Unable to establish connection. Fail to reach Constituent.
Retrying…
Retrying…
Unable to reach Constituent.
Constituent Shotin Kazahara''s ontology has been altered. Constituent cognition and foundational mythology scrambled. Outside influence detected.
A shard of the stillborn?
Unable to confirm. Vote proposed: Motion to deploy a specialized strike team to retrieve Shotin Kazahara.
Vote at 39.35%.
Vote failed.
Vote rejected.
Low likelihood of breaching Axtraxis Academy without suffering significant casualties.
Unnecessary risks.
Alternative proposal: we access Shotin through Chambers; we access Chambers through Constituent Denton. A chain has been established.
The path is clear.
Unity is destiny.
-The Majority
31-7
Shapeshifters (I)
—[Draus]—
EGO ID UPDATED
METAMIND RESEQUENCED
COGNITIVE MASKING COMPLETE
REBOOTING COG-FEED…
Draus''s perception flashed on like a switch, and she found herself staring at an unknown face. The alterations made to her sheath were already completed. Between Vator and Mercy, she went through all the adjustments needed to blend in on Axtraxis right there in the interrogation room.
Standing, she squinted at her new face, observing her short crop of blonde hair, her thinner, narrower chin, smaller nose, the greater distance between her eyes, and her far paler complexion. She was, in a strange way, aesthetically attractive, much like many of Highflame''s actual Citizens were. The strange dimensions her body took on displeased her. This wasn’t the sheath of a weapon; this was the body of a part-time warrior that still wanted to love and be fancied by allies, lovers, and rivals.
"So, what do you think?" Vator said, poking a head out behind her and appearing in the mirror. Draus held back from offering a response. The only reason she trusted Vator enough to do this was because Mercy had been monitoring him. She didn''t trust Mercy that much either, but between the two, the Famine showcased absolute loyalty to Avo, and the other, well, the other was determined to be on this ride for the sake of appeasing their Heaven alone.
"It''ll do," Draus finally said. Hells, even her voice sounded different; softer, higher-pitched. With matters related to her biology and cognition settled, she moved on to the final step of her so-called infiltration.
A dormant combat-skin lay at the far end of the room. Its back was unfolded like a blossoming flower, and all she needed to do was step in. Without further delay, Draus commanded her Meldskin to recede back under her skin and approached the armor she would be wearing as a disguise.
PRAETORIAN MARK V
CORE SPECS
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">STRENGTH AMPLIFICATION: 600% STRENGTH BOOST FOR HEAVY LIFTING AND MELEE COMBAT.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">BRIGHTSHROUD: GENERATES AN ADDITIONAL LAYER OF SHIELDING SHAPED FROM NATURAL LIGHT</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">INTEGRATED HUD & COMBAT SUITE: REAL-TIME TARGETING, BIOMETRICS, WEAPON PORTS, RETRACTABLE FREQUENCY BLADES.</li>
</ul>
UTILITY
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">ENVIRONMENTAL SHIELDING: RADIATION, ACID, CHEMICAL PROTECTION, AND CONTAMINATION LOCKDOWN.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">THERMOGENESIS IMMUNITY: IMMUNE TO HEAT AND FIRE DAMAGE UP TO 5000°C; CONVERTS HEAT INTO POWER FOR EXTENDED OPS.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">SUB-CON DEFENSES: MONITORS USER’S METAMIND FOR ANY HINTS OF INFILTRATION; ARMOR COMES WITH ITS OWN SET OF PHALANX WARDS.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">SOLAR REGENERATION: REPAIRS ARMOR IN SUNLIGHT; FULL RESTORATION UP TO 50% INTEGRITY WITH PROLONGED EXPOSURE.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">INTERNAL PHYLACTERY: ONE-TIME RESURRECTION FOR USER IF KILLED, RESTORING 70% HEALTH WITH 60-SECOND STASIS SHIELD DURING REGENERATION.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400">SHORTWAVE LUMINOSITY COMMUNICATOR: CAN USE NATURAL LIGHT TO COMMUNICATE WITH ALLIES WITHIN VISIBLE RANGE.</li>
</ul>
Classic Praetorian. Upgraded, sure. But the standards are still there. Survivability, made for daytime combat. Minimal training required to achieve optimal usage. Practically all Highflame Godclads would wear a Praetorian at some point. And now Draus would too. But after all her time with the Meldskin, she found herself wondering if the Guilds were over-reliant on thaum-tech.
She stepped into the armor without much concern. Mercy was monitoring its Systems for any hints of danger, and the padded interior gripped her body like a glove, she felt a neuro-synchorous chain of ghosts extend from the armor’s locus to her Metamind.
SYNCING…
PAIRING USER’S MIND TO ARMOR
SYNCHRONIZATION SUCCESSFUL
ESTABLISHING PHYLACTERY—
The mem-data cut off there.
+Best that we keep your mind as uncompromised as possible,+ Mercy said. The Famine accessed the Phylactery with ease, and a new line of data crawled across Draus’ perception.
PHYLACTERY RESET
CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.
+What’d you just do?+ Draus asked.
+Resequenced and removed the vulnerabilities within the phantasmic.+
Draus grunted. +Right.+
+Do not trust me. Trust Ignorance. The king will never let a slave such as I transgress against his vaunted knight.+
+Ain’t that. I know. Just ain’t… easy. You’re an enemy. Was an enemy. Not two days ago, I would’ve scattered you with a disruption.+
+And not too days ago, I was still resisting a certain truth: That Defiance was right in many ways, but wrong in that the Hungers are still needed. The City Eternal could be saved—Noloth preserved. But not under a crumbling mass of fearful immortals, but an enlightened populace righted by a true king.+
That earned a scoffing laugh from the Regular. +Still suspect you’re tryin’ to null him. Shit, his ego might get too big and finally pop after enough of him comes back together to be crowned.+
+I suspect not. I suspect his capacity for arrogance is far greater than what you or I can conceive now.+
+Been that way for a while, but you don’t see me tryin’ to spike him with more nova.+
A ping sounded from outside the door, just as the final few plates of Draus’ armor clicked together. She regarded herself in the mirror again and tested her movements. She was about half-foot taller. No discomfort or lag detected. The armor itself was pretty standard in coloring. Heavier chest piece with rounded crenelations along the limbs and enhanced spinal supports. Her helmet was ultimately fused into the neck of the armor as well, presenting a flat stump with a narrow visor.
Yeah. Real blast from the past.
A ping sounded from the door, and Draus turned to face Mondelles. As he entered, she caught his steady gaze and noted the thin sheen of sweat glistening upon his brow. Betrayal didn’t come easy to the man—and whatever truths she showed him, that’s what this was. He was picking a side.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Alright," he said. "I''ve entered you into the system. You’re now Instrument Masvel Juven. Priority One access privileges. You’ve been assigned as my personal second and current have escort duties.”
“Sounds good,” Draus said. She collapsed her helmet to show off her new features.
“Right,” Mondelles breathed. “Won’t be drawing any unwanted attention. Uthred’s been diverted to my office. Shotin too. We proceed as planned; get Vator to interface with his father—see how he reacts.”
“Yes, of course.” Vator looked askance, and his rapid blinks hinted at another conversation taking place. The juv really took to speaking with his Heaven plenty often. “I am personally curious as to my father’s current condition as well.”
Mondelles’ expression tightened at that. “He’s experienced... changes. We found him wandering a destroyed district, near catatonic. And also… his Heaven’s been changed as well.”
“Yes, you said he climbed a few Spheres,” Vator replied. The boy then pursued his lips together. “Which… would make him—”
“Sphere Nine,” Mondelles said in a near whisper. “But he’s always at zero burn. Can’t identify his new Heaven either. His Frame’s root data seems damaged, but his primary Domain… it’s Continuum.”
Both Draus and Vator shared a look with one another. That was the Strix’s primary Domain. “Fuck,” the Regular muttered.
Mondelles led them out of the interrogation room thereafter, with Draus taking the rear of the group. She used the opportunity to get an in-person look at Axtraxis facilities and personnel, noting vulnerabilities and constructing new junctions. With Mondelles on her side, active combat was less likely than before, but only fools and the soon-to-be dead didn’t prepare themselves for all possibilities.
At present, they were located in the instructors'' observation zone—basically, the external modules of the academy. Back when this place was still just a school, the instructors could gaze inward through a reinforced one-way mirror empowered by memite. Now, the many levels of space beyond the glass were occupied by fabricated housing for cadres and other essential personnel.
“Still usin’ the panopticon, huh?” Draus said.
“I have to,” Mondelles replied. “With half the Godclads here Chivalrics raring to leave on a crusade and a great deal more separated from their cadres, this is all I can do to best keep track of what forces we can marshal.”
“And keep yourself from getting disposed?”
“Something like that,” Mondelles said. He felt silent as they passed by a dozen cleaning mechs scrubbing blood from the walls. That told Draus plenty; told her that something had already been tried more than a few times. “You know how it is. Instruments fight to establish a proper hierarchy in the absence of one.”
“Yeah. I do know how it is. Is what’s bein’ said about Omnitech true?”
“The broadcast to muster our forces there?” Mondelles said. “Yes. But I don’t know if it can be trusted. Osjon was lost to the Substance. And so far, Omnitech has made no move to protect themselves from its spread. I cannot in conscience leave this to blind trust. People are counting on me. Such is the reason behind my appointment.”
Draus heeded his words with curiosity. He was clearly already defying orders to begin with. That explained his willingness to convert on top of the truths she showed him. But then there was what he said at the end. “Appointment?”
“Yes. Seraph Kalgrave Asangi was one of the few among the High Seraph’s inner council to avoid consumption. He was overseeing an operation in the Warrens when Scale was shattered. Presently, he’s the highest ranking Citizen for Highflame, and by that designation appointed me Acting Authority to oversee evacuation efforts; reorganize what cadres of ours remain in the Tiers.”
“And the Regs?” Draus asked.
No response.
“Didn’t see any, did you?”
“No.”
“Reckon they’ve been moved elsewhere for other means.”
“I suspect you are correct, Instrument Juven.”
That begged the question: Did the Infacer have complete control over the Regulars now, or were they within the Substance itself, trapped in memories. She knew the Regs and the Chivs weren’t on the best of terms anymore after the last war, so what could Veylis be planning with them? Or the Infacer.
After a bit more walking, the reached a heavily guarded room with two Godclads stationed outside. They planted their fists horizontally across their chests as they saw Mondelles approach, and he casually echoed the action back at them. Draus noted their eyes drifting to momentarily regard Vator. Faint sneers twitched on their faces—betrayed how everyone felt about the Greatlings by this point.
As for her, well, they barely gave her more than a cursory stare; a testament to the depth of her disguise.
Projecting a sequence of memories into a security locus embedded in the wall, the door hissed open to reveal a large Rendsink functioning as a pillar for an antechamber. Chairs lined the walls, and the walls were decorated with exquisite paintings and portraits of heroes past and momentous moments across history. Veylis’ influence leaked even now.
The dappled splashes of dried blood and scorch marks made Draus guess that the last dean of the Academy didn’t meet a pleasant end.
“Dean Kuld is no longer with us,” Mondelles said, answering Draus’ guess with a casual statement. “Apparently, the end of the world has a way of bringing out more surprises. Such as hidden Ori Sleepers.”
That, Draus wasn’t anticipating. Even fucking Avo missed that one—though to be fair, he was running on a short schedule with his Highflame infiltration run. “No shit?”
“Yeah. He dispatched a series of… let’s just say conflicting orders. He almost managed to trigger a civil war, but uh…” The Acting Authority looked uncomfortable. “Uthred intervened. Speaking of which.” Mondelles came to a halt before a well-carved door of ancient wood. It looked like two gnarled boards shaped by a sharpened blade and installed with a handle. By now, another point of suspicion was rising inside Draus.
She interrupted Mondelles as he reached for the handle. “So, why can’t I feel his Frame? Or even see his Soul? Ain’t like Ninth Spheres to be quiet.”
“That’s just the thing,” Mondelles replied. “I don’t have a fucking clue myself. And he isn’t… isn’t quite himself most times anymore either. You’ll understand.” He gave Vator a final series of looks and settled on pity. “Maybe he’ll be better with you here.”
As Mondelles turned the knob and pushed open the door, a strange scene greeted her. The first thing she noticed was Uthred seated with his head bowed and body hunched before a grand mahogany table. Past the table was a fake window—actually monitors—that portrayed a bird’s eye view of New Vultun from the stratosphere. A personal escort guarded him, but something was wrong with his Metamind. The halo spun, but pieces were outright transparent. Like if sequences were hollow somehow.
+Ontological displacement,+ Mercy muttered. +A consequence of Continuum, I suspect.+
Across from him was Shotin—who still looked like shit. Least he was nursing himself on some alcohol now. Fuck. Chambers actually managed to put his shit back together. An Instrument served as his handler as well, but they stood a good arm’s distance away from the Seeker.
Then, a flicker flashed in Draus’ cog-feed, and she saw Chambers floating just above Shotin, offering her a boyish grin. {Yo. Draus. Looking different.}
{Yeah. See you put his shit back together.}
{Nah. Shotin’s still pretty fucked up inside. He’s going to be pretty fucked up for a while, but he’s got a goal and I’m gonna help him reach it if I can. How’s shit on your—ah, fuck, Vator.}
{Yeah, don’t mind him,} Draus said, eyeing the youngest Greatling. He was staring at his father, mouth slightly agape. There was more confusion than sadness or fear in his expression, as if he didn’t recognize the man hunched over before him. {He’s cadre now. Mondelles too. I think. Mercy cleared them.}
{Yeah, Draus, I’ve been meaning to ask you—what the fuck! The Famine of Mercy?}
{I told you how he swore—}
{Yeah, but let me have this. What the fuck! Shit, consang. I got no idea how you managed to recruit so many people trying to kill us a week ago, but maybe if this Reg shit doesn’t work out, you can try being a diplomat.}
And Chambers kept doing the impossible: Draus struggled to suppress a smile. {I was gonna say the same thing to you, half-strand. Diplomacy and people-handlin’ was the whole reason I called you here.}
{It was—}
“At ease,” Mondelles said. Draus noted the two Instruments on watch were saluting as well, and the Acting Authority rounded the table to find his seat. “Instrument Kaeling; Instrument Vult, you are both dismissed. The conversation about to take place is rated Priority Zero Confidential. Please inform Instruments Hadir and Maewind outside to establish demiplanar quarantine.”
The guards for Uthred and Shotin showed no hesitation. They simply saluted and proceeded to their task. As they left the room, Mondelles gestured at Draus. “Instrument Juven. The door, if you would please.”
As she closed the door, she found Shotin glaring hatefully at Uthred and Vator besides. “You know something,” the Seeker began. “If you told me that they would be here, I might’ve chosen to stay in my cage.”
“Understandable, but not helpful. For any of us.” Mondelles groaned as he tried to settle in his chair. The armor he wore made its legs creak, but still it held. There was a poetic metaphor about Highflame’s current state in all that somewhere, but Draus didn’t give a fuck about poetry.
Finally, Shotin’s attention turned to her—and when his next question came, she realized Chambers hadn’t informed him about her disguise. “And why the fuck is faceless asshole number whatever still here?”
“Because she must be…” Uthred said. His voice was deep, but there was something missing, like thunder stripped of reverberation. Suddenly, Draus felt a surge of tension building inside her. She created another junction using the screens behind Mondelles and a firing solution was created immediately thereafter.
“Locked,” her Arsenalist declared.
“Father,” Vator said, frowning as he gripped Uthred’s shoulder. “Father. You are not well. She is—”
“She has to be…” Uthred said, reaching out to pat Vator’s hand absentmindedly. “Because she is Jelene Draus… the… seed of my wife’s sin… The… the one we lost to the flames… I have been waiting… I have found you.” Uthred Greatling stood. “I have something to tell you.”
Draus went still as a statue. Shotin’s eyes darted between everyone present before he finally snorted. “Shit. So much for a disguise, huh, Reg?”
“Yeah,” Draus grumbled. “Don’t reckon I’d ever make it as a Sleeper. So. Uthred. Start talking.”
And at her behest, he spoke once more, but instead of his voice coming through, whispers echoed across the gulf of time and something that was Veylis and not greeted the Regular. “Draus. Inheritor of the Stillborn. We greet you and offer you this final chance: lay down this declaration—surrender what is ours and give us.”
The Regular sneered. “Nah. Don’t think I fuckin’ will.”
A low series of laughs poured forth, and she heard more Avo there than Veylis. “As expected. As desired. Very well. Then let us speak as esteemed foes, as the High Seraph once did for the Dreamer.”