August Intruder- Chapter 219- Weakness (Patreon)

Bayad sat on the ground, still fuming even weeks after the events. He had chosen his silence, updates on the state of the world coming through him through the visitations of Mrs. Talwot. Of all her predecessors he would say that her level of intellect and competence was just in the average range. He had seen better. He had seen worse.

Right now she sat on the other side of the glass, watching him. Almost every day she came here, watched him and questioned him. He answered her as he usually would, but for the question about what had happened to him when he disappeared, that was an answer he could not give her.

Still, she continued to ask.

“I know you’ve lost a lot from what happened,” Mrs. Talwort said in a compassionate voice. She was sitting on the ground instead of her chair, face uncomfortably close to the glass. “I don’t know if any of my predecessors ever told you, but on Earth there is something called post traumatic stress disorder.” She looked at his right shoulder, her expression softening further. “I think it might be what you are going through. But you have to talk about it to fix it.”

He continued to ignore her, putting his eyes to the ground. That it had happened to him was still unbelievable. He had thought himself safe here, but for how long?

All those weeks ago, he had just been sitting here, allowing his power to flow through the spells and enchantments that he had led the humans to believe bound him and kept him prisoner. Then the impossible had happened—a portal had come for him.

It was still ludicrous.

Portals did not come for people, they appeared, lasted long enough to be closed or turned into a Chaos Run. But it did not come for people. It did not take them.

Even thinking about it in this moment brought him nothing but ire. And, as if to mock him, where had it taken him? Back home, to that desolate world he had fled during the hunting of Nephilims.

To a world forsaken by God!

He clenched his fists, allowed the pain of his fingernails biting into his skin to ground him. What had once been a beautiful world had been sacked and ruined during the hunt, forcing him to flee. What he had seen there was nothing but desolation. His world was barren and ruled by a creature so disgusting that all he had been able to do in its presence was survive.

The demons were a new touch, he thought to himself, remembering the variations of demons he had run into. I guess that’s that.

There was one thing people failed to understand from what Bayad knew of the cosmos was that there was Hell and there were hells.

It seemed his home world had finally devolved into a hell. It was sad, but such was the cycle of life.

You evolve or fall. It was a sad thought, but it was a true thought.

“Bayad.”

Mrs. Talwort’s aged yet gentle voice pulled him from his revelry. Bayad finally deigned to look up from the ground and settle his eyes on her. he could see her wrinkles clearly, he could feel the ambient mana flowing through every crack and crevice. She was dying, age taking her as it did her predecessors. But he could see it clearer now.

The one thing he could thank the portal that took him away for was the fact that he had been forced to survive, then evolve. Fighting off all those demons had done great things for his rank, done wonders for his abilities. He was stronger now, significantly so, even if not exceedingly so.

He could not remember the last time he had grown so much. Definitely not since coming to earth. With the thought, Bayad gritted his teeth and hardened his gaze on Mrs. Talwort.

“PTSD,” he said simply.

Mrs. Talwort nodded in a motherly fashion. “Yes, she said. It is a… problem that the mind falls into when you go through a very disruptive moment. But it is not a sign of weakness. You, Bayad, are not weak. You need to remember that.”

Bayad’s brows furrowed at her stupidity. “Who told you that?”

“Uhm.” She blinked. “Told me what? About PTSD?”

“That I am not weak,” he clarified, doing his best to withhold his disgust. “He has filled your head with lies?” He moved closer to the glass, his chains stretching to allow him. “Or perhaps you are trying to fill mine with lies.”

“Never,” she declared, shaking her head. “We are all strong in our own ways, Bayad. A divine being like you even more so than one like me.”

Was she on some kind of medication that left her stupid? Not only did she never talk like this, she also had to know that she was wrong.

Right?

It was either that or she was indeed filling his head with lies in an attempt to find out what had happened to him. He remembered how she had looked at him with awe when he had reappeared, tired, weak, and covered in blood that was both his and others.

Unaware of her presence, he had only been aware of the familiarity of the room when the portal had returned him. So, he had crawled his way to the nearest chain and rebound himself. Only when he had withdrawn some of his mana flowing through the environment had he regained some level of composure. It was enough composure to find Mrs. Talwort standing there, watching him in a mix of horror and awe.

If he did not know the greed of her predecessors, he would’ve thought she had actually felt some level of empathy towards him.

“You are a fool, are you not?” he said, unable to stop himself.

She reeled back aghast, as if physically struck. “I beg your pardon?”

“Who or what has led you to believe that you are strong? Who has filled the human mind with such falsehoods?”

Mrs. Talwort shook her head, as if she could not believe what she was hearing. “Of course we are strong.”

“Then who is weak?” he challenged her. “You say that I am strong and you are strong. Between the both of us, who is stronger?”

“You are,” she said without missing a beat.

“That means that between the both of us you are weak, does it not?”

“I am merely not as strong as you are,” she answered.

Bayad shook his head in disbelief. “That is what it means to be weak, to not be strong enough.”

She was currently reminding of one of her predecessors who had claimed that there was no such thing as an ugly person. Everyone, according to him, was wonderfully and beautifully made. The fool had been a devout Christian, not even a follower of the disgusting universal church that spanned the whole of existence, converting people into their flock like some kind of plague ravaging the body, growing like an unchecked parasite. He had been a member of one of the lesser churches, imitations of the scourge that plagued existence.

“Why do you treat weakness so horribly,” he asked, “as if it is some vile thing—a sin against nature?”

“It is not a—”

“You rebuke weakness, refusing to understand that there is nothing wrong with it,” he pressed, cutting her off. “You fail to understand that even weakness is a beauty of its own. It might not be liked, but it is not wrong.” He leaned in, looked into her eyes. “So why do you treat it so? Why do you condescend upon it so?”

She looked at him, unsure of what to say next.

He drew closer again, pressed himself against the glass that separated them. The grating sound of his chains dragging along the ground now, heralding his movement.

“Do you really believe your words?” he asked. “Or do you say them to somehow draw understanding from me, enough understanding to make me talk?”

Mrs. Talwort nodded slowly. “I truly believe it.”

“You fear what you do not like,” he said simply. “Hate what you do not want to be.”

“I do not,” she defied.

“Then why have you done something as horrible as pretending that that which exists does not exist? Or were you not taught that one of the greatest insults one can offer to another is the pretense of their nonexistence—the refusal of acknowledgement?”

“People are not weak!”

“WEAKNESS IS NOT A CRIME!” Bayad roared and Mrs. Talwort froze for a moment. His voice weakened a little. “It is not a sin to be weak, mortal. Weakness is the foundation upon which strength stands. To be weak is to be alive. To be weak is to know what you are and where you are. To be weak is to acknowledge that you do not stand at the pinnacle of existence.” He stared her dead in the eye, stared into her soul. “To be weak is to acknowledge the existence of God. For if you are strong, tell me, why then do you need God?”

Mrs. Talwort’s expression hardened immediately. Her eyes turned defiant. She met him with that defiance as she answered. “Who said we need God?”

Bayad saw it then, the madness hidden within her soul. The madness that motivated her to keep a being she thought divine captive. Bayad fought for the weak because he had been weak once, even now, just a few weeks ago he had been reminded of his weakness.

It was not a sin to be weak.

“This is not about God, child,” he said solemnly, suddenly tired. “It is about weakness. It is not a sin. No one gains true strength without first acknowledging that they are weak. Strength without that acknowledgement is false, and even if it is true, a being that never accepted their weakness will do nothing but abuse their strength, be it for good or evil. The only sin in weakness is the refusal to grow from it while demanding the rights and protection of the strong. That is the sin.”

“Why do you fight so viciously to be weak, Bayad?” she asked, shaking her head. “Why do you need me to believe in my weakness? You said it was for God, I said he is not needed. Now you say what? That God no longer matters in this argument? We are all gods, Bayad. That is why He is not needed.”

Bayad watched her for a moment longer. The madness was still there. It was a pity. She would die sadly, it seemed.

“This is my fault,” he said with a resigned sigh. “What did I expect from a being who does not even know that her world belongs to someone else. Someone she doesn’t even know.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Mrs. Talwort blurted, suddenly panicked. She rushed the glass. “What did you say?”

Bayad would’ve answered, but he was done with her, tired of her. So, he moved away from the glass and turned his back to her. He nursed his still healing wound.

“You are weak, Magaret Talwort,” he said, his mind returning to mourn the loss of his left wing. “You are weak.”

…

Melmarc and Ark sat down very awkwardly.

“So,” Ark said very slowly. “What now?”

Melmarc stared at his interface. He’d kept it on ice for a while, but he had a feeling he needed to deal with it now. He was currently staring at a list of [Void beast]s his interface allowed him to choose from.

“Did you find him?” Ark asked.

Melmarc nodded, moving the interface only slightly so that it scrolled down a little. With a shrug of will he had allowed Ark viewership of his interface. Ark leaned forward, looking at the list.

“That one’s got to be it, right?” he said, pointing at the only name that stood out. “I mean, everything says designation this and that, except that guy.”

His finger was on Veebee’s name. There was no designation for him. The name he had introduced himself to Melmarc with all those years ago was probably no longer there. Just Veebee.

“How much [EP] does it cost?” Ark asked.

“Just over six thousand,” Melmarc said, knowing why he was asking. “Still enough to reactivate mom.”

“What about you?” Ark asked.

Melmarc shrugged, knowing exactly what Ark was asking. “What about me?”

“You couldn’t possibly have gone through all that just to decide that you weren’t going to upgrade, Mel. That’s stupid.”

“We need all the Oaths we can get, Ark,” Melmarc pointed out. “Dad is not enough. We need mom, too.”

Ark sighed. “Pain’s begging to be a part of this, though.”

“Mom hasn’t given the go ahead.”

It was true. When they talked to their mother yesterday, she said that she needed time to think about it. Something told them that said time would take more than a day.

“Just playing devil’s advocate here,” Ark said, “but are you sure you don’t want to take a look at the other options?”

Melmarc shook his head slowly. Apparently, the interface gave no information on the different races and what they were capable of. It was like quite literally going in blind. It was almost as if it was telling him that it didn’t matter who he chose. In the end, they would all be the same.

If that was the case, all he had to do was go to the one that he knew.

“And you’re sure you can trust this one?” Ark asked. “I know you’ve developed something of a bond with it.”

Melmarc looked at Ark. His brother was being a little too talkative. It was almost as if he was nervous. It was something interesting to take note of. Since this decision was not as complicated as it looked, there was no point focusing on it. All he had to do was choose Veebee. With that in mind, he looked at Ark.

“Spill,” he said.

Ark blinked. “Use more words, Mel.”

“You’re quite talkative. What’s up?”

Ark shrugged. “We’re making an important—”

Dissonant.

Ark sighed. “I swear you get all the fun skills.”

“You quite literally burn darkness as well as whatever skill you got from running amok in the portal while I was gone.” Melmarc folded his legs under him on the bed, sitting in for a conversation. “What’s the problem? It can’t be school.”

Ark’s gaze wandered a little and Melmarc’s jaw dropped.

“You’re joking,” Melmarc said. “You’re nervous about going back to classes?”

They were being discharged tomorrow. The doctors had no idea how Melmarc had healed up, so they simply attributed it to him having a very high healing factor even if he did not have a skill for it.

As for Ark, he had been fine for a while now. The doctors argued that he had a clean bill of health. As for Melmarc, he was healthy enough to be discharged.

“What is it about classes that has you nervous?” Melmarc asked.

Ark sighed. “Mabel.”

“Mabel?” Melmarc was confused. “What about her?”

“Well…” Ark groaned and flopped back on the bed. “We aren’t the tightest group, but we are close enough, and Ahmed likes her.”

“And she likes you,” Melmarc deadpanned.

Ark sat up on the bed abruptly. “How did you know? Is it that obvious?”

Melmarc shook his head in disappointment. “Tar’arkna, when it comes to you and girl problems, its almost always that the girl likes you.”

“You’re joking,” Ark muttered. Then he paused, seemed to think about it. “Really? Is it always like that?”

“Uhuh.” Melmarc nodded. “And with the guys its either because they looked at me sideways or the girl they like likes you. I’ll be honest, as eccentric as you can be, your problems are usually one trick ponies. Girl likes you, you don’t like girl. Girl likes you, guy likes girl that likes you, guy doesn’t like you.”

Ark gave him a blank stare, then he sighed. “Oh deductive and wise one, what do you advise me to do.”

Melmarc shrugged. “No idea. Call Nin. Since your problem is the most basic of things, let’s go back to my selection.”

“Hold up.” Ark grabbed him by the wrist. “I have to return to my friend group where there might just be a budding love triangle. You can’t just make me talk about it and not give your advice.”

Melmarc raised a brow. “Do you like Mabel?”

“No,” Ark answered without missing a beat.

“Then you’re good. Tell Mabel you don’t like her like that and be on your way.”

Ark turned introspective, stroked his jaw in thought. “You do know that it might ruin our friendship, right?”

Melmarc knew of the potential risks, but it didn’t seem that complicated to him. Mabel liked Ark, Ark didn’t like Mabel. The end. There was no point in thinking any further than that. There was only one answer to Ark’s question.

“If it ruins your friendship,” he said. “Then maybe your friendship wasn’t as strong as you thought.”

“It isn’t. we’ve only known each other for a semester. It’s not supposed to be,” Ark pointed out. “But it looks like a friendship that would be fun. Mabel can be a very good wingwoman when she wants to be.”

Melmarc gave him another flat look. “The girl that likes you has been helping you pick up girls?”

“She’s been helping me flirt with girls,” Ark rectified. “There’s a difference.”

“One day, you’ll have normal problems, Ark,” Melmarc said, shaking his head. “One day.”

“Like befriending an existential being and owning a world?” Ark looked up as if in reminiscence. “That will be the day.”

Melmarc couldn’t help but smile while making his decision.

[You have chosen Veebee to be your existential assistant.]

[Void Beast Veebee will be summoned shortly.]

[Will you like to use up 6382 EP?]

[Y/N]

Yes, Melmarc confirmed.

[You have used 6382 EP]

[Remaining EP: 12622]

More than enough to reactivate mom.

Ark’s head popped up in front of Melmarc, standing between him and the interface. “Uhm, Mel,” he said carefully. “Is your eye changing color going to be a normal thing now?”

“I don’t—”

The space in front of them cracked. It was an uneventful thing, like a cracked mirror. Then it peeled back and something flew out as if it had been discarded, thrown away.

It hit the ground with a soft thud, bouncing off it once, then twice. It came to a final stop in front of both of them.

Ark looked down at it. “Quite anticlimactic if you ask me.”

Melmarc didn’t have the right words to use to answer his brother. But he knew that body anywhere, recognized it like the back of his own hand.

The body moved, then got up, dusting itself. Chibi-like as it was, the entire process was quite comical, almost laughable.

Then it turned and looked up at him. It smiled something horrible and menacing.

<<Melmarc,>> it rejoiced.

Melmarc smiled. “Veebee.”

It was like reuniting with an old friend.

“And I’m Ark.” Ark waved.

Veebee looked at Ark, tilted its head to the side in thought, somehow it managed to pull of a confused look. <<Two not one?>> it asked, confused. <<What are you?>>

Ark shrugged. “Human?”

Veebee opened its mouth but was interrupted by Melmarc’s phone ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket, surprised.

He held it up for Ark to see. “Dad’s calling.”

“You’re supposed to be picking up not telling me,” Ark said. “Answer it.”

Melmarc obeyed. Picking the call up, he put it on speaker. “Yes, dad.”

Their father’s voice was deep and ominous. “The child of my balls,” he said. “What did you do?”

…

Cilian ran a tired hand through his hair. His breathing was not the best right now, but he could manage. Currently lying in a hotel room with bandages over his abdomen, he struggled to keep his calm. He was still, after all, healing from the injuries he had sustained from the portal he had been forcefully dragged into.

And draining two people had not helped him heal.

Ariadne and Anji had barely managed to convince him to stop draining people. He would’ve drained them too if their argument was not sound. If people kept on dying from being drained, it was only a matter of time before S-rankers would begin investigating into the odd deaths of citizens of Tatelat.

But simple S-rankers were not the reason he had listened, no. If S-rankers began searching, then the government would, and he knew that any old enough Oath would recognize his touch. It was not yet time for him to run into them, not before absorbing the [August Intruder]. Not before he was powerful to rule and stand above them all.

I just have to wait it out, he told himself. It won’t be too long now.

The [Seer]’s message had told him to follow the woman and the child, and he was doing just that. They would lead him to his prize, then he would claim it.

The Oath of Greed could almost taste it.

Pain went through his abdomen once more. He fought against it, refusing to cry out. He was stronger than it. Also, if he was being honest, he didn’t think his liver was currently functioning the way it was supposed to. Whatever poison had been in the creature he had fought against, it was still working its way through him.

He needed something strong and he needed it now. If not, he was not going to—

[Dear Oath of Greed, a new order is about to begin. Your August Intruder has taken the next step in your world’s evolution.]

[A new being has gained a will]

[Visitor imminent]

[Meet the Visitor]

Cilian stared at the notification for only a moment before turning his head.

There, he thought, smiling through the pain. There you are.

Just in front of the window was a single notification.

[258km]

That was where he needed to be.