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[Now replaying: Log 3.33 - Taking my Toll]

Date: Error

Location: The Bunker at Progress’ Head // Zephyro’s Domain

//Heute soll die Glocke werden, frisch Gesellen, seid zur hand!//

//=?(/%bell is a directly struck idiophone percussion instrument. Most bells have the shape of a hollow cup that when struck vibrates in a single strong strike tone, with its sides forming an efficient resonator. The strike may be made by an internal "clapper" or "uvula", an external hamm(/%!$&§%//

[>>DATA CORRUPTED]

The Old Guard kept firing their guns and their Magic, the cat-armored woman firing magazine after magazine from her new rifle as she backpaddled, dodging strikes that were so quick, they were impossible to see with the naked eye.

The nun at her side wasn’t so lucky and caught a strike to the chest that sent her sprawling, red lines racing over her body, growing fragments.

“Fuck! Gom—” the other woman began, but her moment of distraction cost her dearly. A strike went straight through her arm, separating it at the elbow. She screamed, clutching her stump as red cubes sprouted from it, forming a hand that tried to reach for her own throat.

“Activating disengagement protocols,” said the robotic voice, suddenly hectic and full of concern, and they disappeared.

[User HouseCat has disconnected.]

{CPU Load: ▼ 55%}

{Core Temp: ▼ 75° C}

[User God’s righteous Furry has disconnected.]

{CPU Load: ▼ 54%}

{Core Temp: ▼ 75° C}

Then Zephyro reached melee range, his sword colliding with that of the Shackled.

Sparks flew as they wrestled for leverage, each trying to overpower the other.

“Infidel!” Zephyro spat.

The Shackled did not respond.

“You have pillaged our homes!

The Shackled did not respond.

“Killed our loved ones!”

The Shackled did not respond.

“Devoured our children!”

The Shackled did not respond.

Suddenly, Zephyro’s hand, blazing brighter than ever, was gripping the side of the Shackled’s head. White cracks formed over its featureless face.

“By Her Light will you be judged!” He said, voice carrying over the Plaza, thrumming from the walls of the Palace with its might.

The air hummed with power, reaching a crescendo pitch.

“Humbly, I hope you will find no mercy.” The vizier growled, so low I almost couldn’t hear it.

His gauntlet exploded with energy, a bright beam lancing forth from his palm with so much force, it blocked all sound and ate all lesser light.

And yet, when sound and sight finally returned, Zephyro and the Shackled were still struggling. Its impassive red mask had been blown off partially, revealing a crazed eye, and whimpering mouth in its cracks.

“In the dead sun, your history will cast no shadow!” He screamed, full of fear and panic and desire.

“When the lands rise, we must all sink to our knees, lest we come too close to the gods and they devour us,” he begged. But even as he did, he raised his sword up high for a strike that would cleave the vizier in two.

Zephyro disengaged with a grunt, firing another beam of light at the Shackleds’ chest.

But the Shackled dodged the attack, and it ruptured the carcass of the Feral instead. Lose flesh billowed in the wind, and then they fought in earnest, striking so fast the air blurred around them and the dead winds rose.

Zephyro jumped back, firing another beam at the Shackled, who charged after him with inhuman speed. They jumped into the deserted ruins, and their fight became impossible to follow except for occasional flashes of white and red.

What was he doing? We couldn’t help him like that! Not that anything we could do would do anything against someone who could stand against Zephyro’s attacks… Oh!

As soon as I understood Zephyro’s plan, I spun back into a sprint, unfurling Pharus as quickly as I could. Its flaming censer was in the air not a second later, hitting one of the Shackled that were still pressing their hands against the carcass.

[>>PROCESSES BY USER Wailing_Willo ARE NOW HIGHLIGHTED]

[>>Initiating Denial of Service Attack]

The mace impacted right on the back of its head. It snapped forward, slamming against bone and skin. With an explosion of dead flesh and cartilage, a long, wicked dagger erupted from the Feral’s corpse before the Shackles had a chance to recover.

The green-skinned arm that held the weapon pulled back, then rammed the knife into the Shackled again and again until the it collapsed and exploded into a shower of Logic, which I immediately absorbed. Couldn’t risk the other snatching it.

{INCOMING LOGIC - 215 LB}

{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 815 LB}

I had more than enough Logic to advance any of my programs, perhaps except Pharus, but Zephyro had been right. With the Shackled being so close, they’d spot me the second I tried using my Wish, and then it would be over. They’d dogpile me until my DPM gave in, just to get to that power.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I whirled around, holding the Torch at arm's length to give it additional inertia. Feeding its flames, I sent it roaring towards the other Shackled. But to my surprise, the red figure turned at the last second and caught the censer in one hand. That was frustrating, and a little terrifying, but with some luck, it would be good enough. I shoved all my fear, pain, and frustration into the weapon, letting it blaze as hot and bright as I could.

The Shackled didn’t even twitch as its arm turned into a blaze of teal flames.

[>>PROCESSES BY USER WISHING_TREE ARE NOW HIGHLIGHTED]

[>>Initiating Denial of Service Attack]

{CPU Load: ▲ 68%}

{Core Temp: ▲ 75° C}

Still, it let go of my weapon with mechanical precision, but it was too late. The woman who had healed me at the beginning of the fight swooped down on wings made of embers and ash, delivering a flying kick straight to the Shackled’s temple. Its head exploded in a shower of cyan and Alizarin crimson, and the healer flickered, reappearing twenty meters further back.

{INCOMING LOGIC - 246 LB}

{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 1031 LB}

In the meantime, the Goblin had cut his way out of the corpse and was sprinting towards me. I could see a few red lines crisscrossing his body, but he still appeared sane enough, by Old Guard standards.

“It’s like a maze in there,” he said when he finally arrived, rummaging in his satchel. “There’s more red guys. Got nicked by one of them. Here, this is yours.” He pulled a watermelon-sized glob of flesh out of his backpack, pushed it into my chest and immediately let go. I grabbed it by instinct, so surprised I almost dropped it on accident. “I recommend rare, salt and pepper only. And no ketchup!”

{INCOMING DATA TRANSFER FROM: Hearty_Breakfast}

{̸͚̈̈́͝ͅ[̴̗̜͊/̶̼͉͗%̴̝͆§̶̢̪̥͒͋̔%̵̨̛̈́]̴̲̝̖̉̅͊}̴͇̘̟̑̄͘

{Estimated added CPU load: UNKNOWN%}

{RAM required: UNKNOWN LMB}

{Estimated time remaining for transfer via NEXUS at NEXUS B/s =

0hr, 0min, 1s}

“See ya,” the Goblin said and vanished.

[User Hearty_Breakfast has disconnected.]

{CPU Load: ▼ 55%}

{Core Temp: ▼ 75° C}

I looked at what he had given me, and almost dropped it again, but on purpose.

[Heart_of_Hunger.exe]

[̸F̵e̷a̷s̵t̵?̵ ✿◕ ‿ ◕✿]

[>>Y!<

Boop!

( ´•︵•` )

I did not know what just almost happened, but I was very glad that it didn’t.

Thanks, Chris.

Beep!

I tossed the glob of bloody flesh from one hand to another to get a good look at it from all sides. It was indeed shaped like a heart, but it had way too many valves, and I was pretty sure normal hearts didn’t have eyes and a number of mouths lining its surface.

Most of the orifices were still and dead, eyes lidded, tongues lolling.

A few were not.

What the hell am I supposed to do with this thing?

Beep! Boop. Beep.

You think this thing can be useful?

Beep.

Okay, fine. But I can’t fight carrying around a few kilograms of flesh. Can I drop it and come back to it later, or how does ownership work?

[//move Heart_of_Hunger.exe C://MemOs/downloads]

[>>Heart_of_Hunger.exe moved from ZEPHYRHOS_DOMAIN/RENDER to C://MemOs/downloads]

{CPU Load: ▲ 99%}

{Core Temp: ▲ 76° C}

My CPU spiked as the heart vanished. I felt like I had just been punched in the chest so hard, it left me breathless for a few panicked moments.

When my lungs finally filled with air again, I scowled.

Fuck! You couldn’t have warned me, Chris?

Boop! Beep boop beep beep beep beep, boop beep boop beep beep boop boop boop beep?

I got the point. How was Chris going to warn me without hours of me trying to decipher their beeps? But still. They always did this. So damn high and mighty about their ideas, so—

> Who do you want to be, Sam?

I took a breath. The anger was still there, urging me to defend myself, to make it clear that I was still in charge. To make Chris understand that they needed to think before they got me into danger. It told me that it was Chris’ fault I was afraid and that I needed to make sure I keep them controlled, lest they kill me.

Or worse, left me alone.

But there was also a distant, evanescent sense of quiet.

It handed me a memory, and nothing else.

We chose you, you dumb, egocentric bitch. All twelve of us. We made that choice. You’re not some master manipulator who can trick people as smart as us into liking you. You know who is like that? Olre. Do you fucking want to be like Olre?

I exhaled, masking my shaky breath by wiping my bloody hands on my robes.

Thanks, Chris. Thanks for helping me through this, for giving me Nexus and Ardor, and for slamming my head into all those obvious solutions.

Boop. It still sounded so petulant, so—I pushed through, clamping down on my anger.

I mean it. Thank you. I’m sorry I’m such a bitch. I don’t want to always… I sighed. I mean, we talked about this, but still, I don’t want to keep venting all of this shit on you.

…Beep.

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you, Chris.

…Beep.

I wanted to keep going, to ask, to make sure they loved me back and that I hadn’t fucked up so bad they were going to leave, but the carcass of the Feral twitched, pulling me out of my thoughts.

There were more Shackled in there, the goblin had said. But so was a giant load of Logic, wasn’t there? For an insane second, I contemplated rushing in, fighting the Shackled for the Logic that remained, but in the end, I decided against it, no matter how much it hurt. I didn’t know how many had survived Zephyro’s attack, how many more were coming, or how strong they were. Chances were high that if I tried to approach the carcass, I’d end up like Shellslinger, the cat, and the nun.

I spun, quickly counting how many of the Old Guard were still ready to fight. The result was sobering. Only a handful remained, and even if we would manage to fight off the Shackled that had survived in the corpse of the Feral, I hadn’t forgotten about the invisible threat infecting the Old Guard.

“Get ready!” I said as the first red arm pushed out of a dead mouth, breaking teeth and rupturing muscle. “We need to buy Zephyro sometime to—“

In the distance, at the very border of the small circle of reality that remained untouched by the void, a flash of white light burst into the sky, followed by an explosion of sound and pressure. The old Guard and I staggered, shielding our faces against the shockwave.

When it passed, the last ruins around the plaza began to collapse. Stone by stone, wooden beam by wooden beam, the material gave, until everything around us succumbed to the strain in a cacophonous crescendo. On all sides of the battlefield, dust exploded from the rubble as the buildings shattered, immersing us in a cloud of ash, embers, and debris.

When the dust finally settled, only the palace was left standing. The ruined Feral had collapsed completely, burying the Shackled alive. There was another shockwave in the distance, smaller this time, then silence reigned. Only the occasional crumble of stone and creaking of metal dare question its rule until I stepped forward.

My fear pressed against my will, demanding to be let in, screaming that Zephyro was dead. I pushed back with everything I had.

This reality was Zephyro’s Domain. It still existed, which meant Zephyro was still alive. “Keep an eye on the Feral carcass. Kill as many Shackled as you can, I’ll go get the vizier.” I said, gripping Pharus tight.

But before I could so much as lift a foot, there was movement atop a pile of rubble, and a lone figure emerged from the destruction.

“No need, Sultana,” Zephyro said, limping out of the ruins. His armor hung in tatters, strips of cloth and chainmail leaving flesh and wounds uncovered. It was a far cry from the proud image he projected when I first saw him, overseeing his Domain on that hill. He was limping and bleeding from several wounds that were not healing. His sword, sheathed in a scarred scabbard, was serving as his cane.

“May I suggest” he said, voice raspy, blood dripping from his lips, “that we…” he trailed off, trying to hold back a coughing fit. He was obviously weakened, and struggling to even speak.

I finished the sentence for him.

“Retreat!” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear me. “Someone help me with Zephyro. We’re not going to leave anyone behind this time.”