Eternal Game of the 108 Chapter 9: Enderlithian (Patreon)

I think I’m at the stage where I need to rebuild my life. Oh, I’m going to lose it again before the year is done but that’s not a reason not to create a temporary home. The couple drag me to a bank where I change credits against scrips used by the local bazaar, apparently a currency accepted by local food banks run by Benevolence. The dockside bazaar is the densest concentration of population I’ve ever seen, a maze of ramshackle constructions bound by stairs, lifts, ladders and some manner of structures I have no context for, just because it’s so vertical. Lighting comes from a multitude of bulbs and the few ships visible ‘above’ as they wait in countless berthings. Right now, the planet is right under us with the distant yellow sun shining on a placid ocean. The smells are too varied to describe. 

I buy all I need to live in a variety of small shops filled to the brim with haphazardly placed crates. Many of the vendors don’t even speak So-Sah. Vargo sighs with annoyance, ready to step in, but I wave her away. This isn’t my first time being a gullible white tourist after all. With pointed fingers and grunts, I manage to haggle for most of everything. I’m happy Stone hovers around me the whole time because some of the greed I feel is turning dangerous. I’m still wearing the jumpsuit rather than my rich boy outfit so I suppose it’s just weakness they feel, not high profit.

I’m pretty sure the person who sells me a ‘rice’ cooker is a plant but it moved and accepted cash so I’ll take it. After we’re done, I invite the pair to a noodle joint as a gesture of thanks for covering my back for hours and also carrying some of my boxes. They didn’t have to do that.

Interesting to see that noodles are universal alongside guns and contempt for the poor. I need to ask SilSil if duct tape exists as well. 

“It’s delicious,” I admit.

I wasn’t expecting much but the broth is wonderful, and they even have slices of some radish thing that just tastes refreshing. Honestly, I’m so starved for greens here I’d eat okra and I fucking hate okra. Enderlith is fun but I’m feeling weirdly overwhelmed.

“Good food here,” Vargo says. “This is a refuge hub. After ten years, they can turn rations into some fancy stuff even a patrician wouldn’t turn their nose at.”

She gives me a measuring look, curious. I shrug.

“Couldn’t say.”

“Just don’t talk about Obis,” Stone said, “and you will be mostly safe.”

“By that he means they’ll just rob you instead of shanking you, mud boy.”

“You mean the war, right?” I ask in a lower voice.

“Yeah,” Vargo replies while Stone’s soul snaps shut. “The Three Thrones. It’s been going for seven years now, almost since the beginning of the troubles. Back when Archon Vrok disappeared.”

I gesture for her to stop.

“What do you mean, disappear? How can someone disappear an archon?”

“No idea,” she replies.

“The reign of archons lasts up to a thousand cycles. It had been a thousand years since Vrok ascended from being the Avatar of Retribution so he… disappeared. It happens when they don’t retire.”

“Ok…”

Something to ask Chronos, I suppose.

“The royal family attacked the Blade Seekers in their redoubt. Their relationship was, ugh…”

Vargo hesitated. Stone came to her rescue.

“Obis was ruled by an old royal family installed two archons ago, fairly powerful but lacking true martial awakened. They had an army though. Those they attacked were a group outside of society dedicated to martial prowess.”

“So there were rumors —”

“It was a power struggle,” Stone said, interrupting her.

He eyed the rest of the restaurant. I also sense more people turning their attention to us through the thin metal panes granting everyone the illusion of privacy.

“For dominance. Everything changed when one of the main churches of Obis turned on everyone. The Blood Conclave. They were a, hmm, healer temple so it was a surprise.”

“Especially when they came up with biological weapons and siege abominations,” Vargo spits.

From what I can tell from the people around us, no one likes the blood whatever. Ugh, I’m getting a headache.

“After seven years, none of the commanders who were active at the start of the conflict still draw breath. Everyone is exhausted. Obis is… a shadow of its former self,” Stone whispers. 

Guilt and affection flood Vargo’s soul. I’m guessing Stone speaks from experience. I decide to give the old boy some much needed space. 

“Right, do you guys need anything else after that?”

“No. Well. Maybe some pastries for Sethri. I bet he’s working too hard again,” Vargo says. “You really came at the right time,” she adds. 

“You are welcome. Happy to help.”

Except I’m only helping once and you’ll forget everything about it.

***

I feel the person approaching while I stand outside of the bakery shanty. The noise of the emotions of packed people is just getting to be too much. I think that is what’s happening at least. My ability to read emotions was super fun but now I realize… I can’t stop. I can’t stop feeling what they’re feeling and this is too much for too long. It wasn’t so bad in the Church of Mercy, but here? It’s so much worse. Massaging the bridge of my nose, I regret that I didn’t look for the Enderlithian equivalent to aspirin. 

“Ok. Ok.”

Maybe I can narrow the circle. I can already extend my perception in a sort of tight beam. Maybe I can just contract the sphere instead. Trying that, I pull back my sphere of perception. But it just grows more dense instead.

I jump when I feel someone entering it. Left side. Aggression, greed, bad news. I turn to see a muscular woman with face tattoos and a fierce expression. Black hair, black eyes, remarkably human except for, well, I think those are claws on her fingers. Actual claws not sharp nails.

“What do you want?” I snap out before she can approach any further.

My control fails. The sphere bounces back, flooding me with the errant emotions of the people queuing inside the bakery. Happiness. Boredom. Lust. Envy. Fear. The overload sends a searing spike inside my brain.

“You need to pay to get in,” she says in broken So-Sah. “It’s not free.”

“Huh?”

She points at the bakery behind me. She really has claws.

“You need to pay to get in.”

“Oh good, I don’t want to get in.”

“But you need to pay.”

She frowns. Her frustration radiates in acid waves. 

“But you can’t buy anything without paying.”

“I don’t want to buy anything,” I tell her.

I wait while she digests this crucial piece of information. 

“You don’t have a bag? You gotta go inside first.”

“I. Do not. Want. Anything,” I say between gritted teeth. 

I didn’t bring the Defender. Maybe I should have but Stone said it was an invitation. 

“Leave him alone. Kyra. Leave him alone,” an older human says from a side street. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

“Fuck you!” she spits.

“I’m calling the wardens if you don’t fuck off right away.”

She smolders in sulky silence for a few seconds.

“And your girlfriend,” the old man adds.

“Fuck! Alright, I’m leaving!”

She does. I turn to the old man.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, boy. Can’t have us eating each other down there.”

Wise words. Stone and Vargo pick me up on the way out and I collapse on my bunk the moment we’re back, an ice pack latched to my forehead. Fuck. Looks like soul sense isn’t just some god-granted privilege I can use however I want it. Looks like I’m going to have to practice it. Ah well. At least, it will stay with me across loops.

***

Sethri Derelict’s shuttle slows down at the edge of the Vaunted Voyager, possibly one of the nicest ships I’ve seen yet. Sleek and engraved with golden filigree, the white vessel is half yacht and half fancy exhibit. Concern spreads across the shuttle, an emotion I share because yes, this is a derelict seeing the trace damage along the main body, but there is no way we bagged this pile of gold as a small time outfit. It’s at least forty meters long. 

“Boss?” SilSil asks from the cockpit.

“Paperwork’s clean. Bring us alongside. Come on people, let’s get out.”

We file out. I’m happy to realize SilSil either forgot to slave my booster to his computer or he just trusts me enough not to bump into my colleagues and since I’ve done it once before, I manage. Mostly. 

“Mudboy?” Sethri whispers.

“On it.”

I sweep the ship. At first, I find nothing so I slowly float my way alongside the yacht’s flanks, peering inside. It helps to have only the rest of the crew here crowding me with their souls. Near the middle, I stop.

“Someone’s there,” I say.

“There shouldn’t… there shouldn’t be anyone,” Sethri says.

Vargo switches to rapid fire void speech. Her anger explodes like it was already there and ready to be ignited. I ignore them, focusing forward instead. The person inside is, well, their soul just feels… large. Larger than any I’ve felt. And very calm. 

“What do we do?” SilSil asks over the argument.

“Steev, are you sure it’s a person?”

“Positive.”

“SilSil, can you make contact?” 

We wait for a few seconds during which Vargo helps me come to a full stop. It’s actually rather hard to come at a full stop relative to something else but she makes it look so easy. 

“I got nothing, boss. Nothing’s pinging.”

“I can try telepathy,” I offer.

“You trying to piss them off? I say we leave,” Vargo argues. “I told you this idea was leaking atmo.”

“Enough,” Sethri erupts, his own anger surging to cover his embarrassment. “I paid good money for the salvage right and we’re going to use it. This is an Enderlith- approved operation.”

I push my perception towards the soul. It feels like staring over the surface of a frozen lake, opaque and mysterious. Quiescent, for now. With a careful nudge, I push against the surface. 

Greetings.

Nothing but a ripple, but there is a consciousness there. A part of me wants to leave it alone but I’m also curious. This soul is fascinating. It’s not just the size but the discipline and care that went into ordering it. 

Greetings. Sorry to bother you.

“It’s reacting,” I said, watching the ripples spread.

Are you awa —

The soul shifts before I can fully finish the thought. I know SilSil is trying to say something but all I can see is a side panel opening before we stand before God. My shock is drowned in the shock of the others.

The man before us is a gray-skinned humanoid dressed in a white robe. He looks old which is concerning because I am guessing high physical awakening slows aging and he’s very awake. In every sense of the term. The speed and space navigation without any sort of protective gear are a dead giveaway.

“You insects presume to disturb my meditation? What year is this?” he declares directly into our heads.

His soul radiates anger like a beacon. Worse, he is allowing me to feel it. 

“It is… 1011 in the era of Vrok, sir,” Sethri manages to enunciate. 

“Is the selection over?”

“The Year of Judgment just started, my lord.”

His next curse rings in my head.

“Then by what right do you worms presume to disturb me?”

“My sir, this is a legal operation approved by Law?”

Wrong thing to say wrong thing to say wrong thing to

“Oh?” the pagan god repeats, dark amusement pulsing around us. “And is Law here with us?”

Shit.

“My lord,” I say, interrupting.

His face is just outside of my helmet. He could rip it off in an instant then it would be a scientific experiment to see if decompression, radiation, or the cold kill me first.

“You were the one who disturbed my serenity. Make your case, cripple. Quickly.”

Time to see if my Kei-Sah is up to the challenge. Slowing my tone down, I reply with the most obsequious litany I can manage.

“Milord, we were dispatched because your vessel errs to Enderlith on a fateful course. Blame us not for the disturbance, for disturbance would have found you hereafter. My fellow spoke true when he stated that your noble ship was believed deserted. We meant no insult.”

I really can’t read the old monster, I only see a pair of yellow eyes narrowing under bushy gray brows. We wait for the other shoe to drop. One second. Two seconds. 

He backs away, now looking down at us over an aquiline nose.

“I believed the art of proper conversation dead. Praise the tutor who taught you well, cripple, and your efforts. They saved your life today.”

“Thank you milord. Before we leave, one last request, perchance?” I ask.

“You push your luck twice in the same evening, cripple?”

“Whose august name should we announce as the master of this vessel? That you be not solicited again,” I finish with my retail-approved smile and a polite pulse of my soul.

The old man’s expression softens. His soul wanders, attention turning to the bleeding Obis, and the distant form of Enderlith he should have no way of spotting but immediately notices anyway.

“Grandmaster Anek. Now begone.”

We don’t need to be told twice. Vargo retreats to a sullen silence when we file back into the ship. Sethri turns to me while we depart.

“Will the name help, at least?” I ask.

“The title does. Grandmaster means an awakening of the fifth order which is valuable in itself. Now I can get the claim reimbursed and the error fixed, at least. Benevolence sometimes grants bounties for fixing incorrect records.” 

He sighed.

“That’s one wasted outing but still… thank you.”

He turned to Vargo.

“And yes, Vargo, you were right. The other outfits must have known something was wrong.”

“We’re not that desperate for cash,” Vargo spat. “That we should kill ourselves on Elders. He said his name was Anek? Sethri, doesn’t this remind you of something?”

Sethri doesn’t reply. I am curious as well.

“One of Vrok’s servants, Sethri! Isn’t that concerning?”

“No! No!” SilSil interrupts. “You see, winners of the previous conquest cannot win the next one. It is known.”

“How is it known?” I ask. “The games are a thousand cycles apart. Is someone keeping track?”

“You can’t take a walk through Elysion without bumping into someone who was there the last time,” Vargo mocks. “Not that they’d let you walk in there.”

“Vargo that’s enough,” Sethri barks. “He saved our lives just five minutes ago?”

Shame burst out of Vargo’s soul in acidic waves. I pretend not to notice Stone grabbing her hand.

“Sorry,” she mutters.

I’ll take it.

***

It’s going to take a day before we can work again. I expected to relax and perhaps explore a bit, but to my surprise, Vargo knocks on my door the next morning just before breakfast. I open it with some surprise. She is wearing her jumpsuit while her long fingers grip a plastic bag with a logo I do not recognize.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s me.”

“Good morning, Vargo. What can I do for you?”

An inexplicable burst of anger erupts from her soul. It’s really too early for me to deal with this shit especially because I have yet to find tea or coffee here, though they have a nice, nutty drink they like to drink for breakfast. I breathe in but before I can say anything, shame replaces anger, and then fury returns briefly for one last encore. Why?”

“Sorry. Look, can I come in? I want to talk.”

I have dirty underwear and oh fuck it. 

“Come on in.”

She leans against the wall, I sit on my bunk. 

“Here, take it. It’s breakfast. Straight from Lishana’s,” she says, handing me the bag. “You like bread right? She does good bread.”

“Thanks. I see that offering food when you want to make up is a universal practice.”

“Did you read my mind again?” Vargo exclaims.

I frown.

“I don’t read minds. I get intense bursts of emotions,” I explain. “I can only send my thoughts to people and only if they’re willing.”

“Oh! I see. I just thought…”

She deflates, then frowns.

“But you can still feel people’s emotions. That’s kind of the same, isn’t it?”

It’s a little early for philosophy. I gaze longingly at the bag, which distinctly smells of pastries. 

“I don’t think so,” I reply anyway. “Maybe a bit. I can’t help it. I try to stop and it just gives me a better read on people who are closer.”

“Ok.”

She is ashamed.

“Is that why you had a headache the other day?”

“Yes,” I confess. “Well, I’m new to this so it will take some getting used to.”

“I see. Well…”

She hesitates. 

“I don’t like you reading my emotions. It feels wrong. But I guess it must be worse for you, knowing when people are lying or… hiding how they feel. “

It sounds like an expression of sympathy. She’s definitely trying to make up. I can just placate her so she leaves but… she’s right. Actually, she’s right. I was so focused on all the stuff around me I never considered how life changing feeling people’s emotion is. I just didn’t give it much thought, because everything is new, terrifying, exciting, or both. I can read emotions now. In fact, I don’t have a choice right now.

“I didn’t think about it. I think it must be a terrible burden for a child,” I say. “It would probably ruin someone’s life, feeling annoyance from their mother or disdain from their father. It would be a terrible thing, but I’m an adult. I know how stuff works. People lie all the time. People feel things they can’t control, and what makes us adults is how we react to them. How we don’t let our emotions rule us. You can tell if someone is annoyed even though they don’t act like it from the twitch in their mouth, the way their nose flares or other little details. It’s just… how things are. I’m just barely better at it.”

I look up to her. With me sitting, she makes me feel like I’m a gnome. Another Enderlith peculiarity I could have done without. 

“So you are angry at me because I can read emotion and it’s a violation?”

“No! Well, yes, but there is something else that bothers me and… I need to tell you or it will gnaw at me forever. Look, you’re clearly a stranger with no awakening who doesn’t know the first thing about anything, yet you’re a citizen and weirdly relaxed about it all. And you have an awakened soul yet you didn’t even know how physical awakening works. Look, this is insane. Impossible. So, we know it’s the Year of Judgment and you pop out of nowhere less than a month afterward. We all know what this means, or at least Stone figured it out first. You’re an avatar.”

She stops to gauge my reaction. Hmm.

“What if I am?”

“Then nothing. You’re clearly one of the worst avatars possible — no offense. I saw the Templar lady on the news and, not the same thing. Not all 108 of you need to shine like a constellation, of course. I just don’t like that you didn’t tell us, but I understand. Are you being hunted?”

I consider lying. A half-truth should do.

“There must be people who would want to kill an avatar, so yes. As you realized, I just came here. I am practically defenseless. Only anonymity and my own insignificance protect me.”

Vargo stares.

“I told Sethri to throw you out,” she admits. “I thought you were just going to bring destruction on us all, but we need the money. Things can get much worse, very fast during a Year of Judgment. But now you probably saved our lives so I feel stupid about the whole thing. So… I’ll behave from now on. Sorry, and thank you.”

“It’s ok Vargo. I just hope we all get through this in one piece.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

She leaves soon after. I didn’t tell her that perfect soul was probably protecting me from all the emotions I was feeling coming from other people. I think anyone else would have been overwhelmed, but somehow the strain drips off my brain without hurting it. Much. I also realize I didn’t feel like building a relationship with the team because, well, I don’t intend to return and they will forget everything at the end of the loop.

So it feels like a waste of my time and emotional investment. I don’t even like Vargo that much, as a person. I’ve worked with worse colleagues of course, but I wouldn’t want to grab a pint with her either. That’s not the issue though, is it? I don’t want to make the effort because she will forget everything, everyone will forget everything, none of this will matter and the only person who will remember this is me. So I don’t want to make the effort. Is this healthy? I have no idea. 

I really have no idea.