Path of the Deathless

376 Education [I]

—Udraal Thann376

Education [I]

Human biology was unfathomably complicated. There were so many different chemicals, cells, organs, systems, and structures playing off of each other that simply taking one out would cause a cascading series of collapses that would see the body greet its inevitable demise. And though the collapse shared a similar destination in the embrace of oblivion, the symptoms and ailments leading up to that point could dramatically differ with the slightest alteration of a compound, the slightest addition of a new virus, drug, or spell.

This was why Vicar Sullain's Plague was a wonder of magic. It combined different lores to solve all pathways at once. Yet its attacks were strategic and adaptive. Whenever someone tried to treat a specific symptom, like the congestion of a heart, the plague would shift its resources, diverting mana and allowing the Biomancer to clear the arterial clogs while the victim developed rapid-onset pneumonia. Should the Biomancer try to fix the pneumonia, they would likely miss a sudden spread of blood cancers that quickly spread through the body. Then, if the Biomancer defending was truly skilled, the virus would get very clever, for it would cause the patient's mind to atrophy at an accelerated rate, triggering rapid, erosive dementia while a horrific fever flared across the rest of the body as a distraction.

These were but a few strategies the plague could apply to keep itself in function. Yet it seemed to want to progress slowly to cause as much suffering as possible. That was no surprise, as it was an attritional plague, designed to sap Roland Arrow's resources and attention, and drain the morale of Blackedge at the same time.

“And with countless biological pathways to exploit, its options for attrition are infinite,” Ekkihurst said, gesturing at the simulation he made from animated mana. The Biomancy he used to reconstruct Isabella's body was detailed and layered to the extreme.

On the outer level, her form was rendered as a 3D shell with the skin stripped free, exposing the muscle beneath, followed by the blood vessels, then the organs, and more. At any moment, the simulation would respond to the Sculptor's command, allowing everyone to zoom in on specific parts such as compromised cells and detected abnormalities. It also worked in real time as Shiv's Atlas of the Flesh Scryer. What made Ekkihurst different, though, was that he created this rendering of Isabella's body himself instead of having a skill provide the benefit for him—and even added some additional functions on top to enhance Shiv’s viewership experience.

What didn't help Shiv's viewership experience, however, was Helix. He had his arms folded through the entire affair, hemming and hawing, rolling his eyes at obvious statements, and pretending not to be surprised when Ekkihurst arrived at conclusions he'd completely missed. At several points, he leaned down to loudly whisper in Shiv's ear: “This is a truly pathetic display. He is trying to convince himself of the problem more than us. It’s sad.”

“I think he's just explaining things to me, Helix,” Shiv answered without bothering with subtlety. “Because I understand less than nothing about this plague.”

“And that is good!” Ekkihurst cheered. “Being aware of your own ignorance is a virtue. It is what allows you to seek the right education to resolve what you do not know. Right now, there are a great many things we do not know, and I do mean .” He walked forward and reached up, placing a hand atop both Shiv and Helix' shoulders. Shiv was worried the vampire was about to inseminate him with some manner of sneaky cancer. Uva, Roland, and the Umbral guards were clearly worried about the same thing as they slithered ever closer, motioning for him to stay back.

Meanwhile, Helix' nostrils flared with such indignation that his skin nearly slipped off the bone.

“Though I might know a little more about biology than you two—” Shiv intercepted Helix’ left arm before he could use it to strangle Ekkihurst mid-sentence, “—what is the difference between a sliver and a speck? For that is how much of the body we understand. That is how far we are from the truly novel. But despite the state of our foolishness, I am confident we can save this girl's life and give the others more time so that experts of other fields might arrive to alleviate their mind and souls. Now, after everything I have displayed, can either of you guess what must be done to save this poor child?”

Shiv cocked his head as he examined the mana simulation of Isabella's biology again. “You said you were going to put a virus inside her, right? Some kind of plague of our own? Are we going to fight a plague with a plague by using the body to balance itself? Since there are almost infinite pathways the current plague can use to cause a body to die, doesn't that mean that we can steal those pathways from under them in advance and force them to go somewhere else? Or burn those pathways out in a battle of magical attrition? Can't see the current plague winning against us since Sullain’s gone and there’s no source for it to draw from anymore.”

Ekkihurst laughed joyously. “Quite ingenious and creative. I like it, and perhaps I would have thought of that if I were a novice of the art as well. But you must understand a few things. The first is that since we are trying to protect the body and keep it alive, our task is far harder than the existing plague’s. As it is born of multiple lores and I do not possess Omnimancy, I cannot predict what it might do or how it might strike at the body. However, I do know this: the plague has a capacity to think on its own. Even without the Vicar, there must be a reason for that. Think carefully, Deathless. The facts are right in front of you. Once you eliminate the impossible, you will find your answer.”

“This is absurd, vampire,” Helix hissed. “And the answer is obvious. Naturally, Sullain has tapped into the brains of the victims—is using them as some sort of processing center to help the plague plan against its own body.”

Ekkihurst frowned in disapproval. “Now, now, Hero Helix, that is very rude. If you steal another's opportunity to learn, they will never get to flower.”

“Wait, that was the answer? The plague's actually tapping into their brains and using the intelligence of the sick to function?” The very idea horrified Shiv. It also impressed him. Sullain was a real piece of shit, but it was increasingly impossible to deny how magnificent a mage he was. “I didn't even know you could do that.”

“Most do not, for they must have a very advanced understanding of the mind, and usually only people who have Biomancy and Psychomancy Skill Fusions achieve this specific mastery of the neuro-cognitive components that make up a person.” Ekkihurst paused. “Though even now, everyone is still stymied by the hard question of consciousness.”

“What’s that?” Shiv asked.

Ekkihurst eyed Shiv. “You truly do not know?”

Helix, sensing the vampire’s judgment, leaped in to defend his student. “Of course not! Our Insul’s golden potential was made to languish from spite and degeneracy at the will of a most pitiful tyrant!”

These words caused Shiv to wince. Ever so slowly, he chanced a look at Roland standing outside the room, and the Town Lord wore a tight expression of weariness. “I suppose I deserved that,” he muttered.

“I understand that your life circumstances were different, but just how much of an education were you deprived of, Deathless?” Ekkihurst asked.

“I can read and do basic math just fine,” Shiv said. “Know stuff about monsters.” But upon further review, that wasn’t true either. “Well, I know a lot of bullshit propaganda about monsters. I do know a lot of non-propaganda about set items, certain wines, and cooking, though.”

“…Cooking.” Ekkihurst pronounced the word like he'd never heard it in his centuries of life. “You are versed in the culinary arts but lack any foundational knowledge of the general lores and ancient sciences?”

“I’m trying to make up for that right now,” Shiv muttered, crossing his arms. “I have one of my bodies at Phoenix Academy, doing some reading. I’m using my Multitasking Skill too.”

Legion of Self 155 > 158

Ekkihurst responded with muted acceptance. “This is lamentable, but not altogether tragic. Ignorance of this depth is not ideal, but it means you have not learned the wrong lessons yet and are not contaminated by inaccurate knowledge. Yes, this can be a positive thing for all of us—a true learning experience.”

“I was already underway with remedying his lack of knowledge,” Helix noted snidely.

“That is good! How noble of you! Now we can pool our wisdom to make sure this fledgling Biomancer flowers into a proper practitioner of the art!” Ekkihurst’s cheer rose inversely to the sourness within Helix, and he gesticulated at his simulation again. “Now. The mind will be the place where we conduct this battle, for once we claim it with our virus, it cannot be occupied the same way by the Vicar’s infliction. However, the Vicar is clever—he must have anticipated that someone could circumvent even his prodigious Biomancy, so he had the virus twin-tethered to both the physical brain and the psionic construct mirroring it that is created through attuned mana. Hence, the following question: How do we resolve this?”

Shiv’s mind drew a blank. For all the guidance his intuition offered him when it came to socio-psychological encounters, information-logical processing was a domain he remained unpracticed. “Uh—”

“Do not rush nor wonder if you are mentally deficient,” Ekkihurst said, assuaging Shiv’s worries. “The more one doubts, the more one devotes their cognitive capacity to doubting. A single failure or lack of understanding does not make you a fool, but inexperienced. And genius comes in such a wide spectrum that it is little worth declaring someone to be a wonder when they are only capable of greatness in a few narrow things. Take time and think. How can the body circumvent the mind?”

Taken from NovelFire, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Helix almost interrupted, but he was cut off as Ekkihurst’s flesh trembled with undulating waves of biomass and mana. For a heartbeat, Shiv felt it: the sheer density of magic dormant within the elder vampire. His field had the depth of an ocean but the thickness of hardened cement, and short of a god, Ekkihurst easily possessed one of the highest mana concentrations for a single magical skill Shiv had ever seen in a person on Earth. “Do not interrupt, Hero Helix. I do not appreciate it, and I would not intervene if someone’s education is not at stake. I will see my skill damaged for the sake of this seedling's future. Will you bid the same?”

The Sculptor’s declaration took both Helix and Shiv by surprise. What doubled Shiv's astonishment was how Helix’ core filled with something new: grudging respect.

“For the art, I will refrain,” Helix replied curtly, moving a finger along the bridge of his nose to adjust his spectacles—only to remember they'd dissolved when Shiv was shouting in his face.

“Your dignity and allowance is much appreciated,” Ekkihurst acknowledged.

Silence followed as Shiv was allowed to think, but he felt lost and blind without any further hints. His gut offered him nothing, and intuition was how he operated. Conscious calculation and consideration felt anathema to the way he did things—and that was a flaw he needed to fix. His gut wouldn’t always save him.

But that led Shiv down a new track of thought:

the Harbinger interjected.

The Harbinger’s suggestion sounded ridiculous, but the more Shiv thought about it, the more it struck him as possible.

“Can we even grow a second brain?” Shiv thought out loud.

“Second brain?” Roland muttered.

But his confusion was drowned out by both Helix and Ekkihurst.

The former pumped his fist. “Yes! My teachings weren’t wasted!”

“A display of promise!” Ekkihurst breathed. “A full replacement is not necessary, but we can have the brain matter be cloned until it possesses a full replacement stack connected to our Biomancy. From there, we extract the brain tissue and connect it in a new and magically resistant host that will not let the Vicar’s existing magics affect things—a sort of central inoculation node. Preferably someone who possesses High Disease Resistance as well.”

And Shiv understood. “Oh, so you’re going to have all that brain tissue threaded through one of my bodies, huh?”

“Correct,” Ekkihurst said. “It will be good for your Disease Resistance levels as well, seeing how I can attune your body to not reject any transplants while the Vicar’s plague constantly wars with you—and even if it should kill you, that is only a single body lost, with the death for once a benefit rather than a deficiency.”

“Wait, right, you have Plaguefueled, don’t you?” Jessica shouted from outside the room. “If you had Plaguefueled, then why did I get covered in fucking shit? Shiv! You little fuck! You should have dealt with the Mana Leeches! They would have died if you just let them latch onto you! I wouldn’t have needed to felling chase each of the stringy shits down!”

“Huh, I didn’t know my Plaguefueled could do that,” Shiv lied. “Damn sorry, Jessica. I’ll be sure to throw myself at that massive cloud of shit and gross stuff next time to spare you the pain. Promise.”

The middle finger she stuck out past the rightmost doorframe indicated how much she believed him.

“A first resort is always proper sanitation and pest-killing spells,” Ekkihurst recommended. “I will show the Deathless how to cast—”

“No need,” Helix interrupted. “I can show him the finest way of reducing mana leeches.”

“We both can,” Ekkihurst said with a serene smile. “And he may decide which spell stands superior.”

One Biomancer fumed. The other just sighed with satisfaction.

“But first, let us resolve the matter of the disease circumvention—we will see this plague burned out in their bodies, and ensure their continued survival. As it festers deep in their souls and minds, we will not be able to purge it entirely, but with a donation of a body from the Deathless, I am certain that this can be a treatable condition, even if it is not curable.” Ekkihurst’s face began to swirl as if his flesh was liquid, but then it stilled like a pool post ripple, and he offered Shiv a proud expression. “Shall we begin?”

“It’s been a while since I got drunk,” Shiv replied, actually looking forward to this.

“What?” Ekkihurst said.

“Getting diseases and plagues makes me feel drunk and buzzed and all that.” Shiv paused. “Is that unusual?”

“As an effect of the Plaguefueled Skill? Extremely.” Ekkihurst frowned. “At least for pure humanoids. I suspect this has something to do with your abnormal heritage and Unique Path. Do tell me more…”

***

Atlas of the Flesh Scryer 136 > 140

“Holy shit, this feels g-good.” Shiv hiccuped. Rivers of absolute bliss drifted through his newest body. If it could even be called that anymore. Hundreds of ropes of calcium-coated brain tissue were corded to his body, forming nodules of secondary brain matter tethered to him. Ekkihurst and Helix then set these sub-brains to be the primary biological-regulation components for the bodies of the sick, while their primary brains screamed, withered, and turned cancerous as Sullain’s plague tried to transform in retaliation.

Shiv felt the Vicar’s magic lash and sting against his form as well, but his Magical Resistance was hardened by all the Shapeless Tides he'd been constantly amassing for the past few days—something he was always trying to do after the revelation offered to him by Produveral about how Void Leviathans used the skill. Now, he was stronger and more magically resilient than he had ever been before, and more than that, his Practicing Atheist feat also triggered against the sickness.

But the thought didn’t linger long, for another wave of sensual joy took him. His thoughts and emotions bobbed up and down on an ocean of happiness, and Shiv felt all the woes of the world depart him. “You know something, guys? I really enjoyed the past few days. Jessica—I’m sorry for not helping you fight the shit monster, but… You know, it was a shit monster, and I was kind of tired of all that, so I just let you do it. Sorry. Sorry. Roland… I’m trying not to think about punching you, but every time I try to forgive you, my Harbinger starts screaming because my brain can’t agree with my heart.”

And then, from out of nowhere, the sadness hit Shiv. He remembered Adam. He remembered Georges—real Georges. Still dead. New Georges, trapped in an eldritch cocoon, and damned to transform into whatever the fuck. “Oh, Broken Moon, what is my life? I could've been a cook in another… I think I would have been a good cook. Roland. I know you were scared, but… Think about it. Me as a cook. No harm in it. No Deathless. Just me making food for people. Good food. Maybe one or two fist-fights a week, but aside from that, always in the kitchen and all that. Just peace and good times and… Hm. Why are you shaking so much, Valor?”

The others stared down at him from all angles. They were all shaking back and forth like leaves in the wind, as if they were about to fall over. It was starting to make Shiv a bit nauseous.

“I am perfectly still, Shiv,” Valor answered.

Shiv shook his head. “Why are you lying to me, Valor? You’re going forward and back, forward and back, forward and—” Talking proved to be a mistake, as he nearly repainted his own chest with a jet of projectile vomit. A pulse of static mana teleported the spillage away—Shiv barely caught Rusty’s blurred form coming to a stop. “Shit… You’re still too fast for me, Jessica. Every time I think I might have a chance against you head-on, I look at your sword moving around, and wonder how I’ll catch up to that.”

“Well, not being drunk off of town-ruining plagues is a start,” she replied. “On that note, you’re a real freak, kid. I mean that in the best and worst ways possible. Jackie would have written chapters about you. Shit, we would have loved to have someone like you in the company.”

“I would like to be in a company,” Shiv said, coughing from a build-up of bile. “You guys know something? I used to think I was an antisocial loner, right? Like I didn’t need people and hated them. But that’s just bullshit. I actually really like people… I like talking to people. I like figuring people out. I like politics and all that. It was just… just Blackedge that was shit. I hated Blackedge. Hated it. Worst time of my life.” At this point in his rant, he looked at Roland, remembered who he was, and nearly threw up out of sheer embarrassment. “Oh, shit! I didn’t mean that.”

Roland’s expression was beyond uncomfortable. “You did, but I understand. And I’m sorry.”

“Naw, I’m sorry.” Shiv sniffled. “I mean, about some things, but not like everything. I’m still going to have to fight you, you know? I gotta punch you, Roland. Not because I want to kill you, but because I wanna know if I’m better—and to get some of that anger out.”

The Town Lord gave a weak laugh. “Is that all? I’ll let you punch me if—”

“No! You can’t let me. The pity—that’ll really piss me off.” Shiv growled. “I wanna fight you and win. Or lose. But I wanna win! That’s what I want. That’s what will feel real to me. Even when I really, really hated you, I also—don’t tell Roland I said this—but I thought he was cool. Oh, shit, wait…”

“Yes, it's me, Shiv.” Roland nodded, trying not to smirk now. “But do go on.”

Jessica shot him a withering glare and waved Rusty in Shiv's line of sight. “Shiv. You think I’m cool?”

He considered it. “Hm, yeah, I guess but—he killed me with like one arrow, and I didn’t even see it coming. He fought off an entire army for like a year while fighting Sullain—fucking, he’s a pretend not-Legend. You’re an open Legend. Really good with a sword, but… You know the worst thing about you, Jessica?”

“Yeah?” she asked, sounding uncertain if she actually wanted to find out.

“I still feel it,” Shiv choked. “What you did to my ass. When things get bad, I still feel you ripping through it. It hurt so bad I blacked out. You know what it takes to make me black out?”

Now, it was Roland that was glaring at Jessica. “You did to him?”

“Huh? Don’t give me that look, Arrow. It was the Upcreek Special. I’m not Longinus!”

Roland kept giving her the look.

“You’re both cool, but you’re really messed up, Jessica. I would be more mad at you if I didn’t feel so bad for you, and if I didn’t think… think you were like me.”

She froze. “Like you?”

“Yeah: Just dumb guys who like to hit shit at heart, you know?”

“What? That’s not what I’m like.”

Rusty grumbled, betraying her immediately.

“No, it’s fucking not!” she snapped.

“I’m sorry your husband and kid are still dead,” Shiv whispered. “Sorry. I haven't even resurrected Georges. Part of me feels like I lied to get you here.”

And suddenly, the atmosphere was awkward. But Shiv had a hard time noticing just how awkward.

“I feel bad for you too, Roland. I dunno what fucked-up shit the Starhawk made you do during the war or why or why you even listen to him, but Udraal is a fuck. And Adam. I loved Adam, and he keeps getting hurt, and neither of us c-can protect him.” Shiv tried not to cry—and promptly threw up again. Jessica teleported his vile essence once more, and he gave her a slurred compliment. “Man, my stomach feels really tingly.”

“Is that all?” Ekkihurst said from off by the side. “Remarkable! Even a dragon should be dead several times over from all the sickness you are processing. Your physiology and resilience are beyond monstrous. Ah, but the stomach is experiencing organ failure. You truly feel no pain?”

“Nope. Just really tipsy.” Shiv laughed, his regrets and woes suddenly forgotten.

“You’re more than tipsy; you’re on the verge of blacking out,” Jessica said. “I know that look.”

And at the back of the group, Shiv was vaguely aware that he had another body. Several other bodies, in fact. But his focus was scattered, so they only reacted really slowly and late too. Like it was, uh—

***

“Shiv.”

The man in question made a pig-like noise as he woke up again. “Uh? Aghuh?”

Valor looked down at him. “You fell asleep.”

“I did?”

“Yes. And then your heart stopped.”

“For a half-second!” Ekkihurst was cheering; Helix’ blood wings were aglow, but his jaw was agape the entire time. “But it started again,” the vampire continued. “And your body fails no more. I do say that the Vicar’s plague has been stalemated by a single body of yours alone! No need for a second! Stupendous! Wonderful! Incredible!”

“Yeah!” Shiv pumped both fists up. A bit too hard. A blast of displaced air caused all the spare furniture in the makeshift medical chamber to scatter and shatter against the ceiling. “Whoops, fagghhghhh—” And then he vomited hard enough to blast a hole through the ceiling—or would have if Jessica didn’t create a portal for him to empty his stomach into. “Guh. Fug. Thanks, Jessica.”

“Don’t mention it.” She cleared her throat. “Listen. Sculptor. Ekihorst.”

“Ah, Ekkihurst,” he corrected.

“That’s what I said. How long is he going to be like this?”

“Eh? Until we find someone to resolve the plague at its root. This body must remain—”

“No, the drunk as shit part,” Jessica interrupted.

“Oh. That. Give him a few hours, and I believe his levels will rise enough to stabilize. He might remain slightly addled, but he will not be so fully besotted.”

“Besotted…” Shiv giggled. “Funny word.”

“It truly is,” Ekkihurst agreed. “Oh, Tulveg—old, terrible, disappointing student of mine, you have atoned for all your past failures and poor Skill Evolutions in bringing me here! Even as a specimen alone, the Deathless is worth a world of mithril.”

And while Ekkihurst laughed and cheered while patting his grimacing student’s back, channeling incomprehensibly complex streams of crimson mana into Shiv even without looking, the Deathless turned to Helix, who was also casting his spells, and frowned.

“You know something, Helix? I regret taking you guys on.”

The orc went still mid-cast. “Insul?”

“I regret it. I regret what you did to Adam. I hate the Challenger for being a piece of shit. And I hate all of you… Because, despite everything you do, and what you are, you’re all likeable. I like a lot of you. But you just… always just keep doing everything you can to break my heart. Maybe because you can’t help it, but also because you like it. And I hate it. I wish you were a real person. I wish you all could be the same as you were, but not be orcs.”

Helix opened and closed his mouth several times, but he gave no response. His empathetic core grew thick with a heavy mist of existential confusion.

As Shiv wanted to say something to Valor, he ended up yawning and blinking again.

But before he could say anything, he lost track of time and—

***

Plaguefueled 82 > 128 (Skill Evolution Reached)

“Huh?” Shiv’s eyes snapped open at a start, and as he tried to rise, he nearly slammed his forehead into a face leaning over him.

A face belonging to Isabella Van Stormhalt.

Shiv barely stopped himself in time while the girl staggered back.

Shiv's mouth fell open as he saw her move. She still looked weak and pale, her brown hair missing in places, but she was on her feet, dressed in a medical gown, and in the room were others—others beside Roland, Valor, Tulveg, Ekkihurst, and…

He blinked. He felt supercharged. Stronger than ever before, but more than that, there was a buzzing about him; a deafening noise of—were those massive, bloated flies swirling about him? And why could he feel them? Why did he feel like part of his body?

“H-hello.” Shiv’s attention sank down as he found himself staring at Isabella. “Are you… Are you alright?” she asked, voice hoarse.

And one of the fist-sized flies tied to Shiv landed upon her shoulder, and Shiv felt her warmth—felt the thumping of her heart; and felt the purity of her body: a hollowness when it came to sickness and disease. The same thing went for the two dozen other victims who were massed in the room. He could feel them too—them, and Roland and all the others.

This place was clean. All of it was clean. All of it, except for him…

Skill Evolution: Plaguefueled (Master) > This Vessel of Pestilence and Panacea (Heroic)