Chapter 10-298: Of the Damned and Mortals

The Penitent Warlocks of Heavenbound Hall didn’t sleep much.

Part of that was the habit of those who had to watch their backs and fight for all their lives. Part was that once they learned Meditation, slipping into it was an easy and serene way to pass the time.

Part was that as the power of their Pacts coursed out of them and was ignited en vivus, to either be Fed to the Land or instilled in magical items, they were relaxed and rejuvenated all at once, finding their souls free of the hatred and dark passions of their Pacts, all such things merely more fuel to the vivus they were offering up to the Land.

It was a literal cleansing of the soul. When they didn’t engage in it, they could feel the dark tentacles of their Pacts worming up their minds and souls again, even if they slept.

Ergo, the Penitent didn’t sleep much.

There were actually several dozen of them now, taking advantage of the amnesty and the offer to come in, stop running, use their Pacts for a Good purpose, actually get paid for doing so, and not have Heavenbound, Good people, and the enemies they had all made ready to kill them at any time.

To their surprise, they actually found that they had earned a lot of respect for coming in. Turning against the purpose of your Pact was no small thing, and even if the Dark Pacts allowed it, they inevitably tried to turn one’s deeds to the darkest of ends with constant pressure on the minds and souls of those who had them.

It took massive willpower to resist that impetus and come in here, finding a way to do something about it.

Granted, if they wanted to see it as a prison with gossamer walls, it was. They had the right to leave, and the Hall would give them twelve hours. They could walk out the door at any time if they felt this chance was too much. The discipline, the serenity, the energy, the focus, the pure naïve willingness to do Good things just to make the world a better place...

It had indeed been too much for some of them. None of the three who had walked away were alive now, having chosen their fate and then been hunted down like any other Dark Warlock. There were no second chances given, and if that meant there was another Pact available for some sucker, that was what it was. Such souls were twisted, and even if the Pact had to let them go into the Shroud, they were basically still going Down.

The ones that chose to stay were choosing guaranteed Damnation, but as long as they lived, no one else risked the same. Perhaps it was noble, perhaps it was foolishness, perhaps they just didn’t want to die, knowing they might still be headed Down there.

Still, sensing the power of the Pacts that had infiltrated them getting burned away was literally a searing proof of what had been done to them. While it had never forced their decisions, it had helped lead them, and they had bitten hook, line, and sinker in many cases.

But now they were here, in Penitent Hall, dressed in unique white robes, the Seal of their Pact on their breast indicating their status.

Most of Heavenbound Hall was open to them. Even the Angelos had come to speak to them, and Windgraf Mochtal worked with them without batting an eye. Every day they were empowering Craft and making Power Reserves, the ability of the Wrath to emulate any spell when Crafting (once they learned the trick of it) enabling them to work on even the most powerful magic items easily.

That included working on projects for me, among other things.

They could work out, spar, train, and were encouraged to stay physically fit and active, as Sloth and Gluttony were inroads of Sin that started the process of corruption again. Finding sexual partners could be more difficult, but the power of vivus could be fed by Lust, too...

They didn’t sense me coming, but they definitely felt Master Fred arrive.

Master Fred was in Amazon form, but there was no not recognizing his standard garb, or the silver in jet of their eyes. The waiting Warlocks, who had all risen to their feet, gawked at the sight.

“As you were,” Master Fred said in their layered voice, gesturing them to return to their duties. They would have no difficulties listening while expending Wrath.

Slowly, wondering what was going on, they sat down on the various chairs and benches scattered about this balcony atop Penitent Hall, from which they could see the sky.

Master Fred looked up at the stars, and the Warlocks followed suit despite themselves.

“There are hundreds of them,” Master Fred said softly, and I watched the Warlocks quietly shudder, and nod agreement. “When the Shroud is gone, they will be extending their hands, seeking servants. Were it not certain when the Curse of the Dawn would fail, it might even be safer for the Shroud to remain.”

“Master Fred, what happened?” a familiar voice spoke up, and I recognized the young Sinbound from Mexico, Pedro Lopez, looking both ten years older and younger than before at the same time, what with that white hair and a light on his face that his purple-on-black eyes didn’t reflect.

Master Fred glanced at me, I nodded, and we proceeded to tell the Warlocks about Hong Kong, what they had done to likely the single most powerful servant of Good on the planet, and what Master Fred had done to get the strength to free him.

Master Fred went on to describe the chance the Shroud was giving them: rather than burn, but instead to contribute if they wished.

They were going Down, just like Master Fred and his captive souls were, but there was no reason not to stick a finger in the eye of Hell when they did so, was there not?

“As our voice reflects, we are not under coercion, we are helping of our own free will,” they said calmly. “And when you go Down, we, too, shall see you there.”

The Warlocks there were mostly Sinbound. There was one Firebound who had a really horrible track record behind him, coming for a last attempt at sanctuary, and a Lawbound who was hiding from the Church of Imprus, about which he’d spilled some very damning and embarrassing stuff... and was shocked to find they hadn’t released him from his Pact, perhaps to punish him in the afterlife...

The Penitents were the ones Master Fred visited first when he returned here. He understood them, for better or for worse. They were all going Down.

Maybe.

“However, there has been a new development in how long it may take us to get there.” Their smile was hard and cold. “Lady Traveler has negotiated with the spirits trapped within the Shroud, and they have come up with a Pact... No, two of them. One for those who merely want to chase the undead from this world, and another for those who just might be willing to Fight Forever... or at least, until the Shroud is no more, anywhere.” Master Fred paused to let them think about that.

“The Pact Mortai is the simple one. It gives one some supplemental power to fight the undead, sense the undead, evade the undead, and defend against the undead. It has literally no power against anything else, and is specifically designed to be used by those with other powers... or another Pact.

“The Pact Morituri is something beyond that. The first difference is that once you have it, you cannot shirk it... your Soul is bound to the Shroud, and you cannot truly die as long as it exists. It taps the power of the Curse of the Dawn, and if you are slain, you will be resurrected in the nearest Shroudzone when dusk arrives.”

They all blinked in shock at that. That... would make a person almost unkillable, unless their soul was destroyed, no?

“The second is that when the Shroud on a world is broken, you will be taken to another Shroud to continue the fight. You will not need to eat or drink, and barely sleep, for the power of the dead will Sustain you.

“The third is that every undead creature you kill is a day that you will not age. Even if you do age, you will remain as strong as when you swore the Pact, to the point that if your flesh is falling off your bones, you will still live... and you will Fight Forever.”

Despite themselves, all the Warlocks shuddered at the image Master Fred presented.

“On the grimly bright side, it means that you can use the Pact they are giving you to do the good deed of killing off the undead of the Shroud for a very long time, and they simply can’t stop it. You will be sticking a finger into their eye for, mmm, a considerable length of time.”

“How big is the Shroud?” one of the other Sinbound immediately spoke up. “Is there any hope of beating it?”

“Not being able to beat it would technically mean that you would live forever... as long as you kept fighting,” Master Fred pointed out calmly. “Lady?” Master Fred asked, looking to me.

I popped up the Holo, one world with twelve Deathgates, cold and lonely and very, very dead and empty, shrank it to a red point, grew it out to a dozen vibrant worlds, and they faded to dull orange. Yellow, green, and now blue followed.

One of those balls of blue zoomed in, and lo, this Earth was revealed below it.

The Warlocks took in the massive numbers of worlds, and paled. The Shroud was bigger than they had ever imagined...

“There is approximately a thousand years between the conquest of the living on a world and its complete corruption to undeath, allowing it to build a Death Gate,” I related softly. “Based on that speed, there is no way to stop the cycle of undeath from continuing, unless the number of forces we commit to this fight get massively large, and keep growing to counter it. It will take multiple worlds continuously contributing to this fight to even slow it down a fraction.

“However, as I understand it, this also affords you a unique opportunity,” Master Fred continued for me calmly. “The end result of mortal life is to either enter the Eternal, or the Immortal. This Pact... is an open road to the Eternal.

“And when you become Eternal, no mundane Warlock Pact can possibly claim dominion over your soul. Only you yourself, your deeds and will, will determine where you go, in the end.

“Being Bound to the Shroud forever is a misnomer; it happens only if you fail to get stronger. Reach the Eternal, and not even the Shroud can simply bind you... although by then, you will likely have made the choice of whether your task is a burdensome task, or something worth giving your all for.”

Master Fred looked over them all with their black and silver eyes. “I will not be swearing to the Shroud forever... but I will seek the Eternal. If I do so, I can go Down of my own free will... and bring you out of there.”

They all sucked in their breaths, despite themselves. The words rang on their Pacts with sincerity, Warlock to Warlock, and they knew Master Fred meant it.

It was what it meant to be Heavenbound. Total idiocy...

Some started to speak, and Master Fred held up their hand. “You have time. Make your decision. Your time limit is the Fall of the Shroud, in the end, and how much you trust your own willpower. There are... things that should be done if you choose to take the Pact Morituri. For instance, if you die and are reborn elsewhere, your Gear will not go with you... unless it is set up ahead of time to do so.”

In the midst of deep thought, the Warlocks nevertheless smiled wryly at the image of waking up stark naked in the middle of a Shroudzone...

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We had one more person to talk to before the morning.

He had left the Ritual, and was out in the middle of the Detroit River, a shack about himself as he sat there on the ice, a couple of lines down through a hole there, fishing quietly as he watched the rockets being sent off overhead, and exploding in the distance.

He looked like a leathery, spry older man, completely non-descript, fading hair a little wild under the fishing hat he was wearing. He was dressed lightly for the cold, but that was more due to comfort than anything, as bundling up when you were immune to cold was just plain uncomfortable. I didn’t bother to do it, after all, and neither did Master Fred.

“Master Fred, Lady Traveler,” he greeted us, rising to his feet as he felt us arrive.

“Commander,” I bowed deeply, while Master Fred knelt, drawing Idiot and offering it up silently.