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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]

I screamed in frustration and panic. No! No 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 seemed stunned, between Zephyro being deadlocked and my minuscule damage, there was no way we—

The air above the scorpion shimmered like a mirage, then the elf appeared above the scorpion mid-jump, runic shotgun in hand, its barrels glowing a menacing purple. 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, then sent what looked like two spirits wielding scythes straight into the Feral’s arched 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 crumbled 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 it’s unseeing eyes like a broken airport display. 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 the cyan cloud. At least 90% of the cyan mist coalesced into a shard in his hand.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” I yelled, increasing my pace. 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 - 368 LB}

{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 498 LB}

“We need to talk about loot distribution in general though,” he said.

I sighed, recognizing his tone from several boardroom meetings too many. A negotiator. Great. And even worse, he seemed to be someone who was used to getting what he wanted, and who thought I needed him more than he needed me.

I carefully let some of my emotions show on my face, and he shrugged apologetically. “Just saying, 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, cleaning his sword with practiced motions as he walked, then sheathing it. “That’s what’s happening here, right? You’re boosting her through this dungeon?”

“What are you talking about, heretic?” Zephyro said, eyes narrowing. “This is not a dungeon, this is the parade ground of our people. I must also caution you to watch your tongue… This is the Sultana you’re talking to, 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.

“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 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 this earlier. But you got to understand my position here. This is great gear and XP for you, for sure, but for me, even the soul shards are almost chump change.” He gestured at the giant beast that defied all meaning, which would not be named. “I mean, on the other hand, that raid boss will drop some sweet loot for sure, but there’s 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.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“So here’s the deal: You get standard loot from the adds, shared based on participation, and you also get to pick one item from the boss. Because this is your instance, and I appreciate the invite, for sure. But the rest has to go to my guild and me. 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.”

We ignored him.

“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.”

As much as I wanted to disagree, they were probably right.

“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. “Fuck 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. Part of me was so sick of it. Exhausted. Another part, a much bigger one, welcomed it, craving the strength to keep going, to feel safe.

Chris was always like this. Hinting, suggesting, never saying what they really mean. It was enough to drive me mad. The next time I saw them, I would—

They want to help you, Sam. They love you, for fucks sake.

Olre’s words sprung from the dark corners of memory. I remembered the aftermath of Veltruvia. The retreat, the regret. Fighting with Chris. Everyone was on edge. He was probably right back then, and now, too.

I was overreacting.

God, I was such a bitch sometimes, never appreciating my friends until they were gone.

I didn’t deserve them.

Any of them.

I deserved—

No. I would not indulge that. I couldn’t. Not now, not ever.

I wouldn’t be weak.

Not if I could be angry instead.

It was the hell I knew, and I’d rather burn alive than be cold but dead.

Grimacing, I pushed the memories as far down as I could. Now was not the time for doubt or regret, now was a time for action. And if I had to stay angry to do what had to be done, then so be it.

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, when a single word sends you into a tailspin like this?

I ignored that, too.

I would not falter, so close to the goal.

All of that took maybe ten seconds, and when I pulled myself out of my thoughts, I found Zephyro and the Guard waiting for me, more or less patient. Shellslinger kept glancing at the abomination devouring the night sky torn between concern and excitement, while Zephyro’s eyes were trained at the Fortress, lost in thought.

“Can’t we kill it from afar? It can’t move, and I haven’t seen it use a single attack.” I asked, impatiently snapping my fingers to catch their attention.

The elf shook his head, then turned to me slowly. “Not before the enrage timer hits. Not enough dps.”

“What?” I asked, eyebrow raised. I was starting to get annoyed at how dumb he made me feel.

Sam…

No!

Who do you want to be, Sam?

Zephyro frowned as well, but nodded slowly. “He means to say that we won’t be able to put the beast down before more Ferals arrive, Sultana. I fear the Shackled might use any time we waste to catch up, too.”

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, and hunker down there?”

Zephyro smiled sadly. “Ahhh, if only we could, Sultana. It must feel as though two months have passed since I first promised you answers. I underestimated how long it would take us to get to the palace, and for this, and more, I owe you yet another thousand apologies!

“However, while this monster is immobile now, it may not stay that way forever, especially with other Ferals at its beck and call. We must not forget the shackled, either. While it is eternal and sacred, for it is your resting place, I worry that it would not last were the humans to force their slaves to feast on the essence of the demon.”

He paused, looking out over his city. In the distance, a housing block collapsed in a plume of fire and ash and Logic.

The Beast shimmered blue, and all its mouth opened at once.

“Annee massaniya addurru waanta arhamuarrahimeen…” Zephyro said.

It was little more than a whisper, and yet it cut through fire-lit silence and void-touched roar alike.