Transcending Limitations

by Brian Wilkerson

  “STOP!”

  All of them obeyed, if only out of surprise. With her flower crown as her only sign of authority, Zettai addressed her clan.

  “New Blood, you acknowledge my father as the legitimate chief, right?”

  “Yes, we do,” one of them said. “That’s why we fight.”

  “Then on his behalf, please don’t. He wouldn’t want to you to die, and neither do I.”

  They considered this and, one by one, they backed up and sheathed their weapons.

  “Old Blood, do you realize what you’re doing?”

  One stepped forward and shouted, “Killing the heretics and preserving our traditions!”

  “That’s the same thing that the Crimson Purgers said in 1324 A.A. at their trial for the murder of Kaluk IV and his immediate family,” Zettai said. “They were punished by having their blood drained down to the last drop and tossed into a hazardous waste receptacle!”

  Every single Old Blood member looked at her in surprise. In some of them, this quickly turned to shame as they realized the truth of her words. In others, it became a form of respect; they didn’t know the abomination took her studies into their history seriously. A large portion of them, however, still looked with hate and disgust.

  “I know that you don’t approve of Bladi Conversion,” Zettai said, “and guess what? I don’t either! It was the most painful thing that’s ever happened to me, and when you live on the streets of Ceiha and are imprisoned in its jails, you are well acquainted with pain! If someone were to inflict it on someone else, I would join you in stopping them, even if it were my dad!”

  She took a breath.

  “However, I don’t regret the Bladi Conversion because it was through Bladi Conversion that my dad became my dad. My vacation with him was the greatest time of my life. I want to stay with him and make him proud of me. I wish he could have sired me the official way, but he’d need to get married for that and you know as well as I do that’s never going to happen.”

  Chuckles escaped a few mouths and tension left more faces.

  “As long as I’ve known him, he’s rejected out of hand any woman who didn’t have pink hair,” said one of the New Blood.

  “I remember the first time he brought a girl home,” one of the Old Blood said. “He made so many faux pas that she slapped him and stormed out.”

  “ENOUGH!” Tarquin yelled. Stepping forward, he pointed his ax at Zettai. “The fact remains that she is an abomination and her father declared his intent to create more! According to the Law of Luke, we cannot suffer either of them to live!”

  “That is your interpretation, Tarquin,” Logius said. “I reviewed the Law of Luke while bedridden and in particular the sections regarding Bladi Conversion. I also checked the written history of our family. This is what I have found.”

  She walked to Zettai and the girl’s escorts prepared to attack. Zettai waved them away in response. Logius smiled at the little girl and received an uneasy smile back. Next, Logius addressed the clan at large.

  “Luke himself experimented with Bladi Conversion. After determining how painful it is, among other things, he forbade anyone else from using it. There is no record of him killing any of the converts that he himself created. On the contrary, they lived and worked with him. In fact, he considered their children to be equal with his own children.”

  This last sentence angered Tarquin so much he aimed his ax at her instead of Zettai. He lowered it after Yulyn brandished his war hammer at him. Logius continued speaking.

  “Maybe he thought them abominable and only tolerated them out of a sense of responsibility. Maybe he thought them family and treasured their existence. Which one is not written and so we do not know. What we know is that Basilard did not initiate Zettai’s conversion and that The Trickster had to twist his arm into finishing it. Given these circumstances, what Zettai has declared here before us all, and the chaotic origin of our family, I believe we should make a special exception.”

  Her eyes passed over the crowd and acknowledged a wide degree of acceptance. Both Old and New Blood nodded their heads at her reasonable words. Tarquin was not one of them.

  “What about Basilard?” He waved his ax so fast it whistled in the air. “Surely you cannot say that we should allow him to continue as our chief!”

  “We all knew Basilard thought that way,” Yulyn said. “It is of no consequence that he speak it aloud, given the treatment he has received from his family for so many years. So long as he doesn’t turn into another ‘Mr. 15,’ we should continue to advise him.”

  Tarquin stared murder at his fellow Bladi council members. “I will never accept her.” Addressing Zettai, he added, “Ever.” She stared back bravely. Turning to Logius, he said, “But neither will I bear animosity towards anyone who chooses to accept her. That is their Lady-Chaos-given free will, and as it was an Avatar of Chaos who saved Luke and provided the means for creating BloodDrinker, I will respect such gifts from her.”

  He retreated into the crowd accompanied by his followers. Zettai slouched and sighed. Then she ran to Plas, hugged his legs, and thanked him with an “Uncle Plas.” This delighted the man so much, he picked her up and spun her about. This delighted her so much, she smiled and giggled. Tasio hovered to Eric, who was enjoying the scene.

  “Are you ready to move on now?”

  Eric nodded.

  Chapter 17 Cheap Immortality...

  “What do you think?”

  Zettai twirled in her father’s bedroom. She wore her usual clothes, but now they were underneath a black cloak. It was Neuro’s cloak, repurposed for her use as a Necro Penitent. The hem, sleeves, and hood were cut to fit and the remaining pieces were reused as a satchel and other items. Over her back was Neuro’s copy of the Book of Death and the harness he carried it in. In one hand, she carried a sickle made from Neuro’s mortal scythe. Basilard smiled from his bed.

  His daughter was safe, his student was safe, BloodDrinker would return to him any time now, and his clan was at peace again. If only he could get out of this bed! Annala’s anti-Bladi poison was frighteningly effective. Despite Noisop’s skill and the power of healing magic, it would be a while before he was combat ready again.

  “You are the cutest cleric ever.”

  Zettai pouted. “I don’t think the lost spirits of the world will care how cute I am.”

  “But they will,” Basilard said while continuing to smile. “They’ll allow you to reap them in exchange for a smile or a hug.”

  The idea made her giggle. Then she became solemn. “I doubt it will be that easy. This is supposed to be penance.”

  “You are correct.” Neuro stepped out of Zettai’s shadow and loomed over her. His sudden presence startled her, but she willed herself to remain still and tall. “You might even die. After all, you are filling in for me. Many of the souls you will hunt will be deranged with grief and loneliness.”

  “I can handle it!” Zettai declared. “I said it in Ceiha and I’ll say it again now: I ain’t afraid of no ghosts!”

  From out of nowhere, a wriggling mass of dark fire erupted in front of her. A monster’s face appeared within.

  “BOO!”

  “AHH!”

  The fire chuckled. Then it retracted and compressed into a human form. This human was male, red-haired, and dressed like a mercenary.

  “Captain Specius was right; that is fun,” Eric said. “Ahem. Basilard, I forgive you for attacking my girlfriend and trying to kill me, for I am a merciful god.” He lounged backwards like The Trickster. “Feel free to sing hymns in praise of me.”

  “Thank you,” Basilard said, deadpan. Eric had been dropping by every hour, on the hour, since the day before, to say the same thing. At first, it had been painful, but now it was just annoying. “Now why are you really here?”

  Eric sat up. “Okay, to business: Kallen and I are planning a campaign in Mithra as part of our Chaos Avatar prep and based on what we’ve learned so far—”

  Zettai jumped behind him a
nd wrapped her cloak around herself. It negated the purple energy beam heading his way. Then she threw her sickle and nailed the assailant to the entrance wall. It wriggled but could not escape the holy blade. It could only shriek in agony. Neuro examined it and pulled out a book.

  “Congratulations, Zettai. You’ve caught your first spirit and it’s a criminal one too.”

  “Really?!”

  “Roger A Ghol, formerly human, and wanted for dissolving three souls for their paku in order to power his spells.” He put the book away in favor of a gourd. “It’s the same sort of soulcraft he used to attack Mr. Watley.” To the struggling spirit, he said, “Roger A Ghol, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  “Gruffle promised me absolution!”

  This was all he managed before the gourd sucked him inside. Neuro plugged it and put a paper seal over it, describing its occupant. Then he returned the gourd to where it came.

  “Mr. Watley, I warn you against complacency. You may be an ageless god now, but that doesn’t mean you cannot be killed.”

  “I knew it...” Eric said, slouching. “Cheap immortality...”

  “Reapers can still kill you,” Neuro continued. “I lack the authority myself, but Samael possesses it and she can extend this authority to those that she deems have need of it.”

  “There is a host of spells that can be used to attack the spirit,” Basilard added. “Such as that purple beam. Normally, they’re used against moral targets, but they would still be effective against a divine target. Don’t get careless.”

  Eric slouched deeper. “Yes, Daylra, I’ll be careful.” He assumed a thinking pose. “It’s odd, now that I think about it. I’m a god now; a minor god but a god nonetheless, and yet I am less immortal than I was when I had a Seed of Chaos.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be more immortal than the elves once I become the Avatar of Chaos.”

  “More immortal than elves? That is something I would like to patent.”

  Kaiba Gunrai knocked on the open door. His twin assistants followed him inside. BloodDrinker’s scabbard was attached to his waist.

  “In fact, I have my R&D department working on it as we speak.” Gunrai removed BloodDrinker from his belt and held it up. “This is also something I’d like to reproduce but the patent belongs to someone else.”

  He tossed it to Basilard, who caught it in both hands. The sword glowed and hummed. Red light traveled through Basilard’s arms to the rest of his body. It shined in his eyes. For the second time, Zettai saw his face taken over by pure blood lust. Then he blinked and it was gone. He placed the sheathed sword in his lap.

  “Basilard Bladi, this completes our contract,” Gunrai said.

  “How did you ‘fill my need’?” Basilard asked. “The contract didn’t say specifically.”

  “I’m a corporate big wig, so I solved your problem like I do all my own; I outsourced to a contract worker and sued the organization causing the problem.” Gunrai bowed his head. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.” Raising his head, he turned it to Eric.

  “Mr. Watley, our meeting is fortuitous for the both of us. I was going to contact you to pick up your girlfriend because her shift is over.”

  The temperature of the room increased as Eric’s flames intensified. “What did you say?”

  “Annala Enaz, like her mother before her, has been helping me with R&D but in a different capacity. It is the same sort of job that Ginger Hasina once offered you.”

  Eric’s spiritual eyes went wide as the memory zoomed to the front of his mind. “How would you like to be a vital member of a groundbreaking research team?” It was code for “experimental research subject.” The ground underneath his feet melted.

  “How is she?”

  “Sleeping off the exertion,” Gunrai said. “It was a trying day.”

  “Where can I find her?”

  “I’m not sure. She took off in a hurry. All I can do is show you the security footage.”

  He snapped his fingers and his assistants produced a large screen CV from a zerofinite bag. One of them turned it on and the other pressed play. The screen flashed into focus.

  The camera recorded a laboratory with frightful machines. They surrounded and loomed over an operating table. Annala lay bound spread-eagle upon it.

  Holding her in place were manacles of golden-brown light. They encircled her wrists, ankles, waist, and neck. She yanked, twisted, and shimmered, but they held her fast. Through his fury, Eric recognized the restraints as the very same energy she used in her magic.

  Her eyes darted from one dread machine to the next. After seeing the insides of mana mutation labs such as her mother’s, Eric could imagine the thoughts running through her head: What do those things do? How painful is it going to be? What shape will I be in afterwards? Her habit was still in place, but it was a cold comfort in the light of the machines hovering above her.

  The camera swiveled to a nearby room where Gunrai sat in the control station. At his fingertips was a host of levers, buttons, and dials. From behind a thick and runed glass pane, he looked down at her with an eager light in his eyes and a sinister smile upon his lips.

  “I suppose you’re wondering how it all came to this, am I right?”

  Annala nodded. She couldn’t speak because of a gag in her mouth.

  “You are so powerful you can block a reaper with a weapon you made yourself and you are so wise and cunning that you can outsmart him in both battle and in possible futures. Yet now you yourself have been outwitted and rendered powerless. As obvious as it may seem, I am responsible for your current predicament.”

  He started up the machines and their limbs approached her. Electricity crackled in one with an electromagnet at its head and giant scissors clamped back and forth in another.

  “The less obvious answer is how and it is something I will explain as I work.”

  A trio of monitors settled over Annala. She tensed and closed her eyes. They ran beams of light over her, plucked at her hairs, prodded her body, and cut off pieces of skin.

  “I came home to Dnnac Ledo for the annual festival. I was just looking for new talent, and I found something much better. Nunnal’s girl was present twice, one mainstream and the other as a time displaced duplicate.”

  Annala looked shocked and then grunted as a machine clamped on her right arm.

  “Oh, don’t give me that look. It was easy to see the difference. I came to the only possible conclusion. So I checked my Map of Possible Paths in Time to see if anyone was traveling the local time stream at a different rate than one second towards the future. Sure enough, there was Nunnal’s girl going back and forth. Not only that, but she was spreading her consciousness over many timelines, and all of them centered around the fate of Eric Watley. It was quite touching.”

  The stare became a glare and she shouted something muffled. The shout became a whimper when five syringes plunged into her left arm and stomach.

  “It wasn’t hard to put all the pieces together, and when I did, I realized that I had the opportunity of an elven lifetime. A specimen with two seeds of chaos and direct contact with Lady Chaos would provide a substantial boost to any field I cared to venture into. I am particularly interested in pioneering space colonization and dimensional travel.”

  So many instruments crowded Annala that they obscured her from the camera’s view. All Eric could see was the blood covering them as they withdrew.

  “That’s why I provided Meza with so much free equipment for his raid into Latrot. He was eager to believe that it was racism or patriotism that motivated me. In a way it was, but in another way, it wasn’t. Regardless, I knew this to be the situation where you became, or shall I say, would become, so valuable to me.”

  A chaotic aura forced the machines away, then it was absorbed by yet another machine and stored inside a special jar. Annala whimpered again as the energy left her.

  He gave his culture’s folk hero faulty equipment so he could kidnap and experiment on a fellow elf? E
ric’s spirit pupils slit and his hands became claws. This guy is as bad as Dengel!

  “You dropped off my radar entirely after that, but I wasn’t worried. I knew you would return to protect that boy you love so much, so I helped Gruffle regularly endanger him. Yes, I am the one who told him to steal your hair, I am the one who rounded up the rogue spirits with his authority, and I am the one who guided him in rousing the elemental spirits against Eric, and Kallen too, just to be sure.”

  This angered Annala enough to renew her struggles. Gunrai pressed a button and shock coils activated in the operating table. They electrocuted her back into submission.

  “Gruffle was not my only agent; remember that batch of elves you freed? One of them worked for me. When I ordered the batch from Latrot, I specified a fresh slave be included. ‘Bring me the hair of Annala Enaz and I will purchase the freedom of your family.’ He was quite eager to fill my need. I should have started with that plan.”

  The scissor machine cut off the rest of her hair as he said this. Then a scalpel and an ice cream scoop took its place.

  “With that lock of hair in my possession, I could work sympathy magic to hijack your random teleport. As we speak, my entire corps of ‘fake’ ordercrafters are merging their power to keep you bound here. I even threw in a couple Omni Golems for good measure. Thus does mass production triumph over uniqueness!”

  Annala sobbed as the instruments continued their work. Even so, she tried to make herself heard through their noise and her gag.

  “Don’t say it. I know what you’re thinking.” Gunrai shifted into Annala and, in her voice, he wailed, “You’re insane! I’m in pain! Eric, save me!” He chuckled while transforming back into himself; her soft voice changing to his deeper one mid-glee. “Seriously, you’re wondering ‘Why did he go to so much trouble? I would have helped if he asked!’ and I have the answer.”

  He pulled a lever and another device lowered.

  “Why would I ask raw material? Should I request permission from trees before cutting them down? Should I make a treaty with ore before I dig it up? You are not a business partner, a vendor, or a contract employee; you are a thing from which other things are extracted. I will take what I want for the sake of scientific progress and economic opportunity without any concern for rights, regulations, morals, traditions, or any other such Order Orthodoxy way of thinking. That, little priestess, is the true way of chaos and the form of Lady Chaos that I worship.”