Chương 47: 46 Into the Pit

I sailed across the room, shackled, hands outstretched. I couldn't say whether I was reaching for the artifact or his throat. My lunge carried me across the space so fast that I'd gotten halfway to the desk before they could flinch. Lonnie reacted first, snapping her hand forward. A spectral shackle flashed into existence, semi-translucent and blue, binding to my ankle and jerking me back. I surged again, snarling as I tried to get at him. Puppetmaster. Cousin Killer. Redemption.

The chain snapped tight, nearly dislocating my knee. The Raven Reaper shot at me, hand-sickles appearing in his hands as he struck at my neck. Puppetmaster thrust a hand forward, a clear wave of arcane force launching from his hand. I braced, but the wave sailed past me, impacting the assassin and throwing the curved blades from my neck. The feather-clad assassin impacted a bookshelf of ledgers, crunching shelves and sending logbooks spilling onto the ground.

Thaddius jerked a massive pistol from an armpit holster and thumbed the hammer.

"Wait!" Puppetmaster barked, and the room went silent. I pulled on the psionic chain that bound my ankle. It clinked like steel, with sharp edges that tore flesh.

"You know this user?" Thaddius demanded, thick jaw grinding his cigar, which frayed under the pressure.

"Know him? Yes," Puppetmaster whispered. Green Draconic slitted eyes darted as they studied my features.

"So he's a Cousin then?" The Drake-kin didn't answer, but remained petrified, eyes fixed on me.

"Get out," he rasped. The Raven Reaper dusted his cloak, scowling at his employer.

"Puppetmaster," Lonnie cut in, holding her hand out as she focused on the psionic restraint.

"I don't—""Out!" he roared, and the slavers straightened before heading for the door. Puppetmaster waved a hand, and a curtain of shadow winked into existence in the doorway, blocking the outside from view as the trio left. My shoulders heaved as my gaze locked on the artifact dangling from his neck. Prisoner's retaliation. With it, I could save Granduncle. We could mend the crack in the sky. End the countdown timer. I shifted my eyes up to his face.

With Prisoner's Retaliation, I could ruin his plans, and that was plenty enough reason by itself. Beyond the curtain of black, the door clicked shut, and the shadow winked away. Puppetmaster waved a hand. <<Force Eject Inventory>> My gun belt clattered to the ground: two braces of single-shot pistols, my potions, and a spare saber. I flinched, itching to dive for it, but even with the psionic out of the room, the ghostly chain held me fixed in place. Puppetmaster watched me carefully, eyes still wide.

He waved a hand, and the belt lifted off the ground, floating over to him, where he gingerly plucked it from the air. He set it on the desk.

"Antonio," he said softly.

"It's Tony," I snapped. The spectral chain flashed away, Lonnie's hold over it disappearing. I bolted, going for the belt on the desk. Puppetmaster's left hand flexed, and semi-translucent threads lanced from each of his fingers, snaking at me like pencil-thin vipers. The spectral webs snared my wrists and ankles, bearing me to the ground. One snaked around my neck, choking off a cry.

"Antonio!" He snapped, stepping close, left hand curled and trailing marionette strings.

"Calm down, I just want to talk." The cord around my throat loosened.

"I have nothing to say to you, wyrm!" I spat. He flinched, then nodded slowly.

"How's your mother?"

"Much better now that you're gone." His lip twitched, then his eye. Keeping his hand tensed, he stepped closer and dropped, squatting to the ground. Scaled fingers turned my head to the side, and I shuddered, remembering the last time I felt his touch. As a child, in the rain, being pulled from my mother.

"When my transmutation didn't suppress all of my genes in my children, it complicated my mission," he said. His finger traced the scales that had matured on my face, black and mottled green, the same as his.

"People started asking questions." His hand dropped.

"You were supposed to be human."

"I am human," I snapped. He shook his head.

"So much anger, and a Cousin, too. I see they've thoroughly indoctrinated you. You're just as much Bloodwake as you are Paradisian." I spat, and he flinched. His hand came up, whipping the spittle from his reptilian cheek. He shifted back to me.

"Now that was disrespectful, son." His left hand flexed, and his threads jerked me up, slamming me into the ceiling. I gagged as the air went out of me. He jerked his hand down, and the ground rushed up at me. I impacted hard, groaning. Then I was whipping through the air again. The translucent threads pinned me to the wall, arms splayed above my head. He strode toward me, left hand extended, fingers twitching the trailing threads.

"I suppose that's my fault, though," he said, not angry, but his voice tinged with remorse.

"You had no father to raise you right. No discipline."

"I had a father," I gasped.

"His name was Lance Coralfin." Puppetmaster flinched.

"That's right," I sneered.

"He was there, even after what you did. Lance took me in, trained me. It didn't matter to him that I was Sleeperson, Spawn of a traitor."

"It wasn't enough for them to take my children," he whispered.

"They had to turn them against me, too."

"You killed eight cousins that day," I hissed.

"Nearly killed Bruk and Lance, too. Don't pretend like you're the victim here."

"I came back for you," Puppetmaster growled.

"For your mother, but my transmutation was wearing off. When she saw me for what I was—""I remember," I shot back.

"You pulled Elena and me out of her hands."

"She didn't recognize me," he growled, an edge creeping into his voice.

"The Bloodwake would have taken care of her! You all would have been welcomed as heroes."

"You lied to her for years; you're surprised she didn't want to go with you?" I scoffed, pain in my shoulders rippling.

"Then you tried to kidnap her children."

"I took my children," he said, curled lip exposing reptilian teeth.

"Lance stole you."

"Lance saved me," I said, veins bulging on my neck.

"You're a Vitriol!" he snapped.

"I'm a Moretti," I spat. His right hand went to his face, pinching himself between the eyes as he grunted with frustration. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully.

"Look, Antonio. I don't want to do this, not like this. I'm going to set you down, but I need your word that you'll behave." I didn't respond. I just let my eyes smolder.

"Antonio," he said, head tilting, "I don't like that look. Listen, I know you're angry. I don't blame you, but belligerence won't help anyone."

"Take off the chains. I'll play nice," I murmured in a voice that said the first thing I'd do the moment I was free was go for the nearest sharp thing in the room and introduce it to his jugular. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. That earned a chuckle.

"You really are my son." I winced, some of the heat cooling from my face. His eyes flickered over me.

"Level Eight, huh? Respectable for a new adventurer. Son, we could fight a thousand times, and I'd win every single time. Don't be stubborn." I didn't answer. He sighed and waved his right hand. A chair scooted to the center of the room, obeying the summons. Then I was descending, the seat settling under me. He gave me one long, final look, then the threads retracted back into his fingers. Waving his right hand, my shackles sprang open.

I scanned the room, seeking the nearest avenue of escape or the best point to access a weapon. My father pulled up his own chair, spun it, and sat on it backward. He was right there, within reach. This was my chance. Micro-twitches rippled through my body as I prepared to lunge. I took a deep breath and I—didn't attack. I couldn't say why. While my mind refused to accept that he outmatched me in every way, an instinctual piece of me knew better. So I watched, eyes never leaving him.

He motioned, and my sword belt hovered from the desk into his hand. He gripped the hilt, drawing the saber several inches, examining the blade.

"Martial, huh? I always imagined you'd become a mage, like me." I didn't answer. He snapped the sword back into its scabbard and drew one of my pistols.

"You know what the slavers are calling you?" he glanced up, discerning that he wouldn't get an answer.

"They're calling you the Mongoose. Said you single-handedly killed three Nagas." Something ugly and warm stirred within.

"Four," I said.

"Hit one head-on with a cannon. And there's no telling how many were on the rocket ship I blew up." <<Active Buff: Apex Pride: +1 Cunning(Cha); Assumed Victory>> I shook my head, forcing my mind away from my inflated opinion of myself. The buff winked away. Puppetmaster smiled, seeming to catch on to what was happening.

"Not a minor feat. Especially for someone at level eight." I shrugged.

"I lost a lot of men. I don't see it as a win." He hummed thoughtfully.

"You suppressed the pride. Not many can do that. Our Draconic blood does carry certain implications."

"Will over blood," I said.

"I am deliberate. I choose who I am."

"A disciplined philosophy, I suppose," he said.

"There's respect in that."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"It's what Lance taught me." His face went neutral really quickly.

"Antonio," he said at length.

"I need your help. I know you have a party out there. At least three others who take every measure to stop me. Where are they? Are they those two goblins Thaddius has in his brig? The Naga-kin?" I shrugged.

"I'm alone." He exhaled slowly.

"Listen, what I'm doing here—it's important. I can't accept complications. Not now. Ordinarily, I'd go scour the earth. Kill your entire crew; take no chances. But you're my son. For you, I'd be willing to spare them." He considered.

"If they let me." My lips tightened.

"My crew," I said, shifting to him.

"They're convicts. I freed them from confinement because they are expendable. Do what you will with them." My hands trembled as they said the words, but I kept my eyes forward.

"Just convicts?" he asked.

"That's why you exposed yourself, is it? To save expendable pawns? I don't think so."

"To save myself," I lied.

"My ship was going down." He watched me long and hard.

"The Shad-feykin," he said.

"This buyer you were supposed to have coming behind you. She's a Cousin, isn't she?" Naomi—I bit my tongue.

"Son, my plan is to have her ship shelled into kindling the moment we see it. Your silence isn't protecting her." I met his eyes, teeth clenched.

"Is she in your party?"

"You'll take her alive?" I asked.

"If I can," he promised.

"She's my party leader," I admitted. I felt something rip away from me as the words left my mouth. He knew. Our covers were gone. Being open about it was the best protection I could offer. Still, telling the truth felt like a betrayal.

"Good," Puppetmaster said, nodding.

"Where are the others?"

"Not for free," I said.

"What are you doing here?" His brow rose.

"If you think you're going to persuade me to cooperate by keeping secrets, I've got some news for you," I said.

"I could use a show of good faith."

"Negotiations," he observed, tilting his chin.

"Good boy." He drew the health potion from my belt, and the rest of the gear vanished into his inventory. Rising, he circled me.

"Tell me what you know about Granduncle's affliction."

"He's poisoned," I said, not turning as he passed behind me.

"Or something to that effect. It has something to do with Prisoner's Retaliation." My father unstopped the potion, and I winced as droplets spattered into my wounds, buzzing as they began to mend.

"I could save Granduncle with the handle you're wearing around your neck," I said.

"Everyone in the High Family has a quest in their terminal to get it back."

"Not just in the High Family," he corrected, carefully dripping droplets onto the pits and scabs that Brace had bitten into my shoulder.

"Everyone in the Bloodwake is also showing that quest. It also tells them to kill me."

"Why would Krathic-Thar issue a quest to have you killed?" I asked, confused.

"He didn't," he said, lightly pressing my head to the side to get a better angle on a line of scabs.

"And neither did the High Family."

"What do you mean?" I asked, brows constricting. The pain in my shoulder flared, but in a good way, like pressure on a wound.

"She issued the quest," he said.

"Ourabora. Plastered it across every terminal in the World Archipelago. She's scared of me, and so she overextends herself. Bypasses the chain of command, issuing her own quests."

"That's—not possible," I said.

"The system can't overreach like that," I recalled her words, the day she granted me system access.

"She doesn't make mistakes." Puppetmaster's laugh only felt slightly demeaning.

"She's scared, Antonio. Now she's thrashing in deep water." He nudged me forward, exposing the arrow puncture at the point on my shoulder blade.

"Prisoner's retaliation is an interesting artifact," he said as the healing potion dripped into the wound, buzzing and prickling.

"That crack in the sky, it's identical to the wound in Granduncle's side."

"What?" I asked, hating the feel of his hands as they worked, but I wouldn't refuse the aid. Not if it put me in a better position to escape.

"They're linked now," he explained.

"As the wound in Granduncle's side spreads, so does the fissure above. If I could somehow hurt the sky, it would reflect back on Granduncle."

"What does that have to do with the system?" I asked, more confused than enlightened.

"Everything!" he said sharply.

"The sky is the system. Why do you think your notifications can only update when you see the heavens? It's her body, Antonio. When that countdown ends, Granduncle dies, and so does Ourabora."

"Why?" I rasped. He crossed back to his seat and sat.

"Because none of this is real, son. The true sky isn't blue, it's red. You can see it peeking through the breach. When I bring it down, I'll expose our world to the reality." He extended the vial, which was now half empty.

"Drink." I tipped it back, feeling the healing properties tingle within as the elixir repaired internal damage. He extended his hand, and I handed the empty glass tube back.

"You're mad," I whispered.

"Or deceived. You're going to end the world."

"Yes," he agreed.

"I'll expose the truth."

"You still haven't explained why we're here."

"I'm not waiting four months," he said, heat entering his voice.

"Cousins bleed from the shadows at every turn. Uncles and Aunts hunt me. Even some within the Bloodwake have turned on me. I can't risk failure." The fatigue in his voice struck me. He wasn't just a powerful exploit in the Bloodwake. He was a man hunted.

"If I could hurt Granduncle, that timer would speed up. If I could kill him, it'd skip entirely."

"So, why are we here?" I asked again, irritated. He exhaled slowly.

"I won't tell you where you are," he said.

"But outside, we're unearthing an Anti-Astral Defense System from the old world. It's a weapon, designed to repulse enemies from the stars." I blinked, not catching the implication.

"We don't have stars," he said.

"Not anymore. Just projections on a bubble." My eyes went wide.

"You're not attacking Granduncle," I said.

"You're attacking Ourabora directly. You're attacking the sky."

"Exactly," he grinned.

"And when we widen the crack, when we break through, the damage will mirror on Granduncle. One weapon. Two deaths." A chill made the hair on my neck prickle.

"Antonio, the High Family isn't some bastion of virtue. It's a sovereign mafia with an iron hold on its people. Surely you see that?"

"And Krathic-Thar is benevolent?" I snorted.

"No," Puppetmaster said.

"But he respects strength. Now, where are your other party members?" My throat tightened. Had I given Bianca and Ingrid enough time to escape? Surely they'd be free by now. I smiled, lips strained, "Embedded as slaves, probably starting an uprising." My father's lip twitched, exposing teeth.

"I know they're here. Which batch did they come in with?" I froze.

"You—know they're here?" He didn't look at me; he glanced at the door.

"Of course. No way they'd send you by yourself. Thaddius' crew thinks it's your Coredwarf and one of the female humans you brought with you." My hands tightened on my knees.

"Ah, so I'm right," he purred.

"I'd have had them killed the moment they pulled into port, but I didn't want to send the real cousins into hiding on the off chance I was wrong. I also figured that with you, I could lure them to me."

"My men are poised. The only question is, what's taking your friends so long?" An explosion rocked the outside, and he came to his feet, a smirk on his lips.

"There it is. Time to add some more puppets to my collection." Two attaché cases blinked into existence, one in each hand.

"Wait, no!" I cried.

"You said you'd spare them!" An alarm bell rang out, sharp and rhythmic, and barked orders sounded muted from the door.

"I said, if they let me." He turned tired eyes back to me.

"You and I both know there's no way they'd surrender peacefully." I bolted to my feet, fists curled at my sides.

"If you want any semblance of cooperation from me, you'll take them alive!"

"Young, naïve boy," he stepped closer.

"You'll make new friends." I flinched back, shooting a frenzied look at the door. Boots thumped on the boardwalk outside, and someone rattled the handle.

"Sir!" Puppetmaster tensed, dropping a case and throwing his hand forward. The black curtain winked into existence on the threshold. He surged forward, getting in front of me.

"Fool, don't let any skylight in—" I didn't go for the door; I was already sprinting for the window, covered by drapes and shutters. I threw myself headfirst, Aerial Combatant giving me excellent control over my path. Tucking my chin, I impacted. Wood splintered and glass shattered. Five semi-translucent threads lashed for my ankles, but I was in the air. My focus sharpened, and I twisted, knee to chest, foot slipping from a tightening snare just before it snapped tight.

I expected to hit the ground on the other side, but there was none. The office had been built on the edge of a dig pit, overlooking tracks and trenches that spiraled deeper over old stony ruins. My gut dropped at the empty space thousands of feet below me. Then gravity tore me down. <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 00: 03: 22: 11: 17>>