12 Miles Below

Forty-eight ghostly occult chains raced forward, unavoidable, flailing around and clashing against each other in the race for the Feather’s throat. One image had even leaped above, the ghost chains lashing out in anticipation of the Feather jumping up to escape.

In any other situation, that would have been the end of To’Aacar. Body slashed away, only a head left behind to yell at us, if he were lucky. But the Feather didn’t need luck. He had the occult.

To’Aacar didn’t bother with theatrics, not when his life was on the line. Occult pulsed around him and he vanished, reappearing further away. The mirror images all struck, clashing against each other at the center-point, dissipating into fading clouds.

Clan Lord Atius walked through the fading mist, taking his helmet off and tossing it aside. A demi-god had little need for a helmet.

“I see you’ve been holding out on your abilities.” He said. “How unfortunate to find out now.”

“I see you’re not as dead as you should be.” The Feather snarled back, damage sparking through the ribcage from the dagger blows, still multiplying his voice at odd sections. “Fortunately, I will rectify that shortly, believe me.”

Drass had always stressed that she was only a temporary clan lord each time I met her. In addition to her iron conviction that the Feather would be dealt with. Atius must have been in contact with her this whole time, assuming he really had faked his own death, working in the background free of any eyes.

In hindsight, I’m not sure why I hadn’t questioned the odd death, considering how in depth the clan lord went when it came to counter-intelligence. Even against two assassins, he’d have them both killed within minutes using occult powers. And then he’d have all the time in the world to set up the rest. He must have seen it like a gift from above, falling on his lap.

Around us, the fighting was still at a fever pitch. The Winterscar knights were occupied with To’Aacar’s controlled knights. The only advantage the Chosen had was their unnatural coordination with one another. Something my own knights were slowly adapting and overcoming. The result of that war was almost inevitable. Captain Sagrius was leading, organizing the knights into chipping away at the Chosen. It was only a matter of time until the Chosen knights made a mistake, wiping them out.

He gave a cautious glance, keeping his eyes fixed on To’Aacar. “Never seen him this broken down before, lad. Well done indeed. Never seen him use a teleport ability either. You’ve rattled extra snow out of him.”

To’Aacar scoffed. “Minor battle damage.”

The Deathless raised an eyebrow at that. “You’re out of shields. Far more than cosmetic now.”

“It changes nothing! Insects cannot defeat a god!” He screamed back, growing unhinged.

Atius ignored his jab, turning slightly to me, almost as if scheming in the open. “I suspect we’ll both be seeing things he’s kept up his sleeve for more desperate times like these. Cornered animals fight the hardest. Play it safe, we’ll grind him down instead. Maybe working together we’ll get his other arm cut.” He lifted his head, a malicious grin pointed at the Feather. “Wouldn’t that be something, old friend?”

The Feather growled, “Challenge me all you wish. Your life is still measured in hours.” He crouched, occult pulsing around before he leaped forward, ripping the pillar he stood on into parts. Halfway in his leap, he vanished.

Atius’s eyes flashed occult blue. He twisted and delivered a kick directly into my chest, throwing me back. Not a moment too soon. To’Aacar emerged from an occult portal, slashing through where I’d been a moment ago. The spear twirled, and he struck out against the Deathless in a seamless movement.

No images came from Atius, instead he fought with both the wild knightbreaker round in tandem with the machine sword. The entire time his eyes glowed blue, I recognized the spell he was using as one he’d listed in the data he’d left behind. At this moment, Atius was seeing hundreds of futures, showing him the optimal path to victory.

And more importantly - the knightbreaker chains seemed to almost move according to his will, with the Deathless being able to handpick the best way to swing the wild weapon. They slashed and snapped with each strike, lashing out at the Feather.

To’Aacar did not remain in place. Instead, he leaped around using the occult every few seconds, keeping himself on the run to maintain speed. It seemed to travel with him, jump after jump, his speed staying constant despite the dozens of directions he struck out.

At a distance, he’d launch his spear out like a javelin, sending it through an occult portal to strike out at the Deathless from unexpected angles, to which he’d appear at the ending path to recover the weapon, either leaping away again, or continuing the assault if the occult chains weren’t in the way.

“Keith!” Atius called out, “Sprint forward, left side, attack the air now!”

I followed orders without hesitation. Dutifully sprinting forward and striking out blindly into the air using the borrowed blade on my left.

To’Aacar emerged from the occult at the same moment, hand reaching out to grab his incoming spear, only to completely abort the movement the instant he spotted my blade swinging straight at his unshielded throat. His occult spear flew wide past him, as he was forced into a duck, low to the ground. My blade cut right through the metal halo and the tip of his shoulder tower, slicing them both, breaking the halo and damaging the shield.

Atius was already leaping onto the Feather, knightbreaker round held in his hand far away to his side, eyes fading away as the occult spell ended. But that left him free to use the rest of his powers. Another dozen mirror images appeared, each swinging the replica knightbreaker chains at the Feather, all crashing down on him.

To’Aacar scrambled away, kicking hard at the ground in order to rocket backwards, leaving a crater behind him where the rest of Atius’s image crashed down on, slicing the ground into chunks before fading.

The Feather didn’t stop, retreating all the way to the back, yanking his impaled spear from a pillar it had sunk deep into and jumping high up on top. Heat wave rippled around his frame. That single eye glaring down at us with unmistakable hatred. Then it widened, “I’ve just realized something, Winterscar.” He said, sounding almost gleeful for some reason.

That’s not something I like to hear. But the longer we keep him occupied, the more time we buy for my knights to wrap up the chosen and for Atius’s own group to arrive. With that many knights, all wielding the winterblossom technique and armed to the teeth, even To’Aacar wouldn’t be able to escape us.

“I’ve wasted my time trying to break into these armors of yours before I gave up and took control of the human users inside. I’ve just realized that my time wasn’t wasted.” He outright seemed to leer at me now. “There’s a reason he made the default settings as they are. And there’s a reason he didn’t allow random users to mess with the administration settings. Allow me to demonstrate exactly why.”

My HUD flickered, and then fuzzed for a moment, almost freezing. A dozen error messages began to appear all over the interface. Before I could even ask what was going on, my movement locked up, the armor taking command.

My stance was forced to relax, as the armor made me to stand straight. “He’s got control of my suit!” I yelled out as loudly as I could.

Atius got the message, instantly delivering another relic powered kick into my stomach and sending me flying away, far outside of any range I could do damage from. To’Aacar shrugged from his perch. “As if I need help in killing you, Atius.”

The Feather turned to me, waving his spear in a vague order. “As for you, why don’t you go walk off and die alone somewhere, if you would be so kind?”

The armor stood up, brushed imaginary dirt off, and sheathed my sword with a cheeky pat on the hilt. Then, it turned, and marched off with me trapped inside it, helpless. The only reason I hadn’t gone into complete panic was the soul fractal. It was still active, as were all my other fractals. Whatever To’Aacar had done, he’d only taken over the remote override. I reached out to Journey’s soul fractal and tried to get to the bottom of this.

Panic. Despair. They crashed into me like a wave, overwhelming me for a moment until I snapped back to focus.

Unable to override administrator commands. It said to my probing.

Administrator commands? Can’t I order a counter command?

Middleware attack detected. All commands from the user are being intercepted. Unable to purge virus.

Journey walked us out of the battlefield, step by step. Hexagonal pillars on all sides began to obscure the world, but the armor pressed on, following deeper into the path. Behind me, I could hear the crashing of occult blades again, the fight between Deathless and Feather resuming, To’Aacar not giving Atius any time.

Eventually we reached a cliff of some kind, and Journey came to a stop. Its working arm slowly rose up, and then unhooked my helmet and lifted it off before casually tossing it down into the abyss. The soul fractal I’d been inhabiting inside the helmet faded away, and my spirit snapped back into my body. Vision and color returned to my eyes, as the occult sight vanished.

The soul sight had a long range, but everything beyond that range was simply chaos that I couldn’t understand. I’d seen the edge of the cliff we’d walked to, and nothing under it. Up until my eyes were opened and I saw the true sight of where we were.

Under me was a mile long drop. And before me, was a massive ecosystem. A forest of red trees, stretching across the land before me, broken up by larger granite blocks with glowing blue machinery inside. Above, there were three sources of sunlight, each fading into a red glow of sunset. From here, I could see the underground world with such clarity.

It all knocked me breathless, making me forget for a moment my predicament.

And then my working arm reached up and an armored gauntlet wrapped around my throat, rendering me truly breathless as is squeezed.

These fucking calculators and their obsession with suffocating people to death.

I didn’t panic. Yet. Instead, my mind flashed through options I had while I was still lucid enough to think. First, I needed to buy myself time. I had a reserve soul fractal by my ribcage, and into that I dove, seeking the calm that came with it. Inside the soul fractal, my body seemed to be going catatonic which greatly increased the time I had to work out a plan. My own mounting horror and panic faded away, as did my heart rate. Now I needed to figure a way out of here.

No one was coming. To’Aacar was already a monster to fight alone, and Atius would need every bit of effort he had in just surviving until the rest of the soldiers could tag in. I had to save myself.

I could feel Journey’s own soul begin to panic. The armor could tell how much time I had left before my body truly began to suffocate. A tendril of my own soul reached out to the armor, trying to reassure it. I’ve got a plan. Don’t worry.

One of my arms was broken, which the armor couldn’t move - but armor was still moveable by my own power, only heavy to do so. I struggled to lift the metal, my own muscles straining against the weight. The effort was forcing my body’s heart rate, and decreasing the time I had to live. I had a single target: Atius’s sword, sheathed on my belt. My hand missed the hilt a few times before I finally got it right and wrapped my fingers around it.

The other hand continued to choke me, single-minded. Completely ruthless.

I drew out the sword, turned it on, and slowly brought it up with an excruciating effort. My plan was simple: Hack away at my rebellious hand holding my throat. If I did it right, I’d cut only the machinery that powered the gauntlet without cutting into my actual hand. If I couldn’t manage that, I’d just cut the entire hand off and consider it a small price to pay for surviving.

A spark of hope flared inside Journey as the armor watched.

To’Aacar seemed to be watching too, because the broken armored hand flickered back to life and began to buckle, the few ligaments that were still working contracted, seizing up and locking my hand in an awkward but unmoveable position. That prick. It was hard enough to move the metal alone, now with parts of the armor functioning against me, there was no hope in moving the blade.

I dove back into the soul fractal and reached out to Journey. The poor armor was beyond traumatized now. Not only was it’s single and only directive to protect the user, it was being used to directly kill me in the slowest possible way, all while it watched on helpless to do anything. This was the worst imaginable torture an armor could go through.

I wrapped my soul around the spirit, reassuring it I’d find a way out. That everything would be okay.

Can you detach the broken arm plates? I asked.

Negative. Emergency systems in arm damaged. It answered back. Alternate solution required.

Plan B it is. I reached for the fractal of mirrors, powering it on. I might not control my hand, but my hand still held an occult blade that was powered on. That’s all the fractal of mirrors needed to work.

An image of the frozen hand holding Atius’s blade manifested and slowly lowered to cut into my traitorous hand. It worked for a second, Journey’s shields staying dormant and allowing the mirror blade to cut into the metal. A lot easier to control, too, so I might just save my hand.

And then the image vanished from sight.

I thought I’d messed up my focus. I hadn’t. Instead, the mirror fractal itself had vanished from my occult sight.

Where did it go? I asked.

Administrator commands received. Shutdown request was acknowledged and carried out.

It had been turned off. To’Aacar was watching somehow, getting feedback on what I was doing.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit. Worse than scrapshit. I should have just sliced straight through my hand and not let him get a chance at realizing my plan.

I needed another plan. He hadn’t turned off any of the other fractals inside my armor, so the attack felt more like a passing backhand while he continued his fight with the clan lord. A distraction. Which meant if I knocked my traitorous hand out all at once, he’d be too late to stop me.

Could I melt the hand off outright in one large blade of occult heat? No. Not possible.

Maybe the dome fractal could shove his hand away from my throat, buy me a few more minutes. The dome fractal had been etched just about everywhere on my armor, including by my neckline. But it needed to have been right between the offending hand and my own fleshy neck to be useful in prying the hand off, so that was equally off the books.

I ran through the rest of the fractals I had access to, coming up empty. Stuck frozen in a coffin, strangling myself to death, with all the occult around me - and none of it could help.

For the first time, Journey’s own soul reached out to me. A small, feeble tendril. I’ve known the armor for some time now, and it had never done this before.

Blood oxygen levels are critical. Immediate solution required. User fatality imminent.

I felt panic for the first time, even deep in my soul fractal. I could see my own body was starting to shake by itself, trying to suck down air and failing. Held completely still by the frozen armor. I had no working plan left, no cheat, no trick, nothing up my sleeve that I could pull off except to eject.

What happens if my body dies, while I remain inside a soul fractal? Father had survived before as a spirit, but while I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of dying and living like this, I’d take that over oblivion.

Journey recognized the thoughts in my head, the understanding that I had hit the bottom of the well and death was all but certain for me. It went through a list of emotions, fear, despair, and finally, resolution.

Alternate solution identified. Executing emergency shutdown.

Next chapter - Like Father, like Son

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