Euthanasia. Mercy killing. The hardest goodbye.

It's got a lot of names, but functionally, there's gonna be a time on the battlefield where you're going to have to put your knife in your friend's heart.

It could be because you don't want them to be captured. It could be because their injuries are too severe. It could be because a plague is wiping everyone out and your friend just doesn't have it in them to finish things themselves. It could be any of these reasons. The result is always the same: suffering and death, or softness and death.

Some people like to go on about dignity here. There's not much dignity when people die. We all die pretty similarly. I guess some people are quieter about it than others, but for most, there's usually the screaming for their mother, followed by shitting and pissing themselves. It's practically unavoidable.

What's avoidable, however, is how long they do it and how ugly things get. So, if you don't think you can pull this off, I recommend against being a soldier. Because you're not just going to be responsible for your own life. You're going to be responsible for your friends. And when they can't push themselves over the edge, when the hardest time comes, you better step up.

Because you need to understand that you might very well be that friend. You might very well be lying on the ground with both arms blown off, no Biomancers nearby, enemies closing in, and in the absence of victory, well, you can only take the consolation prize.

You feel uncomfortable reading this? Good. It's not supposed to be comfortable. It's supposed to be a burden. You feel that way, you hold that knife, and you do the last thing you can to make things right.

-Memoirs of a Master-Tier Warmage

193 (I)

Euthanasia [I]

"Why?" Shiv asked, frowning. "What kind of grudge do you have against Enoch?"

Veronica scoffed, and she began to pace. "It's not a grudge, boy. It's more like a punishment. You know what Enoch did, do you not?" When Shiv didn't respond, she turned toward Cripple. "Ah, so there are some secrets you do keep for your fellow Ascendants. It's good to know that you're not a complete traitor."

The automaton Ascendant flinched beneath Veronica's cutting words, and though its Avatar took no wounds, it was still affected. Such was Veronica's power.

"Enoch split his soul," Veronica declared. "He split his soul the same way Udraal did, the same way Valor did, the same way most Necrotech Undying do. Except he did it poorly, with an incomplete understanding of the ritual. And so, I have a schizophrenic, mind-severed idiot who's desperately trying to find a special Avatar to contain his broken soul. And when we need him to maintain and bless the Republic's fortifications, no less."

With every syllable Veronica spat, the heat within the room grew. The flames within the hearth crackled and then became a roar, and the fairies scattered in every direction. Then the room grew darker, the light drained away by the Legendary Councilwoman's simmering rage. And as she breathed out, everything returned to normal. It was like the blackness never was.

"Do you know what being a Legendary Councilwoman means, dear boy? It means being a babysitter. It means that I am the caretaker to some of the most powerful people on the Integrated Earth, yet they are determined to make these mortal failures, these hubristic mistakes that are unbefitting of Master-Tier Pathbearers, let alone gods. But that is not why I'm going to punish Enoch specifically. No, I'm going to punish Enoch because he is trying to do something beyond foolish. He is trying to eliminate the other Ascendants, and he tried to eliminate me."

"He did?" Shiv blinked. "Why?"

"Because he's afraid I'll try to control him. And he's right. The Starhawk isn't the only rogue variable I need to handle. All the Ascendants have their own branching problems, and I need to contend with them all. You see, Enoch isn't trying to find just another Avatar with Rebis. He's trying to find something he can dump a sliver of his soul in to set Rebis free. That way, Rebis can develop on his own. Or rather, Rebis, now consumed by the stable portion of Enoch's soul, can return to being a poor, full person, while the rest of his consciousness, shackled by godhood, languishes."

A whirlwind of thoughts swirled through Shiv's mind, and the edges of Enoch's plans surfaced. "Wait, so if he's connected to himself, connected to his own godhood, but he won't suffer the degeneration anymore, does that mean he will be able to fully wield his power? Like, will that let him continue growing as a Pathbearer, and maybe even survive the destruction of his divinity, in case anything happens within the Great One?"

"Exactly," Veronica said, clenching a fist. "And that cannot be allowed. The Starhawk has already trespassed the unforgivable boundary, and if Enoch follows, if any other Ascendant follows after him, then there will be no more Auroral Council. There will be no unified pantheon, and there will be no Republic."

She sighed. "No, Rebis must die. Enoch must endure his foolishness.

"You need to hold on to control," Shiv concluded.

"Exactly," Veronica agreed without any hint of shame. "I'm glad you can see this. Also, you're likely not leaving this prison without dealing with Enoch." A smirk crawled over her features. "Mainly because I assigned him to guard the core. And while the other Ascendants are busy, Enoch will likely be desperately trying to finish the binding process with Rebis."

"So, I was going to be running into him anyway," Shiv said.

"Ah, something like that," Veronica replied, waving her hand. "So then, my conditions. Are they acceptable?" She held out her sync-letter, and Shiv glared down at the booklet. Pulsing magic radiated from it. A silver locket kept the leatherbound tome closed.

Shiv's insides felt like grinding stones. His guts churned, and two paths appeared before him. One, to reject Veronica out of spite. To resist being bound to anyone or anything, and continue cutting his way forward. This was his idealized path. It was his highest fantasy; to be unburdened by any interest beyond his own. But ultimately, it was just that: a fantasy. He was a Legendary Pathbearer, but he was facing enemy Legends with the backing of gods, as well as a Post-Legend that had conquered entire worlds with grand schemes beyond Shiv's current comprehension.

Worse, said world-conquering Legend was also...

Shiv refused to think about what Udraal did in detail—what he did to his father. He barely knew what his own mother looked like. And now, every time he would think of his parentage, something inside of him would recoil as if scalded by a searing brand. No. Shiv couldn't avoid the groping hands and sinking claws of the deceivers around him. He might have been damned by this fate from the moment he was born, but he would be godsdamned if he wouldn't use everything he had against them, if he would just let people treat him as an instrument.

If they were going to use him, he was going to use them as well. And he was going to learn—socially, magically, physically. He was going to learn everything he could to be the one on top, to be the user. And when he got there, he wouldn't be like any of these bastards. He wouldn't be a monster. He wouldn't be a whore, either. He would be a pillar for this world because the weakness he saw—all these atrocities—filled him with disgust.

We could be so much more, he thought to himself. We have to be much more.

The challenger smiles upon your resolve.

He ignored the notification and accepted the sync-letter. As soon as he did, he saw a softening in Veronica's eyes. A breath of relief escaped her, and she nodded at him. "You've done a wise thing."

"I've done the self-interested thing, you mean," he shot back. He glared at his so-called grandmother and barely held himself back from attacking her again. "Let's not pretend that this is a favor you're doing for me. I'm helping you keep the Ascendants degenerated—making sure they're reliant on you. You just complain about being the master of the daycare, but you know what? I think you're full of shit. I think you kind of like it."

A pause lingered between them, and Veronica just scoffed. But that scoff turned into something of a smirk toward the end. "I suppose that is not untrue. It's bad for me, but I do enjoy the power, and you will too, once you gain a measure of it. Once you find yourself capable of shaping the path of someone else's life."

"Yeah, we'll see" He doubted it. Despite how much he liked to fight, he wasn't that cruel, as much as the orcs would want him to be, anyway. "Hey, Veronica, I've got a final question. The Auroral Council. How many of them are there because they're controllable?"

Veronica's smirk became a full-blown, pearly-white grin. "Oh, that's a good question. The answer? Practically everyone, aside from Anthony. The Ascendants, they don't care so much anymore. They want the same thing I do when selecting new Avatars and Council members."

"Controllable people," he ventured.

"Exactly. However, their notion of controllable is very different from mine. They want someone powerful, in accordance with their skills. Someone that can contain their divine mana, and someone they can use to the utmost efficiency. For Daughter, this is easy. For Enoch, far harder. Me? Ultimately, I need people who aren't good at politics. All of them qualify right now, which is why they're eminently replaceable. All of them, aside from Anthony. But he hasn't been a problem in a while."

"Anthony," he said, remembering the old man that had stabbed him. "Yeah, the wrinkled guy with a knife who gave my soul a flu. What's his deal?"

Veronica frowned for a moment. "I won't tell you," she said. Shiv's patience started to crack, and the Councilwoman scoffed. "Because Anthony's dear to me, and I don't want to see him dead at your hands at any point."

"So, you do care about people," he growled under his breath.

"Of course, I thought you figured this out earlier. Remember my flaw, boy? I get attached. I'm still human to some extent, and that's an ugly thing when you're powerful," Veronica grimaced. "Anthony De Diego was more of a father to me than my own ever was. And though I have broken him, though he is old and has given up on being anything more than just a pawn instead of a player, I don't want him dead. You understand? If you come for him, I will inflict unspeakable things on you. This is one of my red lines. I make this known. Don't trespass on it."

As she finished those words, he felt as if he was being squeezed in the grip of a giant's hand. His breath hitched for a while as he tried to push back using the Shapeless Tides. It barely brought him any comfort.

"I will do what makes sense to me," he said, not promising her anything.

They shared a mutual glare, but then Veronica softened first. "Fine, I'll make sure it's not in your interest to hurt him. It shouldn't be hard."

Part of Shiv thought he should be offended at her words, but overall, he didn't care. He was numb in so many ways right now from all the revelations she'd battered him with.

"You said he's old," Shiv said, remembering something that had confused him for a while now. "Aren't you old? I know Valor is old. What makes Anthony so different?"

For a moment, Veronica didn't say anything. Then her features scrunched up as she thought of a good way to explain. "I'm ageless. Valor is ageless. Most of us are ageless. That's because we look forward to the future. We're always planning. We're always projecting towards tomorrow. Even if you don't suffer from biological decay, you can get old. And that comes with a backward perspective."

"So what, like, he's fixated on things that happened before, rather than things happening right now or tomorrow?"

The Councilwoman nodded. "And be very wary of that. Once you become old, you can't become young again so easily. The past is stone. It can be eroded through means of memory manipulation and historical revisionism, but it is still stone." She walked to her table and slammed a knuckle into it. The etchings upon its surface flashed once more. "Someone always remembers. And right now, this moment will be remembered. Alright, I'm done with my words. You best be gone and finish this ridiculous little escape you have planned." She looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't tell Young Lord Arrow about our association."

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"Yeah, I'm gonna have to say no," Shiv sneered. "I'm hiding enough shit from him as it is. If we're going to be working together—"

"We're not working together," Veronica cut him off. "We're going to try to use each other. You're young enough and foolish enough to think that you might be able to get an edge on me. And I'm experienced enough to know that I will slit your throat like a lamb when you try. And you will try, again and again and again, until you are good enough that I can't treat you like a lamb anymore. And then everything changes, and we negotiate a new arrangement or one of us dominates the other."

"Speaking from experience now, are we?" Shiv asked.

"Yes. Learned from Anthony. He wasn't always old." Veronica's expression turned wistful. "Oh, and when you run into Enoch, understand that he can use the very architecture against you. He builds incredible structures. His mastery of spaces and geometries is bordering on the absurd, Non-Euclidean." Shiv was about to open his mouth in confusion, but then he remembered Uva's skill, and he closed his mouth. Veronica noticed his expression, and a curious look passed over her. "Ask your friend about what Non-Euclidean means. He will understand better than you do. You don't have Dimensionality. Rather sad, because it's such an important and useful skill. I recommend you develop it as soon as possible. Either way, despite his incredible skill, Enoch is especially vulnerable. He, too, is old."

"So how does that help me?" Shiv asked.

"Oh, it helps you because you're going to ask him a very simple question, and that usually puts him in a bit of a fugue state." Veronica spun on her heel. "When you encounter Enoch and his newest Avatar, simply ask him about Aina Huna and how he lost it to the Stormlords of the Pacific. Do it again and again. It will break him. It's pathetic, but also slightly amusing. So much power, yet so many poor decisions. An entire island chain given to a race that barely has any sapience."

She shook her head. "Godhood. What a poisonous pill of power."

When she said nothing more, he felt an insatiable urge to flee, to leave the room. He realized she had been suppressing the dread aura emanating from this chamber all that time, and now it was back in full force. She was sending him away. "You know something, Veronica? If I ever turn out like you, I'm going to let my vitality spill out of my body, and I'm going to let it keep flowing until there's nothing left of me. I might be Deathless now, but being dead might be better than whatever you've turned out to be. And whatever the fuck Udraal is."

She craned her neck slightly and rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, spit your pointless youthful rage. It will go away in time. You'll learn to deal with everything else as well. It's just the way life is. Now. We're done here. Begone. And be quick with your escape."

With that, they were finished. Their relationship had been ugly since the beginning, and now it was closer and yet more sour than ever. Shiv clenched the sync-letter tightly and wondered just how big a mistake he had made.

He walked out of the room, and something clawed itself up. It started in his stomach, and spikes of pain began to move towards his throat. Shiv doubled his pace, fleeing out from the cracked stone doors and turning along the hall. As soon as he left Veronica's, he nearly doubled over. Every bit of his self-control had been devoted to stopping himself from throwing up earlier, from the disgust that came with knowing about Udraal, about his mother and his father, about so many truths.

"Fuck," Shiv almost whimpered. He used the wall to keep himself standing. As he tried to force another step, he found his leg shaking. Tumbling sprays of bile seared the edges of his throat. Everything inside him begged for him to let it all out, to express his nausea in some way. But for whatever reason, he couldn't. He couldn't just puke. He couldn't admit weakness so close to Veronica.

The doors were still open. She had to be listening. She had to be waiting.

And then a hard but gentle hand landed on his back. He turned to see Cripple's Avatar looming over him. Its optics flickered, and though the automaton's features were nothing like a human's, Shiv could practically taste the sympathy radiating from it.

"I didn't know," Cripple said. "I am sorry. To learn of your parentage in such a way, to discover the terrible truths that you were faced with… I didn't know. I didn't intend for this."

He stepped away from its touch. He didn't need it. He didn't need its comfort. Cripple was a broken thing. It couldn't help Shiv any more than he could help himself.

"It's fine," Shiv lied, forcing the bile back down. It would sink into his stomach. It would burn there. It would be a permanent mark of disgust. But he would deal with it. He would live with it. He would accept it. What more was another scar?

"It's fine. I got other things to deal with. I'm going to... I'm going to meet up with Adam."

"What will you tell him?" Cripple asked.

"I'm going to tell him that we have a way in. That I know what to expect."

"And nothing about Veronica?"

"I don't know!" Shiv growled roughly. "We're dealing with enough shit already. I don't need him troubled by this right now."

"And you?" Cripple continued to press. "Aren't you troubled?"

"No. I'm really, really pissed off and trying not to throw up because fucking—Udraal—FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" Shiv suddenly screamed and slammed a fist into the wall, blowing a chunk open in the architecture. As the dust cleared, he saw the Orichalcum hull beyond the soft and supple wood. "Fuck," Shiv whispered. He didn't know if he was going to go Berserk or have a psychological breakdown. He decided to do neither. He decided to keep putting one foot in front of the other. "I'm going to leave now. You still want to help? Be there. Send your Avatar. Right now, I need to... I need to..."

"I understand," Cripple said. "Go. There is nothing stopping you. I will deploy another of mine. I will find you using the reactor core Adam has." But as the words finished, they both lingered for a while, and Shiv let out a hiss. He turned away. "Shiv... I..." Cripple said no more than those two words before the Deathless flung himself back towards his temporal anchor.

In the next moment, he snapped into place within the Forest of Alloy.

Before Shiv could emerge from the Category One Dimension, a low, rumbling laugh filled his mind. When the Challenger's mirth faded, Shiv felt himself on the verge of a violence—with nothing to vent his anger on.

"They're pretty pathetic, aren't they, Bruiser?"

The Deathless was in no mood to speak with the Challenger. He hadn't processed the madness that was Udraal being his "mother" and the Ascendants…

"Not here to mock you. I'm just here to tell you that I chose right with you."

Shiv paused. "What?"

"You're a good Insul. A proper Pathbearer. And maybe someday you'll make a proper god. Not like them. They'll never be proper anything. Because they're not even themselves anymore. You understand why I hate them now, don't you?"

"Yeah." Shiv laughed scornfully. "I don't see the point of having all that power if I'm not the one wielding it. And my mom… The fuck was she thinking?"

"Probably that she was special. That her arrangement would see her finally be made truly spectacular. That Udraal couldn't steal her body or wouldn't just use her as a puppet. That she was too strong. Or too important in the grand scheme of things. And when Valor's son decided to hollow her soul out, it was just too late. Foolishness. Desperation. Delusion. Want. But ultimately, the mistake she made mirrors that of the Ascendants."

Shiv gritted his teeth and, for once, found himself entirely in accord with the orc god. "Yeah. Power is earned."

"Or taken. Power given or borrowed from another is never yours. Remember that. And remember to own everything you do. No excuses, Bruiser. I am a monster. I am the Challenger. I was not made this way. I choose this. Every day, I choose this. Just like you choose to be who you are. You can change. But make it your own choice. That, more than anything, is yours. It doesn't matter who you were spawned from or why. The future matters. The future is yours. Paint your character there."

Philosophy 27 > 28

"Really? You reached across the veil to give me a pep-talk?" Shiv said. His sarcasm was lacking, and his suspicion was high.

"Yes," the Challenger said without a hint of mockery.

Shiv nearly choked. "No shit?"

"Shiv. Bruiser. I like hurting people. I like screams and dominance. But I am not beyond other things. Never mistake me for an Ascendant. I am a whole person. I have many flavors. And right now, you need someone to tell you that you are more than who birthed you."

"Huh," Shiv muttered. "I… Thanks, Challenger."

"Thank me by following your Path to the conclusion. We have a rendezvous in your future, don't we? You can't stop here if that's the case."

And wasn't that the truth? "Yeah, yeah. I'm still coming for you, Challenger. But… You know… Thanks."

"Go. Shed some blood. Carve some fear into those false gods. Let my orcs have some fun. Amuse me. That's all I ask."

And as the Challenger's presence faded from Shiv's mind, he wasted no more time. The Deathless moved, bursting free from his cape, prepared to face anything on the other end. As soon as he came out, however, he found himself in a new prison. The valley here looked different. Massive furrows lined the walls. Kilometers of Orichalcum were missing, leaving huge gaps that exposed the mithral supports behind. As he turned, he found several orcs cheering on his arrival.

He found the orcs, Gone, Candles, Five, Adam, and Can Hu, standing at the ready. Their weapons were low, but their eyes were pointed high.

Looming over them, dangling from the ceiling, was the most peculiarly dressed hydra Shiv had ever seen. The twelve-headed beast was large, each of its necks around twenty meters long. A descending pillar hung down from the far-above ceiling, growing longer with every passing second, like an inverted pedestal that the hydra sat upon.

Its body was also decorated in strange—Shiv's mind spun as he realized those weren't decorations. Those were Pathbearers. Those were people. Wardens kicked and wailed, fused into the hydra's scales. And where the wardens weren't, the spaces were occupied by hexagonal plates of Orichalcum as well. Limbs and screaming heads stuck out from the Hydra's body where the Orichalcum grids weren't.

A large cape of flowing silk mixed with luxurious carpets and curtains swayed around the hydra's massive back, flowing as if some kind of stylish half-cape. But it was the Hydra's many heads that caught Shiv's true attention, for it had fashioned crowns for itself—crowns shaped from gold, silver, and even copper, and studded with gems. Dozens upon dozens of necklaces of different styles hung from its neck, and its claws were bedecked with rings.

The hydra had taste. Expensive taste.

"Oh, and who is this?" the hydra, the one Cripple had called Solzimort earlier, called out to Shiv. Every single one of his heads spoke in tandem, as if there was no separation between them, and his tone was light and inquisitive. "Is this one of your friends?"

Adam turned, noticing Shiv for the first time. He lingered on Shiv's face for a second, and his eyes filled with concern. Shiv gave him a nod, trying to signal that he was fine, but Adam Arrow's Awareness was peerless in Shiv's view. Even if his Psychology skill wasn't that high, he could read Shiv's facial muscles. He could tell how tense Shiv was.

The Deathless really didn't want to deal with this right now. "Later," Shiv whispered, and that made Adam turn away. Adam was reliable, but he wasn't going to let this go. They were going to face it at some point, but they weren't going to do it right now. Right now, they had a hydra to recruit.

"Solzimort," Shiv said. "Hi. I'm Shiv. I'm..."

And just then, the notification appeared. The cursed notification that made him the enemy of practically everyone in Integrated Earth. The hydra noticed then, and Shiv prepared himself for a fight.

The hydra's many mouths opened wide, and his heads reared back. Shiv clenched his fist. Adam shaped an arrow. Gone prepared to move.

And then, the hydra—Solzimort—let out a loud sigh. "Oh, ohhh, you're the Deathless. We're so sorry." Of all the things the hydra could have said, this wasn't one that Shiv had anticipated. "You must have had a very hard life. Now the System's trying to get everyone to hurt you. The System is so mean. That's okay, it's mean to us too. That's why we're in this prison, even though we don't deserve it."

Shiv stared at a few of the struggling wardens, who shrieked with terror. "Please," one of them begged. "Please. Oh, God, I can feel it… I can feel it moving underneath my body. My legs are gone, but I can feel it. It's attached to my legs. Ah, ah, ah! " The warden's wailing cry pierced through the air and briefly silenced Solzimort's words.

"Uh-huh," Shiv said dryly. "Yeah, I'm sure you're perfectly moral."

Solzimort turned one of his massive heads to stare at the struggling warden. As he drew close, the warden began to sob. Shiv used his Farsight and saw that the warden was a rather young-looking man. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and he flinched away from the hydra's breath. He should have expected the hydra to bite down on the warden, to put an end to his screaming. But once more, Solzimort surprised him. "There, there, little warden," he said with a pacifying tone. "We didn't mean to scare you. We're actually trying to preserve all of you. Don't worry. We'll keep you safe in our scales."

"Preserve?" Adam's voice jumped an octave. His eyes darted between all the wardens trapped within Solzimort's body. "Solzimort, you do understand that people need to breathe, no?"

"Ah, no! A common misconception. People don't need to breathe; they need oxygen inside their brains. And we're feeding them oxygen. They're just suffocating for no reason because their body hasn't adapted yet." The hydra's many heads laughed as one. "Anyhow, that's why they're fused inside of us. We're keeping them safe from harm. We're wrapped our skin in Orichalcum, and we've additionally increased our density by ten times. Now, ultimately, no one can hurt us."

Solzimort laughed again, and this time, all the wardens began laughing with him, clearly compelled by the hydra's power.

Shiv blinked and felt a strange pulse of Dynamancy radiating out from Solzimort. Then he saw translucent trails of mana connecting each of the hydra's crowns with the wardens. He had some kind of strange Psychomancy skill. Moreover, the aura he radiated into the air was infused with Magical Resistance as well.

Just what the hells am I looking at here? Shiv thought to himself.

"Actually, we think you should all get inside us too," Solzimort offered. "We're gonna try to get out of this prison, and all of you are really, really small. That's no good. It's better to be big inside this prison. That's why we got a bigger cage compared to most people. Still not big enough for us, but it was more space. And when they stopped making us super sleepy, we immediately started swimming through the walls and getting away."

"That's actually what we wanted to talk with you about," Adam said. Solzimort's heads snapped to attention. In an instant, they all curved over the group, and once more, Shiv had to hold himself back from attacking. It wasn't his fault that the hydra's necks looked like snakes rearing back to strike.

"Oh, you're going to help us escape?" Solzimort's heads crashed together, and his many crowns and necklaces made a clamoring noise that sounded like a legion's worth of armored Pathbearers tumbling down a flight of stairs. "That's great. How are we going to do this, though?"

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