Chapter 421: A Defier |
One of the guards yelled.
"Hey, what are you doing there? Stop that."
I lowered my arm, taking a step backward. As I did, the primordial ether bent and bowed like an old home's floor giving way. It pried open, cracking in a cataclysmic splintering of mana, and shards fell away from where I stood. The rupture spread across the building's entrance until it faded to nothing, only a memory of something that was.
At least it lingered across the rest of the building. As the cracks spread, that reprieve faded as quickly as the rest of the building's protection. As it crumbled into nothing, I coughed into a hand.
"So...That was more fragile than I thought. My bad, guys."
The guards brandished swords and shields at me, many of them panicking. I raised my hands.
"If it makes it better, I don't know what just happened."
Rumors spread far behind me.
"The Harbinger has come."
"Marcella's time has come."
I shook my head at their antagonizing murmurs. If anything, I aimed to lower tensions, not build them up. I wasn't the only one thinking. The guards used telepathic signaling before a tall redhead walked out of the Empire State Building. She stood twelve feet in height, her hair a striking crimson. She wore the black chitin of the insects, but she carried a subdued demeanor. She reminded me of a beaten wolf in a cage, her eyes fierce yet empty.
She turned a palm to me.
"Marcella would like to see you, Harbinger."
It was a strange introduction. I scratched the back of my head.
"Sorry about tearing down the aura. I still don't understand why it shattered like that."
The woman narrowed her eyes.
"Are you really the Legion's leader?"
Althea gestured to me.
"He is, and in the flesh."
A look of disgust crossed the redhead's face.
"I expected more. Why didn't you send a messenger? Are you so idle that you can afford to spend days doing something this trivial?"
I frowned.
"Initiating contact with one of the largest factions on Earth is trivial?"
The redhead frowned back at me.
"When it's done without warning or welcome, yes."
I leaned back, confusion spreading over my face.
"Then how was I supposed to handle this, exactly? A reservation or something?"
The redhead blinked, her eyes glazing over. She stood for a moment before I turned to Althea. She and I exchanged a glance of concern before the redhead mouthed.
"It's far too casual."
I stepped up, the guards turning their swords to me. I tilted my head as my primordial wake surged.
"I usually reserve a more casual demeanor for friends. I see you never wanted that kind of relationship. Consider my attitude from here on to be reciprocal. As for why I came here unannounced and without an army, it's because I like to see things in person. Plus-"
I put a fingertip against a brandished sword, and I pushed down. The blade shattered and without moving the person's hand.
"I get to see things as they are rather than when they're prepared for my coming. So far, I've seen the Shattered Spires, and while improvements can be made, it's not unsalvageable. If it had been, I would've come with an army of metal, and I would tear this place down to its foundation."
I swirled the shards of the sword above a hand.
"But I don't see the need for war. That's why I want to talk to Marcella and see what her goals and aims are. In that, we may align. If not, well, we can find a compromise of some kind, surely."
The redhead took a step back.
"Why are you speaking so differently? And are you always this excessive?"
A bit of primordial mana oozed in my runes. I smiled.
"When you've lived the life I have, honesty is excessive. Now, come on, let's go see Marcella. I don't have all day here."
She chewed on her words.
"Hm...This way."
Twelve guards followed us as we stepped closer to the giant spire's entrance. In elegant writing, a sign covered most of its entrance.
The Infinity Plaza.
I raised a brow.
"Renamed, huh?"
The red-haired individual nodded.
"Marcella has a way with words. Plus, the new name makes more sense than the old one. You'll see inside."
I liquified and flowed under the short glass doorways leading inside, and the guards looked on in horror. Althea disappeared, walking onto a different plane. The red-haired woman frowned.
"Is she dismissed?"
"No. She's insurance."
We stepped through unaltered walkways, the ceilings confining and short compared to the oversized buildings at Springfield. However, the grand architecture still oozed wealth and luxury, the polished stone and 1920s grandeur maintained through Schema's apocalypse. Many of the cappers walked in and out of different rooms, these spaces assigned for guild maintenance.
They carried written records and files on people and guildmates, having an efficient administratorial system. A few hallways further down, the building opened up into more of what I expected from a post-Schema-landmark. A vast courtyard reached from the bottom floor to the top, a false sky shining down from the top of the atrium.
The entire skyscraper expanded on the inside. Embedded along every wall, thousands of doorways sheened with different colors and makeups. Each set of doors led to a different world, and spiral staircases at the four corners led to each floor. On each floor, walkways offered easy access to those entrances.
Stylish stone signs named the portals. A quick gaze gave me an idea of what they looked for. Palladium Dimension. Mana Crystal Zone #4. Fresh Water Source #2. The raw pragmatism reminded me of something I'd do, though the people working in these areas looked far worse off than I'd ever allow.
The laborers wore simple garbs for mining, all of them either very old or very young. Guards protected them as they paced in and out of spaces, harvesting huge reserves of resources gathered in storage dungeons below. Many workers transported the goods to guildsmen who processed and sold the resources to other people visiting for trade.
This was the heart of the Shattered Spire's industry, though the method of employment seemed dubious at best. Marcella conquered the area and used something akin to the indentured servitude program from the looks of it. To be as fair as I could be, many people didn't want to live a life of survival and fighting eldritch. This was an alternative, albiet a poor one.
Still, I'd be shutting this down.
We stepped through the surge of people before the redhead walked up one of the many spiral staircases. She turned.
"We don't have the spare electricity to run an elevator. It's going to be a long walk."
I walked up into the air.
"It doesn't have to be. Come on."
She stepped over before I pulled us up the many floors and the thousands of doorways via a gravity panel. By the time we reached the top, no laborers and only a few guards managed the building. Most of the tower was left unexplored and unmanaged. Near the top of the spire, we reached the building's end. Althea phased into existence and turned to the redhead.
"We never made introductions. I'm Althea. What's your name?"
The redhead side-eyed Althea.
"Hm. Rebecca."
Althea reached out a hand.
"Good to meet you."
Rebecca grabbed Althea's hand.
"Likewise."
For some reason, Rebecca treated Althea like she came from an entirely different faction. In fact, their entire exchange seemed more organic in general. Even a cursory psionic glance told me that the same psionic tampering infected the second in command of Marcella's organization. I'd be ripping that out as well.
We reached the zenith of the Infinity Plaza. Here, the top floors gave way to reconstructed penthouse suites, and they oozed the same luxury as the initial entrance. As we stepped past the gilded marble and encrusted granite, Rebecca smirked at us.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
I squeezed a hand into a fist before turning my palm upward. As I opened my hand, a slab of marble sheened. I gestured to everything around us.
"This hall was made with the sweat and tears of the old world. I respect the history, but magic makes this simple to replicate. Honestly, expensive materials aren't impressive anymore. Ever since the systemization, seamless enchantment and striking design skills are what really make or break the aesthetic of a location."
Rebecca took a breath before squeezing her hands into fists.
"You're just as Marcella described."
I blinked.
"Huh. And how is that?"
She turned away.
"A monster."
I scoffed.
"What the hell? I just talked about architecture, not some medieval method of torturing people."
Rebecca leaned up to me. She blinked.
"Is that a historical reference? Are you...You're a human?"
I spread my hands.
"Duh."
Althea leaned over to me.
"It's not as obvious as you think."
I waved her off.
"Pshh, people have looked different since the system arrived. At this point, it's not my problem anymore. People need to get over it."
Rebecca walked up to a portal entrance. Maintaining it, nearly a hundred red cores powered a permanent entryway outside. The palpable demonstration of wealth earned an eyebrow raise from me. I had to hand it to her; Marcella knew how to make money at least.
Rebecca stood at attention.
"Marcella will see you inside."
I telepathically linked to Althea.
"Ok, am I the only one who thinks everyone is acting really weird?"
Althea laughed in her head.
"I'm feeling it, too. This feels like an episode of The Twilight Zone or a surrealist painting."
I tilted my head at her.
"Wow, you watched that show?"
"I watched it with Kessiah. She and I like sci-fi shows because they're either insanely good or insanely bad. Either way, we're entertained."
I spread my hands.
"That's so cool. I kinda feel left out."
Althea smirked.
"That's because you are. It's our girls' night."
I peered down, a bit deflated.
"Dah."
Althea pushed my shoulder.
"Oh, come on, we have date nigh-"
Rebecca coughed into her hand.
"Ahem, I'm right here. It's rude to telepathize in front of others."
I scoffed.
"You're mind is like a Picasso painting. You have no room to talk to us about how we handle our psionics."
Rebecca bit her lower lip, a bit of blood leaking from the side of her mouth. Once again, she did something weird as hell. At this point, I was about done with the entire trip. I just wanted to finish a quick talk before setting up some quick reforms through this territory. Well, that and get rid of the Old One's presence. It was already pervasive, considering how absurd people acted already.
Peering through the red-core-powered portal, a view sprawled out from the semi-translucent peak of the surveillance tree. It towered over the Shattered Spires, clouds wafting into the branches below. I turned to Althea.
"Wish me luck."
Althea phased out of reality.
"Will do."
I stepped through the portal, and the wind howled above the city that never sleeps. The many spires looked like glowing needles of stone. Around me, the branches of the spatial tree shaped into a minimalist space, one lacking the abundance demonstrated seconds ago. Marcella sat on a workbench, her hair a deep, dark blue.
She wore luxurious, fitted furs, and Primordial mana oozed off her frame. The plasma wafted upwards in dollops, thicker than water or blood. She turned to me. Her expression carried menace, but her gaze held depth. With a hand enriched with energy, she sharpened a strange blade resting on her thighs.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The glint of the blade flowed like water, and she stared at me with eyes like steel. She spoke in a booming, matronly voice.
"So...You're the Harbinger I've heard so much about?"
She leaned against her sword.
"Did you rip my barrier apart for fun, or was it to send a message?"
I sat in front of her using gravitation.
"No. I tore it down by moving within your territory. It was an accident. Nothing more."
She smiled, her teeth white. In general, she was gorgeous, though there was nothing soft about her beauty. It was a hard, dangerous allure, like a sword of diamond or a well-made rifle.
"You tore down a portion of my security net. I don't take kindly to anyone trespassing, let alone ripping out my border."
She waved her hand over her blade, sparks flying.
"When that happens, it's a matter of how quickly the intruder's execution comes. I must say, you escaped my initial guard corps. Good for you."
Everything about this meeting felt artificial, and I didn't want to make it any longer than it had to be. I frowned.
"What's your goal here?"
"To rule and establish order."
I took a breath.
"Ok, aside from that?"
She leaned forward.
"What else is there to say? I wanted it, so I took it. What other reason do I need?"
I pinched the brow of my nose.
"Really? No grand philosophies or monologues about the nature of power?"
"None. I don't need them."
I scoffed.
"Even if it's a simple approach, I have to say it's refreshing. You remind me of Valgus."
She raised a brow.
"And who is that?"
"Another avatar of an Old One. Like you."
Her eyes turned to slits.
"Hm. So you know about them. That saves me some time explaining my situation."
I leaned against one of my arms.
"I've talked with several Old Ones on numerous occasions. They're not what they pretend to be, though their facades aren't exactly the most convincing. Honestly, I'm surprised you fell for their offer, considering how transparently malevolent they can be."
Her gaze rested on me, her eyes like a hawk.
"I accepted a good offer. It's just business."
I leaned forward, my hands steepled.
"Marcella. The Old Ones will lie and say they're offering you something of value. In reality, they are taking away everything."
A fierce smile traced her lips.
"You must think that you're somehow enlightening to everyone around you, but you're simply domineering and self-righteous. I'm well aware of the Old Ones' influence and how detrimental it can be. I chose this despite those inherent risks."
I crossed my arms, her cutting words falling on deaf ears.
"Yet you followed through with the deal they wanted while knowing you'd lose your mind and soul in the process? That's...Not smart to put it lightly."
She crossed one leg over the other.
"Here's the thing, Harbinger. We all have our path. How did you get power? Was that path simple? Straight forward? Easy? No need to answer. I found the truth through my own research. From even a few rumors, it's easy to tell your walk has been bloody and winding. Mine was no different, and you're in no position to judge me for what I've done."
I leaned back.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Time will tell."
She squeezed her hands to fists.
"I've researched your guild. It's an impressive operation. Do you know how mine is run?"
I remembered the laborers and economized spires.
"I know some of how it operates, though no details. It seems efficient at resource extraction, though it doesn't offer a good life to the people under your rule. I'm here to change that."
She frowned.
"It's far better than everyone starving or being eaten by monsters, so before you go judging me, judge the world we live in."
I frowned.
"You know, I've heard that excuse more times than once. You'd think tyrants would at least flavor their excuses differently, but you all seemed to have walked into the same seasoning shop at some point."
She turned her face to the side, but her eyes bore down on me.
"I can imagine why you would think that given those golems and rings of yours. I've seen them. I've faced several of your rogue agents. They're difficult to deal with."
I frowned.
"Every organization has criminals."
She nodded.
"Hm. But most of them are petty thieves, not juggernauts with bodies of steel and mana like they're machines. You give out power like it's candy to children. You must think there's no harm in giving children swords, but I can assure you that's not the case."
She stabbed her blade into the tree, and she seethed her words.
"Your careless attitude has killed plenty of people. Entire communities are slaughtered because you aren't willing to take the time to do your due diligence. Your golem vigalantes are the same."
I raised my brow.
"Golem vigalantes? Now that's surprising."
A shadow loomed over her eyes.
"They are monsters when they're unleashed."
Even if the conversation carried a lot of venom, I was glad I got at least some useful information from it. I turned a hand to her.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I'll address it the moment I get back to the guild."
Marcella tilted her head at me.
"Why don't you go clean up your own damn mess before trying to clean up mine?"
I furrowed my brow.
"Ok, so it's weird I even have to explain this, but sure, why not? I can't be everywhere at once. I'll handle the situation here and then there. And besides, do none of your agents go rogue?"
She leaned back.
"They can't."
"Is that from the psionic entities you implanted in them?"
She raised her brow.
"Somewhat. My guildmates are forged for years before being given something so dangerous. Why? I don't give weapons of mass destruction to anyone without a failsafe. It's a part of a broader societal problem - people are divergent in Schema's system. Unsystemized individuals cannot kill one that has reached level 200. One properly leveled individual can kill an army of the untrained and underleveled."
She slit her blade across the ethereal ground.
"What used to be inequality from wealth is now more physical. Palpable. Perhaps even undeniable. From what I've researched, you've taken a hands-off approach to that problem. Either that or you're wholly unaware. You must've focused on yourself. Good for you, but that comes with consequences."
Mana surged in my runes.
"Like being strong."
She pointed the blade at me.
"Or having someone else clean up your messes."
I took a moment to think. I nodded, my demeanor relaxed.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I'll review our enrollment practices. I may need to have a few contingencies or failsafes put in place to prevent the abuse of power."
She scoffed.
"Uh-huh. That's great. I'll congratulate you when it's done...Now, what are you here for?"
I turned a hand to her.
"I'm here to establish diplomatic contact, improve your people's living standards, and get rid of the Old One's presence over this area."
She leaned against her knees, her stare like daggers.
"Ah yes, you get to decide what resources we use, right? They have to be what you offer me, not something I've found and forged on my own?"
I sighed.
"Marcella, I hate to break it to you, but you haven't forged a damn thing. You've constructed a slave labor system of psionic control propped up by borrowed power. You are a puppet, point blank. If you were thinking straight and not already halfway eroded by the Old One's influence, you'd realize that."
I spread my hands.
"They have plans for Earth in general, and the less they engage with our planet, the better. That's why-"
She seethed.
"You get to make the rules on what should be allowed and what shouldn't?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Obviously, this is a negotiation. There's no point in meaningless antagonism."
I had to admit, I did just throw some serious flack her way. Either way, Marcella furrowed her brow and said,
"So it's a negotiation where you walk into my home without announcement and demand my attention? Where you shatter a defensive barrier on accident?"
I tilted my head at her.
"You mentioned doing your research. You already know I'm not a diplomat. I'm a warrior, one that's led my guild to conquer other worlds. Including this one."
I gestured to the Spires.
"All of this is on my planet. It's why-"
She raised a hand.
"The Shattered Spires rest within an alternate dimension, one that I maintain. It's why the Earth hasn't become a fringe world despite these dungeons or the strength of the eldritch here."
My eyes widened.
"How in the hell are you maintaining a space this large?"
She narrowed her eyes.
"I have my secrets. Just like you."
I shrugged.
"Oh, come on. You borrowed the Old One's power. Speaking of which, what was the deal they offered you?"
She frowned.
"Why would I tell you anything?"
I gestured to the city below.
"It's simple. I don't actually care if you keep this. Hell, you could have a lot more territory than this if you'd like. My goals are to keep Earth from becoming a desolate wasteland and to elevate humanity-"
"Into something like you?"
A spark of anger burned in my chest. Marcella rapidly burned through my goodwill. I steepled my fingertips.
"I'm being as polite as I can, but I don't know how much longer I can keep up this farce. If you and your guildmates keep treating me like this, then I'll have Torix or Plazia-Ruhl negotiate for me. One is a hivemind, and the other a lich, so you can pick your poison. Regardless, they're not as amicable as I am."
She tapped her sword, and a few seconds passed.
"Understood."
"Good. I'm not asking for subservience. I want cooperation between our guilds. Trade, immigration, and sovereignty can be maintained and encouraged. I can give your people access to my rings in exchange for the vorpal blades you own or whatever psionic poison you have them drinking. However-"
I pressed my fingertips together.
"I need your information on the Old Ones and for you to get them out of here. That's not a point I'm willing to budge on. You should also know that I'm not here out of weakness. I can siege this place with relative ease. That's why I don't have to negotiate anything. I can take anything I want, but I'm choosing not to."
I leaned back.
"The reason I don't is because I'm not some bloodthirsty conquerer. Also, iI'd like to offer some logistical help if you need it.
"Such as?"
I pointed downstairs.
"For example, you're not going to be struggling to power an elevator with my help."
She smiled.
"Rebecca gave you that excuse then? It's a lie. I don't want people to have such easy access to me while I work. If they want to see me, then they walk. If they're unwilling to walk, then they're unworthy of my attention."
I hid how ingenious I thought that was while taking a note of that in my head.
"I see. What would you want for your knowledge of the Old Ones and separating yourself from them?"
She tilted her head.
"That woman you walked in with. I want an artifact like what she has around her neck, though I'd prefer if mine didn't look like a collar for some dog."
I glared at her, and my voice was iron.
"Never talk poorly about Althea again."
Marcella frowned.
"You have a lot of demands on my behavior, don't you?"
I shook my head while rolling my eyes.
"You're trying to dig under my skin, yet you get upset when you succeed? You talk about the dynamics of power, but you can't even take accountability for what you say and how you say it? Are you a child?"
I stared her down.
"You talk about my rogue agents while I watch thousands disappear in your dungeons without a word of remorse. You don't even let people have their minds. A less merciful man would've killed you without a trial. You're lucky I extended a hand, and it wasn't someone else from my guild."
Marcella stared at her blade.
"Lucky? We'll see about that. As for my dungeons, anyone going inside chose to walk to their deaths."
My eyes narrowed.
"What the fuck are you talking about? These are people's lives on the line, and you're acting like this is all some game. It doesn't make you sound clever. It makes you sound out-of-touch and unstable."
She sneered.
"You're a walking metal blob that flows like water when it wants to, yet you call me out of touch?"
I squeezed my hands together, the metal bending on my hands.
"All you do is reflect my statements without answering anything. This is the last time I try to level with your bullshit. The reality is simple - you're taking advantage of people. You're pretending these dungeons are hordes of wealth rather than the death traps they really are."
She smiled.
"It's efficient."
Several of my knuckles cracked. It sounded like a whale cresting the ocean.
"For your guild. No one else."
"And why should I worry about fools who don't even understand what a dungeon is?"
"The same reason you tell me to worry about my rogue agents invading your territories - the good of humanity. The good of people as a whole."
She took a breath.
"Ooh, it looks like we have a saint here then. You see, we're different. I'm not in such a lofty position where I can afford to ignore my own benefit."
I gestured at everything around us.
"Lies. Look where you live. Look at what you own. You're choosing to see scarcity where there is none."
Her face contorted into a grimace. She leaned forward to me.
"You know, you remind me of something from a lifetime ago. Care to hear about it?"
I pressed my fingertips against my temple.
"Actually, no. I have shit to do."
She frowned.
"This is my attempt to level with you."
I mulled over her words. After a while, I took a breath.
"Alright. I'll bite. What's the story?"
She crossed her arms.
"It starts with me and my sister. We were orphans."
At this point, I struggled to care, but I gave her a solemn nod regardless.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"My sister and I grew up in the Bronx. The orphanage we lived in was a homey place. The man who ran it gave us home-cooked meals, and he made sure to celebrate every holiday and birthday. No kid lacked a gift or his attention. He knew all of our middle names, our favorite foods, colors, even our dreams."
She let out a breath.
"He cared. He really did."
Darkness crept onto her. She put her blade over her shoulders.
"It's a shame when he began using my sister."
I leaned back, stunned by the sudden heavy shift in topics. She continued.
"She was twelve. I was eight. I remember how he would skulk into our room, and my sister would cry. Whimpers, really. She would always lay the bed's covers so that they covered the underside of our bed. She even folded our clothes in plastic tubs there, too. It was a fort for me to hide in."
The raw sincerity contrasted her previous caricature of a person. It left me feeling awkward as she squeezed the handle of her blade until blood dripped from her hand. She murmured.
"But I heard everything. He had a way of making our world seem so small. He made us believe that if we defied him, we'd be left for dead. As the years went by, I watched my sister's will to live die. She hated herself. I remember having nightmares about the day it would happen to me."
She pulled her sword to her side.
"It came to pass. He finished with her, and he walked into my room. His breathing was heavy, and he reeked of sweat and shame. I remember when he peeked under the bed. He knew exactly where I was, but that's where he made his first mistake."
There were no tears in her eyes, and her voice did not waver.
"He knew where I was, but he didn't know who I was. When he lifted those covers and showed me his smile, I stabbed his face with a screwdriver. He screamed and raged. He went to grab me. He threw the bed aside and ran to me."
Her breathing sped up. Her heart rate rose.
"That was his second mistake. I took a knife I hid under my pillow and stabbed him in the hand that reached for me. When he stumbled back, his head hid our vanity, and he fell over."
She grimaced.
"He groaned on the ground, but he tried moving. I took out the crushed makeup I hid under the bed and threw it over him. He coughed in the cloud. He balked in pain. I remember how little that must've hurt compared to what he did to my sister."
Marcella raised a hand, her nails like claws.
"I took back as much of that pain as I could. I walked over to him. I got on top of him like he wanted...And I took the hammer I hid in the vanity shelf, and I smashed his skull into a nice, deep red mush. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
A quiet passed over us. I blinked, taken aback by her story and how real it felt.
"I'm...I'm sorry."
She shook her head in disgust.
"I will never need your pity. You. You remind me of my sister. She always told me that she was hiding me from that man. She told me she was my shield. No. She was his punching bag. She showed me what it was to sit there and be beaten. She showed me what it was to let someone be over her."
Marcella pointed her blade at me, and her eyes could murder.
"No one. No man, woman, or child will ever put me under them again. Not you. Not Schema. Not god or the Old Ones or whatever else is out there...Never again."
Again. It was a strange wording, almost as if she struggled with a bit of disassociation during the event. I took a breath before giving her story an appropriate silence. After a moment, I met her eyes, giving the conversation one last chance.
"You don't want to hand me power because of what happened. That makes sense, but the thing is, your deal with the Old Ones...I've seen it time and time again. It never fails to leave the mortal corrupted. They end up less than human, something torn apart for the purposes of some entity that can't even understand us. To them, we are toys that are meant to be broken."
I turned a palm to her.
"When you deal with them, they will not do so as equals. You will be used, whether you like it or not."
She grimaced.
"But you won't use me or my guild or the city that's mine? That's rich, coming from some gigantic, metal monster that eats things through its skin. As far as I can tell, you're no different. You're going to take over the entire Earth at this rate with those golems of yours. What's your plan after that?"
I raised a brow.
"I'm going to stop the Old Ones, Elysium, and Schema from destroying my home. No matter what you think about me, I hold Earth close. It's the only planet I can hold onto that reminds me I'm still human, and I'm not going to let other forces take that away from me."
She scoffed.
"Is that why you've brought so many species here? The dragons, the birds, and even the reptiles. We've had reports of walking cats even. That woman you brought is certainly not human, either. You even associate with the remnants, and their kind is an evil one."
From how she said that, her research fell off once I created a barrier at Mt. Verner. Shalahora's psionic screening must've eliminated the research altogether. Marcellla crossed her arms.
"It looks like you're chopping up Earth and giving it away, not keeping it uncorrupted, as you seem to say."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Do you see other species as corruption?"
She scoffed.
"You're something else. For someone who seems hell-bent on looking and acting like a monster, you sure do enjoy being called human. Tell me, did you let all these aliens settle down here so that you could look more human? Because it isn't working."
I leaned back, disconnecting emotionally from the conversation entirely.
"Talk to the people under my care. Ask them. And these people I've given a home are as human as anyone I've ever met. They're more human than you are, actually."
She rolled her eyes.
"You think their goodwill lasts? Schema's system is established around persistent indentured servitude. It makes my system of leveling people up in exchange for years of labor look like sainthood. These people you're bringing in have participated in that, and they're not changing their ways just because you're nice."
I grabbed one of my wrists, my hands raised.
"Yeah, that's about enough. I don't have to tolerate this."
"Tolerate what?"
I stood.
"Talking to you."
She laughed.
"You think you have the option to do anything else?"
I rolled my shoulders.
"You're as sharp as a brick and self-aware as a celebrity. You have no clue how to compromise because of your history. I get it. It sucks that you had to survive that horrific abuse, but you're not the center of the world, Marcella. That's why I'm not going to let you make your trauma into everyone else's problem."
She frowned.
"You'll stop me?"
I made my hand into a fist.
"I happen to know when to use force."
She nodded.
"I do as well. And I want to keep that option in my back pocket, so I'm not giving away my secrets, my domain, or anything else, for that matter."
I tilted my head.
"Yeah, I figured as much. Even though I'm not asking you to do anything aside from letting me get rid of the Old Ones and change a few practices. That was it, but apparently, that's too much for the great and mighty Marcella Meyor."
Her aura saturated the area around her.
"You're not going to let me continue the labor exchanges?"
I laughed.
"I'm not letting you continue anything. This conversation is over."
She pointed her blade at me again.
"Then pry my empire from my cold, dead hands."
I raised a hand, and gravitation collapsed over her. She moved through it with ease. She sneered.
"You think I haven't been planning this encounter for a long time? Do you think I'm some helpless damsel who's unable to find a weakness in the big scary Harbinger? Why else do you think I told you that sob story from my past."
I shrugged.
"I figured it was something like this. Why else would you dump all that history on me like we know each other?"
She raised a hand.
"I knew you'd know if I was lying, so I told the truth. It actually happened, but I'd never say something like that without a purpose...In this case, it bought me some time."
I hastened the pace of my temporal flow.
"Not enough, I assure you."
She snapped her fingers, and the area around me blurred. A lifelike illusion around me faded into mist, and I stood on a desolate rock in the void of space. Stars glinted far in the distance, and our mana offered the only light on this isolated rock. Marcella remained. She frowned at me.
"I know exactly who you are. I've known about you for years. I thought Yawm would kill you, and I came up with plans for what happens after. When you survived, I had to rethink some things. Since then, I've developed a hundred plans and contingencies while knowing your weaknesses."
She put her blade to my throat.
"You want to walk up to my home and steal everything I've earned?"
Her face warped with anger and defiance.
"You'll find my claws dig deep. It's hard to take what I have, and you're not the first to find that out. You won't be the last."
She began fading.
"Good luck finding Earth again. Any other planet, really."
I smiled, and the fading stopped. She looked me up and down. She murmured.
"Something's wrong. Why isn't the portal closing?"
Behind me, I wielded my wake to drag the warp back. I grabbed it in my hand.
"If you think a trick this simple will get rid of me, well-"
I grabbed the warp in my hands and split it open.
"Let's just say you'll need a lot more than that."