Brockton's Celestial Forge

by Lord Roustabout

The Celestial Forge is the greatest combination of crafting powers in Jumpchain, meaning it is the greatest combination of crafting abilities in all of fiction. In Brockton Bay a forgotten side character's trigger event ends with him linked to the Celestial Forge rather than his intended shard. His expanding collection of tinker abilities drag him into the city's cape conflicts.

52. 42 Incapacitated - Preamble Jeanne

Preamble Jeanne

Jeanne stood in the hallway outside the soundproofed door. Every member of the assembled Ambassadors was careful not to make the slightest noise. It wouldn't have mattered. They could have been in a shouting match and no disturbance would have occurred. Not with the quality of sound damping that had been installed in that room. Even so, none of them wanted to take the chance.

Even Strelitzia had picked up on the tension and was curbing her naturally ostentatious instincts. That was a consequence of recruiting a dancer, even a dancer from an art as refined as Russian ballet.

Svetlana Vasiliev was taking admirably to her new role, but the woman's flare for showmanship had the potential to cause problems. Before her injury the dancer had been highly acclaimed, considered to be a potential prima ballerina. In the aftermath a dedication to training and therapy had allowed her to remain with the company, though in a diminished role with no hope of ever taking the lead.

Cauldron's formula had corrected the woman's lingering injury, but it seemed to also have reawakened a previously dormant drive and competitiveness. Jeanne had seen her favoring her previously damaged leg and moving with a slight flair and subtle uses of her powers. That last point could be forgiven, given her recent acquisition of them.

Jeanne remembered when she gained her own abilities, leaving her old life behind, becoming Citrine in place of Jean Brown. There wasn't a single step, one moment from that point that she regretted taking. As perilous as it could be, she was grateful for the life she had.

She did wonder if including Strelitzia in the assembly was wise. The woman was still adjusting to the dynamic of the Ambassadors and had only just received her powers. Her adamant work had reduced the preparations from weeks to days, and the results were certainly adequate, with only minor quirks expected of a vial of that nature. Fortunately, much less severe than what occurred with Lizardtail.

It was the woman's hair. The formula had shifted it from a chestnut brown to a glassy, translucent white. The entire arrangement tended to shift through a range of neon shades whenever Strelitzia activated her abilities, creating the impression of a novelty fiber optic lamp.

It was a quirk that would have been of minor note for any other Ambassador. Likely it would have required a redesign of costume and perhaps some specific instructions and training regarding the specifics of the display and when such would be acceptable. But other Ambassadors weren't selected specifically for the purpose of displaying a hair ornament. Citrine had been seriously concerned upon receiving Cauldron's report.

Concern that it turns out was misplaced. Accord hadn't been pleased with the minor deviant scenario but given adequate details and a visit to the chamber he emerged with a solution. A specific set of hair styles deemed appropriate for Strelitzia and some slight modifications to the planned design of the costume. The woman had followed the instructions religiously, and now stood in her vibrant dress with her hair styled and pinned in the perfect arrangement to display Apeiron's hairpin.

Persephone's Rainbow. Initially, the influence the object seemed to hold over Accord had concerned Citrine. The ordered acquisition of an allegedly memetic object, particularly so soon after its reveal, seemed unusually reckless. She wasn't the only one with such concerns, but the Ambassadors had learned to take a light touch with such reservations.

Before delivering the item, Citrine had used her power extensively, cycling through a truly immense number of frequencies. If any parahuman properties were active on the item she would have found and neutralized them. But there was nothing, no active effect beyond its immaculate craftsmanship. Othello had taken initiative of his own, monitoring the situation closely with his mirror self. Even the resistance to stranger effects provided by his ability registered no difference.

No, the power of the object pinned to Strelitzia's hair was in its artistry, nothing more. Having seen the progression of Apeiron's work, it would seem to be rather crude artistry, but Citrine knew enough about the art community to understand the importance of that. Masterpieces had their own value, but the established works of an artist didn't compare to their transitional pieces.

A flawed work from a great artist, something demonstrating their development, their movement to a new level, that was a rarity, and that was what Accord had acquired. Something stunningly beautiful in its own right, but also something that would never be created again. Apeiron had moved on from such things, and there would be nothing like Persephone's Rainbow again.

She hoped seeing it on prominent display might moderate Accord's reaction to the current situation. She pulled her eyes from evaluation of Strelitzia's presentation and looked to Othello.

"Othello, are there any recent developments in the situation?" She asked. There was no chance she would be waiting for Accord while peering at a smartphone or tablet. Her employer detested both devices for their crass, commercial design and inelegant interfaces. Instead, Othello had stationed his mirror self in the computer center, constantly watching reports and streams of information on the events in Brockton Bay.

The man in the evening suit and black and white mask shook his head. "Unfortunately, not. There have been no sightings of Apeiron since his observed retrieval by the new model of suit. Local authorities have made no statements on the matter, simply insisting that people remain in their homes. There have been some sporadic updates to the database and incident map that was assembled during the conflict, but not at the rate that occurred when Apeiron was active in the field, and none within the blackout area."

Citrine nodded, maintaining a calm exterior while feeling herself tense horribly. She was having to specifically suppress nervous habits she thought she had overcome years ago. The desire to wring her hands or chew on her lip was clawing at her mind, but she beat it down with hard won iron discipline. At this point it was a matter of personal pride, rather than to avoid any incitement from Accord.

There would likely be more than enough incitement once he was able to review the ABB broadcasts. She had been seriously conflicted on the matter and considered violating orders to interrupt his scheduled contemplation session. While Accord would no doubt have been happy to be informed of the situation early, he would also insist on following protocols. There would be repercussions should she disregard a direct order.

No, they were not under attack. There was no threat to Ambassador lives or property, and no S-class declarations had been made. Alerting him early would not meaningfully impact the situation, so they would wait. They would wait until the very second Accord's scheduled time had expired, and then inform him.

Citrine had mixed feelings about what had become known informally as the Meditation Chamber. Informally because they all knew Accord would not tolerate it being referred to as such. It was clearly a place of work and planning, more so than Accord's office at this point, but the feel of the room, the tone it seemed to generate, naturally led to referring to it as something of a spiritual center.

Like Persephone's Rainbow it was clearly a transitional work. Apeiron's craft had advanced so much in the last five days that it was positively archaic by the tinker's standards. But the fact that Apeiron had moved past this kind of design didn't diminish its value as a piece of transitional art, or the significance it represented.

That was probably what bothered her about it. This wasn't some grand meeting hall, or a masterwork of dedicated craftsmanship, with careful consideration of design and hundreds of man hours devoted to it. This was something that, by all accounts, Apeiron had thrown together on the spur of the moment in an attempt to calm down a traumatized Ward. The equivalent of a comforting hand on the shoulder.

But with Apeiron that casual effort dwarfed the works of any other force on the planet. Intellectually she knew that the chamber was the result of a moment's work, but when she looked at it, when she walked through that space, she couldn't quite believe it.

When she stood in the chamber, she could understand why Apeiron's work resonated with Accord. There was an element of clarity to his craftsmanship that she had never seen outside of Accord's own projects. If someone had told her the collection of pillars, benches and lighting was Accord's design she would have had no difficulty believing them.

Well, no. Not with the sand. Accord would never use sand for the floor. Even now, that was the most contentious… actually the only contentious point of the design. Accord was able to accept that feature while working in the room but would not tolerate any trace of it outside the chamber. The checks to ensure the rest of his base remained uncontaminated would make surgical prep look laissez-faire.

Despite that one annoyance the benefits of the room had quickly become apparent. Accord was spending more of his time advancing his long-term plans and the standing of the Ambassadors and less pursuing petty revenge. Some of the Chain Man's usual attempts to draw out self-destructive behavior by provoking fits of rage had fallen flat, much to the shock of the man's organization. Accord was becoming more focused and less volatile.

But no less dangerous. He was able to take simpler, more direct actions in response to his usual furies. A recent set of orders had revised the plans for assassination of a mercenary who deliberately insulted Accord, simplifying the plan from a series of subtle and overt machinations to direct the man into a thematically appropriate accident, and instead to a more brutally efficient death.

One that had already been carried out, a success after three failures, probably because the target had started watching for thematically appropriate means of death. It was remarkable how much the room was assisting Accord, and that was what concerned Citrine.

Not in terms of Accord's use of it. It had been a moderating and focusing influence, and one the entire group was happy to see. No, it was the strength of the effect, and how casually it had been produced.

Accord's situation was not exactly equitable to other capes. He operated at an astoundingly high level, limited only by the restraints his power placed on his mind. Any step towards controlling those restraints would have been immensely significant, enough to turn the Ambassadors from a local force to a potential global power, to unleash the true power of Accord's genius on the world, unrestrained and uncontested.

Except it wouldn't be uncontested. This boon had been due to the works of Apeiron, and not even an intentional project. By all accounts it hadn't cost the tinker anything meaningful, not in time or effort. A whim constructed and forgotten in passing, and yet significant enough to already start shifting the balance of power in another city.

She knew Accord was planning, in so much as she could decipher his plans, to work with Apeiron as an equal. As much as she hated to say it, even for someone of Accord's resources and genius, that seemed unlikely. Not with the powers Apeiron had demonstrated, and what feats he could still potentially achieve.

The tinker's advancement curve was frightening to anyone who could understand the scope of it. The entire world had been watching, waiting for the moment when some limit, some restraint on the man's abilities would present itself. A resource restriction, an exploding maintenance commitment, or some kind of technology ceiling.

They may have finally seen it in today's broadcast. Apeiron's limit. Not a limit that came in a conventional tinker sense, but a limit from the other direction. No definitive theories were available, but it was clear that the man had lost control of something during his conflict. There would probably be a hundred different ideas about what had happened, but that didn't change the reality of the situation. The worst possible reality.

It seemed Apeiron's limit wasn't in the resources he could acquire, or the speed of his work, or the scope of his technology. It was a much more frightening limit. A limit of stability. His technology, his powers, or some aspect of the two combined had gone beyond his control. As a result, exotic and unknown effects were being inflicted on the city of Brockton. Lanes of elemental power, a massive, persistent, EMP field, and some mysterious incident that seemed to have happened at the site of the battle. And that wasn't even getting into the side effects from the man's intentional attacks. Everyone would be jumping to the same conclusion. That is, everyone who knew enough to be concerned about the possibility.

Mad scientist.

It was the only option, the only way to explain Apeiron's rapid growth, and the disaster that had unfolded. The exact details were still unknown. The minds of the Protectorate could agonize over what the cost of Apeiron's power was, what portion of his soul or sanity was being traded away for strength.

For too many people, they wouldn't see the cost, or wouldn't care about it. Power was power, and in parahuman circles that tended to be a paramount rule. Mad scientists typically weighed the cost of their growing power against their current needs, and almost universally decided the price was worth it. Given that loss in a conflict of capes could mean death that wasn't exactly the wrong conclusion to reach, but it did mean that they needed to be handled with caution.

Citrine didn't know how Accord would plan on handling this incident. Normally their employer was predictable. Not in his plans, which were consistently of such complexity that lesser minds would stand no hope of fully grasping them. No, he was predictable in his goals, his conduct, and his demeanor. With this incident she found she couldn't predict Accord on any of those fronts.

"Please excuse me for one moment." Othello requested before vanishing. He used his power to shunt himself into his mirror world, while pulling his mirror self into reality. The action would allow direct interaction with the computer center.

Something had happened, and Othello needed to investigate it. She used the interruption to check the time again, watching the seconds tick down on the precise timepiece that Accord had personally designed for coordination of mission operations.

The black and white clad Ambassador reappeared in exactly the same location in the line of capes and turned to her. "Pardon my departure. There was a development I needed to investigate. Apeiron has released the unedited video of the initial broadcast."

Citrine nodded. "Was there much removed?"

"A short portion at the end. Apeiron was using the discussion as a distraction to track the location of the ABB's base of operation. No doubt it will cause a reevaluation of various psychological profiles that have been constructed during the conflict." He explained.

Citrine wondered if that was a jab directed at her. Othello was one of the few Ambassadors both senior and powerful enough to meet her as an equal within the organization. He didn't share her level of concern regarding Apeiron, having read more strongly into the man's recovery of Weld and conversation with Director Armstrong. He also posited the idea that a series of reactive moves assisted by developing skills had given the false impression of complexity in the tinker's plans. It was a theory she could accept, but it didn't address the concerns regarding the tinker's mental state.

The fact that there had been a secondary objective, that apparently Apeiron wasn't completely cavalier about the destruction of the city in the face of securing his targets, did moderate some of her own concerns, but only the concerns regarding said mental state. There was no denying that something had gone horribly wrong for the tinker, and the fallout from that disaster was still being tallied.

Still, this was neither the time nor the place to discuss such matters. Particularly not the time. Seconds were getting short. She checked the chronograph again, and a single glance at the line of capes communicated the situation without a word. Subtle corrections in posture were made, minor details of costumes were adjusted, and expressions were carefully schooled.

Strelitzia was still holding herself like a ballerina. Not a bad posture and ordered enough to avoid any adverse reactions from Accord, but still a little too regimented. There was a slight contrast with the demeanor of the other Ambassadors. That would need to be addressed. Still, given her inexperience it was an acceptable effort, and did display the hairpin prominently.

The final seconds ticked down and Citrine stepped forward. There was a balance between being over eager and allowing a critical situation to pass without action. She allowed two full seconds to tick by beyond the allocation of Accord's scheduled session before raising her hand and politely knocking.

The silence after the knocks faded seemed to press down on her. She struggled to remain calm, or at least appear calm. Across the line various Ambassadors made their own attempts and concealing the tension of the situation.

Finally, a faint voice called through the soundproofing, barely audible to Citrine.

"You may enter."

She resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief and instead schooled her features and opened the oak door. Soft lighting poured out of the circular room. The glowing spheres, recreations of Apeiron's drones, sat atop the five pillars, bathing the room in a warm light that offset the cooler tones of the emulated sea floor. A faint pattern of swirling water was projected on the domed ceiling, creating an impression that was calming rather than claustrophobic.

Accord sat on one of the pair of granite benches. Like the pillars they were solid pieces of apparently natural stone, formed and shaped by an unknown force into items that were beautiful in their simplicity. Any attempt to recreate them without the benefit of Apeiron's technology would require a master of the craft, the finest materials, and untold hours of labor.

According to Weld, Apeiron had formed them with all the significance of deploying a folding chair.

Accord was placing a fountain pen into a leather-bound folder. Before he closed it, she caught a glimpse of a complicated and precisely labeled diagram, though she couldn't tell the nature of the object being drafted. There were two other closed folders neatly stacked on the bench next to him along with a collection of reports outlining recent developments in Boston's cape scene.

She waited while he added his folder to the other two and rose to face her. "You have committed no violation but are remarkably prompt in your interruption. I see you have also assembled my Ambassadors. I would like to hear the reason for your actions."

Citrine nodded graciously. "Sir, there has been a development in the Brockton Bay situation." Accord's mechanical mask mirrored the raising of an eyebrow as Citrine continued her explanation. She had been going over this in her head for nearly three quarters of an hour now. With her most professional tone she focused on giving the most direct and concise report she could.

"A significant conflict has occurred between the forces of the ABB and Apeiron. Approximately ninety-eight minutes ago…" 22 minutes after Accord had given his instructions not to be disturbed. "…a conversation between Apeiron and Bakuda was streamed using Uber and Leet's video service, with March joining the call shortly after. The ABB officers threatened a significant attack on the city if Apeiron would not offer them concessions. He refused their terms without hearing them, even when presented with hostages." She could practically feel Othello staring at her back. "Recent developments have shown this was a ploy to determine the location of ABB assets, rather than a dismissal of the safety of the city."

Accord leveled his masked gaze towards her, then gestured for her to continue.

"A significant series of coordinated attacks were launched simultaneously with the broadcast. Local forces were largely ineffective against the ABB assault. Apeiron engaged several individual groups while coordinating attacks against ABB strongholds including what is believed to be Bakuda's workshop through the use of robots."

She watched his reaction carefully and took a breath to cover her apprehension. "Sixty-four minutes ago, a second broadcast began, coinciding with a significant explosion that spread damage through the northern part of the city. The broadcast showed Apeiron heavily injured through a coordinated attack by March and Oni Lee. The ABB forces attempted a public execution, but the deployment of unknown… medical technology allowed Apeiron to recover." She regretted her stutter, but even she couldn't think about that mass of red tendrils without feeling a disquieting revulsion build inside her.

Fortunately Accord either didn't notice or was willing to forgive her misstep and allowed her to continue. "He engaged the ABB capes on location, including Oni Lee, March and Lung. March and Oni Lee were quickly defeated, but Lung was able to quickly gain strength through some unknown means. Apeiron also demonstrated a previously unseen form of biological effect during the course of the battle. The conflict moved over the bay where Apeiron deployed significant ordinance and a large mechanical suit against Lung. The conflict continued with Dragon joining the fray upon her arrival to the city." Citrine swallowed. "The battle concluded when Apeiron deployed an unknown weapon at high altitude, apparently killing Lung and causing serious environmental effects. He was last seen being retrieved from the field by a new model of suit, presumably for medical treatment."

The seconds stretched by like hours as she watched Accord's reaction. She guessed she wasn't the only Ambassador holding their breath as they waited for his response.

Slowly, Accord stood up, straightened his suit, and turned to Citrine. "Thank you for that concise report. You were correct to bring this to my attention at the earliest appropriate opportunity. Am I correct to presume that Othello, you are monitoring the situation?"

"Yes sir." Answered her fellow Ambassador from the door of the room.

"You will compile a database of all video records from the confrontation, both from the official broadcasts and any third-party media that has been made available. Following that you will collect official reports available from our usual sources and provide them to me for analysis." He paused and turned to Citrine. "This situation will no doubt have ripple effects within our city. The shift in the power dynamic will likely drive many groups to unfortunate actions. A show of strength would be advisable within our territory."

"Yes sir." She responded quickly. "Do you wish for me to assemble a strike force?"

Accord considered, then nodded. "Some of Blasto's holdings have not yet been fully secured." He lifted one of the leatherbound folders and removed a sheet of paper. Handing it to her she saw precise instructions written in immaculate handwriting. "This plan will suffice to make the strength of our position clear without provoking undue response or occupying assets that may be necessary to deal with this situation."

"Thank you, sir." She replied, handling the sheet carefully.

He gave her a slight nod before turning to the assembled team. "All Ambassadors will remain on duty until the full scope of this situation is in hand. Our immediate priorities will be defense of our holdings and acquiring information on the developments in Brockton Bay. These will be updated as more information becomes available."

"Yes, sir." Othello replied for the group.

"Very good." Accord nodded and set down his folder before moving to the door. "Then let us begin."

42 Incapacitated

In the darkness of post-battle exhaustion, I dreamed.

That didn't seem like it was enough to properly describe the experience. I've never really paid much attention to dreams. You hear stories about people who claim to remember them with crystal clarity, or who have mastered lucid dreaming, but for me things like that were never even a remote possibility. Dreams were always a hazy mess that at most created the impression that I had been doing something important, then immediately faded upon waking.

That was probably related to my historically terrible sleep hygiene. Even before it was worked over by the combination of medication I was taking, I had never been good about holding a proper sleep schedule. The general routine was to stay up late and either sleep half the day, or force myself into a veneer of functionality with what was probably a dangerous amount of caffeine.

It was the kind of thing that was always regarded as a bad habit, and any exhaustion entirely self-inflicted. On reflection, it had been completely intentional. Staying up late meant I had time to myself, usually the only time that I could guarantee wouldn't be interrupted. The consequence of staying up was either sleeping half the day, and thus not needing to deal with people, or being so tired that I didn't really care what was happening. Basically, it was a terrible coping strategy that persisted even when I got out of the situation that had necessitated it.

The main consequence of that was an absolutely devastated circadian rhythm. The idea of waking up naturally after a proper cycle of REM sleep just wasn't part of my life. It was probably a big contributor to a lot of the problems I'd dealt with, but it was one without any easy fix. Recently my powers and situation had created some relief in terms of my sleep requirements, but not enough to drastically change the nature of what sleep was like for me.

Until now.

Dreams are weird. That seems to be the only universal element of them. Even if you can't clearly remember them, that seems to be the one thing that sticks out. The fact that you were going through the motions of something that made sense at the time, then became complete nonsense in retrospect.

I dreamed about the city. Specifically, running errands across the city. So many things to do, and so little time. Some kind of rush order or emergency had happened at the last minute. There was no context for it, there never is in dreams.

There's also not supposed to be colors or scent in dreams, but I distinctly remember seeing colors as I rushed around trying to keep on top of things. I've heard that even though you don't dream in color your brain adds it later, which to me seems like the difference between adding two or subtracting negative two. No matter what you end up with the same result.

I was dreaming in color. I was dreaming in high detail, the kind of clarified realism that only comes with the stress of desperately working to stop things from getting away from you. Everything was happening at once and everything was inconvenient. For some reason my volcano was there, towering over the city, but only causing more problems as I had to manage errands to and from it, all while people complained about its impact on the local scenery.

The work got more hectic. I was in multiple places at once, almost like my duplicates, but different. There was a sense of what that might be like, but also not. Just because the dream was clearer didn't mean it made any more sense.

Everything was going wrong, and it was all my fault. Things I didn't deal with were coming up, creating a constant stream of the specific flavor of dread you encounter when you are presented with the consequences of an obligation you had forgotten, the knowledge that not only were you in for some incredibly unpleasant experience, but you were personally responsible for it.

The city was getting harder to navigate. The tasks I was trying to accomplish were becoming a blur. Capes were blending with normal people in the sources of errands I was running. Too many things to manage, all falling apart. Too late I realized it hadn't been errands, it had been a running battle. In the logic of the dream it seemed like a perfectly reasonable mistake to make. I fought as the city turned different colors, parts of it splitting apart. A blue light shone down from above, sending rays of cyan raining down in a tempest of destruction.

I was jarred out of the dream by something that cemented the fact that it was no ordinary dream. I already would have assumed such, given the clarity of the memories compared to the normal fading fog or forgetfulness. What really drove it home was a complete first. An event that had never happened before. Not in my sleep, not while resting, not unless I was conscious and active.

The Celestial Forge missed a connection to the Knowledge constellation.

That meant something. That lent some significance to the events of the dream. I didn't know what, or why, but it meant something. Something important enough that for the first time the Celestial Forge was active in my sleep.

While the memories of the dream were clear, my recollection of the events prior to fading into unconsciousness took a little longer to surface. Once again I got to enjoy that special feeling of dread, the knowledge that I had handled things poorly and would be paying the price for it.

Sorting through the events in my head I couldn't tell which one was the worst. Almost dying was certainly up there, and I was prepared to put that as the top screw up. A cluster teleportation of annihilator effects was the kind of thing that I could never have seen coming. That was a specific power interaction that had been played masterfully.

Really the only part I could have seen coming was March playing things masterfully. That trap had to have been planned well in advance, and then modified on the fly to account for me going heavily off script. Apparently March had been the kind of thinker who was either smart or humble enough to build slack into her plans. The true measure of a planning thinker was how they handled unknown factors, and March had done just that. She had managed to land that hit despite every wrench I had thrown into her works.

The aftereffects of that attack were still being felt. When I came out of my dream I didn't start myself awake. It was more that I shifted from being consumed in the mindset of my dream to a much less pleasant feeling of being horribly injured, immobilized, and cut off from the world.

I was kind of half-conscious, floating through sensations provided to me by my power. And pain. That was the real way I was certain that I was 'awake'. The pain was back, and it was significant.

The best thing I could say was it was not at the level I had felt when being torn apart by Dust. That had been bad. Worse than bad, it had been mind numbing. I thought that was just a turn of phrase, but there was something about that level of pain that couldn't even be properly conveyed through words. Dust was not meant to be used that way, and without the cocktail of potions, restorative energies, and nanites in my system I would have collapsed into the fetal position the moment the Dust activated.

Dust. It was incredible how much damage had been caused by something with such a simple name. I had been so eager to be able to use Dust, to actually tap into the potential of that material, that I hadn't seriously investigated the dangers it could pose. Dust could be injected into a person's body for direct use, but I knew academically it was a bad idea. Now I knew, practically, exactly how bad an idea it had been.

And that probably would have been the case with 'normal' Dust. You know, as normal as you could consider the physical manifestation of nature's wrath to be. I didn't use normal Dust. I didn't use normal versions of any material. The Dust that had been woven into my costume and then blasted inside my body had been Divine Crafted, Elven Enchanted, Heretically Adaptive, Volcano Wrought, and enhanced by Lack of Materials. And that wasn't even counting the sheer quality of the refinement process.

I was lucky to be alive. Well, I was lucky to have survived that entire mess, not just any specific element of it. It was a disaster, and I was feeling the effects of that now.

The pain I was in wasn't related to Dust infusion. Thank God for that, because I doubted I would have been calmly analyzing my condition if I'd been in that much pain. No, the pain was significant and widespread, but followed a specific pattern. A pattern that trailed through my body in thin, discrete paths. I could probably guess what it was even if I hadn't been able to sense the truth through the Dragon's Pulse.

Tetra. Tetra was inside my body. Looking back on the situation I could guess what had happened. March and Oni Lee had set their attack, but the blasts hadn't been close enough to completely destroy me, and my split-second counterattack had managed to prevent any part of it from being instantly lethal. That said, it was still an unstoppable explosion.

The blasts had torn into me. Not enough for complete annihilation, but enough to do significant damage from an attack that didn't care about any level of durability. Flesh and clothing with the strength of divine adamantium was torn apart like paper.

I was broken by those blasts. I could see that now. At the time it had been all pain and fury, but looking at it in retrospect I could only feel a cold dread at how close I had come to dying. That attack had blasted and shredded my body to a point that would have been beyond recovery for anyone else.

I was saved, or at least had my death postponed, by a combination of inhuman stamina, healing potions, and the rapid application of medical nanites. It had been enough to pull my body together faster than anyone could have predicted, but that had nothing on Tetra's recovery speed.

Tetra was a life fiber entity, and as such her regenerative capabilities defied belief. I think they may have actually defied some fundamental laws of physics. She certainly didn't care about conservation of mass or any kind of biological growth or healing process. There were a few specific methods for permanently damaging life fibers, and explosions weren't among them.

It didn't matter if the explosion was infinitely strong. Sure, it could tear through anything composed of fibers, but it wouldn't stay torn. They would restore themselves without limit, and that's exactly what had happened. March's attack had been nothing more than a momentary upset for Tetra.

Of course, when Tetra had restored herself it hadn't been in a form or situation she was used to. The damage reformed. That was an undeniable, an unstoppable element of her existence. It didn't matter what you did or what was in the way, the fibers were restoring themselves.

So if they had been clinging to the surface of a person, then blasted inwards while being heavily damaged, then any portions that restored themselves would do so regardless of whatever was in the way. Even if that was human flesh. Even if that was adamantium reinforced semi-divine human flesh.

That was the core of the problem. If this had happened to anyone else… well, they would have died. Instantly, spectacularly, and in a very messy fashion. The phrase 'splash zone' comes to mind. But, assuming that they wouldn't instantly explode from having a massive amount of life fibers spontaneously reform inside their body, they would end up in a very different situation. One that would actually be somewhat manageable from a medical standpoint, at least with my medical technology.

Life fibers reforming inside normal flesh would displace that flesh. It would be the equivalent of having thousands of threads forced through your body, tearing through anything in their way. The damage would have been horrendous, but it would have been just that. Damage. The problem I had was that my body hadn't been damaged when Tetra reformed.

The way March's power had torn through me made my defensive measures seem irrelevant. I certainly wasn't feeling invincible when lying bleeding on the ground of that container yard. The thing was the power behind that attack was absolutely insane. I was almost certain it was an omni-dimensional explosion, a blast covering every possible reality with the energy of a near unfathomable number of universes backing it up. Against it any defense was a joke. The damage it caused would be exactly the same if it was used against a random street thug or Alexandria herself.

March had made a mockery of my defensive preparations, made them seem useless. The thing was, against anything else that couldn't be further from the truth. Fashion granted my clothes and body the defensive properties of my best protective items. That meant adamantium, a material that could hold itself together in the heart of an atomic blast at its base level. Mine was strengthened by my Skyforge, enhanced by my volcano, imbued with the resilience of celestial bronze, infused with Dust, gained extra capacities from Lack of Materials, enhanced by Elven Enchantment, had its qualities expanded by Lathe of Heaven, and been crafted with the perfection of a divine object. Beyond annihilator effects nothing would be able to damage me.

That was the problem. Nothing could stop life fibers from regenerating, but the material they were attempting to reform inside was too strong to displace. The result was an ungodly fusion of reinforced flesh and life fiber that made the idea of extraction impossible. Every place where Tetra had intersected with my body was an entirely new configuration of matter that couldn't just be picked apart with some light surgery or medical nanites. And there was a lot of affected area.

Tetra had 'healed' herself through my body. I could feel it in the literal sense of sensations being transmitted to my brain, the disquieting feeling of fibrous material spread through my body, caught and fused randomly, piercing through bones, muscle, vital organs, and possibly even my central nervous system. Burning fibers, twitching erratically as they drank in blood and gave off levels of heat that would have flash boiled any lesser person.

It was a monstrous, nauseating sensation that I had managed to ignore under the pain fueled adrenaline rush of the fight. Now I was trapped, lying immobilized as I felt an alien parasite twisted through my system while vibrating like the strings of a piano. It was unpleasant, painful, and frustrating to the point of fury.

Or it would have been if not for what I could perceive through my other senses.

The Dragon's Pulse was an extraordinary ability. It essentially took what was a rough feel for the energy that fueled alchemy and turned it into its own artform. Beyond the capacity for remote alchemy and simplified circles it opened up new facets of the world to my awareness, and those facets included Tetra.

When I had last connected with Tetra she had been in a blind rage. It was a type of anger I had never experienced, possibly an anger that was legitimately beyond human understanding. Tetra had made huge strides in her mental development, but she didn't think exactly like a person. She didn't see the world in the same way or have the same needs and desires as other people. The fact that her species had a concept of feeding and reproduction was about the limit of her biological similarity to humanity.

But she had been trying. She had been observing the world outside herself and the person who had been sustaining her. She had been developing new drives and new connections. She had grown, both physically, in size thanks to her diet, and mentally. She was capable of reason, understanding, and empathy.

That had been what caused the problems. Tetra had connections. Connections to me, connections to Garment, connections to the work we were doing and the future we were trying to create. Then, suddenly, she had been hurt, trapped within a space that was both isolating and overwhelmingly empowering, and then, when she had finally been able to perceive the outside world, she had been greeted with utter devastation.

I was critically injured. Garment was crippled. Fleet was horribly damaged. Our enemies were strong, gloating from positions of power. Everything we had worked for, everything that we had prepared for, it was crumbling.

At least in her perspective. Tetra was young and had spent almost all of her existence interacting with either Garment or myself. No time passed for her while in the stasis field, so her entire experience was one of constant contact, connections, and growth.

And then she had been hurt. I had been hurt. Garment had been hurt. Everything was damaged, burning, stressed, and chaotic. She had reverted, fallen back on instincts that until then had been managed with great effort. She had identified a target and devoted herself to taking it down.

Fighting Lung hadn't been a smart move. Even falling back until I could regroup with my duplicate would have made more sense. But that couldn't be conveyed to Tetra. In the field, away from the computer core, we were limited to empathic communication. The nuance of the situation had been lost. My concern over fighting Lung had been interpreted as a need to fight Lung, as an outlet for the life fiber energy that was driving both of us to frenzy. Lung, with his growth and transformations, had been a font of the kind of energy that Tetra used to perceive the world. In her mind, in her perspective, he was the biggest threat, the only threat that mattered.

That had been what did it. What took logic and reason out of the equation and reduced both of us to mindless killing machines. Maybe, if the timing had been different, if Lung had been slightly weaker, if Oni Lee hadn't interfered, then maybe it would have been enough. But it wasn't. We tried to fight, and we failed.

Tetra might not have understood the situation at that point, in the heat of the moment, but she understood it now. I knew because of what I could sense from her. The Dragon's Pulse was still active, it was an inherent sense, a passive way of perceiving the world.

I could feel life and energy around me. I could feel the energy that encompassed Garment, the concentration at her gloves and the extension of herself into the materials she animated. Flitting back and forth, orbiting around my body. A wave of gratitude washed over me with the assurance that she was all right. Intellectually I knew she could be fixed, that the damage was temporary, and she would be restored by the Forge even if I didn't do anything, but 'seeing' her back to her usual state with no obvious consequences from her injuries, was a massive relief.

I could tell my duplicates were nearby, feel their agitation as they moved and worked with a swiftness that was completely inhuman. Two duplicates, meaning someone had dosed me with a fresh potion. Meaning the situation with Tetra didn't transfer to them. They weren't immobilized like I was.

Most of all I could feel Tetra. The Dragon's Pulse, particularly when I focused on it with One Thing at a Time, gave me a clearer map of the way she was spread through my body than I'd been able to pick up from my own senses. I could feel the extent of her fibers through every part of my body, even stretching through parts of my brain in an extremely unpleasant image. I could feel the energy move through it that functioned as her thoughts and emotions. And because of that I could feel how the situation was affecting her.

It was familiar, because I had been dealing with the same thing. That feeling of a mistake being realized, or of knowing how badly you had messed things up. Of not just being in a bad situation but feeling completely responsible for your own fate and the hardship inflicted on someone you cared about.

The Celestial Forge missed a connection to the Magitech constellation as the full weight of Tetra's mental state played out before me. The inhuman, potentially planet ending alien entity was wallowing in guilt, shame, and despair. She was desperately trying to avoid anything that could make things worse. Every twitch from either of our bodies that brought us out of sync caused complicated networks of tension to play through the joined systems, pulling on bones, organs, and nerves. Every time it happened the feelings of guilt spiked as it was clearly seen by Tetra as a failure.

I tried to reach out through our connection, and only served to startle her to the point where she lost focus on managing our unfortunate fusion. I lay helplessly as my body jerked and twisted unnaturally until Tetra managed to regain control.

There was a flurry of motion from my surroundings. My duplicates picked up on that. They were doing… something? I couldn't tell. I couldn't hear or open my eyes. Whatever this mess was, it had locked me deep inside my own body. That caused a spike of fear, which caused Tetra's guilt to increase tenfold. I did my best to reassure her, but that only served to make her feel worse about the situation.

I could finally realize why. Tetra was growing. She was trying not to, attempting to limit her expansion through my systems, but that was a concept so antithetical to her nature that it was beyond a lost cause. Life fibers were a force of growth and evolution, and she couldn't stop that if her life depended on it. Or if my life depended on it.

And I picked up something else from her. The worst thing I could have experienced through our tenuous emotional link. Worse than guilt, despair, or shame. Worse than the frantic panic of trying to fix a situation you saw yourself to be responsible for.

Self-hatred.

Tetra knew the damage her very nature was causing, and she despised it. She hated herself for causing this situation, and blamed herself for everything that had gone wrong, both in the fight and the aftermath. It was heartbreaking. Tetra, who had saved me at the eleventh hour, whoes actions had held off the killing stroke that March nearly delivered, was despising herself on a fundamental level over something she didn't intend and couldn't have predicted.

It hit me hard, not just because of the injustice of the situation, but because of how familiar it was. Self-blame, it was an easy thing. It was something that came naturally to me. It was a core, intrinsic part of my life, something I had grown up with, had cultivated over years. Something I had worked to break, but with little success.

There are reasons for it. Coping strategies again. It's easier to blame yourself, to say that everything that went wrong was your fault, that if you had been better, smarter, more prepared, more aware, or just not such a horrible person then everything would have been better.

It seemed horrible, but in certain circumstances it was comforting. It meant that there was a way for things to get better. You just had to try harder. If you were trapped in a situation where everything was beyond your control, then your choices were to either blame yourself and live in a world where the situation could be fixed somehow, maybe, if you were just good enough, or accept the reality that what was happening was going to happen no matter what you did. That meant living in a world where the bad thing that happened would continue to happen and would probably get worse. Easier to assume that you could have fixed everything, and maybe you'd do better next time.

It was insane, and I didn't like using that word, but it was true. It was an illogical and honestly arrogant way of looking at the world that came from some terrible places. It was also comforting and tended to become an ingrained behavior, which is what made it so hard to break away from those kinds of thoughts.

What's worse is that there's always some level of blame that's necessary, just to be honest with yourself. The problem is recognizing when to stop, where to put the limits, accept that you couldn't have done more and move on. There is a difference between 'I have made a mistake and will do better next time' and 'everything that went wrong is my fault' that can be lost very easily.

I hated that kind of thinking. I knew where it came from and where it led. I knew how painful it could be and how easily it could be taken advantage of. I knew how hard it was to stop thinking like that once you had gotten used to it. I hated seeing it in myself. I would not tolerate it in someone I cared about.

My anger surprised Tetra. Empathic communication was a difficult concept, you only had to look at my connection with my passenger to see that. That said, a close enough link with enough nuance to the emotions could convey a huge amount of information. Once again, you only had to look at my connection with my passenger to see that. With how close we were connected, with my full focus on the task, with the Dragon's Pulse circulating between us, I was able to make it work.

Tetra didn't think for a second that the anger was directed at her. It took rounds of inquiries and responses, of effort to clearly convey my feelings in a way I'd always struggled with, even with the benefits of therapy. Eventually I managed to get my intentions across clearly. The anger wasn't at Tetra, it was at the guilt she was feeling.

That confused her, and I understood why. My situation was unchanged, and frankly pretty horrible. Even with all my skills there were few options available to the duplicates that didn't involve horribly invasive and destructive surgery that would cause catastrophic damage to Tetra, myself, or both of us. It was a situation that warranted concern, but that was as far as I was willing to go. I wouldn't let Tetra blame herself for it.

A consequence of that was the need to regulate my own reactions to the situation. I couldn't convey that a manner of thinking was bad and then indulge in it myself. Tetra had as much access to my emotional state as I did to hers, and if I tried to blame myself for the mess we were in that would just lead to her following my example. I actually needed to keep my shit together if I was going to help her through this.

That line of thinking brought up another unpleasant idea. Tetra had been linked to my neural system for nearly her entire existence. She had no other hosts, and aside for that brief moment where she nearly burned March's hand off, no contact with any other living thing. Given how March had reacted that was probably for the best. Any hope of having someone like Taylor follow my training program was dashed the moment Tetra adjusted to demigod levels of neural energy and physical resilience. I'm pretty sure full body contact would be instantly lethal to any normal human, and probably most parahuman brutes.

The other side of it was that Tetra was smart. The way the 'mind' of a life fiber entity worked was complicated, but their processing was closer to what you saw from computers than to human brains. Tetra could store, process, and analyze information at shocking rates. The full scope of that ability didn't sink in until she had been able to keep up with Survey in a digital environment.

Tetra may be inexperienced, but she wasn't stupid. She had been observing and analyzing everything she encountered from the moment she formed. And the most prominent subject of analysis was me.

That was what I was concerned about, and why I was not going to tolerate any self-deprecation from her. I hadn't really considered the implications before, but Tetra had learned what it was to be human from my example. Even if she wasn't ever going to be 'human' she had been putting in the work to develop the ability to perceive things in a human manner and process them in turn. If I was going to be her example for that, then I was going to be damn certain not to be a bad example.

The Time constellation passed by as I worked to calm down Tetra. Well, more to reassure her. We were quite literally in this together and needed to trust my duplicates to find a way out of it. It was a unique problem, but not an impossible one. The question was less what could be done to solve it and more what would need to be done.

Most of the thoughts I had circled around back to that messy, invasive, and dangerous surgery. I hoped that they could come up with something better, because I was currently at a low. I could feel the extent of Tetra spread through my body and knew how bad it was, even without her restrained but inevitable growth.

One thing I realized was that, for once, my Fashion reinforcement power wasn't active. Ever since I had been able to discreetly wear a protective item I had been maintaining the effect religiously. In fact, once my craftsmanship was good enough to ensure the shin pad was comfortable I'd even been wearing it in my sleep. The effective invincibility of the power was both incredibly appealing and massively concerning. Being caught without defensive measures was something that had concerned me greatly. It's probably a good thing it wasn't summer, and that I didn't really fit in with the beach and Boardwalk aesthetic.

Obviously, it had been removed by my duplicates to facilitate medical treatment, but the lack of protection made me feel incredibly vulnerable. It was stupid, really. That 'protection' would have done no good if surgery became necessary. I was probably lucky that I was a 'brute' who could turn off his invincibility, rather than one whoes powers would get in the way of serious treatments. I'd heard stories about capes dying from fairly minor internal injuries because nobody could get through their skin.

My reaction to the fact, and recovery from it, played out in front of Tetra and served to help calm her down. I think she may have been expecting rage, derision, and any number of other unpleasant reactions to be directed at her when I regained awareness. Possibly more evidence that I had been a bad influence on her and needed to make up for my lapses as a role model.

As things settled with Tetra I was able to reach out with my other sense to get something of an idea of our surroundings. The Dragon's Pulse was the most useful element. With it I could pick up the clear image of my duplicates as they worked. I could feel their life energy with enough detail to pick out their emotional state. The area around us acted as a conduit for the Dragon's Pulse, giving me a sense of the room we were in. I didn't recognize it exactly, suggesting it had been heavily modified or freshly built to deal with my condition. I could try to reach out further into the workshop, but that got muddled thanks to additional effects of the circuits of mantic energy and the pulsing heart that was the volcano itself.

I could also feel Garment. Her presence was an entirely different creature from my duplicates. When sensed through the Dragon's Pulse she had a discrete presence from any other person. It was clear there was something there, but the exact nature of it was mystifying. Elements that would characterize a person could be felt, even some that would normally be related to specific physical reactions, but the structure didn't line up with what a typical person felt like.

It was a reminder that I still didn't know exactly what Garment was. Rather than be concerned about it, I was kind of happy with that. Garment… well, Garment was Garment. She had come from the Forge and didn't see any need to justify her existence beyond that. She was something else, but the exact nature of that remained uncategorized even as my understanding of esoteric effects expanded. She might be closer to a spirit than a person, but based on my recent understanding of spirits from Belmont Alchemy I could tell she didn't perfectly fit into either category. Honestly, I had the impression that she preferred it that way.

Garment was moving around the space as franticly as either of the duplicates. I'm not sure what she was doing exactly, but I could feel a tension in her. Like I said, she didn't register exactly the same as other people to the Dragon's Pulse and without actually wearing her gloves my ability to sense her actions was limited. I knew she was worried, that much was clear. Her reach and manipulation of material was just detectable with enough focus, and I had the impression she was checking on me and Tetra. Monitoring the situation through her own unique perception just in case the sensors of my workshop missed anything.

While the Dragon's Pulse couldn't reveal much more information it wasn't the only form of extraordinary perception available to me. My powers had given me a significant array of abilities that allowed me to perceive the world even when effectively cut off from my own body.

My nanite control ability was the first to give me some insight. Mainly because the nanites in my body were continuously active. I wasn't the one activating them, and both my duplicates were busy with other tasks. From the looks of things they had managed some form of remote activation. It was probably possible given they didn't have to use their own nanites for the process, and instead just activate mine. If I had to guess I'd say that was Arcane Craft at work. There wasn't a clear mechanism for how my control of nanites functioned, but Arcane Craft didn't care about that kind of thing. If it counted as a mysterious force then it could be worked with.

It was a good thing too. I could see how much worse the damage would be if not for the constant medical application of nanotechnology. Mainly the nanites were focused on rebuilding my rapidly depleting blood. I think the duplicates may have managed a focused application there because the nanites were actually managing to stay ahead of the frankly insane amounts of blood that was being absorbed by Tetra. I could feel her shame over the situation as well as her fruitless attempts to stop the absorption. In her raw form there was no moderating influence. She was operating autonomously and was helpless to hold back the depletion.

She may have been helpless on that front, but there were other factors in play. I could feel additional nanotechnology in my body. The Matrix nanobots that I had absorbed were at work, acting to mitigate the damage that Tetra couldn't. It was like having a directed construction crew inside by body, redirecting traffic and building bypasses to try to hold off the damaging effects. Of course, they were also working around the continuous expansions of Tetra's fibers, so it was something of a thankless task.

That didn't deter them in the slightest, and I had the sense that there was the beginning of some level of satisfaction in the work. The nanobot matrix was a construction A.I. and it had been given a continuous construction project. The fact that it was able to perform its purpose continuously was not regarded as unappealing in any way.

My final set of expanded senses came from my upgraded demigod nature. Pyrokinesis and the subset of such that was technokinesis. The thermal sense from pyrokinesis was mostly focused on the heat being given off by Tetra's fibers. Seriously, it was only my legitimately divine resistance to heat that was keeping me from exploding like a microwaved hotdog. Beyond that the tiny dots of heat from people and machinery in the area around me barely registered.

The technology was a different story. Looking at the world through the fires of creation, the sense of technology as captured moments of progress, drive from one state to another, always intentionally formed with a purpose, that made the world come into focus, and shed considerable light on my situation.

I was in a neural interface. Or at least they had tried to put me in a neural interface. The computational throne wasn't appropriate for my current situation and I wasn't sure it could handle interfacing with someone in my condition. The one that had been constructed couldn't either, though not for lack of trying.

I could feel the complexity of the machinery around me. A combination interface, diagnostic system, and life support assembly. A new diamond throne, made specifically to deal with the aftermath of March's attack, while I lay immobilized.

I could feel the elements of the life support system at work. Medical technologies both futuristic and arcane combined with the greatest arts of Technosorcery all for the purpose of stabilizing my condition. It worked, in a fashion. It put me in a state where the restorative effects were staying ahead of the mounting damage, which freed my duplicates to work to find a more permanent solution. I would like to have helped them, but that wasn't possible.

That was because the interface was hopeless. The traditional system used neuron mapping for the highest immersion and least invasive interface. Invasiveness wasn't really an issue following the sudden appearance of my neural implant, but it was still the best, most reliable form of brain computer interface I had.

And right now it was useless. That was probably because of the aforementioned life fibers inside my brain. Frankly I was amazed I was able to think this clearly given the situation and kind of suspected that my demigod nature might have more impact on me than I had previously though. That, or one of the half dozen other significant modifications I had undergone since getting my powers. Whatever the cause, I don't think I was exclusively processing information with my brain anymore so much as using it for interfacing with my body.

The fact that I knew that was possible was also kind of scary. Souls, they actually existed. It was entirely possible for a person, as in their mind, personality, and memories, to be completely sustained after death.

Well, mostly. The term 'soul' was actually incredibly broad. Over the range of my powers I could think of at least half a dozen things that fell under that category, and at least as many that were probably close enough for government work. Exactly what that would mean in the long run was debatable, but the fact that I could still apparently be 'me' even with some obvious brain damage was pretty clear evidence of the principle in play.

That was actually a good point. I had been so focused on my situation, my current state and how I ended up here, that I hadn't considered the broader picture, both for myself and for the city. God, the city was a mess. So much damage, and that was just on the physical side. I didn't even want to think about what was happening in the public sphere. My reputation had been contentious enough before I had unleashed all that in what I'm fairly certain was a live streamed throwdown with the ABB.

As I turned my thoughts towards the events of the fight I felt the Celestial Forge make a connection to a small mote from the Toolkits constellation. It was called Striker Artificer Toolkit. Like the last toolkit I had received it was specialized in the production and maintenance of a specific kind of vehicle. Namely, a striker.

Calling a striker a vehicle might be a bit generous. It was basically a pair of small airplanes that were attached to your legs. The design was awkward to use, the technology, or at least what I understood of it without directly examining it, was primitive on the level of my ragnite lab, and for mysterious reasons it was completely incompatible with pants.

That would have turned it into a harmless curiosity, something to stick to the side and maybe get to later. That might have been the case, if not for the most important feature. Strikers were magic.

Well, specifically strikers enhanced magic of the person who used them, allowing the devices to actually serve as effective modes of transportation and weapons of war. That was definitely the case. There was a warplane feel to my striker. Specifically, it was like someone scaled down a P-51 Mustang into a pair of thigh boots that operated through magic.

That was the big thing here. Previously I had received powers that had the potential for magic. Access to energy pools or casting systems, implements of magic but no training, skill or understanding. That wasn't the case here. You needed magic to operate a striker. It was what the machine enhanced, and what allowed it to function. Without magic it was nothing but the clumsy, awkward apparatus it appeared at first glance. And I had magic.

Specifically, I was a witch. That was the confusing part. This power didn't come with memories or direct knowledge, but it did come with understanding, both of the technology in play and the magic it enhanced. I understood that magic, and I had access to it. I could use it, but the thing was, I really shouldn't be able to.

The first reason was my age. This kind of magic peaked in your mid-teens and dropped rapidly when you reached your twenties. At twenty one I should be near powerless, or well on my way to that state. But my magic was still at its peak. That was rare to the point of being almost unheard of. It was possible for some magic to stick around, but maintaining peak power just shouldn't be possible.

The second reason was because I was male.

That was the real thing that stuck in my mind. When I said I was a witch that wasn't a general term or some kind of vague description. It was a fully gendered label for a female magic user. This type of magic was hereditary and entirely limited to females. If I had children they could inherit the power, but only if they were girls.

It was confusing, both because there was a clear limitation on the system, and because my power was happily making me an exception to that rule for no reason. I was used to my power not making sense, to it just declaring things to function in a certain way regardless of the rules of the universe. That said, I think this is the first time my power introduced the rules of its own abilities, then decided to break them anyway.

It was the kind of problem that I was unlikely to be able to solve while immobilized and cut off from the world, and honestly it paled in importance next to the fact that I actually had fully reliable magic powers now.

Not the most impressive powers, but they were still magic. As a witch I used mana, which merged with and drew from the same pool I had been given access to with Innate Talent: Alchemist. It was an internal well of power that also interfaced with the ethereal energies present in the world to produce magical effects. That said, the 'magic' I was now capable of wasn't that profound.

It was still impressive, and I still had an inherent ability to use it, it was just more limited than what could potentially be achieved through the other systems of magic I had access to. The systems I hadn't been able to touch or develop in the slightest, not beyond using my magicka as a power source and dimensional anchor for my subspace pocket. So I had various systems of magic with infinite potential, but no skill, and one system that was highly limited but came with full proficiency.

Yep, that sounded like the Celestial Forge alright.

The system of magic I used as a witch was actually fairly scientific. There was less reality alteration and more balance of force and energy. Effects generated had to be possible within the context of the physical universe, rather than being pure fantasy brought to life. That said, there was still the possibility of arcane constructs, personal shielding, and numerous inherent abilities.

Unlike most types of magic there wasn't really a potential to learn spells. You had your magical lineage, and that was about it. It was potentially possible to move beyond that, to develop new abilities, but the process of both designing a new power and learning to use it reliably dwarfed what was possible from any other system of magic.

My lineage was fairly basic, in that it was a standard ability dressed up to be a little more accessible. There were a number of subtle powers that were continuously available for witches. Most of them were so minor they would barely be noticeable, but that's where the striker unit came into play. It served to enhance the magic of the person who used it to the point where those incidental abilities were suddenly both powerful and reliable.

The effects of increased magic included environmental resistance, ability to breath in low or no oxygen environments, a form or enhance personal resilience to compensate for g-forces and withstand light damage, enhanced strength, and the ability to generate personal shields, discs of force that would offer protection from oncoming projectiles.

In case you didn't notice the theme, these were perfectly aligned to facilitate air combat. I wasn't sure if that was a natural extension of the innate abilities of the system of magic, or if it was like the Minovsky particles, where the fantastic elements seemed to be designed to facilitate a particular result.

Regardless, my lineage was related to the shield. Any witch could generate a shield with the aid of a striker unit, but I could handle one even without that enhancement. It wasn't that versatile as defenses went, being limited to projection directly in front of me, but it was insanely strong, being able to take attacks that would bring down warships. It also had the benefit of not transferring force back to me. Either the shield held or it didn't. There was no reactionary force. That opened up massive possibilities in terms of what could be accomplished with ramming and melee interactions. With the aid of a striker it could be taken to some seriously impressive levels.

I dearly wished that I could examine that technology. Strikers weren't just aircraft boots that boosted witch abilities. They boosted magic, and by that I meant all magic. Everything that counted as magic could be enhanced by the striker engine. The kit and equipment had shown up without any innate understanding of the technology, only it's capabilities, but I could see the potential. Specifically I could see what it could mean for capes.

My power was treating parahuman abilities as magic. That meant any effect of technology that influenced magic also worked on cape powers. In other words, I could stick a parahuman in a striker and not only would they have a personal flight system with built in support abilities making it 'practical', but it would directly enhance their powers. It was immensely powerful, and would have been even more so if not for the quotation marks I had to include with the word 'practical'.

It was practical in that everything that would make flying around with magic airplanes on your legs difficult was inherently addressed by the technology. It was 'practical' in the specifics of the design. By that I mean the aforementioned incompatibility with pants.

Alright, some of that was understandable. In order to enhance a person's magic the strikers needed extensive skin contact. Wearing anything but the thinnest and tightest leggings would disrupt the connection and lead to system failure. As such it made sense to go pants-less, or so it would seem. I understood the concessions, but it really did seem like this was designed to facilitate exposed legs and the principles of the technology were designed around that. Particularly the fact that you couldn't wear anything with more coverage than a speedo without disrupting the connection.

It was incredible technology, but I was not exactly chomping at the bit to introduce it to the world. There were enough rumors flying around about me without being permanently associated with this kind of technology. That chances of convincing people it wasn't an intentional design were pretty much nil.

There was also one other teensy tiny aspect of this magic system that could prove to be a touch awkward in public. See, being a witch wasn't just about getting magic powers. Said powers involved a pact with a familiar. An animal that acted as a focus for your abilities. That would be of little note, except the link was rather prominent. As in, use of the power involved taking on characteristics of the animal.

After the mess I'd gone through with my sudden zoanthrope status that shouldn't have been that big of a deal. I may have been desperately trying not to think about the implications of turning into a saber-toothed dino-wolf in front of the entire world, but that clearly wasn't an option, not with this power driving that home.

The aspects you ended up taking on weren't as dramatic as my earlier transformation. Instead of a full body transformation you just manifested ears and a tail. Animal ears and a tail. And this technology was designed to be used by teenage girls, flying around without pants on. My aversion to this association was becoming more reasonable by the second.

The thing was, any time the magic was used the traits manifested. So what animal did I have for my familiar? Well, I don't know what animal I would have gotten, but I know what I ended up with. It seemed there was some crossover with my zoanthrope nature because rather than a dog or a cat the animal I ended up with was a lycaenops.

Basically, my familiar was a mini version of the animal used for my zoanthrope transformation. Well, mini in the sense that it was smaller. The species still lived a couple million years apart and had no interaction with each other beyond being from roughly the same geological era.

It was also an informative exercise in how bonkers soft tissue can get. There's the whole thing where we don't know what dinosaurs were like since we only see their skeletons. Take the skeleton of a modern animal and apply the same principles they use and you get all kinds of disturbing reproductions.

The point was, lycaenops weren't usually depicted with ears. It was fairly early in the development of mammalian hearing, so nobody can say with confidence what kind of ear structure they would have, if they had any. Well, it turns out they did. Or at least some kind of structures on their heads that was close enough for the familiar spirit I was connected to.

The 'ears' I manifested were bristly to the point of excessive fluffiness and structured somewhere between what you got from a wolf and a bear. They were also disgustingly cute. Seriously, if I wasn't the one these were being inflicted upon I would have found them ridiculously adorable. As it stood, the idea of adding them to my cape persona or, God forbid, piling them on top of my zoanthrope transformation, had frightening implications.

But it wasn't like I was short on new powers or their associated implications. Everything that had arrived since I embarked on my search for the ABB had barely been touched. Tailor had been the first of a list of abilities, and was pretty much the only reason I had a hope of resolving the mess with Tetra. It also served to inform me of exactly how bad the situation was and how lucky I was to be alive.

God, life fibers were something else. I had known that on some level, but with the second half of that power, the actual understanding of their effects rather than just the spool, that took things to another level. So many aspects about Tetra suddenly made sense, from her mentality, to her growth, to her capacity for absorbing information.

Life fibers, they weren't normally used like this. Somewhat understandably, it would be incredibly dangerous for anyone without my resources and abilities to attempt what I'd done. Normally they were kept as discrete elements, mixed with fabric to prevent neural networks from forming. They could essentially be lobotomized by working them into clothing, and with sufficient concentrations be designed for any number of abilities.

That was no understatement. Nearly anything that could be done with technology could be emulated through life fibers. The kinds of 'clothing' that they could produce was insane and varied on a level you only saw from super materials like cybertonium or celestial bronze. It would be tempting, if not for the fact that I would never do that to Tetra.

Well, there were ways around that. The material could potentially be emulated through Waste Not, though I'm not sure if that would actually work. It was the kind of idea that would need to be tested carefully, not just rushed into. Also, given the amount Tetra had grown over the past week, small amounts of her fibers could be donated without damaging her ability to think or function. Then they could be duplicated freely for use in weapons or clothing. For Tetra there was only one safe possible alteration.

Kamui. That's what it was called when 'Clothing' was woven purely from life fibers. Really, it was more of the direction of a controlled symbiotic form than the production of a crafted product. It would be more stable and powerful than Tetra's current form, but also a drastic and permanent change. If we got out of this mess it might be a possibility, but it would very much be her decision alone.

The Alchemy constellation missed a connection as I reviewed my other recent powers. There was an entire lab of impossible colors, in addition to whatever was being granted by those connections. Like with the striker, I wouldn't know what was happening there until I got a chance to examine it properly. Just the vaguest notions of what some of those colors could do was frightening enough, and that wasn't getting into the direct correspondence with Hell that I could apparently look forward to.

A power that had nearly snuck by in the insanity was Exotic Compatibility. I guess when the ability was compared to the giant robot it came with it was easy to get overshadowed. The power was actually a lot stronger than it appeared. In addition to granting significant understanding of exotic materials, and therefore bringing me that much closer to cybertonium production, its primary effect was absolutely game changing.

With that power, any material could be treated as iron while I worked with it. It didn't matter how durable, or sensitive, or exotic the material was, I could work it as easily as I could plain iron. And I was very good at working iron. A multitude of blacksmithing powers backed me up on that front. Things that would be impossible to work, reforge, or create were suddenly trivial. The depth of that ability really couldn't be understated.

The mention of iron brought my mind around to another power that nearly got unfairly overshadowed. Compared to the way Sei Ki had pulled me back from mindless rage, Katsujinken had allowed collaboration with Dragon in spite of her condition, Sword had given my Lantern Shield enhanced capacities and constant improvements, Master's Body came with potentially limitless increases in physical abilities, and Martial Arts had granted me a full understanding of the fundamentals of ninjutsu, it was understandable how I had nearly overlooked the Secret of Steel.

Once again, it wasn't really relevant to the immediate situation. It was another item added to my workshop that I badly wanted to examine. A smithing guide of significant use even for someone of my skills. On the surface it would seem like the kind of power that just provided another near-meaningless quality increase. 'Almost' indestructible, able to cut through 'almost' anything, requiring 'almost' no maintenance, and 'almost' never losing their edge. Dancing along the edge of absolutes where I already spent most of my time.

That was ignoring two significant facts. First, this was a manual, not a power. Anyone could learn this art. I didn't know who I would trust with something like this, but the possibility existed.

Second was the way tools were enhanced. If made with this technique even primitive tools could out-perform advanced modern technology. As in a basic scythe working like a combine harvester.

That aspect didn't get truly insane until you combined it with Exotic Compatibility. Secret of Steel worked with anything made of steel. Exotic Compatibility let me treat any material as iron. Combined I could use the enhancements of that forging technique on anything. Any material, any tool could be enhanced. A pen that works like a printing press, a notebook with the capacity of a computer database, even a backpack that could carry weight like an industrial hauler.

What's more, all of those counted as machinery. It would normally take months to properly forge something to the standards of a Japanese smith. I could cut that down considerably just from skill, but for the rest of the way most of my speed powers were limited to the production of machines. Well, with this power, any basic tool counted as machinery, taking the crafting process from months to hours, or even minutes.

It was incredible, game changing, and something I could look forward to. It also allowed the production of things I could actually hand out without worrying about them being reverse engineered or turned to evil, while still being able to make a huge difference.

I just needed to make it through this situation.

All the ruminating on my powers and abilities hadn't provided any easy fix for how to separate me from Tetra. I could tell the duplicates had also gotten witch powers at the same time as me, both from their reactions and the sense of them activating their new powers. With actual magical abilities I did finally have the ability to sense magic, at least if it was from a system I was familiar with. I could tell my duplicates had activated their link with their familiars both from the change in the ether in the room, and from the exuberant reaction from Garment.

Normally Garment seeing me, or versions of me, suddenly sprouting animal ears and a tail would have filled me with dread just from the potential designs she could have come up with. Right now it was a relief to perceive anything from Garment that wasn't the tense worried orbit that had greeted me since I woke up.

Thinking about Garment, her developments, and her store, it brought me back to the reality of the city. Heavily damaged didn't come close to describing it. I felt partially responsible for calling Bakuda's bluff, but I didn't let myself slide into despair, not while linked to Tetra and knowing she'd happily follow me down that path. So the city had been hit by a bombing spree, some of which would have managed to combine their effects after I shifted focus, followed by the disaster that was my own Dust explosion, then the partial but persistent blackout in the North Docks, and finally the damage from the waves following Fleet's strike on Lung.

Aside from the physical damage, human cost, and displaced citizens you had a political nightmare. Lung needed to be stopped, and I don't regret finishing him off, but it opened a power vacuum that was waiting to be filled. Oni Lee was at least horribly injured, with his only options being weeks of recovery or Bakuda's cancer bomb. And Bakuda had cancer, that was certain. I didn't know how long she had before it started seriously hitting her, but I wouldn't give her good odds. If anything that could make her desperate and more dangerous, but at least she was hobbled without her army or March.

March. That got my blood up, but at least in a way that Tetra understood. I didn't put her down the way I would have wanted, and I didn't make sure the job was finished, but dying from internal injuries forgotten and alone seemed a decently appropriate end for that villain. There had been no strategy when it came to confronting her, just instinct. Grab, hit, move on.

The hit hadn't even been as solid as I would have preferred. Even with the philosophy of Katsujinken I could understand the need for lethal force, and March deserved that. All the damage, the death, the pain. The casual indifference to people she destroyed. Did anyone else even remember Michael Won? I mean, maybe his family, but otherwise what was he to this conflict? Another faceless casualty, sacrificed to facilitate a trading scam and forgotten in the piles of bodies.

It had been dangerous to even grab hold of March. One swipe with her striker power could have ended me. At least my instincts were sharp enough to swat her down once she started to move. I think she left most of her fingers in my hand after that hit ripped her from my grip.

Even with the ABB gutted the city needed help. But the city wasn't getting it. My duplicates, they were here, trying to save me. I couldn't fault them for it, but that wasn't going to make a difference in the aftermath. I didn't know who else could be sent. Fleet and Survey might be able to handle themselves, but they couldn't be trusted to operate independently yet.

Aisha was well equipped, but she hadn't used that armor in the field yet. As much as I didn't like the idea it might be necessary to call her in. At least she had been able to stay out of things through the fight with Lung and the immediate aftermath.

There was a stirring in my body facilitated by something other than Tetra or myself. One of my duplicates was putting an object in my hand. It was weird being this cut off from my senses, even my own body had a post-dentist feeling, mostly numb with brief faint echoes of sensation, mostly from reaction forces in other areas.

As soon as the item was placed in my hand I immediately recognized it. This wasn't something I could forget. I hadn't held it since Monday night, and I immediately regretted that. It just it didn't seem important, didn't seem worth the time, the investment, that no matter how reassuring it was it wouldn't make a difference.

Those thoughts vanished as the wand settled into my grip. My conventional senses might have been cut off, but I could feel this. It was magic, real magic. I remembered the feeling like it had happened only moments ago, only now it was clearer and somehow more focused.

The magic of my witchcraft had nothing to do with the magic provided by this wand, but they were both magic. Unlike last time I was now a trained and fully competent magic user. Everything that had just come flooding to me in a rush of sensation could now be understood, comprehended, and recognized.

This wand was powerful. It was basically an amplifier, specific to the magic granted by Setup Wizard, but with some limited crossover. Magic could affect magic, and this wand was no exception. It felt like it recognized the skill I had gained and there was almost a sense of pride in the connection.

That was the biggest thing. I didn't think the wand was sapient, but there was at least an emotional intelligence there. A connection existed between us, and it cared about me. It cared about how I was handling things, how I was recovering, and most of all what I thought about myself.

If I was holding myself from self-deprecation for the sake of Tetra's wellbeing, then that went double for the wand. The revulsion and anger from the wand at any self-deception or spiral of negative thinking was stark. Basically, the wand seemed to be doing to me what I'd been trying to do for Tetra. What's more, Tetra was picking up on that interaction and was immensely amused by it. It was both frustrating and endearing, and I silently thanked whichever duplicate had made the decision to retrieve the wand.

The Forge shifted again, this time connecting to a familiar cluster of motes in the Quality constellation. Despite having an excess of reach it only made two connections, though the motes could apparently be accessed infinitely. With that I received additional connections to Unnatural Skill and Minor Blessing.

This minor blessing was connected with Hestia, goddess of the hearth. It was the blessing of hearthfire, and it immediately showed how ignorant I had been in my thoughts on pyrokinesis.

I respected pyrokinesis immensely. I saw the meaning behind it, the significance of the art and what it meant. I understood the natural extension of progress, creation, and life that was tied to it. That said, I didn't particularly like fire. Well, I didn't like flame. It wasn't that I specifically disliked it, it just wasn't important to me.

Heat was important. The thermal energy that facilitated change. The power bound in metal that allowed technology to be created. That was what I had seen when I considered pyrokinesis. Flame was just the medium for that energy, a frankly sloppy fluttering display that got in the way more than it helped. My pyrokinesis had been the pyrokinesis of glowing coals hot enough to soften steel, not the sputtering of a cooking fire.

I had looked down on people who threw flames around. I had been insulted by Lung's efforts. With this new power, this new blessing, well I was still insulted, but for entirely different reasons.

The fire of the hearth was completely different from the fire of the forge. It was the warmth at the center of a house, the very thing that made it a home instead of just a building full of people. It was what allowed civil existence to happen. Fire, not as a temporary measure to create change, but as a persistent symbol, a sign that this place was important, that people cared for it, tended it, and would not let it grow cold.

That was what hearthfire meant. That was the fire of Hestia. The true flames of Olympus, the fires taken by Prometheus and shared with mortals. The first fire, the source of all heat, warmth, and civilization.

It was fire as a symbol, not merely a tool. Flames that could protect as well as harm, the fires of warmth, light, of home. That tiny mote, that little blessing, had completely changed the way I viewed one of my fundamental abilities. My pyrokinesis was stronger now, but that wasn't the point. It was more versatile, but that wasn't the point either. The point of this blessing, the understanding it brought, was the true meaning of fire.

I felt a wave of heat, warmth and comfort. Pain and tension melted away. The discordance between my body and Tetra's threads eased slightly. The reason was clear. One of my duplicates had started a fire. Not just random flames, but an empowered fire of hearth and home. Protective and restorative. A warmth of community and compassion, burning within my workshop. Within my home.

It was harrowing, significant, and incredibly meaningful. The power, what it was capable of, it probably would have caused me to completely reevaluate my approach to my powers and technology. But it didn't come alone. There was a second mote, and that was even more powerful than a blessing of a goddess.

My last connection with Unnatural Skill was centered on smithing and had gifted me with forge work skills that approached what was possible from a demigod son of Hephaestus. This connection was directed to Alchemy, and was even more significant.

With the greater context of Divine Child and Minor Blessing I could finally understand the context of Unnatural Skill. It represented skills that fell outside the natural order. Namely, it represented the abilities of creatures that were beyond humans. The mythological origin of these powers made that clear. Unnatural Skill: Smith was the smithing of cyclopes, trolls, and dwarves. Skills that were inherent to those creatures and beyond what existed in humanity. Unnatural Skill: Alchemy was the same, taking a skill beyond the human sphere of understanding.

It was so significant because of how important alchemy was to me. On its own, with only this power, maybe I would have been able to mix a few potions or remedies, purify metals, or brew some creative poisons. With my current skill base I could already manage all of that with trivial ease, so this power took my abilities in a new, unnatural direction.

Every field of alchemy I could practice was suddenly and significantly enhanced. Transmutation circles could be pushed further, the Dragon's Pulse became clearer, Belmont Alchemy became more accessible and versatile, the potential of Natural Alchemy expanded, Evermore Alchemy gained versatility in the use and composition of its formulas, and even my duplication potions became stronger.

But the enhancement that would change everything was my connection to Deranged Alchemist. Every horrifying aspect of that power was stronger now, but so were its beneficial aspects. That included medical alchemy, though that probably fell into both categories, equally horrifying and beneficial. Really, all my medical alchemy was stronger now. There was an unnatural skill to it. An innate understanding of what was needed. Healing potions could be tailored, enhanced, or specialized. Rough anatomical knowledge was now able to navigate the human body like a master surgeon. The imprecise healing of Alkahestry was now as capable as any of my medical powers.

That was all significant, but the aspect that would change everything was Deranged Alchemist's material transmutations. I was already better at managing the production of esoteric materials thanks to Exotic Compatibility. Now my transmutation abilities were enhanced to whole a new level. Cybertonium was more than a possibility. It was going to happen, and soon.

The sheer amount of technology locked behind that material was staggering. Beyond that, there were nanotechnology applications and even potential biological integrations. With access to it, and access to the perfect energy storage medium it could produce, I had hope. I could survive this. My duplicates could manage this situation and save me.

And they both winked out of existence.

I had a moment of panic before I realized what had happened. Their durations had expired. Both of them were gone, all the work they had done abandoned and we were back to square one.

Tetra felt my discouragement and offered feelings of reassurance while I could feel Garment move through the room. There was the feeling of movement at my jaw, and then something pouring down my throat. Then one, then two familiar presences returned.

Garment had dosed me with another potion. My duplicates, well they weren't back, but new ones were here. I had no idea if this had happened before, or how many times it had, but the system seemed fairly smooth. Either I had been out for a while or Garment had practiced this.

The difference was that this time they weren't duplicates of my unconscious body. They were copies of me, at this moment, with this awareness. They knew I was awake, in a fashion, and could perceive the world. I could already see the difference in their behavior. More focus on me, not just that vague idea that I might be awake or aware. They knew I was conscious and could perceive the world, at least in a fashion.

There was more awareness, more openness, and a shift in behavior. I assumed they said something to Garment because I felt a difference in her as well. A movement of my arm that I couldn't exactly feel, but could sort of sense. She was still there.

But there was still work to do. I could feel them, sense their emotions and the shifting of their focus as they worked to get up to speed on the situation. I could only imagine what they were dealing with. Needing to manage information on the aftermath of the fight along with getting caught up on everything the previous duplicates had been working on. And unlike our usual situation they couldn't just make sure I reviewed the reports to make sure they knew everything they needed to as soon as they were created.

I felt spikes of emotion radiate from them through the Dragon's Pulse. General irritation, probably at the scope of the problems at hand, frustration at what I guessed was the amount of information they needed to get caught up on in their very limited existence. A few highly worrying spikes of concern, anger, and borderline disbelief that suggested some particularly unpleasant news was waiting for me.

Then it settled. My duplicates shifted from their mix of emotions to a kind of determined resignation. They were managing this, I just had to trust them. I would do what I could, which frankly wasn't much, but as long as I was here, thinking, working on my own, then maybe something I came up with would be useful.

Until then I had to trust them. Trust myself, really. Trust Garment, trust Fleet and Survey, even trust the nanobot matrix that was still working to manage the damage in my system. Trust everyone I had worked with and tried to help up to this point. Trust that they could manage things while I could not.

And maybe, just maybe, we could get through this. Me, the duplicates, Garment, the A.I.s, even the entire city. Trust that we could find a way through. Nothing would be the same after this, but all we could do was try to be ready for it.

And hope it was ready for us.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Striker Artificer Toolkit (Strike Witches) 100:

Professional Quality Toolkit for sale. Never used. All the tools you need to make a Striker. Act Quick, Limited Stock. O'Malley's Tool Mart.

Defensive Sign "Directional Shield" (Strike Witches) Free:

All Strike Witches are trained to produce a 2 dimensional circle of energy a short distance directly in front of them which can deflect light attacks. You cannot fire a weapon through a shield.

First Generation Striker (Strike Witches) Free:

A basic propeller driven Striker unit. Very agile but unable to break the speed barrier. Fighter

Minor Blessing Hestia - Hearthfire (Percy Jackson) 100:

For one reason or another you've got a god who cares slightly about you and has seen fit to grant you some minor boon within their domains. Choose one god from any pantheon and gain a minor boon from them. The god will care slightly about you but unless you go on to further distinguish yourself it will be more of a minor interest in your affairs than someone they feel the need to help (Effectively think a diminished version of one ability a demigod might have, think minor ones are stuff along the lines of breathing water, lucid dreaming, or appropriate vague extra senses, useful but nothing especially major). This can be taken multiple times.

Unnatural Skill:Alchemy (Percy Jackson) 200:

Whether from your heritage or just being that good you've got one particular mundane skill that your feats with border on supernatural. Whether you're a smith on the level of the Cyclopses, a near prescient tactician or a swordsman who is ny unstoppable with a blade your feats will be legendary. You are on a level within your skill such that only other beings of legend can hope to match you. This may be taken multiple times. You may not choose magic but you may choose a particular application of magic if you have it already (so curses, enchanting might work, more specific gets a bigger boost).