Nicolai left the others discussing the formation of the Coalition, taking Kleos and Maric into his room. He had questions and he needed answers.

  ‘My whole Soul is covered in Soul rot. Everything. The entire surface. What can I do?’ he asked the heads, looking into himself. He could see it, everywhere around his Soul. A hungry, busy infection, always pressing and seeking to dig deeper.

  Currently it wasn’t having too much effect. Aware of it and fighting back, Nicolai was able to stymie its spread, and it was just an irritating, painful itch, a drain on his Oma to repair his Soul, and an ominous awareness that this was not good and it was going to get worse.

  He had experienced this particular infection before, when the undead library guardian afflicted him with something very similar. But back then, it had only been on one arm, and he’d been able to simply cut that part of his Soul away then regrow it. Now, it was everywhere, covering the surface of his Soul. The only way he could see to remove it was to somehow flay his Soul, removing its entire outer surface. Such a flaying was what he’d experienced when Paxolnaz had infected him with it. But he had a strong feeling that removal would not be so simple—to start with, he didn’t know how, mechanically, he might flay his own Soul. Cutting one of his Soul’s limbs off had been relatively easy, but a similar method would not work.

  He tapped his Mark, and navigated to his Cultivation tab in search of more information, but there was nothing about Soul Rot. He was briefly pleased to note that his kidney and windpipe Nodes were all over seventy percent. He looked to the heads. ‘Well? Tell me everything about Soul rot.’

  The heads looked to one another. Maric was pushed to speak first.

  ‘It is a spiritual affliction. Soul Rot goes through five stages. The first stage causes minor Soul damage, and the Cultivator’s ability to see and hear through Soul Sense begins a gradual degrade—turning blind and deaf toward the end of the stage. After that comes stage two, which occurs once the Soul Rot has spread enough. More Soul damage, and Soul Sense scarring begins, which is difficult to recover from. At this point moving ones Soul Sense and defending with it becomes harder, as the Cultivator has a choice: focus their Soul on slowing the spread of the Soul Rot, or use their Soul Sense as normal. Stage three… significant Soul damage, to the point the Soul begins a continuous collapse. At this stage, the Cultivator doesn’t have much time left. Their Soul Sense dissipates completely as their Soul can no longer support it, and they become very vulnerable to others. Stage four follows rapidly, as the Cultivator’s Soul begins a complete breakdown, leading them to be unable to manage their internal system, which begin to tear their body apart. Stage five isn’t so much a stage as a state, as once you get to stage five you’re dead. Or, at least your Soul is. Sometimes the body can survive, if the afflicted cuts their Nodes out before they explode. That needs to be done prior to Stage four, generally, as once the Soul begins a total breakdown those are among the first things to go.’

  Nicolai took these words in almost-silently. His finger was tap-tapping madly at the table. He stared at it until it stopped. He recalled how Paxolnaz had hung there, dark fire suspended in air, the bloody grin it had worn. He recalled the moment he’d handed its heart to it and set it free. You. Fucking. Bastard. He wasn’t sure if the thought was directed at Paxolnaz or himself. Probably both.

  ‘What kind of moron would let a literal Demon free?’ he asked rhetorically, a huge and entirely humourless grin on his face. Threat Analysis pulsed an internal warning.

  Maric’s blue-burning gaze blinked in confusion at him. Kleos, who knew the answer, stared at the wood of the table, brows creased in a thoughtful frown as if trying to work it out.

  ‘Only a complete and utter—‘ his voice cut off as he wrestled with himself, struggling with the dumb animal rage within him, assisted by the deeply concerned Mask and Modules. Getting angry is exactly what it wants you stupid cunt.

  As the ringing of his words echoed off the walls he realised he’d spoken them aloud and not inside his head—Threat Analysis informed him, as it replayed the words, that it would be more accurate to say he “snarled and frothed them like a mad beast.” He settled back into the chair and just focused on his breathing for a while, then ran a tired hand over his face. He opened his eyes and gazed dully at Kleos and Maric.

  ‘Your council,’ he assured the worried heads, ‘is appreciated. How long does it take to progress to the second stage?’

  ‘That depends on how strongly you can resist,’ said Kleos. ‘The first stage is the gentlest, and usually lasts the longest. The more you fight back, and the more coherent your defence, the longer you’ll get.’

  ‘How do I remove the Soul Rot?’ Nicolai asked next, the big question.

  The heads regarded one another, and then him, uncertainly.

  ‘Very difficult,’ said Maric. ‘The vast majority of what I’ve read is about amputating the portion of Soul that is infected. It is costly, to cut a part of your Soul away, but by far the easiest method. The whole point is to make sure it does not get onto too much of your Soul. Being completely covered in Soul rot… that’s…’ It trailed off.

  ‘You’re unlikely to find any way, not here, not at your current level,’ summed up Kleos. ‘The Demon wants you do fulfil some kind of condition, right? Then it’ll remove it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Kleos chewed its leathery lip. ‘Then you ought to see about doing whatever it is it wants. That’s your only chance, at this point. Otherwise, there’s no way you can stop it progressing.’

  ‘I refuse to believe that. There must be a way.’

  ‘Not at your level. I know of Symbiotes of the third Tier that would be able to help, but nothing at first or second. You wouldn’t even be able to use those Symbiotes.’

  ‘What about single use items? Talismans? The Trade Link sells some things.’

  ‘Perhaps. Is there anything that effects the Soul?’

  Nicolai recalled the listings. ‘Nothing straightforward,’ he said at length. ‘But there is a method to train the Soul listed: the Simple and Sinister method.’

  ‘Oh?’ Maric’s eyes glittered. ‘I’ve heard of that. Apparently it’s very effective.’

  ‘Would it help me with the Soul Rot?’

  The head paused, its blue eyes flaring thoughtfully. ‘Maybe? Hard to say with any certainty. Could be worth a gamble.’

  ‘Not at 200,000 points,’ Nicolai murmured. His eyes narrowed. The Soul Rot was only one element. The more important area which he should truly focus on, was that of Paxolnaz. His enemy. It was labouring under restrictions, having to use this Contract to send him to the sword, and thus it was forced to include a clause whereby it would remove the Soul Rot. This was where he should focus, on doing what he was good at.

  Tricking and sneaking and manipulating his way to victory.

  The shadows had been writhing through the room, but now they slowed. Nicolai smiled. So what if it was difficult? So what if the odds were stacked against him?

  The greater the challenge, the more satisfying the victory. If winning was easy, then what was the point? And if I die, then I die. So long as he knew that he had done everything he could, fought until his very last breath, then he would be satisfied.

  ###

  That evening the distant sounds of combat continued to trickle in now and then. Bugs and undead, still clashing in minor flare ups, plus the occasional rattle of gunfire.

  Maxine setup her radio antennas on the tower-top of the safe-place, seeming quite pleased by the location, leading wires down into the main room, then the nearest bedroom which she took for herself. Nicolai accompanied her during this, observing as she started setting up her radios in her chosen room.

  From one of the radios, Nicolai heard a word that drew his attention.

  ‘Traders—information, any available. Find—we pay—‘

  He moved over to the radio, turning it up and putting his ear closer, hearing it over the background burble of the others.

  ‘—very highly. We can provide several reward packages, providing the information leads us accurately to them. One-hundred Oma crystals, handed over to you. Or, join the Chosen in a leadership role, being allowed to keep your Seed, and any who join with you may also keep their Seeds. You and your friends will each receive a gun and other equipment, and you personally will receive ten Oma crystals. All we need is the information of where we can find these black masked Traders, and their leader—a dangerous, murderous individual. We implore our friends within the castle to be wary of this individual, who we believe has murdered several of the groups who went to trade with him. We have found that he was a wanted criminal on Earth. A vicious killer, hunted by authorities…’

  Nicolai’s eyes narrowed as the voice continued to slander him. Vikrum was acting quick.

  The Chosen’s power and influence in the area was the result of two factors.

  One: Manpower. As the biggest group in the area, who seemingly also had all most of the more heavily augmented people in this place under their banner, Vikrum’s Elites.

  Two: Control of the Trade Link. They did not deal in Trade Link goods, instead they hoarded them and had used them to gain a significant edge early on. Now, Nicolai was gradually grinding that edge away as he continued to sell weaponry to the other groups.

  He had identified the Chosen as an enemy in this place quite some time ago, but remained hidden from them. They made big waves, while he avoided doing the same, and so he’d had an advantage of knowing of them before they knew of him. But, unavoidably, now they were no longer in the dark and were coming for him.

  This changed nothing in general terms. He would continue to operate as secretly as possible. But it did mean he would have to be doubly cautious, most especially when going to trade. Any trade meet they went to could be a trap, setup by a group who’d taken the Chosen on their offer.

  Nicolai moved across the room to where Perro and Azure were plugging stuff in. The pair seemed very excited by Maxine’s presence, and looked to be doing their best to become her assistants.

  ‘How are you two doing?’ he asked pleasantly.

  ‘Pluggin’ away, boss,’ muttered Azure, connecting leads to a piece of equipment.

  ‘Great,’ said a grinning Perro. ‘It’s amazing to meet her. I listened to her all the time. She really wants the best for us all, you know? I think this coalition—‘

  ‘Wonderful,’ broke in Nicolai. ‘I have a job for you two, follow me.’

  They exchanged confused glances then followed him toward where various Radios were piled up, emitting noise. He handed two to the pair, both set the channels where the Chosen were droning out their words.

  ‘Do you hear that?’ he asked them needlessly.

  ‘—vicious murderer, a wanted criminal, an insane Raw—‘ crooned one of the Radios.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  ‘They’re, uh, talking about you,’ said Perro, blinking at him. ‘They’ve been doing that for a while.’

  ‘They’re talking about all of us,’ Nicolai corrected him. ‘Obviously their words are simple slander. In fact, back on Earth I worked in mergers and acquisitions.’ He held the Radios out, and the pair took them. He smiled. ‘Disrupt them.’

  Perro eyed the Radio uncertainly, but Azure immediately tapped the microphone button, a gleeful grin on her face.

  ‘—completely untrustworthy—‘

  ‘What’s up shitlips? Hey, hey, how’s Vikrum’s dick cheese taste?’ She giggled foully.

  ‘Don’t you dare. You goddamn filth. You fucking trash kids! Why are you stupid fucks always trying to ruin—’ the Radio started snarling and didn’t stop, and Azure let out a peal of joyful laughter.

  Nicolai nodded approvingly, and eyed Perro meaningfully.

  ###

  He ended the evening in his room.

  ‘Things are bad, Nicolai,’ came a voice, Kleos. ‘From what the others say, and the shaking of the castle… you need to get me to the Coffin. As soon as possible.’

  Nicolai stared at the wall and the wall stared back at him. They were doing that a lot recently.

  ‘Nicolai? Are you hearing me?’

  ‘Uh.’ He blinked. The shadows scattered. Nicolai’s breath streamed out of him. ‘Just a little further,’ he murmured. Need to keep myself occupied.

  His mind delved briefly inside, checking the state of his forming Nodes in his kidneys and windpipe. The Small Silver Ant Symbiote was moving amongst them, as it had been doing ever since he first activated it, draining the substantial amount of Oma it required to do so.

  They were advancing at a greater rate than his two lung Nodes had due to the helper Symbiote. He estimated they would be done in perhaps two or three days.

  But there was a problem, one that led him to pull a crystal and drain it, then four more. His Nodes had been nearly empty. The Soul rot was a new source of expenditure. It took more Oma than the three Nodes and the Small Silver Ant combined, and all that Oma was only going to stem its spread, stop it digging even further into his Soul.

  He despised the fact that this Oma was being wasted, going only to stop a problem from growing worse rather than to making him stronger. He loathed the faint interference, the fuzziness of sight, that now stained his Soul Sense. He’d counted his Oma crystals and knew that previously he’d have gotten the three new Nodes done without much loss. Now he’d be losing more than half his stock.

  ‘Nicolai?’ asked Kleos. The head sounded worried.

  Nicolai summoned a smile and faced Kleos. ‘I’ll get you to the Coffin, don’t worry about that. For now, let’s discuss recipes.’ He had yet to learn Kleos’ recipes, nor had he shared those from the Memory Tome with the head.

  Kleos frowned. ‘I agreed I’d share them with you, but only you.’ The head glared at Maric. ‘I won’t speak them while he’s here.’

  ‘Hey, what’s the problem?’ asked Maric, eyes flaring blue. ‘You think I can’t provide, too? If you’re sharing recipes, I have some of my own I can share in return.’

  Kleos snorted. ‘I know many. I doubt you know even a quarter what I do.’

  Nicolai shrugged. ‘For now it will just be me and Kleos. Maric will be sharing his recipes with me later.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘As part of your efforts to prove you are trustworthy.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Maric, glumly.

  Once he’d put Maric in another room he talked with Kleos. It took some time, deep into the evening. Kleos did indeed know many recipes, and was hungry for those from the Memory Tome.

  Once that was done he left to retrieve Maric, but on the way was surprised to see Jo curled up on one of the inflatable couches, alone, back turned to him. For a moment he thought she was sleeping, something that caused him a degree of shock. How could someone sleep in so open an are?

  But as he gently closed the door, she stirred and threw a glance over her shoulder. There came a strange noise. He saw her rubbing at her nose and she turned her face away, but he saw the tears.

  Nicolai froze, the wheels of his mind grinding to a halt. Why was she crying? Was he supposed to do something in response to this, in his role as Leader of the Group? The Mask was stirring, and he felt its worry and concern.

  Irritation warred with unease within him. He wanted Maric’s recipes, but he had told the Mask he would work together with it. It considered whatever was going on extremely important. He didn’t understand why but that was normal. He sighed, deciding he could spare a moment to ensure she was mentally sound.

  However, talking to distraught people was not his strong point. He let the Mask move his mouth. ‘Why…’ he began, still unsure about it all, ‘are you crying?’

  She shook her head, still turned away from him.

  ‘Sorry.’ She laughed. A… sad… laugh. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I just think a bit too much, that’s it.’ She peered over her shoulder at him. ‘Do you ever do that? Just sit there and worry until you get upset?’

  He tilted his head, thinking of times sat in the dark, of writhing shadows and blood on his hands. ‘In a way.’ His Mask was pushing at him, fixing tighter into him and onto him. He turned his face away as his features twitched. He smoothed them out and made his way forward and around the sofa. He considered the seats and found none acceptable.

  He felt Jo’s silent puzzlement as he picked up one of the solid wooden chairs and re-positioned it and sat down.

  ‘Don’t want to sit too close to me?’ she asked, and he detected hurt in her tone. The chair had previously been beside her sofa.

  Habit made him want to lie. He always hid his processes and methods from others when possible. The less they knew of how he thought and why he did things, the harder it would be for them to predict his actions in the event they became enemies. But the Mask was insistent, arguing that creating some lie would just upset her while the truth was ultimately insignificant.

  Nicolai breathed slowly out of his nose. ‘It’s not that. I want to be able to see the exits.’ He gestured to the doorways, all within his view from where he sat. ‘In case there is an attack.’

  She frowned. ‘But there’s cameras out there. And you can see all around you with Soul Sense, right? I can.’

  ‘Yes.’ The silence dragged a moment as she stared at him, and the Mask pressed. ‘I like…’ he ground out, ‘to see… with my own eyes.’ Each admission felt like a hole poked in his stomach, but at the same time there was a strange excitement, something odd and new and interesting. He could feel that this was being human.

  She was leaning forward, now, staring at him intently. ‘Are you always thinking like that? Always ready for attack?’

  His gaze turned increasingly cool in response to the continued prying. ‘I think about lots of things.’ The Mask threw up mental hands in frustration.

  Her eyes narrowed with similar frustration. ‘Don’t dodge the question.’

  His narrowed in turn. ‘What’s wrong with being prepared?’

  ‘I didn’t say anything was.’

  ‘Your manner implied it.’

  She chuckled, sitting back. She was grinning.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I riled you.’

  He blinked at her, then snorted, unaccountable amused. She seemed so pleased with herself. It was… what was the word? Cute, said his Mask. His mind spun for a moment and then he remembered why he’d sat down here in the first place. ‘Let’s return to the original subject. You were upset. I asked why. You said you tended to sit and overthink.’ Nicolai wasn’t sure if his own times, sat in the dark, stewing and spiralling, were similar or not, but he supposed he could give some tips. That was human, too. Then he’d fetch Maric and learn the skull’s recipes.

  ‘I find…’ he began slowly, ‘that when dark thoughts overwhelm you, it is best to think on what you can do. If there is a problem, how can you solve it? It is better to spend your time thinking on that, than anything else. Even if it is difficult, if you consider it long enough, you will hit upon a solution.’

  She smiled, and there was something he couldn’t identify in her eyes. ‘I’ve heard that before. Just deal with it, right?’ She stretched like a cat, yawning. ‘That’s easier for you than for me, I think. I’m not as capable.’

  ‘You’re significantly more capable than the majority of people here.’ His Mask pushed a question from his lips. ‘What are you worried about?’

  She stilled, smile fading, and looked away. ‘Everything. The undead. The bugs. The shaking of the castle. The Chosen.’ She looked up, right at him. ‘And you.’

  ‘Me?’

  She was chewing at her lip. ‘Earlier, when you spoke about the Coalition to Maxine, I felt something from you. Leaking from your Soul. A kind of… hunger.’

  He stared blankly at her, and as he did he felt and saw her gathering her courage.

  ‘Was the Demon trying to… trying to get into you? Did it get into you?’

  He was beginning to regret ever sitting down. He should’ve just got Maric and ignored her. His Mask was bumping up and down, and he felt an urge to grab it and rip it clean off. He raised his hands.

  ‘What are you trying to say, Jo?’

  ‘I’m asking if you’re serious about it, about what you said.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘I don’t know how things will go with the Chosen. But if it does all fall apart… will you stick with us?’

  That wasn’t quite the question he’d expected. He’d worried she’d ask if he was serious about peace with the Chosen. ‘I will. I care about you.’ He wasn’t sure if he was lying or not.

  Abruptly she squirmed out of the sofa, a typically ungainly affair she made lithe and graceful, and then she was coming towards him. There was a flush to her face and she was looking at either his mouth or his neck. From her face and body and Soul he read uncertainty, determination, excitement.

  Nicolai lunged to his feet and slipped back away from her. ‘What are you doing?’

  She stopped and narrowed her eyes, and now she wore a confident little smile. ‘Why are you running?’

  Because I don’t want to lose Control. The Mask was writhing on his face but the Thrill and even the Dark were stirring, too. The way she moved and the curves of her body was making him think of the excesses of his past. Losses of Control.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘You won’t.’

  I might.

  His back hit the wall and she was still coming. His eyes flicked to the side, tracking her hand as she touched his forearm, ran it slowly upwards.

  This is a bad idea.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking. That this is a bad idea.’

  His eyes widened.

  She smiled. ‘Sometimes your face says it all.’ Her hand wormed behind his neck and she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  Within him, the Dark and the Thrill and the Mask all crashed and warred, a sea surging within his consciousness, and he was a boat trying to stay upright on top of it all. He felt himself snarl then the world blurred and they were reversed, he was holding Jo against the wall and against him, gazing down. Control.

  She stared up, lips slightly parted, a challenge in her eyes.

  He could feel how he balanced upon an edge, a precipice either side, and he didn’t know which one was right. The Modules, buzzing with curiosity, endlessly hungry for human emotion, came up behind him. And they suggested a solution: the Zero-Twelve state. His mind linked together.

  ‘Come with me,’ he murmured in her ear.

  ###

  He had been lying there on his back, for some time. She was beside him, asleep. He felt strangely and unusually calm, his mind empty.

  Much to do, came the first thought in some time. He stirred, turned his head and saw her back, facing away from him. His Soul Sense checked the area, and Threat Analysis checked the cameras. All was well. It was still night, perhaps a few hours from morning.

  For a time he simply watched her. She was so still, so pale. He couldn’t even hear her breathing. Is she breathing?

  A dull horror broke over him, turning into an unease that was almost a panic which wrenched him into action. He grabbed at her and turned her over.

  ‘Mmm?’ she mumbled sleepily, lolling.

  He let out a tight breath and rose to his feet. He dressed quickly as she woke and watched him.

  ‘You need to go,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because…’ He snarled soundlessly. He’d failed. This could have been bad. The Dark was all through him, he could feel it. And yet, it seemed well balanced. The Mask was there too, and it had roots of its own all through his Soul.

  What they’d done, had it helped him or harmed him?

  He couldn’t tell, it was impossible to be sure. Regardless, it constitutes a loss of Control. He shot at glance at Jo, and she met it easily. Too easily. He’d allowed her to get too close. He could feel it. On his face, the Mask stirred.

  Isn’t she perfect? it spoke, and Nicolai’s eyes widened with horror because he felt what it was feeling.

  The Mask had just decided that it “loved” her, and that realisation made him want to slam someone’s head into a brick wall. Maybe hers. Maybe his.

  ‘How about—‘ she began.

  His arm moved and his finger unfurled to point at the door.

  ‘Get. Out.’ He pronounced the words in frigid tones.

  She gaped at him. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘You.’ The way the Mask thrashed and cried made him want to vomit. You fucked her and now you love her?! Pathetic! It disgusted him! These are merely hormones, mere instincts to find a mate and procreate! He refused to be led by them, and if the Mask had decided to champion them then he would quarantine it. He grabbed and pulled, and it cried as it was wrenched from his face, down his neck to his chest where he left it, its influence on him significantly reduced. At least until it clambered back up.

  And as to Jo…

  She was staring at him, pity in her eyes. ‘It’s the demon, isn’t it?’ she asked.

  He lunged forward and grabbed her, and she yelped as he dragged her from the bed and dumped her on the floor. ‘Put your clothes on and get out.’

  ‘What the fuck?! Fine!’ She squirmed in a way that reminded him of last night, somehow both pleasant and horrible.

  He turned away as she dressed—angrily—and ignored her as she stomped to the door. It slammed behind her.

  Job done.

  He moved over to the bucket and pulled Kleos out. The head gave him a look, eyebrows raised.

  ‘I would’ve appreciated if you’d done that in a different room,’ it said.

  Nicolai grimaced and put the head on a table before leaving and fetching Maric. He’d wasted time, now to get back to business.

  ‘Recipes,’ he said. The skull was surprisingly willing, making no complaint as it listed its recipes, even though Kleos was able to hear. Nicolai regarded this with some suspicion.

  Nicolai stored Maric’s Symbiote recipes in a separate part of his mind, mentally splitting them from those Kleos and the Memory Tome had given him. This process was one common to people of Earth, or at least those who bothered to learn how to use their BSI’s properly. Basic brain implants tended to have only bring minor benefits in terms of increasing the users actual thinking speed. But, when used well it could be used to somewhat manage ones mind. Thoughts and memories within the fleshy matter could be tagged and tracked, though the degree to which one could do this was limited by the closeness of their link to their augments.

  Both Kleos and the Memory Tome were trustable sources of information. But Maric, who he had no Contract with, was not. When being given such a volume of information, it would be easier than normal to slip one or two minor lies in. Lies that could prove expensive for Nicolai, if he were to miss them.

  So he took in the information, but not blindly. If in the future he used any of the recipes Maric had given him, it would be with the proper level of caution. These actions and thoughts calmed him. Unlike the increasing complexity of his uncertainties with the Mask and Jo and everything else, it was simple and obvious.

  It was morning now, the others beginning to rise. Jo hadn’t left her room yet. He imagined she was saying all kinds of things about him to Beth. The Mask twined over his chest and towards his neck, gradually climbing higher. Probably… he could have done that in a less harsh manner. Different wording might have been better.

  But it was done now and that was for the best. On top of that, in spite of lowering the Mask, the dark still seemed in balance and under his control.

  Everything was fine.