Truth counted amongst his bad habits an unreasonable insistence on trying to do everything himself. It was foolish, and worse, self destructive. He would kill himself trying to take down the research installation solo. It was therefore time to bring in some support. Those who were reliable, and those who were reliability unreliable.
And he was lonely. He had missed Thrush. Not a good emotion to associate with something as sadistic and treacherous as an air imp, but he had. He would call in Maid and Butler too, if he could. But they had their own jobs to do right now, and it sounded like they were doing it well. So that would have to be that.
Then there were all the various hidden experts and covert ops teams that would be littered around the volcano. Was Siphios intelligence really the only outfit that traced the Shattervoid girl to here? Truth didn’t believe it. Everyone had their own methods. They might be better or worse, but they would have them, and everyone wanted that ticket off world.
Well. Almost everyone. Enough people that there would be surveillance teams, intelligence officers, special forces, expert mages and even a few old monsters strategically located all around the volcano. Each with their own plan of action. Merkovah might be willing to rely on his determinedly unreliable asset, but others would not.
Actually, he was pretty certain Merkovah didn’t either. If he were Merkovah, he’d have other teams on standby with strict orders to do nothing, not one damn thing without explicit orders in writing and confirmed verbally from him. Because he knew Truth, and by now knew how he solved problems. And he wouldn’t want his backup team drawn into whatever madness Truth instigated.
Well, he could give the Siphios boys a break, but everyone else was getting drafted into the Revolutionary Army. And just to make sure any revanchist, counter-revolutionary forces couldn’t interfere with the glorious People’s Revolution, he finished lunch, drank all the water and juice, and jumped off the train as they slowed for a bend. The train was moving damn fast, even by Truth’s standards, but that’s why it was best to get off mid-journey. People would be waiting and watching at the stations.
There was a strange moment, as he forced open the carriage door. A moment of shattering lucidity. He could see the train running, the earth demon moving damn fast down the track. He could see the plants and rocks zipping past. He knew they were real, or as real as anything was. But when he looked at his hands or his feet, they looked so much more real than the train and the ground below.
The world was real. But he was more real. And he could step off a train moving at three hundred kilometers an hour safely.
Truth took an explosive step off the train. Abner’s Amble carried him forward, forcing that momentum to work for him. Then his toe barely touched the ground and he took another explosive step. Cast Abner’s Amble again and launched forward another dozen meters.
He crossed the field in a blur of motion, rushing up into the nearby foothills before slowing down to a comfortable sixty kilometer an hour jog. Then he stopped and looked back at the train. The door had closed automatically behind him. The long metal worm writhed along the earth, pulled faster than the wind by a rejoicing Hell-beast.
The fields that edged the train tracks were growing green and tall in the summer sun. All artifacts of humanity. All proof of people adapting to the necessities of the real world, and thriving. They saw problems and reached logical solutions to those problems. Sensible people, doing sensible things. Sober, serious, practical.
Wrong.
They were all wrong. He didn’t know what “right” was, but he knew they, all of them, the wise, careful people of the world, were wrong. They were so much more than this. They were all so much more. Even the world was far, far greater than they thought it was. But you couldn’t explain it. How do you put this feeling into words? This profound knowing? They had to experience it for themselves.
He looked out over the field, watching the train vanish into the distance. He didn’t move until he came back to himself. Still trapped in the prison of the real. For now.
“Holy shit I ran as fast as an intercity train for a few seconds.”
<
He could remember how his body felt, launched across the field. The System was right. Still. He felt like this was a moment. A step beyond humanity, beyond what other Level Fours would be capable of.
System- Status Sheet.
There was a pause.
<
Status sheet, development report, whatever the Hell you called it. You know what I am talking about, put it up.
<
Yeah, I know, but I just want it all in one place. A tidy little summary of where I am and how everything is growing.
<
There was a pause. Then, accompanied by the sound of trumpets:
SUPER FANCY ALL IN ONE PLACE SUMMARY OF TRUTH MEDICI’S DEVELOPMENT AS AN UNNATURAL HORROR STALKING THE INNOCENT, UNSUSPECTING PEOPLE OF THIS OTHERWISE FORGETTABLE AND JUSTLY FORGOTTEN ROCK
LEVEL PROGRESS: Level Four, 85% to Level Five. I want you to think about that. I want you to think about the fact that, from your perspective, you were level one… what, three years ago? Ish? Level One to Five in less than four years, for certain. Nine, if you count Well Time.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
That’s not just fast, that should be flat out impossible. You should be a thin film of incredibly toxic goo preserved on slides in medical schools and forensic labs as a reference material. “Here, Future Scholars of Tomorrow, this is what a dumbfuck looks like when they overdo it.”
Captain Clavegaugh must be drinking more elixirs than water, and it took her decades, even with PMC privilege, to make Level Five. The overwhelming majority don’t get past Level ONE. Ever. After an entire lifetime. And all this while the magic is collapsing. What did that Ghul Juice do to you? What did those worms do to you that I haven’t managed to spot?
KNOWN SPELLS
Meditations of Valentinian (Permanent): How far progressed are you in something that extends infinitely? Who knows. Your body is absurdly powerful, can resist forces that should leave you dead a dozen times over, and gives your already inhuman reflexes full expression in your muscles and tendons.
Your sheer presence in a room warps it, because you are just so much more real than everything in it. The effect is subtle, but there. You can spike that effect with conscious effort. This, of course, stacks with other effects, but it does make me wonder how many diviners have suffered backlash because they tried to divine something so categorically above them?
Not to mention the specific refinements you have made to your body based on Nephilim spell technology. Your body is sealed down like you were in spell armor. Absorb only what you want, and anything exiting you, body heat, odor, whatever, only does so with your explicit permission. Insane.
Incisive (Permanent): How do you measure your progress with the signature spell of a stellar eminence? You have proven worryingly adept with the Scales and the Fangs, and even the Foresight. The Poison works pretty well too. Of all the aspects of the spell, the Scales, the identity changing portion of the spell, is the one you have made the most progress in. You have successfully been a number of different people, some very alien to you, and the world not only believed it, it helped make it more real. Which is also insane.
Stacking the reality warping effects of Incisive and the Meditations is just broken. I completely understand why Merkovah set you up like this, he is CENTURIES past giving a fuck, but damn. It’s no wonder Internal Security keeps missing you.
Which is not to say you are good at the spell. Botis claims no one has yet mastered it. You ain’t special.
Cup and Knife (Permanent): Still figuring out the basics, but getting a better feel for it. My best guess is that the spell “corrects” the errors in the less-real world. Sometimes it does this by shifting the damage around, sometimes not. Insanely powerful, but you are left guessing what the “correct” answer is supposed to be. It’s a spell based on the recollection of a starved mystic who flat out admits they were imperfectly recalling things they saw in a vision. It’s a functional spell, but also a broken one.
It pains me to say this, but I don’t see you ever “getting good” at this spell. I think at some point, you will have to modify it. Correcting the spell itself to make it function as Manda intended.
Tool (Swappable): Basic magical device utility spell. You don’t even notice you are using it half the time. Which is hurtful. I worked hard on that. You monster.
Abner’s Amble (Swappable): Modern Magic travel utility spell. You are probably not going to get much better at using it. It’s… fine. It makes each step go a lot farther, but you have pretty much hit the cap on distance and energy efficiency. Still useful, but if you get the opportunity to raid Merkovah’s library again, swap it for a better travel spell. Modern magic might be reliable and easy to learn, but it’s very limited.
Graeme’s Arrow (Swappable): Makes things go further, faster. A unitasker of a spell, but damn powerful for all that. You are a long way from mastering it, mostly because you don’t use it very often. Worth considering for your next permanent spell slot, but it shouldn’t be rushed. Better options may yet present themselves.
Obliteration (Swappable): Breaks magic, dissolves it really, by using magic to destroy magic. It can also isolate existing spells from the cosmic energy they use to sustain themselves. It is incredibly effective, especially since the mechanism seems to be poorly understood by other security services. It’s interesting- it has the same result as what the Anti-Thiest’s anti-magic does, but the mechanism is the exact opposite. You are currently operating in a window where they know you have some kind of anti-magic ability, but don’t understand what it is or how it works. Lucky you.
I am genuinely shocked Merkovah supplied you with this spell. I can only think that he is either supremely confident in his judgment of you, or so desperate he doesn’t care about consequences any more. I’m not being funny. This is the kind of spell entire military operations get launched over. I could see treaties being drawn up to control its usage. If you do make it off-world, hide this spell. Never, ever, let it become a permanent addition to your apertures.
Other spells that you just never use are omitted, because you never use them.
BLESSINGS
Blessing of the Silent Forest: You blend with the background. To the point of unnoticeability for ninety nine plus percent of humanity. To the extent that all magic has a degree of local superreality, it feels like this adds a layer of extra superreality to what you already have through body cultivation and Incisive. Not news to you, but the way your spells stack has got to be unique, or nearly unique, in the history of this planet. Consider how it interacts with your other blessing-
Blessing of the Brass Sea: Notionally enhances your attacks against demonic entities. Actually enforces “Orthodoxy,” broadly defined. By you. How this stacks with Cup and Knife is still an open question. But consider also how it stacks with the Blessing of the Silent Forest. How much of your success in the field has been down to you subconsciously asserting the rule “My actions are unnoticeable by those below me, and almost everyone is below me,”? How many thousands of people labored under that orthodoxy, as you traveled across Jeon?
Blessing of the Rough Patron: This one is a bit harder to nail down given your pre-existing instinct for violence. Bloodlust, on a tangible level. A certain instinct for fatal combat. Murder, really. I think there is more. It’s apparently tied into whatever the Ghul did, and the nine worms that are refining your body. And, related, your ability to see in the dark is getting better and better all the time. It feels like there is a very deep hole here, and you want to be damn careful about diving into it.
SPELL RESISTANCE: No longer quantifiable, I suspect. Lower level magic just won’t touch you. Mid level spells will need to be tailored to fully pierce your spell resistance. It takes spells on your level and higher to even touch you, I would say. Although at that level, the spell coming at you will be hilariously lethal. Wise decision not letting any of Dr. Sun’s needles touch you. They would have fucked you up real good.
EQUIPMENT:
The Tongue of One Who Speaks For God: A sword with a chunk of an angelic weapon in it. Spiritual as all hell, it hangs out in your first aperture quite happily, not crowding out the spell. It generally approves of you, and what you are doing. No, it’s not sapient, exactly. It does have some level of awareness and it is, at its core, an Angelic weapon. It has opinions. Opinions like “Humans are worse than ants, because ants are obedient.” Not saying it’s warping your personality, but I’d keep an eye on it.
Truth blinked slowly at the list. When it was all laid out like that, it was kind of a lot.
<
And Neville is a human, not a demon.
<
Why, exactly what Starbrite thought I was doing- luring the tiger from the mountain, and letting it get bullied by dogs on the plains. Except this time, I’m luring the demon, and letting the tigers do the bullying!
Truth smiled. The Hell Prince had to lead the way. And so he would.
But before that, I’m summoning Thrush. And he damn well better have kept my stuff immaculate, or I’m going to make him wish he was back in Hell.