Chapter 260 (interval): Lessons (1/2)

Asano was dead but that did not have to be the end. The astral space had no god of death to guide the soul into the astral; it would have to slowly drift into the Reaper’s grasp on its own. That gave the Builder a window to act.

As it considered this, Asano’s combat robe vanished. A glow lit up from within his body, which started radiating heat. The Builder felt the surge of a familiar power and was filled with a fury that no mortal, even one as frustrating as Asano, could engender.

“World-Phoenix.”

The Builder abandoned its vessel which fell to the ground, an abandoned puppet.

On another world, a diamond ranker stood in the throne room of an imperial palace. His name was Shako and he had pale, freckled skin, wild red hair and eyes so brightly green they almost seemed to glow. Those eyes glared down at his descendants, the imperial family sprawled on the floor in supplication. There was no sign of the arrogance that had forged an empire planet-spanning empire.

The elaborate throne of gold and ivory was empty. The emperor was on his hands knees with the rest of the family, at the feet of their ancestor. Outside, the fires of rebellion were burning the imperial city to the ground.

“Ancestor,” the emperor begged, not daring to raise his eyes from the floor. “Please reawaken the guardian golems, we beg you.”

Shako had not needed to draw breath for centuries, yet he did so in order to sigh at the people arrayed before him.

“When I bestowed the golems on your ancestors, you were warned,” Shako said. “Their purpose was to protect the dynasty, not as a tool of conquest. If used as such, then their power would be spent in the hour of greatest need. They were a gift from Builder, for assisting him in claiming the astral spaces of this world. But this gift was a shield, not a sword.”

“We were foolish,” the emperor beseeched. “Please, reawaken the golems and we will only use them as you have proscribed in the future. We have learned our lesson!”

“If I did so,” Shako said, “then the lesson you learn will be that you can ignore the correct path because I will step forward to correct your mistakes. Your lesson is to be found with the armies outside. It will come at the hands of a world full of essence users you oppressed with the power you were given.”

“Ancestor, I do not think that any of us will survive this lesson. Our diamond-rankers have abandoned us or even turned against us. Our enemies have put up a barrier that we cannot portal out of and only the relics you left behind have allowed us to hold out this long. If you cannot save our empire, then at least save our lives. Only your might can take us away from this place to safety.”

“When I was a boy,” Shako said, “our family were not kings but farmers. We understood that the seed you plant is the crop you harvest. You have sown the seeds of discord, fury and retribution. Now the harvest has come, the yield is heavy, and there is no one to blame but yourselves.”

“Ancestor,” the emperor said, finally looking up. “Will you truly let your bloodline die?”

Shako laughed coldly.

“Is that what you were relying on? That I would not let my bloodline expire? You are not my only descendants in on this world. You are merely the ones that sought to leverage our connection to aggrandise yourselves instead of accomplishing anything on your own. My blood flows all across this world, in families that have heeded my lessons and treasured my gifts, instead of squandering them in pursuit of decadence and unearned glory. Many of them are even outside, leading the charge. They do not know that their revered ancestor is the same one their oppressors have used to justify their tyranny.”

Shako spat on the floor in front of the emperor.

“You have disgraced me. Used me as a banner under which you performed atrocity after atrocity. You beg me to act but I assure you, you would have nothing but regret if I did. It would not be to save you but to scourge you, in ways even the armies baying for your blood would balk at.”

Shako’s gaze turned to the empress. Through her aura he sensed her steeling herself and she rose to her feet, raising her eyes with determination.

“Ancestor,” she pleaded. “At least take the children. They are not to blame for the sins we have committed and are still young enough to learn better. Let the rest of us die, if you must, but do not make them pay the price for the transgressions of their forebears.”

“Wife,” the emperor snarled, looking up at the empress.

“No,” she shot back. “There is no saving us, husband. Do not be blind now, at least. At the end.”

The emperor opened his mouth to speak but did not as Shako’s aura fell on him like a boulder. Shako stepped up to the empress, who matched his gaze, even as her aura wavered fearfully.

“That figures,” Shako said. “The only person to show moral responsibility is the one that married into the family. It seems that the ability to grow a spine has been weeded out of my bloodline. Very well, Empress. I will take the children, and you. It is time this family learned the lessons of being farmers once more, so farmers you shall be. Of course, there is nowhere in this world that your name is not hated. You will have to hide it, lest anyone learn whose blood you are, for they will surely spill it. You will have enough to get by, and no more. There will be those who can teach you the ways of the land. I will visit in a few generations and see how you have done.”

Shako waved his hand and the empress vanished, along with the children gathered in the back.

“Ancestor…” the emperor managed to choke out. Shako ignored him, tilting his head as if listening to something.

“I have duties,” Shako said. “You have woven your own fates and I shall intervene no more. Thank you for reminding me of the other relics I left behind, Emperor. I shall take them with me.”

Shako vanished, the hope of his descendants vanishing with him.

Physical realities existing within the astral came in vastly differing sizes. At one end of the scale were sprawling universes that spanned hundreds of billions of galaxies, existing for so long that they were, by most practical measures, eternal. At the other end were small, astral proto-spaces, flickering into being only to disappear again just hours later.

Size was largely a good determinate of how long a physical reality would last. There was, however, a physical reality that was barely the size of a small sun, yet had been in existence longer than most universes. This reality was a single, flat plane. It had no sun and no stars, containing only one thing: the city world of Interstice.

Interstice was, as far as anyone with the power to check was aware, both the oldest and largest metropolis in existence. Oceans had interlinked, artificial islands with magical batteries charged by the great waves. Mountains were hollowed out, volcanos turned into foundry cities. Intelligent species of every stripe could be found, in jungles dotted with grand ziggurats, connected by magical skyways passing over the trees. Underwater cities connected by glass tunnels, with magical subways running not just on the floor but on the walls and ceilings of the tunnels as well.

There was no sun, yet there were days. No moon, yet there were tides. Climate affected not just weather but gravity. It was a realm of impossibilities that some called the capital city of the cosmos.

There were administrators in Interstice, but no rulers. When the great astral beings had business in a physical reality, this was the physical reality they used. In the face of that, who would be so bold as to claim to be anything but a caretaker? It was a place where the most powerful mortals in existence vied for the chance to be servants.

One of the many city-regions of Interstice was the island Glim. An artificial island, it defied the equatorial heat of its location to be made almost entirely of ice. The ground and buildings were all crafted from ice stained in rainbow colours, extending high above and deep below the surface of the water. The magical ice did not chill the bones and did not melt. The only cold it radiated was just enough to cool the tropical heat to a pleasant warmth.

Shako arrived via dimensional teleportation in the submarine bowels of the city, deep below the surface. He appeared in one of several portal squares that existed for the purpose. The local authorities noted arrivals and made various checks before allowing them into the city proper.

Portalling into just any region of Interstice was frowned upon and magically obstructed. Shako was powerful enough to circumvent such measures but had no reason to do so. He flew into the air toward a shaft in the ceiling, stopping at the checkpoint building affixed to the ceiling.

As he was a resident, a diamond-ranker and a favoured servant of the Builder, the civil authorities did little more than note Shako’s arrival as he passed through the checkpoint. They delayed him no more than required to give a respectful welcome before he flew into the shaft and toward the surface. Emerging into open sky, Shako flew up and over the city. Glim’s buildings of colourful, shimmering ice were a kaleidoscope under the clear blue sky.

At the very heart of Glim, as was the case with many city-regions, were the districts claimed by the great astral beings. The great astral beings could no more visit Interstice than they could any other physical reality, with their servants and agents being the ones to occupy the space. Each astral being that wanted one had their own territory, with the districts forming a ring around a shared communal district in the middle.

The Builder’s district had the most varied and outlandish building designs as the Builder was not to be outdone on architecture. Shako had the finest residence in the Builder’s district, making it one of the most impressive, if least subtle homes in the entirety of Interstice.

Shako did not head for home, instead heading for the border where the communal district met the Reaper’s district. The Reaper’s territory was marked by buildings whose ice was shaped and shaded like dark glass to look like towers of delicately-carved obsidian.

He alighted on the ground at the border of the Reaper’s territory and went into a large, dark building. In the atrium, blue light shone through windows of ice, lighting up the dark, glassy walls. People moved out of his way as he moved to the man sitting behind a desk.

“Master Shako, sir,” the man greeted.

“The Builder wishes to speak,” Shako told him.

“The Reaper has anticipated this, Master Shako. Master Velius is waiting in the dome chamber.”

Shako raised an eyebrow, but did not enquire further.

“Thank you,” he said, and rose up into the air.

There were elevating platforms but Shako flew directly up and into a shaft in the high ceiling. There were magical barriers between each floor of the building but they vanished to admit Shako as he ascended all the way to the top. The shaft opened into a room that took up the entire top floor of the building, covering a dome of glassy ice. It was a pleasant lounge area with rich but understated décor. More used to the Builder’s indulgent opulence than the Reaper’s preference minimalism, Shako found it rather plain. A man got out of a chair to greet him, offering him a friendly smile and a hand to shake.

“Velius,” Shako greeted warmly. “It’s been too long.”

“It has,” Velius agreed. He was a tall celestine, with dark skin and a bushy mound of curly, silver hair that matched his eyes. “You’ve been back to your home, right? Are your family still ruling that world you’re from?”

“For the moment,” Shako said. “And I do mean moment. There’s a horde at the gate situation.”

“Ah. They took something you gave them and got carried away?” Velius asked.

“Exactly.”

Velius nodded sympathetically as he waved Shako into a comfortable lounge chair before sitting back down himself.

“I had similar problems,” he said. “It’s almost a rite of passage for diamond-rankers. Did you decide to help them out or leave them to their fate.”

“They needed a lesson they were not going to get from me.”

“Very wise,” Velius said. “I made the mistake of getting my descendents out of trouble again and again. That just made them worse and worse every time, until I just had to wash my hands of them entirely. I check on them every century or so, now, to see if any of them are still around. They were purged pretty thoroughly once I withdrew my protection.”

“I decided to protect the children,” Shako said. “Take them away, get a fresh start. Humble beginnings.”

“That’s a good idea,” Velius said. “You know, we should write a book. A guide to the newly diamond-rank. A lot of them have never even left their own worlds before. I was like that and could have really used the advice. We could get together with some of the others, make a list of all the things we did wrong.”

“Not a bad idea,” Shako said. “I know a couple of…”

He broke off mid-sentence.

“It’s time,” he said. Velius nodded and both their auras underwent a change as their respective great astral beings inhabited them.

“I know why you’ve come,” the Reaper said through Velius. The rich, warm tone of Velius’ voice became cold and bleak as it spoke the Reaper’s words. “The answer is no.”

“Asano is dead. He should stay dead.”

Shako’s voice was heavy but clipped as the Builder spoke through him.

“I agree,” the Reaper said, “but he carried the World-Phoenix’s token. Those pacts are older than you and I will not violate them for your childish indulgence.”

“I am not a child,” the Builder said.

“Are you not?” the Reaper asked. “You play around in mortal affairs like a child with toys. You have not been mortal for so very long, now. The rest of us grow tired of waiting for you to realise that and act with decorum appropriate to your station.”

“What is the point of being what we are if we allow ourselves to be bound by petty rules?”

“We are the rules,” the Reaper said. “To deny them is to deny ourselves.”