87. Politics and Feelings

  [Designation: DREDGER]

  [Item Class: AUXILIARY]

  [Anchored Realm: PRETJORD (+1)]

  [Item Description:

  “Roots, our home, our Path to seek the stars,

  Tomorrow, the dreams to fill an empty cup,

  Mud, the scales we wear atop our scars,

  Yesterday, the ripples that bear dredging up.”

  - Excerpt from an untitled chant, attributed to Rotgardian laborers who worked on the Waterways Redistribution Project]

  ***

  The spelunking quartet made slow, cautious progress through the final stretch of their journey.

  Lars Tomasen led the way by unspoken consent. A fortunate arrangement for Serac, given the sturgeon’s towering frame and its ample barrier against the elements. For the winds had picked up again in greater force lower into the Roots, threatening to throw a Rakshasa off her footholds if she weren’t careful.

  The combination of strong winds and dungeon-diving brought Serac back to the prison break that had started it all. A simpler time when she couldn’t tell ‘Infernal’ from ‘Zealous’ and had been limited to exactly one spell in her gunslinging arsenal. Although she was now surrounded by powerful companions, and had no doubt become stronger herself, she missed having no cumbersome politics nor complicated feelings to worry about. Back when all she cared about was the climb toward her own freedom.

  For that and more, she was glad for the local Wayfarers to take charge, especially when it came to navigation. No doubt thoughts of his brother weighed on his mind, but Lars took to the task with cautious diligence, taking frequent pauses to map out safe routes for the quartet to follow.

  Presently, he brought the group to a halt and pointed to a rocky outcrop below, where a large group of Slangespytts lay in ambush. Perfect opportunity for the locals to take a backseat and let an outrealmer shine. Serac eagerly reached for REVOLVER… only to realized she’d run out of Mana to cast her spells! Just as she thought to come up with a new plan, one of the locals ran past her and dove straight in.

  Renna the pink frog jumped off the ledge, showing zero concern for the potential lethality of her fall. Except she didn’t quite fall and hadn’t quite jumped either. Instead, she ran down the cave wall, all but perpendicular to it, her webbed feet emitting an oddly soothing ‘squelch’ with every step.

  Renna ran down a sheer wall with the apparent urgency of a morning stroll. As the Slangespytts became wise to her presence, she unslung the giant shovel from her back and dragged its blade alongside her feet, leaving a trail of falling rocks and chipped bark in her wake. Finally, she swung the whole thing ‘upward’ (in relation to the cave wall) in a deft display of:

  [Auxiliary Technique: ELEMENTAL SURGE]

  The falling debris now rose with DREDGER’s arc. Rocks the size of Renna’s own head scattered and flew at speed before landing atop the whole mob of Slangespytts. Each hit produced a satisfying thud, as multiple Poison Balls turned into Souldust at once.

  Serac watched in amazement and recognition. This was the same technique with which Lady Pink had ‘dredged up’ a pair of drowners and thrown them ashore. On that occasion, water had been the element subject to its ‘surge’. This time, the substrate was of a more solid persuasion.

  Despite its categorization as an Auxiliary, DREDGER clearly produced magic of its own, feeding off the environment and converting it into a damage type neither Physical nor Zealous. By now, a quick-learning Serac appreciated the rarity of such a feat, even among Wayfarers. She understood why the Finless’s Auxiliary might be feared above her main Instrument.

  Effective as Renna’s opener had been, the fight wasn’t over yet. From where Serac perched, she counted at least two Slangespytts who’d avoided the worst of the spray. She gripped REVOLVER again, looking to contribute despite her lack of Mana. The effort was for naught, however, as another figure behind her raced into the fray: Zacko, masked up and imbued with a purple aura.

  A powered-up [Cudgel] onto the first Poison Ball to break his own fall, followed by a [Blade] to finish it off, then a spearing [Lance] to dispatch the second. As Zacko cleaned up Renna’s leftovers, the shoveler herself kicked off from the wall to land next to him gracefully. Just like that, another platform was cleared of its Wildspawn presence, this time by a Yaksha-Manusya tag team.

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  It took Serac a moment to pick up her jaw from the next ledge over. She was no doubt impressed by the teamwork and sheer skill on display, but then, to her own surprise, she also felt a prick of something resembling annoyance. If she’d dug around some more, she might’ve even found the exact word for what she felt. She never got the chance to do so, as Lars Tomasen grabbed her by the waist and jumped, dropping onto the platform below with the Rakshasa securely in tow.

  The fall, as it turned out, was neither lethal nor harmless. A good chunk of Lars’s Health—half of it, to be exact—disappeared upon impact. Serac got off without a scratch, though at her current HP, she could’ve tanked the fall damage if she needed to. As such, Lars’s assist was one she’d neither needed nor asked for.

  Serac’s strangely petulant mood only worsened as she disembarked from Lars’s arm without a word of thanks. Her gaze drifted toward Zacko, presently joking with Renna while the latter utterly ignored him. A post-smite debrief if Serac had ever seen one, albeit a rather one-sided one at that. The sight of it only ‘annoyed’ her some more… until she noticed Zacko’s HP ticking down at an alarming rate. With an audible gasp, she recalled the earlier sequence: [Cudgel] into [Blade] into [Lance]. Three touches, and therefore three stacks of [Poison].

  “Zacko!” she yelled, sour mood dissipated in an instant. “You got yourself [Poisoned] again, and it’s eating you up fast!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Zacko said with a wink, before turning a lopsided smile onto Renna. “Bubblegum here will patch me up in no time with one of her Pearls. Won’t you, Bubblegum?”

  “No.” The reply was reluctant but matter-of-fact. “I came equipped with only one [Pearl of Immersion], and you already used it.”

  “Well shit.” Zacko kept his voice low in performative nonchalance, fooling no one. “That ain’t good. Serac, you wouldn’t happen to be a potion master yourself, would you?”

  “No!” Serac exclaimed, considerably more expressive than her [Poisoned] friend. She frantically patted herself from chest to waist and around her belt, as if she could somehow conjure up an antidote on the spot. “What do we do? What do we do? Could you sleep it off? Maybe if you ask nicely, Pathsight will—”

  “Quiet, both of you! I can’t concentrate with your senseless yapping.”

  The sharp rebuke came from Renna. While the outrealmers panicked and postured uselessly, the frog woman had already sat herself down on the platform. She laid DREDGER flat while she herself crossed her legs and closed her eyes.

  She’s meditating, Serac realized, which means she’s about to install a Waystation for our benefit. Wait a second, that’s it! I still have a [Privilege] left over from Naraka; I could’ve set one down to cure Zacko’s [Poison]. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?

  The train led to a second thought, far more disturbing than the first. Serac could put her own mental lapse down to panic, but… there was someone here who could’ve and should’ve reminded her. Trippy had remained silent throughout the ordeal, and Serac had an inkling as to why.

  Cumbersome politics and complicated feelings, indeed. Yes, the times really did use to be much simpler. Back when the voice in her head would support rather than actively undermine her.

  The unpleasant bit of self-reflection notwithstanding, Serac remembered to be grateful to the frog Yaksha for volunteering her Waystation [Privilege]. Once again, she failed to square this generous gesture with the Finless everyone so feared and despised.

  I don’t care what anyone says. Renna isn’t a ‘bad’ soul. I know it in my heart, and judging from the way he’s chumming it up with her, Zacko knows it too. That came out pettier and more mean-spirited than Serac knew herself capable of. She shook her head to dispel the unsavory thought, then watched as a pure-white lotus bloomed upon windswept rocks.

  Renna stood as soon as the Waystation was up. Too soon, in fact, to have reconstituted herself.

  “Right.” She scanned the rest of the group with her round amphibian eyes. “Let’s do this in pairs. You two”—she nodded twice to indicate Zacko and Lars—“obviously need it more urgently. Quickly now. We still need to get a move on.”

  Zacko didn’t need to be told twice. Neither did Lars, to be fair, but he did hesitate for a second, his silent glare flicking momentarily to seek Serac’s gaze. Nothing was said aloud, but the implication was clear: keep an eye on her. Serac was both surprised and a little touched that Lars would entrust her with this task, even though she personally didn’t see the need for it. In any case, as the two boys with their self-inflicted wounds settled in to meditate, she was left alone with Renna.

  The frog woman remained standing with a faraway look, staring straight ahead into the cave’s windy center. She clearly had zero interest in reciprocating Serac’s attention. Such total and decisive detachment it compelled Serac to bite back on her question. Which, she reflected, wasn’t like her at all. Politics and feelings. Gah, I hate this! Screw it, I’m diving in.

  Never one to let feelings fester if she could help it, Serac decided to open herself up, even if her counterpart should remain closed to her. And what better way to convey her friendly intentions than to call back a nickname between spelunking buddies?

  “Renna, is this a good time? There are so many things I’ve been dying to ask you.”

  Rigid silence. Not even so much as a flicker of the eyes. Serac stifled a sigh, having already anticipated the need for multiple attempts.

  “Renna? I’m not interrupting anything, am I? It’s just you’re literally the first soul I ran into on my first ever ascension. Not that I’m superstitious or anything, but I feel like that should count for something. Just wanna get to know you a bit better, that’s all.”

  Still nothing. Tough nut to crack, but Serac wasn’t yet ready to give up. At least one more try…

  “Renna, I—”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  It took Serac, mouth agape mid-speech, a Ksana or two to understand what the frog woman meant.

  “Stop calling you… Renna? You hate it that much, huh. Um… may I ask why?”

  Serac’s artistic pride smarted from having her latest work so soundly rejected. It was only natural to seek feedback. After a moment’s consideration, Renate obliged, reluctant but matter-of-fact.

  “There’s only one living soul who gets to call me Renna. And you’re not her.”

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