Chapter 314: The Weight of the World (Patreon)

Chapter 314: The Weight of the World

Mercury stood in front of the second god within two weeks. And the emotion he felt wasn’t awe, as it perhaps should have been. He just felt suffocatingly tired. So annoyed at the way these people kept interrupting his rest.

Seriously, couldn’t this idiot have sent him a letter or something, instead of abducting his friend.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” the god said in that whisper-quiet cadence. “Why didn’t I just send a letter, hm? I needed you to seek me out and find me, to see where divines are hidden in this world. The truth is, after all, we’re everywhere. Right now, my shadows feed the chaotic heaven. But they originate from here, Mercury.”

“Who even are you?” the mopaaw asked tiredly.

This made Juno snicker by the god’s side. She stood underneath a great hood of darkness, casting her fur into stark shades of black. But despite that, the amusement and life hadn’t left her. If anything, Mercury’s comment seemed to delight her. “Jeringr the Shadow,” she provided in place of the god himself. “He’s the god of darkness, crime and death.”

As if playing in a theatre, Jeringr drew his cloak tighter. “Indeed!” he declared. “Such is I! Master of plots and cruelty, the hidden dancer, the choking grasp.” And indeed, as he spoke, the air grew heavy. It pressed in on Mercury with claustrophobic fingers, digging into his fur as though a live burial.

The mopaaw shook himself as if to clean his fur from water. Zyl was cloaked in a faint sheen of heat, and the hunter… was vibrating with excitement. Jeringr grimaced at the spiderkin. “I was hoping you’d find me on your own, Mercury.”

“Not my problem,” the mopaaw decided placidly. “So much of this is not my problem. In fact, Juno, please come over here now.” 

Before walking, the wolf did spare Jeringr a glance. The god’s sickle mouth had twisted into a frown as all his carefully curated gravitas was crushed within seconds. Despite that, though, Juno only gave a shrug, walked over, and dove into Mercury’s shadow.

“None of that,” the god said, reaching to drag her back out - and failed.

A silver crown buzzed above Mercury’s head. Buzzed, in the sense that its faint light cut through the darkness. It shone light on any hidden thing, destroying the very idea of falsehood or hiding. The <Crown of Understanding> was effective against the light, Illuhm. But against the shadow, Jeringr? It was his very antithesis. 

Faced with the absolute understanding of what, who, where and why he was, the god of falsehoods found himself blinding. A little like a vampire when you shove garlic in their face. Jeringr rose a hundred shadowy limbs in front of his face, and cursed. “Agh! Damn you, ow, ugh!” His limbs smoked in the crown’s light. “Turn that damned thing off! Ow! That hurts, dang you! By the gods!”

Mercury frowned, then nodded, dimming the crown. “I’ll ask you to be very polite and respect people’s boundaries and privacy for this conversation, Jeringr,” he said. 

“Ough! Fine, fine, jeez, put your dang flashlight away!” the god pleaded. Since Mercury was nothing but the picture of politeness, the crown disappeared above his now molten head. Already, his luscious fur was reforming from a pile of metallic, silver slag.

Despite his decapitation, Mercury didn’t let that stop him from speaking. “So. What do you want?”

“A talk,” Jeringr said, after a moment to find his footing again. The theatrics restarted immediately. The shadows shifted as he spoke, dancing to the side. “A bargain, if you’re willing. A tit-for-tat.”

“What’s the bargain?” Zyl asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his draconic eyes to slits. Scales covered the man’s skin, bright red even in the darkness. 

Jeringr rolled his eyes, which amounted to bright circles of white against his shadow-face spinning. More like googly eyes, really. It would have looked comical if the god himself weren’t terrifying simply by being near him. Mercury felt like he was being crushed by rocks, still, and frankly, he’d made better experiences.

Despite that, the shadow-man finally decided to drop some of the theatrics. “My brother, Illuhm. I’m warning you that he won’t learn. Divines aren’t people, not properly. We are fixed in our ways, in our purpose. Maintenance-constructs, formed by the spirit of the world. Chronagen needs us to function, and we need it.”

Ah. Mercury understood now. Jeringr was worried that Illuhm would cause trouble for old Uunrahzil and Mercury’s inner world. Since, by being let into there, the god would be infecting that world with his light.

Frankly, that much was probably true. Mercury’s dreamscape was starting to feel a little hot in his head. It was like it was overheating, containing a piece of something it wasn’t meant to contain or digest. Maybe, perhaps, he could devour a part of Illuhm, and establish that bit of him as a pseudo-god in his own world?

Did Mercury want that, though? He already had given Whisperstar and Kim that sort of treatment. Making them caretakers of his world. One a gardener, the other a star in the sky. Did he really want Illuhm in there as the sun?

The answer was no. He didn’t. Frankly, he didn’t like the sun god. He gave him a chance at redemption, because he gave it to everyone. But he also gave him a chance at redemption, because he was stalling. 

Using his crown had given him a very bad headache. The Skill wasn’t yet properly tuned to his body. It was demanding, ruthlessly so, and it was a generally cruel thing to experience. But he wore the crown of Understanding. Not that of unmaking or of deconstruction. He understood what Illuhm was like. He knew that, perhaps, the sun god wouldn’t change.

“You’re warning me? Then why the test?” Mercury asked, tilting his newly grown head.

At that, the shadow’s frown turned upside again, into a wide, creepy grin. “Only strong deserve warning, only those in the know may receive help. I am a sneaky, selfish god, Mercury. I want payment, a dirty deed, done by you. I have things that need stealing, that need hiding.”

Mercury frowned faintly. “I don’t like stealing.” That was a half-truth, to be fair.

“It’s a righteous sect with a manual for a technique that kills people who use it, reducing their lifespan drastically.”

“I am suddenly entirely okay with stealing,” Mercury said, swiftly reconciling his moralities with the situation at hand. 

There were things that deserved action. Techniques that killed their users were one such case. Of course, there was a limit to stopping people from harming themselves - people would drink alcohol, eat unhealthily and take idiotic risks all the time. Those were choices people could make, after all.

Cultivating a technique that kills them, though, was that a choice he wanted to allow? Perhaps for some, yes. Responsible, well-adjusted adults who were making the choice in full control of their faculties. But did he trust the administration of the so-called righteous sects to only hand the technique out to those kinds of people? 

Who was he kidding? They’d hand it to the first idiotic kid with a grudge or a chip on their pride and see them kill themselves just so they can have a temporary, bright star. The righteous sects, just like demonic ones, went through people like they were cheap paper. Thin justifications was all that was needed to send some poor sod off to their death.

Jeringr smiled at Mercury’s swift decision. “Good, very good. It’s called the Pristine Jade Sect. The technique is kept in their archives, which are- well. You’ll find them yourself, I’m sure.”

The god of shadow was, indeed, the god of secrets, too. He didn’t enjoy handing out information on the cheap. It was one of the contradictions in his heart. He was the god of disguise, which came with a desire for theatrics, but also the god of silence, which made any sort of communication a chore. 

Such was the fate of divines. Full of distinctiveness and contradictions. Like humans, really. Mercury took a deep breath, then looked around the chamber once more. “That’s all you wanted me for? To warn me of Illuhm, and to give me a little task?”

At the question, the shade tilted his head, then thought it over deeply for a moment. “Consider this… outreach,” he said. “A way for me to begin our contact, so we may speak in the future. A connection made. You’ll inevitably get entangled in more divine affairs, of that I am sure. I simply wished to get ahead of my siblings. And…

“Your wolf, Juno. She has received my blessing, after all.”

Mercury frowned. “Your blessing?” he asked carefully. “What’s that all about.”

“Divines can hand out favor, Mercury. We can imbue people with part of our power. Your wolf has great affinity with me. She takes to shade like a fish to water. All I did was tie that connection a little closer.” The god’s smile twisted upwards and ever brighter at that, a crescent moon carved on his face. Blindingly pale.

For a moment, Mercury grit his teeth. He stepped forward, and the darkness quaked and shook. “Did she ask for this?” 

“No,” Jeringr said. “But perhaps you should ask if she has complained.”

Juno poked just her head out of his shadow, two long ears and a snout. “I do not mind, Mercury,” she affirmed. “It’s a simple thing, an increase in my affinity and mastery gain. Nothing sinister.”

Mercury levelled a stare at Jeringr, but the shade-diety simply held up a hundred hands. “Blessings really are that simple,” he said. “They benefit those who have them, at no cost. I have given up some permanent power and handed it to your wolf. Of course, I’ll recover with due faith.”

A moment passed, then another, and Mercury stepped back. “Fine,” he said, and the rumbling stopped. The tension in the air faded. It was an odd sensation, to have his every action impact the world so much, but he could feel that here, it was both thick and thin. A place where much was possible with few limits, the air ripe with possibility. The world was both impossible to breach and easy to alter.

It was a place where, he imagined, he could thrive. He could, perhaps, soak in that thickness of reality and elevate himself to the level of a god… but did he want to? Was that really his goal?

Jeringr had already told him what a set of responsibilities and influences it came with. The truth was that Mercury didn’t want to be worshipped - and he definitely didn’t want to be dependent on the faith of others. Ew.

The relationship he had with the world right now was plenty, thank you very much. Being able to reconstitute himself if he died, based on the fact that Zyl knew him, for example, was comforting. But he didn’t need that belief to keep existing or grow.

Gods did. They lived off of faith, and in exchange, they interacted with the world a little differently. Even their desires weren’t truly their own. Jeringr clearly wanted something from Mercury, he wanted to talk, to play, and was a little like a child in that. Maybe he even wanted to play hide-and-seek or something like that. 

But he couldn’t quite determine what it was that the god wanted. Nor could he determine as much for the Hunter. The strange, spidery figure had stood in the center of the room for the longest time. Then, they disappeared for a measure of time, and now, they had returned. 

They stood in front of Mercury, breathing slow, deep breaths, chelicerae clicking faintly. In fact, they were eyeing Mercury up and down. “Your crown.” The words came out slow and grindy.

Mercury furrowed his brows. “What about it?”

“What is it called?”

“It’s the <Silver Crown of Understanding>,” Mercury told them. He didn’t feel much apprehension about that. Sharing the name should be fine, and Zyl showed no adverse reaction. Then again, it seemed a little hard for the dragon to notice the Hunter.

That much made sense. The spiderkin was, after all, very difficult to spot. Especially here, in the domain of the god of shadows, they had so very many places to hide. Mercury knew, of course, that Anoth was the goddess of spiders, but he imagined that the Hunter fit in better with Jeringr.

After all, they were a straightforward creature. They sought out the greatest challenge, stalked and ambushed them, and snuck around until then. They were stealthy, an incredible tracker and Hunter, and entirely averse to the social schemes that Anoth so often favoured. 

So, when the Hunter nodded at the name of the crown, it was with languid understanding. They leaned forward, their spindly frame towering over Mercury, casting a long, menacing shadow. “I want to hunt you,” they said, licking their lips. “I want to kill you and hang your head over my mantle.”

Mercury shrugged. It wasn’t the first time someone wanted to kill him, and it wouldn’t be the last. “Will you?”

At that, they shook their head. The hunter rose again, to their full height. Not tall, exactly, but standing so perfectly straight that they passed for it. They cut an imposing figure in the dark, their edges blurred, the only hint of sensation Mercury could detect being the faint idea of killing intent.

Smiling softly, the mopaaw simply nodded. He had used the token, so his safety was guaranteed. The Hunter was somewhere between fae and myth, currently. They were less bound by rules than the fae, of course, but they weren’t entirely free. Their word had to mean something, adequate of their Title.

With that, they could not kill Mercury while in the employ of his token. Thinking of that, the hunter took a long breath in, then out, then shook their head again. “I won’t kill you,” they said. “Not here, not now. But someday. Someday I will find you. When my compass points at you.”

With a small motion, Mercury nodded as Zyl frowned. “It won’t,” he said. “Your compass detects things to hunt. I am a person, not a beast.”

“It points to people, too, those who’d run and chase and-”

“And I won’t.” The sentence came out with absolute finality. “I am not a primitive person. I don’t feel that sort of fear, I don’t run away much. If you’ll hunt me, then come for me, Hunter. But let me tell you this: You will not like it. You will not enjoy even a minute of hunting after me. There won’t be a chase, there won’t be any stalking and traps, there wouldn’t be any of that. I’d drag you to my preferred playing field, and crush you there, understood?”

By the end of that, his words dripped with venom. Because it had happened again. Once more, someone had mentally reduced him to a base beast. Something to be chased and chased by. He wasn’t that, though.

Whenever Mercury was reduced or taken as that, he hated it. He hated that he was a little like that in the ashen plains, and when Tor-Tern of Blood tried to make him out as that kind of thing, they died. Mercury simply wanted to be seen as a person. As someone worth talking to, having a meal with, not some kind of… trophy monstrosity.

Thinking that the Hunter saw him that way really did make him rather angry. But that didn’t seem to bother the spiderkin. The young Hunter stood up straight, spider-legs cracking and stretching with wild glee. Because, the truth was that the Hunter saw everything that way.

Every single thing in the world was either predator or prey. It was a bizarre, black and white worldview, but it was how they had trained themselves to think. Their one lone desire was hunting and thriving in that, so the system pushed them to excellence with full disregard of whether this was a healthy perspective or not.

They had limits and requirements attached, of course, but still. It grated Mercury that someone like this could so simply decide what to do with someone like him. Then again, such was the tyranny of power. If Mercury decided to steal from or hurt some random baker, what were they going to do?

If Mercury didn’t want the Hunter to reduce him to a base beast, there was a rather simple answer to that. Prove himself above the idea. 

Slowly, he breathed in, then out. All he had to do was to stand up for himself. That idea made him smile, just a little. It was good to be aware of what he wanted. Of how to get there.

Just stand up for himself.

With a small flourish, he left the Hunter behind. The spiderkin could hate him or track him, but he’d already removed three different marks that they’d placed on him, and was working on <Unravelling> the fourth. It was a somewhat petty attempt at tracking. 

But then again, when were people in power not petty?

Mercury sighed, then walked back up the stony cave. Jeringr soon turned into a dot in the distance, still smiling happily. Mercury dully noted that the god’s request registered as a Side Quest in his system menu, providing a shadow affinity voucher as a reward. It was nice, if not entirely required. But he liked affinities!

After all, <Magic> relied on them somewhat. The more affinities he had, the more easily he could integrate them with others. It made all his interactions with the world easier. And Mercury loved this world.

Those were the thoughts he latched onto as he walked upwards, dissecting the tracking marks on him, and shrugging off the horrifying pressure that felt like the ghosts of the dead were clawing at his throat. Par for the course, he supposed.

After all, Mercury and Zyl were good at restraining their pressure. They could live in a city without trouble. But being divine… it was like having a crown manifested at all times, wasn’t it? What a shame, that. Seemed miserable.

The gods couldn’t approach anyone who couldn’t withstand their pressure. That’s why they had to speak through signs and oracles, and mostly simply got enjoyment from watching mortal feuds and interactions. That hermit lifestyle was one Mercury could do for maybe… a year? Two? But at heart, he loved people.

He loved people and he loved magic and he loved learning from others. Yeah, he was perfectly comfortable in his cat body, walking around unassumingly, unbothered, simply going wherever he pleased. His crown was one of Understanding, but his heart was one of freedom.

There was no wall, no barrier that could hold him, no chains except those of his own kindness. And those didn’t hold him back. They were simply a result of his choices. He didn’t enjoy killing or maiming others, and if he could resolve things peacefully, he’d do so.

And if Illuhm kept causing him trouble, well… Mercury had a few pages to get accustomed to his crown. If the god wanted to go for round two, then Mercury would go for round fricking two with him.

Sighing softly, his shoulders slumped slightly. He’d fuck the gods up if he needed to, but he really didn’t wanna. Everything had recently been so much of a pain. His own crown was a pain.

Mercury found that he felt tired. Despite the fact that he had just spent some time resting, he still felt so very exhausted by everything. Perhaps the seasons of having his skin melted off did more damage to his mind than he thought? Or was he nervous for other reasons?

Despite everything, and despite his trepidation, Mercury kept walking. It was a fragile thing. He felt drained by everything, but he still headed towards the sun. He’d stop and smell the roses, yes, but not here. Not in this shitty place where the shadows clung to him like mounds of corpses and vengeful ghosts. 

Zyl laid a steadying hand on one of the mopaaw’s shoulders, keeping it there as the two walked. Mercury looked over at the dragon, who gave a small smile, tilting his head slightly. It made him look radiant, even in this shithole.

Mercury breathed in, then out. The air smelled pallid and of death, but that was fine for him. The act of breathing mattered more than the contents of the air. In and out. In and out. Over and over.

One foot in front of the other.

His thoughts calmed, slowly, returning to their usual gentle pace. They moved with the steady drive of a babbling brook, flowing forward unhalted. He thought, for a long moment, on why he did this?

Why did he go and fight? For his freedom, for those of others. He gave people second chances cuz he was understanding and kind. And he did all of that because he wanted to.

He loved magic and exploration and travelling. He loved this world, and the way he could find hidden things wherever he looked. He loved meeting new people, finding out their stories, learning a little, and making a friend or two.

Did he regret coming to the east? No, not in the slightest. Did he regret angering Illuhm? Not at all. He stood by his actions. All of them either were in service of survival, or becoming who he wanted to be. Someone free.

The cave slowly opened up. The oppressive rock faded away, the air turned fresher, the shadows grew less stark. The Hunter disappeared from in front of his eyes, the spiderkin rushing off in search of the next prey. Mercury let the sunlight fall on his fur, and felt its warmth.

Untainted by divine influence, it was a wonderful thing. He decided, then and there, that not even gods should get to make him miserable. 

Breathe. In and out.

Mercury reminded himself of all the things he enjoyed, all the things he wanted to do. And then, he shot his boyfriend a smile.

“Better?” Zyl asked.

“Better. Let’s go save some lives.”