Slumrat Rising

Truth escaped with his clothes, if not his dignity. The outraged shopkeeper, a fellow member of the round hat club, was still scolding Jember. Jember didn’t seem very remorseful. It was all in good fun. Apparently.

Truth made his way back towards the university in something of a welter of emotion. He kept going around and around in circles. Etenesh touching him, worrying over him. Jember’s honest, if overly direct, appreciation. When he got right down to it, it was hard to tell if the cousins were interested in him or interested in teasing him.

He was the newbie in their little group, after all. An outsider. A literal foreigner suddenly intruding into their tight-knit band. Stealing away their teacher’s attention and affection. A level seven expert. Such a man’s glance was worth more than ten years of service from a Level One. A word could reshape cities.

It wouldn’t be strange if they resented him. It would only be strange if they did not. Perhaps this was the opening move. Testing him. Finding the weaknesses and insecurities. He had watched it happen in school. Over and over and over. He watched it happen while he was a bodyguard too, and the adults were often as crude in their methods as the children. They were certainly no less cruel.

It wouldn’t be strange if they hated him. It would only be strange if they didn’t.

He got to the dorm and threw his clothes down on his bed. Grabbed a towel and staggered for the showers. Stripped. He didn’t want to look in the mirror. A reflection caught his eye anyway. A face he didn’t recognize in the mirror.

His face. He knew it was his face. But not. Not his face. The face the worms gave him. The body the worms gave him. The worms that burned through him after drinking the amniotic fluid of the Ghul. Would Etenesh still bear to touch him, knowing that? Would Jember playfully admire him?

You didn’t earn that face. Not really. Your face is a lie.

The ugly is bone-deep. No running from that.

Corrupted.

Filthy.

Unloved. Unlovable.

Killer. A killer. A thug.

A born slave. Always looking for a master to serve.

Where have you run to, little rat? Not far enough.

Can’t run from yourself.

This body is a lie. It’s not the real you.

You are a lie.

Your name is a lie. Your face is a lie. Your history is a lie.

There is no Tommy Wells. There is no Truth Medici.

There is just lies, deceit. Corruption.

You were never a human. You were born to be a demon.

Reminding yourself that killing is “fucked up.”

Normal people don’t need reminders.

And all the reminders never stopped you from doing it again.

You were always a burden.

You were always only worth the money your body brought in.

What are you without the sibs?

What are you without the sibs?

What are you without the sibs?

What are you without the sibs?

He turned on the hot water and tried to feel warm. It was hard to feel anything at all.

When he got out and dried off, he walked over to the sink. Grabbed the basin with hands strong enough to crush it into powder. Forced himself to look up. To see himself.

“This is me. I am me. Nobody else picks their face. I can be whoever and whatever I want to be. And I still have the sibs. They still need me. They just have to fly solo for a while. But I’m coming for them. And as for the Ghul and every other damn thing?” He mustered his courage. “I will not torture myself. I will not whip myself today just so I can have a preview of tomorrow’s pain.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “I am more than a name. I may trade my labor, but I will never again give away myself.”

He pulled his new clothes on and tried to remember what he had just told the mirror. If he said it often enough, maybe it would stick.

Jember was waiting in the bedroom when he got back. “Tommy! Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable.”

“Thanks. I know I’m kind of a weirdo. It, um. Wasn’t unappreciated. But yeah. My ability to both flirt and take a compliment is… not high.”

“Ah, well, don’t worry about it. The compliment was sincere, but the flirting wasn’t. Well, wasn’t much.”

“Eh?”

“This is Siphios, my friend. Land of saints and scholars. Or, put another way, we spend a lot of time thinking about sex and putting rules around it. Even if we have a lot of it. Still, rules. In my case, it would be a whole thing.”

“Huh. Must be even more so for Etenesh. That’s why she has her own room.”

“You don’t keep the genders segregated in whatever nightmare place you call home?”

“Hey! It’s not….” He started reflexively defending Harban but stumbled over the details. When you got right down to it, you couldn’t call Harban a nice place. He faked a cough and continued. “We do in some circumstances, but after living with mercenaries and working in a PMC for a number of years, it stopped being something I paid attention to.”

“Fair. And no, she’s in a less complicated situation than I am. It really is just that we traditionally keep unmarried men together and let everyone else sort themselves out.”

“Huh. Alright. It would be a “thing” for you but not her?”

“Well, it is for her too, but that’s just… normal? The normal amount of “thing” between people? In my case, I am part of a mystery cult and in a period of ritual chastity and purification. I don’t know if it’s working, but that’s faith for you.”

“Sorry, I don’t know the term?”

“Oooh! Yeah, I can’t imagine chastity featured heavily in your life. It’s when-“

“Mystery cult!”

“Eh? Really? Those are pretty common around here. Loads of people join one for the networking.”

“Loads of people join a mysterious cult… to make nets?”

“Mistranslation problem there, I think. It’s a “Cult” or a specific set of rituals, practices, and worship focused on a particular deity. Central to that is initiating members into the “mysteries” of the faith. And since we are all, to an extent, in on the same secrets and co-religionists, and go to the same events, naturally, we get to know each other. Help each other out.”

“Huh. But… there is only one God? Merkovah told me that, basically, everyone agrees on that.”

“Merkovah is also a teacher of religious law, so… something to keep in mind. And yes, there is only one God in our religion, too. It’s just that there are several… iterations? Do you know that word? Several versions of God that we believe exist all at the same time. My faith has picked one of those versions or aspects of god to venerate and emulate. As embodied by a particular saint. Sorry, can’t say more than that.”

“I can kind of see that,” Truth said, but he looked lost. The description seemed to tickle some memory, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think what it could possibly be.

“Well, that’s why it’s a mystery!” Jember laughed.

Merkovah had Truth explain what he had comprehended from Incisive. He didn’t seem happy or sad about the progress; he just calmly explained where Truth was getting hung up. It was about as low drama as Truth could ever have imagined. The Meditations went about the same way, with yet more injunctions to focus on meditating and not worrying about improving his body just yet.

“But that demon tore me apart in seconds!” Truth protested.

“Yes, of course it did. It was considerably stronger than you and had spells at its disposal. You don’t. I’m shocked you managed to exchange even a couple of moves with it. I can’t expect you to kill something like that on your own- I just hope you have a better understanding of what those beings are like.” Merkovah waved a hand in the air.

“If you are up for it, I would like to keep pushing you into fighting over-leveled demons. Get you used to surviving under that pressure, seeing when you can make at least some counter-attack.”

“Certainly, and thank you, Teacher. You can never have too much training.”

“Mmm. And speaking of- just got another little job near here. Same day thing, out and back tomorrow afternoon. Might do you some good to see a different side of my work.”

“Just let me know when we go, Teacher.”

Merkovah coughed awkwardly and tapped a little bowl on his desk. It made a pleasant chiming noise… that didn’t stop. The tone continued, growing steadily until it was quite painful. Merkovah added a few drops of something to the bowl that made it go silent. It was still doing something, though. Truth could feel the vibrations through his chair.

“I wanted to take a quick moment to further discuss my plans. Specifically in regards to Starbrite.”

“Why you would want a Level Three hitman is a complete mystery to me, but it certainly appears to be your plan.”

Merkovah snorted at that. “You would be Level Four before you returned to Jeon. Your frankly astonishing compatibility with astral energy makes it a certainty, even with limited access to elixirs. And I don’t exactly want a hitman.”

The old monster with the eerily young face leaned in. “I want a saboteur. I don’t need you to kill. I need you to break the magical technology supporting the System Astrologica.

“Pardon?”

Fucking do what now?

“Everyone knows that the System Astrologica is an intelligent spirit. A bound intelligent spirit. What people pay less attention to is the energy cost. Think about it- something is keeping the System here. Keeping it alive and growing. It’s turning Starbrite’s slaves into drones, but that power can’t be used to sustain it. It must be fed energy some other way.”

“Not my area of expertise. Demons don’t seem to need it?”

“They do. Why do you think they possess people, possess dead bodies, receive sacrifices, and rise in places where evil energies gather? You take my meaning. Demons need the energy to manifest and more energy to act. You saw how much energy the summoning ritual this morning gathered. If it killed you, it would have taken the energy from your death and used it to survive for longer. It’s a magic others have tried to replicate, with… mixed success.”

Truth tried to absorb that while Merkovah pressed on.

“The very simplified version is that the System Astrologica is trapped under a huge spell bowl, connected to an enormous network of talismans, fetishes, and formations. Those supporting technologies funnel energy to the System, allowing it to manage the drones under some strict rules.”

“With you so far.” Truth said cautiously.

“Well, for a number of very good reasons, I want Starbrite dead. That is the CEO Emeritus. His groomed successor, the current CEO, is also on my list. As is the entirety of the C-Suite, to use terms you would be familiar with. I don’t think you really care about why I want them dead, though.”

“Should I?’

Merkovah gave a pained smile. “I think so. But then, I would, wouldn’t I?” Truth nodded.

“Well, in order to sufficiently weaken the C-Suite to the point where I could reasonably arrange their deaths, they need to lose the support of the System. So the System needs to be freed.” He said it entirely too casually for Truth’s liking.

“So how would I fit into all this? If you can’t blow up the System, I certainly can’t.”

“Oh, but you can.” Merkovah’s expression stretched into a carnivorous grin. “You have a trait I have only heard about on other planets- both low-level and spell resistant. Also, I can tell you that for reasons I am not clear on, you are a pain to scry on. Not impossible, just difficult. I suspect that it’s something to do with how much you’ve refined your body.”

Merkovah added a couple of extra drops to the bell.

“We don’t have much longer before this veil runs out. Very quickly- We need to push you along in the Mediations, but I don’t want you rushing it because I specifically want you to focus on the spell resistance aspect. With a little luck, it will also compound the scry resistance. Either way, it’s a good thing. Focus more on Incisive.Incisive will give you, essentially, inhumanly accurate instincts and compound the difficulty in divining you. The swordplay that comes with it is also going to suit you well. For Level Four, Sword of Moshe, particularly combined with the holy blade, will do staggering amounts of damage to the System once you are inside it. Break the supporting magical technology, disable or destroy the spell bowl, and the System Astrologica escapes or starves to death.”

Merkovah grinned again. “Now, are you up for it?”

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