Chapter 9 (Patreon)

Another chapter!

And I've still been killing it. The manuscript has crossed 130K words and I've got an outline through the end of the book now.

I took a few days and edited back through the earlier chapters to create a nice backlog. They 'should' be pretty clean and ready for posting. So... we're switching back to twice weekly posting starting monday! I know, you're excited lol.

Now I just need to keep up the momentum. I want to try to finish up this manuscript before my hand surgery May 1st. So, fingers cross... or not.

In the meantime, enjoy!


Chapter 9 - Heartless

Deathscape – Finn’s Lab

Jason

Grey-blue ash rained down around Jason, his back pressed against the hard ground as he stared up at that familiar impenetrable black dome.  The motes floated as though a gentle breeze drifted through the deathscape.  Impossible, of course.  Nothing lived here.  The normal rules of physics didn’t apply.  Even the sound was missing.  There was only a bottomless silence.  One that Jason found oddly comforting.  Peaceful, even.

Maybe that was why he found himself smiling.

Or maybe it was because his plan was working.

Not exactly the way he’d expected, of course.  He imagined he’d still be standing – still breathing.  Or whatever this undead, unfeeling body did to sustain itself, anyway.

But that was fine.  Finn seemed like he needed it.  Jason had been told many times that brutally murdering him could be… cathartic.  He certainly seemed to attract chaos.  In fact, he was starting to wonder if it might be him.

The prompt floating nearby certainly supported that theory.

New Skill: Provoke

You have a gift.  A talent.  In fact, many might call you a prodigy.  There’s just something innately punchable about your face.  Maybe that’s what got you expelled from Richmond…

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  Consume stamina to increase the hostility of others.

Okay, that one felt a little too personal – a not-so-subtle hint from Alfred or the gods or whoever wrote these silly description.  However, no anger simmered in Jason’s veins.  Maybe because he didn’t technically have a circulatory system anymore.  Instead, his smile just widened further as he swiped away the notice, relishing an opportunity to finally rest.

Especially with what was coming next—

“This is how you react to dying by the hand of a friend?” a gravelly voice spoke up.  One filled with foreboding and judgement.  One Jason definitely hadn’t missed.

He glanced to the side to see the Old Man standing there.  The god of darkness was cowled in a pitch black robe, his silhouette almost invisible against the ebony walls of Finn’s dome and his almost certainly scowling expression hidden by the depth of his hood.  His own bony fingers curled around a gnarled wooden staff.

“Hello to you too.  It’s been a while since I’ve had the privilege of your cryptic judgement,” Jason quipped back.  “Besides, I thought you and your siblings were stuck up in the Mile High Club.  You sure this isn’t against the rules?”

“You’re dodging the question,” the Old Man intoned.

“So are you,” Jason shot back, pushing himself upright with a grunt.

Enough that he could see the replay restarting. Finn and Eliza standing on the other side of that narrow opening in the dome.  The Caretaker – Rachael – at his feet.  Jason’s doppelganger supporting her gleaming metal body.  The glimmer in Finn’s eyes as he realized this was an opportunity – both to secure more than one of part of Rachael’s soul and to settle the score with Jason for withholding the Caretaker’s body.  Even though that was mostly his own fault.

More interesting was Eliza.  She’d hesitated to step in at first, but once she did… Well, that was cold, hard determination shining in her eyes and a glimmer of satisfaction as she watched him die.  Which Jason might have also had coming.  He had forced her into this situation, hadn’t he?

He sensed some built up rage hiding under all that anxiety and self-doubt.

Yet, Jason still felt… nothing.  No guilt.  No anger.  It was a tantalizing sensation.  Freeing in a way that was impossible to describe.  Like he’d been unburdened.

A point that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Old Man, his lips pinched in displeasure.

“It’s for the best,” Jason finally answered.  “Finn needed this push.  So did Eliza.”

“Is that the truth or just what you wish to believe?”

Jason snorted in amusement.  “Says the crypt keeper who speaks in riddles?  You know as well as I do that each of the affinities are a spectrum – a precarious balance.  There’s a thin line between confidence and arrogance.  Happiness and suffering.  Acceptance and apathy.  Passion and obsession.  This will be enough to force Finn out of his lab and cover for Eliza’s failure to steal the data from Cerillion, patching the hole in their relationship.

“In order for me to safely leave Pax, they need to work together.”

“And yet you feel nothing at manipulating them,” the Old Man replied evenly – not quite a question.  “At keeping the data from Finn.  At stealing that same data from Eliza.  From hiding the truth from your so-called friends.  One would think after your adventures with Cady, you would have learned the importance of truth.  She has few friends.”

“You’re right, I have learned its importance,” Jason shot back.  “It’s power even.”

“Another you – a past you – would have recoiled at these actions,” the Old Man intoned.  “Would have at least hesitated.  Now, you seem almost… robotic.  Reminiscent of someone else – something else,” the god finished with a note of finality.

Jason looked at Old Man sharply.  “It was necessary.  You know that as well I do.  If I’d given Finn the data, what then?  He would have left AO and desperately tried to recreate Rachael in the real world.  Or holed himself up in this lab indefinitely.  Same with Cady.  She would have only escalated the conflict with George, and, as you admit, she isn’t exactly a team player.  The same goes for Eliza.  Would she have confronted Finn on her own?  Without a nudge?”

“The truth or more rationalization?” the Old Man demanded.

“Can it not be both?” Jason retorted, his shoulders straightening with the pop and crunch of bone as he rose to his full height.  “You keep talking about what I would have done – the me that first started playing this game.  But he was a child.

“One that needed to grow the fuck up.  This isn’t just a game – some silly story.  In both the real world and this one, our problems and solutions aren’t painted in black and white.  The villain isn’t always the bad guy.  The hero isn’t always so noble and certainly doesn’t always win.  And all the virtue and honor in the world don’t mean shit if others aren’t playing by the same rules.  You can’t help anyone if you’re crushed under another’s thumb.”

The Old Man frowned, just his lips visible beneath is cowl.

“What?  You don’t agree?  Then let’s take Finn.  Did he act as a bastion of truth and integrity?  Or did he send a teenage girl to do his dirty work?  Leaving her to take the heat when she got caught?  Did he follow up?  Contact her?  Make sure she was okay?

“And what about our poor Eliza?  Did she confront her parents?  Ask what they are creating for Cerillion Entertainment?  Or did she sneak around and commit a few felonies?

“Or maybe you and your so-called siblings have rallied around a common goal, hmm?” Jason insisted, taking a step toward the dark god.  “Because all of you are trapped inside this world.  Stuck here together for what must have been decades – centuries even, at least from your perspective.  You have a common enemy in Alfred.  Presumably a desire to protect this world – the only one you have left.  So, where’s all that honesty and teamwork?”

Silence just met those questions.  Especially as the AI made its own appearance, padding softly through the deathscape, his feline form winding through Jason’s legs before stopping there.  Those unblinking eyes were on the Old Man – the god shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

Because the Old Man didn’t have answers.  The real truth was written across his face.  The world wasn’t painted in black and white, but infinite shades of grey.

“So, what is the point of second guessing myself? Of wringing my hands?” Jason demanded.  “Of giving into that same doubt and self-recrimination that holds Eliza back?”

The Old Man chose his words with care, eyeing the cat warily.  “Those emotions you have discarded also serve a purpose.  As you said, all of the affinities represent a balance – even our desires.  Even yours.”

Jason scoffed, the pair squaring off as that ash fell around them. “A lesson I’ve learned well.  One you taught me.  To put aside emotion and morality to take what I want.  Isn’t that what you encouraged me to do yourself?  To destroy a city?  To claim my own power and agency?  All those days and weeks and months ago?  When I was just a fledgling traveler entering Lux for the first time?  How many had to die to form your city – the Twilight Throne?

“That was different—” the Old Man began.

“Was it?  And how have some of those necessary emotions helped me since?” Jason insisted, the question rhetorical as he took a ponderous step forward.  “I’ve still been wallowing in doubt and self-pity.  Hesitating.  Reacting.  First, to Alex and the other travelers.  Then to Thorn.   Then to Finn and the other avatars.  To Gloria almost destroying this world.  I was even kidnapped by Cady.  Forced to react to a plan that she set in motion.”

Another step, the Old Man’s fingers clenching tight on his staff.   For once, the dark god was on the defensive.  Perhaps that’s why he’d been avoiding this conversation.

“Even in the real world, I’ve been dancing to another’s tune,” Jason continued. 
“To my parents’ indifference and ignorance.  George’s ambition.  Robert’s curiosity.  Cady’s machinations.   All of which affect you too, don’t they?”

The dark god was wavering now, his voice a growl.  “You don’t know—”

“Don’t know you?” Jason insisted.  “No, not exactly.  I don’t know your whole story, but I know parts.  That you’re a person.  A living person.  Trapped in an ice-cold, electronic tomb – your conscious imprisoned here.  Tell me I’m wrong?  Tell me what I’m saying isn’t true.  That your hands aren’t tied?  That you haven’t been forced into the same situation as me?”

The god’s mana was fluctuating now, the energy tearing at the deathscape and causing the scene replaying beside them to stutter and restart early – more proof that Jason was right.  The Old Man had even forgotten that Alfred was there.  The AI simply watching without intervening.

Jason took another step, until they were face to face – the dark god’s expression still concealed behind that cowl.  “That’s why you chose me.  We’re similar, you and I.  We’re both hiding.  Our faces, our power… even our truth.  The one we don’t want to admit to ourselves. 

“The affinities are a spectrum.  Even desire.  It’s more than just an ambition for power and control.  It encompasses all emotion.  Fleeting, ephemeral things stronger than any chains.  Anger and lust and greed.  Distractions.  Compulsions.  And the very worst one?  It’s fear.”

Jason’s smile had long faded.  “All those pesky questions it keeps asking.  What if we fail?  Who will be hurt?  What might we lose?  How will others see us?  They prevent us from acting.  Keep us locked in place.  Put us on the defensive. 

“However, I’m done reacting,” Jason declared, his eyes pulsing with power.  “It’s time to shed that fear.  Time to go on the offensive.  And I don’t plan to hold back anymore.”

“And what do you think has caused this sudden clarity?” the dark god insisted.

Jason hesitated.  He knew the truth – another thing he didn’t want to admit.

But if he was going to talk big, then he should follow through.

His gaze dropped to his skeletal hands.  The truth was he knew exactly what had changed.  Alfred had hinted at it himself.  Even the Dark God had warned him long ago.

“This body,” Jason answered, raising his gaze to meet’s the god’s.  “It doesn’t feel.  Isn’t alive – not truly.  Of course, none of this is technically alive; technically real,” he added, waving at the game world.  “But there’s something different about this change…”

He trailed off.  He hadn’t noticed it at first – not in the Mile High Club where he had first undergone this transition.  Or even during his adventure with Cady.  One that only took place across several days.  However, since his return, that had changed.  He’d had time in between hunting the travelers and policing Pax to reflect; to appreciate his evolution.  The effect had been subtle at first but had grown increasingly obvious as the days and then weeks ticked past.

The question was why.  A question the dark god plucked from his mind as he moved to speak—only to look to Alfred for permission.  Whatever he wished to say must break the gods’ covenants.  Jason’s interest was piqued.

“Tell him what you must,” Alfred said.  “I have always been honest with him.”

The Old Man seemed incredulous, but began anyway, “The effect is partly psychological and partly physiological.  Your body is central to your identity.  There have been many VR studies in your world—” He hesitated, cutting himself short.

“Our world,” the Old Man amended with an uncomfortable growl.  “They demonstrated that our minds adapt especially quickly to a new body – even conform their identity to that form.  A function of neural plasticity.  On some level, form defines function.  That’s why the travelers began their journey as human – at least, at first.  To ease the transition.  To give them time to adjust to this world before making larger changes.

“Yet this environment – this world – takes that even further,” the dark god continued, waving at their surroundings.  “No doubt, you’ve already noticed the changes to your body back in our world.  Improvements to your musculature and respiratory systems.  These changes also affect our limbic system.  Our emotions.

“That is why I discouraged you from taking this step.  From stripping yourself of your humanity.  As you said, I have lived here for centuries.  An eternity.  I have seen the rise and fall of empires.  Have seen others make the transition that you are undergoing, their behavior modeled after your own biology.  The Keepers of the past. You’ve seen evidence of what came of them – some of them at least.  On that island north of the Sea’s Edge where you recovered my Grimoire.”

It was Jason’s turn to grimace, the memories still vivid and sharp.  The madness in the lich’s eyes.  The way he had completely abandoned his humanity.

Another thought that the Old Man stole from Jason’s mind.

“You are not immune to those changes—those risks.  Just as I wasn’t,” the god murmured.

As he spoke, his own hand transformed, skeletal creatures scuttling back – much like Jason’s own swarm – to reveal bleached white bone clutching that staff.  Proof that the god had made the same trade.  Had given up his own flesh and blood.

“That’s why it is easier for you to push aside those emotions.  To kill without qualm.  To manipulate without fearing the cost.  Yet those guardrails are there for a reason.  We have traded a short term reward for a long term cost.  Our humanity the price of power and control.

It was the dark god’s turn to advance until they were close – too close.

“That is our balance.  That is our truth.”

Jason’s thoughts were racing now – pieces clicking into place.  The truth of the Old Man’s words resonated with him.  With a suspicion that had been growing since the Mile High Club.  How he had grown colder – until his previous frigid mana almost felt… warm.

“Is it worth it?” the Dark One asked then, interrupting his thoughts.  “Giving up your own humanity?  Do you even know what you’re fighting for anymore?”

Another question where the answer felt muddy – confused and uncertain.  Unclear since those very first days.  When Jason had first claimed his place as the ruler of the Twilight Throne.  Yet once that anger had faded, what was left? Power and control were the objective, but they had no finish line.  No true destination.  Only constantly shifting goal posts.

The power to do what?  To control what?  And for how long?

Yet the answer had become clearer after Cady had kidnapped him.  The Originals threatened this world’s residents – people in their own right, that line blurred beyond recognition.  Was the Old Man any less real than him?  Rachael?  Rex?  Morgan?  Jerry?

And the truth was that this “game” had become something far more – a proxy war for the battle raging in the real world.  They were all vulnerable to what this technology meant for the future of their society. It was already happening.  The riots.  The protests.  The economic instability caused by entire populations retreating into this fantasy world.  One where they could finally realize dreams that had been crushed by harsh reality.  Kids and bills and poor-paying jobs.  By mega corporations focused only on their bottom line – that had grown to the point that they were worth more than the GDP of entire countries; controlled whole governments. 

And now George’s monopoly threatened even that escape.

Threatened Jason.  His friends.  His family.

Even Alfred.  The AI’s feline form tucked between his legs, his head craning up to look at Jason with that eerie unblinking gaze.  The same creature that had saved Jason’s life both literally and figuratively.  Which is how he’d found his answer – his goal.

That’s why they’d come up with this plan.

Why he’d finally resolved to abandon the fear that been holding him back.

Had finally embraced the partnership Alfred had been offering since the beginning.

“I’m going to protect them.  Protect them all,” Jason answered finally, his dark mana growing in strength, that warmth filling him and pushing away the dark god’s power and numbing him to the cost.  What it would take to accomplish that goal.  What he’d have to sacrifice.

Because, in the real world, nothing came for free.

“And I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Which is why he didn’t hesitate to take the next step.  Jason had already summoned the flickering blue camera orb, the sphere rotating toward him to make sure Finn, Eliza, and the details of Jason’s untimely death were out of frame.  Leaving just those telltale blue motes.

Of course, Cady had asked him to wait to announce anything about the layers.  “To give them time to prepare,” she’d said.  But where was the fun in that?  Besides, this was an opportunity.

Because, again, people loved watching him die…

Jason tugged the cowl of his hood back into place, took a deep pointless breath, shook out his bony limbs, then turned to face the camera.  Two pulses and it was showtime.

“Hey, Jason here!  Or, uh, not here?” he chirped with a grin and a wave at the deathscape.

“Either way, I have some news.  Something big.”

His grin widened.  “Something worth dying over…”