Mercy didn’t have anything positive to say about the Flesh-warped Soldier, so she asked a question instead.
“How do you intend to prevent the Soldiers from turning on your own men?” Mercy asked.
“We have a chemical control system, of course. We perfected it long ago. It’s foolproof.”
[It’s not foolproof,] Dross whispered.
No matter how she or the Abidan consulted Fate, the destiny of this world was always headed to the same destination: a burning wasteland of two suns inhabited only by shambling hunks of flesh that mindlessly devoured everything in their path.
That was the problem Mercy had come to solve. But she had to meet the people involved first.
Mercy snapped her black-gloved fingers as though something had just occurred to her. “You know what, Bardolph, I do have some information for you!”
The green light in his glass eyes gleamed. Mercy turned and waved out the window, stretching her will toward a seed she’d planted outside the city.
“Grow,” Mercy commanded.
The Joy Icon responded, flooding the seed with life.
In moments, a tree was visible outside the city skyline. It looked as though it were made of blue-and-white crystal, and it spread diamond leaves as it grew higher and higher.
The people in the city below were likely terrified, but there was nothing Mercy could do about that.
“What is that?” Bardolph asked. He gripped the railing at the edge of his window looking out over the city. He seemed fascinated.
“It’s usually called a World Tree! Just by being nearby, it will begin cleaning the earth and sky. It even drops enough fruit to feed this city and the surrounding area.”
The High Priest of Reason looked up into the jeweled leaves that spread over his tower. “Beautiful,” he said, and Mercy felt some hope for him.
Then he continued that statement with, “My forces will secure the tree. We can sell the fruits to the other cities. Tell me, how did you grow the crops so quickly? I will keep the technique proprietary, of course.”
“No need! I’m going to give every city a World Tree of its own.”
“That’s unnecessary.”
“And I’m taking your Soldier. It’s disgusting and terrifying and it will always, always break out.”
“Stop this! I will—”
Mercy didn’t listen. She swallowed the Soldier up with shadow and annihilated it. “Please remember that self-replicating undead soldiers are not good weapons. Please remember that. I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea in the first place.”
The High Priest of Reason shrieked out a harsh word, and security measures activated all over the laboratory. Guns thundered to life, firing heavy bullets that hit Mercy’s armor and had their momentum devoured, clinking harmlessly to the floor.
[“Guns,”] Dross said. [“Bullets.” Fun words!]
“Guns make so much noise!” Mercy said loudly.
Bardolph stumbled back.
She smiled as she pointed to the tree. “Keep the tree healthy! It can only purify so much before it starts to wither. If it dies, I’m going to come back, and I’ll have to kill you. I’m sorry! Keep it alive and you’ll be fine, okay?”
After waving good-bye, Mercy transported herself straight to the ruined throne room of Sulthurus.
He exclaimed loudly and overturned a dinner table as she appeared out of nowhere, but she went on normally.
“I’ve already taken the Second Sun away,” Mercy said. “It’s gone! Please don’t make another one. In exchange…”
Before Sulthurus could respond, she summoned a pair of Great Bison.
Outside. The Bison each had legs like full-grown trees. They loomed over the ruins and peeked their heads inside to low at her.
“I have ten thousand more I can send,” she called over the sound of the Bison. “Cute, aren’t they? Turns out they show up in other worlds too. I can’t carry that many with me, but I’ll send them over in the next few weeks.”
Sulthurus frowned over the Bison. “If this is true…the Second Sun is a fair trade.”
“I like you better than the ghost-robot.”
[“Robot!”] Dross exclaimed. [We get to use so many fun words today.]
“You met with the Servants of Ruin?” the Scorched King demanded. His beard flared hot.
“Oh, right! One more thing! Heal.”
At the command, the Way spun into action. It wasn’t easy to restore damage that was so old, and so significant to Sulthurus himself, but the scars on the side of his face reversed themselves. New, healthy flesh was born.
Soon enough, a full beard burned merrily on the face of the Fire Giant king. He blinked and touched fingers to his cheek, an expression of disbelief.
“There you go! Oh, and I gave some big trees to the Ulethians. Don’t hurt them! If the Bisons or the Trees are gone, I’ll come back. And then I’ll have to kill you. Or whoever’s responsible.”
Sulthurus gave a deep chuckle. “You?”
“Yeah! Just keep the Bison and the Trees alive, and there’s nothing to worry about! But don’t cross me. But enjoy! But don’t make me come back, okay?”
[We’re clear on the Fate end,] Dross reported. [Their legends of you are going to get…weird.]
Wait, how weird? Mercy asked. How weird, Dross?
Dross wouldn’t answer her.
In the depths of the labyrinth, Lindon opened the Soulforge. He didn’t let the portal to the space close; this was the perfect place to make these weapons. If he hadn’t had the Soulforge, he would be using some of the Soulsmith facilities in the labyrinth itself.
Dross sighed as they entered the starry pocket space with the floating platform of stone. [I can’t help but imagine all the unexplored space left in the labyrinth. It will be a shame to leave it behind when we ascend.]
Lindon hesitated before responding. “Yes. It will.”
[What does that mean? Why aren’t you as depressed about this as I am?] Dross tried to rummage around in his thoughts, but Lindon stopped him. [Wha—Are you blocking me out? You can’t block me out!]
“I’ll tell you,” Lindon assured him. “Just…not now.”
Dross continued grumbling as they prepared the Soulforge. The stone wedges beneath Lindon’s feet shone, their runes lit. The stars in the distance shimmered as though they could sense what would happen, and Lindon tossed a handful of dust into the center of the silver altar.
The blue flames inside the silver half-column flared. That dust carried great significance.
Onto the altar, Lindon placed two swords. One was black, with a line through the middle of its blade where it had been broken and restored. The second was white and in several pieces.
Netherclaw was more suited for this than the Sword Sage’s blade was, but Lindon wanted to use them both.
Then, from his soulspace, he produced the core binding of the Bleeding Phoenix.
It resembled a sealed egg, like a giant shark’s egg, with a leathery shell so thin that dark shapes could be seen moving within. Lindon examined it with his spiritual sense, musing on its nature with Dross, as Ozmanthus Arelius’ skills whispered advice into the back of his mind.
As he thought, he spun Genesis in his left hand. The two-headed hammer had grown stronger and metaphysically heavier with every Dreadgod weapon he made, and now he sensed eagerness from it.
The burning Blackflame end yearned to imbue destructive power to this sword, while the blue-white pure madra end sang a song of harmony and compatibility.
Both sides of the hammer would be used in this. It was no simple project.
When Lindon, with the assistance of Dross and Ozmanthus, had agreed on a final vision, he got to work.
With each swing, he focused on chasing down an elusive feeling. A problem that haunted him every time he worked in the Soulforge.