It takes us longer than I'd like to get to the Interdiary. Without full access to my skills—at least insofar as it'd be incredibly unwise to use them—I'm forced to rely on Guard and Ahkelios to get us there.
In their defense, they're still fast. Ahkelios maintains his access to my skills, but his Firmant stores aren't the sa as mine; he can't cover quite the sa amount of distance in a single Warpstep. Guard makes up for this, carrying us both when Ahkelios exhausts his Firmant, but his top speed while flying can't quite match what's offered by Interface skills.
Still, it's good enough that we don't need to take many breaks. None of us can explain it, but all of us can feel it—an odd sense of impending dread, like the slow descent of a guillotine on our necks. It's made worse by the fact that we can't explain why we feel it; all we know is that it's there.
It's a relief when we make it to the Interdiary. The massive door still looms in the forest near Isthanok, identical to how it looked the first ti we encountered it...
...Not entirely identical. I frown, stepping closer; the door is welded shut. It's not an ordinary weld, either—there's just smooth tal where the opening should have been, like the two sides of the door were joined with Firmant.
"Soone closed it off," I mutter. It makes sense, in a way, considering how dangerous it is, but I can't help but feel that the reason it was sealed is nothing so innocent. For one thing, Guard would know about it if it were.
"I did not know of this," Guard says, confirming my fears. "I left instructions that the Interdiary was to be guarded and avoided. I do not see... give a mont."
His optic flickers for a split second—I recognize it as him reaching out to communicate with his proxies. When he speaks again, there's a clear frown in his voice.
"The proxies I set to guard the Interdiary have vanished," he reports. "It was done in a way that would not alert to their disappearance. That is concerning."
"You an soone hacked your network?" Ahkelios asks, worried. Guard shakes his head.
"Not a hack. Better to call it an emulation. Soone was able to replicate the signals I use to communicate between proxies and emulate two complete, intact copies in this vicinity." Guard manages to sound mostly indifferent, but there's a hint of irritation in his voice. "I have patched the problem, but the perpetrator remains at large."
"I don't think that's our biggest worry at the mont, if the door is sealed," I say. There's sothing tickling at the edges of my senses—I focus on that sensation, trying to figure out what it is.
It's like there's a barely-noticeable distortion in the middle of the clearing. I take a step toward it, reaching out slightly; my fingers brush the edges of it—
—Firmant.
I'm not sure I would've sensed this had my core not been damaged. It's incredibly subtle. There's a working here etched into the natural flow of Firmant in the clearing—an imbuent that's sohow been written into the air itself. "Ahkelios," I say, stepping back. "I think there's a portal here. Could you—"
"On it," Ahkelios says. He can't sense the portal like I can, but he trusts without question. I feel him reaching out with Firmant Control, feeding a thread of Firmant into what I perceive as the lock.
Just like that, a portal slowly pulls open. It wavers in the air like it isn't quite sure of itself, but it's there, a tear in space-ti that leads directly into the Interdiary. There's a thin film preventing the dense Firmant on the other side from just pouring through—likely the reason it needed to be hidden in the first place.
"I guess that's our way in," I say, my brows furrowing as I stare at it. "Although this feels... a little too convenient, don't you think?"
"Just a little," Ahkelios says. He leans forward to examine the tear, then turns to shoot a concerned look. "More importantly, are you sure you can withstand the pressure? You rember what happened last ti we were here."
"I'm sure." It's probably more accurate to say that I have to, but saying that is only going to worry Ahkelios. Besides, I'm not lying—I'm mostly certain I can handle whatever the Interdiary tries to throw at in terms of Firmant pressure, even with the damage in my core.
I'm more worried about the two of them, in all honesty. Ahkelios is still only a second-layer practitioner, and Guard isn't even at his first; they're both uniquely capable of surviving sothing like this and they've both been here before, but...
I sigh. I'm probably being a bit of a hypocrite, as far as the worry goes. The reality is that there's too much to worry about, too many things that can go wrong.
We'll have ti to react. We'll adapt, as we always have. I've got a contingency or two I can try in the worst-case scenario where the portal closes behind us and the pressure is too great—my core's recovered enough that I should be able to pull off at least a Phaseslip. Combine that with an Anchor and it should be able to take us right out of the Interdiary.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Not that I want to rely on that. Just the thought of it gives a headache. Hopefully it doesn't co to that. We don't have any protective suits, this ti around—we're going to rely entirely on the strength of our Firmant.
My core is damaged, but it should be able to withstand the pressure of the Interdiary enough that I can use it to repair the base layers rather than just cracking. Ahkelios will need the pressure to push to his third shift. Guard has enough Firmant within him to counter the pressure of the Interdiary without collapsing.
The only complicating factor is Gheraa's death. His corpse is still in there, rotting away, bleeding into reality and creating a dungeon around it.
The thought alone makes a low thrum of familiar anger coil within —for the Integrators to do this to one of their own...
But the anger is more than that, I realize. The anger cos from the fact that I considered Gheraa a friend.
I didn't trust him at first. I didn't have many reasons to. But he's proven himself ti and ti again, and he's done it more than once. Without prompting. Without really being given a reason to.
He's under my protection as much as Ahkelios and Guard are, and if there's even a shred of a chance that I can bring him back and undo what the Integrators did to him—even a shred of a chance I can give him the friendship and trust he might never have experienced, from what he's told —
I can feel the shape of my soul burning within , eager for growth. Eager for the strength to prevent anything like this from happening ever again.
No more waiting. I walk forward without stopping, feeling my ears pop as I pass through the portal. Ahkelios and Guard follow close behind.
Even with that shield of emotion wrapped around , I'm not fully prepared for the sheer weight that crushes down on .
I stagger monts after stepping through, my vision swimming. It's only Guard reaching out to catch that prevents from collapsing entirely into the ground. The pressure manifests as an ache in my teeth and a throbbing in my skull, burning straight into my bones; I take a slow, steadying breath, gritting my teeth and forcing myself to focus.
This Firmant will hurt only if I allow it. I'm strong enough now to assert my own will over it—to coax it into place, guide it into the miniscule cracks within the first, foundational layer of my core.
It hurts. It feels like I'm performing surgery on myself, probably because that's what this is, in literal terms. It feels like I have to hold my own soul open and carefully layer strips of Firmant into the raw flesh within. I'm hypersensitive to every shift in Firmant, every small change.
It's how I can feel Gheraa's Firmant here. It's dead and twisted and wrong, forced to turn into sothing it's not. The thought sends a fresh wave of anger through .
Never again.
Thick, syrupy layers of visibly red Firmant boils up off my skin, more like a liquid than the usual wispy form of its power. I use my anger like a shield against the pain. It's been a long ti since I've let myself feel that rage.
I know now not to be dominated by it, not to let it control . Out of control, my anger drives to recklessness, but that doesn't an I shouldn't feel it.
I should. I've seen how many lives this has ruined. I've been exploring a planet trapped in a tortured loop of its own past. I've watched its people torn apart by the gas of the powerful.
I couldn't save everyone in Isthanok. I couldn't save Miktik. I could still save Gheraa, but not as I am.
The heat of my anger seals the cracks. Fresh Firmant builds within that foundational layer, drawn in by my rage and shaped by the first truth I ever spoke:
I'm whoever the fuck I want to be.
And right now I want to be the person that ends this once and for all.
I force myself to my feet. Every second Firmant pours into previously unseen cracks in that first layer of Firmant; every second those cracks seal shut, reforging that layer in adamantine will.
Every second of it hurts more than anything I've experienced before, even in my ti across the loops. It hurts worse than dragging the stump of my arm across the dirt. Worse than getting crushed, getting stabbed, getting torn apart.
But not worse than the thought of failing. Not worse than the idea that I might not be strong enough.
I keep going, sealing crack after crack.
And as I do this, I push myself back upright. Force myself to take a slow, steadying breath.
"Ethan?" Ahkelios asks. His voice is uncertain—probably because I'm quite literally dripping with Firmant. "Are you alright?"
"Will be." My voice is ragged but sure. "Where are we headed?"
"I sense a signal from the north. It is likely the part Miktik was suggesting we need," He-Who-Guards offers. He looks as concerned as Ahkelios is. "Ethan. Are you certain you can accompany us?"
"Have to." I grit my teeth. There's an argunt for to stay here, to focus on rebuilding those layers without moving, but this is a dungeon. It's too dangerous a place for us to split up, and this one in particular has already been known to kill people even through the loop. "Can't split
This was where Miktik died, after all.
"We could wait here together," Guard says. "Until you finish—"
I shake my head. "Dungeon," I say tersely. It's hard to get the words out with half my mind focused on layering and sealing. "Dangerous to stay still, dangerous to move. Might as well move."
To his credit, Guard doesn't waste any more ti. He gives a sharp nod. "Then I will lead the way."
As if to prove my point, a dozen hands burst out of the ground—each blue flecked with gold, the sa Firmant stoneskin I rember Gheraa being made out of. Whatever remnant of him was controlling the place the last ti we were here is gone now, it seems. The hands undulate, weaving across each other, charging straight toward us.
"Those are clearly claws, Ethan!" Ahkelios yelps as he dives out of the way, dragging with him. He's listening in on my thoughts, apparently.
"Sa difference," I say. I ready myself.
My core is damaged. Half my mind is occupied trying to keep my foundational layer stable as I feed Firmant into it and repair its cracks. I can't use a single skill while I do this.
But none of that ans I'm weak.
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