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[>>Now replaying: Log 3.16.14 - Resolving Serpentine Production Issues]
Date: Error
Location: The Bunker at Progress’ Head // Zephyro’s Domain
//Oh little Salvatrix, have you read the Neverending Story?//
//Of the eight defects in Lean manufacturing (defects, overproduction, waiting, unused talent, transportation, inventory, motion, and extra-processing), Defects are probably the easiest to explain. As the old adage goes: Waste not, Want not, and (/&%/&%$&$§%)/(=!?=)//
[>>DATA CORRUPTED]
E1 %I told you, the Torchbearer is not a Mage Lord. She wouldn’t trick people into following her. She was human, sure. She made mistakes. But that just made her so much more like us.%
“What do you see, Sultana?” Zephyro asked as we approached the battle. I had almost forgotten he didn’t know what was going on. He probably just saw a giant, horrible snake trying to bite itself. Morbid curiosity tempted me to disable Ardor and see the world as he did for a while, but I didn’t want to risk it.
“The Scorpion is almost done with one of the larger spiders. They’re controlling the small ones, I think, using them as a living weapon.”
“That seems to be the case, Sultana, and it is horrible. To command other machines is a skill we have seen in very few Ferals, and the ability to create new Ferals is even rarer. For three of them to show up with the same skill is unheard of. If what my scouts tell me is true, the humans would wage wars to have even one Shackled with the ability to produce more of itself.”
We were almost halfway there. The battle raged on, unabated. I motioned for Zephyro to stop.
“Alright, let’s let them wear each other down before we engage, then swoop in for the kill.” Zephyro nodded, and I continued: “I don’t think we will be able to fight them anyways without the turr— without the Old Guard.”
[>>compiling… 38%]
Zephyro considered for a second, opened his mouth as if to say something, but shook his head instead. “Yes, Sultana.”
“No, come on, spit it out,” I said. “We have a little time.”
The Spider-Mind had untangled itself from the scorpion and was in the process of trying to drown it with spiderlings. The snake still tried to coil on itself, like a bodybuilder on steroids trying to cross his arms. In my professional opinion as a military leader, this stalemate wasn’t going anywhere soon.
“It’s just that… I understand you have been getting stronger whenever the divine bell tolls?”
“Yep,” I said, a little chagrined. “Sorry about the unwanted attention. There’s always some sort of noise when I tap into my Wish.” Even when I was alive, the tolling of the bells had been an issue, but I had learned to work around it in the end. There had been lots of opportunities to practice over the years. After all, I had to equip a small army with guns and armor and provide Chris with a steady stream of innovations to tinker with.
“Allah be praised…” Zephyro said, pulling me out of my memories. “That I am to behold such wonders! But while I am still in awe of your talent, the music is not why I asked. I am sure that in your unending wisdom, you have already understood this truth, but I am still wondering about three Ferals with the same Talent showing up at the same time…
“Tell me, Sultana, do you remember why I can’t simply give you equipment?”
“Uh, you tried, remember? It was too heavy for me.”
“Ah, true, Sultana. But while Alqamar Faw Alqasr is a mighty weapon indeed, and perhaps too mighty to wield as your first, might I not have given you a weapon from one of our guards?”
“True,” I said, frowning. “But you explained that each weapon is custom-built for whoever uses it.
He nodded, smiling wistfully. “Yes. While the weapons my brave soldiers wielded might have looked like crossbows, they were not weapons, Sultana. Instead, they were a part of the soldiers, both in the Real and in my Domain. You or I couldn’t use their crossbows to shoot an enemy, just like we couldn’t use their legs to walk.”
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An image of someone bludgeoning someone to death with their own arms crossed my mind and lingered far longer than it should have.
“So you’re saying their crossbows aren’t, um…” I snapped my fingers, trying to remember the term.
[Pharus, Fury of the Torchbearer] v. 1.0 - Electronic Warfare Suite
I winced as the sting faded. “Thanks, Chris.”
Beep!
“So what I meant to say: the crossbows weren’t Electronic Warfare Suites? ”
Even though he grimaced at me breaking the fourth wall again, Zephyro nodded. I still didn’t get why he didn’t just call things as they were. All these metaphors were wildly confusing.
“They are not, Sultana. Instead, if you will, my guards are my swords and my shields, my scouts are my eyes, and my builders my hands. Together, they exert my will far beyond my physical reach.”
I looked over at the spider-mind, surrounded by its children. The small ones were climbing on top of each other with blinding speed, forcing one of the snake’s horrid mouths open to prevent it from sinking its teeth into their host. It looked very much like they were gladly sacrificing themselves for what they perceived as the greater good.
Almost like soldiers.
[>>compiling… 40%]
“So you’re saying…” I didn’t finish the sentence, thanking God that for once I had been able to keep my nerves calm and my mouth shut. Had I been tapping into my rage, I doubted I would have cared enough not to blurt out my realization.
Zephyro said nothing, watching the monsters fight their three-way stalemate.
It was only when the spider regurgitated another batch of its children that he spoke again.
“Do you remember what I told you about Emil-1? That he and his family could build more of themselves?” Zephyro asked, and I didn’t even need to look at him to know there were tears of loss and impotent rage flowing over his face.
“There is more than one reason why absorbing the Essence of another is haram, Sultana.”
If you could copy someone else’s skills by killing them, I could definitely see how that would be outlawed.
Time passed, measured in the screeching grind of steel against steel, and the insane voices of feral machines.
Then I remembered something Zephyro said earlier. “Wait, you said the Ferals came first, then the humans, right?”
“Yes, Sultana.”
“How much were they apart?”
“Hours, perhaps? It happened fast, by the time we had word of the attack, our sentries were already dead.”
I frowned, thinking through the scenario like the general I was supposed to be. It could have just been a coincidence, but something didn’t add up. As Zephyro said, the Ferals should have stayed out in the city for far longer, trying to devour the buildings. Plus, they had already been far inside when we saw the first Shackled, right? Yes, perhaps they had been sent in here to get stronger, but if so, shouldn’t they push inward as fast as they could to secure as much Logic for themselves as they could? If the stuff behaved the same for everyone, a large part of it evaporated every time it got released. Letting the Ferals have their fill made little sense, unless… unless they needed them to soften their target, and gather more abilities.
“I don’t think the humans followed the Ferals, Zephyro. I think they herded them here.”
The vizier turned to me. “Do you think they knew about your sacred resting place? That they are here to plunder your body and mind?”
I shook my head. “No. To be honest, I doubt they even know I exist. Or that…” I gestured at myself helplessly. “That I am in here. I guess they tried to shackle me because I’m… the laptop sits behind all those important-looking doors. But no, I’m not their goal, Zephyro.”
“…You are.” With all your people as a source for new parts and skills, I didn’t say.
He laughed, but then his expression softened. His hand fell to his saber, his eyes unfocused. Neither of us said anything. An anxious symphony—the low roar of dying flames and the odious screeches of the Ferals—stuffed the silence.
“That… That may be true, Sultana. It would make sense, if... Hah! The infidels might even think it is I who rings the Divine Bell above the city.” He laughed, a sad little sound. “Oh, how little they know.”
The fight was turning. The scorpion had pushed back his arachnid opponent until it was forced to join the other fight. It devolved into a free-for-all at that point. Before, the spiders had been able to make use of their adaptability to keep the other Ferals in check, but they were no match against the combined powers of both scorpion and snake.
“We should enter the fray, Sultana,” Zephro said, stretching his neck.
I nodded. “Can’t let these things waste their own Logic after all.”
“Ah, Sultana. Humble apologies. While the Ferals prefer to dine on your Blessing—that is; they seek to devour those of us with a clear mind—their ability to devour each other is unrivaled. Because a Feral’s essence is so corrupted, only what little of it that remains pure can be recovered you you or one of us. We do not understand where the rest goes when a Feral dies, unless—”
“Unless another Feral eats it?”
“Yes, Sultana. In that case, the victorious beast takes a large part of its victim’s essence and merges with it, thus becoming more and less of itself at the same time.”
At that moment, the Eternal Riddle bit into its own tail and began swallowing itself, forming a rapidly shrinking circle around the Spider-Mind.
“We need to move, NOW!”
But it was too late.
The Skittering Mind tried a last, desperate maneuver in building itself a platform out of spiderlings, but the uncounted mouths of the eternal riddle, endlessly gnashing and grinding, ate faster than the spider could reproduce. The last I saw of the arachnid was a teal scream of light.
Then the snake-like abomination swallowed itself over and over, its head emerging at impossible angles from the mass of hardware with eyes raging red, only to dive into itself again, faster and faster until it was covered in an aurora of crimson afterimages.
Then all movement stilled. Even the scorpion and remaining Skittering Mind scuttled back as if awed by what was happening.
Then, as majestic as the gilded carcass of a tyrant king, the snake rose, solar sails made off of server racks opening on either side of its head and fusing together until they resembled a cobra’s hood.
I stared at it. I couldn’t help myself.
[The Skittering Riddle, Rapacity Perpetual]
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