blueteamnovel 213. Blood Filter and the Deal
213. Blood Filter and the Deal
213. Blood Filter and the Deal
The elevation changed drastically the closer one approached S4. It sunk lower and lower into the recesses of the world, surrounded by nothing but walls, much like the ones that cut off the entire Outskirts away from the rest of the Nex Megalopolis.
It was a caldera within a caldera. A sinkhole so deep that that in some instances its world was kept in perpetual midnight. The sheer cliffs made escape impossible for the ordinary, aside from a single route that connected it to S4 and the doorsteps of the City of Spades.
The Severed Fault Line. It was as wide as a canyon, and fell down to the deepest bedrocks as reddish stone bled from its many exposed layers. This fault line saw many wander to and from its beginning and end. It was the City of Spade’s equivalent of a highway, and it was one of the few places were ‘order’ was held.
However, that did not deter people from committing atrocities in the thick of this night. It was one of the only places safe to walk during the nights in the City of Spade. Elsewhere, one could find the silhouettes of roaming boulders, which gobbled up all those that failed to seek shelter by nightfall.
A pair of grey-haired individuals followed a path atop the edge of the fault line, admiring that even life continued to thrive in such despicable conditions. Stationed close ahead was a fortress made primarily from wood, robbed from the forest that once surrounded the fault line for many kilometers across.
Only the holes of these trees remained. Not even their roots were left to rot in the ground. Instead, they were retrofitted as spikes to decorate the floating fortress, which was bridging the two separate landmasses. It was like a small city, carrying cannons fitted with giant metal harpoons and chain-operated elevators to access the gorge underneath.
It was shaped like a castle, but built like a fortress. It bared multiple inner layers and rooms used to confuse invaders and to make escape rather difficult. Despite it being made from nothing but logs, it stood against the test of time and the acidic rain the City of Spades was known for.
As the two figures – the Expositionist and the Scraper – approached, all manners of weaponry were aimed at them as he gently brushed a hand against a felled, red-tinted log. Blood smeared along his thumbs, and he gave it a small smell before he wiped it away with a clean handkerchief.
“Blood Filters. The scent of iron never ceases to burn my nasals. Is it your first time being greeted so arrogantly by ‘friends’?” He asked his partner waving sporadically at the men like an over enthusiastic child.
These men were suited in blood-red tunics, decorated with all manners of trinkets made from wood and blood. They didn’t take too kindly with his gesture, but they were quickly reminded of their identity as the sound of a woman’s scream sounded like a whistle.
This, however, was not a woman’s scream. Rather, it was a small whistle-like instrument that mimicked one, and was used to terrify victims. Each member of the Blood Filters were equipped with one, and in battle, all would blow into this whistle to create a horrific tortured cry.
“They’re not cannibals?” She asked, slithering a hand into her draped mantle.
“A butcher and supplier would describe them best. But yes~ They are. We’ve been told to begin the exchange of a precious seed, so let’s not be hasty. I doubt we’d be able to win with all of them against us, wouldn’t you agree~?”
“Maybe you. But don’t forget we’re equipped with short stories and re-written magic of our own.” The woman pulled out a torn page, which was written in the same 56-character language found in the books of the Eternal Library.
This 56 character language was a universal one, and it allowed for the translation of every single conceivable language. Because of the Eternal Library’s location being inside of the Nexus, the Blessed were granted the unique ability to understand all languages thanks to this.
They just couldn’t read it unless they specialized in the art or were guided by the Archivist herself. Alternatively, one could seek help from the Librarians or be a Librarian themselves.
“Hmhmhm~! I’d still hate to dirty these splendid robes. No magic to be gained from a band of savages either.” He laughed as a drawbridge was dropped, and a small band of men greeted them, each armed with serrated halberds.
“For two hundred thousand fingers. The Hungry are sick in the head requiring all that biomass. But that was a request from that speechless monkey and the Authors. I still don’t understand why we’re doing what the Sect of Gears should.” She complained as they met with the band of men at the center of the drawbridge.
The woman exchanged nothing but a stare of contempt, whilst her partner only smiled. The others studied them, and after several nods they seemed to confirm who they exactly were.
“And speaking of the Gears~” The Expositionist hummed, right as one of the Attuned Messengers made a sudden entrance from seemingly out of nowhere. They descended from the murky skies and stood hunched behind its Librarian company.
“What is this doing here?” The Scraper scoffed.
“The guarantor of the transaction.” It deeply answered, much to the amusement of the Blood Filter personnel.
“A gearbody messenger and grey-haired freaks. Don’t look that appetizing. Might be why no one’s decided to tuck in on ya yet. This way. The Head Eater’s been lookin’ forward to this all day.” A woman gestured them to follow with her head. “Fingers are the best part. Depravin’ us and coming’ in with all those fingers is brave of ya.”
“Spare us the noise. We’re not here to talk to uncivilized savages.” The Scraper dismissed as they entered the fortress of a thousand savages, and a thousand more handless livestock kept in their cells, awaiting their turn to become tonight’s next meal.
“Consider yourself forgiven.” The Expositionist hummed. “Seventy-five. It’s sufficient. Excellent. It’s almost complete.”
“If ya don’t mind me askin’, what’s the need for all these delicious things? Hungry ain’t the picky type, and I didn’t take those tongue-necktie Hungry being the kind to like fingers.” The Head Eater wondered, resting her two-handed halberd on her shoulder, wielding it like it was no more than a battleax. Her muscles were incredible, and she attributed it all to her immaculate diet.
“To complete a fragmented piece of history.” The Expositionist answered, not dabbling into the specifics. “That reminds us. Have you found a pair of lovers yet?”
“Nope. Once we started sizzling them, they were quick to turn on each other. Love ain’t like how it used to be.” The woman shrugged. “So, how about the payment? Don’t tell me you don’t intend to honor it? Let me remind you that even if we die, I’d be more than happy to at least watch that smirk rub right off your face.”
“Never our intention. I have it right here. But...” The man took the golden seed from a hidden pocket within his robes, offering it for the woman to take.
“But?” She asked, cocking her head as she snatched it, marveling at the little seed with shimmering, brown eyes.
“I suggest you use it after you meet with the Black Dove.” The Attuned Messenger concluded.
“Black who? That a Color? So this is supposed to make me able to fight a Color head on?”
“You really are smart.” He sarcastically praised, which the Head Eater took as genuine, laughing hysterically.
“Guess I should never have doubted ya. Looks as good as they say! Ahahaha! I wonder what to have it with. Stomach ragu. Brain syrup. Ribs and thigh burgers.
“I also suggest you throw a feast. Rather, this is an order from upper echelons of the Sect of Gears. It will drive fear into the Black Dove and her companion. Expose your delicacies. They will tremble.”
“Fear makes things taste better. Got it!” The Head Eater became giddy, still marveling at the seed before suddenly –
“... oh... Am I interrupting something?” A hollow, feminine voice spoke.
– A female Herald of Act X wandered into the throne room, dragging an unwieldy blade over her shoulder. It was twice as large as her, reaching over two meters in length and a full meter in thickness.
The pale blade was free from the stains of blood. It was as pristine as it could be, meaning she had not fought to enter their territory. This was because all those within recognized her apparel, and they instinctively froze with fear.
Unlike the Heralds, her apparel was a darker blue, and her robes were far more flamboyant. They dragged behind her, carrying the blade. The massive drabs were supposed to conceal the blade, thus making her appear like nothing more than an inhuman monster.
But she was not human to begin with. She was a light purple-skinned Insectid that possessed a giant horn along her head, and hidden beneath the layers of cloth were another two sets of arms, totaling to four.
It went without saying that she was not a Herald.
She was a Missionary – a being devoted to the Scripts with only one purpose in mind.
To execute those who failed to follow the commandments of the Scripts.
“... pardon my intrusion. There has been... an incomplete commandment. I am here to punish someone.” She spoke in a gentle, undemanding voice despite how hollow and empty it sounded.
Then, she stared at every single soul with jet-black eyes that never blinked and tilted her head as her two antennae twitched.
“Let’s... not see each other’s guts tonight... my commandments are absolute, so I would be grateful if you stand down and bring me the follower of our Script. I promise... I will make it swift. Less you wish to wage war with our fullest absolution.”
This warning caused even the Expositionist’s smile to briefly disappear as he heavily gulped.