"...You want to try that again, but without the awkward attempt to come off as profound?" Jade bursts my bubble mercilessly.

"Come on, you don't just ruin a man's moment like that," Jupiter gripes, "You're seriously no fun."

"I'm plenty fun, I just don't have time for his bullshit," Jade sniffs, earning an elbow in the shoulder from an annoyed Windy, "Ow, bitch."

"Takes one to know one," Windy smirks, ruffling her much smaller friend's hair, despite her protests, "Seriously though, what does it do?"

Sighing, I relate the information word for word from the tablet's status screen, including the line of flavour text at the bottom.

"So, this will let us confront the demon without our souls being instantly deleted from existence?" Angelus summarises more or less correctly.

"Something like that," I nod, then put away the monocle and take my helmet out, clutching it under my arm, "I doubt it'll be as simple as that, Presence-based Suppression isn't inherently Soulbane damage - just, with a large enough disparity between two entities, it can induce a similar effect - but it'll protect us from direct attacks on our souls to some degree at least. The aura that was emitted by The Birdcage was a diminished combination of both I believe, just for reference."

"You could just say 'yes'," Jade side-eyes me while she fixes her hair, "Instead of immediately launching into yet another unwarranted and long-winded explanation..."

"In short, yes," I repeat, blandly.

"Great," Angelus relaxes a little, "The MP drain part is a little odd, though."

I open my mouth to speculate on the reason why, only to stop myself when I notice Jade glaring at me and Windy's eyes in danger of glazing over.

"...We can talk about it on the way there," I compromise, not really willing to let the conversation drop completely.

To summarise: The Soul is an integral part of the fundamental existence of The Ignorant, an accepted and observable concept in contrast to our Reality where it's a matter of speculation oftentimes used to prey upon the impressionable by demagogues and con-artists, or else taking centre stage in religious beliefs to impart a sense of longevity to adherents, particularly after the death of the mortal vessel.

On Merrow it is, from my understanding, the vessel for one's 'vital essence' for lack of a better term, as well as one of the things that facilitates the control and flow of Mana in and out of the body, and what allows us to 'live' - ergo the animating force of life. Therefore, since this buff, going by the word 'interdiction' forcibly holds our souls in place inside of a barrier, it's almost like it's gently choking our spiritual essence by stifling it's ability to move with our physical bodies.

So goes my first theory.

I never paid too much attention to the theory beyond useful practical knowledge - such as how to not die like a complete buffoon due to ignorance of Soul-related magic - since I have little use for the pseudo-theological ramblings of navel-gazing Scholars as a swordsman who would not infrequently have to deal with demons and similarly 'icky' (to quote a former colleague) jobs that would be too risky for the important people employing us to undertake personally.

The other possibility is that since it's a vaguely demon-related spell, made by a demon-related spellcaster, it's inherently poisonous to us. Either one or perhaps both could be the case.

It's an annoying caveat, no doubt about that, but I expect that the fight will end before it becomes a serious danger.

One way or another.

---

 

Nondescript Rock Formation Northwest of Meteo City, Fander Field

Our foray into the temporary bazaar yielded a surprising result: A Bronze-Tier mage's staff for Jupiter, which he's been brandishing and posing with like a loon as we travel in otherwise nervous silence. He's been intermittently complaining since our foray into Farmer's Secret that the Iron-Tier staff we got there was for melee classes to beat enemies with, so to have an actual weapon has him over the moon with joy.

His general obliviousness is almost refreshing, honestly.

"This looks like the place..." I squint at the low pile of rocks jutting from the ground, with a thin covering of sickly yellow-green moss poking through morning frost. Although it appears that snow was not in the forecast, it's not for lack of chill, the air is dry and breathing too deeply is like swallowing tiny glass shards.

If I wasn't made privy through an unpleasant transplant of memory, there'd be little to distinguish this particular spot from any other in the ocean of grass that is Fander Field.

Olrica steps ahead of me, fists clenched. I can hazard a guess as to what she might be feeling right now.

"Feels right," Olrica murmurs under her breath, "How do we get in?"

"Angelus?" I pass the responsibility to him.

"Mm," He approaches a smaller rock with a smooth divot in the top that almost looks naturally formed, and takes out a small vial from his inventory, filled with blood taken from Geronil's corpse, slowly pouring the contents into the primitive bowl.

Hovering an open palm across the liquid's surface, he inhales deeply and recites a lengthy incantation in High Lendosian. I'd do this myself, but my pronunciation is awful and I keep biting my tongue for the more...eclectic words whenever I tried rehearsing it. Amongst us, Angelus was the most proficient, thus, the obvious choice.

When he's finished, the blood starts smoking, a pale wisp at first, then thicker and darker until an ovoid aperture into a dark stone tunnel forms in the air above from the cloud. It stinks something fierce, like burning plastic and the bottom of a thoroughly used grill.

"Huh," Windy vocalises dull surprise, "Wondered what that was supposed to do. How long will it stay open?"

"No idea," Angelus stands up and dusts off his robe, "I expect it'll close shortly after we all pass through, so I suggest we go in now while it's still open - we don't have any more of his blood to hand to try this again."

"Better not be a one-way trip," Jade bites her lip, then pulls up her hood and scarf before jumping through, then back, "Seems safe. All my limbs in one place and I'm not part housefly."

"What?" I tilt my head in confusion.

"I got that reference," Jupiter pipes in, then clambers through the portal.

"You'd get along great with my Dad, then," Jade rolls her eyes, the rest of us filing through one by one until only me and Olrica remain.

I look at her, "You coming in?"

"Y-yeah...just..." Olrica licks her lips, "Fuck it, all-in."

Shaking her shoulders and clapping her hands, she takes a standing leap to enter into the portal, then turns around and gives me a hand getting in. As if on cue, the portal closes within a heartbeat of my entry. Maybe it's set up in such a way that it closes once all the people with the Quest are inside?

If so, bringing more people, as Olrica's presence with us proves, might in fact have been possible. Even finding that out now, though, there's nobody I'd be comfortable bringing with us - the risk to their accounts is high and the reward is a complete unknown, assuming they'd be of any use in the first place.

"And suddenly, I can't see shit," Windy complains, "Worth lighting a lantern, y'think?"

"Might as well," Jade concedes, "More concerned about the fact that door slammed shut behind us."

"To be expected," Angelus shrugs, barely visible from further down the tunnel, sloping downwards at a steadily increasing angle, "Tunnel goes pretty far. I'd rather not trip over a rock and snap my neck, if it's all the same to the rest of you."

"At least it's warmer in here," Henna comments, hugging her arms close, "But it might be rather awkward if it doesn't open up at the end, I'm not sure I can fight with this sword very well like this..."

"I expect it will, but if necessary you can half-sword and use it as an improvised spear," I advise, patting her shoulder, "Situations like this are why it's not a terrible idea to bring a backup weapon."

"Why haven't you?" Windy questions, "I can loan out my old sword if either of you needs it."

"I'm somewhat accustomed to fighting in less than ideal circumstances," I smile, putting my helmet on, "I can make it work if I need to."

Honestly, I normally did keep a couple of different weapons spare for emergencies, but I'm being thrifty with our budget, so that'll have to wait. Effort was usually the only thing I ever needed, and it served me well. Might look into recreating it, I feel a little naked without my old partner.

A soft glow illuminates the tunnel, courtesy of Jade, "Got it. Who's leading the way?"

"I don't expect it'll come to a fight the moment we enter, so I'll take point," I take the lantern from her with a mutter of thanks, "Just to make absolutely clear: Do not let Arevas goad you into anything or provoke him out of turn. Stay silent, and above all else, as calm as you possibly can. Alright? If you lose grip on your emotions archdemons can exploit that directly."

The group nods in understanding.

"Good."

---

 

The Magpie Demon's Prison

As we close in on the end of the tunnel, the air grows thinner, and the pressure emanating toward us increases by orders of magnitude, to the point where even the others can share in my discomfort, which I now feel in unparalleled intensity. I feel like I'm trying to forcibly push myself through the space between tiniest quantum particles in existence using willpower alone. It's gone past numbness and back to crushing weight several times over.

I'm gritting my teeth together so hard that I half-fear in the back of my mind that they might fuse together or shatter outright. If my heart functioned like a human's, and my blood flowed like one, it's quite possible that I'd have died by now.

But the worst source of pain by far is, ironically, my Crystal Heart. Putting aside the stresses of the environment, so thick with ambient mana you could cut it with a knife and spread it on toast; A single, vertical line brings a stinging agony that goes deep - far deeper than I knew was even possible. I find myself questioning once more what exactly Jannis did to me because it is suspiciously reminiscent of the Bestowal process she used.

No.

I feel like I can say with a degree of certainty by now that I know what it is; I just find it too infuriating and absurd to believe she'd be thoughtlessly, viciously STUPID enough to actually do something like that, knowing full well the significance and the consequences.

Doing my best to relax, and let the pain wash over me like a harmless breeze, I release a long, frustrated breath.

Calm down, Alex. This is a terrible time to lose control of your emotions.

"You alright?" Henna asks, concerned, but through clenched teeth herself.

"No," I admit honestly, "I can endure it. Focus on yourselves, we're almost there. I can feel it."

By now, I can feel an intense stare not originating from anyone present. It carries with it a sense of weight and hunger that dwarfs the passive Presence, and most of that attention is squarely on me, specifically.

This close...I'm sure he noticed it as well. In fact, with so much pressure bearing down on me, pushing aside all but the most resistant part of my being, I can feel it very clearly. Like squashing down on a sponge cake with your open palm 'til you feel the upright iron nail hidden in the middle. Morbid as it sounds, it's rather appropriate as a metaphor, I feel.

Oh, Jannis...with all due respect to our old relationship, I am definitely going to punch this new iteration of you when next we meet.

Rounding one last bend in the tunnel, it suddenly opens up into a massive domed cavern, lit by crystalline torches ensconced in gilt-accented Grey Antarsteel. The sweet smell of expensive incense pervades the space even as large as it is. Aggressively floral, but not sickly.

The floor is separated into a series of platforms on either side rising up towards the wall on either side of the long carpeted avenue like an exaggerated staircase. At the end of the strip is an exquisitely crafted diorama of what looks to be Meteo City, while the walls have innumerable shelves and alcoves carved into them, decorated just as beautifully as the Arc de Triomphe. The architectural magnificence on display here is nothing short of brilliant, but...

It's...disgusting.

I feel an overwhelming urge to vomit, seeing what fills this otherwise gorgeous room.

People. Posed like wax figures, likely all dead or near enough not to matter, either posed like an otaku's figurine collection or acting out elaborate scenes and dressed to match. Most of the more recent entries look to be predominantly Panoplast, as to be expected from Geronil's rampant racism. Their arrangement is absolutely no different from the antiques and gorgeous artworks that accompany them on display, complete with signage.

Objects to be collected, displayed and admired.

"Fa...ther..." Henna, aghast, crumples to her knees with a dull clatter, "Miss Olcal...Jinnsy Almun..."

"Ahh..." A voice with an indiscernible quality penetrates our minds, "It has been so long since I've had guests down here to view my collection. Come closer."

I gulp, turning my attention to the far end of the cavern, directly opposite us. Bound by enormous chains that stretch out across everything, not clashing with the arrangement of the room but with the room arranged around them, is the largest piece of Gemfrost I've ever seen, with the inky black form of Arevas barely visible through the haze of the crystal.

Gemfrost is...how to explain.

Like a mould. It spreads and eats everything it comes into contact with when in an unrestrained state, converting it into more of itself. It's enormously valuable to craftsmen for it's astounding, nigh unparalleled natural ability to absorb, store and emit magical power of any kind, and only made more so by the difficulty involved in acquiring so much as a chip of it without being turned into a statue or a mutated monstrosity.

Given that the only place you can get it is from the Glasslands - or to use its proper name, Allsa, a continent across the ocean which is covered in interdimensional rifts that spew forth the corrupting energies that causes Gemfrost to form. The closer one is to the rift, the purer and more potent the gemfrost, but anyone dumb enough to pass within 40 metres of a rift will die instantly, without exception, and even those of a higher order than The Ignorant can typically attain will only last up to a minute at most, if they're possessed of a particular constitution at that.

It's honestly an ingenious method to contain an Archdemon - it's constantly eating away at Arevas' extremely abundant essence and generating more of itself to create a sturdier prison, repairing any damage he might do in his efforts to escape.

Unfortunately, it seems that he's somehow subverted that containment, a constant flow of black fluid drips from a spigot-like formation in the crystal, forming a wide, half-formed tube of gemfrost as the liquid falls to the floor, pooling into a familiar roiling puddle.

"A collection that has taken me quite a long time and lot of effort to recreate after my first was so thoroughly vandalised by a nosy hypocrite,"  Heedless of our opinions or lack of interest, Arevas continues to ramble on, "Observe, would you, this strapping young Kon. His destined future was that of an Aspirant on the Path of a Dimension Pursuant: Oh, such a rarity indeed. Or, perhaps this exemplary urn, created by a Grandmaster Carpenter supposedly on a bet that she couldn't beat a Master Sculptor at his craft - hm, hm, she rather proved them wrong, no? Exquisitely formed, and marvellously painted. Ah, then there's this young girl and her elder brother, who ran afoul of a most interesting curse that stripped the years from her bones and added them to her sibling..."

Arevas continues to ramble on about his 'collection' as we approach, trying our best not to look any direction other than straight ahead. The solid wall that made even standing difficult has significantly weakened, likely the whim of the demon himself. As much as he's playing up the image of a doddering old antiquarian ecstatic to show off his home, there's a subtle edge to the tone of voice, and the subtext is also more than clear:

"Look at all these wondrous treasures and talented people...that are now my property. This is the difference between us."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little intimidated. While it's hard to properly judge the distance between Arevas and some fifth-rate LARPing mafioso posturing at me if anything that only makes it more profound. At the very least, this isn't the first time I've been this close to a hostile entity on Arevas' level, so I have that going for me.

The others...

I dare not look away, but I can tell they're no better off than me, the sound of unsteady steps betraying their anxiety. I half expect one of them to stumble over their own feet, but we arrive in front of the model of Meteo City without embarrassing ourselves further. Licking my lips, I crane my neck upwards to regard the preserved archdemon.

"You summoned us, and we are here to answer," I proclaim, inflection neutral.

I feel a smugness radiating off of Arevas, "As you should. It gladdens me that you know your place."

My cheek twitches, and I doubt the helmet is doing anything to disguise the flash of irritation I experience from his senses, even with his power suppressed. I choose to ignore his condescending attitude, knowing it's not entirely unwarranted, and get to the point, "For what purpose are we here?"

"To settle the matter of compensation, naturally," he says as though it were obvious, "You have ruined quite a considerable investment, after all. As the aggrieved, should I not seek justice?"

I bite my tongue to avoid scoffing at the notion, "By that logic, considering that Geronil was the one who decided to go out of his way to make a mess, we would be the aggrieved instead. Moreover, as he was planning on escaping the bounds of Meteo City across the eastern borders into Ghoath, it's likely that his usefulness and faithfulness was at its end. Would you deny this?"

From the pause, I take it to mean that he's considering my point.

"There is some wisdom in what you say, I'll graciously concede. However, that stance is nonetheless based on conjecture and not fact," Arevas asserts, "You claim he meant to betray me, but at the time of his demise, my Beak was still very much under my employ, and that demise was at your hands. Even though I confess my own displeasure at his mishandling of the situation, the fact remains that you killed a valued tool of my making before it progressed to that point."

While I'm surprised he's humouring the artifice of negotiation, I'm not surprised that the argument I prepared was of little effect. Not least because he has no intention of forgiving us or letting us escape unscathed. I suppose that this is all for his entertainment, to watch me try to wriggle out of this situation.

I fold my arms, considering my response. Perhaps it might have been better to let Geronil escape, the Siege event being a trap for anyone who looks to profit off of it. If it was after Geronil had made his intentions toward his Faustian benefactor clear, perhaps Arevas wouldn't have cared - maybe he'd even offer a reward to the stubborn bounty hunter that chased him down.

It's a moot point, really. We needed the Fame and Reputation rewards to create Truthseekers on schedule. I'll die on that hill if I have to, so even if I were aware of this final part of the quest chain from the beginning, I'd have ended up here regardless.

"Regardless," I retort, "Our quarrel was with Geronil specifically. From our perspective, accounts have already been settled. So, if you mean to exacerbate matters to extract some form of benefit for yourself, the only thing I can think to offer is an example of Lendosian portraiture we discovered amongst the purloined goods acquired by his predecessor, Ullis, not too long ago."

"Ullis, you say?" Arevas doesn't sound that surprised, "I'm aware of your travails on his land. I have no interest in the second-rate garbage he clung to so desperately that he squandered my gifts. My interest is only in the truly unique and interesting - pretentious imitations have no place in my collection. When you've seen one 17th Astral Era Atrium-movement portrait, you've seen them all."

Though I'd hardly consider myself an expert on the subject, I'm inclined to agree. Because Lendosian art is in vogue at the moment, Ghoathan manorhouses are inundated with them. Not really sure how to process the fact that I'm empathising with Arevas on the subject, but this is a strange situation from the outset.

I sigh, resigning myself to the inevitable, "Then, please make your intentions clear."

"It is a simple matter. I desire two things," The air practically vibrates with smugness, "Compensation for damages done, and someone to fill the position now made vacant."

"...I had expected the latter. But even knowing what I am, you still ask?" I tilt my head, perplexed.

"But of course. Do you not burn with the ambition to dominate, to Ascend and bring your vision to life?" Arevas laughs, and I feel that he is talking to me, and me alone, "I can provide much more than those lofty voyeurs, trapped beyond the rift, should I be freed. And even if you were to deny such an obvious boon, your companions...Well, the immature fox has some potential, as does that shivering mass of insecurities which vexed my former Beak so. But you need far, far more than that, don't you? You won't - can't - be satisfied with such a paltry force. I can offer the use of some of my collection - I assure you that they are of the highest quality. Even imprisoned, I am ever a discerning individual, I assure you of that."

My fist clenches tightly on reflex, "I don't need them. Or you."

"You do, though," the roiling pool intensifies it's activity, "Perhaps not today, but what about tomorrow? You must realise that the only value you possess yourself is that you are host to something greater - you are no great genius, just an anomaly."

I flinch, "...An anomaly?"

"Hmhm, there's something about you that just doesn't seem to fit," Arevas observes, and I feel a lightning chill dart down my spine, "As for why, I couldn't begin to guess. 'tis a certainty, however, that it will do nothing to change your present weakness nor your ceiling for growth. Rather than rely on something ephemeral, or the whims of those self-assured fools, it would be better to rely on that which is in front of you...That which understands you."

Exhaling, I look back at Arevas, "You, who knows merely the surface and not the depths, cannot understand my future. You see, I never intended to stand alone from the start."

I look back, and nod to the others, removing the Demonsoul Interdiction Tablet from my bag.

"How...disappointing..." Arevas says, pitying.

"I care little for your opinion," I snort, crushing the tablet beneath my heel, "I'll see this Path to its end, on my own terms. Hitchhikers like you can fuck off!"