>>6280901


“You remember me!” Zephyr beams, sweeping the locks out of his perfect face, water glistening as it runs down his chiseled (though possibly system-granted) bronze torso, “Really, I’m flattered. But no, it really is business this time. I’m here on behalf of the Auction.”

The auction, huh? Your interest is piqued, “What could they want with me? Aren’t they neutral?”

“Yes, but… well, some of the men in charge are less committed to the mission statement– and to good business– as others. Specifically, Hephaestus is NOT pleased that you broke his toy. And took the blueprints. Mostly that last thing, actually.”

“His toy?” you ask, “Wasn’t it the property of the Russians?”

The wind sighs, “Don’t shoot the messenger. Point is, I’ve been sent by the auction master to warn you that he’s probably going to demand you sign some contract promising never to leak the contents. He’s worried someone else might “copy his work”. Oh, and he’ll probably ask you to help him make a new one.”

“Out of the question,” you scoff, “It’s way too dangerous.”

He frowns, almost imperceptibly, before allowing his aloof expression to return, “Well, in that case, mister Hermes asked me to ask you to give this to a friend of yours.”

He hands you a glistening golden pendant, one with the obvious signature of a high ranking relic no less, “If you kill the current smith, the Auction would rather appreciate a replacement.”

You cock an eyebrow, “Aren’t you supposed to be the messenger around here?”

“Hey, I’m a letter boy, not a god! Well…” he pauses, seemingly mulling it over before shrugging that train of thought away, “Look, not the point. What matters is, I’m pretty damn good, but even I can’t find people who don’t exist (in our reality, that is). Hence, I need a middle man.”

>Sure, whatever
>Not for free (demand something from the auction)
>Not for free (demand something from Zephyr personally)
>Ask questions (write-in)
>Refuse (optional write-in, say why)
>Write-in

>Not for free (demand something from Zephyr personally)

>>6280902
>Not for free (demand something from Zephyr personally)
Something simple I'm thinking, like a favor owed to Pheme. We're just passing off this medallion to Perdix I presume.

>>6280902
aww pheme is overprotective of us
>Not for free (demand something from the auction)

>>6280902
>Not for free (demand something from the auction)
5 items of our choosing from the entirety of their collection

Not entirely sure what Zephyr is asking for here btw
Either we leave Hephaestus alive after negotiations break down, or we kill him and give that amulet to some mortal to make them the new Hephaestus?

>>6280902
>>6281063
+1 to this!

>>6281063
My assumption was that they wanted us to pass it off to Perdix, but yeah, it is vague.

>>6280921
>>6280981
>>6281033
>>6281063
>>6281064

>Demand something from the auction

“So, what is this, some kinda message relic?” You hold the pendant up, not understanding its circuitry in the slightest but finding yourself able to glean something of its underlying impetus by sheer intuition, “For a friend of mine, I presume.”

“Clever,” Zephyr smiles, “It would be very much appreciated.”

You give your tongue a series of disapproving clicks, “Nothing in the world for free, wind. You of all people should know that.”

“I know a guy who would be very upset to hear that,” he huffs, a pout on his face sticking just long enough to carry the bit before melting into a sly shrug, “But, you got me. That's true. What do I owe ya.”

“I'd rather you have the Auction compensate me instead,” you smirk, a little flicker of plasma lighting at the tip of your finger as you pull a metal chestplate from your inventory, roughly engraving your price into its steel shell, “Assuming I don't get assassinated, I'll come to collect once the fighting's over.”

“I see. I suppose that can probably be arranged” he shakes his head, then quickly shifts to a resolute nod, “Aaanyway, I’m gonna hit the wave pool. Came here for business, but when in Rome, right?”

You briefly consider reusing your joke, but decide the better of it, simply kicking against the walls of the river to propel yourself ever so slightly faster away from the messenger.

~

You and Pheme sit together deep within the heart of the Wynn, this time in front of a baccarat table, her the picture of elegant professionalism dressed in a full midnight black 4-piece suit trimmed in silvery purples and adorned with platinum buttons and cufflinks, you, wild and bold, tight, deep cut crimson dress revealing almost as much as your swimsuit did. You fiddle with your chips, reading the outcomes of the deals a couple of hands deep as you do.

You stop– something's off about the dealer.

It's a convincing facsimile, you’ll give it that, but you can feel the lack of a soul even as a beating heart and divine core attempt to subvert any such recognition. You turn to Pheme, who gives you a subtle nod: the dealer is an android. Seems like Hephaestus might already be hunting you down, far sooner than anticipated.

>Play while keeping vigilant
>Simply leave
>Cut the dealer’s head off
>Write-in

>>6281470
>Simply leave
the fun is in tricking people, androids ain't people

>>6281470
>Write-in
Try to communicate with Hephaestus through the android before leaving

Will wait until tomorrow for a tiebreak. If none is made, I'll flip a coin instead

>>6281470
>>6281528
+1

>>6281480
>>6281528
>>6281921

“Player,” you push about a thousand dollars into the slot on the table, staring the synthetic dealer directly in his silicone eyes, “Of course, I know it’s not going to hit. I know lots of things.”

The dealer, seemingly running on some sort of artificial intelligence, asks, “Why are you betting on something you know won’t hit?”

You lower your voice, murmuring to the machine (or, more to the point, the operator behind it) “It’s gonna be banker. Jack and eight to five and seven. When I win, you’re gonna use that needle in your hand to try and inject me with… what is that? Neurotoxin? Kinda simple-minded, no?”

In an instant, the dealer’s demeanor changes, natural movements stilling as his expression evens out, perfect calm– no, perfect default setting in as his entire body relaxes into still, mechanical simplicity.

“People are watching,” you snicker, absentmindedly fiddling with your chips, “Deal.”

It is, of course, as you predicted.

“[I assume the messenger has communicated the demands,]” you hear a voice in your head, not the smooth, calm voice of the dealer but one that crackles like smoke and trembles with equal parts uncertainty and impotent frustration. There’s a notable accent in his voice– South American? Central? It’s hard to parse.

“I wasn’t planning on kibitzing, if that was your concern,” you frown, “The Hail Mary is a threat to our entire reality. Give up on it.”

“[Like I believe YOU care about the human race. Such noble motives are impossible. Must be a trick.]”

“I live here, jackass,” you sigh, “When I say give up I mean it. I’ll handle you if you try anything funny.”

“[Are you THREATENING ME?]”

You decide to win this time, just to prove a point, “Like I said, I know things,” you grin, “If we fight, you will die. Just roll over like a good little dog and maybe I’ll find a way to keep you breathing, yeah?”

In an instant, the connection with Hephaestus is severed.

>Hunt him down
>Wait until vacation is over
>Confer with Pheme
>Write-in

>>6282304
>Confer with Pheme

>>6282304
Oh no, looks like we’ll just have to torture him to death
No two ways about it
>Wait until vacation is over

>>6282304
>>Confer with Pheme

they made equipment from the king's nodes and they are basically inert lumps of divinity, right?
you guys think Perdix can make a gnarly weapon from our own inert lump of a million divinity?

>>6282373
>>6282380
>>6282451

You dig your fingernails into the shell of a crab leg, effortlessly piercing through the hard keratin like paper and cracking into the sweet flesh inside. Pheme sits across from you, perception filter shimmering around her and your table like black glitter affixed in the air as she lays files down on the table (seemingly not minding the occasional splash of lemon juice or butter from your side).

“It can be concluded, based on the words of the messenger,” she begins, pulling aside a picture of a man in a pristine white full-face mask, “that the head honcho of the Auction is uninvolved in this grudge match. While that doesn't eliminate the possibility of Auction involvement, it does at least remove Hermes himself from the table.”

“White Lord–” you chuckle seeing his image, a flash of dark skin showing from beneath ivory gloves and platinum-white suit jacket sleeves, “Funny guy.”

“What matters,” she recenters, cramming one of a dozen little desserts piled onto her plate into her mouth while she finds the right documents, “Is that the primary involved concern is the smith himself.”

“So, what do we know? Actually, hold that thought, I’m gonna go get another slice of brisket.”

You stand, briefly vanishing into the chaos of the buffet, casually using your powers to compel people to move out of your way and lose their appetites for the things you want to take for yourself. You always did hate waiting in line. In short order, you find yourself back at your table facing what you could only describe as a gundam surrounded by realdolls in ridiculous outfits ranging from armor to gothic to cosplay to sci-fi.

“Main focus… robotics,” Pheme sighs, “Weapons too but that's more of a supplemental thing. Works on commission mostly for parts and intel. Was supposedly working on his own Hail Mary but hit a stopping block.”

“The soul,” you interject, “New Putin probably came across a method he didn't feel like sharing. Only left the robotics and need-to-knows with Hephaestus…”

“Regardless,” she sticks a toothpick into the image of the gargantuan robotic weapon, a tacky, extravagant thing wrought of black steel and red paint sharpened into superfluous weaponry and decorative points and spikes. You scoff at the notion that this is the most dangerous relic on earth now. “The main problem is the Gungnir– that's what he calls his prized mechanical titan– it essentially has a weapon for every situation, and, knowing the auction, is probably kitted from head to toe in anti-you protection.”

“Annoying,” you shrug, “but I have some ideas for that.”

>Brute force– Down to the Core on 1 million divinity will do great
>Surrogate caster– Picked up a decent prospect in Australia. Hurts your output a bit, but you should be able to fry his brain from the inside
>Allies (specify)– you know a guy for this
>Write-in

>>6283202
>Get behind yours truly a bit before and clean up our beach
(>Surrogate caster– Picked up a decent prospect in Australia. Hurts your output a bit, but you should be able to fry his brain from the inside)

>>6283202
>Surrogate caster– Picked up a decent prospect in Australia. Hurts your output a bit, but you should be able to fry his brain from the inside
Let’s try this method out, as appealing as brute force is Hephaestus is probably much more prepared for it

>>6283202
>Surrogate caster– Picked up a decent prospect in Australia. Hurts your output a bit, but you should be able to fry his brain from the inside

It's tempting to try and spin up an art where we transform ourselves into a giant mecha to fight the other giant mecha.

>>6283221
>>6283286
>>6283303

>Surrogate caster– Picked up a decent prospect in Australia. Hurts your output a bit, but you should be able to fry his brain from the inside

You and Pheme lean over the balcony of a hotel room, sipping on some ridiculous mead that caught your eye while gazing out at the glittering vanity of Sin City sprawled out beneath you. Hours had already been spent shooting idle chatter and refilling glasses until– Marie stops, her whole body going still as her eyes dart off to somewhere far away. Her head tilts, ever so slightly, like an owl pinpointing the patter of rodent feet against fresh snow. “He’s on his way,” she says, “Got that failsafe ready?”

“As a matter of course,” you grin, taking a moment to slip back into your realm.

[FULL DISC: ONE DAY PRIOR]

“Really, you’ve outdone yourself,” you grin, moving your– or more accurately, Lachlan’s– arm up and down, a sort of comforting familiarity even in the face of the obvious difference in build and being, “I can output… computer?”

‘Thirty percent maximal,’ the Hail Mary you replies, ‘Ratio holding despite 3,000% uptick.’

“You’re a gem, Lachlan,” you croon in your voice, knowing that he can hear you from wherever nook of his own body he’s buried, “This will do brilliantly.”

You return to yourself, a warm hand cradling the man’s chin as you compliment his efforts.

[FULL DISC: NOW]

A jet-black tower of iron and divinity bursts onto the city, crushing a restaurant or two beneath its gargantuan heels as the hulking automaton’s blood-red spotlight scans the city, seemingly searching for its quarry– you. Having altered your face and signature, you maintain the element of surprise with little difficulty. For now, you need a method of attack.

OPTIONAL WRITE-IN: WHAT DID YOU PLAN IN ADVANCE?
>e.g. “Placed a subordinate in position for ambush,” “practiced for a specific move or scenario,” etc

WHAT SHOULD YOU DO NOW
>Make use of the people around you to create a makeshift <Impostion>
>Simply make a direct assault on Hephaestus’s brain using <Strings>
>Try to burst into the cockpit and plant an <Ordinance> to try and subjugate him
>Wait and see what he does first
>Write-in

>>6283698
>Train Oblivion on Pheme.
we still got to know how much it works on higher level incarnations, and how much of it works through Lachlan

>Jump on down to the pool area and grab sun lounger. Bikini, sunglasses, steamdeck.
>Wait and see what he does first


Yo, OP, what do your notes say about having used the name Lachlan elsewhere?
I've been wondering since you introduced this Lachlan.

>>6283698
> WHAT DID YOU PLAN IN ADVANCE?
Between us and Pheme could we fill the city with false versions of Atë?

Have Pallas and Dorota standing by, to take any easy shots at their discretion.

>Wait and see what he does first

>>6283698
> WHAT DID YOU PLAN IN ADVANCE?
The Pheme divinity manifest combo sounds like an awesome idea


>Simply make a direct assault on Hephaestus’s brain using <Strings>
Let's see what he has in place to deal with this

>>6283827
>>6283860
>>6284032

>Truth and Lies, Oblivion, Sunday best
>Wait and see what he does first

You chuckle, sipping a martini from the rooftop pool of a hotel while watching the carnage unfold below. Smoky dark mist and raven-black feathers descend onto the city below, wrapping it in illusions and mirages. You hum a chipper melody, the <Sliver of Amdusius> carrying your voice through the city of gold and steel as a certain madness spreads through every lightpost and support beam and railing and coin– the delusion that they are you.

Feathers coat their bodies, blanketing them in anonymity, then collapsing, pasting themselves onto the people in the streets below like wrappings on a mummy, before a wet, bloody crack, first only a few, then a hundred, then a thousand, as their forms explode or compress into facsimiles of yourself.

Pheme, lazily floating in a pool raft nearby, groans from the strain– you would too if it weren’t for AI-you– as the two of you continue spreading the reach of this shared domain as far as it needs to go. You try to onload as much of the effort as possible but, in the end, this whole operation is entirely reliant on Pheme's <Manifestation>, and, no matter how much divinity you supply, her impetus and intellect are necessary requirements. Still, she seems to be holding out well enough to grumble instead of going dead silent, so you think the position is still sustainable.

You flick your wrist up, waving an invisible conductor’s baton, prompting a dozen fake Atës to leap into the sky, black wings replete with darting eyes and screeching lips, laughing in a chorus of mockery before latching onto the legs of the mechanical titan and exploding, every ounce of divinity in their mortal bodies erupting into purple plasma, their skin and flesh warping into unstable compounds and exacerbating the blast, denting the shell and sending the construct reeling back, forced to grab onto the side of a building to stay upright.

“””YOU MADE A MISTAKE.””” A hundred identical voices chant in unison beneath, “””YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO TAKE ME ON WITH SO MANY PIECES ON THE BOARD.”””

“[I’ll kill you!]” a mechanized voice screeches out from the mech’s plated face, the sound alone enough to shatter glass and send some of your doubles reeling. The machine’s hand opens, a crackling glow burning in the lens built into its steel palm. Driven by instinct, you launch into the air, taking Pheme into your arms and vanishing from the world with <Oblivion>.

>>6284558

You can’t help but be in awe of the might of the weapon, a laser bright enough to blind even if gazed upon from miles away for a fraction of a second, pours outwards, obliterating everything it touches as if it were never even there. The beam tears through the hotels and attractions of the strip and continues, leveling what seems like almost a tenth of the whole city with a single swipe of the titan’s mechanical wrist.

You regenerate the damage to your eyes, still fully hidden by <Oblivion> as you consider your options. Please select between Cautious, Normal, Reckless, or Desperate.

>Make use of your doubles to create a makeshift <Imposition>
>Simply make a direct assault on Hephaestus’s brain using <Strings>
>Try to burst into the cockpit and plant an <Ordinance> to try and subjugate him
>Send more doubles to chip away at the mech
>Write-in

>>6284559
>Simply make a direct assault on Hephaestus’s brain using <Strings>
If he has a defense we'll get to feel it out, if not we know what can beat him.
>RECKLESS

>>6284559
>Simply make a direct assault on Hephaestus’s brain using <Strings>
>reckless

>>6284559
>>Try to burst into the cockpit and plant an <Ordinance> to try and subjugate him
>Reckless

>>6284607
>>6284806
>>6284998

>Simply make a direct assault on Hephaestus’s brain using <Strings>
>Reckless

In the end, it all comes down to ol’ reliable. Your jaw quivers, divine might bubbling in the back of your throat as you conceptualize the link between the mind and the body, the imprint of impetus granted from the functions of meat and chemicals and jolts of electricity, conveyed and implanted into the very fiber of the soul.

Your doubles below– or, at least, the ones that survived the previous blast, muster every bit of might they have to bring the metal behemoth to its knees; colorless chains, tinted in crimson and shrouded in midnight purple, ascend down from a crowd’s worth of fingertips and latch onto the mechanical terror, hundreds of synchronized yanks to the <Fetters> lock Hephaestus’s weapon in place, burning into its hull and binding it to the earth like a netted animal. Finally, you release the tension.

The steel thrums like a tuning fork blessed with the proper frequency as sound begins to cascade out from your lips, a song of sensation– gluttony and lust and pain and sorrow– so deep and short and rich that it could tear a lesser mind into a million pieces. And, in all manners besides engineering, Hepaestus has at every turn proven himself to be… lesser.

>I need dice. Please give me 3 rolls of 3d100. Will update twice tomorrow if votes and time allow.

Rolled 3, 37, 82 = 122 (3d100)

>>6285358

Rolled 71, 64, 44 = 179 (3d100)

>>6285358

Rolled 11, 3, 5 = 19 (3d100)

>>6285358

>>6285422
Oh my god
I had to check this wasn’t 3d10 by mistake
Never seen a 3d100 so low
Guess Hep is gonna put up a fight

>>6285422
suboptimal

It's okay, Pheme just chooses the one reality to be true where we don't kill ourselves, right?

>>6285400
>>6285415
>>6285422

>122, 179, 19: 19 accepted. Reckless pessimal

You screech bloody murder, and your malice roars over the entire city. All but your doubles, shielded from your wrath by your own influence, double over onto the floor and collapse from the overstimulation. Fluids leak, blood, tears, drool, and otherwise from the fallen as they quiver and groan and scream, brought first to their knees, then trembling on the floor in light of your awful majesty. The metal in Hephaestus’s magnum opus resonates with the frequency, plates and parts trilling like a flock of steel birds as the titan is sent to its knees. From the speakers of the robot, you can hear him gargle and vomit, choking on impossible sensations as you, the star of death, slowly descend upon him.

You’ve done it. You’ve won.

Like a general marching through the streets in triumph, you descend upon the artificial giant, walking across its crimson carapace like a runway model up the red carpet, basking in the wails and cries of ecstasy pouring in from the world around you. Before you can even reach the cockpit, however, a blinding cerulean light encompassing your vision, as if the sky itself had reached down from its firmament to cradle you in its heavenly grip.

Then, your skin melts off.

>>6285667

All of the air burns away– you can't even breathe deeply enough to scream as a torrent of heat and hate bears down on you, an unstoppable wave of divine malice rends your flesh to grease and grease to smoke. You think quickly, as quickly as you can given the agonizing pain of the point-blank blast, leveraging the energy of the impact to catapult out of the radius. Flying through the air, you vanish from sight once again, <Oblivion> shielding you from being detected as you slam into the smoldering molten asphalt of the warped streets below, steam and the smell of burnt meat wafting up around you as a sizzling agony accompanies your reconstitution.

Your eyes dart around, desperate for some sort of explanation– Pheme’s black mist is nowhere to be seen, devoured by a torrent of turquoise fire, your doubles replaced by a conflagration with a thousand human faces, scorn and terror etched upon their ghostly visages. Finally, the machine, bathed in blue by a towering pair of demon’s wings fully formed from flame and exhaust.

You try to flee into your <Realm>. It fails, sputtering away as your enemy fully lords over the space.

You try to look for Pheme– she isn't dead, but you can't feel her presence. Are you trapped here alone?

You look for a way out. Naturally, you fail to find one. Still, the situation is manageable– this is Lachlan’s body, not yours. No matter how much damage you sustain, as long as you find some way to break the imposition long enough to detach your soul from this place, you should be able to at least make it out alive. Still, you can't quash the terror roiling in your gut, nor the excruciating pain of your nerves forcing themselves to stretch as your body knits itself back together.

That, and you can't help but shudder at the thought of it– a relentless enemy that can strengthen and rescue anyone who means you harm. How can you hope to beat that? What the hell even is this bitch anymore?

Regardless of your choice, specify between Cautious, Normal, Reckless, or Desperate

>Focus entirely on escape
>Attempt to override this imposition with your own
>Try to sever Tisiphone’s link to Hephaestus
>See if you can summon any of your subordinates to help
>Try to bind Tisiphone to this place and kill her
>Write-in

>>6285669
>a blinding cerulean light encompassing your vision
This bitch ugghhh

>>6285669
>Try to bind Tisiphone to this place and kill her
She can't possibly be ready for the 300,000 divinity
Fry Lachlan if we have to, just end her already

>>6285669
>>6285765
Reckless, we can't possibly roll that bad twice in a row right guys?

>>6285669
>Try to bind Tisiphone to this place and kill her

We gotta kill this bitch before she merges with the fucking uncrowned king.

>>6285766
Of course we can. Nontheless...
> RECKLESSSSSS

>>6285669
>>Try to bind Tisiphone to this place and kill her
she's got to die

>>6285765
>>6285792
>>6285893

>Try to bind Tisiphone to this place and kill her
>Reckless

You whisper to yourself, fully regenerated flesh crackling with crimson light as you slowly, deliberately raise your left arm above your head. Clenching your teeth, you allow the supple skin and reinforced bone and muscle and sinew to twist and snap itself clean off at the wrist, a disembodied hand floating above your bleeding stump, quickly replaced by another as your body’s natural regeneration works itself.

You frown– without <Body of Zagreus>, it’s rather difficult to maintain multiple, disembodied pieces of the same <Anchor> at the same time. It’s doable, but it’s far from easy. Still, it’s a necessary piece of your <Concept>, the same rite of binding that brought an Interwraith to its knees. Slowly, masked by a stealth inferior to your own Oblivion, the pieces of your body spread and circle, forming a ring to bind Tisiphone where she stands.

You stop, lowering your <Oblivion> in order to redirect your divine might to sealing the Fury in her current fleshy prison. The mech, instantly locking onto your position, deploys a dozen humanoid drones at least a full story in height, now baptized in azure flames, instantly race to your location, seemingly attempting to form their own encirclement as the main weapon, the revenge-augmented beam canon, charges for another lethal blast.

Your pulse quickens, adrenaline running through your veins as you slow the world to a crawl, your senses so heightened that you can feel the blood pumping through your body. It’s now or never, you think to yourself, as sunlight pours down on the darkened, smoldering Parade.

>Please give me 3 rolls of 3d100

Rolled 67, 52, 84 = 203 (3d100)

>>6285984

Rolled 72, 1, 83 = 156 (3d100)

>>6285984
Ok 203 bodes well

Rolled 75, 4, 33 = 112 (3d100)

>>6285984

Apologies for the delay. Feeling unwell. Will update tomorrow hopefully

>>6287026
it k, get well soon

>>6286022
>>6286049
>>6286059

>203, 156, 112: 203 accepted— Reckless OPTIMAL

Your hands turn, weaving themselves into signs and letters as chains forged in crimson crystal forge themselves rapidly between them, lambent sunlight bathing the city beneath as a ring of false sunset extends outwards from the bloodstained fingers of your severed limbs. You raise your body into the sky, wings of flesh and sinew beating to the rhythm as you ascend to begin your concerto in earnest.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”

The revenants of the parade find themselves spellbound, scorched pavement beneath their flickering feet transfigured into soft plush carpet, hostile steel benches stretched and softened into cushioned wooden pews as the wrathful souls find themselves trapped between rage and awe. Instead, they stand transfixed, unable to resolve the tension as you exploit it to buy time.”

“[PETTY TRICKS]” the clockwork titan roars, a dozen mechanical angels erupting from its metal hull, blazing swords of cerulean light cutting through your hands, severing the ritual intended to bind Tisiphone. Of course, you smirk, that was always a distraction.

One thing that's easy to forget is that Manifestations— <Impositions> of any kind, really— are extensions of your own soul, overriding the spacetime with a projection of your own will and impetus. While this does allow for incredible power and control, it's also true that you have to get close to someone in order to throttle them.

You place your palm on the air itself, feeling the Impetus coagulate around you as you attempt to visualize it, a burning star of rage and power far too hot to touch but bright enough to see with surpassing clarity.

The opener is over— it’s time to bring on the main act.

~

>>6287521

You hover over the cockpit, taking the ethereal form of the burning revenants below as you stand upon nothing with a look of cold, imperious disdain on your face. Or, rather, someone else’s. You see Hephaestus (or rather, the Fury puppeting him) sputter and fall as you melt through the metal case, the vengeful spirit unable to bring itself to harm you because of the visage you’ve donned.

“H-how are you here,” the creature stutters, “I, I’ve TRIED to see you!”

“You’ve only tried to see people who hate Huber,” you scoff, a mellow, almost melodic cadence even as venom infuses itself into your words, “You didn't leave any room for people who hate anyone else.”

“What?”

“You ran away,” you float towards her, sharp claws slowly, shakingly approaching the specter’s shimmering divinity, “You left me to die.”

“THIS IS A TRICK,” it screams, flinging a massive column of flame at you, forcing you to tank it and regenerate the damage to maintain the illusion, “SHE’S TRICKING ME.”

“You stoked the hate in Hephaestus’s heart on purpose,” you continue, “To get him to kill her.”

The pieces of you that you’ve laid about the battlefield spark to life in a plume of purple fire, warping into shapes copied from the people you saw on the street during your brief altercation with the craftsman’s big toy, though most are admittedly just random faces and bodies.

"You see all these people?" You taunt, flames shifting from blue to crimson as you lord over the fallen adversary, "You haven't just thrown away your humanity, you've become just as bad as her!"

Of course, that's a lie, but it seemed a good enough deception to rattle her resolve long enough for your false fire to overwhelm her divine blaze. You smother the fury in yourself, laughing as it crumbles to nothingness…

Well, that's what you’d like to think. Unfortunately, it seems like Tisiphone is… sort of halfway between Gaia and Ye Min— an inhuman creature anchored in something other than a single human body with a number of copies and offshoots operating simultaneously. If you want to trap the real Tisiphone, you’ll need to find some way to draw the whole her in or somehow remove all the anchors she could possibly use.

>Check in with Pheme
>Try to control the public perception of the disaster
>Try to somehow steal the fallen mech
>Flee for now and recuperate
>Write-in

>>6287524
>>Try to somehow steal the fallen mech
more toys

>>6287524
>Try to somehow steal the fallen mech
We can trade it to Perdix for an artifact custom built to draw in the full Tisiphone

>>6287524
>Try to somehow steal the fallen mech

One cannot resist, it is the perfect trap.

> Make sure we check on Pheme

>>6287554
>>6287575
>>6287594

>Try to somehow steal the fallen mech

“You alright?”

You hover over Pheme, once again floating about one of the undamaged pools (now thoroughly evacuated of all occupants), presumably nursing one hell of a headache as she sips on a bright red margarita.

“Bleeegh.”

“Yeah, same,” you plop down onto the stars of the pool, dangling your feet idly into the water as you gaze out at the wreckage of Hephaestus’s weapon. A massive, gaping black mouth opens up beneath the concrete and asphalt, slimy ebony tendrils protruding from the gaping maw and shoveling the damaged relic into its divine gut like a dozen hungry arms.

“I uh, have a guy on cleanup.”

Screams ring out in the streets, tongues and teeth splitting out from the main aperture in a flurry of ravenous hunger, sweeping passersby, law enforcement, cleanup personnel, and even dogs and cats into its endless consumption. Sirens blast, blaring and shining until a razor sharp harpoon of meaty black flesh spears the cop cars and ambulances through, snatching the drivers and pulling them back to the hellish stomach of the bringer of pain.

“Hmm.” She drifts through the water on her pool float, lazily spinning about the crystal clear blue surface as she savors every drop of her fruit-flavored spirit.

You chuckle, sinking fully into the pool fully clothed, ash and grease seeping out around you as the familiar scent of chlorine washes away the stink of char and cooked meat. “More like salvage, now that you mention it?”

You decided (since it wouldn't fit in your <Realm> as it stands) that the world of Dorota’s mouths would be the ideal place to store the technology until you can transfer it to somewhere that can make some use of it. Speaking of which, a few meetings really are in order. Who should you talk to?

>A member of the Whittlers (American shadow cabinet)
>Your pantheon
>Perdix
>The auction master
>The Shaman
>Write-in

>>6288123
>Perdix
I have a shiny new tooooy

>>6288123
>>Perdix
nobody commented on what I suggested in >>6282784
but we also haven't done work on yours truly in the meantime to clean up our beach
I also suggest we don't bring the items (mech and pendant) directly to him, because either can be rigged to find transmit their locations to the previous owners allies

>>6288123
>A member of the Whittlers (American shadow cabinet)

>>6288167
Didn’t like the idea. Would rather just reabsorb the lump when we’re ready.

>>6288193
Sure, but there's always more interwraiths out there. But putting in the commission early would make a weapon be ready faster.

>>6288123
>A member of the Whittlers (American shadow cabinet)
they invited us a while back

>>6288167
I don't quite mind

I'll wait until morning for a tiebreak (will do a double update tomorrow if votes allow).

>>6288701
it's just social calls, we can split again.
I just don't want to do soul training when split

>>6288138
>>6288167
>>6288193
>>6288648
>>6288716

[A SIDE]

You alight on the grass outside a quaint manor a couple miles out from the outskirts of New York City, a small pocket of the old, ranch life of Americana before the days of suburbs and skylines painted most of the state gray. Untamed greenery billows in the wind, trees and bushes left to grow and warp of their own accord untempered by the fussy fiddling of human hands. You extend your hand, blood dripping from your fingertips and onto the sod below, writhing like a thousand swarming ants, digging, cutting, seeping into the earth and tearing apart the defenses enchanted into the ground.

You smile— the clicks of an entire platoon’s firearms sounds out from every direction around you. They assume themselves hidden by their stealth relics, but you can see right through their shoddy perception filters. After all, they’ve stepped into the reach of your soul’s natural domain of imposition. “Apologies for intruding, gentlemen,” you stare directly into the eyes of the man you assume to be commanding these troops, “But I’ve come to chat with your bosses.”

“Surrender yourself,” the leader grunts, dispelling his stealth and drawing what appears to be a gun-shaped relic of… mythic grade? It’s a little hard to parse, but you can tell it’s a step below your current caliber, “Or else we will be forced to take viole-”

“Blah blah blah,” you mock, flapping your hands in a crude imitation of a mouth speaking, “Look, I’m trying to be polite here, but I don’t have time to waste shooting the shit with the pawns. I’m here to see the Whittlers.”

>>6289214

You take a step forward, and instantly notice dozens of crimson laser lights flash on your body. You sigh, unleashing the constraints keeping your divinity hidden, a torrent of raw energy roaring from your body with enough force to cause the air to tremble. One after another, soldiers collapse onto the floor, hyperventilating and vomiting at your presence alone as you slowly, tauntingly step towards the commander of the platoon. The sky around you seems to darken, the sun appearing behind you as if you, not the rotation of the earth or the axis upon which it spins, were the sole arbiter of the where and how of the sunset. Beneath your boots, dirt crumbles into sand, the moisture seeping into shallow ocean water, a salted pond reeking of iron and vomit as blood spills from foaming mouths and weeping eyes of the weaker men felled by your eminence.

“These people will die if you don’t stop threatening me,” you smirk, “Call. Your. Boss.”

[B SIDE]

“Wow. That's, um, a lot.”

You shrug, leaning back against the walls of your associate’s laboratory as you toss the relic from Zephyr on to Perdix as per your own end of the bargain (after providing a brief summary of recent events, of course). Having completed your end of the wind’s bargain, you decide to move on to other things:

“Actually, I’m here for war prep— looks like you're gonna have another crunch.”

“You really are the worst,” he groans.

“Shut up. I know you love it.”

“I really don't—”

“Magic lasers?”

“Fuck. Fine. What is it that you wanted, anyway?"

>About Hephaestus’s mech
>About mechanizing <Ruination>
>About upgrading your space suit
>About weaponizing your split divinity
>About making a big gun
>Write-in

>>6289215
>About drawing in all of Tisiphone so we can kill her once and for all

>>6289215
>About drawing in all of Tisiphone so we can kill her once and for all
Might be beyond his expertise though. Still, his insights could be useful.

>About Hephaestus’s mech
In the upcoming, no doubt massive fight against every courtier ever, having a giant stompy robot stomping and roboting around would be pretty nice.

>About upgrading your space suit
Could be smart to upgrade our defenses.

>>6289215
>Tease him about how he wanted to make a bodacious gnarly weapon, one rad enough to make supervillains look like grody poser. (Use 80s slang)
>About Hephaestus’s mech
>About weaponizing your split divinity
He can take as much as he needs himself to handle forging it into something. As I said before, there's always more interwraiths
>About making a big gun
Use Arms of Khaos as a base, throw in Heaven’s Ruin too. scrap the mech, the auravore and the 1M divinity
>Make a weapon that, at max output... (russian accent) "It costs 400.000 Divinity to fuel these claws... for 12 seconds." (but not be wasteful about it)

>>6289215
>>6289341
you had to make it weird, but
+1
go all in on a weapon

>>6289290
>>6289307
I don't think he can make a tool to consolidate a soul.
Ghostbusters could trap one tho

QM? you holding up alright?

>>6290940

Apologies for the unexpected hiatus. I was feeling really burnt out, and ended up not having the motivation to write for a while. I'm refreshed and back at it now, so no worries there.

>>6289290
>>6289307
>>6289341
>>6289719

[B SIDE]

“I’m looking for two things,” you smile, “Resources and divinity may be supplied as needed. I’ll list them in order of feasibility, but it would be nice if you could pull off both.”

“Timeframe?”

“I need the first thing in no less than two weeks. The second is a bit less time sensitive, but sooner is better than later.”

“Two weeks… tough, but I get it. What do you want?”

“I need a big gun.”

“That's it?”

You nod solemnly, “A REALLY big gun. I’m talking, DOOMSDAY DEVICE big,” still keeping a dead serious expression, you stretch your arms to emphasize the sheer bigness of the gun you’re requesting.

“What sort of functionality would that even have?”

>Pure kinetic impact (e.g. railgun)
>Light and heat (e.g. laser)
>Soul targeting beam (e.g. ruination)
>Repurpose the hand canons of Hephaestus’s mech
>Write-in

“I’ll need parts, but it's doable.”

“Oh, I have parts,” you smirk, placing one of your self-made nodes on the table, “parts like you wouldn't believe.”

“...node? No, it seems…” he stops, watching the sphere for a moment as his own divinity twirls around it, revealing an ocean of red lit by the setting sun, “What is this?”

“Vomit.”

“What?”

“Seriously. Bad case of indigestion.”

“Hmmm… well, whatever it is, the impetus doesn't seem hostile. If you think it's reliable, then I can certainly work with it.”

“Splendid! Now, onto-”

[A SIDE]

“You certainly know how to make an entrance.”

A familiar face leads you towards the sanctum buried deep within the building the Whittlers call home— you forget her name, but you remember her being Kronos’s Dog. You remember handing him Tisiphone’s authority crystal in exchange for Lethe. Your pantheon bonus has been useful, and Ciotti is a solid subordinate, but you can't help regretting that transaction knowing what you know now. You sigh, deciding to keep your hostility in check for the sake of the coming negotiations.

“So, what brings you here?” You ask the agent, conveying your intent through divinity as well as speech to compensate for her deafness.

She turns slightly, a dubious glance piercing your upturned aquamarine eyes, “What else but the coming catastrophe?”

>>6291133

“I thought your boss wasn't interested in the Uncrowned King.”

“He is now. I’ve been asked to send a message, though I was on my way out before you showed up. Consider this a favor from an acquaintance.”

“Not an ally?”

“We both know your contract with the Commander has been severed. No need to play ignorant.”

“Still, like it or not, I’m one of the only people you can trust in the fight against the King,” you smirk, “Nobody out there hates that bastard more than me.”

“...that's a definite possibility,” she sighs, stopping as she meets a tall dark door at the end of the colonial-style hallway, “Here’s your stop. Try not to make another mess.”

“Rude!” You pout, passing by your temporary escort and placing your hand on the wrought iron knob of the door, “They started it! Besides, you know I’m a peaceable girl. Never wanna fight if I can avoid it.”

She scoffs, “You only avoid fights you know you’ll lose.”

You grin, turning to the officer and forcing her to read your lips as you enter the chamber. “Awful rude way of talking,” you snicker, “Seeing as I’m here to save the world.”

[B SIDE]

>Drawing in Tisiphone

You briefly go over the things you know about Tisiphone, during which Perdix starts furiously taking notes, drawing crude diagrams, and frowning at the implications of what her existence means must be possible. Still, he shakes his head, shutting the notepad and sighing as you wrap up your summary.

“This is… out of my wheelhouse, as it were,’” he grumbles, shaking his head again and dropping his notes on the desk beside him, “I don’t deal in souls. It’s… gross.”

“Seriously? This bitch is crazy, Perdix. If we don’t take her down I could easily die— and a lot of people are gonna get hurt in the process.”

He clicks his tongue, “Don’t pretend you care about that second part.”

“Don’t you?”

“...They don’t live here.”

“Yeesh. Cold, man. Still-”

“I’m not even saying I’m rejecting it on principle,” he interjects, “I’m saying this isn’t my specialty. I have no practice with it. You’re gonna want to ask Hepha- oh. Right.”

You groan, “Anyone else?”

“There is… someone,” He leaves for a moment, rummaging through his drawers and pulling out what seems like a small wooden statue of a demon. It’s ambiguous, but something about its impression is familiar: perhaps it resembles Tisiphone? No, something deeper than that. It’s something in the handiwork.

>>6291134

Your musings are interrupted as Perdix begins to explain, “Hephaestus and I,” he begins, “Mostly worked on commission in terms of public interaction. My failures and personal projects, nobody really cares about. His, he kept a closely guarded secret. This guy–” he pauses. handing you the wooden sculpture, allowing you to get a rough grip on its divine sculpt. Again, you can’t shake a certain familiarity about its make, “He exclusively releases prototypes and rejects. Never accepts requests. In a sense, he basically just sells his trash for dollars on the penny. Pretty tough sell for most craftsmen, but his work is just that unique— even the trash is worth a fortune.”

“What's his name?” You ask, “Have I met this guy?”

“I don't know if you’d know if you did,” he chuckles, “The guy is practically a ghost. Goes by Hogsbane, if I’m recalling correctly.”

“Hogsbane, huh? Regardless, I’m gonna have to give them a call. Somehow. Anyway, get to work on that gun— I shouldn't have to tell you how urgent it is.”

“The fate of the world is at stake.”

“Not that you care.”

“Hey!” he snaps, “I have been really invested in Bake Off recently. I wouldn't want the world to end before the season wraps up.”

“...seriously? A cooking show?”

“Dead serious.”

“Well,” you chuckle, “It’s as good a reason as any.”

>>6291135

[A SIDE]

Masks.

Everyone in the room, save for a single smiling figure removed from the table, seated at the very corner of the room and shrouded in the tall shadows cast by the dim table-light, wears a ridiculous wooden mask on their face. Less like the refined masquerade of the auction, and far more like something out of a comedy routine from a thousand years ago, facsimiles of animals and warped visages of characters, old and young, dot the wide, circular table. You can tell at a glance, however, that they’re no mere cosmetic items.

“Divinity anonymization, basic protection, stealth perception, high-tier mental resistance and… anti-me tech,” you think out loud, intentionally framing the latter point as you cast an arrogant gaze down across the seated statesmen, “Awful paranoid of our allies, aren’t we?”

“After the stunt you just pulled in Vegas-” one of the ladies, older and portlier by the looks of her body, speaks in a high rasp.

“The self defense I conducted in Vegas. Most of that damage came from the massive superweapon sent to kill me by a crazy silicone-fucking freak.”

“Yes, after your dizzying act of incredible self defense,” A man directly opposite the table responds, a familiar New England huskiness punctuating his blatant sarcasm, “You must understand our hesitance to trust.”

“Why are you here?” a younger man , the youngest in the room including you, by your estimation, interjects with a haughtiness matching his obviously costly attire, but wholly unbefitting his absurd rabbit mask, “I can’t imagine you came to apologize.”

>Discuss Heracles and ADAM
>Discuss the upcoming threat of the King
>Mention the possibility of a mole
>Ask about the guy in the corner
>Offer a service (specify service and compensation)
>Negotiate an alliance against the Austrian on behalf of Ye Min
>Write-in

>>6291133
>Light and heat (e.g. laser)
The big question in my mind is whether we want to fire this at the King or their Minions.

>>6291136
>Discuss Heracles and ADAM
>Discuss the upcoming threat of the King
We really do have bigger fish to fry gentlemen. Can we put the attack dogs on pause before I...self defense them?

>>6291133
>>Light and heat (e.g. laser)
>>Soul targeting beam (e.g. ruination)
destroy anchor and soul
>>6291136
>Offer a service (specify service and compensation)
soul rewrite as a proof of usefulness
>Discuss Heracles and ADAM
>Discuss the upcoming threat of the King

>>6291133
>Repurpose the hand canons of Hephaestus’s mech
I’m sure he knew what he was doing with those

>>6291134
>“Nobody out there hates that bastard more than me.”
Not even Prometheus? Dunno about that

>>6291135
Dang, hoped Perdix would be interested in experimenting at least

>>6291136
>Discuss Heracles and ADAM
>Uncrowned King too
Tisiphone is almost as much of a monster as us at this point. Our pact with Ye Min shields the world from us - what do they think will happen when we’re not here for Tis to fixate on?

>>6291133
>Light and heat (e.g. laser)
>Soul targeting beam (e.g. ruination)
>Repurpose the hand canons of Hephaestus’s mech
>Leave behind divinity in targets body for touch based arts to work

>>6291136
>Discuss Heracles and ADAM
>Discuss the upcoming threat of the King
>Ask about the guy in the corner

>>6291220
>>6291238
>>6291260
>>6291818

Alright, we have consensus for

>Light and Heat
>Discuss Heracles and ADAM
>Discuss the upcoming threat of the King

But the rest is a little scattershot, so I'll leave open a quick memorandum on

>Soul Targeting Beam
>Repurpose Hand Canon
And
>Ask about Tisiphone

Tomorrow will be a double update day. For real this time.

>>6291821
I can swap to the soul beam if that’s holding things up

>>6291220
>>6291238
>>6291260
>>6291818
>>6291991

[B SIDE]

“I’m sure you know as well as anyone that, if we don’t do our due diligence, our entire universe is going to die.”

“We are aware. We have been tirelessly working to collaborate with the Coronation Prevention forces by any means necessary,” one of the ladies at the table interjects, placing a glass wine glass onto the table with a firm clink.

“Whatever you’ve been doing, it isn’t enough,” you frown, an uncharacteristically grave expression stretching across your face, “However dangerous you think the King is, he’s more dangerous than that. He might be lacking in higher intellect as a collective, but he’s made of a million billion parts, some of which are cleverer and more charismatic than everyone here combined. We’re not just fighting an entity, or an invader-” you slam your hand onto the table, recalling the aura of being helpless before the king and projecting it outwards, crimson taking the place of not-black as a torrent of screams and an emptiness of everything sweep across the table. The young man doubles over, unable to resist the urge to vomit as the writhing mass of greed and agony overwhelms his psyche. The rest, though far less indisposed, find themselves visibly shaken, save for the lone old man opposite you, and the unmasked observer in the corner, “We’re fighting a universe.”

“We know the threat is grave,” the man you can only assume is the strongest amongst the Whittlers replies, “But we are already doing everything we can. I don’t see the purpose of cheap intimidation tactics.”

“The purpose is to wake you guys up,” you snarl, “You clearly have resources to spend— or, if not that, then you clearly haven’t pulled out all the stops in your government. You sent your attack dog after me. One of us could have died, and if that had happened… our odds would have plummeted. Or, at least, that’s what I’m told.”

“Heracles isn’t ours,” a Whittler chimes in, “He’s a military asset. Despite whatever conceptions you may have about us, our authority is far from absolute.”

“How did the military get a monster like that without your help?”

“It’s as I said,” the man at the head of the table sighs, “Prometheus is involved.”

Your eyes narrow— is that true? If so, what about the ADAM attack you got his with in California? Was Prometheus behind that too?

“Anyway, regardless, I’m probably the third most important person in the King raid. And one of the only people you can trust not to turn traitor— at least to that bastard. And your government is responsible for a lot of damage against me.”

>>6292348

“You’re in no position to make demands-” one of the men rises, unconcealed indignation in his tone, “Especially not after what happened in Vegas! If anyone should be compensating anyone, it should be you!”

“How just,” you scoff, “But we exist in a world of practicality, mister. Right now there are things I need from you, and things you need from me. You’ve heard from Prometheus, right? I’m one of the most important pieces on the board.”

“Though I object to the framing as compensation, considering the circumstances involved in the Heracles incident,” the head Whittler raises his hand, silencing the rest of the table, “We recognize that, though you may be evil, you are a necessary one. What do you want?”

“I need—”

>Intel on ADAM
>Personnel (incarnation)
>Fodder (sacrifices)
>System resources (specify)
>Relics (specify)
>Write-in

[A SIDE]

>Light and heat
>Soul targeting beam (e.g. ruination)

“So, you want it to basically be, what, a beam inside a beam?”

“Yeah. A composite weapon— laser to break physical defenses, ruination to shred the soul.”

“Hmm… It’s doable, especially with a point of reference, but, your request is a little vague. What do you want, really?”

>Composite fire (compromise): Single shot, low divinity expenditure, weakened maximum output. Continuous fire is impossible
>Two-shot: Fires heat first, then divinity. Delays and order can be adjusted. Medium divinity expenditure but potentially exploitable
>Both at once (all out): Continuous beam, amplified effect from simultaneous use, extremely high divinity consumption
>Write-in

“I can send in an expert on the technique I want copied,” you add, “Should expedite the process substantially.”

“Sure. One last question— what’s the form function here?”

“What?”

“What sort of weapon even is this?”

>Adjustable using Arms of Khaos (Customizeable size and output, penalized efficiency)
>Armor augmentation/gauntlet (Convenient, efficient, bottlenecked max power)
>Full gun (Balanced between compactness, efficiency, and output)
>Canon (Maximized power, penalized efficiency, cumbersome and heavy)
>Write-in

>>6292351
Oh man what do we want from the Whittlers
I wasn't even sure they were real until now
>Intel on ADAM
Originally they didn't concern me too much but that Tisiphone is really becoming a pain

>Both at once (all out): Continuous beam, amplified effect from simultaneous use, extremely high divinity consumption
Play to our strengths
Can't really be used against us too

>Armor augmentation/gauntlet (Convenient, efficient, bottlenecked max power)
Gun is tempting but this is more us

>>6292351
>>Intel on ADAM
>just help me avoid them for 2 months

>Both at once (all out): Continuous beam, amplified effect from simultaneous use, extremely high divinity consumption
>Full gun (Balanced between compactness, efficiency, and output)

>>6292351
>ntel on ADAM
>Both at once (all out): Continuous beam, amplified effect from simultaneous use, extremely high divinity consumption
>Adjustable using Arms of Khaos (Customizeable size and output, penalized efficiency)
not too concerned about the efficiency at our divinity potential.
just train yours truly and get another interwraith

>>6292364
>>6292549
>>6292617

Seems like there's a three way tie between what sort of weapon you want Perdix's gun to be. I'll wait until morning for a tie, otherwise I'll default to Adjustable, since it's the compromise option.

>>6292935
>>6292617
Makes a good point, we don't really have to worry about efficiency either. I'll back adjustable.

>>6292364
>>6292549
>>6292617
>>6293011

[??? SIDE]

You stand alone amidst the rubble, raven wings jutting from your shoulderblades, distended arms a mosaic of claws, spikes, and bone. Hot magenta swirls at the tips of your sharpened fingers, a thin shield of divinity repelling the ambient radiation of a failed assassination attempt by the last remaining powers of the world.

A man stands before you, surrounded by ghosts, some of his own making and others of yours. One such instance, the east wind, regenerates herself using your power, rising from the smoldering dust like a marionette pulled upwards by the strings, joints and bones popping into place as her body assumes a human posture. She smiles, extending her hand towards the person before you even as the flesh knits itself back into place. He staggers back, hatred burning in his eyes as you advance, placing your arm around the woman’s shoulders.

“Are you proud of yourself, “Yama”?” You ask, seeing him from a hundred different angles as the eyes of your feathers lock directly onto him. Chains of sunset-purple twirl around him, an unsubtle indication that he’s truly, unavoidably trapped, “Proud of what you did?”

“You fucking psycho bitch,” he coughs, soot and fallout scorching his body even as his divine abilities attempt to restore him to a healthy state, “Don’t pin this shit on me.”

“I was happy to leave this desolate rock behind,” you sneer, slamming your foot into a concrete scrap of building and crushing it into dust, “If you didn’t kill her-”

“I didn’t-”

“YOU DID!” you scream, fetters instantly constricting around him, serpentine in their ferocity as you vent your rage on your powerless foe, “ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“You were a threat,” he wheezes, barely able to breathe as you slowly squeeze the life out of his writhing body, “You could have-”

[A SIDE]

You clutch your head, plagued by visions of unrelated events. What is this? Aftereffects of meeting with the Man in the Sea? A passive effect of the mirror? Something about the Son’s node? You frown, forcing your mind to steel as you explain the specifics of your idea to the craftsman.

“It’s doable,” Perdix nods, “I’ll just need the— what was it called again? The goop. Gimme.”

You snicker, pulling the <Arms> from your inventory and dropping them, now more like play-doh than claws or steel, onto the table next to him, “Here’s your “Goop” you big dork. Put it to good use.”

“Right back atcha,” he smiles, “If you let the world end, I’m gonna need a refund.”

“Charity work doesn’t get refunds.”

“Do I look like the Red Cross to you? Go kill that bastard.”

You can’t help but laugh as you exit back to the real world.

>>6293404

[B SIDE]

“I need you to keep ADAM out of my hair for a while,” you declare, rising from the table, “Ideally prevent them from coming for me at all, but intel to help me avoid meeting them is the next best thing. I can’t afford to waste resources on anything but the King.”

“Doable,” the man grunts, “Anything else?”

“Personell files, if you can get them. Especially names.”

“We’ll see what we can do.”

“Oh, and one last thing,” you rise, the mere weight of your palm against the desk enough to dent the table in the shape of your hand. You smirk as you feel the wood quiver, hear it whine and creak as you impose yourself against the entire Whittler’s Club, “Keep your soldiers out of my way. Unless you want them sent back stir fried.”

“Are you threatening us?” One of the Whittlers spits, indignation evident in her tone as she rises. Divinity flickers from her body like lightning as she openly bears her hostility towards you.

“Of course,” you nod, a professional, almost salesman-like smile spreading across your lips, “After all, treaties between armies are based on threats.”

“You don’t have an army,” she scoffs, “You have a gang at best.”

“Give me half an hour,” you retort, an unbearable, imperious smugness about your words as you turn your back to leave, “I’ll just take yours.”

Your footsteps are the only sound in earshot as you make your exit, a sense of weight lingering where you stood as your divinity continues to stain the place you showed it off.

[FULL DISC]

You’ve taken care of some important tasks, but there’s still so much to do. Worse still, you barely have any time left to do it— the Uncrowned King subjugation meeting is in less than a week, and you’d hardly call yourself ready for war. What should you do?

>Train an <Art> (specify <Art> or <Authority>)
>Get a grasp on the strength of your powers (return specific numbers to dice rolls)
>Meet with someone (specify)
>Try to root out spies working for the King
>Discuss strategy with your subordinates
>Investigate the visions
>Write-in

>>6293407
>Train an <Art> (specify <Art> or <Authority>)
Yours Truly
if we have visions of alternate selves it's about time
>investigate the one Prometheus showed us
I want to hop universes to one where divinity isn't toxic to us and eat an alternate self at some point

>>6293404
Wtf is this ???
Both feathers and fetters?
Did we fuse with Pheme? Or just inherit her moves after Yama killed her?

We should be proactive and kill the Yama of this reality

>>6293407
>Investigate the visions
Find and kill this Yama fellow

>>6293407

>Meet with someone (specify)
Pheme, to discuss this vision where she's dead and we're grinding the world to dust for her sake.

Is the nature of the failsafe that Pheme's power will automatically go to us in the event of her death instead of her killer?

>Train an <Art> (specify <Art> or <Authority>)
> Yours Truly
Agreed, our soulscape has only gotten more chaotic and out of control lately. Time to install a fucking resort on our beach.

>>6293484
> Or just inherit her moves after Yama killed her?
That's my thoughts, yeah.

...shit, it's Eris isn't it? Eris is going to try and kill Pheme.

>>6293492
>shit, it's Eris isn't it? Eris is going to try and kill Pheme.
Uuuh
>he

>>6293407
>Investigate the visions
>investigate the one Prometheus showed us

forgot to vote yesterday and this morning, phoneposting

>>6293533
I don't think it was actually Yama. I think Eris is going to stir up shit just like her namesake.

>>6293457
>>6293484
>>6293490
>>6293948

>Investigate the visions

That… isn’t supposed to be there.

You’ve entered your soulscape, and, having found yourself guided by your own subconscious to brave the depths of the sea, came across a towering monument of blue and black stone, stained crimson by the dim light filtering through the sanguine ocean of your being. Faint crystals of red power illuminate the grand halls, lined with statues of formless abstraction that give you impressions of things— people, places, animals, trees, even emotions or abstract concepts— on a level as natural and obvious as if the statues were perfect facsimiles of their subjects. You step into the grand atrium, footsteps silenced by the water flooding the room, and witness a towering ruby mirror. Gilded in gold and shimmering garnet, the mirror whispers in hushed voices, somehow perfectly conveyed to you despite the fluid between its glassy surface and your ears.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, wondering to yourself how something like this could have gotten into your soul without you noticing it.

”Hello, child of ruin. Or should I say, “Hello Again”?”

A familiar un-voice shakes you to your very core.

”You’ve acquainted yourself with another me, and I couldn’t let a stranger give you a better gift than your plane’s real deal.”

“You— you’re the Man in the Sea! the real— no, the one from my <Verticality>..? How did you-”

”The other me, he left his mark. On your soul, that is,” the mirror replies, ”So, it was elementary to find you and turn that little mark into something a bit more practical. A little piece of my greatest accomplishment— a Multiversal Mirror.”

“But how… where are you getting the divinity to power this thing?”

”When you ate that Interwraith, you had a little… indigestion, as it were. So, I siphoned off a bit of that power and put it in here. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“So, the visions were-”

”Accidental activations. Well, makes sense— you were subconsciously keeping it topped off without even knowing it was there. Led to overflow, which led to random scrolling through multiplanar tv. Kinda like butt-dialing, but for omniscience. Neat, right?”

>>6294464

You frown— while you can’t deny its usefulness, you can’t help but feel a little violated.

“You said random, but… it hasn’t seemed random. It's like the mirror is trying to show me things it thinks I should know..?”

”You are a mortal, after all,” the Man replies, ”Your kind have an inimitable preservation instinct. Perhaps it directed your power to where you might need it?

You tilt your head— that can’t be right. The mirror didn't intervene to warn you of impending danger, didn't help you with Tisiphone or show you how to beat the King. It showed you… something different. You give yourself a light slap on the cheeks, returning yourself to the matter at hand as the voice of the old god goes silent.

>Try to revisit one of the visions
>Try to program the soul mirror to a function (specify)
>Stop channeling divinity here to end the visions
>Look for some specific reality or intel (specify)
>Write-in

>>6294465
>Ask some questions
>Can he show us how to use the mirror?
>How are there multiple versions of a divine being? Can multiple versions of one mortal deify into multiple different gods? Are there multiple uncrowned kings?
>While I have you here, do you know what your son is up to?


>>6293948
claim phone id

>>6294465
Well that was nice of him
>Try to revisit one of the visions
The most recent one

File: Untitled_Artwork.png (1.21 MB, 1521x1423)

1.21 MB PNG

>>6294481
Re-explaining unclear elements about verticality that (you)/Atë already know:

There are a finite number of worlds spread across infinite verticality. No two worlds on the same verticality are alike (for example, on your parallel plane there is only one earth and only one Atë). However, there are infinite vertical versions of all things, including ones as small and insignificant as a pebble or a single mortal, and things as cosmically large as multi-dimensional entites like the Architect or Devourer. Since infinity is infinity, it's possible for any entity, be it god or mortal, to turn out in any plausible manner, including becoming different gods.

While vertical travel is technically possible, it is invariably unwise; perpendicular realities act in a manner somewhere between poison and matter-antimatter collision: each piece of each reality decays upon interaction, lessening the total divinity, energy, and mass of both planes. Taken to the extremes, two planes could fully annihilate and, unlike matter-antimatter annihilation, there would be no release of energy. In other words, perpendicular travel violates the laws of thermodynamics. Parallel travel— horizontal but not vertical— lacks this drawback. One can travel and consume vertically as much as they are able without incurring the penalties of perpendicularity.

>>6294730
This is nice, it makes it clear the King didn't just throw us vertically but diagonally.

>>6294744

More accurately, the King launched you vertically and then Cassiago pulled you from the no-earth version of your own world into the White World via the Devil's Ritual. But yeah, the white world you visited is diagonal to your own world, and perpendicular to the one swallowed by the Uncrowned King.

Also, I'll wait until morning for the tie to break. Might update tonight instead if the vote comes in early enough.

TIMEBREAKER SAMA
HERE!!!

>>6294481
+1

>>6294465
>>Stop channeling divinity here to end the visions
this shit looks useless, it's not like we can get good information from it due to differences between universes, so it's just a waste of divinity

"So, how do I use this thing, anyway? On purpose, that is,” you ask, lightly knocking on the mirror’s surface with your knuckles.

“Well, there's two ways about it,” the Man answers, ”You can Ponder a specific timeline, exploring its history from the perspective of yourself, you can Search for timelines that might get you specific information, and, perhaps most usefully, you can enter a sort of flow state called Reflection Gazing, which lets you see all of the possible outcomes over an adjustable stretch of time.”

“So, wait, how do you-”

”Buut I’m sure you'll figure that stuff out. Actually, that last one’s a bit tricky… how about I just show you how it works?

You feel a disturbance in the water, a ripple like the movements of something massive far into the distance. As you sway in the water, you see your hands, arms posed in a dozen different ways as your future selves investigate the sensation of Gazing. You see a fractal pierce them all, a commonality of Impetus as one decisive line stretches out ahead of you. It isn't just sight, either— you feel as if you Are all possible outcomes, everywhere all at once. You gasp, a sudden pain shooting through your skull as a javelin of sea-ice silently manifests in your head. You swerve, realizing that it was only a prediction, tumbling out of the space of danger as you see that very same crystal form before your eyes.

”See, you’re getting the hang of it now! Well, I should remind you that, the higher width you use, the more reliable the results. Of course, Depth is needed to see further into the future, and both consume Divinity exponentially as you increase the field of view.”

“Wait, could you please explain-”

Your voice dies in your throat— the Man In The Sea has left you behind.

>Try to Ponder one of the visions
>Try to program the soul mirror to some other function (specify)
>Stop channeling divinity here to end the visions
>Try to Search for some specific reality or intel (specify)
>Return to the real world to practice Gazing
>Write-in

>>6295235
>Return to the real world to practice Gazing
This one seems OP as fuq

>>6295235
>Try to Search for some specific reality or intel
the one where we were buddy buddy with Prometheus

>>6295235
>>Return to the real world to practice Gazing

>>6295235
>Try to Search for some specific reality or intel
What happens to get Pheme killed?

>>6295251
>>6295578
>>6295587
>>6295622

It seems like there's a tie between Searching and Gazing, although, since the Search options are split between two different timelines, Gazing will win by default if it comes to a tiebreak. I'll also allow for an A/B split, if that would be preferred. Regardless, I'll update tomorrow.

>>6295251
>>6295578
>>6295587
>>6295622

>Return to the real world to practice Gazing

"Start.”

You leap into the air, narrowly dodging a potential swing of a blunt wooden spear, a fractaled reality breaking away and reforming as something else as your sparring partner readjusts, the vast totality of probabilities converging on a single thrust to your chest. You notice, then, that you can use the Gazing to vaguely gauge the limits of perception and reaction time of the individual you’re fighting. This window, taken advantage of by Omen and Preservation Instinct in a more subtle way than your mirrored vision, allows you to act with certainty instead of through gambles or hedges.

Pallas, dutiful training partner and training dummy, opens her eyes wide in shock as a massive mouth opens up in your chest, clamping down on the tip of her weapon and binding it in place. You extend your arm, bones creaking and splitting off in every retreat path of the fractalized Iwanas you gaze across everything. She snaps the shaft of her weapon off in your chest’s teeth, channeling a surge of emerald and gold into the shape of a broadsword using the broken spear as a hilt, twirling it to snap your oncoming bones.

She leaps forward, retaliating with a dozen different potential lines of attack. Your spine and leg-bones crumple, taking on an accordion-like structure, allowing your anatomy to unnaturally snap to the floor. You retaliate, moreso forcing her to retreat than seriously going for a killing blow, releasing all of the potential energy stored by your impossible limbo stretch into a devastating upwards kick. Your leg stretches with a whip-like crack, talons piercing through your shoes to add a deadly threat to your assault, forcing Pallas to leap back out of her own range

You frown as you watch her cut through all of your attacks, floating ideas in your head and seeing how the Gazing reacts. You stagger, pain shuddering through your very being as you force both your overclocked brain and your roiling soul to push the mirror to its extremes. You grin, teeth sharpening and jutting outwards like the jaw of a goblin shark, before an explosion of force sends them rocketing towards Pallas, a gatling gun of needle-like fangs that constantly regenerate from your gaping mouth, the volume of deadly attacks forcing the huntress back, cuts and tears forming in her clothes and skin.

“You win,” she declares, dropping what remains of her sparring weapon to the ground, “I gotta figure something out for that one. Spar again?

You clutch your temple, a splitting headache raging in your skull while you recuperate from <Gazing> too hard. It's relatively effortless to replicate the same depth and accuracy as an Omen, especially for evasion, but offensive applications are still pretty difficult.

>Spar again (specify focus of width, depth, or effortlessness)
>Train alone
>Train with someone else (specify)
>Stop training Gazing for now
>Write-in

>>6296677
>Spar again (effortlessness)
Ok yea very OP
Just need to not get a crippling headache upon use and we have a better Omen

>>6296677
>Spar again (Effortless)

I have to wonder how hard this is with multiple opponents though, clogging up the possibility space.

>>6296677
>Spar again (effortlessness)
how much of that can be done with the supercomputer, or are we already using it?

>>6296732
>>6296743
>>6296794

>Spar again (effortlessness)

What’s the difference between different yous controlled by a central impetus, and a single you merged across vertical space?

Well, a couple of things.

You feel yourself pierced by the divine edge of Pallas’s spear, first your arm, then your chest, even your throat, all at staggered times across several realities. Your lips contort into a grim smirk— if you hadn’t already gotten so used to suffering, the pain alone might have made this power worthless. Your eyes widen, a thought occurring, then rippling across your limited scope of Gazing as you parry the oncoming strike with a blade of metal bone jutting from your arm, sparks and slag flying through the air as the impact sends you reeling backwards.

You’ve been thinking! That's been the oversight.

Thinking in words is, like any other form of stringing sentences together, a highly complicated matter. Once a thought begins, there are a thousand ways to phrase it, then a million places the thoughts could go. Gazing isn't just seeing, it's being, and Gazing is impartial in its assessment of what is and isn't relevant information. To it, getting stabbed and thinking slightly different thoughts are identical points of variance, massively overinflating the amount of effort you need to put in to Gaze without narrowing your other vision.

You close your eyes. You let go. Your lungs cease to heave and your heart falls utterly still.

>Your Fault (incomplete): ???>???

You take a step forward, extending your arm into a blade the length of your body. Blindly, you swing it, and you can feel an unstable block from Iwana as the centrifugal force sends her stumbling back.

You take a step forward. The blade crumbles to dust, each fleck exploding into a tiny spark of Molten Core, flooding the room with a glow so bright that you can see it through your closed eyelids.

Pallas roars, forcing you to jump backwards as a massive pillar of emerald flame erupts out of the tip of her spear, overwhelming your explosions and putting you on the backfoot. She’s relentless, attempting to overload your predictions by changing her attacks dynamically, picking up the speed more than you’ve ever seen from her. You grin— she’s been busy.

>Give up for now— you’ve gotten what you needed
>Fight hand to hand to test the limits of Gazing
>Use this opportunity to practice other offensive Arts
>Try to gauge Pallas instead of focusing on yourself
>Write-in

>>6297162
>Try to gauge Pallas instead of focusing on yourself
Ah yes, the invaluable spy on others option
We’re gonna be able to relate better to Pheme now

>>6297162
>Try to gauge Pallas instead of focusing on yourself

Sometimes I fantasize about Ate coming home drunk and beating me until I feel numb. She kicks me in the ribs and uses her arts until I can hardly breathe. Then she starts to cry and begins to gaslight me, telling me to kill myself since she did nothing wrong. She beats me even more all night as I hang onto her t-shirt while crying.

>>6297162
>Try to gauge Pallas instead of focusing on yourself

>>6297205
>>6297379
>>6297464

Pallas hasn't been out much, you wager. Dorota can slip in and out, sure, but her? She’s always in the realm. You wonder to yourself what she does all the time— you suppose now’s as good a time as any to find out.

You lurch forward, mad grin on your face as your entire right arm roils like a pot of boiling stew, flesh and skin bulging with heat and fluid until— pop! A spray of smoking pus and acid sprays outwards from your smoldering arm. Pallas, eyes glazed over as if in a trance, calmly leaps out of the way, feet planted firmly like a swimmer on the wall of the pool for less than a millisecond, then, in an explosion of force and velocity powerful enough to cleave the air itself, she careens towards you.

The speed, while impressive, is far from outside the realm of possibility. However, something about her is very, very amiss. A person’s soul can be conceptualized as a sort of radiance— there's something deep inside of you that glows outwards, and, while you can move the point and refract the light, or simply harness it to do what you want, the fundamental nature of the emitting is fixed. Furthermore, one's anchor is themself, and that is all there is to it.

Before you, the tip of Iwana’s spear emits the light of a soul. It's no exaggeration to say she has become one with existence itself.

You feel your heart in your mouth as you see yourself be cleaved into mush, sometimes the entire realm collapsing beneath the weight of that strike. If you still had still carried your authorities, Omen would undoubtedly be shrieking like a banshee still, you see a route.

You extend your hand forwards, moving the entire mass of your divinity as you exert your will upon the fabric of reality. This is your realm, its entirety stained in your colors. No fair fight can exist here. <Fetters> erupt from every direction, glowing in the light of the setting sun, latching onto seemingly empty space. Your eyes erupt in crimson might, blood trickling down your face as you muster every last drop of power you can manage, a massive swell of divinity so dominant that you can manifest a full imposition. Still, just to be safe—

“Freeze Frame.”

The world stops, Pallas not even being able to think as you hold reality completely and utterly still. You stop her spear, but—

>>6297580

You look down in shock, searing pain burning through your entire body as blood begins to seep out of a nigh imperceptible cut across your waist. You can't feel your feet, and, as you move to walk, you find yourself unable— instead, your torso slowly begins to slide off of your legs.

Had you failed to stop the attack? No, Pallas is frozen in place. Had you failed to stop the shockwave? No, even the air remained completely still at your command. It could only be divinity and impetus. You can't help but shudder— the will to cut you down was so strong, a blade simply wasn't necessary.

You stitch yourself back together, taking a quick breath before restoring movement to your servant. Her eyes shift, clear guilt painted across her face.

"I, uh, might have gone a bit overboard."

You scowl, "I could have died. Seems like more than a bit overboard to me."

"You tried to throw acid in my face!"

"You'd have lived."

"Maybe I'm allergic!"

You groan, wondering how this idiot managed to stumble into such incredible levels of martial prowess.

>Ask her about her new abilities
>Mention the Bandit King and Bladesouls
>Mention Kobayashi Hajime
>Talk about something else (specify)
>Leave, satisfied with her current abilities
>Write-in

>>6297582
>Mention the Bandit King and Bladesouls
>Mention Kobayashi Hajime
She’s getting to that level? Maybe?

>>6297582
>Mention the Bandit King and Bladesouls
>Mention Kobayashi Hajime
can we make a copy of Pallas' soul?

>>6297611
Support.

Damn Pallas. I'm really intensely glad you're on our side.

>>6297582
>>Mention the Bandit King and Bladesouls
>>Mention Kobayashi Hajime

>>6297611
speaking of level, what's Pallas at in terms of the system? How much is she betting her life on her spars with us to gain influence?
We're still able to spend ours freely, and we can push our divine servants

>>6297731
We showed her Arts a while ago, she might be extracting herself from the system just like we did

>>6298191
sure, but she can still gain power from it

QM?

>>6297611
>>6297613
>>6297614
>>6297731

Apologies for the delay— it’s been pretty busy lately, but I should have warned you guys I might be away for a bit. I'll try to do double updates today and tomorrow to make up for the lost time.

>Kobayashi Hajime?

“Yeah, seeing him do that thing back in Korea was helpful,” Pallas nods, “But really, what help me figure it all out was you.”

“Me?”

She nods, “Let me ask you a question,” her eyes close, her face loosening as if in meditation, “When you transform your body into something inorganic, what’s the difference between that and something like your clothes?”

You tilt your head, not quite understanding the question, “cells or no, that doesn’t really matter, right? Bones, the water in your blood, the keratin in your hair and nails— aren’t all of these things parts of your body even if they aren’t technically alive?”

“Well, your bones are alive, at least on the inside, but that’s not really the point,” she frowns, “What about a metal hip replacement? Somebody put that into a person, it used to be not a body part. Then, what about prosthetics? The bacteria in your microbiome? The food in your gut and the shit in your bowels?”

“Get to the point.”

She pauses, holding her spear in her hands and thrusting it forward, delicately poking you in the forehead, “You’ve probably never trained with weapons,” she smiles, “You’ve always liked stuff that augments your natural hands. But, just like when you stretch your arms or twist your body, when a martial artist wields a weapon, they think about it like ‘this is my reach’ or ‘I can hit that’, not ‘my spear is long enough to touch there’. Really, it’s simple. Not sure how more people can’t do it.

“I am the world. The world is me. Seems obvious, right? The line between my body and anything else… well, it’s hard even for me to think about it with rocks and people and stuff. But for my spear..? It’s doable.”

You narrow your eyes— if it really were that easy, so many more people would have figured it out. There must be something she can’t properly explain.

>>6299594

>Bandit King and bladesouls

After you finish explaining, Iwana’s eyes widen in surprise, “Aura? I really want to— hold on, putting that aside for a second— how is it possible that more people there can’t do that? Isn’t this just a natural step of wielding a sword while being able to use Divinity?”

You shake your head, “Something about you is deeply weird. Thinking about it, it always has been.”

You recall her Soulscape, an endless expanse of grass. At the time, you thought it was evidence of her simplemindedness, but maybe it’s different. “A field of grass has a million blades, but each and every one is a part of a deeper root network,” you murmur, mostly to yourself “Is that how you see yourself..?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” she shrugs, “I just like what I like. Do what I want. Like a lion, I guess.”

Pallas willingly submitted to you after she saw herself bested by you— at the time, you thought she was a firm believer in some sort of code, but looking back, perhaps it was more like instinct. You had the right to end her life, but offered to let her continue. At the end of the day, living was merely a means to experience more of what she liked, freedom was merely a means to the same. No pride, no ego.

“You might be even weirder than me,” you chuckle— you’ve been saying that a lot lately.

“No way,” she laughs, “You’re a freak! Anyway, back to that Aura thing you were talking about-”

>”Sure, why not?” (secure a body for the bandit king)
>”Maybe later.” (do something else first (specify))
>”I’ll help you figure it out yourself.” (convert the soul of the bandit king into a soulscape book)
>”Let’s learn together.”
>Write-in

>>6299595
>”Sure, why not?” (secure a body for the bandit king)
Crazy how he's really just made of us, but at least he doesn't have to worry about toxicity this way.

>>6299595
>>”Sure, why not?” (secure a body for the bandit king)
curse of the body snatchers

>>6299595
>”I’ll help you figure it out yourself.” (convert the soul of the bandit king into a soulscape book)

...are y'all sure we want to be setting the bandit king loose on the world?

>>6299595
>>”Sure, why not?” (secure a body for the bandit king)
>>6300141
let him stay in the divine realm

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>6299595
>>”Let’s learn together.”

>>6299718
>>6299834
>>6300141
>>6300328
>>6300388

>"Sure, why not?"

Back in your cell, inmate.”

A gruff voice, a prison officer working in a high security prison, barks at a man clad in the classic orange jumpsuit of a convict behind bars, poking at him with his baton to force him back where he needs to go. You hang from the ceiling, neck swiveling unnaturally to observe the entire facility as you please from a single vantage point as your feet, now more suction cups than walking implements, cling to the roof and steady your position.

You’re looking for a person, or, more accurately, a compatible vessel for the Bandit King. Still, even after a couple of hours lurking through the place, you’d found yourself frustrated somewhat with the way people tend to shake out— compatible souls, large souls, natural divinity sensitivity, similar physical makeup and age— there are a lot of factors to consider, and you’ve been a little hard pressed trying to find a reasonable compromise.

You unlatch from your lofty post, descending slowly to the ground like a falling leaf, alighting gently upon the ground in front of a cell. You’ve decided on a course of action. You’ll be using the vessel as:

>Nothing more or less than a physical anchor in which to place a piece of your soul
>A vessel with an existing soul that you can inject your own divinity into, effectively having the part of you that is the Bandit King eat the existing soul
>A fully new soul and body, bound by faustian bargain, onto which you can overwrite the Bandit King’s impetus
>Write-in

You’ll be selecting a vessel with:

>A compatible build, age, and physical appearance to the Bandit King for ease of fitting
>A big soul with a high divinity count
>A body that seems to have a natural affinity for divinity
>Simply by asking the Bandit King
>Write-in

Optional write-in: grant the Bandit King an incarnation status

>Yes (specify from existing epithets)
>No

>>6300441
>A vessel with an existing soul that you can inject your own divinity into, effectively having the part of you that is the Bandit King eat the existing soul

A bit surprised we didn’t just make him a body

>Simply by asking the Bandit King
>Nah

>>6300441
>A fully new soul and body, bound by faustian bargain, onto which you can overwrite the Bandit King’s impetus
>A compatible build, age, and physical appearance to the Bandit King for ease of fitting
>Yes, Dysnomia

>>6300441
>>A fully new soul and body, bound by faustian bargain, onto which you can overwrite the Bandit King’s impetus
>Simply by asking the Bandit King
>Nah
we can make him an incarnation later. Dysnomia seems like a good idea tho, or just Phonoi

>>6300492
>>6300493
>>6300605

>A fully new soul and body, bound by faustian bargain, onto which you can overwrite the Bandit King’s impetus
>Simply by asking the Bandit King
>No

Another arm juts from your back, cracking and twisting into third, fourth, fifth joints, fingers melding and morphing into a flicking tongue, pinprick ears, broad teeth, and a single, darting eye, a horrible reduction of the human head. It grimaces for a moment, seemingly displeased with itself, before turning to face you.

“You want me to pick a body, eh?” It laughs, a gruff, masculine rasp that briefly surprises you— you’d forgotten that the voice you were accustomed to was a modified version (using your, at the time, far cruder transfiguration Arts) of the maid Betty’s voice. The arm-homunculus continues, swiveling itself around to observe the people below. A crimson light radiates from its eye, movements seeming lackadaisical, almost flippant at first glance, but in your connectedness to the Bandit King’s soul (for it is, indeed, a part of you), you detect just how seriously he’s taking this decision.

“That one,” he nods, casting his gaze to one of the inmates huddled in his cell.

“Seriously?” You ask, watching his shining blond locks cascade over his face as he rhythmically rocks back and forth, knees huddled close to his chest, “Because I’m pretty sure that’s–”

“I’m sure,” he says, “That’s the one.”

~

“W-where am I?”

I look around. A man twice my size stands in front of me, tanned skin painted with scars, slices of cartilage cut from his nostrils and earlobe, shackles of crimson iron nailed into his wrists and ankles. He stands alone with me, atop a tower of… everything. Gold, silver, swords, books, fine art, barrels of liquor, even whole buildings and towering statues. He gestures for me to sit down, and, as if it were always there, I see a throne wrought of some iridescent silver-blue metal. I sit, and a crown of gold falls onto my head. As the seconds crawl past, the rubies embossed in its face seem to weep, pouring black blood across my face and onto my shirt.

>>6300949

“Normally, I just take shit I want,” the man snickers, smashing open a bottle of champagne against the chair of my throne, taking a hearty swig before using the rest to pour the blood off of my face, “But I decided— what the hell? I can be reasonable when I want to. And if I am, well, I think it makes things a lot more interesting for both of us, right?”

“You haven’t said–”

“Listen, kid,” his tone changes completely, a severe, almost pitying arrogance in his eyes. I’d seen a lot of evil bastards, but never one quite like this, “Do you like being a bitch?”

“W-what?”

“Do. you. like. being. a. bitch?”

“Wha- no, obviously not.”

“You like it when other people push your weak ass around? You like getting the shit beaten out of you? You like being so pussy that you don’t even think to try fighting back?”

“What’s your point?” I spit, unable to look the man in the eyes.

“If I were alive, I’d be the strongest pure human in this world. I’d be able to cut down any one of the people in this building with a fucking napkin.”

“So–”

“Let me make you the type of person who could kill those fuckers! Let me make you me!” he cackles, leaning in as close as he can, the chains embedded in his limbs going taught against the strain, “Let me make you STRONG!”

I felt it instinctively, then. Even if I refused, even if I threw everything I had into staying alive, staying myself, I was going to die here anyway. Still, even if it wasn't as myself, it would be a better life than this.

"It's a deal."

~

[FULL DISC]

Colorless divinity and mad laughter rage as the Bandit king inhabits the body, wet cracks and meaty sloshes sounding from the cackling body as the bones and joints break and reform, the small, blonde inmate transforming into a tall, emaciated husk. A wild grin plasters across its now far broader face, his whole body bursting forth with strength unbefitting his current state and effortlessly cutting through the concrete walls of his cell with his bare hands. His teeth sharpen, his fingertips distending into talons as he pins down the inhabitant of the neighboring room and digs in, tearing away at his flesh like a rabid animal, lapping up the blood pouring onto the floor, more starving hound than man as his unfortunate prey writhes and screams beneath his ravenous maw.

As if by magic, the Bandit King’s body fills out, first as merely a distended, balloon-like gut, then everywhere, muscles, fat, skin stretching and hardening over his expanded frame as the poor prisoner is reduced to nothing but a dry skeleton.

“Are you… done?”

“Give me a minute,” he grins, blood still dripping from his lips, “I have some people I want to take down.”

>”Sure, but only if you let me collect the souls.”
>”Go big or go home, right? Let’s wipe this place off the map.”
>”Not this time. I’m already in enough trouble with the government.”
>Write-in

>>6300951
>”Sure, but only if you let me collect the souls.”

>>6300951
>Ask if he wants Dysnomia first
>”Go big or go home, right? Let’s wipe this place off the map.”
if he takes Dysnomia he can take it as a starting boon

>>6300951
>”Sure, but only if you let me collect the souls.”

>>6300951
>”Sure, but only if you let me collect the souls.”
Wiping the place off the map is tempting, but who the hell does he want to take down? He doesn't know anyone here, unless he inherited the memories of the blonde inmate.

>>6300951
>Ask if he wants Dysnomia first
>”Go big or go home, right? Let’s wipe this place off the map.”
I don't really care about a few souls when we can eat another interwraith and get thousand times the divinity, so this seems a good option still

>>6301380
I assume he choose one with strong impetus

>>6301080
>>6301135
>>6301286
>>6301380
>>6301580

>”Sure, but only if you let me collect the souls.”

Human impetus is a familiar thing.

You have mastered the art of bending it, molding it, shaping it to your own image while working safely within its natural confines and parameters. It's effortless, almost natural for you to incorporate it into yourself— far beyond the Interwraith, far more divinity than impetus, and, even as it tried to copy you, far too alien to fully allow to settle within your being. At least, not yet.

"Still, I don't really get it," you sigh, looking over the tower of soulless, mangled corspes the Bandit King has fashioned as his first ever throne, "What was the point in all this? That body's owner may have had a grudge, but it isn't like you do."

"Honor among thieves. More honor than you, or even the law," he smirks, "When we make a deal, we don't weasel around "technically this" or "literally that". We follow through on the heart of a bargain, lest the buyer send someone to punish a bad faith dealer."

"He could hardly cut your throat now that it belongs to you," you scoff.

"Aye. But, all's the same, a deal's a deal. Besides, this body's mine now. Anyone who tries to mess with my shit ends up dead."

"So," you deflect, "how's the aura?"

"It's good," he smiles, "How's your pet warrior?"

"She's good. Scarily good. But maybe... not good enough for whatever we have coming. That's one of the reasons I brought you out."

"I won't complain— playing with a Bladesoul. Still, you could use some training yourself. As is, your offense is a bit... limp."

>I have more important matters to attend to (meet with someone (specify))
>I have my own way of fighting (Practice Arts)
>Sorry, but I'm starting with the man in the mirror (Practice Gazing)
>Sounds wise (try to learn the basics of Aura)
>Write-in

>>6301889
>Sounds wise, but I have something else I can't keep postponing
We and Pallas started out with entirely different preconceptions of divinity/mana/aura/whatever, so let him and Pallas figure out the basics where they can come up with the terminology that's more familiar to us, while we...
>Practice <Yours Truly> and clean up our beach a bit more

>>6301931
Support. I'm thinking we construct some sort of device to rehabilitate and aid in digestion. Metaphorically of course.

>>6301889
>I have my own way of fighting (Practice Arts)
I prefer cracking brains to cracking skulls

>>6301931
>>6301934
>>6301958

Sorry for being away for a bit— been playing silksong in my spare time.

>Practice <Arts>

CODE: SIMULATE_PANDEMONIUM

Even as you perch upon a silent mountaintop, you hear the screaming in your ears.

CODE: SIMULATE_WHISPER

A crowd in your head, you and the sea of dead men.

CODE: SIMULATE_STRINGS

You shape from the waters minds to sway, practice, yes, and dominion over yourself.

The wind is cold, the stone beneath you almost as much so. You can feel the ice and snow beneath your bare feet, skin burning a feverish red as your body produces excess heat beyond human limits in an effort to beat back the cutting, frigid tempest scraping against the peak you’ve made your temporary domain. You grab the wind in your consciousness, warping and spinning it around you, one giant showing of Down to the Core with yourself at the eye of the storm. Sparks of plasma ignite, dancing like shimmering leaves in the wind, warming the air and melting the accumulated frost.

You breathe the warm air, laced with your own power, the heat and moisture loosening your tensed vocal cords as you take it into yourself. Smiling, you part your cracked lips, light and might spewing from your mouth as you begin to sing— it’s a revelry at first, the crashing of percussion and the bleating of brass emerging from impossible mouths opening across your body, your own voice a joyful jaunt, a circus ringleader addressing the adoring crowd. Your eyes open, witnessing a grand pilgrimage, rabbits, bobcats, elk, every creature from the largest brown bear to the tiniest little insect, the whole of the mountain’s life congregated beneath your makeshift stage. Everything is silent— no howling wolves, no chirping crickets, no cawing ravens— no sound escapes but your music and the wind. Even the rustling of the trees seems to quiet, wood itself transfixed at the glory of your display.

Your eyes open. The simulation ends, alongside the song.

“Die.”

Nothing moves. If you didn't know better, you’d have thought it was merely a field of statues. You place your feet on the soil beneath your rock. You can feel that even the grass has died.

Your eyes open inwards, and, for the first time in a long time, the waters are fully still. At the flick of yoir wrist, the tides return. At another, they stop dead once again. All traces of grass are cleansed from the beach, the only thing there besides sand and rocks and water being your own towering castle.

>>6303550

>Yours Truly (Incomplete)
You’ve gained an important piece. Even if you quell the things inside you that rebel, will that make you whole? Are you merely the gap between the things you are not?

>Completed Art: Syren’s_Touch (Effective Level: 20)
Interferes with the link between the soul and the mind, allowing the user to freely manipulate the impulses, desires, perception of reality, and even common sense. Cannot be used to permanently alter a soul directly. May be transmitted either through divinity or sound, the latter of which may be recorded and replayed at a later time.

>First Link: Whisper of Baphomette (Effective Level: 23)
Leverages the connection between body and soul permanently alter both, either permanently enthralling weaker wills with direct commands or temptations, or slowly eroding stronger wills over time, reshaping them however you desire. May only be transmitted through sound, live or recorded.

You frown as you ascend, wings tearing out of your shoulderblades, skin shedding into a clean set of clothes. You have somewhere you need to be:

The final meeting to plot against the King.

>Attend alone (specify whether in person or via a surrogate)
>Bring subordinates (specify who)
>Skip— you still can't trust Prometheus
>Write-in

>>6303551
>Bring Pheme
im not sure if it was implied that she comes
>bring the son of the sea node

>>6303551
>Bring Pheme

>>6303574
how about we don't share another god to eat?
sure, him exploding and attacking the entire table at once would probably result in his defeat, but not with us being able to eat him.
With this meeting we still need to be entirely prepared for him.

>>6303574
> son of the sea
I wonder if we're strong enough to subjugate him? Could be a useful source of intel if we subvert him.

>>6303551
> Attend alone
The most powerful gods in the world? Afraid? Never!

>>6303620
>I wonder if we're strong enough to subjugate him?
I don't actually think so.
Maybe a step further in yours truly and another interwraith down.
While eating him is *a* plan, maybe we can also just convince him to help us in the coronation. Like, no, we're not just gonna be the kings crown, we take him over. Align all of the impetus within the king to- yours truly.

>>6303551
>Attend alone (specify whether in person or via a surrogate)
Pygmalion Protocol for sure
What are the odds they'll have another swapper

>>6303551
>Attend alone
BUT
As Ate A and Ate B. And bring one of Maries feathers

>>6303574
>>6303592
>>6303620
>>6303638
>>6303676

[B SIDE]

“Awfully… mundane, no?”

You seem to have been the first to arrive, a clone in your true body in the current you’s shadow and a feather tucked delicately into your ear. Prometheus, still dressed like some sort of Daft Punk reject, sits alone in a quiet nook inside a bookstore coffee shop in what might just be the third biggest city in Iowa, seven or so tables pushed together with a small triangular wooden sign labeled RESERVED marking the lot as the official place of the world’s most important meeting.

“What, disappointed that it isn't some super secret hideout? Or perhaps some old, ancient meeting place buried beneath a national monument?”

“It seems… insecure,” you deflect with a frown, offended slightly at your sensibilities being poked at, “Both informationally and literally.”

“It's better to be inconspicuous,” he shrugs, “people meet in coffee shops. A usual impetus at a fitting location. The less gravitas about it, the more casual and mundane the atmosphere, the less likely prying eyes are to read us out as unusual.”

Your eyes narrow, “Is the King’s observation really that in depth?”

“Less in depth, more in breadth. He’s not listening closely, nor is he really listening at all, strictly speaking it's like he's sitting at a little security desk with a camera for every location on earth. Generally, he's not really paying attention.”

“Even still, that means that any of our plans and intel may be compromised, doesn't it?”

“Gaia is doing her best to keep us unnoticeable. However, if the King notices the filter, he’ll instantly be able to get around it,” he gestures a sip from an empty cup, “I look like a normal person to the undiscerning eye. Why don't you take a seat?”

You move to sit, a waitress beating you to it with a hot drink in hand.

“What..?”

“Hot mocha latte. Vanilla syrup. Shake of cinnamon. For Andrea?” The waitress asks. Your face goes numb— you think it contorts, but even you can't tell in that moment— as your gaze settles on Prometheus.

“That's right,” he leans forward, a serious sternness in his body language, providing a sense of weight to his words despite his monotone voice, “I know your starbucks order.”

“That isn't the issue and you know it. And this isn't a fucking Starbucks.”

“I’d like it if you remembered what you should be fighting for here,” he taps his hand against the table, “You.”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what I should fight for?”

“Well, the point is moot. Our guests are arriving.”

>>6304396

As usual, he calls it in before the a single person entered view. It'll never stop being creepy, no matter how many times it happens.

After a few seconds, you see a cavalcade of familiar faces, most of whom you were expecting— one of many Ye Mins, the Commander (presumably) in the flesh, the old Whittler and the priest at the sidelines of his table, the Defender, the one they call Yama, and, alongside them, a man and woman you’ve never seem, both grim, clad in black, one with stark white hair curled into dreadlocks, face evidently of African descent despite his pallid gray flesh, the latter, face veiled and body covered head to toe in raven lace, is only distinguished by the company she keeps and the glowing golden hair cascading down her head.

Finally, some surprising guests file in: Theia and Diomedes glare at you as they take their seats, clearly bearing some animosity for your various affairs regarding ADAM. Next, Zephyr, cavalier as ever, waltzes in and plops down next to you— apparently, he claims, the Auction wanted a representative and thought him suitable for the job— and, finally, Dove enters, taking the last free seat beside you (and at the table in general).

Finally, the meeting is here.

“Before I explain my vision of the plan,” Prometheus begins, dry and unemotive as ever, “I’d like to hear some opinions from those gathered here today regarding our course of action.”

“What’s the point?” Zephyr interjects, “I’d bet money you already decided on it using that weird recursive foresight schtick you always pull.”

“It’s useful. Besides, when working with others, it's necessary to meet them at their level,” Prometheus bluntly replies, “Let us begin with the one among us most acquainted with the issue at hand. Atë? What do you think we should do?”

PRIORITIES:
>”It should suffice to exterminate the Penitent, then eliminate all traces of their beliefs and knowledge. No more cultists, no more cult, no more Coronation.”
>”We should prioritize nullifying the ritual. Any additional preventative measures should be taken after that.”
>”We need to try and renew the seal on the King— ideally, the new one won't rely on humans not thinking ending the world is a good idea.”
>”The only way out of this is to eliminate the King.”
>Write-in

>”We need to spend as long as possible to prepare for war. We’ve bought time, it's better to use it instead of trying to make a hasty preemptive strike.”
>”We should aim to strike a bit before the coronation, but not necessarily as soon as possible. Time is of the essence, but we also shouldn't let the Penitent dictate the pace.”
>”We need to go as soon as possible. Every second we wait is another second of unknowns and potential for everything to go to shit.”
>Write-in

>>6304398
>"Seriously? The rouge incarnation who has no information network and did all the recon herself is the one - what? 'most acquainted with the issue at hand'?"
>"Prometheus- there is no trust between us, but you're all for self-sacrifice and stuff, so, let me be one of them ravens that peck at your liver. Sell me your soul and in return I'll trust you and will play nice with the rest of the class."

new IP for some reason, I posted as >>6303637 before
I have more than just this one insane opinion

>>6304398
>”It should suffice to exterminate the Penitent, then eliminate all traces of their beliefs and knowledge. No more cultists, no more cult, no more Coronation.”

>”We need to go as soon as possible. Every second we wait is another second of unknowns and potential for everything to go to shit.”

The King can starve to death in his empty world, we don't want him here.

>>6304464
I get the sentiment but maybe right now, with all the world's big players at the table, it just isn't the time?

>did all the recon herself
This part just plain isn't true.

>>6304681
Support.

There's no time to waste. Hit them hard, hit them fast

>>6304398
>"We should prioritize nullifying the ritual. Any additional preventative measures should be taken after that.”
>"Exterminating the Penitent, then eliminate all traces of their beliefs and knowledge will only be a band-aid. But it will buy time.”
>"Im building a 'crown' for myself right now, but I think I can use it to poison >”The only way out of this is to eliminate the King.”

>”We should aim to strike a bit before the coronation, but not necessarily as soon as possible. Time is of the essence, but we also shouldn't let the Penitent dictate the pace."
>" In the meantime smaller raids to whittle away at them while we preserve our strength for the main event."

>>6304464
>>6304681
>>6304716
>>6304850

This was supposed to be last night's update, but I passed out before I could finish writing it. I'll update again tonight if votes allow.

>”It should suffice to exterminate the Penitent, then eliminate all traces of their beliefs and knowledge. No more cultists, no more cult, no more Coronation.”
>”We need to go as soon as possible. Every second we wait is another second of unknowns and potential for everything to go to shit.”

The moment you finish laying out your proposal, Chen scoffs, <Polyglot>-perfect English flowing effortlessly from her lips, “So your big plan is just a global genocide? Even putting the ethics of the matter aside, the fact that the King was able to even CREATE the Penitent suggests that a big holocaust isn’t gonna cut it.”

“Duh,” you wittily retort, “But that doesn’t mean it won’t stop the Coronation and kick the can far enough down the road for somebody to get powerful enough to permanently solve the issue.”

“The plan is sound, but the timeline leaves something to be desired,” the Commander interjects, “Many of the Penitent are woven into society— even if there were some decisive way to wipe them out— a premise which, I must admit, seems incredibly doubtful— the fallout and imminent collateral damage is something that can’t be mitigated after the fact. Prophylactic measures are necessary in order to prevent a catastrophic upheaval.”

“Aren’t you being a bit naive?” Ye Min asks, that same calculated smile painted across her face as always, “In case you forgot, the Uncrowned King isn’t a threat that can be weighed against any potential earthly consequence. We don’t have the luxury to consider anything other than the odds of this succeeding.”

“Or maybe, you’re just saying that because you would benefit the most from such a collapse,” the Whittler leans forward, eyes sharp with blatant hostility, “After all, you’re the only person here with the devil in your pocket.”

“Rude!” you gasp, mock-offense dripping from your words, “I’m not in anyone’s pocket.”

“I agree with Huber,” grey Hades quietly but firmly declares, “There is no cost too great.”

“Of course YOU wouldn’t care, you don’t even live on this planet!” Chen scowls, “Then again, what else could I expect from someone roleplaying as the god of death, right?”

“Watch your tongue,” Persephone hisses.

“Of course, it would be ideal if we could eliminate the King without harming any of the people,” the Commander reiterates, “But I can understand why such a thing wouldn’t be plausible. Infighting— this open hostility rather than reasoned debate over tactics— is a waste of valuable time and harms morale. Chen, do you have a proposal?"

>>6304993

“I do, actually. The seal placed upon the King,” she begins, “exists to make it impossible for him to escape without some grand movement of impetus from the people of the world he attempts to encroach upon, right? However, what if there was an alternative way of separating the King and our world? A way to seal US instead of sealing him?”


“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ye Min asks.

“We use matter-energy conversion,” Braun answers, “A supermassive black hole, converted entirely into impetus.”

“Are you insane?” you interrupt, “Even if you put everyone on earth together, we wouldn’t be able to control one percent of one percent of that power?”

“We’d then use that to dislodge ourselves from the rest of the plane. We’d turn our entire universe into a pocket dimension with no entrance, existing in its own space with no way in or out.”

“Even if that did work,” Ye Min sighs, “How would you know that the process wouldn’t exterminate everyone here?”

“Because,” Braun smiles, placing a small, ornate sphere made from black steel and opalescent amber crystal on the table in front of him, “It’s system approved.”

>A Macrocosm, Alone (Architect Grade Relic)

A device that shifts reality itself, placing this universe on its own plane of verticality. All universes which currently inhibit the same vertical space will become toxic to the Macrocosm, Alone and vice versa.

A perfect fortress, a perfect prison.

“T-this is absurd,” you interject, "how— Prometheus, would this even work?”

“It’s possible,” he replies, “But realistically, it'll never happen. The only existence we have capable of wielding that much power is Gaia, and she would never agree to this.”

“And why not?”

“Because it would kill her.” he matter-of-factly states, “Her top priority is preserving her own life, and she wouldn't agree to something that would require her own suicide. Of course, nobody else could make her do it either. Nobody except the world’s greatest mind control specialist: the Star of Death.”

Your eyes widen— was this whole thing his plan all along? No, the visions you saw, all of them involved your version of the plan. Is it a variable? You can’t even tell if Prometheus thinks this could work. After all, the things he says are the things he thinks will lead to a correct outcome. You should see him less like a prophet and more like an objective driven computer program.

Shit. You can’t agree to this, can you? Walling off reality puts a hard limit on the extent of your growth. Why would the Architect even put this in? Doesn’t it completely conflict with his agenda? Is it a trick? You feel sweat begin to trickle down your back, your heart beating wildly in your chest. How are you going to get out of this?

>Destroy the <A Macrocosm, Alone> here and now
>Try to convince the group that the relic is a trap
>Simply refuse
>Decide to accept this plan
>Write-in

>>6304995
>Simply refuse
Do...you all really want to be trapped in one place with me?

>>6304995
>Try to convince the group that the relic is a trap
>Explain that we experienced verticality and that it only makes this realm potentially more fragile against anyone. When we were vertically displaced we had to do everything not to spill our divinity and accidentally poisen their entire reality. The king could do so simply out of spite.
>If they want to use it, they have to give us the heads up so we can leave this reality before they seal it.

>>6304995
>Try to convince the group that the relic is a trap
Maybe not so much a trap but - why are they so sure even the System can pull this off flawlessly? Even the King has managed to interfere with its proper workings before, can it really guarantee safety? We might just be isolating ourselves until the King can eat enough other worlds to find a way around or power through.

>>6304995
>>Try to convince the group that the relic is a trap

>>6305260
>>6305162
I wouldn't go quite as far as assuming it is a trap made by the king himself tho

>>6305054
>>6305162
>>6305260
>>6305654

>Try to convince the group that the relic is a trap

“This thing is stupid,” you groan, twisting your face into a look of tired distaste, “I’ve never seen a more obvious trap in my life. The best case scenario is that it does literally nothing.”

The old Whittler cocks an eyebrow, “And the worst case? Supposing you're correct, that is.”

“Universe becomes toxic to itself and everything dies.”

“Elaborate,” Hades curtly demands.

“Gladly. So, the multiverse consists of finite worlds replicated across infinite vertical planes…”

~

“Well, in conclusion, that's why this plan is absolutely psychotic.”

“But that doesn't make sense!” Chen rises, slamming her hand on the table in front of her, “The system can be mischievous, but it never flat out LIES about the effects of its items. Surely, we can at least guarantee that it COULD work.”

“Only insofar as it will do the thing it says,” you tut, “Nothing in its text says that the process will be safe.”

“Not taking a side,” Zephyr raises his hand, “But doesn’t a “perfect prison” and “perfect fortress” sorta necessitate the people in them to not be dead?”

“Not necessarily. All it means is nobody gets in and nobody gets out. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if even the Architect wasn't sure what actually happened once the device went off. What about you, Prometheus?”

“No clue,” he shakes his head, “I have yet to witness any eventuality in which you even consider enabling the use of the device.”

“So, what, we take it off the table because one person says so?” Yama finally speaks, stern, cold voice muffled by his mask..

“Yeah, when that person is the only one who can do it, dumbass,” you snidely reply, “Just because I’m here, that doesn't mean I’m agreeing to anything I don't want to do.”

“Yes, well, we all want to stop the King. So, please, let us not get mired in dead ends. The real issue is the Coronation— and, one small hitch. Everyone here is necessary to stop the King. Everyone here is currently wishing to do so. However, almost invariably, someone here turns traitor.”

>>6306163

Your eyes widen— is this true, or is he merely playing another one of his games?

“It’s almost impossible to predict exactly who or exactly why. The King strikes at vulnerable people and tries to get them to join him. So, please, get a good look at the people around you— you might just have to take their knife out of your back.”

“Couldn't we just sign some sorta oath agreeing not to work with the King?”

“The Uncrowned King is capable of altering a soul such that those contracts become void,” he shrugs, “Obviously, I’ve tried circumventing it. I simply ran out of resources before I could find a proper method.

>Ignore this new information and proceed to the next phase
>Question how this is possible
>Propose some countermeasure (specify)
>Use an <Art> (specify)
>Write-in

>>6306164
so Dorota could be in the kings pocket
>"Im building a 'crown' for myself right now, but I think I can use it to poison the king. No telling if it could also make him stronger, but that wouldn't be a betrayal on my part"

>>6306164
> Relay the vision of the future where we destroy the world, believing Yama was at fault.
Though for what it's worth I think Yama was framed there.

>>6306180
Promo does specify those present, though Dorota could certainly be lurking in a shadow.

>>6306207
I didn't mean he meant her, but that she could have been corrupted in between us forming our contract and now so she no longer needs to obey us/tell us the truth
I still think our entire pantheon has to die

>>6306164
>Question how this is possible
Is that even the case for a contract as deep as the one we have with Ye Min? Is there a way we could put a tamper proof seal on people's souls so we'd know if that happened?

>>6306218
Eris seems like a high probability of throwing in with the king, maybe she corrupts/controls one of the world leaders?

>>6306180
>>6306206
>>6306313

We have a tie so I'll wait a while for a tiebreak.

Also, regarding Dorota, you would have become aware of it if she had turned traitor, since even if the System can't protect against the King's tampering all of the time, it can at least detect it. She also is incapable of scheming behind your back while the contract is in place, as per the terms of the Pact you've made.

Of course, that isn't to say that she couldn't potentially be influenced later, (though it is, from <your> understanding, exceptionally unlikely), just that you can be certain it hasn't happened yet.

>>6306206
>> Relay the vision of the future where we destroy the world, believing Yama was at fault.
>Ask what 'resources' Prometheus needs. Daily liver transplants?

>>6306180
>>6306206
>>6306313
>>6306680

>Relay the vision of the future where we destroy the world, believing Yama was at fault.

As you finish recounting your tale, Prometheus leans back and sighs, “That’s… not relevant to this particular conversation.”

“I think it is,” the Commander bluntly objects, openly glaring at the Korean across the table, “It could easily be interpreted as Yama’s betrayal resulting in massive casualties.”

“I would never betray earth,” Yama replies, voice even in tone and cold as dry ice, “However, I have my own future to tell. A future where the Star of Death rises and the world is devoured in her jaws. A future where she takes the cr-”

“That’s enough,” Prometheus interjects, weightily clanking his metal fist against the table, “This conversation isn’t relevant. I’ve considered that eventuality and planned diligently to keep it from occurring. We don’t have time to be infighting, and unless things go catastrophically, our associate here stands incapable of ending the world unless Ye Min allows it.”

“I don’t plan to,” Ye Min chimes in, “This entire galaxy is safe from our dangerous friend here so long as I deem it so. That said, we’d have problems if all of my instances died. In other words, anti-me league’s ace, it’s paramount that you don’t try anything stupid.”

Yama stays silent, but you can see his body tremble with rage as you snicker at Ye Min’s provocation. You wonder, then, if he really does have some memory from a timeline where you usurped the Coronation. “Suffice it to say,” Persephone says, “An unpredictable traitor is no laughing matter. If what you say is true, I’ll have to agree with Huber’s assessment that we must finish this promptly and without concern for collateral damage. After all, the stakes here are infinite. We cannot afford to quibble over finite losses.”

You smile— you like this one.

“While I admit that there is no cost too great in this battle insofar as we must win it,” the Commander pauses, taking a sip from a cup of black coffee before proceeding, “It would be wasteful to proceed without at least considering harm mitigation. As far as I’m concerned, the risk in play is finite: exactly as much as every human life. To gambit, for example, 10% of the world’s innocent populace to increase our odds by a mere one percent is the height of madness.”

“Is it not possible, likely even, that other life exists in the universe as well?” Ye Min rebuts, gesticulating the vastness of the universe with a subtle shift of her wrists, as if she were holding it all in her hands, “If we consider that, the risks would be incalculable.”

The Commander scowls, “Nothing but sophistry, Ye Min. Do you think a single person here is concerned about hypothetical aliens? We all know your intentions. The value at stake isn’t unlimited merely because your greed is.”

>>6306875

“Oh my, I couldn’t agree less,” she laughs, a light, artificial show of emotion, “What is value if not something to be coveted after? The fact that I want it is reason enough to claim it precious.”

“Let’s get back on track,” Prometheus recenters, silencing the bickering and returning attention to him, “Atë is correct, broadly. We shall strike first, using her mental attacks as the opening salvo. Ideally, we should be able to reduce the population of penitent to only those most powerful, a small and elite section which we can feasibly take on without invoking those without the mental fortitude needed to stand up to the King.”

“You have something that I need, don’t you Prometheus? For this plan to work, I mean.”

“I shall give you the necessary technique later,” he says, “For now, let’s discuss tactics.”

~

Broadly, the plan goes like this:

Yama and Chen collaborate, the former speaking with the deceased penitent he’s acquired for intel, and the latter using that information to find all of the remaining strongholds of the King, using Gaia’s knowledge of the earth’s leylines as a reference for where it ought to be. Hades and Persephone will then supply you with enough vengeful impetus and raw divinity to enable the art that Prometheus— or, more accurately, an alternate You, prepared in advance. You mull over the crystal in your hands, containing the memories of gaining that terrible might.

>Crowncrusher’s Finale (incomplete) (effective level 50)
An art originally designed to destroy every living thing on earth, modified to target those who have betrayed this reality in favor of the king. Requires a level of malice unmusterable by a normal human soul.

Then, all present and their mightiest subordinates will wage war against the remainder of the King’s men, most likely the Heralds, Flagellant, High Priests, and any traitors that had since emerged amongst your own ranks. This shall take place in exactly three days.

>Offer modifications to the plan (specify)
>Ask questions (specify)
>Agree to this version of the plan (specify whether you wish to make any additional preparations. If none are specified, the time will instead be dedicated to mastering the Crowncrusher’s Finale)
>Write-in

Once the Coronation War has been initiated, it cannot be halted. The world shall never be the same again.

>>6306876
>Agree to this version of the plan (specify whether you wish to make any additional preparations. If none are specified, the time will instead be dedicated to mastering the Crowncrusher’s Finale)

Best to get down to business understanding this thing, and naturally figuring out if it has any traps layered into it.

>>6306876
>Agree to this version of the plan (specify whether you wish to make any additional preparations. If none are specified, the time will instead be dedicated to mastering the Crowncrusher’s Final

>>6306876
>Agree to this version of the plan (specify whether you wish to make any additional preparations. If none are specified, the time will instead be dedicated to mastering the Crowncrusher’s Finale)
We’ve chilled with Pheme a ton lately, time to get back to work

>>6306883
>>6307087
>>6307114

[FULL DISC]

Crowncrusher’s Finale.

You were expecting it to be potent— calamitous, even— but there's something in it that you recognize as simultaneously entirely of yourself and fully alien from how you are as you stand. As you hold the crystal in your hand, its knowledge and impetus seeping into your mind and collecting itself into the library of your soulscape, you begin to feel the intention behind its creation. “Here is a world with nothing good in it. Mine is a life of nothing but suffering.” It reminds you of Eris, almost: her simpleminded plan to destroy the world in revenge echoes the unhinged screaming that is the basis for this art.

Agony, it is. Agony and contempt.

You feel an itch in your throat, your soul subconsciously bristling as you feel the souls of people merely exist in the world outside your Realm, a transient connection still enough to trigger those intrusive thoughts, like holding a weapon in your hand in a crowded room, fully trusted by all, and unable to shake the thoughts about what would happen if you’d used it.

Of course, you’ve gotten to the point where one little massacre is hardly intrusive thought worthy. Instead, you can’t help but dwell on the notion that you’re capable of eliminating humanity. Well, perhaps not all of it— no, certainly not all of it— but the survivors would be less than a percent of a percent of a percent of a percent. A bit of drool trickles down your lips, the crashing of your heartbeat in your ears a discordant accompaniment to the sharp, wonderful melody thrumming in your soul.

You let your mind soak in your own suffering, and you can't help but find it deeply uncomfortable: after all, many of your previous efforts have been to reject the limits of your humanity, to liberate your power from the shackles of petty emotion. And yet, here you are, essentially banking on a version of you that succumbed entirely to irrationality in order to get anything done at all. Despite it all, a smile blooms on your face, the boiling venom in your gut stirring in you a passion for existing that mere ambition or joy could not. It hurts. It's dangerous. But, fuck, you can't help but grin.

>Embrace this feeling
>Contain this feeling, you’ll only need it once
>Reject this feeling, but you can create something better in its stead
>Write-in

>>6307413
>>Reject this feeling, but you can create something better in its stead
being a literal drooling retard doesn't seem too useful

>>6307413
>Reject this feeling
>Subjugate Eris, feed and mold her soul into the perfect user for this
bad news if its Eris who has already defected to the King

>>6307413
>Contain this feeling, you’ll only need it once
No need to be rewriting the powerful ritual now. But definitely no need to melt our brain with it either.

>>6307413
>Reject this feeling, but you can create something better in its stead
I’m ready to risk the world to make sure we come out on top after the Coronation

>>6307417
>>6307418
>>6307466
>>6307468

>Reject this feeling, but you can create something better in its stead

The person who made this Art was certainly Atë. That particular flavor of resentment, born to the self and wielded against the world— the flavor of the impetus is oh so very you. However, you can't help but find yourself alienated by it— by its blind, almost impotent thrashing, a child flipping the table at the indignity of losing a game instead of hoping to conquer the board. You frown; you can't say whether Prometheus intended it that way, but by your estimation this Art has failure baked into its very essence. Yes, even the name, “Crowncrusher’s Finale,” betrays that shortcoming. After all, if the crowncrusher is you, wouldn't that make this your finale?

Still, even if you can repurpose the “hardware” of the art, its imagery and its intentions and the mechanics at play— your <Understanding> of Arts is that the part to be replaced, the burning desire to wreak mindless havoc, to exact a brutal revenge against people you’ve never seen, that Impetus is the most crucial aspect of the Art.

Is your own will really stronger than all that hatred?

You clutch your head in your hands, desperately running through potential ideas. It has to be possible. You refuse to believe that a second rate Atë, a pathetic worm who gave up on her own life, could possibly create something more powerful than you can. You know that you can do better, and, more importantly, you feel like you’ll vomit if you can't.

>UNDERSTANDING: FURY: Fully utilize the impetus provided by the souls in the sea and those provided by Hades, their hatred directed into a chorus with your role merely being to conduct and amplify
>UNDERSTANDING: OWL: Wrath is weaker than greed and pride. Channel instead your desire to devour, to take everything there is to have
>UNDERSTANDING: COG: Rely on your inhumanity. Sheer grit and blunt force, combined with a natural affinity for destruction and sorcery, should be enough for your internal computer to path out a workable melody
>UNDERSTANDING: HIND: Imagine the agony of what you stand to lose. Imagine the people and things that give your life meaning and joy. No amount of personal ambition or rage could ever match the force of that will
>UNDERSTANDING: SIREN: Music is Music is Music. Who says you need to be a raving lunatic to make a composition about rage? You’ve felt those emotions, you understand them, and you’ve at one time or another embodied them sharply enough to kill. Blues artists don't break down weeping on stage, do they?
>Write-in

Also, this segment will require dice. Please select between reckless, normal, cautious, or desperate.

>>6308272
the thing is, we are mostly powered by wrath and spite, alongside girlboss relations
but that doesn't mean we're retarded, so out of all these,
>SIREN
seems most applicable, but let's look at the others
Fury doesn't seem like it will push us to be better, even if it succeeds
Owl relies on greed/gluttony, which is not really that strong of a driver for Ate, it's more of a necessity to achieve goals, and it's fulfillment a pleasant consequence, not a main motivator
Cog could work, but we aren't synchronized enough, the splits show internal struggle between A and B, this is a big task, ideal for a full computation specialized Ate, which we aren't
Hind is a possibility, but while we do care about Pheme, she's basically the only one, this is ideal for an Ate who truly and honestly has a base of support, instead of a conspiracy of puppets and a best friend
so Siren, we have been focusing on stacking power on song, most of our truly powerful creation come in the form of songs, and it does genuinely push us forward in power if we manage to do it

>>6308272
>UNDERSTANDING: SIREN
>normal

>>6308272

>UNDERSTANDING: FURY: Fully utilize the impetus provided by the souls in the sea and those provided by Hades, their hatred directed into a chorus with your role merely being to conduct and amplify

>Reckless
It's just simply us.

>>6308272
>Siren
We always were a good actor

>Normal

>>6308283
>>6308310
>>6308312
>>6308331

[??? SIDE]

“You can’t seriously believe this was what she would have wanted,” a voice, your own, the stitched together remains of your own eviscerated corpse speak to you. The soul behind the words, of course, is yours. Your voice, after all, is the only one left. “Do you really think, when she put the failsafe together, that she was imagining a world where you mope all the time and throw history’s worst temper tantrum until, what, nothing’s left but a smoldering rock? Wasn’t that exactly what she abandoned Eris over?”


“Shut up,” you wearily sigh, unable to look away from the mirror clutched tight in your— her— bone-white hands, “Just… shut up.”

“Besides, pinning it all on Yama, isn't that kinda pathetic? Seriously,” your corpse groans, plopping down on the ground next to you, “She told you not to take so many risks.”

“I know that,” you weakly reply.

“She told you she wanted you to be happy.”

“... I know.”

“She told you–”

Your brain seems to go numb. Even though the voices have long since died, you can still hear the screaming in your ears.

“She told you–”

Tears stream down your face, eyes refusing to blink even as they sting and blur and waver. No matter how long you stare into that mirror, you never see her face. Marie didn’t look like that.

“She…”

Wings explode from your back, gently curling around your body in a cold, feathery embrace. The eyes, your eyes, stare lovingly at your face. As you fully break down, grief overwhelming rage as you collapse onto the ground quivering in heaves of sobbing, as the isolation and the desperation for something that you’ll never have again burrows a bottomless hole in your gut, a smile cracks through all of the tears.

Finally, you think to yourself, you see her face.

[FULL DISC]

Your pen strokes furiously against paper, a dozen arms composing, another dozen playing their melodies, fingers and mouths rehearsing and workshopping in a discordant disharmony, a cacophony of unfinished music steeped in the wrath of your life, the lives you’ve taken, and the lives you might have lived. You feel it then, an <Ordinance> without a subject, the truest, most direct expression of impetus you can manage without grabbing someone by the head and forcing it down their throat.

It’s working. You feel your blood boil as your lips part, unable to resist the urge to sing.

>Give me 3 rolls of 3d100. As <Normal> has been selected, the median value will be used.

Rolled 12, 18, 96 = 126 (3d100)

>>6308679
Instantly regretting not picking reckless again

Rolled 60, 58, 28 = 146 (3d100)

>>6308679

Rolled 40, 44, 8 = 92 (3d100)

>>6308679

>>6308693
Instantly happy we didn’t pick reckless again

>>6308693
>>6308703
>>6308705

92, 146, 126— 126 accepted, <Normal> is Suboptimal

It’s difficult, sometimes, to think about what happens after you finish a work of art.

Obviously, life continues, right? Things move forward just the way they have been. The only difference is that the art will exist and the labor will no longer need to. Still, there’s something disquieting about it— you’ll sit alone, hands fidgeting at the prospect of working on something which no longer requires any work. Over time, that urge wears off, then the memory of the urge, then the memory of ever having created that art at all. You’ll sometimes look upon something you’ve made, recognizing it as yours, but, as the effort and process of making it fades from memory, the artist, even being you, might as well have been a perfect stranger.

It’s alienating, in that respect. A perfect snapshot of a person you used to be. Sometimes, you’ll look at it with nostalgia. Other times, you’ll see flaws— not only mistakes in craft, but a series of tastes and intentions that the current you can’t help but laugh or cringe at. In effect, you will have somehow managed to fail to communicate even with yourself.

Other times, when you see that old, obsolete art, you’ll be inspired by it, or, more accurately, in the vision and will a lost You hoped to portray. You’ll then tire away at a new labor, the same as the old one in every respect except the ones that matter, eventually coming up with a piece in equal parts copy and completely unrelated. Perhaps you can call it a mimic, perhaps you can call it a creative homophone. Regardless, it’s what you’ve just done.

>Crowncrusher’s Finale -> Worldeater’s Elegy (Incomplete) (Effective Level: 40)

A song in remembrance of the rage and grief of Star that chose to stop burning. It carries an echo of her vengeful screams, the weeping chorus that exterminated the human race. Merely an echo, this Art is only able to affect the mind and soul, yet still may bring death uncountable.

You open your eyes— no more rehearsals. Today is the day it all starts to unravel.

[??? SIDE]

“...so, you’re saying that you’re gonna, what, turn me into a serial killer?”

“I… I’m sorry,” his eyes turned to the ground, his metal hand the only one steady as his entire body quivered like an autumn leaf against a cold wind, “But I’m not going to have to do anything.”

Nausea roils in my gut. I know he wouldn’t lie to me, but all the same— “Cut the shit,” I hiss, “I could never… I could never turn into the kind of person who would make that. You— would you really love someone who could kill so many people?”

“Anyone could,” he smiles, “I could, just as easily as you.”

I was wrong, after all. He would lie to me.

That man could never end up as horrible as I am.”

>>6309468

[FULL DISC]

Hades and his souls are already set up, cloistered away within one of the many moving underground bunkers Gaia had fashioned as emergency bases for the Crowncrushers to use against the King. That said, no matter how discreet she’s attempting, Prometheus “Strongly suspects an ambush may occur,” but seems to lack any specifics. You click your tongue— it seems like no amount of multiversal hoodoo can truly account for all potential variables produced by 8 billion humans and god knows what else counts as sentient.

So, yeah, you have about two hours left to prepare. What’s the plan?

Personnel Select as many as desired.

>Brigita (Siren, Philotes) (Current Incarnation Level: 15)
>Iwana (Pallas, Atalanta) (Current Incarnation Level: 10)
>Dorota (Algos, Epimetheus) (Current Incarnation Level: 17)
>Ciotti (Lethe) (Current Incarnation level: 12)
>Write-in

Contacts Meet with someone you know to collect debts or finish transactions. Select up to two.

>Hera, The Defender
>Perdix
>Zephyr (representing the auction)
>Isabella (optional addendum: add other members of your Pantheon)
>Mister Valeri, The Game Master (and the human Hail Mary)
>Write-in

Other Actions Depending on the difficulty of the task, a certain amount of time will be deducted from other votes.

>Devour a large population
>Find someone to assist in your performance
>Have a quick chat with Pheme
>Write-in

>>6309470
> Personnel
Bring em all. Hell, drag in the mob too.
(Poor Brigita, we've so utterly ignored her)

> Contacts
>Perdix
Hopefully that big gun is ready
>Zephyr (representing the auction)
They owed us... something right?

> Other Actions
>Have a quick chat with Pheme

>Find someone to help with the performance
Have Brigita look into it, she has contacts and the right powersets for it.

>>6309470
>Personnel
Why not bring them all?
>Contacts
Perdix and Zephyr
>Other actions
Reabsorb the other half of the Interwraith

>>6309715
You can reabsorb your expelled divinity if you wish, but you'll need to secure an alternative power source for Perdix's weapon

>>6309764
Aw fuck that's right
Ugh
>Pheme chat
Maybe she wants to join the field

>>6309494
>>6309847

Will wait until morning for a tiebreak on backing musicians since it's relatively important for the final outcome. Will try to double post tomorrow.

>>6309470
>Iwana, Dorota, Ciotti
>Perdix
>check system stuff a last time and use influence on our subordinates gains
we should be at least level 18 now
>Pheme chat

So who else thinks that the "ambush" will just be the son of the sea jumping out from our pockets?

>>6309494
>>6309715
>>6309847
>>6309970

As promised, I'll update again tonight if votes allow.

>Contact: Perdix

“Is my weapon done?”

You peek your head through the door, finding Perdix passed out on his desk. He rouses, lethargically swiveling his chair over to meet your gaze as he lifts a crimson gauntlet up from the table, rose gold veins underlying its metal plating pulsing with power and something almost like hunger. He lazily gestures for you to place the crystallization of your power into the spherical divot on top of the weapon, and, almost like magic, it vanishes into what you can only assume to be some sort of spatial distortion, only the top of the you-node peeking out for a moment before scarlet steel slides over to conceal it.

“I’ve reinforced the blasting mechanism with a prototype of that— did you call it orichalcum? The titanium alloy with divinity-constructed subatomic components you talked about from the alternate dimension. It’s not exactly like you described it to be– it’s a bit less durable, but it almost treats divinity like oil treats water. Lowers the strain on the mechanism by at least 73 percent.”

><Architect> Grade Weapon: Ruin’s Rebuke (Divinity: 1,000,000/100,000,000)

Two weapons in one: a proton beam that eviscerates matter, and a divine ray that targets the soul. The output may be adjusted to meet the needs of the user. Additionally, the fingertips are capable of emitting smaller, blade-like fields of energy, allowing the effects of the composite blast to also function at melee range with a minimized energy output. As it cleaves through a soul, both the claw and beam will restore power using a fraction of the target’s divinity, so long as the target is within a certain range. The farther the distance, the lesser the recovery rate.

“It’s perfect,” you grin, watching the crackling crimson claws emerge from the gauntlet. Perdix, consciously or instinctively, takes a step back.

“Not quite,” he frowns, “Continuous use at high outputs will cause the mechanism to overheat, so you’ll have to be mindful about it if you plan to use it as your primary weapon. If you push it too hard, the internal components will start to melt, and the whole thing will become entirely inoperable.”

“Still,” you grin, “It’s a hell of an offensive boost. Take this.”

You drop a duffel bag of money onto the floor, containing enough money to keep his lifespan ticking for centuries. “Your payment.”

“Good. Now that that’s settled… please save the world.”

“Ha! Acting like I’m some sort of hero.”

“If you were a hero,” he smirks, “I wouldn’t have had to ask.”

“Touche,” you snort, walking out of his workshop, “Don’t worry— your shows’ll keep running like nothing ever happened.”

>>6310170

>Contact: Zephyr

“I’ve come to collect my debt.”

You find yourself on a beach in the Bahamas, standing in full battle kit— your gown transformed into a skintight bodysuit beneath your sleek crimson armor— standing above a thoroughly shirtless Zephyr, sipping a drink out of a coconut and grinning like an idiot. The people on the beach seem so… normal; children play, parents laugh and clink glasses, men drool at hot chicks in string bikinis, working drones release their tension into the hot sands and cool waters. Seeing this, you couldn’t imagine that the fight to decide the fate of the world was happening in an hour.

“On behalf of the auction, right. Guess it would be dumb to ask if you could wait until I finish my pina colada.” Zephyr pulls his sunglasses down to look at you, a pale light flickering in his inky black eyes.

“I swear, do you really have time to waste on this sort of frivolous vacation? Time is kinda of the essence.”

“I can be in two places at once,” he grins, “and I’d never stop kicking myself if I spent my last day on earth doing nothing but work.”

“Whatever,” you click your tongue, giving up on making him see the error of his ways, “I need—.”

>A defensive relic powerful enough to stop a herald during my performance
>An offensive relic to supplement the Rebuke’s cooldown time
>A meeting with the auction master
>Access to Hephaestus's notes about capturing souls
>Information (specify what)
>Write-in