495 Mundane Miseries (or How Shiv Learned to Hate the Slice of Life)

The weird thing that breaks certain Pathbearers isn't the battles, but the stuff that happens in between. This affects the war junkies the most. You know them as the people who are addicted to the fighting, who prefer to think of themselves as more weapon than person. Nothing against them. I'm married to one such person, but there is a problem when you're too deep down that rabbit hole. You get caught up in the thrill, and you forget that most of war is boring logistics and a lot of ridiculous waiting and digging and hiding while the artillery slams down around you—only for your enemy to cut and run because they were in danger of being flanked, and so another season goes by without any actual combat.

This chapter isn't about combat. It's not about anything other than personality and thrill management. You need to learn how to live between the instances of war, because the thing about war is that it doesn't actually last that long. Usually, at a time, you're involved in conflict for a couple minutes, a couple hours, maybe days or a week at the highest intensity. Even for the most esteemed warriors, the bulk of their life isn't going to be dedicated to battle, but rather living. You have to live beyond the fight, and that's what breaks some people—because they live for the fight, but the fight's just not lasting long enough. The thrill doesn't have enough fire in it, and that destroys them. You have to know how to function as a person as well, because if you can’t, there will come a time you find yourself so alienated that you end up wondering why you should be an individual at all, and fully commit to being a monster.

—Memoirs of a Master-Tier War Mage

495

Mundane Miseries (or How Shiv Learned to Hate the Slice of Life)

“Bonk. How much of this table do you think I can shove up your ass before the act turns fatal?” Shiv’s question was only borderline facetious. He meant every syllable with curious malice; he wanted to hear the answer, and he was hunting for the faintest semblance of fear in his opposite.

And for all the rage Bonk inflicted upon Shiv, he was good at playing along. The head of his cudgel resounded with dull thwacks as he tapped it against the underside of his jaw.

“Wouldn't know, Insul. I wouldn't know at all. If you asked me this question maybe a few weeks back, I would say only a bit of the edge before I ruptured. Now… my guess is you can comfortably fit the entire table and probably a good portion of your Court Leviathan too—though that would be a painful experience.”

“You’re a big guy,” Shiv sneered, seated at the desk in question while Bonk stood on the other side. “You can take it.”

“The Court Leviathan? Alas, I fear I’m simply too tough and intangible for this threat to hold any weight now. But if we wish to put it to a practical test—”

“No! I don’t want to put it to a practical test! I want you to stop getting into fights—and trying to eat the felling Rangers. Godsdammit, Bonk, I thought Adam burned the itch out of you. I thought you guys weren’t going to be doing this insane shit all the time.”

Bonk had the audacity to grin. “That was a naive assumption on your part, Insul. Come on. I expected better from you. Just because the constant and instinctual urge to perform violent acts is removed doesn’t mean my capacity and personal urge to do so has been banished. I can still be monstrous of my own will—and isn’t that what matters most? Perhaps that was the true itch all along: The realization that I can be terrible all by myself.”

Shiv wanted to leap over the table and slam his forehead into Bonk’s stupid, wide grin. He nearly did too. Twin understandings bound him to the course of enduring peace: starting a fight with a now-Legendary Bonk was going to leave Courtney obliterated, and a good portion of the Gate in ruins, and more importantly, a fight was what Bonk wanted. The damned orc was bored out of his mind—and on some level, Shiv understood. But we're all supposed to be adults, dammit! Adults have hobbies other than mindless violence. I think.

Nihilist:You are determined to ignore the fact that he is an orc, aren’t you?

I don’t suffer this shit with Helix, Tequila, Whisper, or Mortar. They all have their own things.

Nihilist:Isn’t Whisper currently waterboarding people in the bowels of the very vessel we are standing within?

That’s different. It’s just non-fatal, educational enforcement to show them the amorality of dining and dashing.

Nihilist:Right. Which is why letting a psychotic serial killer of an orc torture them beyond the point of sanity is the first resort one should take. Our moral compass is unmatched.

Shiv growled under his breath. They’re dining and dashing, dipshit! They’re lucky we consider them people at all. Anyway, a bit of waterboarding is basically no waterboarding. Also, Gone was the one with the idea. Why don't you complain to her about it?

Nihilist:…You know, sometimes it gets kind of clear why the Challenger chose us to be Vaketh-Insul. But that’s not important right now—focus on explaining to Bonk why he can’t eat people. Maybe find something for him to do before he causes an actual mass casualty event in the Gate.

Sucking in an annoyed breath, Shiv gritted his teeth and stared up at the annoying fuck in question. “Bonk,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. “I need you to explore your morals in a different way. A way that doesn’t involve you trying to beat the shit out of and eat the Lone Star Rangers you provoked into drawing on you first. We need them. And I need you. What I don’t need is you and them fighting each other while there are other orcs I need you both to fight and kill.”

“Well, now we’re getting to the crux of the problem, Insul: Why aren’t we out there fighting and killing the other orcs?” Bonk scratched his chin inquisitively. “Frankly, why aren’t we killing all the vampires and other fleshbags down in the Abyss or back up on the surface of Earth? It’s like you don’t appreciate us for who we are anymore—or that you’re ashamed of still having us.”

“Bonk, you don’t felling get to put this on me! I’m not the one who took a chunk out of Gunhead’s literal ass—”

“Well, he did tell me to bite his ass.”

A webwork of veins bulged across Shiv’s forehead. His blood pressure rose to the point where, should a cut expose one of his vessels, the resulting jetstream of crimson would cut through multiple city blocks. “Bonk. Look at me. I know what you are doing, you facetious fuck. I also don’t appreciate you making me the straight man. I’m supposed to be the wildcard here.”

Bonk crossed his arms, turned halfway away from Shiv, and looked up in lament. “Oh, but that’s only when you’re with Adam. To us, you are… still far too human, Insul. Far too human indeed.”

“Yeah, and you should be glad I am, because if I wasn’t, you would have the shape of my desk sticking out of your lowest holes.” Shiv snapped his fingers repeatedly to get the orc to look him in the eyes again. “Bonk. No more ass-biting or fighting with Rangers. I can’t keep bailing you out.”

“Can’t you? Truly?”

“Figuratively and politically, it’s getting to be a pain to keep dragging you out of trouble. Okay, be honest, are you just lonely? Do you just want to go out and do something? Is that it? Is that why you’re getting into so much of this shit recently?” Shiv rubbed at his face in exhaustion. “Do you want a spot in my kitchen like Mortar or Gone?”

“Paragon, no!” Bonk laughed. He pulled his loincloth up and sniffled. Shiv recognized that to be a tell: the orc was about to say something blatantly inflammatory to piss someone off. “Can you imagine me taking on a role as pitiful and emasculating as that of a cook? I can't decide if I want to laugh or cry at the thought. What right Pathbearer would choose the kitchen when they have known the heat of a battlefield? No right Pathbearer at all, I would say.” He performed an exaggerated blink and pretended to suddenly remember something. “Oh! Oh, no! I didn’t mean to offend, Insul. Of course, I do not judge you by the same standards. That would be ridiculous and cruel.”

Once more, Shiv imagined how satisfying it would be to force a three-meter table up Bonk’s tautest entrance. His shit-eating grin widened in anticipation to receive another deluge of metaphorical waste-spray, but Shiv held strong to his dignity—and spite. “Bonk. I want you to know that the more you piss me off, the less likely I am to actually fight you.”

The orc’s glee inverted into a frown at blurring speeds. “When did you become so cruel—to me, no less? As if I didn’t sacrifice my own flesh and soul to save you in the Rubix Well.”

“He’s doing it again.” The Harbinger sighed. “Sympathy tactics.”

Shiv's fingers began tapping together in impatience. “Okay. I’m going to ask you straight, Bonk: What do you want?”

“I told you: to fight and kill.” In this, the orc was utterly honest. “It’s not just the itch for me, Insul. It’s who I am. It’s what I want to be. I want to hit people with my large stick. I want to drag them down to the ground and strangle them—no matter how big or powerful they are, especially if they’re a mage. And frankly, I want to do it with you. It’s been, what, months since we had a fun adventure together? You, me, the others. You’ve been so caught up with your Republic and other business that you neglected all of us.” He paused, and cocked his head in thought. “All of us aside from that softskin, Helix—who you’re exploiting for knowledge rather than any genuine companionship. You are a cruel, cold ape, Insul. In the end, a lot of this is your fault. Your lack of care made me act out. And I will not be the last. Even a great emperor faces trouble when his harem is unsated.”

Shiv just stared. “Bonk. Did you just compare yourself to a concubine?”

Bonk once again turned away and looked upward at something unseen, perhaps a philosophical concept. “Am I not? Are we not, in effect, your prostitutes of war?”

Somehow, this caused the Beast of the Ninth Circle to rear its large head in consideration.

“No,” Shiv said immediately. The Beast crashed into him from behind with a low hiss, causing him to stumble. “Wha—the hells? It’s not a lie!”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Bonk held up a finger. “You think it’s not a lie, but functionally you may be untruthful yet. I see you deceive not only me, but also yourself.”

“The orc knows not the truth behind his words,” Kelhaus whispered across time.

The arteries behind Shiv’s eyes threatened to burst apart as his glare reached a new tier of intensity. And just then, perhaps unwilling to miss out on an opportunity to spike Shiv’s cortisol to new horizons and deliver upon him a most absurd aneurysm, the System delivered even more problems to Shiv’s doorstep in the form of a knock outside the door to the captain’s quarters.

Shiv called upon his Atlas on reflex—only to remember that his skill had evolved and fused. The funny thing about the Rat King was how it sank into the background of his mind when he wasn’t focusing on its existence. His Multitasking and Awareness clung to all that was organic within the Gate like a splay of fungal spores rooting themselves in vulnerable hosts. A hive of flaming organs coursed over the body of a particularly nervous Umbral Sister.

For a full half-second, Shiv found himself wondering what problems she carried with her. Then, the rest of his Gate-sized Awareness branded one of his connected synaptic echoes with all the information he needed.

Three kilometers away, an enormous, black-and-red-scaled dragon spread a miasma of alcoholic stink that came second to his overwhelming self-loathing. Marikos had garnered an audience of a few thousand, most looking on with slight tints of fear in their hearts, but yet greater fascination—morbid fascination, yet fascination nonetheless. He held a struggling Pathbearer between two claws, an elf by the look of things, who was squealing, begging for her life. She offered to return Marikos' earnings to him, saying that she didn't mind surrendering all she'd won from their game of dice and tides, but Marikos was no longer listening to her. Instead, he was caught in the nadir of his own miseries. If Marikos' soul had a shape, it would be a bottomless pit of defeat and humiliation, all self-inflicted, of course. He was a True Legend, unspeakably powerful when it came to his Pyromancy and Physicality. His Toughness was also a unique thing unto itself. Few could survive his wounds and simply come back.

This is a copied chapter. Its author posts it on their own site, and that's where your reading actually helps them.

By this point, Shiv understood enough of Marikos through observation to tell that whatever didn't kill him would soon be forgotten about. And as soon as he'd forgotten about it, he would forget about the literal injuries as well, shedding wounds as quickly as he shed his memories of them. But though he molted external injuries, he clung to the wounds that scarred his heart, and that was the worst thing about Marikos: he was a ticking bomb, always waiting to go off, and considering how dangerous he was, there were only so many people who could assuage Marikos when he succumbed to one of his tantrums.

And most often, that role fell to Shiv.

“Ridiculous as it is, I think Marikos might be a welcome refrain from all the time we've spent trying to discipline Bonk.” The words were partially born from exhaustion, but the Harbinger had a point there: Marikos was defusable. Bonk was simply Bonk. He would go seeking trouble if he was in a good mood, if he was in a bad mood, if he simply was.

At least Shiv knew the words to talk Marikos down. At least he could comfort him as one would a troubled child. The same couldn't be applied to many of the orcs and certain other personalities within the Gate.

Then a spark of inspiration struck Shiv as the Umbral outside the door knocked again. "Come in," he called. "And I already know; you don't need to tell me. I'll get over there before he kills anyone or starts screaming for someone to kill him. Are his companions nearby?”

The Honored Sister, one maybe the same age as him, took a half step into the room, fully expecting to brief Shiv, but her mouth remained a perfectly open circle, as her eyes mirrored the shape to fully convey her surprise. It took her a second to catch up to all of Shiv. “I am not certain, Legend Shiv. Tall Ben has returned to the Descenders Union and should be back in a few days or so, based on the last information that I've heard. Aside from him, the others should be near the surface gateway, discussing new treaty items with—uh…”

Shiv waved her off. It was likely she didn't know. That went beyond the purview of just an Honored Sister who probably spent more time patrolling and breaking up drunken brawls between Initiates. He viewed her empathetic core and immediately gained her measure. People were complicated and deep. Even the dullest person had their own unique assortment of experiences. They were like constellations in a way. All the minute connections, all the fine shapes that made up their soul and person, were fascinating to look upon.

Yet there was also a similarity, a general mold to people. He could tell this girl was a scout of some kind. Her Physicality betrayed that detail, and her eyes and ears were layered in a fine weave of unattuned mana, hinting at the Hypersense Awareness Evolution. More importantly, though, her lack of experience and general fear in the presence of the Deathless of Piet, paired with her burgeoning ambition, told him that she was at once a slight political animal, but also too timid to fully take advantage of that fact. Doubtless she was trying to absorb and remember details to impress him so that he could recall her later—yet now found herself overwhelmed and tripping over her words, the thoughts spilling out from her like leaks along a pipe.

“It's fine, it's fine,” Shiv said, his voice almost a sigh. “You did good. I'll be over in a second. Is there anything else, or is it just Marikos?”

He made eye contact with her, and she responded as if he'd smacked her across the jaw. Her heart rebounded with instinctive terror, and patches of darkness crept over her as his Trespasser found nourishment in her fear.

Shiv softened his glare, something he realized was still left over from the ongoing conversation with Bonk, and took a more gentle approach. "You did good," he repeated again. "But I need to know: Is there anything else? If I'm going to leave this room, I'd like to get everything done at the same time rather than going in and out over and over again.”

At that urging, she finally found her voice again, shaking her head as she tried to swallow the stone forming in her throat. "No, no," she stammered, “but I would—I mean, there are the representatives from Weave coming over later, and with the formal completion of the portal—” She froze, realizing that she was talking about the portal directly connected to the innermost sections of Weave. A portal located in Farnest, a portal that most shouldn't know about, especially not a bloodthirsty orc.

Bonk turned on his heels without twitching a muscle, the motion so slow and lacking in movement it bordered on the comical. He grinned at the Umbral, and then he went cross-eyed and began chewing on the head of his crude cudgel. “Oh, don't worry none about me, miss,” he babbled, words barely intelligible with the club in his mouth. “I don't think good at all. Bonked my big ol’ noggin on a rock I did. You can be loud and detailed as you want, and I won't remember it none.”

“Bonk, shut the fuck up,” Shiv deadpanned. Then, he drew upon his Snapshot Skill and pried the Umbral's name from the depths of his memory. “I thank you for your timely response, Sister Utax. I'll be sure to mention your service to Still Water later.”

While the girl’s fear still swelled, so too did the pride and disbelief inside her core. People were interesting. The spots of darkness around her popped like they were nothing more than oily bubbles. Soon, the dread within her cleared out as she stood up straighter, her neck aligned perfectly with her spine, as she offered Shiv a sharp salute and quickly departed, skipping joyously as soon as she was out of Shiv's direct line of sight.

Both Bonk and Shiv watched her leave the room, and the former turned his gaze upon the latter with a knowing glint as he removed the cudgel from his mouth. He didn't say anything, but they exchanged lines right then with nothing but a mutual stare. This one's real malleable, isn't she? They're so easy to read, so easy to manipulate, so needy—especially for approval.

Shiv's silent reply was far more straightforward. That's the nature of the animal sometimes. Besides, they only got one shot at life, and they share that one shot. You guys get as many go-arounds as you want, or the Challenger decides you can have. In that sense, we aren't who you are just by our decision alone. Even for you orcs.

The look between them lasted a half second, but Bonk's concession came just as fast. He angled his head and lowered his gaze in a gesture of acknowledgment. “Touché, Insul, touché. But now, I am curious: What are you going to do about that…” As amusing as Marikos’ emotional instability clearly was, Bonk rubbed the tips of his fingers together, as if searching for the most demeaning word he could. “…ridiculous, sad lizard, who debases himself so constantly?”

“Yeah, I feel the same way when one of my monsters takes a literal bite out of someone's ass,” Shiv drawled. “And you say what I'm going to do. No, it's what we're going to do, Bonk.”

For the first time, the orc blinked, surprise overtaking him as he took in Shiv's words. "What are we going to do?"

“Oh yeah, I'm not dealing with this alone. You came here to annoy me, didn't you, Bonk?” Shiv leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Well, congratulations. I have an idea about what kind of stuff we can both do. Kind of stuff that might not be combat, could just be chaotic and aggravating. I think this will be a good experience for the both of us, or at least good for a laugh."

Suddenly, Bonk didn't want to be in the room. He wanted to be anywhere else. “Oh no, I insist,” Shiv said, smiling genially. “I think, right, that since you're so bored that you are finding time to bother other people, maybe I should give you a role, an assistant role, if you will, not in the kitchen, which is obviously beneath you, but one in which we bother people together. You can be my secondary psychological minder. How about that? How does that sound?"

“Absolutely wretched. I refuse.”

“Oh, no, I insist, Bonk. I seriously insist. I've been doing this stuff alone for too long, been without help for too long. Now that you're here, since you have pretty good psychological insight as well, along with the rest of the orcs, I might as well recruit you into being kind of a problem-solving outfit, since I'm taking over more important in-Gate affairs.”

As Shiv's smile grew, Bonk's lips curved in the inverse, drooping lower than a frown. And it was that which gave Shiv all the motivation needed to continue. “Oh, come on, man. You might enjoy it. Since you always like prodding and pricking at people, you can help me do that in a positive way. It's either this or... Well, would you like to talk with Adam? I could tell him about your recent behavior. How do you think the Paragon will react when he hears that you've been misrepresenting him in front of our guests, actually outright offending—and biting—some of them? You are coming really close to damaging hospitality there, Bonk. He might have to punish you in public, in front of the other orcs. He might give you a terrible designation, hold you under his palm, or, I don't know, make you publicly apologize to Gunhead. Can you imagine that? An orc made to apologize to a Lone Star Ranger after taking a chunk outta his ass? That might be a historical first.”

Bonk almost started gagging on the images that were conjured. “Fine, fine, Insul, fine! I'll go around with you. I'll deal with these emotional errands you take upon yourself.” He cradled his weapon close to his chest and let out an uncertain breath. “I don't understand why you do it like this to begin with. With that Harbinger of yours, you can beat certain emotions into people. You can break certain emotions inside of them. Why haven't you simply grabbed the self-loathing possessed by that dragon and torn it out?”

“Because it's degenerate,” Shiv grunted.

“Degenerate,” Bonk repeated, a confused frown painting his statue-like features.

"Yeah, degenerate. I can pull out what he feels right now, but he's feeling that for a reason. He is the way he is for a reason. His legend has been shaped, and he needs to evolve on his own basis rather than my own. All this manipulation and outright control, it's more Veronica's thing. It's beneficial when you're running a large country and if you want to leash a few Legends into being your personal attack hounds, but…” Shiv shook his head. “Call it hubris or naivete, or whatever you want, honestly, but the way I see it, I don't want a world of slaves. That's been the common mistake I've been seeing, repeated since the beginning of time, or at least the beginning of time where integration is concerned. Everyone has been trying to mold someone else in their image: the Great One with the Thief, the Thief who has literally shed out fragments of himself to enjoy life because he can't do it the normal way. Then there's Veronica with me, then there's the Challenger with you, and then all the way down over and over again. No one seems to learn the lesson."

“And what is the lesson?” Bonk asked, genuinely curious now.

Shiv thought about that for a second and shrugged. “You know, maybe there's not one lesson, but at least the lesson to me is this: Yeah, all that power can let you change the world and change other people, but should you? And what does it do? What is it worth? Why are we changing anything at all?” As he spoke those words, he felt Kelhaus' presence loom ever closer. He grew conscious of his own thoughts and of his own behavior, of how he acted in accordance with the world and how the world acted upon him. “Bonk, it's impossible to be divorced from the world in all ways. I can see that. I'm getting to know that more and more, but it's also stupid to try and force your understanding or whatever enlightenment you personally have on someone else. And ultimately, just because I can neuter Marikos doesn't mean it's a good idea to do so. It might be less annoying for me. It might be beneficial. But is he still gonna be Marikos afterwards? How many times am I going to do it over and over again, and if I start with him, why not move on to others? No. I think Adam got it right. Tyranny is a precious thing, and if you keep pressing down on everyone all the time, then eventually it's just going to be a reflex, and at some point, you're going to make the wrong choice—you're going to try to enslave the wrong person.”

Bonk was silent for a moment. “Is that why you never intended to actually harm me? Despite the threats?”

Shiv looked at him as if he was stupid. “Don't be ridiculous, Bonk. I don't intend to harm you because I don't think I reliably can. You know yourself better, and I know you plenty good. Among all the orcs, there are still differences. You all had the itch, and you're all immoral and all that, but it's not exactly the same thing either. Just as most of the Umbrals and other people have patterns, so do you. Helix yearns. That's why he's easier to hurt. The Culturist yearns. He, among the whole of you, is the most human. You don't yearn, Bonk. You are in some way a more perfect animal and orc than all your other brothers. You like to fight. You like to give pain. You like to cause pain. It is who you were, even beyond the itch. But you also like pretending to be stupid and learning new things. As far as I'm concerned, the System has found its ideal in you and the Challenger.”

Shiv threw up his hands. “Not that I can't punish you. It's just that I can't really inflict the same kind of damage on you that I can on someone else.” He paused and reconsidered that. “Or maybe I can. Maybe I could ball my Harbinger’s fists and hammer things into you, pound a real conscience into your heart, fill you with all that stuff the other people have over the course of weeks, months, and years until you're, I wouldn't say, fuller of personality, but more symmetrical with everyone else. Then I can hurt you the same way. But it's the same thing again as Marikos, Bonk. Am I actually hurting you, or am I just hurting another caricature of you that I've made? Questions, questions, and all of them asked too infrequently.”

Slowly, Bonk folded his arms and regarded Shiv with an apprehensive stare. “Are you alright, Insul?”

“Well, you're going to have to be more specific—but I'm guessing you're asking if there's something wrong with me.”

Bonk hummed. “Not wrong. You just feel different. More considerate. More… terrifyingly insightful.”

“Terrifyingly insightful,” Shiv echoed, deadpan. “Yeah, kiss my ass some more, Bonk.”

“It is not that you are a different person. But you were bribable before—pathetically so. Though you had the capability, you ignored or let so many things slip by. Now it's like you are more there.” Bonk hesitated. “More present all the time. Sometimes the bulk of you slips away behind your eyes, and you're more like us: an animal in motion, a beast waiting for his turn at meat. I look upon you now, as you have been condemned to this place in your time of training—in your time of acclimation, I see the beast receding slightly into the back, still there, but coated, consumed. Like there's someone else around you.”

And of all people, it was Bonk's words that strummed a twang of nervousness into Shiv. There was something around him. Someone. But Kelhaus wasn't a manipulator. She wasn't so much shaping him in her mold.

Or was she? The thought crossed Shiv, but it collapsed as Kelhaus prodded him to properly consider the possibility of that. He knew well enough by now that anyone who was trying to groom you didn't want you to truly notice that fact, but the Legend-Philosopher operated along layers of complexity and used concepts he could scarcely fathom.

“Let's just say that my education is growing more comprehensive and that having a lot of different masters is giving me more perspective,” Shiv muttered. “And let's just say this development was far too long overdue anyway. You can’t stay an animal forever if you want to hold your own leash.”

Rat King of the Infested Skein 204 > 215

Suffer the Implacable Dialectic 194 > 198

Shiv called up his last few notifications again and felt the gains burning inside him. There was something different about his growth now that he was given time to savor and study them. The strife was still hot upon his flesh and soul, but amongst the titans of civilization, he was granted an aegis of respite, and for the first time, he felt like the things inside of him were hardening to support all of the power that dictated his ability to affect the world without.

Balance is a funny thing. You don’t realize its existence until you get a measure of it, and you don’t mourn its lack until you realize how miserable life was until you gained it.

Shiv stood up and clapped his hands together. “Alright. Enough of this navel-gazing. Come on, Bonk. Let’s go see about a dragon’s demons.”