178. What's Left Behind

The last and largest Glutton went down with a whimper. Its whole bloated body—tightly wound arms, overused zippers, and all—faded into Souldust as a good Breachspawn should.

Here, Serac got her answer to how [Hammerspace] worked, at least when it came to 'overlapping' smites. Her [Enlisted Husk] had glurped two of its mates before being out-glurped by the alpha, which meant Travertine the deerherd had just sealed a smite-one-get-three-free deal.

[12,443 क]

Serac ended up with the short end of the stick, but she wasn't about to complain. In truth, she was more interested in an entirely different 'prize', made possible only by magic imported from one Realm below.

[Designation: Glutton's Last Meal]

[Item Class: Consumable]

[Item Description: Beware that which eats for want rather than need. For while needs can be sated, a creature's capacity for gratification knows no bounds. When consumed by a [Synthesis]-adept Wayfarer, the Glutton's Last Meal increases Max Burden proportional to the amount ingested. The effect lasts for one circadian cycle.]

Despite all the evidence, Serac still couldn't believe she'd just [Harvested] a creature as unfathomably grotesque as the Frenzied Glutton. Squinting her eyes in mistrust, she slowly approached the 'drop' that now hovered in the air where the alpha Glutton had slouched a minute ago.

Was it… some kind of balloon? No, couldn't be. A bladder then? The mere thought of it was enough to turn Serac off food for at least—

"I believe it's a stomach." Trippy offered a much more reasonable (and palatable?) guess.

"A whole stomach?" Serac parroted, forgetting in her consternation to use her inside voice. "I suppose that makes sense, considering where it came from. How do I eat it though? In other words, what would Chef Petey do? Maybe trim it into tripe? Boil it in stew, or—"

"Quiet down a moment, if you will."

The request-tending-toward-command issued from Travertine. The man now knelt in the center of the defiled graveyard. Head bowed, CROZIER held upright in a ceremonial gesture, and lips moving in soundless prayer.

Serac clammed right up, feeling more than a little ashamed. Here she was, waffling on about what she might do with Aberrant tripe (literally!), while her detective partner paid respects to the dead. Occasional creep/asshole though Travertine might be, at least on this count, he had his priorities straight.

The Rakshasa didn't know the local customs, but the least she could do was bow her head in solidarity. Upon silent reflection, she came to another upsetting realization: the Aberrants she'd just smited had once been part of Anchored souls on the Night-side of Tidereign! Those poor souls were as dead as the occupants of this graveyard.

I wish you well in your next life, Serac offered up her own silent prayer. Wherever you end up and whoever you become, I hope you're free from injustice, from hunger, and from your own inner demons.

Travertine looked up from his lengthy prayer just as Serac finished her much shorter one. His scowl softened a touch as he saw what she was doing.

"Will you help me lay the bodies to rest?" he asked. "The work may run counter to your role as Upheaver… but I often find a fresh perspective can do souls—especially of our kind—a world of good."

"You really don't need to take that 'Upheaver' thing seriously," Serac said, embarrassed. "At least I don't. It's just a silly name that's somehow stuck. And yes, of course I'll help!"

As cheerfully as she took to the task of rehoming Mriga corpses, she soon found it to be hard, harrowing work. She fell back on her old Penitent tricks to ease the toil of torturous work: small talk wherever she could find it. The problem, of course, was the severe shortage of 'lighter' topics on offer.

"If I'm understanding Tidereign correctly," she forged ahead anyway, "all sentient souls, both Anchored and Wayfaring, are beholden to an oath or an [Oath]. Breaking said oath/[Oath] gives rise to a Breachspawn, but they only manifest on the opposite side to where the soul lives. For example, yours—gods forbid—would show up on the Night-side, correct?"

"Correct."

"Then how would you go about rebinding it?"

"I can't. Not by myself. I must rely on the integrity and competence of Night-side strangers."

"Isn't that putting a lot of trust in the integrity and competence of strangers?"

"Quite. Which is why we Day-siders adhere religiously to our [Oaths]. Because it's the right thing to do, first and foremost, but also to avoid the disastrous consequences of such a breach. In fact, it's a wonder we receive so many Breachspawns from the other side. As stringent as we Day-siders are with our [Oaths], it appears the Night-siders are equally careless with theirs."

Careless? Maybe. But could it simply be that they're rushed for time?

Serac remembered well the shock of being left with [42 minutes] to affirm her [Oath]. She could've been simply unlucky and arrived just as the cycle was ending, but even allowing for that, she couldn't imagine the 'whole' Night to be much longer. Definitely not 88-hours long!

"Alright, so, breaching is plenty scary for Wayfarers. I've lived it, so I would know. But… it's even worse for Anchoreds, isn't it? They just get separated from a part of their soul they can't see or touch, with no way to rebind it once it's gone."

"Correct."

"For these Gluttons we just smited, what's left behind on the other side are the empty vessels they first broke out from."

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"Correct. While rare, I've seen it happen on this side as well. Once an Anchored has breached, they'll spend the rest of the Day in Frenzy, then expire at sunrise. Or they may die sooner… if they're fortunate enough to have their Breachspawn smited by Night-siders."

"So… for Anchoreds in Tidereign, breaking their oath is tantamount to death. No ifs or buts. No way around it."

"Correct."

"And you guys are just okay with that?"

Before she knew it, Serac had raised her voice. Travertine paused his work, but only to fix Serac with a curious yet wordless scowl. What could he have said in response? That he had any choice in the matter? It's not for us to question… It's always been this way…

Serac tried to calm herself, even as her mind flooded with memories and visions. Flames of rebellion rose from the mush of a Rakshasa crushed under ancient rocks, destined to change everything. A young Yaksha man in a dark lonely cell refused to waste away, instead finding the strength that had always been his to master.

What act of defiance had once set this self-serious Mriga man on his Path? And did he still keep that fire alive—against winds that blew down from the very universe?

"It is done," Travertine announced, snapping Serac out of her stormy reverie. "I thank you, Deacon Edin. The work of a Templar can often be lonely, and if nothing else, you've proven yourself a diligent assistant. Perhaps that's all the Keeper had planned for me toDay—to welcome a lost soul into its Gloam… and to find myself some good company while I'm at it."

Travertine had been all business while chasing the Butcher's clues. Now, he started to relax again, just as he had back on the boat. Serac too found herself warming to him, just a tad. She stepped back to admire her and Travertine's handiwork. A graveyard with all the important bits put back together, save for one object. Speaking of what's left behind…

The fleshy balloon that was the Glutton's stomach still floated in midair, waiting to be 'acquired' by a responsible Wayfarer. It was, of course, Serac's to claim, but upon seeing it again—and remembering where it'd come from—she hesitated.

"Remarkable." Travertine followed her gaze. He stepped in closer, accompanied by curious DLEE and trailed by brooding ORD. "Did this drop from the Glutton we just smited? I've heard tell of such things happening in other Realms, but never thought I'd see it for myself, right here in Tidereign. What will you do with it?"

"Undecided," Serac answered honestly—a little unhappily. "I mean, it's a consumable, so I'm meant to eat it somehow. But for now… trying to work up my appetite, I guess."

"May I?"

"Sure."

Serac said easily, thinking the Mriga man simply wanted to have a closer look. Imagine her utter shock then, when Travertine reached across, grabbed the whole thing with his hairy hands, then tore off a piece before handing off the rest to Serac.

Serac bobbled and nearly dropped the stomach, as she gaped in slack-jawed astonishment. Beside her, Travertine broke the tripe apart into smaller morsels and, without hesitation, popped one into his mouth. He chewed for several seconds, expressionless throughout. He then gave an odd sort of shrug before dangling the remainder in his deer's faces. DLEE took it eagerly, while ORD bristled and turned up his flared nostrils.

"Closer to pork than beef," Travertine spoke as though commenting on the weather. "Surprisingly fatty, with a pleasantly springy texture. I would enjoy it, I think, were it not raw and unseasoned."

Serac sputtered, still lost for words. She didn't mind Travertine sharing her prize without asking; gods knew the man deserved it for his contributions to the smite. She just hadn't expected him to be so casual about it!

"Do—do you feel anything?"

"No. Should I?"

"I suppose not. You Mrigas aren't [Synthesis]-adept."

"If anything, it's helped me work up my appetite. I've not had anything to eat since Dawnbreak… and correct me if I'm wrong, but neither have you. Are you not hungry?"

Serac subconsciously glanced at her own status, which showed a fairly healthy [Satiety] of 95/137.

"No, I'm alright. You guys, um, feel hunger?"

Travertine thought about it for a moment.

"Perhaps hunger isn't the correct term. But yes, where possible, we Mrigas strive to eat regular meals in between our Daily work. All part of maintaining a structured, [Oath]-abiding way of life."

"I suppose that makes sense. I just didn't expect you to have, you know, such an adventurous palate!"

"Will you not try it yourself?"

Serac glanced at the balloon in her hand, now with a big hole to show off the pale, rubbery linings inside.

"Um, maybe later? When it's not raw and unseasoned?"

"Are you sure?" Despite the absurdity of the situation, Travertine sounded sincere enough. He now dangled a piece of raw tripe in front of Serac's face—the same one Big Stag had rejected moments ago. "You can have this. ORD is a fussy eater, but I'd imagine your tastes to be… somewhat more diverse."

If the stomach had looked unappetizing as a whole, it looked even worse as a rubbery strip between Travertine's fingers. Serac was just about to say a firm 'no', when—

"Careful."

Oh, for gods' sake!

"Sure." Serac wore a stiff smile, once more falling just shy of saying 'hell yes'. "Why not?"

Look at me, Serac thought glumly as she received the piece. The great Upheaver, here to Upheave some more of the afterlife's dogmas and injustices. But first, I have to get peer-pressured into eating raw Aberrant tripe!

Serac chewed and swallowed, as quickly as she could and without really tasting the damn thing. To be fair, it was nowhere near as unpleasant as she'd expected, but neither could she derive any pleasure or sense of triumph from it.

She did, however, feel plenty of its Pathsighted effects. First, her [Satiety] dropped by three points, from 95 to 92. It immediately reminded her of a similar phenomenon with the Realmtree dew. Thankfully, the effect was strictly numerical in nature, with no physical symptoms of note. She certainly had no desire to wolf down the rest of her [Last Meal].

Second, her Max Burden went up proportionally, from 38 to 41. For now, the change was too small to have any practical use. But if she understood the item description correctly, she could up the numbers simply by eating more of the tripe.

There was also a third effect, one that didn't register on status sheets.

"It would be interesting to see"—Trippy was the first to point it out—"how this might interact with [Metabolic Shift]."

Serac let out a gasp, instantly rediscovering her enthusiasm. Trippy was right, of course! Questionable provenance aside, [Glutton's Last Meal] was every bit a consumable as the stuff she'd [Harvested] from Pretjordian Wildspawns. Which should mean PULVERIZER had just added a new alternate form to its shapeshifting arsenal!

She had half a mind to test it out right then and there. But that was when Travertine abruptly broke off and started walking: long, cervine strides away from the main road and deeper into the graveyard.

"Hey, what're you up to?" Serac blurted, hurrying to keep up. "Shouldn't we head back to town now?"

"Speaking of what's left behind," Travertine said, "don't forget we're still conducting a criminal investigation. And if my hunch is correct, Flint the Butcher has left a piece of Bishop Rafferty somewhere here for us to find."

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