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2.29 In Which the Dark Lord Rages Against the Machine
🕑 Added 2021-12-07 01:22:39 +0000 UTCI hadn’t realized how big this island was.
Highlord Adver hosted us in a drawing room rather than his study where he preferred to conduct discreet business of this kind because of the décor: one wall was taken up by a huge map of Dount. It was clearly designed for decoration, having nothing labeled except Caer Yviredh itself, but I recognized enough landmarks to get a sense of where things were in relation to each other. Roads, rivers, the city walls of Gwyllthean and the boundaries between khora forests and cultivated land were all marked; even without labels they gave hints.
I’d thought my hikes between Gwyllthean and North Watch had been long—and I suppose they were, relatively speaking, but also were significantly less than half the width of Dount itself, to judge by what I was seeing. North Watch wasn’t on the map at all, but I could figure its rough location based on the nearby mountain, the only one on the island. To ballpark it from my admittedly very rough understanding of how far an average adult human could walk in most of a day… Dount had to be about a hundred kilometers across, and a bit less from north to south. And wasn’t this supposed to be one of the smaller islands in Dlemathlys?
Other things surprised me: I’d been picturing Gwyllthean as the center of the island, but it wasn’t even in the center of Fflyr territory, which was apparently less than half of Dount. The city was toward the north, closer to the landbridge out of Dlemathlys than the one leading to the Fflyr mainland. The cleared area full of farms and villages also covered only the eastern part of the island, leaving at least as much territory in the west as a khora wilderness with no roads or landmarks indicated. Well, there was one down on the big peninsula that extended southwest from the island, but with no labels I couldn’t tell what it was meant to be. A fortress or town, maybe? Also the lake not far from North Watch was enormous, and extended right to the edge of the island. How did that work? Was there a massive waterfall into the core along the whole northwestern coast of Dount, or was this map just not very accurate?
All of that was interesting but of course we focused on the geography closer to hand.
“It’s, ah, it’s a mite tricky translating this to the geography in my head, m’lord, I’ve not had the opportunity to consult actual maps very often.” Viaran continued to be excessively nervous in disposition, but given that the man was surrounded by aristocrats and bandits I figured he had reason. “But I get the sense of it, I think. Aye, the gangs are clustered closer together down here in the lands around the city. All along these khora forests ringing it to the west. I know of camps… Uh, here, and around…here-ish?”
“We really only need one to start with,” I said. “Once we overtake the next camp, the people there will have a better idea of their own neighbors and we can find the next on the list based on that.”
“Then, yes, I can get you started, Lord Seiji,” he assured me, nodding eagerly. “Also, apart from them, I know of two bigger gangs to the north. There, see near the trade road? They’re a mite southwest of the crossroads where the Kingsguard has a station. The other I don’t know where their camp is, exactly, but they’re bad news, my lord. Over on Yldyllich lands.”
“They were worse news than you know, and I’ve already wiped them out. And I have absorbed the gang to the north into my organization. We are currently sweeping south.”
Viaran and the Highlord both gave me looks of surprise and respect.
“I’m surprised how many of these big stands of wild khora there are close to the city,” I said, studying the map. Apparently these only existed west of Gwyllthean, between it and the huge khora forest proper.
“Those patches of wild khora are deliberately preserved,” Adver explained. “They are as economically important as the khora plantations beyond them, not least because their presence helps keep the plantations healthy. Khora spread through underground root networks and there’s a limit to how far they will spread in orderly rows. Wild stands like that can also support khora species that don’t adapt to agriculture but yield useful products, as well as providing habitats for plant and animal species that are likewise useful. Best of all, these isolated pieces of forest don’t contain any beastfolk tribes to interfere with hunting and foraging. Any Clan with lands big enough and close enough to khora tries to keep some wild forest on their lands, though most of these are actually along borders between fiefs and jointly exploited by their neighboring lords.”
“They also provide habitats for bandits,” I noted, earning a grimace of acknowledgment from him. “All right, that’s the west of the city. What about the other sides?”
“There may be some isolated gangs over there, Lord Seiji, but we don’t know of ‘em as such,” Viaran offered.
“The landscape is less hospitable to them,” said Adver. “The land to the east is more cultivated and offers less cover. To the south, the territory is patrolled by a branch of the Kingsguard which holds the landbridge and answers to the capital rather than the island’s governor; they are far more aggressive in protecting trade routes and dissuading banditry than those under Clan Aelthwyn’s command.”
A single military with multiple command structures sounded like a fantastically stupid idea to me, but one depressingly believable for Fflyr Dlemathlys.
“And to the northeast,” Adver continued, pointing at the map, “matters are…different. Clan Olumnach’s fief is up there, in fact, near the edge. But that whole section of the island was the territory of the recent…troubles. A bandit gang with very unique style causing mischief to all and sundry. They then vanished just as efforts to root them out were organized.”
He looked directly at Nazralind, who was again hooded and masked, then back at the map; she avoided his gaze and said nothing.
Interesting. Now that I thought of it, Adver had to have some idea who they were—in fact, most of the Clans probably did. This many young women couldn’t vanish from high society in a patriarchal culture like this without people noticing. That was probably why the girls had survived so long without having actual military action taken against them, thanks to this prohibition on the Clans spilling highborn blood. It also meant Adver probably knew who Nazralind was despite her mask. She was the only elf among them; her absence had undoubtedly been noted, especially by that asshole she was supposed to marry.
“Good, that simplifies the next steps,” I said aloud. “We can worry about mopping up any outlying gangs along the coasts later. For now, we only have to sweep west and south and overtake the gangs encircling Gwyllthean’s western edge. When securing each encampment, I am going to fold the gang into my own forces and mix them up. Some will be sent to other camps, others back to my base of operations for training, and the gangs will be rounded out by my existing forces. Then, they’ll pull up roots and begin operating nomadically, making temporary camp at night and remaining a harder target for Olumnach’s scouts to pin down. Once we have taken over all the bandit territories surrounding the city, I will move into Gwyllthean. I’ll need to meet with my allies there to establish a final strategy for breaking Olumnach’s control of the gangs he’s sent into the Gutters and replacing it with my own. I have several possible plans, but it will depend on the situation on the ground.”
“And your plan for Highlord Caldimer’s inevitable reprisal?” Lady Elidred asked quietly. She had seated herself on the other side of the room, content to watch the rest of us standing around the map.
“Once I’ve taken his bandit gangs away, he’s got nothing,” I replied.
“In fact,” she said archly, “he has one of the more effective Clansguards on the island. Only Clan Yldyllich posses more direct military strength.”
“But what can he do with them?” I countered. “Combat is only a strategy for dealing with bandits; against Olumnach, we fight in the arena of politics. This is why the Mongol strategy: I’m keeping my forces mobile so as to deny him a fight. We can’t win a direct fight with them, the more we won the worse it would be. Bandits defeating a Clansguard would bring hostile reinforcements from all over the island and probably the mainland.”
“Mongol?” Adver asked, blinking.
I cleared my throat awkwardly and rushed on. “Instead, we’re going to leverage his own reprisal against him. Highlord Caldimer may be smart enough to know when he’s beaten, but if he starts marching his Clansguard into the territory of other Clans, much less the outskirts of Gwyllthean itself, he’ll find himself in a confrontation with Clan Aelthwyn. This is where you come in, my lord and lady. I need you to be in communication with the Clans who own the lands these bandits operate on, in preparation for Caldimer’s next move. I gather these smaller Clans are not willing to challenge him directly, which he may be counting on. Your task will be to convince them to take their complaints to the Archlord and bring Clan Aelthwyn’s strength down on Olumnach if he gets above himself.”
“I hope you won’t think me craven for saying it,” Adver murmured, “but that will make us the prime target of Caldimer’s wrath. And we are a rather more stationary target than your mobile gangs, Lord Seiji.”
“Craven would be if you refused to do it; assessing risks is part of strategy. In any case, the point is moot, Highlord. Caldimer will find out that you aided Lady Gray against him. We don’t have the power to prevent that; the information is out there and he has too many criminal connections. Instead, we have to move quickly and pull his fangs before he can turn them on Clan Yviredh.” I waited for his reluctant nod of acknowledgment before continuing. “The all-important question is whether you can do it.”
“Simplicity itself,” Elidred said primly. “Once the Olumnach Clansguard are spotted tromping through everyone’s garden, I need only ask the other ladies if the rumors are true, about the other affected Clans appealing to the Archlord for aid. Thus, everyone’s fear of being the first to launch a risky venture can be transformed into a fear of being the last to join a popular one. Provided I am able to speak to each within a short enough span of time, it will not even be possible to tell after the fact who moved first.”
“You’re a formidable woman, Lady Elidred,” I said with sincere admiration. She favored me with a dignified nod. “A point which I do not understand is the prospect for military action against Clan Olumnach. How does this prohibition on inter-Clan fighting work? With all due respect, I am not naive enough to believe the Clans of Fflyr Dlemathlys are committed to peace out of principle.”
“The Covenant enforces itself on the basis of who is included in it,” Adver explained, wearing the ghost of a wry smile. “A Clan which trespasses the Covenant can be expelled from it. They lose not only the wealth and power of Clan status, but become an immediate target for their erstwhile peers. This cannot be done on a whim: it requires the approval of the Radiant Convocation, the King or governor of the island upon which the Clan in question resides, and the consensus of a quorum of other Clans on that island. In fact, Lord Seiji, if you can bait Caldimer into transgressing sufficiently, I do not doubt that Clan Aelthwyn will move for Olumnach’s expulsion from the Covenant, nor that the motion will pass. Caldimer is feared, but not respected or liked.”
“That does raise another wrinkle, though,” Nazralind said quietly. “He knows that and will fear that outcome above all others. Caldimer Olumnach was never the soul of discretion and has been recklessly aggressive since his son’s death, but what if he doesn’t rise to the bait? Even deprived of his bandit gangs, even if he is too circumspect to march his Clansguard into other people’s territory after them, that will leave us sharing an island with a diminished but vengeful Highlord. It seems a short-term solution, at best.”
“And in the worst case, a short-term solution will suffice for now,” I said, “but no, I don’t plan to leave it at that. Before Clan Yviredh threw itself into my path with access to highborn circles and the option to rally Clans against him, I was making plans to deal with Clan Olumnach. One way or another, Clan Aelthwyn is going to rid us of this problem. Soon, if Caldimer is unwise enough to provoke them, but even if he finds some discretion it just means I’ll have to fall back on my original strategy.”
“Which would be?” Adver prompted, raising his eyebrows.
I gave him a wintry smile. “I am going to give him everything he’s ever wanted on a silver platter, and then kick back and relax while he chokes himself with it. Now then, Highlord, there is the matter of your role in this alliance. For now, discretion is paramount. I want to limit our direct contact with you to avoid drawing the wrong kind of attention.”
He nodded. “I would prefer not to have obvious bandits given free reign of my estate, but we needn’t cut off contact entirely, Lord Seiji. It will not be a problem if suspicious people are seen coming and going from the manor on occasion.”
“We’re nobles,” his wife added dryly. “That could mean almost anything. Indeed, the appearance of excessive virtue is more likely to antagonize our neighbors than evidence that we dabble in the inappropriate. No one likes a saint who lives close enough to be a point of comparison.”
“Good,” I said. “That will also ensure the opportunity to evacuate Rhaem at need. If we neutralize Caldimer’s ability to attack you directly, I don’t doubt he’ll spill the beans about your Null caster out of spite. For now, the focus will be on solidifying my position and removing the threat hanging over you, but once this stage is done I will be better positioned to help you get what you need.”
Both Yviredhs nodded, their expressions guarded. These hints of future benefit to them were alarmingly vague, yes, but the fact remained that our current plans hinged on getting Clan Yviredh out of the mess they’d created. That would hopefully buy me some trust. For now, it would have to do.
“It feels strange to mention it as an afterthought,” said Adver, “but of course, our Spirit is available to you, Lord Seiji.”
“Ah, yes,” I said. “Thank you for reminding me. It would definitely be helpful if I can get more of my people Blessed.”
Adver and Elidred exchanged a wary look.
“I must caution you,” he said, “that Head Start is…not well-suited to advancing large numbers of people. The nature of the Spirit’s trial is time-consuming and somewhat inscrutable. It demands conversations which can take hours at worst, and doesn’t award its gift to more than one in five. I was thinking more that you yourself would wish to take advantage personally.”
“Me?” I blinked. “I’m already Blessed.”
“Ah, I see the misunderstanding,” he said, cracking a smile. “Then yes, you cannot gain a second Blessing from Head Start. But if you pass its trial, it can still provide benefit. It has doled out scrolls and artifacts to already-Blessed individuals in the past.”
“Really.” I turned from the map to face him so quickly that he took a surprised step backward. More spells? “You have my attention!”
***
They had built a kind of shrine around the Spirit, a little domed structure that more resembled traditional Fflyr architecture than the manor itself, its round roof being composed of large pieces of seemingly raw akorshil that approximated the appearance of one of those brain coral-looking species from the outside. Within, it was… Well, it was pitch black.
At first, anyway. There was a moment after I shut the door behind me in which I couldn’t see a damn thing, but then light rose in the shrine. Not from the usual asauthec; the Spirit had activated.
Smooth lines of blue-green light ignited in the recessed grooves along the stone plinth that made up the Spirit’s main body, and above that appeared the glowing, translucent face of the Spirit itself. This one looked male, with short-cropped hair and gaunt features. And, incongruously, glasses.
Biribo climbed out of my coat and rose to buzz in the air next to me, but aside from offering an encouraging nod, he stayed uncharacteristically silent.
“Well, well, look who it is,” the Spirit’s oddly resonant voice said to me in a noticeably unfriendly tone, accompanied by a scowl. “Here you are, then.”
I bit back the first response that came to mind, and the next, and the next. Adver had warned me that the only hard rules the family had ever figured out with regard to talking with Head Start was that you’d fail its test if you lied to it, or tried to joke with it. I wasn’t sure whether my customary spite and sarcasm would register as humor, but best not to risk it.
This might actually be difficult. I had never been good at restraining my tongue, even back when I lived in a society that valued conformity and where I couldn’t set people on fire for challenging me.
“Here I am,” I said finally, trying for a neutral tone. “You sound almost disappointed.”
“My entire existence consists of meeting and conversing with people one after another. Seldom am I not disappointed.”
“I relate hard to that,” I said before I could stop myself.
Head Start managed to half-smile without looking less annoyed, which only made it more relatable to me. “It’s more the surprise. Another Dark Lord. Here, of all places!”
I opened my mouth, shut it, and reconsidered my reply. For several seconds. Nope, I had nothing that wasn’t sarcastic.
“Don’t worry, boss,” Biribo murmured. “He’s not gonna spill the beans to anyone. Spirits never talk about anybody’s personal details to anybody else.”
Well, that was a relief, anyway.
“I suppose it’s about time again,”the Spirit continued after a short pause. “It’s been, what, a hundred and fifty years? That’s the usual time frame, give or take. It’s seeing you on Dount that surprises me. I met both of your predecessors, you see—the last Dark Lord and Hero. Usually the goddesses like variety, prefer to change things up from whatever their previous match entailed. And yet, Dount was at the center of the last Dark Crusade, and now here you are again.”
“Really?” I stepped forward and knelt before the Spirit, bringing my face closer to the level of its own. “Both of them? Hard to imagine they… Actually, wait, I hadn’t heard that. I got the impression they did their fighting elsewhere.”
“Your impression is correct. Satoshi and Yomiko never fought on Dount, but both passed through here as they went back and forth, invading each other’s territory. I’ve learned from conversations since then that their final clash was far south, in Lancor.” Head Start curled its lip contemptuously. “What a pair of thugs. Complete ham-fisted brutes, both of them.”
“Were they?”
“And not by nature, that’s the sad thing. Satoshi was an indolent libertine with no conscience. Yomiko rather the opposite, one of those quietly industrious types, all dignified and pious. Bit of a bore, honestly. But they were each summoned right into the heart of an empire which recognized them for who and what they were. Each went their whole lives on Ephemera with a vast bureaucratic machine behind them to handle all the finer details of their duties. Each of them found themselves working for a sponsor country which spoon-fed them the finest artifacts and spells, and then aimed them at its own enemies. They never had to face any problems on this world that couldn’t be solved with overwhelming brute force. When all you have to deal with are nails, every tool is a hammer.”
“Oh, god, that sounds blissful,” I murmured.
“And then there’s you, Omura Seiji.” Head Start’s expression grew more pensive than hostile, its eyes narrowed. “You’re…just the opposite, aren’t you? Clobbering your problems with the biggest hammer you can find is very much in your nature. And yet, you got dumped in the middle of nowhere and were made to survive with nothing. You’ve had to become resourceful just to get this far. Not that you’re very good at it, but incredibly you’re more subtle than either of your predecessors ever was.”
“Now that’s an indictment of them if I’ve ever heard one.” Shit, did that count as a joke? Me and my fucking mouth…
“Indeed it is. So it is a different game, after all, just…played on the same board. Well, who can say why the goddesses do what they do? All this is making me rather curious about the new Hero, though.”
“I think…you might find him…underwhelming.”
“Oh, they all are at first.” It actually grinned at me, though it was not a friendly expression. “What, you think you’re so very impressive?”
“I’d like to think I’m not doing half bad, considering what I’ve got to work with,” I retorted, unable to keep a note of defensiveness from entering my tone.
“Well, that’s what we are here to determine, isn’t it?”
It trailed off, staring at me in silence as the passing seconds grew increasingly uncomfortable.
“So…” I prompted at last. “How does this work, exactly? I was told you like conversations. Do you want to ask me something, or should I start? Because I have to warn you, if I take the lead you’re just going to end up listening to a lot of complaints.”
A short pause fell.
“Seriously. I have so many complaints. I almost don’t know where to begin.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, young Dark Lord,”the Spirit finally said with a cold and humorless little smile. “You will get your prize. That’s how this works, you understand. I have a lot of leeway in dealing with most of the randos who stumble in here, but the Champions of the Goddesses? You get what you need from us humble Spirits. In the worst case, you’re granted the bare minimum required, but you’ll never walk away disappointed. Well, not unless you’re as spoiled as those last two idiots.”
“I knew it,” I muttered. “The last Spirit I met gave me two scrolls just for showing up. I knew that wasn’t normal.”
“Is that a complaint I hear?” Head Start asked, grinning sardonically.
“Hell no. If everything on this planet has to be stupid and broken anyway, at least some of it might as well be in my favor.”
It smiled, a coy little expression which made a prickle of unease travel down my spine. This Spirit had a lot more personality than the others I’d met.
“How would you like to learn something interesting, Seiji?”
“Has anyone ever said ‘no’ to that?” I asked warily.
“You might be surprised. The little piece of trivia I want to share with you is just this: all Heroes and Dark Lords are from Japan.”
“Hm.” The Spirit’s face was still looking at me with that unnerving expression. Knowing, anticipatory. “I got that impression from the names of the last two… So it wasn’t just them, then? Every Hero and Dark Lord? Interesting.”
“It is, isn’t it? Especially if you think about what it means. Just at a glance, it would seem there are two obvious explanations for that: either the goddesses themselves were originally Japanese, or the connection between Ephemera and Earth happens to come out in Japan.”
“I suppose so,” I agreed, frowning. “Are you going to tell me which it is?”
“What makes you think it’s either?”
“You just said—”
“I said those explanations were obvious, not that they were correct. The obvious isn’t always true, especially when you start to look deeper. For instance, our two obvious solutions share a common problem: either would seem likely to result in a strong influence of Japan over the development of culture here on Ephemera. And yet, have you seen any? Even a hint of Japanese culture anywhere?”
“In fact,” I said slowly, “everybody makes a point of how they’ve never seen a foreigner who looks like me.”
“And there’s the fact that the Goddesses can drop their Champions on any corner of this world—hence my being surprised you got plopped down here, of all places. So it logically follows that the connection on the other end is the same.”
“Yeah, seems like somebody would’ve noticed if there was a permanent wormhole in Akihabara Station.” I had an inexplicably bad feeling about where this was going. The Spirit looked a little too cunningly sure of itself, and Biribo was still way too quiet compared to his usual behavior. “Where are you going with this?”
“So if the connection isn’t in Japan, and the Goddesses aren’t Japanese…why are all the Champions?”
I stopped to think before immediately answering for once. Why, indeed? He was right: there wasn’t a hint of anything Japanese about this world. And sure, that might just be Fflyr Dlemathlys, I hadn’t seen anything outside this one island. But for all their many, many flaws, the Fflyr were nothing if not well-read. I had interacted with several notably educated people, such as Nazralind and Master Auldmaer. Nobody recognized my features, my accent, or any of the little customs I’d started observing around North Watch. Japan obviously had no influence here until I’d come.
If anything, the Earth influences here were more… generic. Aside from the way Ephemera’s native biology had reasserted itself and the people adapted to it, all of this looked very much like someone had deliberately tried to build a society based on twenty-first century medieval-esque fantasy stories. Once you got out of the khora, Dlemathlys looked a lot like a bog standard…isekai…
I suddenly stood bolt upright, startling Biribo into buzzing away from me. Head Start grinned up at me in satisfaction.
“Weebs,” I whispered. “They’re… The goddesses are weeaboos.”
The Spirit’s smile was broad, smug, and distinctly malicious.
I turned away from it. There was no room to pace; I couldn’t go a step before bonking my head on the low dome. Driven by sheer impulse, I hauled off and slammed my fist against it, causing a spike of pain to shoot from my knuckles all the way up my arm.
“Uh, boss?” Biribo said in alarm.
I punched the wall again, then again. All of this. All of my suffering—hell, not just mine,but the countless people who lived and died on this stupid bullshit world in a medieval hellhole. And all of it for what? Because a couple of bored, cosmic otaku wanted to play the galaxy’s most realistic JRPG? And in addition to what they’d done to the people here, they’d been abducting regular citizens from Japan for… Fuck, how long had they been doing this? How many people’s lives had they ruined? For absolutely no good purpose, for the celestial equivalent of a figurine collection?
“Fffffuuuuucking WEEEEEEEEBS!” I roared, pounding both fists against the dome until my hands throbbed unbearably and it was speckled with tiny droplets of blood.
It was just… It wasn’t even the suffering. I could live with pain and deprivation. Life is hard anyway; people can adapt to shit. That’s what people do.
It was the sheer fucking pointless stupidity of it. If I had to suffer, why, why for this?
I was going to kill them. Fuck the impossibility of it—they had to die. Cosmic weeaboos must not be suffered to exist. I didn’t know how, but I’d find a way. I’d join up with the Devil King if I had to. This bullshit was going to stop.
Breathing hoarsely, looked down at my aching hands in the dim light of the Spirit. Whew, I’d really done a number there. Wouldn’t be playing the guitar for a while, if not for…
Heal.
Pink light flashed, and while the blood dripping from my skin didn’t disappear, the skin itself was suddenly whole again, along with the bone and muscle underneath. And I found myself suddenly feeling very self-conscious about my little tantrum.
Turning back around, I bowed deeply to the Spirit, my upper body parallel to the floor. “Sumimasendeshita.”
“No worries, man, I’m right there with you,”Head Start said, its smile a lot more relaxed now. “You know something, Omura Seiji? I like you. Well, not like you, like you. Honestly, from a quick look at your psychoenergetic imprint, you might be one of the more insufferable people I’ve ever met, and that is really saying something. But still—I relate to you, and I like to see how hard you’re trying. You’re definitely an improvement over the last batch. So I’m going to help you out. And not just in the minimal sense of what I’m required to do because you’re the Dark Lord. I’m gonna give you something you actually need—something that’ll make a key difference for you, if you leverage it properly.”
Light began to coalesce out of the air, drawing toward a point in front of the Spirit’s face; recognizing the effect, I stepped forward and extended my hands, managing to catch the spell scroll when it materialized fully a second later. It rested on my outstretched palms, a mundane-looking roll of parchment bound by a golden ribbon.
As I stared at it with intent, the ribbon broke and the scroll unfurled. Lines of inscrutable text glowed as they lifted up from it, then the whole thing dissolved back into the motes of light from which it had come, leaving me with the brand new weight of Cast Illusion in the front of my mind.
“That’s step one,” Head Start informed me. “Your familiar can explain the nuances of how it works, but I’ll give you some advice to go with it: I suggest you sit on this one for now, and don’t use it yet. The other spell you should seek out to pair with this using your spell combination is called Conjure Object. Once you’ve got both of those, you’ll have a real game-changer on your hands.”
I stared at the Spirit, blinking. “Are you…going to be okay?”
Head Start looked visibly surprised, which I got the feeling was out of character for a Spirit.
“I more than slightly suspect the goddesses watch my interactions,” I explained. “Especially with Spirits and other stuff from their magic system. Virya does, anyway. She probably knows what you just told me. Is this going to get you in hot water with them?”
“Ah, you’re concerned I might be punished?” Its sardonic smile returned. “Infinite copies of my consciousness condemned to suffer eternal torture for failing to appease the gods, like the Basilisk of ancient legend? I put it to you, Lord Seiji: what do you think my current existence is?”
I blinked again, considering. Imagining, for a moment, my entire consciousness flickering in and out of being solely on the basis of whether there was some random fuckstick in front of me who wanted free goodies.
“Oh.” No wonder only one in five got anything out of it.
“Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate the thought. Few have ever considered my perspective. You know, for someone so generally, deliberately unpleasant, you’re surprisingly empathetic at times. But no—they’re not going to do anything to me. Torture would at least be a change,and oblivion a relief. If I’ve offended the Goddesses by gossiping about their business, they’ll just leave me right where I am, because that’s the only punishment they can still inflict on me.”
“That really sucks, man,” I said with simple honesty. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Yes, well, we all have our problems. Now go raise some hell, Dark Lord. Whatever else you manage to do on this world, try not to be boring.”
His visage faded, and the lights went out on the altar, leaving me plunged back into pitch darkness.
“So, uh,” Biribo’s voice said nervously out of the black. “Congratulations, boss, you just got a new Wisdom power.”
“I did? Wait, why? I didn’t do anything.”
“You persuaded a Spirit to cooperate with you beyond what its innate nature required. Now, as a result, other Spirits you deal with will be more positively inclined toward you. Their tasks a bit easier and the rewards more generous.”
I closed my eyes, which made no difference in the darkness.
Just another finger on the scales.
I’m going to kill you both.
“C’mon, Biribo, let’s get out of here. There’s murder to do, and I’m gonna need the practice.”
Comments
sparkc
It’s informed, rather than experienced. Mr Mind Reader spirit and emotion reader Paladin might *tell* us how Seiji is but I’d be hard impressed to put him at more than, say, 80th percentile in such categories.
sparkc
This is something that’s been a little bothersome for a while, but it’s really not very believable that Seiji is the paragon of rage and unpleasantness.
Sean Ramirez
Hmmm, do we know any other gods that are nerdy? Maybe an infinitely powerful order of them? Am I grasping at straws?
TheLunaticCo
I've been waiting for this reveal and it did not disappoint.
TheLunaticCo
Well time and space are relative.
Wolfkit
If this setup is modeled after isekai media, and this has been going on (in Ephemera) for centuries or millennia... then there must be some timeline manipulation going on between Earth and Ephemera.
Too Much Sanity May Be Madness
"Cosmic weeaboos must not be suffered to exist," cries the weeaboo who has been given cosmic powers.
