Malcolm Tent
patreon
Wish upon the Stars chapter 877
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 23:54:45 +0000 UTC“Elijah,” hissed Percival darkly. “How DARE you? How dare you raise your blade against a branch head of the Wish Curse Palace. If you think Adramalech can save you after this, you-ve got anoth-”
My dad casually tapped his cane and the mirror plated knight raised his non sword holding hand and punched Percival across the face. “Shut up Percy,” he drawled cheerfully. “I don’t have time for your insecurities. I don’t care that dad likes me better, or that you’re the oldest, or that you resent my reputation. My kid doesn’t need your help, he has mine, and if you speak about him or my best friend in that manner in front of me again, I’m going to rip your tongue out and nail it to your forehead.”
Malachai grimaced. “Elijah, there’s no need for that. Your brother got carried away, and he learned his lesson. We’re in public, and we don’t need to make a scene. This is family business.”
My dad rolled his eyes, but flicked his fingers, and the three constructs vanished. “You’re lucky. If I was feeling really vindictive, I’d have just let my wife’s parents tear you apart.” His eyes flicked down, and Percival followed his gaze to the pool of endless darkness that had congealed at his feet. “But Sasha would be so upset if I let them kick off a war because I was too lazy to clean up my own trash.”
“You can’t TALK to me like that,” Percival howled. “I am a branch head. An elder of this faction. You’re not even IN the WCP anymore. This assault is an act of war!”
“Assault?” My dad said lightly. “I didn’t see any assault.” He turned to the others. “Did any of you see an assault? As far as I saw, Percival tripped and bumped into the wall face first. It was clearly a tragic accident.”
Zeke nodded sagely. “He’s always been clumsy. I thought he’d have grown out of it.”
“LIARS!” Howled the red haired man. “You’re all liars! You’re plotting against me! You’re all-”
A woman stepped from the crowd, her face serene but her eyes cold. “Percival.” Her tone was frosty, and as soon as she spoke, his mouth snapped shut. “I’m so sorry,” her dark hair stood out against bronze skin, and her smile was warm and compassionate, as long as you didn’t look above her nose. “My husband gets a bit out of sorts when it comes to his little brother.”
“Ayra,” my dad said mildly. “I’m surprised you let him out on his own. Next time I’d suggest getting him vaccinated first. I think he’s foaming at the mouth a bit.”
She frowned, eyes flashing. “I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my business, Elijah. I may not despise you as my husband does, but I don’t particularly like you either. You would do well not to make an enemy of me.”
“Threaten my husband again,” my mom said cheerfully. “And I’ll stomp your teeth in and wear your head like a shoe.”
“Enough, children,” my grandfather finally said. His voice was firm, and the echo of power rolled over us as the full weight of a demigod was released into the surroundings. “This isn’t productive. We’re here to help Shane, not to start trouble between branches. Miss Vetala, we’re sorry about your husband’s agitation. Perhaps you should take him elsewhere to calm down.”
It was easy to forget, given his easygoing nature, that my grandfather was the Radiant Pope, a demigod considered one of the strongest in his whole faction, and one of the top ten S-rankers in the universe.
Ayra tensed for a minute, but finally nodded. “Very well, your holiness. It was nice to meet you.” She shot us a hard look before leaving.
My mom shook her head. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t-”
“That wasn’t your fault,” my grandfather said bluntly. “The Vetala clan ability is called Discord. It heightens aggression and exploits insecurity. She was here for a few minutes before she showed herself, and she made sure to start a fight. Granted, she didn’t have to try hard, your brother does NOT like you, Elijah.”
My dad shrugged. “He’s always been a jealous little twit. That did seem extreme though. Don’t know how I missed that. She’s getting sneakier.”
Malachai sighed. “She has. And she’s been pushing Percy into situations like that any time she can. She wants to corner him into starting a branch war and cutting ties with me. She basically runs things over there already, but he puts his foot down when it concerns our main branch. I didn’t realize it had gotten so bad. He’s never gotten THAT unhinged before.”
“Might be cumulative damage,” I said. Everyone turned to look at me and I shrugged. “Some kind of soul or mental influence can cause damage over time. I’d offer to look at him, but I doubt my abilities would scratch an S-rank soul injury. If it IS the soul.”
“If it’s not, I might be able to help,” my grandfather added. “My purification flame can heal some types of mental damage.”
My paternal grandfather nodded. “I’d appreciate that, if the opportunity arises. In the meantime…” his expression hardened. “I think I’ll reach out to some of the other council members. Internal politics aside, I don’t like the idea of one of our branches being usurped by an Imperial clan. I think I’ve been ignoring a few too many signs in my preoccupation with this succession war.”
“It’s fine, dad,” my father assured him. “We get it. Everyone has been busy.”
“Yeah, and I’m sorry about earlier,” my mom said guiltily. “I have my issues with you, but I wouldn’t normally be so…confrontational. Not with so much at stake. In fact, I think my dad was the only one of us unaffected. That power of hers is nasty.”
It was. Being able to manipulate the minds of so many powerful people at once without detection? That was scary. But it clearly had some limits too. My grandfather was fine, and my grandmother had been a little annoyed but hadn’t lost her shit. Dad was an edgy bastard at the best of times, and mom could get volatile when it came to me.
The biggest outlier was probably Percival, though I didn’t know him well enough to say for sure. Like I’d said though, consistent contact probably wore him down.
“What are the implications of this?” Callie asked after a minute. “I mean, the candidate selection is the most sacred tradition the WCP has. The Wishmaster himself decreed its sanctity, and every Wishmaster after has endorsed it. Is it really ok for the Imperials to poke their noses into something like this?”
Malachai sighed. “It’s the war. Too much going on at once. With the gods focused on the enemy and now the void, there’s less oversight among the factions. The succession war is a vulnerable time, and it’s not a surprise that clans like the Vetala are hoping to exploit it.”
“Bottom feeders,” my dad sneered. “The Vetala are habitual opportunists. They wait for any sign of weakness and then pounce. Their whole legacy is nothing but large scale manipulation and trying to scavenge from other people’s kills. I don’t mind a clever strategy, but I have no patience for career cowards.”
“They’re pretty smug about it too,” Zeke grimaced. “Always looking down on everyone, like they accomplished some monumental task by following stronger forces and taking advantage of opportunities.”
I winced. “Are there going to be any down there with us? You said Percival’s son was coming, I assume he’s also HER son? She sending any cousins?”
“Probably,” my paternal grandfather shrugged. “But that’s not the main issue.”
My wife frowned at him. “How is it not? We basically just declared war on them, he’s going to be coming after us with everything he’s got.”
“You’re not thinking this through,” my grandmother advised her. “They will be an issue, but not the biggest one. That honor belongs to the candidates. Think about it. You’re about to be planet locked with several hundred small scale reality warpers.”
Even my dad grimaced at that. “It is a bit annoying. Especially the candidates who are already higher ranked. It might seem like being the Wishmaster wouldn’t be useful to a higher ranked candidate, but trust me, A-rank is LONG and arduous. Being the Wishmaster is as good as hopping on the fast track to S-rank. Once you hit that level, you retire, but there’s some real variance in timeline between different Wishmasters. Aiden, for instance, has had one of the briefest tenures of any Wishmaster in the last ten thousand years. His predecessor held office for three millennia. Aiden held it for less than three hundred years.”
That was…alarming. Not to mention it was probably its own form of boost to renown. Being the most dynamic and effective Wishmaster in recent memory was a hell of a feather in your cap. Big shoes to fill too, if I won. But I was getting distracted, I turned back to watch my dad.
“The point is,” he continued. “Wishes are annoying to go up against, and when EVERYONE has them, things get dicey. Sure, most of them get burned paying for services and forming alliances, but you can expect almost everyone you meet to have a spare up their sleeve in case of emergency.”
And I knew how they would do it too. Direct combat help, luck, items, communication. You could do anything with a wish. In fact, you could do SO much I didn’t know how the hell we would deal with it.
Zeke seemed to pick up my distress. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, though. Yes, things get crazy, but you have to remember that wishes can COUNTER other wishes. Direct action risks having one of your moves invalidated, and one wish longer is one wish stronger. Wasting your limited supply on a stalemate is considered the height of stupidity. Any of the REALLY clever candidates will spend their capital recruiting people with more stable capabilities. Like you do.”
“I can handle any of the A-rank candidates,” my dad said coldly. “My Wish Devil trait is ideal for countering contingencies. Triggering their backups against their will is child’s play.”
I felt a bit better after he said that, but I wasn’t able to allow myself to relax for more than a second before a sound split the air. A high ringing I recognized quickly as someone tapping on a glass. We all turned to find Harrison standing at the head of the large table, smiling warmly at all of us. “Apologies, my friends,” he said jovially. “But my son has a few words he’d like to say to our younger generation.”
Sure enough, he stepped aside and a new form took his place, one I recognized from my brief talk with him at the conclave. Aiden Wyndham. The current Wishmaster.
Everyone shut up pretty much instantly. And I knew why. His presence was…heavy. Heavier than my mom, than Sebastian, than Killian. He had this sort of suffocating presence that no other A-ranker I’d seen could match. I imagined that Lark might have been like this at A-rank. Or Abel might be in the future.
His eyes panned across the room, briefly stopping on my dad. They exchanged a brief smile and a nod and then he moved on. “I’ve been told I’m supposed to say a few words. Inspire you to be your best, to make the WCP proud,” he said lazily as he scanned the crowd.
Then he shrugged. “I don’t see it. You’re all pretty mediocre. But hey, somebody has to win, so there’s that. As for pride, the WCP doesn’t give a fuck about your performance here. Not unless you win, and not even really then. So whatever, try your best, or don’t, I don’t actually care. Someone get me a beer.” Then he sat down and summarily ignored the whole room.
“Damn,” Zeke said appreciatively. “I forgot how much I liked him when we were younger.” I rolled my eyes. He would have. Shrugging, we all headed for the table to sit down. Guess it was time for the real meeting to start. I wondered if I could get away with napping behind my mask if I could hold myself upright.
Comments
Lucas
Great job as always!
Malcolm Tent
The Wishmaster is a ceremonial position that is given to the most promising member of the younger generation to help them accumulate lots of renown. Past A-rank renown isn't useful, so they step down when approaching S.
Matija Milošević
Wait, so Wishmaster is A rank? And they retire when they hit S rank? Or is it Aiden specifically that is A rank and that is why he is so special?
