75 (II) Praise

75 (II)

Praise

"Besides, you owe one of mine a war. An eternal war. And you owe me a lot more than just a war. You owe me more struggle. You owe me more defiance. You owe me more entertainment. Whom else am I supposed to watch, if not you, someone who spites death so deeply, so cruelly?"

"You're the Challenger," Shiv managed, forcing the words through his agonized being.

"That I am," the orc said. "The challenger of all things, myself, my people, other people, even you. And I especially look forward to challenging you. That little trick you do—the acausality skill you have… I look forward to being hit by that. Over and over."

And with each exchange, Shiv felt more of the beast's vitality flood into him. It was more vitality than he'd ever drunk in before, and it combusted inside him, boiled inside him, and it settled somewhere deep.

"I'm not one to really offer Blessings, but why not. Why not a Blessing in the form of a Curse? How about it, bruiser?"

Shiv grunted with annoyance. "Didn’t you already give me a Curse?”

The Challenger snorted. “That was just something to keep you motivated in life.”

"I think I'm already plenty motivated." Shiv laughed darkly. “And frankly, I hope I never see another orc again.”

“Ah. His casual killing bothered you that much, did it?”

"He tore a child right out of my hands and murdered him in front of me," Shiv said, his tone hard. "He butchered the weak for fun. And if 812 makes it to me, I’ll send him back to you in half the time.”

The Challenger grinned. “And that’s the only way a Pathbearer should be. Spiteful. Defiant. Even in the face of a god.” He squeezed Shiv a bit tighter, and the Deathless roared with pain as the Challenger rubbed at his soul-wounds.

“Godsdammit,” Shiv wheezed, battling to keep his pain under control. “I’m gonna… Someday, I’m going to break you in half for doing that, cruel bastard.”

The orc god regarded him for a moment. "Is that what you really believe?" Shiv expected the orc to go on about some kind of cruel, might-makes-right philosophy. But the challenger just shrugged. "Well, if that is what you think, then enforce it. Make that the way of the world, if you can. Come find me, and we’ll have our bloody moment, good and proper.”

Shiv eyed the orc god, and something inside him tremored. He could hear Rose speaking somewhere in the backdrop, saying that a resonant bond now connected him to the Challenger. “Sure. Just… give me a bit. But I’ll come looking for you. Especially if you keep sending orcs after me.”

“Right."

Shiv shrugged—and nearly doubled over from the pain.

"I Curse you," the titanic orc said, raising Shiv in front of his face, "with the ability to Curse another."

Shiv paused. "What?"

"You heard me. I give you my privilege of Orcish Bestowal, so that you can spread my skills and my power among those you despise, but only those you see as worthy."

He considered the orc and blinked. "Is this going to give me another Orcish Skill?"

The orc shook his head. "No, I will not make things so easy for you. You've already overcome one skill. You've broken it and reforged yourself anew. You might grow a little too fast and take the struggle out of things. So, I want you to fling my Blessing, my one true Blessing, upon all other beings that you deem troublesome or worthy."

"And what's the catch? You want me to recruit a certain number of orcs for you? You want me to infect a certain number of people?"

And the Challenger laughed. "Just use it as you will, or don't. Whatever you decide, I'm sure it will be interesting, bruiser. You get into too many bloody messes for things not to be.”

"Why do you call me that?" Shiv said. “Bruiser.”

"Because that's what you are. You are practically one of my orcs, except you won't give yourself fully to the delights of pain, cruelty, and violence. You endure as much as you deal. It is such a strange way you live." He rubbed Shiv's face with a finger, nudging at the left side of his body. Shiv snarled, and his eyes rolled from how badly it hurt. He cursed at the Challenger. The damned orc god was just like his children. He saved Shiv, but just had to torture him. He couldn’t help it. The cruelty was in his nature.

Slowly, the Challenger pulled his finger away.

"I'm going to get you for that when we have our moment too," Shiv growled, vicious anger burning in his eyes.

And the Challenger simply sighed. "And that's why you're a bruiser. Because when you get hit, your only response is to hit the damn thing back. What a righteous way to live. What a precious way to be. What a beautiful way to burn."

Shiv laughed. He was about to tell the orc to go pound sand, but then he paused. He paused, and he considered something. They were still going to have to deal with Gate Lord Confriga before this was over, and Confriga was already out of control on a good day. With an Orcish Skill…

“Ah, and there it is. He’s thinking. He sees it. The comedy. I knew you would get there.”

“Why?” Shiv coughed. “Why do you want me to use it on Confriga?”

“Because I have a vision of things. A vision of you beating other hard bastards, fists to fist, blade to blade.” The Challenger snorted. “That fake excuse of a god you sent running just now was pathetic. Pathetic for not taking power for herself. Pathetic for running when she could have stayed and fought. Pathetic because a little pain bothered her. She’s not like us. I would have gone down to the bone with you. I would have stayed and burned, just like you were willing to gouge your soul.”

The Challenger drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Because the System demands strife, and I absolutely love my life. I love the bad odds, the desperate gambits, and the vicious plays. I love the mighty challengers and nasty brawls. It’s all wonderful to me. I love every day that I’m alive to fight and rage and war. Because what’s the point if there’s no tension? No struggle? Why change if you’re not being pushed to the limit? Why even be?”

“Some people just want to live quiet lives,” Shiv said. “Might not be me, but some. They should get to do that without being forced into suffering or getting butchered.”

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“Why?” The Challenger snorted again. “The System doesn’t respect the soft. It doesn’t care for the weak. Why is anything up to them?”

Shiv scowled. “I didn’t say anything about it being up to them. I’m just saying this is how I see things. I’m not a philosopher, either. But I will fight for the ones who can’t. Because there’s a lot of damned difference between liking the struggle and being a bastard. Like you. Like the other orcs. I’ve seen enough of your kind. It might make Confriga lose control, but I don’t need him sloppy to beat him. I’ll break him whatever state he's in, however many deaths it takes, whatever he has to give. You can keep your bestowal, because I’m going to tell you right now, I intend to kill orcs, not make more of them.”

The Challenger threw its head back and laughed. It was louder, by far, than anything Shiv had ever endured. Marikos was practically a newborn kitten beside the orc. But Shiv didn’t flinch. He didn’t shake from whatever was about to come. If he were a concrete pillar on the inside before, all his tribulations and triumphs made his will adamantine as well. He just got done dealing with one god’s bullshit; he wasn’t about to be made into the idiot aide to another.

“You know what, I’ve changed my mind as well.” The Challenger lowered his huge face and smiled sweetly at Shiv. “True bruisers like you should get something even more special than just a Curse-bestowal Blessing. Something suited to them. Well. I got just the thing. What you did with the Jealousy was inspired. And I think more people should enjoy the pain and damage you drink up so willingly. So, here. Give them a taste.”

And then the Challenger pressed his massive thumb into Shiv’s chest. The Deathless cried out as something was branded upon him. But he wasn’t the only one who burned. The Challenger’s chest seared as well, and the orc laughed as Shiv fought with all his might not to scream. The pain he suffered before became unspeakable. It was so much greater than before, and the effect felt like it lasted a lifetime. But slowly, Shiv fought his way out through that haze of torment as well. By the end, he coughed and gasped, but he was more annoyed at the Challenger’s continuous chortling than anything.

“What was that supposed to—”

Blessing Gained: Icon of the Paindrinker - Allows the Pathbearer to manifest the icon from their body. The icon will magnify the damage and pain Pathbearers and all nearby enemies and objects suffer.

“Here,” the Challenger breathed. Shiv looked down at his chest, and he saw a glowing mark there. A glowing mark that resembled an orc’s claw reaching into an open flame. “Suits you more, bruiser. I really look forward to seeing you use it on me.”

Shiv chuckled. “You’re a real masochist, aren’t you?”

“Just someone that likes to cultivate a proper challenge in time. Keep fighting. Keep defying. Keep surviving.” Then, the Challenger paused as he got close. “And watch out for the Ascendant rats. All of them. They’re not proper gods. They’re barely proper Pathbearers, and they’ll do anything to avoid a real war. But you can break them. They’re afraid to lose. They’re afraid to die and to hurt. So keep going. Use yourself as kindling. Make yourself a bomb. Go where they refuse to go and drag their fucking mongrel hides to the deep waters and watch them drown.”

The orc god had so much passion in his voice that Shiv was taken aback. He had also stopped squeezing Shiv, which was a welcome change. “What do you know about them?” Shiv asked. Despite everything, the Challenger was pretty aware of things, and Shiv thought—

“I’ll let you discover that for yourself,” the god grunted. “I’m not going to take your struggle away from you. But here’s something that might give you a taste of things. Twelve of the shits are about to go to war with one of their own, and the Starhawk’s going to need a godsdamned fucking miracle if he wants to succeed in his little noble crusade.”

The Challenger paused for emphasis, then smiled. “Or maybe just a hard kid who doesn’t stay dead. But you watch out for the coward you just fought. She is still weak. Just weak enough that she can descend upon existence without cracking the fragile little egg that is your world, and she’ll be coming at you again from directions you won’t even be able to imagine. And the same trick won’t work twice.”

“Then I’ll figure out new ones,” Shiv replied. “Or maybe I’ll just get powerful enough to break her for good.”

The icon on his chest faded, and the Challenger nodded approvingly. “Maybe you will. And maybe I’ll be watching. Now. Resurrect. Get out there and rip this gate apart. Break everyone in your way, and make the survivors wake howling your name, forsaking sleep evermore just to avoid the presence of you even in their minds. And most of all… Have fun, and remember that you are loved.”

“Yeah, about that,” Shiv said with a scowl. “You and 812 are going to regret ever doing that.”

“Loving you? Not unless you go soft on us, bruiser. I’ll be leaving you now, but I’ll be here, watching. Can’t wait to see whatever you do next.”

With a detonation of immense force and an echoing chuckle, the Challenger faded out of sight, and Shiv could hear Uva screaming into his mind. Shiv could feel his vitality surging through him, but he still needed a bit more to recompose. He reached out and took Uva’s hand—took Adam’s hand—and with a final cry, he rose out from death and broke free of his resurrective cocoon.

As he tore free from the embrace of death, however, a blast of white and crimson came with him as his Outside Context Problem Skill tremored inside him. Just before his soul stabilized, the distorted shape of a woman emerged. Rose Van Erren extended out from Shiv to reach for her son.

“ADAM!” she cried, drowning the room with her wail. “MY CHILD! MY HEART! I—”

And then she crashed back into Shiv’s Vitae with a cry of despair.

But tragically, only Shiv could sense her presence. Uva couldn’t see her. Adam didn’t even react. Valor tilted his head slightly, but aside from that, he didn’t do anything.

Inside Shiv, he heard Rose begin to weep, and he felt bad for her in a way he never knew he could for another person.

Why… Why… What did I do to suffer this? He was right there. And I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t even hold him. Why… She alone sobbed inside Shiv, his very existence her prison.

At the same time, her suffering was juxtaposed with Uva desperately wrapping her arms tight around Shiv’s neck and planting a quick kiss on his lips. Meanwhile, Adam awkwardly reached out and placed a hand on the Deathless’s shoulder, while Can Hu nudged him with a few rocks.

Shiv smiled. It was good to be among people who loved you. Who truly, desperately wanted you to stay with them. And Shiv realized just then what kind of hell it would be if he were to be banished from these people, if he were forced to watch them through a layer of separation as if a specter. As if he were Rose Van Erren.

Rose, listen, I’ll do what I can to get you out, Shiv promised. And I’ll tell Adam. I’ll show him my memories as soon as I can.

It will not work, she sniffled. So long as I remain within you, they will not be able to sense me. I am beyond the context of outer reality, and I am fused to this skill. We will need an Animancer to have any hope at all. One without peer.

And just then, Shiv’s attention turned to Valor. But before he could do that, he hissed and nearly doubled over from agony. The left side of his body felt seared and flayed. As he looked down at his flesh, he groaned in disgust. He was badly burned—the skin so corroded it was beyond the point of disfigurement. Pulses of intense pain washed through his entire left side, and Shiv fought not to double over.

Uva cupped the right side of his face, and he saw the concern in her eyes. “Composer, Shiv, you…” As he pulled his armor away, she saw his burns and stepped away in horror.

“Yeah, so…” Shiv swallowed, trying not to reveal just how bad he felt at that moment. “I did a Necromancy field test on myself.” He stared at the Educator’s great tome, still burning nearby. “The blast was pretty big, and I got a useful piece of data. When I touch a Necromancy spell, I can blow up hard enough to burn a god.”

“A god,” Adam said, breathing quickly. “Was that what we just fought? Was that who that was? And how did she know so much about us? Why was she talking about my mother? And your parents?”

Valor's apparition walked over to the tome and, with a mutter of effort, picked it up. Holding the badly charred book in his hands, he turned to look at Shiv’s mutilated state as he flipped through the pages. Then, Valor paused and suddenly flipped back to a specific page. “I… Well. This is… I recognize some of these people… Thaen is here too…”

“What?” Adam asked, stepping closer to Valor, apprehension straining his body language. “Valor. What is happening?”

“I think our enemy left us a ruined Legendary item,” Valor said. “A ruined Legendary item that belonged to an Ascendant that should no longer exist.” Slowly, he turned the book and showed the others an illustration. He showed them a picture of twenty people standing before the great Abyssal Chasm at Lost Angeles.

And one among them looked familiar. One among them wore the robes of a certain scholar.

“Shiv,” Valor breathed. “You might have just recovered a piece of true history relating to the Ascendants.”

“Yeah.” Shiv winced. “And all I needed to do was destroy half my soul to get it.”