Anything ~ 33!

- Luke -

Spending weeks of his time running around and searching for Scars wasn’t the worst thing Luke had been through, but all the time between actually finding them and finding things to fight in them was starting to wear on the Murderhobo. “Losing my edge out here. Gonna go back to Murder World and forget how to kill things. This place is slowing me down.”

A long-suffering sigh hissed from his lips, and he looked down at the ground his feet were flashing over as he ran. He had to admit, he was actually impressed with the Druid and what he had been able to accomplish. Every day or two, the green-clad workaholic would pop out of a portal, frantically check things here and there, then rush off to make a new oasis. All the bodies Luke piled up would get sucked into the ground, and the thick blend of fungus and various flora would rapidly start expanding.

Andre called the thick mat ‘creep’, due to the way it would constantly expand on its own even when there was no one tending it. Luke agreed with the name, the stuff was creepy. Still, easy enough to smush if needed. Whenever something was planted on it, the creep would start dying and get rapidly absorbed as nutrients for the plant; but until then… strange stuff. There were now miles of greenery, and even more creep beyond that. Luke was happy enough to see food growing, but was still leery about eating anything that sucked down the mushroom mat to reach full size.

Zed had been hard at work with the locals up and down the border of the desert, not only making actual connections and very important relationships, but also spreading rumors constantly. That helped The Four avoid detection, and threw their pursuers off the scent. Luke didn’t particularly care about the people that were coming after them, as he had a good feeling that they should be pretty easily dispatched. The Bard thought differently, apparently, and seemed to think that actual experts were now on the lookout for them. He called their previous hunters either scum or ‘greenhouse flowers’, whatever that meant, but the people he’d been seeing recently were ‘elites’.

The idea of hunting and fighting the people considered ‘elite’ made Luke’s blood sing with excitement, but he was denied permission to seek them out. As far as Zed could tell, the Prince was enraged that his personally groomed team had vanished without a trace. Now there were proper organizations after them, not a smattering of people interested in making a quick coin. More than anything else, Luke was disgusted by the thought that these people were hunting them for politics, and not for any proper reason; like he had for wanting a rematch with Master Don.

“I wanna see how many punches it takes to get to the center of the Archmage.” Luke nodded internally; now that was a proper reason for going after people. He slowed as he happened upon a Scar, and looked around to see if it was impacting the area. The ones that created noticeable effects in the world usually had living things on the other side that he could fight. Something about matching the environment so the intruders could survive. He waved his hands around, and felt a noticeable chill in the area.

He stepped forward to enter the portal, but a polite clearing of a throat gave him pause. Luke turned his head and stared at a man that was only a few dozen feet away. The unknown humanoid was wearing a beautiful white cloak that had deep red embroidery; truly kingly attire. Now that Luke noticed the man, he also heard a background noise that he had been ignoring for some reason. Some kind of music. The Murderhobo didn’t like this situation: somehow this person was more dangerous than he appeared. His instincts had never been wrong about this before.

“Pardon me, Viscount Luke Von Murderhobo.” The white-clad man lowered the hood that had covered his face and smiled disarmingly at Luke, who stood stock-still. “I’m here with an offer for you, and a request. Would you please hear me out?”

“Is that the request?” Luke waited for the man to start replying, then activated Bum Flash and appeared above the man. Putting everything he had into his attack, he punched down… and somehow the man was gone. A wave of sand exploded outward, and he looked around for his target. “Looks like you don’t work for the Hollow Kingdom.”

“Far from it.” The smile was still on the man’s relaxed face, as if Luke had been playing a joke on him. “My actual request is that you stop closing the Scars that I and my people are working so painstakingly to open. That leads into my offer, in fact.”

“Anarcanist.” Luke tasted the word as he spoke it. “An anarchist pickled in the arcane. The most feared and reviled of all Ascenders, a boogeyman that no one has ever met in person, or has any proof actually exists. People without a country that go around and tear open Scars that others can’t close, all so that more monsters can come and roam freely to destroy all of society. Interesting to meet you. Thanks for that. What’s this music?”

“Is that what the common people think of us?” The man chuckled so softly that it almost sounded like wheezing. “This is smooth jazz, a music I took a fancy to in a Descender portal that I stepped through once upon a time. Sadly, that world was lost to us recently. An influx of power put it on a different path for Ascending. Please, call me Vacillator. Vah-sill-a-tor.”

“You afraid a lot or something?” Luke cracked his knuckles menacingly as he waited for an opening to attack. This guy was way too fast.

“Ah, no, no.” Vacillator chuckled at the insinuation. “That would be vacillator, as in vas-uh-ley-ter. You see, there is no true antonym in this world’s language for vacillator, so I decided that from now on that my name, Vacillator, is now the proper opposite of vacillator. I am one who never hesitates: someone who is decisive or resolute.”

“Also clearly bat-fecal crazy.” Luke’s scourge whipped out and howled as it cut through the open air. The smiling man snorted and grabbed the mana-made whip between his fingers, then twisted. Luke’s face drained of blood as his weapon shattered. It began pulling at his mana to reconstitute right away, but it was a chilling show of force that he hadn’t even realized was possible.

“Not crazy at all! Just a logomaniac.” Vacillator cheerfully stated as he drew closer to Luke. The Murderhobo stood his ground as the powerful man got closer. “Let me tell you our true purpose, Luke. The ‘Anarcanists’ are true Ascenders. Our goal is to open enough Scars from higher worlds that the ambient mana levels push this, and other worlds like it, into higher planes of existence. Why leave everyone and everything behind? Why do only a few chosen people get to live forever?”

“You’re trying to make entire worlds of immortal Ascenders?” Luke deadpanned as he thought over that logic. It seemed sound. “Okay. I can see that.”

“Doesn’t it? As to my offer… join us, Luke. You have the exact talents we need to push our plans forward on millions of worlds. We would give you anything. Absolutely anything you want, forever. If we can’t make it happen in this world, we’d bring you to another. Money, power, foes, willing beauties. Whatever you crave, you’d have worlds worth of servants ready to do your bidding.”

“Yes. That sounds great. When do we leave?” Luke took a step away from the portal, and closer to the strange man. “Are you able to free me from the Hollow Kingdom?”

“Really?” Vacillator’s eyes shone with joy as he reached out a hand to seal their deal. “I can, I swear it.”

“Why would I say no to that?” Luke lifted his hand as well, and went to shake. “Anything I want forever, all to open Scars across various worlds? Yes. Who doesn’t want more than this? I was already banished to this dustbowl for politics.”

Luke’s Sigil chimed, and a blast of mana erupted out. He was smacked as though a war maul had landed directly on his skin, and hairline fractures raced across his skull.

No. You are mine.

Vacillator growled in frustration as he watched the Sigil impact Luke. He allowed his left pinky toe to wriggle, and the damage Luke had just taken was healed in the next instant. “I was afraid of that. There’s already a higher Ascended that has laid claim to you. I’m guessing that they saved your life and claimed ownership without your permission, else you’d have known better than to try and make a deal with me.”

Luke blinked and sat up as notifications scrawled across his mind. He ignored them for the moment as he looked at Vacillator. “Is this the part where you kill me because I can’t do what you want?”

“What? No, of course not.” Vacillator straightened out his cloak and let out a long-suffering sigh. “You wanted to join me, and the offer will stand until the end of time. Do what you need to do to increase your levels. Even if it goes against our plans for now, it won’t be an issue at all. When you can join me, all you’ll need to do is find me. After you attain level thirty, that shouldn’t be an issue for you.”

“Level twenty is the limit, though?” Luke’s thoughts seemed to be moving through mud at the moment.

“For this world, yes. Yes, it is.” Vacillator smiled a too-wide smile. “In fact, the plane itself forces Descenders to abide by those rules. Otherwise, the presence of someone in the fifties or higher would warp this entire country as soon as we arrived. Very well, Luke… until we meet again.”

Then the man and his strange music was gone, and Luke was alone with his massive scrawl of notifications. He ignored most of them, but a few refused to vanish until he read through and understood them. He held his aching head. “I want that kind of power for myself. Ugh. Do I need to read these now?”

The short answer was: yes.