Wish upon the Stars (Original Superhero cultivation sci fi litrpg)

[Malcolm Tent]

I woke up groaning. Callie was sitting next to me, looking concerned, and my mom and sister were behind her. Zeke was napping in a chair nearby, and my dad was leaning against a wall looking away, though the effect was kind of spoiled by him shooting glances back at me. "You're up," Callie said with a relieved smile. "Did you get it all repaired?"

After Callie helped clear all the lamentation liquid out of my soul space, she'd returned to reality while I continued trying to repair all the damage as best I could. Which was, frankly, not that well. Genesis Burst applied directly to the damaged areas let me slowly fill in the pits and scars on the library, but it took HOURS to repair even a few of the surface level abrasions.

"Most of it," I hedged. "It's still underway. I left a few clones in there to keep at it. I was going stir crazy."

I could still feel the damage. It felt…off. I'd cracked my soul before. It was a natural part of cultivation, even if one you were REALLY supposed to try to avoid. But that was cracking. This was worse. Cracks were light and spread out, but they were mostly even. The damage from the lamentation liquid was irregular and uneven. A deep gouge here, a light scrape there. It was unbearable.

"Did you guys carry me back to the suite?" I asked slowly, looking around.

Callie nodded. "We did. Actually, Bethy did. She used her Domain to bring you back, because she was worried about jarring your concentration and messing up your recovery."

I glanced over to find the tiny vampire sitting with Chelsea, looking at me worriedly. I shot her a grateful smile. Bethy's senses were a lot sharper than most people our rank. Even Callie might not have been able to see as much about my situation from the outside as Bethy. "I appreciate that," I told her sincerely. "It means a lot."

"Of course," she said quietly, with a shaky smile. "You're my bestie. I was…you sounded really bad, Shane. Really bad. The screaming was awful. I've never heard someone sound so absolutely devastated."

Honestly, I was more worried about HER than I was me. I could handle pain, even soul pain. I'd long since subjected myself to infinitely worse. I was almost positive that recursion played some role in my frankly absurd pain tolerance, but even that hadn't saved me this time. Luckily pain tolerance wasn't just an in the moment thing. It was also how you dealt with pain after the fact, and I bounced back fast.

"I'm good," I assured her. "Bit of a rough time of it for a minute there, but I'm mostly healed up, and it's just pain." I grinned at her. "Besides, do you have time to worry about me? Aren't you planning a huge D-rank stampede?"

Her eyes widened. "Wait, how did you know about that?' She turned to Chelsea with a scowl. "You told?"

"She didn't," I assured her. "A little birdie told me." Bethy's ire turned on Archie, who she'd gotten kind of close with when he was staying in her Domain. "You? You were supposed to be the one! You were going to record it all while it was happening!" She slumped back into her chair with a dramatic wail, and Archie just cawed mercilessly. She sat up. "Well why didn't you just SAY it was too heavy?" He cawed again. "How was I supposed to know you actually MEANT it?"

Callie raised a hand. "Um, what is a D-rank stampede?"

"She was going to turn them all into cows and let them loose in the halls with numbers painted on their sides," I said bluntly. "I believe she was ALSO planning to skip a few numbers in the middle. Twelve, thirty two, and sixty eight. That way when people were searching for them, they would think they'd missed a few and keep looking. She might have gotten away with it too, except for one thing."

"It was a bad plan?" Callie asked mildly.

I nodded. "Terrible, yes. Also Archie is very lazy and she wanted to use an oversized high resolution camera."

"It records in nineteen dimensions," she protested pleadingly.

"Bethy, you can't even PERCEIVE that many dimensions," I reminded her. "Where did you even buy that? And how much did you pay for it, because it was almost definitely too much." Despite the tone of our banter, I could see Bethy relaxing. Our familiar dynamic was helping her forget the stress of seeing me go a little crazy.

While my constant need to shut Bethy down when she did things probably seemed negative or destructive to outsiders, Bethy valued our relationship a lot. She'd mentioned to Callie that I was one of the only people that consistently said no to her, even when she was being unreasonable, and that she respected my willingness to stand up to her. To this day I had no clue how much of her…Bethy-ness was faked, but I was happy to play the bad cop, if only because I was always highly entertained by her antics myself.

We chatted for a while before Gabe came and he and Chelsea took Bethy to get something to eat. She'd been waiting her for hours apparently, and I made sure to thank her for being such an excellent Master of Challenge, then turned to my parents.

"What happened?" my mom demanded anxiously, having been holding in her worry as I put my friends at ease. I appreciated it, because that had been a lot.

"The lamentation liquid was…tainted. Something was in it. Something I'm almost positive Morwenna is responsible for. It felt familiar somehow." I turned to Callie. "Did you feel that? Like something about it reminded me a little of…"

She nodded. "Adam," she confirmed. "But not. I mean, it DOES make some sense. Morwenna was there for his initial rise, right? Maybe she like…copied his original power? Experimented with it?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know a lot of things. Have you been able to contact Atlas?"

She shook her head. "I've been trying. I'm not even sure he can BE contacted outside of the space we went to when I formed my Chronicle. He's been dead a long time, and even as his avatar, there are limits. I've been trying to use the gem in Gossamer's hilt to reach him, because your mom said it was an object of power. I feel…something. Like there's an open line there I can't connect to. I'll work on resonating with the gem."

"You should also take my scrolls," I said with a grimace. "I only have about fifty, but any little bit helps. In the meantime, I'm going to let my stats roll in. I need to get stronger. Like…now. With all the buzz from the trial and the coronation, I have to have at least STARTED getting some of that Wishmaster income, even if I haven't been crowned yet. Any little bit will help."

I handed over fifty four scrolls to Callie. It wasn't many, but every little bit helped. I couldn't help but laugh at my own largesse as I had that thought. Fifty four wishes. Back in the day I'd had far fewer wishes per day, and I couldn't stockpile them at all. Not to mention my stat cap was ten points compared to the current one hundred. My income from wishes was incomparable to what I could net now.

But still…it wasn't enough. At my current income it would take me thirty YEARS to hit B-rank without any supplementation from renown. I had always been kind of perplexed how other members of the family could spend decades in D or even C-rank. But doing the math…I got it. It would be even longer at a lower rank with a lower stat cap.

Luckily I didn't need that. I DID have income, and I was sitting on a huge backlog most likely. So I retired to my room to get ready to let the power roll over me. I just hoped it wasn't too big of a percentage of my current value.

Closing my eyes…I let the energy hit. It was quite a bit. It wasn't double what I had, but it was definitely close. Maybe two thirds? It took me a minute to grit my way through the pain as I let the stats bolster me. Shockingly, most of my income was in Might and Focus. Since it was all from the same two sources I supposed that made sense, but it was still kind of staggering exactly how many of the points were concentrated in those stats.

Three hundred and twenty thousand Might, two hundred thirty one thousand Focus, and varying amounts in my other stats mostly coming in at less than a hundred thousand, giving me a current grand total of two point five million, two thousand six hundred and ninety four.

But more than that, I achieved something else. What I'd done earlier was nothing short of staggering. Driving out the energy of actual gods, even with help, was no mean feat. And I had decided that it was a skill I wanted to double down on. When you bound a page of your Chronicle, the skill or technique used in the binding created a powerful enhancement effect. As a thing became part of your legend, it became more legendary, and I was unwilling to let this particular skill bump go.

So I reached for the fact of what I'd done. Describing how to bind a Chronicle page was kind of like describing how to breathe. You can document the general motions, but it kind of misses out on how fundamental an act it is. Your chest moves and air gets sucked in doesn't really cover the miracle of inhalation, and describing the actual act of binding a page doesn't even come close.

But still, I knew how. I'd done it before, I could do it again, and I did. I pulled the truth of my earlier actions around me like a swirling cloak, pushing and condensing it into the Ten Demons Tome. The page was imbued with Leviathan, but also so much more. It was imbued with defiance. With resistance. With the very concept of raging against the Void, the corruption of Hatescream, and against anything that would attack my soul.

I felt the truth of these factors engraving themself into me, slowly integrating into my being in a way that I hadn't really experience before. I got SOME of this during stat increases, and I'd bound a page before, but I had been a little distracted. Now though, I was experiencing a change of my very nature (and one done at my own recognizance) and it was truly staggering.

Even thinking back on what had been done to me, I felt…less. Less bothered, less worried. If that happened again, I could feel that I'd be better prepared, that I was MADE to fight back.

Callie busted into the room, eyes wide as she searched the space frantically. "Shane!" she shouted in a panic, before freezing when she found me staring back at her with a raised eyebrow. "You…I felt, that is…what?"

I chuckled, then described what had happened. She nodded thoughtfully. "That's a smart idea. Increasing your resistance. Maybe I should do the same. I did help you cleanse it, and I have a feeling it might not be a bad thing to be prepared for running into Morwenna's…whatever that is, again."

"That's not a bad idea," I nodded. "But that's your first page, are you sure that's what you want?"

She nodded fiercely. "I never want to watch anything like that again. If I'd been more prepared maybe I could have helped faster. Besides, Morwenna will be targeting me, I'm sure. Might as well be prepared." I nodded, then gestured for her to sit down. I was already down here after my own binding, might as well help her out with hers.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

After adding the fifty four hundred points to Callie's Creation stat (she paid with ten charges of Adherent Fire, which I couldn't access through the bond and was VERY interested in researching) and binding her first page, Callie and I decided to take the rest of the night off. It had been a big day, and we were both exhausted. We fell asleep pretty quickly, and the next morning woke up eager to start the day. For some values of eagerness.

"I wish I was dead," I moaned loudly, burying my face in a pillow. "Kill me and put me out of my misery."

My wife snorted. "How were you chosen by an actual goddess of torment to receive her favor, have been LEGITIMATELY tortured by experts, and only last night endured the most painful soul baptism anyone we know has ever heard of, but THIS is where you hit your limit?"

"But it's so UNCOMFORTABLE," I whined. "My head is buzzing, and my throat is scratchy, and the roof of my mouth feels like it got kicked by a horse."

Yes, I, Solomon, future Wishmaster of the Wish Curse Palace, was sick. I had no idea how or WHERE I had caught it, and I'd been briefly worried it might be some sequelae from last night's Apostate adventure, but it turned out, I'd been overthinking it.

As soon as I'd woken up, Callie, who had also been worried, had run off to find my parents, who had promptly informed her…that I had the cold.

I'd tried everything to fix it. Purification, healing, even enhancement. Nothing worked. According to my mother, the common cold had such a reputation as an invincible bane on anyone it touched, that it had recursively mutated to become an invincible super bug. It didn't kill people, at least not ones with a decent amount of Vitality, but it DID wreck anyone who caught it. Basically, the cold had a reputation for making anyone who got infected JUST miserable enough to want to die, but not actually finishing the job. Lucky me.

Even more obnoxiously, Callie was apparently IMMUNE. Recursion turned the cold into a superbug when it came to even Ascendants, but it didn't apply to beings perceived as 'nonhuman'. Callie's racial trait apparently rendered her completely impervious to the dreaded virus, while my own part-time angel status meant nothing.

I was miserable. It didn't even really hurt. Like it did, but it was more of a bone deep ache. Everything was more sensitive, and I was shaky and weak, and my eyes were tearing up and the tears felt like someone was pouring boiling oil down my face. I hated every second of it.

Seeing how genuinely upset I was, Callie dropped her teasing, her face twisting in sympathy. "I know, hon. I can feel it, just…try not to think about it ok? Do you want me to get you some soup?" There was a knock on the door, and I groaned in pain as I wrapped my pillow tight around my ears to block out the loud sound. "I'll get that," she sighed.

"Hey Callie," my mom's voice echoed loudly from the door. So loudly. Like she must have been screaming. Even though it kind of sounded like she was trying to whisper. "How is he?"

My beloved snickered. "He's a whining pile of aches and complaining. Please tell me there's something you can do?" I peeked out from under my pillow helmet, glaring at her reproachfully, but winced and retreated because the light from the hallway was getting in my eyes. We'd been keeping the room dark because it helped my headache.

Sighing, my mother made a noise of sympathy. "Not really. The cold is…complicated. Recursion means you can't really beat it, just endure it. Some things kind of help. Soup, tea, it varies person to person. I actually had my mom make some hot soup for him, I wanted to deliver it in person but given what he's got…"

"Yeah, best leave it with me," Callie agreed. "Don't worry, I'll look after him. Here pass it over."

There was an obnoxiously loud clank of glass on wood, and then my mom called. "Feel better ok sweetie? If it helps, everyone knows the worst colds are always twenty four hour bugs, so that's the form it always takes for us. Just tough it out for a day and you'll be fine."

Callie thanked her and closed the door, walking over to sit on the bed next to me. "Shane? Honey I need you to stick your head out so you can eat this soup."

"No it's cold!" I whined, burrowing deeper into the pillow helmet.

"The soup is hot, though, it'll help warm you up," she coaxed gently, reaching over to wriggle the pillow away from me.

I retreated quickly. "No, it'll burn me!" I whined.

Internally, I winced at my whiny tone. I wasn't PROUD of my demeanor, admittedly. But I'd forgotten how much it SUCKED being sick. Pain was just…different when you were ill. Like even the toughest person would become a whimpering sack of meat when they were under the influence of the dreaded cold. I wondered if this was ALSO recursive. Like maybe this exact phenomena gave the cold some kind of pain tolerance bypass ability.

Sighing, my absolute saint of a wife cleared her throat, then scooped up a spoonful of clear, brothy soup, and began to blow on it. I poked my head out, looking at her suspiciously. She rolled her eyes and then offered it to me. I took the spoon carefully, sitting up, and then swallowed it. She raised an eyebrow. I shrugged sulkily. "S'good," I admitted.

Scoffing disgustedly, she held out the bowl itself. "I'm not feeding you bite by bite. I love you, but there are limits." I took the bowl, sniffing in offense (or as best I could), and then slowly started to eat. She let out a sigh of relief. "Is it helping?"

Despite my current suffering, I forced myself to clamp down on my whiny knee-jerk response, pasting a smile on my face. She was really worried, and I didn't want to make this harder on her. "It's helping," I said, trying to ignore the faint slur in my voice from the post nasal drip. "Feels good to eat something hot."

She smiled softly at me. "No it's not, but it's sweet that you're trying. I'm sorry you're in so much pain, baby, I wish I could help. On the upside, your mom says it's really rare. It's kind of a shock you caught it."

"I'm guessing something about the attack from the lamentation liquid softened me up," I grimaced as I burned my tongue. Not enough to cause damage, but all my sensations were heightened now in the worst way, and with my Perception so high, that was unbearable, especially since it didn't seem to affect my Focus at all, so there was no balance. It felt like my whole body was a raw nerve.

"Maybe," she hedged. "You did get hit pretty bad. But that's more of a soul thing, and the cold is physical. Mostly. I guess maybe there's a soul aspect. Since the damned thing DID mutate from recursion, who knows?"

I snorted, hot soup going up my nose, which set me off on a coughing fit. "Yeah," I wheezed. "Who knows? How much does it suck that we live in a universe where viruses can evolve to higher ranks?" I was just lucky that common wisdom claimed that the cold wasn't fatal, because I had no clue what rank this virus WAS but I was pretty sure it was powerful enough to kick my bucket if it hadn't been against the rules.

"It DOES suck," she allowed. "But I'm also kind of glad." I glared at her and she just laughed. "Not that you're hurting, obviously. But I know you. After what we saw, your first instinct would be to charge off into the unknown and look for any traces of Apostate here. Whatever the hell that is."

"And?" I said sharply. Or, well…dully. I didn't think it was possible to sound sharp when your head feels like it's full of bees. "We need to know what's going on, Cal, people are dying and-"

"And I'd prefer you not become one of them!" she snarled. "Damn it Shane, you don't THINK! This stupid trail of breadcrumbs is basically custom made for you. Step by step, someone is leading you off into the dark to get slaughtered. I know Darren dying shook you. He was family, even if you didn't know him that well, but you can't just run off to investigate without thinking about how it might work out!"

She was crying. I hadn't seen her cry in a long time. I hated it when she cried. "I…" I stammered, not sure what to say. "I'm fine-"

"You sounded like you were DYING you idiot!" she snapped, eyes blazing. "The screaming…I've heard your SOUL crack, and it wasn't that bad. That was…I was so SCARED, Shane. You don't make sounds like that. Not in years. Not even during the Lady's trials. So can you just…take a beat? Take one minute to process and heal and THINK before you run off and get yourself KILLED. Which, in case you forgot, we were recently told might kill ME too if you need any more motivation than my literal begging."

That stopped me cold. Because she was right. I'd been told her life might be tied to mine and I'd almost gotten my fucking soul destroyed less than an HOUR later. "I can't just let this go," I said stubbornly. "It's not even about my own desire to look into it, something is going on, and we might be in danger. If we ignore this I have a feeling it'll come back to bite me in the ass hard."

"Did I SAY to ignore it?" she asked archly. "Did you not just spend days recruiting a small council of people with a variety of useful skillsets specifically designed to make sure you don't need to do everything yourself? Maybe call Wulf back from that stupid goose chase you sent him on and have him do some actual work."

I blinked, because…she was right. I could have done that to start. I was so used to running off to handle shit myself that I'd ignored plenty of important assets. I wasn't convinced Wulf could have found anything from the lamentation liquid, but I'd been planning to chase the lead myself, and that WAS what he was there for. She put her hands on my face, resting her forehead against mine. It felt cool against my overheated skin.

"I'm not mad," she clarified. "I'm afraid. Not of me dying, but of losing you. It means a lot that you're thinking it through now though. I know that it's hard for us to change. All that recursion pushing you down the same road. You're putting in the effort and that's all I'm asking for. Do you want me to contact Wulf for you? And don't say you want me to call him here, if he gets sick he won't be productive, and we don't have the day to waste on a prank."

I grinned at her. "You know me so well. Yeah, have him put feelers out. Anything to do with Apostate, the Void, Morwenna, or the Vanished gods. Cast a wide net. And tell him to report ALL of it. Rumors, whispers, snippets of conversation. I don't care if his girlfriend's cousin's sister's husband's great aunt's hairdresser thought he saw something vaguely void shaped in his TOAST, I want to know."

With Dantalion, I could parse tons of data, but I needed some data to parse. Since I was sick anyway, I might as well do something productive. I tried not to think about the buzzing in my head as I considered processing all that information. This was not going to be a fun day.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

We contacted Wulf through Ellie, who had been watching his back during his investigation into Derran's death. Derran's death was definitely within the scope of our investigative direction, so we didn't exactly refocus, but we did have him expand his scope of inquiry a bit. Sadly, he didn't have anything on hand immediately, so I ended up going to sleep and trying to sleep off my cold, which worked pretty well.

When I woke up the next morning and stocked up on scrolls, I emerged from my cave feeling refreshed and excited. My soul damage had healed up pretty well during my rest and I was feeling almost bouncy after my forced downtime. So, of course, someone had to ruin it.

"We have a problem," Crell said as he dropped into the chair across from me. I met his eyes directly, staring him down as I shoveled a spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth, waiting for him to continue. Taking me silence as an invitation, he slammed down a familiar dark stone book, one of the ones I'd constructed for downloading the charter into. "Look at THIS!" He pointed to the nearest page.

I leaned forward, swallowing before reading aloud. "If the accused shall enter the presence of the tribunal on the fifth day of the seventh month, only then shall the material used for foot covering be transposed to natural fibers, forbidding all animal hides and disallowing manmade materials, save for the use of weaving or stitching."

He paused, turning the book around. "Ah, sorry, wrong page," he cleared his throat in embarrassment, flipping around a bit before turning it around to point at the page."

I refocused. "Should the accuser die under suspicious circumstances, or fear for their life from outside forces, the prosecution may invoke the rite of Signatum Judicium, or sealed judgement, at which time the accuser and accused will be sealed together with the witnesses in an unbreachable space until the final verdict is reached. Signatum Judicium may only be invoked on the final day of the trial, or in the event of the accuser's untimely death, at which time the burden of proof will fall to the first witness."

Frowning down at the book, I put my spoon down, picking it up to flip to the next page. I studied the subclauses related to the Signatum Judicium carefully, then looked back up at Crell. "Explain."

He growled in annoyance. "Basically, it's a clause to be invoked in the event of outside interference. Given the character witness phase, and the importance of the office of Wishmaster, there were concerns that outside forces might attempt to subvert the trial to install their own candidate. The Wishmaster, that is, the original Wishmaster, constructed a special room to ensure the sanctity of the verdict. The Quiet Room.

"The Quiet Room is a Divine Level defensive emplacement with wards out the ass," he continued. "Even a god couldn't breach it with any sort of expedience. It's been slowly improved over millennia by every subsequent Wishmaster, and is considered to be the safest place in the entire Wishworld, to the point that there are several backup plans in place to use it as a fallout shelter in case of a mass attack. And I don't mean a small one like the other day, I mean full on 'the sky is falling' type of shit."

I frowned at him, drumming my fingers. "So you think Devon is planning to invoke the Signatum Judicium?" I mused on the idea. "I mean…maybe? But to what end? Does he think I'm planning to tamper with the trial? Or is this a direct trap? Like is he going to try to kill me in there? Because I'll be honest, I am NOT scared of him. Especially not with Callie there." I focused on the potential dangers. "Who is the first witness?"

"We don't know," Crell snarled. "I've been looking into it, but after the attempt on his life Devon is invoking some obscure double blind jury statute in the charter. He says he's worried you'll kill his witness."

"WHAT?" I snapped, slamming my hands on the table. "That ungrateful little asshole! I SAVED HIS LIFE!"

He shrugged. "He doesn't see it that way. No fixing stupid."

"So, since the invocation can be done in the event of his death or an attack, I'm guessing this was the desired outcome. Which means whoever that witness is, they're almost definitely going to be some kind of assassin."

Sighing, I nodded. "Yeah. There's a limit though, right? No A-rankers or S-rankers were involved in the succession war, at least not anywhere near me. The witness isn't going to be some high ranking badass. It'll be someone closer to our level. B-ranker, I'd bet." Which made me feel a LITTLE better. Aside from Callie, I was going in there with Roland, who was notably the strongest B-ranker in the family as far as I knew.

Of course, that assumed they'd fight fair, which I seriously doubted. Some kind of consumable attack method like my stored attacks maybe? Or a powerful artifact. But it wasn't like they could bring a whole arsenal. And between Callie and I we had two defensive charges that could tank a blow from a god.

Apostate. That had to be involved. I wasn't sure WHY or how, but it would be part of this. The prophecy had involved lots of people too, but prophecies were notoriously vague. The people might have represented everyone watching the trial.

I needed some sort of countermeasure to Apostate. Something that could let me shrug off that horrible corrosion. I still wasn't sure what it WAS, exactly, but I'd been exposed, and I could use that exposure to create some kind of defense. Maybe study the field from the defensive charge the old man gave me. Whatever that was, it had purified all the danger effortlessly. That was probably a factor of power more than anything, but the old man's power was all about efficiency. Whatever the book had done, it had done it PERFECTLY, I was sure, and if I could mimic that, I could create a method of shutting down Apostate before it had a chance to get its hooks in me.

This would be my last pseudo-Domain. The last ingredient in…whatever I was building. Which meant I had a lot of work to do. Lots of research and experimenting. "Hey, are you listening to me?" demanded Crell. "Because I'm not going to be allowed into that room with you, you know? This is a big problem for us!"

"I know," I said mildly. "I was thinking, Crell. Don't worry. I've got some ideas. Thank you, by the way. For finding this. If we hadn't known…" I wasn't sure WHAT they wanted us in that room for, but it couldn't be anything good. Forewarned was forearmed, especially once I got a bit more info about exactly what Apostate was and how it worked. "Before I double down on counter strategies though, any chance we can get OUT of this? Some move we can make to head him off?"

He shook his head. "Nothing reliable. This isn't some tactic. This is a break glass in case of emergency kind of strategy. In order to be in this position, the person in question had to have willingly offered up their soul for complete annihilation if they're found guilty. The presumption is that no one in that situation WANTS an objective and fair trial unless they're actually in the right, and an attempt on their life implies that you, the defendant, has something to hide."

"Except I didn't MAKE an attempt on his fucking life!" I groaned. "I saved it. It's not my fault my cousin lacks the basic deductive skills to differentiate a rescue from attempted murder."

Crell frowned, leaning back and steepling his fingers. "Honestly…I think you're underestimating him. Based on what you've been telling me, Devon isn't stupid. He's not SMART, but he isn't an idiot. It's not that he's imagining things. Someone is making him see things that aren't there. Someone subtle, and very good."

I focused on him intently. Crell was a hell of a manipulator. I'd found him in a dungeon, running an insurgency from inside of the current ruling dynasty of the whole place, having essentially maneuvered the ruler into a position where he'd almost definitely known who Crell was and couldn't do anything about it, despite Crell himself being part of the man's ruling council. He knew how to talk people in circles.

Gesturing for him to continue, I listened. He nodded, continuing his train of thought. "You think this is about intelligence. It isn't. When you manipulate someone, you don't pit yourself against their intellect. That's not manipulation at all. It's just lying outright. The trick is to figure out the way a person sees the world, and shift their viewpoint JUST a bit. Not identifying their blind spot, but making them look just the right way so their blind spot lands EXACTLY where you want it."

"So, what?" I asked in annoyance. "You're saying my cousin is motivated to buy into this shit? I knew that, they're playing on his ego."

He shook his head. "You're not listening. Playing on his ego is part of it. But more than making someone right, if you want them to buy into a deception, you need to make them JUSTIFIED. Don't just tell them something and make them believe it, let them figure it out for themselves. Set the stage so they discover the plot, because then they're in the thick of it. They're invested. He's not just saving his family, he's saving them from a traitor only he discovered."

That made sense, but I still didn't see his point. "Ok…and?"

"And I just told you he's not stupid," he said in exasperation. "Which means the narrative has to have teeth. It has to be believable, and not just to him, it has to be something he thinks he can demonstrate to others, which means-"

"He has proof," I concluded with a frown. "Good proof. Concrete evidence. But there's no evidence THERE. I didn't do it. So what kind of proof does he have and where did he get it?"

He shrugged. "A few options. But if we're talking something damning, only two places. Us or them. Someone involved has to have something compelling. Either another candidate, or some Void being who convinced him that you were working with them the whole time. At that point it mostly becomes a shifting gradient of bullshit. What can they sell, how much will he buy? It's delicate. Like I said, if they feed it to him it won't set right. They'd have had to tease him into discovering it. And if it was a Void entity…"

"It must have happened on the Heirworld," I frowned thoughtfully. "But that's…we hadn't won yet. And I don't think anyone expected us to. Why would someone start laying groundwork for a loss like that when it was such a long shot?"

"Could just be someone careful," he said with a contemplative hum. "Hedging their bets? Or someone who put their thumb on the scale. Helped you win without it being obvious. But for him to believe it, it has to be someone who has some kind of connection to you. Someone you met at some point. Someone with a reason to know."

I sifted through faces. I'd interacted with a lot of people on the heirworld, and I couldn't remember all of them. If it was a Void entity that narrowed it down, not many had survived contact. It could be a candidate, I supposed, but anyone with access could have killed me ages ago and completely sidestepped this whole mess. If one of the other candidates didn't want me to be Wishmaster they could have just taken me out and claimed it was an accident. I shook my head with a sigh. I'd wait until Wulf's information package came in. Then I'd reevaluate. Until then…after breakfast I would start on my final pseudo-Domain. It needed to be a doozie.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

I found myself alone. No connection to Callie, no friends around to bounce ideas off of, none of my normal distractions. This was, of course, by design. This was an important step. I felt like this was a tipping point, like I was being guided to do this by my Fatewalker Path. Like I had always been being guided. This was my destination, my final step, and also the very first step in a brand new way forward.

Which just left me with the unfortunate issue of not knowing what exactly I was supposed to DO here. I mean, I knew what I wanted for my last pseudo-Domain in the abstract, of course. But I also knew that this was going to be the foundation of something bigger. My final expression of a course I'd set all those years ago when I'd first embarked on this journey.

So it had to be big. Couldn't be something simple like an augmented Leviathan, that would be pointless. But I had covered MOST possible outcomes.

I needed to take the concept of rejecting Apostate and make it…more. Turn it into something valuable. Something new. I had combat, utility, creation, information gathering. Everything you could imagine. But it wasn't enough. I was missing something. Some key ingredient. Some final piece of the puzzle.

But I couldn't come up with anything. It was choice paralysis all the way down. What should I pick? Why not something else? What would be most useful? I was double and triple guessing. My fate sense was just letting me down. It was so vague. I just wished I could talk to it directly, then maybe…and then I stopped. Why DIDN'T I just do that? Why didn't I ask my fate sense. Why not manifest the power of the Fatewalker directly. I'd done it with so many of my other abilities.

I closed my eyes, focusing my energy inward. I thought about Apostate. About the trial, about my future. I searched for that spark of insight, that understanding. And I felt it. That slight tug, that brief flare of instinct. I triggered Dantalion, pouring my senses into myself, and when I couldn't catch it, I triggered Limbo, selecting the future I needed, eliminating the possibilities of me missing the trail and then-

Then I wasn't alone. I was sitting at a table, inside the library, and across the table was…me.

"Really?" I asked myself acidically. "A goatee?"

The other me, who indeed had a small black goatee and red horns barely visible under his hairline, shrugged. "It seemed thematically appropriate. After all, this is your deal with the devil, isn't it?"

I frowned. "In what sense?" I asked suspiciously.

He tisked at me. "Come now, don't play dumb. It's embarrassing. We both know you aren't stupid. You had a lot of different directions you could have taken this. You could have combined Beelzebub with Asmodeus and created your own Imperial Guard. They would have been powerful, too. Or you could have doubled down on soul defense, taken the safe route. But you didn't do that. Because you want something more than just another bandage on a gaping wound. You don't want to put another card on the table. You want to flip the damned thing over."

"I need more," I said bluntly. "Need to understand, to learn how to access your foresight. I need…clarity."

"Knowledge is power," the other me nodded. "And power comes at a price. You know that. And you know what the price for this will be. Don't you? What it will cost you to manifest me completely in this form. This isn't a committed pseudo-Domain yet. You could consider this…an exit interview. Or an entrance interview, depending on your perspective. You can choose to back out."

I sighed. "I know. If I use you as the final piece of my pseudo-Domain, I'll break the last remnant of my Doom Sovereign Skill. You're the foundation of that whole ability. My Path won't break, of course, but the Skill will change. Will become something else."

"Change is inevitable," he said gently. "You know THAT too. It's coming for us whether we want it or not. The question is, can you keep up with the changes forced upon you? Are you willing to make the hard choices? The answer seems to be uncertain, or we wouldn't be having this meeting."

Shrugging, I just grinned at him. "What can I say, I wanted a second opinion, and you're kind of the only game in town. Should I call you something, by the way?"

"You already know my name," he said enigmatically. "But there's no need to rush. You haven't finished working up to it. This is a big decision, and you wouldn't be here if you didn't need to talk it out. So…talk."

I glared at him. "Please tell me I'm not normally this much of a smug asshole. You could be nicer about this."

"Nope," he said, raising a finger. "Wrong direction there, boss. I'm not you. I'm PART of you, but I'm a different entity. That's important. It's KEY to this whole thing, actually. Because if you decide to stick with me, that's not going away. Might even get worse. You're at a crossroads here, even moreso than you might be aware of. This choice is going to shape you whole future. You've been taking steps, ones you haven't even been aware of. Some were my influence, some not so much. But this is the last step. This is where you decide if you continue forward, veer off the road, or turn back altogether. Now. Tell me the downsides."

Grimacing, I nodded and collected my thoughts. "No more free upgrades. With the Skill disconnected and turned into something else, I won't rank it up automatically anymore."

"True," he acknowledged. "But since you hit your capstones that's less of a concern now. You don't really need it anymore at this point. It's convenient, but not necessary, and besides that, it comes with an obvious perk."

"No rank cap," I allowed. "All my subskills can continue growing beyond C-rank. I can hit Mythic with any of my forms or pseudo Domains. Even you."

He nodded approvingly. "It's a biggie. Of course, even that has downsides."

"It essentially erases the sole advantage of my current skillset," I sighed. "I'm only able to keep up my absurd levels of utility and skill diversity because it's all part of my build. It grows as I do. If I break that equilibrium I'll have to find a way to grind all my skills individually to keep up with them."

To my surprise, he waggled a hand. "Well…maybe not. I can't go into details, but that might not be as big of a problem as you expect. What's more important is how this will affect your Domain. Because you know that's coming."

I did. My fate sense had been warning me constantly something big was approaching, and my Domain was the next big step in my evolution. I wasn't B-rank, but I DID have a formed Chronicle, which would alleviate the downsides, and I needed to get stronger fast. The only issue was that I had absolutely NO idea what my Domain was going to be. I could feel it…forming. Preparing. That was why I'd needed this meeting. Because this was going to be the big next step that decided what form my Domain would take.

"You can't give me some kind of hint here?" I asked waspishly. "Tell me how this choice will affect the outcome? Hell, shouldn't I be forming it myself anyway? Why the autopilot bullshit?"

"The staff," he said bluntly. "The Ten Demons Tree has been learning from you. Internalizing your patterns, growing alongside you. Every time you use it, every time you create or reference an ability, it shaped the staff a little more. It's a fulcrum on which your Chronicle tilts. You knew when you accepted it that it was going to change things. That it would be an integral part of your Path. When the Ten Demons Tree bears fruit, your Domain will emerge. Not on autopilot, but watered with the choices you've made up to this point. Or did you think using it for all that calculating wasn't going to have an effect? You taught it that it should simulate skills and abilities to their natural conclusions. What do you call it? The Wisdom of Solomon?"

"Suddenly feeling a lot less wise," I said wryly.

He snorted. "Gosh, it's almost like you can see the future." His tone was a little mocking, but mostly just amused. "But in all seriousness it's not as predetermined as it seems. In fact, that's why you're here. This is your last chance to back out. I'm the last bit of nutrients the tree needs. Reforge me into this form, and the conditions are met."

"Or take a step back," I finished. "Take control and assert my dominance over the process…and never find out what this could have been."

He smiled gently. "The tyranny of choice. You can't escape it. You can go left. You can go right. Or you can turn around and go back. But even if you go nowhere, you're still deciding where to go."

"Just tell me one thing," I said after a brief silence. "If I take this path, if I risk everything I've built, invest it all in this…possibility. If it works. Will it change things? Will it make me stronger?"

His gentle smile became a wide, wolfish grin. "It'll be a revolution. And I'm not just saying that because it's the only way I get to exist. The Path you and the tree have set your feet on is truly unique. If you follow through, you have the potential to become something no one has ever seen before."

That brought me up short. That was…way more than I'd expected. What was this Domain that I'd unwittingly created? What had I made in my endless pursuit of constant experimentation? I was wracking my brain and I couldn't think of anything. Whatever the tree was doing, whatever it had learned from me, it had taken it so much further than I was able to.

It was a risk. But also, it really wasn't. I'd made the choices that led here. This wasn't some ineffable force contriving to give me a destiny. This was MY Domain. I'd made it myself. With my actions. With my heart. And looking back, those were things I would NEVER doubt. Every step of my journey, I'd walked forward with my head high. I'd had doubts, sure, and fears. But I didn't have regrets. Not anymore.

I trusted myself. Trusted the path I'd taken. Trusted my love for my friends to have pushed me in the right directions even when recursion might have pushed me another way. When it came down to it, this wasn't a matter of choice. It was a matter of faith. And if I couldn't have faith in the person I was, who could? How could I become a god when I didn't even believe?

"I'm ready," I told him calmly. "I appreciate the sit down, by the way. I know this could have gone a very different way for you. It means a lot that you were willing to break it down for me completely, given what you had to lose."

He shrugged. "What do I have to lose? I don't even exist yet. I'm just a possibility. Until you decide to manifest me, decide to take this Path, I'll only be a shadow, a flicker of potential. Besides, you know who I am, right? This is kind of my whole deal. Bearer of forbidden knowledge, 'to him ascribe all sin', any of that ring a bell?"

I knew what he wanted. He'd said it earlier. It wasn't time yet. Or it hadn't been. It was now. All I needed to do to finish this was make him real. Select this possibility, choose this Path. All I needed to do…was say his name. "I know," I chuckled. "I figured it out before I even got here. Thanks for the assist Azazel. Be seeing you soon." And then I opened my eyes, and the changes began.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

The first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was the sensation of falling. I was, of course, NOT falling. But that didn't stop me from FEELING like I was. The world spun around me like a vortex, and I pitched over as I stood up, smacking into the ground with a dull thud as my perception was consumed by the whirlwind of…whatever was happening.

I opened the bond, sent a quick cry for help to my wife, and then surrendered to my complete loss of equilibrium. I didn't puke, or moan, or show any outward sign of distress, because I had been through worse, but I had to admit, complete disorientation without the ability to stop yourself was definitely unsettling.

Callie pushed the door open, sticking her head in with concern. "Shane? You ok in here?"

"Get-" I ground out as I tried to keep my gorge (which was harder when talking) "Zeke." My Uncle would know SOMETHING about what was going on. She shot me a worried glance and then left, coming back with Zeke not two minutes later. He stepped into the room, strolled over to me, then knelt down and shoved me onto my back. Prying my mask off, he peered into my eyes, then my mouth and then for some reason checked my ears.

"Huh," he said with interest. "You appear to be condensing a Domain. Which is…really weird, honestly. Because you definitely shouldn't be awake during this. Domain condensation is a deeply personal experience that requires extremely delicate micromanaging. If your soul wasn't rock solid stable right now, I'd be concerned."

Closing my eyes to try to fight back the nausea, I ground out. "Why do I feel like I'm on a tilt-a-whirl?"

"If I had to guess, it's because pretty much every bit of Impact in your body is currently being used to build your Domain," he shrugged. "I don't know if you remember what your world was like before you hit a hundred points of Impact, but I can promise you that suddenly going BACK to that state is not pleasant. Not to worry, though. Once your condensation is finished, your body will regulate. Super curious though, how EXACTLY are you doing this?"

I groaned, trying to sit up. Unfortunately, Zeke was right. This wasn't just a visual thing. My hearing was…off. And my skin felt like it was being rubbed with sandpaper. And the air tasted like dust.

"The staff," I explained. "Apparently, it's been consistently analyzing and deducing everything I've done since…" I paused, because I wasn't actually sure. "Maybe since I got it? Anyway, apparently I've reached some sort of tipping point, and it's sublimating all that information into a new groundbreaking Domain."

I didn't mention my incoming Path change, or the possible loss of my Doom Sovereign Skill. I still didn't know how that would manifest. Something about the way Azazel had talked about it made me unsure I'd be LOSING too much. Something was changing, I could FEEL that already, but I wasn't sure what.

Zeke nodded slowly. "The staff IS B-rank. Which makes it more qualified to condense a Domain than you. Normally that wouldn't be possible, but it's your soul weapon, and that connection can be weird. Is it almost done? You should at least be able to tell."

Frowning, I focused internally. I tried to bring up my stat screen first, and I got a painful flare of purple flame behind my closed eyelids. That was annoying, but I was just going to wait and hope it went away. I had no idea where to even START fixing something like that. Still, once I focused, I WAS able to sense…something.

Something was changing in my soul. I couldn't sense the library, though I COULD still sense my Tome (and the old man's). And surrounding them was a sort of weird vortex of Impact and a bunch of other things I couldn't really process.

I shared this with Zeke, and he nodded. "It's condensing. Domain projection is…complicated. It has a lot in common with ranking up actually. When you rank up, energy pours into and elevates your soul and then it overflows out and into the rest of you. When your Domain condenses, all your Impact pours into your soul, sublimates, and then overflows. It carries out into the world around you, essentially expanding your personal reality to the nearby space."

Of course, he was simplifying things for me. I knew there were other factors, like the Void was involved somehow, or would be eventually.

"Anyway, once the sublimation is done, and it's finished condensing, then you can project it." He looked intrigued. "Normally you would KNOW what was going to happen at that point, because you'd have been the one doing the condensing and would know exactly what was coming out. This should be interesting for all of us though."

So we waited, and slowly, I got acclimated to my new condition. I knew it was temporary, but NOT feeling like I was on a high speed carnival ride that never ended was still nice.

Finally, I felt something at the core of my being shift. I let out a long breath as the Impact flooded back into my body, carrying something…new. It stopped at my skin, but I could feel it straining at the edges of me, like I was a water balloon straining just before it popped. "I think it's done," I said cautiously. "So what do I do now?"

Zeke hummed contemplatively. "You should feel it trying to project. The Domain is formed. It WANTS to manifest. All you have to do is let it out. That is, if you're ready."

I closed my eyes again, readying myself for whatever was about to happen. Then, I allowed my Domain to project out of me. The pressure building up under my skin dissipated, and something deep at the core of my soul expanded, pressing my conscious, my sense of self, out into the world. It was like I stopped being a single person in a single place and became a huge dome of space, miles across. The world shifted, and all around us, things changed.

We were standing in a black and blasted plain of basalt. Between the stones, magma bubbled and spat, heat rolling over the barren hellscape. I turned slowly, taking everything in, until finally, I stopped, staring at something…else.

An imperial palace. A huge edifice of grey marble the size of a small city. My Domain was weirdly large. Bethy's wasn't this big. But then again, she had been given a seed of her father's Domain to use, and his was also smaller. I turned to look at Zeke. "Is this…too big? Lark's is smaller. Should mine be small?"

He shook his head. "Not how it works. Different Domains do different things. Lark's is mainly for containment. Being small makes it easier to keep track of prisoners. This one though, I'm not sure what it's for. We should go check out that palace."

I nodded, and Callie stepped up next to me, hand lacing with mine. She wasn't worried anymore, just curious, and I couldn't blame her. I was curious too.

We headed through the scorched plains, eventually arriving at the palace. When we got there, I expected to have to push open the huge doors, but to my surprise, I didn't. The door opened on its own. As I stepped inside, I was greeted by a familiar face. Which was, well, my own. Technically. But with a goatee. "Azazel," I greeted my final pseudo-Domain. "Guess I really did see you soon."

He bowed at the waist. "I bid greetings to his majesty, Solomon the Demonbinder. Welcome, your grace."

"That's new," I said dryly. "You were a lot less formal last time."

"I was a lot less real last time," he said as he stood up. "We all were. But you've ameliorated that particular issue, so it behooves me to act in a manner befitting the shepherd of these wayward sinners. As your last manifestation, I am to be your guide to this, your infernal court. Welcome, your majesty, to Gehenna."

He turned and gestured us through the doors and into a wide amphitheater. It didn't look like an entry hall, so I suspected that the door didn't always lead directly here. But I was a bit distracted by what he'd said, and what I was seeing.

Because the entire amphitheater was filled to the brim with PEOPLE. Strange people. Some of them looked mostly human, with only an odd feature or two. Some of them had familiar strange and unearthly features like flaming hair and horns. Features I recognized.

Mephistopheles. And Agares, and Mornax. And Sammael. Some of them were forms, some pseudo-Domains, and some, I was fairly certain were just skills. Or techniques. But what struck me was the NUMBER. "Seventy two," I said softly. "Seventy two members of the Ars Goetia. This was why I needed just a few more."

"Members of the court of Gehenna," Azazel corrected me. "Due to its synchronization with the legend of your predecessor, the number seventy two was selected as the optimal configuration for the court, but you are not Solomon. At least, not the Solomon who came before. As your uncle has taken the mantle of Janus, so too have you stepped into the shoes of a legendary figure."

I barely even heard him. I was bust counting. Guitar, Piano, First Aid. All Skills I possessed but never used anymore. When I located them, sure enough, the beings representing them were…weak. They felt like G-rankers or something. I turned to raise an eyebrow at Azazel. "What's with them?"

He shrugged. "Unused potential. Demons in Gehenna aren't Skills or Techniques anymore. They're beings. Rather than having ranks, demons have tiers. Those are low tier mostly. One and two. Of course, they can get stronger, and will over time."

Zeke's head snapped up. "They can WHAT?" he said harshly.

"They can get stronger," Azazel said calmly. "We all can. As living beings, and ones with histories and personalities synthesized by the reincarnation tree, we can learn and grow, and the Skills and Techniques we represent grow alongside us."

That brought me up short. "Wait…my Skills improve THEMSELVES?" I asked in disbelief. "Like, even if I do nothing?" I followed that concept to its logical conclusion and the blood drained out of my face. "You said they're not confined by my rank anymore. You told me that during our meeting. That my Skills could continue to grow. That wasn't just about normal rank up mechanics for Skills. That was about TIers right? Like you're tier…what? Seven?" He nodded. "So you could break through to Legendary, or rather Tier Eight, and my own rank wouldn't mean anything."

He nodded, and Callie looked confused. "I don't get the big deal." She smiled apologetically at Azazel. "No offense, self training skills are great, I'm sure. It solves a lot of problems for Shane, but why is that so important."

"Because they aren't SKILLS," Zeke said quietly. "They're DEMONS. Physical creatures. Living breathing entities native to this Domain. Which is STUPIDLY rare on its own, but does happen. But entities have limits. They grow slowly, or with renown. It takes resources, time, fame. Skills just improve with repetition, with knowledge. These demons are embodiments of Skills and Techniques. Which means they grow the same way."

I swallowed hard as I said aloud the thought that had only just occurred to me. "And Skills don't have limits. Or requirements like Chronicles or Sagas. Skills can continue to grow without limits. Which means if all of my demons keep getting stronger…:

Callie's jaw dropped as the logical conclusion we'd all reached hit her like a train. "They could keep growing to S-rank. Or higher. If they keep growing with no bottlenecks, someday, you might have seventy two GODS inside of your soul." As she spoke, the words echoed in the huge chamber, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the space like a divine edict. Azazel had been right. My Domain was something no one had ever seen before. And I wasn't sure if I was thrilled or terrified.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

I needed to sit down. Luckily, I was standing inside of a massive marble palace with lots of seating. So I found a chair and flopped into it, trying not to wince at the clang of armor on marble. "Remind me to get you guys cushions," I told Azazel with a grimace. "These chairs can't possibly be comfortable."

He shrugged. "Haven't really used them yet. Things are still settling. I take it you're still trying to wrap your head around the changes?"

"You mean how my entire system of cultivation has fundamentally deviated from the norm?" I asked wryly. "Yeah, it's still sinking in. How am I going to progress? What even AM I at this point? Am I still an Ascendant?"

Zeke snorted. "Don't be so dramatic. You're a divergent. It happens. Not OFTEN, granted, but it does. In fact, almost every Demigod and higher is some sort of divergent. Normal cultivation doesn't have methods for gathering Impact. You kind of have to blaze your own trail. Like how the Unity created Heroic Cultivation."

"Yeah, why exactly does that count as its own separate method?" I asked bluntly. "I've always wondered about that. Like isn't it just…NOT having a Job?"

"Heroic cultivation is pretty intuitive," he allowed. "But it works because of the infrastructure that the Unity built. The Job system was created because just letting raw renown wear away at you was considered dangerous and reckless. The underlying bedrock of Heroic cultivation is the society of heroes and villains that the Unity created to manage and refine that renown. Rather than change the input, he changed the source. It counts.

"Of course, it IS rare for someone to diverge so early," he admitted. "Most only do it later into S-rank. But it DOES happen. Think about how Lark gets stronger by eating others. Reaching Demigod is doable without diverging, because S-rankers are pretty close, and there are other ways to get Impact, but past that point, there's no other way to become a god. Rather than freaking out about how different you are, it would be best to figure out what this means for you. Can you access your stat sheet yet?"

Wishmaster heir status. C-rank. Ability: Grandmaster Wish- Nine times a day grant a Master wish in return for proper compensation. Wish must be feasibly achievable by the candidate's own efforts within a three day period with current statistics.

Grandmaster Path of the Demonbinder- The budding Domain of a Great King.

Wishmaster candidate points-1000

Might-640,923

Impact-155

Fantasy-325,780

Vitality-331,257

Focus-529,835

Perception-361,873

Creation-312,871

Progress to next rank:2,502,694/10,000,000

Soul strength- Tanzanite Soul Body

Chronicle: Ten Demons Tome (pages bound:2- 1 Zagan, 1 Leviathan)

wish scrolls stockpiled: 9 (5 in the possession of friends to be used over time)

Bonded companion: Archimedes (Life Nova Phoenix)

Weapon: Ten Demons Tree (reincarnation tree staff that lets him simulate alternate lives to perfect his forms, and when combined with the library lets him simulate and deduce techniques in a process called the "Wisdom of Solomon")

Stored: 10 Adherent Fire, 7 shadow attacks, 10 shadow jump (seven in reserve), 10 Stealth charges,10 triple strength tranq blows (ten in reserve), 10 spider leg attacks (ten in reserve), 3 gravity attacks, 1 shadow clone, 18 scan heals (I-rank ability so Shane can hold more)

Financial resources: 0 B-ranked, 0 C-ranked, 0 D-ranked(worth 100 E-ranked, past master rank is a watershed)

Court of Gehenna:

1.Doom Sovereign- Tier 7

2.Valtek- Tier 2

3.Cooking- Tier 7

4.Inventing- Tier 2

5.Balam- Tier 3

6.Fire Manipulation- Tier 1

7.Piano- Tier 1

8.Guitar- Tier 1

9.First Aid- Tier 1

10.Angelic Bond- Tier 6

11.Dust Construction- Tier 5

12. Stone Limb- Tier 6

13.Moonlit Night- Tier 4

14.Consecration of Flame- Tier 6

15.Ripple Running- Tier 3

16.State of Grace- Tier 4

17.Steam Arrow- Tier 4

18.Afterburner- Tier 6

19.Pit of Despair- Tier 6

20.Mountain Stance- Tier 6

21.Heart over Body- Tier 6

22.Mercy Kill- Tier 5

23.Double Trouble- Tier 6

24.Touch of Tears- Tier 5

25.Flurry of Blows- Tier 3

26.Heavy Hands- Tier 2

27.Marked for Death- Tier 4

28.False Fatality- Tier 3

29.Blood Curse- Tier 4

30.Creeping Darkness- Tier 2

31.Final Strike- Tier 6

32.Overlay- Tier 4

33.Song of the Soil- Tier 3

34.Rhythm of the Wild- Tier 2

35.Eye of Revelation- Tier 6

36.Danger Sense- Tier 5

37.Piece of Mind- Tier 6

38.Empty Spirit- Tier 6

39.Belial- Tier 7

40.Abomination Engine- Tier 6

41.Mephistopheles- Tier 7

42.Cosmic Collapse- Tier 6

43.Circle of Damnation- Tier 6

44.Mephisto's Waltz- Tier 6

45.Mornax- Tier 7

46.Zagan- Tier 7

47.Life Nova- Tier 6

48.Genesis Burst- Tier 6

49.Bael- Tier 7

50.Beelzebub- Tier 7

51.Agares- Tier 7

52.Dantalion- Tier 7

53.Sammael- Tier 7

54.Limbo- Tier 7

55.Gluttony- Tier 7

56.Wrath- Tier 7

57.Pride- Tier 7

58.Retribution- Tier 7

59.Murmur- Tier 7

60.Leviathan- Tier 7

61.Behemoth- Tier 7

62.Glory- Tier 7

63.Abaddon -Tier 7

64.Wisdom of Solomon- Tier 7

65.Promethean Fire Soul Body- Tier 6

66.Fate Sense- Tier 6

67.Scent of Truth- Tier 5

68.Damnatio Memoraie- Tier 6

69.Dark Reflection- Tier 6

70. Asmodeaus- Tier 7

71. Astaroth- Tier 7

72. Azazel- Tier 7

It was different. Cleaner in some ways, though also more dense. But beyond that, it was also just…more. I could FEEL them. Each of them. Feel their intent, their emotions. As my eyes scanned the list, I got impressions of them. Zagan's energetic glee, Behemoth's slow regard, Leviathan's fiercely protective nature. Azazel's wisdom.

They weren't just skills anymore. They were actual living beings. They could grow and learn. And each of them was BUILT to be what they were. They knew how to improve, how to get stronger, because it was baked into their very being.

It was kind of scary. I was responsible for all of them now. They were my subjects, my people. But when I thought about it like that, the pressure kind of vanished. I already had subjects. I was going to be the Wishmaster. This was no different. They were my responsibility, sure, but I'd accepted responsibility for far more.

More than that though, I was still catching up to the fact that I had completely changed the game. I'd created something truly new. The Great Book Heavenly Library, the Ten Demons Tree, Doom Sovereign, none of them were dispensable from this new thing I'd created. My experiences had shaped it, my encounters had created it. Gehenna was…well, me. But also not. The staff had simulated real lives for them, all of them perfectly suited to their own progress. The growth potential of my demons was off the charts. No bottlenecks, no renown.

"So…are you all just going to be gods tomorrow?" I asked worriedly. "My soul and Chronicle definitely can't handle that. Maybe one or two of you becoming B-rankers, but nothing beyond that."

Azazel chuckled. "Hardly. Most of us are Tier 7, like you saw, which equates to Grandmaster. Essentially we're as strong as you. But only hypothetically. The forms and pseudo-Domains you made were limited by your own understanding. We're about equal to very low level C-rankers. And we'll grow fairly slowly. For the most part. Your Domain is tied to your Chronicle, and so are we. You've bound pages to Leviathan and Zagan so far, normally that would have been a slight power boost, but given all the changes, it's…more."

I considered it, and it felt like something just whispered the answer to me. "Talent. They'll grow faster. And not just them, the demons…under them?"

"Heirarchies are important in a court," he acknowledged. "Zagan is above Life Nova, for instance. So Life Nova will grow faster, though not to the same extent. Of course, it's a tradeoff. Binding pages to something like Doom Sovereign will dilute the effect. You'd need a lot more of them for it to matter spread across so many demons. Doom Sovereign is one of the core Ministers of the Court. Along with myself and Sammael."

I nodded in understanding. "How about Fate Sense?" I asked. "Isn't that just the same as you?"

He shook his head. "Fate Sense is a natural instinct that all Ascendants have. A factor of the stats affecting your relationship with reality. Your FateWALKER senses are something else. The two did occasionally get mixed up in each other, but they're fundamentally different forces. In fact, that's an example of how Gehenna has changed you. Fate sense is stat based, and is fundamentally impossible to improve without ranking up or gaining stats. The fact that yours can grow is…monumental."

"It's a lot," I admitted. "Almost too much. Like I'm bound to these skills forever now? I can't grow or learn new abilities? Can't invent new techniques?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not. The Domain is part of you. You can change your Chronicle, why wouldn't you be able to change your Domain? You can reincarnate demons into new forms, and even upgrade and refine them manually. Don't forget that we were created by a combined effort of yourself and the staff. I wouldn't recommend tinkering with our matrixes until you learn a bit more about them, but your talent for creating techniques is PART of this Domain."

That made me feel better. I'd been worried all the work I'd done had been pointless. But knowing I could improve the demons myself, that I could add or remove skills and techniques, it really put me at ease.

Azazel noticed that, and held up a warning hand. "The higher ranked a demon is the harder they are to alter. Reincarnating one into a new skill or technique is best done at VERY low ranks. As for alterations, small changes done in stages are your best bet, once you reach that point. For now, I would suggest you learn more about how to work with them as they are."

I nodded. I could still tap into those skills. The connection I felt when I looked at the Domain list told me in no uncertain terms these techniques were all part of me still. In fact, I was pretty sure I could combine my pseudo-Domains into even more powerful forms…eventually. That would inevitably involve reincarnation and not to mention the Domain was weighing heavily on my soul.

The Chronicle and the staff had offset the frankly absurd amount of soul strain I should be under constantly, but adding any more functionality to my Domain in the short term was off the table. I was coming to terms with most of it, but I still had another thing to check on. I stood, turning to glance up to the head of the hall, where a large ornate chair stood.

The chair was tall and dark, made of cracked glowing stone in the style of Agares. On either side of it sat pedestals, one with my Ten Demons Tome floating above it, and the second sporting a purple book of lightning and fire. Above the throne hung an illusory tree, representing my staff, while the weapon itself floated across the throne as if waiting for me to take it up and take my rightful seat.

Walking up the stone steps, I reached out, grasping the staff and bracing it on the floor as I turned to sit down. From this vantage, I could look out over my entire Domain, see the faces of every member of my court. Staring down at them solemnly, I nodded once to myself, this was my power now. This was who I was. And I couldn't wait to see what I could build with it going forward.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

Once I took my seat on my throne, I called for my cabinet. I had to admit, it was a cool feeling sitting up above the throne room, looking at at the rows of bench seating filled with my subjects. I had Archie fly out to get them, and once he was gone, I couldn't help but turn to Zeke. "So…how the hell does this work? I've been in Bethy's Domain before, and seen her use it, but like, how much space is this taking up in the real world?"

He waggled a hand. "Complicated. It's not…it's not like a portal, really, more like a whole bunch of space shoved into a very small area. Domain's are like shallowings, they extrude partway into the Void. Not far enough to run into issues on that side though. Domains don't fully enter the Void until you reach divinity. At which point you join with them and create a world. The process is more complicated than that, but that's the broad strokes."

"So this Domain, despite being HUGE, is only taking up the same amount of space as like…my room?" I asked slowly.

He nodded. "Around that. So once they walk inside, they'll be entering the Domain, at least when you have it projected like this. Of course, it's in your soul in either case, but now that it's been firmly established, you can let people inside directly, without having to take the back way like Callie does."

I nodded along, but wasn't really paying attention. My thoughts were on my next steps. Namely, on what information Wulf was bringing and what I could do with it. Then I blinked. Because I didn't need to do anything. I glanced up. "Dantalion," I called out into the crowd. "Come up here."

The man who emerged from the crowd wasn't what I expected. He looked old for one. Like very old. He was wearing a heavy brown robe, his back hunched with age. "Your grace," he said, his voice creaking as he bowed deeply. "How may I serve?"

I debated telling him to relax, but I knew that it wouldn't make a difference. The Domain was part of me, but the demons weren't ME. They were unique entities, and they would act as their life experience and personality dictated. "I have a subject coming here with news. I need you to analyze the data for me."

Gehenna had fundamentally changed several things about me and the way my abilities worked. The longer I stayed there, the deeper my understanding got. Firstly, there was the concept of incarnation. Though it sounded similar to REINCARNATION it was very different,.

All of my Skill and techniques were still Skills and techniques, but they were ALSO demons. Demons, because of the abilities of the staff, that had entire lifetimes simulated for them, in which their sole purpose was to improve and refine the Skill or technique they were a manifestation of.

I could still use those Skills easily, tapping into them directly as I always had, but I also had a new and more deadly application of my powers. Incarnation. By allowing a demon to possess me, I gained access to their memories and skillsets as they applied to their powers.

Essentially, incarnating allowed me to become a perfect master of my Skills up to the point they had progressed, and I could even do incarnate multiple demons at once. However, the tradeoff was that I had to bear the weight of their experiences in my mind as I did so. More incarnations meant more burden, and while I could use things like Piece of Mind to offset it somewhat, it still placed limitations on my ability to use my various demons.

Because of the Domain's existence though, there was another option. I could also just ASK the demons to do things for me. My demonic subjects were real beings, and while they weren't very well suited for the environment outside of my Domain (they could leave, but staying out long term without me acting as a host would cause them to become listless) they were masters of their own unique applications.

So asking Dantalion to personally search for the answers would be easier and more effective than doing it myself, barring a strenuous incarnation session that I really didn't need to bother with.

Dantalion's face lit up, and he nodded excitedly. "Of course, your grace. I am ever at your service."

"Good to know," I said cheerfully. "And now's your chance." I nodded to the door. "It seems our guests have arrived." Without any verbal reminder, Azazel stepped out of the crowd of demons, approaching the entryway. He flung the massive double doors open, admitting my cabinet and several of my other friends, all of whom looked awestruck. Or most of them did. One in particular looked a bit more…unhappy.

Bethy was pouting like there was no tomorrow. "Your Domain is so much bigger than mine," she complained. "And it comes with all these new friends!"

"Your Domain is full of cute animals though?" I pointed out calmly. "Isn't that better?"

"I brought them in myself though!," she grumped. "These guys were already here when you got the place."

I rolled my eyes, turning to my cabinet members. "Wulf," I called. "You got any information for me? Because I need SOMETHING." I needed to know what was going on, what Apostate was, who the hell the witnesses were going to be, how strong they were, and what they could do so I could devise countermeasures. I was operating at a huge dearth of information, and if I didn't FIX that before I was summoned to The Quiet Room, Callie and I were going to be in a lot of danger.

Wulf, who had been looking around the throne room in awe, shook off his stupefaction. "Huh? Right, information. I have quite a bit. You said find EVERYTHING, so I did." Holding out his hands, he retrieved a huge box from his ring, the whole thing stacked high with folders and paperwork.

I nodded to Dantalion, who hurried forward to take the box, then walking over to sit on one of the benches. He placed his hands on the box, closed his eyes, and the air began to crackle. As we watched, the letters on the pages flickered like sparks of purple lightning, and then they began to climb across the pages toward his hands.

My eyes widened. I hadn't know I could do that. I mean, yes, I realized there were more powerful applications for my forms, and Dantalion in particular, given the interaction it had with the computer back on the heirworld. But this was something totally different. This wasn't just processing information, it was CONSUMING it. I wondered exactly what difference the method of integration made in the process. I trusted it did something, but what exact effect it might have was anyone's guess.

"Well, that's…unsettling," Wulf said from where he was standing. "There's something weirdly intimidating about someone EATING information in front of me. I just hope it's not some kind of omen."

"It's not," Azazel chimed in from nearby. "Your impending horrible death has nothing at all to do with your career."

Wulf froze, staring at him in horror, and I rolled my eyes. "Don't listen to him. His powers don't work like that." I paused. "Probably. I think." I glanced over at where Dantalion was hunched over a box of papers doing things I hadn't considered possible until a moment ago. "You…were joking, right?"

My Minister snorted. "I was, yes. I have a dark sense of humor. Shall I see to your guests while we wait for the results? Not that I'll need to do much, they seem to be well taken care of."

I turned to find my cabinet members being approached by various demons. Marco was talking to Inventing, who was thrilled to pick the brain of a much more powerful inventor. Peter and Holly were talking to Eye of Revelation, Dante to Abaddon, and the various others were quickly being waylaid by various others. I raised an eyebrow at him. "And I'm supposed to believe that was an accident?"

"Doom Sovereign and Sammael WERE hoping for a word," he admitted. "The three of us represent the trinity of your power. Despite our interconnection, we are all independent aspects of your power, with myself representing the more abstruse mechanics of your abilities, Sammael the physical, and Doom Sovereign the breadth of your Skills. When you aren't active here, we'll be the ones keeping the peace and acting as commanders. It would behoove you to actually meet them before you move on with your business, vital though it might be."

"You're right," I sighed. "Where are they? I don't see them around here."

He pointed across the throne room, to where a small stone door glowed with green runes. "You've yet to explore the entire space, my lord. Perhaps you might take the time to do so once matters have come to a close regarding the trial."

When we reached the door, we stepped inside quietly, leaving the others to talk to the demons. Inside, I found a pair of figures. Doom Sovereign looked…regal. He was a tall, pale man with long blonde hair and a black iron crown. He actually looked a lot like the final boss of the DS campaign, though I hadn't played it in years. I nodded to him solemnly, before turning to look at Sammael.

The demon embodiment of my racial trait looked…kind of like me. Not like Azazel did, mind. Azazel was just me with horns and a goatee (for whatever reason), Sammael looked like what I would have been if I'd been born an angel. Callie's features had changed a LITTLE with her conversion, but not too much. I could see now that she must have wanted that to happen.

Despite being mainly human shaped, angels were NOT human. Everything about Sammael, from his cheekbones, to the shape of his eyebrows to his ears was just slightly wrong. Not that he looked bad. It was the opposite. His features were too perfect, too symmetrical. They were inhuman. He seemed to notice me noticing, because he grinned at me. "It's like looking in a mirror, huh?"

"Don't be a smartass," I told him dryly. "I'm still in charge of you." I turned to Doom Sovereign. "How about you, no mocking quips?"

He snorted. "Such behavior is beneath me. A true ruler is magnanimous."

"Yeah, he's not much fun," noted Sammael. "But he IS smarter than he looks. And he's uniquely suited to deploy our forces. I'm not really built for that. Doom Sovereign is your tricksy deck of trump cards side. I'm more the hit it til it breaks type. After all, when you designed me, it was with the intent of creating an angelic form that could stand up to enemies directly."

I rolled my eyes. "I know what I intended. I was the one who intended it. What's your point?"

"My point is that he's got experience and tactical acumen we don't," he said with a sigh. "And he has ideas for how we can handle The Quiet Room. We don't know who or what is coming, but there's ways we can mitigate that weakness. Create contingency plans based on potential outcomes."

I raised an eyebrow. "You can't create contingency plans based on 'anything can happen'. That's not a plan. It's a wild shot in the dark."

"It WOULD be a wild shot in the dark," he acknowledged. "IF we were shooting in the dark. But you seem to be forgetting. We happen to have a flashlight." He jerked his chin at the third member of our little quadret, and I froze, looking at Azazel with an intensity that I imagined was quite offputting.

He sighed. "I can't ensure any results will be certain," he hedged. "But I could probably narrow things down a bit." Walking over to the table at the center of the room, he sat down. "I can make a few predictions, and we can use the data from Dantalion's analysis to narrow them down. So I suppose we should hurry up. He'll be done soon. Come sit down then, let's gaze into the future."

 

[Malcolm Tent]

The process of Azazel divining the future was…complicated. Mostly because it was almost completely new to me. It wasn't based on Doom Sovereign, or on normal Ascendant divination as I'd heard of it. It was more…abstruse. As Azazel explained it, his skills were entirely synthesized by the Ten Demons Tree. He had an entire lifetime of memories of slowly learning to predict the future through trial and error.

"Basically, my powers work on probability," he said as he slowly withdrew a series of small carved bone chips. Symbols were inscribed all over them, but rather than just rhowing them, he began scratching a complicated diagram on the surface of the table. "I can't tell you what's going to happen. I can tell you what MIGHT happen, and I can somewhat sense how likely that is, in the abstract."

"So you can find us the most likely outcomes," I clarified. "Predict the biggest potential dangers?"

He waggled a hand. "Not exactly. My predictions are based on available data, my own perceptions, and my involvement in the incident in question. Just because an outcome is the most likely one I see, doesn't mean it's the most likely in general. But I can somewhat refine things as I go. That's why I'm willing to do this. When Dantalion is finished deducing the data, we can add it to that prediction matrix during the session."

I nodded, not really understanding but pretty sure I wasn't going to get it completely. It made more sense to move on. "Alright, so how do we start?"

He set the bone chips on the table, carefully sorting them and selecting a few after careful scrutiny, then handed me five of them. There were, interestingly enough, seventy two chips. I suspected this little trick used my Domain as a basis, and it was a fascinating thought. My individual demons being able to derive more advanced powers through the Domain itself would be potentially game changing later.

When I mentioned it though, he just shook his head. "As the last demon to form, and also the first in some senses, my presence is intricately bound to the rest of the court, and to yourself. The chips represent you and the others, and I'm not included. It's possible you'll be able to derive more powerful functions from the others as you improve the Domain, but it won't be soon. You can think of this as a special level of access I'm due as your first Minister."

"Ah, so you're second in command around here, and you can use the Domain for a few of your own tricks because of the access level," I clarified as I took the chips. "Good to know. So what do I do here? What does any of this mean?"

He gestured at the formation on the table. "This is the wheel of chaos. It contains all things and transforms all things. The collisions of the variable forms and the curves of the shifting diagrams are an every expanding and rapidly changing tapestry of possibility." He pointed at the bone chips. "These are the lodestones of fate. They represent the journeys of those inscribed. I can't just predict any future, only OUR futures, and not my own. But using yourself and my seventy one brothers as anchor points, I can pivot the lens of the infinite potential outcomes to gaze upon the external mysteries, briefly glimpsing the truth beyond my sphere of influence."

"Huh," I said slowly. "That was extremely unhelpful. I understood exactly none of it."

He snorted. "Don't worry about it. Shake the tiles and throw them onto the formation. I'll do the heavy lifting."

"See, was that so hard?" I complained as I shook the handful of chips.

Tossing them out, a watched the formation crackle with purple electricity as they bounced once, twice, and then, with a snap, they were sucked down onto the table as if magnetically attracted, slamming down on the wood face up and then sliding along the formation until they reached a specific spot.

Azazel hummed with interest, then began carving strange formuli on the table next to the formation. Green flickers of toxic flame spat and hissed in the obsidian material, showing me that everything here was constructed by Agares, not that I was surprised. Finally, he finished.

"I have a few tidbits," he said slowly. "But things are murky. I don't have enough information for a proper reading. Sam, go get Dantalion."

Sammael nodded, rising and striding out of the door. Doom Sovereign watched carefully, trying to see something in the jumble of random information and clearly having as little success as I was. "Dom," snapped Azazel. "Throw these four tiles." He passed them to the regal looking blond, who nodded and did as he was told. Azazel stared down, calculating more, and resumed his carving.

Sammael came back, bringing Dantalion along with him. The hunched elder bowed deeply to me, and then to the ministers, before setting a hand on Azazel's shoulder. His eyes sparked purple, and a surge of electricity poured from one demon to the other. Azazel's eyes glowed the same shade, and he smiled wolfishly. "That's new," he commented.

Dantalion shrugged. "When I consume the information like that, I can redistribute it. Saves the trouble of transcription."

Azazel nodded absently, then picked up another handful of tiles and threw them. The same surge of electricity, the same snap of attracted bone. But this time I was able to see that he wasn't just clocking their final positions. He was studying the paths they took. His formulas were a sort of shorthand notation to track progress.

"First bit of information," he said slowly. "You were right, the Apostate is one of the witnesses. I don't have the data to figure out which, but he WILL be present during the final battle in The Quiet Room."

I nodded. "Ok, good to know. What about the identities of the witnesses? Anything on that?"

He shook his head. "Unclear. I can't get anything that specific. This whole situation is a mess. And I think The Quiet Room is blocking my divination attempts atemporally. Which is absurd, and would be way more shocking if it hadn't been made by a god to keep other gods out of his business. As it is, I'm only getting quick flickers of potential outcomes, and only because we're inside your Domain, and you'll also have it open when the incident is occurring."

That…actually made sense. If Domain's were partial Void shallows anchored to a soul that meant they existed partially outside realspace. Still, I didn't think it was as easy as he was making it sound. If a Domain was enough to bypass The Quiet Room it wouldn't be considered god proof.

Seeing my skepticism, he chuckled. "My abilities leverage advantages we all have. Having so many points of contact, both unique and cohesive, gives me an unusual amount of grip on the possibilities. Especially considering the connective tissue of the Domain itself is the Ten Demons Tree, and we've all been more or less created by the tree, which is connected to your soul. For all intents and purposes, you're asking me to look into my own future, for some values of selfhood. Of course, I can't look at what my fate is as an individual, but there's a layer of separation between yourself and us, even if it can get a little fuzzy."

Doom Sovereign grimaced. "Your esoteric babbling is unnecessary. We seek only results."

"You say that because YOU can't do this," Azazel said waspishly. "But our lord possesses all that I am, as well as access to your own considerable power. He can learn this method, and should he understand it, his safety will increase when he is out of reach of our assistance. Not that I expect that to happen, but better safe than sorry."

"I appreciate that," I told him kindly. "But Dom is right. At least in this instance. I'd love to learn more from you, and I might try incarnation soon to pick this up more easily, but you've explained the basics and now we need to focus. You had him throw, so what kind of feedback can you give?"

He sighed, but nodded. "Very well. I got some very vague responses. Firstly, you'll need to dispatch Dom to fight independently, mobilizing several of his subordinates. I can't get an exact number of enemies confirmed, but there's enough that the forces you're bringing won't match up."

Which meant there would be at least three witnesses on Devon's side. With Callie and Roland as my backup, I was confident in a three on three. For some reason, I'd envisioned Devon bringing two just like I was, but if he had something up his sleeve, it was good to know about it.

I was about to pry more into the possibilities, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. I raised an eyebrow, but nodded to Dantalion to open it.

Crell was waiting on the other side. "We just got word. Devon has invoked the charter. He's requested seclusion in The Quiet Room as the tribunal makes their final judgements. He's citing the recent unrest as motivation to seclude early. He says it's evidence that external forces are attempting to sway the course of the trial."

I frowned as I gestured him inside. "The tribunal aren't buying that, are they? Why would I have been involved in the attack AND helped fend it off. Not just saving Devon, I got heavily poisoned by Hatescream's corrupted land. I'd have to be a moron to let myself get nearly killed by a plan I had a hand in."

"They didn't," he said with a sigh. "But while external forces aren't welcome in the trial, the tribunal IS still part of the elder's council. They're receiving subtle pressure from the other branch leaders."

Left unsaid was that they probably weren't resisting too hard. Non-interference was a point of principle, but The Quiet Room was a backup plan created specifically to ensure that very thing. None of them would consider its use to be interfering, or at least not enough to put up more than a token resistance. They had no reason to distrust Devon or his intentions in this matter, and I couldn't really give them one.

Prophecy was notoriously unreliable, and based on Azazel's feedback, it wasn't supposed to even WORK in The Quiet Room. I grimaced. "They tell us who the witnesses are ahead of time by any chance?"

"Nope," he said tiredly. "We won't find out until you actually get there. And I won't find out at all. Like I said, no lawyers in the box. It's an anti-tampering measure, and for some reason everyone has a deep and fundamental distrust of giving us unsupervised access to the witnesses." He snickered wryly. "Can't really blame them there."

"Granted," I laughed. "But it doesn't make my job easier. You get in touch with Roland already? Make sure he's prepared?" I paused. "Wait, we can bring weapons in, right?" I hadn't even considered what to do if they tried to disarm us. Forget Roland being weakened, Callie and I had our weapons in our SOULS. I had no idea if it was even possible, but I definitely had no desire to find out the answer in either case.

Thankfully, he shook his head. "Nah, it's generally accepted that weapons are kind of superfluous. You're Ascendants. You won't have a problem killing each other one way or the other. However, there IS a time constraint. You've been requested immediately. You're to be locked up until the end of the trial, at which point you and Devon will receive the final judgement together."

I glanced at Azazel, who nodded back solemnly, and I sighed as I stood. "Alright. I'll retract the Domain. You take the others out of here, I doubt they'd react well to me trying to sneak you in." As for the demons…I'd cross that bridge if I came to it. Hopefully it wouldn't be an issue. I had enough problems.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

It was a long walk to the council chamber. Or rather, it felt long. Callie was with me, but the others mostly stayed behind. They didn't want to see me marching off to get locked up for days on end with potential enemies. My parents came with us, and even my dad looked tense. I raised an eyebrow at him as we walked. "Why do you look so morose? We're the ones who are going to be locked up in a box for the next three days."

He frowned. "This feels off. Things aren't proceeding like they should. If you hadn't successfully condensed your Domain, I would have shut this farce down already. As it is, I suppose you can protect yourself, but…"

I nodded. "I get it. I don't like it either, especially not with Callie coming along, but at least we aren't going alone. Roland is one of the top combatants in B-rank in the whole family. Even having Ellie along wouldn't be as safe. He's a friend, and he owes me one besides. I saved his life, remember? He's not going to half ass protection detail."

My mother nodded unhappily. "We know. And no one above B-rank should be entering alongside you. Just don't take anything for granted. Watch out for each other."

Arriving at the council chamber, I was surprised to see Desmond waiting outside for us. At his side, Devon was standing with a pair of men I'd never seen before. When he saw me, he smirked triumphantly. "Ah, the traitor arrives. I see you brought your wife with you. Couldn't find anyone else willing to lie on your behalf?" He didn't mention Roland, but I assumed he was just too scared to talk shit about a powerful B-ranker to their face.

Callie glared at him. "My husband saved your LIFE you ungrateful little twit. I'm starting to think he shouldn't have bothered. Leaving you around to pollute our air with your stupidity is a disservice to the universe. And gods forbid if someone agrees to BREED with you."

I raised an eyebrow at my wife. That was unexpectedly vicious. I guess she was really upset that he was doubling down on this nonsense.

"Don't think I bought his little act," he sneered. "I've long since become aware of your tricks. Having your Void spawn minions try to kill me so you could 'save me' and incur my gratitude? Honestly, did you think I wouldn't figure that out?"

I frowned, because that actually wasn't a completely insane take on the situation, and it would be nearly impossible to disprove. Our arrival just in time to save him WAS incredibly coincidental, I'd even considered that myself. Callie stepped forward, looking about ready to attack him, but I put a hand on her shoulder. "It's fine, love. He's either crooked or stupid, and either way you won't make much headway. Zeke always says: 'never argue with idiots, they'll pull you down to their level and beat you with experience'."

She snorted at that, relaxing under my hand, and I turned to look at my cousin. "So, are you going to introduce the complete strangers you've asked to come here and testify against me? Because I know neither of these people."

The sneer came back, wiping away the outrage from my earlier comments. "Go ahead and pretend. Once we enter The Quiet Room you'll be helpless. We're beyond your ability to harm, and even if we weren't, killing the only witnesses to your crimes will only prove your guilt."

Devon sighed. "We don't have time for this nonsense, both of you save the bickering until you've entered. Opening The Quiet Room isn't something done easily or casually. If Devon hadn't made a legitimately compelling case for possible interference, we wouldn't have agreed to it." His eyes locked on my cousin. "You are aware that should this turn out to be the farce that he claims, your execution will go from a simple soul destruction to a fate of such agony and cruelty that hardened Ascendant warriors will weep in terror at its mere mention, yes?"

For probably the first time since we'd arrived, I saw a look of unease cross Devon's face. He glanced at us, looking at me, then Callie, then at Roland, presumably worried my friend would just kill him. I imagined that option was more tempting than it had been previously. He swallowed hard. "I do," he reaffirmed. "I will not allow his treachery to go unanswered. I will protect this family, whatever it costs me."

To my absolute shock, that actually smelled true. I glanced at the other witnesses. One of them had to be twisting things, whispering in his ear somehow. The question was why did he trust them so much? Why were they able to convince him they knew the truth? "You never answered my question, Devon," I reminded him. "The witnesses?"

He shrugged. "Very well, since you can hardly bully or threaten them at this point, or have your minions do it anyway, I suppose I can share. This is Franklin Delmand, and this is Callister Vex."

Roland snorted. "The PAPER king?" he blurted out. "Your witness is the PAPER king?"

One of the men, a copper haired, sallow faced youth with a curly mop partly covering his steel grey eyes, scowled. "That incident isn't relevant to my credibility! It was a slight crafting error, nothing more."

I cocked my head at my friend, who laughed. "Callister here tried to open a paper company, supplying the family with all its stationary needs. Contracts are big business here, you know? Unfortunately for him, there was a small issue with his crafting process. One that didn't become noticeable for several months after production, specifically after the paper had time to completely dry."

"It's paper," I said dryly. "What kind of issue could be that big of a scandal?"

"It had a tendency to…explode," the bronze haired man said begrudgingly. "But only a little! And only like…five percent of the time. Almost no one died!"

I snorted. "Ah yes, minimal casualties, the hallmark of good stationary."

Roland chuckled, then looked at the other man, an incredibly tall, gaunt behemoth with bulging muscles and a long curly beard. "You I only know by combat reputation. I heard you killed Craven Sever. I fought him once. Scary old man. Every single one of the pages of his chronicle was bound with the death of a rising star of the new generation, someone capable of fighting up a rank. He was getting close to A-rank, wasn't he?"

The big man nodded. "I would have been his hundredth."

I whistled. I'd heard of people like that. A lot of people didn't create their Domain at B-rank, but waited until A-rank or even higher. Theoretically, the more distinguished and impressive your pages, the more powerful your Chronicle, and the stronger the Domain it could bear. Domain strength had a large impact on the eventual power of a god, and on the strength of an Ascendant in general. I'd somewhat cheated by using the staff to share the burden, and the function of my Gehenna Domain was abnormal anyway, but if this Craven Sever guy had bound a Chronicle with pages like that, he'd have been incredibly strong at A-rank.

"Since the defense may not be aware," Desmond said after we finished speaking. "I will introduce the concept of The Quiet Room." We shut up to let him talk. "In situations where outside interference is suspected, the prosecution may invoke the use of The Quiet Room. This room is a place of absolute solitude that defies all means of observation, communication, or manipulation.

"Due to the suspicions from the prosecution, the defense was not notified of this change," despite the words, his tone was knowing, and he smiled slightly at me. They hadn't told us, of course, but we'd been advised to study the charter. Clearly my lack of surprise made it obvious we'd listened, and were prepared for this eventuality. "Of course, to preserve the safety of the two sides, you will be placed on opposite ends of The Quiet Room space. Should you choose to seek each other out to interact, we will be unable to intervene, but as mentioned, any deaths will negatively impact the case of the surviving participants. Do you have any questions?"

"Um, where is The Quiet Room?" I asked slowly, raising my hand subconsciously like a school kid. "This is the entrance to the council chamber, right?"

He nodded. "It is. And it isn't. The council chamber and The Quiet Room are both sealed spaces created by the ancestor. This door represents the entrance to several similar locations, each of them connected directly in the Void at hidden locations. Externally, only the ancestor is aware of their coordinates, and internally, only this one door can be used to access them. This is the most heavily guarded location in the palace, and once inside, your safety and solitude from outside forces will be assured."

It sounded like a reassuring answer, but I could see a slight emphasis in his eyes when he mentioned outside forces. He wanted me to be careful of the other witnesses. I contacted Callie directly as we approached the door. "Did you pick up anything about those two?" I asked through the bond. "Any Void energy?"

She sent me a feeling of denial. "Nothing obvious. But I could only sense them if they were actual Void spawn. Vessels can be unpredictable in terms of feedback. Some of them I can pick up, some of them are more deeply hidden. Even higher rankers might not notice, given the Void's ability to isolate and disguise."

I had been afraid of that. Even back during our legion training with Camden, we'd been told about the abilities of Void stealth. Stealth in general operated by confusing Perception, but the Void's ability to remove things from realspace made it unparalleled for disguise and deception. Wise had demonstrated that again on the Heirworld. I slipped my hand into hers, intertwining out fingers as Desmond pushed the doors open. "The defense will go first," he said solemnly. "After ten minutes, the prosecution will enter. Step off the path at any time to arrive at a random location inside The Quiet Room."

We nodded, stepping out onto a long, winding path of pure white light that led off into darkness. Callie, Roland and I stepped onto the path, setting off into the dark as the door closed behind us. We walked for two or three minutes, then stepped off the path as instructed, and…suddenly we were somewhere else. Standing on a plateau overlooking a great desert.

"Alright," I said with a sigh. "Let's set up camp here. I should get some warning before they find us." I contacted Azazel silently in my Domain, telling him to be on alert.

Roland nodded, flopping down on a rock. "Agreed," he groaned. "That was so tense. Being around high ranking members of the family like that always stresses me out. It's creepy not knowing how much they can tell about you. It's like talking to a person with X-ray vision. Who knows what they're looking at. Glad that's over."

"We appreciate the assist," I told him gratefully. "Without you to bear witness, who knows how this would have gone."

"It's nothing," he assured me. "I owe you. Not just for saving me, but for looking into what happened to Darren. He was my friend, you know? I still can't believe he's gone. Making him suffer to the point he destroyed his own soul…it's horrible."

I froze. Because I hadn't mentioned that to anyone. It was a tidbit that Wulf had uncovered during his research, and it had come from a guard who worked for Derran's parents. I'd only learned about it from Azazel's notebook while he was doing the calculations for his precognition. Roland stiffened, his eyes flicking to mine, meeting my gaze and clearly seeing the realization in them. His expression flattened, growing cold. "Oops." And then he attacked.

 

[Malcolm Tent]

I was already prepared for an attack as soon as Roland reacted. I didn't manifest my full Domain, not wanting to give too much away, but I did trigger the staff, and summon an upgraded Mornax in front of me.

The air blurred, and suddenly a colossal man with long black hair, slate grey skin, and a pair of large horns manifested in between me and the slash. Crossing his arms with a growl of challenge, Mornax took the blow easily, glaring at the swordsman with hostility. Roland smiled warmly, chuckling as he me easily resolve his attack.

"See, this is why I like you, Shane," he said conversationally. "You're so much more competent than you should be. I don't know what that is, but I can feel that it's B-rank. And judging by how easily it shrugged off that blow, it would be tough for me to get through it."

Despite the unfortunate words, he didn't seem particularly worried about the situation. My face was hard. A lot of things that hadn't made sense up until now had just clicked into place.

"Derran was the one who poisoned you," I said coldly. "We were all wondering how the attacker got past the defenses on his quarters. But you didn't have to get past them at all. He let you in. Because he trusted you."

He shrugged. "Yeah, that was a shame. But it was important to control the narrative on the trial. If you'd had your pick of witnesses, things might not have been so easy to set up. With Darren dead and me 'injured', it was obvious I'd be your first pick for a witness." He grimaced. "Didn't expect the little bastard to have such a nasty card to play at the end. I really do owe you for that. I don't think I would have survived."

"Wouldn't that be tragic," I said acidly. He was being too accommodating. I didn't trust it. His hand had drifted to his belt, and I sent a quick message to Callie through the bond. As he surreptitiously drew a small stone dagger from his waist, she began to prepare an exit strategy. "What I don't understand though is…why? What was the point?

"I get the how," I continued, pacing slightly to draw his attention away from my wife as blue rolled through her hair and wings. "Devon was so certain that I did it because you told him. He had a first hand account from someone who had no reason to turn on me. I'm guessing that's why he wouldn't look at you earlier."

He grinned. "Yeah, I was his first pick for witness, obviously. But I needed to make sure that things went smoothly. Of course, in the original plan he would have died in the attack, but you ruined that. Good thing too, because if you hadn't I wouldn't have learned about your little trump card. It would have been inconvenient for me to fail at the last step because you begged your grandaddy for a favor."

"As for why…" he shrugged. "It's nothing personal. You're just in the way. When I approached the vanished gods envoys about this plan, they weren't exactly sold. Hatescream and Stralthrem were only ones willing to entertain the idea, but they weren't sure about taking on the old man. After that mess at the Heirworld, Morwenna was certainly motivated, but she was also wary."

I frowned at that, why would Morwenna be…and then it clicked. "Callie," I said slowly, my blood running cold. "The trial wasn't aimed at me. It was aimed at Callie. You were the one who suggested I call her as a witness. And you arranged this whole thing so we'd end up in The Quiet Room where no one could interfere. You were worried she'd use Gossamer to call on Atlas. That was why Morwenna wouldn't come, she's afraid of him."

"Seems kind of sad to me," he nodded. "Being scared of a dead man. But without her, the whole assault was dead in the water. Even after she managed to break through to Void God, she's too scared of Atlas to act overtly. Wouldn't assist unless I could get rid of your wife." His smile dropped. "That…that's not my favorite part of this, kid. It really isn't. But don't worry. I'll make sure you don't survive her death. I can do that for you at least."

I felt Callie doing…something. The Adherent Fire was gathering, though what she was planning I had no idea. I also felt power gathering in that knife. It was crackling on the air, spitting and hissing in a way I didn't like at all. That weapon was A-rank, and I was assuming it was designed to trigger the defenses on our souls. I had to assume it had at least two shots.

But I trusted Callie. This was a race to the finish, and I would make sure she had the time she needed. I forced myself to engage with him again. "How could you do this?" I demanded. "This is your FAMILY! Your wife's family! What about Delia?"

"I'm DOING this for Delia," he snapped. "And for Penny. This family is SICK, Shane. Parents giving their own children away, not being allowed to see them for most of their lives? The way they treat the defectives? The old man just lets it happen, the council is complicit, the whole thing needs to fucking go! Burn the rot out!" He laughed bitterly. "It was shockingly easy to arrange. No one pays attention to the B-ranker. I'm no threat to any of them, right?"

"And me?" I snarled. "How did you get past me? I can SMELL lies. Do you have some kind of deception Skill?"

He chuckled. "Nothing that complicated, kid. I just never lied to you. It's a habit I developed as a double agent. Too many ways to detect dishonesty. No, the trick is to tell just ENOUGH of the truth to get people where you want them to go." He paused. "Well, I lied to Devon, but he's kind of a dunce, and I only did it when we were alone."

I was frozen, wracking my brain for conversations I'd had with Roland. 'Derran is dead?' Not a statement of ignorance, a question. 'Whoever did that must be a ruthless bastard', because he was. 'I will testify, and there's nothing you can say to talk me out of it', because this was the core of his plan, and he had no other choice. He smiled at me silence. "Just starting to get it, huh? Well, glad I could help put your mind at ease before the end. Which sadly, has now arrived." He raised the knife, and the shiny black stone of the black gleamed wickedly in the dim light of the evening desert. The air around it was shuddering and flickering like the space was glitching out, and a disgusting green yellow light, like a healing bruise, surrounded it like a halo.

As he finished speaking though, something else happened. Black flame flickered to life in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks like tears, and his body began to shift. His hair lengthened and darkened, turning into black thorned lengths of stony meat, horns grew from his head, and a pair of skeletal wings tore free from his back, ropes of diseased flesh snapping from one side to the other to connect them.

From the second I saw the flames, I knew what I was looking at. I recognized them perfectly. "Apostate," I said coldly.

"Yup," he chuckled. "A little gift from Morwenna, just to make sure I finished your girl off properly. Atlas is tricky, and she wasn't taking any chances. This is her own little homebrewed mix of the original Void fire she gave him and all the nastiest corruption abilities she could find. A counterpoint to his purification. She called it the Apostate Fire, because Heretics and Apostates have so much in common."

He held up the knife. "And this…well this is a little trinket she lent me after I got in touch about your defenses. It's called the Bone Demon's Tooth. Empowered A-rank artifact. Let's see if your monster can stop THIS." Before he even finished talking, his arm had blurred, and the world just…split. Mornax dissolved into nothingness, and I was left staring at a purple glowing book hanging in the air in front of me.

The blow was suspended before the attack, but as I watched, it dissolved harmlessly…taking the book with it.

While I was reacting, he'd already lashed out again, and as I watched, Callie's defensive technique dissolved under the onslaught of the Bone Demon's Tooth. It wasn't enough to even scratch the defensive charges…but it didn't need to be. It just needed to be enough to kill us. Enough to force us to either spend the charges or die.

He raised the knife again, his smile almost apologetic, a gruesome dissonance on his new demonic visage. I triggered double trouble, arriving next to Callie, wrapping my arms around her, she was focusing, and I could feel that whatever she was doing was almost done. She just needed another second. Just a little longer. Roland nodded sadly, sighing at the sight of me next to her. "At least you get to go together. I only have three shots with this thing. But I only need one more. Nice knowing you, kid."

His hand flickered as he swung, and the world slowed down. My eyes were wide, my Danger Sense screaming at me. I grabbed for power, for protection, for anything. My Domain exploded outward, interposing itself between us, stretching the distance, buying me precious milliseconds. The slash crossed the intervening space so fast I could barely track it, sweeping through the plains, and I felt a tearing inside me as my Domain was easily torn apart.

Mornax appeared again. He was part of my Domain, and couldn't be destroyed, not unless I was, though he was diminished after his brief death. Behind him Behemoth manifested, then Leviathan, Mountain Stance, Stone Limb. One by one, my demons interposed themselves between my wife and her attempted murdered.

I screamed, my soul feeling like someone was running it through a meat grinder, and nearly collapsed, barely managing to catch myself. My Domain was coming apart, being torn through like paper. It felt like it was taking hours, but it had been maybe one second since the attack began. One second of casual disregard for my power as the demons who made up my court threw themselves on their swords to buy us any time at all. One second was long enough.

Gossamer manifested as Callie raised her blade, wings flaring as I held on for dear life around them. With a scream of effort, she swung her blade, and space TORE. My Domain didn't stop it, didn't even try. She bypassed it entirely, tearing through the fabric of the world and into the void, dragging me through. The blast of horrifying energy struck even as we passed through the gap, and even the aftershock blasting through the hole in the world cracked my armor, sending us both pitching forward as the portal sealed up.

My Domain retracted, ignoring the Void entirely as it was sucked back into my soul. Which was horrifically damaged. Cracks spiderwebbed along the inside of my spirit, barely held together with willpower and habit.

Callie caught me as I pitched forward, and she was screaming something. Tears ran down her face as her mouth worked. I couldn't hear anything, just rushing in my ears as I tried to read her lips. It took me a moment to get it. My name, desperate pleas not to die, and hey, she said she loved me…that was nice. It was a pleasant final sight as my vision dissolved into blackness. As I lost consciousness, I briefly wondered if this would be the very last time. I hoped not, I'd have hated for my last sight of Callie to be her crying.