Chapter 149 - Knocking. Knocking. Knocking At The Door. (Patreon)

A little late, but here ya go! Bedtime for me now tho. You'll never guess what the plan for the ritual is, lol. See you all on sunday!

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Raika takes a long, slow pull on her pipe, trying to clear the taste of ash and death from her mouth. It’s not easy; neither is a taste that likes to leave, and neither is a taste that’s hard to miss, though the latter even moreso. This is the third ghost she’s eaten tonight, stirred up by the Cold Sun, and between the haunting flavor of moldy-putty-that-was-in-a-room-with-food-once and the surprising aftertaste of bloody mint and rot, they’re not… entirely pleasant. Still, not terrible overall. The only thing Raika’s found she actively dislikes the taste of so far has been shale, though most rocks are fairly boring, usually. The smoke isn’t quite the same as before, the ingredients plenty different, but it’s close, and even with the lightened narcotic effect, the taste is still better.

The kid stares up at her from inside the alcove, his eyes so wide they look like dinner plates on his face. He’s wearing clothes Raika recognizes from her time in the streets as scavenged and ragged, and she can smell through the fabric the piss he’s barely holding back, the fear sweat that saturates his little alcove and drenches his clothes, the vibrant sound of his heart beating like a hummingbird’s. He doesn’t say anything for long enough that it becomes a bit annoying.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Raika says, keeping her voice light. Her true voice behind it, empowered by Qi and alien physiology, stays quiet, the purring of it muted. She still doesn’t sound necessarily normal, but it would be weirder if she did with how tall she is. “You’re stinking up this whole place, and if one of them can find you, another will. Get out of there.”

“...fuck you.”

Raika’s smile goes a mile wide, her teeth gleaming in the dark even with the smoke now ringing her head. “That’s the spirit. Proper little shit, ain’t you?”

The kid stays still a little longer, but his eyes dart to the specter. She wonders if he can see it, but then- ah. The ash. Makes sense. It only covers up part of it, an arm and some joints. If he saw the whole thing, she figures he would’ve let out that piss he’s holding in. Even when it comes to spirits, this one is ugly. She’s only eaten a few, but they sure are more awake beneath the Cold Sun, and this one looks like maybe five of them, growing in and out of each other like entangled trees and strange parasites in one. What little is human in it (beyond the pieces she already ate) looks like little more than vague anatomical shapes, made into grasping clusters of hands, too many limbs, and a second head poking out of its stomach, three skulls and mouths and eye sockets all melted together like wax.

She gives it a kick, and it slumps over a bit as it further collapses, but otherwise doesn’t move. It’s not much, but it’s enough for the kid to lower the bedroll he has partially over the entrance. She can see more of him, the glimpses of his bones through the skin from how skinny he is. It reinforces the initial impression of an orphan, but… an impressive one nonetheless. Living outside town walls, even in the third ring, is no small thing, and the campfire here is weeks old at least.

And he smells of Qi.

Just a little, but… mmm. Bitter. Like sharp, caffeinated tea in a dark room, but with someone mean laughing in it.

She’s getting it clearer, now. She nods, enjoying her progress. But… focus.

She sits down across from the kid and his alcove, taking her time with it and moving slower than normal so that he doesn’t startle. She could rip him out of there, pull apart the rocks with her bare hands, and there is something in her predatory Flesh that thinks might be a fun impulse, but… nah. Better to let him choose to come out. 

She drags the “corpse” of the wraith, or revenant, or whatever it is, over to her. It’s not dead, it can’t die until it dissipates, but it could take days or years before it reforms itself, and in that time… well. She’s still peckish.

She pushes Qi into her left arm. Where before there was flesh, bone, sinew, blood, now the limb is entirely made of a pure black steel. It eclipses the amount she had as claws or fangs before, but it’s certainly much more useful now, and one of the few veins left in it pushes Qi towards her fingers. She flicks them once, twice as it doesn’t catch, and a spark of raw lifeblood meets transformative hunger, meets death, and turns to Flame.

She lights the firepit, the flame fueled enough that it sits pretty in the little pit, happily munching on ashes and illuminating the clearing. The kid stares into the Flames, his eyes wide and wondering.

She rips off a piece of a dead ghost, crushing it in her hand. It bleeds, the cold and the taste of death leaking into her new arm and slowly feeding the material it’s made from. Where it meets her veins and flesh, small spikes of blacksteel grow, death and life meeting and fusing into more of the impossible metal. She raises what’s left of the meat and bites into it, absorbing it through the metal and eating it in more-or-less equal measure.

Still tastes nasty, but it’s nice to eat something that’s filling, as opposed to most mundane ingredients. In between bites, she takes another long pull on her pipe, making sure the smoke drifts away from the kid.

The fire crackles as she eats for almost thirty minutes before the kid crawls out from his little alcove. He sits across from her, on top of the rock, staying at the edge of the light, ready to bolt.

She nods at him. “Got anywhere to be?” she asks.

He just frowns at her.

She shrugs. “Figured I’d check. You’ll probably die out here tonight, though.”

The kid huffs and shakes his head, his eyes never leaving her. “Not my first festival out here. I’m still alive plenty.”

“Yeah, but that was before me,” Raika sighs. “Been riling things up the last few weeks, hunting. Now the Cold Sun is wriggling, they’re gonna be even more awake.”

He frowns, looking her up and down. “You’re… you’re not an exorcist. Or a Guard.”

Raika laughs at that, letting it get a little louder than normal to ensure both a funny flinch from the kid and that the ghost behind him retreats back a few steps, warier.

“Can’t say I am, kid.”

“You’re a cultivator?”

She shrugs again. “Sure. For lack of a better word, call me a cultivator.”

“Oh.”

She smiles, wide and with a few more fangs than the last time. “Isn’t it common sense to bow to a cultivator, boy? Or are the strange and powerful so common a sight in your little village?”

He shrugs at her, a bit of fear coming back but… not much. He looks down at himself, then looks at her. “I mean… I was technically bowing in the nook.”

She snorts, huffing another breath of acrid, floral-rot-scented smoke out as she does. “Sure, kid.”

She sighs. Breathes in, and then out.

She focuses, feeling her pieces drift into place.

The Mask steps back a bit, her face going a bit slack and calm as she closes her eyes and leans back. From beneath, the Flesh stirs, ripples of it making her opinion known in the language of gut feelings and hormones, and from behind both, a smaller piece comes forth. Where the Flesh manifests as chemicals and physical sensation, and the Mask presents itself calculating and shifting, the little kernel flickers and shifts, surrounded by an orbit of memory and emotion and feeding into the calculus with more of the same.

Raika feels her body heat up, ever so slightly, as neural systems warm and begin to pulse signals up and down her altered anatomy.

The hunt was planned weeks ago. Her blood used as a lure, increasing the number and strength of potential manifestations of vengeful undead to feed on and purge, preparations for the Cold Sun set in stone and pre-prepared. Li Shu still has the ritual set up and ready, waiting for her to get back. But… it’s her fault the woods are so much more dangerous tonight. And he’s a kid.

The Flesh roils, an instinct for self preservation but also for hunger ruling her thoughts. There is more to be hunted, more to feed upon, and her hackles are raised by the Cold Sun and what they have planned, a background level of adrenaline humming through her systems.

The Mask remarks that, in theory, the child would not be missed, but at the same time, the psychological weight of the choice could lead to potential harm in their makeup. She advocates bringing him along. Easy enough to leave him in a secluded spot or simply dump him back in town later.

And at the core, connected to all and bridging the gap between them… the smell of tangerines. The feel of something small and metallic vibrating.

All of her has learned to listen to that particular combination of memory fragments.

She sighs, cracking her neck as she rolls it and tapping the embers out of her pipe before storing it in her waistband. There’s not much left of the revenant with over half an hour of eating it, but she picks up what’s left and lets her left arm slowly drink it in, making sure nothing is left.

“Alright,” she says. “Come on.”

He frowns further, standing up as she does but stepping back and away. “I’m not going anywhere with you. If you think-”

The same specter from before, emboldened by the boy’s proximity to the woods, steps forward, one of its mouths gaping wide as starved, many-knuckled hands reach out-

Raika moves fast enough that the boy doesn’t have time to blink, much less react. She is behind him, her blacksteel arm warped and crackling like breaking obsidian as a spike of entropic metal pierces through the ghost. There is a hissing of escaping air, a burst of cold, death-flavored Qi that it exhales… and then it is inert, too damaged to stay aware. It slowly hisses further, small spikes like coral growths spreading into it and taking the death into Raika’s body.

She looks back at the kid. She’s not entirely sure what he saw, maybe only the blur of her movement and the massive blade extending from her arm… but it was enough that he finally let go of his bladder.

She catches him by the shirt as he falls backwards, eyes rolling back into his head.

She sighs.

“Yeah. Ok.”

Ignoring the smell, she scoops him up, holding him close to her chest so he won’t bounce as she moves. A few strands of flesh reach out, like insectile limbs, and wrap around the kid to secure him further.

She feels out her body, senses to see if her resources are good, if the Flesh is comfortable… and then nods.

“Alright, you little shit,” she says. “You owe me a clean pair of robes. Let’s get you out of the woods.”

She gently picks up the True Flame in the firepit, cradling it in her blacksteel hand and enjoying the sensation of it sparking against the material- and then swallows it whole. When it doesn’t consume anything Qi-enriched, it doesn’t give her more Qi than she started, but being transformed from raw, ethereal energy into active flame makes it much easier to digest into fuel, giving her a more direct boost. She feels the heat rush through her, her system sparking against itself and bringing a general ache that the Flesh complains about as it runs into some of her new changes.

Rather than change into a warform, to tower over the trees or sprint fast as lightning… Raika just starts running.

That isn’t to say she’s running at what one might call normal speeds, though.

Normally, a cultivator’s speed comes from pushing Qi into specific formations, movement techniques and such, in their meridians as they move. At higher levels, the default abilities rise, and they can move faster whenever they please.

In Raika’s case, it’s somewhere in the middle. Her lower legs reform, not shifting or Changing, just awakening new muscle groups. Powerful calf and thigh muscles are reconnected and supplemented by hydraulic pressure systems that move her legs at exponentially higher speeds, patterns of bone lacing and altered muscle placement making each step a push against the ground and pull back into position. The rest, her Qi-saturated physiology enhances by default.

From a standstill, it takes her less than a full second to run hard and fast enough that the trees blur, the wind takes on a sharp whistling sound as she pushes through it, and the kid whimpers as G-forces press him against her.

In seven minutes, she’s crossed over thirteen miles of terrain. 

She sees a few more specters on the way, though none quite so strong as the one she killed at the boy’s camp. Which had gone away from her, interestingly enough, towards the kid. Maybe it had some kind of grudge, or maybe it just liked the scent of his Qi better than her richer blood. Either way, she ignores all that she can’t kill with a casual swipe as she runs, refusing to slow or deviate until she reaches her destination.

Eventually, the forest breaks, and where once tall trees of strange, mossy plumage make way for bamboo shoots. A field of them, so dense that there are barely any paths visible through them- but barely isn’t none. Raika squeezes through, losing a bit of speed and taking larger paths with the kid clutched to her ribs, but makes it through quickly nonetheless. The bamboo makes her left arm ache, its vitality and the Qi circulating through the strange little chunk of the forest making it thrum ever so slightly. She grits her teeth and pushes on, making it out the other side.

There is a clearing. In the center of that clearing, a massive, complex circle and diagram. Around its edges and placed at intervals in the environment and within it are formation flags, fluttering in the wind (though all of them flutter in the same direction, even if the size of the breeze couldn’t have reached all of them). Beneath the light of the Cold Sun, the world glows a strange, off-white color, not denoting death or purity, just… pale nothing.

Li Shu turns to look at her and smiles, and then turns it to a puzzled frown when she sees her package.

“And who might this be?” she asks.

“Orphan, hiding outside of town,” Raika says. “One of the dead went towards him, a revenant. Figured he’d be safer with us than left out there.”

Li Shu sighs, but nods. “Alright. People plan and the Gods laugh. I’ll keep him with me, my part of the formation has the most protections. You’ll be alright in the middle?”

Raika nods. “Like we planned. Everything ready?”

Li Shu nods again. “Just need the fuel. You’ve got everything? Blacksteel, alchemical blood, and-”

Raika smiles, teeth wide. “Ghost flesh, yeah.” She shakes her head, laughing a bit to cover up a bit of nervous energy despite herself. “You ever think about how you’re such a bad influence on me? First we curse my skin to poison me, now we’ve a big magic circle to call down the death-orb in the sky.”

Li Shu rolls her eyes. “It’s not an orb. It’s barely even a sphere. Besides, if anything you’re the bad influence on me.”

Raika laughs, a single sharp bark with a vicious grin to it. “Probably!”

She passes over the kid, still unconscious and smelly (though somewhat air-dried by their movement through the woods). Li Shu takes him, holding him much more gently, and makes her way over to the far end of the clearing, where the ritual formulae branch apart and reform into a secondary set of circles. They begin to glow softly as Li Shu pushes Qi into them, the strange light of the Cold Sun pushed back a bit around it.

Raika nods. Takes a deep breath.

Focuses on the smell of tangerines. The memory of them, however faint.

And steps into the main circle. 

Her blacksteel arm grows like quarts, a chunk of itself embedding into the ground and breaking off in one circle, while Raika’s palm on her other hand simply opens. Blood flows from it, floating through air as if a living tendril, before pooling into the other small circle connected to the central one, filling it entirely but stopping at the edge of the drawings rather than overflowing.

Then, in the third circle in front of her, she kneels over, alters the flesh in her throat, and forces herself to vomit.

What comes out is dry, clouds of spiraling ash and spiritual ectoplasm squirming and spiraling out of her. Some of it she keeps, digesting it for later, but most of what she’s hunted tonight comes back up as messy, undifferentiated matter, grey and lifeless yet strangely roiling and curling in on itself as it falls. It tastes better on the way out than it did in, interestingly enough.

She breathes once, twice, wipes her mouth off and finds ash on her hand when she does… but steps back. And waits.

The air begins to shift. The bamboo stalks start to move, shuffling about themselves in an unfelt breeze, making the sound of whispering.

The light of the Cold Sun, diffuse and pale, narrows in towards Raika and the diagram.

She takes in one long, slow breath. Lets it out. Again. Again.

Then she looks up at the impossible object in the sky.

As if waiting for its cue, a long, impossibly visible finger curls around the edge of it, beginning to push it to one side.