Mage Tank

Chapter 201: Banana Sandwich

While the scuffle ensued, the hefty Hyrachon took the opportunity to sidle over to me, their impractically massive sword resting against a shoulder. He squatted down and looked me over, appraising me with a simmering anger that felt out of place. True hatred peeked out from behind the rage, as though I’d killed the man’s mother or something. I hadn’t even fought any Hyrachons, much less killed them, and it’s not like I’d been able to hurt anyone on his team.

Then again, maybe I had fought and killed a Hyrachon, but had no idea that it was a Hyrachon at the time.

Buster leaned in even closer until I could smell what he had for lunch on his breath.

Something spicy. Tacos, maybe.

“Tell me,” he said, voice deep and rumbling. “What do you know of Blood Scour?”

The image of a Herculean cockroach flashed through my mind, her bardiche doing demolition work on my intestines.

“Was that a… friend of yours?” I asked.

“She was my sister.”

I decided to drop the flippant attitude and play it straight with this guy. It was possible, nay, likely that his party was being manipulated by Hysteria. A few cuts of ground-up truth wrapped in a fried corn tortilla of deception, and the avatar could have served this man an “Arlo killed your sister” taquito.

“When my party was working through Deijin’s Descent,” I said, “we were attacked by a group of insectoid monsters. They were modeled after Delvers who’d died while attempting the Delve in the past. One of them was named Blood Scour.”

“You killed her?”

“We killed something that the System called Blood Scour.” I tried to give the man a solemn look, but it was difficult with my head still pressed against the floor. “The post-combat notifications called it a Doomed Aspirant, with the creature type of Abomination. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a Delver. It was something pretending to be the person it was based on.”

Even as I said it, I wasn’t completely confident in that last part. Avarice had told us the creatures were little more than puppets, but I didn’t have much faith that the avatar was being honest with us.

“When a Delver dies, their inventory returns,” said the Hyrachon, standing up again. “If Blood Scour was already dead, then why did her inventory return only a month ago?”

A month would match the timing of our fight with the Aspirants. Aprogar had mentioned Deletar’s inventory returning as well, but Aprogar had actually been Hysteria, and these people were working with Hysteria, the master of mind magicks and professional cloak wrangler. The whole inventory thing could have been implanted in their heads.

Alternatively, Avarice may really have enslaved the fallen Delvers, corrupted their bodies, and forced them to try and kill us before lying about it.

Either way, an avatar was responsible for this guy’s misplaced anger. I didn’t think crying ‘avatar!’ would be very helpful, though, given the man’s choice of employer.

“Look, the System is not infallible,” I said. “There are ways to exploit its rules.”

The Hyrachon turned and gestured at the Chovali. “Cliffswept’s mate was known as Quiet Solitude. You recognize this name?”

“I do. They were a butterfly that cast curses.”

“A butterfly?” he asked. “Was my sister also a butterfly, in this tale of yours?”

“She was not.”

He watched me expectantly, but I wasn’t about to tell this man his sister had been a roach. He eventually shrugged and gestured at the hovering Giant.

“Garvandr’s daughter was known as Boundless Night. What sort of insect was she to you?”

“She was a fly. And a necromancer.”

The giant spat something in Mittan, looking none too happy.

“Zayn Ayad,” said the Hyrachon, pointing at the dream-like archer, “is a Wishborn, summoned to this world by Thundering Arrow’s mother to keep watch over her. He was forced out of Deijin’s Descent by some great power, which banished him back to the Third Layer. His memories were torn from him, but the bond to his charge remained strong.” The Hyrachon turned and his features darkened. “That bond was severed one month ago.”

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Meanwhile, in the psychic halls of justice…

“How’s that mana weave analysis coming along?”

[Quite well, in fact. The ability to utilize your Mystical Magic intrinsic to aid in studying the mana flows is exceptionally helpful.]

“Think we can break it in, say, the next fifteen seconds?”

[I doubt we can disable the entire weave, but perhaps an individual function. There are runic arrays for each of the primary magic schools that inhibit spellwork below a certain mana density.]

“Hmm. Good thing I have a variable cost spell that’s designed to eat other people’s magic.”

[Yes, I just need to isolate the relevant modules. The costs of affecting the weave more generally would be prohibitive.]

“I appreciate it. Got anything to add to my conversation with this guy whose sister I might have killed?”

[He sounds as though he has already made up his mind. What evidence could I bring that you could not?]

“I dunno, ask old Number Two to step in with a helpful notification?”

[You could share your notifications for the kills, to prove that they were categorized as Abominations.]

I decided to give it a shot, but the Hyrachon’s blade at the back of my throat interrupted me.

“I care not whether the System incited the conflict,” he said. “Even if you were truly defending yourselves, your people’s hands are slick with the blood of our families. There is but one manner in which retribution might be had.”

“Who’d we kill that the Yeti knew?”

He glanced at the furry little guy. “Joma? None that I know of. She is just here because she enjoys these types of things.”

She? Damn, got that one wrong. To be fair, she was covered in thick fur and wearing a breastplate. Not exactly easy to see what was going on under there.

“Hmm, you’ve introduced me to the rest of your party, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“You may call me Felgar, not that you will have much time to use the name.”

“Right. I’m Arlo, Felgar, but you probably already knew that.” I mulled over whether I wanted to fish for some more information. Grotto was already feeding me potential vulnerabilities in the runework keeping me bound, so I needed to buy myself a little more time. “During our encounter with the Aspirants, it came to light that they originated from the Eschen Wastes. Would you all happen to be from there as well?”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Felgar smirked. “It is so.”

“Seems to be a lot of unaffiliated Delvers out that way.”

“It has become somewhat popular with assassins and mercenaries. No government to interfere.”

“And which category do you fall into?”

“That depends on who is paying.” He lifted his blade, gripping the hilt in both hands.

“You just going to execute me, then?” I asked. “Sure you don’t want to fight it out? We could totally have a series of honor duels.”

“No. I try to ensure the death of my enemies. If they are served to me on a platter, then I will humbly accept and relieve them of their helpless heads.” He paused, then added, “Also, we are being paid to kill you, so that would be unprofessional.”

He raised his sword up the last few inches to get a good clean strike in, and I pumped a Dispel into the mana weave below me, guiding the countermagic along the junctions working to lock down my Dimensional Magic.

Your Mystical Magic Skill has increased to Level 22!

I cast Shortcut to appear next to the lounge illusion, and Hysteria whipped around, still being throttled by their exceptionally angry cloak.

I pulled out an orb of Tyranny’s Tears and hurled it at the ground, then gave the avatar a flourishing bow.

There was a bubbling hiss, and the liquid boiled off into the air in less than a second. The darkness in the room dissolved away, and everything in the fake lounge disappeared.

Several Eschen delegates staggered as the bar they were leaning against evaporated, and Riona hit the ground with a squeak. Etja reflexively began to float, Celeritia had been on the couch but was already standing next to me before I could process that he’d moved at all. Varrin’s sitting position simply became a squat, which he maintained while looking around.

“Banana sandwich!” I said, then started tossing out the remaining vials of Holy Water. “Also, everyone join my party!”

Xim, Varrin, Nuralie, and Etja all tossed the unidentified potions back without question, while everyone else was still looking around in confusion. Everyone except for the king, that is. That man had already accepted my invite and was now busy kicking ass.

The wastelanders dove into action the moment after I’d teleported, but an unseen force was systematically ripping apart their nascent offensive. Wind tore through the dimensional space as Felix “God-Step” Celeritia explained his middle name to the Level 20 Delvers.

The king blinked into existence next to Felgar, visible for a fraction of a second, and drove a foot into the side of the man’s knee, causing his massive sword to unbalance him. Celeritia’s form flashed before the yeti, and the Mittan pugilist was suddenly sailing across the room. Zayn the Wishborn drew an arrow, but found it sticking out of the Giant’s shoulder before he could nock it. The arrow interrupted the flow of mana through the Giant’s arm and canceled a spell he’d been preparing, then his jaw clicked to one side from a strike too fast to see, sending the mage staggering.

“Care to explain?” asked Zura.

“Kidnapped by an avatar!” I said. “Mind fuckery!”

Zura clucked her tongue. “Not a single day to relax, it seems.” She glanced at the delegates. “Accept the young man’s invite.”

Zura and the Eschens joined my party, and I felt Divine mana begin to flow through the Zenithar, but it was a trickle compared to the absolute torrent of power I’d felt when she sank the Littan fleet. She furrowed her brow and dug deeper, but something was blocking her.

Either that or her connection to Geul was severed.

Riona was the only one not in the party, and she was gazing off toward Hysteria with an absent expression.

“Fucking hell,” I said. “Varrin, Hysteria is mind fucking your sister.”

The big guy scowled at my phrasing but was already dragging Riona toward Xim. Our cleric hit her with a Cleanse, but the mental effects dug back in immediately.

“Stop!” shouted the king.

I looked away from Riona, finding Celeritia standing next to Hysteria. The avatar had their elbow up on the king’s shoulder, leaning against the taller man. Their cloak was still trying to strangle them. Sadly, Cloaky was having no success.

The wastelanders were picking themselves up and brushing off wounds. The king had kept them busy, but he hadn’t managed to do any devastating damage. I glanced at the Eschen delegates, seeing them all completely checked out. Zura’s face was screwed up in concentration, but her Divine mana was trembling. She was keeping the avatar out for now, but she wouldn’t last long.

All I needed was for Riona to accept my party invite.

“I love a good rally!” said Hysteria. “But there’s nowhere for you to go, even if you could subdue the rest of us.”

“Never heard of a teleport?” I asked. “It’s literally how I got here.”

Hysteria reached up and took off a train conductor’s hat I hadn’t noticed them wearing. “That was a one-way ticket,” said the avatar.

They swept the hat around at the barren cube we were held within. The Tears had banished the darkness, but the chamber’s edges were still perfectly black. For a moment, I thought the walls were made of something that destroyed or consumed light, but there was a depth to that void. My eyes couldn’t see it, but a sensation stirred within my spirit that spoke of the absolute nothing just beyond the room’s perimeter, barely held at bay.

Something about it was the slightest bit familiar.

“No one in or out,” said Hysteria. “Until the king is dead and I call for our chariot, of course.” They patted Celeritia on the chest and walked forward, hips swaying like a cat.

Hysteria pointed at Zura, and the Zenithar collapsed to her knees. “Even the gods are absent here.” Hysteria paused and swirled a strand of their inkdrop hair around one finger. They looked up at me and pursed their lips. “Aside from whatever little piece of them you brought in here with you, I guess. Either way, we’re adrift in emptiness, divorced from the physical plane and separated from the Divine.”

Hysteria sauntered up to Zura. They tapped the Zenithar on the forehead, and the Geulon’s features relaxed. She calmly stood up and folded her hands, looking around the group with an amused expression.

“If we’re totally cut off,” I said, “how will you ‘call for a chariot’? Communication implies some level of exposure.”

“Silly boy,” Hysteria said, then booped me on the nose. “That’s a secret.”

“It’s that fucking asshole Limbo!” shouted Cloaky. “This dumbfuck–” Cloaky formed a fabric thumb and jerked it at Hysteria. “–thought it would be a good idea to team up, but it’s a total shit show!”

Hysteria turned to Cloaky and screamed. Their jaw unhinged, their silver teeth sharpened into points, and their tongue fluttered in the wind as a monstrous gust of air erupted from the avatar’s throat.

Cloaky was shredded into pieces.

Hysteria unclasped the tattered remains of the garment and tossed it to the ground. They began speaking again, but this time I really had gone deaf. Xim hit each of us with a Heal, and my hearing returned mid-sentence.

“–do funeral arrangements cost these days?” they said. “My emergency fund is pretty low, but maybe I can get a good deal if I’m sad enough. No, people who perform death rites for a living are probably heartless.”

Hysteria wiped a single tear from their face, then blew a gentle kiss toward the annihilated cloak.

I continued scanning the void while listening to Hysteria mourn the loss of Cloaky, searching out that familiarity I’d felt.

“Can we kill them now?” asked Felgar.

“Hmm?” said Hysteria, looking up from the ‘corpse’. “Oh yes, fine. Have fun.”

Both parties tensed, and I forced my mind to accelerate through the problem in front of me, splitting my focus to attack it from multiple angles.

Could my party take these wastelanders? Maybe if we were in perfect condition. I was pretty low on health, and everyone else was still dressed in their fancy clothes, not their combat gear. Weapons could come out in an instant, but armor took time to equip. Against a full crew of mostly fresh Level 20s in full kit, it wasn’t a bet I wanted to take.

The battle might also spill over to the Eschens or Riona, and there was every chance Hysteria could force our charmed allies to give the wastelanders a hand. Hysteria might even step in personally. Solving this problem through violence was a bad play.

That meant we needed to escape, which meant I needed to get Riona into my party. So, how could I make that happen? I could use the Card to get everyone else out, but Varrin might never forgive me if I abandoned his sister. Losing a father to an avatar was bad enough. I wasn’t sure he could lose another family member in the same way without something inside the man breaking.

I also wondered whether the Card would actually work, given Hysteria’s claim about the nature of the space we were in. If Geul was cut off, was the System as well? I nudged that question to Grotto, who tried to establish an uplink.

The crux of the problem was Hysteria’s mind control. I was out of Holy Water, and the avatar seemed to have an aura that constantly tried to auto-Dominate everyone nearby. That made Cleanse and other one-off effects useless. Nuralie had potions that enhanced the imbiber’s mental resistances, but Riona was Level 1 and we were working against an avatar. Anything short of pure immunity wasn’t worth spending time on.

If I couldn’t reliably end the mind control, then I needed a way to interrupt it. I didn’t think a distraction would work. Hysteria’s mental assault had gone on the entire time they’d been fighting with their cloak. I just needed a way to temporarily disrupt the core function of a semi-divine being vastly more powerful than myself.

Avatars were extremely resilient, but I had seen one get a good spanking once before.

I fixated on the void, Fortune’s chubby, infuriating face, Hysteria’s words: “We’re adrift in emptiness, divorced from the physical plane and separated from the Divine.”

A kernel of Truth pressed against my soul, struggling to reach out to the nothing beyond the cube’s bounds.

It ruled the vacancy between universes, and that was a bare fraction of its existence.

“Before we get started!” I shouted. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

“No,” said Hysteria. “I’m tired of the order that words bring and have a craving for chaos.”

“Not asking you,” I said.

Felgar spat. “Then who in the hells are you asking?”

“JuRoQi.”