Chương 56: Friend in a High Place

In his mental study, Warhol plucked so quickly tomes from his mental shelves', the illusion of the bookshelves themselves struggled to keep consistent with his commands; books didn't so much as 'float' to him as they simply materialized before him, already open to the sections he needed to reference. On this subject, his books said little. Passages talked about how dark gods used flesh forges to augment their followers, granting them incredible powers which mimicked that of nature and of things more perverse.

Other books said the relics were of holy origin which had become corrupted since time forgotten. Yet all the books were hearsay. A living flesh forge... good or evil, if it would help him fight the Horror then he would consider it an option. Warhol collapsed his mental palace and was back in his secret hideout, looking at the artifact. He cast [Detect Good and Evil]. The System returned to him a simple response: [Neutral]. That was a load off his chest. And his mind, frankly.

If the artifact was of a malevolent nature, the incantation would've picked up on it. Neutral told him that purged of its corruptions, this item was not some sleeping gadget of a mad man waiting to ambush him. It meant he could use it for his own ends. Once he figured out what those ends were, that is.

"If I want to figure this thing out," he talked to himself.

"Then I need to find someone who knows about this stuff. I need to find a priest!" Warhol [Teleported] himself to the Holy Cathedral of Norman-Rain, one of the purest holy sites in the world. He was not interested in the site so much as one of the priests at the site — Arch-Cardinal Geoffrey Milton. He found the priest in his office, a place far too small for a man of such import. He knocked on the door, a formality, and called out, "Are ye too busy to take time for the Omni-Wizard?"

A deep groan from inside the office was heard. Then, "Enter!" Entering, he saw Geoffrey hunched over his desk with a stack of papers surrounding him like angry giants demanding tribute. The priest didn't look up from his desk as he took a seat opposite.

"You look well." That comment earned him a brief glance before Geoffrey returned to his papers.

"What do you want?" Geoffrey grunted as they were encased in their work and unhappy with him being here. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"I will be short. I found this artifact, see?" He held out the 'living flesh forge' for the priest to inspect. When the priest saw his item, he shot back in his chair, agape.

"Where did you get that thing?!" Geoffrey abandoned his chair and pushed himself flat against a stack of papers.

"I thought all of the flesh engines were destroyed!"

"Oh, this little thing?" Warhol smiled.

"I found it while dancing with the Horror. I did some research on it already but wanted your second opinion. I guess, based on your reaction, that this thing is exactly what the books tell of it? A flesh engine. I get that. So, how to use it?" Geoffrey looked at him like he was crazy.

"You plan on using this thing on yourself? Are you mad?!"

"No. But if there is another way to defeat the coming Horror, I do not see it. It this or bust, as the kids say..." Warhol gave Geoffrey his best shrug.

"First of all, the 'kids' do not say that. Secondly, I concede your point, Warhol. That thing you have is an evil artifact. Considering our circumstances, I do not have an alternative for you. That said, be warned! This artifact changes who you are not just physically, but psychologically, too!" Warhol thought about that.

"So, I won't just become a monster in the flesh, I will become one in the mind?"

"Precisely! Unless you train yourself well in the Mental Artes! And even then, who knows! Such artifacts were expunged from existence for a reason, oh great Omni-Wizard. Or do you not remember the great crusade?" By now, Geoffrey had regained control of himself, for he otherwise wouldn't be talking about violent religious conflicts.

"I know of your crusades well enough, Geoffrey. That's not the issue. Is there anything you can give me that would help me retain control over myself as I transform?" Warhol kept his gaze centered on the priest. One of the things he found in life was that priests tended to give you the honest self if you didn't give them ground to superstitious roundabouts. Though that could be, he relented, just him. Geoffrey resumed his seat and groaned.

"I'm sorry. I can't help you. The church tried to use these artifacts for good once upon a time a very long 'upon' ago and found only broken test subjects. If you really so desire, I can give you some copies of the test results during these experiments, but I doubt they will help you in any regard. I guess they could help in avoiding pitfalls, but what is a pitfall, really, in a situation like this?"

"That would be great, Geoffrey, thanks," his tone was such that he did not give the priest room for maneuvering.

"Very well. If you would be so kind as to wait..." A couple hours later and heavy stacks of the test results were in his dimensional pocket. Way more than he anticipated, but oh well, nothing he could do about the church being thorough in their vaguely heretical research. That was on them!

"Thank you for your help, old friend. Now, I am off!" Geoffrey glared at him and said only that he should think twice before coming back and bothering him while he was at work. Warhol ignored his bud's barbs and returned to The Grotto. He had reading to do.