29 (III)

City

Practical Metabiology > 4

Though Shiv spent a few hours twisting, adjusting, dying, and modifying his own biology, he didn’t gain any new Biomancy levels. Despite this, his education shot up substantially, and Dven proved to be a patient and insightful instructor. It advised that, since he had the fortitude, he should finish the book as soon as he could, work through all the chapters, and repeat them until he was truly familiar with the process. Supposedly, it would give him a great edge in understanding the practical nuances of the body. Shiv looked forward to it—he was even curious what other tortures or horrific torments Ekkihurst and the other vampires might dream up.

Despite his eagerness, Shiv realized another truth: it was a nightmare advancing levels when he couldn’t rely on his Unique Feat. He Who Rises From Ash Eternal had hyper-accelerated his growth—shortened what should have taken decades for a supposed genius to mere days—but only under the prerequisite that he die.

Many times, he died because his Biomancy wasn’t sophisticated enough, because he made a mistake, because he simply wasn’t strong enough. Those low-hanging Biomancy-death “fruit” had run dry. No longer could he casually kill himself; failures now had to be more severe, more specific, and—Shiv surmised—actual failures rather than self-intent.

He reflected on Momentum Core, the skill that had truly been necessary. For the longest time, he’d been the underdog in Reflexes—slower in movement, slower to react. Momentum Core let him match someone stronger by draining and redirecting kinetic energy, turning himself into an accelerating calamity. The same principle had to apply for his Biomancy. If all he did was kill himself repeatedly, what real skill would that impart? It wasn’t proper experience; it was mere repetition without nuance.

Then, there was the question of his Unique Feat itself. Most Pathbearers lacked Feats and desperately sought them—through great deeds or divine bestowal—often valuing Feats equal to or above their Paths. Shiv wondered if he could improve his Feat or even get more somehow. He shook his head. He wished Valor were there to bear these questions, but the dagger understandably wanted distance—Shiv would be spending dinner and the hours after that with Uva.

Night had fallen by the time he left Cradle. The far-away orbs that served as suns in Weave grew dimmer, and faint peals of music traveled through the city—the Composer playing a slow piece that brought harmony to Shiv’s mind. He was increasingly fond of Weave; it had its problems, but here, there was hope he’d never felt on Blackedge.

“Well, that took a while,” Uva said to him telepathically. Shiv turned to find Uva staring at him. She’d changed again, wearing a long, dark, flowing coat with bright, brass buttons.

“You have quite the wardrobe,” he commented.

“You haven’t seen my wardrobe yet,” Uva replied, her voice filled with implication. “I’ll show you later.”

“Oh. I look forward to it,” Shiv said—though he was looking forward to other things more, he admitted.

They called Adam through Uva’s brooch, but the Young Lord surprised them again. “Ah, you two should enjoy dinner on your own. I’m occupied.” In the background, they could hear festive noise—cheering, loud music, something about a bride.

“I’m at a wedding,” Adam explained.

Shiv glanced at Uva; she was equally confused. “Why are you at a wedding, Adam?” she asked.

“I might have overheard something between the bride and the groom. There was a misconception, I stopped the groom from running, explained things… and now I’m a guest of honor.”

“I’m a guest of honor, too,” they heard Valor declare in the background. “I was the one who taught this young fool how to talk. He nearly made things worse.”

“Silence, dagger,” Adam snapped. “I was the one who overheard. Don’t steal this moment from me!”

Both Shiv and Uva snorted simultaneously. “Was that a snort? Are you two mocking me?”

“No, Young Lord,” Shiv said. “Just… I’m actually kind of proud of you. You’ve got quite the personality—so long as you’re not near me.”

“Yes, it does wonders when you’re not here,” Adam sneered. “Imagine that. Ah. I need to go now—they’re asking me to dance. I must show them what I’ve learned at the Capital.”

Then he was gone, and Shiv bent over with laughter.

“He’s not nearly as bad as you described,” Uva said, struggling to keep her smirk in check.

“I meant what I said,” Shiv replied between chuckles. “He’s much better when he’s not with me.”

Uva’s expression softened as she stared at him. “What your family did to his—the ritual—it’s not…”

“I know,” Shiv interrupted. “But there’s something about that ritual. Responsibility—that’s what Roland Arrow talked to me about. He said he didn’t want me to have a Path. But it wasn’t his responsibility. It’s mine—because it’s all I can do now. So I live well despite what my parents did.”

“That is an honorable way of seeing things,” Uva said with a smile.

Shiv sensed an opportunity. “You want to know what would be more honorable?”

“What?”

“If you’d let me cook you dinner again. To see if we can top yesterday.”

She laughed. “Fine. But today we use a proper kitchen—mine.”

Shiv grinned and stared at the summoning crystal—then his grin faltered. “You know, I’m kind of jealous of Adam right now.”

“Oh?” Uva cocked her head. “How so? And jealous why?”

“I kind of want his Skill Evolution for Reflexes. With him, he could fly around with burning wings. I’m just a missile and a bomb powered by momentum.”

“And why is being a missile and a bomb bad, oh Master Pathbearer?” she teased.

“Technically,” Shiv said. “I’m still not in the level threshold yet.”

“It is a Skill Evolution. It counts.”

“Yeah,” Shiv agreed, “but it won’t let me carry you and fly across the city. Improvements to be made.”

Silver Tongue > 4

She blushed, exactly as he’d hoped.

They ended up flying over the city on the back of a demon. Summoning one was relatively easy: focus intent on the crystal, and its own mana field pulled in a demon from another world. The prisms acted as gates, and as the demon crossed over, it made small talk in their minds. Shiv found them surprisingly conversational—apparently, demons had a deal with the Composer: natural gas mined by Weave in exchange for transportation services across dimensions.

The fluid orbs above the largest spires dimmed to near darkness as a melody of night played.

They steered closer to the Symposium, but then descended almost to the very bottom of Weave. In a secluded patch, they landed in a small courtyard filled with flat-topped, bunker-like houses. Shiv sensed a few organic signatures—most were Umbrals—and spotted a large group training despite the hour.

“This is one of the garrisons,” Uva said. “Many who wish to be Sisters dedicate their time here.”

“Did you grow up here?” Shiv asked.

“A place like this. I moved about as I grew up. I didn’t know my father well—he died early during a raid.”

Shiv grimaced. “Sorry.”

Uva nodded. “He was honorable. That’s what my mother said. I had her until I was fourteen—and then… your vision told you the rest.”

“Yeah,” Shiv said, nodding. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay—at least, I hope it’s okay.” She eyed him dangerously. “You’re not the surfacer who stabbed her, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Shiv said.

“Good,” she replied, voice cold. “When I find the person, someday I will, I will do things to them—things I don’t understand even now.”

Just then, Shiv found her to be both a little scary and very desirable.

They entered one of the houses, only to find an elevator that descended several floors. At the next stop, a young Umbral boarded—the one whose leg had been broken by the raven automaton and who had laughed on Shiv’s first day here, earning Uva’s reprimand.

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Her eyes swung between Shiv and Uva, mouth dropping. “No!” she breathed to her sister in arms.

Uva pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sister, please.”

“No, you didn’t…” the younger Umbral gasped. “Oh, you did! You finally did! I can’t believe it!” She practically cheered, bouncing in place.

Uva refused to glance at her. Shiv, despite himself, smirked.

“So,” the young Umbral said, bumping Uva with her elbow, “how was he?”

Uva’s expression cracked into pure outrage. “Sister Ikki, I am doing everything I can to save you from a black fate.”

“Is the black fate you?” Ikki asked.

“The black fate is me,” Uva confirmed.

Ikki nodded. “Understood.” She took on an impish smile, then leaned toward Shiv. “How is she?”

she whispered. Uva yanked on Ikki’s ear. “Ah! Answer the question! Quick, surfacer! Let me hear a final song of delight before she rips it off!”

The elevator dinged, and Uva mercifully let go. Ikki grinned, rubbed her lobe, then—just before Uva stepped off—pushed past her sister and hugged Shiv.

“Thanks,” Ikki muttered into his chest, “for saving us.” Then she let go and pretended nothing happened.

Shiv chuckled. “It was my pleasure.”

Ikki’s face dimmed. “It didn’t sound like it at the time,” she said finally. Shiv winced. That bothered them more than it did him.

As they exited the elevator, Ikki ran down the hall. “Sister Uva, make sure your wards are stable… or don’t be too loud. Shiv! Break her wards and rock her world!” she called back.

Uva hissed, “I’m going to kill that girl someday.” Shiv simply wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her onward.

To his satisfaction, most rooms were warded. He still vaguely sensed people with his Biomancy, but they were blunted—as if he’d need much stronger skill to break through. He could still feel crowd sizes, at least. “Seems a lot of people live here,” he observed.

“Most Umbrals do,” Uva sighed. “We live in communes—sisterhoods. Many together.”

“Most Umbrals?” Shiv asked.

“I prefer my solitude,” she replied. Then she regarded Shiv. “Or at least I used to.”

They reached her home. As lights came on to the sound of her voice, Shiv was surprised by how many mannequins littered the living room—clothes half-finished draped over them, blades and armor scattered everywhere. Uva cleared her throat. “I might have left in a hurry yesterday. Forgot to clean up.”

“I don’t mind,” Shiv said. “I kind of like it—it looks passionate.”

She pressed her lips together, trying not to blush again. Shiv looked around at the low ceiling, veins of nightglass running through the concrete, casting an ethereal glow. Outside, a small fountain bubbled in what passed for her indoor balcony. A small magic flame dancing in the air, revealing a small garden.

Uva brushed her hand down his face, snapping his focus fully onto her—and only her. She smiled. “I’m going to get changed. You just wait here.”

Shiv nodded, words caught in his throat as she turned to pull off her coat and let it fall before him. She wore something of a vest underneath, but…

“Are you trying to provoke me?” he asked, feeling heat rise in his gut.

“Is it working?” she teased, she looked over her shoulder.

“Of course—damn you,” Shiv growled.

She laughed, loosening his self-control further. Then, something else pressed against him—Foreshadowing, he thought. It might be the dagger; he wondered where it was.

Not long after, she returned holding two wine glasses—wearing, wearing… Shiv’s focus faltered. She wasn’t wearing very much. “Would you like a drink?” she asked, offering him a glass.

He took it and licked his lips. “To start,” he said.

***

“And then Seymour cried, right in front of everyone?” Uva asked, her voice pitched high with disbelief and slight drunkenness. She put her hand over her mouth as she giggled. “Oh no, oh no, poor little goblin.”

“Yeah,” Shiv said, laughing at the memory. “I’m always surprised he stayed on. He practically cries every day he’s there, but he never leaves. Guess that makes Seymour a little braver than I thought—and a little stronger too. Crying’s one thing; running’s another.”

Uva let out a breath and leaned against him. “This Georges sounds terrible, but you… you adore him, don’t you?”

He sighed. “Shit personality, terrible anger, smokes like a chimney. And the only one who ever really gave a shit about me.” Then he looked at Uva, lying next to him, her face close to his. “Until now.”

She traced patterns along his chest with her finger, and his stomach fluttered. “I’m more used to being alone,” Uva said. “More focused on my work.”

“Alone,” Shiv said. “I’ve been lonely before, but I don’t think I’ve been that alone—even with people hating me, thanks to the kitchen.”

In that moment, Shiv realized how much the kitchen had shaped his personality and spared him from social maladjustment. Guess that’s another thing to thank Georges for.

“I have a lot of things I wanted to thank my mother for,” Uva said. “Many things I’ll never get to do.” She let out a quiet breath. “You know how she was killed?”

“Surfacer dagger?” Shiv asked to confirm.

“Yes…” She looked at him. “I feel that weight pressing against you too—in your mind… Foreshadowing. Do you think you can sense something? Do you want to see it?”

“The dagger?” He held her closer.

“Yes,” she said, swallowing. “I can show you.”

Though momentarily uneasy, hope billowed inside her, but it carried a knot of hate. She wanted to know. She needed to know who did it. Now, she felt closer than ever to a lead.

She rose off the remarkably sturdy bed and retrieved a box from a nearby cabinet. With the press of her finger, she undid its sealing spell. She placed it on the bed next to him, and he rose to stare at it.

The odd feelinginside him grew—but more than that, he recognized

the dagger.

“That’s a Pattern Twenty-Two.”

“What?”

“That’s what the Slayers call it. I had one once as well. It was popularized during the Eclipse War…”

And then the vision hit him.

Foreshadowing: It had all gone to hell in an instant. It was just supposed to be a scouting assignment, but they got spotted by one of the Deep Elves. They were so close to finding this Composer for the Auroral Council.

His only comrade in this hell was dead. Run through by a nightglass spear. He killed the Deep Elf that performed the deed in retribution—but the Jump Point they were using was compromised. The spiders were closing in, and the soldier needed to run. Several warding spells slammed down around him, but he couldn’t teleport anyway. His comrade was the Jump Mage, and now she wasn’t anything at all.

No. He was going to make a run for the Compact gate. They were practically the only Abyssal Faith that would still deal with the Republic after the war. He would have to have them take him prisoner. He would then need to mention Roland Arrow by name.

The Town Lord wasn’t going to like this.

Foreshadowing > 13

The vision faded, and Shiv found himself staring at Uva—connected to his mind. She witnessed what he just experienced as well.

“A soldier of the Republic,” Shiv muttered, his mind racing. “And he knows Roland Arrow… Wait—this makes no sense. No soldier was supposed to have gone down into the Abyss. Not since the end of the Eclipse War. Only adventurers and Slayers looking for monsters to hunt in the upper parts.”

“And he escaped,” Uva said, her voice bitter and raw. “Back to the surface, probably. And now… now he is beyond me.” Her jaw clenched; every word came out painfully. “Before, it was just bitter unknowing. I… I never learned. I couldn’t find out. And now that I know, it hurts even more—because he’s in a place beyond my reach. The light-curse…”

“But not beyond mine,” Shiv said. Uva blinked in surprise. “I can go back up—I have to go back up. Roland Arrow knows something. He’s in charge of Blackedge. The killer knew him as well. If we save the town, I can ask him, and he’ll tell me.” Shiv sniffed. “One way or another. I’ll find out from him. Godsdammit. Adam isn’t going to like this. No soldier is supposed to be down here…”

Uva’s mouth opened, and she tried to speak—but he leaned in and silenced her in another way. When he pulled away, she let out a breath. “I demand too much of you. You give too much to me.”

“No,” he said. “I want this. I want to know what’s happening just as much as you do. So far, most of what the Republic told me is a lie. I want to make things right—for everyone. And Roland owes me—and his son—more than a few answers by this point.”

She stared at him for a few heartbeats—bittersweet pain and affection blooming within. Then her body was against his again, and for a while the dagger was forgotten.

In that time, the world was wonderful.

***

Uva woke the next morning to a bell’s toll. She groaned as she tried to rise, but Shiv guided her head back down against the pillow. “Sleep,” he whispered into her ear as he got up. She mumbled something, but soon let out a slight snore.

Shiv didn’t do much sleeping. After he folded Uva’s bedframe back into shape, Uva drifted off, and he found his mind racing about all he just learned. He decided to read more of the Odes to occupy his time, and the second chapter proved to be a delight about the nature of the largest organ: Skin.

Practical Metabiology > 5

After locating and putting some of his new clothes back on, Shiv got to the peephole and found Sister Ikki waiting there on the other side. Slowly, he opened the door. The young Umbral almost squealed, her face reddening as she regarded him.

“Okay, so now that she isn’t here—”

“Sorry,” Shiv said, folding his arms. “No details. It’s rude to pry on another lady.”

“But it’s so spicy, though.” Ikki wasn’t ashamed at all—in fact, she seemed amused. Leaning in closer so her head passed the threshold of Uva’s home, she whispered, “Did you know everyone used to think Sister Uva was an automaton? A robot pretending to be an Umbral—always stone-faced. She’s always like: Ikki, remember your duty! And stop grinning at the prisoner! But then you showed up! And now we can all bully her about something too!”

Shiv felt his grin grow. Then he sensed something else: a surge of mind-mana parting around him and spearing into Ikki’s thoughts.

Ikki squealed “Ah! Sister Uva, no! Sorry! Don’t remind me of those memories—they’re embarrassing!”

Shiv couldn’t help it—he laughed.

“Ikki?” he heard Uva call from her bedroom, still half-asleep. “If you’re here to annoy us, I’ll come out and beat you to death using Shiv like a mace!”

Shiv tried to imagine how that would work. Uva wasn’t small, but… he was quite a bit larger than she was by now. It looked awkward in his mind. Maybe it sounded different in her sleep-addled mind.

“No, I’m not just here to annoy you. I’m… uh…” Ikki glanced around. “The Composer—she’s going to summon you soon. I heard the Weaveresses talking about it, so be ready… and don’t get ambushed when they arrive.”

Shiv blinked. “Wait—show up here? How do they know where we are?”

Ikki stared at him as if he were simple. “Shiv, you’re one of the few surfacers down here. A surfacer the size of a deep-ox. A surfacer running around with a Psychomancer of the Order all over the city… disregarding the Composer seeing everything, do you have any idea how much attention you draw?”

“I don’t think I noticed.” Shiv winced. He really needed to improve his Awareness.

“Well, you’ll find out soon. Vibrations might write a very, very saucy piece about you two—so be ready for that, too.”

Shiv wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Well, I guess that’s life in the big city after pulling some desperate heroics. Well. At least the Composer won’t pry into my private affairs. Shiv paused. She won’t, right?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep