Changeling-(99): In the Jaws

Changeling-(99): In the Jaws

Nestra’s plan to meet Sereth met the anvil of Ashii’s culture. The Aszhii abyss didn’t have a postal service. It didn’t have the internet, or messengers. More importantly, it didn’t have any unified etiquette beyond ‘mind your own damn business’. As usual, Karamahel knew what to do in this situation as one of the resident heavenlies. Nestra was more and more tempted to call them space elves. At least, humans had the decency to pick a normal name for their species. Only egotists like the Aszhii and Heavenlies just called themselves ‘the People’. She didn’t count herself among the egotistic bastards, of course. She was merely rationally self-interested.
“Ugh.”
The impossible Cathedral that was Agathon’s fortress stretched under Nestra for a certain definition of ‘under’. Out of all the Patriarch’s dens, it was the most compact and architecturally coherent. Its Gothic spires mirrored the heavenlies’ structures Nestra had seen in their worlds in the same way a dagger mirrored a butter knife. It was a twisted reflection of the mother culture’s ostentatious wealth, a serrated edge to their grandiose displays. It reminded the inhabitants and visitors alike that Agathon may be of heavenly stock, but he was no angel. After spending a hundred hours painstakingly molding a single room, Nestra had to admit the show of mana control used to create this thing was inspiring in itself. The massive structure extended from a thick root towards the Abyssar so that all approaches were made in full view of its countless murderholes. It would require perfect invisibility or the ability to tunnel through the roots to sneak in. Or space manipulation beyond the grasp of an S-class predator born to move across planes.
Not exactly encouraging. With one last push, Nestra moved forward, now certain she had given sentries enough time to spot her. As expected, her approach was challenged. By three B-class, two of whom were half heavenlies too.
Three on one. Beyond the usual, vaguely threatening message, those were three adult Aszhii used as guards. It felt unnatural to her, against the very idea of what her species should be doing. They were hunters and samplers of beasts and skills. You didn’t use predators on guard duty. How were those guys even agreeing to it? The lack of self-respect made Nestra’s blood boil.
The three slowed down at a respectful distance. Their leader was a tall, stern heavenly whose mana pulsed once as greeting. He was looking at her with caution. Interestingly, all three of them bore thorn weapons.
“Greetings, sister. Welcome to Agathon’s demesne. We appreciate the honor of your presence, and would inquire as to what would delight you?”
The phrasing was unpleasantly familiar to Nestra — clearly influenced by their mother tongue to an abnormal degree while English only influenced Nestra’s Aszhii when she called people cunts. Another deliberate statement.
“I would like to see my brother Serethion.”
“Please join us while we inquire about Serethion. We offer hospitality in the name of
our
father Agathon.”
Something about his complete lack of surprise told Nestra they didn’t just know who she was: they were expecting her. Nevertheless, hospitality was somewhat sacred to the heavenlies so risk was… acceptable. Nestra doubted Agathon would gratuitously attract the ire of the covens. He wouldn’t just straight up abduct her. She just had to be smart about it.
She wasn’t led to a grand entrance but instead to a sort of landing platform/balcony/pleasure garden. Honestly the forms and functions merged with one another here. Three well-positioned couches showed where the sentries had been resting on plump and colorful pillows while keeping an eye out. Only the leader led Nestra into the bowels of the beast which turned out to be quite nicer than she expected. The guided growth formed deep corridors lined with alcoves, each one lit by teal mana crystals inserted in elaborate metal lamps. Nestra walked past delicately carved rooms as they delved in the labyrinthine depths of the palace. Most of those were empty but some showed signs of understated luxury with expensive furniture and pillows. There were always pillows. Aszhii sure liked those.
At some point, they crossed a walkway far above a monumental nave that would have dwarfed the grandest Earth cathedral. Faint whispers could be heard from below. The ambient mana also increased which was weird considering the Abyssar was already saturating space around them. They left it behind to reach some sort of administrative wing. Nestra wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to the sight of an Aszhii carrying a stack of accounting books, so brazen a violation of natural laws this was. No universe was safe from bureaucracy, dammit. They only stopped near an office if the desk was any indication. Her guide entered first. His tone was cold and detached.
“Mithran. I bring you Nezhra, here to see her brother.”
As expected, Nestra hadn’t introduced herself but they knew who she was.
“Is that so?” a voice replied.
Her guide frowned ever so slightly. The male sitting at the desk had an impressive pair of horns, but it was only when he stood up that Nestra realized he wasn’t a heavenly at all: shorter, larger of shoulders, the new one’s thick forehead gave him a caveman appearance reinforced by the smirk on open display. Most of his mates at least pretended.
“Certainly. Your brother has been our guest since his return, as you will see.”
He chuckled and it was the most comically villainous shit Nestra had heard in a while. There was something disturbing in the way he behaved, not to the extent that he disgusted her but the sort of uncanny feeling that would make her reach for her pepper spray. She just couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The guard must have shared her impression as far as she could tell from his cold detachment. He quietly withdrew, shoulders tense under his Skin.
“Yes. Our father expected your visit earlier. Come with me, ‘sister’.”
The giddy male walked Nestra out. Now that he was standing, it was easier to notice the departure from Agathon’s favored kin: shorter legs bent like those of a goat, longer arms. It was a species designed to pounce, and the powerful muscles moving under her ‘brother’s Skin made it obvious he had been practicing, and with the sword by his side as well. He turned back, giving her another smug smile as he led her towards another wing of the demesne. The lights grew faint, the decorations more Spartan. The male hummed under his breath, a toneless tune that scraped at her brain.
“You certainly took your time,” he commented.
Nestra elected not to reply at first, but then realized he was the only talkative male she’d met here and would likely meet in the near future so it was a great opportunity to get information. Even though he was an ass. This wasn’t about her or her ego. Something was definitely wrong with Sereth. Information would help, so she would try and get it.
“I didn’t realize there was an emergency. Is something the matter?”
“Hah!”
Mithran turned again with the snicker of someone who was in on the joke and knew the other wasn't. He lacked subtlety.
“Something the matter, she says. When arriving in a new region, would it not be polite to visit your only relative? Especially when that person is your father?”
Nestra had to exert some form of restraint here mostly because Mithran was clearly much more advanced than she was on the path of B-class body conversion, and he would no doubt flatten her. She was also still a guest.
“You must be unfamiliar with the covens,” Nestra replied to push him a bit.
“Pah, the covens! Father never objected to you joining!”
And he better not fucking try.
To Nestra’s surprise, however, Mithran paled. He shook his head as if clearing out an unpleasant memory.
“Not that I would presume to know Father’s thoughts. But filial respect ought to be expressed. That is what makes us better, makes us united. Surely your host kin understood that, yes?”
His voice was full of doubt. Nestra couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not so she wasn’t sure which flavor of asshole she was dealing with. There was still much to learn, however.
“Is this why Sereth appears to be in some sort of trouble?”
Mithran frowned.
“What? What does it have to do with him? He made his own trouble.”
Ah so Mithran was a complete idiot. That would make getting pertinent information more difficult. Ugh, if only Kim were here to guide Nestra or something. Whatever. They were almost here anyway. It was, well, it was a prison. There were no guards but she could tell from the absence of light and the thick ‘gates’. Perhaps even thick enough to stop her.
It couldn’t be strong enough to stop Sereth. Nestra briefly closed her eyes, searching the space around her and feeling nothing amiss barring the unusually thick mana. Weird.
Mithran opened the gate using a touch on something that might have been a lever. The thick wall of thorns retracted, leading into a narrow room occupied almost entirely by a cage. Outrage almost overwhelmed Nestra when she found the stoic form of Seth standing in the middle next to a simple chair. They… they dared! It took her a second to regain control, and by then, Mithran’s knowing smile had turned into a full smirk.
“I will let you two have a moment while I wait outside.”
He then proceeded to stand next to the open gate, out yet still within view. Sereth didn’t look good. It wasn’t his appearance since he was completely unharmed, but the feral edge in his gestures that warned her off. Sereth was a goofball by nature, and a murderer by necessity. The man standing in front of her now was a caged killer exuding the promise of violence, one made more potent by the perfect control he maintained over his aura. She couldn’t accept this fate for her brother. He deserved his fucking bakery. And Mithran was being very rude. But Nestra had a tool so he wouldn’t at least eavesdrop. She switched to English, the language strange on her tongue after not using it for so long.
“Well, this is awkward. What’s going on?”
“You shouldn’t have come here, Nezhra. This isn’t your problem.”
“Like hell it isn’t?”
“You’re just going to be used!” Sereth spat. “Used and abused. I can only drag you down, Nezhra. I will be let out eventually so you should wait it out. You’re unaging now, remember?”
“What the — You absolute fucking dumbass. Haven’t you forgotten something important? You’re expected back home!”
Sereth closed his eyes, fury rising in his shoulders and the clenching of his jaw.
“I do not want to burden you with my problems. You cannot help me, little Nezhra. I would only force you to fall with me.”
Nestra raised her hands to the Abyssar to call for divine help.
“May the Grandfather give me patience, an edgy loner. Alright then Batman. Aren’t you a little old to be playing it ‘I don’t want your help’?”
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. any appearances on Amazon.
“You must not help me, Nezhra!” Sereth snarled, every bit the trapped beast. “I am but a tool to reach you! We will both fall.”
He even paced. Big stupid tiger, Nestra thought.
“Maybe it would help if you describe the problem first before giving up.”
“Did you hear a word I said?”
“I’m more afraid of Stibbs than I am of you. Now tell me.”
“Stubborn child!”
“You realize I’m not moving until you confess,” Nestra replied, conversational. “Therefore if you care about my safety, spill it.”
Sereth swore in heavenly.
“Very rude,” Nestra replied in the same language, stunning him. His scowl turned into a bitter smile.
“You have been traveling.”
“No more delays,” she said, continuing in English. “Confess, or it’s your ass back to the Red House.”
Sereth rolled his eyes with very human exaggeration, a sign he was doing marginally better. Nestra sat on the ground.
“When I returned, our… genitor convoked me to ask me about you. He entertained me as a valued guest for a while, which is not unusual. Agathon dispenses favor and scorn as he sees fit. His ability to remain unpredictable terrifies his underlings.”
“So he’s some kind of narcissist.”
Sereth gave her a bored gaze.
“Do not presume to apply human psychology to one such as him. Everything is a tool for Agaton. And everyone.”
“Alright, it's not immediately relevant. What does he have on you, anyway?”
Sereth winced, then his gaze grew distant as his ears drooped with dismay.
“He somehow made contact with the heavenly hierarchy. He is so well connected that I suspect his arm reaches all the way to the Imperial palace, though none know the full extent of his influence, and I suspect none ever will. To his followers, he grants hunts, games, opportunities for revenge or closure. He lures us in with nostalgia and comfort. It is significantly harder for us males to find hunting grounds than it is for you, who can open and pick your own worlds. In this regard, you females have an overwhelming advantage. Agathon’s retinue gets better support to bridge that gap.”
“Stop telling me how cool I am. I already know.”
Sereth massaged his temples.
“Father dear has information on one of the only people I still care about.”
There was a pause.
“Your sister?” Nestra hazarded.
Sereth remained quiet, so Nestra had her answer.
“What happened with her anyway?”
“The same thing that happens to most Aszhii who grow up playing the court game. If you want to survive, then you need allies whose strengths complement your own. Makihel was always the, ah, the brains to my brawn as I was never exactly the savvy prince.”
“Bruh you’re not even a savvy human.”
Sereth groaned, his horns smashing into the cage with a dull clang.
“Do you want the damn story or not?”
“My bad. Go on. I assume you shared too much?”
“I… went to say goodbye. You can easily deduce what happened next. The same tragedy that Aszhii past, present, and future will experience. The shock. The horror. The disgust on her face, where there was affection before. Love turned to revulsion. It… it hurt. It still hurts, Nezhra. I am so relieved you didn’t have to go through it.”
Ah.
“I traveled to her manor. It was night, so the news hadn’t spread just yet. She was playing the harp. I will always remember…”
He paused.
“It was such an upsetting moment that I wrote poetry about it.”
“May I read it?”
“I would rather kill you and then myself. Now, you have your answer, anyway. In return for information, Agathon demanded to know about you. I shared some of what he would have learned anyway, but I must have made it too clear you would not look upon him with favor.”
“Has he tried not raping his children’s mothers?”
“Agathon has some difficulty remembering that we value the people we grow up with. He considered that I had broken some sort of rule. I could force my way out, and he might let it happen, but then…”
Nestra could see the issue.
“You will never learn about Makihel again. I see. Have you tried to argue your way out?”
“Agathon has sacred rules, a necessity when dealing with our individualistic kind. One of them is that we are always allowed to leave to save an endangered relative, if we wish to do so. His own troops would desert him otherwise. A dead relative may not be used as leverage.”
“So you tried with Stibbs?”
“Yes. I was… ridiculed.”
A break in his composure showed how furious he really was. His aura pulsed once.
“We are not formally married,” he continued. “And there is another issue. He considers mating with humans rather close to… bestiality.”
“What the fuck?”
Sereth shrugged.
“Most of us do not see things that way. As long as you take a species’ form and they are sapient adults, then a bond is valid. Agathon believes Aszii born from heavenlies are superior.”
“Because you are more easily controlled as a very social species with plenty of regrets?” Nesra guessed.
Sereth breathed. Hard.
“I remember you being quite a bit more obtuse about society. When did you become so perceptive?”
“When I didn’t have a choice. So. Your sister. Where is she right now?”
Sereth made to reply, then stopped, then started again. Finally, he frowned. It was a good frown that might have impressed a child or two.
“Absolutely not,” Sereth replied.
“I’m ratting you out to Stibbs.”
“Nezhra…”
***
Mithran didn’t speak as much on the way back, somehow more subdued. She assumed she was being led back because the Cathedral was a mess. Even she was getting lost in the maze of the demesne’s entrails. She wasn’t even sure if Mithran was leading her into an ambush until a curve in the path ended with a majestic corridor itself opening to the nave. Then she knew for sure it was an ambush.
At ground level, the colossal structure lost all sense of scale to become an altar to a god rather than a sensible building aimed to serve the people inside. There were daises, seats, and elevated balconies merging the vestments of worship and politics into a seamless whole. Several Aszhii were in attendance. Nestra’s gaze lazily traveled over the lot, searching for threats. Unfortunately, her curiosity was the trap. Beyond the group was a throne, a massive obsidian throne covered most of the back where the altar ought to stand in a monument of Gothic grandeur. Exquisitely crafted spires and spines of a material she couldn’t identify, not of the Growth yet still unambiguously of the void, encircled a lone male, an exquisite box around a perfect jewel. The man was tall with long horns elegantly curved back over perfectly straight hair, the aristocratic features of a man beyond the grasp of time. Ageless pits of abyss pierced Nestra when they turned to her. Oh, she couldn’t see pupils, but she felt it. She felt the immense, visceral crush of his attention, the event horizon of his presence. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Space, her ally forever, retreated beyond her grasp. She was a mote of light in an oceanic trench. He wasn’t a foe, or a father, or a leader. He was a force of nature.
Agathon was a sitting natural disaster.
And then his attention turned to someone else. She stumbled, summarily dismissed with a clear message: if you want Sereth back, come negotiate. He hadn’t even been trying to crush her with the reminder of what he truly was. He had merely lifted the veil from her eyes, allowing her to see the truth of existence. He was, basically, not even trying.
Nestra walked away, shaken to her core. She had known, intellectually, that Tigress and others were S-rank but it hadn’t quite registered because she couldn’t comprehend what it meant. She lacked the frame of reference. D-class was an accident. C-class was a given. B-class was the result of talent and hard work, placing humans at the level of pre-Incursion superheroes. A-class defied comprehension. They were Pagan gods capable of destroying entire countries. S-class… she had no words. Shit, her dad had his work cut out for him if he wanted to kill Agathon. The ancient monster could probably escape a nuclear detonation by opening a portal and jumping in. He would have the time to dodge for sure. That meant, if Agathon wanted to hunt on Earth, there was absolutely fuckall anybody could do to stop him. Absolutely nothing. Diplomacy was her only out, Earth’s only chance at not becoming a hunting ground. She
needed
the covens. No one back home would manage to even slow him down in the next thousand years. He could enslave the entire species with absolutely no recourse.
This was the power of an S-class.
And she’d offered one a box made of wood. Riel fucking dammit Earth deserved a better ambassador, and Sereth a better savior.
At least she knew what she was supposed to do next.
***
Professor Daku Jones had not been selected to proctor this exam because of merit. He was far too senior for that. It wasn’t for optics either because some of the more traditional ‘concerned members of the community’ still balked at leaving their charming young scions with a tall aboriginal. The cause of his participation was that the class contained a VIP who needed the protection of a powerful raider. One was considered a VIP after the first kidnapping.
He had to admit it though, this was a good batch. The Little People League members especially. There were rumors they had started with illegal raids. Ah, to be young again… He looked up, checking the forested land of the D-class world with mild interest. They were coming up to a group of creatures.
“Miss Palladian, if you would take the lead. I will repeat what I told the others: do not let the real world’s events distract you.”
The axe wielder took point in disciplined silence, her eyes already on the suspicious mound blocking the muddy path. Some of the young ones were like that: once they spotted something, they failed to notice the rest. Helena Palladian stalked forward with determined steps, wet soil squishing under her boots. Daku grabbed his spear just in case. The suspicious mound sat squat in the middle of a clearing, a dead giveaway for experienced raiders.
The mana monkeys sprung the ambush just as the Palladian girl approached the center. Daku’s hand reached for the spear at his back, but his C-class reflexes let him see that he was worried for nothing. The girl had expected the trap. As soon as the mana monkeys were mid air, she deftly moved to the side, taking the lead monster’s chest with a single cut before he could land. The others rushed her but quick footwork and intelligent positioning protected her from flanking. A poisoned dart pinged uselessly against her shield. Each strike of her axe carved through bone and flesh, killing her enemy in a single blow. She almost rushed the last survivor but the snap tortoise broke its camouflage to attack her with a devastating bite. The Palladian girl stepped to the side, placing the extended neck between herself and the dart thrower. She didn’t try to attack.
Daku made a note. That had been an obvious opening she should have capitalized on, with minimal risk. Once the monster withdrew, however, the girl followed so Daku prepared himself to intervene again. Mud tortoises were on the slow end of beasts but their bite attacks were not. The palladian girl jumped forward, axe high. There was coating on it.
So this was void mana. Like her alien sister. Daku wondered exactly how —
The axe descended with the grim inevitability of a tax audit. It went shell, body, shell, ground, leaving behind a trail of gore. The tortoise hadn’t even had the time to scream.
Daku deleted his previous entry. Helena Palladian obviously created her own openings. He still watched her move towards the last monkey… then something made him jolt. The Palladian girl stopped as well.
There was something wrong with the light.
Daku wasn’t a greenhorn. He moved immediately.
“Stay back,” he yelled, then charged forward. Something was swooping down towards them. Something
massive
.
Hellish jaws clamped on the dart thrower. It belonged to a black shark, clearly an intruder here: six meters long, near the top of C-class. A match for Daku.
Deadlier than the average guardian.
First priority: protect the kids. Wind guided his strike. He charged.
“Saaaashiiimiiiiiiiiiiii!”
Huh?
Helena Palladian bounced with excitement. The monster swam lazily with no signs of aggression. Daku stopped in his tracks, though he kept his spear forward. This wasn’t a portal monster.
“Errrr,” he eloquently said.
The raiding manual didn’t cover that.
“Sashimi you magnificent buoy, best and deadliest of all sharks! Sashimi! You are here!”
“You… know that monster?” he asked.
“It’s a she. Sashimi is my sister’s rival.”
“Her… rival,” Daku repeated.
“Yes! Sashimi is a void shark from the abyss and also the best predatory chub of the multiverse. Aren’t you? Yes, you are!”
The only thing that stopped Daku from doubting his own sanity was the news. Helena Palladian’s sister had turned out to be an alien, which had compounded the whole bridge world mess. Shinran had confirmed it, so by contrast, the existence of a somewhat friendly void shark was just a step to the side on the road of weirdness. He still didn’t lower his spear.
“You have something for me? A message?”
The enormous predator circled Helena with an elegance that belied her (?) bulk. The beast opened her wide maw.
She vomited.
So sharks, as it happened, could expel their entire stomach which made them look like an inverted flesh sock and smelled like the back end of a nightclub’s toilet. So yeah. Daku could have done without that. A fuming pile of half-digested entrail spread on the blood-stained mud.
“Ooooh, thank you, thank you!”
Helena Palladian picked easily sixty thousand creds of cores from the revolting mess. By his side, student Miu let out an envious sigh. There was also what appeared to be a jellyfish.
“Oh, what’s that?”
Helena grabbed it.
“Don’t!” Daku screamed, too late. He took a step forward but then the gaze of the shark dissuaded him. This wasn’t the best time to escalate. The strange jellyfish opened like a blooming flower. Inside, there was a small bag with a note and what appeared to be terribly mana-intense kidney beans.
“And I thought drone deliveries were cool,” another student commented.
“Aw, it’s from my sister!” the young Palladian exulted as if that explained anything.
Then with only a small pause, she read a paper message, opened the bags of beans, opened one and, despite Daku’s
repeated
objections, ate one. She chewed pensively.
“Miss Palladian, I would strongly advise against eating food that was previously inside the stomach of a shark.”
“But it was properly packed and oh…”
The young Palladian’s body shivered. She closed her eyes, breathed deep, then all the anxiety of the exam bled from her shoulders. Daku felt her pulse slow. A wave of potent mana spread through the air. If that was just leftover from the bean…
“Oh…”
Helena Palladian chewed some more.
“This better not be a drug,” Daku warned.
“No it’s… oh. Oh I… Wow.”
Daku didn’t dare comment because Helena Palladian was suddenly flushed with tears welling in her black eyes.
“Oh. I’m… I’m not in pain anymore. Like. At all. I’m not in pain at all? Really?”
She tested her axe arm, clenching and unclenching her fingers with disbelief. Daku’s heart seized in his chest. Helena’s file said she was suffering from chronic pain, but the relief on the young girl’s face… That was so raw.
“I’m completely fine. Is.. Is this how you guys feel all the time?”
Her friends slowly approached the sobbing girl which unfortunately agitated the shark. Daku hesitated on what to do next when the shark, apparently having had enough of human teenagers, which was entirely fair, moved up.
“Are you not staying to hunt? I can feed you,” Helena offered.
This was arguably a shit choice of words. The beast’s stygian gaze fell on Daku who raised his spear. It moved its massive bulk forward with smooth momentum, building up speed with the same lazy grace as a falling cruise missile. Sweat made Daku’s back uncomfortable.
The beast accelerated.
“Oh alright then. Bye!” Helena chirped.
There was a pop. Space moved in an offensive way and when Daku blinked, the shark had disappeared. He searched around to make sure it was gone while the girl packed her spoils. Only after he was very sure that they were alone did he drop his spear to collect his discarded datasheet.
There was still something important left for him to say.
“You do realize that I cannot award points for extraplanar void predator kills, correct?”
“But isn’t it, like, something that’s part of my array of tools?”
“Do you control or summon this ‘Sashimi’ at will?”
“Nah, she’s her own lady.”
Daku made a note.
“Oh fine. Does anyone want turtle meat? It’s great in a soup.”

(99): In the Jaws