Page 33

It Scuttled Like That One Scene in The Exorcist

Moments earlier…

T he moment it was out of the box, Atomica’s seals sloughed off, revealing a gleaming mass of opaque, red crystal. Despite its far weaker physical glow, it still seethed with an immense aura, noticeably less intense than it had been right after transmutation, but far more solid. Tendrils of crimson energy reached out for Krahe, and the key floated towards her hand, hovering near it. Only one talisman stayed in place—it stated the voidkey’s system readout.

[ATOMICA REFULGENT, FRACTURED SOLOMONIC KEY]

Tags

Fourth-order

Voidkey

Incomplete

Imprinted (Brunhilde “Blackhand” Krahe)

Details

Thaumic Throughput +C1^

Entropy Tolerance +D3^^

Entropy Dissipation +D3^

Thaumic Fusion Efficiency +18%^^^

Isotope Tolerance +D1^^

Isotope Dissipation +D2^

It curiously showed which aspects had grown during its stabilization period, with small upward arrows next to each attribute signifying growth. A side effect of the seals? she wondered, recalling Yao’s mention of the possibility. She peeled it off, stowing the box back in her Kenoma Sack. The readout continued onto the other side—there was one new line, a reiteration of the warning Yao had given her about possible collateral damage.

First-time implantation of this voidkey will reshape the holder’s Soul Furnace, permanently conferring the following Boon: “Astral Implosion Furnace”

This voidkey may be safely implanted only by the Imprinted individual. Implantation by any other individual will result in catastrophic Soul Furnace rupture (as with simultaneous implantation of two voidkeys).

First-time implantation may cause volatile thaumetic phenomena. Conduct in a safe place free of fragile objects and/or people.

Stowing the paper in her Kenoma Pocket, she quickly formed a Tar-tendril, grasping her gun with it. The loaded clip held six mescalt bullets. After that, she extracted the Twin Serpent Key, her unenhanced dissipation more than enough to maintain that one tendril. At the instant the Twin Serpent Key was out, her thoughts of implanting Atomica triggered something. With a pulse of red light from the hexagonal voidkey, Krahe felt a searing hot sensation race up her right arm, quickly spreading throughout her entire body, settling in her chest where she felt the flame of thaumaturgy when channeling. Her spine and ribcage thrummed with a strange vibration, a dull headache took hold, and then, she knew .

The Atomica was preparing her Soul Furnace for the reshaping it would undergo during actual implantation. She was stuck like this for now. As she wondered how long it would take, a new HUD element manifested, a simple percentage bar. It readily faded out of view, but Krahe remained aware— agonizingly aware —of its wavering rise, slowly going up and down by half-percent increments, totaling out to a gradual rise.

She suppressed a groan—one of frustration, pain, but worst of all, pressure. With each percent, Atomica shone brighter with both light and power, and so did the flame of thaumaturgy within Krahe’s chest. A ceaseless deluge of power roiled inside her, flowing back and forth through the voidkey. Withstanding it was one thing, she could do that, but she was deathly certain that proper thaumaturgy was beyond her. She had the one Tar-tendril, and that was it; all else would be theurgy or crude energy expulsion.

As far as facts went, she could see herself just sitting here for a minute or however long the process took, hiding.

But she felt that was not possible. The Atomica burned too brightly.

Casus shouted a warning through the thunderous noise of his battle with the chief of security, but Krahe had already seen what he was warning her of through Barzai’s eyes. All the borged abominations had snapped in her direction, one already rushing towards her. She knew with certainty that she could not dive as she was—it would be catastrophic for what was taking place between her and Atomica. But a skim? She could afford that.

The abomination scuttled up to the door, smashing and wrenching. Soon, one of the hinges bent and broke, and the stillborn leapt in through the hole, flying perfectly towards Krahe. She adjusted her position, waiting. At the last moment, she wrenched control of the enormous flow, forcing it into her left arm. With a flash of red, she sprung upward from the ground, arm cocked back. She unleashed the punch at the last instant, sending the stillborn hurtling up towards the vaulted ceiling. The pressure in her Soul Furnace waned—she would have to let it build up before doing something like this again. A silver lining was that it appeared that the flow readily scoured away all impurity, be it entropy or Isotope, meaning her dissipation was currently comparable to how it would be with the Atomica fully implanted. It was not a particularly thick or lustrous lining—in effect, it only meant that as long as the process continued, she was effectively operating on a cooldown system.

Before that thing could fall and possibly become a problem again, Krahe jumped through the half-busted door and went running. The floor under her feet shook, and thunderous impacts reverberated as Casus did battle with that strongman-looking guy in a nice suit. He parried flying fists of gray force with his arm-blade, deflecting them towards the walls as if they didn’t carry the force of two Yellow Atropals each.

Strongman took note of her between clashes, throwing a flying fist her way. Krahe skimmed out of its path rather than risk a physical dodge and immediately regretted her decision. As she emerged, in that instant of extreme time dilation that allowed her to reorient herself, it felt as though the Liminal Coil had been struck with a tuning fork-shaped sledgehammer. The enormous flow of energy going through her roiled and whirled about in an unstable manner, forcing her to lean against the wall as she ran across the foyer.

That one moment of distraction sufficed for Casus to push his already obvious advantage even further, carving gashes into Strongman’s wards with a flurry of flame-wreathed slashes of his arm-blade. Krahe didn’t have the luxury to sit back and watch as two more stillborns crawled out of the woodwork to come after her, one of which was familiar and had a gaping hole in its chest. Somehow, by some stroke of luck, that punch hadn’t hit anything critical to that abomination’s functionality. She could see its ward generator peering out through the ruined flesh. It took her two shots to hit the cabling and send the creature tumbling head-over-heels. Her aim just wasn’t that good using a tendril instead of her own hand.

Atop the foyer’s stairs, Strongman reared back for a desperate strike, holding both fists together as he struck out, placing his enormous body weight behind the punch. A giant, meter wide, gray fist flew forth. He instantaneously began melting down when the thaumaturgy came out, and it seemed as if Casus would be hit for certain.

This was true. Casus didn’t dodge.

At the instant of impact, the eyes on his chest shot open, marked with the same exact pattern as his belt.

In a blaze of gold-silver flame, his armor devoured the thaumaturgy. Another mote of flame flickered to life above his head, and he approached his foe.

“Ah, so you are Silberblut!” Strongman wheezed, his form stiffened and rendered monochrome by his ongoing meltdown. A coughing laugh sounded from him—Strongman had already come to terms with his own impending death.

That death came to him just as he expected. Casus skewered him with an uppercut, running his blade under Strongman’s ribcage and up through his skull. The baneworm tried to burst out of his body’s eyes, but the golden flame consumed his true body all the same.

As Casus wound down and spread out his focus once more, he noticed Lady Blackhand running from one of the stillborn. Just as he was about to aid her, she turned in place, and with her palm turned towards the graft-beast, a red flame exploded from her hand. It was far too violent, far too unfocused to be called thaumaturgy. Nonetheless, the discharge of raw power sent her flying through the foyer and in turn obliterated the stillborn’s upper half.

Casus nonetheless aided Lady Blackhand. She shouted, “Catch me!” as she flew, and he complied. He then immediately dropped her, for his instincts screamed when he touched her. The energies coursing through Blackhand made her seem like a roiling furnace to his sight.

“Are… Are you alright?” Casus asked.

Krahe gave a nod, raising her right hand. The Atomica floated in her grasp.

“Pre-implantation attunement. Can’t use thaumaturgy properly until it’s done. One-third of the way there.”

She glanced at the stillborn’s toppled lower half.

“Something tells me those won’t be the last freaks to blindly chase after me in the meanwhile.”

“Of course. You are a walking beacon,” Casus agreed, walking up to Strongman’s corpse. He took the keyring from his belt and moved to unlock the doors that stood between them and the rest of the upper floor. “Do you think it may be better for you to hide until you are in a more combat-ready state?”

“As it stands, I am… somewhat more combat-capable than with the Twin Serpent Key. My wards will hold out a bit longer, and you’ve seen what my unrefined energy output can do. Tactically speaking, it would be best for me to purposely draw the graft-beasts away from the ballroom, and thus away from Semzar. I will be able to outmaneuver them, possibly barricade them all out of the way with the last of the Forming Toroid’s charges.”

“Moreover, humoring Semzar with a face-to-face confrontation would likely work, given his personality,” Casus thought aloud. Clack. Clack. The circuits of the door’s warding flared for a moment, and then it slid open.

“A bulkhead disguised as a swing-out door? How tasteless,” he remarked.

As it slid open, they beheld… nothing. At first. The hallway was deserted, with neither guards, stillborns, nor barricades waiting for them. In fact, it was suspiciously calm. Then, the door across slid open just as the first one had, revealing the ballroom, and right through the precipice, Semzar upon a sofa, surrounded by women and guards—a throne of debauchery.

Casus could see him pressing something on an unassuming remote control. Looking closer, it was emblazoned with a “closing door” glyph, but he didn’t have any time to warn Krahe. Both doors began closing, only for Krahe to summon short walls as she passed through, jamming their mechanisms open.

Krahe, despite being undeniably the more vulnerable of the two, walked right into the midst of the enemy, adjusting her stride to radiate an aura of piss and vinegar to match her very real aura of writhing, seething magic. She was in a weakened state, but she also exuded the single brightest aura in the building, making it impossible for anyone to perceive her condition as anything other than a power-up—certainly not with any of the half-dozen appraisal attempts that feebly washed over her.

Behind Semzar, Tsetse stood, calm and motionless—entirely in contrast with how Krahe remembered him. It felt like a different person piloting the same battle body. Countless performers and lower-ranked gangsters were clustered throughout the ballroom, but only a vanishingly tiny minority seemed ready to fight, even among those who seemed competent at a glance. The majority of Semzar’s security force consisted of stillborns and their handlers with about sixteen stillborns in total, three to a handler. Only one in three stillborns had visible weapons, and less than half had ward generators. Most of them were also sonar-types, with domed “helmets” that lacked visible eyes. Their heads immediately snapped towards Krahe, and some of them began approaching her, only for their handlers to pull them back—some with commands, others using physical leashes.

“Zavesh, spare me,” Krahe sneered. “And here I thought I was ready to meet you in person. Is your face rejecting you, or is that what you consider handsome ? Is your venom gland perhaps atrophying?” The mafioso’s visage was nearly identical to how he had looked when she first saw him at the smokery, but his jawline and cheekbones were even more pronounced. He resembled a plastic surgery addict who got lucky and ended up looking only somewhat grotesque.

“So speaks the half-burnt anathemist. I expected you to be more cowardly in your approach. To think you would have a sense of decorum about coming after the boss of a rival gang,” he replied, visibly trying to put on an air of composure. The panic behind his eyes nor the twitching of his tendrils could be denied, even as he smugly raised a cocktail from the table and poured it into his gaping maw, exhaling a puff of bluish mist.

“Rival gang?” she balked. “The bounty you put on my head was one thing. I was almost flattered, really. Then, you sent Crescent Jezail after me— twice— and even paid him for a custom shot just for me the second time! Didn’t work; I can tell you that much! But the last straw, what made me decide to tear you out of that stolen skinsuit with my own bare hands—was that you had a street vendor killed just because I bought my breakfast from him . And what, did you think I wouldn’t find out it was you? Or that I wouldn’t come after you? I liked that food cart, Semzar. He made good foldovers, Semzar! I really miss that fucking food cart, you half-Gor’ah trust fund fuckboy! ”

The mafia heir shrunk back at that last phrase as if he’d been struck.

Krahe felt Casus’ cold, firm hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her tirade. Despite its physical chill, an ephemeral warmth spread out from the spot he touched. Krahe had to gather herself. She realized she was far angrier about Imraal’s death than she had thought. Her anger had shown itself in her tendril gesturing wildly with the Pattner, randomly aiming it at the members of Semzar’s retinue. She hadn’t noticed herself giving into all her built-up rage, so busy was she trying to wrangle the flow of thauma within herself. She masked it by fishing a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it up. Then, she immediately went back to pushing, unwilling to let up an advantage of psychological pressure.

“ You wish this was just a gang war. That leaves room for politics. This is both a personal and a church matter—and would you look at that, both of your victims are right here!”

She finally took a drag.

“Casus, if you would.”

Casus stepped forward.

A dozen men aimed their guns and thaumaturgies at the black-armored Banisher. At least three unique iterations of Mohawk’s “bladed chains” motif sprung up among them. Pandemonium unfolded, but the distance between Silberblut and his foes was simply too great. None could strike him, let alone harm him.

“What are you waiting for?! Kill them!” Semzar barked as the women swarmed away from him and he raised his barrier. It formed instantly as a flat wall of purple force, letting off mist and electric sparks, before bending to wrap around Semzar’s personal space. The instinctive ease with which he wielded it betrayed that it was stolen from his current host, the body acting before the worm’s mind realized what he was doing. After realizing he had raised a defense, his head whipped to and fro as he called out, “Cabral? Cabral!”

Tsetse looked down at Semzar in silence. Almost resigned, he stepped forward to interpose himself between his employer and Casus. At this point, Casus felt the geyser of power swirling around Lady Blackhand intensify even further. Through the eye on his back, he saw her holding that voidkey above her head as she ran, power visibly bursting from her arm. Were it anyone else, Casus would have expected them to explode at any moment.

“Your name is Cabral?” Casus asked matter-of-factly, in his hand grasped a battered corpse. The mass of flesh shuddered as a bullet tore into it. A Red Reaper followed right after, shredding what was left of the dead man’s rapidly dissipating wards and tearing off a third of his torso alongside his left leg. Casus dropped the body, but the shooter was already fleeing.

In the same manner, Tsetse answered, “Cabral Khan. You will not find me in your church’s registry.”

The true battle began only then. Those with half a brain and a will to live had already cleared out from the middle of the room, and many had scurried away, with guards quietly opening other doors in an effort to facilitate evacuation.

The two warriors faced off—tremors carrying through the floor as thunderous impacts rang in people’s ears. The alien whirring and bassy thumping of Tsetse’s sonic weapons played the percussion, whereas Silberblut seemed to fight in an almost restrained manner, avoiding coupler charges in favor of trying to feel out his opponent.

It seemed, at first, that Silberblut might even keep up—at first. Within two exchanges, it became clear that Tsetse still had the upper hand. Within three exchanges, Silberblut was obviously on the back foot and Blackhand was soaring overhead, riding on a scarlet pillar of high-energy thauma.

???

As she felt the tides of chaos surging, Krahe raised her right arm, purposely stoking the flow of power between herself and the Atomica. Many pairs of eyes immediately turned her way. The Atomica responded instantaneously, and as the intensity of the current grew, so did the intensity of the Liminal Coil’s resonance, until the pain was nearly unbearable. In turn, the glow of her left arm also intensified, narrow geysers of crimson energy erupting from the cracks as a constant blowtorch-like flare vented from her palm. A second and third tendril inadvertently emerged from her back due to the sheer energy output, their nascent silhouettes writhing under her suit the same way her muscles twitched and seized.

Bullets and thaumaturgies were loosed her way, but the power writhing about her swept them aside. Bolts of power went careening wildly in other directions, while bullets were simply obliterated. Nearly every stillborn in the ballroom immediately began doing everything in its power to reach her, some dragging their handlers along. Others responded to their handlers’ attempts at control by turning on them. Two packs slew their handlers, and in turn, their heads exploded, adding further to the chaos. Only one handler managed to retain control of his beasts—another man with an implanted third eye. He did so by dragging them over to Tsetse, who exhaled a mist of what had to be pheromones onto the creatures.

Having achieved her goal and not wanting to risk it any longer, Krahe disposed of the excess energy as best she could—by expelling it directly. The only problem was that the mere thought of doing it was enough to set it off before she could properly align herself. She went flying through the ballroom, leaving a gaping, seething hole burned straight through the floor, rampant magic eating away at its edges even as she flew. On one hand, the pain abated immediately. On the other, she had no way to reorient herself mid-flight. Skimming was her only choice, and something told her the backlash would be an order of magnitude worse this time around.

In the span of moments, she did several things. First, she ripped a pen-type autoinjector kicking and screaming from her Kenoma Pocket, despite the item’s audible creaking and the scraping of otherworldly fangs against her skin. One out of many she had looted from dead bodies, it was loaded with Class 3 Pain Inhibitor. Second, she willed her tendril to squeeze the Pattner’s trigger just as the pistol happened to be pointing in the right direction. The bullet struck Semzar’s back. Not nearly enough to penetrate his wards, but he certainly felt it.

The landing was just as rough as she had feared. She skimmed at the last moment with the intention to shunt all her momentum, landed perfectly on the ground, and immediately doubled over in pain as the people around her stumbled back, visibly being pushed away as the carpet under her feet unraveled and burned. The painkiller, somehow, made it worse. As it spread through her bloodstream, the secondary effects of pain fell away, and even the nature of her pain changed, but it remained, and alongside it, all other sensations were altered in turn. Her insides felt like a wriggling sack of serpents, her eyeballs throbbed in their sockets, and that was just the start of it.

Nonetheless, she could move again, and that she did. She wove through the mass of panicking bodies and was provided ample cover by the half-stampeding crowd that had formed around the ballroom’s outer perimeter. Such was the threat of collateral damage that even numerous gangsters, despite being able to harm Silberblut and especially Krahe, had been cowed into inaction.

The small comfort of using a crowd for cover didn’t last long—Krahe’s aura still pushed people away, and they readily scattered from her even without its encouragement. The stillborns were hot on her trail. She just needed to drag the abominations out of here, and until then, she was glad to let Casus and Tsetse take center stage. She certainly wouldn’t grace that flyman with his preferred name, even in thought.

As she made her way to one of the ballroom’s staff exits, she caught sight of a Saurian guard waiting there. Countless scales swarmed out of his sleeves as he channeled his magic, swarming towards Krahe. She sent herself flying through that door with a short burst from her arm, her wards gaining numerous new gashes as she flew into the corridor. A handful were only impeded partially, leaving cuts on her trousers and the back of her bodysuit. No follow-up attacks came—the guard was too busy avoiding the stillborns.

And so, Krahe went tearing down the mansion’s corridors, playing a lethal game of cat and mouse with a gaggle of bioweapons. In this matter, Barzai, once more, proved himself invaluable, as Krahe had him always flying ahead, purposely leaving him visible. The sight and sound of him sent people running well before Krahe would arrive. The eidolon took quite readily to the command to scare off the chaff, harassing stragglers with explosions as he cackled and foretold her coming as if she was an inhuman calamity.

“DEATH! DEATH COMES! FLEE NOW IN TERROR OR STAND AND FIGHT, NOTHING CAN SAVE YOU! THE GREEN-EYED DEMON COMES, AND ALL SHALL MEET THEIR ENDS! WHO PILES CORPSES AT HER FEET, DISEMBOWELER, BEHEADER, SCOURER OF LIFE AND HOPE FROM ALL WHO STAND IN HER WAY! SHE COMES AND NONE SHALL BE SPARED!”

The raven rambled on and on in this manner, and Krahe tuned it out before long. Gradually, the stillborns closed the distance, most of them sprinting on all fours like feral beasts. She couldn’t help but grin as she blasted down the length of a hallway, the air whipping past her face. A few pulled ahead of the pack, standing out as particularly quick on their feet. To her surprise they exhibited a degree of tactical thinking, overtaking her in a clear effort to box her in. Krahe couldn’t help but grin as she pointed her left arm right into the face of the stillborn behind her, releasing her built-up pressure and sending herself flying down the corridor. One of the stillborns that had overtaken her tried lunging at her as she passed it, but she sent it staggering back with a well-placed shot to the chest.