Chapter 274: Ain’t no mountain high enough (Patreon)

While I know my spiritform can’t actually get cramps, it’s somehow still very uncomfortable to hold the same ridiculous pose as the life-sized conjured statue of my favourite Hoig for a prolonged period of time.

Even though the room seems abandoned, however, I don’t dare risking a peek out of my conjuration.

For one thing, there could be a security sensor here, giving a live feed to some bored officer in a little room somewhere.

Staying in here blind like a sitting duck doesn’t seem like a great plan either, however, so I consider my options.

The first one that comes to mind, is to conjure one of those little chameleons I used back in the Great Guardian Realm—the ones I used to pretend that I wasn’t locally omniscient.

Here I could use them for real.

Of course, the concept of releasing a swarm of chameleons into the theatre is one I considered at an earlier stage, and dismissed with good reason. After all, Peilor are very sensitive to energies, and each of those chameleons would remain connected to me, in a very traceable way.

But that wouldn’t be much of an issue if I just released one or two into this room...

Before I make up my mind to do so, however, I come up with a far more straightforward solution.

After all, I’m already in a conjuration, with eyes.

Some slow and careful manipulation of my hiding place, renders it capable of sight, and I gladly take in my surroundings.

Lyrack’s dressing room is, in a word, gaudy.

In two words, it’s friggin’ gaudy.

While the ceiling and floor are pretty bad— as they are draped with gauzy pink fabric and covered in plush purple carpet respectively—the real crime against interior design is the walls.

For some reason, they’re a garish shade of lime-green, covered in crystal-studded golden polka dots. Not that there’s much visible of the walls, considering they are lined with mirrors in all sizes and shapes, from simple rectangular and circular ones to more extra things like hearts and stars.

All of those have, of course, thick ornate frames painted in various hues of gold and silver, covered in elaborate etchings and filigrees.

The upside to all of those mirrors is that they allow me to take in the rest of the room as well, even though the statue is just as stuck holding this pose as I am.

Behind me—opposite to the entrance that I’m facing—is a massive vanity station, piled high with trophies, accessories, and... what appear to be makeup products?

And next to that are racks and racks of glittering suits, sequined dresses, extravagant hats, and massive, shiny leather boots in all colours.

Sheesh. Poor Loudmouth...

Anyway, despite all of the decorative crystals embedded in the walls, the glowing ones lining the huge vanity mirror, and the many crystal beads hanging from the giant golden chandelier, I’m pretty sure there aren’t any sensory ones.

Still, there’s no reason to risk anyone entering and spotting me, so I decide to suck it up and settle in for a long wait.

By the time applause echoes through the building, I’ve gained new respect for the street performers pretending to be living statues back on Earth.

I know that my nose can’t actually itch, as it isn’t real, but just imagining it was nearly enough to drive me crazy several times over.

The way the applause ebbs and swells tells me Lyrack goes back on stage no fewer than three times, which if you ask me, is three times too many.

Finally, however, it dies out completely.

A little while later, I at last hear and feel activity in the hallway outside the dressing room.

However, it’s a lot more activity than I had counted on, as I sense at least half-a-dozen presences.

Shit, do they know I’m here?!

Except... they’re all kind of weak. As in, I doubt any of them has an Espir Pool of more than 3000 motes. If they were actually aware of my presence, I’d like to think they would’ve brought someone stronger.

Let’s see what they’re up to then, I guess...

The door opens, and rather than Loudmouth and Lyrack, I’m met with a whole darn catering crew, which rolls in a complete buffet.

Speechless, I watch as the various Flawed-tier Peilor hosts roll in cart after cart stacked with bite-sized dishes. There are fried fish fillets, extra-large shrimps on extra-tiny sticks, and various kinds of shellfish served with birberry compote. It doesn’t end with seafood, however. Next up are a variety of drinks, a bowl full of fruit—among which I recognise only the zirots—carved into cute little shapes, and finally, a whole stack of familiar, head-sized pink eggs.

Are those plessie eggs?!

Most of the Peilor who bring in a cart leave immediately after, but one of them stays to open a door to an adjoining room, revealing a massive bathtub worked into the floor.

I can’t quite see what they’re up to, but steam wafts into the dressing room as the lizard-host comes back out.

Finally, something that looks suspiciously like a chocolate fountain is wheeled into the room, and pushed right past me into another adjoining room, with a massive bed covered in throw pillows and velvety, lime-green sheets.

I’m still reeling by the time the door of the dressing room clicks shut behind the last of them.

I don’t get time to recover either, as the door soon opens again, this time revealing a familiar, yet barely recognisable figure.

My favourite frogman is such a healthy shade of green, that he’s practically glowing.

He seems larger than I remember, both in length and in width, but he still fits his purple suit like a glove, and the shiny black leather boots encasing his feet actually look surprisingly dashing.

The only thing about his exterior I don’t like, is the yellow crystal peeking out from underneath his glittering silver hat.

Unfortunately, he’s not alone.

“Oh Loudmouth, you rascal!” a female Hoig croaks, her big, bulging eyes shimmering as she clings to his right arm.

“Loudmouth sure talk big today,” a slightly smaller, slimmer, but still clearly male Hoig on Loudmouth’s other side comments with a sly grin. “Wonder if can make good on promises.”

Interestingly, neither of the two has a visible crystal in their foreheads.

“Loudmouth always fulfils promises,” Loudmouth boasts. “Now go wait in other room, Lyrack want to evaluate.”

He sends them both off with a smack on the bottom, and they head into the room with the bath, shooting him sly looks before they close the door.

Loudmouth shoots the statue I’m being perplexed in an appraising look, almost falling over as he attempts to mimic my pose, before clearly trying to play it off as if he meant to do that and hopping towards the vanity, where he sits down in the plush armchair in front of it.

“How’s my superstar doing?!” a voice booms out loud from the yellow crystal in Loudmouth’s forehead the moment his butt touches the lime-green velvet.

Loudmouth idly launches his tongue to swipe up a fried fish fillet, barely chewing it before he replies. “Not too bad. First half could have been better though.”

“I agree,” Lyrack chimes. “I think the problem was mainly...”

I tune him out, not interested in Lyrack’s critique of Loudmouth’s performance. Instead, I focus on whether I sense any more spirits in the hallway.

All of the ones I could sense before have left, however.

The two Hoig in the adjoining room don’t even ping my radar, not that I’d expected them to. Their presence is a bit of a complication, but at least they don’t appear to be hosts to any Peilor.

This is it, then. Time to strike the opening blow.

The opening blow of our resistance. The opening blow against Starmother, though she’ll hopefully won’t find out about it until it’s far too late.

And so, I send a flood of Espir into my Willpower, and produce sound that only Lyrack can hear. “YOU WISH TO DO NOTHING,” I Command.

It’s a simple Command, as Commands go, but it’s only an opening salvo. If it manages to stick, I’ll have plenty of time to expand upon it.

Lyrack cuts himself off mid-sentence with a strangled noise as my Command infiltrates his spirit and tries to make its way through to his Core.

However, he quickly throws up resistance, activating his Mental Fortitude which makes his spirit feel heavy like a mountain range, and hinders my attempt to push through.

Damnit, no choice but to go all out then!

I would surely win a battle of attrition, but I can’t exactly risk one behind enemy lines.

So while Lyrack is still reeling from my opening salvo, tendrils of Devouring Energy burst out of my spiritform on all sides, ripping my conjuration apart as they stretch to find grip on chair legs, godawful mirror frames, and even the friggin’ chandelier.

Just because my spiritform can move through solid matter, doesn’t mean it has to. I may not be able to move physical things, but I can certainly use them to move myself. It’s all a matter of belief.

And my belief in my ability to move is firm, as I demonstrate by whirling around and sling-shotting myself at Loudmouth’s back.

The Hoig gapes into the vanity mirror, his eyes seeming to widen in slow motion as I approach.

A flash of yellow comes from Lyrack. I recognise the Skill as Decrease Momentum—or more likely, Momentum Manipulation.

To my surprise, I can feel something fighting my motion as a result. It’s not like how I remember being hit with Negative Kinetic Energy feels, but something else.

Something more fundamental, like the Realm itself is telling me I should stop, attempts to rob me of my motion.

Hell no.

Drawing on my Mental Fortitude, I resist the strange effect and push through it.

A split second later, I clamp myself firmly onto Loudmouth with limbs and tendrils alike.

One of my hands clamps itself over Loudmouth’s mouth, in the hopes he’ll take the hint, and the other latches itself onto the yellow crystal on his forehead.

A specialised tendril, filled with Willpower, exits my palm and drills into Lyrack.

The mountains come back up. This time, however, their resistance is to no avail.

From what I can tell, Lyrack has an Espir Pool of only about 2000 motes, while I have over 10.000.

The effect of my near full-force blow is somewhat like an icepick going through wet newspaper.

My tendril smashes through his spirit in an instant, and rather than gently touching upon his Core and finding its way in so that I can face off against his avatar and try to chain it up with Commands directly, it smashes into the outer shell, causing it to crack... and then shatter.

“What... who?” Lyrack manages to bring out, as his spirit rapidly begins to Fade.

By the time I lift my hand off of Loudmouth’s forehead, the Peilor is gone.

Oh. Well, shit.

Author's note:

Sorry about the late post; Monday chapters are not in my system yet! ^^'

Anyway, thanks for reading!