Godclads

Chapter 31-1 A Throne Divided

It’s all going to hell.

It’s all going to hell, and I have no idea how to fix it.

Our forces are scattered. Pulled apart in every direction. We’ve returned to using direct meta-transmissions—experience fighting Ori-Thaum means we still have our own networks; Heavens that can communicate with each other so we aren’t entirely in the dark, but the war hosts are dismembered. The Seraphs are missing too and the ones that are still around give out conflicting orders and the Great Houses—don’t get me fucking started on those godsdamn—

They don’t listen. They won’t listen. Not to me. Not without a fight. This—I hate to think like this, but the High Seraph made us this way. Made so individually strong. Flexible. Made us each a king to our own forces. Warlords all. But warlords all under her—directed by her first, shaped to a common purpose: One unifying dream.

Now that she’s... absent, we are turning against each other. Like a pride of nu-lions composed of nothing but pride males. And so Highflame gets pulled apart from within. Now, even the Infacer is sending out broadcasts, calling for our forces to re-enter the Substance via the Noosphere.

But what waits for us there? What but death? What but ruin? And out here, Ori-Thaum remains standings stronger than ever before. Somehow, they were ready. Somehow, they remain impossibly coordinated, picking us off with their allies—wolfpacks hunting lone lions.

Veylis made us this way. Veylis made us champions to ourselves. But single champions cannot win wars, and without her guidance, I fear what is to come.

I fear that I might not be enough...

-Personal Mem-Log Acting Authority Santanando Mondelles

31-1

A Throne Divided

—[Vator Greatling]—

The atmosphere was tinged with a particular taste of grimness. Vator sniffed the scene from all the unwashed bodies lining the halls of Axtraxis Academy, from the aching silence that was only periodically broken by murmurs about losses, kills, and engagements. Halos spun slowly as he proceeded down the welcoming lobby of Axtraxis. He remembered this place from six years and a lifetime ago, entering for the first time to claim his right to become an acting Instrument.

His family had already gained a reputation through his sister, who was so driven by shame and rage that she proved herself a terror on and off the field. For every insult Jhred earned, for every defeat he suffered, Abrel repaid against most of his opposition, proving an adept technical operator.

Yet, according to her instructors, she had a fatal flaw: rage. The same thing that propelled her led her into traps, ploys, and impossible battles. Abrel was a terror, but she was not among the elite. This only fed into her rage more, which made her perform worse.

Enter: Vator. He arrived nearly at the same time as his sister departed. Already, the Greatling name had regained some prominence, but alas, mother’s actions and Jhred’s weakness left a stench that was hard to cleanse fully. But unlike his sister, Vator was a different kind of person—and created to be a bit better of a human.

The tactics that worked on her were but amusements to him, and among his classmates, he felt a like a visitor at a zoo. Except, rather than being a person peering through the cages at animals, he felt like a higher being standing inside the metaphorical cage with the people. Their behaviors were so predictable; the way they acted betrayed by their biology—he didn’t even need access to their minds.

Matter and mind are more closely entwined than most understand—than even Vator could understand. But he saw enough. And what he saw allowed him to play with his prey and learn from them. Learn, assimilate, replicate, and create art. Expression was the greatest thing that separated creature and man and beings that were more.

And right now, the expression on the faces of the people he passed by, of the defensive thaumic fortifications established to defend Axtraxis from all manner of assault, of the billions of mechs, bioforms, and drones; the millions of golems and Regulars; the thousands of Godclads was loss.

Utter loss.

They were directionless. Unsure of themselves. Unsure of the path ahead. Unsure and adrift. So true was the taste that even his Portrait remarked upon them. “Their bodies are as worn as their features. These are a strong people without direction, awaiting demise.”

Vator’s “escorts” led him through checkpoint after checkpoint, with defensive drones and soldiers stationed all over Orientation Hall. The massive columns here sculpted with martyrs who died in the line of duty and champions lionized through triumph and bloodshed were chipped and marred. Shrapnel. And pieces of tissue lodged within the wounds left upon the supports. A battle had been fought here. Or an explosive was smuggled aboard the station. Whatever the case, it told enough of Highflame’s dire straits.

“Please hold, Instrument Greatling.”

Vator eyed his escort and offered a polite smirk. She was a tall girl. Taller than he by far, with a good amount of enhancements to her musculature. But he could tell her age from the lack of plague in her brain—young. Too young to be a full Instrument. Fifteen, if he were to wager a guess. Ah. Another sign: they were promoting students and using them for reserve duties.

Space condensed around his escort, and he saw a swirl of oscillating lights pulse out from her body. A traveling vibration tumbled across the surrounding matter and slipped through the massive gold-lacquered gates smelted from duranium. Beyond which, the first level of Axtraxis lurked. The level for the louts. A stage Vator skipped with ease thanks to his high academic and practical scores. Above the gate where the words Steel is From Fire Born carved.

+Huh, what?+ Vator asked.

She didn’t reply, instead he felt a reflection nearby sudden flash and then dim. The youngest Greatling frowned. For though he tried to be a genuine accomplice, the Regular was determined to treat him like something akin to a pest or a burden. It would be maddening if she wasn’t so childish about it. The rancor was understandable, but still it was—

+I think I sense another shard nearby. And there’s something else... someone else...+ Draus’ thoughtcast silenced Vator as Mondelles led him in the direction of the platform that was vanishing behind a wall of green. +Keep with Mondelles. See if you can get him alone at some point. I’m gonna wanna have a chat with him soon.+

+And what will you be doing right now?+ Vator asked. Draus was clearly up to something, and he wanted to know what.

The Regular replied with a low grunt. +Consang of a consang whispered in my year. There’s someone in the bottom of this place I gotta find.+

It was like not getting any answer at all. Vator closed his eyes and let out a near-groan. Mondelles turned his head and regarded the Instrument. The Greatling hid his frustration with a yawn. “Long day.”

Mondelles studied him a moment longer. “It’s not done yet. Not for any of us. Not even close.”

***

—[Draus]—

He is here... him and her as well...

Ignorance returned to Draus unbidden like an old memory, as she jumped from reflection to reflection, building her Liminal Paracosm within Axtraxis. The Regular remembered the Definement the moment she became aware of him, and her cog-feed blinked as pointed highlighted one accretion among the millions packed into Axtraxis Academy.

Too many... strain... Her gaze is total... Chambers... Love...Majority...

His voice trailed off to a choking whisper, and though Ignorance continued speaking, it wasn’t anything Draus could understand.

+Avo?+ Draus asked, almost concerned about Ignorance’s condition. Where the Definement was silent, Mercy materialized in his stead.

+You are to proceed to the levels below,+ Mercy proclaimed. +The Dreamer has sensed a member of his cadre entrapped within a metaphysical cage. You are to make contact and retrieve from him what information you can. Free him if possible.+

+Who?+ Draus shot back, annoyed. Ignorance, she’d listen to, but Mercy? That half-strand was still a Low Master. Don’t matter that belonged to Avo now—if you could perform a betrayal once, you could do it again.

+Ignorance is over-taxed. He works to deny the Seraph’s awareness many of his assets.+

+That wasn’t—+

+Shotin Kazahara.+

That captured Draus’ attention. +Shotin? Shotin is here?+

+Not only he,+ Mercy said. +But a few Paladins as well. His niece among them... A shard. Two shards... Uthred Greatling as well... Two more Flame Anchors. The task is clear, Regular Draus. Seek your Soul-Kin. Unite the fragments. Restore the wholeness of the Dreamer’s form.+

Another set of markers appeared above her, and Draus intuitively knew that to ascend was to discover Uthred Greatling, while to delve deeper was to come upon Shotin Kazahara. She considered her choices momentarily before heading down. Shotin was a friendly. Well, was one before, anyway. Avo claimed his mind and he was part of the gestalt. If he was being housed here, though? Chances are he was a prisoner of war. The less likely possibility was him lurking in the dark somewhere, hiding.

Traveling through beams of luminosity, Draus extended her reach through polished armors, reflective optical implants, and passing drones to arrive carry her toward the platform in the distance.

In a while, Vator would be reunited with his father after Mondelles was finished with him. She would intercept Mondelles and Uthred one after another when that happened. Preferably after using Ignorance to clear Mondelles first—if the Definement was up to it. She could use an ally here, and though Mondelles was a Gold through and through, he offered her his favor once upon a time, and now some part of her felt beholden to do the same.

Before all that, Shotin and the Paladins. If they were trapped here, she was going to see them freed and primed for combat. But as she continued down, squeezing through the crevice between the platform and the maintenance level below, Draus let out an internal groan. Of course Avo had her sneaking through a Highflame facility to save an Ori Seeker. Rotlick loved his unexpected situations.