Chapter 608: Book 9-20.3: Confrontation

Qatir, Spawn of Delgora, Primordial of Curiosity and Vengeance floated in the plane’s single ocean while letting his tentacles and eyestalks sway with the current. The tips of the tentacles and eyes were embedded into the mirror realm, or dreamscape, as the locals called it. He watched with no small amount of amusement as the tainted reflection of reality grew increasingly turbulent as several powerful perceptions focused on it.

His imprint wasn’t so light so the others also saw his presence. Not that they could do much. After all, the plane restricted travel through the mirror world and the few passages all routed through the God-Monarch’s realm. It had only been luck that Qatir had found an unguarded passage, one newly formed by a nascent power.

Perhaps unlucky would also be the proper term, after all, he was stuck here until he managed to either subsume the nascent or recovered enough from brutal Radiant burns to allow passage into the Chaos Sea. Travelling through that maelstrom must never be attempted unless one was at full power and potential.

From the tip of one of his tentacles sunk into the mirror world, a thick cable stretched out and faded into the background mists. Through the cable, he could sense his Knight’s thoughts. He couldn’t read every passing fancy, of course, just the ones that the Knight sent as prayers to his master, as well as a bit of emotion. Anticipation, anger, and confusion. Not a very promising mix.

Knowledge flowed along the threads. Memories. Conversation.

“My Knight. I heard…I saw…go and slay the wounded guardian and claim the planar core in my name,” he sent exultantly.

Qatir thought that the planar core was out of reach. Every plane floating on the Chaos Sea had one, otherwise, the tides would have worn away at the land. Without a core, a Veil would not form, and without the Veil, rampant Chaos would subsume everything.

But one such as he could do wonderful things with a planar core.

As he began to daydream, he felt frustration coming from the Knight. Several hours passed before another thing came through the link.

Self-sacrifice. For the glory of his Lord.

Qatir’s huge eye blink. The link to the Knight frayed and grew thinner and thinner. He followed the link back and soon realised that the Knight had detonated his core and his Anima was floating. Not quite disintegrating yet, or falling into the cycle of reincarnation, not unless Qatir removed the chains that bound the Knight’s Fate.

Still, it was only a matter of power, Animus, and Chaos in order to incarnate the Knight back with a material body, though Qatir would need to be there. Well, he could materialise the Knight here, but that meant they’d have to make the trek back into the guardian’s resting place again.

So Qatir moved his spherical body completely into the mirror world and tugged at the chains of fate.

There was only an impression of movement. The mists around him swirled. The faster he went, the greater the resistance, and he knew that if he twisted himself just a little bit, spread his tentacles for a little bit more drag, he would find himself back in the material. If he spread his limbs a bit more to catch the mists and the other substances of the mirror, he would create a Fysalli right where he exited, though, in the midst of the plane, it would almost immediately pop.

Now.

Qatir found himself inside a cavern, and almost at once, he felt waves of hurt and despair, as well as a mind-turning field that sought to divert his gaze away. He ignored the influence for now and focused on the Knight’s return. It was not an easy or quick process, but he could see that the area was mainly filled with his Revenants. Oh, and a few human defenders that the guardian had compelled to its defence. They couldn’t even detect Qatir so they were rather irrelevant.

Chaos and Will gathered in front of him and he stuffed the Knight’s Anima into a new core. The process took several hours of painstaking focus. It hadn’t been this difficult before, but unless Qatir wanted the Knight to lose his memories, he had to go slow and steady.

Finally, the core was ready and he dropped it into the water. He noticed a stream cutting across the city and it was necessary for the incarnation process. As soon as the crystalline core dropped into the stream, it started to gather ambient Chaos and other elemental particles to construct a new body. Coupled with the remnant shards of armour that Qatir recovered, it shouldn’t take more than a day to complete.

Now that the incarnation process was well on its way, it was time to focus his attention on that niggling doubt in his mind. The rubble in the midst of the city was the Knight’s work, and it was all to crush or bury the guardian who had been forcing the Knight to leave. It was also the reason why there were human defenders here, Qatir noted, although those fools were as blind as ever. Not that they could have penetrated through his camouflaged skin or the mild look-away effect he spun around himself.

It was a similar look-away that was telling him that there was nothing but bones and death in the midst of rubble. It was…actually, he wasn’t sure if it was something real or his imagination. After all, that stream he threw the Knight into was half-blood and half-water. From the pooled amount over at the edge, before it drained away, and considering the hours that had passed, that much blood would have been enough to drain a creature the size of a mountain.

What was the guardian again? A turtle?

Qatir mulled over his options. He could simply look for the planar core now that the guardian was either dead or completely incapacitated.

Without the guardian’s interference, it should be simpler and quicker to assimilate the core. Oh, it shouldn’t take more than a decade in that case. If he weren’t concerned about the plane’s wellbeing, it would take far less time. And in this case, he really wasn’t. By the Primordial Abyss, maybe he could even use that fact to draw out the nascent Ancient and enact his vengeance!

His tentacles twinged at the thought. The Radiant burns took weeks to recover, even with his protean nature.

He was just about to leave and look for the planar core before it occurred to him…

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The guardian was a stonetoise and not just any ordinary turtle. Now… what were the chances of a being that was attuned to elemental earth dying from a cave-in?

Almost none.

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The Knight of the Abyss floated in someplace strange. He had no body, no eyes, no ears, no senses. Then again, even when he was corporeal, his skull was bare of flesh. Only the fires of his consciousness occupied the empty spaces between his skull, and those same flames became his eyes. He didn’t know how he could hear, how he could see without the actual organs, but his reasonable guess was that his bared Anima allowed him to process ambient Chaos and to derive images and sound from that input.

It was why he could easily notice hiding humans, and easily guess what kind of attack they would launch towards him. He could see the Animus affecting the ambient Chaos, and he could feel it change and flow. He realised most stealth techniques relied on hiding from vision, and only a little part of the skill was focused on quelling the ambient Chaos waves that were inadvertently made by a creature’s breathing…

His ruminations were interrupted by the cessation of nothingness. He was being drawn out of whatever or wherever he was now, and back into a…crystalline core.

He felt himself being squeezed into a small container, then got crunched down again and again until the entirety of his Anima was packed into a crystal the size of his fist. And then, his core was flung and landed with a splash.

Water. He felt his core drawing it all in. It pulled at the particles of dirt and iron, as well as broken shards of metal. It formed a shell around his core, as well as a working skeletal structure and muscular structure. His skin was plates of armour, and his head was a great helm over his bare skull. He could feel two horns growing from his forehead, one thick and long, and the other short and stubby.

The threads connecting him to his Revenants slowly snapped back together, giving him an overview of what was happening around him. Humans? Imperials. Plasma Casters and superheated plasma bolts that were so effective against Chaos dwellers and humans alike, filled the air between a group of them and his horde of Revenants. The superheated plasma was somewhat effective. It could melt the armour over the Revenants’ bones and the Animus infused inside the bolts disrupted their artificial musculature.

If humans ran out of Animus, they either blacked out or were otherwise rendered impaired. But if a Revenant ran out of Animus, they simply broke apart and died. Still, metal armour was better protection than plain cloth, wasn’t it?

The Knight remembered the time before when he fought against the Imperials bare-chested and relying only on his Geist…

Eh? If he had a face at the moment, the Knight would have frowned. He didn’t remember more than flashing scenes of battle, and certainly not about his life before. Instincts were still very much a part of his mind, but only those that pertained to battle. He was a tool of war, a sentient weapon, after all.

He flexed his arms, feeling the Animus muscles clenched and released. He found his footing in the muddy and filthy stream and pushed himself to his feet. Muddy water sluiced down his thick armour and he revelled in the renewed power. His self-destructive blow against the guardian should have worked, and now, all he needed to do was find the carcass and wrest its shard from it.

He wondered if creatures other than Chaos dwellers… Well, Wyldlings left Chaos shards when they perished. He paused and delved into the knowledge his master had given him. Yes, other creatures did. Humans could leave some kind of orb or bead within their bodies upon death, but only the Chaos touched. Or those who lived within Fysallis and Tidelands, or amidst the Chaos Sea for too long. A natural process the body did to protect itself from too much exposure.

Anyway, a guardian creature would have some kind of organ or crystal where they concentrated their Animus or Chaos for storage too, so that’s what he was going to look for.

His ruminations cut off when he realised that there were more than Revenants in the vicinity. There was Lord Qatir hovering above the central mound. The Knight could see the darkness above where he had destroyed himself along with the cavern’s ceiling. Water, dirt, stones, and whatnot continued to fall and bury the centre, right where the Knight expected the guardian to be… wait!

If it continued to be buried in the earth, how in Chaos was he supposed to retrieve its core?

More importantly, where did these humans come from? They were fighting, and easily destroying, his Revenant horde. Even as he watched, golden blades flew through the air and melted a Revenant’s armour, and consumed its crystalline core!

The Anima from that Revenant burned, destroying the resentment and anger that chained it to its current form. The Knight’s emotions grew turbulent as he realised that those blades were the key to their permanent destruction. He didn’t know whether he should feel fear…or anticipation.

And the blades’ wielder? He spotted her immediately. She was the only one with glowing golden hair that was inexplicably long. She was the one where the golden blades spun about, and he could actually see the Animus…no, Anima, connecting and controlling the things. And when she looked in his direction, he saw golden eyes filled with Radiant malice.

All at once, memories and instincts surfaced. They drowned each other out, leaving only rage. Here was the creature his master wanted dead. He could feel Lord Qatir’s attention turning towards him, and her. And he could feel the master’s cold anger. But Lord Qatir returned his attention to the mound, and the Knight could feel his ruminating thoughts. They spun and whirled, and the Knight knew that the master was trying to decide on something. Something of far greater import than the original reason the Knight had been returned to being. So it fell to him to fulfil Lord Qatir’s desires.

The Knight called upon his fell powers and launched himself out of the bloody river. And he answered the second thing that he felt upon seeing her, that only surfaced once he was ready.

Desire.

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