236 (II)

Dietary [II]

“I swear upon my honor—” the Anointed Knight began.

Shiv cut him off. “I don’t give a shit about your honor. You butchered a bunch of my people. Mine. Now, I understand that you have a cycle to adhere to, that you have to get back and get eaten by some Princess, otherwise the Winter Court will win, and the Summer Court will suffer.”

Shiv walked up to the cage and glared down at his adversary. The fear chain fed Shiv far more power than he’d expected. His Shape of Monstrosity triggered on a level unmatched. This Anointed Knight was terrified of him, traumatized. He refused to look up at Shiv; he pretended he wasn’t there, but still, even as he looked down, the shadow of the Deathless fell and fell hard, pressing upon the terrified fae like a mountain.

Shiv spent a few minutes longer glaring down at his trapped prisoner, then he looked back to Cullywier. “So? Anything he could use to screw me?”

“Not in the sense you are thinking,” Cullywier declared. “It’s quite simple. When you hold a Fae’s skill, it is also a sign that you hold power over them. A skill can be lost, it can be damaged. Though we return every cycle, it does not mean our power or indeed our spirit returns whole. We change constantly too. We take things from each other; we diminish each other. For him to risk his skill means that he risks his Anointment, for skills are even harder to gain and hold for one of our kind.”

“Alright, so a show of true faith, then.” Shiv snorted. “Look at what it took to get it.”

The Anointed Knight had wisely fallen silent.

Sage of the Enkindled Heart: From what Cullywier has said, and from what you know of the fae, you have the absolute advantage in this situation. The Anointed Knight is desperate, but you still want revenge for the chefs and to sate your own violent impulses. The latter doesn’t matter that much, but you’re still driven to inflict something upon him. It doesn’t feel right if he just gets away, if he simply returns home.

But what the hell is right anymore? Shiv asked himself. The fae can’t die, not really by our hands anyway. I could break his skill, but…

Sage of the Enkindled Heart: But you wish to use it. You wish to know how it works. And if it’s truly powerful, you wish to keep it for yourself. Maybe that can be your revenge. Or, it is likely your greed. Never forget this, Shiv: you are greedy, you are immensely fallible because you want power. And that is another method of compromising you.

“Alright, shit,” Shiv muttered to himself. He reached out and bent the bars of the mangled cage open slightly. With a groan, the middle gave, and the Anointed shuffled back. The pastry station was still a mess of sludge and splattered toppings. The Anointed Knight crawled atop the table. His body was too big for it, and he knocked several things over. Shiv didn’t do anything to hurt his adversary. Instead, he offered the enchained heart back to its former owner.

“Show me your skill, then we can talk.”

And with that, the atmosphere within the kitchen changed. A frantic energy intruded, arriving like static in the air. The Faebread moved like a terrified child expecting to be struck by an abusive parent at any moment. Shiv took a few steps back but kept a close eye on his prisoner. Even though the fae supposedly couldn’t lie, and this one was utterly cowed by him, he wasn’t going to be caught by surprise. He’d been in enough battles and faced enough tricky adversaries to know that the advantage could be lost at a moment’s notice with a single slip of one’s attention.

“I have another request,” the Anointed Knight said. His voice was quiet, and he was worried Shiv would reject him outright. The Deathless nodded, bidding him to talk. “I need ingredients. Dough and pastries. Or fresh meat. Anything fresh. But I prefer… something of my own nature. It will let me guide you better when I bestow my Anointment upon you.”

Shiv paused. He gestured toward the messy slop around the Anointed One. “You’re sitting on your own nature, no?”

“That won’t do,” the Faebread said. A hint of annoyance crept into his voice. Then he remembered who he was talking to, and he shrank. “That won’t do, it’s already been expended. This… this does not want to be awoken; it doesn’t want to be shaped into a vessel for another. I was not being metaphorical when I asked for fresh bread. The fresher the better.”

Shiv glared, but inside, it was all he could do to hold himself back from sprinting for the pantry. After another tense second, Shiv turned away and began his march. He gave Cullywier a brief look. “If he tries to do anything, you come to me. And you,” Shiv said, looking over his shoulder. He briefly tugged on his fear chain and saw how the Anointed Knight went stiff with terror. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

***

“So, how did it go?” Adam asked.

“I’m about to get that idiot some dough,” Shiv said as he marched through the pantry. “Also, get ready to pull out those Weaveress eggs soon.”

Adam’s brow creased, but he nodded. “I looked over the chefs as well. They’re mostly fine, but they’re incredibly…”

“Felling traumatized?” Shiv ventured.

“I was going to say it in more polite terms.”

“There’s no room for polite terms when suffering a mental break while your friends die around you in a bread cocoon.” Shiv shook his head. “We’ll figure out what to do with them soon, but right now, I’m about to see how a Fae Skill works.”

“He’s really giving you a skill?” Adam asked.

“Yeah, feel free to come along to see me infuse life and other shit into a piece of fresh food. Fuck, Adam, I think the Anointed One might have a way to get at me. He’s telling me I can get food to cook itself after I wake it up… That’s the main thing—the main godsdamned reason I’m doing this. I can’t even deny—well, I don’t wanna lie about it. I need to find some dough first…”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“Dough! Dough! Dough!” some of the terrified chefs cried. Michael Bernstein’s face was paler than a sheet.

“No, no, I said though. Though! Adam, let’s do this bread search quickly. Maybe I’ll use my Creeping Void.”

Adam sighed. “That sounds like a good idea.”

***

A few moments later, they created a few dimensional pathways to carry a good hundred Weaveress eggs out of the Monster Mystery Meat establishment. At the same time, Shiv located where they had hidden the bread and dessert ingredients. It took Shiv little effort to rip open the vault’s doors. They burst apart beneath his Shapeless Tides like plastic succumbing to the blow of a descending hammer. Bits of shrapnel filled the air, and with that, Shiv stepped in.

A few minutes later, he walked away, several hundred kilograms heavier, for he’d gathered all the dough, wheat, and sugary delights he could. He really wanted to see just how potent this new skill would be.

When he returned to the Anointed One, he found a most peculiar sight: the enchained heart was hovering in front of the fae, and as it radiated with the brilliant glow of vitality, Shiv saw the faint outline of Velly and Nornsong. Bowden, however, was missing, and Shiv had a good guess as to why. Didn’t really get that one, did you? Shiv thought to himself. A Necrotech. Took me by surprise. You probably don’t even know why he’s missing, do you?

“Where am I?” Velly called out. He seemed to be adrift somewhere, floating deep in a place that was so close to reality yet so far. Shiv reminded himself this wasn’t the original. Just an echo. Just a paltry splinter of the Pathbearer who once was.

Shiv’s encounter with the lizard head chef of Monster Mystery Meat was brief. But that was the way of life. One moment you were here, the next moment you encountered an unknown System-favored, and your own folly came to bite you in the neck.

“Meursa, Meursa,” Nornsong cried. She sounded sorrowful. She sounded desperate to escape. But as she groped blindly, her fingers touching nothing at all, she continued to be lost.

“They have been called. What little of them I can retain. You drew away some of their essence earlier when you had to restore yourself.” The Anointed Knight’s eyes were blazing white-hot. It was like Summer itself was being channeled from within his being. “Did you bring the dough?”

Shiv reached into his cape and threw out a massive, white slab of unshaped breadstuff. “Yeah. All you could need.”

“Good, very good. Then come closer.” The Anointed sounded reluctant when he said those words. “Please.”

Shiv did so, and Adam looked on from behind. His eyebrows were raised as if to tell Shiv that if the Anointed One decided to do anything stupid, the first thing that would happen would be a Veilpiercer finding its way into his throat.

Shiv bent the bars of the cage open wider. As he stood across from the Anointed Knight, the fae rose. He still refused to look Shiv in the eyes, but this time, he used his upper right arm to rip into his chest. There were chasms left there, holes where the faces of trapped chefs used to be. He reached deeper into himself, and Shiv saw a churning aura flicker around the Anointed One’s being. He was doing something to his own vitality—

Then, suddenly, with a vicious tug, something broke free from inside the Anointed Knight. It glowed bright, a thing of resplendence. The mana it exuded was festering and orange, the same kind that filled Shiv’s soul and various magical fields with bread tumors.

For a moment, the Deathless expected an attack. Something akin to a last-ditch effort on the Anointed One’s part to bring him down. Yet, instead of casting the mana at Shiv, he saw what looked to be a curved symbol arcing around itself, split down the middle by the shape of a long baguette.

“The hells?” Shiv breathed.

“This,” the Anointed Knight said with a gasp, pain evident in his every breath, “is the shape of my skill. This is a splinter of my soul bestowed upon me by Princess Plum Blossom. This is the core of my Anointment: Lord-Commander of the Slumbering Uneaten.”

The dismembered skill floated through the air and hovered before Shiv. He had to stop himself from taking a step backward. It was bright, and the orange mana that once rippled free of it was now staining the shape of the skill deep. Its edges and details looked like a scar on the surface of existence. And it reminded Shiv of how the world might rupture. But this wasn’t nearly as messy. No, this was like someone had carved a deliberate wound into the very fabric of the world. Slowly, he reached out to take it.

“Shiv,” Adam said, his voice taut with caution.

But Shiv wasn’t so worried. Instead, he was entranced. This… Is this what every skill looks like when it’s plucked free of someone’s soul?

He wrapped a hand around Lord-Commander of the Slumbering Uneaten, and it combusted in a flaring of orange mana. It flowed into him, searing itself upon his palm like a brand. Shiv didn’t hiss; there was no pain, no wound. Instead, it glowed bright and became a series of sigils along the back of his hand.

Shiv stared at it, and just then a new notification appeared in his vision:

Skill Bestowed: Lord-Commander of the Slumbering Uneaten (Narrative)

At the same time, parts of the knight crumbled away. His two lower arms broke off and crashed to the ground, and some of his plate armor disintegrated, turning to dust in the wind. What emerged from the wreckage of his old body was a smaller version of the Fae-Knight. Instead of aesthetically resembling someone wearing heavy plate armor, he now seemed an old-fashioned foot-soldier.

His head was now protected by a kettle helmet, leaving the scowl on his green face exposed. He wore a bent gambeson and a heavy set of greaves rather than a full regalia plate. He had been lessened, his power had been reduced, and now Shiv wielded that skill which had Anointed him.

“Do you see now?” the fae said, unable to hide his bitterness as he was now forced to raise his head slightly to meet Shiv’s eyes. “Do you see the truth in my words now? Have I demonstrated enough resolve? Have I proven my conviction?”

Shiv cocked his head. “Yeah, I think we’re getting there. But how does this work?”

“Reach out! Reach out to the ghosts that remain! Touch them first! This is not something that can awaken the food on its own. Instead, there needs to be a sense of inspiration, a source of mind and soul.”

And so Shiv did. He extended a hand toward the remains of Nornsong and Velly. Immediately, he felt them as something that he could shape. It was like running his hand through a flowing stream. But as he tightened his grip, it suddenly felt like he was holding on to a silken mess of hair.

As he pulled, the lifeforce and mental fragments composing both of the fallen Pathbearers surged into his palm, and suddenly a weight tremored inside Shiv’s right arm, a weight that yearned to be released. He heard the cries of both Nornsong and Velly echo within him. They were confused, they were terrified, and Shiv hated the fact that they were trapped inside of him.

And so he unleashed them. A beam of blinding ruby-red, outlined with a faint trail of translucence, speared into the massive mound of dough Shiv had dropped before him. And just then, the Deathless felt himself sinking, felt part of his own mind—his own soul—descend along with the beam. Descend and plunge deep into the dough before him.

And for the first time, Shiv knew what it felt like to be one with and give life to the food he prepared…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep