People don’t want to know what hides in the dark.

There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with the fear, with the paranoia, with the ignorance. It’s there to keep you safe. It’s wired into us, evolutionarily or in our programming as well.

It’s telling you: You don’t belong there.

You know that if you did, you would be able to see, you would be able to move to the place. You wouldn’t be so blind.

The things that live in the darkness? They’re not blind. They can see you just fine. The dark is not the dark to them. It’s just their own. It’s just a shame that we don’t get a choice anymore.

Ignorance is not enough, even if it’s understandable. It does not protect us. Ignorance is everywhere, darkness is everywhere, darkness is light. That was the fluke.

I was taken during my time in the Abyss. Taken by something that crawled up from the deepest depths. A Primal Gate. To another place. A place that was ruled by the idea of darkness. A place of eternal cyclical decay. A place where shadows linger in a state of half-death. In this living void, I saw entire dimensions swallowed by shadows—shadows that feed on flesh and fear and screaming hearts.

They were changed. But beautiful. They were lightless. And they learned to survive even in this place of eternal darkness and deception. They did it by tapping into the dark. Wearing the dark. Hiding from the dark using the dark itself. I learned from them. I became like them. I understood that darkness has a darkness of its own.

Even the things that live in ignorance cannot possibly know everything. I hid in its body, and I learned how it moved, how it lived, how it understood the world. And as it stalked me, as it glided between worlds, latching and leeching onto sources of light, I changed. I learned from it, and slowly, I consumed it from within.

The other Ascendants think we changed with our final pilgrimage downward. We did not. They are blind to what happened to us. But I know. I saw. When I came back from my little jaunt, I was different, and I knew there was no way out, not even for a god.

There are too many bits of shadow, so there’s only one way to last: be the one that lives there. Ignore the screaming heart inside your chest.

Damn what you don’t know. Damn your life if you lose it. Just go deeper into the nothing.

Settle inside the flesh of midnight.

And never, ever come back out.

-Harlock the Midnight

181 (I)

Trust [II]

45 minutes ago…

Going along with the Raven was an act of ugly calculus. Adam trusted Aviary as much as he trusted a bear to be gentle with his genitals if he dipped his bits in honey first. But an ugly chance was still a chance compared to the absolute certainty that the Ascendants intended to capture and then utterly defile his mind until he was an obedient slave.

Not that Aviary might not do the same things themselves, Adam thought bitterly. But still, his odds against the Ravens, Owls, and other birds were better than trying to survive the nightmarish hell pit that was the Rubix Well. With Legendary-Tier prisoners and Avatars running amok, it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. And despite his nimble recruitment efforts, he didn’t know Gone or Candles very well. All he knew was that there were prisoners here, and that they wanted out. That didn’t mean they were trustworthy.

Still, without Shiv or Uva here, they were the best chance Adam had. And that realization soured his mood even more. He missed his friends. He hated the fact that he barely had any time with his family before they were taken away from him, and he constantly had to fight the depressing reality that the very gods and government he dreamed so much of serving were little more than monsters themselves.

It’s all a godsdamned joke to you, isn’t it, System? Having me believe and then giving me a reason to struggle against everything I had faith in. Does it amuse you to hurt me? To see me suffer?

No response came.

The Raven led them through the havoc of battle and brought them down into a vacant cell. For a moment, Adam’s paranoia climbed. He wondered if this was a trap of some kind. But then the spell patterns began to move, and a blast of dimensionality swallowed him.

Adam wasn’t a studied Jump Mage. He had his Dimensional Skill forcibly evolved and fused during his engagement against the Dragon Knights. Despite his lack of advanced education, he could still feel the way the mana was moving and noticed how a few spell shapes swapped places. The patterns interlocked with each other, and a few symbols were swapped between activated spells.

It was then that Adam understood how Aviary had such a presence in this prison. It was ingenious. They had managed to circumvent the spell casting process sustaining the Rubix Well itself, becoming part of the magical infrastructure. All it took was a few careful readjustments to the intent codifying the spell patterns, and then they were off.

The Raven vanished first. Then Adam, Gone, and Candles followed suit. Adam used his Dimensionality to judge just how far they were projected. He went approximately 800 meters away from the current position he was in before he suddenly spiked down another full kilometer. This continued several other times, with them zigzagging in awkward patterns.

Soon, Adam figured out that he was likely gliding along the magical structures lining the exterior of the many cubes that made up the prison. Then finally, rather than arriving at a concentrated pit of mana, they suddenly broke free from one of the cubes, and he found himself unceremoniously deposited in a long tunnel choked with steam and sweltering humidity.

“Come,” that was all the Raven said, and Adam narrowed his eyes at his wayward savior.

The Gate Lord turned to study his two new companions. “Listen, whatever happens, whatever they offer us, it’s important that we stick together. Aviary has their own interests. They might offer you—”

“I know what they’re like,” Gone interrupted him in a burst of snarled words. There was a look in her eyes that convinced Adam she hated Aviary more than he ever could.

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Candles, meanwhile, looked on at the Raven with his head cocked. He didn’t reply to Adam, and for a moment, the Gate Lord was worried that Candles might just burn the Raven for the thrill of it. Then Candles shuddered and relaxed.

“That was a close one,” Candles muttered, chuckling to himself. A few stray motes of flame were drawn back into his body.

“Were you just about to burn the Raven?” Adam asked, incredulous.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I got a bit carried away. It’s just… They look so flameable, man. So burny. I wanna burn-burn-burn it all. Ah. Sorry, were you saying something?” The blazing Pathbearer held up his arms. “The fires, they… they were talking to me just now. They want me to set a few things aflame. They get kind of lonely.”

Adam stared at Candles and wondered if the man’s maniacal pyromania was a good thing or a bad thing for them. Well, if he’s unpredictable to me, he’s probably unpredictable for Aviary as well.

As they followed the Raven, Adam used his Seer of Horizons to scout out the structure he was in. His senses jumped down the hall they were walking, and he discovered the material of the walls was meant to be waterproof, or at least water-resistant. He wasn’t sure what kind of material this was, though. It looked metallic, but there was a smoothness to the surface he wasn’t familiar with. There was a great deal of moisture lining the ceiling, and that could be to Adam’s benefit. If a fight were to begin, he could draw upon that watery essence to empower his Hydromantic Physicality.

However, the moisture itself seemed odd to Adam, especially with how the small dots of water were painting semicircular patterns along the ceiling. As he observed that closer, his Awareness skill leveled several times. Then he noticed the steam around him moved unnaturally. It parted and danced as his body passed through. That was normal, yet it kept moving upward, unnaturally upward. It was like the steam sought the ceiling no matter what. There was no curve, no bend to the steam that rose past Adam’s head. They all just went straight up in perfectly symmetrical lines.

Furthermore, the steam wasn’t affected by Candles at all. Candles was constantly radiating a staggering amount of heat, yet the steam didn’t react to him.

That’s how Adam realized he wasn’t walking in natural steam, but rather skill-based steam. And if he had to guess, the steam was composed by a Pathbearer, considering it lacked any obvious mana enforcing its nature. That means there’s no attunement at play here. Someone with a steam-related Physicality skill, perhaps, Adam thought to himself.

Seer of Horizons 155 > 159

Candles was muttering to himself with every few steps, giggling aloud as if a child in an amusement park. Adam decided that he didn’t want to speak with the pyromaniac and left him to his own devices. Candles was of more use as a wild card than an informed party.

That left Gone. Adam made eye contact with the goblin again, and he gestured at the steam around them. Gone gave him a nod, and from her gaze, he realized that she was aware of their situation. Good, Adam thought. Her Awareness might be pretty high as well, or at least her deduction. But just because one was aware of an enemy didn’t mean one could counter them.

Adam wondered if his new Physicality Skill Evolution could allow him to rip the moisture out of the air and hurt the enemy Pathbearer. Something told him not to get so hopeful. For one, he didn’t know how powerful his enemy was or if they had more levels than him. For another, he didn’t know what else this steam was capable of.

There’s no reason to force a confrontation when your foundations are rooted in ignorance, Adam remembered his father saying. Understand the nature of your enemy first, and then engage.

They continued along the round tunnel for a few moments longer, until the Raven came to a stop in front of what seemed to be a maintenance doorway. A faint light flickered above, showing a symbol of an automaton wearing a hard hat. The Raven said nothing, and Adam realized he was communicating telepathically with his comrades again. About four seconds thereafter, the interlocking wheels sealing the doorway spun and snapped.

Suddenly, the door dropped down with a resounding clang, and a rush of cold wind splashed over him. Once more, he noticed another flaw in the steam surrounding him. It didn’t pass into the doorway and instead drifted along by.

“You need to work on your understanding of steam,” Adam muttered under his breath. The dense mist coating the air shuddered for a beat, and the Gate Lord just grinned. “Yes. I see you. And don’t bother pretending otherwise. Mistakes don’t get unmade.”

The Raven passed through without reacting to Adam’s words, and the rest followed. As they entered, Adam found himself walking along a grated bridge. To his left and right were inactive drones slotted into the walls. There were hundreds of them nested there, and a faint hum in the air indicated they were charging. They resembled mechanical insects of all varieties, and there were appendages lining their exterior, limbs with multiple tools attached to them. If Adam had to imagine their use, they would be used to maintain the structure, whatever it was. Judging by the suction cups on their legs, they were probably made to crawl upon the walls and seal specific sections of this place.

But why only automata and not people? Adam wondered. He got his answer as he looked over the Raven’s head. This room was bathed in a neon-red glow from slanted lights built into the walls. It was about twenty meters in length and sixty across, and at the end of the room, the Raven came to a halt before a set of thick, lead doors. A large wheel was embedded on its center, but there was a symbol painted above it.

It looked like three fans surrounding a dot, and was colored a garish, faded yellow. Adam felt his anxiety rise. He remembered seeing this in a textbook somewhere. It signified something dreadful. Something from the long-distant past. He racked his brain as he stared at it, but he just couldn’t remember what exactly the symbol stood for. He only knew that he was somewhere he really shouldn’t be…

Candles suddenly began chuckling again, and when Adam turned to face him, the flickering white patches within his eye sockets had turned into those smiling half-moons again. “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” the burning man sang.

Adam frowned at his strange choice of words, but the flaming Pathbearer simply shivered with mirth.

“You know something about this place?” Adam asked.

“No,” Candles said. “But I can feel it. Can’t you? Can’t you feel the invisible fires? Caressing us? Joining us?” He stared at Adam, his eyes burning ever brighter. “It’s burning its way into you, even now. But don’t worry just yet. We’re tougher than the ones who came before. Much tougher. It’s gonna take a while for your insides to catch fire. But it’s gonna take a lot shorter for me. I already feel it. It’s like juice. Juicing me up.”

With every word the burning Pathbearer spoke, Adam’s apprehension climbed, and a strange, uncomfortable feeling welled up all throughout his body, like an itch, but also not.

“Shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t. Need to leave as soon as possible. Need to leave,” Gone stammered as she looked around frantically.

Then, there came a loud groaning noise as the wheel on the vault door turned, and the path before them opened with a resounding groan of aged metal.

An even, droning noise originating from in front of them made itself known just as the door slid fully open, one that was also unfamiliar to Adam. Forcing his apprehension aside, he stepped forward, with Candles strolling right after him, and Gone reluctantly following when she realized the others wouldn’t turn back.

The Raven led them into a brightly lit, circular chamber that was hundreds of meters across, and Adam found himself standing on a concentric walkway that lined the edges of the room.

At the center of the structure was a massive rod that turned at dizzying speeds and emitted a constant roar. Adam’s skin prickled with stabbing pain, and a steady heat began to build under his muscles. Just looking at the rod filled him with a building sense of nausea.

And then his Awareness picked up other shapes in the room. Other Ravens were standing on additional walkways above them. They looked down at Adam with their unnerving helmets, and the Gate Lord fought every instinct he had to keep his fear from showing on his face.

Someone cleared their throat beside Adam. When he turned, he nearly leaped out of his skin. The Raven was gone, but in his place was an Owl standing but a meter away from Adam—and he had appeared without the Gate Lord noticing at all.

“Don’t be alarmed, Young Lord Arrow,” the Owl said. “This isn’t an ambush. Everything is proceeding according to protocol. Welcome to our humble sanctuary in this bleak, tragic place.” The Owl gestured at the turning rod. “Here, there are few eyes on us. Here, we can speak with plain honesty and deal in matters of the forthcoming future.”

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