“Halt, monster,” the first Avatar said. The long silver hair behind his mask fanned out behind him so that it covered his back like a grey cape. “Only those creatures officially part of the Trials of Ascendance may enter its bounds.”
Rieren turned her head a little. “First of all, I am not truly a monster, regardless of what my looks might suggest. Second, I am registered for the tournament.” She hesitated for the briefest moment before fishing the new token out of her robe. “See? I possess one of the tokens to advance to the next round.”
“Which team do you belong to?” the wide-bodied woman Avatar asked. Her bare, crossed arms rippled with muscle. She made no effort to hide the skepticism in her voice.
Once more, Rieren’s reply came out a little slower. Hesitation wasn’t ideal here. She needed to act crisply. “I am Rieren Vallorne. I am on a team with Amalyse Arraihos and Empress Kalvia.”
The third Avatar, a short wiry man started at the use of empress. “Blasphemous claims…”
“We are aware of this Rieren Vallorne’s condition,” the first Avatar said. “She was attacked and defeated by a group of monsters. With her recent absence, she has been designated as dead and therefore eliminated from the Trials. We are not in the business of allowing a monster to take up the identity of one of our competitors and shift the careful scales of balance.”
Rieren did her best to keep her face in a neutral expression. Even if these three refused to believe her, she had other options. Before she resorted to any sort of act that could be seen as desperate, she needed to exhaust all reasonable actions first.
“It seems you have no reason to believe me,” Rieren said. “But that can be rectified. Allow me to contact my teammates, and you will see that I speak the truth.”
“These supposed teammates of yours do not determine whether you are to be allowed into the Trials of Ascendance, monster.”
“Who determines it then? You?”
It was quite difficult not to make the you sound like the most denigrating insult possible.
“Of course not,” the woman Avatar said. “All administrative decisions are taken by the judging council as a group, so as not to prevent any singular biases from affecting any momentous choices regarding the tournament.”
A lot of words to hide the real truth. Even if Rieren argued that she should be allowed based on her claimed identity, they wanted to expose her as the monster she was, which meant inviting a bias that they all shared. Cursed Avatars.
“But it is not an administrative decision,” Rieren said. “It is a matter of common sense. A competitor presumed dead is not dead, as previously thought. Simply changed due to circumstances beyond her control. Infected by corrupted Essence, but still possessing the mind that was hers all along. Seeking only to return to her original team.”
“This tournament is based on contingents. Your entrance would shift the balance we created between all participating factions.”
“What factions? You stipulated that each faction could only send one team of three, so we have entered this tournament with several dozen factions. I would simply be returning to mine.”
The wiry Avatar pulled out a strange scroll. It was made of blue paper with script inked all over it. A script that had begun to glow as soon as the Avatar unfolded it.
“You call, Avatar?” a man’s disembodied voice said.
Rieren frowned. That was coming from the scroll. Something told her that this was the method the Avatars used to communicate over long distances.
And now, they had used it to get in touch with these so-called judges.
“We have, honoured judges,” the wiry man said. “We need you to preside over a difficult case. Have you seen everything?”
“From the moment it appeared, yes.”
Rieren blinked. Then she looked around. Ah, there it was. A little ball of light glimmered not too far away from where she stood, but higher up in the air. It must have arrived in the vicinity after she had dropped off her Dawn Cloud but before or during her fight with Cerill had begun. She would have noticed it otherwise.
And of course, they had witnessed everything that had gone on.
But if these were the so-called judges, then Avathene and some of the other officials and Elders from the Shatterlands would be there as well. Rieren wasn’t completely bereft and alone as she had initially thought.
“What is your verdict, honoured judges?” the first Avatar asked. He had glanced at his smaller companion, but since he was masked, Rieren couldn’t decipher his reaction. Was he possibly somewhat miffed by his compatriot’s forwardness. “Or do you require more time or evidence from the subject?”
Rieren stared flatly at the lot of them. “The subject in question is present right here. And this subject wishes to state her own case.”
“That will not be necessary,” the old judge said through the scroll. “An unauthorized monster cannot be allowed to begin trudging through the tournament all for some wild claims.”
“Please.” The new voice made Rieren’s ears perk. There was the person she needed to hear from. “Let us not be hasty, Clanmaster Karlosyne. We must be evenhanded in all our decisions. I believe such a unique scenario behooves us to hear out the case properly.”
“What?” said a reedy voice. “You want to listen to something some monster has to say? An illegitimate monster at that? Surely you aren’t saying you would support the entrance of a new monster that would upend the balance we seek to maintain.”
“Of course, she wouldn’t,” a different, haughtier woman said. “All she really wants to be sure of is if she’s putting herself at a disadvantage. But that is the point, Clanmistress Stannerig. This monster is playing with your emotions, seeking to take advantage of the best interests of your home and all those under you, just so it can illegally invade the Trials.”
“Even if one of our own had become an Abyssal,” the reedy voice continued. “That doesn’t give us free reign to allow them to re-enter the tournament. Not at all! For one can never know what the true intentions of these alien beings are. They aren’t human. Not anymore. We would be foolish to allow it back into the Trials of Ascendance.”
“I can prove where my intentions lie well enough,” Rieren said.
They ignored her. Rieren was certain her voice transmitted through the scroll, since the Avatars were doing nothing more than speaking into it, the same as her. But the group of judgmental bastards pretended as though she had never spoken.
“I will take it that your silence means you have dropped the ridiculous matter of actually trying to judge this monster’s so-called plea, Clanmistress Stannerig,” the first speaker said. The one who had been addressed as Clanmaster Karlosyne. Rollo’s father. “Honoured Avatars, with unanimous support, we have determined that—”
“Whatever my appearance might be,” Rieren said, speaking loudly over the old idiot’s words coming from the strange scroll. “My actions speak far louder than my looks have ever had. Is that not so, Clanmistress? Am I not the one who saved the Shatterlands? Do you deny the impact of Rieren Vallorne upon your homeland?”
“Insolence,” the reedy voice fumed. “To dare speak up when we are speaking. The Avatars should tear that thing limb from limb for the temerity.”
Rieren returned the ignoring favour. “What is the truth, Clanmistress?”
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Her eyes darted to the Avatars. While they hadn’t moved or made any motion that indicated their hostility had risen from the already high level it was at, a part of Rieren couldn’t help but note the reedy voice’s words.
If the Avatars chose to attack now, she would be in no position to defend herself. Even with the new strength her class evolution and monstrous conversion had granted her, she wouldn’t be able to defeat a Masked Avatar. Maybe she could survive against one, stand toe-to-toe for some time, with a little bit of luck and judicious use of her abilities.
But there were three of them. Three, individual Avatars with their own Domains and their own little specialized skills and techniques. There was no way Rieren could take on three Avatars and hope to come out of it alive.
“It is true,” Avathene said. “Rieren Vallorne has truly been a great boon to the Shatterlands. Without her expedient actions, without her keen judgment and the prowess she has displayed both on and off the field of battle, we would not be where we are right now. I owe her a great deal.”
“You owing one person your very life does not make it right to let some creature take advantage of your feelings and infiltrate our grounds,” the other woman said. “Please, Clanmistress Stannerig, think of the sheer risk this poses.”
“Clanmistress Azalea, I never retracted my statement that true judges make their decisions based on all available evidence, after hearing every side in a matter. We are yet to hear the defendant’s case personally. Let us end this argument and see if there is any actual merit behind the claims.”
The other judges, possibly Clanmasters and Clanmistresses all of them, didn’t voice any further dissent. It was time for Rieren to make her case.
Her first impulse was to take a deep breath, but breaths didn’t exactly affect her any longer. So, Rieren shuttered the impulse and tried to focus on explaining herself and the truth she told.
She did her utmost not to hide anything this time, not even unintentionally. This required her to pause at times, to consider the chain of events and double-check that she hadn’t skipped anything important. Forgetting to mention things was partly why she was in her current circumstance in the first place. Rieren wasn’t about to let that happen again.
Being truthful also meant revealing her meeting with Elder Olg, including mentioning what he intended and what he had shared with her. Rieren didn’t feel any hesitation at revealing the information, sensitive though it seemed. It wasn’t as though the Elder had requested her to keep any of it to herself.
Perhaps he had recognized that she would have shared it eventually. It was vital knowledge regarding their true enemies. Rieren couldn’t keep it to herself forever.
If nothing else, at least her current state convinced her that she had come far from the time she had let her paranoia rule over her. Her impulse to explain everything and hold nothing back, even when she was speaking to a bench full of strangers, was strong enough evidence that she had overcome her inner demons a great degree.
“And that is simply the reasons behind my current state and the recent incidents I was involved in,” Rieren said. “You could argue that it is all a fanciful tale, I suppose, but my past is there for all to see.”
“What past do you speak of?” the reedy voice asked.
Rieren was happy to answer. “It was I who stopped the Dreadflood, first summoning a Banishedborn for assistance and later on allowing Elder Olg to possess the Dreadflood. It was I who exposed the corruption through a manipulative Abyssal’s powers in the hierarchy of the Shatterlands. As the Clanmistress herself said, I am the saviour of the Shatterlands.”
“Is this all really true, Clanmistress?”
“Even if it was true,” the other woman, Clanmistress Azalea, said. “We have no true proof that this creature is truly who it says it is.”
Rieren tutted. “I was there the night you were to be murdered, Clanmistress Avathene. I was the one who killed your father-in-law. I was the one who sold two ornate chairs, I believe four paintings, at least one small sculpture, and several ceramic bowls just to get enough Credits to purchased what I needed to hold him down.”
Harsh mutters broke out on the other end of the scroll. They didn’t like what they had heard. Some upstart cultivator killing a former Clanmaster? What was the world coming to.
“Not only that, I was there when you called a meeting, Clanmistress,” Rieren continued. “Remember? It was only the four of us, plus my little winged kitten. We discussed a great deal about the future, and my cat took a great interest in the grapes.”
Avathene was silent a moment before replying. “She speaks the truth. That is indeed Rieren Vallorne. On that, I can stake my word as the Clanmistress of the Shatterlands.”
Rieren smiled in triumph. There. She had always known she could prove it if she was allowed to do so.
“I disapprove,” the Clanmaster of the Karlosyne clan said.
“Is that so?” Avathene asked.
“Yes. We cannot allow this, considering past events. Even this one mentioned—you were once almost taken in by another Abyssal. You allowed yourself to be deluded by the Ordorian clan. The exact same thing is occurring here once more.”
Mercion. Clanmaster Karlosyne meant the incident with Mercion, where Rieren had learned and revealed how he was being controlled by the Gravemark Puppeteer. That had caused a great upheaval in the Shatterlands, but they had come around to her side, taking action against Mercion and the Abyssal possessing him so they couldn’t cause any further damage.
In fact, even the former Clanmasters, one of whom Rieren had killed, had most likely been under the Puppeteer’s control. Perhaps not as directly as Mercion, but to some extent, at least.
The Shatterlands had been rife with the Gravemark Puppeteer’s handwork.
“Yes,” the reedy voice added. “We have already taken great liberties to allow you to include the formerly possessed Mercion Ordorian. Now you wish to bring in yet another monster into your contingent? You are taking things too far, Clanmistress.”
And therein lay the ultimate problem. Even if Rieren could prove that she was who she said she was, they could simply assume she was being possessed by a powerful Abyssal who could root through her memories and act exactly as she would. Just as had occurred with Mercion.
A rustling of leaves broke through their conversation. All the Avatars tensed, and it made Rieren turn around too, for she had sensed the churning of powerful Essence somewhere behind. Essence that was as corrupted as hers.
“Let her through,” the Gravemark Puppeteer said.
Its body was a strange one this time. A shambling construct of corpses strung together with glinting silver threads, blood spilling everywhere and limbs flopping as it moved towards them. Rieren wouldn’t have recognized the abomination had it not been for its voice.
“Ah, another horror has appeared,” one of the judges said dryly. He hadn’t spoken yet.
Rieren brandished her sword, pointing it at the shambling construct of flesh, blood, and bones. “Leave, Abyssal. I have no wish to accept any endorsements you might offer.”
Like the judges before, the monster chose to ignore her and settled to a stop not too far from them. Threateningly close, if Rieren was any judge of appropriate distances. “You cannot take this any further. You have denied us monsters for so, so long. You think this withholding is in any way appropriate?”
“No rule in the tournament states that a competitor considered eliminated can enter the tournament again, simply because they have risen again as a monster,” Clanmistress Azalea said.
“Perhaps. But you forget one key point. This monster holds one of your precious tokens.”
Rieren was looking between the scroll, the monster, and the Avatars. Strangely, the trio hadn’t acted. It was almost as though they considered the Puppeteer’s presence legitimate.
“That matters not,” the reedy voice said. “There are many tokens. We granted one to every team, but we do not expect every team to qualify, so all we require is a minimum number of tokens to—”
“To erect your barrier through your runic formation. Yes, I am well aware. But you forget that we control a great many tokens now. Thanks to the actions of one of your kind, we were unable to submit most of our tokens. The battle still rages, with only a small handful of my fellows who have managed to secure their place in the next round.”
There was no reply from the other side. If Rieren could breathe properly, it would have caught on the way to her lungs as well, because the Puppeteer was right. The ultimate card was in the monsters’ hands.
In fact, it was in Rieren’s hand.
“Do you truly intend to manipulate the entire tournament in this manner?” Clanmaster Karlosyne asked.
“Of course,” the Puppeteer said easily. “You have no recourse but to allow participation of all the tokens, lest this phase of your tournament continue on forever. I would assume you do not wish for all your cultivators to turn into husks. That would make for quite a poor second round, would it not?”
Silence reigned. Rieren was having a hard time believing the course of events. This Abyssal was willing to manipulate all the monsters who had entered the tournament just to ensure that Rieren could secure her place in it. Why?
It ought to have bothered her a great deal that she couldn’t fathom the true reasons behind the Puppeteer’s actions, besides the stated need for a monstrous saviour—which was mostly monkey’s dung anyway. Was it all really as the Elder had said? A directive from the god this creature served as an extended effort to bring Rieren into their fold?
Her current form couldn’t muster much reason to care, though. All she had was her goal, and all she needed was a way to see it through.
“Stand aside, Avatars.” It was Clanmistress Avathene who spoke.
Her voice shook just a little. Rieren had to wonder if she knew that the monster currently supporting her was the same Abyssal that had torn apart her family, possessing Mercion and controlling her father to boot.
With no argument coming from the rest of the judges, the Avatars complied. The path ahead was open, though Rieren could sense the hostility still.
“No expression of gratitude,” the Puppeteer asked as Rieren wordlessly headed off. “I thought humans were taught better?”
“You consider me a human now?” Rieren asked, without stopping or looking back.
“I consider you one who will do what is right, in the end.”
Something about that threatened to bother her. But once again, like so many other things that should have left some impression upon her mind, it left no real mark. She just hoped she would recall it if the time ever came.
Rieren did glance back just before jumping into the main battle farther ahead. She saw no sign of Cerill or the newcomer anywhere. “Do not kill the ones farther back.”
Without waiting for an answer or confirmation, Rieren headed off. It was time to qualify for the second round.