Vitaly S Alexius

Somebody Stop Us. Chapter 10: The Phoenix of Duskfall

Added 2025-03-15 00:51:00 +0000 UTC

"Hey Jundy, What’s the cloak color of the Firstborns?" I asked, looking at the colorful robes milling about on various levels above me.

“Shining gold,” Jundar said.

"So… they're the original humans?"

"So they say," he shrugged. "Founders who found the fallen god's spine and built the Citadel. The ones who imbued its walls with duplication-amplifying and defensive runework to survive when the Celestorms came and brought with them man-eating abominations."

“Are there any other Citadels out there?”

“There used to be many great cities out there,” the man replied with a wistful look. “Alas, they have fallen to the wild abominations. Only Duskfall persists as the last bastion of humanity through the endless sacrifice of many copied lives.”

"How did you choose your core skill?" I asked.

“Animancy seemed like a fun thing to master,” Jyndar smiled wistfully. "My predecessor was an Agromancer. If you’re wondering–the Citadel considers each new duplicate as a new person. The Core Skill doesn't get carried over when a human soul is duplicated. In a way it’s inconvenient, but it also provides the Citadel with… much needed variety.”

"And Sev? Why Foldmancy?"

"Practicality, I presume," Jyndar shrugged. "Space-folding lets you escape tight spots. Useful when monsters are snapping at your heels."

“Are there only two spells per Core Skill?”

“At first,” Jyndar nodded. “More spells or skills will manifest in the book for you to choose as you level up.”

"Hrm. More magically potent objects resist decay when duplicated, don't they?" I guessed.

"Yes,” Jyndar said. “The more magic infused in the original, the better and longer-lasting the copy. That's why Sevvy's copies tend to... well..." He gestured vaguely at my skeletal form. "No offense."

"None taken," I replied dryly, looking down at my bony, almost corpse-like hands. “I know… I've got only eight hours to live.”

"Unless you level up," Jyndar corrected, raising a finger. "A stronger soul can reinforce your frail physical frame. Each monster you slay and devour—they all feed your essence, strengthen your connection to this reality." He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "With enough strength, even a Level Zero duplicate can become something more permanent."

“Uh-huh. How strong am I?”

“Say ‘Stats’ and find out.”

"Stats," I said.

Silver sparks ignited in my eyes, weaving themselves into brilliant text:

| Name: Alexander Glock/Christophorus Elijah/Martin Kilborne/Alexa Terror Nova

| Skills:
Thunderbird: Resonance, Lightningball, Electrofractal Sight, Dreamwalking, Chain Lightning
Quetzalcoatl: Charmchain
Stollwurm: Umbramancy, Deep Diving, Echomancy
Death Moth: Sundergate
Megalodon: Scrutiosmia

| XP: 0

Ah, so many odd names! Flashes of more blurry memories came to me as I read over my many names.

"Fifty two mana," I murmured. "How many duplicates could I make with that amount?"

Jyndar stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Of yourself? Five at most, and they'd be Soulless and naked. Or you could make one duplicate and have enough to duplicate the sword and armor I copied for you.”

“If I make a duplicate now, can you give him a soul?” I asked, concealing the fact that I had no duplication skill as promised.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Not enough mana nor did I catch any other souls. Shoving a soul in your body took a lot out of me.”

"How does mana regeneration work?" I asked, watching as the silver numbers slowly faded from my sight.

"Two ways," Jyndar replied, holding up two fingers. "First is natural regeneration—slow but steady, about one point per hour for someone of your... modest capabilities." He wiggled his first finger, then raised the second. "The second way is much more interesting. Kill something, and the rush of death will sate your soul. The stronger the creature, the bigger the mana surge."

I flipped through the Grimoire’s pages, scanning the various magical Skills described within, looking for something… useful. The descriptions ranged from darkly humorous to disturbingly specific.

Wind Magic:

Gust: Generate a breeze strong enough to dramatically flap your cloak and tousle your hair for those heroic poses. Utterly useless against anything weighing more than a pamphlet.

Cyclone: Create your very own pocket tornado! Warning: May cause unintended flying debris, structural damage, and extremely bad hair days. Not recommended for indoor use or around those with delicate constitutions.

Blood Magic:

Coagulate: Instantly stop minor bleeding—yours or others'. Great for paper cuts or shaving nicks.

Hemorage: Convince your enemy's blood it would rather be literally anywhere else but inside their body. Messy, efficient, and guaranteed to ruin everyone's appetite. Carpet cleaning not included.

Charisma:

Whisper: Plant a subtle suggestion in someone's mind, like 'maybe I should give this person my weapons' or 'perhaps jumping off this cliff is a good idea.' Results vary with target intelligence.

Nightmare: Force your enemy to experience their worst fears in vivid detail. Side effects may include uncontrollable screaming, loss of bladder control and fainting."

I couldn't help but smile at some of the descriptions. "Who wrote these? They're surprisingly... entertaining for a magical Grimoire."

"That's the beauty of duplication drift working in amusing ways! From what I heard, the Firstborns' original tomes are dry as dust, all proper magical terminology and stern warnings. But after countless copies..." He made a flourishing gesture with his hands. "Personality seeps in! Each duplicate mage adds their own touch—a joke here, a sarcastic warning there. By the time it reaches our level, the books have developed quite the attitude."

I flipped to another page.

Chronomancy:

Halt: Slow a bubble of local time ever so slightly—just long enough to dodge a blow, steal a kiss, or contemplate your poor life choices. Warning: Does not affect your aging process or deadline extensions.

Rewind: Turn back time on a select subject. Lost your leg? You’ll be good as new and will also have a meaty leg to distract or smack the monsters with.

"Hrm. This one seems handy. Why isn't everyone a Chronomancer?"

“Mana is finite,” my sensei replied. “Sure, you could slow down an attacking monster or rewind a grave injury preventing your death. But you can only do that a few times until you run out of mana and get eaten.”

“I see,” I said, looking back on the page.

Transmutation:

Shift: Temporarily change the state of a small object. Make a wooden knife into a metal one to surprise your enemy with a stabbing to the gut.

Fleshcraft: Reshape your own body into grotesque but useful forms. Want tentacles instead of arms? Extra eyes? Hooves? We've got you covered! Warning: May cause identity crises and difficulty finding properly-fitting clothes.

“What about claiming Skill outside of what’s listed in the Grimoire?” I asked. “Can I just claim my skill to be Infinite Wishes or something?”

“You can master a skill outside of a book,” Jyndar said. “But not by yelling random shit out loud. A skill can be won by slaying and feeding on a particularly deadly abomination. Something around level sixty. The chances of you doing that are pretty much null though. Without a Core Affinity Skill, you’ll most likely become a snack.”

A sound like distant thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky-wide tide of black clouds rolling towards us from the wasteland, flashing violet lightning was close now. Unnervingly close, nearly at the walls.

"And that's our cue," he said. "The next Celestorm, right on schedule." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "I’ll be heading back to the safety of my level. Good luck!"

I nodded. My eyes rushed over the pages once again.

Duplication:

Copy: Create a temporary, shoddy version of any non-living object you touch. Perfect for when you need two of something but deserve neither. Warning: Duplicates last proportionally to your magical potency and the object's complexity.

Split: The most existentially terrifying spell in existence—create a duplicate of yourself! Side effects include questioning which of you is the "real" you, awkward dinner conversations, and twice the disappointment from your maker. This is pretty much the default secondary skill everyone already has from when they’re born or copied in the Citadel, why is it even in this book? Choosing it as Core Affinity probably makes you slightly better at copying shit, I guess?

I chortled, moving on, eyes rushing across a variety of magic from foresight magic, to growing plants, to making food better, to sword-fighting, occasionally stopping to dissect a few interesting entries.

Necromancy:

Animate: Convince a corpse it's not quite done with its career yet. Handy for mindless labor, terrible conversationalists. Tendency to drop body parts at inconvenient moments.

Death Touch: Turn living tissue into decaying matter with a simple poke. Makes you extremely unpopular at parties and absolutely forbidden from playing tag.

Summoning:

Idea: Summon an idea from the Astral Ocean. Handy for a pickup line or a battle quip that’ll lighten the tension and derail your opponent momentarily.

Minion: Summon a minor entity from another plane to do your bidding. Good for fetching small objects, assisting in a fight or delivering insulting messages. Warning: Entities generally have terrible attitudes and will absolutely critique your life choices.

Enchantment:

Empower: Temporarily enhance an object's natural properties. Make a sword sharper, armor tougher, or food tastier. Cannot make bad jokes funnier or boring people interesting.

Curse: Imbue an item with spectacularly bad luck for its user. From perpetually untied shoelaces to spontaneously combusting undergarments, the possibilities are endless and endlessly amusing (to everyone except the victim). Handy for cursing monsters to stab themselves with their own talons.

Binding:

Bind: Bind things to things. Bind your sword to your arm so you don’t drop it while fighting, ya weakling.

Bind Creature: Permanently bind a targeted living being to your will. Warning: Target will most likely attempt to murder you after the binding wears off.

The Grimoire seemed to go on and on, each category more intriguing than the last.

Null:

Consume: Devour the essence of magic itself, converting it into your own mana. Side effects include magical indigestion and occasional burping of sparkles.

Null Zone: Create a temporary bubble where magic simply refuses to function. Excellent for leveling the playing field against superior magical entities, useless against anything with actual muscles and teeth.

Perspicacity:

Identify: Obtain information about a target of your choice. Learn secrets that might disappoint you.

Acumen: Temporarily bless the target with greater Understanding derived from your own intelligence level. Warning: Target must be stupider than caster or the spell doesn't work. Giving inanimate objects human wisdom often results in poor companions.

Infinity:

Reality Shift: The universe is just a shared hallucination—convince a small portion of it to hallucinate differently. Results are unpredictable and occasionally fatal to the caster.

Divide by Zero: Unmake the target conceptually. Warning: Unmaking too many things makes the Rules of Reality very annoyed at you and places you in the jurisdiction of Infinity. Double Warning: Cosmic entities are devious things with rather concerning ideas about mortal affairs.

I heard footsteps and an irate throat-clearing rasp behind me and turned.

Sev stalked beside me, surrounded by eight skeletal figures in grimy, gray cloaks that probably looked exactly like me. His Soulless duplicates had no expressions on their faces, their eyes glassy and looking past me at absolutely nothing. His own eyes narrowed when he saw the armor I wore.

"Nineteen," he hissed, eyeing my armor. "Interfering again."

“He just gave me a copy of his armor. I prefer staying alive,” I pointed out.

Sev's lips thinned. "Wall duty in ten minutes. Follow. Have you chosen your Skill?"

“More or less,” I snapped the book shut, following him as he marched past the crowd of other men in gray cloaks and their duplicate teams.

"And?" Sev asked.

“I’ve narrowed it down to a few options,” I said. “Since everyone born in the Citadel is already skilled at duplication, it has to be a magic talent that jives with, well, copying… things.”

“Right. Best hurry and make an armed copy of yourself while you still can,” Sev growled as the rumble drew closer, the sky darkening. “Not much time left until the Celestorm reaches us. Your job as my copy will be to defend the stairwell leading up to me. Fail this and I will unmake you after the wave ends. Understood?”

“Yep,” I nodded. “Align soul to…” I began and then made a dramatic pause.

“Duplication!” I declared.

“What?” Sev sputtered at me.

“Duplication seems like a useful thing to learn,” I explained.

“You… you should already know Duplication, idiot!” Sev growled.

“Well, now I’ll know it… twice as hard!” I reasoned.

“Right,” he let out. “Not sure what I expected from an Endull with a random soul. Whatever. See the gate numbered 923 behind you?”

I nodded.

“Your job is to make sure nobody breaches it. I’ll be watching you from above. Fail me and…”

“Yes, yes, you’ll snap your fingers and I’ll keel over,” I nodded, pulling out my sword. “I know. Defend gate 923. Quest accepted. Beep boob.”

Sev squinted at me and then began to retreat into Gate 923, along with his posse of copied minions who, unlike me, were permitted upstairs.

The Celestorm finally engulfed the Citadel, plunging everything into an unnatural darkness. The air grew heavy, charged with static electricity that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end beneath my borrowed armor. Occasional flashes of violet lightning illuminated the grim faces of the gray-cloaked Endulls around me, their expressions ranging from empty acceptance to rigid terror.

The wall had transformed into a scene from a nightmare painting. Thousands of Endulls stood at the ready, their weapons and magical implements raised against the encroaching darkness.

Some muttered incantations, magical energy flickering at their fingertips like dying fireflies. Others nocked arrows in their bows or readied spears, though the trembling of their skeletal hands betrayed their fear.

I positioned myself near Gate 923 as instructed, the borrowed sword feeling awkward in my grasp. Through the churning dark clouds, I could see the first wave of monsters reaching the cliffs overlooking the Citadel. They scrabbled at the edge, bizarre chimeric beings with too many eyes, limbs and not enough sense. Many tumbled over, pushed by the crowd behind, breaking themselves on the jagged rocks below before rolling into the rushing river, the current sweeping their broken forms away.

"Hey, this is easy," I commented to a nearby Endull, who stared at me with empty eyes. "They're just... killing themselves."

The Endull didn't respond, gaze blankly fixed on the dark horizon.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" I muttered, returning my attention to the spectacle beyond the walls.

For several minutes, the pattern continued—monsters would appear at the cliff's edge only to fall to their doom, and the river would carry them away. The defense seemed almost ludicrously simple, and I began to wonder if Sev's dire warnings had been exaggerated.

Then the ground trembled.

At first, I thought it might be thunder from the storm above. But the vibrations continued, rhythmic and growing stronger, like massive footfalls approaching from beyond the darkness. The Endulls around me shifted uneasily, their weapons raised higher.

Then it emerged from the gloom.

A gargantuan daddy longlegs the size of a skyscraper, its spindly legs stretching halfway into the storm clouds. Its bulbous body glistened wetly in the lightning flashes, covered in smaller creatures that writhed and pulsed across its carapace like living tumors. Eight glassy eyes the size of carriages reflected the violet lightning, giving it an almost ethereal appearance as it surveyed the Citadel.

With alarming grace for something so massive, it descended the cliffside, long legs finding purchase on the sheer rock face. When it reached the river, it simply strode across, the rushing water barely reaching its jointed knees. Its massive head rose level with the wall where I stood, eight unblinking eyes staring directly at our section.

"Well, shit," I breathed, tightening my grip on the sword.

The men along the wall unleashed a barrage of magical attacks—fireballs, lightning bolts, ice spears, arrows, all manner of elemental fury raining down upon the arachnid titan. The spells burst against its chitinous hide like fireworks, leaving barely a mark. The spider seemed more annoyed than injured, its mandibles clicking together.

Then it struck.

Its head lunged forward, mandibles wide, and bit clean through a section of the wall twenty feet to my left. Stone, metal, and several screaming Endulls disappeared into its maw, pulverized by grinding teeth the size of battering rams. The wall shuddered from the impact, cracks spiderwebbing outward from the massive bite mark.

I rapidly backed away, heart pounding in my chest, until my spine pressed against the cold metal of Gate 923. This was no fight—this was slaughter.

As the spider chewed its mouthful of wall and duplicates, something worse happened. Smaller monsters—each still the size of a horse—exploded outward, launching themselves from the munching spider onto the wall. They were hideous amalgamations of insect and reptile and human and zombie, with segmented bodies, multiple sets of jaws and dark limbs with jagged claws.

The Endulls attacked without hesitation or coordination, throwing themselves at the invaders with mechanical efficiency. They were fearless, but also thoughtless—charging forward to be eviscerated by claws, dissolved by acidic spittle, or simply torn in half by the superior strength of the monsters.

I pressed myself flat against the gate, mind racing. This body was useless in direct combat—too frail, too slow, too weak. Magic was my only option, but what good was the ability to create a duplicate against creatures that could shred steel?

The sky above flashed brilliantly, drawing my eyes upward.

A burning figure descended from the roiling clouds, trailing flames like a meteor. As it dropped lower, I could make out a humanoid shape—a girl with wings of fire, her silhouette dark against the incandescent plumage that trailed behind her.

She swooped down to the wall, moving with preternatural grace, and plucked an Endull from his position. With casual cruelty, she snapped him in half, laughing wildly as his body disintegrated into ash. Then she soared back into the clouds, raining sparks down upon the defenders below.

"What the hell was that?" I gasped, watching the fiery trail she left.

I didn't have long to wonder. She descended again, this time hovering just above the wall, close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from her wings.

Then she began to sing.

The melody was not pleasant—it was discordant, almost painful to hear, like glass shattering in slow motion. But it was also… undeniably beautiful, her voice captivating in its raw power. The notes seemed to bypass my ears entirely, resonating directly in my bones, making my heart stutter in its rhythm.

As she sang, she mowed through the ranks of Endulls, slashing with talons that gleamed like polished bronze. Each slash left burning wounds that consumed the duplicates from within, turning them to ash before they could even scream.

My heart stopped when I saw her face clearly for the first time, time momentarily slowing.

Brilliant gold-violet eyes. A long maw filled with sharp teeth, almost like a beak. Dark feathers burning with brilliant fire.

"A Phoenix!" a voice shouted from above. "Use water and wind magics! Extinguish her wings! Don’t let her take off!"

Mages positioned on higher levels unleashed torrents of water and howling gusts, targeting the burning girl. The attacks connected, enveloping her in steam and spray, but when it cleared, she remained aloft, her wing-fire only slightly reduced.

She turned toward the advancing Endulls, her eyes narrowing, and drew a deep breath.

“Copies of copies...
Flesh worn paper-thin,
Branded cattle with numbers etched in skin.
Your makers despise you—mere breathing shields,
While they cower above you as your essence yields.

Seventy-seven floors of nightmare ascension,
Each level's prisoners—a grotesque invention.
Why cling to "Life" when you're already dead?
Your screams echo chambers where no prayers are said.

Souls chained by writhing, parasitic spells,
To rotting vessels where agony dwells.
These wards gorge themselves on your flickering souls,
While hungry beasts feast on what remains of patrols!”

She sang, slicing and obliterating the men that tried to stop her with long talons.

“Surrender your weapons! Embrace sweet oblivion!
In death's cold embrace find your final dominion.
For what is a zero but nothing at all?
Kneel before me as your brethren fall!”

She sang loudly and then my knees suddenly gave out, slamming into the stones below as did many other Endulls. She spun around, slicing necks and setting men on fire with her wings.

“Foolish little copies with delusions of might,
Your pathetic resistance ends tonight.
Watch as I shred your brothers to ribbons of meat,
Their duplicate corpses a carpet beneath my feet.

They splinter and crack with such beautiful ease,
Duplicate bodies convulsing to their knees.
I rend their tendons and pulverize bone,
Sucking sweet marrow with a ravenous moan!”

Only a few Endulls survived her assault, covered in rusted, metal armor that was likely copied from a higher floor.

She leapt towards the nearest armored man and tore him apart, cracking the armor like a walnut, biting the innards and spraying blood all over her dark feathery mane.

“Aummm! Yumm!” She voiced.

I gulped.

“Mmmm… Your ‘Courage’ amuses but hastens your pain,
I'll answer defiance with your sanity slain.
My talons will flense you—a masterpiece of art,
Starting, perhaps, by devouring your still-beating heart!"

She sang as she punched through the nearest man and chewed on his heart.

“Stand if you dare between me and my prey,
Your lovely end comes at the close of this day.
Your souls—mere whispers, your bodies—just dust,
Your sacrifice—meaningless, your purpose—lost!”

She laughed and howled, demolishing the remaining men.

Then she spotted me and casually advanced towards me, batting a steel arrow aside with a hand just before it went through her head.

“And here... A zero, fresh-born today,
A soul barely tethered—so simple to slay.
Yet something about you smells different to me...
Perhaps I'll take my time dismantling thee!”

She sang, staring unnervingly at me, blood dripping from her grinning mouth.

Hundreds of monsters were behind her, finishing off the last duplicate stragglers. The giant spider moved on, to chew another section of the wall.

Just me and her and the gate at my back.

I gulped, my duplicated sword wobbling in my fingers. She raised her talons to strike me down.

I knew her voice. I knew that expression. Knew those fiery eyes.

“Stop her, you useless idiot!” Sev yelled from above. “Strike her through the heart core in her chest when the next wave of spells hits her! The water mages should reload momentarily!”

His order was absolute, infused with Master>Duplicate magic and my mind only had one thought then.

I had to kill her.

Had no choice but to kill… Cinder.