The Third Truthseeker stood atop the Eberheim Cathedral’s belfry, in his hand a brass sacrificial knife. He looked over the macabre implement, feeling its arcane power thrum in his hand. It had originally belonged to the previous Third Truthseeker, who had once forged it from a piece of some dead god of sacrifice. Third’s Predecessor had tried to hold it over his head that the blade, the Order’s strongest sacrificial implement, would shatter if he were to ever die. It was this that had led Third down the path which he trod, and which had ensured the Predecessor would never be allowed to die, now a slumbering mass of undying flesh sealed away under the Order’s compound.
He was torn away from reminiscing by two things.
First, a disturbance. It was just as abrupt as that which came when Rosa met her end.
The Triplets were gone. Extinguished all at once. The only possible cause had to be a wide-area attack of sufficient intensity to overwhelm them. If that was the case, it was masterfully contained, because Third didn’t sense something to suggest such a destructive power in that area.
Seconds later, his trusted right hand arrived to confirm what he already knew.
“Lord Third, it appears that the Triplets have fallen as well,” said the outwardly-older man matter-of-factly.
“And after using the Three Kings Astral Coinjoining, at that,” the Third Truthseeker replied in a conflicted tone. He was at once impressed and furious at the intruder, while also being disappointed in the Triplets and regretting their deaths. Losing Rosa had already been bad enough.
He wanted to go out there and put the intruders down himself, but that was no longer an option. Fleshy, crimson tendrils snaked up through the belfry and around the bell, conjoining the thousands of sacrifices. Third was a half-step from his apotheosis; he could initiate it at any moment, but he was hesitant, as it would force him to wholly focus on taming the vortex of sacrificial energy.
“Friedrich, do something for me,” said the Third Truthseeker.
“Yes, sir.”
“Ensure that our intruder doesn’t reach this place before I am in a state to dispose of her. You are not to put up your life lest it is absolutely unavoidable, do I make myself clear?”
“Any other specifications, sire?”
“No. Do what needs to be done.”
“As you wish.”
Zelsys felt him coming before she saw him.
An unassuming, older man. His aura wasn’t oppressive or seething with sacrificial taint, though it was undeniably tainted and amplified just like the others. He didn’t come soaring in on a flying sword, instead jumping along at a velocity entirely unfitting for his leisurely stance, hands clasped behind his back.
He met her no more than fifty meters from the Cathedral Square. She would’ve already breached it if she had focused wholly on hurrying along, but she would be that much further from grasping It. The next iteration of Conqueror’s Mantle.
“It’s one after the next with you lot. You would’ve done better if you had thought to come all at once,” she said to the man. Despite her enhanced breathing technique and its superior output, she somehow didn’t feel certain in being able to defeat him quickly. Something about him just didn’t feel right. He was… Familiar. Yet at the same time, foreign.
“I am afraid I was otherwise preoccupied,” the man said. “The Core Disciples of our esteemed sect were deemed sufficient to deal with the threat you posed. I see now that we had overestimated them… And underestimated you.”
Zel mentally glossed over most of what he said, readily using the time he gave her to take the vital steps. There was no need to create a Pseudo-Core or compress vast quantities of Fulgur into it, but there was a process all its own. Much like the original iteration, this one, too, caused her to sprout antlers of bronze and iron. These, however, were smaller in mass, appearing swept back over the top of her head, and they were not accompanied by the skull-like manifestation from before.
It was abundantly obvious that she was doing something. Zel made no attempt to hide it, and Friedrich simply observed her as he talked Only once he shifted his stance and held up his hands did she finally realize what it was that felt odd about him.
His eyes. Always observing. Always picking at the smallest shifts in her posture, at the subdermal muscle twitches. He was like her. And he had a real chance at winning if she didn’t work out the successor to Conqueror’s Mantle very quickly. If only it were so easy as simply pushing huge amounts of Fulgur into the Hammerforged Heart. There was a pattern, an indisputably correct pattern. If only she could work it out.
For now, she would have to make-do, and make-do she did.
She made-do so very hard that her first clash with Friedrich obliterated everything in a thirty-meter radius. Neither of them was wounded by the brief clash. Friedrich’s martial arts, though plain at a glance, were refined to such a degree that he seemed to have no apparent issue redirecting a Thunderclap Sting. From there, it became a more cordial conversation. As they fought, they spoke, probing at one another’s defenses. These were cordial introductions, a prelude to the real fight, which would be far shorter and incomparably more violent.
“I shall see to it that such mistakes are not repeated in the future. I take it that you are the elder of this Newman Sect, yes? Zelsys Newman, correct? I am Friedrich, a Direct Disciple of the Fourth Truthseeker overseeing the deployment of my master’s arrays in this city, as he is otherwise preoccupied. I wish to apologize on the behalf of those disciples which failed to show the proper respect you are due, and if you were to simply leave, I would see to it that no grudge is held…”
“I’ll have to interrupt you here. I came to this city on behalf of the Free Cities Alliance to break its isolation, suppress whoever was responsible, and take whatever actions appropriate to the reason for the city’s isolation; that is to say, I have come to judge your sect and to thereafter enact the punishment with my own hands. Feel free to state your case, but… I’ll simplify it for both of us. You’re sacrificing people, are you not?”
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.
The Third Truthseeker stood atop the Eberheim Cathedral’s belfry, in his hand a brass sacrificial knife. He looked over the macabre implement, feeling its arcane power thrum in his hand. It had originally belonged to the previous Third Truthseeker, who had once forged it from a piece of some dead god of sacrifice. Third’s Predecessor had tried to hold it over his head that the blade, the Order’s strongest sacrificial implement, would shatter if he were to ever die. It was this that had led Third down the path which he trod, and which had ensured the Predecessor would never be allowed to die, now a slumbering mass of undying flesh sealed away under the Order’s compound.
He was torn away from reminiscing by two things.
First, a disturbance. It was just as abrupt as that which came when Rosa met her end.
The Triplets were gone. Extinguished all at once. The only possible cause had to be a wide-area attack of sufficient intensity to overwhelm them. If that was the case, it was masterfully contained, because Third didn’t sense something to suggest such a destructive power in that area.
Seconds later, his trusted right hand arrived to confirm what he already knew.
“Lord Third, it appears that the Triplets have fallen as well,” said the outwardly-older man matter-of-factly.
“And after using the Three Kings Astral Coinjoining, at that,” the Third Truthseeker replied in a conflicted tone. He was at once impressed and furious at the intruder, while also being disappointed in the Triplets and regretting their deaths. Losing Rosa had already been bad enough.
He wanted to go out there and put the intruders down himself, but that was no longer an option. Fleshy, crimson tendrils snaked up through the belfry and around the bell, conjoining the thousands of sacrifices. Third was a half-step from his apotheosis; he could initiate it at any moment, but he was hesitant, as it would force him to wholly focus on taming the vortex of sacrificial energy.
“Friedrich, do something for me,” said the Third Truthseeker.
“Yes, sir.”
“Ensure that our intruder doesn’t reach this place before I am in a state to dispose of her. You are not to put up your life lest it is absolutely unavoidable, do I make myself clear?”
“Any other specifications, sire?”
“No. Do what needs to be done.”
“As you wish.”
Zelsys felt him coming before she saw him.
An unassuming, older man. His aura wasn’t oppressive or seething with sacrificial taint, though it was undeniably tainted and amplified just like the others. He didn’t come soaring in on a flying sword, instead jumping along at a velocity entirely unfitting for his leisurely stance, hands clasped behind his back.
He met her no more than fifty meters from the Cathedral Square. She would’ve already breached it if she had focused wholly on hurrying along, but she would be that much further from grasping It. The next iteration of Conqueror’s Mantle.
“It’s one after the next with you lot. You would’ve done better if you had thought to come all at once,” she said to the man. Despite her enhanced breathing technique and its superior output, she somehow didn’t feel certain in being able to defeat him quickly. Something about him just didn’t feel right. He was… Familiar. Yet at the same time, foreign.
“I am afraid I was otherwise preoccupied,” the man said. “The Core Disciples of our esteemed sect were deemed sufficient to deal with the threat you posed. I see now that we had overestimated them… And underestimated you.”
Zel mentally glossed over most of what he said, readily using the time he gave her to take the vital steps. There was no need to create a Pseudo-Core or compress vast quantities of Fulgur into it, but there was a process all its own. Much like the original iteration, this one, too, caused her to sprout antlers of bronze and iron. These, however, were smaller in mass, appearing swept back over the top of her head, and they were not accompanied by the skull-like manifestation from before.
It was abundantly obvious that she was doing something. Zel made no attempt to hide it, and Friedrich simply observed her as he talked Only once he shifted his stance and held up his hands did she finally realize what it was that felt odd about him.
His eyes. Always observing. Always picking at the smallest shifts in her posture, at the subdermal muscle twitches. He was like her. And he had a real chance at winning if she didn’t work out the successor to Conqueror’s Mantle very quickly. If only it were so easy as simply pushing huge amounts of Fulgur into the Hammerforged Heart. There was a pattern, an indisputably correct pattern. If only she could work it out.
For now, she would have to make-do, and make-do she did.
She made-do so very hard that her first clash with Friedrich obliterated everything in a thirty-meter radius. Neither of them was wounded by the brief clash. Friedrich’s martial arts, though plain at a glance, were refined to such a degree that he seemed to have no apparent issue redirecting a Thunderclap Sting. From there, it became a more cordial conversation. As they fought, they spoke, probing at one another’s defenses. These were cordial introductions, a prelude to the real fight, which would be far shorter and incomparably more violent.
“I shall see to it that such mistakes are not repeated in the future. I take it that you are the elder of this Newman Sect, yes? Zelsys Newman, correct? I am Friedrich, a Direct Disciple of the Fourth Truthseeker overseeing the deployment of my master’s arrays in this city, as he is otherwise preoccupied. I wish to apologize on the behalf of those disciples which failed to show the proper respect you are due, and if you were to simply leave, I would see to it that no grudge is held…”
“I’ll have to interrupt you here. I came to this city on behalf of the Free Cities Alliance to break its isolation, suppress whoever was responsible, and take whatever actions appropriate to the reason for the city’s isolation; that is to say, I have come to judge your sect and to thereafter enact the punishment with my own hands. Feel free to state your case, but… I’ll simplify it for both of us. You’re sacrificing people, are you not?”
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.
