Chapter 973: A Cruelty or a Mercy

Jason stepped through the portal into the long savannah grass around Tera Jun Casta’s remote villa. Tera looked at him from the porch, taking him in as he did the same. The wings she had been so proud of as a messenger were nowhere to be seen. Her clothes were a simple blouse and pants in the human style, although fitted for a nine-foot-tall woman. She was standing on the wooden porch in bare feet, not floating over it. Her eyes looked at him with the same old hatred he remembered.

The rest of her body language was less wary. In the past, she’d always been guarded and ready to strike, as if waiting for him to spring some trap. Now there was an uncertainty to her, as if unsure whether to stride forward and confront him or turn and leave. She chose the latter, moving inside without a word. Jason felt the emotions warring within her aura, even more conflicted than her appearance.

Boris walked over as the portal closed behind Jason.

“I’m going to ask you to avoid your usual charm,” the messenger said. “We both know it’s not for everyone, and she tops the list of people it isn’t for. Normally, I wouldn’t make a point of it, but—”

“She, of all people, deserves to be spared.”

Boris nodded. His own outgoing personality was likewise being kept in check.

“How is she doing?” Jason asked. “I was a little surprised when I heard that she’d gone seeking out the Unorthodoxy.”

“It took her a long time to come to terms with what our kind truly are. Cracking indoctrination is never easy or clean. When her faith in the astral kings finally broke, it broke hard. She almost broke with it.”

“Especially after what I did to her, I imagine.”

“Possibly, I don’t know. I’ve seen soul torture but never experienced it. It seems like something you can’t truly understand without experiencing it.”

Jason nodded his acknowledgement of the point.

“She’s a woman of absolute conviction,” Boris continued, “and that conviction took a lot to break. When it did, it was an ugly thing, according to Jali Corrik Fen. It was good that Tera had a friend to rely on, or she might not still be with us. But she isn’t built to let things go, and her passion for the Messenger Orthodoxy didn’t go away. It went from fervent obedience to blinding fury. That was when she sought me out, looking to join the Unorthodoxy.”

“There’s no zealot like a convert.”

“Certainly not this convert. But while her feelings on the Orthodoxy are clear, things are more complicated when it comes to you.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I’m concerned about what you’re here for, Jason. If this is for some kind of atonement or reconciliation, I’m going to ask you to turn around and go home. That would be for you, and it’s not what she needs.”

“No, Boris. This is something else. Something that what Tera has been through makes her uniquely qualified for.”

“Jason, I don’t like the sound of that.”

Jason smiled.

“And I’m glad that you’re looking to the wellbeing of someone who once hated everything you stand for. But I don’t need your permission, Boris. You know that I support the Unorthodoxy, and that I will be willing to act in their interests when I can. But I’m also going to do things that, while not going against your interests, won’t be in aid of them, when they easily could.”

Boris narrowed his eyes.

“So, that’s what you want. Someone to rehabilitate all the messengers Jamis Fran Muskar surrendered to you.”

“Yes.”

“You realise that asking a newly radicalised Unorthodoxy zealot to not lead them to the Unorthodoxy is an odd choice, right?”

“I think that the most valuable thing Tera has gained from her experiences is the power to make choices for herself. I’m betting on her respecting that. I have no doubt that she’ll play recruitment officer for you, probably with some success. But it has to be their choice, at a stage where they are competent to make it. If they want to fight against the people that enslaved them, I understand that, and I respect it. But if they instead want to put your war behind them and find some measure of peace, I understand and respect that to. As will you.”

“I’m not looking to force anyone into a war, Jason. I’ve told you that before.”

“I know. But I also I know where good intentions can lead you, and how biases can affect you without you realising it. You have billions of years of experience, Boris. Do those things ever change?”

“No. For all my years, I move through life one day at a time, just like everyone else.”

Jason nodded.

“I know it sounds like I’m accusing you, Boris. The truth is, I worry about myself more. I asked you here to help keep me straight as I approach this. I’ve already hurt Tera enough.”

“Before we go in, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“You’ve had the surrendered messengers for some time now, right? Months?”

“Yes. You want to know what I’ve been doing with them?”

“I do.”

“I have a prison planet. Their astral kings can’t control them while they’re in my astral kingdom. The messengers still have the marks of their old kings, though. I didn’t want to remove them until I have programs in place to help them through the ordeal. But that is something best discussed with Tera and Jali.”

“Shall we go inside, then?”

“Let’s,” Jason said, turning to look over the villa. The design was long and low, built from wood and stone that felt completely in keeping with the savannah around it.

“What is this place?” he asked. “It’s lovely.”

“The Unorthodoxy maintains a lot of places like this within our territories. Our design philosophy is largely reactive to that of the orthodox messengers. Where they like ostentatious fortress towns and soaring spires, we go for small, low-slung and blending into the environment. Tera wanted solitude, and this fit the bill.”

Jason took a steeling breath and set out for the building.

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***

Jack Gerling was not a good fighter, nor an expert in using his essence abilities. He wasn’t even alive, being a soul trapped in a sequence of blood clones. The clones degraded over time as Gerling’s soul struggled to escape into the sweet release of death, growing more tormented with each passing year. As an enslaved clone, his soul trapped in a living prison, he could do nothing but obey.

One of the reasons Gerling had never learned to fight very well was that his explosion powers were intuitive and effective. He used only a handful of his essence abilities for almost every problem and ignored the rest. Ranking up with monster cores meant that he never needed to bother with them.

This was as true now as it had been in life. Part of a trio being chased down a tunnel, he was the rearguard, blasting back each silver-rank pursuer who caught up. Gravity magic was slowing down the gold-rankers, who would otherwise be unfussed by even large groups of silver-rankers. The only threat Gerling had ever faced from silvers was Jason Asano and Farrah Hurin. Even then, they had been helped and still lost.

Being deep inside an alpine mountain, trying to blast out of the tunnel would only bring it down on their heads. They could only rush for the blast door and hope it didn’t take too long to break open.