Chapter 231: Eighth Interlude - Tiangou

DISCLAIMER: This story is NOT MINE IN ANY WAY. That honor has gone to the beautiful bastard Ryugii. This has been pulled from his Spacebattle publishment. Anyway on with the show...errr read.

Eighth Interlude - Tiangou

Layers shifted as he moved, crashing against one another like tectonic plates even as they intermingled—inside and out. Instinct tore a snarl from his throat, the sound raised to thunderous proportions by his sheer size, and that same part raised his hackles. After all this time, it was easy to recognize the Grimm and even easier to understand what they were.

Enemies. His enemies, the enemies of those he would protect, the enemies of his master, friend, and arguably creator. Underneath it all, that was all he truly needed to know; that what was before him was something he had to kill. That if they didn't die, they might harm that which he would protect—and his right to protect lives inherently trump their right to take them. It was so simple that he didn't even need a true mind to understand it.

But he had one anyway. He could remember the moment it came upon him, a sudden shift in perspective that had changed everything. A part of him wanted to jest that he was of two minds about it, but that wasn't the case, not really—there was nothing within him wrestling for control, just layers to what was there and things that had been built atop them.

Granted, the change had been rather jarring, all the more so because he'd been alone when it first happened—and didn't that bring back bad memories? He didn't like being alone, like he had been before he'd been saved by Jaune; alone in the alley, alone in the dark, alone on the streets, and alone in the home from before it. He could still remember those days, if not in quite the same way he remembered things now; they were more a matter of familiar scents, sounds, and sensations. Raised voices, the touch of hands, the chill of the rain and the days of pain that followed; things he'd know if he heard them again, not that he'd gone looking.

He'd thought about it, of course, of returning to the place from which he'd come, a place he'd now be able to understand. He knew, logically, that he was very powerful, that he could frighten them as he'd once been frightened. Demand reparations, explanations, apologies. If he truly desired, he could probably just step on the places that had once filled him with dread.

The mere thought was laughable. Those places, those people, those memories—they were a part of him, but they didn't matter anymore. Certainly, he could do it, but why would he even bother? It didn't matter anymore. He'd been hurt by people, by larger animals, by the streets of Vale, and in the end he'd been left struggling to survive beneath a dumpster full of trash, clinging to the world that had hurt him simply out of a primal desire to live. The world had never cared about his choices, about him, but he'd wanted to survive so badly that it had hurt almost as much as his injuries. There'd been no hope for him, he'd known that even then, but he'd still fought.

And then he'd been saved.

A part of him occasionally wondered if perhaps he had died in that alley—that this might be his afterlife, his 'Heaven.' It was a bit more war-torn then most depictions of Paradise, admittedly, but Jaune was an Angel and he'd seen enough oddities that the possibility sometimes lingered in his thoughts. But no, he knew the truth, for all that it was even more astonishing. Someone had found him, healed him, saved his life, and taken him in.

He wondered, now and again, if Jaune truly understood how much he affected the world around him. To him, so many things seemed minor—casual, even—because that was what they were to him. He thought nothing of saving someone's life with a touch; it was something as easy as breathing to him, something that he just did. The same went for interfering, resolving and creating situations around him, saving more lives that way or at least changing them. He'd leave in the night, race across land, sea, and air, and slaughter a thousand beasts of legend, simply in preparation of challenging his ancient foe, perhaps knowing only vaguely that he might have saved countless lives doing so, down the line. He'd given new life to a fallen soul, changed the course of entire organizations, forged connections to people of great power, and simply continued on like a storm.

And whether it was fate, luck, or something else, he'd found him, saved his life, and given him everything he'd ever wanted—life, a purpose, a family, a mind. Even before he'd become whatever he was now, that had been a simple fact. And when he suddenly felt things change and was thrown off kilter…though it had been startling, terrifying, and confusing, the first thing he'd done was try to find Jaune. In the dark and empty house that had been his first true home, he'd tried to cry out and call for help.

He'd realized in the process that he could. When he thought about things, words, concepts, and even images would come to his mind. When he spoke, the sound would change, translating easily between his brain and mouth, and the world around him had come increasingly into focus. He'd even known exactly how to find his way to Jaune—and that Jaune wouldn't have wanted him to. He'd felt Jaune's emotions then as he felt them now and they were startlingly similar. Fear, confidence, surety, dread, anger, pain, hope, and loss all fluttered down the line that connected them in a mass that he could somehow translate. Jaune wouldn't have wanted him in that fight, because he would have been afraid he'd get hurt.

And his friend felt the same way now, even though he was only on the periphery of the battle, dealing with the chaff as Jaune faced down the dark king of this place. Even with the scale of their battles so disproportionate, Jaune was more worried about them than he was himself.

He didn't mind getting hurt if it was in defense of his family—and Jaune probably understood that and was all the more frightened for it. Even before he'd grown stronger, if it kept his family safe…well, he wouldn't fear the loss of an eye or limb. Now?

Now such things meant nothing.

The Grimm attacked, most of them now tiny compared to him, though no less dangerous for their size. Of all the members of their team, he drew the most attention and thus the most fire, with claws raking his flesh, blasts of scorching light burning him, and worse besides. Several of the Grimm had moved to climb him, sinking their hands deep into his skin as they climbed his flesh and ripped away at him. In this fight alone, he'd already taken amounts of damage that would have killed almost anyone else; he'd suffered massive burns, bleed rivers, had his eyes punctured, and worse.

But whatever they sent his way, it wasn't enough to put him down. He wouldn't allow it to be enough. Thanks to the power he'd gained training with his family, he stood fast against everything they threw his way, wounds knitting closed, flesh filling the tears, and energy surging steadily through his body. Where others would fall, he continued to fight, to struggle, and to draw attacks away from his allies.

After all, when it came to being tough, to being strong enough to take a hit for someone else, he wouldn't lose to anyone except perhaps Jaune—and even then, only if Jaune didn't enhance him further. He'd continued to raise his Vitality, such that it was now well over six hundred fifty, and his Semblance was ideal for this. He could feel the layers of himself, set as much beside one another as within, and the outermost layer was the largest and the toughest.

If enough damage was caused to it, it would shatter and melt away, revealing the next layer and the next until he was left only as himself, the process getting easier with ever victory on their part—but enemies like these couldn't even kill his outermost self. Every time they attacked, he withstood and countered, bringing to bear as much of the strength his massive form conferred him without threating his own allies.

All the while, he sought to keep watch over his family. As part of his nature as Jaune's Familiar, Jaune could activate techniques for him, sharing his own power to open up paths for him. If they were close enough to one another, that was particularly true—but for a price, Jaune could shore up his weaknesses even from a great distance. For a battle like this, he'd been force to limit that slightly, so as not to interfere with his own battles, but…

Well. Even if only a shadow of his friend's power was added onto his own, it was enough to blot out the sun.

It was always a strange feeling to draw on another's power, though. In his mind, it felt like some kind of circuit opening, a jagged line of power drawn between two points. Power flowed down that connection like it was a river, filling a well in his thoughts that seemed to branch out, drawing connections to various parts of his body as though it were another nervous system. Some moved to enhance his musculature, lines of power overlaying muscle fibers, while others permeated his skin or focused on his eyes or mouth. When he looked at himself, he could almost imagine the light shining through his own skin as it bolstered and protected him.

Especially since sometimes he could. Granted, that was more because of the adjustments made to his senses than anything else. Even though Jaune could lay his power upon him, not everything was made simple. There were gaps, holes that being a Familiar couldn't fill. For all that he had access to most of the direct powers, so long as Jaune made an effort to grant them, the secondary ones weren't so easily transferred, and that was never more apparent than with his senses.

Sometimes, he struggled to imagine how Jaune did it—how he could look at the world this way all the time and understand it instead of being driven made. The power he was under now, Clairvoyance, opened up aspects of the world he wouldn't have been able to image before he was able to actually see it. He knew, logically speaking, that his eyes were different from a humans and that he normally saw the world in a different way, but when his eyes were opened like this, none of that mattered. The world lit up in patterns of blinding power and flowing energy if he didn't focus, breaking down into patterns of heat, motion, wavelengths, and entire spectrums of light. When he focused on something, it hardly seemed to matter how close or far away they were, they seemed as though they right before his eyes and large enough to see clearly, even if that meant increasing or decreasing in size. If he paused to take something in for too long, he could accidentally peer through their skin to see expanding and contracting muscles, nerves made luminous by the transportation of signals, and even cellular activity.

If he focused, he could probably see even deeper than that, but he'd never really tried; after a certain point, it became too much. He knew that Jaune used it constantly and without a seeming care, predicting movements by analyzing motions or assessing people in their entirety at a glance. Jaune had even told him that he had senses that went beyond what he was now seeing, such as a Third Eye that showed him the truth of the world. Honestly, he was fairly pleased to say he couldn't even imagine it.

Jaune was different—if he could, he'd want to see everything, partially because he could take it. He wasn't sure if that was a natural part of who he was, the result of a skill he'd picked up at some point, or simply one of the benefits of his Semblance; in all likelihood, it was a combination of all three. Someone who's soul took the shape of a being with a million eyes and who's Semblance seemed to dredge up knowledge lost to the annals of time probably had an edge when it came to things that gathered and analyzed pieces of information, but he imagined having the Gamer's Mind and what must have been a dozen skills that made him more than human probably helped.

You are reading story The Games We Play at novel35.com

He didn't have that. The closest he did have was another skill Jaune had conferred to him—Extrasensory Perception—which, if anything, made things that much worse. It expanded the breadth of Clairvoyance to encompass his other senses, all but burying him beneath a mountain of sensation and information. Normally, his senses of hearing and smell were as important to him as his sight, if not more so, but Extrasensory Perception heightened them to an almost painful degree, especially in a fight. Each breath he took flooded his mind with information on his enemies, such that he could tell without looking which was which and where they were, even though there were dozens. At the same time, every step their took and move they made resounded in his ears, sound carrying across vaster distances than he'd every imaged until he had no choice but to blot out the gathering of far-distant storms.

And that wasn't all, either. The taste of air on his tongue as he panted drew information to him as clearly as his nose, each taste so distinct that he distinguished them easily. At the same time, he could feel approaching attacks before they struck, a phantom sort of pain that warned him of danger, and the moment of air against his skin was enough to let him gauge the locations of his enemies and allies alike. Even beyond that, he could sense people's location simply by how they touched a surface he was connected to, sending vibrations through the ground. His sense of touch extended even beyond his skin, such that he could feel when things came in contact with his Aura or even his own attacks. Being as large as he was should have and did interfere with his senses, but the techniques he was under now made such things irrelevant.

It hurt—a constant pain that he felt alongside his brain, like someone had filled his skull with flames. He suspected Jaune knew that, whether consciously or as part of the subconscious effect of his 'Pericognition.' Either way, he generally avoided using any skill that caused him particular discomfort.

But this was a special occasion and he'd asked Jaune for every advantage he could get. He was a hunting dog, yes—but a guard dog first and foremost, and there was no point to his safety if he let his family come to harm. On the off chance that he suffered a stroke, he'd simply have to rely on his accelerated healing to make up for it. Even if it interfered with his own ability to fight, it was worth it.

Thankfully, the more physical techniques were easier. The skills of the original Jian Bing and the ancient techniques of Remnant—they were simple to use by comparison. Yes, the breaking of his Adamant skin would hurt when the technique ended, but what was being flayed, really? And yes, perhaps the Sacrifice to the Wolf occasionally shattered his bones and tore muscles, but again, what of it? Even without the Liquid Flesh buff Jaune had applied to all of them, he could recover from such wounds almost before he felt the pain of them. Wounds like that were nothing to him; he cared about them even less than the strikes of the Grimm.

Speaking of which…

Drawing a deep breath to fill the caverns of his lungs, he snarled at the Grimm again—and this time, flames filled his mouth like froth. He exhaled a wave of searing fire and then let more of it rise from his fur, attacking what Grimm had drawn to close. This skill wasn't the Karna he was more familiar with, but rather the skill known as Surya, which it had developed into. It was the chief weapon Jaune had provided him with, along with his Psychokinesis, as both skills simply enabled him to use specific powers. They were draining, however, and his MP was relatively minor compared to his HP; less than seven thousand and even then, only by virtue of his level. He could regenerate his MP at a not entirely pathetic pace thanks to Breath of the World, but it wasn't something he wanted to waste. For that reason, he kept the flames up for only a few seconds and then shook them off along with the Grimm.

Simple instinct made him want to press the assault, to chase the monsters as they retreated. If he shut off the dizzying array of senses Jaune's power had granted him, he could focus on them and go on the attack. Just as Autumn had recently been enhanced by the skill Preta, which allowed her to create and command a strange semblance of life, Jaune had elevated him with the skill above Familiar, Tiryagyoni. With a thought, he could shift into a monster more twisted than anything Autumn could imagine, drawing the traits and features of countless animals into his flesh until mouths yawned open and limbs stretched. He could fill his jaws with rows of teeth and poisonous fangs, transform his fur into the tendrils of a thousand jellyfish, rearrange his skeleton and organs, and more.

But that wasn't why he was here. He was a guardian and he kept an eye on his family, drawing attention and taking any blows that might be dangerous. His senses let him pick those out among the chaos of battle and so were more useful to him than a thousand more mouths.

And it was those same senses that made him the first to become aware are the situation changed. He saw the cracks growing in one of the invisible walls that surrounded this pace and shifted slightly to better position himself in front of his family. But as a figure appeared alongside Jaune, holding him by the throat, his senses also made him completely aware of the truth.

This wasn't someone he could beat. It wasn't somehow he could stop or fight or kill; trying to do so would mean his death.

He considered that for a moment, giving the thought the weight it deserved, and promptly decided it didn't matter. If that was true, it was more important that he make his actions count. Should he cover for Raven? Yes, that was the smartest thing to do. Raven was close enough to Adam to reach him in at a moment's notice and draw him through a portal—a portal she'd no doubt take up to Autumn, grabbing her as well. So long as he could defend her for a second, she should be able to get both of them to safety. Would she come back afterwards, putting herself in danger? It was regrettably possible, but Autumn and Adam's safety was worth more than his life; worst case scenario, those two could take care of one another and Jaune himself was unlikely to die, given what they knew. It was everything besides death that he needed to be concerned about. He could take care of them both, so long as they escaped, and another Familiar could be found.

Besides which, he was the largest target.

He reached out, being carefully delicate with his Psychokinesis, and planted a paw-shaped construct on Raven's upper arm, signaling her. Her chin lowered and rose less than a centimeter, which was the only sign she'd noticed with her gaze perfectly steady as she looked at the figure, who was Gilgamesh and not Gilgamesh.

Slowly, he braced himself—and made the first move, diving fully in front of Raven even knowing what it could mean.

"Oh, a volunteer?" He heard, but couldn't even see the new figure move—instead, there was flash of pain as his outer layer shattered completely, coming apart into dark energy that swirled and reshaped itself into something perhaps half as large. For that brief moment, he was thankfully protected as his next layer was drawn out into conventional space, hopefully slowing his enemy down—but the next layer shattered the moment it formed, along with the next and the next, until he was suddenly himself, lying on the ground at the strange figure's feet.

Raven, however, was already gone.

It was worth it, then.

"Buying time for your friend's to escape?" The figure asked, and though he had no mouth he sounded as though he were smiling. "What a brave puppy—but you know, I'm the master of portals. It's a little trick to create them when I'm like this, but it's not impossible, and I know where she went. It's just…it's always more fun when people think their safe. Isn't that right, Jaune?"

The figure—who must have been Malkuth, given his crude disposition—reached out to him with the hand that wasn't clasped to Jaune's neck.

"Still, it was a good effort," He continued. "What's say I give you an original death, to make it worth your while?"

Some kind of strange, violet light gathered around his hands and he thought this was it.

But…this was okay. Dark as the situation may have seemed, he knew Jaune would do something—that he'd figure out a way to keep them safe in what little time they'd bought.

So this was enough—and a pretty good effort for a dog who should have died in an alleyway, besides.

Light flashed and he waited for the end to come once more, but this time without fear.

—And just like before, he was saved.

You can find story with these keywords: The Games We Play, Read The Games We Play, The Games We Play novel, The Games We Play book, The Games We Play story, The Games We Play full, The Games We Play Latest Chapter