67. Bloodfall

  [REALM IMMORTAL SMITED]

  [Waystation Privilege awarded. Current charge: 2]

  [Ascension Mandate awarded. Ascension status: INELIGIBLE]

  [24,000 ?]

  [19,820 ?]

  [REVOLVER Spell Unlocked]

  [Chamber One: EMBALMER]

  [TRIBULATION active (x3): current buff at 15%]

  Words scrolled through Serac’s vision before going straight over her head. She was certain they contained useful information and maybe even startling revelations, but right now, she was in no state to take any of it in.

  “Wayfarer!” Trippy’s words sounded clipped—almost angry. “Set down a Waystation, right now, before the Interstitium lays claim to your Liminal Karma!”

  At least this she could make sense of. With the Bone Lord’s death, she’d been ‘cured’ of three of her negative status effects (including that pesky [Ossify] bar), but [Bleed] hadn’t been one of them. And even in her exhausted state, she could see that she was literally a few seconds away from dying herself.

  What would happen to my Karma if I died to a thing that was already dead? She vaguely recalled wondering the same question some time ago, and she supposed she got her answer now. But knowing the absolute urgency of the situation didn’t make it any easier to sit down and meditate, so soon after the most harrowing experience of her life.

  Forget mental tranquility. Her aching, faltering body couldn’t even be relied upon to bend the correct joints and strike the right pose.

  She knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was an impossible task. She just couldn’t do it. Not in her current state, and certainly not within the vanishing seconds that were left to her.

  Welp. Would’ve been nice if Zacko had the Waystation privilege instead. I guess this is one unforeseen downside to the smiting blow bonus…

  Speaking of Zacko—

  “Serac!”

  The Manusya’s pompadour—perfectly combed even after a fight against a Realm Immortal— took up Serac’s entire vision as he grabbed her by both shoulders—a little too firmly for her liking. Ow! Ease off, will you? I’m already hurting everywhere as it is. But at that point, she still didn’t know the half of it.

  “Serac,” Zacko said again with uncharacteristic fervor. By then, he’d already removed VISAGE, revealing an expression that was far too serious and earnest by his usual standards. “Just know that I’m really sorry about this. And Dashi, you might want to look away.”

  Serac stared back with zero comprehension. Sorry about what? Look away from wha—oof!

  And that was when Zacko buried a NINEFOLD fist in Serac’s stomach—as hard as he would with any Aberrant he wanted to smite.

  [150!]

  For a Rakshasa who was quite literally one second away from [Bleeding] out, the damage was more than overkill. And in her dying Ksana, Serac’s mind ran the gamut from shock to confusion to hurt to understanding to—finally—gratitude.

  ***

  Soul. Vapor. Liquid. Solid.

  Dust. Bone. Blood. Flesh.

  The tangible. The ever-present. And the unseen spaces in between.

  When next Serac Edin became aware of a ‘self’, she had barely enough perception of her surroundings to know that there were no surroundings. Nor really even a self. Instead, an amorphous cloud of something that might pass for consciousness floated within a rushing stream of some invisible and insensible medium.

  Forget River of Blood. This was something far more viscous, far more turbulent, yet also utterly and hopelessly indefinable. No touch, no sight, no smell. No body, no mind, not even so much as soul.

  All there was—and all she was—were memories. The most ancient magic of them all.

  Yet, within this ceaseless turbulence, Serac was very much aware of an ‘anchor’ that tethered her to another. Another amorphous cloud. Another entity with a notion of ‘self’.

  And she knew this entity well enough to picture his shape where there was none.

  A male Rakshasa with a rather haughty expression that didn’t quite fit his station. A Narakite that, somehow, seemed to know very little about Naraka. About his own home and his own people—except for what he could look up on some imaginary glossary.

  Trippy? Serac called out with no voice. Is that you?

  Serac Edin, came the cool, polite reply—just as voiceless. Forgive my acting out of turn, but I’ve been waiting to do this for some time… and I feel this latest turn of events has forced my hand.

  What? Serac frowned with no face. What did you do, Trippy? What’s happening to us?

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  I’ve invoked my emergency powers as a Special Guidance Protocol, thereby holding us back within the Interstitium. But the effect is only temporary, and you will soon reconstitute in the physical realm. We must talk before that happens.

  Serac was silent for… a Ksana? A Kalpa? It was impossible to tell.

  All this time, I thought ‘Special Guidance Protocol’ was just something you made up, was the first bizarre thought that found voiceless voice. Is it an actual feature of Pathsight? Or a brainchild of the weirdos up in Devalem? Was Version 1 also—um, actually, never mind.

  We don’t have the time for inane jokes, Wayfarer, came Trippy’s rebuke—perhaps well-deserved. We have several pressing matters to discuss, but in the interest of brevity, I shall narrow it down to one. Namely, your association with one Zacarias Borges-Juventus, which of late has become more hindrance than boon to your quest of climbing Mount Meru.

  Whatever topic might’ve been urgent enough for Trippy to pull out the big guns of interdimensional magic, Serac hadn’t imagined it to be this. She was left ‘speechless’ for another indefinable amount of time before she managed to turn up her nonexistent nose.

  You’re not making any sense, Trippy. You think I could’ve defeated the Bone Lord without Zacko’s help? Or saved Dashi?

  On the first count, yes. You absolutely are capable of smiting Aberrants and even Realm Immortals on your own. It’s something of a mystery to me that you don’t see that yourself. It also means you stand to gain a lot more Karma on the road if you’d simply stop sharing it with another. Here, the amorphous Trippy-cloud paused. For consideration? For effect? It was impossible to tell. And as to your second question, I don’t see how it’s even relevant to the topic at hand.

  At this, Serac sucked in a sharp breath with nonexistent lungs. She’d been under no illusion that Trippy had any affection towards the other souls they met on the road. Even so, his callousness—especially when expressed in such certain terms—was disconcerting at best and perhaps even hurtful at worst.

  Well, it matters to me, so it’s actually very relevant. Serac tried and failed to keep her emotions out of it—as Trippy was so good at doing. And to circle back on the first point, sure, maybe I don’t need Zacko, but I just think it’s a lot of fun to have him around. That’s a good enough reason for me.

  Even when he just committed Karma theft? The absolute worst breach of etiquette in a Wayfaring partnership?

  What? Come on, man, you can’t seriously believe he did that to screw me over! You said yourself I would’ve lost my Karma to the Interstitium if I didn’t reconstitute in time. Well, now, it’s at least with Zacko, so what are you even complaining about?

  You realize you will have to kill him to get it back.

  So? I’ve already done it once, so there’s no reason I can’t do it again. In truth, this was a bit of posturing on Serac’s part. She had killed Zacko once—in an emergency. But she wasn’t at all sure she could bring herself to do it again in much calmer circumstances. Besides, maybe I don’t want it back. Maybe I’m happy to let him keep it. Give him a chance to get on my level, know what I’m saying?

  Trippy let out the most withering sigh that was possible inside a formless medium.

  This is exactly the problem, Serac Edin. How do I get you to understand? Sooner or later, your connections to others are going to hold you back. You might not see it yet, this far down in the Mountain where options are plentiful and competition sparse. But mark my words: there will come a time and place where you will need to choose between your friends and your ascension. I only ask that you cast aside those friendships and loyalties now, before they become the Anchor that weighs you down.

  No. I like being friendly and loyal. And you don’t get to change who I am. This is my journey—not ‘yours’—and that means I’m free to go about it any way I—arrggghhhh!

  The headache caught her completely off guard—not only because of its intensity, but also because she’d assumed that a headless being couldn’t get headaches.

  But the sensation was unmistakable. A cold, metallic band just above her right temple. It burned, it chilled, it dug, it filled, it etched, it erased—all in equal and excruciating measure.

  Serac had been wrong about every other pain in her life. For this was far and away the worst pain she’d ever experienced. Here within the spaces in between states of existence, an ancient soul held absolute power over a fledgling one. And Trippy showed no qualms about putting his power to use.

  Please, Serac! I’m only trying to guide you, like I’m meant to. That’s the only thing I know. The only thing I can hold onto. I’ve been entrusted with guiding you to the summit of Mount Meru, and I will do that even if it means bending you to my will.

  A Ksana? A Kalpa? It was impossible to tell. The pain was so great and so interminable that nearly all of Serac would’ve done anything—agreed to anything—to make it stop.

  Please, Serac. Just give in. Let me—and me alone—be your voice of guidance upon these treacherous roads. Give me your consent now, and that will be the end of it. No more pain. No more bickering. Only the Path.

  Nearly all of Serac—but not all. A fire yet burned that could never be snuffed out, no matter what winds chilled her courage and what fears flooded her heart. And she stoked that fire now, coaxing the embers until they sparked anew and roared aflame.

  And even as she screamed out in desperate rebellion, the non-world around her and Trippy dissolved, as the latter’s magic ran out of time.

  NOOOOO—

  ***

  “—ooooo…”

  Serac ‘woke’ with a start, drenched in cold sweat despite having just reconstituted to full health.

  She shot to her feet and looked about in a wild panic, flinging her arms as if to ward away an evil presence. Its ‘absence’ gave her no relief, however, as she once again found herself in a completely unfamiliar environment.

  She’d expected to reconstitute inside the antechamber before the throne room—next to the Waystation put down by Meetra. Instead, she was presently outdoors, under the cloudless red sky of a Naraka morning.

  However, she soon saw that wasn’t entirely accurate. For one thing, the lotus flower in question was nestled among shattered stone and broken bones—the same table that the Wayfarers and Maidens destroyed during their battle. For another, at least three sides of the walls that made up the antechamber still remained, though partially collapsed.

  One side, however, was gone completely, along with seemingly the rest of the Ossuary (from what Serac could see). And in its place flowed a River of Blood.

  Serac slowly returned to a sitting position, having lost the strength in her legs. She gaped at the rushing, dirty, sanguine water, which even now cascaded down the steep terrain of the Bonespires. The ‘fog’ of bone dust had completely dissipated, which allowed her to follow the river’s course onto the Badlands that stretched below, where it split into multiple, snaking streams.

  Where did this thing even pop out of? Was it always here before, and we just didn’t see it because of the Ossuary? Speaking of… what the hell happened to the Ossuary??

  Seeking answers, Serac directed her gaze upstream, trying to ascertain the river’s origin. To her surprise and ever-expanding shock, it didn’t take long for her to find it.

  Just next to the antechamber, the spire that once housed the Bone Lord’s throne lay in ruins: piles of pale-gray fragments that had broken out of their Huskbound forms. Among the ruins also were objects of a distinctly earthenware appearance—the shattered pieces of RELIQUARY, now bereft of its magic and telling the end to the Bone Lord’s reign.

  The River of Blood gushed through these ruins, having already carved out a channel for its torrential currents. And as Serac looked up, she saw that these currents were merely the continuation of a waterfall that fell from the sky.

  For the very heavens had split open. And, for the first time in centuries and more, the Sanzu River nourished the wastelands of hell.

  Patreon

  STAT SHEETS: