Chapter 12: Seedlings

I have to say the barracks here are much nicer than I anticipated. I suppose generational wealth builds up over the eons, so I do my best not to gawp like an idiot at all the fancy wall decorations on soft wood panels I spot on the way. Very neat and proper, I like it. The attendant rushes down the corridor without looking back and I realize I would have struggled to follow before the awakening but now, everything is easier. I move faster, I can anticipate other people’s gestures more easily just because I can see them move more easily. It all compounds to making everything better and easier. I’m almost disappointed when we turn into a large office. False sunlight falls from a carved stone ceiling, snaking between roots of a tree that looks alive as far as I can tell. The gentle light centers on a table covered in reports. A small bunk bed lies open near the back wall, its sheets messy.

 

The man who stands in front of the table with bloodshot eyes gulps a cup of something that resembles coffee. He looks like a scarred old man with twin black horns looping back from his forehead and over his scalp. One of the horns is broken halfway. Scars cover half of his virile face. Man’s got a chin that could flatten a bearing ball and a perpetual scowl.

 

He just looks so sad.

 

“Hello,” he greets.

 

The attendant flees. The man raises a hand to ask me to wait which shows he’s missing a finger. He downs whatever excitant he’s holding then drops the ceramic cup on top of a pile of equally stained ceramic cups. His soul is entirely closed to me which implies he’s notably stronger than the buggered-out appearance would suggest.

 

“You are… Steve. Soul-awakened gate guardian, yes. Was there something you wanted?”

 

He blinked. Slowly.

 

“I would like information on the explosion that killed the Law and Might avatars. I’d like to have the details, the official ones. Not the rumors.”

 

I can see he’s going to refuse.

 

“Look, you are Krane, the Avatar of Redemption so maybe you have a way to check if someone is being sincere or not.”

 

“I do not,” he replies with a raised brow. “In fact.”

 

“… but I promise I want to help Enderlith.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

He moves around the table. I notice he’s only marginally taller than me which isn’t much here, but he’s built like a brick shithouse under that uniform. A brick shithouse that stole a smaller brick shithouse’s lunch money. Absolute unit of a fucker.

 

“I can tell you are genuine, and yet…”

 

“The harm’s done so… no more harm, right? Can’t explode the station a second time,” I argue.

 

Krane’s gaze grows distant.

 

“By all the gods, I hope not. But yes, your request is a strange one yet I feel no malice, and… I doubt you have the power to destroy us, with all due respect.”

 

“I wouldn’t even if I did.”

 

“What is it you are trying to achieve?”

 

I hesitate. If I had a way to go back in time by five minutes, I could blunder my way to success but alas, I cannot. If I fail then I fail for this loop, not to mention there is no guarantee I’ll succeed again. The second time I went to Mercy’s temple, I failed to get my roommate’s trust because of the way I was dressed and spoke. That means, I’m unwilling to take too many risks and giving someone else information on what I can do is a risk. Chronos swears I’m immortal and my soul cannot be destroyed but that doesn’t mean I can’t suffer, or be temporarily broken. It doesn’t mean I don’t get fatigue. I can’t afford to fuck this up too much.

 

“I… cannot tell you. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

 

“Perhaps I would.”

 

He shrugs.

 

“If I’m going to waste time helping you for some unknown cause, the least you can do is return the favor.”

 

He raises both hands in anticipation of my protests, which weren’t coming but hey.

 

“Now I am not belittling your significant contribution to our struggle. I merely want proof that you really care.”

 

He extends a hand.

 

“We have flesh crafters in our raiding parties, some of whom are rather clueless when it comes to defending themselves.”

 

He shudders.

 

“Unlike others. In any case, I will request that you sacrifice your Defender. Offer me the wand, and I will satisfy your request.”

 

I place my hand on the silvery guard. I like the Defender, but I am being realistic if I say it wouldn’t save me. Probably. So with deliberate gestures, I drop it on the table.

 

“Good,” Krane says, looking at the weapon. “Yes, very good.”

 

“Can I get the information? You can send me a package.”

 

“What?”

 

He blinks.

 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I know what happened.”

 

He grabs the wand.

 

“In more normal times, I would need you to sign this over to me or risk getting a manufactorium hit squad on my ass, but they waived the ownership transfer requirements so… In any case.”

 

The sentence is interrupted by a long yawn.

 

“Where was I? Oh yes. First of all, we don’t know if Might died there. There are no records of Might’s avatar showing up so we are still uncertain as to their fate, however we know Harmony and Deceit perished there too.”

 

He glances up.

 

“Those are the diplomatic and intelligence avatars, respectively.”

 

“Ok. Where was the bomb placed?”

 

Krane frowns. He grabs a datasheet and taps a few fingers at a quick staccato. A moment later, the sheet blinks and I’m looking at blueprints.

 

“The explosion was 800 paces core-bound, directly under the ceremony’s location. It wasn’t secured because, well, it was past a reinforced piece of the station’s armature and shouldn’t have been a vulnerability at all.”

 

“Do we know how the explosion could damage the station that much? Everyone seems to say it shouldn’t have been impossible.”

 

Krane gives me a measuring look before shrugging, his massive shoulders moving his robes on the Richter scale.

 

“What do you know about soul bombs?”

 

“Fuckall.”

 

There is a sort of shift in his soul, one I cannot read beyond the ice of his poker face.

 

“Soul detonations are an ancient and forbidden technique that defiles an individual’s very essence for impossibly destructive results. We believe this is the only way to create an explosion that can damage the material that makes up Enderlith’s structure. Even then, it should have been much more contained. I am not sure what more to tell you.”

 

“Well…”

 

I have a location and a date. What else would I need?

 

“What would a soul bomb even look like?” I finally ask.

 

This time, there is a long pause.

 

“I am not sure, but it would be fairly large for this sort of damage. Car-sized at least.”

 

I have seen hover cars as large as small planes here so it doesn’t mean much. Wouldn’t fit in a trunk though, at least, so there is that.

 

“I see.”

 

“I will be honest, Steve. You sound as if you could do something about it. Can you go back in time or something?”

 

Huh.

 

“Huh. You can,” Krane asserts.

 

I suppose I’m not exactly being subtle. Congrats, fucking Steve. Found out after all of two minutes. Richard III I am not. At least I messed up with the officially recognized avatar of redemption, someone who has minimal risks of betraying my trust.

 

“Or at least, you believe you can. The powers the gods grant are… beyond understanding. Beyond what makes sense, so, maybe, just, maybe…”

 

For the first time since we met, the mantle of control he has over his soul cracks and a burst of emotions so concentrated I flinch explodes out, like a volcano finally cracking its basalt shell. The eruption is intense, monstrously so. There is guilt, despair, and powerless anger at the back but the emotion dominating his mental landscape is one he clearly doesn’t know how to handle.

 

It’s hope.

 

“No, no, but that would mean… Could it be? You must be an avatar of great power, but… No. No one must find out, just in case.”

 

He looks up. I feel a little embarrassed seeing the tears in his eyes rolling over the scar tissue of his cheeks. It feels voyeuristic, like I haven’t earned the right to watch this happen.

 

“No one else can know, just in case. Maybe you are crazy. Maybe we both are. Listen, because this is important. The explosion was probably the work of another avatar. A mighty one, to find a soul bomb of a power never seen before.”

 

He gives me a pointed glare.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

 

“So if you can go back in time, don’t go at it alone. Hypothetically.”

 

“I’m very far from doing anything alone. Say, hypothetically, if I were to try and convince you that I’m a time traveller, what would I say?”

 

I can’t believe I’m getting an ally straight away. Obviously I can’t accomplish anything by myself just yet, so getting friends would have become a priority down the line. Having one now could make a world of difference.

 

“You would call my number right away. My home number. I’ll write it on a piece of paper. Make sure you remember it. Mention that you know something happened in Tulku.”

 

“Something… happened in Tulku?”

 

“Yes, and I will not tell you what. I am the Avatar of Redemption. I’ll let you guess what made this redemption… desirable. Albeit undeserved.”

 

His eyes narrow.

 

“You should probably keep the time traveler thing to yourself.”

 

“It’s my bad, I intended to but…”

 

“But you asked all the questions one after the other without misdirection, expecting that I wouldn’t infer your goal? Are you familiar with the concept of deception?” he asks with impatience.

 

“Look, I’m really new at this.”

 

“So you haven’t used your powers yet?”

 

I do not reply.

 

“That’s a yes.”

 

It’s actually a no but if I have to practice deception, might as well start with something easy.

 

“So I need to memorize the number and mention Tulku. Anything else?”

 

“I assure you that it should be enough to at least get my attention. Perhaps I will share more if this works.”

 

He sighs, then returns to his desk. His massive mangled hands fall on the table with a light thump. They make the table look small.

 

“Now you are making me hope. How cruel of you. I have to tell you now, that things are not going so well.”

 

He shuffles the papers a bit. As an afterthought, he remembers to write his number down.

 

“We are holding the line and killing those creatures by the thousands every day, but they evolve too, and there is no end to their number. Deeper in the core, there are entire tribal nations that never saw the light of our star. The traditionalists on the other side have refused to coordinate with us. The far tip of the station doesn’t have our might. If they fall, millions more will join the ranks for the mutated. I fear time is against us.”

 

“There are rumors that they are hive creatures.”

 

He grunts.

 

“You have soul perception. You know they are hive creatures bound together by something. Right now, we have no way to look for that source. They are simply too numerous.”

 

He looks up.

 

“Perhaps something you might help with.”

 

“Preventing the explosion should be my first priority.”

 

“Hypothetically.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He smiles, then his gaze falls on the stack of paper.

 

“Then perhaps this isn’t meaningless. Very well. Oh, and catch.”

 

I grab the Defender midair. He’s returned it.