Chapter 115: When The Cat Is Away |
“Why won’t it reach the fucking threshold?” Flukas groaned, slumping back in his chair. Lightningfire spheres floated around him, and a Shadowfire hovered in front of his floating hand. The clone had hoped that using two different kinds of magic at once would help push his Heart Pillar to wherever it needed to go, but he was wrong. “What more do we have to fucking do?”
The mage clone with Thunderstorm’s Eye shrugged. “I don’t know, substitute-boss. The books said Heart Pillars are easy to get to the threshold. Is there much more we can do with storm energy production and storage?”
Flukas shrugged. “I want to quit. Maybe we should go out and have some fun. Get into trouble. That might help.”
“You don’t deserve the role of Flukas.” The mage laughed.
“I’m serious. The boss doesn’t need to know.”
“Unless I tell him,” Eins called from the other room.
“You keep him shut,” Flukas told the mage clone. “I’m going to try to find the fighting ring Xander was talking about.”
“What?!” The mage appeared and sounded horrified. He seemed genuinely hurt. “You’re going to the pits without me?”
“I’ve got someone else in mind. Sorry.”
Flukas climbed up to the first floor and went out of the window. A Stalker draped in Shade’s Mantle sat on the roof, keeping watch and running practice drills with Shadowfire and Shadowsteel.
“What do you want, fake-boss?” the clone asked, voice dripping with contempt.
“Do you have Alter Metal Mass or Spellweaver?”
“The first. Why?”
“I’m going to the fighting pits. Do you want to come along? Maybe pretend to be a Shadow Golem?”
The clone’s face lit up. “What are we standing around here for? Let’s go!”
The workshop was situated in the foothill districts, between the riverside and the sections of the Gray that connected to the subterranean sections. The buildings were well-spaced to allow for small backyards and wide streets between them for transportation. It was late in the day. Sunset was still several hours away. However, the mountains towering over the city cast a long shadow that had almost reached the river. It already felt like early evening, making it perfect for the clones to travel unnoticed.
Since El-Prime was out and about, Flukas didn’t want to stand out and whipped together a quick disguise. He didn’t have Morph’s face-changing abilities and settled for creating textured shadows around his face, making them look like facial hair. Glossy and matte bits helped it look authentic. Their shadow-shaping skills had come a long way since unlocking Shadowsteel. Flukas didn’t need to put much thought into the process of granting shadows solidity now. It was as natural as breathing and had become significantly easier after reaching the third tier.
“I know you’re worried about El-Prime being pissed off about us running off on our own,” the Stalker said as they reached the rails connecting their district to the one just above the entrance to the mines. Flukas paid for two as they boarded. “But he cares more about results. If you get Thunderstorm’s Eye to the threshold or I score a rank of Alter Metal Mass, he’ll be ecstatic.”
“One can only hope,” Flukas stated, keeping his eyes ahead. Pretending to be El-Prime around the clock was a challenging task, especially now that he took everything so much more seriously than before. He was starting to loosen up again, but not fast enough. “Turn all of Shade’s Mantle into Shadowsteel. Make it look like a suit of armor if you can. We need to look as different from the boss as possible and his ‘golems.’”
“Good thinking.” The Stalker followed through, compressing the Shade’s Mantle. Eins’s experience and knowledge proved invaluable. A Shadowsteel scalemail suit solidified around the clone. Epaulets, gauntlets, thigh guards, boost, and a thick belt followed. A full helm covered his face and lacked any openings. “Is this good enough?”
“Can you see, hear, or breathe?”
“Not all segments are solid. I got Shadow Sight and Silencing Shadows compressed in here, too. Perhaps you should call me your summon.”
“I’ll call you my Black Knight,” Flukas said. “Cut back on the gloss. Make yourself appear beaten up and damaged if possible. It should make our opponents underestimate us.” He called the journal forth and retrieved the Phoenix Glaive from the Hidden Compartment. “Do you think El-Prime will be mad if we use this?”
“Results. Profit or results are all he needs to be happy.” The Stalker fell silent as the carriage crested a hill before moving up the hillside and toward a tunnel to the next district. “Does it feel like he’s starting to ease up a little? Relaxing. Taking it easy. Having more fun.”
Flukas nodded. “I think El-Prime is finally starting to accept what makes him happy and is actively pursuing joy. He had a good time with Leisel. The bastard doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s far more attractive to Mira. She’s older than our current body, you know.”
“I think it's naivety that makes him hesitant. She knows little of life besides work, study, and magic. El-Prime let himself relax around Leisel and cut loose because she’s seen a fair bit of the world. The good and the bad. It's not the same for Mira.”
“Maybe some time away from the Gray without a chaperone will do her good,” Flukas said. “Time with Penelope will be an eye-opening experience. Then El-Prime will get over himself and reciprocate. Mira’s interests are obvious, right?”
“They are. I know it. You know it. El-Prime knows it. We all know he wants to be a part of it.” The Stalker made adjustments underneath the Shadowsteel armor. His shoulders widened and boots thickened, adding to the clone’s height. The gauntlets also widened. It seemed modeled after the Storm Gauntlet and primed for focusing Storm Energy. The light spellscripts covering it made them look authentic. “Ace will be mad that we didn’t track him down and add him to our little crew. His magic is perfect for the pits.”
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“Hell no. The idiot can barely control the outcome and whether he wants debilitating effects or fatal strikes. The Fighting Pits allow maiming and crippling but don’t allow killing one’s opponents. Besides, just between you and me, or at least until El-Prime dispels and resummons us, that guy is annoying as hell. Fuck him for being extra special.”
“Do you think we’ll ever be extra special?” the Stalker asked.
“I doubt it,” Flukas answered. “We don’t have unique shards or abilities, and therefore no double conjunction abilities. Ace, Morph, and Eins won’t just have whatever special thing spawns between their Pillar and Shadow Clone, but the Soul Pillar’s original conjunciton abilities. It sucks.” He sighed. “You, me, and Zwei don’t get to be special. At least the pair of you have special names.
“I’m just the Stalker. If I’m lucky, the boss will stick me with El-One, El-Two, or some other number. It's fucking lame. We don’t have names. The roles we play have special names. Zwei isn’t always equipped with Spellweaver. El-Prime sometimes creates him with Thunderstorm’s Eye. Of us, not-unique clones, you’re the only one who is consistently the same. Mage specialization with Spellweaver. It makes you the best spellcaster, even better than boss-man, on occasion, hence you’re Flukas.”
The clones fell silent. Things weren’t the same before Fracture. All clones were exact copies of El-Prime. There was nothing unique about any of them at creation. Instead, the specimens with long-term missions who went away for weeks, if not months, became unique through their experiences. Even then, El-Prime’s unique version of telepathy let him peek inside their minds and pull the strings from time to time. It wasn’t absolute control since Mind Magic had always felt disgusting to them.
However, El-Prime’s mind could only be in one place at a time. He had the power to send out mass commands, but not to puppeteer several at a time. Things were significantly better for the clones on Fracture.
Not only did they get to be individuals, but they were all reasonably unique. First, there were the specializations. It made subtle changes to their personalities, making them all different from one another. The second rank of Empowered Clone made even more changes. It seemed that having a unique shard ability added to the differences. But they were all still a variation of El-Prime’s base personality. However, the clones with unique shards seemed ever-so-slightly more.
The carriage took them past the entrance to the mining and refining district, higher up into the mountains. It was just below the area where Leisel lived and the Frozen Phoenix's spires stood. They also got an aerial view of the Shadow Seeker's fort and the Aquila compound. It was a slow journey because of the uphill climb, and the carriage seemed like the type that didn't see frequent use. The wheels frequently clacked and the vehicle jerked, making some passengers gasp. A couple even screamed. Complaints regarding the state of the rails followed.
The carriage passed through crumbling walls before finally reaching its destination. Tall snowbanks bordered the rails, and the platforms were icy. Flukas knew at a glance that the district didn't receive a lot of attention or funding. The stone buildings were tall but poorly maintained. Some had ancient gouges from monster attacks.
This must've been part of the original settlement that preceded the city. Didn't the journal say this place used to be an assortment of military settlements and mining towns?
The trip took them three-quarters of an hour. Following this, they followed the crowds. Mostly miners and refinery workers walked around them, but Flukas also saw armed and armored individuals. Their garish or grim decorations suggested that many weren't ordinary adventurers or mercenaries, and hem.the pair followed them.
“What happens if things turn nasty?” the Stalker asked, keeping his volume just above a whisper. “There will be questions if we just dissolve?”
“Better than someone seeing our faces,” Flukas replied. “We’ll just have to make it look like we’re teleporting away. El-Prime has begun adapting Ghost Walk, but the process is slow. I’m sure we’ll dedicate more resources to it once Thunderstorm’s Eye ascends.”
“Shadowstepping around should be fun.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. This one is most likely going to peak as an emergency mobility spell. But, knowing El-Prime, he’ll want to create something that’s cheaper and quicker to use.”
“Don’t want to make it too easy for the bastards that want to kill us, do we? What’s the game plan, Fake-boss?”
“You’re the tank, and I play support lightning mage,” Flukas replied. “Maybe you can keep them busy while I set up traps.”
“I think I have a better plan. Think you can weave a spell or two onto my armor?”
“I don’t know. Spellweaver’s description said it's limited to a set area.”
“But did it say that the area needed to be static? Think of me like a vehicle or carriage and ward me.”
“I’ll give it a try,” the Stalker said. “Just don’t be mad if you blow up. El-Prime says he doesn’t want kamikaze clones, but now we have Ace. Maybe he’ll change his mind if we produce results. A last-ditch resort of sorts.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Flukas sighed. “The boss isn’t too keen on treating us as expendables. Ace feels like an experiment more than anything. El-Prime saw the concept of luck and wanted to see if it was for real. We can expect shit like that as our finances improve. On the bright side, we got some variant of divination magic out of it.”
The pair followed the crowds into a warehouse-like building similar to Reistein’s refining and packing structure. Casually dressed guards stood around the perimeter and more around the exits. They were dressed to blend in with the miners and other patrons heading in, holding steaming cups or lidded steins. However, Flukas could feel the magic radiating off them or the magical tools they carried.
A trio stepped in their way as the clones approached. Their leader threw up a hand, gesturing for them to stop.
“What business do you have here, mage?” the woman asked, eyes studying the phoenix glaive before moving to the Shadowsteel-covered Stalker.
“The same as everyone else here,” Flukas stated, putting on his most charming smile. He pulled a ten-crown tablet, the size of his finger, from his coat’s pocket. “I assume our money is as good as anyone else’s here. Or should I take it to—”
“Betting or fighting? You can’t do both.”
“I heard from a good friend of mine, an Aquila shieldbearer, that you don’t get enough duo contenders. I’d like to try my hand.”
“Xander sent you?” The woman’s eyes narrowed. She glanced at her companions before moving out of the way. “Please come in.”
The pair marched into the building, ignoring the countless eyes that followed their movements. Flukas suspected that several were interested in the glaive and likely wanted to rob them.
“Does this feel like a trap, Fake-boss?” the Stalker asked.
“Yes. But this isn’t the first time we’ve walked into a trap, and it won’t be the last.”
“Fine. I suppose we have no option but to kick some names and take some ass.”
“Ah, yes.” Flukas chuckled. “The old favorite. Call me Mort.”
“Can I be Death?”
“Really? Pratchett. I thought you’d want to be Rick.”
The Stalker shrugged, eyes focusing on the massive fighting ring ahead. Crowds cheered along the giant building’s walls. It also had a basement level like the structure in Reistein, but someone had cut out the floor, creating a massive rectangular fighting ring. A trio fought below. It looked like a three-way match.
