Jackal Among Snakes

Zen was quite certain that Argrave had lost his mind.

First, it started with the name mix-up. He thought that Argrave was calling him Ji Meng as some sort of joke or pointed barb, but as time carried on, it became painfully obvious that Argrave genuinely thought his name was Ji Meng. Argrave carried himself with such force and confidence that it was difficult to even consider correcting him.

Second, as they explored this strange realm—the Stormfield, as he called it, and as Zen had come to accept—Argrave often retreated into itself. He would stop speaking for a few minutes at a time, making strange hand movements that might’ve been spasms. When he was finished, he would emerge from this state acting as though he knew everything, like he’d just seen some vision that told them everything they needed to know about the situation. For instance…

“Do you know what this place is?” Argrave asked. He’d been standing on the top of a high peak overlooking the vast plateau of stone for the past hour, yet then suddenly he opened his eyes again and asked that question. In that time, Zen had studied their surroundings on his lonesome. The terrain was very familiar, but much of it was blocked out beneath the haze of the purple sky above.

Zen shook his head. “No. I mean, I think it’s familiar, but I can’t say for—”

“It’s a Phillensian Soul Model. According to everything I’m reading, it wasn’t copied from its inventor. The Emperor of the Great Chu must’ve developed it independently, centuries before Phillen ever did. A genius man indeed. And unlike the Phillensian Soul Model, it’s using our blood as the conduit to our souls. Meaning, to enter and leave the model… the person doesn’t need to perish. And like I suspected, the strength and amount of the blood in question determines the power the soul is capable of exerting.”

Zen nodded as if anything Argrave said made sense. He’d studied the Stormfield, but had heard nothing about Soul Models or ever heard the name Phillen.

“So, what’s the plan?” Zen questioned.

“This place is a model of the whole mountain that the Palace of Heaven is based atop of,” Argrave explained with extreme confidence. “It’s a model without the gates, without everything—just land and sky. I suspect under ordinary circumstances, we’d see everything we don’t—the buildings and all those within them. We’d be able to control the Stormfield—be a hidden hand of god, dominating the battlefield. But with all of our blood mixing into the vessel, and with none of us submitting to one another, the Stormfield isn’t functioning quite right.”

“Right. That’s a sensible deduction,” Zen agreed, not quite sure what he was agreeing to. It sounded right, but how could Argrave know this?

“So, we have to kill every last bit of Sataistador, or make him submit—but I think we both know that’s not likely.” Argrave stroked his chin. “And once that all happens, we’ll have the whole might of the Stormfield at our disposal. The hand of god.” He looked at Zen. “I’m going to give you control of it. And then, we’re going to do Sataistador like he was done before. We’re going to break him. And this time, he’s not going to be getting back up.”

“I’m not sure what it is I’m agreeing to,” Zen finally admitted, sensing that he was being called upon to do something dangerous.

Zen’s shoulder. “Have you ever

the domain of necromancy.” Zen

can conjure whatever your mind can imagine. It’s a straight-up slugging match of willpower. A Phillensian Soul Model is similar, but it has certain dictates imposed. So—once Sataistador is out of the picture, you’ll be subject to those dictates. Namely, you’ll be bestowed with the ability to use the Stormfield to your whims. Then, you’ll put an end to all of our

but he wasn’t entirely sure how Argrave had come to any of these conclusions. Still, he gave a cautious nod. “But you said to do that, we have to kill Sataistador. What gives you any confidence we can do

strength of the blood is proportionate to the strength that the soul can exert in the model.” Argrave tapped his temple. “I came prepared. Do you know what it’s like to have unlimited

magic, you mean

head. “Yes, unlimited vital force. Do you have any idea what’s that like? Because I do. I have a very good memory of what that’s like. I have experience using it, too. And since Almazora helped me out, it’s like the days when I

do with it?” Zen questioned, indulging

so clearly, it feels like I just need to reach out and grab it. I’ve been watching videos about it for what feels like days. I’ve got the itch, and I’ve got a

A-rank spellcaster.” Zen

“What the hell is an army before absolute power? I suppose we’ll see. So—all this sound good, Ji

from Royal Road, this story should be reported

the third bit of evidence that Argrave had lost his mind… he decided to face off against Sataistador, alone, while experimenting

it… sounds good,” Zen reluctantly consented, without much say

#####

a little more subtle about his suicide attempts. After so many tries, he’d never once succeeded in taking his own life, so

had imbued Argrave with enough magic to kill him, and Anneliese used her [Life Cycle] to pry it free gently while keeping what little blood he had left circulating. As he lay there, the majority of his blood gone, Anneliese could feel a strange energy pulsing between him and the

ambushed all of them, as though simply appearing out of thin air. It was an army of the most hardened soldier in

attacking Argrave’s armies. He had bowmen, infantrymen, and spellcasters all. They harried

Law was forced on the backfoot—not from their power, but from their strategy. Sataistador

seemingly-endless waves that came from the inert ‘body’ of Sataistador as his blood pumped into the Stormfield. As above, so below; though they were certainly his superior in terms of strength, they were far inferior in terms of strategy and effectiveness. Rook had power, but wasn’t yet used to it. Even if he was, the Sataistador infantrymen weren’t easily broken, constantly covered by the bowmen. And

dance, too—one just as severe, just as powerful. She had [Truesight]. She could see beyond the pale, to realms hidden and unknown. And she saw unimaginable powerdancing in the darkness. Dim echoes, carrying the signature of the man she knew better than

some strange eternity. Argrave was fighting desperately in a realm that was neither mortal nor