Mathew

The weight of an Alpha, an order of magnitude more powerful than himself, induced an instinctual response. A spiking heart rate that would drum into his armor a song to remind him of his mortality. Holding the attention of an Alpha was a link to this weight, and Mathew felt it settle into his bones.

Sharp like a whip and biting as an acrid taste, the weight made up for being lighter than other Alphas by sheer viciousness. It promised vindictive revenge at all costs. Barren rocks and crushed gravel defended by a spirit of revenge, damn this world was harsh.

Holding back the membrane of Reinforcement with his own plates of Reinforcement, Mathew calmed himself. Fear and anger didn't belong at the business table. They only existed as a weakness or a deceptive cover for a cold calculation. Having those feelings in truth was weakness.

Steady breaths, they didn't have to be slow. So long as they weren't rushed. I've been through the jaws of the beast and came out well-fed for it. I can handle this. Mathew's self pep talk focused on slowly stating reminders to keep his mind from racing and starting his instincts up again.

A full minute went by as he adjusted to the pressure. Settling in for a wait, Mathew was surprised when it vanished. No more weight, no one watching.

If the Alpha turned their attention away, maybe he could use their Territory for scouting.

Throwing his will at the problem, Mathew tried to make an intelectus that would interface with the neighboring Territory. After five minutes and a few attempts to subvert the power he was up against, the weight returned.

This time, there was an open curiosity replacing the vicious lashing of rejection form before. Dropping his efforts to hold the membrane with his mind, Mathew shifted to communication. If the other Alpha could communicate mood, so could he.

He'd keep it simple for his first effort, something that wouldn't be easy to misunderstand. After all, Mathew was scouting, not trying to start a fight. Settling on the idea of playfulness, he radiated that feeling as strongly as possible.

It felt stupid to stand there and 'feel loudly' because there wasn't any resistance like he'd gotten used to. The worry of being a fool vanished when the other Alpha changed from curiosity to certainty. Then changed again in response to his own playfulness. With a dash of Cheshire grin and a sprinkling of ghost giggles in a haunted house, a warped sense of "playful" washed back over him before vanishing again.

This time he waited longer before a new change occurred. Every five minutes or so, he'd get another wave of awareness rolling over him. This went on for nearly an hour before he was left in silence.

An unsettling feeling of growing pressure built up from the center of the spider's Territory. Mathew wondered what this change ushered when legs and eyes began to rise over the webbed wall. White bristles on segmented exoskeletons and eyes that came in groupings of eight made it clear that an army had arrived.

Mathew's mind gave his body permission to panic, but it was like his body thought the situation was too absurd to have a response to. Dozens of monstrous spider rising from a wall like synchronized swimmers was something to panic over. He got the distinct impression his body was broken. Unable to recognize threats properly.

"I see that you survived," Clare's voice drew his eyes down the wall to where she was stepping over.

Stepping over happened to include a graceful eight-foot drop that she made look like a simple step. Without the pressure of being attacked, Mathew tried to analyze her.

[Clare ~ Tutor

Otherworld Human/Blood Spider Queen

Duelist level 14]

Outside of the sparse information from the scan, she had an unearthly beauty. Lithe grace, pronounced curves, and ruby lips only set more in focus by a white dress with red lilies designed into them. The effect certainly distracted from the awkward puffy train.

This was what he'd been looking for. Her actually showing up was a comforting moment all the same.

"I didn't get to thank you for defending me last time we met. So thanks for saving my ass," Mathew said.

She was looking all around him, not at him. "Wow, so it is true. You took her Territory. Do you know if she is coming back?" Her eyes landed on him, and he saw her red eyes.

"The Night Stalker, uh, I don't know actually," Mathew answered.

Clare waved her hand. "It would be a shame for her to stay away forever. Alas, I knew this was a temporary thing all along. Ah, I see you kept good care of my favorite blade. I would ask you to return it, please?"

The whole time she spoke, Clare continued to take measured steps forward with a predatory sway. Now a couch length between them, Mathew felt the risks he'd adopted drawing their due.

Holding the blade in his bone gauntlet, he unclipped the sword from his Carrion Beast muscle and bone latch.

"Do you, by chance, still have Ripper?" Mathew asked, handing over his only remaining blade.

This was a play he'd thought about while waiting for the others to return from their 'rescue' operation. This was an opportunity to earn trust by making a sacrifice. By cold logic, it showed a willingness to pay a cost in cooperation. The immediate weakness would be offset by proving to be of greater value.

He'd give people their property back regardless of the cold logic, but it helped that logic and his sense of obligation aligned.

"Yes, I do. Oh, but where are my manners? I am Clare Jackson. It is nice to meet you." Clare offered her hand. Not vertically like a handshake but palm down as an invitation to kiss her hand. With that clue, he placed her faded accent as something European.

While international business wasn't the majority of his parent's financial empire, it was enough that he'd been given a relevant cultural tutor. That didn't mean he remembered it all. Two facts shook free from his memory. One, that hand-kissing often wasn't seen as romantic the way it was back home. Two was that its history was tied into status. A lady should only offer her hand if she was of equal or greater status, and not accepting the offer was rude.

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Owning a Territory, leading an army, and having the personal power of a level 14 class. No doubt her status was equal or greater.

Mathew mentally checked his Living Skeleton Armament. His face was ready. He chuckled at the weird thought. There was a vague plan to reveal his face at dinner as they discussed his build, but he wasn't so attached that he couldn't abandon it.

Using his Living Skeleton Armament skill, Mathew stored the front of his exoskull. Exposing his blocky face to fresh air and sunshine plastered him with an involuntary grin.

Mathew took Clare's hand, and as he bowed down to it, the disturbing thought that Clare was just off her rocker hit him. This was a bit outdated even for Europe. And she'd clearly spent plenty of time away. Her behavior wasn't normal. Brushing his lips on her fingers, he was reminded how vulnerable his situation was.

Looking up, he saw her expression. She seemed relaxed and honest. Remembering the window that his affinity with Caustic Resolution opened into who she was as a person... Her seeking to live with pain was about returning to a good life, not something darker like a campaign of vengeance.

"Mathew Starling, pleased to officially meet you." Mathew let his smile show.

Clare nodded her head. "To your question, I did manage to keep hold of Ripper. Do not worry. I will get your sword back to you."

"Of course, you will. I hope I didn't give you the impression I don't trust you." Mathew said.

"You should not. Just like you fight foreign instincts, I do as well. When you were flush of loose Alpha Spectrum energy, I rushed your way out of hunger, not benevolence." Clare waved her hand as if clearing the air. "Seeing you as a human Hybrid, I changed plans. I am not a total monster. Speaking of monsters, where did Doctor Hundle drop you off?"

"I've never seen the man. The compound of the first survivors was overrun with monsters. Supplies were abandoned. I think they didn't make it." Mathew spoke softly. He wasn't sure her history with the people at the compound, but there was a chance he'd just delivered news of loss. Maybe someone she cared for was still there when she left.

"While I came to much the same conclusion at first, his contracts were missing," Clare read the lack of recognition on Mathews' face. "The dynamic of The Colony was complex. We relied on Doctor Hundle to keep Hybrids around, and we relied on Markos for civilization. Markos came through the Transition largely unscathed. Trained as a lawyer and an accountant, he was a hobby paper maker. Altogether, he supplied and encouraged the documentation of everything. So that the torch of civilization could be passed on."

Clare dropped her red eyes and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Sorry, I ramble from time to time. Anyway, Markos eventually chose to activate his magic and obtained Contract Magic. Both parties had to agree to a written contract of their own free will, and then the document would enforce it. Well, mostly. Hybrids were held by it less and less as they transformed. Anyway, the written contracts that Doctor Hundle maintained weren't with his other possessions. To me, it seems he is alive."

"You've lived here since The Colony started?" Mathew asked.

"Nearly yes. I'm not an Original, but they found me right away." Clare nodded.

Answers, knowledge about how the world worked from someone less tight-lipped than Grant. A wave of relief swept over Mathew as a burden he didn't know he was feeling lightened up.

"I'm sorry, what is an Original?" Mathew asked.

"The first set of people transitioned. Their transition wasn't timeless like ours was. Of course, you couldn't tell the difference from within a Chronosphere." Clare primly cleared her throat. "A-hem. So, according to the Originals, who are identifiable by their title, the transition process started before the tutorial. Coming from the lesser world that Earth is, we didn't have the biology of higher world humans. A major part of the transition was growing, grafting and transmuting Earthlings. Just think about it, how do you have Health?"

"I, I thought it was part of the world," Mathew answered.

Clare giggled. "I am so sorry. Please forgive me; I do not intend to laugh at you. It is just that your view seems silly from the other side of the veil of information. Our bodies did not even have the organs we needed to interface with Leternum's system. And our selves are distinct from that of Living Planets. The processes they went through were experiments leaving them something like lab rats, guests, and prisoners... What we did have for genetics and our seed of magical essence was evolved or used as scaffolding to make us as advanced as we are now. That is why we have cores and cognitive orga-"

The clear expression on Clare's face turned stormy as she turned to look over her shoulder. "Fuck." She said under her breath.

"I apologize, an unattended task has reasserted itself, and now my time is limited. We can call for help by tapping at Territories as you have just done. Keep up your self-crafting. The pain is worth the price for sanity. We can talk more about balancing power to hold a Territory and the weakness of maintaining human senses." Clare's face didn't clear, but the lines of stress lightened. "Thank you. This has been such a nice breath of fresh air. One last thing about managing Hybrid sickness. With a Territory, you can pour energy into the land and change it. Just be careful if you make it too valuable or others will look to take it from you. Take care of yourself. It would be a shame to lose you so soon."

Clare turned to her waiting entourage.

"Before you go," Mathew reminded himself he could do this without her help. "Can we work together to get more Territory?"

"With you being an Alpha, we can share a Territory," Clare's face was blank.

"What about the other survivors?" Mathew asked.

Clearly distracted, she called over her shoulder. "We can work together and figure something out, I'm sure."

With that, she pulled herself up onto the webbing, giving Mathew an excellent view of her backside. It was covered well by the train of her dress, but a lump protruded from her back. Sized something between a gallon jug and a basketball, the grafted organ was manifest under the fabric.

Making himself satisfied with the answers, Mathew tried to incorporate what he'd learned. Maybe it was speculation that Clare would laugh at, but he tried to place the information together. This wasn't a game. The world made sense within its own patterns. Things he'd taken for granted, like his nature were a part of this. Cores, Health, stats. He chuckled. Even before he became a Hybrid, he'd been changed irrevocably.

Becoming a Hybrid was just the second time his mind had its structure changed. The most obvious was his willpower. Whatever that force was, it provided raw motivation and by itself could create thoughts, even full minds.

Swallowing his anger felt like consuming hot lead. It was one thing to be angry at the horrors The Colony had wrought on its own people. Mathew could keep that in context, at least. They were desperate. The raiders had no excuse not to just leave well enough alone.

Hot anger is a weakness. Cold anger is a virtue. Mathew worked over his emotional state. What do I want that makes me angry?... I want them to pay, and I want them to stop doing this to anyone.

Channeling his anger into its mission, Mathew forged a cold fire of rage. Before long he was confident he could look at the person who made this choice in their face with a smile and small talk as he planned their murder.

Right until this moment, Mathew had blamed himself for everything he'd become. Every mistake, success, and sacrifice was his own... now knowing that he'd been tampered with could he trust his own agency?

Breaker of Fate as a reward gave him comfort that his life was entirely in his own control but was it a false comfort?

At times like this, Mathew didn't appreciate his heightened cognition. Another change to who he was that he hadn't asked for and didn't have the tools to navigate. Wrangling his runaway mind, Mathew turned to good things.

They could survive; hope was as alive as they were. Returning home was an option. Clare was answers, guidance and kinship all rolled in one. His plan to grow a place for refugees had legs.

Balancing the scales within his mind, Mathew lifted his face to sunlight. For the first time in too long, he wasn't grasping at hope. Instead, it filled him on its own. Training was coming to an end, and he had some conquest to get to.