Jackal Among Snakes

“How many bits do we have to attach to movement?” Argrave complained, looking over Raven’s metaphorical shoulder as he worked. “I don’t want to literally ‘jog my memory.’ Could you imagine the looks I get if I wave my arms about every time someone asks me a question I need to think about?”

Argrave sat in his unusual chair, spinning around it while Raven worked hard.

“Focus on your own construction,” Raven criticized.

“I’ve been ready.” Argrave looked backward to his monitor, where the ‘hidden side of the wiki,’ as he called it, waited—the editing screen. “Just need the next bit of input from you.”

Raven caressed his forehead, then focused back on Argrave’s mindscape. It was difficult to gauge precisely how well things were going. Argrave certainly received and processed information incredibly quickly, but the ultimate conclusion to things could only be seen once they separated their minds. As he worked, there was a voice within him that beat hard against his chest. It spoke of how this was a pointless endeavor, how Raven could simply consume Argrave and potentiate him in his moment of weakness. Then… all that knowledge would be his.

But his rational mind of yet had the edge over the instincts. The instincts were swelling, gaining momentum, and it wouldn’t be long before that dam broke. He only hoped that Argrave, at the end of this all, would prove equal to the task of silencing the call of the Smiling Raven. Elsewise, Erlebnis’ gambit might pay off in a grander fashion that he had ever expected.

“We’ll link this segment to the color vermillion,” Raven declared, and Argrave moved his fingers to the mosaic with buttons he called a keyboard.

He changed some things, and the background on the monitor changed to that shade. “Vermillion. Pleasant shade. Let’s hope what’s on it is half as nice.”

#####

Sataistador studied the place where Law condensed all of his powers. The ancient god himself, and all of his Justiciars, surrounded the spot where Erlebnis fell. Sataistador thought that Argrave was within there, but he couldn’t be sure—Raccomen enabled him to move anywhere and everywhere. Something was strange, but ultimately, the fact that Law refused the enter the Palace of Heaven would prove to be a huge boon.

And on the subject of proof… it was time for Sataistador to prove something. Namely, ownership. He had lent Governor Zen a weapon of his own hair. He hadn’t been lying when he said he could only make one of those items every millennia—and this time, he had chosen to give it to Zen. But perhaps ‘give’ was the wrong term. It was his. It had always been his. Zen was merely the vehicle by which it travelled, right into the heart of the Palace of Heaven. Right to the Stormfield.

Sataistador sat on one of the highest points before the Palace of Heaven, running his fingers through his long red beard. He slowly braided it, piece after piece, until its massive bulk had been compressed into eight red braids. He took his weapons and with his bare hands began to bend and compress them into rings. When they were fused, he tied these crude rings at the end of his facial hair—one for each of his eight braids. With the rings braided into his beard, he held his arms wide, inhaled deeply, and clapped his palms together.

Tempestuous, chaotic fire poured out of Sataistador’s fingers. Even he was barely capable of containing them, his hands trembling from their power and sizzling from the sheer heat. Forcefully, he lowered his hands. The fire finally found its home in the eight rings. The metal seemed to draw the flames inward, absorbing them, until they were glowing pieces of metal that shone like a red star. Deep, dark smoke danced upward into the air.

The god of war, chaos, and brutal destruction rose to his feet. Smoke billowed around him, making him seem a demon walking the earth. He bore no weapon in hand. Rather, it was past time to reclaim the one he had lent. It had surely earned much glory, fighting on the frontlines to seize the Palace of Heaven. It would make a fitting weapon for this cycle.

everywhere, obscuring his figure… and when it finally

#####

over Raven’s shoulder, telling him what to do. Now, after a nigh-endless amount of processing, sorting, and associating, the roles had been reversed. Raven had gone through an unquantifiable amount of data, yet no

honed all his focus on it—his intellectual curiosity was one of the only things keeping him grounded amidst the perverse swell of desire of the Smiling Raven. He had to be certain,

you to being done?” Raven questioned, supporting himself on the

boxes appeared on the monitor. He scanned through options, clicking on them quickly. The text changed shapes, sizes. They warped around images and videos that played audio so clearly it was as if

so small hold so much?” Raven questioned, letting his curiosity lead

time—he started typing furiously, then stopped and stared at the page. “Think of it like an inorganic brain, replete with memory and the ability to

‘progress saved’ appeared

stolen; if detected on Amazon, report

to show the man—his friend, even—what the true purpose of this all was, what the end goal of all life was. He could take him on a journey. He could take them all. One person, one being, one purpose, one path… one body. There was an army all around, ripe for the picking. All that was needed was

Pain flashed through his leg, and Raven fell to the ground, dancing through half a thousand memories. He turned his head, and saw Argrave standing there. The king of Vasquer held a strange metal object, shaped like an L, with an open port on the point facing toward Raven’s head. He wore a strange outfit that was sleek black, and fitted tightly to his frame. It had a black overcoat with stripes atop

me from the beginning that you were losing it… but you gave enough hints for me to do my own research.” Argrave walked forward. “The only way that you were able to stop being the Smiling Raven was when you were broken, dead. I reviewed the incident.” He tapped his temple. “Did you forget Erlebnis was there? Did you

“Wait…! We can do—”

object in Argrave’s hand roared again with a flash of fire, and

#####

Raven’s corpse in his mindscape. He’d wanted a weapon to incapacitate Raven, and in response, his mind had conjured a pinstripe suit and a handgun. Both were already gone, but Raven remained. His form in Argrave’s mindscape had

his research before executing him. This would be an immeasurably heavy burden on the Alchemist, and one that he alone might not be able to recover from on his lonesome. He had sacrificed much to bring Argrave back from the brink. And the sum

Erlebnis knowledge, but none of it moved. It was locked within there, and

to jump back into a fight.

would bring him back. He would fix what damage had been done. But for now… he would

up, so he fixed the typo and sent the query again. He

And awoke.

#####

inside of his brain. It was mildly

various motor functions triggered countless knowledges that had been tied up with them. He was reminded of everything of deadly