Esper Labyrinth - ESP - Superhero - LITRPG

Chapter 79: Shivers in the Cobweb.

My Avatar was, frustrating. Its two heads thrumming with untapped potential as I fought with its programed instincts.

I, that is, the me trying to control what happened from within the Elite difficulty tutorial, was demanding obedience. For the extension of me to keep as many people alive as it could.

It was a relatively well received order, when it came to slaughtering monsters on land and under the sea by the hundreds of thousands. Less so when I kept telling it to refrain from disemboweling Snarling Pete and Pete Junior as they screamed at my parents. Demanding to know why both of them were so freaked out by the Solomonlings. The little winged Intruders that just so happened to look identical to me, when my powers first awoke.

The rational, fully in control part of me knew that Luigi would step in and defuse the situation. Despite both of my parents being hysterical over the Intruders and, well, the Tall Man.

In contrast, my Avatar’s first instinct was to see all the people there besides my parents as honorary gnomes. Even then, it only really cared about my mom and dad to the extent that them dying would upset me. Its own twisted outlook demanding that I be happy all the time.

If I had to compare the collection of conflicting sensations, it would be akin to trying to wrangle a patchwork piece of software to do what you wanted. Sure, you could take the time and effort to carefully pick through the entire code line by line for hours upon hours with a fine-toothed comb. But, no matter how hard you worked or how many precautions you took, inevitably, there would be bugs upon launch. Almost as if the program had a will of its own and the temperament of a disgruntled goat.

I kept sending orders to the bloody thing. Telling it to stick to the crabs and the lesser leviathans found beneath the waves. While the Tall Man kept using its own mirrored version of my new abilities to catch glimpses of destitute survivors conspiring to separate my parents and interrogate them away from each other.

Then, I too would become emotional and, for the briefest of moments, my avatar would call upon Solomonite Flagellants to, correct their behaviour. Making it so that I had to expend more and more willpower to call them back.

It was like shadow-boxing. Only, my shadow could and would commit felonies with a smile on its face and a song in its black heart.

‘Enough.’ I commanded. Wincing as I climbed the steps back to the volcanic biome. The embers in the air tickling my lungs and searing the bony ridges I’d grown on my feet.

‘Return to me. Leave Mittens to his work. You are no longer needed on that side.’

It fought me, even then. Though it eventually acquiesced.

I watched it without watching and saw it without seeing. Sensing the many conflicting echoes of the future, its future and past brushing against one another as I beat my wings and mounted Dolce once again.

Each motion I acted upon, each action I took. bore the weight of a thousand, thousand possibilities. From scenarios that differed only by the slightest of margins as I grabbed on to this part or the other, to scenarios that played out my attacking him for seemingly no reason.

If it was just that, just the immediate aftermath of my actions, it might have been more bearable. Merely a natural extension of what my fog had previously done. Yet, the cobweb incorporated [Insight], as well as [Sense Thoughts] and [Mental Map]. So that I could fully visualize the consequences of my actions. Both good and bad.

An endless three-dimensional rendition of lines branching out and interconnecting in an exponentially expanding cobweb. Cracks on an impossibly colossal mirror that sometimes seemed nonsensical, and sometimes so obvious, that even someone without my gifts would be able to see them coming.

On the one hand, it gave me a certain… clarity of purpose that I had been lacking. Hard decisions were made somewhat easier, when I was privy to what refusal or inaction would bring.

On the other hand, I was forced to see the aftermath of those very same hard choices playing out before me. As well as the very real limits of the awesome power I now wielded.

Prior to my merging with the Drake and Coffin, I had thought that destabilizing reality was a process that could be controlled. Tamed, to a degree.

I knew better now.

The forces of Pandemonium could, at best, be nudged in a certain direction that might, might be favourable on very specific circumstances. If the stars aligned, they might even do what you intended without causing further mischief. If not, well….

At the very least, they wouldn’t turn on you if your own understanding and proficiency was good enough.

Case in point, a group of relatively weak Intruders could be fully indoctrinated in whatever manner one desired. For a short time at least. While beings as… potent, as Cherub or Mittens could, at best, be persuaded to follow a set of principles and unleashed at convenient times.

‘And even then, there will be side-effects. My reunion with mom and dad was always going to be a rocky one. But now, with all they’ve seen. With what Mittens will be doing for the following week…’

The old me would have had shivers running up his spine.

But this new body was incapable of such disorganized movements.

Instead, each of my cells came alive with its own version of mind-reading. [Solomon’s Protean Form X] was a combination of [Muscular System], [Skeletal System], [Nervous System], [Lymphatic System], [Cardiovascular System], [Digestive System], [Respiratory System], [Endocrine System], [Excretory System] and [Reproductive System]. Its presence allowing me and my cells to communicate. To share impressions in a manner that would have been impossible for a regular human’s nervous tissue.

Thanks to this new power, each little bit of life within me, from the blood in my arteries, to the marrow in my bones, knew that I was under emotional distress and prepared itself to transform. To either re-enforce the processes of the tissues I already had, or to preventively create safeguards for those systems failing. Not only that, but my power also called out to [Solomon’s Perfect Vicissitude X] so that I could also heal damage within milliseconds if it came to that.

Yet I did not shiver. Because all of my cells agreed that shivering would accomplish nothing.

‘That will be another aspect of myself that I will have to get used to.’ I thought with a mounting mixture of annoyance and fascination.

Merely another change that will have to be dealt with.

I looked upon Dolce with a narrowed focus as I considered this. My fingers feeling his cells and their receptiveness to change. Their will to keep the main body alive and to suck on the nutrients his bloodstream provided. Each little mote a cog in a greater machine that ran smoothly towards the goal of a continued existence.

At the same time, my new Telepathic senses chased his impressions through the cobweb. Indulging in far more information than the fog had ever provided.

I saw Dolce eating its way through what few strong monsters could challenge him. I saw him whizzing past tunnels and crevices to carry me and grandpa to our training sites as I made an effort to get him a solid foundation before blasting him with my boosts. I saw him carrying me and my team to the poison swamp for our training session once we’d returned from the first trip to our homes and the second cycle started in earnest.

I traced each of those possibilities through the cobweb, peeking further and further into possible futures, until I saw the spider. The secret boss that was the final objective of this instance and what its death would bring.

Specifically, I saw that dominated creatures did not count as items, in the same way that Slasher or Buddy did. I would have to make… modifications, if I wanted to keep Dolce in the long run.

‘Not that such a thing is problematic to me right now. I have Psy to spare and plenty of time. No. In fact, its far more likely that I’ll end up improving as many monsters as I can, before the time comes to end this instance. And I will have to end it prematurely. There will be no more benefits to staying here after I absorb Randall and get a good grip on the Projector abilities. Waiting the full six months is a waste of time. Better to slay the spider and lay the groundwork for a society in the Human City, before the other Tutorials end.’

I shook my head. Dispelling those notions for now.

They were all in the future, and I really did need to focus on the present.

“Congratulations on your advancement.” I said to the others. “I’m glad to see that all of our recent adventures have borne fruit.”

“I don’t know if you can call this bearing fruit.” Charlie grumbled. “I expected to reach Tier 2. At least. I didn’t need another Type. Especially not Shifter.”

“More fool you then.” Borislav chided. “We need to make as much progress as possible before the Tutorial ends and we lose access to the Type boards. Reaching Tier 2 is commonplace for elites, from what little information we’ve gathered. So long as one is talented enough and willing to put in the work that is. That shouldn’t be a problem for the likes of us. What would be a problem is obtaining abilities one doesn’t mesh well with. At least, according to Orphan Maker’s initial explanations.”

Borislav kept nodding sagely as he talked. His own mind abuzz with self-satisfaction upon being the first person in our instance to get all four Types.

‘No. It isn’t only that.’ I noted. ‘His mind is revelling in the knowledge that his sisters are safe. That they’re alive and no longer enslaved by some warlord. Everything else is just a cherry on top of his pudding.’

It was odd to sense his newfound hope. The strength of his convictions.

I was still very much reeling from the aftershocks of what I’d done. Trying to justify my actions to myself. Trying to wrestle with the fact that the Drake and Sarcophagus Sully had been right all along and that my usual self-righteous morality hadn’t been anywhere near enough to fix all the issues I’d sensed back home.

From my point of view, it was hard to rationalize the usage of my powers on so many people at once, despite me knowing full well that to do nothing would be the same as allowing those horrible crimes to keep happening. The same as letting my world’s people keep dying to monsters.

I hadn’t dominated anyone, but the effects of my presence, the longing and obsessions I had stirred within regular folks back home…

It was, at the very least, morally questionable.

Yet Boris didn’t seem to worry about those pesky details.

He saw monster dead, corrupt leaders de-throned, heroes set to rights and his own family made safe. As far as he was concerned, that last point blew everything else out of the water by itself too. I could have sunk another continent and he likely wouldn’t have cared much, so long as his sisters weren’t on it.

It was hard for me to judge him either.

I…

I’d chosen to unleash horrible things on the Adept Instance of the Tutorial that my parents were on to keep them safe and I’d orchestrated the deaths of anyone who threatened my grandpa. And I was sure that, given the choice, I would do it all again.

‘Perhaps it is human. To choose family above one’s principles. How odd, that I feel my guilt ebbing away. When I search the cobwebs for my family and see them alive and well. How odd that I find myself more optimistic about the future and about the good I could do, despite that future having been paid for in blood. The blood of the guilty and the depraved, but human blood nonetheless.’

Boris continued talking as I mused. His own mind completely at peace.

“You’ll likely have decades to reach Tier 2 or 3 at your leisure. But getting those abilities now will mean a significant boost to your overall fighting prowess and your long-term prospects. Again, don’t forget all I’ve been saying this whole time. Abilities from different Types tend to compliment each other. You might not see the difference right now, with Shifter at level 1. But I guarantee that you’ll appreciate the boost once you get those passives, and you see the effect they have on your Enhancer abilities. Take it from someone who knows. You’ll want to generalize from now on.”

Charlie gave him a disinterested stare.

Slab sighed upon seeing it.

“Come on Charlie. Don’t be such a fool. We’ve been working long enough now that you can at least trust him on this. For what its worth, I would have preferred a third Type, rather than a single Tier 2 ability. I do agree with Boris that one should seek a solid foundation before building upon it further. Isn’t that right Monique?”

Monique didn’t answer. Stuck as she was in her own little world. A wide, goofy smile plastered on her face as tears of relief fell from her eyes.

“Leave her to relish this a bit longer.” I told them. “Her getting [Portal Network III] means an easy ride to her kids once the week is up. Plus, I already promised to send Cherub and Slasher with her, so she should be able to pull off the same stunt I pulled with my grandpa. I already have my avatar on the case when the time comes so she won’t have to worry about them for another two months.”

“Won’t that bring more System Enforcers down on us?” Charlie asked with a hint of worry.

“Of course.” I confirmed. “But the memories I got from Sarcophagus Solomon and the Drake says that the System like to employ personnel suited to the offender’s predicted level of power. At least in the beginning. It isn’t an actual Admin, but a pre-programmed response at this stage. The response isn’t geared for outliers like us, but rather, for the expected level of a group in our instance. So, roughly mid to high thirties to low forties. Orphan Maker by himself could butcher a hundred of those guys without breaking a sweat, and him coming back alive without any obvious issues won’t lead to an escalation immediately. The System merely notes that he came back and that he claims that the offender, that is, us, will not re-offend.”

Charlie nodded slowly.

“So, if Orphan Maker acts like a corrupt guard, it won’t care?”

“Oh, it’ll care. Once it notices. If it notices. Cases like ours where the Enforcers are woefully under levelled aren’t common. The System’s punishment protocols function like a very basic anti-virus or an immune-response, in that it sees a problem and aims to surgically correct it. Ideally without seeking to outright destroy all the users that led to that problem because it considers each user to be valuable when they aren’t breaking the rules. It doesn’t actively track its other common functions unless there’s a critical error, so it assumes that we are either heavily beaten up and compliant, or dead.”

“That doesn’t seem like a very well-designed process.” Boris commented. “Won’t it check?”

I shrugged.

“The process does work in almost every scenario. Savants like me aren’t exactly common after all. As for checking… The answer is no, for now. That might change if we slaughter a bunch of them in quick succession though. Which is why we will be very, very gentle with our new friends. I don’t plan to kill these guys the System sent. Ramasham Tor Pod, Bloody Flayer, or Guantargo, they’re all victims, in a way. They didn’t know what they signed up for and they’re stuck in a situation where they expected to be well above their intended target. Even leaving aside the morality of killing non-gnomish sentient beings so easily, doing away with them wouldn’t be productive. Not when I’m planning to bring Monique’s kids along for the ride in the future. I… we, need to remain on good terms. Partially because there are Enforcers who could pose a problem, even for me and partially because there are things we want from them, just like Orphan Maker.”

I allowed a small smile to blossom on my face.

“Speaking of which. My orders did take hold a while ago. All of them should have made it back to the Warehouse by now. We should get a move on.”

Sure enough, Ramasham Tor Pod, Bloody Flayer, and Guantargo weren’t pushovers by anyone’s reckoning. Each one was at the cap of level 150. Having reached the apex of one or more Types on the third Tier.

In any other circumstance, they would have been champions. Beings that the elite of the elite would worship.

A regular Esper in the Labyrinth would have had to train for decades to reach their level without significant assistance.

‘That, and this likely isn’t the end of their roads.’

I hadn’t known better the last time I’d met with Granny Golden and Orphan Maker, but I could better tell the difference between their status right now.

Granny was someone who, despite having talent, had pretty much reached the end of the road.

There was still a chance that she could push past her limits as a Telepath, but she had more or less abandoned her other Types. Using the points from those levels in her main Type and choosing Telepathy over all the other forms of combat.

In contrast, Orphan Maker and these others had rather balanced builds. With several merged abilities stretched over several Types.

They were people who were seriously aiming for a steady, balanced progress. One that might eventually lead to ascension.

That was one aspect in which regular folks outclassed Savants, after all. With enough time, effort and luck, they might advance in all their Types. Rather than blazing through a single Type exponentially faster than anyone else.

‘Though, I suppose I have more or less shattered that perception for them.’

Indeed, their minds were a blend of incredulity, confusion, and sheer, (Gnome)ing terror.

The fact that I was a Savant that could kill them with a thought was bad enough. The fact that I had two Types, made me an existential threat. An eldritch monstrosity that could unravel entire civilizations.

After all, who’s to say that I wouldn’t get more Types? Who’s to say what someone as young as me would do, with that kind of awesome might? Who’s to say how someone like me would react, when faced with the usual hazing that newly introduced species went through within the Labyrinth?

‘Well, its not like they’re wrong to fear that possibility. I will, absolutely be cleaning house. Its just that none of them are in my cross hairs on account of them not being gnomes.’

I walked closer to them then. Past the rows upon rows of curious bystanders peeking at the three kneeling aliens and at Orphan Maker who was weeping on Peachy’s robes and loudly proclaiming his innocence over and over again.

Ramasham Tor Pod was, a kind of squid. Or, maybe a cuttlefish. With long tendrils that held him or her, their own self-image was kind of fluid in their own mind. They, like Orphan Maker, wore a heavily stylized Symbiote. With bits of psionically-active metals embedded along the trim of their sort-of robes.

They had strange ovals for eyes, with different-coloured pupils within each socket. Their squishy fluids building up within the organs as if ready to cry, without actually performing the act of crying.

At least, not as humans understood the display of emotion.

Peering closer, it appeared as though there was a shell hidden away within their Symbiote, and that they were actively trying to retreat into it as a fear response. With my orders keeping them firmly in place.

I felt and tasted their despair and felt a little bad. But I quickly brushed off the feeling with the knowledge that I wasn’t planning anything nefarious.

Bloody Flayer, on the other hand, was the same species as Orphan Maker or Peachy.

A female crow-like bipedal alien with talons for feet and claws for hands. Curiously, her beak was adorned with golden piercings, where Granny Golden and Orphan Maker’s beaks had been bare.

She was also trying to stare bloody murder at Orphan Maker. Though my orders kept her on her knees.

‘How very interesting. Let’s see if I can’t gleam a little bit more information. I’ll just ride the cobweb into her mind and have a quick look at her memories and… ah.’

Well. That was awkward.

I didn’t expect non-human species to be dealing with racism within their own kind. Certainly not to this degree. It was… I don’t know. I guess I always imagined it as a human failing.

‘I mean, jeez lady. Chill. You don’t even look different from them. At least, not to me.’

I shook my head and gazed at Guantargo. He was the most interesting of the lot for two reasons.

The first was that he was a capybara centaur, thing. The Drake’s original species.

The second was that his level of terror surpassed anything the others were dealing with. Due to a sad case of mistake identity. It would seem that a fair few of my more recent abilities had a bit of a reputation.

“Okay.” I said to him. Meeting his quivering, despair-filled eyes.

“First off, you are wrong. I am not the Seeking Drake.”

“That’s exactly what the Seeking Drake would say!” He wailed. His voice cracking like an expensive vase and ending with a strangled chortle.

Worse, the others heard him too.

“The Seeking Drake!?”

“WAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! Mama!!! MAAAAAMMAAAAA!!!”

The old me would have groaned by reflex and even my new body struggled with the old instincts.

‘Looks like this is going to be a very long day.’