QuiteTheSlacker
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Chapter 83: Things Will Get Much Worse From Here
🕑 Added 2024-10-08 17:08:16 +0000 UTC“Ah, Xeros… to think that cute little brat would grow up to become so dull. He was fun once, if you can believe it: a dirty, ragged bundle of rage who’d bite anyone that came close. I found him in the backstreets just after he chopped off an old pawnbroker’s head. Apparently the factory he was working for went under because of some shady dealings: the usual stuff. Back then, not a day went by without some type of backstabbing or sabotage or whatever the hell those magnates called it. I didn’t care about it much myself. I was rich, young, and aching for blood.
“Unfortunately, being the daughter of a business tycoon has its drawbacks. There were just so many boring meetings day after day after day… ugh, my brain’s numbin’ just thinking about it. The only time I ever got to have fun was while slaughtering assassins. Dear ol’ father made a lot of enemies, not that I complained. More corpses to join the pile.
“But imagine my surprise when, one day while out on a stroll, I saw something odd: a talk, or more like a shouting match, between a kid still wet behind the ears and a pig fattened by money. It seemed boring at first, but then the boy picked up an axe, raised it up high, and… splat. Right in the throat.”
Libevich the Manslayer
———
Satanael
“Hoh, quite peculiar,” Satanael muses to himself. “For the Grand General himself to wade through this junk heap… you surprise me, Xeros.”
He watches on, stalking from a distance, as the esteemed ruler of Caelum puts on a grand show of charity for the dirty inhabitants of the Slums. It is certainly a jarring sight: a man of such power mingling among those he has purposely isolated. Satanael cannot help but applaud his shamelessness.
However, the woman to his side is not so amused. The m’dame Seraphina bites at her nails, eyes glaring at the figure she has sought so desperately to kill.
“Why is he here?” she mutters. “He shouldn’t—damnit, of all days for Lilac to be out playing...”
Impatience swells in her body, fidgeting and grumbling as she struggles to compose herself. Satanael can see in Seraphina a most foolish desire to rush out right this moment and land herself an unceremoniously stupid death. And Satanael can’t have that now, can he? The woman still has much use.
“Now, now, lady Seraphina,” he says, snapping his fingers and startling her back to reality. “Please calm yourself. The Grand General is many things, but even he is not so heartless as to kill a child. She will be safe in the upper layers.”
Seraphina sighs and slaps her cheeks. “I know. I know, it’s just… it disgusts me seeing that vile old man act so kind. It disgusts me even more that I once believed in that act. If only I realized it sooner, I—”
Seraphina stops, and she shakes her head. There is a remorse in her words far greater than that of a simple dissenter: something more personable.
“You are an impressive woman,” Satanael says, to which she responds with a bewildered expression.
“Thank you?”
“Far too impressive to have been a mere proprietress in the Freedmen before all this rebellion business.”
Her demeanor turns cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But Satanael only chuckles. “Try as you might, there is a certain air about you that differs from the rest of the rabble. How do I say it… arrogance. Yes, an arrogance only the powerful can possess. Except in your case, I garner it relates not so to your physical strength, but rather your background.”
For the past weeks Satanael has cooperated with the m’dame, he has noticed a few peculiarities about her. About how she walks with a graceful stride, her prowess for subterfuge, and most importantly… her knowledge of the city’s layout. There is really only one explanation.
“You served directly under Xeros, am I correct?”
Seraphina leers at him, but doesn’t deny his claim. Instead, she appears conflicted, as if debating whether to truly trust in the mysterious man before her.
“… I’m not proud of it,” she eventually admits. “If I could go back, I’d smack the past me and tell her to screw off: to stop trying so hard to be acknowledged by a man who only ever saw you as a tool. It’s stupid, thinking about it now. All this time I thought I was helping people with my work, when in reality I was only ever making their lives worse.”
At least, that is what she says. But there’s something else hidden in her tone.
“Is that so?” he says, casting her a sly look. “How odd. For such scathing words, you sound as if you regret leaving. Although I suppose your current life is a far cry from the luxury and decadence up above.”
Seraphina scoffs. “It’s not that. I couldn’t care less about all that pompous crap, but… I do regret leaving someone behind.”
“Praetor Luxanne, I assume?”
She nods. “We—it’s complicated. I wanted to stay with her more, to talk to her, help her, be with her when the entire world seemed just so filthy, but I couldn’t. I had to leave or else the Grand General would become suspicious of Lux, too. There wasn’t any other choice, right? I thought so, but a part of me still wonders if I made the right call.”
Seraphina turns her head and looks out to the wide, sprawling heap that is the Slums. “Still, there’s been some good in leaving. I’ve met some good people, made a lot of connections I never thought I would, and built this organization with my own hands. Now…”
“Now, here you are,” Satanael says with a chuckle.
“Here I am,” she replies with a rare, genuine smile. “Who would have thought? Becoming the leader of a secret revolution was definitely not in my plans. Heh, the past me would’ve had a heart attack if she could see me now. Can you guess what my original job was?”
He ponders for a moment. “Assassination? Espionage?”
Two very reasonable assumptions given the lady’s talents, but Seraphina snorts and bursts out laughing. “What? No, that’s—is that what you think of me? Stars, I was an engineer. An inventor. I helped design the defensive array surrounding this damn place. Things like war and tactics were required to be taught at the academy; I didn’t even pass those classes, though I guess I kinda had to get good at it after deserting.”
Oh. Well, I certainly haven’t seen anything to suggest an inclination towards machinery. Except for…
Satanael looks at the gun holstered by Seraphina’s side. On closer inspection, it does not appear to be the same model as those used by the city’s enforcement; rather, the build is smaller. More compact. And the barrel is covered by a peculiar attachment resembling a metal tube.
“Your handiwork, I presume?” he says, gesturing to the weapon.
“Hm? Oh, this old thing?” she pulls it out, flicks a switch, and grips the handle while carefully keeping her fingers off the trigger. “I have better firearms, but… it was the first thing I made after escaping the Erudite. I couldn’t lug around a heavy gun all the time, so I took some scraps and crafted this beauty; I call it a pistol. You can only shoot a bullet at a time, but the recoil’s much softer and the silencer at the end helps mask the noise so that your ears don’t start bleedin’ just from firing it.”
Seraphina examines the pistol for a moment, turning it over and running her nail along the rim. “Y’know, I was going to make a copy for Lilac. Well, when she’s older. It’s a scary world out there; people are dyin’ left and right without even knowing why. Just senseless death after senseless death. I wanted to give her the means to at least defend herself, but now…”
Satanael tuts and wags his finger. “A simple solution. All we need do is topple the Grand General’s regime, and every one of your wishes shall come to fruition. Lilac’s retrieval, your reunion with the Praetor… everything. Everything shall be solved with his death.”
She chuckles. “Yeah, I guess it really is that simple, huh?”
Seraphina reholsters her weapon and takes a deep breath. There’s a clearness in her eyes now, burdens lifting and resolve etching firm. Satanael no longer needs worry; the woman will fulfill her role most faithfully now.
“Xeros’ll be occupied for a while,” she says. “Probably headin’ his way to the spire right now, but that’s fine. He can plan all he wants.”
“As for us,” Satanael says, trailing off towards the distance with a lively step. “We have much to do.”
She smirks and follows after him. Together, the two depart the Slums, and they make for the upper layer.
The time has come. The end approaches.
All that’s left is to wait.
———
Satanael
“Oh my, so soon? Very well. Let us meet again after the promised hour.”
Satanael steps out of his garden, and emerges into a large, derelict factory repurposed for the Yurodiviye. All manner of people rush about the base: Slum dwellers, Freedman laborers, and even a few well-dressed sorts from the Proletariat. The m’dame has spared no effort in her recruitment; to bring so many together from all these differing layers… her persuasion is certainly to be admired.
He slips through the busy stream and casually strolls to the fervent figure of Seraphina. Her experience as resistance leader is on full display, for she busies herself with coordinating the movement, ordering and receiving intel by the second, and shouting words of heart-thumping encouragement—all without breaking a sweat.
“How go the preparations, my lady?” he asks, creeping behind her.
“Ah, there you are,” she replies, waving off her advisers. “Everything’s all set and ready to go. My people’ve infiltrated the main entryways, and we’ve set up ambush points everywhere we can. Alleyways, street corners, exits… you name it. All we’re waiting on now is the shutdown of the defensive array around the city, but that’s going to be a tricky one even for me. The main core powering it is guarded deep at the base of the spire. Even if you were to have every one of us storm it, I wouldn’t be confident about our success.”
“Very good, and you need not concern yourself with that matter. I shall handle it myself.”
Satanael cannot lie, he does rather enjoy this situation. To think that so many souls are at his beck and call… how exhilarating! He considers himself a lover of more solitary roles, but this sort of change is not bad at all every once in a while. His position allows him to see many colorful individuals: many budding seedbeds.
Ah, but that is that, and this is this. He can indulge in himself after he has completed his task.
“Hm, I guess that fancy door trick of yours is pretty useful,” she says. “But how does it work? Can you just show up anywhere you want?”
“Well, not exactly,” he chuckles. “Think of it as… a labyrinth. An ethereal world of connecting halls and doorways. If I search thoroughly enough, I’m sure I’ll stumble into the right location eventually, but it would require quite a bit of time.”
“Heh, is that it? I’ve got just the thing then.” Seraphina reaches into her pocket and pulls out a detailed diagram of the inner depths of the spire. “I was actually the one who designed the core’s layout. Ugh, young me really didn’t hold back at all… but at least we know what we’re dealing with. Xeros probably thinks I’m dead so I doubt he’s changed the structure much, but don’t put all your trust in it. You never know.”
She smiles and playfully hits his shoulder. “Be careful out there, Mr. Satanael. I was just startin’ to grow fond of ya; it’d be a real shame to bury you in this dump.”
“Never to fear, my dear. Lurking is my specialty. The barrier shall fall before the day’s end, and when it does, I trust you shall fulfill your duties?”
“Of course.” She thumps her chest. “Leave it to me.”
“Then I shall be off. Do take care of your health, Madam Seraphina. I would love to have you stroll through my garden once this is all over.”
“Hoho, quite the enticing proposition. Looks like I’ll have to survive now, so don’t keep me waiting!”
“I shan’t. Until we meet again, my lady.”
With a grand flourish, Satanael bids her goodbye and retires to the comfort of his paradise. He takes a deep sniff of the floral breeze, and smiles.
I wonder what kind of flower she will bloom into… I cannot wait to find out.
He takes out the diagram and sends his consciousness into the realm of the ethereal. Thousands and thousands upon doors spread out before him, stretching far out into an endless, dim corridor of darkness. Turns, corners, split pathways oh my! It would be easy to find oneself forever lost in this domain, but to Satanael, such navigation is but a fun adventure.
“Now, just where is that door,” he mumbles, sauntering through the infinite hall. “Down, up, to the right, and… ah, there it is!”
Satanael returns back to the garden, and he slashes the air with his dagger: splitting the seams of reality whilst conjuring a door from the beyond.
“Hm, it has been some time since I’ve engaged in a little evisceration. This shall be quite enjoyable.”
He opens the door, and comes face to face with a surprised Caelum guard.
“What—”
Oh dear, already? Satanael gently slices their neck, and they fall to the ground. Sputtering. Twitching as blood pools ever so softly beneath.
“Now, now, can’t have your cries alerting the others, can we?”
Satanael chuckles and walks into the grey, metal-lined walls of the spire’s underground.
He hums a little tune. He whispers a quiet song. And every so often when he encounters a startled guard whilst amidst his wandering, Satanael dispatches them with nary a sound—nary a word. A stab to the throat and a jab to the heart is all it takes to create such wondrous art.
But all good times must come to an end. Eventually, he approaches a large, open room with a strange looking device in the middle. Its appearance is rather intimidating; glowing blue energy courses through the column-like structure of the machine, and metal tendrils sprout from above and below in every which way.
A massive orb lies in the middle, smooth and pulsating, while surrounded by a large group of Astrologians that seem to be supplying it with power. There about thirty of them all huddled together.
This could be a bit troublesome. Satanael’s expertise lies in assassin, not assault. However, perhaps there is no need for violence. The orb appears rather important; it would be a shame if something happens to it…
With no other method of traversal, he leaps into the air and stabs his dagger into the ceiling. The Astrologians are too busy to even notice as he crawls above them, stopping right across from the orb. It is protected by a transparent barrier, and while Satanael could attempt to carve a hole through it, something tells him that touching it is not the best of ideas. Is it the ominous whirring of sound, or perhaps the occasional blue streaks of discharge flashing across the surface? Nonetheless, he must think of another way for now.
What to do, what to do, he ponders. If I can’t go through directly, then perhaps…
He looks around and spots a large duct. It looks to be rather tight, too tight for the body of the average person to fit into, but Satanael is quite confident in his flexibility. One must be supple to creep in the places he has.
Satanael slices through the metal grating, contorts his body, and climbs into the duct. Although there is no exit that leads directly into the orb’s containment area, it is a simple matter to create one himself.
He slashes around himself with the finesse of a performer and watches the metal plummet to the ground. The Astrologians look at the scraps, confused, but they have no time to process their thoughts before a knife is swiftly thrown at the exposed orb.
It cracks and, in an instant, the entire room is enveloped in a blinding blue hue.
Then, boom.
Everything is consumed by light.
