The Hundred Reigns 258: Liminal Space (Patreon)

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Space collapsed in on itself. 

The weight of two Edicts combined destabilized the pocket demiplane the same way Simon brought down the Attic upon itself many times before. Hellfire and miasma swirled through ripening cracks in the very fabric of space. The ceiling, walls, and floor alike had begun to warp away.

Simon grabbed one of the rifts with his bare hands and called upon all of his remaining strength to widen it. His fingers burned from the sheer influx of destabilized mana coursing through the demiplane. Light poured inside the prison from the outside and filled Simon’s heart with hope. 

“You’ve blown open a crack!” Silk shouted as she and her sister each grabbed one of his shoulders. “Teleport us through!” 

“It’s too unstable!” Simon snapped back as he struggled to widen the rift. With time and space unraveling like this, teleporting out might scatter their atoms across multiple destinations. “I need a bigger… bigger crack!”

He began to see things through the portal. Colors were all jumbled and mixed-up, but he could distinguish manatree roots and strange machinery redirecting their energy elsewhere. This was likely what fueled their prison demiplane. Scientists—human scientists—in coats were running around, pressing levers and buttons. He guessed they were either the Crafter’s implant-brainwashed slaves or its collaborators in the Musan government.

Either way, he could smell their fear from here. 

“The seal is breaking already!” one of the scientists shouted, his voice twisted by the unstable rift. “The Overlord is escaping!” 

“Blast him before he gets through!” another replied, gesturing at something near the portal’s edge. Simon couldn’t see it entirely due to his rather narrow window into their reality, but he recognized the edge of a massive mana cannon’s barrel. 

It was pointing right at the rift and charging up.

It’ll fire before I can finish widening the crack, Simon realized grimly. Alright, we’ll take the risk.

He attempted to teleport the sisters and himself to Frightwall, hoping Silk’s Skeleton Key would let them through whatever protection the Crafter’s followers had placed around this facility. 

Using his ability under these circumstances felt akin to flying an airship through a mighty storm. He bounced off invisible obstacles, unable to see where he went, forced to rely only on his instincts. His third eye of darkness burned in his helmet’s forehead. The world had become a swirling maelstrom of magic and chaotic energies, as reality itself collapsed back to its raw building blocks. 

I see a path… It was a struggle to even think in this chaos, but Simon’s Dark Visionary gifts provided him with a portable lighthouse in a stormy sea. The shadow of Frightwall appeared at the edge of his senses, calling out to its master. I’m coming home. 

Space bounced back, and Simon crashed back into his bedroom alongside the sisters.

Edicts followed their catalysts, so the walls immediately exploded in a fiery detonation in their presence. Stone shattered and melted, Simon’s beds and sheets burned to cinders, and a violent explosion shook Frightwall. The blast pulverized the roof and turned this wing of the castle into an open crater. If Euphemia’s Law didn’t send her a notice about their intrusion, then this destruction would—

Wait. 

Something was wrong. No Law struck Simon to target him with Stasis. Moreover, while Frightwall had always been suffused with miasma, the amounts were low enough for humans to survive there with only mild discomfort. The quantity in the air right now matched that of—

No way… Simon looked up to see purple miasmic clouds above his head through the open ceiling. We’re… we’re not in the right Frightwall. 

“Ah!” 

Simon turned to look at the sisters, and found himself watching wailing, smoking corpses. 

The miasma in the air was so intense it would have consumed even the Darkwood’s denizens. Silk and Velvet’s brands couldn’t provide nearly enough protection to save them from this fate. The shadows devoured them both within seconds, corroding the flesh off their bones and consuming their vocal cords before they could even form a scream. Simon’s hand reached out to them in an attempt to somehow protect them, but there was nothing he could do. 

Soon they both turned to dust, their Crestones devoured by the Abyss’ hunger for light and miasma. Their deaths rippled through the brands and cancelled the Edicts, letting the flames die out on their own. 

Simon knew a gruesome death had been the most probable conclusion to their jailbreak attempt, and he had too little sympathy for the sisters to feel guilt or remorse, but this seemed like such a waste. They still had so much to do. 

The destruction happened so fast it took Simon’s mind a moment to process everything. He looked around at himself in a smoking crater surrounded by burned and half-collapsed towers on one side, and a creeping void on the other; not a gulf of endless darkness, no, but a gloomy, sunless dark green sky. Frightwall floated amidst a sea of poisonous miasma clouds that stretched on as far as the eye could see.

Simon immediately recognized the eerie landscape he had caught on the enhanced pictobox. 

What is this place? It looked different from the depths, though the sheer amount of miasma in the air proved it had to be a region of the Abyss. This is Frightwall, but not the right one. 

Simon could tell he was in a different situation than the times when he ended up in the timeless void. First of all, he always got a Title whenever he ended up in the Abyss’ depths, yet not this time. Silk and Velvet had also followed him here, which meant that they had all physically teleported into this strange realm without dying.

Had the Crafter’s technology interfered with Simon’s own teleportation ability, causing his Perk to bounce him back through the planes and to the wrong Frightwall? 

It might have been Silk’s doing too, Simon realized as he gazed at the pile of dust that used to be the Rogue. Skeleton Key allowed the user to pass through barriers and defenses as if they had the necessary authorizations. Does this imply one could access this place with the right tools? 

Simon called upon his Abyssal Chronicle and then used Darkflight to briefly float over Frightwall’s edge. The Grimoire’s map shifted from his castle to the open sky, and gave it a name. 

Remnant: A Sniper’s Solitude.

A Sniper’s solitude? Simon looked down, but he couldn’t see any ground beneath the miasmic clouds; only an endless sky that stretched on into infinity. A Remnant? 

However, he did spot a disturbance far away; a massive, mechanical shape emerging from the sea of clouds like an airship of colossal proportions. Simon’s blood turned cold when he recognized the Mechanical Tower, until a closer look disabused him of the notion. 

The structure rising to approach Frightwall resembled a mismatched, indistinct pile of debris, dirt, stone, and gears vaguely assembled into the shape of Muse’s most well-protected facility. These were either the original’s ruins, or a twisted parody of it.

Its summit shone with a greenish halo of miasmic energy, like a lighthouse’s top. A shadowy form arose on a platform atop the structure, a mechanical beast lumbering to life upon sensing a target. 

Something remains, Simon realized as he spotted a crimson eye glaring at him on top of the tower, something remains of the reigns—

Simon only saw a flash of light before a laser beam blasted his head off his shoulders.

—------------

The Crimson Throne welcomed him with open arms.

This is the Twenty-Ninth of your Hundred Reigns.

You have earned the title of Simon the Voyeur.

The Voyeur: You love snooping around people’s secrets and taking pictures of them, like a dirty little boy. You can now see through the eyes of anyone you have placed a Brand of Sloth on.

Simon could barely focus on the Title, from its condescending, almost certainly Balzam-inspired tone to its potential game-changing applications. His mind simply remained stuck on the last thing he saw before death.

The Musan Sniper. 

He had been slain by a miasmic, tainted version of that damn machine that somehow lurked in a corner of the Abyss. 

That sounded utterly impossible since that place destroyed any living creature in it, but the Sniper was a machine; a highly advanced automaton of unknown capabilities. Since Simon knew for a fact the likes of Gourmand could endure in the Abyss’ depths for a time, it didn’t seem impossible that the mechanical abomination managed to endure too in that strange place. 

Simon was sure it had been the same region of Hell he had seen in the enhanced pictobox’s pictures, yet it didn’t resemble the timeless depths either. It had clouds for a start, and a parody of the Mechanical Tower floating around. Even his Abyssal Chronicle gave it a different name. 

Remnant… Simon had seen leftovers of previous reigns enduring in the Abyss the few times he was sent there. Was that what his Chronicle called them? Was Asterion speaking about that rather than Remembrances? Did something of him remain in the timeless depths? 

Questions occupied his mind long after Simon woke up back in his bedroom. He immediately looked through the window to confirm Frightwall was surrounded by Marthrone’s lake rather than a sea of poisonous clouds. At least the reigns’ underlying mechanism worked normally rather than throwing him back into the depths. 

What had caused the mishap? Silk’s Skeleton Key? The Planar Timebox’s spacetime interference? Both?

Simon had to investigate this, and more than that, he had to complete his original mission: to claim the Crafter’s Crestone and confirm whether or not its Perks were worth consuming. Besides the fact that their technology might let him take a peek at the mechanisms behind the reigns, Simon brimmed with a burning desire to avenge the Coils and put that brain-stealing machine in its place.

The wound was too fresh on his mind, and he was certain he could complete the job. Simon had managed to severely damage the Mechanical Tower with few resources and little intel. He had learned the Crafter’s dirty secrets and confirmed that Silk could teleport through its defenses until the machine devised a countermeasure. Simon could take the Crestone with the right tools. 

And a box full of them was ripe for the taking.  

He could kill two birds with one stone. Half measures hadn’t stopped the Cobweb from causing him headaches, and the Crafter had proved his undoing in a few reigns. Both possessed resources and technology that threatened him. He would never be able to focus on the Zodiac Parade in peace until he dealt with them for good. 

It was time to tie up all those loose ends, permanently. 

His mind set, Simon put on his Overlord armor. His plan would offset his self-therapy plans, but he owed it to the Coils to bring that tower crashing down. He could dedicate more grounded reigns to explore all of his other options afterwards.

The first thing he did was to teleport into House Malphas’ quarters, then petrify Patriate and his daughter before they could realize he was in the room. He swiftly took the Merchant Crestone and placed it in his Inventory until he could give it to its next wielder. He then teleported into Shabram’s quarters with the two slabs of stone.  

Come to think of it, I’ve unlocked Tier VIII spellcasting, which means I can create a miasmic version of Teleport… should I focus on that instead? The thought of returning to Remedia for private spellcasting lessons crossed his mind, though not for long. He didn’t need her to research the spell, and he had to see the Musan mess through to the end. No more distractions. I set out to get that Crestone, and I will have it. 

Besides, he was better off checking if the Crafter’s Perks were worth consuming before visiting Cocagne again. He only had one spot left, so he better consider all his options before choosing which Crestone would fill it. 

Simon visited Shabram to tell her of his plan; he would name a Laurent Linconnu in the will and send out a few Fakelords around to muddy the waters, while House Malphas would disappear and serve as scapegoats for Balzam’s murder. His spymistress would follow a script very similar to that of the previous reign, ‘discovering’ the missing elven infiltrators and then ‘uncovering’ Louis’ conspiracy to Euphemia. 

Events would follow a similar path, except that his brother would find no convenient escape this time.

He also delayed any action against Casval for now. This always resulted in him joining Dassein, and Simon would need his… his friend to deal with Vouivre in turn. 

“Your Majesty wants my help in faking their death?” Shabram inquired with a frown after he branded her. “What do you have in mind?”

“My predecessors ruled in the open and painted targets on their backs. I will instead weave my web in the shadows until I can smother my foes.” In more ways than one. “We will build a secret empire within the empire, and you shall be one of its pillars. Euphemia will dance to our tune, unable to see the strings that move her.”

“I see… I must say this is a novel approach indeed.” It seemed to delight her, perhaps because it played to her strengths. “What other ‘pillars’ do you have in mind?”

“I will introduce you to them soon,” Simon promised. “I just need to put some of our recruits in their place first.”

Afterwards, Simon followed a dance he had rehearsed dozens of times. He showed up at the will reading, where Patriate Malphas’ suspicious absence was immediately noted. It changed surprisingly little to the gathering though, besides Shabram’s promise to investigate; the Keeper’s will never failed to set the various parties on a race to find the new Overlord. 

Simon proceeded to secretly brand Belzemine, then gave himself slaves in his father’s testament since he would require both Lorimor and Eole for the rest of his operation… Well, sort of. He didn’t technically require the latter, but his friend had a high chance of visiting Muse on her own should she return to the Sanctuary and believe him dead. Besides informing Alcyone of their activities on the surface, she might unknowingly interfere with his plans for Muse. 

Simon figured that the best way to ensure her safety was to keep her close. For her own good.

“Vouivre…” Eole gulped once Simon finished telling her of the situation. “Vouivre and the Cobweb know about my people’s floating Sanctuary?”

“Yes, hence why I plan to infiltrate their organization,” Simon explained. “I have a way in, and once I’m in, I intend to subvert it from within. I will break the slave trade’s back and ensure they can never threaten your home again.”

Eole anxiously bit her lip, like she always did in those discussions of theirs. “Why are you telling me this?”

Because as much as I love you, you’re a free spirit that keeps poking your nose where you shouldn’t; and I can’t risk any unforeseen variables. 

“I may need your help,” Simon said, which wasn’t a lie. Her presence would help him a great deal to secure the meeting he had in mind and deal with a few certain people of interest later. “You do not yet understand the power you wield as the last kish on Brimir’s surface. You could free Telluria from Endymion’s yoke if you play your cards right.” 

Vouivre had already shown her willingness to grant Eole a tributary vicequeen title should she submit to her, and that was when Simon lacked the strength to back his threats. He was confident he could convince or strong-arm the dragon into a better agreement this time around. 

Eole uneasily shifted in her seat. “You want me to join you.”

“I won’t force you.” Simon took a deep breath and folded his hands. “Infiltrating a criminal organization will entail certain… sacrifices. You won’t return to the Sanctuary with clean hands if you follow me.”

“I… I will not run away from my foes, or my duties,” Eole replied, before begging for the answer to a difficult question. “Will… will it be worth it, prophet?”

She had already asked him that many reigns back, before Simon knew any better. He had replied with a firm yes back then, both to reassure himself and Eole. After all he went through, he found that he lacked the same confidence.

“I can’t say,” Simon admitted. “Although I like to think we’ll do good in the end, our actions… our actions will stain us, Eole. We can’t wade through the mud without expecting some dirt to stick to us, and it may never go away. You’ll end up a different person than who you were when you started. Someone you may not be comfortable with.”

“I… see…” Eole gave him a long, wary look. “But you’re ready to shoulder this burden.”

“Yes, I am.” Even if it means he would have to spend lifetimes cleaning the blood off his hands.

“Then, so am I.” Eole nodded to herself with a stern kind of resolve; the hidden strength she never failed to reveal when in a crisis. “I will follow you.”

Simon hoped she wouldn’t regret her decision. He felt a little guilty about manipulating her like this, even if he knew from past reign experience she would have suggested a similar plan on her own. At least he could ensure her safety and that of her flying homeland this way. 

Once he had Eole on board with the plan and he revealed his identity to her like he did in multiple reigns prior, Simon then departed for Valne with her. Unlike previous iterations of these events, Belzemine remained at Frightwall while he entrusted Lorimor to Shabram for the time being. He intended to visit the Honorius family and recruit them once he had secured a certain quick route to Telluria. 

With Eole on his side, Simon now had a way to recruit Voltobauta to his cause while ensuring Alcyone wouldn’t leave the Sanctuary ahead of schedule. 

Odd how much Simon had come to master the science of timing through all these iterations. He knew where each of the important power players were at a given time, what actions they would take depending on how much he interfered, and what seeds he had to plant on a given day so they could bloom at the right time. 

Is this how you see things, Lysandra? Simon wondered when the coast of Valne came into view of their ship. He had spent most of the trip crafting the weapons he needed to purge the Cobweb infestation for good. The flow of causality constantly pulling in one direction or another? 

He followed the same procedure he did in two past reigns to guarantee a meeting with Silk, giving the right password to the right fetch to cross the right door into that shadowy room. He found her waiting at the table in the light of a candelabra, sitting next to the spider statue she used to intimidate visitors. 

“Sit down, Simon Magnos,” Silk said, a hand on her Crab-bound magic book. 

Simon recalled being intimidated the first two times he walked in here, but now that he knew the truth, the setup felt so… obvious. She was a stage magician projecting the appearance of power on gullible minds until it turned tangible, while the way she kept her Zodiac Crystal within hand’s reach betrayed her hidden fear.  

A dozen possibilities crossed Simon’s mind at this moment. It would be so easy to enslave her. All he had to do was reach across the table and touch her. She wouldn’t expect his speed and power, then he could force her to bring Velvet into the fold. It would prevent her from betraying him as she did so often. 

However, what he had in mind would require a very long and close collaboration, and the Brand of Pride, while powerful, had shown its limits. The Rogue and her sister would be integral to his plan, and he needed to earn their loyalty. 

Thankfully, he had studied them long enough that he knew what made them tick. 

“I said sit down,” Silk repeated herself, her tone sharper. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” Simon replied, his gaze wandering to the spider statue. “Can Valravn hear us here?”

He would never get bored of that shocked look when he casually unveiled information he shouldn’t have. Silk turned tense, her eyes no longer assessing him as another con job, but as a potential threat. 

“I said, can Valravn hear us?” Simon asked. “What we’re about to discuss is not for him to hear.”

“No, he can’t,” Silk replied after a moment’s hesitation. She had set her pipe aside, likely to better reach for her sword should this end in a fight. “He’s… occupied.”

“Of course he is. You agreed to this meeting because you hoped to purchase the kish outside, thus granting you and your sister exclusive access to the Two-Tailed Fish Zodiac crystal sealed in Telluria.” The shock on Silk’s face confirmed Simon’s guesses. Funny how more things started to make sense the more layers he peeled away. “You hoped to either take it for yourself or use her as leverage to secure an alliance with Vouivre behind Verney’s back.”

“You know too much.” Silk scowled as she put two and two together. “Why this setup? What do you want?”

“I’m going to brutally torture and enslave Valravn, then subvert his pocket dimension for my own use,” Simon admitted, his Overlord armor materializing. “What happens after that will be entirely up to you.”

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A/N: thanks everyone who voted on the reign. You know, it's actually amazing how the previous Cobweb reign was over 120 chapters ago. How time flies by XD