Chapter 1053: Discretionary Power (Patreon)

Jason continued to watch the new planet slowly form under the ministrations of the Builder’s world engineers.

“Are you certain you want me to bring him out?” Velius asked. “In staying away, your familiar may have chosen the wiser path.”

“He always does.”

Velius nodded. He gestured and a huge vault door appeared in front of them. It was white, with the texture of bone and embellishments of polished onyx. In the centre of the door was a silver wheel handle that started spinning on its own until there was a heavy thud. The door swung open to reveal a space filled with darkness that even Jason’s vision could not penetrate. The only visible thing in the space was a pair of burnt orange orbs, eyes that glowed as they stared poison at Jason and Velius.

“Where is Shade?” Umber asked. The confident, gloating voice Jason had heard before was now bitter and angry.

“You won’t see Shade again,” Jason told him. “Not until you finally learn.”

Umber scoffed.

“You think you can make me what you think is a better person?”

“I’m not that optimistic, but you can learn that what you’ve been doing is over. Chasing your brother through eternity, using his summoners against him. Locking him away, time and again. That’s over, now. Once you realise that, he’ll let you out.”

“You think I can be trapped forever? Shade always got out of my traps eventually, and I’ll do the same.”

“Maybe. Shade was never bound by the Reaper itself, and I don’t think you’re willing to defy your progenitor, but maybe you will. So, let me explain something right now: you’re done coming after Shade. If you get loose and come after him or me or anyone we care about, I will end you.”

“You can’t kill an astral being.”

“I don’t intend to. You won’t get off that easy. What you’re going through now is mercy, because you’re Shade’s brother and he wants it that way. But if you come for us again, Shade won’t be the one who decides your fate. You’ll live forever, Umber, but you won’t remember that’s your name after what I do to you. You won’t know who you are or what you did to deserve the endless, mind-shattering agony that is your eternal existence. Universes will be born and die while all you’ll know is torment. Your progenitor commands the afterlife, but I will make a hell just for you, and you will never escape.”

Velius made a gesture and the vault slammed shut, cutting off a furious reply from Umber.

“Your threats are empty, Jason. The Reaper has agreed to punish his progeny, but there is only so much it will allow.”

“Allow?” Jason asked, not shifting his gaze from the vault. “I will do as I please with his progeny, and perhaps the Reaper will finally understand what drives my anger at his part in bringing me here.”

“I would advise against crossing the Reaper, Jason.”

“You should advise the Reaper against crossing me. Remind it that the last time cost it a son as well.”

“What did happen last time?”

“It didn’t tell you?”

“I know that something happened in your soul space. You came out a great astral being, or on the path to being one, and Shade sanctioned himself. He was aligned with you instead of the Reaper. That’s as much as anyone knows, other than those who were in there.”

“Your boss got you to recruit me to restore the Cosmic Throne, only to lose faith in my ability to get the job done.”

“But you did restore the throne.”

“Not before the Reaper turned against me, trying to salvage a situation that seemed hopeless. That act turned Shade against it.”

“That sounds impetuous, compared to the Reaper I know.”

“I trapped the great astral beings in mortal bodies. Their judgement was a bit compromised.”

“You compromised the Reaper’s judgement, then hold the choices it made against it?”

“I’ve had to make a lot of important choices, and no one was offering a cup of tea and a massage before I made them. It’s when we get pushed to the limit that we realise who we really are. The Reaper chose to sunder the throne in the first place, even if it came to regret that. Impetuousness was there eons before I came along.”

Velius looked at Jason in silence for a long time.

“I worry about you, Jason. About your impact on things that have been as they are far longer than either of us have lived.”

“Change was necessary, and you’ve played your own part in making it happen.”

“Even so, I still fear the consequences.”

Jason nodded.

“So do I.”

He drifted over to his portal, which vanished as soon as he passed through. A moment later, Raythe was floating next to Velius.

“He threatened the Reaper,” Velius told her. “I worry that we’ve chosen the wrong person.”

“He’s lashing out while he can. He knows that what we want of him is the right thing, and as much as he complains, he’ll always choose responsibility over his own desires. It’s what makes him the right person. He’s going to settle his affairs before he takes that responsibility on, so we can expect him to be a little unruly, but I suspect that even now, he’s taking the first steps.”

***

Jason never tired of building monolithic constructs in the shape of his own head. The first had been a whole mountain in a transformation zone, and then a space station orbiting the main planet in his astral kingdom. In the sky of that planet was another head-shaped mountain carved into a fortress, this one resting on a cloud. Where the space station above was for cosmic visitors, and the planet below for the people who lived in his kingdom, this fortress was for Jason himself. Contained within were the astral throne, astral gate and soul forge that were the keystones of every living universe. The astral kingdom itself was Jason’s true body, and these were like the heart, brain and lungs.

A great shaft ran through the fortress, terminating in a magma pit at the bottom. The walls were rough obsidian while the catwalk ringing the shaft looked like it was from a long-abandoned industrial plant. The catwalk gave access to doors leading to each of Jason’s three astral treasures. The fourth door was one Jason had never imagined would open again. He stood in front of it, Gordon floating beside him. It was large enough for a freight warehouse or large barn, the thick iron promising massive weight. The door groaned as it slid aside, revealing an endless void on the other side. Shining stars and brilliant nebulas made for a glorious panorama, dominated by one central feature: a winding path of blue and orange light, leading to a gothic castle in the distance.

Jason cast a glance at Gordon before setting foot over the threshold. This was a border of Jason’s realm, leading into a space he didn’t fully understand. Like the afterlife he’d been trapped in, it was a liminal space between physical reality and the astral. It was neither one nor the other, and not as simple as a blending of the two. It was more akin to the space beneath reality where a physical universe’s building blocks could be altered. This place was something similar, not just for a universe but the cosmos itself.

Jason had sensed none of this on his previous visit. Weaker and still mortal, he’d stripped his willpower to shreds to overcome the great astral beings and repair the throne. Working on instinct and guardrails existing within even the sundered version of the throne, he had fumblingly restored the laws governing all that existed and all that didn’t. If the end result was a little different from what it had been originally, he could hardly be blamed.

Jason’s power, nature and understanding of the cosmos were wholly transfigured from his past self. He could feel the influence of the Cosmic Throne inside the castle, spreading through the incomprehensible vastness of infinity. He had glimpsed that scope when restoring the throne, for a moment too short to even be measured. Even so, seeing a sliver of the infinite had almost annihilated his mind. Only now did he realise how astonishing it was that he’d survived contact. He realised now that, even in success, the great astral beings who set him to the task had not expected his return.

“Always something with these pricks,” he muttered.

Even time was not stable here as dimensional forces thrashed like a stormy sea. He walked along the glowing path through space, Gordon floating at his side, taking forever and no time at all. Moment to moment, it felt like he’d been trudging for weeks, then as if he’d just stepped out. He finally — or perhaps immediately — neared the castle. It was all weathered stone and ornate, gothic designs worn down by what felt like infinite age, as if it had stood to see the beginning of time itself. Jason knew it wasn’t real, simply his mind comprehending an idea that could only partially exist in a tangible form. What it embodied was both physical and spiritual at the same time, much like Jason himself.

“Maybe that’s how I survived. Should have had a messenger fix the bloody thing.”

“I believe,” Gordon said, “that you would have disliked the outcome should a messenger have restored the Cosmic Throne.”

Jason let out a chuckle.

“Can’t argue with that.”

A gap separated the castle from the end of the road, but as they approached, a drawbridge lowered to give them passage across. As it dropped into place, a figure waiting for them in the doorway was revealed. Looking much like Gordon, her nebulous interior was in the shape of a mountain, not an eye. Jason walked across the drawbridge, stopping just short of entering the castle proper.

“Carmen,” Jason greeted.

“Welcome back, Jason Asano. Gordon, you have grown. You are not so far from being ready to take your place amongst us here.”

“I already have a place.”

“So you do.”

“Do you know why we’ve come?” Jason asked.

“I have heard of your sworn desire. You would kill a god.”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about how to do that for a while, now, and I keep coming back to when I summoned Gordon. That incantation mentioned him being the arbiter when gods fell. I couldn’t help but wonder if your kind truly are god killers, or if it was just flavour text.”

“The cosmos is without limit or age, and gods were going rogue long before the Knowledge of Pallimustus. We have killed many gods.”

“Well, great, because she’s definitely gone rogue. Will you help me kill her?”

“Of all the deities who have lost their way, the one you would kill is unique. The sundering of the cosmic throne has given her an opportunity that should not have been possible.”

“You’re saying you can’t go after her because she found a legal loophole?”

“The analogy is apt.”

“How does that work? Don’t you have any discretionary power?”

“We do not. Unlike gods and great astral beings, the Cosmic Throne does not have a will. It is rigid, objective. Uncompromising. All that violates its rules is unforgivable, and that which falls outside those rules are irrelevant. But like any rigid set of rules, it can be circumnavigated. In most instances, this is a minimal issue, but the sundering changed everything. The Builder’s endeavours in creating Earth and Pallimustus provided circumstances that would not have been possible if the throne was intact. The throne does not have rules to cover those circumstances because those rules did not exist in the first place. With time and care, the Knowledge of Pallimustus was able to engineer a situation where her machinations are technically permitted. She can undertake what should be rogue actions, yet are, strictly speaking, not a violation.”

“You can’t help me, then. Can you at least tell me how you kill gods?”

“It is no secret: we simply destroy the planet they are on.”

“What about the people on those planets? The gods who didn’t violate their duties?”

“We evacuate if and when we can.”

“Whole planets?”

“When possible. But if not, sacrifices are made. I said that the Cosmic Throne is uncompromising. It acts only in accordance with its own dictates, without malice or mercy. If that means a planet full of people must die, then they die.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I am not, but I understand why it is this way. A pinnacle level transcendent, meaning a god, great astral being or astral king, has a disproportionate impact on the cosmos. The death of an unpopulated planet is a tragedy, and the death of an occupied one, an unspeakable horror. But the cosmos can afford to lose planets. When a pinnacle entity goes rogue, they become a festering wound that must be cut out before the damage spreads.”

“Well, that’s about the hardest ‘no’ I’ve ever heard. Is there no wiggle room at all? Couldn’t you send some of your number to fight for Earth? No planet killing required.”

“We cannot. The restrictions upon us are as rigid as the throne’s own laws.”

“There’s really nothing to be done?”

“I think you know what is to be done, Jason Asano. Come see for yourself.”

Carmen floated back into the castle, down a long hall. Jason watched, hesitant, before finally stepping inside.

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