Super Genetics
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B2 - Chapter 17: The Burning Court
🕑 Added 2024-08-12 17:30:50 +0000 UTC[A/N]: We're back! Sorry about the delay everyone...last week was rough. I'm still not feeling great, but I'm excited to be back to posting. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm not 100% on the next post date, but shooting for Wednesday.
Thanks for reading!
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It was difficult not to feel like a failure.
Twenty years clawing for respect, scrapping for resources, bargaining for alliances—all dashed to the dirt by the machinations of a single megalomaniac.
No, Terraform amended, Qui Shen is simply the byproduct of a war thrust upon us unwittingly.
These beings pulling the strings, gods or demons or cthulic powers, used Awakened like expendable bullets—fire and forget. And they’d turned Earth into just another battlefront for their war.
He’d consciously pulled away from society for that very reason; created a place that—while not utopic—was certainly better than the alternatives on the surface. Yet, somehow, he’d been dragged back into the politics and violence.
Well, Qui Shen was about to discover that he was very good at violence.
Around him was the evidence of two decades of friendship and peace. Four people who despite their raw power, had chosen of their own free will to spend their lives on the hope of saving others.
Louisa—ornery, imperious, arrogant; giving, selfless, powerful above her rank.
Juliette—obsequious and timid; stronger than she could possibly know, a cornerstone of the Market.
Marcus—quiet, unambitious; steady, powerful, an anchor to Terraform’s leadership.
Hunter—too content in his shadow; yet, the greatest mind he’d ever come across.
And then there was himself. Once upon a time, he’d been a coward. No one would ever have dared say so to his face; he had been a tempestuous coward, prone to proving himself with acts of daring violence and reckless risk-taking. It was only after he’d lost everything—been exiled in disgrace from his homeland—had he understood that his bluster and half-cocked tendencies had been a cover for the raw terror that infected his being.
That was decades ago. He’d rebuilt himself from the ground up, infused the core of his being with integrity and bravery. Now, his center was as solid as the element he controlled.
He didn’t tremble as they raced toward certain death; didn’t even consider how simple and clean it would be to just flee. Even a half-honest man would see the appeal of guerrilla tactics, hit-and-run attacks, only to flee at the first sign of real danger.
But a truly honest man, a man of real integrity, wouldn’t fool themselves. Guerrilla tactics wouldn’t save the thousands of refugees angling at a slow crawl toward the surface. Qui Shen’s forces were too large and too powerful for a couple of sneak attacks to shake their progress.
No, only all-out war would cripple them enough to give Sol and the others a chance.
He knew all this about himself—and more—as he surveyed his group one last time. Louisa was stirring the ambient aura around her, creating whirlpools of power that belied her A-rank. Hunter had his eyes closed, sharpening his greatest weapon—his mind. Marcus was readying his aura, preparing to Amplify Terraform to a level beyond mere S-rankers. And Juliette stood by Louisa’s side, helping stir her power like the ladle in a cauldron.
The mood to address them gripped him from nowhere.
“There’s no one else I’d rather last stand with.”
Hunter’s eyes drifted open, a slight uptick at the corner of his mouth. Louisa scowled—what else would she do?—and ignored him. Juliette faltered in her control, smiling shyly before turning back, ever the diligent apprentice. Marcus placed a steady hand on his shoulder, injecting him with power—but more than that; confidence, strength, surety.
Terraform simply nodded, not expecting any other response. They all knew what they were rushing towards; now was not the time for rousing speeches or goodbyes.
Now was the time for unrestrained, barely-recognize-friend-from-foe, reality-bending…violence.
***
A human’s aura wasn’t much more complicated than a cat’s, believe it or not. There was just more of it.
So when Terry began to examine Tania’s aura to replicate what he had seen in Marmalade and Eleanor, there was hypothetically more surface area to cover.
There was a part of him—a small, practically suicidal part—that wondered if capturing another cat wouldn’t still be faster. But bringing that up to Tania, after the conversation they just had was…well, suicidal.
Still, he was beginning to realize that this was an entirely different beast. He had to hold her aura structure in his mind, compare it to the snapshot he’d taken of Marmalade, and make the alterations he needed—all without inadvertently crippling or killing his friend.
He reached out, utilizing his aura to shift hers—
“You’re sure your Danger Sense will warn you if I do something—”
“Yes!” She sighed, even her newfound outlook reaching the limits of its patience after rehashing the conversation for the fifth time. “I can feel it like a physical sensation. You won’t hurt me, I promise!”
He bit his lip, nodded, flicked his gaze up to her face, then away. He believed her, but believing and knowing were two separate states of mind that he was having difficulty reconciling.
But at the end of the day, it was her aura, her life—and Tinker, Bloodhound, and Lady were eyeing the crowd with barely-constrained avarice. They were hunting him and he needed to anchor a Skill in order to unlock his Midmark Quest. He didn’t know if it would be something achievable here and now; didn’t even know if it would be a Summons Quest or something completely unrelated to his current predicament.
All he knew was: every other avenue was firmly shut tight. Better to try and fail than do nothing at all.
First, he began massaging her aura—much like Marlon did with his clay on the pottery wheel—working more by feel than anything. Her aura was rigid at first, and he had to put a bit more effort in to get the same effect he had with the cats. But he must have hit some threshold because her aura shape suddenly folded, drawing in upon itself in an approximation of the shape he was trying for.
She winced as if in pain and he stopped everything, his eyes widening. She shook her head, putting on a half-smile.
“You’re fine. Just felt…weird.”
He pulled back. “We shouldn’t do this. I’ll find another way—”
She clamped down on his arm, her smile melting, fire in her eyes. “Terry. Stop. I’m just getting used to the sensation, that’s all.”
He hesitated, eyeing her, searching for a hint of deception, any chip in the facade of her tough-girl act. But this was Tania—once she made up her mind, she’d never back down out of fear or trepidation.
So he nodded, turning his attention back to her aura.
She noticeably eased up as he worked, her aura relaxing in step with her body, the tension draining out of her as she realized her Danger Sense wasn’t triggering.
He fell into her aura, the mold shifting under his direction with increasing ease. Everything else fell away: time, her unconscious squirming, the crick in his neck—all of it. Only the images in his mind and the feel of her shifting aura.
Some unknown amount of time passed when he felt something tugging at his arm. Then, an insistent voice in his ear.
He rose from the depths of his concentration like a diver reaching the surface.
“Terry,” Tania hissed. “Terry! Something’s happening!”
His head shot up, following her finger, a fog constricting his mind. As it cleared, he recognized the Council supers staring toward them, somehow piercing past the hundreds of refugees in the interim.
Terry released Tania’s aura, preparing to activate his Master of Light in an attempt to slip out of sight and into the crowd, when a blur of motion whipped past him.
Something solid, firm as stone, gripped him by the neck. A voice whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.
“You’re my bargaining chip, kid. Don’t struggle. He didn’t mentioned anything about catching you alive.”
Terry’s mind raced to understand, only able to focus on the voice for a split second before he was picked up and carried across the stone floor at high speeds.
It was Rupert, the A-ranked Duelist who had nearly killed him on the bridge above the Pits.
“Terry!” Tania called from behind him, her voice fading as he was ferried away from her.
A blink later, he was deposited on the floor, his feet unsteady as he tried to catch his balance. His mask was pulled from his face, the grip on his neck still ironclad.
“I bring you, the Chameleon,” Rupert declared, his tone self-satisfied. “Apparently, his name is Terry.” He shrugged, thumbing over his shoulder. “One of his accomplices is back there.”
Before him, Sol’s mouth gaped open, his eyes wide with anger as he stared daggers at the Duelist.
But Terry’s attention was pulled toward Tinker, the S-ranker’s mask locked in on him, unmoving.
His voice echoed through his power armor, full of disbelief.
“Terry…Fairway?”
***
Fifty Stone Elementalists ranging from two dozen lowly Mortals all the way up to a singular Demigod manifested their element to mobilize the largest Awakened army the North American continent had seen since the clash between Dancer and Tempest forty years ago.
The Demigod in charge of the Stone Elementalists was named Héng Shí—known on HeroWatch as Enduring Rock—and was very much aware that the only thing that separated him and the fires of the Eternal Flame was the speed with which he directed their procession.
It didn’t matter if they transitioned from shale to granite; they were expected to continue apace.
No, he was expected to continue apace. The Burning One was not prone to accepting excuses, nor explanations, regardless of their validity.
As a result, it was his directive to maintain a…less than maximum speed to account for any density differentials encountered unexpectedly. Should they run into a vein of tougher material, they would increase their power output and bull through such that He did not have reason to notice their existence.
So it was with some consternation that Héng Shí had been forced to maintain one hundred percent power output for the past thirty minutes—with no break in sight. A simpler man might have blamed bad luck, the gods, or the incompetence of his men and women. But Héng Shí knew where there was smoke, there was fire.
For the tenth time, he extended his senses outward, scanning for signs of that one. The preeminent user of his element, the man who had reached the pinnacle of Stone Elementalism.
A man Héng Shí had idolized for most of his adult life. A man who he was now convinced approached just outside the range of his perception, hampering his team’s progress, fanning the flames licking at Héng Shí’s toes.
There were two paths as Héng Shí saw it—one, he and his team could continue full bore, punching through stone and supernatural resistance with all their power and hope that the Stone God—Terraform, as he was now known—tired before the fifty of them.
Or…option two—he could break off from his team and triangulate the God-Tier Elementalist’s position, forcing a confrontation between the Eternal Flame and the Stone God. The chances were high that any such battle would result in the death of his team as collateral—if not himself, as well.
But in his secret heart, death by stone was more honorable, more earthly, than the kiss of flame.
He centered himself with a deep breath, feeling his energy course through his limbs in time with his lungs. Then, he sent Mei a System message.
[Héng Shí, servant of the Eternal Flame]: My dearest, the time has come. Should I dishonor myself, flee across the water with Chen. I love you, my flower.
Her response came back instantly, but he didn’t read it right away, savoring it for when he might need it the most.
His heart was pounding now and he was sure his men could hear it beating in his neck. He forced one more calming breath in, then crafted another message with just as much painstaking care, but no love.
This one went to Suì Gǔ Zhě—otherwise known by the west as Bone Breaker.
[Héng Shí, servant of the Eternal Flame]: Lord, I believe the exiled one approaches. If I break off from the excavation, I might be able to determine his location.
He read and reread the message seven times for luck, then rewrote one word, switching might be to will be. Experience told him that even a single misspoken word had dire consequences in the court of the Eternal Flame.
In a moment that seemed to defy time, his mental command to send the System message was in lockstep with the whoosh of air that ruffled his clothes. After many years in His Excellency’s court, Héng Shí knew better than to flinch, but could not hide the flutter of his heart or the hairs standing on his neck.
Behind him, he sensed Suì Gǔ Zhě mere inches from his back, his breath hot against Héng Shí’s neck.
He quickly bowed—even without looking—casting his eyes to the stone and drawing his aura in tight so as to not offend or appear to challenge the Bone Breaker.
Suì Gǔ Zhě was God-Tier—an S-ranker in the west—and was therefore privileged to kill, maim, or do worse, to a Demigod-Tier Awakened such as Héng Shí. The mere fact that Héng Shí was the highest-ranking Stone Elementalist deep underground and a thousand miles from home meant less than nothing; punishment could be long, slow, and deferred until whenever was convenient.
Not to mention his wife and son who were back at the staging area two hundred miles west or his extended family held hostage back in Asia.
He’d rather die a million deaths than have his entire lineage face the wrath of the Eternal Flame.
“Stand.”
Suì Gǔ Zhě’s voice was like tectonic plates shifting, a low rumble that Héng Shí felt in his gut. He rose as commanded, facing the God-Tier Duelist with eyes averted. The Bone Breaker was the biggest man Héng Shí had ever seen. That much was clear just from staring at his calves, which were thicker than Héng Shí’s thighs. And they stretched up impossibly high, Suì Gǔ Zhě’s knees nearly at Héng Shí’s waist.
But it wasn’t his musculature that made him a living legend, nor his towering height.
Grinding into the ground was his System-given weapon—a two-meter tall club that seemed to be cast from Héng Shí’s own element. But his senses confirmed that it was not stone. Rumor suggested Suì Gǔ Zhě had slain a dragon or some alien demon while Summoned for his Capstone Quest. His club was purported to be the femur—or some other limb bone—of that unearthly creature.
He hefted that bone club now, propping it against his shoulder in a blur that made Héng Shí’s balls clench.
If the killing blow were to come by the Bone Breaker, I’d never have time to warn Mei…
For once, he actually longed for the flames.
“The Guòjiē Lǎoshǔ is near?” The rat that runs across the street…despised by all.
Saliva pooled in his mouth and he was forced to swallow lest he tried to answer and drool over himself. His audible gulp would have shamed him once, many decades past. Now, he leaned into his obvious terror, forcing a small quaver in his voice as he responded.
He knew that he had made his gamble by summoning Suì Gǔ Zhě over and there was no backing out now.
“Yes, Lord. I sense resistance pushing against my power—”
The club shifted and Héng Shí stopped speaking, stopped moving—didn’t even dare take a breath.
“Your power?” Suì Gǔ Zhě scoffed—a sound that drew side-eyes from his nearby subordinates; they understood that that scoff had been the precursor to many, many, deaths. “A hundred of you grubby earth worms shifting away at this dirt. My Breaker—” He hefted his club in one hand, holding it high above his head. Héng Shí’s gaze darted up between his eyelashes, watching to see if that club was coming down to break him. His pre-crafted message to Mei hung ready to be sent with a thought. “—could dig faster than you scum—”
“Gǔ…” A sibilant hiss whispered across the traveling court. Breaths held, sphincters clenched, eyes closed involuntarily—the very air seemed to still.
And the temperature in the large excavated tunnel shifted five degrees hotter.
Suì Gǔ Zhě was not immune to this effect, the arm holding his club clenching as he gripped its handle tighter. A scowl flickered across his face, his eyes burning with unconcealed hate for the slightest of moments, before he slipped his mask back into place.
Héng Shí spotted the open contempt, of course, but wasn’t affected by it in the slightest. Though a single tier separated him and Suì Gǔ Zhě, that tier was a gulf as wide as the ocean, as deep as the inky black that separated Earth from the Heavens. He could no more bridge that divide with a word in His Excellency’s ear than he could leap to the moon.
Suì Gǔ Zhě let his club drop into his free hand, then turned on his heels and bowed toward the god reclining upon his palanquin. Walls of white fire burned around the edges of the palanquin, blocking the Eternal Flame from view. A single, pale hand stretched forward, parting the flame with a wave of aura that burned like the sun.
“Approach…Héng Shí.”
Suì Gǔ Zhě moved in a blur, seeming to disappear, then reappear, at the base of the palanquin, where his own Royal Seat was carried by lesser Duelists.
Héng Shí also moved quickly, utilizing small, discreet bursts of his aura to propel his feet forward on the stone. In mere seconds, he was kneeling before the Eternal Flame’s palanquin, his head bowed low.
A whisper sounded in his ear, causing his breath to catch. No, he realized, not a whisper. His senses picked up on the aura a moment later, though he knew better than to follow it along it back to its source.
You may step into the flames, the voice whispered in his mind.
His thoughts faltered, even as his feet moved of their own accord. He was up the palanquin steps, nearing the wall of white-hot flame before his thoughts caught up to him.
Not in twenty years had he been invited within the flames. Never had the Eternal Flame’s Hypnotist spoken in his mind.
He found himself suddenly in a panic.
If she rips my thoughts from my mind, all is lost! Chen…Mei…
There was nothing to be done, no other course of action. Hesitation now would mean a slow, burning death—if he was lucky.
So he reached forward, the heat nearly unbearable, the hairs on his hand curling, burning—he was burning…
…Then, his hand touched the fire and the pain ceased. He took another step forward, engulfing his entire arm, then his torso. All it took was a second step and he was past the opaque wall of flame.
Lounging across a bed of cushions…was an old man. Pale, wrinkly skin that sagged against thin limbs; a freckled scalp crisscrossed with wisps of white hair that did little to hide sickly flesh; eyes darting, milky white, finding nothing.
Qui Shen, known as the Eternal Flame among his subjects, the Incinerator among his enemies, the undisputed ruler of most of Asia and the most feared man in the world…
…Was a blind, frail-looking, old man.
That wasn’t to say he was weak—far from it. His aura was brighter than the sun, dense and yet flaring out wide to encompass everything around him. Just looking at him with his senses physically pained Héng Shí.
Still, he had never observed the His Excellency without his flame armor—and now he understood why.
Aura notwithstanding, the Eternal Flame looked more like Héng Shí’s aging grandfather than the ruler of a billion people.
He was quick to mask his thoughts, his eyes flicking to the woman standing at the Eternal Flame’s shoulder. A God-Tier Hypnotist was said to be able to read surface thoughts without effort and rip away deeper thoughts and emotions with nothing but a simple sweep of their aura.
His knees had never struck the ground harder, his forehead practically cracking against the marble floor of the palanquin. It calmed his nerves to be in contact with his element, grounded him in a way that almost tricked him into thinking he could survive this day.
Heat washed across his body as the Eternal Flame spoke.
“Report…”
The air felt dry, his throat burning. He almost wished he could drool now, just to stave off the heat clutching at his throat.
“Your—ahem—Your Excellency, pardon this one’s miserly presence. As I reported to Lord Suì Gǔ Zhě, I…ah, believe that the Exiled One is near. My team, ah, meets resistance that cannot be accounted for by mere stone density.”
His mind churned, every word he’d uttered second-guessed, every syllable sounding weak, incompetent, to his own ears.
The temperature increased again, and Héng Shí watched as sweat began to drip down his nose, splatter against the stone into little pools.
He felt aura pass between the Hypnotist and His Excellency, but did not dare taste its flavor with his own aura—no matter how much he yearned to know what they silently discussed.
Moments that felt likes hours ticked by, the sweat slipping into his eyes, blinding him. He blinked them away as best he could, knowing that to reach a hand to wipe away the sting could very likely result in his death.
Then, the silence parted like a cool breeze whispering among tall grass.
“How certain…are you?”
The question threw the already flustered Héng Shí off and his mind scrambled to process those words.
“Very, ahem, absolutely certain, Your Excellency.”
Another wave of aura passed between them. Then, the woman spoke, her voice full of danger, as if she knew the answer to her question before asking and were simply testing his truthfulness.
“How many could you slip past his net without him realizing it?”
Héng Shí’s mind was a storm, his thoughts a ship tossed across the towering waves. How many could I slip past…? They intended a sneak attack? But on whom? The Stone God!?
He could flank—maybe—but he could never launch a sneak attack inside the Stone God’s own element.
“Yes, we intend a sneak attack,” the woman said. Had I spoken out loud? “But not on the Exiled One.” She leaned in, her eyes seeming to burrow into his very thoughts, penetrating like needles under fingernails. “You will ferry His Excellency, myself, and a strike team past the net…straight toward the refugees fleeing toward the surface.”
What? Why? He couldn’t make sense of it. Hostages? The Stone God would never cede the Divinity for mere human lives—not to the Eternal Flame, at least.
The woman smiled—a cruel expression on her face, her cheekbones sharp, practically pushing through the skin.
“We have it on good authority that the Exiled One no longer possesses the Divinity.”
The Eternal Flame leaned forward and she stopped speaking out of respect, pulling back to her full height.
“Guòjiē Lǎoshǔ has passed the Divinity…to a weak…broken…former god.” Red fire flamed to life behind His eyes, giving him a demonic visage. “Get me to him…undetected…and you will join…my court…”
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Note: Awakened Rankings are different in Asia by proclamation of the Eternal Flame! The revealed rankings in this chapter are mapped as such:
S-rank = God-Tier referred to as Gods
A-rank = Demigod-Tier referred to as Demigods
D-rank = Mortal-Tier referred to as Mortals
B, C, F were not discussed.
Comments
Andrew Simpson
I really don't love the existence of Rupert as a one-dimensional heel/antagonistic plot device. Its not entirely clear to me why he would have such a large following, and why anyone would put up with his shit. Also I bet it would be easier to work on Tania's soul if Terry meshed with it! I also can't help but draw the comparison between Terry's weirdly intimate bumbling exploration of Tania's aura and the awkward bumbling of teenage physical intimacy. I dunno if that was intended, but if so it was cleverly done!
