The Fathoms. A place of infinite possibility, opportunity… and danger.
In the pursuit of nobler goals and higher profits, it is not uncommon for problems to arise; not unforeseen for stalemates to linger; not unexpected for setbacks to befall. But for every problem is a suite of solutions, and every impediment can be cleared with the application of proper persuasion.
It is toward the ideal of service and comfort that Whisper Resolutions was established. We understand that many across the Fathoms have their own interests and other matters of concern. As such, our specialists with a more delicate and “indirect” touch will gladly offer their services in less than desirable circumstances.
Should you be faced with a dilemma or find yourself on the verge of despair, we are here to see you through, and pledge to conduct our mission with subtlety and precision.
Simply locate your local Crossroad’s representative and ask to be routed through our System-hosts, and leave your struggles with us. Our specialists will see your will made manifest. By any means. By all means. And with your hands clean throughout.
Whisper Resolutions: You have problems. We have solutions.
-Whisper Resolutions, Crossroads “Liquidation” Service
II-23
Assassination
Wei left his room through the cracks lining his broken door. Essenceshifted as a gust of Divine Wind, the matter he brushed across warped and thinned, but his physical presence was otherwise masked, granting him a measure of stealth.
His Omniscience flooded the hallway, and he beheld a cascading series of Essence explosions blasting from the hotel rooms housing his disciples. Doors turned to sprays of dust. Cries of agony played as an accompaniment to the unfolding chaos. Each subsequent explosion spiked Wei’s already present rage to new heights. His failure to locate Agnesia, Roggi, the Oathbearers, or Rafael didn’t help either.
The young master sensed the state of his disciples as his Omniscience poured through their broken doorways. Most of them had been caught unaware by the attack; were in bed or resting when their Companions went off. A substantial amount had been lying beside their Companion as well—the implications obvious and the consequences deadly. There was little left to save of his disciples that chose intimacy. They were less than smears and smoking corpses.
The others, however, would soon be corpses as well if Wei couldn't lay his flames on them.
The young master saw how the Celestial Vanguard could reconstruct itself using its fires. Though it didn’t help him regenerate his Source, he assumed his new powers over Creation could allow him to mend flesh and matter. Such was what propelled him to trigger his Empyreal Wrath right then.
The young master exploded back into solid shape with a blast of radiance. Lightning, water, stone, wind, and fire of purest white gushed out from Wei’s Pale Fang. His specialization evolution had offered him a deluge of Will Advancements. His Scorn was a magnitude greater than what it used to be, and Wei channeled every bit of his Class’s power into saving his surviving disciples, for his power was of Destruction and Creation both.
Scorn: [45,412/73,600]
His Celestial Flame sheared clean through the surrounding matter. Walls and doors turned to grains of dust. Entire rooms were winnowed away, the flames seeking only the living. Just like the Celestial Vanguard, a small dawn exploded out from Wei, unmaking all he decreed and mending those he wished to save. When his brightness fell upon writhing bodies, Destruction surrendered to Creation, and the true work began.
Scorn: [21,332/73,600]
Where Wei’s winds caressed, flesh knit back together. Where his lightnings lashed, missing limbs were restored. Where his water flowed, ruptured organs were stitched closed. And where his celestial crystals fell, limbs were rebuilt.
Scorn: [9,318/73,600]
Thirty-two. He saved thirty-two disciples in his immediacy. The celestial fury flowing out from Wei surged out for a near kilometer, and seemed like it was about to keep going, his Empyreal Wrath suddenly sputtered, and broke into sprays of fading ash. His Scorn was almost entirely spent. His pale flames dimmed.The brilliant shell of divine armor that coated his body now resembled plates reflecting the colors of a dying fireplace.
Helplessly, infuriatingly, Wei snarled as more Essence blasts burst down the halls. He glimpsed more death, more of his people slaughtered. And Wei could do nothing to spare them this damnable fate.
After all he suffered ensuring their passage into the Claimed Hells, a good portion of his Sect had been culled without warning or prelude. Here. In a place of supposed safety. After surviving the Moongraves. It was beyond insulting. It was a bitterness Wei couldn’t accept.
“Enough!” Wei's Shell roared. “You have no right to despair. Deliver! Perform as patriarch. You cannot save all your disciples, but you can avenge them. You can stop this. Contact your companions. See if they respond.”
The young master bit back a frustrated growl. Of course. He accessed his Chat and found a dozen unread messages from Agnesia, Roggi, and Rafael. Shame gripped him. Shame at himself, and fury at the Trespassers. He had gone to resolve things with his father—and resolve things he did. But the Tower of Possibility was too enticing for him to resist, and the Lodge pledged his sect’s safety. But what was this? His people were being butchered all the same. What worth was their promise to him now?
Shaking bitterness from his mind, Wei forced himself to focus and dispatched a series of messages to his companions, replying to them in quick succession. His intent wasn’t even to see if they would reply, but follow the messages using his Omniscience. He already knew that the chat function worked off a connection between Classed. They were still alive, Wei could track them using the paths his Essence traveled.
As soon as he dispatched his messages, Wei felt a spark of relief. Three threads of Essence pulsed out from his Pale Fang, all entwining with each other as they snaked toward the same direction. That boded well. Wei suspected his companions were together in the same place rather than on their own.
Another welcome surprise came in the form of a reverberation rushing down the thread. A reply notification expanded in Wei’s vision—Agnesia reaching out to him immediately. “Wei! Where are you? I think we’re under attack!”
“I know,” said Wei. “I just returned. I’m in the hallway. Do not approach the Companions. They are compromised.”
“It’s not just the Companions. The Trespasser who was meant to watch over us—Rafael found him dead in his room—called us over to investigate. The room number is—”
The Essence thread came to a halt. “No need. I’m on my way.”
For the first time in hours, Wei materialized his scythe and slashed distance. He snapped forward toward where Agnesia and the others were, leaving his present location an open chasm. The surviving disciples coughed, rose from a blanket of ashes, while the dead remained still, even after Wei’s restorative flames fixed their unmoving bodies. The young master would return for them in just a moment. For now, he needed to make sure the ones who mattered most were fine.
As Wei came to a stop before a door numbered 0539, he received another message—and a psionic poke from Bishop. At the same time, other guests emerged from their rooms, doors swinging open ahead and behind Wei. A muscular orc emerged a few meters behind Wei, wearing what looked to be adult diapers with the words “biggest baby” emblazoned on them. A bit further away, the chittering head of a Hivekin poked out, and the sapient insect released a telepathic question. “What’s happening? Are we under attack?”
Wei didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he smashed through the door and kept his focus sharp. The young master expected anything and everything. Especially a trap. Instead, he found himself stumbling in on Rafeal weaving a vortex of ciphers in the air while Agnesia and Roggi held down Companion. Upstairs, an armored figure with short hair and stubble layed still, unmoving in his bed. His throat was slit, and his eyes stared on blankly at the ceiling.
Suppose that was Hasen. The one Bishop mentioned earlier. So much for the Lodge’s security.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Wei!” Agnesia cried out. A smile crept across her features and Roggi cried out for her to stay focused. The young master approached, but made no attempt to distract Rafael. One after another, the ciphers fell, splashing into the Companion. It looked like a stack of characters were being seared upon the automata’s core.
“Wei!” Rafael said. “I think we are being targeted by something. Using the Companions. I managed to siphon off the excess Essence in this one. I compromised its Mind and I think… I think I can locate and tag the dog that’s behind this.”
“Good,” Wei breathed. “Good job. Good. All of you…” His words trailed off as a weight in his chest dissipated. Though the death of his lesser disciples was an affront, the loss of his Companions would… Wei didn’t want to think about losing any more people. So he focused on the task at hand instead.
Rafael was doing his part, performing his platonic art on the Companion. Agnesia and Roggi were securing the thing’s arms and legs respectively, and as Wei drew closer, the Oathbearer went still, and turned. The massive trash-formed wings extending from Roggi’s back fluttered and Wei saw squirming worms inch out to greet him between the filthy plumage. Roggi himself sucked in a sharp intake of breath as his eyes went to Wei’s Pale Fang immediately. “I know that light… that song.”
Song? Wei looked down at his spear. He couldn’t hear a song.
“Later,” the Shell boomed. “Aid the lich now.”
Wei remained on task. He focused his Omniscience on the Companion, and isolated a source of external Essence. It was flowing into the lust-made automata by a thin tendril. Not so unlike the thread that carried Wei’s messages. Rafael was right. Someone was channeling the power across, using the Companions as bombs.
The young master gritted his teeth as he understood what he needed to do. Summoning his Shell’s helmet, Wei directed a beam of invasive sight into the Companion’s senses. At once, his Perception overlapped with the constructs, and he felt someone else there as well. Wei felt them shiver and pull, trying to wrench this extension of their spirit free, to no avail. The young master also sensed the potency of Rafael’s working. It was like an anchor had been placed on his Mind. It was hard to draw himself away from the Companion—impossible, but like crawling through the mud.
It was likely because of this that the assassin hadn’t escaped either.
Wei needed to reward Rafael for this deed after all was done. For now, the young master focused his awareness and traveled down the unknown party’s Essence chain, inching toward them. Wei felt himself travel hundreds of kilometers in an instant, his consciousness was injected downward, away from the upper levels of the Cherub’s Corpse, away from the natural light of the Heights, into a place deep within the shadows. It took all of Wei’s focus to keep from getting lost, from losing track of his link. There was so much interference to contend with, so many noises to filter.
Just then, Wei distributed twenty-five free advancements for his Class to his Aspect of Mind and felt the strain clear. Clear just long enough for to finally reach his adversary.
Free Points: [75]
Enlightenment > 654
The young master’s face turned into a vicious grin. “Got you.”
For the second time, Wei used his Relativity to create a common boundary between him and his quarry. The first time Wei created his liminal threshold, it was an instinctive action, done against his father in a moment of rage. Now, Wei focused his power and wielded his System with purpose.
A swell of Source poured out from Wei, tainting a meter of space around him like mud turning water murky. Agnesia called out to him. Rafael stopped composing his ciphers. Roggi was standing, gazing upon Wei’s new glaive with an expression of reverence and awe.
And suddenly, they were gone, replaced by a stretching expanse of shadow and light. A stretching expanse that extended out for just over two whole kilometers. There, Wei took in the assassin using his Omniscience and guessed at what he faced.
Jnaegism L’Loc: Master of Puppets Lv. 142
The unseen assassin was a strange dressed lich. They wore a coat made from stitched dolls—no, puppets. The kind with strings, meant to entertain children. A collection of small plastic hands formed a crown on their head, and a weave of near-invisible threads danced around their body.
They looked lost, seemed utterly surprised by their predicament, and Wei thought there was something entirely too karmic about their coming fate.
Wei summoned his Path of the Martial Harvester for a second time—with only the scythe’s metallic, gleaming edge separating it from the backdrop of Source—and cleaved across space and time to arrive a meter left of Jnaegism. The lich jolted back in shock and terror, and the young master licked his lips for what was to come. A hum of battle-thrill flowed through the young master. The Shell materialized, watching Wei fight. After hours dancing on the edge of death, facing threats that should have laid him low, Wei relished a bite of soft meat—even if they were supposedly sixty Essence levels higher.
Wei strode forth. He took his time. There was nowhere for the lich to run anyway. Jnaegism responded by directing his hidden threads to pierce Wei. The sank an inch through the dense embers surrounding Wei, and the young master countered the attack—deconstructed the lich’s strings.
The threads simply ceased to be—along with the Essence that composed them. A flicker of light sparked around the young master, and faintly, the celestial fires within him were reignited.
Scorn: [4,001/73,600]
Even so, the process of recovering his spent Scorn was slow. Wei needed to deconstruct a larger attack to refuel himself. He remembered how fast the Celestial Vanguard had expended themselves. And they were almost a hundred levels higher than Wei. The Scion of the Celestial Flame was a powerful Class, but a resource-hungry one. It was devastating. Powerful. But its capabilities could be spent in a single moment, and even with his defenses drastically amplified while in his Empyreal Wrath’s dimmed state, it was still better to use his powers conservatively.
“You!” The assassin cried. His threads retreated. He knew his efforts were in vain. Stumbling away, he directed his strings to spin around him while he reached out, spatial Essence congealing between his skeletal digits as he tried to summon something.
Wei wasn’t going to give him that chance.
The young master performed a cascade of attacks: He cut once more—blinked just behind the lich. A fortunate move, as what remained of the assassin’s threads suddenly teleported into the space where Wei once was. But that left the Master of Puppets open. Wei’s arms then shifted. Source-spears blasted out from his left and swept through the lich’s limbs from behind, and as they toppled, Wei dismissed his Pale Fang to deliver a crushing blow using his Gauntlet of the Breaker.
A shockwave blasted out in all directions. Yet, the assassin didn’t go flying. Instead, the force was absorbed by the lich’s doll-coat. Wei felt a swell of Essence flood the attire—and decided he wanted to keep it for study. The lich was dismembered, so he fell with a cry, only for Wei to seize them by their coat’s collar and tear the entire garment away from them.
Jnaegism sailed through the air—tried to stab Wei a second time with his strings. Only for the young master to sweep his resummoned Pale Fang through them, the deconstruction lining the glaive’s edge carving clean through Essence and matter.
Just then, Wei exploded into the air and drove his fingers into the lich’s sockets. Cutting with his scythe, they both zipped down into the Source-made flooring, with Wei choke slammed the lich hard enough to crack their bones—seemingly made from a crystalline material.
A groan sounded from the assassin. But the young master wasn’t done. Planting a boot on their ribs, Wei dismissed his Pale Fang again, and hefted his scythe with both hands. Jnaegism shook his head and looked up at Wei. He let out a sneering laugh. “Well. Nasty trick you have there. Can’t say I saw that coming. Well. Do what you got to do, kid. Death doesn’t scare me!”
“Death?” Wei said. He chuckled. “Death is the greatest mercy I can offer.” And then the young master reared back, and swung his Skill through the lich. Something inside Jnaegism cracked immediately. The assassin’s bravado vanished. “I—no, what are you doing—what is—stop!”
Wei swung again, and this time a blast of light gushed out from the lich. They twitched and shook, and a long wheezing gasp escaped them. “What—what?”
“Your Will,” Wei answered. “It doesn’t exist anymore.”
Class Level Up 81 > 82
Concept Shard: [1]
As the lich pawed at their chest, the young master took that moment to pull the assassin into his Inventory alongside the puppet coat. He couldn’t risk ending up apart from his foe after the threshold collapsed. After that, Wei checked his Source and nodded.
Source: [522/600] Lumens
Not too bad. Releasing his focus, the threshold collapsed, and once more the realm of light and dark receded back into him. Wei found himself standing where he was in the room. The Companion lay there on the ground before him, unmoving. His companions remained where they were standing, waiting expectantly. And just then, Bishop came marching through the door as well, an annoyed expression on his face.
“Alright,” John Bishop muttered. “Hi, Wei. Fancy seeing you again so soon. Where’s Hansen? I’m gonna kick his ass.”
“Upstairs. Dead. Throat slit.” Wei grunted.
The Trespasser’s frowned and opened his mouth. But he didn’t speak. Instead, Wei noticed several threads of Essence slithering into his spirit, and a grimace growing over his face. Bishop just got some messages. “Yeah. Rest of our local watchers got done in the same way. Fuck’s sake. Can’t get any good help in this town.”
The young master chucked the lich out in response. Jnaegism plopped down on the ground and shivered. They were little more than a torso and a head, and now their mind seemed as damaged as their body as they muttered and flinched at the sight of Wei.
“Thankfully,” Wei said through clenched teeth, “some of us are not useless. Here. The assassin.”
Bishop studied the shaking lich for a moment. And a grin flashed over his face. “You know, we can work with this…”
“What do you mean,” Wei replied mentally.
“I mean… Well, I was going to stage this, but…”
Wei blinked in disbelief. “You.. you wish to pretend they are the Lodge’s assassin.”
“No. Just mine. Here. Let’s see.”
Bishop’s eyes flashed purple, and the lich suddenly stopped struggling. Instead, his sockets came alight with the color as Bishop’s irises, and he suddenly looked up at Wei. “Him… he’s the one… he’s the one who paid me… He’s the one that wanted you dead.”
“What?” Rafael said.
“Huh?” Roggi blinked, barely able to follow the rapid turn of events.
Agnesia, for her part, matched toward Bishop with bone-blade drawn, flames around her body, and murder in her eyes. Only to be halted by Wei’s extended arm. “Master Bishop,” Wei began uneasily. “How… could you?”
“Fucking hell, kid. We need to work on your acting. Now, hurry up and sue me. Let’s take this to court so you can get paid.”