Brent Stinebaker
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II-7 Failures (I)
🕑 Added 2024-11-01 12:13:14 +0000 UTCThe perfect enemy one can face is themselves, stripped of all flaws, all weakness…
And so too will such a foe become a perfect teacher as well.
-Wei An Wei, The Realmbreaker
II-7
Failures (I)
Wei’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. The pain was beyond words. So he just screamed. But still, nothing physical tore or bled, and nothing spiritual was expended. The suffering was purely in his mind, but that was bad enough. The chains connected to the Shell rattled as the Sourcespears continued to burrow up his pelvis. “Stop! Stop! E-enough!”
“No,” his Shell said bluntly. “It is not enough. You allowed me to parry you—you knew I had more weapons and failed to disengage. This is a lesson you must now, learn.”
“Stop!” Wei snarled, but on some level, Wei knew the Skill was right. It was wrong of him to be so lax—especially in this place. He… he deserved this. At least, he on some level believed that he deserved this.
“Now you see,” the Shell said. “I am not a defiance of your will. I am a defiance of your weakness.”
Wei would have offered a response, but he was busy hyperventilating.
Mercifully, his Shell didn’t torture him anymore after that, and finally withdrew its spears after a few more seconds. Shamefully, it took Wei well over a minute to recover, and he spent some time dry heaving before he finally managed to rise.
“I could have killed you a thousand times while you were whimpering like a babe,” the Shell growled.
Wei just stared on at his Skill. Not so much with thrill anymore. More like haggard disbelief. “I…” He swallowed sour spit. “Apparently, the ideal version of myself is an asshole who likes making eunuchs.”
“Yes,” his Shell said, not even bothering to dispute the assertion. “And you have been too kind to yourself. Too merciful. It is your fault that you didn’t notice your father’s misdeeds. It is your fault that you failed to defend your sect. And it is your fault that Lady Ellena was slain—preserved only by the power of another.”
“I—”
Another backhand took Wei across the jaw. The blow was beyond speed—near instant. One moment the Shell was still and the next it was dragging the back of its hand across Wei’s face. “Weakness is no excuse.”
Wei rubbed at his face, and felt an overwhelming dissonance when he discovered no wound. Still, it stung both his pride and his senses to be slapped. “Stop backhanding me like a chil—”
He pulled away on instinct—but still wasn’t fast enough. The Shell’s armored gauntlet came to a right against the side of his skull. Within the massive fist thrummed unreleased power—enough to turn Wei’s head to paste. But true to the Shell’s words, this was in his mind, and the Skill could no more kill him than his Broken Crescent could without his consent.
Still. The urge to punish and humiliate himself for what happened before it…
It was what he had been missing.
“I do not do this for pride or ego,” the Shell said. “I do not strike you as you abused your lessers of the outer sect in your youth for preserve pleasure or delusional glory. I do this because you are not enough. I do this because you should have been greater—for the heavens are cold and the realms are cruel.”
The Shell pulled its hand back and Wei looked down, ashamed at who he was. “I… I tried… There was so much—”
“Pain. Is that always your excuse.”
Something ached inside Wei’s chest. Part of him wanted to scream at his Shell, to tell the damned thing it didn’t know what he faced, how much he suffered. He wanted to let out how tired he was, how he feared closing his eyes, how Ellena and his mother were blurring together from their symmetrical fates; how he could hear Agnesia’s screams in the Hearted Realm resounding always. Always.
But these were just useless words from a weak boy.
And he was in hell.
He had survived so far by fingertips and hairs. By fortune and low-cunning alone did he prevail against the Inheritors and remain alive. But that wasn’t going to last forever, and luck would fail him soon. Soon, as he faced the countless forces arrayed against him. The Inheritors, the Dying Queen, the Circles, the Lodge… even Mepheleon himself was dubious company. The only true companions Wei had been those he saved during the trials and himself.
And as patriarch, he needed to be more than what he was.
“What are their names?” his Shell of Masteries asked.
“What?” Wei said, frowning. He put a few meters of distance between him and the Skill, wary it might attack him at any time; preparing to fight back.
“The names of your so-called disciples. Name one. Name any from your inner or outer sect?”
Wei thought to himself. And thought some more. He… couldn’t. It wasn’t a problem of memory. His mind was greater than it had ever been. The problem was how little he truly cared about them, about their struggles. He saved them out of mercy, but also to feed his own ego, his own Pride. But after that, he had cast them to his companions, with Ellena handling the bulk of the sect’s actual work while Agnesia led them on raids.
All he did was speak to them a few times and boast of his plans. That, aside from keeping them save and securing a path for everyone across the Hearted Realm, was all he could speak of in his own favor.
“The elves you saved before fighting Mulver Groon. They told you their names. And because they were slightly incompetent, you willed yourself to forget as an insult. And yet here you stand before me, with your quartermaster failed, your mother dead, and your father…” The Shell cocked its head and its burning eye seared Wei’s nerves. It was a struggle to face himself. “And will we do to him? What is our plan, our choice?”
“There are still things we wish to learn,” Wei muttered, his ego still smarting from the verbal onslaught delivered by his own Skill. “He… he worked with the Dying Queen—the Inheritors. Those are our foes—we need to understand them.”
“You need to destroy them. But after that. When his use to use is finished. What will you do. We are close, now. Close to having the power needed to kill him. All that you have done is to avenge your mother and sect, and yet… though you rage, you flinch from him as if he is a wound on your body. You ignore him like a debt you are trying to avoid. There are only two true options with him.”
Wei knew what those were. “Kill him, of course.”
The Shell scoffed with derision. “Of course? I don’t think you have the mettle to slay your own father, boy. Break him, hurt him perhaps. But your hand will halt before the end, and you possess not the spirit to drive your spear through his chest and watch him expire.”
This… this Wei would not accept. “Be silent.” The words left him in a near feral snarl. “You… if you are truly crafted from me, then you know I will not allow his betrayal to go unpunished! That my mother—” The Shell leaned back, and Wei paused. “You… you’re provoking me.”
“Feeble of emotion as well as body. There is so much of you that needs to be improved.” And the Shell looked down at its own body, its own Components. “A fate we both must share if we are to contend with the likes of Mepheleon or the Queen. They will be seeking control over Earth as well. You know this.”
Wei did. But the idea of growing powerful enough to stand against the Harbinger was as exciting as it was daunting. “How shall we start, then?” Weariness nipped at him, but Wei pushed it away with his will. Exhaustion was the blessing of mortals and the weak. He could—
“No.” His System thundered, cutting through Wei’s thoughts. “This, more than all things, makes me disgraced to have you as my root, my origin. You will not leave and seek the Base tonight to slake your shame through battle. You will achieve nothing meaningful right now, and you may well die if you pursue such foolishness.”
“So, am I to rest?” Wei snapped incredulously.
“You are to improve yourself by any means. By all means. Your mind is scattered. If you are tired, then that must be remedied. Meditate. Rest. It matters not. But you must cleanse yourself of lethargy, lest—”
A knock sounded on the door. Both Wei and the Shell went stiff. “Who is that?”
The Shell looked upon Wei like he was mentally deficient. “My helmet allows me to see the unseen and steal the gazes of others. It does not let me piece the boundary of spaces. Using the barest amount of intellect, however, I suspect it is Lady Agnesia, come to seek comfort.”
Wei blinked. That… he did promise her that. How did he forget?
“Because you are a boy who is easily overwhelmed and constantly get lost in your own thoughts. Another flaw we must fix.” Another knock sounded. This one lighter and more tentative than the others. “Go get the door, you fool. Before she turns and leaves.”
“Right,” Wei muttered, still feeling overtaxed by all that just happened. Asaur’s words; the Shell of Masteries… both were a lot to process.
“Later. Focus on your companion now. It is your duty.” And one of them was bound to Wei, and a constant voice of nagging abuse. It was as if one of his old masters gained a residence into the back of his mind. “Do not complain. Self-pity is the path to me stabbing you from the inside.”
Fine! Fine! Wei snapped internally. He rushed down the stairs—urged on by the fear of being reminded what a castration felt like. As he got right up against the door. Wei drew in the breath—and wasn’t sure why he hesitated. His hand shook momentarily, and he blinked, everything becoming too much for a beat.
“Open the door,” the Shell growled. “But do it slowly so we don’t get surprised. We are assuming it is Agnesia. It could be an enemy.”
Pushing through his sudden discord, Wei creaked open his door and readied himself. His Omniscience spilled out from the crack. To his relief—and awkwardness—it was indeed Agnesia waiting outside. She was half-turned, as if preparing to walk away, but she froze mid-step as she heard the door creek open.
“Wei?” She said softly.
The young master wanted to say something, but took a moment to study her. She was wearing silken robes of fiery red, and a butterfly knot wrapped tight to her body. Missing was the sword he gifted her and all the blood and grime that coated her body. Instead, soft white-slippers hung from her feet while a spicy aroma wafted from her ethereally white hair. She had just washed, that was—
“Invite her in. Stop peeking at the outline of her body using your Omniscience.”
“I was not doing that?” Wei hissed, snarling over his shoulder. The Shell wasn’t there. Could she see it, though? Could she feel the Shell? Was it invisible to others until he materialized it?
“Wei? Are you there?” Agnesia shuffled back over toward his door. And the young master pulled it open fully, revealing his still disheveled, still filth-coated, still foul-smelling person. They both stared at each other for a moment, and Wei coughed.
“Good evening,” he managed. “Do you wish to—”
“Can I come in?” She said. Her expression was that of a stone, but her muscles were taut. It was then that Wei realized he was bloody looking up at this girl. She was a full head taller than him now. When had that happened? Why was she growing so fast. And she wasn’t wearing her boots—he was wearing his.
“We must train your body to grow taller as well. Being short is not an excuse.”
“Yes,” Wei said, finally catching up to her words. Heavens, there was so much noise in his mind now. “Yes. Please. Find a seat wherever you so choose.” He held the door open for her and watched her enter. Shaking his head, he did his best to cast the noise assailing his mind aside. He needed to focus. Agnesia wanted to talk—and there was much to speak of.
What happened to her mother; Reunion; the Dying Queen… She had suffered much. And now, perhaps for the first time in her life, she was alone. Alone in a foreign land with people she barely knew, with the fate of her mother still in question.
As Wei was about to close his door, a flash of purple materialized within his Omniscience and a splash of psionic energy and spatial Essence revealed Bishop. The Trespasser stood two steps away from Wei’s door with a grin plastered on his face.
“What does he want now?” Both Wei and his Shell groaned. A pause passed through the young master. Shell. Do you think—
“He will smear us against these walls with a flick of his wrist. There is no fight to be had. Not for you. Not for me. But that will change soon. That will change.”
The Shell’s certitude was a conviction shared by Wei. He remembered how much power Bishop channeled through Angeleous’ paltry vessel. Now, back in his true body, John Bishop was a match for any Count of Hell—and that Moonscar matron was even greater than he when it came to the power of their Essence signatures.
Inching his head out from behind his door slowly, Wei narrowed his eyes at Bishop. “Yes. Master Bishop. How might I help you?”
“Was just wandering around,” Bishop said, that ridiculous grin still on his face. “Came upon an interesting sight.” He nodded. “Now. I know you two survived something intense, and you’re both just kids, so—”
Inexperienced in certain “matters” as Wei was, he wasn’t a complete fool. When he was little more than a toddler, he caught senior disciples of differing sexes sneaking into each other’s quarters when they thought no one was watching. Curious, he approached and heard the most peculiar assortment of noises and declarations. When he returned to his own room, he asked his mother and father when he could begin his own special “nightly yin-yang cultivation session.”
That was the first time his father broke down laughing before Wei. That was also the first time Wei’s mother sprayed a mouthful of tea in his face, so taken by surprise she was.
And now these moments were gone. Gone and never to return.
“I am not doing anything untoward.” Wei’s statement was iron. Final. He wasn’t. She was his guest, and he would treat her accordingly.
Bishop helped up his hands in defense. “Hey. Listen. There’s nothing wrong with it. We get a little stressed and that causes—”
“Master Bishop, I am not a degenerate,” Wei said through clenched teeth. “I—I am offended you even think this of me. I intend to give Lady Agnesia whatever support she so desires—”
Bishop’s grin grew wider. “Whatever support she so wishes, huh? That’s noble.”
Wei’s Shell sighed. “We must work on your forward-thinking and rhetorical Masteries as well. A mule would have bleated better than you speak.”
“Goddamn you both,” Wei snarled.
That made Bishop blink. He looked around and frowned. “Both?”
“It’s nothing,” Wei said, a little too fast. “I am not going to do anything undignified. If I—there are rituals required for—we haven’t—a proper courtship proceeds matters of base flesh.”
A tumble of words escaped Wei, and Bishop started to laugh. “Holy shit, son. You don’t have a stick up your ass, you have a whole fucking pillar.”
The young master began to sputter, but the Trespasser him off. “Yeah. Right. Listen. Just… don’t do anything to fuck yourself up. Or her. Alright. Done breaking your balls. That’s all I wanted to say.”
Wei paused. “I thank you for your—wait, have you been watching me? How did you know?”
Bishop teleported in a flash of color, and Wei found himself staring at nothing but hallway again. “Bishop! Bishop!” Wei shouted. “You! I will…” A series of noises escaped Wei, but he decided upon slamming the door shut as a response. Great. Now, the Trespasser was spying on him. But did that mean he knew about the Shell?
“Unlikely. I have not materialized yet. I remain your secret. And you remain my shame.”
How encouraging.
Sighing, Wei pushed away from the door. Only to find Agnesia standing right behind him, blank-faced and empty-eyed.
Another awkward pause formed between them. But Wei mustered his confidence and snorted. “I meant every word. My intentions are only for your—”
A single tear dropped from her right eye. Followed by one from her left. Agnesia hugged herself, and slowly she began to shake.
Wei froze.
His Shell radiated with disappointment from within. “This is the opposite of what you were supposed to achieve? You fail yet again.”
What? What did I do?
“That does not matter. What matters is that she is miserable, and you are not making it better.”
Something akin to despair almost overcame Wei. He was so, so tired.
Comments
Cosmoros Subs
Great now there's a psyco shell that is totally not going to make him lose his last screws.
