“Wasn’t his entire schtick being left alone?” Ali says. “The entire false Forbidden Zone and everything.”
“He might exaggerate the level of his neutrality,” Feh’ral says, fingers back in front of his body and tented. He turns, his entire body floating around to stare at his golden book. A moment later, the book shrinks and flies back into his hand. “If he did not, did you think I would have sent you to him? The Lord has always had conflicts with both the Council and what we now know to be the Administrators.”
“Why…? Oh. The Forbidden Zones.” I nod. “They have no control in there, do they?”
Feh’ral inclines his head and I snort, pushing myself the rest of the way to my feet. I idly tap a few things and send off the Hod, watching as it pulls itself into a shattered cube before blipping away, sent off for fixing. I just hope they can get it sorted before I need it again.
Who am I kidding? They won’t.
“Is Harry okay?” Mikito asks, looking at the still-present bubble of the Sanctum.
I turn my head to follow her gaze, then glance at the party interface. “He’s alive.”
“But silent.”
I have nothing to add to that. I hope he’s fine, but the silence is less than promising. It’s possible that he’s unconscious as well, but his status effects don’t show that. Which might mean he’s catatonic in an entirely, non-System way.
Unable to do anything about that for now, I turn to Feh’ral. “I'm glad to see you.”
As my body continues to patch itself together, I breathe slowly, wishing I had the Mana to cast a Cleanse. I reek of the toxins and poisons from the corpses and Wex’s bile, all mixed with the remnants of my flesh and organs.
Non-combat Class or not, the gods damned Administrator really showed me what the System Edit Skill could do in a fight. I need to learn how to do the things he did—and how to protect myself and my friends.
Thankfully, the vast majority of the things he Edited are being fixed by the System as it reverts me to its baselines stats, dealing with the problematic issues the Administrator created. Anything the System doesn’t get around to, I’ll handle. Once I stop hurting.
“I take it that the Questors have voted,” I say when Feh’ral doesn’t answer. “It’s good to have you guys on board.”
“No,” Feh’ral says.
“What?” I shout.
Feh’ral inclines his head, as if my expression of emotion is something wrong. “The Questors have decided that your information is good. They commend you. They offer you this…”
Congratulations! Title Granted: Innovative Questor
You have contributed a significant piece of information to the Questor library. You have been hereby granted a new Title. Your word and research data will be given more weight during the System Quest studies.
Effect: Reputation increased with all Questors. Reputation decreased with other factions.
I scroll through the notification quickly, then dismiss it with an angry wave. “I don't want a consolation prize. I want to know why you all aren’t helping.”
“The information was good, but insufficient. The information provided increased a number of Quest completion rates. But it was insufficient to provide a marked and universal increase.” Feh’ral’s hands open wide, as if to say what can you do. “The information has been banked. It will be dispersed. It will not be lost. The sacrifice has been noted.”
I find myself shouting, “That's it? That’s all you’re going to do? Because you guys didn't get enough of a completion rate, you just pat us on the head and let my world, let us, die? Just because you can’t fulfill enough of your damn Quest?” I’m angry, and if my chest, my body burns with anger—and lingering damage—it also helps me avoid the thought that I have done much the same before. Chosen the Quest over others, over the individual good.
Feh’ral nods impassively.
“If that’s the case, what the hell are you doing here?” I snap.
Mikito watches us calmly, though I note her hand has dropped low, in the position she uses for calling forth her weapon. The motion which would allow to swing it up and bisect Feh’ral if needed. Ali, on the other hand, is looking… well, conflicted. Between being amused at my reaction and horror at the implications.
Feh’ral grins, and I find myself shivering. That damn #creepylibrarian still makes me shudder. “I disagreed with the majority. As did a few others. We believe you can lead us to more, to the completion of our most sought-after desire. And, I believe, where you go is where I must too.”
I growl, ignoring the rather obvious conversational bait. “So you're here by yourself.”
I shut my eyes, forcing some calm over myself. A hand presses something into my hands and I look at it, spotting a chunk of chocolate. Ali gives me one of his shit-eating grins even as I debate throwing the hunk of liquid sunshine at him.
“Hey, at least we got a Legendary on our side,” Ali says.
I let out another groan but decide against the blasphemy and pop the chocolate into my mouth. He is right. We do have a new dangerous and creepy ally. It’s not what I wanted, but he came when we needed him. When we would have fallen.
As I stare around the shattered, broken domain, I shake my head. In the distance, the windows—thankfully one-way—showcase the voting hall. All of this, all this fighting, and we’re not done yet.
For there’s still what we came here to do. The final piece of my plan. And after that… well.
Perhaps the Questors are right to abandon us.
Chapter 24
We walk forward as the System strains to clean and put the domain back into place. Thankfully, System-chicanery means that no one noticed the fight within. Or if they did, they ignored it.
It’s still weird, shifting from a life-and-death struggle to just silence, to boredom and a moment of relaxation. Or as relaxed as you can get, knowing that you might have enemy fighters running in at any time to end you. It’s a weird mixture of boredom and tension, of breathless waiting and shuddering, tension-escaping moments.
The calm after a hurricane hits, after the earthquake has come and gone, while you’re waiting to see if there are aftershocks. When you have to get on with life, but you’re unsure if your world is about to come apart once more.
Before the windows, I come to a stop. For the first time, I can look properly at the chamber for the Galactic Council. The center of power for the System supposedly, the place where the galaxy revolves. Except we know that for the lie it is.
Seats abound, all facing a giant stage. The council chamber looks too big and too small at the same time. Too small to contain the entire galaxy’s places of power and too big, for it extends on and on, the farthest windows no larger than half the size of my hand. On the sloping ground, along a trio of open air mezzanine locations, are benches and tables for those with less power or who desire to be closer to the action.
From speaking with Katherine, I know each chamber’s windows shift, optimizing the view of occupied locations. Unoccupied chambers are shifted back by more System chicanery.
The whole room is shaded steel grey, illuminated by purple and blue lighting, with minor variations in lighting depending on the section. I absently note small force bubbles in certain areas, set up so that individuals with noncarbon-based, nonoxygen-breathing genetics are able to interact and exist. Some of those bubbles contain water, liquid nitrogen, liquid carbon, magma, and in one case—well separated from everyone else—plasma. The wide variety of aliens that make up the System can be seen in both the kinds of environments they require and the caution taken by others interacting with them.