The observatory felt like a cage for the sky. A tall ceiling loomed above, tapering together in an arched dome. Sunlight entered only through a crack in the painted night sky. That Elia could still see across to the far end of the room was likely due to the walls, which were blown out, both solid stone and colored glass simply missing. Only one wall was left standing between the structural pillars, the hands of a naked clock leisurely winding away between the largest of them. But there was no movement, no sign of life. For all the ways the world was ending, it seemed as though time had not touched this place.
Taking even a single step forward felt like trespass. Taking a step back was the safe thing to do, the reasonable one, but none of the people present seriously considered it.
“This place has some really good homely vibes,” Elia quipped.“Iron cages hanging from the ceiling are pretty villain-chic. That classic tick, tick, tick of a thirty foot diameter clock gives this place a real nice out-of-time vibe. Oh, and that dragon corpse? Really, why doesn’t everyone have a fifty foot headless dragon corpse? Damn, if this place wasn’t so solidly built the floor would’ve buckled and broken ages ago. Really, just prime real estate all around, for living in or as an investment.”
“Elia, be quieeet! We’re taking this seriously.”
“Oh, I sure am. I’m just, y’know, spicing it up with a bit of snark. God, the world, or whoever is going to ruin our day, isn’t nice enough to give me many chances to fight back. At this point, if I increase expectations enough that the reveal is a let down, I win.” She kicked a pile of books, which toppled with all the leisure of pounds of leather. Satisfied with her work, she strode along towards the center of the room. “Oh, would you look at that, a bowl of respite. How convenient. This absolutely doesn’t mean we’re about to get shafted. Hey Karla, mind if you announce yourself?”
“M-me?” Karla pointed to herself, nearly poking out an eye with her spiny sword. “Can we please talk about the headless dragon instead?”
“Karla, you’re the hero-ish-iest person around, you gotta give the big bad your name or they won’t know who to monologue at. Think about what your idols would do. What was it, rubber-rubber man and spiky hairdo guy?” She gave her a slap on the back, gently, because breaking her hand was not a fun punchline. “Go ahead. I’ve got your back.”
The princess swallowed, turning to the dead dragon, because she’d look stupid talking to the air. “I am Karla, princess of the maroon pact, and I have come for your meat and for a fight. Also, for your princess, or prince if you happen to have one. Please and thank you.”
Elia winced as Mouggen and Clive cycled through a cavalcade of emotions.
“Maroon pact.” Elia jumped a bit as Mouggen bellowed a laugh, hearty and high. “Well, at least she’s polite.”
“That’s… a different reaction?” Rye whispered. “It’s good though. Better. Look at us, two bundles of luck.”
“If you say ‘what’s the worst that could happen’, I don’t care if you’re a cloud-ghost, I will strangle you.” Elia stared through ghost-cloud Rye straight at Clive. “And you. Got anything to say?”
“Oh, well, goody-me, there’s a big bounty on that one,” he said as Elia walked up into his face, glaring all the while. “But I don’t have to collect on her right now. Rhuna won’t be too mad if I put one foot in front of the other. And besides, you look like someone who’d be alright with splitting the rewards after, am I right?”
She cracked him over the head with a boon-empowered left hook. He fell to the floor, very unconscious from the blunt impact and the poison.
“Ummm, Elia? Isn’t an immortal… ‘tank’ a very nice thing to have during a possible fight?”
Elia snorted. “I don’t like variables I can’t remove. Especially Simon-shaped ones.”
“Well, true, but he was unarmed. We can just wait until he–“
*Gong*
“–and you just touched the bowl. Great. Fantastic. No, it’s not like I have much say in matters anyways.”
“You don’t really mean it. I only ignore your endless moralistic worries if it's for both our good. You know it, I know it, now you know I know.” She scratched at the dried blood in her hair. “Now, where’s that dang boss?”
Rye didn’t answer, which left her a few quiet moments to look around.
“That should have summoned it. Weird.”
“I found the princess!” Karla called.
Indeed, there was a princess lying in one of the iron ceiling cages that had fallen to the ground. Above the hips she was a twenty-odd woman some might call insanely beautiful, with the top part of a sky blue princess-dress neatly framing her chest. The amount of sown-on pearls and frills cascading down her form were nearly decadent. She almost looked normal.
But below her hips, she was a lizard. Just a full on, fifteen-foot lizard body in that same blue, with front paws for grasping, and wide hind ones for lizard walking. It was the weirdest centaur she’d ever seen. Even just imagining what life must be like with a lower lizard half threw up all kinds of questions, but all Elia could think was how cool she looked.
“I could be a cool half-lizard person. Hey Rye, do you think that Kasimir would agree if I said I wanted to have a lizard body?”
“Kasi-who?”
“Karla’s uncle. The guy who’s going to make me a body and split us after this ordeal? No bells?”
“… I’m just shocked you bothered to remember his name.”
“And I’m shocked you didn’t. It’s like I’m the only one taking this merging-separation business seriously.”
They approached the sleeping princess, but Cesare held Elia back when they were thirty feet away.
“Better stay here. Wouldn’t want to be close if she explodes.”
“Princesses can explode? Why? How?”
“When two princesses or princes meet, they must follow proper rituals, or risk the wrath of Prensi,” he quoted. “The god of princesses is an ass. I can say that ‘cause he’s dead now, but his rules were pretty asinine even before that. Also, that's the witchiest witch I’ve ever seen. She even has the wide-brimmed hat and everything.”
“Witches can be princesses too!” Karla cried with a bit too much emphasis. “She’s sleeping really good, she didn’t even greet me. I’m going to touch her now.”
“Wait.”
“No!”
“Sure, why the heck not?”
The moment Karla touched her, a massive gong sent her jumping away. As annoying as the bells were in the lower parts of the tower, up here one level below them the sound was ear-shattering.
The bell tolled thrice, before suffering a stroke on the forth. The tower rumbled and above them, the crack in the ceiling widened as a part of it cracked and crashed. A fifth final gong sounded out as a huge bell slammed into the ground, pulverizing much of the floor.
“So much for the property value of timeless architecture,” Elia said in between coughs. “Does anybody have eyes on the dragon? Goddangit, this fuckin dust–“
A clang of metal rang out in front of her, then another followed by a yelp. A vaguely Karla-shaped projectile appeared within the fog, then disappeared behind her. Elia tensed, from head to toe as a towering shadow rose from the dust.
“W-what was that!?”
The boss. Her instinct screamed murder at her; there was not a bone of doubt in her body. Here was the guardian of the goal, the warden of loot, the final fuck-you placed exactly once step before the finish line. She sprinted, though straight towards it right as a smaller figure clashed in a play of shadows, like a toy fighting a grown man.
“Moug! Fuck, Mouggen, on me!”
“No.” she heard him grunt. “On me! I can hold him! Brother, talk to me.”
“Brother?”
There was a crunching sound, then nothing. Rye immediately flew ahead, mixing with the particles like a blue firelight. For a few heartbeats, Elia just stared at where she disappeared in the dust. Her screaming instinct saved her, as she backstepped just in time to dodge a single long shaft, thick as a pillar.
“Mouggen. He’s–”
“Dead, yeah. Bit of a bad habit, isn’t it? Here,” she grunted as another swing caught her off balance. It tossed her across the room like a ragdoll until she cracked her head against the glass. A sudden tinge of pain went through her, followed by the intimate knowledge that Rye’s immaterial form had just been squished like a bug.
“Owww, that took a chunk of our reservoir… ow.”
Fffudge, we–
“–switched again.” Rye felt blood running down her face. “I-I need to–“
She looked up, straight into the round hollow of the foe's weapon. Odd, why would anyone make a club hollow?
–need to dodge that, Rye, THAT’S A–
A spark, a bright flash and infernal sound filled her to the core. And then there was nothing. Only darkness.
You have died
You have lost: Soul x25,854
You have lost: Bone shard [Common] x44, [Uncommon] x4, [Rare] x1
Undead curse overflowing
Further deaths will lead to erosion of self. Sacrifice a boon to gain absolution.
----------------------------------------
– a gun. That’s so cool. So unfair. I want a gun.
But the world wouldn’t give her one, unless she wrenched it from their ambusher’s dead hands. Elia waited to the sound of Rye’s shallow breaths as she both rationalized another death, as well as being on the wrong end of a firearm for the first time. Not a good first first for both of them either.
Seven out of ten. Quick and easy, slightly traumatizing with a sound that lingered, but lacking in the epicness of a drawn-out duel.
It wasn’t a type of gun she recognized. It wasn’t a flintlock, that was more pirate era even if it would have fit with the gothic aesthetic of this city district. Come to think of it, Yorivale was always referred to as its own city and not as part of Loften. Was the city moved, was it grafted onto Loften like a twig onto a tree? If people could conjure smartphones and water bottles from universes away, she didn’t see why they couldn’t just take a city and move it somewhere else.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
A sudden string of text blocked her vision.
Hey there frenemie, how’s it hanging? Hope you weren’t doing anything important when the world reset. I totally wasn’t. Stupid cards wouldn’t stay in castle-shape anyways. Anyhoo, I did get to find out what it feels like to un-bathe yourself. Weird, is how that feels. Anyhoo-times-two, get this: apparently, one of my old coworkers showed back up again, from way back when. It was great! I was expecting him to have been, y’know, corrupted by the sludge and turned into one of Avon’s puppets, but this guy, man, he was just fighting tar dregs for centuries down there. He must have shot a million of them. I’m so proud of my little murder knight. He immediately went out again, with a ‘my people need me’ face. Hah, what a workaholic. Hey, if you come over, I’ll introduce him to you. He’s always wanted a chew toy that tastes like loser.
Toodles~
P.S. That’s you. The loser. You know, thought I’d add it here, didn’t think you’d quite get the allusion. Hot dang, I just casually used that word, right there. My mind is positively bursting with all the souls I stuck in it.
So here it was. They were finally close enough that the offshoots of Rhuna’s annoying existence was having a physical impact. She should have guessed that whoever they were fighting was part of her gang, or someone else’s. It was about time they introduced themselves to the wider awareness of one of Loften’s greatest factions. What better way to do that than by showing which side she was on on the itty-bitty issue that was Rhuna’s existence.
Rye meanwhile, was doing bad, but not as bad as when she lost her cape.
“Elia! Elia Elia Elia!” she said in a frantic tone like a kid that had set the kitchen on fire. “This is terrible! This is bad! What now, what do we do, do we run, hide, stick our head under a roc?”
I think we need to make a good first impression. Elia groaned. Just let me think for a moment.
“I found the princess!” Karla yelled. “I’m going to touch her now!”
“Nooo!” Rye shot up, breathed in, and let Elia handle this ordeal. “Everybody freeze!”
Most everyone listened, watching her with interest as she ran over to pick up her souls and shards, then sprinted back to the bowl. The number of good boons was outweighing the number of bad ones for once. The aurani coin felt heavy between her fingers.
“Should we use it?” she muttered, more to herself than Rye or anybody else. “I think we should.”
We only have the one.
“Without [Cutting cutlery], we’re not winning this fight. And if [Psychometry] goes, well, maybe you’ll go too?” Rye bravely made no nervous noises. “We had to risk it before. Now, we’ve got a choice. We can tilt the scales.”
But, well, maybe you need this. What if making your body, transferring you has a chance to fail? It should, it can’t be easy, it’s your spirit we’re talking about here.
So she had been thinking ahead. What a good little bean.
“I think I’ll take the maybe risk in the future over the definite risk now. Any complaints?”
Many. There was a frustrated noise. Alright. Do it.
She flicked the coin into the water, watching the winged toga woman flip, flip, flip. She half expected it to sink to the bottom, but instead the moment it hit the surface the coin glowed with a golden light, then disappeared.
A price has been paid
Elia stared a hole at the spot the coin disappeared in as an awkward amount of time passed.
Aurana, Daughter of the Radiant Sand, grants you great fortune
“Finally.” She sighed, content. “Guess even gods can’t do anything about lag. Or maybe she was just busy.”
Aurana is watching
All her hairs stood on end as she read those three damning words. There was no feeling of being watched. Nothing tickled her instinct. And yet, the haze had never lied to her, and it was unlikely to start now. A god was watching her and Elia really wished she knew why.
Ahh, ummm, Aurana, if you can hear this… grant us your mercy. Don’t take our good boons.
Elia nodded stiffly. Maybe this just happened when asking for good fortune? Maybe Aurana was just a chill god that actually bothered with mortal affairs? Either way, she was more than ready to get this over with. “Absolution please.”
The process started without input. A string of something felt as if it was being pulled from Elia’s chest.
You have offered a boon: Buoyant [Common]
Undead curse quelled
Yesss! Thank you so much, Aurana!
“Gods… good?” No smiting, despite her lackluster enthusiasm. A good sign. Or a bad one. Well, they couldn’t change this, and in the worst case they could die and reset it. Though on the other hand, she didn’t see how anybody could call themselves a god and not remember between resets.
Elia fingered around for some common shards. “Ready to fill that hole?”
I, ah, um… maybe? Would you chastise me if I seemed too eager?
“Hah, no, I know how cool it is to roll for magic.” Elia slowly came to a realization and groaned. “Goddangit Rye.”
… I would like my magic now. Please and thank you.
And they would have it. Elia combined twelve of her fourteen uncommons into a bone of boons. She let Rye flick it once. Within a blink, the result sat comfortably on the bowl's edge.
Aurana is watching
You have gained a divine boon: Threat music
[Sense] Threat music [Uncommon] [Empty socket]
Your instinct is replaced for the purpose of sensing physical danger. Instead, music proportional to the threat you are facing sounds out around you. The accuracy of this sense is determined by your instinct.
“Christ, how the fudge do you keep on getting all the good…” Elia read the message that interrupted the other ones twice. “Oh great, she’s still here.”
She waited for another smiting, but again, none came.
“Are you having fun over there?” Mouggen asked, still frozen in place with all the others.
“Bargaining with gods? Yeah, I’d love to spend my day doing nothing else.” She breathed in unevenly, then added in a small voice, “Please don’t smite me.”
Danger music played a light trill of xylophones. It would have sounded divine, given other circumstances. As it was, it felt like a buildup to something lurking in the dark.
Right. The boss. One worry after the next.
“We might be expecting some company, “ Elia said. She pointed at the ceiling. “The crack, that’s where it’ll come through. Touching the princess… well, I have no idea why, or how, but it’s a trigger.”
“Like a tripwire you’d trigger after sneaking out your lover’s bedroom, into the hands of a very paranoid and foresightful husband?” Cesare asked.
“Yyyesss?”
“What are we talking here.” Mouggen asked, eying the crack in the dome. “An ambush? Number, features, armament? And, more importantly, how do you know?”
“Oh, that’s because she’s…” Karla looked to Elia. If there was ever a time to test the waterproofness of a cover story, it was when it rained. “Because she’s an oracle! She is the greatest and most powerful oracle I’ve seen. She’s foreseen my death many times, and stopped it too! The entire future is her to command, no the entire world, no–“
“That’s enough, Karla, thank you for the uh, hype.” There was frighteningly little to say that she did know, though she had around a dozen deaths to pad her knowledge. “So yeah. I can see the future. Bits of it. Like…”
Like peeping through a keyhole?
“Like looking through a keyhole, thank you, Rye. The guy who’ll ambush us is big and strong. He can fling Karla around, so make sure you focus on dodging instead of meeting him head on. He’s deceptively fast, and uses a kind of big metal club. If he points it at you, don’t stay still, because it’s also a gun. A gun is… it’s like a crossbow that treats your enchanted metal plates like wet bread. Even your Ferrini’s.”
Karla gulped. Mouggen meanwhile was taking in the information, and the general lay of the arena. Besides the corpse of the giant creature in the back, or the small forests of stacked books in the corners, there was no cover. The ground was sturdy and smooth, entirely wide enough to fight without worry of hitting bystanders, be they princesses or unfortunately positioned monks.
“If just one is that dangerous, then we ought to treat them like a shardbearer. Hit them all at once, from every angle. Where did you say they were going to come down?” Elia pointed out the spot, and the rough dimensions of the blast zone. “We can work with this. I ambush the ambusher from here, you from there, Karla from over there. Cesare, you will ferry any downed people out and away. Nali… don’t walk too far off.”
Nali smiled, and gave a thumbs up. “I shall be like the hare to the eagle. Hopefully unseen, yet present.”
Everyone nodded and got into position. The air was thick with nervous thoughts, thick enough that Elia involuntarily grinned. She couldn’t help herself, she felt like this was the most professional reception she could give. And besides, a god was watching. How that would pan out, for good or ill, she was about to find out.
“It would be really nice if you could wake up just about now,” she whispered to the sleeping witch, but got no reaction. “I’m touching the princess now!”
Entirely on cue, the dome cracked, then burst inwards. Rubble and dust cascaded down after the bell, which Elia saw a figure riding moments before the impact clouded her vision again. The timing was perfect, the image of awesomeness searing into her mind. Was he waiting up there all this time, or was he a prince with princess sense?
“I want to ride through a ceiling on a giant bell to smash my enemies,” Elia grumbled, picking up speed, “but does this world ever give me what I want? No. Downright unfair.”
The dust parted before her charging form as she and Karla impacted a figure somewhere between Mouggen and Commander Hall’s size from opposite sides. Her attack was parried, but as Mouggens face popped out of the fog to her right she improvised a combined attack, going low where he went high.
Two clangs rang out, Elia staring in shock as Karla was flung away, and he parried both their strikes with his single gun club.
A faded golden mask shone down on her. It was shaped like Mouggen’s, except where his was an eternally stoic gentleman, this one pressed down on her like an eternally disapproving father.
“Brother,” Mouggen whispered through grit teeth.
The man did not look like he even registered they were there, not as people, nor as enemies trying to push him off his feet. His voice, tired and tattered, filled the roaring silence.
“That infernal sound. How my blood boils. Away, treasonous desire, away. The dreamer will not wake, not for thee, hollowed hunters.”
And then the music roared to full, choirs of sopranos and tenors rising with an unseen orchestra to tell them exactly what kind of person they had decided to screw with.
You have challenged: Partlight, Spear of the Pontibat
Elia huffed, pushing against his might with a second wind, but it wasn’t nearly enough, not even together with Mouggen. Admirably, he wasn’t flagging because he’d just met someone from his own order (likely not his biological brother), but because he was stuck closer to the man’s iron-fisted grip, thereby lacking leverage.
Languidly almost, Partlight gripped the gun club with his second hand, one wrapped in glossy gold and silver pearls. The two of them were thrown back near the same instant.
Everyone scrutinized his form for a moment. Karla because she was surprised someone could lift her off her feet, Elia because she was looking for and finding no weakspot, and Mouggen likely due to sentimental reasons.
“Grand brother Deceus. I’ve heard stories of you. You were among the first of the brotherhood of the sunlight shore. Tell me, must we fight?” he asked. “Can you not see my face, or have you lost your mind, brother?”
Again, Partlight didn’t answer, not these questions.
“Sin lies in the blood,” he said. “Beware the new blood, hallowed hunters. Beware it.”
There was a heaviness to his words, to his movements, and likely his thoughts. A dreg was hiding behind that mask, a dreg that just didn’t know it was one yet. The curse got his mind before his body, yet the sheer presence of the man only threw up one question: If he was this strong as a dreg, how strong was he in life?
It should have hit her sooner, Elia thought, at least during the fight with Commander Hall. They were fighting the dregs of gods. These were all their servants, but strong as they were, burdened by the experience of immortality that did nothing to prevent the curse of undeath, they too could be killed. Continuing that line of thought further, who was to say gods couldn’t too?
A single, normal sized hailstone javelin floated up near her side.
Eliaaa, s-should I shoot? He’s wearing the robes of a divine champion, of one of the twelve major gods. I know it by the sash. If we fight him, well, since Aurana is one of them…
She had a point, though peaceable talk seemed far out of reach. And something irked her, with how this man had appeared here. Elia couldn’t place it, but it was like a puzzle piece that fit the mold, but not the bigger picture. Why was he working for Rhuna? How did he know where to find them? How old was Rhuna exactly?
“Wait one.” She stepped forward, spoon lowered in a non-threatening manner. “Why are you here?”
“The stone trembles, ancient faults straining. The mechanism has ceased. Hark to the sky, if thou pleases. Listen, how it wails.”
She looked to Mouggen, who seemed a bit less shell-shocked than a minute ago. He met her gaze and with a final nod said all that needed to be said.
“Too far gone. He doesn’t even recognize my sunlight mask. It is better to… allow me the final blow.”
She nodded once, solemnly, and tried her best not to think of The Old Maiden.
“Any plans of our esteemed oracle?”
“Try again, but better.” She limbered up, deciding on just getting his right knee for this life. “This guy doesn’t make sense, but we can still make sense of the corpse he leaves.”
A signal went to Karla and they closed the circle. Partlight seemed aware at least of the provocation. He readied his heavy gun-club in a stance.
“The dreamer mustn’t wake. It is not his time. There will be darkness. All I see ahead is darkness and despair.”