Chapter 183: What You Have Against Us
With Gaze of the Boundary, ordinary portals were already a noisy experience, full of the intricate and powerful magics that connected space beyond space, skimming the dimensional barrier like ripples of a dragonfly on water without fulling crossing it.
Interdimensional portals were much the same—after all, most would not survive crossing into the astral. A portal therefore could not actually cross through the astral, not like Nara could. That exploitation was hers alone, within the realm of mortals (although, did she count?).
Interdimensional portals required another magnitude of power; It was a portal within a portal—a portal to cross reality-space, and another to bypass astral-space, never touching the second while still crossing it.
Nara was not surprised if the cost of such a portal had at least been a diamond rank coin: She’d been an expensive investment for The Adventists.
It would not pay off.
It was time they learnt that only genuine cooperation borne the fruit of golden eras. Nara forgot many grudges—literally and figuratively—but she would not forget this one.
*****
Nara, expectedly, did not walk out into a city portal plaza, but rather, an admittedly nice room—a clean white, not overly clinical, with fine decorations of silver and pearlescent white: the sort of fancy wallpaper pattern in bourgeoisie government buildings. There was a tall window—crafted with the restrictions of barrier magic—that looked out over an expansive, modern city, mixed with the sharp aesthetic of science fiction and magical whimsy, distinctly solar punk. The same city, Nara noted, that she had seen in the propaganda presentation (if all the cities did not look the same, a uniform ‘utopia’.)
“Welcome to Conchordia,” a voice interrupted, stealing her attention from the panoramic view. “We’ve been expecting you, Miss Edea.”
Nara met the gaze of the woman before her; Her brown hair was woven upwards into a neat updo, nary a hair out of place. Her clothing was clean, but not entirely minimalist, celebrating shades of colors in the expensive way of curated design. She was an elf, surprising no one: another representative that would not unduly scare a humanoid like herself. She was older, matronly, but managed to avoid stuffy despite her collected and prim posture. This woman’s stylist deserved a pay raise for avoiding all the pitfalls of dressing a woman of authority.
“Thanks, I guess,” she said, her own smile patently fake. “The welcoming committee is smaller than I expected.”
The greeter-woman smiled consolingly. “The portal is hardly a two-way trip.”
The meaning was implicit: Where would you run?
“I suppose it isn’t. I’ve made a bit of a deal with Tosen here.” She gestured to him, brushing aside her not-lie. That portal wasn’t a two-way trip.
The woman was gold rank as well. It was hardly necessary for more than one for just a measly bronze ranker.
“Elder Orchis. I have the contract here.” He handed the metal tube contract to her.
Orchis flicked her eyes over it; the barest glance was all the gold ranker needed.
“I suppose we will have to earn your trust from past transgressions, of course. We appreciate this…willingness to work together. To work past prior faults,” Orchis probed, evidently suspicious of Nara’s acquiescence.
Nara would be suspicious too, and her smile was a little sharp, each evaluating the other. “I didn’t want to keep being harassed and keep putting my teammates at risk. If I’m here, you have no reason to attack them anymore.” A true statement, and her aura would betray no falsehood. There was not even an intent to deceive with it. Knowledge’s instructions were a background smudge, indistinct against her foreground concerns of her team’s wellbeing. Perhaps Orchis could sense ulterior motives if she dug deeper, but she didn’t feel the sort of suffocating weight on that sort of intense, all-seeing scrutiny (but Orchis was gold rank, and she was bronze—she didn’t know if she would sense it at all). Or perhaps, she could sense her disquiet, and she did not find it unusual for an unwilling visitor in her circumstances.
“Self-sacrifice. A noble ideal,” she praised, voice warm with appreciation. Her voice was pitched perfectly, and Nara could find no fault in her geniality. “It is praiseworthy. We value all life, and encourage its preservation.”
“Of course.” Nara tried not to sound too sarcastic, but her doubt would be obvious to the gold ranker.
The gold ranker understood, drawing whatever conclusions she pleased, and offered a perfectly reassuring smile. “You will not have to see those…extremists who had troubled you before.”
“I won’t have to work together harmoniously with them?”
“We understand that songs are organized in sections. Your part lies not with them. We all seek to work together to create our enveloping song, but not every note forms a harmony.”
“Right.” She said flatly. Even she, Nara, current lutist, former high school band musician, was getting a little tired of music allusions.
“Just grin and bear it.” Chrome communicated. “You’ve always been good at keeping your head empty.”
It was a cool relief to hear Chrome’s commentary wash through her mind, even though it had only been moments since she had last heard him. She felt the weight on her shoulders lessen, and the knots in her spine ease. A few bodies of Sage had been left behind on Erras as communication—and thanks to their soul connection, she’d be able to hear whatever updates her team wanted to communicate.
Introductions finished, she was guided through the halls of the skyscraper. Tosen followed, her apparent chaperone. Orchis explained the building—the Harmony Core—was where most of the important government decisions were made. This was their seat of government for the city, as well as the governing capital of this world, Premiesta.
She was given an identity band—a tracker, no doubt, but it did not restrict her abilities in any way—which she wore around her wrist. It acted as a key card and would let her into her rooms in a separate building nearby, as well as her eventual place of work.
She had options to choose from, and would, like most non-core users, maintain a few simultaneous positions to progress her abilities. The Advent was interested in her Celestial Library, and she’d work with the archivists to record all she knew.
“They did something similar on Erras,” she mused. This, they already knew. “A priest of Knowledge followed me around. Is Tosen here a Knowledge priest?”
“No, the archivists working with you will not be priests of Knowledge.”
“Huh. I suppose the profession shouldn’t be restricted by religion. How forward.” With such a modern landscape before her, Nara would have felt culturally jarred if they had restricted certain professions to religious personnel, specific races, or specific genders. Although, she supposed, any world could develop any which way: modern architecture did not necessarily indicate an egalitarian society.
“Ah, you seem to be mistaken, Miss Edea. It is a common misconception.”
Something niggled in her mind. “…Mistaken? About what?”
Orchis smiled pleasantly, almost pridefully—the first smile Nara could confirm was one hundred percent real, with no intent to reassure nor placate. “There are no gods in Harmony.”
*****
Nara collapsed onto the bed, letting herself forget everything and just enjoy the plushness of high-quality bedding and a top-of-the-line mattress. The duvet was almost cloud-soft, and she appreciated the advancements in manufacturing technology that allowed for what would be an annoyingly decent sleep. Her nebula flask had been left back in Kallid, and she’d be missing its easy amenities, although her current apartment was not lacking.
She flipped onto her back, hand absently stroking through Thanatos’ thick, dark fur, as she organized her thoughts like she organized the stands of his wavy coat.
No gods. She had heard this before in different words, from Raina, back during her abduction.
She’d need to explore this revelation. She had a feeling it was related to what Knowledge wanted her to learn, although if Adventists were on Erras, shouldn’t Knowledge already know? What was her purpose here?
There was something she didn’t know about Knowledge’s intentions.
Few tried to out-chess the world’s greatest know-it-all. Did knowledge translate to wisdom and foresight? Some, undoubtedly. She could not out-think the god with all the thoughts, but she could try to tilt the scale, landing her on the side of ‘useful’ rather than ‘disposable’.
*****
It shouldn’t be surprising that her brunch meeting the next day was arranged to be with a familiar face to acclimatize her to her ‘new life’. The familiar face in question was one that had also abandoned her previous life on Erras, although Nara could hardly blame her for choosing life over death. Not everyone had it within them to die for their freedom or ideals. (Nara knew Aliyah would.)
Her brunch date was Yulia Chime, the ash-brown haired elf that had been a colleague with Jiro, one of the several Sanshi researchers that had been abducted with her. Nara settled at the outdoor café in the seat across from her; similar autonomous serving carts to the abduction facility threaded around tables, picking up plates and delivering fresh food for the café’s customers. She could see the menu from the holographic illusion projected from her bracelet, although it was proximity based. The Advent, thankfully, and Nara could not believe she was thinking this, had no internet. The bracelets instead worked with transmitter and receiver crystals, not unlike paired recording crystals, which transmitted information in a limited area. The information was limited to whatever was recorded on the data crystal. It was quite convenient for location-based information needs, such as café menus, public transportation schedules and routes, and city navigation.
“Hey! Yulia, long time no see,” she greeted kindly, amicable. For now.
Yulia looked her up and down, surprised. And a variety of emotions flickered across her face and aura: concern, fear, and relief, of all things. Why relief?
“Nara. I’m surprised you’re here at all. After…what they did to you.”
She snorted derisively. “Believe me, I’m not particularly pleased with this development. Neither were you, at the time,” Nara pointed out. “Not that I don’t understand your decision, given the circumstances, with no rescue in sight.”
Yulia acknowledged that with a tight nod. “How’s Jiro?” she suddenly asked. “They told me he was alive. As were the others.”
“Got rescued.”
“By, um…Sezan Aciano? You mentioned your teammate…?”
“Well. Might as well have been him.”
They chatted for a bit, sipping their chosen hot beverages, and exchanging updates and pleasantries. Nara was enjoying a pale pink beverage, the color of cherry blossoms, with a pleasantly sweet, lightly floral, and refreshing flavor. It was close to an herbal tea, although it was opaque. Yulia, she learned, had not been harmonized yet. It was somewhat a surprise, but she had no idea if it was because Yulia was supposed to serve as some sort of ‘good example’.
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By the time their brunch dishes had been delivered by the vaguely adorable-in-its-obedience serving cart, they transitioned to more serious topics.
“I’m a little surprised,” Nara began, very casually while slicing some sort of meat-potatoish-tart. It was plated quite pleasingly: very Instagram-able. “That they didn’t offer Ceram up to me. To kill.”
(Heavy or bloodthirsty instead of casually perhaps would’ve possibly been a more apt description, although her tone was certainly that: casual.)
“Um,” Yulia prevaricated. Her jaw locked, and she swallowed something down uncomfortably. “What?”
“Ceram. He’s the one who had killed my friend, Aliyah.” She had been revived…but Nara had a sobering thought that Tyler, the researcher that had been killed before Aliyah, had not had her friendship enough to live through the ordeal. She should remember him, and Lieke, in her dealings. Aliyah had been revived, but it certainly wasn’t at Ceram’s hand, so she felt quite justified in her animosity.
Yulia set down her eating utensil—enough like a fork that Nara was just going to call it a fork—as if too uncomfortable to continue eating normally. “I suspect…I suspect they believe they may only win you over ideologically.”
“You suspect?” Nara said, casually continuing with her tart, as if she wasn’t discussing her desire to murder over aesthetic meat-and-potatoes and delightfully floral tea.
“I was told as much…I suppose. Nominally, I am your guide and one of your contacts.”
“I’m hardly consistent ideologically,” Nara scoffed.
“Yes but, ethics and morality are important to you. As they should be. The extremists had disappointed you, and colored your view of The Advent as a whole—” She had been hesitant, but her words picked up steam, driving forward. The Adventists, it seemed, had earned her defense.
“Extremists,” Nara snapped, vehemently tired of that poor excuse, and cutting Yulia’s word train short, killing its energy in its tracks. “Tell me you aren’t trying to say because they’re extremists that they aren’t representative of The Advent as a whole?” She leveled a cold, hard stare at Yulia, only now pausing her meal.
“It is proof that harmonization isn’t so…restricting as your impression of it,” Yulia said with a nervous swallow, somehow managing to throw out some perceived positive of the situation. The weight of Nara’s aura was uncomfortable and omnipresence, surrounding herself in suffocating pressure, as if sinking below the sea.
“This isn’t about the harmonization,” Nara said, voice hard as steel. “It’s about the deflection of responsibility. I know this game: the government hires out a private military corporation and claims that their actions aren’t government sanctioned. My world plays this game, and this world clearly does too. The handling of your PMC doesn’t impress me. Even less so because it is actually government sanctioned.”
Yulia was perhaps an undeserving target of Nara’s ire, but Nara was gratified to see that she could make her hands shake and her throat bob. Yulia was bronze rank now, same as she, but it was a house cat cowering in front of a lioness.
“But…” Nara relented, and eased her aura off, as she did need information, “I will admit that sending Ceram up for slaughter wouldn’t have improved my opinion of The Advent in any way. It would’ve been gratifying, perhaps, although even I would struggle to kill someone like Ceram unprovoked.” She shrugged, aiming for a little dark levity. “Maybe if he opened his mouth and spoke. I still wouldn’t let him near me if The Advent wants him in the realm of the living.” There was some truth to ‘out of sight, out of mind’, especially with someone like herself. Ideally, the Advent would punish Ceram for her, perhaps with a prison sentence, but how could they justify institutional justice if they were the ones to condone it in the first place? Was betrayal of their own people and hypocrisy any better?
Yulia nodded and went back to toying with her fork in an attempt to eat with it. She couldn’t quite manage to pick up any food.
“I do have something else I’m curious about—”
Yulia stiffened, in anticipation of another curveball—
“—Can you clarify by what The Advent means by having no gods? I though gods were just another type of magical manifestation: singular in nature, as there is only one of each god, and representative of aspects that appear in a world. It is why ‘evil’ gods like Destruction and Pain cannot be eliminated, because there will always be destruction and pain.”
Nara knew that a world with no magic would have no gods, but she would not offer that information up.
“Ah,” Yulia relaxed, happy to talk about a safer, less murderous rage inciting topic. “It’s a history I’ve heard before. This world and many others in the harmony’s embrace have had gods, before, but The Advent despised the uncontrollability and persistence of evil gods. The beneficial gods brought many benefits, of course, but did it supersede the misery that detrimental gods could bring?”
“Mm.” Nara hummed, neither agreeing nor denying. She could see both sides of it: Gods provided another branch of regulation, one that wasn’t so easily overturned by governments as they pleased, although they did still have to work with local politics. They also cultivated specialists and talent, regardless of local funding or educational policies, and were balanced by their need to maintain a good relationship with the local population for worship and recruitment. Conversely, some information was restricted to church clergy or those they approved of, they further complicated local politics, and some gods were blatantly destructive to society.
Was it worth it? It was a question Nara did not yet have an answer to.
“They found a method of which to reject the interference and oversight of evil gods, but it’d deny all other gods as well. They believe the rejection is constructive.”
“How exactly?” Nara asked, genuinely curious.
Yulia was apologetic. “If you want the specifics, I recommend you ask Elder Orchis. It is no great secret, but I have not sought the answer myself, as I’ve been pre-occupied with re-establishing my life here.”
“Ah, fair enough,” said Nara, lightening up now that she’d gotten information from Yulia. Thanks for the explanation. And the food recommendation.”
And so, Nara let Yulia off for today, transitioning back into lighter conversations about Conchordia’s culture, and what research topics Yulia was currently working on. The Advent had not lied about that: They were a haven for academic pioneers.
*****
Nara had sworn to never help The Advent—she still believed that, although, as always, the initial emotions of such a testament had faded with the pacifying breeze of time. She was not helping The Advent now, but acting as spy, the distinction of which was considerably reassuring. She had been careful with her words thus far, unwilling to give any information away inadvertently.
Knowledge, ungenerous as usual, had unfortunately been infuriatingly vague with what information Nara needed to know. Nara only had one chance at this—the moment she phased away from this reality, she would not be re-accepted into their fold with the same trust and allowances. The Advent believed her to be cornered; with no other option but to eventually accept her fate as one of their people, as she was stranded in their world with no return. The same for any outworlder: if it had happened once, she may grow to love this world this same.
*****
The next step to integration, it appeared, was to introduce her to a team of mostly enthusiastic bronze rankers. Nara felt a bit bad for her inevitable betrayal—she’d never be a part of this team, no matter how long or how kind these young bronze rankers were. It was no fault of this team.
Kana was bubbly, almost to an obnoxious degree, and a jittery and hopping damage frontliner with surprising capability to unleash destruction on a wide scale through temporary portals, greatly increasing her range despite her primarily melee style. In some ways her fighting style resembled Nara, although her fighting style resembled Gento’s, as she pummeled monsters barehanded and grapple-threw them to the ground from the air.
Vassil was suspicious and rejecting, unpleased with Nara’s presence but acquiescing with his orders. He was their controller and healer, creating poles that emanated zones of recovery or restricting effects. Stacked poles could amplify effects and extend range, creating an interesting supportive style that could shape the battlefield through placement and amplification. He was right to reject her; Nara could hardly begrudge him.
Bachinger was even-tempered and communicative, the weld of their construction, willing to wait and see and bide his time, although he leaned mainly towards general acceptance and positivity. He controlled flying metal orbs that could channel his abilities, acting as loci for conjured shields and mirrors that intercepted at high speeds, or just smashed into enemies with pure blunt force trauma. The healing of the team was on the low side, but Bachinger supported Vassil with his defensive capabilities.
It was curious that The Advent had chosen this team, one with personalities that weren’t wholly welcoming, although the answer made itself known in short order.
“Are you all harmonized?” Nara asked. Conchordia didn’t need patrols thanks to its city-wide alert system, but guardians of the city usually spread out evenly to ensure rapid response. Concordia was within a silver rank zone, so the team wasn’t allowed unescorted beyond the city limits. They’d have to request an escort for out-of-city training. Nara intended to learn the way they fought, so she could better fight against them.
Vassil’s eyes narrowed, disliking her tone. “We are. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Do you want a genuine answer or just to hear me placate and say ‘no’?”
“Let’s hear it. What do you have against us?”
She wouldn’t get into that exactly, she had no desire to dig open old wounds to win an argument against a bunch of…well, not kids. They were around her age, at least. The Advent spent a considerably longer time with education than Erras did, giving a basic, general education to all students as Earth did.
They were, however, a bit innocent. Pure and straightforward, believing in the goodness of their causing having seen none of its failures—and it was true, their world was beautiful and brilliant. If Nara had grown up here, on the inside, she would not be able to see their faults either. But, even if one was critical of their home country, few tolerated it when outsiders were.
“It’s common knowledge among your upper brass, but I had suffered soul torture before I became an outworlder. I mean no insult to your harmony,” she said, although that wasn’t quite true, “but I cannot imagine allowing anything with undue access to my soul, after spending so long fighting that very outcome.” She gave them a bitter, consoling smile, “So why don’t you tell me how it feels instead? Like…how old were you when you were harmonized?”
That seemed to placate Vassil a bit, hit shoulders loosening and his fists unclenching. She felt a pulse of empathy through his aura, reflected in the shimmer of his eyes, although he tried to hide it in his expression.
She had noticed that—The Adventists were not particularly adept at controlling their face and body language. Their aura control was good, as good as any well-trained adventurer’s was, although they seemed weaker in more esoteric techniques, like the perception manipulation Laius had taught them.
Conversely, emotional openness through aura seemed like it was a positive value in their society. Controlled openness—allowing others to see lack of deceit through your aura, as a demonstration of exactly that. Expressing positive emotions in aura expression was welcomed and encouraged, and dangerous emotions that could hurt normals, like anger and frustration or simply intensity of feeling, were just as Erras was, taught to be kept out of auras.
It was societal convention in Erras to keep auras politely restrained in public spaces—so many auras muddied the senses and irritated senses. Here, however, they wove their auras as they passed, leaving them unrestrained but also tempered and mild. It was only mildly irritating to Nara, who was still adjusting her sense to filter out the constant noise. It did give her ideas…
“You probably think we were harmonized as young children,” Vassil began, still wary but willing to share. He was a race she didn’t know of, with dark sclera, metallic ridged plates and severe facial contours that were humanish but distinctly different. Beneath the plate ridges, she could see something like liquid mercury, silver and swirling. “We weren’t. It was in our twenties, only after ascending to bronze rank were we harmonized. No matter what you think—Even we understand that influencing minds at young ages is ethically problematic.”
But if they were raised in a cult, was there an age where it wasn’t ethically problematic? If they knew no other way of life? Was it an option to refuse harmonization indefinitely, and what were its societal consequences and pressures?
But Nara nodded to acquiesce that point, for now. Was there any culture that didn’t shape their children to follow? “And how it feels?”
“Hmm~” Kara hummed, legs swinging from the ledge she was resting on. “The harmony is nice! It’s, um, like this nudge that wants you do to good things…Deescalate instead of escalate, help the granny cross the road, do your homework on time, not eat that sixth chime-pop…”
“That’s just your sweet tooth, Kara,” Bachinger said dryly. “And screams of your own consciousness.”
“Screams barely heard,” Vassil muttered. “Death screams.”
“And it’s all for the greater good?”
“Mm, I guess that’s right. But like, um, everyone sort of interprets the greater good a little differently. So~ we’ve still got our individuality. Since um, everyone asks about that in preparatory. But um,” Kara tilted her head in recollection. “People can have different degrees of harmonization. Like um, the Elders and the Harmonaries.”
“The Harmonaries?”
“They serve on the Harmonic Council, determining policy along with Elders. The Elders serve longer terms, and are high ranked essence users, while the Harmonaries can be of any rank, and serve shorter terms on the Council,” Bachinger explained.
The day itself was rather boring—Nara had never been good at forming friendships, and that difficulty was exacerbated by the expectation she’d eventually leave—but she had learned a great deal from KVB (Kara, Vassil, and Bachinger):
Combatants, or ‘guardians of harmony’, typically had lower levels of harmonization. Higher levels impeded their necessity of violence, although well-meaning violence in the interest of protecting others didn’t trigger the influence of the Harmony (which couldn’t prevent violence entirely, but could be like a crowd of severely judgmental bystanders disapproving if you attempted a crime—not based on law, but rather societal morality, as the Harmony did not have laws baked in. That wasn’t how it worked). Thus, planet-bound guardians could have higher levels of harmonization, compared to the so-called extremists, which had some of the lowest levels of harmonization to allow for the necessities of violence.
Those in political or financial positions of power required higher levels of harmonization. It prevented white-collar crime such as embezzlement. Although… money itself was absent from The Advent’s society, so Nara wasn’t sure what exactly they’d embezzle. But it prevented other crimes such as coercion from a position of power and harassment. The government of The Advent may disagree on policy decision, but it came from disagreements over the policy itself, rather than lobbying.
Since increasing and decreasing levels of harmonization was a willing process (if their words were to be believed), criminals that ignored the influence of The Harmony had to consent to increased levels of harmonization. However, if even under high levels of harmonization their criminal tendencies could not be curtailed, they were often sent to containment facilities to spend their days in a controlled environment where they could not hurt anyone else. Nara wondered if Ceram was there. Raina, at least, would rot in a prison on Erras for the rest of her gold rank life.
The day went on like that—she toured the training facilities (with modified healing-bracelets that pulled from a magical reserve to prevent lethal damage, although it only worked on premises, and had a cooldown for each person individually), the different preparatory schools (after the equivalent of high-school education, they transitioned into more focused curriculums, with guardian training as the longest training period, as The Harmony had compunctions with youth soldiers.) Nara remarked on what magitechnological advancements she could, thinking of how she could introduce them to Erras, or even Earth. The TNR (transmitter and receiver) crystals seemed feasible, and Amara may be able to integrate that into her communication array project.
But when the warm golds of day faded past twilight into the dark hues of a night that sparkled with columns of crystalline glass and the prismatic sparkles of silver crystalline lamps, Nara wondered how long she should stay. How long before the good of Conchordia began to outweigh the bad. After all, one should not let ‘perfect’ get in the way of better, and Earth and Erras had societies with problems that paled in comparison to the Advent home world.
Two weeks, she decided. No longer than two weeks.