190. Last Sin Standing

The Sloth ran over the cloud of Souldust that had belonged to DLEE. It now marched toward the pair of Wayfarers, triangular flap inexhaustibly swaying from side to side. Its movement might be slow, but there was nothing 'sloth-like' about its dedication to its task.

As for the Sloth's opponents, they were in something of a bind. Not only did the shadow wall cut every incoming attack to almost nothing, it also damaged anything it touched, forcing the Wayfarers to fight from range. The problem being Serac was down to [3|14] in Cartridges and Travertine was limited to his shepherd's crook—a decidedly melee weapon.

Only… something in the deerherd had clearly changed the moment both of his Oathborns went down. And with this latest cast of [Stand], that change took on visible form, as CROZIER's ribbon of golden light looped in on itself to form an elastic band.

Just like that, Travertine turned his melee weapon into a ranged one. Serac had to see it to believe it. As she watched, the Cardinal reached into his trusty leather bag and produced a rock about the size of his own fist. He fed it onto the 'loop' around CROZIER's crook, pulled the band taut, then loosed—all in one smooth motion.

It's a slingshot! Serac realized with genuine delight. The crook is the perfect shape for it, too—a circular 'sight' for the slinger to line up his shot!

The only problem: Travertine had missed—and wildly at that! The rock, instead of shooting straight for the approaching wall, flew at a sharply upward trajectory. Its flight was powerful enough to carry it all the way to the ceiling, where it splintered into numerous smaller pieces.

[1!], [1!], [1!], … -> [13!]

Understanding hit Serac like a volley of rock debris. Travertine hadn't missed, after all. No, he'd fully intended to aim at the ceiling, the better to turn his single 'ammunition' into multiple instances of damage!

Damn! Serac mused, soundly impressed and maybe even a little envious. I wish I could do that with REVOLVER! Split one bullet into multiple fragments, all with its own Attack Value check. How cool would that be?

Now wasn't the time for fanciful spell-crafting. Serac hastened to assist her fellow ranged fighter with some slinging of her own—[2!] points for each unimbued bullet.

The Wayfarers quickly fell into a repeatable pattern. Backpedal to maintain distance (past a helplessly wailing Braggart), all while chipping away at the Sloth's HP, bit by tiny bit. When they finally felt the room's stone wall against their backs, they slipped through the triangle of safety to emerge on the other side of the Sloth. After that, right back to blasting.

With her earlier misstep still fresh on her mind, Serac managed the second limbo attempt just fine. But as she then reached for her belt to reload, she realized she'd run out of her speedload bundles. In their place, only two individual Cartridges remained.

Serac backpedaled away from the Sloth, all while seating two bullets into their chambers the old-fashioned way ([2|0]). She then glanced at the enemy's Health bar to assess her options.

Even with Travertine's fragmented rock-slinging, the Sloth still had nearly half its Health left. The fight was slow, arduous going—perhaps only appropriately so. Realizing her two remaining bullets amounted to a paltry [4!] points of potential damage, Serac decided they were best saved for a different (and hopefully squishier) target.

But then, what was she to do while Travertine fought on and Realgar provided support? Twiddle her thumbs and wait for the Mrigas to finish the job? That felt so violently against her nature that she nearly shuddered in disgust. Think! There must be some way I could help Trav.

Inspiration did hit her, chucked her way by a vision of the future.

It started with Trav reaching into his bag, but when he pulled out his hand, he had no rock with him. The rock-slinger too had used up his ammo! This was followed by a brief moment of inaction, in which the man's permanent scowl knotted with a kind of grim determination. Finally, he bent at the waist and reached again, this time for the floor—for the cadavers at his feet!

Often oblivious though Serac might be, her instincts were nevertheless well-attuned to the inner turmoil of other souls. To the junction where a soul's limitations met the enormity of his task, that he decided to sacrifice for the greater good. And so, even within the fleeting Ksanas of [Dusklight], Serac understood exactly what Trav meant to do—the sin he willed himself to commit, that he might defeat the greater evil.

No way! Couldn't have that. Couldn't have pious Trav desecrate his ancestors on the account of some stupid wall! This was one future Serac simply refused to accept.

Back in the [Twilit] present, she stopped the attempted exhumation by grabbing Trav's wrist with her left hand. She then pointed frantically at the jagged rocks that made up her PULVERIZER, as if to say: use this instead!

The Cardinal hesitated. Of course he did, but only for one wide-eyed Ksana. Face reset in a grim scowl, he readjusted his grip on CROZIER such that he held its lower shaft with both hands. He then jabbed PULVERIZER with the butt of CROZIER, even as Serac braced herself against the impact.

A piece of PULVERIZER chipped loose and popped up. Trav deftly grabbed it out of the air, fed it into the crook, and fired. One smooth motion, as if he'd been doing this—turning a fellow Wayfarer's Auxiliary into ammunition—all his life.

[1,], [1], [1], … -> [21!]

As it turned out, PULVERIZER was perfect for the job, breaking off into finer fragments that each proc'd an instance of damage. The individual Attack Values might be tiny, but that hardly mattered when they all amount to [1!] point anyway.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

That was how the detective partners conquered the Sloth. A flash of wild vision, followed by simple, honest, repetitive work to see it through. The smite took longer than all other Breachspawns combined, but they got it done in the end.

[3,111 क]

Good thing too, because Serac was starting to run out of rocks for Trav to chip off. The partners didn't stop to celebrate, immediately turning their attention onto the Braggart—the last sin standing.

This was when Realgar deactivated [Twilight], no doubt deeming the time manipulation no longer necessary. Well done, Mr Viceroy, couldn't have done it without you. But [Dusklight] remained on, which meant Serac could get a real good look at her final smiting target.

With no audience to sing to, the Braggart's horrible wailing had finally ceased (oh, thank the gods). It knelt crumpled on the cadaverous floor, already Poise-broken before it'd taken a single hit. Its robe, once squeaky clean, was now marred by dirt and death. Even its spiky crown hung over its downcast head with a strangely wilted appearance.

All alone and bereft of any peers to prop it up, the Braggart was a pitiful sight—even more contemptible than the Envier. So much so Serac's softie heart nearly felt sorry for it.

Trav, on the other hand, had no such pity to spare. He stepped up to the kneeling figure with zero hesitation, then swung his CROZIER like a shepherd's club, with all the pent-up rage of an Oathkeeper scorned.

[180!]

A satisfying whack across the face! Then CROZIER swung back around for the second part of a melee combo, sending the Braggart's crown flying off its noggin.

[209!]

The whack combo was certainly Trav's 'non-preferred' option, but it managed to deal hefty damage thanks to the target's Poise-broken state. And as admittedly 'cathartic' as it was to watch, Serac couldn't dawdle. Not if she wanted in on the Karmic rewards.

[2|0] left in the cylinder, with plenty of [Satiety] still to burn. Her best course of action was also an obvious one. Start with an unimbued bullet, then finish with…

[362!]

[Chamber Two: HARVEST]

[227!]

[FRENZIED BRAGGART Status Effect: EARMARKED]

The message confirmed that the Braggart, like the Glutton before it, was a valid [Harvest] target. It also coincided with the smiting blow.

[4,666 क]

A smite steal at the last possible second! Serac felt no remorse, however, remembering how Trav had once stolen a four-for-one smite from right under her nose! Besides, a little competition was a healthy thing. What was Wayfaring if a KL-60 junior couldn't occasionally sabotage a KL-95 veteran?

Pathsight, for its part, wasn't done acknowledging the pair's efforts. Indeed, its next reward was so generous it rendered moot any minor disagreements over stolen Karma.

[EXALTED FEAT accomplished: Smite the seven sins.]

[77,777 क]

An extra dollop of Karma for meeting a rare set of conditions! Another of Pathsight's hidden surprises, and a welcome one at that. Serac would gladly take it, and now, she was curious to see if there might be more [Exalted Feats] she could unknowingly accomplish.

"By the skin of your teeth." Realgar's measured voice rang across the room, sounding none the worse for wear after his lengthy channeling session. "But I suppose the result is what matters. On that count, we've achieved what we'd set out to do."

Faint praise, but that was about all you could expect from Mr Viceroy. He wasn't half-wrong, either. All told, the fight had pushed Serac to her limits—HP down to the 50s and Cartridge totally spent. It'd been quite some time since a mob encounter had tested her so!

But I'll bet the fight could've gone a lot smoother if you'd just let me reconstitute. Serac grumbled to herself. Yes, full Mana to cast her usual repertoire of spells would've been very helpful. All in due time. If Realgar expected her help with the inevitable confrontation with Flint the Butcher, surely he'd let her restock her resources. Meanwhile, the latest encounter had left Serac with new loot to add to her bag of tricks.

The Braggart's drop hovered in the gloomy, [Dusklit] air, looking as unidentifiable as anything Serac had seen in her [Harvesting] career. It was a fleshy, bony tube of sorts. Distinct openings top and bottom, rings of cartilage, and a prominent bump around the middle, almost like a—

[Designation: Braggart's Apple]

[Item Class: Consumable]

[Item Description: If you've got it, then go out there and flaunt it. Sing your heart out and make the whole world remember your name. When consumed by a [Synthesis]-adept Wayfarer, the Braggart's Apple grants [Untouchable] for as long as her Oathborn is active, followed immediately by forced Poise-break.]

[Addendum [UNTOUCHABLE]: Invulnerable to all forms of incoming damage, except those of Deific imbuement.]

"Whoa," Serac murmured in mild amazement. "That sounds… really strong? But this doesn't look like something I could divvy up into multiple meals. Guessing it's a one-time use, and if so, I gotta save it for when it really matters."

"I suspect you're right." Trippy as Serac's ever-reliable sous-chef. "This is the Braggart's voice box, and that bumpy protuberance is its thyroid cartilage, more commonly known as the Adam's apple. Ironic—that the world remembered Adam's name but not the Braggart's."

"What are you, the Special Philosophy Protocol now?" Serac teased with an appreciative smirk. "Well, not sure how I feel about eating someone's voice box, but I suppose I already knew that anything's on the table. Pun intended."

"I take your point, Serac, but the pun was neither necessary nor appreciated."

Serac had to snicker at that. Version Two's brand of snark was a little different to Version One's, but they both had their charms, such as they were. Her snickering at 'her own joke' must've looked quite odd in the [Dusklight], for that was when Realgar aft'Enright sidled up to her, stag eyes slightly narrowed in bemusement.

"Sister Edin," he said, somehow managing to withhold all warmth from the familiar address. "If you're quite done making a mockery of our ancestors' grave, it's time for us to head out and gather reinforcements. We've secured ourselves a venue. Naturally, the next order of business is to set the stage. Come Dusk, when the veils that divide Tidereign are at their thinnest, we shall strip bare the face of evil that haunts the Gloam."

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