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[>>Now replaying: Log 3.16.9 - A Beginning of Voices]
Date: Error
Location: The Bunker at Progress’ Head // Zephyro’s Domain
//Remembered, if outlived, //
//It gets problematic when it’s no longer about the game, but about the psychology behind it.//
//Numbers go up. It’s a basic human need to gather, and we all love to see something grow. It gives us a sense of peace, of security, and (/%&&§//
[>>DATA CORRUPTED]
E1 %One side called her the Witch Queen. The Mage Lords baked that into their religion, somehow. Made her out to be this demon from one of the 13 hells sent up to disrupt the “natural order.”
E2 %Yeah, and the other side called someone who burned down palaces with children still inside a “Saint.”%
I wrapped the chain around Pharus’ handle to stop the censer from dragging over the floor, then sprinted for the crowd, trailing teal flames. There did not seem to be an option to turn the weapon off again.
The crowd was complete madness. The old and wounded had gathered around the edges, effectively boxing in the people in the middle. No one had time to make way for me even if they noticed me at all, so I had to push myself through the press of bodies. Elbows and shoulders and hands pushed back as the mob enveloped me. I smelled sweat and fear, saw flashes of wide eyes and bared teeth gleaming panic.
My anger was right there, offering to insulate me from all of it, to cloak me in a shell of supremacy where dread would find no purchase.
It took me everything I had not to reach for it. I couldn’t. If I lost control in the upcoming fight, Pharus’ new form would slice through the crowd like a scorching scythe through the autumn harvest. Perhaps I would snap out of it in time, but what if I didn’t?
A thought surfaced, telling me that I was afraid of myself, but I pushed it down as far and hard as possible without snapping my mind in two.
Luckily, the press of the crowd lessened up ahead, with people fleeing away from the source of the harrowing screams. I had to struggle harder for a brief moment, but then I was through, excess momentum sending me stumbling into a clearing within the throng of people. In its middle laid an elderly man two with two Feral rats—significantly larger than I remembered—bearing down on him. As I stumbled to a halt, they both looked up in unison, red eyes glowing faintly cyan with stolen Logic, jaws dripping red with blood.
I exhaled, wishing my breath wouldn’t tremble as it did, then grabbed Pharus’ chain and let a tiny length free. The censer slid down with a barely audible clink as my fear mounted. Somewhere, deep in my mind, buried under the memories of year-long wars, Stax laughed.
> Hahaha! Of course I’m afraid. We all are. Every time we draw steel. It’s what makes it so exciting.
>
> Yeah sure, they call me brave, and I like that, but bravery does not mean you don’t know fear.
One rat took a step towards me while the other delivered a killing blow to its victim. As the Feral pulled the Logic into itself, both of them glowed red. Their muscles bulged in unison, and their movements became an iota smoother, more predatory. The worst part was that they looked normal, and I meant “outside world” normal. There wasn’t a trace of metal left on their bodies, and I was sure that couldn’t be a good thing.
[KXng’X-Mi_d-1]
[Absolute danger level: medium]
[Relative danger level: medium]
[KXng’X-Mi_d-1]
[Absolute danger level: medium]
[Relative danger level: medium]
They shared the exact same readout, but I didn’t get any more clues than that. I briefly considered upgrading Ardor, but held back. The Ferals came closer, and this time, outside of that comfortable cocoon of hate, it was me who took a step back. I cursed myself for showing weakness as the Rats perked up and approached, climbing over glitching, dried-out corpses they had left in their wake. I twirled Pharus in my hand, a reflexive gesture, and it sent the censer roaring through the air, traveling in a perfect circle around my weapon while trailing blue flame.
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This time, the rats were not impressed. Without hesitation, they charged. I took another step back and bumped into a teenager who was desperately trying to shield an even younger kid with her own body. I almost dodged, but then I realized that would place the people behind me in danger.
The rats were almost there. Fear swelled, its icy cold seeping into my concentration, slowing my thoughts.
The anger was right there.
I could just let it in.
Who, it purred, cared about a few civilians anyway? There were just constructs, weren’t they?
No. That was a line I wouldn’t cross. I wouldn’t be that.
With that realization, a memory Stax’s eyes danced through my mind.
> “By the might of Magic, Sam! You’re literally the worst student I ever had. What ever did you do before your Skill awoke?”
>
> I stay quiet, smiling tiredly as I pant from exhaustion. I won’t tell him about my past and he knows it.
>
> “Just saying I’ve seen sheltered princesses fight with more grace than you.”
>
> I flip him off, still too out of breath for a witty retort.
>
> He laughs.
>
> “Okay, look. It’s going to take me some time to turn you into a graceful, virtuous, dashing fencer like me, so for the duel tomorrow, here’s my advice:
>
> When in doubt, hit it as hard as you can, as often as you can, and pray that your armor holds.”
Without thinking, I did exactly that. With a cry that sounded more confident than I felt, I dropped close to the ground and swiped my flail right-to-left. The censer hit the Feral in front, and blue flames spread around the impact point. The beast screeched and fell to the side as the head of my weapon bounced back and up. I leaned forward and put the energy of that movement into the follow-up, sending my weapon crashing deep into the fallen Rats’ flank. Bone crunched, fire roared, spreading further than before.
My head snapped up, frantically trying to locate the other Feral as I braced for a counterattack, but it never came. The other beast lay to the side, in exactly the same pose as the first, shuddering as it tried to get to its feet. In a snap decision, I twirled my weapon, made the chain quickly wrap itself around my hand, then hit the first Feral with the flaming cage as though I were still wielding a mace.
The hit broke the beast, and both of them died in perfect synchronicity.
It was creepy as hell.
{INCOMING LOGIC - 135 LB}
{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 175 LB}
{INCOMING LOGIC - 135 LB}
{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 300 LB}
As I got up and my adrenaline ebbed, realization dawned twofold.
One, I had been incredibly lucky to not hit any bystander with Pharus. Hell, with how long its chain could be, I needed to be careful to not hit myself.
Two, I was still thinking clearly… or at least so I believed. I had just killed two Ferals without dipping into my anger. The thought made me feel… terrified? But why?
Even with a gun to my head, I would have felt less fear, and still wouldn’t have been able to explain where this primal sense of dread came from.
> See? It works…
I had no idea why some of Patti’s last words chose that moment to haunt me yet again, either.
I needed to think of something else, so I shook my head to clear it and looked at the crowd. Every single person I could see stared back.
I swallowed, pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. No one moved, until someone started to kneel.
“No!” I blurted out, then quickly fell into the state of mind that had gotten me through these sorts of situations before. Did I mention I hated it when people knelt before me?
“We don’t have time for pomp and ceremony. You, you, and you.” I pointed at the three people I could find looking the least shaken. “It’s now your duty to get the children into the palace, first and foremost.”
I didn’t know what it meant if an AI rendered as a child in this world, and I didn’t care. They were children.
I addressed the entire crowd then, doing my best to give them what they needed, which was to let them see that they were not alone.
“I know you are afraid, but this is not the time to give into panic. The Vizier has given you instructions, and if we want to get through this, we can’t let fear run its course. Trust the Vizier, honor his commands, and have faith. We will see another day.”
Look who’s talking, I thought, wishing there was someone to give me a pep talk like that. Or hopefully, a better one.
Unfortunately, anyone who could had died on the long road from Veltruvia to Novus Apex.
The people looked at me for a second longer, but then the moment passed, like a disciplinary hearing coming to an end. Despite the lack of finesse and nuance in my speech, a ragged cheer hushed through the crowd.
I let them have it. I was used to the burden and could handle it, even if it pressed down on my with all its familiar portents.
Before long, loud voices rose above the din and started to sort the throng of people into somewhat orderly lines. The people seemed thankful for the guidance, even though hunched shoulders and erratic glances still belied a fear merely repelled, not conquered.
The second I was sure the situation was under control, I hurried back in Zephyro’s direction. We were both much weaker apart and needed each other, especially in the off chance that smoke monster was still out there.
This time, the crowd parted around me like I was used to, and when I reached its edge, I took one glance at the Vizier in the distance, cursed, and broke into a sprint.
Despite what I had wanted to believe, the fog hyena hadn’t been dealt with. Of fucking course. Perhaps it had been blown away by my explosion of Logic and needed some time to reform itself. Perhaps it had teamed up with the rats, letting them take the brunt of the damage in their mad dash towards the citizens while it hid. Perhaps it had employed guerrilla tactics, using its gaseous form to hide while it took potshots at prey far tastier than workers and couriers. Prey like Zephyro, with his massive amount of Logic.
The Feral had engulfed him in a dense cloud of toxic fog, eroding his armor. The vizier didn’t seem to notice. Perhaps it was because the process was slow, or perhaps he was too focused on saving his people. Perhaps the Feral had a masking ability, but I had no way of knowing.
He strained and rose from a deadlift, lifting a huge chunk of rubble up to his hips with the help of a group of civilians. Tiny voices snuck out from under the debris, afraid and pleading.
Zephyro yelled something to one of the women lifting the chunk of rock with him. Without hesitation, she ducked and slid under the slab, crawling into the space underneath. Without her help, Zephyro and the remaining people barely managed to keep their grip on the rubble.
The Feral chose this moment loosen its toxic embrace and shifted back into its coyote-like form.
It solidified in a matter of seconds. It looked like little more than air when it began to take shape, but by the time it sprung, it looked like roiling darkness trapped in jagged glass.
It slammed into Zephyro with several horsepowers worth of force.
The vizier yelled in pain and confusion but he didn’t let go. The Feral tried crushing him between the itself and the rebar-riddled slab of stone, but yet his armor held. It seemed as though the Feral had underestimated his power, but it seemed determined, and given enough time, it would crack him like a walnut.
The vizier squeezed his eyes shut and mouthed a silent prayer as the fog began to envelop him. From under the debris, a small group of children emerged, running for the safety of the palace.
A perfect Amuse Gueule for a discerning beast such as the hyena.
Its head snapped in their direction. I was still several hundred meters away. No way I would reach them in time. I imagined the moment when the Feral caught up to the children. Imagined Zephyro’s face when I failed him again. Imagined the guilt of knowing I hadn’t done enough.
And with nary a thought, the anger was at my side once more, arms wide open, smoldering invitingly.