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1006. Remember to Endorse Attachment
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 00:19:57 +0000 UTCG-Y0 imploded into itself two hours later. The confirmation came straight from Nav, who had heard this through her telepathic connection with all Moons possessing the Blessing of the Amalgam.
Unite Us, Everlasting – recovered; three hundred and twenty-five Corrupted – retrieved; Samples of Silicon Rot and remnants of the Site – taken for analysis. No expenses were spared, and the prompt recovery levied the power of five Lunar Haruspex and eight Lunas.
One Lunar Haruspex was more than enough to handle a Site alone. But given that their priority was set to recovery, more hands were required to handle the vast quantities of Corrupted.
Not to mention that it served as a great experience for the Lunas, who were still on their path to becoming fully fledged Moons.
The thought was exhilarating to Frost.
She hopped across a series of floating platforms across a deep pit. They were platforms used to ferry visitors or prisoners across the empty space.
If Caldera Industries’ fortress was a body, then this was the interstitial space. Vague orbs of light and the whining of massive machinery loomed in the backdrop. The scale was similar to when Carpalis distorted space and rose to impossible heights when she slayed the Bloody Herring.
Sound did not exist here, as there was no air. The only method of communication was through the way the lights fluctuated. They flickered with a system closely tied to morse code, albeit the alphabet used here did not consist of 26 letters.
The platforms led her to the face of an artificial mountain. Twin peaks flanked her, and she could see particles falling from the summits. It was snow.
“My hair’s floating. But the snow up there is falling. I don’t sense any wind. Oh, wait. I can talk.” Frost spoke to herself as she hopped off one last runic platform and arrived at the mouth of a valley.
It was odd. The world was far too natural to belong to an Atelier based on machinery. The view was serene beyond words, enough to rob her of her breath.
“Wow… Knalzark lives here, huh. Good thing I’m not on fire anymore. Would hate to ruin this place.”
She took a step forward, and suddenly, the grass folded with an unnatural crunch.
“What the? Glass? I thoguth this was… never mind. I see it now.”
She wrongfully believed that they had transitioned to a sanctuary.
A part of Frost expected a popup stating this was Beholder Knalzark’s State of Mind, Corrupted Zone or a terrarium closely resembling his inner world.
Instead, this place was manufactured by hand. The mountain walls were façade. Hidden behind were lightweight metal scaffoldings. It was an odd choice to require structural reinforcement when everything thus far was gravitationally manipulated.
The grass rose to her knees, and they were swept over to the sides like they had been combed over with a giant brush. They resembled waves, and a non-existent breeze caused them to sway in a trance-like pattern.
She followed a path where the grass was shorter. It led her across the artificial fields towards an ornate tower.
It held runic markings of the Dwarven language. Long banners draped from multifloored balconies. They were the same kind of banners used by the Demi-Humans during the Blooming Week. Among them were dark blue trees that showered beautiful petals.
“Blue-Petal Trees.” Frost read their description as a prompt appeared. “And banners. Commemorations for the dead.”
Knalzark was a High Dwarf. Depictions of Demi-Human culture threw Frost off. But she wasn’t one to judge, and like all things, there was more to it than what met the eye.
The tower resembled an ornate dojo. At first Frost suspected that it was made from bamboo, but upon closer inspection, it was from Alpha-grade metals. They were able to withstand the immense gravitational pull of Beholder Knalzark, who resided behind the thin curtains.
His faint silhouette shone through, and Frost made her presence known with loud footsteps.
“Rare for you to visit.” Beholder Knalzark spoke as he meditated in the center of a square-shaped platform.
Surrounding him were an assortment of bouquets, toys, and memorabilia. They were items recovered from their conquests of the Sect of Gears’ Complex Hearts. Among them were Gears, and they shuddered as Frost entered the room, as though quaking in her presence.
“Be at ease. The Amalgam graces my abode.” He spoke in a hearty voice, snapping his fingers.
Floating objects fell one by one. Few were barely able to withstand it. Petals wilted, and Knalzark wore an indifferent face as he reached for a flower, only for it to wilt.
“Have you come to relay a message? I dare not believe that the Amalgam herself would appear before me with the intention of ‘small talk’, haha!”
“More than a message. I half expected a Star to have already arrived at your dojo?”
He laughed.
“Ahah! Finally, a fellow Blessed refers to it as a dojo. I’ve taken inspiration from various fools I’ve come across in my travels. Some from ‘friends’, other from family. Blood runs as deep as the ore veins in bedrock.”
Little was known about Knalzark’s past, aside that his vendetta against Infecta Rot grew from how they infected the surface of Dwarhelven with Silicon Rot. The world knew of how he started, and where he ended. The wars he waged with the dragons, the frontier he forged in the Caldera Region, and his eternal rivalry with Justica Arms.
But none of it explained why his inner world expressed such organic things. A cherishing of memorabilia, and the culture of a race that he did not even belong to.
“Stars don’t move as quickly as you may believe.” Kanlzark said, his voice carrying immense gravitas. “Stubborn Stars have a way of warping information to their liking. Such are those bearing the weight of power. Given that you came first, may I stand?”
“Go ahead. I have no reign over you here. I didn’t come with an inquisitive mindset.” Frost disliked that he was asking for permission, no less in his own sanctuary.
Then again, she did arrive at short notice.
“None of your personnel told you?”
“I must have been dreaming.” She yawned, rising to his colossal three-meter height.
Each muscle was a mountain, and he scribbled precise inscriptions into the air with his fingers.
Nothing happened, but his eyes lit up with satisfaction.
“Dreaming of a common thread. Childish dreams still plague men well into their old ages. They are ephemeral, fragile things.” He gazed upon a clay pot, and it cracked as he tried to clasp it. “Amalgam. You’ve come at a strange time. Were you an Architect, then I would have taken your head.”
His hostility was dialed back. It wasn’t as much of a threat.
Rather, he was simply stating the truth.
Frost skipped the formalities and tapped the side of her hip where a silver spherical core resided.
“We found the kingpin of Infecta Rot. We couldn’t bring anything from it back. But we know it’s an Orbis Impuritas by the name of Kratt. This here is a still-living piece of a Complex Heart. As for these heads.”
She flicked the noses of the Fallen Beholder and the mound of flesh that vaguely resembled a head. It belonged to Rhyme.
“They’re for me.”
“Arata. The Hasteful Departer. A coward of all cowards. You were still alive?”
Arata refused to speak.
But she squeaked when Frost applied the slightest amount of Scrutiny upon her.
“Barely… breathing...”
She barely managed to form her words.
“Sluggish as I remember.”
Knalzark scorned.
“Like the sloths who believe they can run underground organizations. Fallen Beholders lack humility. Becoming Condemned did not change you in the slightest. You became abominable. First, you rally with Non-Blessed, and now you carry the banner of Impuritas. Amalgam.”
He robbed the atmosphere of its air when he clasped his fists.
The hyper condensed molecules burst into an array of miniature explosions.
“Why have you not already killed her!?”
“Extraction purposes. Unless you want to volunteer?”
Frost vaguely threatened and applied a small amount of Scrutiny onto him. It was barely effective compared to the Fallen Beholder, but it was enough to remind Knalzark of his place.
“Inflow Direct’s Infusion S supplies are finite. My hope is to fine tune Infusion S with this one. I assure you, it will be a fate worse than death.”
“Amalgam! I admire you as a brilliant mind. But to bring enemies and to talk of plans is stupid at best! In my domain no less!”
“Ah, perhaps you haven’t heard yet. Allow me to demonstrate.”
[Corporeal Restoration]. [Greater Healing]. This paired with [Progenitor Art: Purpose – Commandment], and she was capable of bringing a Fallen Beholder under her complete control.
[Commandment] functioned closer to a Passive Skill rather than an Active Skill. This meant that there was little upkeep outside of her blood. Bleeding oneself was a way to remove Frost’s blood, but so long as there were commands such as: “You may not partake in actions that will cause you to bleed,” or “You may not lose blood,” would ensure they’d remain under her control.
Not all Beholders had the same circulatory system as humans or had one at all.
But there was one common link that they all shared.
“She has an organ that functions similarly to a brain.”
Frost snapped her fingers, causing the reconstructed Arata to turn to face her.
“Show me your brain.”
“… Painless… But… unpleasant…”
Arata dug into her body, sifting through cavities severely lacking flesh and blood. Then, she ‘willingly’ produced an organ that resembled a pancreas, only that it had the texture of a brain.
“I’d love to know the symbolism behind a pancreas as a brain. Could it be the insulin? The beta cells? A somatic gut reaction that gave birth to your speed?”
Frost’s face darkened with each sentence. She loomed over the Fallen Beholder, almost playing with her. An oddly sadistic yearning overcame her as she lapped her lips, remembering how this one tasted.
“A coward. Fight or flight might be a conceptual undertone. But there’s no real way to tell.”
She tore her head off and slapped it back to her hip. A dark fleshy maw emerged from her shoulder and snapped up the remains of the Beholder.
Primordial Nex isn’t ours to tinker with until Jury’s Heart of Time improves. But I’m curious if the White Light Apparatus will show us something if we bring a Beholder before it. Would be a nice experiment.
Frost thought to herself.
Maybe they’d find traces of the original Star that granted her its power.
Or, would they be able to dig deeper into her mind and pluck it apart?
Whatever the case was – however painful it may be – was not a concern to her in the slightest.
“Except through time. Time always tells, as I’ve found. Do you understand now, Knalzark? They’re under my control.”
“I have not seen the Progenitor Arts in person. Very well. I shall trust you. Amalgam. Let us discuss your findings outside.”
“I’m short on time. I only came to relay what I found. You’re already hot on the heels of Infecta Rot. I trust you’ll know what to do with this information.”
Knalzark folded his arms and assumed a striking pose before nodding.
“I live for nothing but to tear those who forget what they are.”
He stared at Frost, almost drilling into her eyes with scrutiny of his own. Frost sensed this and wondered if he was assessing her.
Then, he deeply exhaled and uttered:
“Endorse Attachment. May neither of us fall for the same pitfalls as Infecta Rot. We are what we are. Let us remember that. Be it that I have already fallen.”
Frost felt like he was warning her.
“Yeah. Let’s never forget who we are.”
