Brent Stinebaker
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IV-4 Delve (I)
🕑 Added 2025-08-30 19:34:06 +0000 UTCOld.
You think I'm on the Auroral Council because I'm old? Let me tell you something about being old, girl.
The system doesn't want you to grow old. The system doesn't want you to extend your life beyond any point where you cannot provide a good fight or a good struggle. Age is correlated to two things in our existence. The first is competence. The second is power. Political power, social power, physical power, magical power, power nonetheless.
You think I am corrupt? Yes. I am corrupt! I spit this openly. But that’s not why I’m here. There were people who were so corrupt it made me look like a saint. And they’re all dead. Because corruption doesn’t spare your life when Heroic-Tier Fire Dimensional is summoned into your office before detonating itself.
So your assertion to me sitting on my seat in the council and being an avatar to one of the Ascendants is true. It is because I'm old. I'm old, however, because I survived every attempt the system has made at finishing me. I survived the Plagues of 500. I survived the desperate battle to close shut the Great Midwestern Gate. I survived the Pacific and Atlantic pincers pushing in to claim the land for the sea. I survived all these things while most of my generation did not.
The amount of people I can remember from my childhood that still remains number only two, and one of them is no longer in this dimension. Yet we all hold positions of power because, yes, we are old. We are ancient. Centuries have passed, and in those centuries I have spent longer at war than you have been alive.
That's not to say I don't sympathize with you. I've been there where you are, and I've stood there where you've stood. I’ve spat my loathing at an old fool that wouldn’t lose his seat—and more often than not, I see his face in the mirror these days. It’s disgusting. It’s amusing. It’s just another way for the system to mock us.
It is the sin of the old to think they are wiser than the young, but it is also the sin of the young to imagine they live in unprecedented times, that they are facing something which their ancestors have never encountered before. I proposed your idea of a total democracy before. I tried it. And I failed.
But it doesn’t matter that you’re telling me this. You do not care what I have to say. You are stubborn, and you believe you will succeed where many could not. So. You will have to learn the hard way. Fine. I’ll teach you. I’ll even implement some of your suggestions. But when you learn, come back to me. And we’ll see about what you think then.
I tell you this now because I think you will be like me someday. An old spent thing sneering at the young, wondering why we never learn. And then I will have my sympathy. And you will have your understanding.
-Councilman Anthony de Diego, Legendary Pathbearer of the Twilight Republic and Avatar to Harlock the Midnight
IV-4
Delve (I)
Shiv’s eyes widened as the quest notification flickered before him. At the same time, he found himself triggering his Farsight skill, zeroing in on the avatars and Ascendants hovering in the distance. The so-called gods of his Republic loomed over the writhing Tarrasque. They were varied in shape and posture, though all of them glowed slightly, with that same incandescent mana currently leaking out from the cracks of Starhawk's Perch.
A kilometer away from Blackedge, City Lord Stormhalt unleashed a flood of pitch-black lightning. It spilled over the Tarrasque like a bladed spider's web. The edges of those forking bolts glistened and gleamed like blades kissed by sunlight, and every few moments they would thunder with explosive force as well.
But that did little to harm the crystalline-shelled behemoth, nor was it particularly bothered by legend Hawgraves, slashes, knees, or punches. The Tarrasque gave a deafening bellow as it grasped the net of lightning coiling around it and began to pry, pieces of electricity shattered like chunks of rusted metal.
And it was then that the other avatars sprung into action. The Ascendants they were bonded to flashed with incandescent mana, infusing themselves within their champions before Shiv could get a good look at their bodies. Then, about five hundred meters above the Tarrasque, a massive cage was formed—-a cage formed from that same incandescence seeping from the Ascendants; a cage that was large enough to encompass Blackedge and then some.
It fell from the sky just as the Tarrasque broke free from the electric net, shooting upward with a tidal wave of gravity trailing in its wake. However, the cube-shaped prison slammed down upon it as if a falling guillotine, and the Tarrasque's roar was cut off in an instant, as was the swelling tides of gravity.
The cage impacted the ground but didn't cause any damage. Instead, it seemed to absorb all force within itself. The Tarrasque struck and slammed against the insides of the cage. Shiv realized it was partially translucent when he could still see its massive shadow. Despite this, it didn't crack. It barely even shuddered. Every blow the Tarrasque inflicted upon the cage came with a muffled thump.
Then, it stopped.
All that could be heard for a moment thereafter was the whistling of the wind, but Shiv refused to let hope bloom in his chest.
His cynicism was rewarded a moment later as the Tarrasque exploded free from the incandescent cage with a flare of its discharging Magical Resistance.
Stormhalt was flung back. Hawgrave’s blade, once lined with Dimensionality, was flayed clean of attuned mana and rendered but a colossal chunk of alloy. Even the avatars hovering in the air flinched. But they recovered quickly, and before the Tarrasque could fully break free from the collapsing cage, one among the twelve avatars tore across the air and delivered a brutal blow.
The Tarrasque's body was a fourth out from the ruptured cage, incandescent flames spilled free from the wound, while its head and right arm clawed outward, seeking easy prey.
The Ascendant hit the titanic beast dead on in the head, and for a brief moment, Shiv saw an imprint of an Ascendant manifest once more. They loomed over the horizon, loomed over existence itself, as their avatar channeled their divine might. Seconds earlier, the Ascendants were faint, like the shapes of enormous statues seen through dense mist. Now, however, the Ascendant was ablaze with divine radiance, and Shiv saw their contours in detail.
This Ascendant resembled a hammer-headed automaton, but rather than being a god, shaped from glory and triumph, theirs was a scarred, mutilated, and crippled visage. They were missing an arm, with wires sparking free from the mangled socket, jutting out where their left shoulder should have been.
The Ascendant's chassis was further riven with damage, and entire armories' worth of weapons were lodged through the Ascendant's form. Blades, spears, lances, arrows, and more. Flaming oil leaked out from the Ascendant's many wounds, yet it seemed to barely regard its injuries.
However, it was its remaining right arm that caught Shiv's true attention. Its right arm was practically the size of its entire body. It was like a dense column of metal. And as its avatar struck the Tarrasque, the Ascendant drove said dense column down upon the ground. Shiv expected devastation. He expected the world to come ablaze with force and fire. Instead, the Ascendant's arm extended forward with a hydraulic whine as it slammed down upon the apocalyptic monster.
A clean hole was punched through the Tarrasque, injecting a tunnel deep underground thereafter. Only the Tarrasque's four legs remained, and they spilled down, crashing against the earth as a unified thud.
Shiv's eyes widened in disbelief as he took a step back.
"Cripple the Strongest," Valor said, the Legendary Pathbearer's eyes burned in recognition. "I remember it as well." He paused and looked at the Starhawk, who was also enchanted by the unfolding scene. "Its presence is a good thing, is it not? I recall that you were close with Cripple."
"I was," the Starhawk said, and Shiv had sensed an undercurrent of sorrow pass through the Ascendant's voice. "But closeness is often eroded with time and changing hearts. The arrival of my erstwhile companions is not a moment of deliverance, but a new danger. Legend Valor, I beg of you, finish the ritual. We must be away as soon as possible. We must descend the Abyss while my fellow ascendants keep the Tarrasque at bay."
Shiv also noticed Marikos glaring at Valor from just outside the shattered walls. He was about to snarl something at his old friend turned hated enemy, but Shiv’s Psycho-Cartography Skill triggered.
Psycho-Cartography: Marikos is easily distracted and also clings to glory and martial virtue. He shouldn’t be hard to manipulate considering you two have bled together. Use your battle-tested bond to make him focus on something else.
“Marikos,” Shiv said as he shook his head. “I get it.” The dragon-knight looked at Shiv, but the Deathless just cocked his head in Roland’s direction. Marikos’s eyes widened. “I get it. But later. Our victory and honor depends on it. Catch your breath and let your field recover. Eyes on the Tarrasque.”
The dragon-knight shot a final glare at Valor, but he let out a chuffing breath in acknowledgement. “Only as favor to you, Friend Shiv.”
Psycho-Cartography 52 > 53
“Ritual complete,” Valor declared. He briefly offered Shiv an appreciative look, but before the Deathless could ask what the lich was doing with Uva, four interlocking spell circles began to spin around her feet. More, a stream of incandescence began to flow from the Starhawk into the Umbral Psychomancer.
“Uva? Valor? What are you all doing?”
"The Ascendant and I have come to a temporary arrangement," Uva said, tersely. "Town-Lord Arrow is unable to bear the burden of being the Starhawk's avatar. I shall assume that mantle for the time being. Until we are finally spared this danger.”
For a few seconds, Shiv's mind was absolutely blank. "Huh? But why you? Why not Adam?” His head swiveled over to Adam, and the Gate Lord somehow seemed more uncomfortable than his father was.
"He is unable," Uva answered on Adam’s behalf, "and not because he does not wish to serve. It is a matter of skill and power. A skill he does not have and a power he cannot bear.”
“But you can?” Shiv asked. He was about to ask why, but he realized as he saw the colors in her eyes burn ever-brighter. "The Dreamtaker. Is that why you can sustain the Ascendant’s power?”
"A hound of intuition you are. Undying One," the Dreamtaker purred from within Uva.
"Sister Uva of Weave," the Starhawk began. A heat swelled up within the room as a rush of radiant mana cycled between him and the Umbral. In the distance, another impact shook the world as the Ascendants continued unleashing their power upon the Tarrasque. "Do you swear on your skill and soul to abide by the rule of our arrangement and to serve with nobility and truthfulness to deliver my people from harm?"
"I do," Uva replied without any hesitation. “May my Unique Skill chip and shatter should my oath become a lie.”
A beat followed. The Starhawk’s posture sagged.
Psycho-Cartography: He is as worried about this arrangement as Roland is. But the Starhawk is truly desperate, and he wants to use this opportunity to escape the Tarrasque while his fellow Ascendants keep the monster pinned.
“So our bargain is struck," the Starhawk replied. "We have no time for greater ceremonies or grander promises. So you have heard my oath, and I have heard yours. By my power and your word vows, our spirits are to be bound. Accept my divinity into your Eldritch Skill and become the channel from which I can touch the world."
The spell patterns beneath Uva's feet spun faster and faster. She came aglow with fire, and the Starhawk's form dimmed. The divine mana seeping from the cracks lining Blackedge flowed into her as well. A thrumming pressure filled the badly damaged town. A tremor of power rushed along beneath Shiv’s feet, surging toward Uva.
As he beheld her, she grew brighter than ever before, and a new color mingled with the hues of the Outside. The color of the Ascendants. The color of stolen divinity.
But then came a flash of blinding color from the outside, followed by a piercing shriek from the Tarrasque. First came the red, then there was the white. And soon the Tarrasque returned, reforged, and renewed. It roared up into the sky with fury and defiance as it resurrected once more.
And falling from the air before it was the smoking husk of a broken automaton. Cripple the Strongest’s presence was altogether absent from the horizon now. A patch of sky was vacant, and through ashen clouds of war spilled the first dappled rays of sunlight in minutes.
“Cripple’s avatars rarely live long,” the Starhawk declared quietly. “Another will come to replace the fallen.” The traitor Ascendant briefly glanced at Uva once before continuing. “You think you understand the magnitude of your sacrifice. But I fear you do not. There are always consequences for letting the divine inhabit you. For you. And for I as well.”
Shiv watched the dead automaton fall just as Hawgrave drove her blade down upon the Tarrasque’s back. It was sent to its stomach, but its crystal shell flashed, and the gigantic Legend found herself flung backward through the air. The Tarrasque was evolving and adapting at an impossibly fast rate.
Kind of like me… gods damn you, Sullain.
The Tarrasque proceeded to make him feel worse as it bellowed another declaration against the remaining Ascendants. “I am the chef! You are the food!”
Georges did a double-take. His eyes snapped to Shiv. “The felling fuck did that thing just say?”
But the Tarrasque wasn’t done. It twisted around as massive spells crashed down against its body. The world shook. Swelling blasts of light and devastating skills bathed the apocalyptic monster in destruction. A claw woven from the blackest lightning closed around the Tarrasque while Hawgrave drove her blade against the side of its head.
It barely registered most of the hits. And now it was glaring at Blackedge, its eyes of red and white glistening like stars even through the chaotic canvas of charge wrought by the Ascendants.
“Shit,” Shiv hissed. He stomped a foot down on the ground and cracked the floor some more. In the same instant, he branded a temporal echo of himself upon the flesh of reality so he could easily return to the Perch later. When he finished, he shot out from the Perch with a pulse of force and triggered his pillar. “Marikos, you feel recovered enough to get bloody?”
The dragon-knight reached up and seized Shiv. A large, predatory grin lined his features. “I was waiting on you, my little comrade.” Once more, he wielded Shiv as if he was nothing more than a large rod rather than an unmovable tower of ever-escalating Toughness. “But our enemy has grown most durable. I fear we will need a clever strategy.”
“If you can pin it in place, I can kill it at least once,” Adam said, looking down at his smiting arrow. Then, he grimaced. “But Shiv. We can’t trust the Ascendants.” That admission left Adam with no small amount of discomfort. “Even if we join the fray, they will come for the Perch. At least some of them will.”
“Yeah, Kathereine and… Halsur,” Shiv said, managing to remember the name of the storm-forged giant. “I know. I had a run-in with those two assholes earlier. The point isn’t to treat them like allies. The point is putting the Tarrasque down and making sure they know the dragon-knights are on their side. Maybe that’s what it will take to finally end the damn Legendary quest.”
“Legendary quest?” Roland whispered. The Town-Lord’s voice was raw, but he looked at Shiv with overwhelming suspicion.
The Deathless grinned sweetly at his former captor and overlord. “Yeah. I got a certain quest down in the Abyss that offered me a pretty nice reward. Turns out, if I break the siege at Blackedge by dealing with Sullain and prevent a war between the surface and the Abyssal nations, I’ll be able to choose a Legendary Skill. Pretty nice, huh?”
Roland’s right eye twitched slightly. A low wheeze of pain and misery escaped from him.
“Father? Father, are you alright?” Adam asked with genuine concern.
The noise continued, and Shiv’s smile kept growing. “And don’t worry about Sullain. I got his ass already. So. I think all I need is to make sure the Ascendants don’t get into it with the dragon-knights. And this is my best idea—to help them put the Tarrasque down while you guys take this chance to escape. I already got a temporal echo planted, so I should be able to blink back later. Marikos—”
“Worry not for me,” the Legendary knight declared. He held his Shiv-stick out at the Tarrasque that was currently being pinned by a massive fiery hand. “I will see the Tarrasque slain, or our lifeblood shed fully in the attempt.”
“Sounds good,” Shiv replied without complaint.
Uva’s mana strands snaked through everyone else present within the Perch as well. Incandescent flames danced along the hair-thin tendrils of mana. What’s more, what used to be a skill for telepathy now possessed a weight—a tangible power. Shiv could feel her mana pressing against his flesh, digging their way through the walls and breaking more pieces of glass. As the incandescent mana flowed downward, the ground shuddered and a sudden force sent Blackedge jerking upward.
“I can feel Blackedge,” Uva said, with a gasp of effort. “This Perch… It doubles as a mana core as well.”
“It is more than that,” the Starhawk said. “Far more. Do not overchannel. My divinity will pass through you at a trickle until your Eldritch Skill acclimates fully.”
“Understood,” Uva replied. A feel escaped her—a feeling of immense strain. She shot a look at Shiv and gave the slightest of shrugs. “I must confess that I am not sure how I’m going to explain this to the Composer. The presence of another god connecting to me on top of the Outside is… going to make things troublesome when I inevitably have to write a report of our experiences.”
Slowly, Blackedge began to ascend once more. Below the Perch, people on the street stopped what they were doing as their heads turned to regard the top of Roland’s spire. Several people cheered the Town-Lord’s name, ignorant to the fact that he was too wounded to be of service, and that it was an Abyssal that was currently serving in his stead.
“Well, I can tell her that we were shit out of good and bad choices,” Shiv said telepathically. “And that all we could do was select from different favors of shit.” A beat passed between them. “Get everyone left in Blackedge to safety, but not let the Starhawk fry you.”
“Go deal with Sullain’s abomination, but don’t let it kill you for good,” she replied. “Same to you, Legend Marikos.”
The dragon let out a rumbling laugh as he held his Shiv-stick high. A flame lit at the end of the Orichalcum pillar. A small ember that was gradually growing brighter and hotter. “Your concern is heard, Daughter of the Composer, but I do not intend to be the victim in this tale.”
“Hold. A final matter.” Valor’s interruption drew a snarl from Marikos, but he refrained from doing anything. “Shiv. Should you gain access to the Legendary Skill reward, do not select a skill immediately. It will draw you out of the fight and pull you into the depths of your soul. When you Delve, there is no guarantee when you might return—or if you will return at all.”
“What? So even if I get the Legendary Skill I can’t just pick it and evolve?” Shiv grunted in annoyance but let it go. “Right. Fine. Don’t even know what skill want to evolve yet. I’ll just need to figure out how to kick the Tarrasque’s ass as a Hero. Marikos. Let’s get the bastard.”
“Away, and unto the fray once more!” Marikos roared. The air around him shook. Adam winced and Rose’s eardrums erupted in sprays of blood. The Gate Lord called out to his mother—but Helix simply cast a spell at her without even looking. The orcs were moving too. Whisper was already missing, and Mortar was stomping toward the edge of the Perch’s spire. And then Shiv was moving, the town vanishing behind him in a blur. “Dragon-knights! If you draw breath! Come forth to battle! Let fire reign! Burn yourselves down to cold ashes, for our lives are but passing, but our vows stand eternal. Semper Fidelis! Semper Fidelis! Semper Fidelis!”
And as the Legend chanted a phrase Shiv didn’t quite understand, his voice was echoed from all corners of the ruins, from the skies above. And just then, new forms enter the fray. Surviving dragon-knights rose from dense clouds of ash and fell through a sky darkened by the haze of battle. Many of them were wounded and maimed. Missing limbs and trailing entrails. Few had intact weapons, and their magical fields expanded from them like tattered veils.
But still they came, heeding Marikos’s call.
“Semper Fidelis!”
“Semper Fidelis!”
“Semper Fidelis!”
There were hundreds of dragon-knights left. But on their backs, Shiv noticed other figures hanging off of them. Burly figures of gray skin and murderous glee. They chanted along with the dragons while waving their own arms and spells in the air.
And that was enough to get a laugh out of Shiv.
Say one thing about the orcs, say they’re always ready to die fighting. Just like the dragon-knights.
Despite everything, Shiv found himself proud to be their Insul.
“Remember: I just need a moment,” Adam declared. “Just stun it for an instant if you can. Or get one of the Ascendants to do it. It’s still thrashing and moving too fast for me right now, but I think they can do it. But after that death, I fear my effectiveness will—”
“Shoot a hundred orcs,” Shiv replied casually. Just because he was proud to be an Insul didn’t mean he forgot what they were. “That should fill you back up.”
A pulse of surprise leaked over from Adam, but it flattened to immediate acceptance. “Well, it’s… nothing they wouldn’t do to us, is it?”
“Nope,” Shiv said. “So have fun and feel free. Hey. Marikos. See if you can pin me against the Tarrasque for a few seconds.” He directed his attention to his Drain Vitality Skill once more and narrowed his eyes at the faint film of vitality lining existence. “There’s something I want to try again…”
***
Legend-Councilwoman Veronica Chandler's right eye twitched as she watched a dragon-knight fly by just a few hundred meters below her. Atop the head of the dragon-knight was an orc—a loudly laughing orc, a loudly laughing orc swinging what looked like two fetuses still attached to their umbilicals. The orc jumped off the back of the dragon just as the Tarrasque lashed out with a whipping tail. A crack of force followed, and the dragon-knight blurred toward Veronica.
She teleported it into her personal Plane of Healing. She was probably going to be talking with the Abyssal nations after this mess, and she wanted that dialogue to be as clean and cordial as possible, because she really didn’t want to fight another bullshit war because of Roland Arrow, his Ascendant, or anyone else for that matter.
But if one of the Five Faiths was at fault for dropping a world-ending monster into her territory and ripping one of her town’s of the sky, the Yellowstone Republic was probably going to have to take a trip downstairs again and massacre an unreasonable amount of people for a certain number of years once more.
For someone like Veronica Chandler, there were few things less sexy than watching her nation’s economy plunge deep into the red because some bullshit.Bullshit that Veronica suspected her own Ascendant, Kathereine the Songbringer, was involved in.
And that was what annoyed Chandler the most: the possibility that her own god might be the cause of all this madness.
Approximately half an hour ago, Veronica was dealing with matters of supreme importance, trying to settle the feud between two noble houses. It was a particularly ugly feud with the whole "some fool's son killing another poor fool's daughter" thing going on, but she really couldn't afford to lose either of them or to have them fight a civil war under her nose. The Republic was already besieged on all sides and the last thing she needed was the City-Lords of Delphia and Old Salem to come to blows, especially with the Jotun getting real cute up north with their border raids.
And right as she was about to bully both sides into giving each other concessions, a quest notification appeared before all their eyes. A world quest notification.
Somehow, someway, an undying Tarrasque had spawned within the Yellowstone Republic's territory. An undying Tarrasque at that. That was when Veronica called out to her ascendant, she found her inside strangely cold and oddly empty. Veronica knew that feeling. That was a feeling of her goddess being absent. And by absent, Veronica guessed that she was probably with that poor idiot Stormhalt.
Kathereine the Songbringer had a great many avatars. Practically all the Ascendants did. There were people who were meant to be expendable avatars. All of Cripple’s avatars were expendable, for that matter. But then there were the hidden avatars used by the Ascendants to perform acts of questionable fuckery they didn’t want the Auroral Council or other Ascendants to know about. One such hidden avatar was City-Lord Stormhalt, and one such member of the Auroral Council was Veronica.
This made Veronica a mite-bit more furious because she was supposed to be Kathereine’s true avatar. But being Kathereine’s true avatar was less an honor and more like being married to someone that was a chronic cheater who never bothered with protection. Thus, the relationship between Veronica and Kathereine was less “faithful and master” and more “bug-chaser and chief STD receptacle.”
Which made things even messier for Veronica considering that Katheriene was her grandmother.
Seconds passed. The Tarrasque made a run at Blackedge again, but Stormhalt crashed down upon its head. The skies above flashed with a stratospheric tree of black lightning, and Halsur, the Endbreaker, stood at the tree’s apex. He held his great shield high. With a brutal blur of motion, he spiked the shield down, and the lightning tree thundered like never before.
A rush of electricity slammed into the Tarrasque and exploded in forking branches, driving it through the air. Its crystalline shell cracked, blood spilled free from its colossal form. But even so, the Tarrasque grasped the lightning and launched itself free from the tips of the branching bolts. It healed a near instant later, and teleported in a burst of Dimensionality.
And it would have gotten to Blackedge immediately if Veronica hadn’t made a swiping gesture with her hand. Dimensional mana flowed free from Veronica’s body—practically comprised her body by this point. Rather than ending up at Blackedge, the Tarrasque was diverted through a hellish series of inner planes hidden within Veronica before she cast back into existence where it just teleported.
The Tarrasque crashed down on the ground with melted eyes and severed legs. Its scales were pooling off its flesh in oozing dollops, but then a second later, it shook itself and recovered once more.
“I forgot how much I hate fighting these freaking things,” Veronica muttered to herself. Then, she frowned as she looked to her left and right. Ten other avatars and fellow council members looked with flat expressions of annoyance or frustration. “You know what would make it easier for us to kill it? Working together.”
“Call her, Veronica,” Legend-Councilman Anthony de Diego sighed. The man was still dressed in his bathrobe and reeked of whiskey and sandalwood. His aged face was lined with exhaustion, and his eyes were faintly ablaze with the power of the divine. He hovered in the air beside Veronica, and past him, she caught the other avatars nodding in agreement to his words as well. “Call your Ascendant and talk to her. Because if I let mine inhabit me right now, a new fight might occur—and I’m not talking about a fight between me and the Tarrasque either.”
A groan of frustration escaped Veronica, and she reached out for Kathereine once again. “Songbringer? Songbringer?” Veronica’s lip twisted in a near-snarl and she invoked her Legendary Rhetoric. “Ahem! Songbringer! I, your avatar, need your aid!”
Her words reverberated across the world as if reality was a long tunnel. At the same time, the Tarrasque managed to break out and backhand Stormhalt once more—only for Halsur to intervene and turn aside a blow that should have rendered the City-Lord to something less than paste.
The massive beast shredded through the forest of black lightning—only to have its head struck from one side by Hawgrave and the other by some dragon-knight swinging a giant Orichalcum pillar.
Veronica did a double take at the pillar. Is that a guy encased in that pillar?
Still no reply from Kathereine. Veronica sighed. “Hey? Grandbitch? You there?”
And that immediately did the trick. A rush of divine flame combusted within Veronica and the ethereal form of a frowning woman blinked into existence beside the Councilwoman. “Veronica. Dearest. What seems to be the matter?”
A blossom of happy feelings ignited inside Veronica's chest, but she immediately suppressed it, refusing to let the Ascendant get away with this mess. "Songbringer. Grandmother. What, and I do mean this, but what the thorough hells did you do?"
Kathereine had a hand placed on her chest, a hand lined with so many rings and exquisite pieces of jewelry, that she seemed ready to go to a gala instead of an active war zone. "What did I do? Why, Veronica, how can you blame this on me? I am just as surprised by this brazen attack as you are.”
Veronica glared at her Ascendant. Just then she felt a tingle of heat dance across the nape of her neck. She twisted her head sideways, and a jet of flame missed her by the barest margins. Even so, a few strands of her ebony hair were fried. Veronica glared at the small flames dancing at the ends of her hair while Kathereine reached out and extinguished them. Then she rubbed Veronica's hair until they were as good as new, unburned, uncharred, with a healthy gleam.
The Ascendant smiled at her avatar, but the latter refused to do anything other than glare.
Veronica pointed a single finger, but not at the Tarrasque, not at anything but a badly damaged town over a kilometer away. A badly damaged town that was slowly shivering its way through the air, trailing both divine mana and the colors of what seemed to be the Outside as magical emissions in its wake. As the war raged on nearby, it was clear that the people of Blackedge were making a getaway—and running for the Abyss, no less. “Explain how things got to this point. And also, why can I see a bunch of dead Inquisitors laying scattered across the wastelands if I just squint my eyes a little?”
Kathereine put her hand over her mouth as her eyes widened in concern. "Oh! Oh no is that Blackedge? Ho—”
"Grandma," Veronica interrupted. She spat her words through clenched teeth. "Fuck me with a burning sword, but I know you had a hand in this. I felt you missing earlier. I know you were inside Stormhalt."
The Ascendant opened her mouth for a moment, but she didn't say anything, as Veronica simply glared harder. It wasn't a lack of power that stopped Kathereine from continuing her lies. No, she was an Ascendant, and they were far beyond even Legends. But Veronica had a special edge over Kathereine that few other people did. For one thing, Kathereine actually cared about Veronica’s feelings and their relationship.
So. Where Stormhalt was a useful idiot and some people were sacrificial pawns, Kathereine had to deal with her granddaughter using honesty.
Or something almost approximating that.
"All right, fine," Kathereine said, rolling her eyes. She held her hands out to the side as if in mock surrender. “First, I didn’t destroy the town.”
“Wow, dove right over the lowest bar possible,” Veronica sneered. “Good job. Did granddad do it?”
“No,” Kathereine replied. “That is mostly the doing of the Tarrasque. A terrible beast summoned by rogue Necrotechs.”
“Rogue Necrotechs,” Veronica replied flatly.
“Yes. I can hear your doubt, girl, but I’m being entirely honest. Just use your skills if you doubt me. But, perhaps the better thing to do would be to secure Blackedge. We wouldn’t want the noble Starhawk’s Sacred Phylactery to be lost to us, do we? That would be a crippling blow to the Republic. Especially with the Town-Lord’s current status in doubt!”
“Explain,” Veronica said.
“Blackedge was invaded and captured by Necrotechs earlier! Though Master Arrow fought hard and well… Why, I shudder to imagine his potential fate of the survivors if we don’t intervene on his behalf and secure the town ourselves.”
Some part of Veronica’s bullshit senses were still tingling, but they needed to find out about Blackedge’s actual situation anyway. That meant getting to the Perch and finding Arrow so they could speak to the Starhawk.
If Arrow was still alive, that was. There weren’t that many ways to stop an Ascendant from possessing their avatar in desperate times.
Veronica held her right-hand high and a swirl of mana manifested along her arm. It flashed with dimensionality, and she clenched her hand into a fist. Rings of spiralling mana twisted and coiled above Blackedge. The spell patterns grew impossibly complex, and the Dimensionality infusing the innermost ring pulsed to live. A massive gate tore open, a gate that blotted everything above Blackedge.
"Prismatic Guard," Veronica called out. Her voice echoed across the battlefield, but it was not a shout. It was not a bellow. It was simply a declaration that all could hear. That was carried across the winds, as if the world itself served as her messenger. Legendary-Tier Rhetoric was a useful skill in more ways than one. "March forth and secure Blackedge! Cleanse the town of all non-citizens and deliver aid to those who require it!”
And through that grand gate came a flood of path bearers. Aerial Calvary came first, then dense wedges of vanguards, followed by the Republic's vaunted Poly-Magi Corps. And before the Prismatic Guard entered the fray, drawn over from the capital, well over a thousand kilometers away, Veronica made a final declaration. "Also, mind the Dragon Knights and…" She glared at the laughing, fetus-wielding orc as he shot past her again.
Yeah, she wasn't putting up with that kind of stupidity.
"But you can cut the orcs down if you find any present.”
And the fetus swinging orc learned felt the full sting of Veronica’s Rhetoric as he was cleaved in twain down his midriff.
***
Reward: Select a Skill to Evolve to Legendary-Tier
Comments
Kallisti _
Pretty sure this should be titled Descend [I] instead of Delve since the subsequent chapters are Descend [n] and the .pdf is Descend
Gwalmeich
"STD receptacle" is one heck of a combination of words.
Truck69kun
Thank... what Eva needs to be thanked for Ur Return... GG
Truck69kun
Ain't that the truth
Truck69kun
Oh! He's back!
Brent Stinebaker
Added. Thanks. The constant updates to the patreon ui are painful
Shane Sambol
It seems like this chapter didn't get added to the Deathless collection my dude, I nearly missed it
GreatCabbage
Happy to have you back
Tom C
This is weird. Does it mean that by sending her soldiers to secure black edge it has stopped the war with the abyss and republic so Shive gets his legendary skill? Gotta say this is the longest battle sequence I have read in a while. Over 25k words just on part of the story that was a 20 minute recap from shivs POV, covered in the previous chapters was crazy TFTC
PhantomGlitch
Great chap man, i hope he does not upgrade the unique skill to legendary that will be very predictable but he will prob need that to kill the monster.
Jackson Klean
My guy, I dont know whether to cheer for that orc's death or hope for his return cuz its absurdly funny if onstensibly grim.
Unsheathed
Chip and shatter isnt that from dune
Nawks[The Butcher of Names,P.U.P]
At long last Shiv is rid of Male Pregnancy, for now.
James Faulkner
Tftc!
Emerson Fortier
Aah. Sweet relief. Glad to see you back. :) sucks when life gets in the way of ambition.
Brent Stinebaker
Sorry for very long wait. A bit shorter than usual at 6k, but we'll get fully back to normal in the next couple of days. This week might have been the roughest week of my professional career.
Chase Anderson
Thanks for the update! I hope you had some time to relax after the stressful week you had.
