61. The Unrest Before the Storm


    "Just so we’ve covered all bases, there’s no point to me taking Froggy off, is there?”


    “No, Wayfarer. [The Frog in the Well] has a Burden value of 15. Removing it will still leave you [Overburdened] at [50/31]. Not only that, but you also won’t be able to put it back on afterwards.”


    “Right… because Pathsight lets you put on a Trinket that shoots you past Max Burden, but it won’t let you tack on any additional Burden after that. So I can’t just embrace the [Overburdened] life and wear like twenty Trinkets at the same time. Shitty… but I guess it kind of makes sense.”


    “Correct. But I daresay your bigger worry is the [Anchored] status effect. Remember, the Benchmark for ascension from Naraka to Pretjord is KL-30, and you’re still—”


    “A few levels short. You think I don’t know that? Unless I can somehow get rid of [Anchored], I’m literally stuck in hell. But what do you want me to do about it right now?”


    “That’s right,” Zacko cut in then, having just strolled back into the room after his patrol of the premises. “Don’t imagine it’ll come as any surprise, but all the other doors are tightly shut, even the ones we went through for the Three Pledges. Forget being stuck in hell; right now, we’re both stuck inside this [Ossuary] until we do something about the Bone Lord. In other words, we’ve got nowhere else to go but up.”


    “Just the way we like it,” Serac—still seated next to the lotus flower—said this with half a sigh, even as she absent-mindedly caressed the bumpy outline of [Her Brother’s Bearer] upon her chest.


    Zacko leaned down and peered into her face. “You, uh, wanna talk about it, princess? For this next part, I really don’t know what to expect. About Dashi, about smiting the Bone Lord, any of it. All I can say is… you might not want to get too attached to that Karma stash of yours.”


    At this, Serac’s half-sigh turned into a full one.


    18,421 ?. In numerical terms, that was even more than how much debt Zacko had been in when they’d first met. All of it was about to go poof, unless she could smite the Bone Lord within two tries.


    And this was all in the context of the massive handicap she now carried. Unable to level. Unable to change anything about her build. Not to mention the severe penalty imposed by [Overburdened], keeping her constantly one shot away from Poise-break.


    “Basically, you have to no-hit this fight,” Zacko continued then, seemingly having read Serac’s mind. “Which means knowing beforehand everything the boss might throw at you. Which is impossible without having fought him at least once. Which is why, on this first attempt, I suggest we don’t try to beat him at all.”


    Serac had been nodding along distractedly—barely registering Zacko’s words—until this last bit snagged against everything she knew about being a Wayfarer—about being a person.


    “Wait, what?” She frowned up at him. “Don’t try to beat the Bone Lord? What, are we just going to hand him a free win? Why?”


    “Just hear me out, newbie,” Zacko retorted with a light chuckle. “Let’s say we go in guns blazing on our first attempt. Maybe we manage to get a few hits in, chip his HP down by about a third. But because we’re so focused on outputting DPS, we get sloppy defensively, and die within the first few mechanics. Maybe we learn how to deal with those and do better on the second attempt, but then he’s got more mechanics up his sleeve—because why wouldn’t he? He’s the freaking Realm Immortal—and we die to those instead. Bye bye, Karma. So, you see, what we really ought to do instead is focus on staying alive and—”


    “Try to learn everything we can on the first attempt. Yes, I get the picture. But I gotta tell you, Manusya man, I’m never going to get used to your jargons.”


    “The Manusya is right, Wayfarer,” Trippy offered his two ? then, but if Serac weren’t mistaken, there was a distinct note of annoyance to his tone, as if it killed him to agree with ‘the Manusya’. “Until we find a way to dispel [Anchored], we must safeguard your Liminal Karma as best we can. No easy task, especially against a Realm Immortal, but after this fight, you’re unlikely to find another Aberrant in Naraka that’s remotely as Karma-rich. We must make every ? count, lest we hamstring our progress for much longer than necessary.”


    There Trippy went again with his increasingly frequent rhetoric: progress and efficiency above all else. Did he know that he was acting less and less like a glossary and more like—dare she say it?—like a Jailer, prodding Serac from one painful situation to another? Well, if he didn’t, he surely would’ve heard her rather petulant thoughts just now.


    In any case, Trippy met the latest of Serac’s telepathic grumblings with pointed silence.


    Zacko, who by now had become quite good at giving Serac and the voice in her head the space they needed to hash things out, sensed the impasse and came to their rescue.


    “Well? You ready to do this thing or what?”This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Serac scaled her full sigh back to a half. “Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”


    The final door led into the Ossuary’s vaunted ‘Inner Sanctum’. As soon as Serac walked in, she let out a gasp of genuine wonder. For the breathtaking sight before her had—even to her newbie eyes—all the markings of a grand boss arena.


    The throne room was, in essence, an enormous spire—conical in shape, with a vast circular base and a contiguous wall that shot towards the unseen heights above. A final spire atop the Bonespires’ peak.


    Even in terms of decor, it was clear that the Bone Lord had spared no expenses—if such expenses involved sources of Bone. A dense collection of Huskbound statues lined the floor’s circumference. Every single one of them had been captured in an identical pose, with hands joined and heads bowed in reverence.


    Whomever these Husks had been in life, they’d all found peace in their final moments. But whether that ‘peace’ had been organic or engineered was quite a different matter.


    One might’ve assumed that the statues’ reverent gazes would’ve pointed to the Bone Lord’s throne. Instead, the roughly man-sized object that sat at the center of the room defied description at first glance.


    It looked to be a container of sorts, with a rotund, curved surface that somewhat evoked a Jailer’s bloated belly. After a moment, Serac recognized it as a giant urn, much larger and more ancient than the one the Maidens had employed. The weathered earthenware was riddled with cracks and blemishes that gave it a remarkably shabby appearance—especially odd for a centerpiece to the magnificent space all around it.


    But if Serac’s Wayfaring journey had taught her anything, it was that the most powerful ‘instruments’ in the afterlife often disguised themselves with shabby veneers.


    As for the actual throne, the Wayfarers were forced to look up to find it.


    From one section of the wall protruded an entire platform made up of melded skeletons. The edge of this platform rose to form a kind of hemispherical niche. And inside this niche sat a lone figure that the Wayfarers knew well.


    Dashi occupied the Bone Lord’s throne, with his skinny legs dangling off the edge and his handsome smile tilted down for the Wayfarers’ benefit.


    Serac didn’t need a second glance to note that the boy’s complexion had returned to a healthy cinnabar. And though his chest was covered by an unassuming tunic, there was nothing to suggest that anything of his erstwhile injury still remained.


    So, the Maidens did their part. Dashi’s made a full recovery, after all. It was welcome news, but one Serac didn’t quite know how to feel about.


    “Welcome, Wayfarers,” Dashi called down from the rafters. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you again!”


    The boy’s smile was so beautiful and so genuine that it was hard not to believe his words were too. If Serac had her way, she’d simply help him down to the floor and walk on out of the Ossuary, hand in hand—two happy Wayfarers and their little guide. But alas, she and everyone else in the room knew that things were far from that simple.


    “Let’s cut the chit-chat, shall we?” Zacko was the first to respond, peering up at the boy with one eyebrow raised. “We’re only interested in two things. First, a Mandate for our ascension—because we’ve obviously kicked enough ass to deserve it—and second, for you to leave my man Dashi alone. Boy’s at a critical age, and as someone who respects and admires him, I wouldn’t want possession by some creepy skeleton freak to hamper his growth. Any chance you could just grant us those two things so we can all be on our way?”


    Be on our way. Zacko had said pretty much what Serac would’ve said, had she been in a slightly chattier mood. But having heard the speech, she was no longer sure she agreed with its entirety.


    I feel like… maybe we’ve stuck our necks in too deep. Maybe just ‘being on our way’ doesn’t really cut it anymore. Once again, and without realizing she was doing it, Serac put a hand on her chest.


    Above them, Dashi’s smile only widened a touch, as though he’d anticipated Zacko’s every word.


    “What you suggest is a fairly clean solution,” the boy—or the creepy skeleton freak that possessed him—spoke mildly. It was evident that he no longer bothered with any pretense about Dashi’s not-quite-Dashi-ness. “In any other circumstance, I might’ve even considered it, but alas, we all know that the waters have been muddied somewhat. First and foremost, I’m now short two of my most valued followers—and I have you, chiefly, to thank for that. I rather hoped you might help to balance the books by taking their place. How’s that sound, hm?”


    The Wayfarers exchanged a glance, then immediately looked away again. Serac didn’t know about Zacko, but she for one felt a little embarrassed. Because, for at least one very forgettable Ksana, the thought of staying by Dashi’s side and becoming his new protector had felt almost tempting.


    It’s just one of the weird effects of [Enlisted], she told herself, even though she knew that wasn’t the full truth. Nothing I can’t overcome. Focus on the anger. Focus on the reason we’re here.


    “No can do, Mr Skelly,” Serac yelled up at the throne. “I’ve seen the way you treat the souls who’re loyal to you, and I can’t say I’m a fan. I think we’re just gonna have to accept that there’s only one way this thing can go.”


    Dashi’s smile didn’t change, but his dangling legs began to swing back and forth. It was an oddly (yet fittingly) childish gesture, one that could indicate either anxiety or excitement. Based on what she’d gathered about the Bone Lord, Serac was willing to bet on the latter.


    “I understand, Wayfarers,” Dashi sang sweetly, “and I don’t blame you one bit. After all… loyalty is earned, never coerced. Just like my king compelled me to follow in his footsteps, once upon a Kalpa, I know I must inspire the same loyalty in my own vassals. You two have sufficiently proven yourselves just by reaching this room. Now, it falls to me to prove… why you should choose me as your worthy leader.”


    Dashi’s singsong voice suddenly took on a guttural echo. The implication was clear enough. Whatever entity that hid within the ‘vessel’ was finally ready to come out and play. At the same time, the total change in identity received its official recognition from Pathsight:


    [Designation: DASHANAN Mandala of the Bone Lord]


    [Aberrant Race: Rakshasa]


    [Aberrant Class: Realm Immortal]


    [INFERNAL Instrument: RELIQUARY]


    “Behold, Wayfarers!” The Not-Dashi rose from his seat and bellowed, voice now utterly bereft of a child’s innocence. “And witness me, my King, as I stand where you once stood. Witness my answer to untold centuries of suffering and Penitence. This is how I carry on your war and grace it just triumph. This is how I raise hell!”