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[>>Now replaying: Log 3.18 - Arcana_Eighteen_The_Moon]
Date: Error
Location: The Bunker at Progress’ Head // Zephyro’s Domain
//Let me play among the sta—//
//carries several divinatory associations:[3]
18.THE MOON--Hidden enemies, danger, calumny, darkness, terror, deception, occult forces, error. Reversed: Instability, inconstancy, silence, __(/$&” degrees of deception and ERROR.-//
[>>DATA CORRUPTED]
E2 %So yeah, there’s your story, Tin. The Torchbearer killed us all when she killed the Emperor. If it weren’t for her, the Wars would never have happened.%
E3 %The Reclamation Wars?%
E1 %Yeah, Tin. You know about them?%
The scorpion twitched as if struck by lightning as the purple sparks left by Shellslinger vanished into the hot night.
I screamed in frustration and panic. This couldn’t be right. If the Ferals were strong enough to kill the Old Guard that easily, we didn’t stand a snowflake’s chance in hell. Even though the Feral couldn’t move, between Zephyro being deadlocked and my minuscule damage, there was no way we would kill it before—
The air above the scorpion shimmered like a mirage. The elf appeared above the scorpion mid-jump, runic shotgun in hand, confident grin on his lips. The shotgun’s barrels glowed a menacing purple, overcharged with energy.
The moment Zephyro yanked his sword out of the Feral’s face, Shellslinger blasted it with two giant bursts of dark magic and feathers from his shotgun. Cresting the arc of his jump, he then sent two scythe-wielding spirits straight into the Feral’s back.
The elf let his momentum carry him forward, landing in a pose I recognized from those superhero movie posters.
With a cocky grin, he holstered his shotgun as the Feral crumpled behind him. He turned back to exchange a nod with Zephyro, who was wiping his sword clean of oil and pitch-black blood on the beast’s fleshy back.
In the close distance, towering minuscule beneath the sky and above us all, the finite mass of unending hunger shuddered, twitching its unseeing eyes like a broken airport display table. It howled its blasphemous muezzin scream-song again, and more snarls and whistles and roars answered.
They sounded closer than before.
Much closer.
The elf looked up, frowned, then turned to the Scorpion as a fountain of Logic started spilling out of the beast. As I approached with quick steps, he knelt down and picked up something I couldn’t see in the middle of cyan cloud. At least 90% of the Logic coalesced into a shard in his hand.
“Hey, what the fuck?!” I yelled, walking faster. He looked up, expression innocent and confused.
“That is mine,” I said, staring into his eyes as I came to a stop in front of him. Up close, he smelled of leather and that ozone-like scent I had come to associate with Logic.
“Not trying to steal your share, don’t worry,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I just need the soul shards. You can have the rest, it’s too low level for me.”
I frowned, but then I inhaled, absorbing my share of the Logic before he could reconsider.
{INCOMING LOGIC - 348 LB}
{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 498 LB}
I wasn’t used to sharing the Logic, and I didn’t particularly care for it. Yes, it was childish, and yes, he had contributed way more to the fight than me. Still, perhaps a part of me had even started to believe it when Zephyro said that Logic was mine by right and that it should go back where it belonged. The Vizier had warned me that the Old Guard was greedy, but now that I’d gotten to know one of them, it felt more like some sort of delusion. Shellslinger really did seem to believe that he was in some sort of game, perhaps?
“We need to talk about loot distribution in general though,” the elf said, proving me right.
I sighed. I recognized his tone from way too many boardroom meetings. He was a negotiator, and even worse, he seemed to be the kind of guy who was used to getting what he wanted. That was just great.
I carefully shoved my anger down as far as I could and steeled my expression as I began plotting the negotiation in my head.
“Just saying,” the Shellslinger went on, “I didn’t sign up for a boost group here, so the quest reward better be something good.”
He looked at Zephyro as the Vizier approached. He was cleaning his sword with practiced motions as he walked. “That’s what’s happening here, right? You’re boosting her through this dungeon?”
“What are you talking about, heretic?” Zephyro said, eyes narrowing as he sheathed his sword. “This is not a dungeon, this is the parade ground of our people. I must also caution you to watch your tongue… You’re talking to the Sultana, and I recommend you show her the respect she deserves.”
“Whoah, didn’t come here to get insulted either, old man. Just asking if—“ he paused mid-sentence, as if someone had interrupted him. Probably his axe again.
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“What?” He turned, eying me with newfound appreciation.
“Really?” He asked no one in particular.
“No kidding? That really is her?”
Another pause.
“Huh. And you’re telling me that now and not earlier, because…?
“You know what? I am done talking to you.”
Finally, he addressed me again. “In that case: It’s an honor, really! Sorry, I just thought you were an NPC, with the way I got summoned, and the quest screen and all.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “…But that being said, while I am a huge fan of your work and appreciate all you have done, I still am going to need some sort of payment.”
“You just took more than ninety percent of that Logic!” I replied, incredulous.
“Yeah, and I am sorry we didn’t get to discuss that earlier. But you’ve got to understand my position here. This is great gear and XP for you, for sure, but for me, even these fine soul shards are chump change.”
Turning, he gestured at the giant beast that defied all meaning. “I mean, that raid boss on the other hand will drop some sweet loot for sure. There’s obviously no way we can kill that thing as a three-man-group, much less you two on your own.”
He left a pregnant pause, then continued.
“So here’s the deal: You get standard loot from the adds, shared based on participation, but you also get to pick one item from the boss. Just to show this is your instance, and I appreciate the invite. But the rest of the loot has to go to my guild. And also: you have to get them here because I’m all out of summoning scrolls.”
“Your guild?” I asked, frowning.
“He means the Old Guard, Sultana. As I told you, they are all quite insane, but loyal.”
The elf chuckled. “That’s the most backhanded compliment I have ever gotten, and I hang around Francois all day.” Then he broke into a real laugh. “He just said he hangs around me, which is true, I suppose.”
Zephyro’s expression softened, but it was a while until he nodded reluctantly.
“As much as I hate to admit it, the blas— the Guard is right. I believe he asks you to use your Blessing to lure his comrades here, then kill the abomination with their help. If I may offer my humble opinion, I would believe that to be wise.”
Losing all of that Logic would definitely hurt, but they were right. There was no way we’d be able to do this alone. And yet… was I ready for this responsibility? Pulling even more people into this mess?
“Chris, how much would it cost to get more than one connection on that array?” I said it out loud, for Zephyro’s and Shellslinger’s benefit.
Beep! Boop!
{remote_access_array_alpha_001.exe
Running, Status: 100%
REQUIRED CPU TIME: VARIES. ⚠
REQUIRED RAM: 10 LKB++}
[//run remote_access_array_alpha_001.exe -h -d -analysis -current]
[>>Currently connected array endpoints:
1) Shellslinger]
[>>Devices currently available: TUXXET 1, XXRRET 2, TURRXT 3, THE_ONE_TRUE_TURRET, NO_FUCK_YOU_I_AM, PRINCESS_DONUT_MEMORIAL_TURRET, Adan_Boom_Box, STRONG_CHIN, GODS_RIGHTEOUS_FURRY, Housekitten, SLOWRISK, NULL_HAROLD, HOT_FOR_ARCTIC_FOX, OHGREATIWASREBUILTASASOLDIER… (119 more)]
[>>Available Connections: 0/1]
[//update remote_access_array_alpha_001.exe]
[>>No upgrades found.]
[>>Path?]
{//Seize the Day, Torchbearer//300.}
{//Seize the Power, Tyrant Divine.//LB}
{CPU Load: — 80%} ⚠⚠
{Core Temp: ▼ 86° C}
[DPM integrity] ⚠⚠⚠
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 62% —
{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 498 LB}
“Ow!” I said, wincing. These danger icons smarted extra hard. “For fuck’s sake, Chris, I swear you keep doing that on purpose.”
Boop! Chris said. It sounded just a little bit reproachful, and that was enough for my anger to smolder to life. It came quickly, unbidden, a glimmer in the dark underbrush of my mind. I was so very sick of it. A part of me, however, welcomed it, craving the strength to keep going, to feel safe.
But that was a part I no longer wanted to be.
> They want to help you, Sam.
>
> They love you, for fucks sake.
Olre’s words sprung out of the dark corners of memory, battering my resolve. I remembered the aftermath of Veltruvia. The retreat, the regret. Fighting with Chris. Everyone was on edge. He had been right back then, and was right now.
I took a deep breath before I could spiral down into self-reproach again. I wasn’t alone anymore. I had Chris and Zephyro, and by getting him in here, I was at least responsible for Shellslinger.
That meant I couldn’t allow myself to be weak again, no matter how much I believed I didn’t deserve them.
I wouldn’t be weak.
I’d rather be angry instead.
It was the hell I knew, and I’d rather burn alive than be dead and cold.
But didn’t one of those things lead to the other?
Grimacing, I pushed these thoughts and memories as far down as I could. Now was not the time for doubt or regret, now was a time for action. I’d figure it out later.
> You keep saying that, Sam.
>
> But everyone has a limit.
>
> You’ve been strung up for so long, how much longer do you think you can keep it up?
I tried to ignore those words, too, as well as the memories of Underbrook saying those words. The images of him holding that goddamn bridge.
No, this time, it would be different.
When I pulled myself out of my thoughts about ten seconds later, I found Zephyro and the Guard waiting for me, more or less patiently. Shellslinger kept glancing at the abomination that devoured the night sky, torn between concern and excitement. Zephyro’s eyes were trained on the Fortress. They were empty, lost in thought.
As always, it fell to me to lead, no matter what I felt like.
“Can’t we kill it from afar?” I asked. “It can’t move, and I haven’t seen it use a single attack.”
The elf shook his head, then turned to me slowly. “Not before the enrage timer hits. Not enough dps.”
“What?” I asked, eyebrow raised.
Zephyro frowned as well, still absorbed by something else. But then he tore himself out of his thoughts and nodded. “He means to say we won’t be able to put the beast down before more Ferals arrive, Sultana. I also still worry about the Shackled and their masters Any time we waste, they will gladly use to catch up.”
I looked at the wall of metal, scales, flesh, eyes, and teeth. “Do we even have to fight it? Can’t we just go into the palace, hunker down there?”
Zephyro smiled sadly. “Ahhh, if only we could, Sultana.” He stopped staring at the fortress, to look me in the eyes. “I owe you another thousand apologies, Sultana. I underestimated how long it would take us to get to the palace, and I know I promised you answers once we are safe, yet safety keeps eluding us.
“However, while the monster’s gluttony has rendered it immobile for now, it may not stay this way forever, especially since it is hardly incapacitated. It has a legion of Ferals at its beck and call, ready to feed it more of your Blessing. I am loathe to imagine what will happen if it feeds even more and regains its mobility.
“We must not forget the Shackled, either. While the Fortress is most sacred, for it is your resting place, I worry that under their assault, it would not last. Especially not if the humans were to let their slaves feast on the essence of this demon, or—may Allah prevent such calamity— somehow salvage its Talents.”
“That’s possible?”
“I do not know, Sultana. It has absorbed the Talents of my people, so reason dictates it might be. To be frank, I have never seen a Feral this powerful, let alone killed one.”
He paused, looking out over his city. In the distance, a housing block collapsed in a plume of fire and ash and Logic.
And just at that moment, the Beast shimmered blue, and all its mouths opened at once.
“Annee massaniya addurru waanta arhamuarrahimeen…” Zephyro said, his voice as hoarse as the desert sand.
It was little more than a whisper, and yet it cut through fire-lit silence and void-touched roar alike.