About half a year ago, the world changed forever.

Individuals worldwide began manifesting the qualities of various figures- gods, spirits, heroes, beasts, and monsters- from Greek mythos. The system that caused and continues to facilitate this phenomenon is shrouded in mystery, both in how it functions and why it began its activities when it did.

The protagonist of this tale is the incarnation of Atë, a minor goddess in the grand scheme of Greek mythology, who causes and presides over folly and ruin. She, formerly a miserable but ultimately normal office worker, has since accepted her role as the embodiment of her . She, along with her partner in crime, the incarnation of Pheme, titan of rumors and gossip, have been working to expand their influence and stack the deck in their favor against not only mortals, but also rival incarnations. In her own eyes, she is no longer human. Her ultimate goal– the elimination of all rival incarnations and, eventually, ascension to true godhood.

After learning that the final conflict against the outerversal entity known to the world as the Uncrowned King, Atë has been of two minds, both scrambling to prepare for armageddon in their own ways. While one part of her soul revels in her cunning and guile after fooling and consuming the greatest weapon known to man, the other is stricken with an uncharacteristic sentimentality. Regardless of whether or not she's ready, what might be the end of everything inexorably approaches.

>>6248531 (OP)

[A SIDE]

“It’s done!”

You cock an eyebrow as you inspect what seems like a rose gold tiara, your legs kicking slightly against a sturdy wooden worktable, currently an improvised bench. The article is obviously crafted with care for appearances, embossed with deep crimson accents and brilliant rubies. Just from holding it, you feel your divinity slowly begin to sap, presumably charging the suit hidden within the thin metal adornment.

“Honestly,” you chuckle, “I’m surprised you went with this instead of something more Iron Man.”

“I thought about it,” he shrugs, “but compact is helpful, right?”

“A bracelet would have been more practical.”

“Actually no, needed to be headwear.” he clarifies, “It has a emergency preservation feature to use every last drop of energy it has left to escape with the smallest necessary mass.”

“My brain?” you ask, knowing fully well that you could have done fine with just about any other part of your body.

He nods, “It has life support built in to keep you alive while you’re ferried somewhere safe.”

>Take it for a test run
>Inquire on the specific functionality
>Inquire about the mechanics of relics and enchantery
>Write-in

[B SIDE]

>75, 113, 163, <Reckless>: accepted result, 75. Reckless pessimal

The moment you step foot across the boundary, you can tell that something is wrong.

Firstly, the town is silent. No chatter, no laughter, no clinking of dice or riffling of cards. Pure, dead silence.

Secondly, you can use your authorities.

>System notification: due to a successful subversion of <Pax Ludum>, you have regained access to your offensive abilities!

Suddenly, <Preservation Instinct> screams. You leap backwards, barely avoiding a discus bathed in cerulean light and the massive explosion of divinity that bursts forth in its wake. You bathe the world in your flesh, using each piece as a nexus point for <Touch of Madness> as you attempt to flush out the rat. While you don’t seem to ensnare him, you do feel the hole in your control where you know him to be. Without hesitation, you tear through the sky, buildings dissolving into shrapnel beneath your claws as you attempt to bore through Valeri like a human javelin. Your mouth stretches into a grimace as he vanishes into a cloud of snow, reappearing atop a building a couple of blocks down.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, a quiet fury in his voice.

“I told you I was here for the Hail Mary.”

“And you can have it. Without Kaya.”

“Bit late for that old man,” you sneer, “She’s long dead.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I can see her,” he insists, “Please spit her out.”

You click your tongue– he’s a perceptive bastard.

>Refuse (requires a roll)
>Agree, should he give you the physical <Hail Mary>
>Demand an additional price
>Pretend to agree but initiate a sneak attack (requires a roll)
>Write-in

>>6248531 (OP)
>Past Threads
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Olympus+Incarnation+Quest
>Rentry masterlink, includes character sheets, shop information, inventory, and general information
https://rentry.org/olympus-quest-links
>Inquiries: olympusqm@gmail.com

>>6248538
>Refuse (requires a roll)

>>6248531 (OP)
Loving our escalation into eldritch horror

>>6248538
>Take it for a test run
Finally we get to start harvesting those tasty Interwraiths

>Agree, should he give you the physical <Hail Mary>
>Demand an additional price
What they used to create the Hail Mary, so we can either take or destroy it
Not gonna let them just make a second one after we leave

>>6248538
>Take it for a test run
>Pretend to agree, should he give you the physical <Hail Mary>

>>6248538
>Take it for a test run

>Pretend to agree, should he give you the physical <Hail Mary>

>>6248538
>Take it for a test run

>Demand an additional price
Extort! He can probably get us access to other russians worth killing and treasure worth plundering.

>>6248538
>Demand an additional price
His soul obviously

>>6248755
>>6248756
>>6248929
>>6248933
>>6248971
>>6249002

[A SIDE]

>Take it for a test run

You can’t suppress a grin as you cradle the crown in your hands, feeling the cool touch of the metal inside and out as your divinity threads through the intricate circuitry of the enchanted device. Even without being told, you can instinctively understand roughly how the device works, almost as if it were a part of your own body.

You suppose, in some sense even moreso than the Auravore, that this suit was made for you. It’s… compatible hardware, so to speak. Almost giddy, you place the crown on your head, the cold touch of fluid coating your skin as metal somehow made liquid without heat pours over your body, hardening into an armored carapace of crimson metal one at a time. You notice that, unlike the tiara, the primary color of the suit is crimson red, with the salmon pink of rose-gold only serving as the accent beneath the plating. The world briefly takes on a bloody hue as a garnet red visor drops over your eyes. At your will, the color drains away, revealing the world in perfect, clear resolution.

You move your limbs, the fibers of metal flexing and stretching as naturally as human muscle. You cannot deny the impressiveness of the craftsmanship.

>Optional write-in, offer additional rewards not specified in the contract?

“Wait,” Perdix cautions, anxiety evident in his voice, “don’t you want a manual? Or at least a basic rundown of how it works?”

“Nah,” you politely decline, “I can… feel it. It’s like riding a bicycle.”

“People have to learn how to ride bicycles.”

“You know what I mean, smartass,” you click your tongue, “Germans, I swear.”

“You really have been blaise about the whole “maybe dying” thing recently,” he chides, “It’d be a real problem for me if you teleported into the sun by accident and deep fried.”

“Relax,” you snicker, “I’ve done a lot stupider shit than this.”

“I… somehow believe that. Whatever, just, be careful, ok?”

“You’re not my real dad!”
He laughs, “You’re such a dork.”

You close your eyes, trying to apply your experience being cut into pieces to make conceptualizing the suit’s teleportation easier. “Takes one to know one, loser,” you wittily rebut, vanishing into a flash of crimson light.

>>6249027

B SIDE

“Fine,” you put your hands up, “I don’t really need the human parts anyway. But, I have terms.”

“So you recognize that she’s human.”

“If she was a perfect weapon, I probably would have died,” you smirk, “People have always been far easier to deal with.”

“A soldier to the core,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not a soldier,” you sigh, “I’m just here for the super weapon. And to make sure that nobody else makes one ever again.”

“You are a soldier,” he restates, this time directed to you rather than himself, “You simply don’t understand that you’ve been deployed.”

“I don’t have time for the psychoanalysis,” you feel impatience bubbling in your gut.

“All about the mission, then. Business. State your terms, then.”

Note: you may add as many terms as you wish, but the more unreasonable your demands, the less likely Valeri is to agree.

>Demand the physical <Hail Mary>
>Demand the whereabouts of all known personnel involved in its creation
>Demand some unspecified favor (note, will be clarified against loopholes like “sell me your soul” or “let me kill you”)
>Demand his soul
>Demand he never play another game for the rest of his life
>Write-in

>>6249028
>Demand the physical <Hail Mary>
>Demand the whereabouts of all known personnel involved in its creation
Never playing a game again would be SO FUNNY

but business before pleasure

>>6249028
>Demand the physical <Hail Mary>
>Demand the whereabouts of all known personnel involved in its creation

>>6249028
>Demand the physical <Hail Mary>
>In return he gets all the "human" bits of Kaya
>neglect to tell him whatever would be left of her would essentially be a lobotomized version, if there are any human bits at all

>>6249028
>Play a game
Don't think he will agree to sell his soul. We wager the human bits, he wagers his soul. We loose nothing and stand to gain quite a lot.

And it would be a real folly to bring an end to a gamer with a game.

>>6249394
I messed up here. We're here for the Hail Mary, but I really want to involve a game with how we defeat him.

>>6249395
If you'd like to change your vote, that's alright. I can just write the A Side while we wait for a tiebreaker

>>6249028
>>6249067
Me
But hell yeah I can change to >>6249394

[A SIDE]

Now that you don't need to worry about disintegrating, it really is beautiful. People get the impression (mostly, you assume, because they live in or around cities that pollute the sky with their eternal, overwhelming light) that space, and by extension the night sky, are dull, purplish black carpets with a few little gems piercing the veil of the darkness. This could not be further from the truth. Laid out before you is a mosaic of purples and blues and reds, a million billion stars burning, singing, dying, some having already died, burnt away into metal and light. For a moment, you stop, simply observing the glory of creation. You reach your hand, trying to touch the canvas, to feel the dust and mist trailing at the fingertips of the galaxies and the outskirts of the nebulae, but of course, you merely grasp at the endless vacuum of space.

You can't suppress a grin; for the first time since you started this, you genuinely, truly want to claim it all for yourself. This, you remember, is what you stand to gain. Still, before you can paint, you need to get your hands on your supply.

Beauty can't help you now. As simply as closing your eyelids, you will the visor of your helmet to come down, totally obstructing your mortal vision, allowing you to concentrate on divinity instead. You feel your gut drop as you sense them. INTERWRAITHS. They can't see you, hell, they can't see anything, but you can feel them, colossal, shapeless, powerful, floating through the universe and soaking up all the divinity in their wake like a sponge through water. You can feel, too, a sort of longing in them. They only know to eat, to grow bigger, but there exists a sort of misery buried in their impetus, something you can only describe as a desire to desire.

You shudder to think of what might happen if one of them figures it out.

>You're already here, time to hunt
>Go home for now, you've seen enough
>Wait until you can rejoin with your other half and then come back
>Write-in

>>6249613
>>Wait until you can rejoin with your other half and then come back
>Review the Devourers Cookbook again
We have had a number of breakthroughs, maybe there is new stuff in there already

>>6249613
>>Wait until you can rejoin with your other half and then come back
>Review the Devourers Cookbook again

The desire to scream WE HUNT is so very strong, but I shall resist.

>>6249613
>You're already here, time to hunt
WE HUNT

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Flipping a coin to tiebreak b side

>>6249630
>>6249632
>>6249669

[B SIDE]

>Offer a game?

“Let’s calm down for a second,” you smile, retracting your combat authorities alongside your lethal intent. You see the world shimmer, life returning to the silent town with every drop of crimson seawater that pours back into your skin. Valeri looks around, seemingly wary at the sudden change of scenery, “This place is based in games, right? I can work with that. Let’s play a game.”

He frowns, snapping his fingers and returning both himself and you to his shop, “Elaborate.”

“Honestly, the human impetus of a single person is pretty worthless to me. But, I can’t predict what an artificial soul might be capable of if left unattended, so I’m taking on a big risk by letting her live. So, I’ll make you two offers: the first, you simply fork over your soul in exchange for hers, no uncertainty or fuss.”

“And the second?”

“We gamble on it!” you grin, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “If you win, you get the girl. If I win, I get your soul.”

“Let’s do it like this, then. A formal gamble,” he leans forward, a serious bent to his gaze, “You pick the first game. The loser of that game selects the next. Then, the loser of that game selects the game after that and so on. Standard rules for permissible games apply. First to three victories wins.”

“Interesting!” you tilt your head, considering your options:

>Accept these terms
>Demand to play only a single game of your choice
>Propose some other structure (specify)
>Write-in

>>6250175

[A SIDE]

You slip back through space and time, feeling for a second the weightlessness of disanchoring from reality, of existing even if only in a single moment as a being of true divinity untethered by space and unanchored by matter. You wonder if this is how it always feels for a god, to be anything, anywhere, anytime you want. Even as you reappear in Perdix’s divine realm, you can’t help but long to feel that for longer, despite knowing that in your current state it could easily kill you. Flipping your visor back up, you see Perdix’s flabbergasted face.

“How the hell did you do that?” he balks, tapping at a tablet in his hands sharing a color scheme with your suit, “You– you know that’s a complex piece of machinery, right? Like, even if it’s divine or whatever, the calculations alone should be-”

“I just kinda felt it through,” you shrug, “pretty intuitive.”

“INTUITIVE?!”

“...yeah?”

He slumps back onto his chair, laughing into his hands as he revels in the (presumed) absurdity of it all. “It’s like you just walked into a helicopter, sat down, and started operating it in a world where nobody ever invented helicopters. You didn’t even use the triangulation UI!”

You look down at your left forearm, willing the panel on it to pop open. It seems to reveal a compact collection of screens, buttons, dials, and meters for various assortments and purposes. At a whim, you copy all of the displays into your visor (apparently an inbuilt function), but quickly get bored of trying to parse them. You snicker, “I’m not piloting it. I’m COMMANDING it. Same way as my authorities or even my arms and legs.”

“How is that even– you know what, never mind,” he waves his hand in annoyed dismissal, “I’m glad it worked out for you. Now get out of my sight before I get a migraine.”

“Sounds like a sore loser.”

“Shut it.”

With a mock bow, you collapse the suit back into a tiara, keeping the crown on your head as you step back into the real world.

>Practice <Arts> while you wait
>Go gather some influence
>Meet with someone (specify)
>Check in on your pantheon
>Write-in

>>6250176
>Practice <Arts> while you wait
Not entirely sure what though. Maybe kidnap some smucks and practice literally tearing their soul to pieces? Examine what the easiest ways to harm a soul is?

>>6250175
>Accept these terms
Let's flip a coin.

>>6250175
>Accept these terms
Why not
Of course since it doesn't look like a formal contract, if we lose even once I want to go back on our word and try to kill him

>>6250176
>Quickly investigate to find information about the local money
Grind up our mainstay <Fetters>

>>6250175
>Accept these terms
>Practice <Arts> while you wait
>>Sunday Best + Down to the Core
we shouldn't limit ourselves to the structures of biological life i.e. claws. Let's get creative

I want to pay the good doctor Laverza a visit again. (I forgot how the name is spelled)

sacrifice for india

>>6250203
>>6250245
>>6250381

[A SIDE]

You return home, avoiding the various servants you have living there and heading once again into your room. Shutting and locking the door, you ease onto the bed, closing your eyes as you contemplate your next step:

>Fetters
>Yours Truly
>Sunday Best
>Ordinance
>Write-in

[B SIDE]

"Fine," you shrug, leaning backwards onto seemingly thin air, a thin hammock of nigh invisible chains supporting your body as you dangle above the ground, "we'll play it your way. I could use a little diversion."

He glowers, "I don't understand why it took this for you to cooperate."

"I already got what I came for," you smile, leaning back with a leisurely sigh, "At this point I'm just hunting extra credit."

He frowns, a conflict on his face you find difficult to parse or put into words, "Pick your game."

>A game of logic
>A game of luck
>A game of skill
>A specific game (specify)
>Write-in

>>6250835
>Sunday Best
>A game of logic

>>6250842
wait no we wanted to
>consult the Devourer's cookbook
can be a preface to the art of eating souls

>>6250835
>Fetters
>A game of skill
Might be time for Mario

>>6250835
>Yours Truly
>A game of luck

I'll wait as long as I'm awake for a tiebreaker, if one isn't made before I go to sleep I'll update in the morning and do a second tomorrow evening if there are enough votes for it

>>6251267
I'll change to fetters then

>>6250842
>>6250894
>>6250928

So, for the A side, the tie was broken to
>Fetters

And since >>6251295 was kind enough to change that vote, we'll use his suggestion for the B side, which would make the total result:

>Fetters (A)
>A game of logic (B)

Writing now

>>6251521
I actually missed that the other vote was also tied

>>6250842
>>6250894
>>6250928

[B SIDE]

“Chess,” you declare, “Bullet. No increment.”

He gives a somber nod, leading you to the back room of his shop, more like a lounge than a warehouse as games, toys, and books line the shelves perched around a central area fit with a couch, table, and chairs. As you make yourself comfortable, he places what looks like a handcarved wooden chess set as well as an old-fashioned chess clock. You allow him to select his pieces at random, and (fittingly) you watch him take the white pawn from your right hand.

He sits next to you, a look of absolute concentration on his face. The only noise in the room are the clinking of wood, the faint sound of breathing, and the ever-present ticking of the mechanical timekeeper.
You watch him move his pawn, visualizing the table, the man, and the board in their entirety as a part of your consciousness slips into the soulscape, an endless beach of glass-sand and blood-water. You see your hand move, touching the pawn opposite of his, before that table splits into two, one where you moved it one square and another where you moved it two. Another touches a knight, that too splits in two, until 20 boards lay before you. One second passes.

Then, Valeri moves, Each piece, each potential, hundreds of tables litter the beach now, every possible move he could make. Half a second passes.

Then, it’s your turn again. You feel your soul, the sea itself, bubble and froth as you muster your <Impetus> to cut the time in half even as the load explodes exponentially, again and again and again as a nigh-infinite number of tables and boards and Valeris pop into existence. You see some tables dissolve into the sand, any timeline where you lose, any result of any move that’s strictly bad. Others, moves that win pieces, moves that make progress, moves that win important squares– these are immortalized in glass and committed to memory. Blood trickles down from your eyes as you pull them over. Two seconds have passed.

You smile, relishing in the feeling of real wood on your fingers as you push your pawn forward.

[A SIDE]

You loom above a bustling fashion center, your wings of limbs and skin shimmering with crimson power as you hang suspended beneath the arched ceiling of glass and steel. You see a dozen dozen people– families, teenage friend groups, older ladies and gentlemen hunting for some expensive article or another– all of whom laugh and sigh and spend blissfully unaware that they sit in the jaws of the beast.

>>6251530

A single, thread-thin strand of divinity grows from your pinky, delicate links almost invisible to the human eye as they stretch down and, unseen and unnoticed, coil around the throat of a man in a suit. A second, a third, a fourth, a dozen, chains descend onto the occupants of the new-made slaughterhouse, more arms and shoulders and hands sprouting from your distending and disfigured body as you rush to accommodate the ever increasing number of victims.

Fifty. A hundred. A thousand. With a single twitch of your fingertips, the mall falls silent, each and every man and woman and child falling perfectly still, like a puppet with its strings cut.

You recall the principles of Perdix’s suit– divinity doesn’t care about physical location or proximity. All it cares about is divinity touching divinity. Normally, this is done anchor to anchor, hence the distance limit, but right now your divinity is directly interacting with theirs. In other words…

Drool begins to pour out of your gaping jaws– you came here to train, but what you’ve really prepared is a feast. You dig your <Fetters> into the very essence of their targets, considering the souls present as if they were a <Node>. They’re smaller, like a single grain of sand in comparison, but it’s enough for your <Mind> link to latch onto, the hairlike binds wrapping around their divinity and reeling it back into yourself. While you don’t have time to process all this <Impetus> at once, even shredded up it’s a hell of a thing:

>Divinity: 10,500-> 20,835
>Influence (harbinger of ruination): 724,593-> 726,421

Slowly, you descend, seeing the still breathing corpses of your victims, their bodies still persisting in life despite their souls being torn out and ripped to pieces. You poke one on the forehead, cackling to yourself as you watch it tip over like a wax figure.

>Fetters of Atë: 4 (Effective Level: 10)
May be used as a point of contact to consume the target’s soul.

>First Link, <Mind> (Complete): 1 (Effective Level: 15)
The chains become essentially weightless, unable to cause any meaningful physical damage to a target. In exchange, their mind-altering and divinity siphoning effect is greatly enhanced, and, once they bind a person, no degree of physical strength is capable of breaking them. The <Fetters> may only be shattered by an exceptional strength of <Impetus> or powerful willpower attainable only by thorough training in the denial of worldly desires.

>>6251532

Before you can appreciate your handiwork any more than this, however, <Preservation Instinct> and <Omen> compel you to move, soaring back into the air as a javelin bursts through a nearby wall, the air screaming in its wake as it tears away everything in its path. Before you can react, you feel a fist drive right into your chest, instantly shattering every bone in your torso and sending you careening through the roof, a rain of shattered glass descending onto the silenced mall as you leverage that momentum and your authorities to crack the sound barrier, rapidly ascending while you patch up your broken body with <Regeneration> and <Sunday Best>.

“Hello Darrell!” You give a chipper introduction as soon as your body is restored, making use of the metal infrastructure of the mall to conduct your voice with the <Sliver of Amdusias>, “Lovely to see you again.”

You can't help but laugh: your friend Heracles has come to see you.

>Leave now
>Get some revenge
>Write-in

>>6251533
Yo is he here alone?
Given that response time I feel like he's gotta be, and we just filled up on divinity
>Get some revenge
No ADAM here to save him from our manifestation now
How's it feel to be one of the strongest incarnations yet still powerless to achieve anything, Herc?

>>6251533
>"Ah, if it isn't the guy who couldn't satisfy his wife and then killed her when she sought it elsewhere..."
>"Back then I couldn't put those feelings inside anyone's head, just made them do the stuff they already wanted to do."
>Get some revenge

>>6251533
>Get some revenge
Is this a mistake? Probably. Will it be fun? Definitely. Hit him with everything we've got.

>>6251543
>>6251549
>>6251570

[A SIDE]

>Get some revenge

Fuck it.

A grin stretches across your face, revealing an unnatural set of razor sharp teeth even as nervous sweat begins to dew on your forehead. You're taking an awful risk here, but you're starting to get tired of skulking around and avoiding confrontation like a rat hiding in the sewers. You're a god for fuck's sake: it's about time people remember that.

You stretch your arms forward, layers of bone and keratin and steel kneading and locking into place as you construct a mechanical drill in front of you. Wind screeches, pressurized air compressed by your descent siphoned and sharpened into a razor-sharp torrent of rotating destruction. Effortlessly, you tear through glass and tile and concrete, barreling towards Heracles's divinity signature. Hastily, he brings down the head of his halberd, attempting to contest your charge with brute force, but finding the combined might of the built up momentum and the devastating rotational energy far less easy to deflect than expected as his body is vaulted back into a nearby coatrack.

<Preservation Instinct> roars again, and again you have no time to dodge. Thinking quickly, you make full use of the <Body of Zagreus>, exploding your wings into a mist of blood and flesh, the taste of iron falling on your tongue as you channel your divinity into <Armor>, molded into an enormous omnidirectional shield. You exhale, taking a brief respite as you hear the relentless onslaught of divine arrows bounce harmlessly off of your defenses. Not satisfied merely with protecting yourself, you drop the shields, this time channeling not an authority, but an <Art> into each and every scrap and drop of yourself suspended in the air. From the eye of the storm, it seems as if the entire world begins to fill with stars, tiny specks of magenta plasma sparking to life one by one, sparse at first, slowly drifting in a rough circle, before more and more pieces join in, the brightness and heat and wind growing, screeching, whirring into a raging hurricane of magenta fire. You throw your palms forward, allowing the storm to extend like a wall of death, tearing and burning everything in its wake until nothing but smoldering ash remains. With a flourish, you take a bow, allowing the flames to peter out.

>>6251843

Heracles still stands, but you can tell you really hurt him– while he somehow managed to block most of the heat, his clothing and armor is in many places singed off, new burns and old scars heaving with each labored breath, only his mask remaining perfectly untouched. Still, even in his battered state, something about him makes you uncomfortable.

This man is perfectly calm.

He moves slowly, almost serenely as he raises his halberd, readying it to strike as if you were near him instead of over a dozen meters away. He doesn't prepare to pounce, doesn't begin to dash, he simply slashes.

<Omen> screams. <Preservation Instinct> remains silent. Instead, your nerves wail in agony as your head begins to slide off of your neck.

<Divinity Manifest>: Fell

That's it: no flashy summon, no pocket dimension, no pomp or circumstance, not even a cool name. Just a simple technique that makes your opponent die.

You try to regenerate your body, but your authorities seem to falter; you can feel necrosis, death itself creep from the wound upwards. You initiate a <Supertask>, slowing reality to a crawl as you identify the foreign divinity eating away at your soul. Acting hastily, you tap into your <Soulscape>, a puddle of crimson water stinging your wounds, a puff of bronze smoke escaping as you purge the caustic power from your body. Just before he can land a finishing blow, you grow a pair of wings from your severed head, barely avoiding a swipe of his blade as you begin to weave your body back together.

>Run away
>Call in Dorota (you know she's watching)
>Target the mask (requires a roll, specify between normal, cautious, reckless, or desperate)
>Try to kill him the old fashioned way (requires a roll, specify between normal, cautious, reckless, or desperate)
>Write-in

>>6251844
>Call in Dorota (you know she's watching)
he should have some regrets

>>6251844
God damnit those fucking anti us masks fuck
>Target the mask (reckless)
Fetters is almost custom built to wreck Heracles right now, as long as we can get the mask off.

>>6251844
>Call in Dorota (you know she's watching)
have him suffer from her Remembrance of Regrets and our own Opus 2. Nocturne of Ruin
>Target the mask (requires a roll, specify between normal, cautious, reckless, or desperate)
>>Reckless
I want to get it, then we can analyze it or have Perdix analyze it to circumvent it in the future.

>>6251913
Support. No need to go it alone, and hopefully he can't bisect us more than once.

Wasn't there some sort of authority where you could cut things in your line of vision? And you could only dodge it if you knew how it worked? Is that part of what he's doing here?

killing herc is obviously what our aim should be, but if possible I also want to keep the mask in working order.
I imagine us showing up to that meeting in 2 weeks wearing an anti-us mask (after it was defused by perdix, I wouldn't put it on, or maybe even touch it before consulting with an expert)

>>6251845
>>6251886
>>6251913
>>6251956

Alright, I'll need dice for this roll since the implication seems to be that you and Dorota are working together. Since the extent of Dorota's <Arts> ability is not as of yet known to you, I'll ask you guys to roll percentiles instead. Please give me 3 rolls of 3d100 (I'll manually upscale and add bonuses after the fact).

Rolled 71, 83, 48 = 202 (3d100)

>>6252209
last time percentile roll was 3 people on 1d100

Rolled 45, 19, 37 = 101 (3d100)

>>6252209

expected on 3d100: 151.5

>>6252217
+50.5
>>6252239
-50.5

Rolled 100, 91, 8 = 199 (3d100)

>>6252209

>>6252217
>>6252239
>>6252246

[B SIDE]

You’re really starting to regret not killing this fucking bastard.

“What is the name for the official unit of currency used in Iraq, Jordan, Tunisia, and Yugoslavia?”

You groan, planting your face into the desk hard enough to cause the plastic wheels rested upon the gameboard to quiver, threatening to dislodge your already paltry collection of wedges. “Yugoslavia doesn’t even fucking exist anymore!” you complain, “This question should be invalidated.”

“As of 2000,” he corrects, seemingly unable to stop a hint of sardonic enjoyment from leaking into his voice despite the circumstances, “what is the name for the official unit of currency used in Iraq, Jordan, Tunisia, and Yugoslavia?”

“Aren’t games supposed to be fun?”

“Do you know the answer or not?”

Valeri, in a stroke of obnoxious genius, recognized the fact that infinite calculation cannot replicate a pre-existing difference in information. As such, even though you could give yourself an essentially unlimited amount of time to think, it’s basically impossible for you to answer trivia that came out before you even learned how to read without cheating unless you already knew it somehow beforehand.

“I dunno. Kill yourself.”

“I’m afraid it was the Dinar. No blue wedge this time.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Seriously?” he guffaws, baffled that you’d have the temerity to complain considering the circumstances.”

“Oh, right,” you crack, genuinely laughing at the absurdity of the situation, “you know what, fair, you got me there.” With a final chuckle, you toss the die across the table.

>>6252709

[A SIDE]

>202, 101, 199: ruling in favor, reckless optimal

“Dorota,” you shout the moment your body is regenerated, “I could really use a hand here!”

Heracles almost seems to teleport as he rushes towards you, somehow dwarfing the speed of your flight merely by sprinting. Thinking quickly, you burst into the air, minding any leverage points he might use and intentionally staying away from them in your ascent. However, before you can breathe a sigh of relief, you see him wave his halberd, crumbling a nearby wall into pieces. In that moment, he almost seems to duplicate, a brilliant flash of divine light signalling a massive expenditure of power as his entire path of travel lays itself out before your eyes. Before he can impale you on the tip of his weapon, however, you feel your body become weightless, sinking into the shadows and reappearing about a block away. You double over, knuckles going white as they clutch your knees. “Do you have some kinda gameplan?” you ask your shadow, “Because I certainly don’t.”

“I do,” a smile flashes back at you from the darkness, followed by the rest of her face, then her entire form as it arises from the abyss, “but you might not like it.”

You hear glass shatter: one way or another, Heracles is on his way, “Hit me. And make it quick. Our guest is gonna be here pretty damn soon.”

“Do you remember back in Korea,” she begins, “when you and your servant were making battle against the prosecutor?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Think we need a <Ruination> for this?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I think we can get away with pulling a similar trick in order to bypass the masks. I have been thinking about it for a while– if you could pump your divinity into me, I could convert it into my own. Then, as I do, you could manipulate my body and soul to use your <Arts> without hindrance.”

You narrow your eyes– it might work in theory, but even the little exchange with Pallas altered your soul itself, even if ever so slightly. What might happen if you literally become Dorota?

(Note: all options preserve the extant roll)

>Accept this plan
>Reject it for now: just have her support while you fight the old fashioned way
>Propose some sort of compromise option (specify)
>Propose a completely different strategy (specify)
>Write-in

>>6252709
That's not a game of logic, that's a game of knowledge, it's on the same level of bullshit as Bilbo posing the "riddle" of what's in his pocket to Golum. It's bullshit and you know it!

>>6252710
>Have her make an oath that she will never go against us and that she will aid us into our way back
should have done that first part ages ago

>>6252710
>Reject it for now: just have her support while you fight the old fashioned way
Just break the mask first and then he’s ours

>>6252771
We don’t have time to lawyer up an oath while Heracles is teleport sprinting us down

>>6252771
As per the rules of the contest, since you won the first game he was allowed to pick the second. His choice didn't have to be a game of logic, that was just the direction you wanted and not the standard for the entire set

>>6252823
I wasn't complaining to you, I was complaining to him

>>6252710
>>6252771
+1, a "never go against us" and "aid us into our way back" doesn't sound like it needs much lawyering, maybe adding what's meant by that?
QM will hopefully get the spirit of the request
I kinda want to write-in another thing but I don't want to make it a three-way tie

(phoneposting, i'm away for work a few days)

>>6252710
>Reject it for now: just have her support while you fight the old fashioned way
Nah, Dorota you be scary.

I'll update when I get home again in a few hours. If a tiebreak isn't made by then I'll just flip a coin

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Breaking the tie. Also, picrel shortly after Fell (Atë is in a tight spot)

>>6252771
>>6252791
>>6252842
>>6253237

[A SIDE]

“Uh, thanks for the offer, but I’d really rather not,” you unconsciously take a step away from her, your skin crawling at the mere thought of merging into one being with that… thing, even if only temporarily, “Just play support for now– if we crack that mask, it’s basically game over.”

You see a plume of dust growing in the distance, screams of terror and the clinking of shattered glass filling the air as <Omen> warns you of an oncoming danger. Dorota leaps into the air, plummeting off of the rooftop until a set of shimmering beetle’s wings emerges from two cavernous mouths on her shoulderblades, black slime spraying behind her onto the windows as she races forward. Heracles roars, pivoting his entire body into a devastating roundhouse kick. Dorota grins, a sadistic electricity in her eyes as her entire arm splits open into a four-way mouth, a child no older than 12 emerging from the maw of her soul and making contact with Darrell’s boot, exploding into a fine red mist on contact. You see his figure stiffen in horror; even in his berserk state, he can’t help but be stricken with guilt.

“Oops,” Dorota jeers, gently brushing him on his exposed forearm before using the opening to gain enough distance to avoid being pulverized, “It seems like you have done it again.”

You decide not to waste the advantage, leaping forward with claws bared, <Cutting Malice>’s divinity on your claws so thick and dark it almost seems more black than red. You swipe at his face, hoping to puncture the obnoxious mask separating your power from his insolent little brain. He dodges in a paper-thin margin, kicking off of the air itself to gain enough height to regroup.

“Did you get it?” you ask Dorota, not feeling the need to specify even without an explicit plan having been drafted.

“As a matter of course,” she replies, closing her eyes for a time so short it almost seemed like a blink. Your mouth contorts into a grin wide enough to hurt the skin of your face: you can feel it in your <Soulscape>– your library has a new book.

Heracles, undeterrable as ever, lunges back down onto your position, the sharpness and force of his divine weapon powerful enough to cleave the very building in two. However, even as Dorota gets out of the way, you don’t even move. Instead you calmly, methodically rearrange your body to function even after being cut down the center, and then change your body into something your friend might find a bit more familiar.

>>6253445
Even through his mask, you can imagine his eyes widen in agony as he sees his wife sprawled upon the rubble, bisected like a human kit-kat. “It’s not real,” you hear him mutter to himself, losing strength in his knees, his steps wobbling as he tries to steel his resolve.

“Oh but it is,” a voice, her voice with her intonations and her manner of speaking and the venom in her mouth on the night of her death pours out of every sliver of metal in the wreckage, “You’re a fucking murderer. I bet you blame it all on her, don’t you? On the mind control and the magic and whatever other fucking excuse you try to use. But even with that stupid little helmet on your stupid fucking head, you did it again!”

“You’re not her!” He screams, slamming his leg into the ground hard enough to punch through the sewers through a dozen feet of concrete, “She’s– I–”

“Killed me?”

Heracles, so wrapped up in his own rage and regret, doesn’t even sense Dorota fly in behind him. Taking it as a signal, you literally pull yourself back together and, in an instant, swap places with your dutiful servant.

With one last snicker, you place her finger on his mask, poking through it like a tin-foil hat. He tries to escape, but it’s already too late.

“Divinity Manifest: Choir of a Thousand Voices.”

A world of red cascades before you, carpets, curtains, walls, and dimmed stage lights, all dyed in blood as the symphony begins to play. Heracles, no, Darrell sits in the empty theater, an audience of one sat bound and transfixed as the Nocturne guides him to an eternal sleep. He can’t move, can’t scream, can’t even shed tears: his body, so blessed in strength and power, lies helpless in the face of the music.

Then, even if just a spark, a warm orange flame springs to life in the back of the hall.

“Let’s calm down a little bit, shall we?” a familiar monotone voice interrupts, engaging in an egregious breach of audience etiquette as the flame swells bright enough to outshine the stage itself. You turn, and a helmeted head nods back, a squirming Dorota bound in tangerine threads. You recognize the principle of the <Art>: though on a smaller scale and far lesser sacrifice, it’s of the same sort as the one gifted to you by the Spirit of Winter.

>>6253446

“Prometheus,” you sneer, walking through the pews towards him, “This isn’t any of your business.”

“Like it or not, that man is a necessary piece against the King," he deflects, "We need him. Certainly more than we need her.”

He pokes his finger into the side of Dorota’s throat, an obvious threat to put her down if you do anything he doesn’t approve of.

“Just kill him,” Dorota shouts, an uncharacteristic degree of emotion in her words, “It’s a good trade. Just do it.”

Prometheus looks back at you, “You’ve probably figured this out by now, but I can’t touch you. I need you to help save the world. So, please, take my word that the man you’re about to kill is almost as necessary.”

“He started it.” you pout, an almost childlike frustration boiling in your gut.

“I know,” he replies, his deadpan almost coming across as sarcastic as he tightens his grip around your associate, “Life’s not fair, is it?”

>Kill Heracles
>Attack Prometheus
>Let them go
>Write-in

>>6253445
>Dorota grins, a sadistic electricity in her eyes as her entire arm splits open into a four-way mouth, a child no older than 12 emerging from the maw of her soul and making contact with Darrell’s boot, exploding into a fine red mist on contact. You see his figure stiffen in horror; even in his berserk state, he can’t help but be stricken with guilt.
Holy based
We need to start carrying around child hostages

> Instead you calmly, methodically rearrange your body to function even after being cut down the center, and then change your body into something your friend might find a bit more familiar.
Aw yeah
Can't stop our mind games even with those stupid masks

>>6253447
>Kill Heracles
Now you're down one helper against the King, do you really want to be down two?

>>6253447
>offer a different trade
>we kill herc
>he finds out and tells us how to revive people like the Germans did Tistiphone
>we trade the myths that herc and algos currently hold

>>6253447
> Kill? He's mine now, my slave, my puppet, my tool. His power isn't lost, it's just under MY direct control now.

>>6253642
to clarify, in this >>6253589
I fully plan to mold his soul to our liking while we have him imprisoned within us

>>6253447
>Put him under our control

>>6253712
Lot of ifs and maybes there. We don't know much about how Hades (presumably) brings back people from the dead, or if it's even an option for Herc.

>>6253968
we might know immediately judging by Prometheus' reaction

>>6253500
>>6253589
Two votes for kill

>>6253642
>>6253779
Two votes for manipulation

This is an important enough vote that I don't feel comfortable breaking the tie randomly, so I'll let you guys sort it out while I sleep off my migraine

>>6254089
mine is also a soft vote for manipulation

>>6253500
>>6253589
>>6253642
>>6253779
>>6254128

[B SIDE]

You lost. Badly. Like, ‘you barely got one wedge off of a lucky question about Greek Mythology’ badly. Honestly, if not for the stakes, you’d have flipped the table over and gone home a long time ago.

“That’s game,” he declares, snapping his fingers and allowing the set to organize itself back into the box, “This call is yours.”

You tilt your head, contemplating your options: The way things are set up, if either party loses the game they select, the other player basically has a guaranteed win. However, since you were allowed to pick first, you’re basically guaranteed to win by default as long as you don’t sell your own bag, so to speak. Still, this guy is a master of games, and not everything is as mathematically calculable as chess. You’re gonna have to be very careful with your next choice.

>A different game of logic (specify)
>A game of skill
>A game of luck
>Something fun?
>Offer a draw
>Write-in

>>6254444

[A SIDE]

“Ok, ok, fine,” you raise your arms in mock surrender, flashing a roguish smile as you state your new terms, “I won’t put your dog down, but I can’t have him running around trying to bite my head off all the time. So, I’ll just go in and… fix up the wiring a bit. If you catch my meaning.”

He waits for almost thirty seconds, seemingly considering your offer (or doing that weird thing he does) before speaking again, “Alright,” he shrugs, kicking Dorota away from him and onto the floor. Instead of falling onto the carpet, she sinks into the shadows of the benches instead, “If you can pull it off, it’s no issue to me. Better be quick, though: your window is beginning to shrink.”

<Omen> begins to whine, urging you to turn around. As you oblige, your eyes once again fall onto Heracles, still seemingly stuck in place by the music, but the scenery around him has changed: instead of the luxurious wood and cushioning of the symphony hall’s benches, a cheap aluminum city bench stands alone amongst the empty audience. The warm wine-red carpet is gone, replaced by cracked concrete and hole-ridden asphalt. A cold wind, impossible indoors, blows from the point at which he sits and wafts into your face, a smell of burning tar and singed flesh stinging at your nostrils and causing your eyes to water. Your brow furrows in confusion, then arches in horror and recognition.

You’ve seen that street before.

Though he isn’t looking at you, in the dim light of the theater you can see a cerulean light crackle off of his eyes like fire, the skin of his fingers bleeding, burst open as a set of talons, shards of pointed turquoise shred through his flesh and into the world. His jaw wrenches, his neck snapping backwards in an unnatural rotation as a wicked smile seems to burn bright in the darkness of the room.

“You can’t have this one, bitch.” His voice, still gruff and deep, bears a sort of femininity to it as he swivels the rest of his body to meet his head, “He’s with me.”

You turn to look at Prometheus, rage and terror burning in your eyes as you ask a wordless question with your glare. “Originally,” he says, “I came here to help you.”

>Stand and fight
>Run away
>Ask her how this is possible
>Write-in

>>6254445
>Run away
>You know what, I got what I came for, and as satisfying as this would be, I've got better things to do.

>>6254444
>A different game of logic (specify)
Shogi? Go? Plenty of options

>>6254445
>Run away
Welp, shoulda killed him when we had the chance

>>6254444
>Something fun
MARIO KART

>>6254444
>Something fun
>>6254445
>Stand and fight
is that the son of the sea? I'm confused

>>6254950
Nah, it's the Fury of Vengeance. She gets stronger the more she hates someone, and BOY HOWDY DOES SHE HATE US.

On the plus side I'm pretty sure we'll get a notification that we ruined her one day, just from her desire to kill us warping her life.

>>6255034
ah, OK I can see that...
>stand our ground even harder

>>6254476
>>6254514
>>6254648
>>6254950

[A SIDE]

>Run away

Before you can even turn to flee, a plume of blue flame erupts from Heracles’s body, cyan heat dancing across the wood and cloth and leaving the unkempt pavement of a forgotten city in its trail. However, before the fire can singe you, it peters out, cerulean shifting– no, being devoured by brilliant tangerine right before your eyes.

“GET OUT OF MY WAY,” the Fury roars, slinging wave after impotent wave of divine flare towards where you stand.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” Prometheus sighs, casually walking up behind you and placing a hand on your shoulders, “I can’t have you burning the whole world down on a petty grudge.”

Though his eyes are obscured as always, you can feel his gaze boring a hole through your head as he presses you into the floor, the both of you vanishing from the wreckage of your battle and reappearing somewhere else.

[B SIDE]

>Something fun

There’s something off about this place. It’s almost like there’s some sort of “Fairness” clause woven into the laws of the world; whenever you increase your speed or enhance your vision, whenever you divine information about coming items or events through an <Omen>, Valeri seems to match in lockstep, his own specs ramping up right alongside your own. You compensate, using your <Arts> to enhance your vision and increase your calculating speed instead, but Mario Kart is less than conducive to a supertask.

Valeri is good– shockingly good for a man his age– but even still it’s a tight race: each and every time, you and him end in a photo finish, items and luck being the main determinant of who wins which race. Regardless of the circumstances, it’s still the game that it is.

>>6255219

You feel your heart race with exhilaration as you anticipate a red shell on the turn. Valeri, knowing in advance just as well as you the danger that awaits, slows down slightly, nabbing a second item box just in time to pull a bomb next to his first place coin. He exhales, his eyes fluttering shut as the projectile races towards him he waits until the perfect moment.

He takes his coin and tosses the explosive back. In a hair’s breadth, it catches your weapon in the explosion radius. With that, he wins the last game of four, terminating your one game lead and resulting in…

A tie.

You sigh– this, you think to yourself, is the consequences of a two player versus race.

“You know,” Valeri smiles, his eyes practically brimming with nostalgia, “Kaya loves these kinds of games. I had to get as good as I did just to stand a chance.”

“You’d have been crushed without my powers,” you scoff, wiping your brow, fingers still clutched around your controller, “This place is a fucking scam.”

“Games are more fun when they’re fair.”

“So,” you get back to business, “What does a tie mean? Play again?”

“You know,” the old toymaker turns, looking into your eyes, “This doesn’t have to be the final set.”

“I’d rather eat an entire commercial airplane before subjecting myself to another round of Trivial Pursuit,” you declare, face hardened in disgusted sincerity.

“No, of course not,” he laughs, “I meant this. Sitting around and doing something you actually enjoy! A little break from the war. A single piece of no man’s land where people like you and people like me can have a little break from the horrors of it all! And preferably stop killing each other all the time.”

“I’m not a soldier,” you click your tongue, “And even if I was, the “war” as you call it is fun. It’s the only fun thing I’ve had in years.”

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, “Really, I am. But just because that is better than what you used to have– does that mean that it really is the best thing to do? Does it really never wear you out?”

“...I’m not supposed to be the one that wants to do that.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Forget it.”

>Offer a draw
>Begin the duel again
>Write-in

>>6255220

[A SIDE]

“So. I’m sure you have questions?”

The smell of candy dangles in the air, an oppressive sweetness filled with microscopic scraps of fudge and brittle and an uncountable assortment of other sugary delights strong enough to be borderline unappetizing. Though he’s talking to you, the masked man seems more interested in the assortment of saltwater taffies than divine combat or the end of the world or really anything else. You wonder how he could simultaneously be so mindlessly driven to his singular goal and such an unserious goof-off.

“Can you even eat any of that?” you ask, mindlessly perusing the selection of sweets prepared in-house, “I can’t imagine someone who doesn’t breathe could do much with food.”

“Perceptive.” he nods, the crinkling sound of a paper bag unfurling seeming almost as loud as his words as he quietly turns to face you. Instead of answering, he simply pulls a notebook out of his coat pocket, flips through it, pausing every now and again before flipping near the end to make notes, “I can assure you, I have my way of enjoying them.”

“It seems like a waste of time,” you scorn his decision even while your treacherous eyes dance across the chocolate covered honeycombs.

“Do you remember the taste of your first candy? No? Neither do I.” He pauses, holding a piece of blue raspberry taffy in his hands, “It was stormy. I was out with my mom. We were poor then, you understand, but she never let me know it unless she absolutely had to.”

“I thought you didn’t remember,” you interrupt.

“I don’t,” he tilts his head, “Anyway… yeah. Taffy. She told me it was bad for my teeth. Really she just couldn’t afford to make a habit of buying anything unnecessary. But the first time she ever let me have some…. damn. That’s the sort of thing you never forget for the rest of your life.”

“So you do remember?”

“No,” he shakes his head, dropping the candy into his bag, “I don’t.”

>Ask questions about Tisiphone
>Ask questions about Heracles
>Ask questions about him
>Ask questions about the war
>Buy a candy
>Leave
>Write-in

>>6255220
>Offer a draw
If we won, we kept Kana's soul, while if he won we gave it back. What's a tie lead to? We hold onto the soul for now but promise not to mince her?

>Ask questions about him
WTF is he
>Ask questions about the war
King find a way around Gaia yet or what

>>6255220
>>Best three out of five for this one?
>>Ask him if he knows which single incarnations contributions will affect the outcome of the war the most.

>>6255284
He is Frankestein

While we wait for a tiebreak, I did an illustration of Dorota and her arm split into the four-segmented mouth mentioned here >>6253445 since I thought it made for a cool image (and it's been a while since I've posted any sketches of non-Atë characters)

>>6255221
> Bring up the Dirge of the Newborn God
> Why is everything worth so much to you? How much are you sacrificing?

>>6255220
>Offer a draw
Trade the kid for the hardware and be done with it. There's wraiths to hunt!

>>6255284
>>6255557
>>6255639
>>6255641

[B SIDE]

>Offer a draw

“Fine,” you sigh, leaning back, “You give me everything you know about the Mary AND all physical evidence and attributes to the computer and I spit out a human Kaya?”

“That was always good enough.”

“I’ll need a human to overwrite. Unless you want her to still be a piece of me.”

“That can be arranged.”

“You’re kind of a sick bastard, you know that?”

“Hardly. Some people deserve it.”

You snicker, “True. Let that officially be the terms of the tie. You got beer back here?”

“It’d be a dereliction if I hadn’t.”

“Great,” you grin, a chain bursting from your fingertip and wrapping around the door to the minifridge in the back, “Let’s put up another set. I’m not ending tonight on a draw.”

“You’re on.”

[A SIDE]

“So… what are you, anyway?”

“A human being.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “but that’s still the only answer that matters.”

You sigh, slamming a twenty dollar bill onto the glass countertop and aggressively pointing at the honeycombs you were looking at earlier. As the cashier begins to bag them, you turn back to Prometheus.

“So, what is this perception filter you have up? Feels a bit rough for an <Authority>.”

“Nice catch. It’s an art. Based on your <Guerilla Tactics>.”

Your eyes widen in shock, “When did you–”

“I didn’t.” He interrupts, “You did. Sometimes.”

You find yourself tempted to pry, a thousand questions racing through your mind, but you can sense that the line of inquiry will be met with nothing. “Fine,” you change the subject, “if you won’t tell me <what>, at least tell me <why>. Why are you willing to give so much? I’ve seen that <Art>, the Dirge, and I know the sort of mindset you need to have to use it. What about this world is worth throwing everything away over?”

>>6256034

“One person,” he shifts his hand, plucking a Surprise Chocolate from the bargain bin, “I’m one person. Yet, in the system’s eyes, the value of what I had alone was enough for– well, you could say it bought me a whole lot.”

“What’s your point?”

“So, well, what about that times 8 billion? 8 billion souls, each with a million little stories, a million precious little memories and sparks of joy, a million triumphs and a million failures. 8 billion different views of the same sky.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you groan, genuinely disappointed at the lukewarm answer, “It’s all just twinkles on black. You see it once, you see it 8 billion times.”

“You could see it 8 billion times, and even then, you’d have never lived it as any one of those people do on any of the thousands of nights that cross their eyes.”

“I could,” you smirk, shifting your face into a dozen of the ones you have memorized off the top of your head before shifting back to the usual face, “In the end, eyes are just eyes.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And I still don’t agree,” you sigh, giving up on seeing into Prometheus’s delusional little head, “Just give me a status report. Who do you think is gonna be important in the coming war?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Pretty much everything.”

“You suck.”

“Noted.”

“Give me the averages, then.”

He shrugs, plucking ten seemingly random taffies out of the various tubs, shifting them around in his hands while his bag hangs suspended in the air. He starts, dropping a green (presumably apple) candy into the container. “Gaia. For obvious reasons.”

You nod– even counting Prometheus and his insane effort to beat back the King, Gaia is an incomparable existence in terms of both delaying and winning the upcoming calamity. However, the next choice surprises you more than you’d expect.

“Athena,” he declares, tossing some sort of gray (black tea?) flavor in with the rest, “More of a prophylactic than anything.”

“What does that–”

“Prometheus,” a statement in orange, both color and flavor, “Again, self evident. A bit lower on the list since most of the preparations are already made.”

“Reeeal humble.”

“It's accurate. That fact is no fault of mine," he pauses, then shakes his head, "After that it’s a bit hazy, but I’d have to go with our big gun.”

“Heracles?”

“Nope,” he corrects, silently dropping a strawberry-lemonade taffy into the bag, “The Star of Death.”

“And the rest?”

“Heracles, Kronos… often Theia. Hermes and Hephaestus, and a few others I don’t think you’ll have heard of.”

>Ask more questions (specify)
>Take your candy and leave
>Write-in

>>6256035
>Ask more questions (specify)
>I've had a vision of a future where you chain and bind me up after this is over. How do I get off your shit list there?

>>6256035
>>Ask more questions (specify)
>"Star of Death? Why saying it in that roundabout way?"
>Do you know how the Germans revived Tistiphone?
>>6256104
that too

>>6256035
>Did I ever have a line to the Whittler club or was it always you?

>>6256104
>>6256126
[B SIDE]

“Are you sure about this? Seems… kinda gross to be made of rapist.”

A balding man, skin almost as yellowed as his teeth, scraggly stubble unable to form into a full beard mouthing gibberish as your <Fetters> dig into his skin and fill his brain with whatever disgusting garbage he probably wants to see. Drool pools out of his mouth, white slurry melding into a rancid slush in the snow as he rubs his face into the dirt.

“Kaya always did appreciate the notion of recycling.”

“Hilarious. Well, regardless, it’s her problem now.”

You tighten your grip, performing the Shaman’s ultimate taboo.

[A SIDE]

“You mentioned everyone else by name,” you narrow your eyes, trying to look as suspicious as you can while nibbling on the confection caught in your fingertips, “But when you got to me, you didn’t say Atë, you said <Star of Death>. Why did you do that? Furthermore, mister prophet, I can do a little future-seeing too. Specifically, one where you try to fucking seal me outside of time and space. How am I supposed to trust you not to backstab me again?”

“...The latter question is simpler. I decided to take care of that problem in advance this time.” With a smirk, he taps his helmet, seemingly waiting for you to pick up on some kind of hint.

“You bastard!” you hiss, unconsciously popping your claws, “You designed the anti-me helmets, didn’t you?”

“And I tipped off ADAM to your abilities, identity, tendencies, plans– all under sworn secrecy, of course.”

You narrow your eyes– even back then, it felt like they knew way more about you and what you would do in that fight than they reasonably could have. You should have known that the only spoiler reading bastard in the entire incarnation would was behind it all. “So you WERE trying to kill me!”

“Hardly,” though his tone remains even, and though he still isn’t breathing, you detect something of a scoff in his delivery, “I just needed you a little humble. Worst case scenario, I would have saved you on my own.”

“Then why..?”

“I couldn’t delve into the specifics, but I needed you to think you were weak. Think you needed help. Think that the world was dangerous enough that you had to start making deals.”

>>6256192
Forgot to tag you the first time

>>6256523

[B SIDE]

“It’s surprisingly… dinky.”

An inconspicuous plastic shell about the size and general shape as a fax machine sits in a secret basement room, the whole setup looking more like obligatory office space than the resting grounds of the most dangerous weapon the world has ever known. Next to it lies a white silicon android, a sort of uncanny anatomical perfection to it– symmetry down to the micrometer, artificial flesh just a bit too supple, too soft, vacant eyes a bit too large and breathless nose a bit too small. Despite her presumed best efforts to look normal– skin-colored foundation and an ankle-length dress presumably gifted from Valeri– the body of the old Hail Mary seems like the perfect midway point between a literary Frankenstein’s monster and a sex bot. You shudder as you remember that what was essentially the mind of a child used to inhabit that thing.

“The mother device was made to be unassuming and inaccessible to anyone but the President himself, based on his own unique biosignature.”

You shrug– you can easily replicate something like that. “And the machine?”

He shakes his head, “Tastes of the craftsman.”

You grimace as you shove both relics into your inventory. “Who would that be? Was it not a team?”

He shakes his head, “The President came across the secrets behind an <Artificial God> and recognized that he was out of his depth. So, he entrusted the task to the most skilled craftsman in the world– co-owner of the Incarnation Auction.”

“Hephaestus,” you glower, “whatever, just give me what blueprints and manuals you have.”
“What are you going to do?”

“Well,” you shrug, “probably get banned from the auction.”

>Do something else here (specify)
>Go home
>Write-in

[A SIDE]

You grind your teeth hard enough for your mouth to grow powdery, calcium dust coating your tongue even as your mouth regenerates. “So that’s what you meant when you called Ye Min a prophylactic. How long have you been watching me anyway, you creepy bastard?”

“Your friend Karmenov would know that well enough, would she not?”

Wait, you remember now– Pheme did tell you that you were being stalked online, someone keeping tabs on your actions online to a degree no fan would. Looking for names, addresses, ips, the lot. You begin to tremble slightly, your legs taking a step back as if on their own.

>Get the answers to the rest of your questions
>Attack Prometheus
>Run away
>Write-in
>>6256192

>>6256524
>find the shaman
>Ask why tell us now

>>6256524
>[A side]
>You begin to tremble slightly, your legs taking a step back as if on their own
what the fuck? Get it together Ate.
Oh boo hoo, someone is stronger than us and has been trying to control us,
it's not like that has been the situation THE ENTIRE TIME
FEAR is for cowards, we have NEVER stopped fighting the odds
we only need these clowns for the big fight, after that, we can wipe their names from history and rip their souls to shreds, put them through an eternal hell if we so desire,
they won't get away, we will get our revenge, but for now, as always, we need to HOLD IT TOGETHER, and get more power

>Get the answers to the rest of your questions

>>6256524
>Do something else here (specify)
Kill them both? If it seems like it would be easy? Otherwise
>Go home


>Get the answers to the rest of your questions

>>6256554
Why not tell us now? He won. Earth is protected from us by our contract with Ye Min, a contract made in the deepest and most primal method possible. No breaking or getting out of it. It’s why he might as well answer the Whittler question too, no need to keep pieces in reserve when the game is over.

>>6256524
>Go home

>Get the answers to the rest of your questions
Ahhh it makes sense. Promo does want to keep the world in a general status quo after all, so keeping all the players balanced makes sense.

Keep it together, get information, then WE HUNT.

>>6256622
On the plus side, we're protected from him, and ye min. At the end of the day we've moved beyond earth. It's honestly a relief to know we're no longer on the MUST DIE list.

>>6256676
From Ye Min yes, I wouldn’t say from him though

>>6256554
>>6256613
>>6256622
>>6256647

[A SIDE]

“I still have questions,” you insist, levelling your voice and restraining your reactions. You’ve dealt with people watching you, you’ve dealt with people who think they can manipulate you, and you’ve shown them how terrible an idea that’s always been. You breathe in and out, a regular flow restoring clarity to your mind; the war comes first.

“And I still have answers.”

“First,” you ask, “not that it really matters at this stage, but did I ever really have an in with the Whittlers?”

He nods. Well, it’s something, you guess.

“Second: do you know how the Germans revived Tisiphone?”


“Actually, yes. But it’s not replicable, if that’s what you're asking. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that she wasn’t completely resurrected at all.”

You frown, “Care to elaborate?”

“Nope.”

Figures. “Finally, you still never told me why you specifically referred to me as the Star of Death– did that mean something?”

He sighs, an artificial thrum like the whisper of a theremin, “Even like this, it’s almost like you can read my mind.”

[B SIDE]

You sit down on your dinner table, ignoring the chairs littered around it while you play a game of solitaire. You’ve been thinking a lot about games, recently. Well, not just games, but everything else human about the world. You shift the cards, revealing and arranging and sorting them to where they ought to go. Solitaire isn’t that fun, but something about it really clears your head.

“I know,” you say to yourself, “that I’m not as continuous as I like to think.” You were dancing around it in the last round, but you’re certain now: this <You> is definitely a part of the larger <You>, but just like how one painting in a triptych is far from identical to the whole, you are not <You> in totality. Still, it’s a needless sentimentality. Hell, you’ll probably be back pretty soon. Still, you can’t help yourself. “I hope,” you smile, stepping away from your completed game and into a wooden box built to hold the <Pygmalion Protocol>, “That you remember the time you were me.”

>>6257041

[A SIDE]

A mirror image carved of flame flickers before your eyes. She’s smaller than you, thinner and weaker, plain and meager. She’s… you. Properly. Even then, as much as you’ve altered yourself, this copy is even farther off– her eyes are wrong. They must be.

I’ve been thinking about hamartia she smiles, looking up to somewhere above your head, placing her warm hand on your temple, cupping it like it was your cheek, Isn’t it sad? It’s all the same, whether the people are good or bad, all you need is one flaw and a play in the wrong genre. I think I could do a little better than that.

“What is this?”

Prometheus stands silent. The ghost in the fire continues, I think it would be kinder if the right people got comedies and the right people got tragedies. she pauses, as if waiting for you to finish a sentence you haven’t spoken, before continuing, I guess it is arrogant! Well, it’s not like that’s anything new for me, right? Besides, it’s better than… ha, I don’t even want to think about it. Thanks again, by the way, for keeping me from going off the deep end. This… I think this feels a lot better.

“She was Atë too,” he explains, a forlorn hunch in his pose as his body seems to deflate simply by looking at his own <Art>. He reaches his hand towards her, only for it to pass right through the light and fire, “But when the time came to do what needed to be done, she simply lacked the Impetus. She was Atë, but she couldn’t bring herself to do what the world needed her to.”

“So, wait,” you laugh, genuinely unsure of how you even feel about this revelation, “You’re saying that you sat by and waited for me to turn evil, watched and kept track of me while I killed thousands of innocent people, all so you could get a useful tool against the King?”

“...”

“Ha, wow,” you laugh again, surprise melting into sardonic joy as you revel in the humor of the situation, “So, heh, wait, that means you’re totally complicit in basically every atrocity I’ve ever committed. You basically signed off on it! Jesus, that’s actually hilarious.”

Wordlessly, he walks out the door, vanishing from behind the windows as soon as it swings shut.

>Meet with an ally (Specify)
>Dig deeper into Prometheus
>Look into this alternate you
>Prepare to hunt an Interwraith
>Write-in

>>6257042
>Prepare to hunt an Interwraith
I really, really, want to do these other options admittedly, but I also really want to HUNT.

Still, there's probably value in understanding HER weakness.

> In fact, I’d go so far as to say that she wasn’t completely resurrected at all
Only the parts of her that were given from the system came back? Is the rest of her soul still in our ocean?

There's probably an advantage to be gained there, if we take the time to find Tisaphone's humanity. I wonder if we send it home if it would splinter her Impetous and make her weaker?

I've been thinking about Atë's Birthday recently, and what using Songstress on it would do to us. Shatter us into pieces? Leave us a hollow shell? Or without our traumas does that leave us whole and focused?

>>6257042
>Prepare to hunt an Interwraith
Damn Prometheus really went the distance to stop the King
Not too concerned about other us. As Prometheus said, she was too weak to do what she needed to do. We've diverged enough that she's no longer relevant. If we want to know our own weaknesses we should use Hamartia on ourselves. With like a mirror or something.

>>6257042
>Prepare to hunt an Interwraith
We're so tired of being jerked around.

(finally home)

so it was all a psyop? Is Pheme in on it too?
I say we demand now whatever we want from them, Herc and Tisiphone on a silver platter for one.
They wanted a beast, at least help fatten it up a bit

>>6257042
>Prepare to hunt an Interwraith

>>6257201
It said "something went wrong" when I posted this after coming back in the country and my LTE chip was working again. Then it just didn't display my own post for me.
Don't count me twice

I lost all of my interwraith notes so I'm actually going to go through and reread all of the relevant portions of the quest. Because of this, tonight's update may be postponed to tomorrow morning while I look through them (unless I can manage to relocate my notes). If that happens I'll try to do two updates tomorrow, though. To make up for the delay, here's a sketch of the rough height comparison between the three leading ladies of the quest, minus Dorota who's pretty similar in height to Atë

>>6257102
>>6257128
>>6257201

I found my notes on my thread archive flashdrive. Not sure why I put them there.

[FULL DISC]

It's more apparent than ever that you absolutely need to take down an Interwraith; right now, you very well may have the weakest system-born combat abilities of any Incarnation in Prometheus's top five. If you're gonna compensate, you need as much firepower as you can get your hands on. You can't wipe the giddy smirk off of your face– it's time to go for broke. Either you'll walk back one step closer to becoming a god, or you'll be a corpse in the vacuum of space.

You decide to take a look at the Devourer's Cookbook to see if there are any additional tips. Interestingly, one seems to have come up:

METHOD: TRAP FORMATIONS AND YOU

If you can read this, it means you've gotten your hands on a SEALING TECHNIQUE powerful enough to meet the BARE MINIMUM for a TRAP FORMATION. Personally, I think hunting this way is for WEAKLINGS, but I guess not everyone can be a REAL APEX PREDATOR.

You scoff– even whatever interdimensional alien the Devourer is has some weird machismo honor code. Still, the advice is probably pretty helpful anyway. You continue.

INTERWRAITHS don't have ANCHORS, in other words meaning that they don't really inhabit PHYSICAL SPACE. While they still need to EXTEND into it to eat, they aren't BOUND BY IT. In other words, if you're TOO WEAK to fight one properly or engage in a PURSUIT, you can attempt to bind it to the real world with a TRAP FORMATION.

The fundamentals are similar to hunting any other animal with TRAPS. You set up BAIT in divinity and set up your SNARE, a web of PHYSICAL OBJECTS imbued with your impetus. What matters is you need to have at least TWO components: a SEALING technique to bind the Interwraith to the SNARE and an IMPOSITION technique to DOMINATE THE SPACE. If you do it correctly, you should be able to PSEUDO-ANCHOR the Interwraith and best it in a battle of RAW IMPETUS.

You tilt your head– it seems like something, either <Fetters> proficiency or comprehension of the <Dirge> unlock a METHOD page of the <Cookbook>. You wonder to yourself if learning other <Arts> might let you unlock other such pages.

>Study the <Dirge> to see if you can warp its imeptus
>Create a new <Fetters> link for the express purpose of hunting Interwraiths
>Learn a different <Art> to try and find new pages
>See if you can create a Trap Formation with the abilities you already have
>Write-in

>>6257742
>Create a new <Fetters> link for the express purpose of hunting Interwraiths

I wonder if Pallas's Annihilation Beam thingy could be a base for something as well.

>>6257742
>>Create a new <Fetters> link for the express purpose of hunting Interwraiths

where are we on Influence right now?

>>6257742
>Create a new <Fetters> link for the express purpose of hunting Interwraiths
Swiss army knife

>>6257742
>Study the <Dirge> to see if you can warp its imeptus
breaking the hive mind

>>6257750
>>6257753
>>6257843
>>6258024

>Create a new <Fetters> link for the express purpose of hunting Interwraiths

The fundamental principle behind most <Arts>, but especially a construct based one like the <Fetters>, is to manifest divinity onto real spacetime and have it affect the world by replicating the properties of known matter. You are the point of origin, the anchor from which your soul is able to output this power in the first place. Put another way, <Arts> and <Anchors> are fundamentally the same– the difficulty lies in how to invert this correlation in order to bind an Interwraith.

You think what you need is a point of reference, some sort of hint to get you thinking on the right track. You briefly consider the Dirge, but upon further consideration the intentions behind that seem a bit backwards: ideally, both you and your target (in the case of the Dirge) end up somewhere outside of our reality; this is the last thing you want from a "trap formation", so that Art is unhelpful for you now, at least in your estimation.

That said, it's a whole lot easier to come up with things that DON'T work. What do you think can?

>Something in Yours Truly
>The reverberation effect from the Sliver of Amdusias
>The suit crafted by Perdix
>The authority <Here and There>
>Your <Divinity Manifest>
>The Bandit King's "Aura"
>Some other authority or miracle (specify)
>Write-in

>>6258086
>The authority <Here and There>
>The authority <Ghostly Constitution>
>check the item lizards tail

>>6258086
>Your <Divinity Manifest>
Seems like the best example of a binding trap that we have

>>6258086
>Sunday Best
I think that Divinity Manifest only serves as the IMPOSITION to dominate the space
but we want to anchor them. we could go with Sunday Best, where we turned our body into literal unliving material before.

>>6258086
> Sunday Best
Yeah, I like the thought process here. Immaterial into Material, we need force the wraith into a psuedo anchor

>>6258096
>>6258127
>>6258183
>>6258224

Right now, you're the size of a normal person; it's not an illusion, not some temporary trick, or some distribution of some "real mass" across a bunch of different places. So, then, that begs the question: where does the <Mass> for your <Sunday Best> come from?

You can't be making it out of nothing– lord knows how difficult that is– but it also can't be false or <Construct> mass like your fetters generally are, since you can seamlessly incorporate it into your body. It can't be a density trick, or you'd easily be able to sense the alteration in your composition even in the face of some sort of subconscious weight alleviation Art, and it can't be gathering stuff from the ambient world since you could freely access your full <Figure> in the White World. You grin: there's no other explanation. There must be some other subspace, probably a natural, far weaker subconscious adaptation of the <Divine Realm> that contains enough mass to account for the difference. For the sake of convenience, you'll categorize it as an <Art>, despite a seeming inability to use it in and of itself:

>World of You (Incomplete) (Effective Level: ???)
Creates a subspace that contains the parts of you that you aren't using. The mechanics are unknown.

Ghostly chains begin to build from your fingertips, mere blueprints without light or weight. You take great care to avoid contiguity with your physical body as you slowly, deliberately begin to pull on the <World of You>. Like sand filling into an hourglass, you see little sparkles of crimson glass fall and melt into the demonstrated shapes, each and every part its own Anchor. You manage to make five links before you have to resort to a <Supertask>, using brute force to constantly calculate the relative positions and properties of each and every atom of Real mass used for the <Fetters> link. You frown, allowing it to sink back into yourself: this is a decent start, but you basically need to dedicate your entire soul and all of your concentration to perform. This is unsustainable.

>Just practice and see if you can keep it more intuitive (Method: Pallas)
>Try to imbue the links with <Artificial Impetus> to sustain themselves automatically (Method: Hail Mary)
>Try to figure out how you can extend the <Anchor> region your soul imposes onto the world (Method: Bandit King)
>Try to see if you can temporarily split your soul in half while only operating a single body, having one constantly dedicated to the Supertask while the other does everything else (Method: B Side)
>Give up on this approach and try something else (Method: A Side)
>Write-in

>>6258663
>Try to imbue the links with <Artificial Impetus> to sustain themselves automatically (Method: Hail Mary)
Shiny new toy!

>>6258663
>Try to imbue the links with <Artificial Impetus> to sustain themselves automatically (Method: Hail Mary)

>>6255636
Dorota's hand, plus up to date colored illustration

>>6258845
What a winning smile

>>6258845
four blowjobs

>>6258663
>Try to see if you can temporarily split your soul in half while only operating a single body, having one constantly dedicated to the Supertask while the other does everything else (Method: B Side)
GO ATE! GO AND BPD TO THE EXTREME!

>Try to imbue the links with <Artificial Impetus> to sustain themselves automatically (Method: Hail Mary)

>>6258845
Look at the smile! Cute!

>>6258741
>>6258835
>>6258873
>>6258932
>>6258939

>Try to imbue the links with <Artificial Impetus> to sustain themselves automatically (Method: Hail Mary)

You close your eyes, remembering the <Cookbook>’s description of INTERWRAITHS: THEY ARE BARELY SENTIENT. They have BASIC SURVIVAL INSTINCTS and that’s about it. In other words, it could be stated that the instinct to survive is probably the most fundamental, simplest form of Impetus that exists.

You focus on each breath– in, out, in, out. You remember the hitches in your breathing when it felt like you might die, the brief instance of panic when your body thought it was drowning, thought it was dying, and the relief and satisfaction you felt in the deepest part of your soul when your breath came back. PERSIST, the deepest part of any existence, from gods to insects to plants or even inert rocks, the glue that holds an entity together.

You breathe in– even if the mass is a part of the <World of You>, it isn’t a part of you right now– it’s its own existence. Its own soul.

PERSIST. You breathe in.

CONSUME. You breathe out. A new link forms in the clutches of the first as the chain devours a little more of your power, multiplying itself.

PERSIST. CONSUME. PERSIST. CONSUME. You feel your divinity waning, a transient permanence as you see your maximum <Divinity> trickle down an insignificant amount, your body itself shrinking as your own <Art> consumes your flesh and repurposes it, formerly fragile glass-like links reforged in hard ruby, refracting and amplifying its own light in its crystalline structure, a shimmering disco of weak red lasers scattering out from its thick, weighty corpus. Even though it’s quiet, you feel the chain whispering to itself and to you, growling and trembling as you cut off its source of growth.

>Fetters of Atë Second Link, <Anchor>: (Incomplete) (Effective Level: 12)
Creates a simple artificial soul, weak enough to to be quenched in favor of a trapped entity, effectively locking divinity-based existences into a physical location within its real matter. Consumes an incredible amount of divinity, and diverts a small amount of your soul and body into itself when in effect.

You grin– the results are better than you could have possibly imagined. Though the nature of the <Art> is intrinsically disconcerting, the effect is impressive enough to make it more than worth the gamble. What’s your next step?

>Attempt to create a trap formation using this and <Yours Truly>
>Attempt to create a trap formation using this and <Divinity Manifest>
>Try to refine this <Art> further
>Take your new link for a practical test run
>Try to work out some of the risks of it being a bit too sentient
>Try to make a more reliable, non-system based <Imposition> method
>Write-in

>>6259164
>Try to work out some of the risks of it being a bit too sentient

>>6259164
>Attempt to create a trap formation using this and <Yours Truly>

>>6259164
>Attempt to create a trap formation using this and <Divinity Manifest>
Not sure how yours truly will trap anything

>>6259285
It's about control of the soul, and we want to control a soul here.

My main concern with Divinity Manifest is that it's on a timer, we can only eat one wraith a week with it.

>>6259164
ties all around
>Attempt to create a trap formation using this and <Divinity Manifest>
but I'm also slightly worried about them becoming sentient
we should imbue that artificial impetus with the knowledge they are getting used as bait and later rejoin us, they serve glorious purpose!

where do we stand on our influence and path to level 15?
I have some stuff written out while I was away

>>6259164
>Try to work out some of the risks of it being a bit too sentient

>>6259172
I'll switch from Yours Truly to Divinity Manifest to keep things moving along.

Watch us accidentally make an interwraith sapient

>>6259313
Our own soul, pretty big change to expand to another
Would be open to trying later but Divinity Manifest is perfect and this is the first time we're trying, we should use the best tools we have to ensure success.

>>6259459
Yeah, it's a fair point. Still, reliance on the system, while convenient, will hold us back long term. Hopefully consuming a wraith will give us the power to be more direct in our hunting of them.

>>6259167
>>6259172
>>6259285
>>6259355
>>6259430

It's a hot autumn night, the dry air of the Queensland outback bristling through the tanned, freckled skin of a young man's body, a sort of scratchy, old-sweater warmth seeming to huddle around his skin despite the light dusty breeze blowing around him. Exhilaration burns in his chest as he looks around, wildly flicking his flashlight at ever rustle of dry grass, every voice-like whisper of the wind, searching for something that might be lurking in the dark– or at least, anyone capable of watching.

"There's nobody out here, Lachlan," the only voice he's expecting to hear sighs from behind. Even though he's been there all along, a voice after minutes of silence still makes Lachlan jump ever so slightly, "We're fine."

"Can't be too careful, Amit. Fed's and all," he smiles, a boyish recklessness in his expression unfitting his paranoid caution.

"We're not even doing anything illegal."

"Yeah, but unless you wanna get caught up in the Special Draft..."

"I get it," he groans, "can we go ghost now?"

"Be my guest. I'm still enjoying the air."

Amit smiles, pale green light crackling from his eyes, his teeth seeming to glow like a lighthouse beacon as power spills from within his body, first only from his face, then through his increasingly translucent body, more and more of him seemingly melting into the air itself until only that smile remains. Lachlan can't suppress a smile– even after all this time, it's still cool as hell. However, the smile doesn't last long; a chill runs up his spine, a familiar warning that-

"Something's wrong," he announces, a slight tremor in his formerly cocky tone as his eyes betray his panic, both them and their guiding light erratically flickering around.

"Hear something?" Amit asks, "It's probably just an animal or something."

"No," he barks, pulling a longsword from nothing and loosing it into the air, allowing it to float at his side like a loyal pet, "Never felt it this bad. Whatever it is, it's big."

"You're paranoid, man," he scoffs, "Whatever it is, we can take it."

Lachlan narrows his eyes– Amit's always had an underdeveloped sense of danger.

>Stand and fight
>Run away
>Try to bargain with... whatever it is
>Cut your own throat to <Tail> away
>Write-in

>>6259794
>Try to bargain with... whatever it is
doesn't hurt to make friends with the big players, we can always <Tail> away later

>>6259794
>Try to bargain with... whatever it is
always feels bad making choices for our prey

>>6259794
>Try to bargain with... whatever it is
Gotta know what we're dealing with here.

>>6259794
>Run away
L8r dude have fun dying

>>6259809
>>6259817
>>6259832
>>6259854

"We surrender!" Lachlan screams into the oppressive darkness of the night, his body beginning to quiver in a feeling long forgotten to humans for millennia of evolution: helplessness before an allmighty predator, far, far above them on the food chain, "I don't know who you are or what you want, but whatever it is, if we have it, it's yours!"

"The fuck you doing mate?" Amit snickers back, still invisibly drifting through the air around him, "I'm telling you, there's no one there!"

"Tryna keep us alive you dumb cunt," Lachlan hisses back, his throat so tight in agony that he couldn't muster a scream even if he wanted to, "I told you there's something– holy fuck!"

A single hand, pearly white except for polished ebony fingernails and a trail of crimson blood dripping at the wrist hovers, transfixed in the air at eye level with Lachlan. He can hear Amit wretch as a mouth of razor sharp teeth cuts itself open from the skin of its palm.

"Clever boy," a feminine voice pierces the night as the lips begin to move, a ruby red tongue flickering behind an impossible maw, "I like clever."

Amit begins to make a break for it, floating in the opposite direction before screaming, rematerializing from the shock as he tumbles backwards into the dusty grass. Another hand– no, a LEGION of them, disembodied and laughing in a bloody chorus like a flock of kookaburras from hell float in a circle around the two men.

"What the fuck what the FUCK!" Amit wails, running back to Lachlan's side, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!"

"I dunno," Lachlan lets out a hollow laugh, unable to process the horror of the situation, "But I think it might be our new boss."

"Your new boss," the hands, speaking in unison, correct, "The other one seems... more useful as a test subject. Originally, that was what I was gonna use both of you for. Congratulations, Lachlan! You get to live."

"L-lachlan," Amit whimpers, "We, we have to fuckin' run, right? You- you're not gonna leave me here to die?"

>I'll distract it. Take a tail and run away
>I'll try to convince it to spare you. Maybe she needs a test subject she can use multiple times?
>Let's run away together. It'll be hard, but it's better than the alternative.
>I'm sorry, Amit. I don't want to die.

>>6260622
primal fear
>"No, we have to do whatever the fuck it wants!"

>>6260622
> I'll try to convince it to spare you. Maybe she needs a test subject she can use multiple times?

>>6260622
>I'll try to convince it to spare you. Maybe she needs a test subject she can use multiple times?

>>6260622
>I'll try to convince it to spare you. Maybe she needs a test subject she can use multiple times?
Hopefully we don't get killed for trying

>>6260628
>>6260645
>>6260758
>>6260801

>I'll try to convince it to spare you. Maybe she needs a test subject she can use multiple times?

The hands pause at your proposal, no breathing or laughter or speech, merely an oppressive silence bearing down on Lachlan and (he could only assume) Amit as the nightmarish council commenced their grim deliberation. Eventually, rather than speaking, the smile on the hand before him simply widened, and, slowly but inexorably, the outstretched fingers began to curl ever so slightly, the palm floating towards his face with taunting unhurriedness. “LACHLAN!” Amit roars, trying to return to his feet but slipping on the sand and grass, collapsing back onto the ground with a plume of dust and a hard thud, “MOVE OUT THE FUCKIN’ WAY YOU DUMB CUNT!”

Lachlan knows better. <Omen> guides him, not even letting him take a single breath as he stands ready for its arrival in perfect, statue-like stillness. A single movement, a twitch, a word, much less an attempt to speak or flee, could cost the difference between life and death. Yes, that was it– in this instance, obedience was survival. With a silent apology, he turned his eyes away from his friend, praying to himself that the poor man would survive, and that if he– no, if they made it out of here alive, that it would not be a fate more unenviable than death.

~~~

It’s sunrise– or is it sunset? at the beach. The beach should be east, but– no, something about it makes you feel like it should be a sunset. The crimson backdrop of the burning death of the day catches and reflects back in the ocean water, an unnatural sanguinity that defies the myriad of beach sunsets he’d seen before. Before he has time to think about a red ocean, he sees the water begin to ripple and move, a shock of bright pink hair crowning from the waves as a figure approaches him from the beach.

She’s beautiful– really, impeccable, with flawless cream-white skin (a rare sight in the sun-kissed land down under) wrapped smoothly around a full, toned frame. Little is left to the imagination either, with only a black string bikini separating her body from his eyes. Drops of water, almost normal without the rest to catch the bloody hue, roll down her curves and bring with them a sheen that almost makes her seem to glow. If it were a normal day, he’d have been unable to look away from it all, but today all he could focus on was her hands. Those nails, those fingers, he’d memorized every inch as he saw the dread chorus descend upon him. Even in this placid beach, even without <Omen>, a primal dread still welled in his gut at the mere sight of those hands.

>>6261215

“Clever again, prioritizing the head on your neck,” a familiar voice echoes, a burgundy towel manifesting upon the putty-like refractive sand of the beach as she descends onto it, shielding herself from even a fake sand rash, “Though it limits my options a bit, I can’t say it doesn’t make me a lot more comfortable.”

She smirks, a playful expression unfitting the situation dancing on her lips as she flicks her wrist, seemingly plucking two champagne flutes out from nothing at all. “A drink?” she offers, quickly palming one to her other hand and holding it out to Lachlan.

“Thank you,” he accepts, taking the glass with grim determination, “Can I… ask where we are?”

“Oh, nowhere. Nowhere real anyway. Although it might be more helpful to say that you’re still in the same place we already were. I… needed your body for something. Not in a weird way. Obviously.”

“What about Amit?”

“Well, depends,” you shrug, “Do you think he’s stronger than you?”

“...no,” Lachlan admits.

“Then he’s probably dead. Here’s hoping, though!”

[FULL DISC]

Well, the Indian ghost was disappointing.

<Anchor> does seem to be capable of binding a non-phyiscal entity when put in tandem with a <Manifestation>, but you worry that it isn’t a true Trap Formation; his soul broke far too quickly to bring any useful data, merely re-physicalizing once his will shattered instead of being trapped within your chains themselves. While the results are promising, you imagine incarnations are gonna be inherently incapable of serving as decent test subjects.

Even using a body half your level, using <Arts> by proxy and a far weaker, borrowed Manifestation of his own making (something about phantoms, you didn’t care to memorize the name) Amit’s soul was no match for your new guy. Lachlan, was it? You’ve already gotten his soul by contract, but you aren’t really sure what to do with him. His body takes to <Arts> pretty naturally, so he could be useful for something.

>Have Iwana train him
>Give him a lesson personally
>Have him stay here and wait for orders
>Give him orders now (specify)
>Use his body to recreate the Bandit King
>Write-in

>>6261216
>Give him a lesson personally
Maybe we can use him to get around those helmets

>>6261216
>>Use his body to recreate the Bandit King

The cookbook said traps are not required, so we shouldn't tunnel vision on it too much either.

>>6261216
>Have Iwana train him
Pass him off, get back to THE HUNT

>>6261216
>>6261264
that does sound good, supporting

>>6261216
well we have a history of making targets into subordinates
>Give him a lesson personally
>make him give an oath to us first

>>6261793
In case it wasn't clear, you already took his soul off his hands off-screen

>>6261264
>>6261265
>>6261291
>>6261549

>Give him a lesson personally

A handsome young man, a hiker’s build with a hiker’s tan, a sort of boyish anxiety lining his freckled face and misty green eyes, rises from the arid ground a raucous cough wracking his body as the dry grass and dust tickle his throat. Obviously discombobulated, he narrows his eyes, trying to make you out in the dark before remembering and resorting back to his flashlight. Your eyes never waver or blink despite the bright light, a warm smile unfitting your previous actions beaming back a reflected glow.

“Who are y– no, wait,” Lachlan clutches his temples, confusion and dread welling in his posture as he takes an uneasy step back, “Who am I?”

“Good question,” you nod, closing the distance and grabbing him by the wrist, pulling him from the inhospitable Outback into your well lit, comfortable Realm. In a daze, he sits down on the sofa you offer, and you gracefully alight on the opposing chair. You chuckle, sipping at a glass of (now lukewarm) coffee you left on the table before replying. “Your name is Lachlan. You’re a ghost– or at least you resonate with one. Do you remember why?”


“Me and my friend–” he answers quickly, and correctly, before erroneously correcting, “No, no, I was alone. Shit, why did I think there was someone-”

“You’re confused,” you interrupt, a warm helping hand pulling him out of his discordant memories, “you’ve delved into a power that shouldn’t be possible and it messed with your head. You were there alone. Please continue.”

“...right,” he does as instructed, “Anyway, I got stranded out in the wilderness. Fell, broke my leg. I was out for more than a week, and the feds only found me out in the middle of nowhere and brought me back after more than a month.”

You shake your head, “Shit deal.”

“Yeah. The missus– sorry, not actually married. I know Americans get that confused. Anyway, my girlfriend moved on. Found someone else like that. Lots of people did. I was shocked how quickly everyone moved on.”

“You felt like a ghost.”

>>6261805

He nods.

You slink behind him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, gently kneading the tensed muscle down, inducing a relaxed exhale as Lachlan slumps forward in his seat. This is the most complex rewrite you’ve done so far– Lachlan’s friend Amit was central to both his origin and his identity, so you’ve needed to top off the <Ordinance> and hammer out the excess kinks manually. This is the third time you’ve had this conversation, but it seems to be the last. His soul has finally stabilized.

“I’m lucky,” he laughs, “that I met you out there the second time. I dunno why, but you make me… want to be a ghost a bit less. I guess.”

“That’s important,” you smile, your hand still planted just beside his neck, “but you don’t need to thank me. You have value, Lachlan. Even if everyone else forgot, even if you died before I met you, I need you.”

“...you’re just saying that.”

“It’s true,” you slither around, your foreheads almost close enough to touch as you lean forward, braced on the head and arm of the couch as you take up his entire field of view, “You have a unique gift. You’re the only one who can save me from the people who are trying to kill me.”

“I.. am?”

“That’s right. You and I are… similar. Ignored. Hurt. And special in a way that nobody could ever recognize. We’re compatible, you and I. That’s why I need you to be my–”

>Right hand man (Teach him Arts you know the traditional way)
>Knight (Try to get him to figure out Arts you don’t already know)
>Sword (Implant your own knowledge of Arts directly into his brain via <Ordinance>)
>Armor (Teach him how to become your perfect vessel to fight your enemies)
>Write-in

>>6261807
>>Armor (Teach him how to become your perfect vessel to fight your enemies)
this sounds like the "get past masks" option, and that's absolutely the thing we want, if we can counter that, we are cooking with gas again

>>6261807
>>6261922
I was debating for a while and yeah that is a good point, support
they need to become a dye through which all our divinity output will be discolored

>>6261807
>Armor (Teach him how to become your perfect vessel to fight your enemies)
Huehuehue

>>6261922
>>6261939
>>6261970

"-armor," you declare, skin finally touching skin as you lean forward just a little more, your forehead gently clinking into his, your bangs the only thing keeping the two of you apart as you continue to speak in a hushed voice, like you're sharing an important secret, "I need you to move as I move. Jump as I jump, run as I run, kill as I kill. I need you to be the perfect guardian. Only you can keep me safe."

"Only I..." he repeats, a slow dullness in his voice, as if entranced.

"You remember being a ghost. It hurt, not because of the injuries or the red tape, but because you were abandoned. Left alone." He dumbly nods, your head bobbing with his as the contact remains in place. "This time," you croon, placing a finger on his cracked lips, "I'll ask you to go through it for me again, except I swear, you'll never be alone during the process. Can you do that for me?"

"Only I..."

"That's right," you beam, gently tousling his hair even as you flood his <Soulscape> with your own waters, "Only you."

As soon as you pull away, he passes clean out, not even falling back onto the couch as he falls into a static, almost paralytic sleep. While he might not be ready yet, you can feel his soul adjusting to the unique <Concept> of an <Art> you planted in his soul, something like an inverted <Yours Truly>.

While that suit of armor still needs time to forge, you have another that's been ready to go for a while. With a smile, you place the tiara on your head.

>Coronation Warplan Summit: 7 days from now.

What should you do?
>Practice <Arts> (specify)
>Try to find a non-trap <Method> accepted by the Cookbook
>Proceed to the hunt
>Consult the Devil's tome for any pertinent help
>Chat with someone first (Specify)
>Write-in

>>6262499
>Handle Kaya/Talos', Amit's and Laclan's subjugation in the system and check how far off we are from Lvl 15

>>6262499
>Proceed to the hunt
WE’RE READY

>>6262499
>>6262611
+1

>>6262611
>>6262642
>>6262866

>Current Divinity: 726,937/819,200 [Album releases tomorrow]

>Lachlan..?
Still alive. Due to the nature of the tampering via the <Ordinance>, the system does not seem to consider what you did to him a <Subjugation> in the traditional sense, so no rewards from either Divine Folly or the general system.

>Amit?

You decide to start with small fry, taking your subjugation rewards from the now dead ghost.

>Congratulations, you have subjugated the incarnation of the <Plural> myth <Ataphos>!
>Influence: 726,937-> 727,303
>Due to your authority 'Divine Folly', you have gained one random authority possessed by the target. You gain the authority: Weeping, Unseen (1)!

>Weeping, Unseen (1)
While you cry (or sink into a sufficient degree of sadness or other negative emotions) you become undetectable to the naked eye, so long as none of your actions are conspicuous enough to shatter the illusion.

You tilt your head– it seems like a <Guerilla Tactics> powered more by the impetus of misery than by divinity alone. The concept is interesting, but it doesn’t seem particularly practical.

>Store this authority
>Grind this authority
>Keep this authority (specify replacement)

>>6263301

>Kaya/Hail Mary

>You have subjugated the incarnation of Talos! Calculating influence gain…
>Err— incongruity in level
>Err— incongruity in personal continuity
>Incarnation… never extant?
>Err— incarnation lacks necessary qualifications for subjugation
>Err—
>Requesting an automatic adjudication…

You frown– it seems like Kaya’s existence as a <Homunculus> blurred the System’s internal logic in regards to its own subjugation criteria, and especially since you <Consumed> it rather than <Killing> it, the System also probably has a similar error to the issues that popped up when you used the <Ruination> back in South Korea. Thankfully, rather than refusing to give you any rewards at all, the System has instead decided to adjudicate, a state of affairs far more in your favor.

>You have gained the <Epithet Crystal> Talos, Eternal Weapon!
>You have gained the (Architect) grade title <Godkiller; Infanticide>!

>Godkiller; Infanticide
Though in its earliest stages of exploration, a mere incarnation has slain one who has stepped foot into the almighty. The effect of this title will present itself in a time of dire need.

You dislike the ambiguity of your new title, but the prospect of something that can bail you out of a bad spot is hardly something to complain about, plus, with a <Grade> as high as Architect, you can only imagine that whatever mystery effect they have in store is going to be more than useful in whatever “time of dire need” you might stumble into next. You continue to scroll, hoping for— indeed, a choice of rewards:

>Influence: 2,000,000

Your eyes widen in shock– 2 million? That would be enough to instantly take you from your current level not only to the next one, but into the one after that! While the prospect is tantalizing, you stop yourself from instantly taking it. What other options might there be in store for you?

><Architect> grade hint: On Weathering the Storm
><Architect> grade privilege: Friendly Chat
><Architect> grade relic (book): Your Authorities and You
><Architect> grade hint: Devourer’s Guide to Not Being Dead

You frown– most of the names of the rewards present seem pretty underwhelming in comparison, but based on the grade (and the supposed equivalence with 2 MILLION influence), you suspect something else might be at play here.

>Pick a reward (specify)
>Delay for now
>Write-in

>>6263301
>Store this authority
Impetus powered stealth? gotta turn it into an art
>>6263302
>>Delay for now

>>6263302
>Store this authority
><Architect> grade privilege: Friendly Chat

>>6263301
>Grind this authority

>Pick a reward (specify)
Let's take the 2 mill
That's enough power to steamroll ADAM

>>6263301
> Store
><Architect> grade hint: Devourer’s Guide to Not Being Dead

I'm good with the other noninfluence options though.

I'll wait until morning for a tiebreaker, otherwise I'll go through with
>A Friendly chat
Since >>6263688 said they wouldn't mind any of the non-influence options

>>6263905
it's a four way tie, shouldn't we rather go with "delay" as it doesn't invalidate the other options?

>>6263661
1Mill people listening to 8 song willingly is 2mill Influence

>>6263990
>it's a four way tie, shouldn't we rather go with "delay" as it doesn't invalidate the other options?

I would say no, since the people advocating taking a reward now are probably antsy about picking up an upgrade before going toe to toe with an Interwraith in the presumed very near future

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>6263302
1 = Store, 2 is Grind
>><Architect> grade hint: Devourer’s Guide to Not Being Dead

>>6263310
>>6263564
>>6263688
>>6263990
>>6264013

><Architect> grade privilege: A Friendly Chat
“Where… am I?”

A throbbing headache pounds in your skull, the pulsing beat of your own heart seeming to want to escape out of your very bones as it slams down again and again. You groan– somehow, this is almost worse than every other time you’ve overloaded your brain, like something other than pain is manifesting as such to keep your brain intact.

“Apologies.”

You turn, swiveling in a chair you didn't even know you were sitting in, to meet the eyes of a stranger. It's… human, an unassuming man in a white suit far more conspicuous than anything about his actual person, but something about him seems off– you try to measure the length of his nose, and you realize that you can’t. It escapes you every time.

“You're not human,” you accuse, scooting back away from the table you can only now perceive. The man smiles, filling in even more of the room’s ambiguity by taking a sip from a teacup on a dish before him.

“Quite right,” he nods, “but I almost wish I were. This “tea” is simply divine. In your mouth, anyway.”

“Who are you?”

“Oh, my friend,” he chuckles, snatching a teapot that you only now notice was always there before casually pouring a refill, “I’m certain you already have a decent idea.”

>Ask for intel (specify)
>Ask him what you should do
>Ask for <Arts> tips
>Press him about his identity
>Ask for a cup of tea
>Try to order something from the cafe you can't see
>Write-in

>>6264447
I have so many thoughts. gonna go full autistic here:

>"Then you should also know that I'm sick and tired of being jerked around."
>"I'm as lost as I've always been. Just when I think I get things under control and be free, someone else shows up who - I don't know - reset the world, or played out possible futures, just to then pick the path that leads me around."
>"I don't want to play attack dog for people who don't even respect me."
>"I could simply leave this dimension only to then- not even be a real god yet, and be the smallest fish in a multiversial pond."
>"And before I sacrificing my soul to make a shield for an universe that wasn't kind to me, I'd rather play crown to the king as a big fuck you to them."

>"I just want to be free and not constantly scared of people betraying me and using me for their own agenda."
>"And what's your agenda? What are you doing against the king? Just make an incarnation system and let the locals deal with it? How can I trust you and your agenda?"

also don't think I didn't notice that the tie was broken in favor of the devourer's hint.
I'm very conflicted because my option got chosen.
But I think that QM really wanted to write this scene more than the others

>>6264471
>>6264447
Yeah I'm a bit confused. as the tiebreaker, I got tagged in the update, but it doesn't seem my vote was actually counted for anything.

>>6264447
>>6264465
>>6264481
+
>bully the dude into giving us one of the other rewards. It's not a friendly chat if we have to pay for having it.

>>6264447
>Press him about his identity
Who else could he be but the Architect behind the System?

>Ask for intel (specify)
How'd he get in a position to pull off what he has, and what's his motive for doing it all? Just stopping the King? Or is there something more?
>Ask for <Arts> tips

>>6264447
>Ask for <Arts> tips
Other things are cool too.

>>6264481
Oh oops that's my bad. I'll give you guys the extra Devourer's guide as a freebie

>>6264447
>Ask for a cup of tea
>Press him about his identity
let's get this friendly chat
it's only polite to introduce oneself
we can introduce ourselves as Andrea too, but we feel no attachment to the name these two despicable people gave us
>Ask for <Arts> tips

>>6264471
Not particularly actually, I'm on vacation rn and I wrote that update on the verge of passing out. In my delirium I simply miscounted the vote.

>>6264481
>>6264501
>>6264544
>>6264633

“Still,” you object, only being half honest, “Introductions are an important part of conversation. Even if it's just a formality, you should at least go through the motions. It's the friendly thing to do.”

“Ah, that does seem to be the case,” he nods, seemingly taking a mental note, “You know, some cultures are capable of such extensive natural soul communication that they don't even need to introduce themselves! Or sometimes even converse… well, not like I’ve ever seen one myself. Ah, I’m rambling,” he pauses, taking another sip of tea, “For the sake of theming, you can call me the Architect.”

“Atë, then,” you reply, “Do you have chamomile?”

“What? Like– oh, of course, the tea.” You tilt your head– he seems awfully bumbling for a supposed grand designer of something as complicated and elegant as the System. He pulls a second teapot from a stand behind him, an old heartwood oak with an enrapturing pattern of knots and coils, gently pouring a hot amber fluid into your red porcelain cup. The smell of flowers fills the air as you bring it to your face, gently blowing on it before taking a sip.

“So,” you ask, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, nothing too extreme,” he begins playing with a puzzle you recognize from your childhood, “You’re simply my current… parlay? As it were.”

“...what?”

“I think you might join me someday. Oh, not in the sense of recruitment– your type never do appreciate such entreaties even if I were interested in making them.”

“What do you mean? And what do you mean by ‘parlay’? Does it have something to do with the System?”

“Yes and no. Mostly yes. Hmm–” he pauses, seeming to struggle a bit as the series of bronze loops latches in place, “You people do this for fun?”

“I guess. Better than boredom.”

“Fascinating. Oh, yes, the System. Well, honestly, it's actually quite simple. Suppose–”

The room vanishes, replaced once again by a formless, shapeless abyss. The Architect, still a horrifying median of a man, hovers above the void, contemplating for a moment before putting a single sentence on the wall. “EVERYTHING IS WHAT YOU KNOW.”

“Suppose you lived here. Suppose you cracked the secrets of the universe and of infinite time and unlimited power. Suppose you tried everything of which you could possibly conceive. Playing the savior, playing the tyrant. The martyr, the monster, the gambler. You tried it all. However, when everything is all under your control, everything too is limited by your own <Perspective>. The universe is merely the monochrome color of your being.”

“So you use the system to… peek? For, what, interesting tidbits?”

>>6265005

No. I could just peek if I just wanted to peek. No, what I wanted was PEER REVIEW! You have that here, don't you?” you nod, so he continues, “And if I wanted real, cool stuff, I’d need more gods. REAL gods, not just… well, you’ve seen what a third rate animal playing at divinity looks like. Not a lot to learn there.”

"The Uncrowned King?”

“A needlessly grandiose title,” he scoffs, “Well, he is on the verge of destroying your world. Tough luck.”

Your eyes widen– it seems like there's always a bigger fish, “So, wait,” you change the subject, “If the goal is to get me strong enough to teach you something, why not set me on my way? A bit of <Arts> training could-”

“Boring! As you’d call it. Well, not actually. This fragment of my character is actually lacking a lot of my knowledge, so I don't think I could help you even if I wanted to. Of course, I could just give you a bit of my wisdom, but it’d only be equivalent to… ah! My administrator privileges are quite intact. Here are your options, you loyal System user, you.”

At a snap of his fingers, the cafe comes back, but placed in front of you is a shimmering golden menu. Unlike the other items the Architect has pulled out of nowhere, you hage no sense that it was there when last you looked, even if you had somehow failed to notice. Your eyes widen as you begin to read– it’s the System’s font.

>The Devourer’s Guide to Not Being Dead
>Auto-Rituals for Dummies (Architect)
>Of Worship and Devotion: Refinement of Living Impetus (???)
>Notes of the Wandering God— Big Shots and Calamities
>Arts, A La Carte (write-in, up to 10)

>>6265006
so he's basically playing out the plot of the Eternal movie.
throw planets into conflict and hope a god springs forth?
>Ask him what the options entail, because they are often very cryptic and it's often up to chance if a pick was actually useful to us.
>help auto-rituals what we call supertasks

>>6265006
>The Devourer’s Guide to Not Being Dead


>>6265034
>plot of the Eternal(s) movie
damn it is

>>6265006
>Notes of the Wandering God— Big Shots and Calamities
We want to be both a big shot and a calamity

>>6265034
I think you want this option: Auto-Rituals for Dummies (Architect)

>>6265242
no I want to ask what they were.
>would auot-rituals help with what we call supertasks

I'll wait a little longer for a tiebreak, otherwise I'll default to the Devourer's Guide since that was the original choice (again, sorry for mixing that up). At the latest, the update should be up in five or so hours. Should be back home and able to update by then

>>6265034
>>6265169
>>6265242
>>6265443

It feels good to be home! Updates will now proceed at the usual schedule. Thank you for your patience.

>The Devourer’s Guide to Not Being Dead

The Architect– or whatever segment of him you’re talking to– dings a little brass bell at the edge of your table, a hand your eyes refuse to see placing a small, leather-bound book on the table in front of you. Tentatively, you pick it up, flipping through it for a second to confirm its contents before letting it go, vanishing into your inventory.

“You know,” you sigh, “I really would appreciate it if you put a little description next to the choices in your system. As it stands, picking anything is basically just a lottery.”

“That is a feature, not a bug,” he smiles, “Having everything be laid out clearly would benefit the wrong kind of person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Isn’t the point of this to make people strong enough to become a <God> or something? Brew conflict and pick out the winner?”

He shakes his head, “On the contrary. As it existed before– even as it exists now– the Incarnation System usually creates a planet of perfect peace. Always a god, never the point.”

“...what?”

“Did you know? You’re only the fourth… no, the fifth best candidate for becoming a <God> in your world. Knowing this, do you know why I’ve decided to speak to you?”

“...because you think I’m fun?”

“Well, yes, but not just that,” he chuckles, “Avarice. Flexibility. A little bit of evil, and a little bit of madness. And… a dash of sentimentality. These are the things every single individual who meets my standards has, and it is one or more of these things I find lacking in those who might otherwise be called your betters.”

You grit your teeth, discomfort roiling in your gut as he casually calls out the sentimental weakness lingering in your soul.

“You take that as an insult,” he laughs, “Most do, but for basically any reason other than the one I’ve stated. Well, it's just as well. I think your time is just about up.”

“So,” you frown, gulping down the rest of your tea, “Any last words of advice?”

“Your kind has an overdeveloped sense of self,” he rises, patting your hot-pink hair down onto your head as he instantly closes the distance between yourself and him, “Try to keep it that way. Oh, and, right, a painting is more than its title and synopsis. Do remember that.”

“What do you mean-” you begin, only to find yourself back in your room.

>Read the <Devourer’s Guide>
>Confer with Pheme
>Begin the hunt now
>Write-in

>>6265918
>Read the <Devourer’s Guide>
I give up
Hunt never

>>6265918
>Read the <Devourer’s Guide>

>>6265918
>Read the <Devourer’s Guide>

>>6265960
would you learn how to not be dead before or after hunting a darkwraith?

>>6265918
>>Read the <Devourer’s Guide>
we need to scan kayas memories, the system gave us a title for ex nihilo, one of the requirements to becoming a god, maybe she got titles there as well. Even if not, she already achieved it and we can learn from it.
But darkwraith hunt first

>>6266120
It's not that it isn't sensible, it's that sensible things just keep coming up.

After reading Pheme's gonna barge in and tell us about something big going on RIGHT NOW that we need to deal with

>>6265960
>>6265969
>>6266120
>>6266216

Apologies for the delay, I wanted to redraft last night but fell asleep a bit too early. Will try to update again tonight if votes allow.

PREFACE

YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE TO USE ANY OF THESE TECHNIQUES. This is COMMON SENSE to any of my brethren, but this guide will end up in the hands of WEIRD ALIENS with INCOMPREHENSIBLE IMPETUS. To me, and to any FULLY FLEDGED DEVOURER it is COMMON SENSE that being STRONGER is the ONLY RELIABLE METHOD OF SURVIVAL. You should AVOID FIGHTS YOU CAN’T WIN and gain ABSOLUTE MIGHT so that there ARE NO FIGHTS YOU CAN’T WIN. This guide will only be useful for you because YOU ALREADY FUCKED UP.

For REAL guides for SKILLS YOU SHOULD USE, check the DEVOURER’S COOKBOOK, DEVOURER’S GUIDE TO IMPOSITION, GODKILLER’S ENCHIRIDION, and the ART OF FANGS.

FIRST CLAW: DON’T GET AHEAD OF YOURSELF

If you own ANY of my handbooks, you’ll notice MOST OF THE PAGES ARE BLANK. This is for you OWN GOOD, but since other books aren’t made for IDIOTS, I still wanted to get it through your THICK IDIOT SKULL. You shouldn’t BUILD A NEW FLOOR on a tower before the FLOORS BELOW IT ARE STRONG ENOUGH. Martial Arts, Divine Arts, Devourment and Hunting, all of these things bear the SAME PRINCIPLE

You frown, remembering the <Devil’s Tome> buried somewhere in the library of your soul. Even though you’re certain it has a number of exceptional techniques, something has been keeping you from going and reading it— maybe, you had subconsciously internalized the purpose for the <Cookbook>’s structure of blank pages.

INCOMPLETE UNDERSTANDING IS DEATH. Impetus requires CERTAINTY, and an UNTEMPERED BLADE is WORSE THAN A POINTY ROCK. Furthermore, learning BEYOND YOUR CAPACITY can be both a POISON and a BEACON to those who might see you as a THREAT. You should probably FOCUS ONLY ON ONE OR TWO SECTIONS OF THIS BOOK AT A TIME. They are in NO PARTICULAR ORDER so feel free to PICK WHAT YOU LIKE OR HAVE ALREADY MASTERED. Just remember not to GET AHEAD OF YOURSELF.

You turn the page– it seems like this was the end of the first section, with the second being immediately after it. However, in the next segments of the book every single chapter is almost entirely blank.

SELECT AS MANY OF THE FOLLOWING AS YOU WISH TO READ

>SECOND CLAW: PREPARE THE BATTLEFIELD
>THIRD CLAW: BECOME A REALIZED GOD (FOR A BIT)
>FOURTH CLAW: BECOME UNBREAKABLE (BODY)
>FIFTH CLAW: BECOME UNBENDABLE (MIND)
>SIXTH CLAW: SLIP THE SNARE AND THE NOOSE
>SEVENTH CLAW: ESCAPE REALITY
>EIGHTH CLAW: DEFY PERCEPTION

>>6267026
>EIGHTH CLAW: DEFY PERCEPTION
am I picking the cowards option?

>>6267026
>THIRD CLAW: BECOME A REALIZED GOD (FOR A BIT)
5 second god mode go

>>6267026
>SIXTH CLAW: SLIP THE SNARE AND THE NOOSE
>EIGHTH CLAW: DEFY PERCEPTION

We can pick more than one y'all

>>6267150
Yeah but the rest of the update warns against overreaching

>>6267026
>EIGHTH CLAW: DEFY PERCEPTION

>>6267032
>>6267064
>>6267150
>>6267227

EIGHTH CLAW: DEFY PERCEPTION

You might have heard from MORTAL SHAMANS that there are THREE KINDS of STEALTH TECHNIQUES. This is TRUE but NOT FOR THE REASON YOU THINK. The conventional wisdom is PERCEPTION, MEDIUM, SELF, but the latter of these is STRICTLY WORTHLESS. There is NO MEANINGFUL ALTERATION to oneself that will help you hide from anyone you SHOULDN’T ALREADY BE ABLE TO KILL.

So, the TRUE third method? Simple: you PERMIT PERCEPTION but actively CUT THE VIEWER’S MEMORY OF EVER HAVING SEEN YOU. If you and I share a similar INTERPRETATION, you should know CURRENT INPUT IS EASIEST TO MANIPULATE, so you can far more easily MELD a person into a VERSION OF THEM WHO NEVER SAW YOU.

These techniques, when mastered, can be called the LIVING ABYSS, WORLD OF UNBEING, and BLINDING OF THE EYE. All have their own REWARDS and DRAWBACKS. Practitioners of LIVING ABYSS are prone to having their illusions broken by MARTIAL SPECIALISTS or UNEXPECTED PERCEPTION. Those who BLIND can be resisted by a SUPERIOR WILL, and UNBEING is just REALLY HARD with UNLIMITED CALCULATION being the BARE MINIMUM REQUIREMENT.

You frown– taking the first claw in mind, it seems prudent to start with just one of the listed methods. What do you do?

>Mind: Living Abyss
>Medium: World of Unbeing
>Memory: Blinding of the Eye
>Try something else
>Write-in

>>6267280
>>Medium: World of Unbeing
time to put those AI powers to the text

>>6267280
Seconding >>6267280. We just ate a god-computer; might as well make use of it.

>>6267365
Sorry, meant to second >>6267293.

>>6267280
>Medium: World of Unbeing

>>6267280 #
>Medium: World of Unbeing

>>6267293
>>6267366
>>6267384
>>6267782

Once again, you’ve entered the soulscape, your castle forged from your own sloppy handiwork. You step through the sandstone halls, warped and glasslike in some places, smooth and sound in others, noting familiar rooms until you find a door yet to be checked. Instinctively, you can feel what’s behind it, yet even knowing the broad strokes, the sight of the room surprises you:

The walls are deep, dark crimson, smooth and geometrical in the shape of a massive octagon, easily the size of the entire library. Glass coolant pipes of bloody seawater weave through and intersect with heavy black machinery, dull frames and shiny screens all overlooking a darker, almost void-like abyss that makes up the floors. Had you not felt the solid mass beneath your feet, you may have worried that you’d fall right through into the endless darkness below. You shake your head, purging unnecessary thoughts as you step through to the main control deck at the very center of the room, screens lighting at attention as the computation systems begin to whir to life, the subtle moaning of devoured <Impetus> sounding as the ocean currents support the undertaking.

“Hello, boss,” a version of you, though plain, blonde, lacking in adornment and fitted in your old work outfit peers back from behind the now illuminated screen of your internal replica of the <Hail Mary>, “Power consumption set to 20%: current estimates at 100 per internal sec.”

“Internal sec?”

The interface nods, “Based on soulscape time, ma’am.”

“And maximum output is 500 per internal second?”

“Well, there is an overclock… but in terms of consistency, yes.”

You whistle– though the divinity consumption is notable, you feel almost no mental strain at all. “Computer,” you order, “How long to estimate one trillion digits of pi?”

“Twenty minutes, ma’am.”

Damn, that’s fast. You concentrate, setting Soulscape time up to go about 20 times as fast as real time. “Initiate calculations,” you order, admittedly geeking out a little at the prospect of barking orders at a supercomputer, even if it literally is all in your head.

“Understood.”

>>6267820

You close your eyes, allowing your own subjective experience of time to flow with the natural order instead of your soulscape. In what feels like a single minute, the calculations are complete. You grin– while increasing <Soulscape Time> does take some degree of effort, the actual calculations performed by your imaginary supercomputer did not. You wonder for a moment what the real Hail Mary might have been capable of.

“Computer,” you ask, “I need you to make a simulation of my current location, but if I wasn’t there. Can you do that?”

“...Minimum power needed: 89.7%”

“Allow it,” you order. Instantly, you hear the coolant gurgle, massive influx of divine water cycling in and, rather than cycling out as liquid, evaporating into red smoke and bubbling back into the sea as vapor. You frown— the Devourer really is a madman.

The PRINCIPLE behind the WORLD OF UNBEING is to CREATE A WORLD WITHOUT YOU while you’re STILL THERE. Sounds EASY? NO. It’s REALLY HARD.

It isn’t enough to BEND LIGHT, it isn’t enough to FILTER SOUND or NEUTRALIZE SEISMIC IMPACT. You need an area of ABSOLUTE DOMINION by which you can impose a FABRICATED REALITY. It needs to be ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS to achieve superiority to the OTHER STEALTH METHODS.

And that’s just the summary– you don’t even want to think about all of the individual suggestions and calculations involved, which is why you’re forking them over to this supercomputer here.

“Query– how wide of an area do you want?”

“Isn’t as small as possible best?”

The you on the screen shakes her head– “It’s more complicated than that, ma’am. Larger areas are more costly, but in exchange it’s far easier to eliminate abnormalities. The closer you cut to the center of your body, the easier it is to lose unforeseen impacts of your existence.”

>Adjustable: more versatile but slightly more costly and more difficult to master quickly
>Close: cheaper and easier to keep up, but slightly more flawed
>Intermediate: a compromise option: more practical than long range but more useful than close
>Long: Consumes enormous divinity, but in exchange, makes you entirely invisible to anyone who doesn’t have overwhelmingly superior perception or imposition <Arts>
>Write-in

>>6267821
>>Long: Consumes enormous divinity, but in exchange, makes you entirely invisible to anyone who doesn’t have overwhelmingly superior perception or imposition <Arts>
does nectar still restore all divinity?

>>6267821
>Adjustable: more versatile but slightly more costly and more difficult to master quickly
Full mastery

>>6267821
>>Adjustable: more versatile but slightly more costly and more difficult to master quickly

>>6263301
aren't we owed a second authority from Amit/Ataphos, or a free level up to one of ours?

Sorry guys, passed out early again (I really gotta stop drawing in bed)

>>6267842
>does nectar still restore all divinity?
No, each nectar only restores your system granted+natural divinity, which for the sake of convenience we'll round up to 2,000 (out of 20,835)

>>6268290
You are. List of existing authorities may be found at (https://rentry.org/ate-incarnation-status)
>Take a new authority
>Level up an existing authority (specify)

>>6267864
>>6267977
>>6267842

>Adjustable

"I'm keeping it flexible," you order, "For now, set to maximum output– we're doing a stress test."

"But ma'am," the computer objects, "Refining the impetus will increase the uptake efficiency-"

"You think I don't know that? I'm telling you that I'd rather have the option to do anything even if it means a steeper learning curve. Am I understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," the interface replies, "Running calculations now."

"Thank you," you smile, "Can you run the implementation as a subroutine?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot. Your <Interpretation> of what a computer should be has made me able to easily adjust to the circumstances of running the Hail Mary, but as such I lack impetus."

You shrug– it's probably for the best anyway. You have more than enough autonomous agents running rampant in your soul. "Very well," you nod, "Run the simulations at..."

"Two body lengths is the recommended maximum as per the Guide," AI-të responds, "Do you wish to increase the range beyond that?"

"No, if it's good enough for the Devourer it's good enough for me. Run it."

"At your command."

Your eyes open, and you feel information pouring into your head, nigh infinite in its scope, but rather than attempting to internalize it, you expel it outwards. The lambent glow of dying daylight pours out from your body, <Yours Truly> imposing yourself as far as you need it to as the tang of saccharine iron and the scent of the ocean mingle in your nostrils, the distant sound of waves sloshing in your ear, like when you held a conch shell up close to hear the ocean as a child. You close your eyes– everything in that radius is your world. In some sense, so long as you shine your soul over it, the air, the ground, the uncountable microbes and flecks of dust and moisture– all of it is you.

>>6268407

You recall <Sunday Best>, and you let your simulated world flow through you. The light builds, crimson water dews at your tear ducts and pours down your face, salt stinging your eyes as you muster your desire to be unseen, to control the world, to have complete and utter dominion over your surroundings.

Then, everything stops.

You look down at your hands. You don't see them. As you move, you feel a sense of incongruity– normally, even if it's only the slightest amount, you feel the air resist your motion, the rush of wind and current on your skin as you walk, the heaving warmth and moisture of your own breaths, the feeling of impact when your feet touch the ground. All of it is gone. Even intangible, even invisible, you've never felt so much like you didn't exist.

>Unnamed Stealth Art (Incomplete) (Effective Level: 15)
Imposes the soul and will onto the world around you, creating a perfectly simulated world in which you do not exist. Unless the observer has vastly superior observation or precognition <Arts>, it is impossible to detect you while this <Art> is active. May be used at short, intermediate, or long ranges, each with an increasing degree of undetectability. Consumes a monstrous amount of divinity proportional to its simulation range.

>Optional write-in: name this <Art>. <World of Unbeing> will be selected by default.

You grin, deactivating your newly created <Art>. While the implementation is inefficient, the actual effect seems to be almost perfect. The main problem is that your need to use a lot of mental focus in the <Imposition> stage, since you haven't completely mastered (or even completely understood) <Yours Truly>, and the concept of you are the world, the world is you is still alien enough that you can't fully integrate the ease of use brought by experience with <Sunday Best>. Still, for anything too powerful to hide from using the System, this should be more than enough.

>Hunt an <Interwraith> the moment your divinity recovers
>Continue to practice this <Art>
>Read another section of the <Guide>
>Practice imposition via <Yours Truly>
>Write-in

>>6268407
>>Level up an existing authority (specify)
>Titanic strength
no particular reason except it's one of those at level 8 to max out soon
>>6268408
>Hide and Cheek
>Hunt an <Interwraith> the moment your divinity recovers
>Use the auraphage
>Consult Ai-të how to improve her speed

>>6268408
>Hunt an <Interwraith> the moment your divinity recovers
WE HUNT!

>Optional write-in: name this <Art>. <World of Unbeing> will be selected by default.
> Blameless World

>>6268407
>Level up an existing authority (specify)
Anything is good

>>6268408
>Hunt an <Interwraith> the moment your divinity recovers
Let's goooooooooo

>Level up an existing authority (specify)
Level Divine Will up to 9 with influence and then use the level up to get it to X

Locking in
>Hunt an <Interwraith> the moment your divinity recovers

But I'll wait for a tiebreaker in regards to the authority level up and name. If one isn't made by tomorrow morning, I'll flip a coin for the name and default to the option with no influence cost for the level up

>>6268570
I can switch to this for the authority

>>6268424
>>6268428
>>6268570
>>6268815

>Divine Will (8->9->10)
>Hunt an Interwraith

You float adrift in space, a small pile of severed hands bundled up in your arms as you slowly place them in position, a film of lead and fluid insulation protecting them from the hostile vacuum of space in lieu of their own little protective suits. You cast them out in a circle, each weaving a few links in a massive <Fetter> ring around your current location, dozens of wrists jutting outwards as hundreds of fingers resonate and pulse with the divinity of the dying daylight. Lambent light, a wordless siren’s song, seeps from the snare you’ve laid out as you lie invisibly in wait for something to bite. A cold sweat runs down your back– only now have you experienced pure and unadulterated dread at the notion of one of your plans working: something like a god writhes and shuffles through spacetime, bending the fabric of reality around itself instead of merely traveling. The Interwraith approaches.

All at once, it’s around you and it isn’t, vast as the sea, smaller than a thumbtack, formless as the darkness and utterly, incomprehensibly powerful. In an instant, you see fangs, claws, tendrils– then guns, swords, bombs and bayonets. You shake your head– it isn’t real. Your body is merely grasping at some explanation to ascribe to this feeling of overwhelming, inimitable danger. In a world where there is no predator, at least not one but you– why do you feel so much like prey? You can’t suppress a laugh at how ridiculous the entire notion of devouring something this… you fail to grasp an appropriate descriptor. Big, you guess– something this big. Still–

[All you are is a big fucking animal. Not that you have two braincells to rub together to understand the fact that I’m making fun of you.]

You radiate divinity, leaking that succulent Impetus the beast so desires, but edge it in mockery and hostility. Confused, like an alzheimer’s patient confronted with the proposition of remembering, the beast writhes and stumbles in the abyss, longing for the idea of something it can’t understand. With this, you think to yourself, the criterion is met.

“DIVINITY MANIFEST: CHOIR OF A THOUSAND VOICES. Oh, and make it a big one!”

>>6269304

You enter the concert hall, but this time, the stage is five– no, ten times farther away than it ought to be. Your hands, given air to breathe, unshackle themselves from their makeshift exoskeletons, a ravenous mouth peeling out from the skin of their palms as a waltz of death begins to pour out of their mouths, the distant accompaniment of the symphony plucking behind them as the binding chains circle and spread, the ring of <Fetters> sprouting more restraints, leaping out from them– from you– and stabbing into the shapeless monstrosity that is the Interwraith. The un-god quivers, confusion evident in its movements, lashing out and tearing the concert hall apart. Ten of your hands are burst into red pulp and bone shards, but as quickly as they shatter, the singing limbs pull themselves back together, a detonation in reverse as you sharpen your will to take this thing down.

Still, even this confusion pricks an unshakeable, unspeakable horror in the very depths of your soul– you must act quickly before it figures out anything else.

“KNEEL!” You scream, your body bursting with the light of hundreds of human souls as you thrust tethers from your hands, feeling each and every one of them as they’re pulverized and reconstituted and pulled and pushed away by the interdimensional ghost of divinity, “KNEEL DOWN AND DIE!”

The chains latch on, a wet, glass-like lump of mass dewing at the edges of the chains, budding like crystal and lashing out like a caged animal. One tendril, made physical by you, slams into your body, instantly bursting you like paper machete. You scramble to reassemble your broken body, indignation burning in your heart at the injustice of such a lowly wretch being born with the powers of a god.

“I’ll make better use of it anyway,” you jeer, jamming your hands into the cold, sticky lump of translucent divine flesh, “[BE CONSUMED].”

You impose an <Ordinance>, overwriting its limited impetus with your own soul, threading it like raw material through a factory as you begin to turn <It> into <You>. It works at first, easily and rapidly increasing your own divinity stores– 5, 10, twenty thousand, double your current amount in less than a second! However– shit, that’s bad, it’s starting to bite back, you visualize it in your mind, a blob of clear nothing soaking up the seawater and refracting the colors of the lambent sunset’s glow. It’s not taking your divinity, it’s trying to copy your IMPETUS, desperately trying to wrap its head around the concept and pluck out the parts it fancies. Shit, shit, you have to act fast: it’s going to become a GOD. Fetters, rudimentary, easily shattered, but FETTERS, leap out from its body, the lump of divinity shrinking, condensing into something… concrete.

>>6269305

“YOU CAN NEVER BE A GOD!” You scream, doubling in on your attempt to overwrite and devour it, your fangs sinking into its neck just as it clamps down on your shoulder, “YOU ARE A GLORIFIED SPACE COW,” you feel yourself begin to waver, the lines between the monster and the sea beginning to thin as it sucks up your colors. “YOU ARE NOTHING! I AM A TERROR. I AM A CALAMITY. I AM THE STAR OF DEATH.”

Your eyes widen– your chains are beginning to turn clear. You press back in, overwhelming them in crimson and gold, “I AM ATË,” you declare to the void, “AND YOU WILL KNEEL.”

>Please select between normal, cautious, reckless, or desperate.

>>6269306
>normal

>>6268424
>>6268428
I didn't vote yesterday, but I'm not feeling either of these.
gonna throw Oblivion into the hat if it's gonna be random

>>6268408
>Optional write-in: name this <Art>. <World of Unbeing> will be selected by default.
>Oblivion

>>6269306
>cautious

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee

ahh, I'm hyped getting to fight a darkwraith.
seems getting close/sneaking up on it was never really the issue, but what to do when we are in front of it.

20k divinity for only consuming a part of it?
I kinda want to get Resplendence and make it a miracle with Lightbringer's Spotlight and make a dazzle nuke.
but I'm waiting to dump my authority plans for when we get 15, know how much our album is worth, check the shop again and get to go on a spending spree

>>6269306
>reckless
if it fails we get another chance to do a <Godslayer, infanticide>
we could also try to feed it the inferior Ate's impetus which it would emulate, for her to be a possibly easier target?
for the future we should maybe better define what we use as bait and even offer them to bite into when they fight back.
though if we'd come to a tie that needs breaking I can switch to normal

>>6269331
I can also switch to Oblivion

>>6269306
>Reckless
Oh fuck they learn so fast
Move over Hail Mary

>>6269314
>>6269331
>>6269385
>>6269424
>>6269426

>Reckless
Please give me three rolls of 3d100

Rolled 58, 60, 94 = 212 (3d100)

>>6269433
here goes nothing

Rolled 36, 83, 16 = 135 (3d100)

>>6269433

Rolled 77, 6, 73 = 156 (3d100)

>>6269433

>>6269444
60.5
>>6269447
16.5
>>6269457
4.5

Oooh I think we're optimal lads.

>>6269444
>>6269447
>>6269457

212, 135, 156– 212 accepted (Reckless OPTIMAL

You crash into the Interwraith like the crest of a tsunami, crimson water coating its gelatinous body, clinging to it like syrup, melting the divine mass down like salt sprinkled on the back of a slug. It sizzles and shrieks, its corpus dissolving into your being even as it attempts to emulate your power, not realizing that the source of your superiority over it is simply the fact that you are you and it is not.

“I AM ATË!” You restate, this time lacking the anxiety or desperation, as you plunge more and more of your <Fetters> into the ghost.

[I AM ATË] it mimics, its body molding itself after your <Figure>, but collapsing under its own weight, clattering down to the floor like a topheavy ice sculpture.

“No,” you correct– even as the edges of your vision begin to blur, a sense of euphoria, something like enlightenment, seeps into your soul as you lord over the far more powerful Wraith, “I am ATË,” you snicker, slamming your foot down onto the now solid Interwraith’s head, shattering its counterfeit visage like glass beneath your heel, “You’re just made in my image.”

[I AM ATË]

Your head begins to spin, but you don’t– no, can’t stop fighting. You have to see it through.

[I AM ATË]

You see the interwraith bleed crimson blood. The concert hall smells like the sea.

[I AM ATË]

Your sight flickers. There’s water from the waist down.

[I AM ATË]

[I AM…

[I…

[...

You collapse, a relief like blissful weightlessness coursing through your veins even as the water fills your lungs.

>Divinity: 20,835-> 2,000,000

~

>>6269658

The pasta sizzles as it hits the pan, gluten-enriched water foaming and bubbling as you dredge the al dente spaghetti noodles through the rich, creamy (though, crucially, not containing cream) sauce. You inhale, the scent of smoky guanciale and savory butter and cheese filling your nostrils. You dip a fingertip in the pan, gently licking it before nodding to yourself and adding a dash of salt and one last crack of black pepper. Without turning your head, you speak to the person you know is behind you, “What is it?”

“Boss… are you cooking?”

“No, I’m simply watching my magic pan to make a carbonara for me.”

“Oh,” she sighs with relief, “That makes sense.”

This time, you turn back to look at her, your neck craning beyond the human limit, “I was being sarcastic, blockhead,” you snicker, shaving a truffle into the pan without even looking at the food.

“You’re messing with me. What’s the relic grade?”

You shake your head before snapping it back into place, twirling the pasta in your tongs and placing a delicate mountain on your plate. With one last grate of parmigiano, you place it on the table in front of you. “I was hungry,” you shrug, stabbing your fork into the peak of the carbonara, “And I’ve got a supercomputer in my brain.”

“But you HATE cooking! Like, you’d literally rather starve! In fact, you usually LITERALLY autocannibalize!”

“I was hungry.” You repeat, a rush of joy shivering through your body as the sumptuous umami graces your tongue, “And I realized I had the soul of a michelin star chef.”

She shakes her head in utter befuddlement, “So your true calling was… cuisine?”

“No, I meant literally. I ate him.” you clarify in a perfect deadpan before bursting out in a fit of laughter, “Seriously, I just wanted carbonara. It really isn’t that deep.”

>Eat it alone
>Offer to share
>Write-in

>>6269658
>>Divinity: 20,835-> 2,000,000
WE ATE BUT WE STILL HUNGRY

>>6269659
>>Offer to share
Is this other souls rising to the surface?
I see no problem with picking the best aspects of each, to improve ourselves (you are what you eat), but we need to get behind yours truly more.

Did the system react in any way to us killing and eating an interwraith?

>>6269658
>>Divinity: 20,835-> 2,000,000
HOLY FUCK

>Offer to share
Seems like someone we are cool with

>>6269659
>Offer to share

>>6269659
>Offer to share
2 million divinity, I'd be in a good mood too.

I did a bit of googling to see what amount of unique listeners artists get on Spotify.
1-10 million should be doable in the first month that's 252k-1.3M Influence per song.
Top 1000 artists get on Spotify get 10 Million
Top 100 are 50 Million listeners (6.3M influence)
and we release multiple songs
hypothetically... 8 songs with 25 Million listeners (Top 400 on spotify) would give 26 million Influence, enough for Lvl 20
but let's count our chickens after they hatch

>>6269735
And I was out here creaming myself over 2 million influence
What you're putting down sounds realistic...
We need "intentional listeners" tho, can't just be stuff that comes across someone's stream

But 26 million influence... Jesus Harold Christ
Well, we have 2 million Influence now too,
I guess we really are getting into the endgame.

>but let's count our chickens after they hatch
yeah

>>6269667
>>6269713
>>6269729
>>6269735

>Offer to share

"Care for a bite?" You ask the girl, looking her dead in the eye even sitting down. She seems hungry, and you by force of (someone else's) habit made a hearty restaurant portion. She nods, snatching a plate from the cabinet and passing it over to you. You pause, tilting your head slightly as you pierce through the fog in your head. It's all been a bit of a daze after the fight with the Interwraith, after all. "Iwana," you half address-half declare, a satisfied smile on your face as you pass over half of your carbonara, "For you."

"Thanks," Pallas eyes it, seemingly still not fully believing that it isn't some sort of illusion before sinking her fork into the pasta, simply scooping the noodles up instead of properly twirling them, bending over to slurp up the spaghetti even while the sauce stains the edges of her lips and the skin of her chest left bare by her tank top. She leans back, a sigh of happiness slipping out of her mouth as she seemingly relishes the taste. "So, there some kind of cooking authority?"

"No," you frown, slumping forward a bit and listlessly playing with your food, your hunger waning a bit as you consider your current dilemma, "Actually, I've been kinda depressed about the authorities and stuff in general."

"What do you mean?" she asks, words muddled between heaping bites as she wolfs down her food like a starving street dog.

You jam your fork into the meal in front of you, once again finding the motivation to keep eating it. "Grab your weapons," you order, daintily wrapping the pasta around your fork, "I'll demonstrate when I've finished eating."

~

>>6270044

The distant chirp of crickets and the lonely rustle of wind through the leaves are the only backdrop in the natural scenery around you, a quiet clearing in the sleepy dead of night. Pallas stands before you, spear readied, waiting for your signal for the duel to begin. You sigh, sitting down on the closest rock and lazily waving your hand. "Start."

She rushes at you, her speed frightening even when you do use your authorities now almost untraceable without them. Still, even as she closes the distance in a fraction of a fraction of a second, you find yourself completely unperturbed. "Oblivion: First Link," you say, more to the computer in your brain than Pallas even as you feel her spear approach the tip of your nose, "Freeze Frame."

In an instant, everything slows down then stops, movement of any sort completely impossible as your divinity completely overwhelms the surrounding space.

>Calculation efficiency less than 20%...

"I know, I know," you laugh, watching Pallas's static eyes absolutely swim with complete and utter confusion, "Mostly, I'm just proving a point."

The stealth <Art> you picked up is, as it seems, more useful than simply masking your presence. When faced with an overwhelmingly smaller soul, it becomes possible to include organics in the calculations. After all, you could do the same thing with pollen dust or wandering microbes. Why not ants? Which leads you to-

>Err. Less than 10% efficiency...

"Again, I'm well aware. Obviously, there are lots of kinks to work out. Haven't had time to practice any of the new ideas, after all. Still," you ready a finger gun, pointing it at Iwana's arm with a sadistic smile on her face, "This is payback for trying to stab me in the face. Second Link:" you snicker, miming a shot and watching Iwana's arm seem to vanish into nothing, "Snap Cut."

You release your <Art>, enormous spurts of blood erupting from the stump until her regeneration takes over, almost instantly recovering the wound. Finally, she breathes, heavy heaving drowning out the quiet natural ambiance as she clutches the grass beneath her, "How the fuck-"

"I have a soul the size of about... 20,000 people? Give or take? Pretty much everything I did there wasn't some "

"What?" she asks, a dumb hollowness about her tone as she flops onto the dewy sod below her.

"And hence, my dilemma," you sigh, joining her on the ground and lackadaisically staring up at the starry sky, "The system has output caps on just about everything. Probably as a failsafe to stop people from accidentally killing themselves. Regardless, at the level I've reached, basically none of the results are even worth my time. Combat-wise, anyway."

"Nice problem to have," she laughs, staring at you in disbelief, "You're a one woman army! So, what's the plan?"

>>6270044

The distant chirp of crickets and the lonely rustle of wind through the leaves are the only backdrop in the natural scenery around you, a quiet clearing in the sleepy dead of night. Pallas stands before you, spear readied, waiting for your signal for the duel to begin. You sigh, sitting down on the closest rock and lazily waving your hand. "Start."

She rushes at you, her speed frightening even when you do use your authorities now almost untraceable without them. Still, even as she closes the distance in a fraction of a fraction of a second, you find yourself completely unperturbed. "Oblivion: First Link," you say, more to the computer in your brain than Pallas even as you feel her spear approach the tip of your nose, "Freeze Frame."

In an instant, everything slows down then stops, movement of any sort completely impossible as your divinity completely overwhelms the surrounding space.

>Calculation efficiency less than 20%...

"I know, I know," you laugh, watching Pallas's static eyes absolutely swim with complete and utter confusion, "Mostly, I'm just proving a point."

The stealth <Art> you picked up is, as it seems, more useful than simply masking your presence. When faced with an overwhelmingly smaller soul, it becomes possible to include organics in the calculations. After all, you could do the same thing with pollen dust or wandering microbes. Why not ants? Which leads you to-

>Err. Less than 10% efficiency...

"Again, I'm well aware. Obviously, there are lots of kinks to work out. Haven't had time to practice any of the new ideas, after all. Still," you ready a finger gun, pointing it at Iwana's arm with a sadistic smile on her face, "This is payback for trying to stab me in the face. Second Link:" you snicker, miming a shot and watching Iwana's arm seem to vanish into nothing, "Snap Cut."

You release your <Art>, enormous spurts of blood erupting from the stump until her regeneration takes over, almost instantly recovering the wound. Finally, she breathes, heavy heaving drowning out the quiet natural ambiance as she clutches the grass beneath her, "How the fuck-"

"I have a soul the size of about... 20,000 people? Give or take? Pretty much everything I did there wasn't some super skilled technique. It was basically just picking up a wrench and brute forcing it to work like a hammer. Still, even that much is more effective then, well... basically everything I worked so hard to get."

"What?" she asks, a dumb hollowness about her tone as she flops onto the dewy sod below her.

"And hence, my dilemma," you sigh, joining her on the ground and lackadaisically staring up at the starry sky, "The system has output caps on just about everything. Probably as a failsafe to stop people from accidentally killing themselves. Regardless, at the level I've reached, basically none of the results are even worth my time. Combat-wise, anyway."

"Nice problem to have," she laughs, "You're a one woman army! So, what's the plan?"

>>6270046

>Give up on the system as anything more than reference material
>Try to craft an <Art> to bypass the output limits
>See if you can petition the Architect for a personal exemption
>Wait until you've gotten your rewards and level-ups before you make any decisions
>Write-in

>>6270047
dangit
>>Wait until you've gotten your rewards and level-ups before you make any decisions
probably time to "sever this unnecessary attachment" for <Yours Truly>

>>6270047
way to take away the shine on new toys before we'd even get them.
>Wait until you've gotten your rewards and level-ups before you make any decisions
later move to
>Give up on the system as anything more than reference material
But I've even said a few threads back that we might want to get rid of the system sometime soon

What is our current Divinity recovery rate?

>>6270047

>Wait until you've gotten your rewards and level-ups before you make any decisions

But also
>Write-in
> Petition the system for an option to spend Influence on <Hints>

>>6270098
Take away the shine? Hardly, Atë can effectively manifest any arbitrary Authority now, albeit at lower efficiency than the system. Oblivion is effectively an Omni-tool.

>>6270100
"before we get them"
I meant any authorities and miracles we will get when we cash in the influence from our album, the thing I was excited about yesterday, which now lost it's shine.

I'll support this too:
>Petition the system for an option to spend Influence on <Hints>

>>6270047
>Give up on the system as anything more than reference material
Or more Hints

One last thing I'd like to try before leaving it behind is the option we got in the other world, crafting an Art that can replicate any of the authorities we gathered

Not feeling well tonight. Migraine. Will try to do a double tomorrow to make back the time. Apologies for the delay.

>>6270485
no problem, thanks for the update. rest well

Apologies again for being DOUBLE late, really no excuse besides being busy irl. Will have some art drops in the coming days to hopefully kinda make up for it.

[A SIDE]

Fucking piece of shit Architect.

"Hit," you sigh, tapping the table. The dealer (also you) looks at you with something like disdain as she drops another card.

"Shit."

"Hey, don't get mad at the cards," the other you shrugs, the pink tips of her mostly straw-blonde hair swaying like a pendulum as she leans forward to pass you the deck, "You're the dumbass who decided to hit on a 17."

"You were showing ace," you click your tongue, accepting the lump of cards and shuffling them together, lazily forming them into a neat pile as you start to deal. She passes a single chip in before seeing her hand, then smiles once she does, "Stand," she declares, smugly flipping over a jack to match her ten.

"No split?"

"Do I look like a moron?"

"Well based on previous statements you certainly seem to think so. Well, 'sides the haircut."

While you were trying to avoid it early, it's become obvious that cutting yourself in half results in asymmetrical impetus. Rather than trying to patch it out, you decided to treat it like a feature. The other you, B Side, if you want to call it that (which you do, apparently, since that's how she refers to herself) has a bit of a different look about her, slightly shorter hair in a sportier sort of arrangement, visible gradient of yellow to pink like she hadn't dyed it in a while. Of course, this is a deliberate aesthetic choice: if she wanted to just be a blonde, she could obviously have chosen to do it. Currently, the two of you are in a stalemate in regards to the current state of your system related destiny.

><Architect> Grade Title: Aleph Godsoul

The acquisition requirement, of course, being the first incarnation to meet 1,000,000 divinity. Naturally, the system provided reward options. More unusually, however, the Architect seems to have personally intervened in the matter.

>Option One: <Privelege>: Bottomless Power
Allows the user to overload any system ability using their divinity, effectively increasing the incarnation level of authority, miracle, or overwrite indefinitely provided a sufficient input of power

>Option Two: <Hint>: Caged Bird's Egress
Completely seals the use of all incarnation based abilities. However, allows you to continue acquiring and upgrading them. Instead of being able to perform authorities, etc. the user will instead receive tutelage in the manual replication of their effects

Decision Time: 3 days, three hours, thirty minutes.

Shitty fucking Architect.

>>6271706


"Honestly," she sighs, fiddling with her far bigger stack of chips before quickly shuffling and dealing the cards. You push in five red chips, and she dutifully follows in kind, "I don't see what your holdup is. We can just learn the abilities on our own once we have the leeway. What we need right now is power we can actually USE in the short term. The choice, for any sane person, is obvious."

"Hit."

19. "Stand. Look, we both know that we learn best when our lives are on the line. If we take the easy way out, we might be permanently stunting our own growth. Remember what the Architect said? About his requirements for his parlay or whatever: he System is a guide, but it's also a filter, a sieve to separate the wheat from the chaff, and this seems like it has to be the test to see if we have what it takes to be a real god."

"You win," she reveals an eight alongside her nine, "but that doesn't make you right. We have to remember that power's just a means to an end: it isn't worth risking our lives throwing away our main set of tools for. Especially now that we know we haven't outscaled them already."

"What is the end, then? If not absolute power, what are we even trying to achieve?"

"Enough power."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"...no. Couldn't be farther. Besides, I still don't agree that we'll be losing out on some once in a lifetime chance just by kicking the can down the road a bit. It'll be harder, but once we're secure we'll literally have all the time in the world."

You can't help but sigh. It seems like yourself and you are really at an impasse.

>B SIDE is right
>A SIDE is right
>Let the cards decide
>Wait until the album drops tomorrow
>Write-in

"Honestly," she sighs, fiddling with her far bigger stack of chips before quickly shuffling and dealing the cards. You push in five red chips, and she dutifully follows in kind, "I don't see what your holdup is. We can just learn the abilities on our own once we have the leeway. What we need right now is power we can actually USE in the short term. The choice, for any sane person, is obvious."

"Hit."

19. "Stand. Look, we both know that we learn best when our lives are on the line. If we take the easy way out, we might be permanently stunting our own growth. Remember what the Architect said? About his requirements for his parlay or whatever: the System is a guide, but it's also a filter, a sieve to separate the wheat from the chaff, and this seems like it has to be the test to see if we have what it takes to be a real god."

"You win," she reveals an eight alongside her nine, "but that doesn't make you right. We have to remember that power's just a means to an end: it isn't worth risking our lives throwing away our main set of tools for. Especially now that we know we haven't outscaled them already."

"What is the end, then? If not absolute power, what are we even trying to achieve?"

"Enough power."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"...no. Couldn't be farther. Besides, I still don't agree that we'll be losing out on some once in a lifetime chance just by kicking the can down the road a bit. It'll be harder, but once we're secure we'll literally have all the time in the world."

You can't help but sigh. It seems like yourself and you are really at an impasse.

>B SIDE is right
>A SIDE is right
>Let the cards decide
>Wait until the album drops tomorrow
>Write-in

>>6271708
>>Wait until the album drops tomorrow
>>A SIDE is right

>>6271708
How do we regenerate divinity currently?
If we limitbreak our output it wouldn't matter at all if we can't regenerate it in a timely manner, making one of these options completely useless if we're down for a month after blowing our load in one fight.

>>6271708
>A SIDE is right
Even if it’s not the ideal choice it’s more like us to pick this

>>6271708
>>6271783
I'd like to know that too so in the meantime
>Wait until the album drops tomorrow

>>6271708
>A SIDE is right
If we're going A Side, we should do it NOW, so we have more time to prep and learn. It's time for a CRAM SESSION. I'm not entirely sure it's the right choice, but I feel like delaying is foolish.

Really worried we're going to get people we care about killed by not being strong enough

I think most of our kit *can already be covered* with what arts we have, even if those are still weak themselves.

immediate mind-control: Ordinance
body-mod/regeneration: Sundays Best
Divinity Manifest stuff: Ordinance + Oblivion (we still need to specialize into that, but the basic concepts are already there)
Stealth stuff: Oblivion
speed-stuff: the movement itself is likely not too much of an issue, and for anything else we have a super-computer

the stuff I'd find missing is:
wide mind-control: Ordinance currently doesn't handle anything through a screen or if addressing multiple people, I think
defense: We have used Divinity as a shield before in our fight with the herald
Omen/Preservation Instinct: I think part of it is a hack by the sytem that just tells an incarnation of the intentions/strength of another. Another part is trajectory calculation which we now also have.
Divine Servant stuff: underutilized anyway, the authorities stay in place so we won't lose any.
teleportation stuff: Does Cosmic Dominion count?

and now we can simply move all the authorities into arts by receiving tutelage? This is absolutely the right choice. We can now also have a lesser Ate-C version running around hunting for all kinds of incarnations to manipulate and give us all their authorities as crystals. We made gaia buy two Pygmalions https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6070163/#p6087850

>>6271846
We can certainly do most of these things, but it's like comparing a novice if talented computer programmer to a team of ancient bearded linux os programmers. Sure, we can both do the same thing, but the greybeards have spent more time designing their code than the novice has been alive. The system is highly optimized and efficient.

>>6271902
and when that same team of ancient bearded linux os programmer offer you to make your programs run faster or to personally tutor you on every aspect of it...
what's your choice?

yes, we still suck at it, but not for much longer

>>6271914
Oh, I understand the value of the knowledge, I just hope we have time to make use of it. Something tells me that time limit aint arbitrary.

>>6271759
>>6271803
>>6271826
>>6271831

[B SIDE]

You sigh, fiddling with the black chip in your hand. Naturally, you cascade it down your fingers, catching and flipping it back up to the pinky with your thumb. “You’re gonna regret this,” you say, scattering the cards on the table.

“We regret everything we do,” the other you smirks, tiny <Fetters> latching onto each of the little cards and reeling them back into her hands, “At this point, I’m more dubious about stuff that doesn’t seem like a terrible idea.”

“Doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence.”

“C’mooon. We both know you love it.”

You stop, looking her dead in the eye, “We are very mentally ill.”

“Yup.”

“Just do it you dumb bitch.”

>>6272381

[A SIDE]

You let out a heavy breath, your heart practically beating out of your chest, “Here goes nothin'.”

>Hint: Caged Bird’s Egress

>Congratulations.
>You are free.

You hold out your hand— it seems like since this place is associated with <Folly’s Grasp>, an item rather than an authority or miracle, it doesn’t seem to be going away. Like instinct, you try to activate your <Touch of Madness>. A tiny red flicker shines at the tip of your finger, but you can tell that’s all you. The interference is completely and utterly gone.

“The die is cast. Now what?” The other you, seemingly still functioning properly, pops her claws, deep crimson light flickering and sputtering as a sharp, almost chainsaw-like rotation whirls around the blade-like edges of her fingertips.

“Woah. Cutting Malice?”

“Yeah,” she frowns, “Pretty easy, actually.”

You try it for yourself and, unlike the other you, you simply activate <Down to the Core> by accident. “Try <Touch of Madness>?”

She stops her current <Art>, then… nothing.

“It’s not coming out. Obviously mind control is more complic-”

“No dude, look.” Once again, you demonstrate <Touch>, though this time with even greater precision, “I think we’re asymmetrical this way too.”

“Cool,” she smiles, “I got the stuff that kills people.”

You scoff, “We kill WAY more people with mind control, dude.”

“Not after I’m done,” she grins, playful impishness contrasting severely with the gruesome subject matter, “Anyway, let’s get down to business. How’s divinity recovery?”

“Shockingly fast, actually, about ten percent on the hour,” you tilt your head, “Think it’s corrected?”

“Maybe. Or, maybe it’s digestion.”

You narrow your eyes, “We’re still not done with the Wraith?”

“Just a hypothesis, but maybe. Or maybe it’s like gravity– divinity attracts divinity.”

“Still, that means we have leeway here. How do we go about regaining all that strength we lost?”

>Train simply as one <You>.
>Have the A and B sides train their respective strong suits
>Split yourself into as many pieces as you can, each practicing one ability
>Focus on training just a few key <Arts> and <Miracles> instead of recovering as many as possible (specify)
>Write-in

>>6272383
>Have the A and B sides train their respective strong suits
>focus on defensive utility first
>divine armor and stealth/GT (the parts that go into making a target forget our presence and subvert perception, not oblivion)

>>6272383
>Train simply as one <You>.
The split is making me nervous

>>6272383
On the one hand, a pure, focused Impetous is a strong one. On the other hand if we're in a bad situation we probably want every tool we've got, all at once.

Really, I'd like to try both approaches, see how they both shake out, but alas-

> Train as one <You>
I think it's important to know how we operate one one being, instead of two more purified beings.

>>6272383
>Train simply as one <You>.
>Start by taking a look at Divine Folly itself
It has a direct system interaction, and I kinda want to start hacking into it for others.
Like, imagine showing up to the meeting in a week and someone tries a perception authority and instead of them getting a message "your perception authority was blocked by an authority of higher rank" it'll read "skill issue, git gud"

we also need to test Oblivion on higher and higher level incarnations. Dorota should be our highest level subordinate

While I do think we should train split up, we shouldn't do any of the authorities that require emotional impetus. Like cutting malice or born of vengeance. Just like we shouldn't do "Yours Truly" while not being whole.

Then again I also want to try to shapeshift into half a body with either and fuse, then "learn to work together as one"
We need to stop bickering with ourselves and learn to at least like ourselves.
you would not believe how close I am to writing a selfcest fanfic

>>6272392
>>6272418
>>6272471
>>6272489

[FULL DISC]

You cast your gaze outside, crimson water bubbling behind the once-dry glass as you listlessly lounge about in the study, legs kicked up onto the desk as you lean back in your seat, teetering at the verge of falling over. You have no time to waste, right? Well, that’s what you thought, but you find that your newfound divinity has had an unexpected gain: soulscape time has crawled to an absolute halt.

You needed time to train– you guess you have it until you run out of gas– but still, there’s something incongruous about it all. About here and about you. Sunlight barely streams in through the overwhelming depth of the sea, the deep crimson lamps now dominating the room’s illumination in the stead of magenta and saffron and cadmium yellow, a bloody somberness hanging over the shelves and walls but not over you.

You’ve taken some stock of how easy your various authorities will be to pick up: broadly, what matters is how long and often you’ve been using them (or how intuitive they are to your <Interpretation> of souls) that determines your capacity to understand them. For the sake of convenience, you’ve opted to sort them into categories based on that difficulty curve:

>Already handled/ Redundant
Faustian Bargain, Soul Eater, A Thousand Faces, A Thousand Voices, Regeneration, Battle Acuity, Stealth

>Feels Natural
Whisper of Temptation, Touch of Madness, Guerilla Tactics, Cutting Malice, Cackle, Specter’s Wail, Body of Zagreus, <Non Olympian Bonus> Born of Vengeance, Born of Blood, Lightbringer’s Spotlight, Divine Armor

>Tricky But Doable
Divinity Manifest & Folly and Ruin, Thelematoxin, Strings of the Neurospaston (Note: <Feels Natural> after mastering Whisper and Touch), Divine Will, Titanic Strength/Supernatural Speed, Songweaver

>Really Difficult
Awaken The Palladium, Atë’s Playthings, Here and There, Preservation Instinct

>Maybe Impossible
Omen, Weapon Training (Claws), Ghostly Constitution

>System Interface Only (Seeming Exception to Embargo)
Divine Folly, Induct, Divine Servant, Assess Hamartia, Clockwork Encore (not that it matters)

Some of it was actually rather surprising: you thought that the physical enhancement authorities, for example, would be pretty simple: simply divinely enhance the output of the strikes, movements, etc. after impact. The problem, however, is that while these brute force methods work to an extent they aren’t how the authorities function.

>>6272849

>Titanic Strength

Simultaneously, you must reinforce and amplify the force exerted by each and every one of your muscle fibers, increasing the output of your strike itself, only then amplifying it again as the motion concludes and an impact or contact occurs. This creates a multiplicative effect capable of reproducing high level physical amplification techniques at a fraction of the cost while minimizing physical damage.

While the calculations to brute force such a prospect are difficult, it helps to have a powerful mental image. Consider your body not merely as meat, but as a well oiled machine. It would be meaningless to merely increase the speed of one gear– such a thing would cause a chain reaction causing all the others to in turn rotate faster, or merely cause the gears to break. Thus, each part of your body– bone, cartilage, muscle, nerve– all of these must simultaneously be conceptualized as both individual and whole.

Consider the actions as you make them. Feel yourself move, and internalize that awareness. Follow through simultaneously with both divinity and body, moving them in tandem as you move each of your legs to walk. Considering that analogy, this will not be unlike learning to walk again from the ground up, but without the neuroplasticity and simple naivete of a newborn. Be prepared to fall over on your face, and possibly break every bone in your body, over and over again.

Even in the world of the soulscape, in order for the training to mean anything at all, it hurts when you fuck up– sometimes your muscles spasm, contrary intentions causing them to wrap in on themselves and crush your own body like a tin can. Other times, you apply the force unevenly, tearing yourself to shreds or shattering your bones, rupturing arteries and ripping nerves apart. If you were back in that dingy old apartment, someone would have either called the cops for murder or assumed you had one hell of a boyfriend. You scoff, briefly enjoying the lazy reprieve of not tearing your brain or body in half.

Please specify a number of system abilities to train. You may choose the same ability multiple times to guarantee results and proficiency. You have 21 points to spend, the cost/weight of the authorities and miracles (listed by difficulty above) as follows:

>Already Handled (practice existing <Art>) (1)
>Feels Natural (3)
>Tricky But Doable (6)
>Really Difficult (9)
>Maybe Impossible (12)
>Write-in (???) [Will be specified if requested, but most will likely be either 6 or 9]

>>6272851

Oh, also, excerpt I forgot to mention in the training segment, the system continuously provides guidance as you fail, answering any and all clarifying and elaborating questions and always includes a brief report on what went wrong similar to the crash log on a computer. While this is exceptionally helpful, you very much do not like it, unable to shake the image of the Architect smugly correcting you whenever you make a mistake.

>>6272851
how do these points relate to time? is it 21 per day?

>>6272851
>From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed Machine. Your kind cling to your flesh, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call a temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for the Machine is immortal…

>2x(1) A Thousand Faces, A Thousand Voices
>1x(1) Battle Acuity
>1x(1) Regeneration
>1x(6) Titanic Strength
>1x(6) Supernatural Speed

We have a supercomputer to guide us into the material science of any structure which passes as muscles, and if we need to re-learn how to move any of our muscles, they needn't be the exact make of biological ones.
>Forget to be human

and the rest
>2x(3) Divine Armor

>>6272851
>Touch of Madness - 3
>Whispers -3
Once we got both those down we get a discount on
>Strings -3
>Divine armor -3
Abuse our giant divinity pool to no sell all physical attacks
>Divine Will -6
Abuse our giant divinity pool to no sell all mental attacks
Last 3? Double up on Strings

>>6272849

> Divine Armor 3x2
> A Thousand Faces, A Thousand Voices 1x3
> Regeneration 1x3
> Battle Acuity 1x3

> Cry, Armageddon ???

We ought to see if we can get some artifacts for speed, strength, omen, preservation instinct. Maybe Perdix can do a rush job for us?

I delight in the fact that we are naturals at surviving, and taking hits, but terrible at actually avoiding them in the first place. Ate's mix of self hatred and will to live on full display there.

>>6272879

Strictly speaking, it's more about mental exertion than time, but for simplicity's sake one day is just about accurate

>>6273114
We can only endure so much of the Architect's smug corrections before storming off.

Also why are people voting to reclass into generic bruiser? Shouldn't we stay true to our mind control roots?

>>6273114
thanks
>>6273161
it's more to not be immediately useless if a fight were to come up.

while I have my own ideas, I'll back >>6272944

>>6273161
My primary concern was survivability, especially given that omen, preservation instinct, and speed are all things we grasp poorly. Should make some books of Pallas and HER as references for things we don't understand well like the physical body and loving ourself.

>>6273212
>it's more to not be immediately useless if a fight were to come up.
At this point I can’t imagine us ever being useless in a fight. We already were head of the pack when it came to divinity and now we have 100x more. We should be able to brute force just about everything.

Sorry again for the delays. As a consolation prize, here's you performing the Atë special.

So, regarding the calculations, I've been coming up with compromise options. Taking the things upon which you're broadly agreed, we have:

>Divine Armor: x2 (6) + Touch of Madness (3) + A Thousand Faces, A Thousand Voices (3) + Strings of the Neurospaston (3) + Battle Acuity (1) + A Thousand Faces, A Thousand Voices (1) + Regeneration (1) for a total of 18

To fill the remaining 3 points, it seems sensible to put it up to a poll. Therefore, Please select one from the following:

>Cry Armageddon x1
>ATFATV, Battle Acuity, Regeneration (x1 each)
>Strings +1 (x2 total)
>Write-in

[FULL DISC]

The first thing you notice as you wake up is the warm, crusty discomfort clinging onto your face. Tracing your finger down your cheek and across your lip, syrup-like blood crusted in rusty dryness scrapes onto your nail like bad paint. The smell of metal fills your nose, though swiftly relieves itself of you as you reabsorb the lost matter back into your body.

You've been practicing your mental authorities, and you've come to understand the basic principle of the matter: rather than doing what you do (which is to say, directly manipulating the soul) they take advantage of the connection point between the mortal soul and the flesh, sending the signals of a modified body-side output and allowing the soul's natural homeostasis to adjust to the alterations.

<Whispers> are optimized to act slowly and permanently, your desired <Impetus> caking onto the outside and seeping into the soul and mind alike, worming inwards like a parasite until the person involved is entirely overwritten. <Touch>, meanwhile, acts more quickly, simply acts like a direct override to everything: the senses, the desires, the self, all by force to the greatest extent possible without severing the connection. This is quicker, and more versatile, but a lot easier to accidentally make a person die with. Basically, one is a hammer, the other a screwdriver. <Strings>, meanwhile, acts on both fronts, using the medium of <Whispers> but allowing the <Override> and <Seeping> effects to play off of each other and exponentialize, the altered reality increasing the force of the Seeping and the malleability created as it does providing more flexibility for the <Override>. In concept, at least, it really is elegant.

>Optional Write-In: Name this art (and its two links)

>>6274141

The second thing you notice is the system itself. Though it might seem trifling now, you can't help but smile as you see the notification:

>Influence: 13,730,931/819,200->1,638,400
>Level: 14->15

Congratulations!
Divinity: [Architect override (What's the point). Alternative privilege provided. Word of advice: are you (or are you not)?]
>Privilege: Pick One! (You may select one <Authority> and one <Miracle> to continue to use as normal. Cannot be altered once selected)
Miracle Limit: 5->10

You smirk: it seems like you've finally gotten your due.

>Test your new <Arts> (Specify)
>Keep training (Specify)
>Check the shop
>Select your singular exceptions to the system embargo
>Write-in

>>6274141

Oops
>+ A Thousand Faces, A Thousand Voices (3)
Was supposed to be:
>+Whisper of Temptation (3)

>>6274142
>Check the shop
>Delay picking authorities/miracles
I'm tending to Omen & Atë’s Playthings, but maybe we can make a better miracle or authority

>>Influence: 13,730,931/819,200->1,638,400
>>Level: 14->15
13.1M should be Level 19, no?
and 13M on the first day of album release, wow

Also question:
Was Aleph Godsoul one of the Titles for proper Godhood like Ex Nihilo?

>>6274151
Wow, oops, whole thing's off by an entire decimal point. Should be 1,373,093. Guess I'm still a bit woozy from the cold medicine (totally not the infamous olympus qm sucking at math thing).

Also, >True God requirement?

No, it is not an explicit requirement. Perhaps, though, it's a step in the right direction.

>>6274142
>Select your singular exceptions to the system embargo
I think we should make a miracle of Preservation Instinct and Omen, and use that as our Miracle. As for the Authority, Here and There, because hey, teleporting shenanigans.

>>6274141
Last training choice
>Cry Armageddon x1
Widespread devastation is so us.

Art Name
> Siren's Song, Caress, Consume
> Check the Shop
Fifteen feels like a milestone, though much of it is probably useless to us by now.

>>6274151
>>6274155
> Perhaps, though, it's a step in the right direction.
Enough divinity to form an Anchor is a key step I'd think. True freedom from the flesh.

>>6274218
I think it's more "enough divinity to no longer need an anchor"

also adding
>Cry Armageddon x1
to my vote here >>6274151

>>6274141
>Cry Armageddon
I got my Strings, I can compromise on this one
>Just keep the system names
Avoid confusion

>>6274142
>Divinity: [Architect override (What's the point)
lol

>Check the shop
>Delay picking authorities/miracles
Definitely delay so we can come to a consensus, seriously people don’t want Manifest as one of our exceptions when we didn’t make it an Art?

>>6274230
> people don’t want Manifest
See, I don't want the system to manage that one. The orchestra is personal, ours. We need to learn how to do it ourselves, we just haven't had time yet.

>>6274252
Additionally, Divinity Manifest is just considered 'Tricky', if we're off-loading something to the system it should be something we're bad at, like teleportation, intangibility, or not hating ourselves.

>>6274142
>>6274230
+1

>>6274151
>>6274217
>>6274218
>>6274227
>>6274230
>>6274551

>Check the shop

ITEMS

>Libation to the Fallen (1,000)
You may place one epithet crystal of an incarnation you’ve slain into the chalice. The resulting fluid may either be consumed, gaining an (EX) authority, or poured out, removing that <Myth> from the system permanently. All relevant pantheons will no longer require that <Myth>

>Graven Image (8,000)
A blank canvas. When the image printed or painted onto it is worshipped (in the same capacity as an <Idol>, or if any copy (digital or physical) or recreation meets the same standard of worship, you gain an amount of influence equivalent to double that of the <Idol>

>Miracle Stabilizer (10,000)
Allows you to select a single <Miracle> to stabilize. Stabilized <Miracles> will not be lost if their component authorities are deleted

>Poppet (200,000)
An inert lump of divinity similar to a <Pygmalion Protocol>. May be activated at any time to take the brunt of any effect, ability, or external influence directed at you provided that the divinity used in that effect is lesser than the amount stored within the Poppet. Poppets may not help in the case of extra-system sealing techniques.

Authorities

Weep (1): 10
You cry, leaking divinity through your tears. This authority has no useful function.

Elemental Meddle (1): 4,000
Allows the user to manipulate one of water, fire, air, lightning, metal, or earth, selected when this authority is claimed. Useful as an enchanting ingredient.

Godly Entrance (1): 5,000
Allows the user to set <Waypoints>, up to 10, anywhere on the planet Earth. Once per day, you may teleport to any existing waypoint or replace an existing waypoint with a new one.

Sustain (EX): 10,000
Allows your body to naturally survive without food, water, oxygen, heat, etc. Divinity is consumed to supplement the loss.

is there more?

>>6274594
Woah Sustain hell yea
At least it would be hell yeah but I think we figured out how to replicate that on our own

Given our divorce from the system only poppets look all that useful, but they’re pricey as fuck

>>6274642
>Graven Image
Make some of these into promo posters for Baphomet and it yield some dividends.

The Poppet is interesting too, though I suspect we could develop an art for it, it might be similar to when we made a simple soul as bait for the wraith.

> Weep
This one catches my eye most of all, since it makes no sense at level 15 of all things. A reminder of humanity? Something that activates other effects in someone less Atë than us?

> Elements
Learning these could be useful understanding of the fundamental forces of the universe.

>>6274594
I'd suggest taking the miracle stabilizer and use it on divine servant, then get rid of faustian bargain and induct
either are irrelevant to us now, but I'm not sure what'd happen if divine servant goes away.

once we have sufficient mastery over some other authorities we can swap those too.

I want to get <Killer's Eyes> from the Phonoi we have in the mafia. Have him store it in a crystal and just give it to us.
Use Divine Servant to get <Athena's Cunning> from Pallas.

We have 9 open miracle slots, and each costs 5k, we can do a lot of experimentation with that
Besides some of the obvious, here's some wildcards:
>Hear and There + Body of Zagreus
>Battle Acuity + Killer’s Eyes
>Athena's Cunning + Ghostly Constitution

>>6274694
formatted some stuff around and lost a part
I also suggest to get one version of Elemental Meddle for each element eventually

>>6274694
Authority slots aren't particularly pressing since we can just learn and discard authorities now. If we need the space that's a good option to free things up though.

>Hear and There + Body of Zagreus
This looks like a fun combination to me. Split into multiple bodies and teleport/switch places between them. Probably a bitch to learn, but we could use it as our one system managed miracle.

>Battle Acuity + Killer’s Eyes
Maybe a Path to Victory sort of ability, where we can detect physical weakness, then calculate optimal paths to victory. I wonder what sort of chicanery we could have gotten up to with the Titan of Foresight's power.

>>6274709
>Authority slots aren't particularly pressing since we can just learn and discard authorities now.
obviously
but I want to get them to the efficacy level as they already were before discarding. I was more talking about what to do right this second

I neglected to include the typical

>Buy something
>Don't
>Write-in

But since there was some discussion but no real consensus around purchase, I'll go through with not buying anything for now. Of course, the shop is always available, so purchases can be made at any time.

[FULL DISC]

You close the shop for now, briefly considering your various options for items, authorities, and miracles before ultimately deciding that none of it serves your purposes much at this time. After all, you think to yourself, it's not like you can use any of these abilities yet anyway, and you have a small mountain of stuff to pick up before you have the leeway for more. Then again, perhaps you could benefit from a new miracle or two..? Before you can consider the matter any further, you hear your front door swing open.

"Pheme," you smile, rising from your seat to meet her. Neon purple lights beam from the high-tech <Realm> behind her, sleek black flooring refracting the brilliant (though sparsely distributed) glow into your manor as she makes her entrance, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You can't see her eyes behind her hair. Her smile widens, straining the edges of her lips. Something seems... wrong with it. Why do you think that? You can't quite place it. "Tea?" she asks.

"Gladly," you reply, following her back through the door.

~

The room you find yourself in seems almost more like a high-end club than a living space: minimalist purple and black furniture, a fully stocked bar tended by a shadowy clump of feathers in a sleek white suit, and a (wildly out of place) porcelain white tea set placed neatly in the center of the obsidian glass table between Karmenov and you. Oddly, despite everything else fitting quite neatly into place, only the china seems right. You close your eyes and shake your head.

"So," she pours you a glass, the smell of chamomile filling the room as quiet music drones in the background, "You've been busy. Anything different?"

"Oh, you know," you give a roguish smirk as you hold the small cup to your lips, "Went to space, got cool and mysterious new powers, lost a few of my old powers in the process. The works."

"Sounds exciting," she replies, serving herself tea but never touching her cup, "Anything else of note?"

"Lots," you shrug, "Hard to even find a place to start. Oh, wait, don't you already know what I've been up to? You have a spy camera in my soul."

>>6274909

"I do not," she turns her face to meet you, but you still can't see her eyes. On instinct, you try to read her impetus: she's... angry? No... afraid? Not exactly right either. It's oddly hard to place, "I don't know how much you've seen, but I can't use the Failsafe to peek into your brain. I have feathers, but you sometimes forget to carry them."

"Sorry," you sigh, "It slips my mind sometimes."

"That's quite alright."

>Tell her about your new system arrangement
>Tell her about the Interwraith
>Tell her about the Architect
>Ask her about happenings in the world
>Ask her about something else (specify)
>[Is there something different about this place?]
>Write-in

>>6274910
>Tell her that we need to finish Yours Truly and that it's probably impossible with other stuff in our soul, like Jane, the bandit or her failsafe
>Tell her about the hail Mary and the calculation speed we got.
>Ask if she thinks it's possible to transform a finger into an ethernet port and hook into the internet to become a digital god
>Tell her about the herc and Prometheus encounter
>Tell her about the Interwraith
>Tell her about the Architect
>Tell her about your new system arrangement

>>6274910
>Ask her about something else (specify)
How have you been? Are you worried about the oncoming...well everything?

>>6274971
> Oh! And I got you a present!
> Top secret Russian divine computer hardware!

>>6274910
>Reach out and brush her hair out of her face

sorta sure she's worried out of her mind and mad we don't include her in so much.

>>6274909
>Buy Miracle Stabilizer for Divine Servant
>Store Faustian Bargain and Induct
>Buy Elemental Meddle (Lightning)

>>6274910
>Talk about everything

>>6275188
Yeah, an apology is probably owed for hairing off and doing uhhhh way too much without saying anything.

I definitely thought about it, but on a meta level my brain was NO DISTRACTIONS ONLY PROGRESSION.

>>6274964
>>6274971
>>6274974
>>6275029
>>6275188

“Business first,” you insist, clinking your glass down onto its little dish after downing its floral amber contents.

“Per usual,” she replies, snapping her fingers and lighting up the table beneath you in mellow lavender light. It flickers, a divine projection similar to that of your <Spotlight> constructing itself atop the luminous plane of glass and sleek ebony, “I’ll go first. Hades and Persephone are gone. Their kingdom too.”

“...what?” you guffaw, leaning in towards her as what seems like a population map has entire swathes completely and utterly absent, “That can’t be right.”

“But it is. Demeter is gone too. Big chunk of Africa with her.”

“How is that– where the fuck could they even have gone? No shot a <Realm> is big enough for that. Pocket dimension miracle?”

“Nope.” She flicks her wrist, an image of an entirely different sun glowing in the distance, “Here. Fifteen thousand light years away.”

“...shit. Surely the world is up in a panic about this, right?”

“Nope, actually. Fact is, nobody even remembers anyone used to live there. Four hundred years ago–” the display flickers again, purple burning away into orange as colossal asteroids rain down on the unsuspecting earth, cratering into the soil and sending a torrential plume of dust and smoke into the sky. Fragments of slag and molten steel rain down like hellfire, scorching the soil, razing the forests, and pummeling down white-hot death upon the primitive peoples of the land, “There was a meteor shower– well, more like a meteor downpour. Wiped out most of the population and fauna. Thanks to recent divine efforts, the forests and wildlife and such are being restored, but…”

“Obviously, nobody lives there,” you stop to think about it– pretty much every incarnation would have been unaffected based on the fact that you didn’t even notice the ritual during your preparation phase. Plus, even if it happened a long time ago– weeks, maybe even months, you wouldn’t have noticed because nobody would have brought it up. The people around to notice the alteration would be such a small minority that it literally wouldn’t even matter if they told. Truth rules by majority, and “divine restoration” is a practically infallible excuse for any incongruencies one could test by mortal means. “Jesus Christ, whose idea was this?”

>>6275517

“Hades set it up in advance,” she sighs, “His ambition: a world where death and life are merely two sides of the same coin, far from some unbreakable veil. Where those who breathe and those who do not walk side by side… well, not that such a concept is particularly sustainable.”

“And the coverup?”

She smiles. Again, it feels off. “Mostly me, actually,” she gloats, a hollowness about her affect as she mimes a grand bow, “Alongside an acquaintance of yours, an ever helpful assistant.”

“Saanvi?”

“Got it in one. Just about the only one of your pantheon– present company excepted, of course– whom one could trust with a secret.”

“Kinda ironic,” you snicker at the thought, but don’t disagree. “Still, even with her help, it wouldn’t have been possible without a bit of intervention from you-know-who.”

“Prometheus?”

“No, Voldemort,” she corrects, a blank deadpan despite what you can only assume is a joke. You frown slightly– the name does ring a bell, but you can’t quite seem to recall why. Probably wasn’t important, regardless– you’d have remembered it if it were, “Obviously, it was Prometheus,” she interrupts your contemplation, placing a series of notes onto the table in front of you, “I didn’t catch a ton about it, but his comprehension of rituals is terrifying. I wouldn’t have worked with him if not for the gains…”

“Holy shit, wait, you crafted the narrative that duped the entire earth! What is that, even minus all the losses, 5, 6 billion influence?”

“Petered away thanks to the calculations,” she sighs, “But it was still enough to hit seventeen.”

“Quite the haul,” you smirk.

She shrugs, “I do what I can. Your turn.”

>Yours truly and intervention?

She shrugs, “Maybe, maybe not. I know very little about these things, so for all I know you may be right.”

“Is that… permission, then? To remove the Failsafe?”

She pauses for a little bit, her hands shaking slightly as she clutches her room temperature teacup, still filled to the brim, “Do whatever you want,” she answers, “in that respect… sorry, forget I said anything.”

>>6275518

>Hail Mary and calculation speed?

“Certainly handy, but… well, it’s been serving you well. Do you have the blueprints for a physical device?”

“I do!” you smile, “I can give them to you if you’d like. I can’t make heads or tails of it, anyway. Never picked up relic engineering, and apparently the guy who built the old Hail Mary was the best of the best <Enchanters> out there.”

Her eyes widen, “The auction was involved? I thought they were neutral.”

You shrug, “I assume they still are. Coin is coin, even if it’s for a superweapon.”

“Still, enabling that sort of shift to the power balance is bound to get them in trouble if anyone finds out… regardless, it’s a useful card to play.”

>Heracles and Prometheus?

“...I’m aware. Actually, I’ve been more focused on Tisiphone. Of all of your current enemies– well, obviously not including the King– she’s probably the most threatening.”

“I don’t know, I still don’t trust Prometheus.”

“You’d be an idiot if you did. But… well, he seems to think you’re neutralized. Could be a front, but all that really matters is that he knows you need to be alive for a while. Long enough to win. So, Tisiphone’s the immediate threat. I have theories about how she can be dealt with, but I’ll need to run some tests first.”

>Architect? No more authorities? God ambitions?

Pheme sighs, “Honestly, I’m hardly of help here. It’s… well, to put it lightly, you certainly have more education on the subject than me. I wouldn’t blindly trust the Architect, but obviously I don’t need to tell you that, even if you decided to throw in with It this time. You.. never were one to fall for that sort of trap.”

>>6275519

You lean forward– your memory’s still a bit hazy, you still feel deep in your gut that something is off: Pheme gives theories– far from holding back on unconfirmed plans or ideas, she loves to bounce stuff off the wall. Pheme expresses her concern when things are odd, shares in the excitement when things go well, and loves to theorycraft and munchkin and test stuff with you as you grow. Tentatively, you extend a hand forward, trying to brush her hair out of her face so you can see her properly. Immediately, with an impetus you’d call repulsion if you didn’t know better, she slaps your hand away, reeling back in disgust. In a moment of pure instinct, you feel your claws tear out of your fingertips before you remember yourself. You tilt your head, confused as to why you felt so upset when she refused you. Placid now, you attempt to resolve your curiosity, “Why did you do that?”

“You hate chamomile tea,” she answers, her voice as quiet as a whisper and trembling like a candle in the wind, “You always take black. You sweeten it. I didn’t even leave out sugar cubes, and you didn’t even complain.”

“So… you’re mad that I wasn’t being annoying?”

“You didn’t notice that the entire decor of this place is wrong!” she claps her hands together, the modern, minimalist black and purple architecture shattering into dust, revealing old, grand gothic arches, cold stone with warm fire, and soft, antique carpeting pushed in by overstuffed leather furniture, “You didn’t ask for wine– we always do whine when we catch up.”

“Look, after the fight I was in, my memory’s a bit fuzzy, and–”

“You would never forget,” she stands, her statuesque frame towering over you as wings explode from her back, a hundred eyes boring into you as she slams her hands down on the (now wooden) table between yourself and her, “That I hate when you call me Pheme in private.”

“...what are you getting at?”

“It’s something about the–”

>Interwraith

“I… I’ve confirmed it now. That power, I think you need to get rid of it.”

“What? Marie, listen, I’m sorry that I–”

“You’re not right!” she yells, fist smashing down on her teacup, dark red blood trickling from her hand as the porcelain digs into her skin, “You’re not you.”

“Really, I’m fine,” you insist– honestly, you are. Your memories are a bit fuzzy, but that really is the end of it, “I’m just disoriented. I’m sure I’ll be ok in a couple of days.”

“It’s not that,” she repeats, “Even if you forgot everything you knew about me, you wouldn’t be… off, like this. It’s– fuck, you’re barely recognizeable.”

“You’re being melodramatic,” you sigh, “I’m still Atë.”

She shakes her head, “Drain it until you come back,” she demands, “Or I’ll save you on my own.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

>>6275520

>Try to talk her down
>Ask for time to think
>Excise the <Failsafe> immediately
>Refuse her demands
>Accept her demands
>Leave
>Write-in

>>6275522
>"I was cooking too. Pallas said I would never have done that. Is it not a good thing to enjoy a physical sensation more? Eating?"
>"People always change, change isn't bad. I never liked myself. I want to become someone who does. But I agree that I have to be in better control of how I change."
>Leave
>go train Yours Truly

>>6275522
>Try to talk her down
>Ask for time to think
Give me a few days, let me check things over on the inside, try to reassert myself.
I need this power to protect you

>Check the Devourer's Guide for...side effects
>go train Yours Truly

>>6275522
>Ask for help doing it
In retrospect a 100x boost did seem too good to be true. Maybe we should scale back to 10x for now and store the rest somewhere we can recover it once we’ve acclimated.
I do think she’s overestimating the issue, we definitely noticed the change in decor, I just figured she felt like redecorating. Was gonna comment on it once we got the business talk out of the way. The tea and name thing were weird though so she’s at least a little right.

We also need some raw power right now because of the System divorce, so giving it all up is tough.

Since this is a very important vote, I'll wait until tomorrow to break the tie. In the interim, it's been a while since I've done any character illustrations! Let me know if there are any members of the cast you'd be interested in seeing drawn and in color.

>>6275522
>>6275554
>>6275603
>>6275641
mix of all of that
we can invite her into our soulscape and decide together what to prune.
The divinity has to go somewhere, we can't just regurgitate a darkwraith that tasted impetus.

>>6276073
Yeah, I can get behind that. Bring Maria along with us into the soulscape, and she can be our compass on what's us and what isn't, and help us subjugate the parts that aren't.

>>6276073
that's also to say that I really don't appreciate her threat

>>6276136
I'm annoyed too, though on the other hand I'm a little worried that large swathes of our soulscape are trying to go rogue on us and she's the only one really noticing. Wasn't there something in the Devourer's Guide about being overwhelmed by our meals? Because the interwraith was literally multiple times our size.

>>6276136
Her threat to save us? Wow, how awful of her.

>>6276137
let's check
>However other sentient mortals will have WEIRD, SPECIFIC desires and an EGO. Eat carelessly and you will develop SOUL INDIGESTION, and potentially EGO DEATH. Or worse, GROSS FETISHES.
>Therefore, you must CONQUER and PROCESS a sapient soul. How? There are two ways.
which were
>SLICE AND DICE (inefficient, loses most of the divinity) & TENDERIZE (torture)

later he says:
>INTERWRAITHS don’t die, but if you BEAT them hard enough they go CATATONIC. You can then PONDER the one in front of you and enter your own soulscape at the same time. If you did it right, it will be SUCKED INTO YOUR PLANE WITH YOU. Unlike mortals, INTERWRAITHS dissolve almost instantly in OTHER SOULS.
seems to me that the interwraith is the problem, but the mall of people we sorta carelessly ate before


>>6276380
people can have complex emotions, you know?

“I’d like to start by saying I don't appreciate being threatened.”

“I’m not threatening you,” she sighs, deflating back into her seat, “I’m just being honest with the reality of my situation. I think if you were me– no, even if you were you, you’d get it. There isn’t a price I wouldn’t– whatever. It’s pointless to try and convince you of this in this state. How are we going to play this out?”

“I still think you're overreacting,” you narrow your eyes, rising to your feet and placing your hand on her head, “But I understand your concern. We’ll take a look together, shall we?”

“Alright,” she smiles, “Let's get back on track.”

~

“Jesus, the beach is gone.”

You and Pheme stand alone atop a raft of red rope and purple feathers, gazing out onto the endless sea. The sun shines all the same, refracting like rose gold through the abyssal crimson waters, faint flickers of red light and misshapen sandstone spires barely visible beneath the faintly lapping waves. There is no tide, there is no moon– the waters are calm, faint wind the only movement in the entire world. Even Pheme is perfectly still, barely seeming alive as her chest faintly heaves up and down. You begin to speak again, but she shushes you, slowly, trepidatiously lowering herself towards the water.

“Do you hear that?” she asks. You try to listen, but all you can hear is the whisper of the wind. No, wait, that’s…

“I am Atë,” the ocean itself speaks, a quiet, insistent affirmation declared seemingly to itself and the world more than any individual listener, “I am Atë. I am Atë. Iamatëiamatëiamatëiamatëiamatëiamatë–” you lunge back, nearly falling off of the raft as the mantra grows faster, more desperate and ferocious with every repetition. All at once, the escalation stops, returning to the ambient babble of before.

“That’s the problem. Sure, the book says Interwraiths dissolve, but this thing was... something else, when you ate it. Honestly, we're lucky it panned out this way,” Pheme turns to you, rising to a full standing position as her feathers dance around her head like a halo, “While you were eating the Interwraith, you said it was trying to copy your Impetus, right? Seems like it succeeded. Had it had a different approach, your identity might really have been swallowed. Now that we’ve identified the issue, it should be a matter of course to divert some of it into a temporary bank to consume later. I’ve done the research during-” she stops abruptly, her hands clenching into a fist as a wave of nausea seems to hit her, “...regardless, you know I’ve looked into it. Half should do to get the balance back in a workable order: you still walk away with one million. Hell of a consolation prize, right? So, shall we begin?”

>>6276450

“Wait,” you hold your hand up, gesturing for her to pause, “You’ve got me thinking about something important here,” you sit down, feet dangling into the cold sea as you lay out your revelation, “The Interwraith isn’t a person like you and me. It’s basically a simple machine with even simpler directives. So, it’s been bothering me, when it was <Sorting> out my soul, picking and choosing what to assimilate, what metric could it have possibly used?”

“Presumably whatever would best suit its directive.”

“And, see, that’s what I assumed, but that’s just kicking the can down the road, right? How does it assign that value? How could something so lacking in reason or cognition possibly make any sort of utility assessment?”

Marie groans– she’s found the end of your train of logic, and she really doesn’t like its destination. “Look, you can’t-”

“It’s based on me. What I think is good. What I think I ought to be. The-”

“Stop,” she interrupts, “Just, stop it. You have absolutely no way of verifying this. Your life is on the line here-”

“But see, it isn’t!” you turn to meet her empty gaze, “It only will be if I give all of this up literally just to make myself worse.”

“That isn’t-”

“Look, my memory was fuzzy, but it’s already starting to come back! There was a shakeup, an overload, it messed up the soul-anchor link, but now it’s getting reconnected–”

“Which is exactly why we need to nip this in the bud now,” she begins to tap her foot against the floor of the vessel, tremors echoing with every little impact, “Otherwise, the changes might be permanent.”

“I feel great! I haven’t felt this good in years! Do you really not want that for me? Can you only care about me if I’m miserable? Picky? Petty and tempestuous? I’m the best me I could possibly conceive of!”

“You have no way of knowing that!" she hisses, "You're playing with fire! This shit– I mean, the risks are astronomical! You have no idea what the long term effects might look like! Besides... besides, even if that is true,” her voice begins to tremble, “supposing that you don't deteriorate, supposing that everything magically works out– even if this is the you you THINK you need to be– I... need my friend back.”

You shake your head, “People change.”

“Not like this.”

>Give her what she wants
>Send her away
>Write-in

>>6276451
half is fine
>Agree to store half away but in 5 different boxes of 200k each
we don't need to have them come sentient
>Train yours truly some
>Try to use Ordinance on the storages and always keep an eye on them
lobotomize them if possible

>>6276451
>Give her what she wants
I would have been fine keeping a tenth
Also I like being petty and tempestuous

>>6276451
>Give her what she wants
Yeah, pack half up and we'll process the rest later. I want our power to be our power, not the funhouse version of ourselves.

>>6276451
>Give her what she wants
small price to pay, but I don't think we should leave that kind of divinity lying around.

>>6276446
can't wait for the devourer's book to roast us for getting soul indigestion
we should check on it before working on yours truly, we need to get this under control

>>6276456
>>6276512
>>6276517
>>6276603

>Give her what she wants

“Uugh,” you groan, your head reeling like a blackout hangover as you barely manage to hoist yourself off of the couch. You notice only then that your head was resting on Marie’s lap, hair still a bit warm to the touch in the places her hand was. Nausea overtakes you, directing your attention to a small trashcan placed thoughtfully nearby. As you put it to your lips and wretch, you begin to sort through the hazy memories of your post-interwraith bender.

“Holy shit, I gave up my authorities.”

“Uh huh.”

“Like, ALL OF THEM!”

“Pretty reckless.”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH EFFORT I PUT INTO THOSE??”

She laughs, a full, hearty sound that heaves her entire frail body with every exhalation. “Believe me, I do.”

“Fucking christ, I cooked carbonara.”

“You always said you could cook if you wanted to,” she snorts, willing a bottle of champagne from a nearby cooler into her hand and gingerly pouring two flutes. Silently, she places one in front of you, presumably to help wash the taste of bile out of your mouth. As the sickness subsides, you gratefully accept, slamming the entire glass down in a single gulp.

“I thought I was coping!” You throw your arm out, bones cracking as your arm distends and warps to grab the rest of the bottle. You put the lip of the champagne to your own, downing a swig of sweet, sweet poison.

“That’s expensive,” she tuts, fully knowing that she could replace it as if it were nothing.

“Your face is expensive.”

“Wouldn’t that be a compliment?”

“Counterpoint: I’m drinking all of your liquor.”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try!”

“Believe me, you really wouldn’t.”

She grins– even though she wears one most of the time, you know that this one is genuine. You reach to touch her hair, moving it aside to see the entirety of her face. Black glass meets you as you gaze at her. You think to yourself that these are the eyes she chose, and the thought of it makes you smile, “Happy to see me?”

“I’m blind.”

“Not anymore, you dick.”

“And so are you,” she continues, “if you couldn’t answer that question just by looking.”

“I want to hear you say it,” you pout, poking your fingernail into her stupid face.

“Fine,” she chuckles, “I missed you.”

“THANK you,” you puff your chest out, mentally crowning yourself the victor before continuing, “So, wanna have some fun?”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“I can multitask! I was thinking we-”

>>6276949

>Go on one last shopping spree before the end of the world
>Finally play that game of tennis we were thinking about
>Hit Vegas– I’ve been meaning to play blackjack with someone other than myself
>Go cause some mayhem
>Do whatever you want today
>Write-in

Meanwhile, in your <Soulscape>, you’ll divert your Hail Mary to practice:

>Oblivion (Optional write-in: try a specific link)
><New art> Syren’s_Touch (Optional write-in, select a specific link (whispers or strings)
>Sunday best (Optional write-in: develop a <Link> related to regeneration)
>Complete the <Art> for Cry, Armageddon
>Pick a different authority or miracle (specify)
>Write-in

>>6276950
>Finally play that game of tennis we were thinking about
A blind nerd and a giant nerd on a tennis court. Sounds amusing.

>Complete the <Art> for Cry, Armageddon
From a Single Cell is tempting of course...

>>6276950
>Finally play that game of tennis we were thinking about
(I have no recollection about this)

><New art> Syren’s_Touch (Optional write-in, select a specific link (whispers or strings)
The whispers one, how about "Syren's Call"

>>6276994
Just something the two of them joked about a while back.

>>6276949
>Fucking christ, I cooked carbonara.
Was this that weird? Haven’t we done similar things when coming down off a big accomplishment in the past?
>>6276950
>Hit Vegas– I’ve been meaning to play blackjack with someone other than myself
Something we can both abuse our powers to win at

><New art> Syren’s_Touch (Optional write-in, select a specific link (whispers or strings)
Now we’re talking
Strings right? I can’t think of any advantage whispers has over strings.

>>6276950
>Write-in
Go mess with the girl that blinded Marie. Been a long time and we still haven't done it.

>>6277631
We can suggest it, but I assume if she wanted it done she could easily have done it herself already. It’s her revenge to take either way.

>>6277032
>Was this that weird? Haven’t we done similar things when coming down off a big accomplishment in the past?
Atë has always disliked cooking. If you check through every thread, she's never done it once except for the carbonara. Her dislike of it is mentioned every now and then in passing and in occasional extra-narrative material, but usually (like almost every aspect of her character outside of the incarnation game) it's generally kept on the back burner.

>Tennis?

There's a certain sense of incongruity when you see Pheme waltz onto the court. Sporty clothes almost seem absurd on her, shorts (though quite normal on a more average woman) seem almost like swimwear as they barely traverse a quarter down her long, bony thigh, her shirt leaving a slight exposure between itself and her midriff that you haven't even considered she might accept. A sporty cap-visor and a gargantuan plumed ponytail keep her raven hair out of her face as she casually twirls her racquet in her hand.

"You've been practicing?" You ask, taking a reasonable shot in the dark based on the fact that she has a tennis court in her Realm.

"Mostly just exercise," she shrugs, tossing the ball to you. "Your serve, rookie."

It's experimental, but you decide to follow through on enhancing your body, sharp, snapping pains sounding all over your body as you creak into position. "Nil all," you declare, taking a deep breath before throwing the ball full-force into the air. You leap to follow, denting the ground as you burst upwards in a devastating explosion of force, easily clearing three stories before violently smashing your racquet into the ball. With a resounding crack, it careens through the air, boring down like a cannonball directly towards the center of the box; if you're outmatched in skill, just win with overwhelming force.

"You crazy bitch," Pheme cackles, wings sprouting from her back, flapping hard enough to cut most of the downward velocity before erupting into a cloud of black dust, hair-like fibers dancing around her and cushioning the fall until its descent seems more like a fly trapped in honey than a tennis ball. Delicately, she lifts off the ground, lightly touching the ball with her racquet. Instantly, all that trapped force releases, black divinity pulsing so thick and dark that you can barely see the green and white skin beneath. You smirk, readying yourself– time to...

>Do whatever it takes to win
>Get some training in
>Just have fun
>Write-in

>>6278111
>Do whatever it takes to win
...within reason.

>>6278111
>if you're outmatched in skill, just win with overwhelming force.
So us

>Just have fun

>>6278111
>Just have fun
>keep escalating but try to keep the ball in the game for as long as possible

>>6278260
>>6278264
>>6278267

>Just have fun (no dice required)

You once again vault into the sky, your joints creaking under the pressure as you contort your limbs in impossible ways, dislocating and liquifying your own bones, your arms loose like whips and strong like chains as you spin your entire body, shattering the sound barrier as you crash your racquet into the oncoming ball. Pheme snickers, feather-dust balling into murky black ravens, each one vaulting into the oncoming missile to block its trajectory.

“Divinity Manifest: Sea of Rumors.”

Instantly, blackish purple mist coats the field, your vision flickering as one, ten, dozens of Phemes with dozens of racquets serving dozens of balls in every conceivable direction emerge from the shadowy dark. Your eyes dart across the field– shit, there's no time.

“Computer!” you screech, dividing the second as many times as you can manage to stall for long enough to complete the calculations, “Oblivion, maximum range!”

‘A freeze frame, ma’am?” she asks, seemingly not needing to wait for an answer before immediately continuing: ‘Intent confirmed. Initiating simulation sequence.’

Some of the Pheme clones recoil in shock as you vanish into nothingness. However, she knows you're still there: after all, violating the rules is tantamount to surrender. Suddenly, from on high, a lambent orange glow bathes the court, light banishing shadow wherever it touches as sanguine waters pool beneath your feet. Pheme– the real one, perhaps, rubs her eyes as you reveal the true purpose of your little disappearing act:

“Freeze Frame (properly this time).”

In an instant, as if suspended in a single fraction of time, the entire world around you falls completely and utterly still. You identify which ball is real with your <Sight>, delicately tapping it with your racquet and sending it over the net. However, the moment it escapes your frozen world, the ball dissolves into a clump of midnight down. Your eyes widen in shock.

“Truth and Lies, my very own <Manifestation Miracle>,” she helps explain, “It basically lets me decide in retrospect whether something happened to the genuine article-” she pauses, dramatically blowing away the feathers as they descend onto the damp ground, “or nothing but a fake.”

“Fine then,” you snicker from nowhere in particular, “I’ll just have to get them all!”

Countless tendrils burst from your back, each one coiling around its own racquet as you dig your claws into the floor beneath you, anchoring yourself in place as you prepare to launch back every single fake ball alongside the real one. The copies rush to react, hitting back fake and real balls in a way that seems trackable, but you now know isn’t. Your vision goes red, a manic grin on your face as you see from every direction at once, ending your <Oblivion> to fully engage in a duel between monsters.

In the end, you overextend, passing out cold before game point.

>>6278738

b][???][/b]

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” You smile, kicking your legs up on the table as you hold a frankly ridiculous parfait right in front of your face. The person sitting across from you– a young man in a plain suit with a charisma you find unplaceable as it is unavoidable, flashes a complicated smile, a piece of regret in his single remaining eye.

“I’m happy you’re happy,” he sighs, “but it's rude to put your feet up like that.”

“I’ll tip,” you bluntly reply through a mouthful of cream, finishing your bite before finishing your thought, “Besides, end of the world matters more than table manners.”

“Right. Look, I’ll be blunt. I haven't found a plan A.”

You stop, “...shit.”

“I have finished the plan B protocol.”

“Listen, Aug, I’m not doing the fucking “Death Shriek,” look, I can’t, you know I can't!”

“Each kingsman is a door,” he interrupts, “The only way to keep that thing out is to… shut them.”

“There are kids. Babies!”

“...I’m sorry. You know I wouldn't be asking this of you if there was any other way.”

“Can't you ask someone else? I seriously can’t–”

He shakes his head, silver hand running through his sandy brown hair, “It's you,” he groans, “you're the only one who can. It's… I’m sorry, that's not fair.”

Your eyes widen in horror, disgust boiling in your gut, “It’s my spell?! Aug, who the hell– WHAT the hell am I?!”

“You’re everything I have left,” he leans forward, a familiar touch of his forehead against yours, “But I think…”

[FULL DISC]

“Ugh,” you moan, rising from Pheme’s bed in a reasonably human-shaped piece, “how long was I out?”

“Just a couple hours,” Marie smiles, once again donning her usual attire as she hands you a cold lemonade, “Technically, I win by default.”

“Technically, you’re a bitch.”

"So, sore loser," she chuckles, stretching her arms a bit before grabbing the pitcher again and pouring herself a glass, "What now?"

>Leave to focus on <Arts>
>Discuss additional matters (specify)
>Do other activities together (specify)
>Meet someone else (specify)
>Write-in

>>6278740
>Do other activities together (specify)
I wanna clean out Vegas!

>Your eyes widen in horror, disgust boiling in your gut, “It’s my spell?! Aug, who the hell– WHAT the hell am I?!”
Did Aug(ustus?) clone us? And give us … MORALS!?!?!??

>”Truth and Lies, my very own <Manifestation Miracle>,” she helps explain, “It basically lets me decide in retrospect whether something happened to the genuine article-” she pauses, dramatically blowing away the feathers as they descend onto the damp ground, “or nothing but a fake.”
Woah
Pheme stronk

>>6278740
>Do other activities together (specify)
Vegas sounds like fun, but let's see if we can cobble together a probability manipulation Art while we're at it...

>>6278740
>>Leave to focus on <Yours Truly>
time IS limited, and we did want to checkout that version of us prometheus had. I wanted to use the mirror of infinite selves again, but QM is practically asking us to follow those breadcrumbs

>>6278830
>Your eyes widen in horror, disgust boiling in your gut, “It’s my spell?! Aug, who the hell– WHAT the hell am I?!”
I saw it more as an alternate path where we took a more redemptive arc, sparing the Boar and the Deer, befriending promo and working with him to stop the king. It looks like Cry Havoc, or something like it, is going to be important to defeating the King, but this alternate version of us is much less ok with unleashing that level of power on innocents.

>>6278830
>>6278851
>>6278944
>>6278984

>Vegas!

Probability is a tool that humans use to describe the world.

“Raise,” you smirk, faint aroma of a cleaner that smells like sunscreen lingering in your nose as you breathe in the cold, hyper-oxygenated air of the opulent casino floor. It’s poker night at the Mandalay Bay, and while it might not be the biggest spot for cards on the Strip, it's a decent place to warm up; smugly, you shove a piece of your hoard into the center of the table. “Hundred to call.”

“Damn, pink, you’re making my life hard,” an older man, portly in the way of a mobster more than an average fat cat, mulls over his cards for a moment before tossing them down onto the table.

The trouble with statistics is that it's a fundamentally non-descriptive concept: it doesn't tell you what WILL happen, just how likely any given outcome would be in a universe where such a thing as random chance existed. However, such a world doesn't exist: at the center of this table lies a monster, a little Laplace’s Demon for her circle of preeminence, who may simultaneously observe all phenomena down to the atomic level.

In your eyes, all the calculations in the world fall flat: the next card is “probably not” a spade to most of the players on the table: two already sit on the board, and a few others dot the cards of some of your fellow players. Counting from the highest available perspective, the odds of rivering a flush with two spades in hand is about 3/16, give or take based on hunches from other betters. However, from where you sit, there's a 16/16 chance of the next card being a spade. That is the unintended power of <Oblivion>. Merely in the process of <Initiation>, you conquer luck itself.

“Unlucky,” you chirp, seeing your few remaining competitors stifle a groan as the jack of spades hands you the key to your flush.

“You’re full of shit,” the man across from you, younger for a poker table but older than you, pushes thirty into the pot. “Bet.”

The painted heiress next to you folds. You call and double the bet. “What's the matter?” You taunt, nimbly cutting one of your own towers of chips in half to mimic your challenger’s measly pool of funds. You pinch your fingers so close together they almost touch, “Not got a big enough stack?”

“All in.”

Sucker.

“Read ‘em and weep. Well, assuming you can read.”

The old man laughs, bright orange cuban shirt bouncing up and down with each powerful heave of gravelly amusement. “You’re a real whaler, Pink!” He stops, coughing a little before continuing, “Ate that poor sunnovabitch alive!”

“It’s what I do,” you grin, pulling all of the chips back towards yourself, “Sorry gents (and lady). I really hate to win and run,” you scoop up your winnings, lazily slotting them into your tray without sorting, “But the sun’s about to come up and I promised to meet my friend at the beach.”

~

>>6279249

Enjoy the show?”

You step on the white sands of the fake beach, a wine-red two piece swimsuit dousing the false shore with water as you plop onto a nearby chair.

“Your interweaving of plausible losses with more impactful wins was impressive. Even just seeing the cards, I wouldn't have been able to predict that many hands deep.”

“It’s been good practice. Especially for my–”

>Calculation speed
>Soul-reading
>Simulation depth
>Passive <Oblivion> use
>Write-in

“So. What next?” you ask.

“Well, when in Rome-”

“No, that place is a couple blocks down.”

“When at the beach, then-” she chuckles, handing you a ridiculously tall margarita, “You hit the water.”

You smile: you guess you really did need to unwind.

>Keep it casual– you’re here on vacation
>Create a scene (strictly for fun)
>Use the opportunity to practice an <Art> (specify)
>Doze off in the Lazy River
>Go people watching with Pheme
>Write-in

>>6279250
>Simulation depth
Thought Pheme would gamble with us
She ought to be able to pull off the same feats

>Keep it casual– you’re here on vacation

>>6279250
>Calculation speed

>Go people watching with Pheme

>>6279250
>Soul-reading
>Doze off in the Lazy River
Sure would be so terrible if someone just spread the tie instead of breaking it

>>6279581
Well, we are terrible, and multiway ties are pretty typical of us as voters...

Well, we're about to get bumped off anyway, I'll just end the thread here and let you guys sort this out. If you have any questions, comments, art requests, etc, feel free to post them here