None of them realize I can see them. I let out a breath when I realize this, relief trickling through my system; as lifelike as these Firmant mimics are, I don't think they're actually alive. I'm not even sure this is a trap anymore. Not an intentional one, at least. There is danger here, but the silhouettes aren't moving with intent — they're just drifting toward the closest source of Firmant.
It's the reason they went for Ahkelios first. The mantis bats at one of them as they co close to him again, grumbling, and the Firmant figure flinches and drifts away. I narrow my eyes as I watch it, trying to figure out what it is and what it wants.
They're Firmant constructs, in a way — just like Ahkelios. Imbued with a little less life and personality than he is, perhaps. More constrained by the Interface. I can almost see its Firmant, near-invisible chains that dig deep into the raw foundation of these false Ringmasters...
I almost turn my gaze to Ahkelios, wondering if I can see the sa thing within him, but I feel a brush of his mind against mine through our link. Don't. You won't like what you see. I trust you'll work on it like you said.
There's sothing in the way he says it...
I push away the impulse to look.
"You're starting to freak out," Thaht mutters. I wave a distracted hand at him.
"Sorry. Can't explain right now." I sweep my gaze between each silhouette, trying to identify their differences. One of them is the one I spoke with, surely? But none of them strike as familiar.
Maybe none of them are. Maybe there's a fifth fragnt sowhere, or there's sothing that has to happen for these Firmant constructs to be shifted into reality.
There's only one thing I know for sure here: this has sothing to do with the Interface.
Maybe it's ti I start experinting with it.
Firmant Control.
The Interface is, at its core, a construct of Firmant. The only difference I find between it and the rest of the Firmant around is that sothing about it is rendered inviolate — I can't reach it with my skills. Even if I could, I'm not sure I want to try. It's tied directly to the core of my Firmant, and the little I can detect of the machinery it's composed of is so complex I'm more likely to tear myself apart by accident than accomplish anything useful.
Show the shop window, I direct. It's the only thing in the Interface I know for certain is tied to the Ringmaster in so way. Sure enough, I see so of the chanisms within the Interface begin to move — little plates of Firmant shifting, flickers of power flickering between invisible points that are still beyond my senses.
Then the whole thing stops.
[ The Craven Arena shop is not currently available. ]
I know.
But I see the lever it uses. The ntal command pulls on sothing in the Interface. I pull on my Firmant, extracting the raw stuff from my core and shaping it into a loop. That loop I pull tight around the so-called lever that the Interface uses.
I may not be able to use my skills on the Interface's Firmant, but that doesn't an I can't affect it at all.
[ The Craven Arena shop is not currently available. ]
I pull harder.
[ The Craven Arena shop is not currently available. ]
Harder.
[ The Craven Arena shop is not currently available. ]
"Uh, Ethan?" Ahkelios says out loud. "Are you sure—"
"Help ," I say quietly.
If there's anything I can say about my circumstances, it's that I'm not moving fast enough. Too many things to do, not enough ti.
This is the first ti I've had the opportunity to force the Interface to behave in a certain way — to make it bend to my whims, and not that of the Integrators. I can't say I know for certain this will work, but I want it to. If I can do this — if I can iterate on it, gain better control of the Interface — I'm going to have an advantage none of the other Trialgoers do.
And while that's not sothing I've thought about until now, now that it's occurred to , I find myself seized by an inexplicable want. I feel sothing stirring within , the aching echo of the Void, that endless desire for strength. For once, we're aligned on this desire.
All this sneaking around has just shown that I need to be stronger.
"Please," I add.
I feel Ahkelios join his strength with mine. I feel his quiet acquiescence, a asure of his strength and his experience join with my Firmant. My will joins with his own, and together, we pull.
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You know this isn't supposed to be possible. Ahkelios's voice echoes through our bond. It's surprisingly warm. In the ti I've known him, I've seen him cheeky, sarcastic, vulnerable, pained... This is just affection. Confidence.
When has that stopped us? I say..
I hear his chuckle. Good answer.
The lever moves.
I see Firmant being drawn from sowhere — so impossibly large engine that must be the main body of the Interface. I catch only the barest glimpse of it before it's once more hidden from my sight. I see the hooks within each Ringmaster-mimic suddenly pull tight, drawing them together. Firmant boils and bubbles, and the stench fades away; a flash of light—
"Whoa!" Thys cries out, shielding his eyes. His brother pulls him close almost protectively, squeezing his eyes shut and stepping in front of Thys.
In front of us, the Ringmaster collapses onto his knees, heaving like he's on the verge of vomiting.
The shop window opens up before .
[Arena Points: 0
Shallow Fire Imbuent Stone (Rank F) — 20 AP
Shallow Water Imbuent Stone (Rank F) — 20 AP
Shallow Lightning Imbuent Stone (Rank F) — 30 AP
Subrged Water Imbuent Stone (Rank E) — 40 AP
Subrged Earth Imbuent Stone (Rank E) — 40 AP
Subrged Air Imbuent Stone (Rank E) — 60 AP ]
I can almost see the way the window hooks into the Ringmaster. It explains how he was able to tell I was the Trialgoer, I suppose — he seems to be linked to the Interface in so way — but...
"I have so many questions," Thaht says, staring at the Ringmaster and then at .
I ignore him, kneeling down by the Ringmaster instead. "Are you alright?" I ask. He gestures at — a sharp shake of the head, followed by a nod toward the entrance of the alleyway. It takes a mont for to parse what he's trying to say. "Uh, do you guys mind if we bring him back to your workshop?"
"Our workshop?" Thaht gives the Ringmaster a skeptical look. "...Sure, I guess. Any particular reason, or..." I gesture to my lips, then up at Whisper's castle; Thaht's expression clears into a grimace. "Right. Our workshop it is. Right this way, sir."
—
The Ringmaster's voice is more ragged than I rember it. It sounds almost like he's out of breath. He clutches at the nearby table for stability, his chest heaving and his hat nearly slipping out off his head; it's Ahkelios, of all people, who hops over to his shoulder and steadies it for him. He lets out a grunt of thanks, his body trembling slightly.
"You... pulled out." The Ringmaster's voice is hoarse. "How did you..."
"I barely know what I did," I admit. "What happened to you?"
The Ringmaster takes a mont to catch his breath. His eyes flicker slightly as he steadies himself, looking around the workshop, at Thys and Thaht, and then finally at . "I was chosen," he says. There's a vehence with which he says it — a bitterness that flavors his words when he speaks them. "By the Integrators."
I have a terrible suspicion I know what this ans, but I ask anyway. "Chosen how?"
"The Trials need people to run them." The Ringmaster's reply is dull and practiced, like he's trying to say the words without thinking about them. There's an exhaustion buried deep in his voice, a layer of fear aged into apathy. "I was one of those chosen. We are... elents of the Trial, once bound. No longer our own."
The fact that I expected this doesn't make the words any easier to hear. "And when I last spoke with you? If you rember that."
The Ringmaster's gaze focuses on briefly, trying to rember. "Yes," he says after a mont. "I am allowed to be whole when I am speaking to a Trialgoer. But even then, there are restrictions... there are no such restrictions now. What did you do?"
I glance to the still-open Interface window. "Forced the issue," I say dryly, though not without a tinge of worry. "I'm not sure it'll last."
The Ringmaster shakes his head. "It is better than nothing," he says. The words are only half-directed at , like he's also trying to convince himself. "Even a temporary reprieve... But you must have called on for a reason. Not simply to free an old man, surely?"
"I do need so imbuent stones from your shop," I admit with a grimace. The Ringmaster's expression doesn't change — he isn't offended, at least. It's not like I knew the situation he was in when we decided to look for him. If I'd known...
I don't know. There's not much I can do about his situation right now. Freeing him is the end goal — freeing everyone from the Integrators is the end goal. If I can do sothing for him before that, I will, but I don't see a way to do it without taking over the Interface entirely.
"You don't have any arena points," the Ringmaster notes. I nod.
"They don't carry over between loops," I say. "I was sort of hoping you'd just have a stash sowhere we could borrow."
"Unfortunately not," the Ringmaster says. There's a note of dry amusent in his tone for the first ti. He is, at the very least. recovering. Thys and Thaht are watching him in a combination of fear and amazent, like they're worried he'll once again vanish into thin air, which... is a valid concern, to be fair.
"Can he use my points?" Thys pipes up. "It's not like I use them for anything."
The Ringmaster pauses at this, tilting his head in thought. "It is possible," he says, in a tone that says it technically isn't. "I will allow it. How many points would you like to transfer to him?"
"I'm in a ti loop, aren't I?" Thys shrugs. "All of 'em."
"Thys!" his brother hisses at him.
"What?" Thys looks at Thaht. "If we're going to help them, we might as well go all out on it. No point holding back. Look at what we just learned about the Integrators. It's worse than what we're trying to fight against with Whisper."
Thaht frowns, like Thys's words physically stung him. He opens his mouth to argue, but nothing cos out; instead, he sighs. "You're right," he says eventually. "But I don't like it. We were saving those points."
"Eh, you're closer to getting the Firmant oscillator than I am," Thys says, waving a hand dismissively.
The Ringmaster draws my attention by grabbing my wrist. "I will unlock part of the shop for you," he tells . "I have told you before that the rewards available in the Arena are lesser than those offered by the Isthanok military. That was a truth for most, but not for Trialgoers. You would not normally unlock this without achieving this many points yourself, but as Thys has offered you his points..."
[ You have received 320,764 Arena Points. ]
I glance over at Thys, who grins at , misinterpreting my look of shock. "I have no clue what 'unlock' ans in this context, but that sounds like a good thing!" he says cheerily.
The Interface window before changes. This ti, there's only one item listed on it.
...That was a lot of points that Thys had. He must've been acquiring them for years.
[Arena Points: 320,764
Abyssal Hunger Imbuent Stone (Rank S) — 300,000 AP ]
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