Fifteenth Oath -- Clutch and Conquer

Chapter One Hundred Sixty: ‘He Who Sits...’

“...Excuse me?” said Hector.

“Are you hard of hearing?” the unnamed man said. “I asked if you would like to become a god.”

“...I don’t know what that means. And what did you do to my friend?”

“I ordered him to be silent.”

“Y-yeah, but how did you do it?”

The stranger gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean? I ordered him.”

Now Hector was confused. And more than a little unsettled. “Who are you, exactly?”

The stranger sighed. “Fine, I’ll ask the other one. You there.” He removed his right hand from his cheek in order to point. “The one in hiding. How about it? Would you like to become a god?”

“...Sure,” came Eleyo’s voice, “but not by any measure other than my own. What is a god to you?”

“To me?” the stranger said. “Nothing. A friend. A companion. It is you who have revered us as such.”

Having apparently heard enough now, Garovel decided to chime in. ‘Are you telling us that you’re a god?’

“Eh.”

What the hell kind of answer was that? Hector couldn’t decide if this man was terrifying or just kind of a weirdo. And he really hoped it didn’t turn out to be a combination of the two, because that would basically make him Ivan 2.0, and Hector was definitely not looking for a repeat of that encounter.

‘You’re a servant,’ said Garovel. ‘Where’s your reaper? I’d like to talk to them.’

The man gave a dull laugh. “I suppose it only makes sense that you would assume that. You are seeds, looking up and admiring the great trees that you wish to become. But I am no tree, little ones. I am a gardener.”

That gave everyone noticeable pause.

The stranger scratched his brow. “At least, I would be, if I cared a little more. Or at all, really. But I don’t, so... I suppose I’m more like the guy taking a nap under the trees while they flourish and grow wild all around him.”

‘Mm,’ said Garovel, his tone still thick with doubt. ‘Well, do you have a name, at least?’

“...Malast,” the man finally said.

‘Malast,’ echoed Garovel. ‘As in, “the Idle God,” Malast?’

“An unflattering name. Never cared for it much. I prefer the God of Boredom. Or the God of the Underworld, even if it is less appropriate--and certainly too grandiose for my tastes.”

‘So you ARE claiming to be a god,’ said Garovel.

Malast gave another sigh. “I guess.”

‘Well, in that case, would you mind giving a little demonstration of your godly powers for the cynics among us?’

“Nah, I don’t really feel like it.”

‘Then I’m afraid I don’t believe you’re a god.’

“Okay.”

And that was it. Malast just sat there, not saying anything else.

Hector looked from Garovel to Malast, then back again, but neither budged, though Garovel looked much more annoyed.

Hector felt a push on his shoulder and turned to see Diego there, trying to get his attention. The man was still unable to talk, apparently.

“Oh, hey, uh, could you undo whatever you did to my friend here?” said Hector.

Malast looked over at him with flat eyes. “Nah.”

Hector didn’t know what to say to that.

“But, hey, wait a second,” said Malast, “doesn’t that count as a demonstration of my power?”

‘Pfft, no,’ said Garovel. ‘I know a guy who could do that, easy, and he’s not a god.’

“Oh,” said Malast. And he gave a yawn. “Oh well.”

‘Is that really all you have to say?’ said Garovel, able to sound less annoyed than Hector figured he was probably feeling.

And apparently, that was all Malast had to say, because he did not respond, instead choosing to simply close his eyes.

Hector thought the strange man might genuinely fall asleep until Eleyo stepped forward in the sparse light.

“Pardon me, but what did you mean when you said that I could become a god?”

Malast sighed another time but still didn’t open his eyes. “This is why I could never take interest in you like the others could. You always need everything explained to you. It’s exhausting, you know that?”

“What ‘others’ are you talking about?” said Eleyo.

“See? It’s always more questions with you people. I’d feel bad for you, if I could bring myself to care a little more.”

That response seemed to give Eleyo pause, and Hector couldn’t blame him. What the hell were you supposed to say to something like that?

Eleyo managed to find something, though. “Perhaps you would like to ask us some questions, instead.”

That got the eyes open. “Hmm.” Malast looked them over. “Normally, I would say that you have no answers that would interest me, but alright. You. Iron One.”

That was him, Hector knew. “Y-yeah?”

“Have you met a god before?” said Malast.

Oh, boy. Hector considered how to answer that. He eyed Garovel.

‘Say whatever you like,’ the reaper said privately.

“...Sort of,” Hector decided to say. “It’s, ah... tough to say without knowing exactly what you consider to be a god.”

“And did you receive a blessing from this sort-of-god?”

“Ah-ah,” intervened Eleyo again, “he answered one question of yours, so now you must answer one of ours. I believe that is only fair.”

Yet another sigh from the God of Boredom. “Fine, go ahead.”

Eleyo didn’t wait to consult anyone else about what they should ask. “Why are you here?” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You cannot answer a question with another question,” said Eleyo.

“I’m pretty sure I can,” said Malast.

“Then we will do the same for yours,” Eleyo countered. “Is that what you want?”

“No, it isn’t. There. I have answered one of your questions properly. Now I can ask a second.”

Hector heard Eleyo growl, but Malast had won that round, it seemed.

“Iron One,” said Malast. “Did you receive a blessing from this god of yours?”

“...What does ‘blessing’ mean?”

“You are not allowed to answer with a question,” said Malast, eyeing Eleyo. “Answer to the best of your understanding.”

Hector exhaled. “Right... uh.” He supposed he had some idea of what Malast meant. “I believe he did bless me, yeah. I mean, he even said as much, so...”

“What is this ‘blessing’ you speak of?” reiterated Eleyo, having apparently decided that Hector’s question was worth asking next.

“A blessing is a gift granted upon one’s very soul,” said Malast. “Although, it may not always be quite as pleasant as it sounds, depending on who the gift-giver is and why they are giving it.”

Malast allowed a beat of silence to pass, even though it was now his turn again. Hector wondered why. Maybe he wanted someone to ask another question so that he could proactively ignore them.

“My turn,” said Malast. “Iron One.”

Agh. Why was he getting all the questions? It was like being called on by a school teacher who was trying to humiliate him in front of the whole class.

“What was the name of this sort-of-god you met?”

Well, at least that question had an easy answer. “Rasalased.”

“Hmm,” was all Malast said.

And Hector very nearly asked if Malast recognized the name before stopping himself. He didn’t want to waste their next question--especially when he didn’t know how much longer this would go on for. He was getting the impression that once Malast ran out of his own questions to ask, they wouldn’t be able to get anything more out of him.

But dammit, if he still didn’t want to know the answer to that.

Eleyo posed the next question. “Who are these ‘others’ you mentioned before?”

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“My peers,” was all Malast said.

“That is not descriptive enough,” said Eleyo.

“I believe you have made up enough rules for this game already,” said Malast. “It is my turn again. Iron One.”

Hector had been waiting to hear that.

“Where is this Rasalased now?” said Malast.

Oh shit. There were a couple of different ways he could answer that, but Hector didn’t know if he even should. And somehow, it seemed like an especially bad idea to tell this guy that Rasalased was right there with them, sleeping in the Shard beneath his armor.

He’d made a special trip to go back for it, not wanting to leave it there, just in case something crazy happened while they were hunting for the treasure. The concept of being teleported to an unknown location hadn’t entered his mind, but he was glad he’d decided to bring it, nonetheless.

But perhaps it would’ve been better to leave it in Carver’s biosphere after all. He had no idea what would happen if he allowed this guy to take the Shard from him, and he wasn’t too keen to find out, either.

He had to answer the question somehow, though. And he didn’t want to lie unless he had to. He decided to just leave a few things out.

“Rasalased is not in one place,” said Hector. “He was split apart and fell dormant.”

“Hmm.”

Hector held his breath while he waited to see if that was a good enough answer.

Apparently, it was.

‘Well done,’ said Garovel privately.

‘Garovel, who the fuck is this guy?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not sensing anything special from him. And that worries me.’

Now that he was thinking about it, Hector wasn’t feeling any kind of oppressive presence, either. This Malast guy didn’t seem to have that insane level of field density to his soul like Ivan and Gohvis. Or even Darktide, Xuan, or Abbas, for that matter. Did that mean he wasn’t as strong as them? Or did it simply mean that one’s field density was adjustable? Hector recalled Ivan implying as much, actually.

As much as he would’ve liked to ask about it, he didn’t think it was the most pressing question.

And the others were hesitating now as well, even Eleyo. They were probably all mulling over what to ask, if not simply waiting for someone else to take the initiative.

Hector’s gaze fell to Carver. The poor lighting made it too difficult to decipher the expression on the man’s face, but Hector did find himself wondering: had Carver known about this Malast guy all along?

Through all the confusion and disorientation, it had nearly escaped Hector’s notice when Malast mentioned the name Ettol, which meant there was only one degree of separation between Carver and Malast.

Hector was gathering questions by the second, but he was having trouble solidifying them in his mind, let alone actually choosing which to ask Carver about.

Then Elise Garza broke the silence and stepped boldly into the conversation. “Excuse me, but can we--?” She stopped. “...I would like to know more about the enormous amount of treasure around you.”

Good point, Hector felt. And no doubt, Malast would’ve counted that as their next question if she hadn’t caught herself.

“Then ask me about it,” said Malast.

At that, Elise lost a bit of her fervor, and looked around for help. Her eyes fell to Manuel who, in turn, looked to Hector.

Aw, shit.

‘Help?’ he asked Garovel.

‘Eh, I’m sure you’ve got this,’ the reaper said privately.

‘Garovel, is this really the time to be--?’

‘Whining? Why, no, it isn’t. So just hurry up and ask this “god” whatever you want.’

Everyone was looking at him now, Hector realized.

He really wished Diego could still talk.

Okay.

He could do this. There were only about six billion questions to choose from. He just had to pick one that wasn’t completely fucking stupid.

“...Will you try to kill us if we take some of this treasure?” he heard himself say.

Well, that was either the stupidest possible question or the most important one. He wasn’t quite sure which.

“Nah,” said Malast. “Take what you like.” Then he seemed to think about it a bit more. “But you should probably be wary of Seyos. I’m sure he wants to kill you, right about now.”

‘Seyos?’ said Yangéra. ‘The same Seyos who had Himmekel built?’

“It’s not your turn,” Malast reminded her.

‘Ugh.’

Hector braced himself.

“Iron One.”

There it was.

“How might I be able to contact this Rasalased?”

Yikes.

Impulsively, Hector wanted to ask why Malast wanted to contact him, but he knew that wasn’t going to get answered. Then Hector started trying to work out the best lie he could tell here.

But wait a minute.

How could Malast contact Rasalased? Hector didn’t actually know the answer to that. What, would the two gods be able to start chatting away as soon as Malast touched the Shard? Probably not, considering Asad hadn’t been able to talk to Rasalased yet.

Though, maybe Malast had some weird power that would make it work.

But Hector didn’t want to assume that.

And more importantly, he didn’t want to throw away his excuse for being able to honestly say, “...I don’t really know. The circumstances that led me to meeting Rasalased were, uh... kind of an accident.”

“Mm,” said Malast. “That is disappointing. But if you are unable to answer the question, then I should get another one, no?” He looked over his audience for approval.

Hector would’ve liked to refuse him, but as he thought about it, he realized that Malast would be able to just say “I don’t know” to all of their next questions if they didn’t follow this new rule.

And perhaps Eleyo came to the same conclusion, because Hector heard him say, “Very well. Ask again.”

“What was this Rasalased like?” said Malast.

All these questions about the Dry God were beginning to form a rather obvious pattern. Clearly, Malast was interested in meeting Rasalased, but this question in particular was surprisingly... mundane, Hector felt.

“Well, he was, uh... he was very...” Shit. Not easy to describe was what he was, but Hector tried his best. “Rasalased was very... wise. And thoughtful. And considerate. And maybe a little scatterbrained. And kinda scary. Uh...”

“I see,” was all Malast said.

‘So this Seyos, then--’ tried Yangéra, but Eleyo interrupted her, doubtless because he couldn’t hear her.

“Why does this Seyos person want to kill us?” the Hun’Kui man said.

“Because he has long wanted to become a god, though he is an unsuitable vessel,” said Malast. “He would therefore see the two of you as a threat.”

‘What the hell?’ said Garovel. ‘So these two here are “suitable” vessels? Why? What makes them more suitable than anyone else?’

“It’s not your turn.”

‘Fuck this guy,’ said Garovel privately.

That nearly made Hector laugh openly. If he was pissing Garovel off so much, maybe Malast really was a god--or at least as much of a god as Rasalased had been.

Malast took his time asking his next question. “What will you do with this treasure, Iron One?”

And Hector was surprised, because that had nothing to do with Rasalased. He looked around and found everyone watching and waiting on him again.

Great.

At least he more or less knew what he wanted to say, this time.

“I will try to... build a strong link between the surface and the Undercrust. And then... use that link... to help and protect as many people as I possibly can.”

Holy crap, it was embarrassing to admit all of that. He felt like everyone had just seen him naked. He was again glad to have his armor to hide behind.

There was a long bout of silence as everyone waited for Malast to respond in some way, but the self-proclaimed God of Boredom merely continued to appear exactly so. Bored.

Malast’s expression didn’t change at all. He didn’t shift in his seat. He didn’t stop resting his cheek on his hand. He hardly even looked like he was paying attention.

But at length, he finally deigned to say, “...That’s nice.”

‘We’re losing him,’ said Garovel privately. ‘This might be our last question, unless we can regain his interest somehow. Ask him if--’

Eleyo wasn’t waiting for anyone’s permission, though. “Would you like it if I became a god?”

Malast looked at him. “I would. What would you do if you became a god?”

“I don’t know,” said Eleyo. “It would depend on the exact nature of my godliness, I suppose. The precise limits of it.”

Malast narrowed his gaze at him. “That’s a lie. You already have a very good idea of what you would do, don’t you? Your answer doesn’t count if you lie, you know.”

“I am not lying,” said Eleyo.

“Even if that’s true, then you still have not answered my question,” said Malast. “Which means I get to ask a different one.”

Eleyo took a step forward. “Go on and ask, then.”

“Are you reconsidering my offer?”

“I never turned you down.” Eleyo took another step. “What must I do?”

Malast grabbed the jar in his lap with both hands. “You need merely to accept this of your own free will.” He held the jar up, grasping the lid but not opening it. “Do you understand that you will cease to be yourself, by doing so?”

‘Hector,’ said Garovel, suddenly urgent.

‘Somebody stop him,’ said Yangéra.

But Eleyo stopped himself. “No, I do not understand that. What do you mean? I will cease to be myself?”

Malast sighed again and brought the jar back down to his lap. “You will be a vessel, like I said--a conduit through which an otherworldly being may experience this one.”

Eleyo took a step back now. “No. You said I would become a god. Not be replaced by one. Those are two very different things.”

“He will not replace you,” said Malast. “He will transform you, and you will transform him. Together, a new being will emerge. A new god, as some would describe it.”

But Eleyo was still taking steps back.

Malast smacked his lips and gave still another sigh. “Yeah, that’s about what I figured...” He slumped down in his stone chair. “I knew that Ettol was just getting my hopes up again. The wily bastard.”

As Eleyo shrunk back toward the group, Carver stepped up to replace him.

“How do you know Ettol?” said Carver.

Malast eyed him a moment and sniffed absent-mindedly. “It’s not your turn.”

Carver was undeterred, however. “Ettol is my uncle. I have known him my whole life, but I must confess that he has always been something of an enigma to me.”

“You believe you are related to him?” laughed Malast, which was perhaps the most emotion he had yet shown. “As in, by blood?”

“That’s right,” said Carver. “And that was your question, so now you must answer mine. How do you know Ettol?”

Malast blinked a couple times, then gave another laugh. “Your ‘uncle,’ you said? That is frankly impossible, I regret to inform you. Ettol has no siblings. At least, not in the traditional sense. If you believe he is your uncle by blood, then you are mistaken.”

“That does not answer my question,” Carver insisted. “How do you know Ettol?”

“Hmm. If he never told you, then I imagine he would be upset if I did.” Malast allowed a beat to pass. “But he’s kind of a dick, so I don’t care. He and I are very old comrades. One might even call us the oldest of comrades.”

Carver, along with everyone else, waited for more. In vain, apparently. “And?” said Carver. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Sure I did.”

“No, you didn’t! How do you know my uncle?!”

“Excuse me, but it’s my turn again.”

“No, it isn’t! You’re breaking the rules of the game! You have to--”

“Be silent,” said Malast, invoking the same heaviness that he had used on Diego.

And sure enough, Hector observed Carver’s mouth moving in his climate suit without any words escaping.

“I do not care for people,” said Malast, “but I especially do not care for noisy people.”

That was enough to render everyone else silent of their own volition again.

‘Garovel, what the hell is that ability?’ thought Hector.

‘Not something I’ve seen before,’ said Garovel in the echo of privacy. ‘The closest thing I can think of is the oppressive soul power of someone incredibly strong. I’ve heard rumors that it’s possible to bend people to your will, if your soul power is sufficiently stronger than theirs, but this--I don’t know. If he were doing something like that, you’d think I’d be able to sense the enormous strength of his soul, but I can’t.’

‘Maybe he’s suppressing his soul.’

‘Even WHILE using his power? That’s pretty much impossible.’

‘...Not if he really is a god.’

‘Ugh.’

“Anyway,” Malast finally said, “it’s my turn again.” His eyes went to Eleyo. “Hidden One.”

Eleyo just waited.

“Are you afraid of me?” was all Malast asked.

Eleyo shifted his feet. “No.”

“You’re not lying again, are you?”

“I wasn’t before, and I am not now.”

“Hmm.” Malast’s eyes seemed to glaze over. “Alright, then. Final question. Ask away.”

And again, everyone fell quiet.

The threat of this being the final question made even Eleyo reluctant to say anything, it seemed.

‘...What do we ask?’ thought Hector.

‘Fuckin’... I don’t know! Ask him why he’s such an asshole.’

‘Real helpful, Garovel.’

‘Oh, who cares? Not HIM, apparently. Rasalased was way cooler than this douche.’

Hector didn’t necessarily disagree, but that hardly seemed like the most beneficial attitude to have, given the circumstances. ‘What can you tell me about Malast? Or at least, the folklore around him. You called him the Idle God before, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ said Garovel. ‘Ancient stories, those. Malast was a god who never took an interest in humanity, no matter how much they pleaded for him to. He had all sorts of names. The Idle God. The Worthless God. He Who Sits. He Who Does Nothing. The God of Despair. The God of Boredom. But I didn’t know he was called the God of the Underworld, too.’

‘Hmm. What do the stories say about him?’

‘Not much, really. His whole deal was that he simply didn’t engage with us lowly humans. Some stories portrayed him as outright hating us, but even in those, he never actually takes action against humans. He usually just lets us fend for ourselves and occasionally die in some horrible manner that he presumably could have prevented.’

‘That’s it? The stories are just about him doing nothing the whole time?’

‘Basically, yeah. But the stories weren’t about him. He was usually just in the background, being super unhelpful. I don’t know if he even has a definitive origin story.’

‘That... all kinda lines up with this guy’s general attitude and weirdness, right now, doesn’t it?’

‘Oh, believe me, I’ve noticed. It’s been annoying the ever-living crap out of me.’

He supposed that explained why the reaper seemed even more irritated than he might have expected.

Still, the more Hector thought about what their final question should be, the more he supposed they already knew the most immediately relevant things. Malast was not hostile. Malast was not going to prevent them from taking the treasure. Certainly, there were still many things he would’ve liked to know, but he couldn’t tell if any single question was more important than any of the others.

That was, until Manuel Delaguna decided to speak up for the first time since they’d arrived. “How do we get out of here?”

The group looked at him.

Yeah. That was a pretty good way to spend their last question, Hector felt.

Malast, however, just shrugged. “I don’t know.”

What?

How could he not know?

Did that mean they were all trapped here now?

Hector had to stop himself blurting any or all of those questions out, and judging from the distorted expressions on the reapers faces, they were doing the same.

Eleyo spoke next. “How funny that a ‘god’ could end up trapped in a place like this.”

The man had been careful to avoid framing his words as a question, Hector noticed.

Hector wondered if that actually would work, though.

Apparently not, judging from Malast’s complete lack of a reaction. “It’s still your turn.”

Hector tried to think everything through rationally. If this Ettol guy had come and gone, then they probably weren’t trapped here. It was just a matter of figuring out how to leave.

Of course, that didn’t explain why Malast didn’t know how to get out of here, but there were a lot of things about Malast that were not making much sense, so Hector just added it to the list and tried not to worry about it for the moment.

A different question occurred to him, one of similarly pressing relevance, and Hector felt suddenly as if he should ask it quickly before anyone else used up their last question.

“This person who wants to kill us,” said Hector, “this Seyos--where is he, right now?” He figured that if there was someone who wanted them dead, as Malast had said, then that was a problem which should probably take precedence over all others.

Malast shrugged again, however. “I don’t know. He was here earlier, but he didn’t tell me where he was going.”

Hector frowned.

“Then we get another question,” said Eleyo.

“Boy, you’re really milking this, aren’t you? Fine. But this next one is the true final question, even if I don’t know the answer to it.”

Once again, Eleyo seized the initiative. “Why do you want to make one of us a god?”

Malast leveled a dull stare at the Hun’Kui man and made everyone wait a bit more for an answer. “...A very long time ago, I had a friend. He was--and still is, I suppose--the only thing in all of Creation that I can confidently say I liked.” He ran his hand along the top of the jar in his lap. “His name was Secho, and this here is all that remains of him.”