“Ashvorn!” he directed inwards mid-step, “The affinity has to be running wild by now. Decay every overgrown piece of it you can, destroy as much of it as possible without cutting her connection. Containment is the goal.”
He felt Ashvorn’s hesitation and fear bubble up, but he provided it no time to respond, moving on to Clever.
“Clever, you know your capabilities best. If you think you can help pry some Crimson Rain away using [Incinerate], do it. If not… let’s leave it as a last resort. Soul damage is better than absolute destruction.”
He received a firm agreement.
“Fendrascora, if things go sideways… get my family and Clever out. You’re the quickest. I don’t know how long it’ll take for the pact to kill Perumah,” even considering the option put a lump in his throat, but realistic solutions had to be presented. “If she goes insane, I will hold her off; take Clever and my family, then run. If I die permanently… return for Ashvorn. Ashvorn, hide until help arrives if I do.”
There was little else he could do for the small System. He knew it was working on a way to separate itself from him, but he didn’t know how far along that’d come.
He felt revulsion from all parties, a desire to argue, but there was no more time.
Perumah’s face- the reflection of Zyz’Ti- peeled away to reveal a mixed twist of flesh and roots below, but whatever she attempted did little for the cause of the corruption, as flesh bubbled up in real time, creating a second one beneath as though the first were only a mast.
He put his hands on her shoulders, and time nearly froze as he overclocked his mind with [Vigilance], an ache on his soul telling him of the imposed time limit.
He used Connection and felt his awareness spread, her soul becoming an extension of his, revealing an internal struggle. The gyroscope linking her with the affinities moved through her soul, something he didn’t know was possible, flashing from one place to another; behind it, a bloody cloud of mist slowly expanded and chased, tinting the pieces of Perumah with itself, doing everything it could to corner and, presumably, consume the gyroscope.
Every memory it came into contact with was changed, becoming an anchor similar to how spells were anchored in memories, as though it were forming hundreds or thousands of spells along Perumah’s soul.
On top of all of this, Dei heard an outsider, an incessant babbler.
Okrin.
Somewhere off, deeper within her soul, he just… talked.
“Harmony and Synchronicity, two terms that are heard often, but what is the difference between them? To achieve a Harmonious victim is easy- it is to impose yourself, to ensure the other party falls into line. Synchronicity, on the other hand, is a deft, expert hand.”
Somehow, some way, he was speaking at the speed of Dei’s thinking… except not. Dei heard the words, knew them, but Okrin did not even try to manipulate mana. It was like the world bent to make his words heard.
A piece of himself fragmented off to listen, just in case it was important, but the majority was spent looking into Perumah.
Following the path Crimson Rain cut through her soul, he found a gaping wound deep below- the place connecting directly with the source of Crimson Rain; everything outside of that particular connection was disposable. As long as she held a link to Crimson Rain, she could reform any real spells she’d made with it, because there was no way for him to differentiate between the infected memories and the real ones on the time-frame he had.
The bond he shared, the one giving him a line to Perumah’s true self, directed him towards her, where the majority of her mind was manifested- directly in front of the gaping wound that was the source of Crimson Rain.
He felt emotions, she was in there, but there was so much missing, taken by the Crimson Rain. The pieces that were left were… insubstantial, less real. Without the bond, he would’ve assumed this was the mirror, and Crimson Rain was the original.
It already held more Right to her soul than Perumah herself.
The words echoing from her rang hollow and desperate.
“Without strength, how can I protect? Without power, what right do I have to exist? Without strength, do I deserve to live? Without power…”
A self-deprecating mantra, and one that was imposed upon her like a shackle. This was not what Perumah believed, but something wormed its way within her to puppet her Identity, to force her to say these things about herself, and there was truly only one culprit.
He found the path Crimson Rain had sliced through Perumah, and approached its base. Reaching out, he sharpened his will into a scalpel, forcing it forward with intent to remove the spreading disease from its source of power and… nothing responded.
Panic would do him no good, so he assessed the problem, quickly realizing the issue. This wasn’t his soul, this wasn’t his right to manipulate anything.
Perumah would welcome his intrusion, so her soul did not reject him, but this was more than a soul-surgery he was attempting- he was trying to alter her affinity, to rewrite her on a genetic level, not just remove a tumor.
Her soul stopped him, as even trying such a thing would lead to… cascading issues. Death, at best.
The little piece of himself delivered Okrin’s voice with an urgency that drew the eye.
“To Synchronize allows for a much deeper change, a true alteration, and it is here where one steps into the realm of divinity. Harmony builds the house, Synchronize is a foundation. But how does one achieve Synchronicity? Harmony is to cast a spell on another and change their body to your intent, Synchronicity is to have their body cast a spell on itself, and in order to achieve this, one must follow the rule of socialization: Appeal to them in a way they understand. When speaking to others, many supposedly empathetic people treat everyone the same way: how they would treat themselves, but this is flawed. Every need is different, every desire must be accounted for. Extroverts should become quieter around introverts if they wish to be respectful, for example. Synchronicity follows the same law: Attach yourself to the soul, then reason out why it should do what you say. Appeal to its instinctual reasoning, and you may find a person’s soul rebelling against themselves.”
His eyes widened in understanding.
‘Shape… Shape! He’s talking about the Titan Fragment Shape! Or, in Leviathan terms, Alter!’
It was too on-topic to be coincidence. Okrin was delivering a lecture to him on how to save Perumah.
Okrin went on, and Dei was infinitely grateful of his accelerated thought speed, even if he was moving so quickly Ashvorn still didn’t have the time to help tear through the affinity, he listened intently to the words of the First Titan.
“The first step to achieving Synchronicity is understanding. Who is your enemy? What drives them? Picture yourself as them, from the very start. Not just in their shoes, picture what it is like to be born as them, to grow up as them, to live them. This is why I encourage all of you to become unpredictable, as in today's day and age, to be predictable is to be dead.”
Dei- no, the Flesh Trap focused herself.
She wasn’t born, but her existence sprang up between the roots of many others, utterly unthinking. She moved in tandem with the others, puncturing the ones that stepped on them, drinking of the spilled blood. The hive leveled together, the hive lived as one, they were one. Some disappeared from the hive, taken or eaten by bigger predators, but she remained. She ate the memories of those she could, gaining an image of the world and subtly diverging from the others as she was fed unique memories.
Dei felt Perumah’s soul respond slightly, and he had to admit that Synchronicity was a perfect word for it. He had changed nothing, but his thoughts caused her to reminisce of her past. It took a trip down memory lane, and he did not stop his thoughts, observing in real time, getting more into character.
One day, it was her turn to be separated, pulled away from the hive. She felt… nothing from this. She did not care.
Not until she was fed a stream of… thought. Soul mana, she now knew. The mana made her contemplate herself, question her existence, and that was where the issues first began.
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She was made aware of her own mortality, and brought upon a journey. She did not know fear, but survival instinct, and she felt that the slumber she’d resided in before was a dangerous indifference. She hungered to be. To see. To fight.
Something far away resonated slowly upon her journey, something that understood her, something she wanted to be-
‘Wait, that’s not right?’ Dei thought, ‘Perumah never wanted to be Crimson Rain, she just wanted to be stronger and to drink more blood. She was just… greedy. There was no emotional ambition by this point.’
He thought he felt Okrin smirk, but reviewing his memories, he saw that he simply imagined. The man continued talking.
“Depending on the spell one wishes to administer is the memory one must stop at. To provide a boon, end the mental journey on a positive memory; to curse an enemy, do so at a negative one. In either case, if emotional understanding is achieved, subtly begin to diverge from their personality, but never stray too far! Reason with them. Why would they have done this, if they had? In a time of grief during their life, imagine that they fell into despair and killed themself- this is the source of my powerful weakening curses I am so famous for. It must stay reasonable, and vivid enough that the opposing soul will potentially recognize it as its own. Once this is established, invoke your Source, whatever it may be, and deliver the constructed version to them in a beneficiary manner, such as giving them copious energy with which to replenish their own supply. Using whichever energy source you have, provide enough resources for the soul itself to make your idea real. And this is where many make grave mistakes, as if your visualization is not good enough, the mana will go haywire. Will a curse strengthen the enemy? Or a boon slay a close ally? A proper Synchronicity may take weeks or months of intelligence gathering and visualization to properly take form.”
Dei didn’t have time, but he had power. Whenever Okrin’s original lecture had taken place, it was likely before the System and the current model of magic.
His perception spread to the surrounding memory, to Crimson Rain’s corruption. Perumah didn’t know who she was… but he did, and there was no room for shortcuts.
Within his mind, Overmind constructed an illusory, imaginary space. A copy of Perumah’s soul, starting from what he’d seen so far, and ending at Crimson Rain’s corruption.
The effort almost shattered him.
His body carried the weight of an impossibly dense Skill, the core of his soul squeezing enough energy out of him to maintain two. It was not enough to simply lift Perumah with his hands, it felt like lifting her entire existence: every moment of her life, every emotion, sensation, revelation; a world- No, an entire universe fell upon him. This was no automatic, self-sustaining bubble in his soul; this was a space where he knew everything, every capillary, every cell, every molecule of dust, a creation of true omnipotence centered within his mind.
Perumah’s soul awakened, beating to his rhythm, their shared rhythm. He felt his perception of time return to normal, his body unable to maintain both the accelerated thought speed and the copy of Perumah within himself.
He took it a step further. Perumah was compromised by Zyz’Ti, he could not draw inspiration from her soul and simply copy it, he had to predict what she would say, what she would do.
Perumah, through him, spoke back to herself, the reflection he’d created providing guidance.
‘I do not wish to take another persona as my own. I will grow into myself. Zyz’Ti is not my end-goal, not who I want to be. Zyz’Ti is a stepping stone.’
Perumah’s soul paused, assessing the thoughts… and accepting them.
The tangle of roots, Perumah’s Identity frozen next to the opening to Crimson Rain, paused; the voice emanating from her ceased. Her eyes gained a light, and she looked up at Dei, a swirl of understanding and respect, of trust.
Her body became blurred at the edges, her change from monster to Sapient finally touching the core of her identity, but not solidifying her.
She looked past him, over his shoulder, and at the burst of Crimson Rain that continued to corrupt her even now.
A blade appeared in her hand. “Protect me.” Nothing more needed to be said.
She ran up the tail of Crimson Rain, and the cloud paused its path slicing through her. Dei followed behind, his influence twirling around her like a gust of wind, flinging off the infection, cutting Zyz’Ti off from her source of power.
The monster within Perumah finally broke off its chase of the gyroscope, turning around and charging back towards them.
Zyz’Ti’s tendrils of mist locked from one memory to the next, building her forward momentum as she slingshot from each, her fine movements giving way to a bestial sprint, her claws kicking off the ground.
Perumah’s form came undone, her tangle of roots spreading to match Zyz’Ti in size, thorns and blades decorating her body.
They clashed, and the soul shook.
In the real world, enough time had passed that Dei’s forward momentum carried him into Perumah as he effectively tackled her. Zyz’Ti took control over the body for a moment, Perumah’s mouth opening and lunging forwards to take a chunk from his neck.
His forearm came up to block her, and anglerfish teeth bit deeply into him, cleaving through bone.
He felt his arm empty, the skin shriveling as Zyz’Ti pulled his ectoplasmic blood into herself, absorbing parts of his soul… and his meaning.
His Personal affinity, the parts that were permanently within him, the scattered fragments? Pieces flaked off, joining the memories and making their way into Perumah’s soul, integrating with her.
The battle between Perumah and Zyz’Ti raged, both taking chunks out of the other while Dei did all that he could to fight off Zyz’Ti’s influence on Perumah's mind- when the scattered bits of his meaning hit both of them.
This was no mana, this was a real message, straight from the source.
Perumah from below, from the core of her body, slammed into Zyz’Ti. Dei from above, an outside force, exerting his influence crushed down from above.
Zyz’Ti caught between.
His Warforged affinity ground away at her, an imperfection. Zyz’Ti was not Crimson Rain, she was a contaminant.
Perumah became something more humanoid briefly to grab Zyz’Ti, throwing her down towards the gaping wound she’d come. Zyz’Ti shattered the memories and sensations on her way, breaking through each, but Dei was there beside Perumah, communing with her soul and healing the damage to itself as he predicted what was broken, piecing it back together in moments.
Perumah jumped from one memory to the next, layer by layer, Dei flowing beside her as both of them ducked and dodged beams of blood and teeth.
A resonance formed between the two as Dei’s affinity tethered and empowered them. Zyz’Ti, back in the physical body, released the jaw from Dei’s arm, pulling away as the petals on Perumah’s back slammed into his side to knock him away, but he grabbed her arm and dragged her with him in a tangle.
Perumah’s body twisted atop him, sharpened nails going for his throat. Dei caught her hand, and Ashvorn finally leapt into action, dark wires pushing through his skin and into Perumah’s, digging into her.
In Perumah’s soul, he saw Ashvorn appear directly behind crimson rain, a yawning void of sharklike teeth diving below the bloody waters and tearing out gouges of the swarm, the power breaking and decaying within Ashvorn’s stomach- but the roiling power was too much to contain.
[Crimson Rain unable to be annihilated fully, only decayed to its basic components. Excess power is toxic and untransferrable. Exhaust required to vent energy. Only compatible source: Dei Grrata]
He felt the last part said with reluctance. He wasn’t getting the full image and knew that Ashvorn was summarizing for the sake of the battle, but if the System was going to take bites from Zyz’Ti, it would need to push the byproduct into Dei. It was a risk… but it would raise Perumah’s chance of survival.
“Do it,” he mentally demanded, and a boiled, sterile version of the aspects of Crimson Rain flowed into him.
His own gyroscope started to move, starling him. It did not consume the energy Ashvorn pushed into him, but guide it- towards his Potential node, and the source of his Personal affinity.
Something was changing within him, but he had no time to stop and assess. Pulling Perumah’s body towards him by their conjoined hands, he grabbed her head with his left and slammed it into the stone, cracking it and holding her in place, throwing himself over and straddling her. Dei lifted the arm linked with her to his mouth, rending his wrist and cutting his artery, causing a spray of blood to coat his face.
With all his strength, he pushed his bleeding wrist down to Perumah’s face, concentrating on feeding the fragments of affinity to her.
Zyz’Ti tried to spit the blood out, but Perumah fought against her control, gulping down the precious lifeforce.
Zyz’Ti, was beset on all sides, and Dei felt his affinity twisting around her, compressing her. She screamed in outrage and pain, but the combined efforts were too much. Dei and Perumah worked in perfect tandem.
Perumah darted in and out, cutting and consuming Zyz’Ti at the edges, while Dei hit with the force of a falling mountain. When Zyz’Ti nearly caged him, Perumah cut the bars. When Perumah was cornered with no more moves towards escape, he would flip the board, breaking the fingers Zyz’Ti held in the memories to anchor herself.
Ashvorn was a wildcard, waiting for Zyz’Ti to be beat down and cleaving off pieces at her lowest, splitting Zyz’Ti’s attention as the ancient monster tried and tried to remove the System from the fight, but always came up grabbing smoke.
Through it all, the fragments of Dei’s soul that Perumah had absorbed worked to turn the tables on Zyz’Ti’s corruption, infecting her from within, forcing Zyz’Ti to be rejected by her own affinity.
The final death-knell to ring out were the changes the Crimson Rain was having on Dei’s own affinity, empowering it beyond anything natural, into an artificial Celestial Parasite, something more powerful than it had any right to be.
No matter how they broke her, though, Zyz’Ti always regenerated, always came back. In order to truly finish the battle, they would need another unending power to keep her at bay in their stead, or perhaps… thirteen.
The original plan held true. The Virtues and Vices responded.
Casting the last of Zyz’Ti back into the bleeding wound, Perumah’s gyroscope appeared before them, expanding to hundreds of times its size before positioning the source of Crimson Rain within the center of itself.
Zyz’Ti lunged forwards, but the weight of thirteen pieces, seven Vices and six Virtues, bore down. The Warforged concepts within her provided a handle for the Sapience affinities to grab, a flaw in her defense.
She cried in pain as the affinities broke her apart, tearing her limb from limb while dragging her across the grating edges of her cage, the spinning gyroscope cleaving off every piece of her.
With a final scream of outrage, Zyz’Ti’s Identity was fractured beyond collection, and she fell silent. The affinities kept hold of Dei’s affinity now harvested from the Celestial Parasite, situating it within themselves and next to the opening; a permanent fixture, a gate guardian ready to kill should Zyz’Ti ever return.
The thrashing of Perumah’s body finally ceased, and Dei removed his wrist from her mouth, letting the bite heal.
Ashvorn rescinded, and Dei collapsed down onto Perumah, his soul aching from everything he’d done to save her.
‘Worth it,’ he thought, and blacked out.
