“The so-called Uncharted Zones make up a large portion of nominal Alliance territory. Namely, because no other star-faring civilisations feel the need to cause dispute over such worthless space. Its only redeeming quality is as a scientific curiosity. Abnormally high levels of gravitational wave turbulence – remnants of some ancient cosmic collision of two high density stellar bodies – as well as subspace fractures, quantum fluctuation fields and psionic energy corruption make it inhospitable to the hyperspace gate-net system. As a result, it is almost unnavigable, save through the use of infamously temperamental wormhole generators. These factors, along with a lack of any real incentive to explore it, make any further ventures financially impossible.
Hence, a rather unique culture has developed over the last few centuries, where those who reside within view themselves as separate from the ‘Alliance proper’. Some are no doubt criminals escaping bounties, while others are the descendants of the first few expeditions who settled on colony ships and habitable zones within.
In the next lecture, we will explore the economic and political viability of an isolated quasi-civilisation without a clear factional leadership using the Uncharted Zones as a case study.”
- Excerpt from Void Communities: Life and Survival in the Galactic Fringe I, by Professor Archon, Central University, Archive File #P786D7G3S002
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Chapter 2: Plan? What plan?
I was not in my old cell for long before someone came to take me away again. Vaguely humanoid but covered head to toe in a dusty cloth. For me to warrant one of the Duke’s personal Shrouded as an escort spoke highly of my debut in the arena.
This encounter was a rare opportunity to make contact. I subtly activated my Truesight through [Influx] to observe its mind and soul more closely. Even in the solace of its mind, discipline was forefront. There was minimal thought run-off – as closed off a mind I had ever seen in a non-psychic. This kind of iron-clad mentality was clearly the consequence of some sort of systematic training - or professional brain-washing.
Then again, the Duke is both ancient and powerful. To have survived for so long as an independent quasi-military force, even inside the Uncharted Zones, foretold a certain amount of political power. And political power is usually proportional to military deterrence.
Nonetheless, a single Shrouded would be unable to prevent my astral incursion. Although her mind remained closed, her soul was less so. Burning a dull coal flame, it darkened the astral plane around it. I activated [Efflux] and sent out a subtle ray of energy from my Codex.
Suggestion worked best with energy absorbed from the individual themselves, hence its synergy with [Influx]. Every being had a subconscious defence mechanism, and a mind incursion worked no differently than a bodily infection. I preferred to hide my suggestion as a virus, packaged within the host’s own thoughts to avoid detection.
As a result, there wasn’t even a flicker in the Shrouded’s conscious thought as I infiltrated its defences. Now able to peer past its mental fortifications, I planted a seed in its Id - the instinctive part of its mind. A good chunk of the energy in my Codex was used up in a flash. More than in the entirety of my fight with the chimera.
This seed would soon plant its metaphorical roots deep in the Shrouded’s subconscious and enter hibernation state, to reduce risk of discovery. If I came into contact with it again, I would be able to trigger it with a thought, gaining more complete control than through other methods. Playing the long game was the strategy here – I had no need to brute force my way, regardless of the fact that I doubted a single Shrouded would have the information I needed.
We soon approached a turn in the hallway. Rows of empty cells lined the corridor. These ones were clearly a higher standard – the bars were polished steel and a drone stood alert, patrolling through at a steady pace, its muzzle light blinking the red of a live round.
“Just a tranq right?”, I laughed weakly. The Shrouded turned slowly to face me, and I swore I sensed some kind of dark pity flash through its mind before it reset.
Not replying, it pressed its palm to the bars of the first cell on the left. They lifted up into the ceiling with a loud clank. There goes any plans for a quiet escape – that noise would likely alert any drones within a twenty metre radius.
I took the moment to look at the cell. It was marginally larger than my previous one. Notably, a mattress was present in one corner. There was a metal bucket next to one wall, which is suspiciously darkly stained compared to the rest of the cell. I chalked up the similarity between the stain and the colour of congealed blood to the dim lighting in the room, and pointedly chose to pay it any more attention.
The Shrouded took my chains and locked them to a metal ring on the wall opposite the stained one. It then unravelled a portion of cloth on its arm, revealing the red blade I had used in the arena. The blood of the chimera still marred its surface. Black pits and cracks in an otherwise flawless blade.
It placed the blade, along with the cloth it was wrapped in, almost reverentially on the floor beside the bench I sat on. It then stepped backwards out of the cell and the bars were lowered.
Without so much as a nod, it walked away and out of sight past the corridor. It was no Ascendant, that was for sure. A practiser of the Ars Codicis would be hard pressed to hide from one such as myself. However, I doubted anything less than at least a class-8 Supersentient would be treated with such caution as the Shrouded were in the Colosseum. Perhaps a psyker though the cloth wrappings hid any sigils. Whatever it was, it was pure-body axis. Any mind or soul-axis supersentient would have some instinctive defences in place, but I sensed nothing of the sort.
Me being unable to see through the Shrouded made me uneasy. Though I was confident, in a galaxy this wide, a perfect power is fiction. Whether you are unlucky enough to encounter it or not, your weakness exists. And more than that, an unknown enemy is the most dangerous kind – and the Shrouded were the worst kind of unknown. An obviously hostile one in a clear position of power.
This affirmed my next steps. I was at a severe knowledge disadvantage. Despite my extensive research, it was a simple fact that little was known about the capabilities of the Duke and his subjects. If such knowledge was available, I had not doubt it was classified and far beyond my meagre means to obtain.
Hence, when I did act, I would have to be swift. No plan I devise will be foolproof: I would simply have to take an opportunity and hope for the best.
So far, the tip I received about the item within the Duke’s possession is my sole knowledge. But I doubted that would soon be the case. I was extremely lucky to come across it before anyone else, hence the drastic measures I took getting abducted into the Colosseum itself.
The hours passed in silence with nothing to tell but the movement of energy within my Codex. I fell into a rhythm, using the natural weight of my existence to draw in ambient energy from the astral planes. This method is far slower than using [Influx] on a large crowd but planting that seed took about a third of my energy even a slow recovery is better than none.
Soon enough, I was jolted from my meditation by the feeling of vibrations through the shackles. Dust fell from the ceiling, and I could hear a dull roar. Seemed like the final fight had just finished.
Perhaps I would be getting a new roommate? Unlike my previous cell, which was alone, this one was in a row with several others. Some clearly inhabited – the beds looking recently slept in.
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Sure enough, after another few hours had gone by, I felt the mind of the same Shrouded approach, accompanied by a new person. When they turned the corner, I didn’t have to be psychic to see his state.
It was a thin and lanky Gefar. He must have been around seven feet, although his hunched back made him seem smaller. A wispy beard fell from his chin and his lack of eyebrows gave him a constant look of surprise. Without a word, the Shrouded deposited him in the cell opposite and promptly left.
He sat down – unchained, I noticed – before seemingly realising I was in the cell opposite.
“A new arrival? Or is that you Gelob? Hard to see anything in these dim cells”. His voice was surprisingly gruff for a man of his effeminate physique.
I replied, “I’m new. Just got here yesterday”.
“Really? Just yesterday?”, he said incredulously, “must have put up a hell of a fight if you were brought here so soon.” His voice took on a strangely nostalgic tone, “I remember I was stuck as fodder for weeks”.
Seemed a weird thing to be nostalgic about. Whatever, I wasn’t one to judge.
“Where is here exactly? The uhh thing that brought me wasn’t particularly talkative”, I said.
“Watch your tone boy”, he hissed alarmingly, “You better not catch anyone else see you talk about the Shrouded like that. The fanatics’ll have your head.”
I stuttered an apology and he visibly relaxed.
“You really are clueless. Hell, I guess its up to me for initiation then. I’m Axe, been here about 13 years and seen pretty much all there is in this place. Now, what you may known about the Colosseum is only what the Duke shows the outside: the frequent bloodsports, betting, all the good stuff.
“But that’s not all. The Colosseum is a society in of itself. And we, the slave-gladiators, are the lowest rung. Do not speak to anyone not in chains without being spoken to first. Do not even look at them. And certainly, do not try anything funny. You may think you're some kind of hotshot but trust me, in here you're nothing.”
He paused for a few seconds, debating something mentally before continuing.
“I’ll give you something for free: The Duke’s got seven champions, each of them at least Class-5 Supers. I’ve only ever seen the Duke himself fight once when the Colosseum was attacked by horde of feral Starborn.
"He decimated them with a wave of his hand”. His voice was grim but his mind betrayed the grudging awe he felt.
I couldn’t help but be shocked. If Axe was telling the truth, as he himself believed he was, the Duke was at least class-3. The Starborn were a notorious menace and usually encounters were either flee or die.
To have destroyed a horde like that required range and power on a scale that even class-2 didn’t seem too unlikely. Comparatively, If I operated [Influx] at maximum capacity I may be able to reach class-5.
“What I’m trying to say”, Axe continued, “is you’re here now. And you’ll stay here for the rest of your life. Trust me, it’ll be a lot easier once you’ve acknowledged that.”
His feelings were true to his words. I sensed the contentedness of one who has long since given up hope for more to be satisfied with less.
But no being ever truly without hope. I saw a glimmer of an opportunity here. Allies, even temporary ones, would greatly increase my odds of success. Choosing my next words carefully, I spun up [Efflux] in preparation.
“So you’ve just given up then?”, I asked, monitoring his thoughts as I spoke. No change yet.
I continued, “How pathetic really. To so easily give up control over your fate. You may not be in chains like I am, but you are far more shackled.” A flicker of unease flashed. Now was my chance. With barely a flex of mental effort, I sent out a suggestion with [Efflux]. Not much, a large shift in personality would be flagged as suspicious. Just a small amount of hope laced with nostalgia for his time before chains.
He was silent before laughing loudly at my words. “You think you’re the first fool to come in here with your talk of hope?”, he said incredulously.
“Well, when you come up with a masterplan, feel free to leave me out of it. Don’t wanna end up like Jove”. Although he seemed shaken by my words, his own did not betray his mental state. I judged that pushing any further would only have a negative effect and changed the subject.
“…what happened to Jove”, I asked curiously.
Axe wordlessly pointed at the wall opposite me in my cell. “Let’s just say you've got a roommate. Not gonna be a talkative one though, I'm afraid”.
He chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head darkly before turning away from me and lying down on a mattress in the corner of his cell.
I looked forward at the darkly-stained wall in front of me. I had always wanted a roommate, though this wasn’t quite what I envisioned when I had said that.
Nonetheless, despite Axe’s outward dismissal of my words, I knew my suggestion had planted in the roots of his mind.
Often I wondered if Codex: Flux would be better off in the hands of some high noble – it seemed tailor-made for politics. Hah, I knew I should have listened to my teachers. Alas, here I was, Tethered-rank Ascendant, university-dropout, stuck in a slave-gladiator cell using my powers to chat up the inmates.
What would my teacher think of me now. Well, I’m sure he’d be proud. Probably. Shaking my head ruefully, I dismissed the useless thoughts from my mind. Moving awkwardly with my wrists and ankles still bound, I lay down on the surprisingly soft mattress.
I hadn’t quite realised how tensed I was until my head hit the pillow and long overdue sleep collected his debt gleefully.
*****
Far from the deep bowels of the Colosseum where Phi and Axe were held, a stone island floated over the now-empty arena below. The arena looked very different to when Phi fought the chimera. Large chunks were gouged out as though by a colossal hand while elsewhere the very stone itself was aflame, melting into rivulets of magma.
The stone island looked much like an iceberg from below. Floating above the air-shield that enveloped the rest of the Colosseum, it looked ominous. Its grey stone highlighted against the pitch-black backdrop of space.
On the island, a path wound from one edge to a castle, surrounding on both sides by a sheer drop. The castle seemed less a man-made structure than a natural formation. Its bulbous curves seemed reminiscent of magma flash-cooled after exposure to the cold air.
A man in ceremonial dress alighted from a silent drone at one end of the path and began to walk towards the castle. A gold-coloured trim lined his red robes and an insignia of a sword was sewn into his left shoulder.
A halberd followed behind him, floating on a haze characteristic of repulsor technology. His boots were soundless on the obsidian floor with no air to carry the vibrations. Although the man seemed not to notice the various dangers associated with entering space without protection.
He entered the castle through an opening several times taller than he. He continued through without pausing when he approached a colossal dark-gold double door. There were no unnecessary gildings or superfluous designs on it. Yet it emanated a sense of pressure that the man who felt nothing even in the vacuum of space was unable to ignore.
Just as he bowed his head, the doors swung inward. A long red carpet ran through the room. Pillars the same material as the castle itself lined the carpet. The room itself looked almost biological in shape, all smooth curves and no sharp edges.
It was lit by braziers of glowing rock hanging from the pillars, casting strange and moving shadows across the floor.
The man dared not look any further and dropped to one knee, looking directly at his floor. The Duke's voice tore through the silence, reverberating off the cavern walls. Even in the airless void of space his words carried, vibrating with a force all of their own.
“You may raise your head, Mallikus."
Mallikus obeyed, the rest of the cavern coming into view.
A single banner hung on the far wall: a strange glyph embroidered in gold on black cloth. Below the banner was a throne. Unlike the rest of the castle, this was clearly manmade. Seemingly carved from the same material as the cavern, it was covered in glyphs similar to the one on the banner.
The being on the throne was bedecked in illustrious armour. It was an obsidian black, swallowing light in a depthless abyss, its surface cold and smooth like volcanic glass. Molten rivulets of magma pulsed through it in intricate patterns, like veins of living fire carved into rock. These molten lines twisted in arcane, unreadable shapes, runes that seemed to flicker with an ominous intent. His face was covered in a featureless helm radiating an oppressive aura, as though all life under his domain existed by his will.
His right hand lay on the armrest of the throne while his left held a golden spear.
The Divine Spear Igni
Only one being in the Colosseum was fit to wield such a weapon. Their ruler, the Infernal Scourge, Herald of Glorious Death, Duke Thanadon of the Ignis.
“My Lord”, Mallikus spoke, his voice echoed pitifully compared to the Duke’s in the cavernous throne room. “I hope today’s games were to your satisfaction. The final battle between Champion Zen and Champion Ex-Illion was particularly entertaining”.
“Indeed. A pleasant distraction”, the Duke rumbled in response. “And what of your task?”
“The broker was unwilling to cooperate but he was soon...ah...convinced”, Mallikus replied.
He raised his wrist and pressed a button on a metal bracelet. A hologram was projected in front of him. Intersecting blue lines, symbols and numbers run across faster than the eye could follow.
The Duke leaned forward in his throne, studying the hologram with great intensity. His helm was unreadable when abruptly, he threw his head backwards and laughed ferociously.
A savage pressure encompassed the cavern, the hologram flickering and glitching. The shadows danced in glee as the braziers overflew, spilling molten slag on the floor below. Mallikus could no longer remain standing and collapsed to his knees.
“Good. Very good”, the Duke’s voice thundered, each word crashing like a hammer. “You know what to do next Mallikus. Complete this final task and I shall see you suitably rewarded."
This time Mallikus bowed willingly and spoke reverentially, “Yes, my Lord. Your will be done.”
“For blood and glorious death”, the Duke intoned in a booming voice.
“For blood and glorious death”, Mallikus repeated, a flicker of something unknown passing in his eyes quickly before disappearing beneath apparent fanaticism.