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.

obscuring his figure… and when

#####

gone through an unquantifiable amount of data, yet no matter how much he found, Argrave compressed all of it onto that monitor. Nothing that Raven had ever seen was anything like this wiki, and nor did Erlebnis’ vast knowings contain its like. Argrave alone

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

supporting himself on the back of Argrave’s chair. The thing

things pretty…” Argrave muttered absent-mindedly. Sharp clicks echoed, and boxes appeared on the monitor. He scanned through options, clicking on them quickly. The text

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

inorganic brain, replete with memory and the ability to perform functions.” He looked back. “Except the functions are what we make it, it’s made of materials rather than flesh, and rather than

center of the screen, slowly filling—when it finished, the words ‘progress saved’ appeared in the center. As the words slowly faded, Argrave leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. “Nothing like a good

has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report

came to a realization. He needed to help Argrave. He needed 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

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 it, and beneath it a white shirt. There

probably should’ve told 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 forget he kept your body? I just can’t risk

“Wait…! We can do—”

metal object in Argrave’s hand roared again with a flash of fire, and blackness fell over

#####

corpse in his mindscape. He’d wanted a weapon to incapacitate Raven, and in response, his mind had conjured a pinstripe suit

wasn’t dead. The fragment of his mind that he had sent over here was broken, but the rest of him would be whole and intact. Argrave had done his research before executing him. This would be an immeasurably heavy burden on the Alchemist, and one that he

moved. It was locked within there, and only with an elaborate sequence could Argrave again get at it. Part magical, part

Some wires were crossed. Argrave certainly wasn’t ready to jump back into a fight. But… he didn’t really have much a choice, did he? Argrave went to his computer, pulled back his

fix what damage had

showed up, so he fixed the typo and sent the query again. He clicked the first result, scanned through the page that appeared, recalled

And awoke.

#####

his brain. It was mildly disconcerting, but not

an explosion of activity springing from his brain as various motor functions triggered countless knowledges that had been tied up