231 (II)
Bread [II]

Both Shiv and Adam looked at each other. “You’re a Necrotech?” Shiv asked, surprised.

“Yeah? You two are Inquisit—wait…” The rat trailed off. Then it sniffled in the air and looked between them. “Wait, no… That notification. You’re no Inquisitors. You’re the Deathless? That’s you? And who the hells is he?”

“I am Young Lord Adam Arrow of Blackedge,” Adam introduced himself. “Do you mind explaining to me how a Necrotech Nightstalker ended up here, in this kitchen, within the heart of the Republic? And also, why are you a rat?”

The rat looked around. “It’s kind of a long story. Listen, we need to get out of here before those bread things come back. Velly was an idiot, trying to turn them into food. You should never mess with the fae. Never ends well. Not once. I kept trying to talk him out of this, but it didn’t work. Ended up losing my other vessel too. Damn.”

“Your other vessel,” Shiv muttered. “Wait, Bowden, he had a brother. Was that the other part of your soul?”

Deductive Reasoning 12 > 13

“Well, you’re pretty clever,” the rat said. “Yeah, that was my other Dichotomous Self. It’s going to be a nightmare to replace… Growing them costs me a pretty bit of mith. Listen, if neither of you two is part of the Inquisition or the Prismatic Guard, can I ask a favor and have both of you pretend that you didn’t see me?”

Shiv and Adam shared a look. “I think we can do you something better than that,” Adam said. “I think we can get you someplace safe right now. If you’re willing to trust us, that is. Meanwhile, we’re going to see if we can resolve this Faebread matter.”

The rat began jumping up and down. “You guys are nuts!”

“Listen, we have a safe house within the city,” Adam began. “There, you will find others like you.”

“Nightstalkers?” the rat asked.

“Uh, no. Fugitives, renegades, orcs. People that are trying to stay out of the view of the Ascendants and the Prismatic Guard.”

“Alright, that sounds like—wait, did you say orcs?” the rat said. “Orcs? Seriously?”

“Yes,” Adam replied, sounding apprehensive. “Why? Do you have an issue with orcs?”

The rat paused. It sniffed at the air, and then, with more than a hint of suspicion, asked, “Is there an orc there who calls himself Mortar?”

Shiv was taken aback. “Yeah,” he answered honestly. “Why? And how’d you know?”

“Oh, holy shit, I was… having a feeling there. Alright, yeah, I’ll go with you. I gotta go with you now, with this fae bullshit going on. At least until I go see the Grower again. I need a new body.”

Shiv blinked. “What, you wanna go see Mortar?”

“Yeah, he owes me a lotta mith. Also, I’m gonna kick his ass! He’s supposedly my Nemesis or something, but I haven’t been attacked by him in years! What kind of Nemesis does that? Alright, bow boy, show me this safe house.”

Adam hesitated for a brief moment, and then he fired a shot over the Necrotech. A second later, a dimensional pathway emerged, and on the other side, a chamber revealed itself. Tessellated rocks jutted out from the ceiling. They gleamed with crystalline textures, and there was a furnace at the center of the room. Loud clanging sounded, and the shape of Concelhaunt beating an anvil revealed itself. He appeared to be trying to fix some kind of complicated component. With every strike, sparks lit the air, and the forms of Mortar, Whisper, and Tequila alongside Can Hu were also revealed with every flash.

“Mortaaaaar!” the Nightstalker cried. It shot across the pathway at an alarming speed. Everyone turned to stare at the sound-barrier-breaking rat. Shiv and Adam waved behind, preventing any unnecessary violence from breaking out. “You son of a bitch! Clench those ass cheeks tight, because I’m going to crawl up inside of you and ruin your guts with my Necromancy!”

Both Shiv and Adam were utterly speechless. Mortar went stiff at the sight. “Uh, Bowden? That you?”

Shiv did another double-take. “Wait, he’s actually called Bowden? He used his real name as a cover name?”

The Necromancer rat sailed through the air, shrieking wildly. It latched onto Mortar’s face, and he promptly tumbled over the anvil with a cry. He fell onto Concelhaunt, and a brawl promptly ensued.

“You want to intervene?” Adam asked.

Shiv stared across the pathway and decided that he wanted to handle the bread instead. “You know, if we lose an orc, we lose an orc. But, uh, looks like they’re having fun, so…” Shiv sighed. “Let’s get this fae thing done before we get ambushed by some other bullshit.” He took a step forward, and a wet squelch followed. “Ah, crap! I stepped in what’s left of Nornsong’s guts.”

***

When Shiv entered the wine cellar, he found it choked with dust, even now. The very back of the room had a massive tunnel drilled into it. Shiv could see the rear of what looked to be a drill-shaped automaton. Unfortunately, its body was completely engulfed by spreading patches of bread. They jutted free from every crenelation, from every gap within the bot’s machinery. Muffled mechanical crackles sounded from the automaton’s vox speakers, and the Deathless could faintly hear a “Help me…” slither through the air.

Not taking any chances, Shiv flooded the wine chamber with his Creeping Void in an instant. To his left and right, the vintage wines suddenly shattered. Bread hidden within came bursting out, leaping to ambush Shiv. But before they could fall upon him, they were dissolved by the shadows. Reduced to crumbs and then nothing at all.

The Creeping Void 126 > 128

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The Creeping Void continued spilling forth from Shiv’s body, but he stood still for a second, startled by the sudden attack. Adam surfaced behind him, making sure to stay within the darkness. “Where the hells did they come from?” Adam cried aloud. “I didn’t notice them at all! Not until the last moment. My Awareness just jumped eight levels!”

Shiv let out a weary breath. “I think you should stay submerged until I get attacked and give it five seconds after that too. We don’t know what other weird tricks these bastards have up their asses, but I don’t think we’re nearly at the end of their deck.”

As the Deathless got to the automaton, it finally came apart, splitting into various modules and screws. Even the drill its torso was made from burst apart in a dozen pieces. It seemed that most of its insides had been hollowed out by the bread, and that the “Help Me!” was actually coming from further down the tunnel. Or maybe the fae were just messing with him.

The automaton had made a small gap into the kitchen proper, but that gap was wrapped in a layer of festering mold and yeast. The stench in the air was beginning to get unnaturally foul, and Shiv held his breath. As he slithered across, his shadows made the bread recede. It flinched away from him as if he were a flame, and bits of yeast dissolved before his Creeping Void. From ahead, he heard a low grumble of snarling hatred.

“You come then, Undying One. Please feel unwelcome in this abode. You are to be our witness in this moment of proper balance and retribution.”

“Yeah, about that,” Shiv began, “can we just talk for a bit? Because I think that maybe we can settle this properly, without any more bloodshed.”

“Why do you think such a path remains open to you, patternist? Why do you think we have not sealed the way into the kitchen?”

“Well, if that’s the case, then why’d you leave a bunch of other breads inside the wine bottles to jump me?”

“Because we hunger.” The low, husky voice let out a rasping breath. “Because we need to balance what has been eaten, what has been swallowed. What is taken must be returned. Flesh and blood for bread.”

Shiv blinked. “Flesh and blood for—You want—You want to eat me? You want to eat the chefs?”

“It is the only proper way. It is the just way. Princess Plum Blossom must be sated. And the flavor of revenge is a true delight.”

A series of thoughts snaked through Shiv’s mind. You know what? Maybe, maybe we can come to a deal. He picked up his pace and stopped himself from looking over his shoulder. He knew Adam was following close behind, and so long as his friend remained submerged in shadow, he would be protected from harm.

The interior of the kitchen was as Adam’s Seer of Horizons had revealed. What used to be a place where cooking and culinary arts were practiced was now a Royal temple—one shaped from unnatural bread.

As Shiv arrived before the kitchen’s entrance, he briefly stumbled to a halt as he saw two bodies wrapped in a cocoon of yeast. Both stared at him with misery. One was an elf. She had a large nose and violet-colored eyes. Only a small patch of her face remained visible, and she opened and closed her mouth. “They are waiting for you. They are waiting. So much… It’s inside me… I can feel it… filling up my heart.”

A waterfall of drool spilled out from the corner of her lip.

“Please save us,” her coworker finished for her. The other chef was an automaton, and its voice was like clashing metal. Even so, that did nothing to hide its absolute dread and misery.

“Well, I never imagined a day when bread would be trying to give me nightmares,” Shiv muttered under his breath. “Hang on, you two, I’m going to try to—”

“Leave them,” the Anointed Bread called aloud. Its basso voice was heavier now, louder, and Shiv’s Shapeless tides rattled as the crumbs in the air crashed against him. Briefly, he felt its fae magic seep into him, but it pulled itself back. “Their fates are sealed. But you… you might still prove to be of amusement. Make haste, Deathless. You do not know what it takes for me to stay my hand.”

Shiv’s grip on the Last Morsel tightened. “Yeah? Well, I think I do. I got half a mind to tell you to go fuck yourself and cut these two free regardless.” He stared at the trapped chefs, and a deep, rumbling laugh echoed from all around. The dust in the air shivered.

“I see. How interesting. You are a moralist, are you? A patternist that tries to serve the greater good of its fellow apes.”

“I just don’t like bastards,” Shiv replied.

“Then there should be little quarrel between us,” the Anointed Knight declared, “for they were the ones that trespassed first.”

“And did they know that?” Shiv asked. “Did they really know that you were going to wake up and take the gruesome revenge, or were they just ignorant?”

“Ignorance is no excuse. The Court of Summer will not be denied. Step forward. You have been granted an audience with One Anointed. Do not keep me waiting.”

Shiv slowly walked by the two trapped chefs. He briefly stopped beside them. “See if I can get you guys out of this. Just hang in there for a few seconds longer.” A low groan came from the automaton, and Shiv moved forward. As soon as he stepped into the kitchen proper, he could feel something gliding along the roof of his mouth, slipping between the crevices of his eyes, down the channels of his ears.

A series of red-colored objects glistened with pale resonance, and Shiv’s The Chef Unwavering skill detected the various cooking stations around him, now subsumed by fae magic. Monster Mystery Meat’s kitchen was colossal, but with all the mold and bread spreading across every inch of this place, much of the space had been lost.

Once, it must have felt like a chasm or a cavern here. Now, it was a narrow tunnel repurposed into a parody of a throne room. The midsection of the chamber was a massive ridge of unnatural bread. It was crusty and bright brown, radiating ripples of unnatural orange mana.

To Shiv’s left and right were legions of Gingerbread-Knights, standing at the ready atop yeast-consumed countertops. They held their blades high, and they regarded him as he strode toward the end of the chamber. Before the knights atop the countertops were ones seated upon bread-shaped steeds, the legged baguettes rearing their heads back. Their mouths were open, and within were glinting blades of hard metal.

Shiv could taste the hate in the air, could feel the festering rage. Susurrations of snarled thought snaked against his mind, but his Shapeless Tides stopped their Psychomancy from affecting him. Even so, he could feel his own ire rising, and there was a pulling sensation. Something was plucking at his emotions.

Psycho-Cartography: The fae are empathically attacking us. Of that I am sure.

A series of muffled cries followed. Shiv looked upward. He saw several dozen other chefs fused in the bread there, but these victims weren’t even allowed to breathe. It reminded Shiv of bugs caked beneath a spider’s web, woven so deep that they could only wait for their inevitable fate to befall them.

A dozen Gingerbread-Knights stood atop what Shiv guessed to be the grilling station. They had breadstick arrows nocked to their bows, long weapons molded from pretzels. They held their weapons low, but at any moment, they would unleash their magic upon him, and he would be swallowed, just like this room.

And there, at the far end of the throne room, loomed a large, four-armed figure, seated upon a ceiling-high throne of bread-shaped blades. What Shiv knew to be the Anointed Knight was more than his equal in size, and he remained absolutely still in his seat as the Deathless made his approach.

The knight’s face—if he possessed one at all—was obscured by a visor with vertical slits, and an orange glow spilled out through it, like the light of dawn through the shutters of a window. Shiv noticed how a series of pained groans and whimpers emanated from the Anointed Knight’s chest, but what instead drew his attention was the golden sun hovering above the figure. From that gleaming, radiant star came layered laughter, laughter that coursed through Shiv’s very marrow.

It felt like warmth. It felt like joy. It felt like the breaking of a long-awaited dawn.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep