Brent Stinebaker
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V-32 Resolved
🕑 Added 2025-10-27 16:06:37 +0000 UTCTo all aspiring Pathbearers, reading my words, I beg one thing of you and one thing of you alone: if you seek to embark on the quest of revenge, kill your enemies. Kill them. Kill every single one of them, without hesitation, without mercy, and if there are potential dangers, deal with them as well.
Some of you are uncomfortable with the idea of slaying children. That is good. Having a conscience will prevent you from making too many unnecessary enemies, but there are times when you will understand the treachery of mercy.
Warfare and bloodshed are not neat things. For every vile person you slay, there is someone that loves them, someone that might find themselves corrupted by the wounds they bear and the misery you inflicted. They may well come for you, and you might find yourself in a battle against someone you do not wish to slay. A grieving mother or a vengeful child is very different from a murderer or an oathbreaker, but even so, they have made their choice, and if you hesitate to make yours, then understand you may die a most bitter death.
Choosing to hesitate is an action. Doing nothing is an action. Being a Pathbearer is about committing to proper action. It is about facing the pain that comes with every action, and accepting that all things, even good intentions, may have black consequences.
And so, kill your enemies. I am not telling you to silence the children. I am telling you, however, that you must be prepared to fight another war if you don't find a way to conclude the one right in front of you.
My recommendation? Make the deaths quiet. Make the deaths sudden. Give them no trace to follow. No hint that it was your hand that performed the deed. Without a figure to direct their rage toward, the loss will become a scar in time, and they will live on, unburdened by the need for revenge.
Ignorance is a blessing. Give it freely.
But above all, decide. Decide. Decide. Or you will be decided upon.
-Valor Thann
V-32
Resolved
Clarissa Winters stared at Legend-Headmaster Hades Hymn as he loudly slurped on his cup of tea without any hint of grace.
Nearby, the flames of his fireplace crackled, but behind the faint glints of pyromancy was another realm. She could feel it, the billowing waves of Dimensionality connecting this place to somewhere else entirely, somewhere that didn't fully belong to the system's purview.
She wasn't a proper Seeker herself, but in the time she'd been alive, she had encountered those who dabbled in the eldritch. For a while, she was even raised by a so-called Witch Unchained—a woman untethered from the system.
Clarissa had enjoyed a happy life during that time. She allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy that she, too, might become a Witch Unchained. But as with all things, the sweet days soured on the vine as her father's assassins came for her.
That night, her adopted mother died, protecting her, drawing too much on power not meant for mortal flesh. And as she turned into a grotesque monstrosity, imbued with the nature of the elephant outsider but not the mind to contend with the mutations, the assassins died, and Clarissa was forced to administer the Heartless Mercy.
From there, she closed her heart, and she slowly made her way back to the capital. After the giants, after the wilderness, after the witch, and after a brief stay with a few slave runners, she'd had enough. She returned here to her so-called home to see grievances settled and to find the proper end or beginning of her life.
What she didn't expect, however, was to be recruited into Phoenix Academy by a chance encounter with an instructor out in the wilderness. She aided an ambushed caravan against raiding Jotuns, and as she tore apart her mother's people, shredding them flesh and soul, ripping the frost that kept them alive from their bodies, she found herself regarded not as a half-bred monster or a shame to be covered up, but rather a hero by a recruiter.
And with that came a place at the university, a place that was now disfigured by flame and ill intent.
Over forty other students had died, and it was her fault. Clarissa had closed her heart to pain and relationships. But even so, there was a throbbing there that she struggled to endure. It was her fault. She should have gone for her father directly. Even if it would result in her death, she could expose him. She could finally wound him in some way, in some fashion.
Now, Hymn interrupted her brooding by dumping the remaining dregs of his tea down his throat. He loudly sighed with satisfaction. "You sure you don't want a cup?"
The half-giantess stared at the man. The Legend-Headmaster acted in a manner unbefitting of his tier or position. He didn't seem to care about much. There was a looseness to him that few possessed.
When he came for her, he dismissed his militia members, not through verbal orders, but simply teleporting them away, back to their stations. And then he teleported her as well. After that, they resided in his office, where he offered her some snacks. And when she declined, he began the process of fixing himself some tea instead.
He explained the history of the tea leaves he had. Taken from another world, they were called Zulip leaves, and supposedly, drinking them induced a permanent sense of calmness to someone's mind. If that was true, it was hard to tell with the headmaster, for he seemed to be unburdened by all things, even when he explained how many assassins he killed after extracting her. Apparently, he noticed a good number of her father's reserve Interrogators coming for her, and he dispatched them quietly and subtly.
However, he wasn't the only one guarding her from death.
"So, are you going to tell me about your mysterious guardian?" He grinned at her, and his cheekbones grew ever more pronounced as he smiled. His eyes glowed, one purple, the other translucent, as his overwhelming mana threatened to spill over from his body.
"My what?" Clarissa said, soundly confused.
"You have a mysterious guardian, girl," the headmaster declared with a roll of his eyes. "Come now, you don't need to pretend with me. I glimpsed him, too. He did pretty good work. He managed to intercept a Chronomancer. I wouldn't have got there in time to spare you from that fate. You would have been dead without him."
Clarissa's heart skipped a beat.
"Yes, another one of your father's, the assassin. He managed to steal the attire of one of my academy militia. He was awfully brazen, but good at timing. The assassin went for you when the temporal wards crossed over him. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only Chronomancer on campus—and was the lesser Chronomancer at that. Your friend got to him, and your friend decided to conduct a bit of an interrogation of his own before killing your would-be murderer. Very kind of him."
Clarissa blinked. She had no idea who the headmaster was talking about. She hadn’t noticed any assassins, but she did feel something earlier, something coming from behind her. Was that the Chronomancer? She thought to herself. When her expression shifted, she remembered the boy, the one that supposedly saved her from the fire.
Her memory was a mess, littered with broken parts. Panic left her recollections scattered, but she distinctly recalled fleeing from someone who claimed to be her half-brother, someone who wielded fire and ash on a level she couldn't contend with. Her Cryomancy barely kept her alive, and desperate to survive, she retreated out from her dorm room and fled to the basement. He followed thereafter, and when she managed to lose him in the chaos, he set the entire dorm on fire, twisting the magic infused in the mithril supports to further his rampage.
And then somewhere in that mess was that boy, the one who had a physical deformity…
“There was someone who found me in the fire…” She breathed.
"Ah yes, our miraculous Marcus Unblood," Hymn said, lifting his hands high as if in prayer to the Ascendants. "Did you know that he mysteriously resurrected about a few hours ago?"
"What? He was dead?"
"Oh, supposedly near-dead," Hymn said. "It's really quite the thing. Apparently the Jotun raiders who attacked him used a specific kind of poison meant to steal one's heart. Why they used a specific kind of poison? That specific kind of poison on him? When a spear or a blow would work just fine? Who knows? He's only Adept in terms of Toughness. Formidable for someone his age, but ultimately inconsequential to a giant from the north. Adepts littered the ground everywhere, all over the world."
Clarissa didn't fully know what the headmaster was getting at, but he clearly shared her suspicions about this Marcus Unblood.
"Anyway, you're a very lucky girl,” Hymn sighed.
"Am I?" Clarissa replied. It was hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "I think I'm just a good survivor."
"No, no." Headmaster Hymn disagreed, shaking his head. "You are definitely very lucky. There are things you can survive through grit and skill, and things that will see you dead. What you experienced today should have seen you dead, but it seemed that the system, or maybe pure fortune, intervened on your behalf. You have a new lease on life, unlike many of my students."
The headmaster let out a slight breath. "Unfortunate. So many promising pupils, well, at least some of them would have been promising pupils, cut down before their prime. It's going to be very annoying placating those parents as well. All those years raising a child, happy memories, lost in an instant because some maniac couldn't control themselves. Why?"
And there was a sudden knock on their door. The headmaster was momentarily distracted. He blinked three times in quick succession, and his Divination-infused eye grew brighter than the other.
"I thought I told them not to disturb me," Hymn tutted. "I tell you, girl, it's very hard to find proper help these days, and obedient help, that's even rarer. If you can find someone who can listen to and follow your instructions, do everything you can to keep them alive. You may never encounter someone like that again in your life otherwise."
Hymn rose from his chair. He sauntered across the room, passing by the mithril mantelpiece surrounding his fireplace. As Clarissa followed him, she found her gaze settled on the massive portrait hanging above his fireplace. There, a creature that resembled a massive palm that was littered with bright crimson eyes. Somehow, the half-giant couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She looked away, the feeling faded, but her anxiety remained.
The large oak doors were flung open as Hymn wrenched them wide open. He flung both handles back with a dramatic flourish and leaned out to speak with whoever was interrupting them.
"Master Mary, I must say, as my secretary, following instructions is an essential— What?" His words became a series of whispers. Clarissa couldn't fully make out what they were saying, but she heard things about some kind of lord and how they were on campus begging, something about someone crying.
Clarissa got up and crept closer to the door, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. She flinched back as the headmaster suddenly wheeled on her. He reached out and took her by the arm.
"Well, this has been a surprising turn of events." He pulled her along as if she was a dog on the leash, and the girl was utterly unprepared for this sudden shift in momentum. As he dragged her out of his office, she found herself stumbling past the pale-faced secretary, and into the following chamber, where a small army of campus militia and Prismatic Guard were on standby.
"Sergeant Headmaster," a towering automaton with a cannon-shaped face greeted. "I am Master-Captain Vulcain. I must inform you of an incident happening at the base of your tower, and the circumstances are most peculiar…”
"Well, good," Hymn said. "I do so enjoy peculiar circumstances. Mysteries are my favorite delight in life." He spun around on his heel and backpedaled out of his office, pushing through the gathering of guards as if they weren't there. "Well, come along, girl. I don't think you want to miss this."
"What is even happening?" Clarissa asked. Her heart was beating faster and faster. Something was upon her. She could feel it. "Of what?"
"Well, I think you're about to meet your father. Or so the Hero-Inquisitor claims." The headmaster wiggled his eyebrows. "Alternatively, Hero-Inquisitor Simeon DeGraille has suffered a psychotic break and is now trying to take responsibility for a fire he didn't really cause. Quite a stressful job, that, working in the Inquisition. He’s out here screaming that he deserves to be punished. What a breakdown. Let’s go out and see him.”
“He… what…” Clarissa found herself at an absolute loss for words.
***
"My name is Hero-Inquisitor Simeon DeGraille! My bastard daughter… within the Dragon Dorm… my fool of a son, went there to slay her, to retain my favor! Children were burned! Students died, because of my folly, my family factions! This is all my fault, it was my doing, mine! I must be punished, I must be punished, please, someone punish me!"
The patriarch of House DeGraille and Hero-Inquisitor of the Yellowstone Republic wailed those words over and over again, right in front of the headmaster's tower. The tower was a tall spire made from focus crystal, mithril, steel, and a series of exposed gears. Every few seconds it would tick and clack, the mechanism shifting about, causing the clock hands at the very top to swing violently from place to place. Why it was built like that and for what purpose? She couldn't decipher. But it had a novel look about it. It was also surprisingly well hidden, nested around a concentric layer of libraries, laboratories, lecture halls, and a gymnasium.
Before the tower was a lovely yellow brick path flanked by blossoming black petal flowers. Kneeling upon the yellow path were two individuals. The first was the aforementioned Simeon DeGraille. He was stripped down to his underwear, snot and tears ran down his face, and he was on his knees begging for someone to deliver righteous retribution upon his deserving form.
Not far away, his middle son, Alec DeGraille, stumbled around making barely coherent noises. He stumbled around holding himself, and every now, and again he would scream, scream about how he wouldn't do it again. Scream for someone to stop reshaping his organs, to stop filling his veins with bugs, and letting worms nest under his skin. Above all, though, he screamed of a monster, one that he couldn't recall, but one that he was sure of. That, he kept saying, was nearby.
A gathering of a few hundred students looked on in morbid fascination as two nobles debased themselves. A certain Marcus Unblood stood among their number, and though he pretended to be as flabbergasted as his fellows at the academy. Inside, it was all he could do to stop himself from scowling.
The Creeping Void 121 > 123
The younger DeGraille wasn't wrong. The monster was nearby, and he was making sure this farce was destined for a proper end. The DeGrailles were fools. The younger for committing such a reckless attack on Phoenix Academy, and the elder for building a hidden teleportation anchor so close to his study. Shiv had suffered through lengthy dialogue with both father and son, and in their short time together, learned to despise the two DeGrailles.
Apparently, Clarissa wasn't the only one. Apparently the dorm burning wasn't the only atrocity committed by the younger. He also had a habit of cooking escorts as well. A few prostitutes from a brothel had been burned to death when the young lord got carried away, and it took considerable influence on the elder's part to make sure the event was hidden.
The hero inquisitor's story was more of a tragedy at first. During his younger years, he was apparently captured by the Jotun, and due to the prowess he displayed and how many giants it took to take him alive, they decided to honor him by stealing some of his blood and torturing him into compliance. From his blood, a daughter was molded into being by one of the giant's crones. How this all worked was beyond the elder DeGraille as well. But at some point, when the giants dropped their guard, he managed to escape, and he stole away his bastard half-daughter as well.
At the start, he was simply moving on reflex. He didn't know why he took her. When he managed to get out of Jotun territory, he considered murdering her. But due to a mix of trauma and a lack of viciousness, he simply abandoned her near a border village. But she never truly left his thoughts, and years later, as he achieved the position of hero inquisitor, he began receiving more and more reports that a certain white-skinned girl was spotted near the wilderness. Apparently, the people he left her with had been raided by the Jotun and slain. The girl had been taken back by her mother's people, and that was when the hero inquisitor began making plans to see his unwanted daughter dead.
He sent a series of assassins after her, but most of them failed. At some point, she broke free of the Jotun and vanished for a while. Then she was spotted near some hermit woman’s cabin, and the hunt was back on as well thereafter. He wasn't certain how Clarissa ended up at Phoenix Academy, only that she arrived at the Blue all under the same conditions that applied to Marcus Unblood. The Wild Card Program granted her a place here, but it also placed a target on the back of her head.
At this point, she wondered why the girl came to the Capitol at all. She must have known that someone was trying to kill her, and if she survived her father's previous assassins, she probably had a good guess as to whom. Despite that, she still came to the Academy. She still attended as a student, and as such, she was meant to be silenced quietly by one of her father's more established assassins.
Unfortunately, his middle son found out, and thinking this was a good opportunity to right his shame, he came to the academy in the dead of night, seeking to burn the half-giant girl to death in her bed.
Things went awry from there. Her Cryomancy, though not on par with her brother's pyromancy, proved enough to give her a stay of execution, and she fled. The resulting fight between the two of them caused the Dragon Dorm to be burned down, and the younger DeGraille corroborated that information with a bit more prompting from Helix.
And that brought everything back to the present, with both DeGrailles shouting their misdeeds for all to hear. There were signed confessions swinging from their necks like necklaces as well. The only thing missing from them were specific memories, namely, the memories that had anything to do with Shiv, Adam, or the others that interrogated them.
It was as Shiv said, he wasn't that skilled of a Psychomancer, but when you could absolutely shred someone's Magical Resistance, they had no means of holding you back from ripping into their minds. The process was messy and arduous, but Shiv managed. He destroyed only the bits of memory connected to his identity, and now justice would see itself done in one fashion or the other.
Well, I suppose the Inquisition could come and pick both the DeGrailles up, Shiv thought to himself. If they do that, and they try to put their minds back together with an in-house Psychomancer, I'll just have to keep a close eye on them.
He'd imprinted the Elder DeGraille with a temporal echo, and so, even if the Inquisition hid the hero-inquisitor away, Shiv would be able to reach him.
As the scene played on, the front doors to the headmaster's tower were flung wide open, and Hades Hymn walked out with the pale-skinned girl in tow. Clarissa looked like a rabbit caught in a trap. Her eyes were wide, and she reeked of fear.
While Him's strides were long and carefree, she practically stumbled toward her father. The Headmaster looked around, and for a brief moment his gaze fell on Shiv. The Deathless felt the pinprick of something brushed against his mind, but just as soon as it came, it faded. Even so, his instincts told him to mind Hades Hymn. This told Shiv the headmaster probably knew a lot more than he let on. As long as he doesn't go digging into my identity, it won't be a problem, Shiv thought to himself. Mind yourself, Hymn
"Hero-Inquisitor DeGraille," Hymn said, clapping both hands together.
He walked over to the kneeling Inquisitor and tried to pull him back to his feet, but Simeon DeGraille simply let out a shriek and flinched away. "Don't touch, no, no, he's watching, he's watching, he wants me to be punished, punish me please, don't let him take me again, don't let him take me again!"
"Let who take you again?" the headmaster said, without a hint of confusion or suspicion, and that just made Shiv narrow his eyes some more.
Yeah, definitely knows a lot more than he let on.
"Monster, monster, monster, monster!" Simeon repeated, and soon his son began to weep as well. Both the DeGrailles were in a wretched state, and Shiv could practically hear the howling laughter coming from the orcs hidden within his cape.
"You know, for a couple of torturers, they really didn't stand up to being tortured very good, mortal," Mortar giggled.
"And here you were worried that the insult was getting boring," Whisper commented snidely.
At this point, Simeon's eyes fell on his unwanted daughter, and on all fours he crawled toward her. She backed away in fright, but he scrambled like a dog with its eyes locked on a tasty treat. He threw himself at her feet and cried aloud, "I miss—I miss—I deserve this. I did it. I sent all those people after you. I sent them. I didn't want you. I should have killed you. It was not—All those years ago. I should have killed you when I first held you. But I couldn't. I couldn't. And now I suffer. And now I suffer. And now I suffer!"
The girl was beginning to hyperventilate. Her Cryomancy billowed around her. But it was Hymn that intervened. He reached out and teleported the broken Hero-Inquisitor away. And a second later, he snapped his finger. And the younger DeGraille vanished as well.
"So, was that a madman or your father?"
Clarissa stared at him, wide-eyed, with her mouth hanging open. "I... I..." She looked at the gathered students. And she almost caught sight of Shiv. But he ducked behind a few taller automatons, hiding his presence.
"I don't know," she said. Her voice was barely higher than a whisper. "I don't think I have a father."
"Well, then this was all an unfortunate incident," the headmaster declared. "Well, I think we will leave this to the guard. Come along, Clarissa."
He patted her on the back and guided her back into the tower. At this point, the Prismatic Guard appeared—and Hymn casually teleported them away with a gesture as well, ignoring the protesting guards. "We will finish our interview post-haste. But in light of what we have discovered, I think we can eliminate you or anyone associated with you as perpetrators of this vile act."
And Shiv realized what the headmaster was doing. He was effectively severing the girl from the Hero-Inquisitor. He gave her a choice to reveal their connection or to hide herself entirely. And right now, she chose to hide. Well, perhaps that was all she could decide. The shock was too much, and Shiv thought it a bit cruel on Hymn’s part to expose her to this directly. But then again, Hymn didn't seem to be the type to give much of a shit. And aside from that, this made the entire affair a settled matter.
All that starts shit ends as… well, mostly shit still, Shiv thought internally. Well, at least we put an end to that for now. Adam will have to keep an eye on the rest of the Degraille family, but there should be nothing that traces us back there. Helix scrubbed our biological remains, and I made sure not to break anything inside his study. Adam snatched that weird divination box on his table as well, so it couldn't be anything that gives us away.
With that, the Deathless turned and slipped through the crowd. The surrounding students were loudly murmuring about what they just saw, unaware that the perpetrator behind the capture and breaking of both the DeGrailles was walking away from them.
As Shiv approached the first ringed building surrounding the headmaster's watchtower, a familiar presence settled beside him.
"Quite productive," Irons commented dryly.
Shiv couldn't tell if the captain was pleased or not. The Deathless just shrugged in return. "I don't really ask to be involved in these problems, but they seem to come my way. I just make sure they don't turn into lasting problems."
"And you are certain that this won't be a lasting problem?" Irons challenged.
The Deathless shook his head. "Yeah, pretty certain. Not much linking him back to me or anyone else I know. And if he tries to do anything else, well, sometimes life gets too much for a Pathbearer. And being a Hero-Inquisitor exposes you to a lot of nasty shit, doesn’t it?” He made eye contact with the captain. And, for the first time, he detected a hint of unease on the other Pathbearer's face.
Irons looked away first, and he nodded. "I see. Do you know why it happened? The fire."
"Adam didn't tell you?" Shiv said.
"He did. But if you want to hear the entire story. Well, we'll explain it to you sometime when we all get together. But you'll be either pleased or pissed to find out it has nothing to do with how favored I am." A humorless laugh escaped Shiv. "I think I stumbled fist-first into someone else's story. You saw that pale-skinned girl there earlier?"
"The half-giant?"
"Yes," Irons said.
Shiv did a double-take. "Does everyone know what a half-Jotun is?"
"Unlikely," the captain replied. "I, however, have encountered the unformed of the shattered court. They are not regarded as full giants, more like shock troops. It is most common for a Jotun to mingle their essence with that of a monster. For them to sculpt a child in the image of an enemy Pathbearer, especially human, is an insult and a form of respect in equal measure."
And that got Shiv thinking about Sullain’s special project: the Undying Tarrasque that resembled Shiv so much. “Great. Felling hate the frost giants already. I still don't fully get the girl’s deal, if she’s evil at all, but it seems like Simeon was just a victim that decided to turn into a bit more of a bastard when he wanted to keep his position and hide his shame."
"So he burned down the dorm?" Irons asked in a hushed tone.
"Ha, no, that was his idiot middle child who was also a prostitute burner."
"A prostitute burner?" Irons said, surprised. "Then, wait, the brothel... I know something about this."
"Yeah, so you know what kind of freaks we're dealing with," the Deathless said with a scoff. "Anyway, he's the one who decided to take a direct approach. By direct approach, I mean, he tried jumping his own half-sister in the middle of the night inside her room. And when he screwed up trying to kill her, she managed to get away. And he tapped into the mana surrounding the structure. Shit went even more sideways after that.”
Irons grimaced at that. But the expression was a fleeting one. "I see," he said again, mastering himself. "And so all this was for the sake of conspiracy. A shameful birth."
"Yeah, seems to be. It really is a kind of underwhelming that over 40 people to die for that. But who the hell knows what's going on in the minds of the nobility. Anyway, I had enough of this shit. I need to get my first class in order."
Irons grunted, rolling with Shiv's mood, without suffering any whiplash. "What is your first class?"
"A Culinary elective. I'm going to be volunteering at a restaurant somewhere across the city. After that, I'm going to move on and take part in my first medical course. Biomancy related, but it's mostly about helping people who are sick and injured. I might take up a more basic Biomancy course if I still need the additional support, but I think I want to move at a higher pace than most students. Wanna be hands-on.”
"I see. You're taking Van Erren’s Medic 301 course, then. You're going to be serving as an assistant resident. Respectable.”
“Something like that. Got a taste for it earlier during the volunteering session right outside the Dragon Dorm."
"I heard," Irons replied. "Some of the militia spoke highly of you."
"And by some, do you mean Maxime Stormhalt?" Shiv said.
Irons grunted. "She's also in the Tac-Strat class."
"Ah," the Deathless said flatly. He didn't know how he felt about being so in such close proximity to a member of House Stormhalt. But from what she said earlier, Maxime didn't sound fully overjoyed about her family either.
"Be mindful about the impression you leave," Irons said.
"Trying not to seem like too much of a bastard," Shiv said.
"That's not what I'm worried about," Irons replied. "I'm worried about how memorable you become." He briefly leveled a stare at the Deathless. "Remember, Marcus Unblood is dead. You are wearing his skin. You bear his name. But there will come a time when you have to shed him. He is ephemeral. And there is something sacred in that. Be mindful of what you do. Be mindful when using him as your facade."
And with that, the captain walked away, leaving Shiv alone with his thoughts on the way to his first course.
Comments
Brent Stinebaker
I have been trying to improve on that. It dragged a bit before.
Adwait Gautam
Tftc!!
Chase Anderson
Digging the pacing of the last few chapters.
