The System remembers everything that we do. It remembers, and then it uses it to reward or punish us. Sometimes both at the same time.

“The System covets strife.”

This phrase has been spoken by countless Pathbearers in a variety of ways, but I believe that it might be more than just a pithy aphorism.

Rather, it is the central thesis for Integrated existence as a whole.

More accurately, the System “sows” strife.

Quests are generally granted as a result of our actions in some shape or form, and they are often triggered by earlier conflicts and deeds. And regardless of who wins or loses, the result is always the same.

Evolution. Change.

Not always specifically for a Pathbearer, but for the entire world—or even entire dimensions. In this sense, we might be causing multiple “Skill Evolutions” for the System itself through our own deeds, making it stronger, making its magical resonance evermore powerful. And so, the System not only remembers, but it also fixates. It fixates on certain people who nourish it the most. Who stress it. Who give it the most novel experiences, perhaps. But the System does show its favor, and those it chooses as beloved often find themselves gaining great power and facing treachery at the same time.

And though some people call the System’s paracausal resonance “Karma,” I would argue this term does not fit at all. Karma is about being rewarded for good deeds, and being cursed for doing bad ones. But the System cares little for morality—it simply wants struggle and metamorphosis. It is not uncommon for noble heroes to find themselves a target in a Quest because of their kindness and power—because their actions have rippled outward and affected so many others that it has also impacted someone else’s schemes or rise to power. And so the System sets a collision course between the noble and vile, uncaring of who wins. Because whatever the case, things will change. The people will change or die, or both. And the world will change in turn.

Ultimately, virtue and cruelty come second to power. The power to change. The power to influence. The power to ascend. This is why the System so often advances one’s skills as a reward and offers new instruments of war. Because there will always be another battle—with spiking frequency as one climbs the Tiers of Ascension.

But even power is not enough in the end, for Legendary Pathbearers find themselves beset most of all—with dozens of Quests bound to them, their very being a nexus of inevitable conflict for many others. Power invites challenge. Power inflicts change. And power begets power. Until another takes it from you.

Thus, to live is to war in this age, and none shall avoid the whetstone of inevitable bloodshed lest death take them first.

There is no escape. Not through immortality. Not through power. Not through virtue or cruelty.

All is war.

–Conflict Resonance (Rejected research paper written on the field of System-Metaphysis at Phoenix Academy)

59 (I)

Ripple

Shiv and Uva spent a little bit longer talking with Can Hu. In that time, Shiv found out that the automaton had, surprisingly, been cast down the same chasm he did all those weeks ago. Can Hu’s fall took place a long time before Blackedge was a thing, shot from the sky by a Lone Star Pathbearer who chased it across the border.

It was a testament to Can Hu’s adamantine frame and additional armor that it survived, but the fall broke it for a long time and damaged things deeper than the automaton’s outer shell. Can Hu said the worst part was taking years to rebuild and function, laying in the dirt, in a ruin made from its body, aware but unable to function.

The System’s hand was cold, cruel, and absolute. And it asserted one thing upon Shiv: he never wanted to sign a contract with anyone. He never wanted to have one of his skills shattered and see his soul inflicted with the harm visited upon Can Hu. What the Legacy Empire did to the Penitents was beyond despicable.

“Yet, I was the traitor,” Can Hu mused.

After a few more hours of conversation fueled by good tea and better soup, Shiv and Uva bid Can Hu farewell and ventured back out into Weave. As they walked the barren, withered undercity, Shiv cast a final glance at that peculiar warehouse, a place reforged and rebuilt by the Penitent’s own hand. He wondered what the future might bring for both of them.

“I am not sure about this,” Uva said to him as they rose into the air, pulled by Shiv’s gravitic field.

She, too, was looking at the warehouse, but he could feel a deeper apprehension in her mind: a worry that was pulled in three directions.

The first was of Shiv—she didn’t fully know about his necromantic weakness. And in his defense, he hadn’t known either. The second was of Can Hu—she didn’t know the automaton that well. They were merely passers-by in each other’s lives. Acquaintances, and nothing more, their relationship built on little more than interesting conversations in the museum. Now, however, both Shiv and the former Penitent were connected—connected because she took her new lover to a place where she liked to frequent, and so the System arranged for a most opportune and fated intersection of Pathbearers.

And that came to the third problem: Can Hu was broken and barely able to support its own weight, and now it wanted to be armor for Shiv. Even if Can Hu could integrate itself with Shiv’s bone armor, there was still much at risk, and something faintly horrific about it all.

“Give it a chance,” Shiv said. Though he wasn’t too confident about what Can Hu could offer either, he felt sympathy towards the machine. “We can let it try. This is the right thing.”

“I’m fine with it trying,” Uva said, “but this armor—you need reliable armor, Shiv. Something that will not fail you against an enemy like the Gate Lord. Do not make yourself vulnerable because of sentiment, because you have a good heart. The System does not care for such things.” She shuddered. “That, and I fear for my own fate should you be struck with Necromancy.”

“I got half a mind to hang a sign on my chest that tells people I’m fighting about how Necromancy makes me explode,” Shiv said sarcastically. “That might make them reconsider hitting me.”

“More likely a fool will try because you told him not to,” Uva said, rolling her eyes.

Shiv nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, there are probably plenty of people who don’t care if they live or die. They just want to kill the other bastard first. Then, they’ll die happy anyway.”

“I know—I’m looking at one such bastard.” Her eyes glinted with amusement.

Shiv just snorted. “Yeah, well, unlike most people, I come back, and I come back stronger.”

He shook his head as he thought about tonight’s meeting. There was something here—something, something that was stronger than fate. The hand of the System was at work, and more than that, Shiv wanted to see what a Penitent Chassis was capable of.

But enough of that now. They were Pathbearers, so the night was forever young. Shiv eyed Uva. “Hey, Uva. You, uh, wanna go for a nightcap?”

She eyed him. “Tea wasn’t enough for you?”

“Well, not really. It was good tea, but… I’m thinking of a little wine. And you can have some dessert. Wine and dessert?”

“Oh? Do you have a place in mind?”

“A cozy, messy, but very comfortable apartment sounds nice. That, and I don’t think Adam would appreciate us barging in at my place.”

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Uva winced. “I still need to put in a work order for the damages… Composer, we’ve been busy.”

“Just tell maintenance the bedroom was damaged due to hunger-related reasons,” Shiv said, grinning. “Keep it vague, you know.”

Uva failed to hold back a laugh. “Well. I am getting hungry again. We best get back before something public gets broken.”

“That’d be a real tragedy.”

***

“Like this?” Uva asked as she slowly peeled the egg off the pan.

“Yeah, just like that,” Shiv said, holding her hand. He was using his gravitic field to guide her; his expression was one of absolute concentration. The egg needed to be fried just right. He shifted the temperature dial for the mana cooker, and he listened to the crackle of the egg skin. The Chef Unwavering told him what he needed to hear, told him how long this thing needed to burn.

A heavy series of knocks rattled Uva’s front door.

Shiv’s focus didn’t break, but Uva looked away. He flipped the egg with her hand and chuckled. “There. You did it.”

She hummed. “Everything but finishing.”

“It’s all right,” Shiv said. “We’ll try this again, uninterrupted next time.”

Her agreement came in the form of a kiss on the underside of his jaw. He had a wide smile on his face as he placed the finished egg on a plate and began to apply the final touches. “More sauces…” Shiv muttered to himself. “She likes a bit of spice. I want something plain…”

As Uva got to the door, she peered out, muttering something about how she was going to rip Ikki’s mind out if the damn girl was bothering her so early in the morning. But then she froze and looked at Shiv. “It’s Adam.”

Shiv frowned, then shrugged. “Well, I guess I’ll get started on another egg.”

Uva huffed. “I guess you should.”

She opened the door and regarded the Young Lord with folded arms. “Hero Adam,” she said, “what brings you to my place this early in the morning?”

It was then Shiv noticed something before her—his Biomancy swept out through her open door, the wards no longer in effect. He felt Adam’s body—sensed the minor wounds lining the man’s face—and briefly stopped cooking.

At this point, Uva reacted as well. She blinked, did a double-take, and her faintly amused expression turned to one of stark concern. “Adam, what happened to you? Why are you…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Adam said, staggering in with a groan.

Shiv studied the Young Lord as he dragged himself into the apartment like someone who just lost a bar fight. The man’s left eye was practically swollen shut, his nose was a little broken, one of his teeth was loose, and he had something of a slight concussion. More than that, there was blood all over his armor. Not his own, though.

“Adam,” Shiv said, “please don’t tell me you killed someone.”

“No, no. I merely took their limbs off and left them for the proper authorities.” Adam moaned as he let himself fall into a chair at the dining table, which creaked under the weight of his armor. “Do you have any more eggs? I could use an egg. I could use all the eggs in the world. So bloody hungry…”

“Making one just for you right now,” Shiv replied. “So? What’s going on? Everyone else all right?”

“They’re fine—they’re being entertained by Valor,” Adam said. “He took them off to… I don’t know what they’re doing. Show them the sights, I guess. Regale them with how great he is, I suppose. I managed to secure lodgings for our three guests in a nice, local hotel. Apparently, the people recognized me from the local news, and they let my guests stay for free. At least for a few nights. I won’t impose on them for long. I will see them paid. A good service does not beget eternal charity.”

“Very noble,” Uva said. She winced at the condition of Adam’s face. “I’ll get you some ice first. Shiv? Healing?”

“Sure,” Shiv said. He turned to the Young Lord, who looked like he wanted to talk. “I’ll hit you with a wyrm once your egg is done.”

Adam nodded his thanks. “I… I decided to clear my mind last night. I had to fly around and think about things.”

“And how’d that go?” Shiv asked.

“Not particularly well for the thinking part,” Adam admitted. “However, I did manage to talk an automaton out of jumping off a building. Actually, about that—Uva, did you know that this city has a terrible problem in which Weaveresses of sufficient societal importance can impose their will on poor laborers?”

Uva blinked. “I… These things have been known to happen at times.”

“Well, it happened here! A poor fool had lost its job because it slightly inconvenienced the Weaveress of the local zoning council or some such, and now it cannot afford any parts, or even energy to survive. I gave it a few shards, and after I listened to the bot’s heartache, I promised them I would bring this to the highest authority I know.”

“Yes,” Uva said with a slight sigh. “I will look into the problem.”

Adam stared at her like she was stupid. “Uva, I respect you, but you are not the highest authority I know. I am going to complain directly to the Composer herself.”

The Umbral reacted like she just saw a pig turn back into a man. “I do not think this is wise, Adam. The Composer has many things she needs to concern herself with. This is a trifling issue.”

“Someone nearly threw themselves off a building!” Adam tapped the table with his gauntlet to declare his outrage. “It is preposterous to steal the job of one beneath you at the slightest offense. It is downright vile—someone who acts like this is unworthy of being a Pathbearer.”

Both Uva and Shiv stared at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Shiv said. “You’re, uh, quite the guy, Adam.”

The Young Lord wriggled his busted nose. “Well, that wasn’t the end of the night. After that, I decided to fly over a park, because I hoped that it might be more peaceful there for my senses. To my horror, I came upon a serial killer.”

“You what?” Shiv asked, incredulous. Uva was leaning in as well.

Adam sneered at the recent memory. “Yes, apparently your, your local guards—whatever they’re called…”

“Framework,” Uva said.

“Yes, well, they were hunting this person for a while, but I found them accidentally. They had a murder-lair in Center Point Park.”

Uva blinked. “You found a serial killer’s hideout at Center Point Park?”

The Young Lord didn’t look like he believed it himself. “Yes. They apparently created a small pocket dimension under one of the lakes, and they would pop out, jump across the city with spatial magic, capture someone, and then bring them back to drown them. I found so many bodies in the hideout…” Adam shuddered. “It was horrible. And I was drawn in by the sound of a screaming child! The weaver was about to drown a child! Can you believe this?”

“No,” Shiv said. “You just… stumbled upon a serial killer?”

“I didn’t stumble upon them—my senses picked them up,” Adam said, sounding offended. “I didn’t mean to go hunting for a serial killer. They just happened to be there, and I just happened to notice something was odd as I faintly heard a child’s cries. I admit it was hasty and foolish of me to dive in alone, but the monster was trying to drown a child, and I obviously couldn’t let that happen. So I descended and ended up in a fight with the killer. He tried to jump, but I intercepted his spatial magic and then… Well.”

Adam gestured at his face and grimaced. “I didn’t expect their Physicality to be that bloody high,” he said, sighing. “Nor did I expect their Toughness to let them take so many blows, but thankfully they weren’t very good at fighting. And after I got my bearings—and my helmet back on—I managed to shoot off their limbs—all of them. After that, I left them to Framework.”

He paused. “They called this one the… the Drowner or something.”

“The Drowner! You caught the Drowner!” Uva said, her voice high with disbelief. “Adam, that’s… The Drowner’s case was cold. It’s been cold for years. And you caught him!” Shiv arched an eyebrow as the normally reserved Psychomancer threw her head back and laughed. “You… you ridiculous man!”

Adam smirked. “As well, even if I didn’t manage to get much thinking done, I… I at least did some good.”

“Speaking of which,” Shiv said as he finished with the egg and cast a Woundeater at the Young Lord’s face. Adam flinched, but a moment later his wounds were gone. Shiv produced one of his old bodies and bestowed the injuries onto the corpse. Adam grimaced as the body instantly took on his recent wounds.

“The way your magic works unnerves me,” Adam muttered.

“A lot of things about me unnerve you,” Shiv deadpanned.

Adam considered Shiv’s words for a moment, then shrugged in agreement.

The three of them chatted on for a while as Shiv finished preparing all their meals. As they ate, Adam let out a groan. “I hate the fact that you are overshadowing even the memory of my childhood meals.” The Young Lord let out a deep sigh, frowning at Shiv. “Chef Monsur had a Master-Tier Cooking skill as well. What’s so special about your food?”

“Do you want my honest thoughts? Or are you just in the mood to call me a monster again?” Shiv asked.

Adam bristled. “Stop getting Master-Tier Skills. And Unique Skills! And Feats!”

Shiv chuckled. “You’re still stuck on that.”

Adam’s eyes darkened. “So long as you continue, I think I’m always going to be bothered.”

“Just keep eating, Young Lord,” Shiv said, enjoying the moment. “You can do all the complaining you want to later.”

“Fine,” Adam said. He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something to Shiv, but he attacked the food on his plate instead. After a few bites, he paused, looked at Shiv, and grimaced. “There’s one more thing I hate,” Adam confessed, letting out a sharp exhalation of actual stress. “You’re… one of the few people I can rely on right now. Heather and Tran—they told me in detail about what they went through before you saved them. They won’t go back to the gate. They’re going to stay here until the path is bloody clear. Or…” Adam opened his hands as though pleading to an invisible god to deliver him from this madness. “I don’t know. All I know is that they are spent—mentally, spiritually, physically. The Inquisition hurt them bad.”

“Yeah,” Shiv replied. He shook his head as he felt a pang of slight regret. “I could have been better to them myself, but—”

“But nothing, Shiv. None of that was your fault. I can’t keep blaming you for everything. I can’t… I just…” The Young Lord snarled, his open hand closing into a fist as a look of determination and concentration came over him. “I can’t. It isn’t your fault.”

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