Wish upon the Stars chapter 1001

After we filled in Wulf on everything we knew (which admittedly wasn’t much), we headed back to my guest suite, Master of Secrets in tow. Nominally because we had nothing else to do, but really because I was feeling…restless. I needed to focus up and maybe get some training done. My Fatewalker sense had been bugging me lately. Not just about the Apostate, but about myself.

I had three more pseudo Domains left before I finished constructing my full Domain. My mom had told me most people didn’t make them before B-rank, but I knew that was just because they lacked a Chronicle.

With mine constructed, I could now form my Domain, merging together my multiple pseudo Domains to form a coherent whole. But I couldn’t do it without those last three pseudo Domains. Nine forms, thirteen pseudo domains. Something about that was important. Not least of which was Pride, my library pseudo Domain and current soul space, which had been designated my thirteenth circle.

Zeke’s trick with the last page of his Chronicle when he ascended to A-rank was a clear example that it was a bad idea to leave things like that unfinished. But I could also feel that I shouldn’t do MORE than three more pseudo Domains. Or create any new techniques for the ones I had. Only three. The question then became what the hell should I DO with them?

I had a lot of problems. But I also had SOLUTIONS to most of those among my current kit. Defense, offense, healing, utility, my build was diverse. Honestly probably TOO diverse. If I was anyone else I’d have self destructed under the sheer weight and variety of my Skills and techniques. I’d considered condensing them, creating a handful of super forms out of multiple aspects of my powers, but it felt…wrong.

Quantity was a quality all its own, and I was approaching some kind of threshold. My Fatewalker Sense had never led me wrong. So I had to trust it.

I sat in the room with my wife, frowning down at my hands. I’d explained everything to her, and she’d understood. She was probably the only one who COULD given our bond. Anyone else would have just assumed I was deluded. But Callie knew what my Fatewalker Sense could do. Knew how accurate it could be.

I’d never actually condensed a technique for that, come to think of it. I considered trying to base a Domain off of that, but it felt wrong. I already had that. I needed something unique. Or at least new enough to be valuable. Especially given how dangerous things had been for my friends and family lately. I just wished I had a way to help THEM get stronger…and then I blinked.

That wasn’t a bad idea. I considered my potential tools. My forms allowed me to take the essence of my various demonic alternates into me (albeit essences I created) to become something stronger, and I had Sammael as well. Sammael was my strongest form, and the one I’d created to give me a universal boost to my base stats. So what if I could make something LIKE Sammael but for others. Something that let me incarnate myself into them as a sort of secondary form that could enhance them with my own powers. It didn’t need to be me specifically either. Beelzebub clones could use my forms and pseudo Domains. I could use them to basically pass out powerups.

I explained my idea to Callie, and she seemed intrigued. “That’s pretty cool,” she admitted. “But how would you even DO that?”

“I’ve been studying that Skill book that the old man left me,” I said slowly. “I’m nowhere NEAR deciphering it, obviously. But deducing it has been slowly improving my understanding of Skills and techniques. The biggest hurdle isn’t creating the form, it’s creating the attachment mechanism.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “In what sense?”

“Sammael bypasses the traditional need for a racial trait to become a part of you because it was created through the use of my second ability, which IS a part of me. It uses that connection to emulate a racial trait. Like how when I made your heretic angel trait we anchored it through the soul bond. Your ability is the Skill most connected with your soul, and racial traits NEED that connection to make the changes necessary to empower you.”

“I get that,” she said slowly. “But I don’t get WHY?”

I grimaced, trying to articulate it. “It’s kind of like…access permissions. The ability is connected to the soul in a unique way. It’s ALLOWED to change you. When something ELSE tries to change you, it has to fight against your nature and all your impact. Like turning someone else into a giant monster isn’t going to make them stronger, it’s going to seriously fuck them up. It’s an invasion, and the body treats it like one. It fights back. You might get a temporary power boost, but it’s not GOOD for you.”

“So if it doesn’t come from the ability, aka the legitimate source, it’ll be considered an attack?” She asked slowly. “Well that makes sense, but how are you going to bypass it? You don’t have a soul connection with everyone. And I’m not cool with you trying to establish one, by the way.” She smirked at me to let me know she was kidding. She knew I’d never do that.

Callie’s connection to my soul was unique and irreplaceable. It was also JUST shy of intrusive. If it had been anyone else or the bond had been just a hair deeper into my psyche, I’d have been horrified at the connection.

She was right though, I couldn’t just mass produce soul bonds. I needed some way to temporarily bypass the defenses.

Then I blinked. I had a way to do that, actually. A perfect way. “Can I borrow some of your Adherent Fire?” I asked her urgently. “I just had a pretty amazing idea, but I need you to switch forms to make it work.”

Void. Adherent fire was Void attributed by default, because it was the opposite of Heretic fire, which was anti-Void. The Void specialized in tainting people, altering them in ways they might not have agreed to. Void taint turned creatures into entirely DIFFERENT creatures. And it seemed to be a consistent improvement in base state. There were side effects, but I was pretty sure they were intentional and not incidental.

Shrugging, she switched to her Adherent Archangel form, her hair turning blue and eyes inverting. Through the bond, I could feel the surging possibilities of her flame, a wispy insubstantial riot of strange energy. I could feel it, and I could tap into it.

Inspiration struck me like a bolt from heaven, my mind filling with possibility, and I closed my eyes, slipping into Pride. Stalking over to a nearby table, I swiped everything off of it knocking it all to the floor with a clatter as I grabbed an empty book and shoved Adeherent Fire into it. THe book glowed blue and then caught fire, burning with an azure light as it was consumed but not destroyed.

Because I was Callie’s husband, it didn’t hurt me at all. I dropped it on the table and snagged another few books. One of them was the oldest in the library. Belial. My first form was a being of corruption, spreading his toxins to others. Originally those toxins had only allowed me to poison people, but as I’d improved with the power, I’d gained new skills and applications. Control. Subversion.

The last ingredient was, of course, Sammael. My angelic base form was the strongest of all in terms of pure potential. It was designed to amplify and enhance everything about me, and it was good at its job.

Stacking the books together, I held out my hand, and my staff shot from its spot floating above the Tome that was the centerpiece of my library and smacked into my palm. Holding it tight, I reached out with it to surround the books, using the deductive power of Wisdom of Solomon to begin the process of compiling the three of them. As I did, I triggered Dantalion, which I boosted to B-rank with the staff, and I poured myself into the deduction, BECOMING part of the information as it compiled.

It felt…transcendant. Like swimming in an ocean of knowledge made of my own blood, but in a good way. I had this singular awareness of the connection and comprehension that was being established, and I was able to shape it as it progressed.

Sammael was the base, obviously. It was the core of this idea. Sammael was the foundation on which I could contend with those above my level. A qualitative shift, if only a temporary one. But Sammael couldn’t be anyone but me, couldn’t connect to the souls of those he wasn’t a part of to begin with.

So then came Belial. Belial was the corruptor. The ability to dominate and subvert enemies on the field of battle, to make them dance to my tune. Belial would be the delivery mechanism to propel Sammael into the souls of my allies.

Finally, I added the secret ingredient. The mysterious Adherent Fire my wife had created in a moment of inspiration. A power source we didn’t really understand yet, but one whose known capabilities made it perfect. If Belial was the delivery vector, then the fire was the carrier that smoothly swept it past their defenses. The Void could invade the soul, and Adherent Fire was made up of an inverted purification flame. It complimented Belial’s corruption perfectly.

In an instant, the Wisdom of Solomon deduced a thousand potential variations, a million. Deeper and deeper it went, the ocean of information tossing and turning, a sea of possibility whipped to a frenzy by a storm of inspired brilliance. And from that ocean rose something…new.

Sammael was a dark angel, a being of shadows and overwhelming power. But this new form was different. He wasn’t an angel at all. He was a corruptor, a possessing entity created for the sole purpose of bestowing infernal power on my chosen. Granted, the corruption was a purely mechanical thing, since I didn’t want to turn my friends into monsters, but it was still his nature.

The deduction came to a screeching halt, and I was shoved out of the connection, stumbling back as I reeled at the shock of severance. Once I steadied myself, I lifted up the book that had been left behind, reading it over.

Asmodeus. That was the name of this form. A demon of beguilement and infiltration, who beguiled the hearts and minds of the unwary. As I picked up the book, I remembered the mental image of this being. He looked like me unsurprisingly. But as opposed to Sammael’s wide feathered wings, Asmodeus’s wings were a pair of dark bat wings, and on his brow sat a crown of curling ram’s horns.

I opened my eyes in the real world, grinning at my wife. “It worked,” I told her excitedly. “I mean, I think. Might need a bit of tweaking. I think I eliminated all the side effects. I simulated millions of possible builds.” I frowned. “Eight out of ten of them went berserk and tried to kill everyone, and half of the last twenty percent weren’t very strong. But the last ten percent was good and I was able to cook them down into something perfect. Want to try?”

“Probably best not to mix stuff into my racial trait,” she grimaced. “Who knows what it might do.”

She had a point, and I grimaced. “Yeah, fair enough. Let’s go find Abel. I bet he’ll be psyched to try it out.” As we got up to leave, I felt a sort of pulse of encouragement from my Fatewalker Sense. Another step had been taken. Two more and I’d reach the end. Or maybe the beginning. I’d have to wait and see.