These purple-burning sigils were unmistakable in the cursed, ancient power they held, and irreplicable to all but a select few enlightened souls with eyes like scalpels to glimpse the glyphs and ironclad wills to withstand the strain without going mad. It was said that the First Truthseeker had journeyed to Agartha to look upon the Prison of the Unborn, and was struck blind for his arrogance, with his fragmented knowledge becoming the foundation of the Order’s unique, high-level glyphology.
The abilities she showed were troublesome, certainly, proving in his mind without a doubt that this was some heretofore hidden powerhouse. Perhaps a hidden rogue monster, or the elder of a hidden sect just like the Order.
The second thing, however, was what truly pushed Roderick over the edge, changing a call of alarm into one of true emergency.
That Blade.
The Seven Severing Fangs.
He had dreamt of them. Every higher-ranked disciple of the Order had. Most of them, Roderick included, interpreted it as a set of seven flying knives that could multiply, or perhaps a seven-petaled needle-thrower weapon.
Certainly not that. Not a giant cleaver.
Out of his bodies, two wore the scarlet robes that identified them as true Core Disciples, whereas the two others wore the blue robes of Inners.
He willed one of the Blue-robed Bodies to throw out a series of needles, and in their midst, three Black Thorns were hidden. Not only were they not magnetic, but not metallic at all. They came from a vile, parasitic bush, that shot them out into unsuspecting animals, wherein they grew, spreading through the whole animal and taking control in seconds. The parasite then puppeteered the animal into walking as far from the original bush as possible, and whence the prey fell, a new bush took root. It was a mercy from its Ankhezian creators that the bush could only sustain itself in an ecosystem that wouldn’t be harmed by its presence; normal animals died to the vine’s initial infection… As did humans, because it was particularly aggressive within them, with the Black Thorn Shrubbery having been bred as a hidden weapon plant to begin with.
Roderick wasn’t confident in the trick, but he at least felt like it might work.
It didn’t.
Out of the dozens of tiny, buzzing lights that surrounded the woman, several instantly came after his Black Thorns, striking them from the air. They burst into balls of tangled thorny vines, still flying at the woman at the same speed, but that blade of hers suddenly split into seven and with a mere wave of her hand she obliterated the whole barrage, whipping the weapon forward. A concussive shockwave erupted from where its endmost segment struck, right in the midst of the needle-and-thorn cloud, obliterating everything within it. The shattered metal needles were magnetized to the blade, and as it retracted, they were consumed by its mass.
“You dare? Is this how you greet the Elder of another sect, juniors?!” she laughed, mocking the very words which she spoke with her tone of voice. “C’mon, at least talk to me! Sect, rank, name, right now! Did you think a trade hub city was free for the taking just because it didn’t have a local sect?!”
She barked with authority, yet the implication of immediate hyperviolence was undercut by a pervasive, giddy amusement, like a child right after figuring out Fog-breathing.
As the little-storm that surrounded her calmed a little, and needles and knives ceased being thrown in her direction, Roderick realized yet another unsettling fact. No Armament Aura. There was aura there, certainly, mighty and violent, but it was not Armament Aura - an absurd, outlandish fact when it came to Storm-soul Cultivation, which pigeonholes its practitioners into wielding one specific weapon. The Seven Fangs made that even more absurd. Was that a restriction of such a mighty weapon, perhaps? Did it greedily suck up its wielder’s armament aura and concentrate it along the edge?
Before she could grow restless, Roderick brought forth one of his scarlet-robed bodies.
“I am Rogarius, Core Disciple of the Order of Six Truths! We have come to this city at our Elder’s behest, to harvest mortals for his breakthrough! What opposition does this Elder lay to our actions?”
“Wh- What opposition? To “harvesting” mortals?!” she laughed incredulously. “I will make you an extraordinarily generous offer: If your Elder gives the order to cease whatever demonic rite of sacrifice you are preparing, I will only claim one of your lives for each of this city’s inhabitants you have killed thus far!”
Roderick instantly knew there was no resolving this without a great deal of bloodshed. There were righteous sects, and there were those who weighed the lives of mortals as heavier than specks of sand. The latter were either too young to have learned better, or powerful enough to defend such maxims - usually because the deaths of many mortals would somehow harm their bottom line, but righteous acts were righteous acts regardless of motivation.
He willed a command to spread amongst his subordinates, using a short-range aetheric communication technique. Not everyone could be issued an expensive communication artifact, let alone a full Tablet. Two of his blue-robed bodies spread out, and a number of disciples to distract with a variety of different weapons. A deluge of bolts, needles, thorns, darts, explosive beads, a small fortune in ammunition to distract her.
To distract her enough to get two simultaneous shots of the Stinger Eye into her sides…
And Roderick felt both his blue-robed bodies die. In an instant, they just dropped dead. The one to the woman’s right-hand side had been cut to bloody shreds by some kind of spinning saw made from three deformed copies of her weapon’s segments, while the other had been… Ripped apart. Three serpentine forms, extending from her braids, had ripped him apart, and in so doing annihilated the stingers he had fired.
Roderick’s blue-robed bodies had seen flashes, blurs of motion, and nothing more.
“So be it! If you won’t listen to words, then I will make my point clear with the Universal Tongue of Violence! Come, and let me harvest you for my own breakthrough!”
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! You get up to 20 advance chapters for both Retribution Engine and Cherno Caster.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, maybe even leave a review or advanced review!
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
These purple-burning sigils were unmistakable in the cursed, ancient power they held, and irreplicable to all but a select few enlightened souls with eyes like scalpels to glimpse the glyphs and ironclad wills to withstand the strain without going mad. It was said that the First Truthseeker had journeyed to Agartha to look upon the Prison of the Unborn, and was struck blind for his arrogance, with his fragmented knowledge becoming the foundation of the Order’s unique, high-level glyphology.
The abilities she showed were troublesome, certainly, proving in his mind without a doubt that this was some heretofore hidden powerhouse. Perhaps a hidden rogue monster, or the elder of a hidden sect just like the Order.
The second thing, however, was what truly pushed Roderick over the edge, changing a call of alarm into one of true emergency.
That Blade.
The Seven Severing Fangs.
He had dreamt of them. Every higher-ranked disciple of the Order had. Most of them, Roderick included, interpreted it as a set of seven flying knives that could multiply, or perhaps a seven-petaled needle-thrower weapon.
Certainly not that. Not a giant cleaver.
Out of his bodies, two wore the scarlet robes that identified them as true Core Disciples, whereas the two others wore the blue robes of Inners.
He willed one of the Blue-robed Bodies to throw out a series of needles, and in their midst, three Black Thorns were hidden. Not only were they not magnetic, but not metallic at all. They came from a vile, parasitic bush, that shot them out into unsuspecting animals, wherein they grew, spreading through the whole animal and taking control in seconds. The parasite then puppeteered the animal into walking as far from the original bush as possible, and whence the prey fell, a new bush took root. It was a mercy from its Ankhezian creators that the bush could only sustain itself in an ecosystem that wouldn’t be harmed by its presence; normal animals died to the vine’s initial infection… As did humans, because it was particularly aggressive within them, with the Black Thorn Shrubbery having been bred as a hidden weapon plant to begin with.
Roderick wasn’t confident in the trick, but he at least felt like it might work.
It didn’t.
Out of the dozens of tiny, buzzing lights that surrounded the woman, several instantly came after his Black Thorns, striking them from the air. They burst into balls of tangled thorny vines, still flying at the woman at the same speed, but that blade of hers suddenly split into seven and with a mere wave of her hand she obliterated the whole barrage, whipping the weapon forward. A concussive shockwave erupted from where its endmost segment struck, right in the midst of the needle-and-thorn cloud, obliterating everything within it. The shattered metal needles were magnetized to the blade, and as it retracted, they were consumed by its mass.
“You dare? Is this how you greet the Elder of another sect, juniors?!” she laughed, mocking the very words which she spoke with her tone of voice. “C’mon, at least talk to me! Sect, rank, name, right now! Did you think a trade hub city was free for the taking just because it didn’t have a local sect?!”
She barked with authority, yet the implication of immediate hyperviolence was undercut by a pervasive, giddy amusement, like a child right after figuring out Fog-breathing.
As the little-storm that surrounded her calmed a little, and needles and knives ceased being thrown in her direction, Roderick realized yet another unsettling fact. No Armament Aura. There was aura there, certainly, mighty and violent, but it was not Armament Aura - an absurd, outlandish fact when it came to Storm-soul Cultivation, which pigeonholes its practitioners into wielding one specific weapon. The Seven Fangs made that even more absurd. Was that a restriction of such a mighty weapon, perhaps? Did it greedily suck up its wielder’s armament aura and concentrate it along the edge?
Before she could grow restless, Roderick brought forth one of his scarlet-robed bodies.
“I am Rogarius, Core Disciple of the Order of Six Truths! We have come to this city at our Elder’s behest, to harvest mortals for his breakthrough! What opposition does this Elder lay to our actions?”
“Wh- What opposition? To “harvesting” mortals?!” she laughed incredulously. “I will make you an extraordinarily generous offer: If your Elder gives the order to cease whatever demonic rite of sacrifice you are preparing, I will only claim one of your lives for each of this city’s inhabitants you have killed thus far!”
Roderick instantly knew there was no resolving this without a great deal of bloodshed. There were righteous sects, and there were those who weighed the lives of mortals as heavier than specks of sand. The latter were either too young to have learned better, or powerful enough to defend such maxims - usually because the deaths of many mortals would somehow harm their bottom line, but righteous acts were righteous acts regardless of motivation.
He willed a command to spread amongst his subordinates, using a short-range aetheric communication technique. Not everyone could be issued an expensive communication artifact, let alone a full Tablet. Two of his blue-robed bodies spread out, and a number of disciples to distract with a variety of different weapons. A deluge of bolts, needles, thorns, darts, explosive beads, a small fortune in ammunition to distract her.
To distract her enough to get two simultaneous shots of the Stinger Eye into her sides…
And Roderick felt both his blue-robed bodies die. In an instant, they just dropped dead. The one to the woman’s right-hand side had been cut to bloody shreds by some kind of spinning saw made from three deformed copies of her weapon’s segments, while the other had been… Ripped apart. Three serpentine forms, extending from her braids, had ripped him apart, and in so doing annihilated the stingers he had fired.
Roderick’s blue-robed bodies had seen flashes, blurs of motion, and nothing more.
“So be it! If you won’t listen to words, then I will make my point clear with the Universal Tongue of Violence! Come, and let me harvest you for my own breakthrough!”
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! You get up to 20 advance chapters for both Retribution Engine and Cherno Caster.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, maybe even leave a review or advanced review!
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
