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Chapter 306. We All Wait for You
🕑 Added 2022-10-23 22:11:37 +0000 UTCWith the pronouncement spoken and confirmed openly, over a hundred disapproving eyes meet Holiday’s unflinching gaze.
This is all wrong. Holiday wants something. He wants me to do something and I don’t know what.
I think back to the moment I agreed to participate in Holiday’s experiment before I even knew the name Discardia. He exchanged an unbounded favor… in exchange for my participation along with Red.
He couldn’t have known how well Red would do at that point, couldn’t have assumed that Red would become the true front-runner.
Perhaps he knew, perhaps he did not, Maria interjects. Holiday is an opportunist. His Beginning allows him to see possible paths forward; he can prune those with poor outcomes and pursue those with promising ends.
Don’t you get the sense that he’s going to incite something? I ask, suppressing a grimace. I’m not trying to stir up trouble, especially now that I’ve already achieved our goals in coming here. I want to leave with Lucinda and get this over with.
You can ask him about his intent directly, Maria suggests. He may just tell you.
“Crimson Teeth,” I say, speaking to his mind. He permits the transmission past his defenses. Our thoughts fly faster than speech, an entire conversation happening in a moment. “Why must you single out Ascendant Red?”
“He should have won,” the man states. “He would have been singled out then as well. What is the true affront, Ancient Black?”
“If he had won, he would be under the Hall of Ascension’s protection as its newest member. You give him the empty honor of runner-up without the amnesty granted by membership to the Hall.”
Holiday’s thoughts are brusque. “The recognition of Ascendant Crimson Teeth is not an empty honor.”
“He already has the recognition of an ancient.”
“True, but one without reputation. That is why these people skirt around you and grow ever bolder, you know.”
“Now that they are familiar with me, they are less intimidated by my appearance,” I assert.
“They have also had time to investigate you more thoroughly–as have I.”
“And?”
“You likely know this, and my words are superfluous, but all here who matter know that you are a new ancient. All ancients are worthy of respect, but a new ancient is barely more than a dual affinity practitioner. People pay their respects but regard you with envy. Can you not sense it?”
“I am a Remorse practitioner,” I state. The affinity should be answer enough. I had sensed envy from many of the ascendants, though I considered it appropriate. The people here are all powerful and tied to organizations, suggesting that they keep the spark of their ambition alight. Crafting, finding, and otherwise acquiring artifacts is a primary way to magnify one’s power when one’s affinity is already at the pinnacle. The only other way to make substantial gains in personal power is to awaken a new affinity altogether.
Knowing what I do about the discipline required for Ash to awaken multiple affinities–the man spending countless years in isolation for miniscule gains, his progress reset with a single death–I agree that ancients can seem like inhuman monsters, their feats unattainable.
For the ascendants who recognize me as a new ancient, my presence is a reminder that gaining a third affinity is possible, that they aren’t trying hard enough. It’s not fair, of course–I only had the opportunity to become an ancient so quickly because I ascended soon after awakening my Death affinity. And even then, only because I was lucky enough to run into Ash and attract his attention.
They don’t know that, though.
“I know of your five affinities, split between yourself and your lich,” he replies. “Your ascendant energy may be blue, but I do not question your power. In fact, I seek to rely on it now.”
My stomach drops. “Crimson Teeth, what are you implying?”
Rather than responding mentally, he speaks out loud: “Once Ascendant Red has evolved the quality of his ascendant energy, he may return to the Hall of Ascension to join its ranks.”
“When the next member of the Hall falls, will another competition be held, as is the custom?” Ascendant Lucinda pipes up, standing.
The glowing red around Holiday’s teeth becomes opaque like red lacquer. “That will depend on the speed of Ascendant Red’s growth.”
“Red,” I mentally ask, “what is going to happen?”
“What normally happens when ascendants don’t like someone’s decision.”
“Violence?”
“Of course. Please don’t let people capture me to ensure I never become powerful enough to join the Hall.”
“Is that a joke?” I ask.
Red does not respond.
I fix a glare on Holiday, letting the full force of my scorn show. “Why are you inciting them?”
“Because they need a reminder. If they do not like Discardia and they wish to complain, so be it. But they forget who it is they antagonize. I want to remind them personally.”
“You want them to attack you so you have cause to violently punish them?”
“So we have cause to punish them,” Holiday corrects. “They have insulted you as well.”
I want to strangle him. The very last thing I want to do is get into a fight where I’ll reveal that I’m less powerful than people assume. The fight between the competitors just minutes ago is fresh in my mind. I have no idea how I could defend myself against Meng’s Dark obliteration, and some of the observers must be even more powerful.
“This is pointless.”
“It most certainly is not,” Holiday retorts. “That mindset is why your energy is still blue. You are a new ancient; you need to establish a reputation.”
“This is you helping me?” I confirm, incredulous. That’s certainly one way to spin it.
“We’re helping each other.”
Our mental conversation is interrupted by the stirring of other ascendant observers. Artifacts activate around us and a few lesser factions take their leave, darting from the observation area toward the veil vulnerability in the nearby temple. Most notable among the departures is the Void Forge–the organization sponsoring the victor, Ascendant Meng. Meng himself looks knowingly at his fleeing comrades, as though assuring them that he’ll follow along shortly.
That’s when I realize many of the people here aren’t surprised at all by the inclement violence. Anticipation pumps through people’s veins, their vital energy surging. Some flash knowing smiles and roll their eyes.
“How often do these competitions end in violence?” I suddenly ask.
“Oh, every time,” Holiday confirms. “Usually, it’s between two or three factions, rather than all the factions and me–and you, now. What fun to shake it up! It’s like the ascendant version of a parent student teacher conference.”
I ignore the nonsensical statement and rise, my feet hovering above the translucent ground. Darkness surrounds me, the wrathful specters that writhe around my body expanding, claws grasping, and sinister teeth bared wide like untriggered bear traps.
“Red, is there anything I need to be aware of? A battle is about to start and you’re being awfully quiet.”
“There’s nothing I need to tell you,” he says, “not this time.”
“Should we try to leave?”
“Based on what I’ve seen in scenarios, no. You know what’s coming. Just be glad you have persistent clothes and be prepared to activate the Blade of Revelation when you die and revive lest you reveal your true form.”
“That’s it?”
“Just–” he pauses. “Have… fun?”
I lose my composure and laugh uproariously. The ascendants in the stands turn my way in surprise. Using ascendant energy to boost my voice, I say, “Lucinda, did I not warn you before?”
She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t reply immediately.
“Your tone and bearing implies you think my protégé undeserving of joining the Hall of Ascension. The same can be said for all who face Crimson Teeth with ire,” I add calmly. “You disrespect me.”
“That is not my intent,” Lucinda demurs, though her eyes glint with interest and challenge.
My face is expressionless. “Your actions speak for themselves.”
The surroundings are tense; all are like coiled springs, ready to react at the first sign of attack.
The Regret practitioners must have some idea of who will attack first, but if they’re all out-Regretting one another, maybe the future is less than certain. It would explain why Red doesn’t bother sharing memories of scenarios with me.
“Ancient Black,” Holiday says mentally. “Did your protégé not inform you? We all wait for you to make the first move.”
Realization comes to me. I am the insulted party. If I walked away now, there would still be a fight, but whoever started it would probably lose face. Nobody has a particularly strong reason to attack Holiday, even if they wish to contest his decision. As the person whose protégé has been insulted, however, I have just cause to attack.
“Do the Regret practitioners not see me attacking them in scenarios?” I ask coyly, with no small bit of malice. Of course they don’t. If a Regret practitioner begins a scenario, and Red starts one of his own inside of it, even my lacking Beginning will have enough time to determine whether the scenario is fake. It’s the strategy I’ve been using the entire competition to outmaneuver ascendants seeking to gain information about me.
“Will you truly not fight?” Holiday asks.
“At this point, you have the gall to ask?”
I exhale sharply. Then several things happen at once.
Prismatic soul gems stream from my void storage, forming into a lattice, shards of bone hanging suspended as though trapped in a strange, magnetic field. The pattern is not random–it is a mixture of both Death and End, a focus of power, a tri-layer aegis. The riftbeast soul gem that provides enhanced protection from extreme temperatures presses against my skin, hidden beneath my shirt. My wings flare like furnaces.
Maria, are you with me?
Always.
The flames explode around me. I am insulated from the heat by my rugged, transformed skin, the riftbeast gem’s energy, and Maria’s affinity working within me. Simultaneously, I perform a pinpoint attack on the brains of everyone in my range, specifically attacking the brain stem with my Death affinity while attempting to distract by breaking through the mental shields of those present. My range is large enough to encompass most of the observation stands, though it does not extend to the classroom.
Ascendant energy fuels the attacks, cobalt blue through the combined power of me and Maria, but still not as powerful as a true red energy ascendant. I maintain the tightest control over it, preventing even a drop of energy from manifesting externally.
Fifteen people die instantly, which surprises me; I expected them to have better means of defending themselves, especially with time to prepare defensive artifacts.
The majority do survive, however, and immediately assail me with a barrage of attacks.
A pillar of plasma encompasses me. A wind invades my orifices, carrying the searing flames. The temperature around my skin plummets, creating zones of extreme cold next to blistering hot. A massive slab of black stone drops down into the inferno, its edges molten as it seeks to flatten me.
Mental attacks, too, barrage my mind, clawing at the defenses of my meager Remorse affinity. It takes all my strength to resist the attacks and requires me to abandon my own Remorse offensive.
The final attack is a tall sickle of darkness that cuts a thin line through the air, disintegrating all that it crosses. With my eyes blinded by the light, I almost miss it, my vital vision unable to perceive matter-less Dark affinity except for by its wake of destruction.
I only perceive it when I sense it slice through my shield of bone and prismatic soul gems, utterly unobstructed.
This all processes in my mind at once, time seeming to freeze as my Beginning affinity struggles to catalog everything and muster a counter offensive. If it were just me one-versus-one against each of these people, I would have much more reason to fear someone finding out that I am not as strong as I claim. Against so many, however, I’m certainly going to die, but I don’t think that can be attributed to a fault of my own. Even Ancient Ash would die when faced with this situation.
I get now why Red is unconcerned–and why Holiday seems to think this will help my reputation, rather than ruin it.
What did Red say? Have fun?
We’ll see.
