Chapter 107: Ambition Of The Broken
Subject: Alice Location: Bellbasin - Outskirts
Rumors of the appearance of a breachworm blightbeast were fast spreading throughout the Guild, but citizens, and seekers on extended contracts remained unaware of the tragedy.
Somewhere, on the muddy grounds of a distant festerfont, the victor of a long-fought battle hunched over, immobile. She waited for the felled blightbeast to fully dematerialize. When it did, her once-embedded, once-bloodied blade clattered to the ground, and she stooped low to retrieve it.
Though blood, spurious entrails, and other bodily fluids vanished alongside the blightbeast, environmental grime and tarnishing remained, as was the case with the sludge of the swampy Bellbasin grounds.
"And now I’m all covered in this stuff," her companion complained. "Alice, just why are you never bothered by this kind of thing?"
Hark was a promising Blade, which was a Vanguard specializing in one or more martial weapons. His preference was the longblade, and he took every opportunity to complain about this, that, and anything else that came to mind. And quite a lot came to mind.
But Alice wasn't someone to resent a person for having that kind of personality. The world was full of all kinds of people, after all. Each had their strengths, each had their weaknesses. Each had their insecurities. For all she knew, Hark's incessant whining masked equally incessant anxieties.
Alice reached down and collect the blightseed spoils, feeling the pulsing energy in her hand. She salivated, suffering an intense longing for metamorphosis. Seeds like these could induce transformation in a seeker’s body, nearly always favorable.
Still, it was a drop in the bucket for an experienced seeker, who had long hit the ever-steepening cliff of Blight-induced enhancement. Continuous improvements grew more and more difficult to stimulate.
There was a point where the requisite blightseeds became more cumbersome to gather. Blightbeasts that could produce a seed of the desired potency became far more deadly than a seeker could reliably manage, and persistent seekers chased death.
If a seeker made it that far, they could stop. They could reap the rewards of hunting below their level, and sell the blightseeds to the Guild or to third-party merchants. They could stop risking their lives evermore... but they rarely did.
"At least she’s pulling her weight. More than that. A certain vanguard would do well to take her tenacity as inspiration, for once," Maveera, another of Alice’s companions, fired back at Hark.
Maveera was a Macromage Cloak, and she didn’t fight for coin. Unlike the other three. This was a good thing because she burnt through expensive fuel canisters faster than she could pay for them, and she didn't seem to mind it.
The mage didn’t talk about her family, where Alice assumed she derived her wealth, and Alice didn’t ask. A Macromage was an asset for as long as the mage’s companions didn’t have to pay for the fuel, and as long as the magic didn’t end up tumbling down on their heads.
For getting the kill, the blightseed was Alice’s reward, so she swallowed it down without another thought. She tried not to think about the taste, and focused on the possibility that it would bring noticeable gains. As rare as it was, a blight seed could generate unpredictable advancements.
Irregularly potent blightseeds looked no different than normal ones, but it was documented fact that they existed. At least as far as seekers believed. Some also believed it was these seeds that corrupted seekers, superstitious as seekers were. Alice didn't know what to believe, but she was confident she would not fall to corruption.
"We're going to have to move to Lifeblight soon," Alice thought aloud.
“Isn't that going backwards?" Brick cut in. "We are this close to passing the test," he pressed his palms together to indicate just how ready he believed the party was for advancement.
Brick was a seeker Tower, which a subspecialty of the defensive-oriented Shielder focus. Brick carried no external shield. His body was the shield.
Maveera corrected their companion.
"Bellbasin may be classified Umbra, and Lifetangle as Clarion, but Alice understands something you two don't. Lifetangle is rife with toxic creatures and clever traps from the Body Layer all the way through to the Core. We may be taking a step down when it comes to the class of festerfont, but we are taking a big leap in terms of dangerous blightbeast diversity. It would better prepare us for what will certainly come our way in the future."
Blightseeds had seen fit to adapt Brick's endurance. Add to that his lightly enchanted armor and amateur, self-fortifying barrier magic, and he was a mobile fortress in battle. It didn't matter so much that his hammer was more of a deterrent than it was a lethal weapon, so long as he didn't go down in the fight.
"Seems like there's plenty enough kinds of scum here," Hark spat.
"When was the last time you felt like you were going to die?" Maveera pushed. "Not 'felt you were in danger'... I'm talking about 'life-threatening peril'. She wants us to push ourselves."
Alice suddenly realized what she was asking of the others. She knew what she wanted for herself, but she couldn't blame the others if they disagreed with her.
"It was just a thought," she mumbled anxiously.
"A thought I agree with," Maveera answered. "I didn't become a seeker to remain a nobody. A Champion is the least I'll be."
The Macromage smiled darkly. Her ambitions were becoming more apparent. Alice didn't care. Her ally was free to want things. Alice wanted things too. She wouldn't settle for less than Seeker Blightmare status. If it took putting her life on the line every day, she would happily do it.
It must have shown on Alice's face, because her mage companion giggled when she turned and they met glances.
"If I stick with you, I'll never know the killing touch of complacency, Alice dear. But... just why do you fight so fiercely?" she asked. "Is it that infamous call of the blight?"
Alice could see that Maveera was mocking the rumors of an enigmatic force reaching out through the Blight, touching the minds of seekers, forcing them to delve deeper, compelling them to challenge more dangerous festerfonts. Tempting them on.
"Nothing so interesting," Alice answered.
She scanned the area for more blightbeasts, trying to find her next targets before they found her and her party.
"I only want to become more capable."
I only want to protect everyone. Like Arbe, The Resilient. Arbe, The Pillar. Arbe, The Shield. And Arbe, the divine manifestation of order. I only want that...
Her Blue Mark was not something she could exactly feel at any time, but she still knew it was there. She still knew that she had no control. When she was pushed past her limit, her Mark would awaken.
Those feelings of powerlessness had warped her over the years. And so she struggled to control what she realistically could.
Outside, Alice was a perfectly functional, if ambitious, seeker.
Inside, Alice was riddled with self-doubt and maddening insecurities, filled to the brim with self-loathing, and a desperation to change.
She'd found an ally and close friend in Mille, but Mille was too... stable. In that cavern of the Shimmerden festerfont, she'd seen in Caim's eyes what she felt. Alice saw it again when the two of them had visited Arbe's Shrine upon arriving at the city on Caim's first day in Shroud.
He was different, like her. He was desperate, like her. He could lie and he could smile, but he understood, and that meant he was also broken.
And that power!
Alice sucked in a deep breath, feeling the humid Bellbasin air fill her lungs.
Not long now. She only needed to hold on long enough, and somehow, it would all work itself out. Mille gave her hope, but it wasn't the hope she counted on. She believed Caim would catch up to her, and the two of them would find other likeminded seekers, broken in mind and, with warped rationality, they would alter their collective future.
As things stood, Alice's future was bleak. Eventually, someone would discover that she was a Bearer of Blue, cursed and inferior. Mille would stand by her, similarly "inferior" by fact of race, but she'd lose everyone else, and she wouldn't blame them at all.
It was the way of the nation, if not the way of the world.