Vol. 5 Chap. 88 Shaking The Temple

Vol. 5 Chap. 88 Shaking The Temple

Thorough preparation means swift execution. The ritualists were met in the hallway by seven costumed acolytes, each carrying a beeswax taper emitting a terrifying white light and a musky, piney gray smoke.

“Now is the hour.” Mr. Red and Ms. Black chanted.

“Now is the hour. Justice is at hand.” The acolytes chanted back.

“The stars align.”

“Darkness falls on the evildoers.”

“The stars align.”

“Enlightening the wise.”

“Now is the hour.”

“Now is the hour. Now is the hour. Now is the hour.”

The acolytes arranged themselves in formation and marched in step towards the ritual chamber. Mr. Red and Ms. Black walked carefully behind them, each forming mystic seals with their hands and reciting certain names, calling upon particular Powers and Dominions, even Thrones, to bless their work this night. To block the eyes of their enemies, and to grant good fortune.

Truth skulked behind them. This ritual was far, far beyond his limited experience. He could hear invisible bells tolling in counterpoint time to the slow steps of the marchers. He could hear the whispers of terrible things slowly gathering, peering at them through the shadows and the cracks in the light. Emerging from the darkness under the candle’s flame.

His shaky grasp on local reality was being steadily pressed. The island was already covered in one layer of reality manipulation, and to Truth’s silent horror, the ritual was imposing a second layer. Or a third. He wasn’t sure how many layers had been stacked up at this point. It seemed to be infinitely reflecting into fractal protrusions, each intruding unexpectedly into layers below and jutting painfully into layers above. He imagined a thousand sea urchins, all expanding and contracting from the size of a poppy seed to the size of a house. All of them violently flew through the air, as Truth tried to cross a chasm on a slackline.

It seemed there was more to those ritual costumes and props than he thought. Starbrite had its faults, but its people were generally quite good at their jobs.

Truth wondered if the acolytes knew the walls were subtly bending inwards, held back by the light of the burning tapers. He wondered if he knew the hymn they were singing reflected back on them from the hidden geometries of the black cathedral they inhabited. He was certain they didn’t know about the uncountable beings waiting in the nave, watching their procession. Beings that defied easy categorization as angels or devils. Truth wondered what he looked like to those watchers.

Truth, on the other hand, beat a Level One to death with a soup can before he opened his apertures. He didn’t even hesitate.

The walls were shaking now. Truth suspected that the celebrants were seeing at least some of what he was seeing. Terrible faces pressing inwards through the wall. Terrible reaching claws, stretching inward, recoiling from the light. They were hearing the baying of infernal hounds. They were hearing the creaking of the gibbets, smelling the hemp and the tar on the ropes. Tasting the rotten iron of the hanging hooks.

Truth forced himself to look at the truth behind the ritual. There was an enormous raising of power. The power wasn’t just in the ritual implements or Harmony’s sacrifice, though. There was a drawing maelstrom feeding into the room. A tornado running in reverse, sucking up energy from above and funneling it down into the room below. Truth struggled to imagine where it could have come from. Not from the atmosphere itself, there was too much of it, and it was too steady. Too pure.

The System. They are pulling magic from everyone with the System. It must be raising Hell all over the world, even if they are only drawing a tiny amount from each person. Looks like Starbrite is ready to crash out too.

Layers of meaning were unfolding around Harmony. Truth couldn’t understand what he was seeing- coarse thread stitching into him, flowers blossoming, rocks breaking, a fox trotting steadily. Truth forced himself to look away, to try to see the bigger picture.

A ritual is an extended spell. More complicated and more powerful, but still a spell. So the ordinary rules must, at some level, apply. You have the mages’ intention. You have the spellform. You have the sacrifice. And then the energy fills the form and catches the energy of the universe and acts as leverage, pushing around far more energy than what was expended.

Reduced to that level, he could more or less understand what was going on. The first scream ripped out of Harmony. Harmony probably couldn’t see what was gnawing on him. Hopefully he couldn’t see it.

“We summon you, Terrible Ones. Great Ones. From the Depths of the Infernal Realms, we call you.” Truth watched the enchantments shiver and shimmer over Mr. Red and Ms. Black. Wards and protections against anything and everything that could be imagined. Certainly beyond anything Truth could comprehend. He had lost Obliteration, his sharpest weapon against mages. No sneaky one hit kills available here.

The pressure was rising. Truth watched Harmony start to collapse. He wasn’t done yet, but it was almost any second now. He could see Mr. Red and Ms. Black keeping a careful eye out, constantly moving, watching each other’s backs. If someone was going to jump them, now was the moment.

Truth laughed. Yeah, they really never had little brothers, did they? Sometimes, big bro was just a prick for no reason.

Truth rushed into the middle of the ritual, breaking the lines and shattering runes as he went. He felt the instant reaction from the Ritualists, spells to bind, block, blind and kill forming at the speed of thought. This is what they had been waiting for. The acolytes all collapsed, their lives forcibly ripped from their bodies and poured into some vile curse, lashing down on Truth. But Truth was very fast. Magic and curses had a hard time reaching him these days. And, he was willing to admit, he could be childish and petty as hell.

So he rushed into the eye of the maelstrom. Grabbed Harmony by the ankles, spun him through the air once to build up speed, then smashed him right into Mr. Red, launching the ritualist directly at Ms. Black.

At which point things got messy.