Brent Stinebaker
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II-44 A Layered Plot
🕑 Added 2024-12-28 18:49:10 +0000 UTCHm. Why are children of the Withered Moon dangerous?
Well, let’s just say that death stands among the few Concept few System-hosts have influence over. Though many have indeed tried. Including me. There are ways to bypass that cruel, cold end that awaits most. Immortality is a most coveted prize—but after that, there is the maintenance of your power. One has to ensure they survive the ages after becoming ageless after all.
But even with all this achieved, you are still not invincible. Oh, come now, little one. Do not act so surprised. The only reason I remain alive is because I have felt the cold sting of death so many times.
None more so than the time a former Scion of the Withered Moon passed near me.
You see, death is a fundamental power in existence. It is… well, there are secrets tied to its purpose. Its design. It cannot be denied. And when one passes, there is a cost incurred. There is a price that must be paid.
However, that doesn’t mean the one who dies must be the one that pays. The expense can be… offset.
Or harvested for future use.
Quite useful.
And quite dangerous… Thankfully, Sarah, both these things suit my needs.
-Mepheleon the Harbinger
II-44
A Layered Plot
William Yu watched as the nest of blood quivered and twitched. If he still had his Class, he would probably be feeling a maelstrom of Essence flowing right now. Alas, Wei saw an end to that. Saw an end to a great many things. Despite everything that transpired between William and his son, there was still a feeling of dread in his chest. A tightness.
Wei had left him behind, taking the rest of his so-called sect in there with him.
The Drowned Sky Sect. People William knew for a lifetime. People he betrayed without a second thought when the time came. He didn’t see most of them die—only killed the one he truly cared about. Had to. She would have stopped him otherwise.
And the damnable thing was he could do it facing her. He waited for her to turn. Then he struck.
Coward. But it was just easier that way.
But look where that got you. Look at you know. Witness your own miserable fate, you damned fool. His company was now an Incubus he thought he killed and another Circle ladder climber. Both had reason to see him dead. But both barely regarded him — more interested in his son.
And, to William, it was worse.
Wei was… he was supposed to die with the sect. With the others. Be at peace instead of in the middle of all this. William should have seen the Inheritor’s machinations coming ahead of time. No one would spend top Sins on a man of his talents for a Low-Essence ceiling world like Evernest. But he was desperate, and they offered him an escape. New Class, new identity, a realm of his own hidden away from prying eyes, from the Dying Queen.
The Dying Queen who was reaching back for him. Hunting him, his boy, and practically everyone around him.
What a goddamn mess.
“What a goddamn mess indeed,” Bishop’s voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Worst of all was John’s constant moaning and signing and the “you fucking idiot” speeches. William had enough of those. “You should have never taken up a contract with her.”
No shit, William thought back. He couldn’t reply directly with a Class. Couldn’t stop Bishop from rooting around in his mind either. Essence was strange, and the Fathoms were drenched and shaped by it. Source might not be able to destroy him, but he was still material, and the fire was fire, fantastical in origin or not. There was nothing he could do to stop those around him from hurting him. Killing him at a moment’s notice. He felt naked. He felt weak.
“You are naked and weak. You wouldn’t be if you decided to—”
Jesus, give it a fucking break, John. I told before: Your crusade is a suicide run. There is no chance the Lodge manages to secure Earth. Not with how many powers are going to push for it. Not when Trespassers can do what they do.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Your boy, he’s something special.”
That made William’s guts churn. Yeah. He always had the devil in him. Stubborn. Prideful. But devoted. Just like… William’s insides plummeted. He thought of his wife—the woman he betrayed and killed. It took all he had not to be sick.
“Still don’t know how you have the strength to do it.”
Simple. Be selfish. Let your urge to survive be stronger than your good sense, and you’ll make it.
“What do you think he is playing at?” the Old Man suddenly said. The Count of Pride was resting on one of his thrones, but the Collectress stood a ways apart from hers. Instead, her gaze was locked to the nest of blood while she nursed herself on a cup of amber wine.
“Who knows,” the Collectress breathed. “We have our games, but the great powers have theirs.”
“Ah. But your games trespass against them, don’t they.” the Old Man chuckled. “You’ve always been the ambitious type. Tell me: Death’s Bastard. Is he really a Scion of the Withered Moon?”
The Collectress turned, angling her head slightly. “He is.”
“And you’re not afraid of the risk he poses? Of what might happen to you when he dies?”
A subtle smile pulled her soft, purple lips. “Oh, I know how his bond works. And I have insurance otherwise.”
The Old Man let out a laugh. “Yeah. The wife and kid-to-be. That’s not much of a safeguard if you ask me.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“If he dies… if his Concept activates. It’s one of them first. Probably the unborn one. Then her. Then…” The Old Man paused and looked into the nest of blood. His mouth opened then closed. “You… you sneaky bitch. You didn’t.”
The Collectress let out a sigh. “It is very obvious, if you think about it.”
“You absolute whore,” the Old Man said, letting out a guffaw of outrage and bemusement. “What a dirty, dirty trick. I applaud you. I have half a mind to murder you with my own hands, but I applaud you. Understand that I’m not just going to sit idly by while you take my investment from me.”
“Our investment,” the Collectress corrected.
“I’m sorry,” William said, very much not sorry. Both Count-Tiers eyed him, and he found himself glad he didn’t have a Class. Spiritual pressure was uncomfortable in the best of times. “Just what the hell are you two talking about.”
They shared a look. And the Collectress smirked. “What are the strongest bonds, William?”
William considered the question, but Bishop was the one who answered. “The kind forged over a lifetime. Or in battle.”
“The kind that is forged in battle,” William answered, stealing Bishop’s answer.
“Or other extreme circumstances.” The Collectress took a step closer to him. She towered over him by a half a head, and her eyes bore into his like daggers piercing flesh.
He struggled not to shudder, reflexively called for power that wasn’t there. Fucking hell, Wei. Leaving me with these degenerates.
“So. What about battle-bonds?” William asked.
The Collectress regarded him a moment longer and her eyes glowed with a cruel gleam. “Ah. But it is so hard to resist gloating. Very well. I smuggled the Queen’s assassin here.”
“What?” William said. He shot a look at the Old Man, but the Count of Pride didn’t seem surprised at all. Instead, it was like he worked everything out already. “What do you mean? Fucking why? Are you still one of the Dying Queen’s?”
“No. Hardly. The creature thinks they are deceiving me. That they have influence over me, when it is the other way.” She began to circle William. “It was not easy capturing the Scion of the Withered Moon. He was quite the warrior on his world. He cut down many of my finest servants in my attempt to subjugate him. Yet, I managed it. I caged him. I took his beloved as well. She, and a few others he cared about. They’re gone now.”
“Gone?” William said. “You had them killed? To break him?”
“No. I allowed him to break free the first few times. I gave him hope. I let him feed his blade, watched and learned how his power functioned. Death is no easy weapon to wield—it is both capricious and absolute. It will not be denied. Every time he got close to me, I cut him down. Bled him slowly. And I killed him. Over and over.”
“But he keeps coming back because he’s a Scion of Death,” William answered, unimpressed. “Cheap. Don’t even need to use a Resurrection Shard.”
The Collectress laughed. “Oh, but the shard wouldn’t even work in concert with his Concept Core. His Scion Core. What you’ve heard about the Scions of the Withered Moon? Most of it is just rumor. Most of his like are cast into the Source to be unmade. Indeed, that is the only reliable way to kill them. To dissolve them utterly instead of feeding their cores with deaths. For when they die, another pays the final price in their stead. Another falls in their place. Someone they think about. Have a bond with. A true bond of comradery, love, or loathing.”
And there it was. The fine weapon that the Collectress stole for herself. A man unkillable by nature, if only because his death was constantly outsourced to the others around him.
Outsourced to Wei. They were both sent in to ensure a bond. William’s nervousness spiked and dropped. They didn’t know about Wei’s System—about his powers. They couldn’t if they were speaking this way.
“There’s that expression. The one I have been waiting for.” The Collectress laughed, her voice chiming like a set of ringing bells. “Oh, William. To think that I would be able to revenge myself upon you in such a fashion. It is delectable. Sublime. And—”
Suddenly, existence rippled. A pulse of fluid Essence washed over everything and everyone, and the world around William lost color.
John? William blinked. He took a step back and felt his mind strangely vacant. John? You there?
“Absolutely riveting!” A booming voice filled the throne room, and a tall, well-dressed man appeared before William. He wore a fine suit from the 40s, and his glasses were horn-rimmed and cracked. His body was still burning, flesh crackling from the blaze, but through it all, a smile remained on his face. A smile even as skin charred and fat sizzled. Mepheleon gazed at William with those vacant eyes, and the Trespasser let out a curse.
“Fuck’s sake. Of course you’re involved in this too.”
“Naughty, naughty boy, William. I am involved in everything. This is my manor, my domain. How could I let someone else plot and scheme and not participate.” The old spy walked past the Collectress and grinned at her, shaking his head. “Ah, but she thinks she is the cunning one. That she is the weaver of plots and plans. It was a vicious strategy, certainly. I can appreciate that. But alas, she made a mistake: You should always look into your enemy before involving them in your strategy. Poor girl thinks Wei to be another mark. Another skilled but naive blade who wandered into a den of monsters.”
The Harbinger tutted. “If it were only so simple.”
“She doesn’t know about his System, does she?” William asked.
“No. No, she does not. If she did… well, she is ambitious, so she likely would have come up with some other mad plan. But nothing so… wasteful. If the Bastard were to fall within, the death incurred will flow to his pregnant love first.” But then Mepheleon’s grin broadened. “Unless someone created a vessel to trap all that Essence escaping him. Someone who plans to cheat death itself.”
William scoffed. There was no end to dealing with nonsensical bullshit in the Claimed Hells. “So. What’s your angle in all this? Why do you want Wei and her champion to bond.”
“Because, why, after what you did to him, all the trauma you inflicted, I think he deserves a new family he can count on.”
“Out of the goodness of your vacant heart? Really?”
“No. But goodness is convenient in this case.” Mepheleon took a step closer to William. “You hurt him so… so badly. Yet, his spirit is very strong. Strong, despite the cracks I can feel lining his psyche. The System holds him together, but I have seen what happens when he drains his own Will. I have seen it. And it is a tragedy in motion. I do not need a tragedy. I need a champion. I need another power in my corner for what is to come.”
“For your invasion.”
“And what follows thereafter,” the Harbinger chuckled.
William sighed. More cryptic bullshit. “So. All this. It’s part of your plan as well. Which is why a Duke or higher in Pride hasn’t come down to put an end to this.”
“Could be smoothed to: "Dearest William, I always have multiple plans running at once. But yes. I do intend for the bonds of friendship and brotherhood to spread between two Sinners scarred by their misfortunes. And I also intend for the Bastard to die soon. To allow the Dying Queen just enough leeway that things become desperate, that she thinks she can reach over. So I might scar her as well for reaching into my realm without permission, naughty girl that she is.”
“All just a game to you, huh?”
“The greatest game.” The Harbinger took a step closer toward William. “And pretend not you are otherwise. Let us recall your part in this madness. Aiding the Inheritors, trying to give them that final System they required, all to escape from rightful consequence. Like it is all a game.” He reached out and ruffled William’s hair in the way a father would.
William snarled and pushed the Harbinger’s hand away. “Fuck off.”
“No. I don’t think I will. Like it or not, you’re back in the big games again. But thankfully, your boy offers hope for a better future. Well. My preferred future. He doesn’t seem to like you very much. And I can’t say I blame him. But it isn’t all over for you. I have an offer for you. A way for you to get out alive—and maybe avoid execution at your son’s hands.”
Ridiculous. After what William did, there was nothing… Nothing…
“And there it is. That little ember of hope. You’re going to say yes. You’re going to do what I say. And you’re going to thank me before this is all over.”
“You stopped time. You crawled out of a singularity. You can do all that, so why do you need me?”
“There are rules, William. Rules, costs, and limitations you don’t understand. Systems have their own demands. Don’t ask. Just say yes.”
Somehow, William very much doubted that. But what other choice did he have? He was a karmic slave. A karmic slave to his own son. “So. What’s in it for me?”
“Aside from being rid of the Dying Queen? Aside from getting to go home? Aside from freeing yourself and getting a new Class again?”
The Bastard was right. Goddamn him. Goddamn everything. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”
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