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Earl Garner

Keeping my airtight mask on, I apply pressure onto the extensive lead door, and it grinds open after I've melted through the locking mechanism. A crash behind me attracts my attention, but before I can view my rear, a hand slams me forward, slipping me past the gap in the door.

"Go! Get whatever is in there!"

Virgil shouts in my ear before the man vanishes, leaving me to see nothing as I fall onto my ass in the laboratory. Immediately, without even looking into the room I've fallen in, I attempt to rush out to help, but the film of darkness that prevents me quickly yanks the door shut once more, sealing me within. Virgil.

He pushed me in here because, in such enclosed spaces, I'd be a detriment in a battle, only serving to make the struggle even more difficult. That's something that cannot be allowed when they are fighting an Angel. They're all strong, perhaps mighty enough to overwhelm an Angel such as Sequester, but doubtless, my intervention in an area ten feet by at most five feet would ruin it all. The hallway is long, but the chances Sequester gives them the entirety of it to fight in are slim.

I take a deep breath as a massive thunk shakes my feet, part of the steel wall denting inwardly from the force. I hope that's Wyatt. Anyone else, and they're either dead of brain trauma or with crushed limbs. His arm might be able to handle the force of that lead wall—

Focus! You haven't even guaranteed your safety before getting lost in thought!

I suck in a hearty inhale before twisting around, unveiling the laboratory. Time feels to slow as I drag my eyes from left to right, examining each otherworldly sight with my eyes. My heart's pace accelerates instantly with both fear and curiosity from the views as I try to gauge their threat.

An expansive, domed room sprawls before me, a chaotic sprawl of experimental devices and enigmatic contraptions. The stale air is heavy with an odd mixture of metallic tang and ozone as an arythmatic bang of the battle just beyond the door behind me fills the air. Nothing seems to notice me at first, as I'm left alone, but there also appears to be nothing moving in the room.

To my left, rows of unmoving bodies lie upon beds and tables, each one covered with white sheets like ghostly shrouds. They seem like eerie specimens, remnants of some twisted attempt at something gone wrong. Looking a bit closer as I flick my gaze past, I realize that the heads are uncovered, and all eight figures have their eyes sheathed by a blindfold as a crimson liquid runs down from where they should be.

My spine shakes with a chill at the very first sight as I continue to the next, the back right wall curved and filled with stationary humanoid figures lining the opposite wall. The blank faces lacking eyes, reminding me of ICARUS2 from above, stare into nothingness. They stand motionless, resembling humans, but their lifeless eyes give them an uncanny, haunting quality. Those must either be backups, guards, or works in progress.

Biting my lip as I hope they won't wake up, my attention is quickly drawn upwards as my eyes meet a mesmerizing sight – a river of flowing electricity arcs and dances around the top of the laboratory. The luminous blue strands snake through the air, their electrical dance mesmerizing and foreboding. It's mesmerizing for the sheer ingenuity needed to do such a thing, but foreboding for what it must mean over Eli's prowess with lightning.

I thought myself uniquely gifted and that his missing out on his daughter's excellence would hold him back. Apparently not. Perhaps the rumors are true.

There has never been a man with a more profound mind than Eli Weiss. Even as a child, he worked as an alchemist in the institute in Brightford. I looked up to him all my life as a pillar of excellence and knowledge. But as I scan his lab, I can't bring myself to respect him as a person, only as an intellect.

The metallic limbs on a nearby rack catch the glimmer of dim light. Each limb appears to be crafted with precision and care, and I can't help but think they are similar to the one I made for Wyatt. Only he has many, many more. Nearly a dozen, from arms to legs, to a beating heart, lie on the wall.

I need that heart. The chances someone will need it eventually are high. As long as I can figure out how to use it... maybe even replicate it!

A bang shocks me out of my thought as another dent is put in the door behind me, sliding partially before being pulled back. They're still fighting. I need to hurry. Skipping the right side for now, I look forward to the laboratory's middle, expecting the main experiment to be there. And it would appear it is.

In the center of the room, a massive device stands tall, almost menacingly so. Its steel sticks jut out at odd angles, like the limbs of some monstrous creature. The purpose of this contraption eludes me, but as I watch it for a moment, I quickly reason its purpose as bursts of electricity leave at intervals—Morrel's Code.

Burst, burst, half-burst, pause; burst, burst, burst; burst burst burst, burst, half-burst, and half-burst.

It's a message. It says 'good.'

I watch it for another second, translating another word to 'work' before it ends with a period, denoting that the message is over. Then, the electricity stops.

'Good work'... is that sent or received? Who is the sender? The receiver?

Questions barrel through my mind as I step forward, nearing the colossal device, but a bubbling noise to my right draws my attention. Twisting fearfully, my gaze then falls upon vats of fermenting greenish-yellow liquid lined along the wall. A sense of dread washes over me as I peer inside one of them, catching a glimpse of a distorted face seemingly trapped within the acidic depths. The sight is chilling, and, for that one, I have no answers for its usefulness other than plain cruelty.

I'd let the man out, but I'm still not sure of all the things going on. It could be a trap, not that I see one at the moment.

Amidst the cacophony of strange devices, I finally notice a large, ornate clock mounted on the ceiling way above even the streams of lightning as it tolls, marking a new hour. Its noise echoes through the room, drawing time with a haunting regularity compared to the other subjects in the room. The clock seems almost out of place in this twisted laboratory, but I suppose even Eli needs to keep track of time.

Shaking my head, I continue forward to the device, wanting to learn more about the use of Morrel's Code, but as I draw near, I catch a glimpse of a moving figure in between the pipes that construct it. Inhaling sharply, I drop to a crouch, hiding my body and head from the holes and the possible creature on the other side.

Ether flows through my feet, creating a rudimentary Sneak as I creep around the edge, focusing my sight with a careful Farsight.

At the heart of it all, behind even the colossal contraption of steel and lightning, stands a man, engrossed in his work on a lengthy pale table in the center of the room. His back is turned to me, but I can see his fingers moving with skilled precision as he hums a soft, low-pitched melody, barely outdone by the rumbles of combat and electricity above so that I can only hear him now. It sends shivers down my spine, creating a cold sweat down my back as I, for a moment, think this to be who I want to not find.

Eli Weiss should be in Blackreach, and this thought tears away the suspicion that this is Eli as, peering closer with Farsight, I quickly find that this man has black hair, not Eli's graying and fraying skull.

So this is someone else? But who?

Does the Underground Tree have a protege? No... surely he'd make himself known by this point. A son? Maybe...

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Swallowing a gulp of frantic spit, I reach for my holster and draw Coil, clicking over the safety I developed for a gun as a soft hum vibrates from my hand. The weapon quickly grows hot as it charges the lightning inside from the dormant magnets. Before I stand to meet this man, however, I lay extra preparation.

Wrapping a line wire around the back of my boot, I connect it to a bundle of smoking power that I slide behind the device that uses electricity to transmit Morell's Code. Then, I grab the only stick of dynamite I brought and roll it underneath the vat of acidic liquid, priming it to detonate should the smoke bomb with a match and another wire.

My preparations take only a few seconds, and the moment they are done, I step forward, making myself known as I level Coil at the back of the man's head.

"Hey! Step away from the table! Put your arms in the a--!"

My voice cuts off as I simultaneously see the man turn around, as well as the subject of his concentration. The man appears identical to Eli from when he was younger, portraits of him not uncommon in the halls of Bent. The most extensive difference, however, is that he is missing his eyes, leaving blank and empty holes for where his orbs should be.

And under his hands lies another familiar form, that of Blightraven, who was shown to me in a portrait from Skyswain. Ruined white wings, the steel-like feathers torn all over, hang from his back limply as his body seems to be separated into modules. Sections of his body are broken apart, like ceramic tiles within a house, but even with the open cavities, no blood leaks.

What the...

"Hello there, young man. I was expecting someone to reach me soon. For it to be one I've never taken focus of... that is a surprise, to say the least. Oh... would you look at that! I adore your contraption! The detail! The power! I can literally see its might!"

Words spiral manically out of the man as I notice he, too, has those ceramic tiles built and installed all over him. Lightly squeezing the trigger, not enough to fire, but to ready myself to, I yell at him and back up a step. But as I reverse, he trots forward.

"Who are you!? Are you Eli's son!?"

A chuckle primes me to fire, but his very first words stop me.

"Not quite, young man. It is a tad bit more complicated than that. You see... I am Eli, and I am not."

Confused, I twist my Coil a bit as 'Eli' continues speaking, pivoting back around to his table.

"You see... Earl, right? I apologize if I have your name wrong; my memory is not quite what it once was. I tell you, the first time I read a dictionary, I could retell it backward, but nowadays... age does its damage. Which brings me to my point. I sought eternal life. And I got it... in a roundabout way."

W-what? Eternal life? Is it that easy? He has to be lying, or this must be some kind of trick. I keep the sights of Coil planted firmly on his skull, but the 'man' monologues as he points to the body below him. Yet, he doesn't care.

"I once sought a way to deliver my daughter power, myself extra time, and Vincent Harvey additional years. My research brought me to artificial bodies made of a unique combination of ceramic and Kalstone, which originates from Hell. Very, very, very little of it exists, as all is stored preciously as high-value gifts for the eldest of demons. Two decades ago, Killian broke into Siren's castle far in the Wilds and retrieved nearly twenty pounds worth. It was enough to buy all of Blackreach."

Still refusing to lower my gun, I listen to him ramble as my curiosity spikes. Killian? Wyatt's father?

"With it, I created forms that could hold imprints of someone's soul, though most of the actual bodies are constructed of other polymers with only the essential formed from Kalstone. You see, the soul decays slowly, far, far slower than the physical body. It would take at least a dozen centuries for even the weakest soul to dissipate with a vessel, which can be extended potentially indefinitely with Sigils and training. But..."

As 'Eli' reaches the height of his ramble, his voice trails off with a shudder, the man's hand shaking upon the table with a quiet rattle as his tools vibrate on the steel platform.

Is he serious? The man actually has emotions? What happened? Is he playing me?

A moment passes before 'Eli' gazes up at me, those absent orbs staring right at me. I almost retreat again in sheer panic as I fumble my Coil.

"But... I was rash. I was so excited to use it, that I attempted to use it against my young daughter. She... she was unprepared, even if willing and eager. I should have waited, tested it myself. But I didn't. Rarely can I admit I'm foolish, yet... I was the dumbest of them all eight years ago."

My heart falls in knowing as I realize what he must mean. His attempt to not only give his daughter eternal life but power as well turned her into a raving lunatic. He raps his knuckles upon the table's metal, timing it so they knock alongside the battle outside.

"She... was fine at first. Both her Vessel and her fleshed form acted normal, perfectly normal. So, I then had two of my lovely daughters to work with me. Even if she found it a bit odd, I was exuberant. Yet... as the days and months passed, they both changed. The Vessel grew quiet, unspeaking, more machine-like as my daughter of flesh and blood grew more erratic, rabid, more hateful."

Again, Eli pauses, the man seeming to shed tears that don't exist as his voice chokes up. He then steps aside and taps the Vessel of Blightraven as he speaks.

"The process, I called it Rejuvenation, has a terrible price. At first, I thought an imprint of the soul was a non-issue. But it's not. Over time, the imprint and the soul battle, regardless of distance, causing fissures and permanent damage."

Finally, he seems to enter a break in his speech, but I find only one thing worthy of mention to this man. One that I can't help but ask. It's an obvious question. One that has to be answered.

"But... you did it to yourself. Why? Did you fix the issue?"

I expect him to nod yes, to tell me that he fixed it all and that he gave himself eternal life, but the man shakes his head instead. The sadness in the inch of movement drops my stomach deeper than almost anything I've ever seen. With a short smile, Eli explains himself.

"Even after six years of trying to both solve the issue and save her, I found no way. It is impossible. Some things simply are, boy. To insulate the soul, the only remaining possibility would require a material that doesn't exist."

I bite my lip as he mentions the thing that was my first and only idea to fix his issue, but while looking downward, the man continues.

"I Rejuvenated myself eight months ago after much testing and realizing the danger of the future. Gods are to reawaken, truly instead of the half-hearted efforts of the past millennia, for the first time since the Devil himself rose. Doing the math, a single Vessel would give me a total of twenty years before madness sets in, accounting for my Sigil's bonus. This would bolster my capability, giving me a mind to research and develop with and another to wage war and plan. And the moment that it does, I have a device within the Vessel and my true form to detonate and destroy them both, wholly."

The idea is a stroke of genius, even if horribly self-sacrificial. But he's not done yet. Pointing to the vat of acid behind me, Eli explains more to me.

"But... that wasn't enough. More Vessels hasten the process of madness. Three reduces my years to sixteen. Four to twelve. Five to nine."

I expect him to stop talking, to say that he has more than nine years left to live, but he doesn't. The man gives me a final declaration as he steps toward me. I slightly lower my gun, and the man speaks with a depth of solemness and gravity I've never seen.

"The world must have Vincent save it. A prophecy from a previous Prime denotes this. But he cannot do it alone. Someone must help pave the way. And no matter how dark the road, how grim the path, how bloody the war, how awful the choices I must make, I will stop Usen's rise from below. The aftermath... the world after... I need not partake in its luxuries. Ten of me roam this world with a ticking bomb inside of them for exactly two years, four months, eight days, three hours, sixteen minutes, and twelve... eleven seconds."

Eli's declaration shocks me, but what stuns me even further is that he steps forward and puts out his hand for me to take. It seems like he's offering me something nonphysical.

"I know you to be wise, far beyond your peers, just as that boy Wyatt is unrivaled within his age for strength. You can do the math. We are behind in every category. Power, numbers, Gods, gifts, Heirlooms, artifacts, history, wealth, resources, knowledge, all of it is greater amongst the Motherbound, demons, Nahullo, Pygmies, or some other race. As always, we are left in dead last, chugging along by the power of a single man."

The man, acclaimed as the most significant mind ever born, lowers himself, kneeling slightly as he offers a deal to me. My jaw sinks as he speaks, and I don't know how to respond.

"I need a man to help me, help me do what few have the heart to. Tell me, Earl, would you kill all your companions if it meant we could all live peacefully? No war. No battles. Just peace. Demons would be gone. Nahullo would calm themselves. Pygmies would ally and join our factories. The beasts would fall underfoot like brittle forces. All it requires are for Angels and those to be Angels to fall at a certain time, and then, our Eldest can rise under their bloody rain. I know this is a lot. But... the only way for us to survive is if those who can see the dark the clearest, step into it. Inhuman choices are the only way we live."

His words end, offering me a delicious future with little promise of how it would actually come to be. And immediately, I answer, lifting my Coil again to his head, pressing the sizzling steel against his porcelain-like forehead.

"No."

Surprise blooms on his face as his eyes widen, and I proceed with more words, pulling the trigger. Deals with the Devil are more amenable to listening to him anymore. I worry he will provide me an actual path forward with his knowledge, one that will make me want to do the crazed things he does.

"I've heard enough."

The weapon detonates with electricity, a booming sound that fulfills its dire promise, a hole entering the center of Eli's head as the Vessel falls over limply. I suppose I just gave him some more time, huh?

Shaking my head, I glance back, finding the steel door heavily dented but still closed.

"Wyatt... come on. You got this. You don't need me to do any of that. In a few more months, you'll pass Eli. In a year... Maybe a God other than the Wastelander will rise."

Scoffing at myself for my overconfidence in my friend, I move over to the rack of metallic prostheses, feeling a gaze appear that follows me. It must be Eli, somehow watching me. Sighing, I swipe them into a rucksack I brought, the weight slowing me. Then, I move over to the vat of acid and set a timer on the dynamite for six hours, long after we should be gone.

Next, I proceed to the eight figures lying down, finding a short journal beside them. Flipping to the first page, I find a short note.

Experiment installing Ails #4:

All subjects drained of Vigor in eight weeks—even 2nd Sigiled Abbots. Ails are far too powerful to be installed within a human before the Angelic Realm, but their powers are too lackluster for the most part. Some, however, possess abilities worthy of even Angels. Yet, unlike artifacts, there was no remnant madness or will to contest with.

This effect is from the fact that Ails originating from an Angel's Metamorphosis are different. They possess a fraction of their Power—more tests to come. Ails have been stored in cold storage for later implantation.

Confused by the short document, I place it in my bag as I step forward, finding a frosted covering on a box. Opening it, I see a collection of eight eyes in lone vials, each pair with a unique color of geometric shapes in their pupils. They kind of remind me of Johnny's golden pupils. Just standing here, I can feel remnant Ether emanating from them.

Metamorphosis. Power. Artifact. Remnant Will. Eyes.

Fucking Hell...

He was trying to implant Metamorphosized eyes with their Powers intact! It seems it didn't go too poorly, as the subjects lived eight weeks. I'd even call that a partial yet saddening success. I quickly grab all eight eyes before shuffling to the lead door. This was a success. Prosthetics for the wounded and these... Ails. Their power must be tremendous if Eli had been experimenting with them. I just have to figure out how not to kill the implantee.

But as I step up to the door, preparing to haul it open with my Coil raised, the device behind me flickers with lightning in an understandable pattern. I translate it as I almost drop my Coil in shock during the quick bursts, half-bursts, and pauses of communication.

"I apologize if my Vessel was a bit too forthcoming, Earl. My offer will always stay open, and you will know the time. As sorry, I will give you something. Say 'One-Eight-four-nine-zero-zero-one' to my daughter's Vessel. Then, you can command it. She only responds to simple commands at this point, however. Please treat her with care. I couldn't kill either one to save the other. But... after she died, the Vessel will live on like this for much longer before she fades."