Edge Cases

Histre hung in the air, vibrating with fear and paranoia and anger.

Derivan wasn't sure how he knew. Physical Empathy, likely, though he couldn't begin to guess at how he could read the body language of a creature that was more windchime than person. Histre floated in the air in front of them, wings spread in a way that was unnaturally still — almost like they were hung from invisible strings in the air. Golden cylinders rotated agitatedly around one another, swinging back and forth and producing, strangely, that same sound of a ticking clock.

And then he realized that Jerome was moving to the same ticking of that strange beat.

The system screen flickered in front of him; a notification. He barely spared a glance for it — he knew what it would say, based on everyone's faces as they stared at their own notifications.

"You're an angel?" Max asked; she was the first one to find her voice, and she seemed almost indignant that this was who Histre had turned out to be. She was the least affected, too, by the strange pressure the angel seemed to give off. Derivan himself could feel a distant sort of version of it, but Sev, Misa, and Vex all seemed more strongly affected. He could see the way they winced slightly every time the angel ticked, one second passing over into the next. "Why the hell are you here? What are you doing with Jerome? What do you want with the dungeon?"

"You claim you do not know," Histre growled, the words reverberating against the walls and crashing into them. There was no physical force involved — just pressure, fierce and twisted and wrong.

And yet... afraid.

"But it is you. It must be. You are taking them. You want to take him. You cannot. You will not be allowed."

"We don't know what you're talking about!" Misa finally burst out, the words a half-growl from her position. She'd been forced halfway to the ground by the force of the angel's words, each one of them searing their way into her mind. But now she forced herself to her feet and glared, standing strong in the way that she usually did.

Below the angel — nearby, but not attacking — Jerome stood. He was still twitching in sync with the angel, in a way that was frankly rather ominous, if Derivan chose to pay much attention to it. He decided not to.

"We're not — we don't want to take anyone," Vex offered from his spot. He'd collapsed, and he didn't bother trying to get up — but his words were sincere. Kind, even. "We just wanted to undo what you did to Jerome."

Histre wasn't attacking. They had revealed themselves, using shock and awe to freeze all of them in place, and indeed their very existence seemed to scrape against their minds. And yet... they weren't attacking.

Even Jerome wasn't attacking, seemingly at Histre's behest, though no words were exchanged between them.

"We helped him," Histre said. "You will not turn me against the Gold. No. You will not take him. We will defend. We will protect."

"You are afraid," Derivan said softly.

"We have nothing to fear!" Histre's words were screeched in response, and even Max winced at that sound; Derivan wasn't affected quite as strongly, and stared instead at the angel.

What was Aurum's domain? Gold, obviously. But there was something secondary there, something in the angel's movements and sounds. Something about that endless, mechanical ticking.

Time.

"No. You are afraid," Derivan muttered softly, the words gentle, like he was speaking to a frightened animal instead of the eldritch spawn of a god. "And it cannot be your fear alone. Aurum must be afraid, too, or he would not send out so many..."

The angel swirled aggressively, chiming — but then it paused, peering at him more closely. He got that impression anyway; Histre didn't have the eyes for him to tell. They didn't answer him, but they seemed to be waiting for him to speak.

"Does he see what will happen?" Derivan mused aloud, then shook his head. "It does not matter. You must stop this. We cannot be divided against whatever comes."

"Then you know about what comes," the angel declared, as if triumphant.

"Only because we have seen it with our own eyes," Derivan said. "We have seen a god wrapped in chains and hung for display. We have seen the form of his prison and fought against it. Won, if barely."

Histre swung forward suddenly, rapidly; the movement was so quick that Derivan almost didn't catch it himself. The angel suddenly converged on him, away one moment and right in his face the next, and the armor had to take a startled step backward to avoid being hit. "You have seen," the angel hissed at him. "You have seen past the end. You have seen past the Forgetting. We need to know what it is. Tell us!"

"I... that is all we know," Derivan said, startled. "The god was in chains, kept within an abomination of mana. He told us we would find answers in —"

Ah. That was why Aurum was so desperate to send Jerome into the dungeon.

"Yes," Histre said to him, hissing out the worlds; liquid gold dripped out of the cylinders as they spoke, hissing as it touched the ground. Derivan wondered briefly if it was actually molten gold. "You understand. You have seen. If you are not the ones that wish to take Aurum, then you see why we must know."

"But you cannot do it this way," Derivan said. He glanced at Max, who was frantically gesturing, and also seemed unable to speak. "...Did you silence all of my friends?"

"I needed to know," Histre said. "I need to know your words. You who have seen a Forgotten God. You who are linked to that which has been taken."

"What?" Derivan said. Max gestured even more frantically. "...Please allow my friends to speak."

"As you wish," Histre told him.

Just like that, the oppressive aura that seemed to stagnate the air around all of them seemed to fade away. Max gasped for air, seemed to genuinely consider giving an angel the finger, then gathered herself and spoke with authority.

"Aurum is infringing on every treaty the mortals have with the Gods," Max said. "You need to withdraw the geases you have placed. The one on Jerome especially, but all the others, too."

"We need our answers!" Histre didn't seem to like the words; they swirled into the air, chiming with a terrifying anger. "We must know—"

"Jerome as he is right now is a threat to any dungeon delving operation we could possibly consider conducting, even before Elyra is involved!" Max snapped out the words so harshly the angel actually flinched back. "I don't know what the damn geas is that you put on him but I want it gone!"

"Aurum gave him the help he wished for!" The angel argued. "He wished for confidence!"

"Confidence doesn't mean you just make him think he's right all the time! That's not how that works!" Max groaned. "And did you consider just asking him for help with the damn dungeon?"

Histre paused.

"Please tell me you at least tried to ask," Max said.

"There was too great a risk that he would refuse," Histre eventually said. For an eldritch, terrifying angel, it now sounded all too awkward.

"Did you consider that that might have been because you made him think he was right all the time?" Max groaned.

"You were right about the magically reinforced narcissism," Misa whispered to Sev.

"I fucking knew it," Sev whispered back.

"Look. Let us take the damn geas off, and then if your paladin still wants to worship and help Aurum after all that, we will see. It depends on how he acts once it's removed. He is not cleared for the dungeon until the Guild approves of it and did you consider just asking these guys what they find once they get into the damn dungeon?"

The angel was silent.

"Seriously! They're terrible at keeping secrets!" Max complained.

"Max, this feels like a bad time to roast us," Sev tried.

"We admit that we may have made... a mistake," the angel said.

Sev sighed. "They're both ignoring us and this is definitely somehow working."

"Good! Now let us take the geas off, pull back your damn agents, and we can figure out how to get you what you want." Max seemed all business; she gestured for Derivan to go to Jerome. The paladin was still frozen in place, and he didn't seem to be focusing on anything. Was it something about the sight of Histre?

Or... a compulsion of some sort related to Histre.

Derivan shook his head, touched his gauntlet to Jerome's chest, and pulled.

Just like before, the geas present in Jerome began to glow, originating from deep in his chest and stomach — and just like before, as Derivan began to pull out the geas, the effects of it on Jerome's mind seemed to begin to fade. The change was less prominent than before, since the paladin's expression was more of a bland nothing compared to the arrogance he'd previously held, but the life coming back into his eyes was a good sign.

That life was quickly accompanied by a retching sound, as Derivan began to pull the geas the rest of the way out of the paladin.

For a Gold ranker, he didn't seem to have a very strong stomach.

This time, nothing new happened to interrupt them. Histre simply watched Derivan as he pulled out the geas — the armor suspected the angel could have done it themselves, but had elected to watch him to do it instead, perhaps out of some petty sense of spite. What he ended up with in his hand was less a thin thread of gold and more a solid block.

It crushed just as easily between his fingers, though.

Golden Geas: 103

The stat increase Derivan wasn't particularly surprised by — he kept his eyes on Jerome instead as the paladin began to heave. It took Jerome a moment to finally gather himself, and he slowly got to his feet, staring at the Silver rankers that had bested his party.

There was a long pause. Derivan waited for Jerome to be angry, or scared, or any number of emotions he expected someone to feel after having such a strong compulsion removed.

"Uh," Jerome said, a little awkwardly. "Do you guys mind if I put my armor back on? I feel kind of naked without it."

Well... he didn't seem like that much of an asshole.

Jerome was, as it turned out... less of an asshole without a geas messing with his brain.

Not completely. He'd leered a little bit at Misa, then immediately lost all confidence when she raised an eyebrow at him. He'd made a bit of a shitty remark about Elyrans, but seemed suitably cowed when Derivan spoke up in Vex's defense. He'd worried about Eleisse and Syra, his elven teammates, until he found out they were just sleeping and had had their geases removed from them as well.

He didn't seem to be a paragon of humanity, and was perhaps a little bit more of a dick than not, but he didn't seem...

He didn't seem like the kind of person to threaten lives to get what he wanted, basically. Or to take credit for someone else's discovery. Mostly, he seemed kind of awkward.

"You don't seem to mind that Aurum put a geas on you and turned you into a giant dick," Misa said, raising a brow at him.

"I'm trying not to think about it," Jerome said. He fidgeted. "It doesn't really feel like I did those things."

"I'll get him a Guild therapist," Max sighed.

"Why is Aurum so scared, anyway?" Jerome asked. He glanced at Histre, who floated ominously and refused to answer him, or even look at any of them.

"...I think he's next in line for the system to erase," Sev finally answered. "It would explain the fear."

"What?" Jerome stood very still for a moment. It was very clear he had no idea what Sev meant, but 'erase' didn't invoke good feelings in this context. "No. We gotta stop it."

Histre twitched, a bit guiltily.

"Uh..." Sev glanced at Jerome. It wasn't that he didn't agree; he was just surprised that the paladin seemed to care so much.

"Aurum's just a kid!" Jerome said indignantly. "I'm not going to let a kid be erased!"

Chalk that up for another mark in the 'not a dick' category, Derivan supposed.

Though what was a 'kid', in the timescale of the gods?