Die. Respawn. Repeat. - Chapter 85— Book 2: Bird Problem

The next problem I need to deal with is getting to Tarin without having to fight all the Guilty Chimeras in the way. Or, alternatively, I could fight them, and earn myself the commensurate credits. I’m so close to my next Durability upgrade I can almost taste it.

I’m in the midst of convincing myself to fight at least one chimera when Tarin shows up, charging into the clearing with blistering speed. There’s a trail of black lightning that cascades behind him and at least two cracked trees that I can see.

I blink.

“Ethan!” Tarin declares. “You here!”

“Well, yes, I haven’t had the chance to leave yet,” I say, slightly amused. This wasn’t even the plan — we were supposed to meet up back in the village. Tarin just waves me off, starting to pace around in a circle.

“We lose!” he says. “I not sure what we fight. Bug things? I remember I see bug things. But I not remember how I got hit.”

“Time Flies, according to the Interface,” I say dryly. I’m still having trouble with the Interface’s chosen name for them. “Apparently they attack through time, draining the Firmament of their targets. Which is why none of us could defend against it.”

Tarin stares at me. It’s the most shocked I’ve ever seen him look — his beak hangs open slightly. “Cheaters,” he finally manages after a moment, scowling. “Of course they cheat.”

I laugh a little at this mirror to Tarin’s words about the Raid on the crow village, which feels like it was ages ago. Tarin caws at me with irritation, flapping his wings. “Why you laugh!”

“You said something very similar, once,” I say with a small smile. “You don’t remember?”

“What?” Tarin looks confused, and then he snaps his talons. “Oh! Yes! Harpies! They also cheaters. Interface cheat.”

“By that definition, I’m also a cheater.”

“Yes. But you good cheater.” Tarin resumes pacing. “How we fight flies?”

The question takes me back to what I’ve been doing. “I’ve got something that’ll work against them,” I say, flexing my fingers. I haven’t actually tested Timestrike. “Or it should. It lets me punch into the future. As long as I know where they’re going to be…”

Tarin stares at me, taking a moment to process what I’ve just said. After a moment, he gives up, throwing his wings into the air. “Interface stupid,” he declares. “I not see you for five minutes and suddenly you can punch future!”

“Yep,” Ahkelios suddenly chimes in from his position atop my head. “Interface stupid. I can’t believe it didn’t give me future punching.”

I sigh. I have a feeling neither of these two are going to let me live that down for a while. “We should figure out what to do next,” I say, changing the subject. “I think we need to find Miktik again.”

Tarin’s expression darkens. “I not sure I want involve her. She… not deserve what happen.”

“I know that.” My voice is sympathetic. “But she’s already involved. She-Who-Whispers uses her to build… more iterations of Guard, I guess. And she’s got something that lets her fight the Whispers.”

“Oh,” Tarin says. It’s a blank sort of sound, at first, like he’s processing. Then he grins wide. “That like Miktik. She find way to fight.”

I nod. “If we go back to Isthanok, we have to get to her first. We might be able to borrow her… I don’t know what she calls it. It’s some kind of Firmament sink.”

We discuss things a little further, and the plan is set. Head to Isthanok, bypass the Chimeras — because apparently riling them up too much will make the crows’ hunting territory that much more dangerous — and get help from Miktik.

We should probably figure out whatever’s going on with Guard, too.

“How do you know about that?”

Miktik’s suspicious. Of course she’s suspicious. I suppress my groan — I remembered to tell Tarin not to get into the whole Trialgoer thing, but I didn’t realize he was going to burst in and ask about the Firmament sink right off the bat.

“A little more discretion, please, Tarin?” I ask tiredly. “You need to be more careful. We don’t want to waste everything we’ve done so far because of one wrong word.”

Tarin shakes his head, and his expression is surprisingly serious. He isn’t just blowing me off or barging ahead. There’s something else on his mind? “Miktik,” he says. “You not understand. Whisper… Whisper hurt you.”

Oh.

I look a little closer at Tarin. His wings are trembling slightly, and there’s a sharpness in his eyes, a near-invisible crackle of black Firmament that jumps between his feathers. He’s breathing a little faster and heavier than he normally is.

He’s angry.

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He doesn’t get angry very often. I’ve seen him determined, I’ve seen him desperate, and I’ve seen him goof off. The closest I’ve ever seen him to angry is when he’s talking about Naru.

This isn’t about him being reckless at all. This is because he watched his friend die in front of him. It’s because he saw what Whisper did to her and didn’t get the opportunity to talk about it. He’s not stupid — he’s never been stupid, really, as much as he wears his goofiness and obsession with training as a mask — and right now he’s got a lot of pent-up worry and concern about his friend…

I should have asked how he was doing.

Miktik’s reaction is unexpected. She takes several steps back from Tarin, her legs scurrying beneath her body, and I can see her beginning to curl up defensively. It’s a reflex response — she doesn’t believe she’s in any real danger — but it’s pretty telling.

“…How do you know about that?” she asks softly.

“I just know,” Tarin says. He steps forward, and this time Miktik doesn’t step away, and leans into it when he hugs her. The scene is, in all honesty, a little awkward; Miktik’s species clearly isn’t built for hugging. But she seems to appreciate it. “Why you not tell us? We help. We take you back with us. Our home also yours!”

Miktik looks away. “Miktik can’t,” she says emphatically. There’s a distinct anxiety in the way she shuffles about on her feet. “She-Who-Whispers has… she has something Miktik made. An AI core. Miktik can’t leave it with her.”

Right, that. I frown a little at the reminder. “Miktik,” I say slowly. “Do you know anything about He-Who-Guards?”

“The automaton that helps enforce Whisper’s rules?” Miktik looks confused. “What about him?”

“He’s an AI of some kind, too, right?” I press. “I got to speak to him for a while. There’s something strange about him.”

“The iterations of him that patrol the city are usually hiding, and I’ve never had a chance to talk to him.” Miktik’s antennae wave about as if in agitation, but she’s a little less nervous now, at least. “Do you think She-Who-Whispers—?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

There are too many unanswered questions about Whisper and Guard, still. Miktik’s privacy imbuements aren’t powerful enough for me to want to risk talking about investigating them, but I make a quiet, mental note: there’s more going on in this city than is apparent on the surface. I need to figure out what.

Miktik is silent for a moment. “…I don’t know how you two know all this,” Miktik says after a moment. “But I’m guessing you have a Firmament power that’s kind of like mine? You can track things down, maybe watch things from afar?”

That’s… about as close as I can get without saying I travel through time. “Something like that,” I say reservedly, and Tarin thankfully doesn’t burst in to explain the time loop.

“The Firmament sink I use is still in development.” Miktik sighs, unstrapping something from a near-invisible line around the middle segment of her body. It’s a small, triangular device that lets out a beep as it detaches from her, and she holds it up for us to look at. “It’s not very stable. I have to replace it every couple of days. I really want to know how you knew about it.”

Miktik is trustworthy. I know she’s trustworthy, because I just watched her get roasted because she refused to tell Whisper anything else she knew about us. But that makes me more reluctant to tell her, if anything; if she hadn’t known anything, maybe Whisper wouldn’t have blamed her for keeping a secret.

“We can’t tell you.” It takes a moment to come to that decision, and I hope it’s the right one. “Do you have more? Could we borrow a couple of them from you?”

Miktik shakes her head rapidly. “Miktik can’t afford to make more,” she says, her limbs shifting about on the floor in a way I recognize as nervous. “The components are too expensive, especially since I have to keep replacing them. I’ll get a shipment in to build one tomorrow, but this one will be burnt out by then.”

I grimace. “Is there any way we can help? Or at least watch the process?” I ask. Miktik’s skills don’t lie with imbuement, exactly; it’s the reason she needed Tarin’s help to fix the regulator. Her workshop is full of Firmament-powered machinery and her ability to maintain it is limited compared to her talent at building. “Maybe we can find a way to improve it.”

Miktik goes silent. I see her glancing towards the regulator I know she needs fixed — I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am. “Miktik isn’t sure. You might be able to help! You can take a look at this one, if you want.”

I exchange glances with Tarin, then approach the Firmament sink that Miktik’s holding out to me. It’s not until I have it in my hands that I’m able to sense exactly how complicated it is.

Part of it, I think, is that the individual components are complicated. Miktik mentioned that the components were hard to get and expensive — and I can see why. It looks like there’s some sort of power source in the center that’s made out of some kind of plant, and that plant has a complex network of Firmament that stretched out through the device.

The rest of it is a lot of different regulators, as far as I can tell. I’m not nearly practiced enough with imbuement to be able to discern their exact purpose, but there’s some similarity in their construction to the regulator Miktik showed us in the previous loop. The plant-thing in the center pulls at every bit of Firmament around it in a way that’s not unlike the Void, though I don’t sense any of that present in the device.

Instead, it does this by creating tiny vortexes of Firmament. The regulators are present largely to help identify what type of Firmament it should draw in, and then there’s a final regulator just below the plant matter that I think serves as the actual sink part of the device. I can sense the few stray pieces of Firmament that wander in being converted into heat and light through a complex array of Firmament.

Well, into heat and light Firmament, but it’s pretty much the same thing. The regulators prevent those types of Firmament from being reabsorbed.

I frown. That’s an immediate issue, isn’t it?

“Doesn’t Whisper use heat-aligned Firmament as the punishment for disobeying a Whisper?” I ask. “It’s not completely the same, so it’ll still grab some of it, but… this thing won’t be able to absorb the full backlash.”

“That’s intentional,” Miktik says. “It can’t absorb the full backlash or the whole thing would explode immediately.”

Ah. Yep, that sounds like a problem. The whole thing is a little too complicated for me to work with right now, but… I think back to my skill imbuements, and consider my upgraded skill, Hueshift.

I might be able to do something. It’s just too bad I don’t have any material to work with here — it looks like everything in Miktik’s shop is meant for mechanical builds, not imbuements.

“You don’t happen to have any stones that are good for imbuements, do you?” I ask.

Miktik tilts her head. “No?” she says hesitantly. “But there are a bunch of stones at the Craven Arena, if you want to compete there.”

“Oh!” Tarin quips. “That place we make bets! Ethan good fighter!”

“You’ve been there?” Miktik seems confused. “I don’t remember hearing about someone like him in the Arena…”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, shaking my head.