers and couriers.
Prey like Zephyro, with his massive amount of Logic.
The Feral had engulfed him in a dense cloud of toxic fog, eroding his armor. The vizier didn’t seem to notice. Perhaps it was because the process was slow, or perhaps he was too focused on saving his people. Perhaps the Feral had a masking ability, but I had no way of knowing.
He strained and rose from a deadlift, lifting a huge chunk of rubble up to his hips with the help of a group of civilians. Tiny voices snuck out from under the debris, afraid and pleading.
Zephyro yelled something to one of the women, lifting the chunk of rock with him. Without hesitation, she ducked and slid under the slab, crawling into the space underneath. Without her help, Zephyro and the remaining people barely managed to keep their grip on the rubble.
The Feral chose this moment to loosen its toxic embrace and shift back into its coyote-like form. At first, it looked like so much air, but it solidified in a matter of seconds. By the time it pounced, it looked like roiling darkness trapped in jagged glass, slamming into Zephyro’s back with several horsepower worth of force.
The vizier yelled in pain and confusion, but he didn’t let go. The Feral tried crushing him between itself and the rebar-riddled slab of stone, yet his armor held. It seemed as though the Feral had underestimated his power. Even so, it seemed determined, and given enough time, it would crack him like a walnut.
The vizier squeezed his eyes shut and mouthed a silent prayer as the fog began to envelop him. From under the debris, a small group of children emerged, running for the safety of the palace.
A perfect Amuse-gueule for a discerning beast such as the hyena. Why try to overcome one of the adults when the children were right there, and much easier to harvest?
When I watched its head snap in their direction, I was still several hundred meters away. No way I would reach it in time. I imagined the moment when the Feral caught up to the children. Imagined Zephyro’s face when I failed him again. Imagined the guilt of knowing I hadn’t done enough.
And with nary a thought, the anger was at my side once more, arms wide open, smoldering invitingly.