Path of the Deathless 29 (I) City

Well, dear reader, it seems the surfacers have brought interesting tis upon us aplenty. rely days after foiling a terrorist attack on Passage, the once-unknown surfacer now known as honored guest Shiv has continued his streak of auspicious and heroic actions.

The second was talking down his fellow surfacer who held several mbers of Cradle’s staff hostage while suffering from a ntal breakdown. Then, both surfacers defined themselves in a mont of even greater glory, stopping the destruction of Passage itself. A bombing attempt that, if internal sources are to be believed, would have crippled the city’s teleportation network and potentially plunged us into a crisis beyond what words could describe.

The damage dealt to Passage was severe, leaving hundreds dead and many more wounded. However, we must offer our thanks and keep our attentions focused on these surfacers, for despite the need to remain ever vigilant against outsider forces, it appears that we have two genuine heroes among us for once. And if additional rumors prove to be correct, their actions might have earned favor from even the Composer herself…

-Vibrations, Weave Tabloid

29 (I)

City

The Odes of Blood and Flesh was a disgusting book. Vile on so many levels. It was a docunt of torture and agony inflicted directly into the minds of its readers. And Shiv absolutely loved it. It was everything ntioned above, but also extrely educational, mainly because the elderly vampire he had learned was called Sculptor Ekkihurst was so detailed and ticulous in his teachings.

As Shiv jumped from body to body, experiencing death ti and ti again, he learned the finer nuances of the circulatory system first. What followed was the importance of the heart, the general layout of blood vessels, and how veins and arteries both mattered for specific reasons. He also learned about vampirism.

One of the vampire students opened their chest casually, cutting themselves open and exposing their heart. Though the organ pumped, Sculptor Ekkihurst next opened Shiv’s heart and made a comparison.

“As you see,” the Sculptor began, “this is a pure organ. It is an organism of matter. It is essential for their vitality, but more like an anchor, a vessel. This”—he gestured to the other vampire’s exposed heart—“this is the Lineage Core. This is why we can use our bodies the way we do. We are part of a collective whole, and we are family for each other, eternally, and expand our power with our growing lines.”

Shiv blinked. Sothing about the vampire’s words made Shiv recall a thing Georges complained about before. “Multi-level marketing bastards calling family! When the felling shit was I your family, you mother—”

Ekkihurst continued. “It connects to you, and especially connects you to your sire. That is why we grow stronger with every new mber we bring into our fold, and why we can draw on the powers of blood even without a spell component nearby.”

A component, as Shiv realized, was flesh or blood—anything organic, really. Biomancy didn’t work without sothing to affect—that was the entire aning behind the na: biology, and mancy for manipulation. Apparently, all vampires had a small micro-dinsion inside themselves, or sothing like that, and from there they could draw more things out of themselves, recomposing their bodies. It also connected them to their elders in ways Shiv didn’t grasp yet.

And to make matters even more peculiar, it seed that vampire ichor was smart enough to do a lot of the work itself. The way Ekkihurst described things, it was as if the ichor flowing through their veins was intelligent, rather than their brains. “Not quite so for humans,” Ekkihurst continued to explain. He examined Shiv in detail, flaying him open over and over again, having his students kill him repeatedly, and through it all Shiv learned as well.

This was docunted material specifically to enhance a vampire’s knowledge of how to manipulate and even heal their victims. For despite the way the vampires treated other people like cattle, cattle still had worth, and vampires, despite everything, abhorred waste.

For what felt like hours, Shiv experienced various modifications made to his body. Most of them ended with him dead—either suffering a brutal stroke, his heart popping, or his veins simply pulling apart, leaving him internally hemorrhaging and perishing soon after. But all this allowed him insight into the nuances of his biology. His Biomancy did not grow, but his basic understanding of Practical tabiology leapt forward by two levels—a remarkable gain from simply reading a single chapter from a book.

Practical tabiology > 3

To Shiv’s surprise and disappointnt, he made it to the end of the entire chapter and found Sculptor Ekkihurst declaring the class over. As a final “thank you” for the students in attendance, he gestured for them to indulge, “for this final subject won’t last very long anyway.” And then they descended on Shiv, and he discovered just how annoying it was to be sucked dry without learning anything.

As everything faded to black once more, Shiv expected to appear in a new body for the second chapter. However, he found himself in a cage, staring directly at Ekkihurst, who was standing on a bridge made from solidified blood. Below, there were hundreds of other cages, pitiful moaning noises escaping them, and what seed to be wires—no, tubes filled with blood—connected to the cages. Shiv looked at his own arm and, to his fascination, found sothing threaded through his veins. He also noticed his hand: the prisoner he inhabited right now was atrophied and fragile. His bones were brittle, the skin was sallow, and there was so kind of infectious growth spreading along his surface.

Ekkihurst stared through the bars, observing Shiv with fascination. “You’ve done well. This is a special chapter, one where I give my personal congratulations.”

Shiv looked at the vampire in wonder. “Is it?” he asked, trying to see if he Sculptor would respond.

The vampire didn’t respond. “Don’t try to speak to right now. This is not actually a conversation. I am not here. I wrote this book mainly to spread knowledge and expand our collective understanding of the organism. All organisms. Now, so might say my ways are macabre and brutal. I cannot disagree, but once again, my bloodline has made a predator above all. And I see no problem with that. However, this is not about right now. It’s about you."

Shiv nodded along, even though the vampire couldn't take note of that.

“Do you know how few people finish the first chapter without stopping? The book records that, you know. The book records a great many things. Most stop after the first death. They close the book. They turn away. Cowards. Well, no, not cowards, but you understand my point. Those who don’t have the rigor don’t have the desire. But you have sothing more than rigor and desire. You are interested. No, you are in love. You’re in love with Biomancy. You’re in love with the organism. Well, I thank you. I thank you for sharing my love. Despite potentially being adversaries—perhaps even if you want to kill soday—I thank you for being in love. And I ask that you continue holding this love. For soday, we will make sothing truly novel.”

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Ekkihurst closed his fist, and his hand turned into flowers, then so kind of crystalline shell, then back to claws. “Look at this,” Ekkihurst said, sneering at his shifting flesh in disgust. “I can do this with Biomancy. Other vampires? They ooh and ahh. But that’s nothing. We have not made anything new. We copy each other. We move traits together. But this is like children slamming blocks together.” The elderly vampire spat off the side of the ledge on which he stood. The spit hit one of the cages below—Shiv could hear weeping. “But soday, soday, we will make sothing truly, truly novel. I believe it. I hope you believe it, too.”

And then the chapter ended, and Shiv found himself staring at an open page, one depicting incomprehensible scribbles scrawled in blood with a glowing spell pattern at its core. A question pulled at his mind, asking if he wanted to read the chapter again. Shiv let out a breath. Though he was curious, he decided to stop for a while and potentially ask another Biomancer—a proper Master. Everything he learned, everything he did, would shape his next evolution. He wasn’t sure if he wanted an exact evolution tied to a vampire, and considering Shiv created very little and mostly just used his skill to harm, he suspected that he wouldn’t be growing any novel organisms. More likely, he would get sothing that would allow him to injure or destroy organic tissue.

I wonder if there's any Master-Tier evolution that allows soone to offensively use cancers, Shiv thought, or maybe bones. I like bones. They make for good armor. Maybe I can be so kind of… Sovereign of Bones.

Just then, he felt slender arms wrap around his torso as Uva placed her chin on his shoulder. He gave her a smile, but she was looking at his book with both eyebrows raised. A frown etched itself onto her face. “What is that horrible thing you’re reading?” she asked.

“That’s what I said,” Adam groaned off by the side. “He’s just been staring at it for the past bloody hour, just shaking and grunting from ti to ti.”

“Adam,” Shiv said, sensing the Young Lord reaching for Uva’s plate with his Biomancy field, “if you touch that, I will show you what I just learned.”

“I’m hungry,” Adam complained.

“I will fix that in a mont. Don’t touch the plate. That’s for you,” Shiv said, looking at Uva, his tone turning gentle.

Her frown flattened into a smile. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Shiv, hurry,” Adam said, his voice flat with disdain. “I need to eat sothing before I retch from listening to you two.”

“And leave with the Young Lord this ti, if you two decide to have another spontaneous conversation,” Valor declared with vehence. Shiv coughed. His mistake from earlier still haunted him a bit, but done was done, and he really enjoyedwhat was done. Shiv closed the Odes of Blood and Flesh for now, then stowed it in his cloak.

“It’s not a bad book,” Shiv added. “There is a lot of torturing and suffering and death inflicted on the reader, but…”

Uva shook her head. “It sounds like a terrible book.”

“...it’s very educational,” Shiv finished.

She sighed. “You are just…” She brushed his face. “Your mind is like a piece of tal.”

“Should I be offended?” Shiv replied.

“You should be many things right now,” Uva said, “but I’m glad you are none of them. I suppose it takes fortitude to survive being favored by fate.”

Shiv chuckled. “Yes, well, I would more describe myself as being a darling of disaster.”

“Fortunately for you”—she pecked him on the cheek—“I think I quite like disasters. And speaking of disaster”—she looked down at him, taking in his bare torso and hospital attire aside from his cloak, and at Adam, who was sitting at the kitchen table in his armor—“you two need so proper clothes. A proper wardrobe.”

“But you were so happy about my lack of clothes before,” Shiv said.

“I don’t want anyone else to be,” Uva hissed, her eyes growing dark.

Shiv felt a shiver run through him. System, she might be possessive, he thought.

She rose from his body and stretched. “Co on, both of you, let’s go out.”

“Where are we going?” Adam asked, narrowing his eyes. “And are you sure that you two just don’t want to go together?”

“Oh, Adept Adam co now,” she said, chiding him as if he was a small child. “You need to be dressed, too. And with sothing better than”—she wrinkled her nose—“that horrible outfit you were wearing the other day.”

“Why are you judging ?” Adam snapped. “You’re the one who gave the outfit.”

“Yes, but you decided to wear it anyway,” Uva replied. “Did I make you do that?”

“I…” Adam sputtered. “How is this my fault?”

Shiv laughed.

***

After an awkward encounter in the elevator—in which the small Umbral child they’d run into multiple tis over the past few days pointed at Adam and asked if he was the one making all those noises all night—they departed for another section of Weave.

This ti, they were going to a place colloquially called Culture Valley. It was nestled between two major residential districts and was the beginning of its own principality. There were apparently thirteen principalities in Weave, each focused on a dedicated industry or function for the city.

Thus far, Shiv had only been at the Symposium Principality, the core of everything—where important operations ran, where the governnt and the Composer decided on the agenda for Weave, and where Passage, the main ans of transport between this dinsion and the rest of Integrated Earth, was anchored.

Weave was an interesting place. The more Shiv studied its layout, the more the buildings seed like large insects caught in a web. There were many, many people moving between places, across bridges, and massive nets served as a safety asure in case soone fell.

To his increasing surprise, he noticed a few other things. There was a higher concentration of Umbrals than Weaveresses, and there were also far more of the smaller, male weavers than Weaveresses. He'd barely seen any of those in the Symposium Principality, so he was rather surprised at that. When he asked Uva why that was, she explained that weavers were mostly relegated to the lower-importance jobs in the city and held lower social standings. As for the forr point; it took a long ti for the spiderfolk to reproduce—requiring a gestation period within a final host body after they’d finished being feral larvae, otherwise they would be born feral. It had resulted in a demographic problem: not enough people were dying anymore. With the city’s advancents and more people reaching Adept Tier for Physicality early in life, deaths by natural causes or disease had flattened substantially.

Shiv could see why that was a problem, so he started to speak, then stopped himself.

“Yes, it’s about how it sounds,” Uva said. “The Composer did not choose her form exactly. She has always been honest about this. However, she is not a cruel goddess, and she does not want to force the breeding on anyone.”

Uva fell silent. “Thus, we have a demographic issue. Projections show far more feral weavers in the next few years, and not that many Weaveresses or non-feral weavers.”

“What about feral Weaveresses?” Shiv asked.

“If you beco feral, you don’t beco a Weaveress. Their biology doesn’t express itself that way.”

They landed in Culture Valley a short while later, and Shiv found himself walking down a thoroughfare filled with musicians, hawkers, advertisers, swindlers, people peddling wares, and more. Once again, every day down here felt like the Festival of the Eclipse back on Blackedge. But to the people, it seed like they were going about their everyday lives.

“So much noise,” Shiv said. He managed to keep his hands from shaking this ti, but then he noticed sothing about Adam. The Young Lord was practically flinching every few seconds—his Awareness, Shiv realized. This must be hell on him.

“You all right?” Shiv asked Adam.

The Young Lord clenched his teeth. “I’ve been to the capital. I’ve endured that. I can endure this.”

Despite his words, Shiv’s Psychomancy picked up an imprint of strain, stress, and also strength. Adam Arrow could be sour, could be an, could be a grudge-bearer, but Adam Arrow was a Pathbearer, and he had pride in himself—a positive pride in being noble and decent.

More than I can say for a lot of people, Shiv thought.