One More Thing

Having accomplished what I set out to do in opening one of my old vaults to free a former anomaly, I largely fell back into a vacation mindset. Following months of private sweat and toil, I was finally allowed to rest, and so I retired to my private villa in the Void: half by choice and half by necessity.
    
Freeing Lucina had extracted a most unpleasant price. My use of mutation magic had always put me at risk of random age and size regressions, but normally those bouts only lasted a day or two. At most, they were supposed to be no more than a passing cold, an allergy started by a sneeze and ended by a nap. Yet breaking that most foul curse that had held my newest daughter had seemingly generated a far more resilient regression than normal. First, one day passed, then two, then three. Eventually, a week had gone by during my recuperation and I was still stuck in the body of a child while my daughters ran roughshod over my every command.

Lucina’s antics during this time were no shortage of anxiety for me, especially once she discovered her love and talent for gambling. Most assuredly, my family’s sudden descent into chaos with her arrival concerned me a great deal, but there was also something else gnawing at my thoughts whilst I impatiently waited for my return to normalcy.

Trapped at home as I was, I spent a great deal of time examining my network of focal points in the Void; and it was from my observation post in New Salem that I could see them: signs of Calamity’s Edge stirring. I would be lying if I said that Angela’s sudden interest in world eaters hadn’t been hanging in the back of my head since our conversation, and that particular interaction between us came back vividly once I saw the nests begin stirring. Portals were forming to different areas of the semi-structured void as well, and this mysterious turn of events - a turn hidden from the eyes of the public - gave me a sneaking suspicion that the nearest devourers had started to move. If they maintained the current course of the simulations I had set for them as well, the portals would soon arrive in Revaliir proper; and, whether that was months or even years in the future, the world would undoubtedly suffer with their appearance.

In the interest of potentially limiting the damage from such an event, I decided - reluctantly - that it would be best to leave what knowledge I had already imparted with Angela with another member of the pantheon she served. Angela was the elder deity of that group, and so she was undoubtedly the ideal vessel for passing on information to Revaliir's ruling, divine body. However, she also was a tad too trusting, no doubt owed to her association with the domain of love. It was not beyond the realm of reason to assume that someone or something might try to take advantage of that trust, to silence her before she could speak; and the wisest course of action to counter a situation like that would be for me to have a backup font: preferably a younger deity whose far more cautious nature kept them safe.

The choice for that role was obvious, but oh how I lamented climbing that path to Antikythera again to speak with her in such a small body. I used the plaques like last time to get into the main entryway, yet, unlike that former climb, I was too short to actually reach them. I had to use miniature stonewalls to form steps up the sides of the pillars they were on, and even then I almost slipped a few times because of the never-ending rain overhead.

Inside the hall of false windows, it was worse. The squeaking of a bench could be heard for several minutes after my arrival, because there was no more stone for me to manipulate. Instead, I strained against the weight of one of the marble benches nearby as I dragged it by a single leg to the button at the end of the hallway, leaving behind a trail of water from my dripping overcoat as I went. The grunts I made during this exertion were nowhere near the pitch of an adult, and the strength spell I was using for it was barely sufficient to command my tiny arms to move something so commonplace. I was exhausted by the end of that act, so much so that I didn’t actually use my hand to hit the “entry bell” when I had it in reach. Rather, as soon as I climbed up on that bench that I had painstakingly moved to use as a stool, I laid my head down on the button and tiredly spoke into the transceiver with both eyes closed.

“Paging Shiloh, and, also, some warm air. Maybe some food… and a blanket.”

“Paging Shiloh, and, also, some warm air. Maybe some food… and a blanket.” A voice came over loud and clear, something that hadn't happened in a long time. People stopped coming to Antikythera, which to Shiloh was a blessing. The less she was relied on the better off they would be. Whoever was on the other end knew she was in, and she ran a quick check through the Entrance Hall's surveillance statues. Somebody familiar, but hard to see. Serenitas was a mess as she hadn't cleaned up since…since the last time she cleaned up. With a whistle, she woke up Niall and asked him to bother one of the attendants on break to see if they could make something in the kitchen. Entering the Marble Corridor she ducked into the break room to grab a freshly dried towel and wheeled out a strange contraption composed of many propeller blades inside a protective metal cage. The wheels needed some oil, and whoever was waiting could hear them all the way. Looking out from behind the device, she saw a kid lying on the pedestal with the button, a bench underneath her feet.

Positioning the fan device, she started it up and a warm draft blew into the sopping wet visitor. It took her a few more minutes to figure out the magical signature and Shiloh squinted her eyes still trying to adjust to the Hall's brightness. "Natsumi?" Handing her the towel, she took a seat on the rest of the bench while Niall was running his errand. "If you're here it has to be important. No one else visits otherwise. Food's on its way, any preferences?" Telepathy was a convenient thing, you could speak directly to specific individuals over long distances. The hum of the warm air machine filled the background. She and Natsumi were similar; they both kept to themselves unless absolutely necessary. Personal privacy was a must. The two had a sort of mutual understanding. The pattering of smaller feet signaled Niall was done, and the ferret slid across the polished floor. "Food's coming! Hello visitor, welcome!" Picking him up by his floppy midsection, Shiloh patted his head. "Thanks, buddy. Natsumi, Niall. Niall, Natsumi. He's my ferret."

Having interrupted his daily nap, Niall crawled over to a spot that materialized a pneumatic tube perfect for a small animal and got in. There was a brief moment of suction and he was off, back to Serenitas. The tube disappeared once he was gone. Circulating heat was evaporating the trail of puddles from the front door and the usually cool temperature of the Entrance Hall gradually became more temperate. Requests sorted, her first question in mind was to ask about the difference in height but decided that could wait until later. There wasn't a reason to rush, she gave Natsumi time to make herself more comfortable.

The sound of a pair of ungreased wheels echoed from further within the building after I made that call, though neither my eyes nor my posture actually moved to see its source. I could tell it was Shiloh herself coming out from her hovel to greet me even without looking, because who else smelled so heavily of grease and dust in that world? Since her ascension, the woman I had nicknamed the Paranoiac Engineer (among other things) had always carried with her the smell of an old workshop. It was unmistakable to my nose, so I didn’t have to lift my head one bit to tell who was standing next to me with some sort of contraption once the squeaking wheels stopped.

Nevertheless, the warm draft that followed her arrival was actually a surprise, and a welcome one at that. Apparently, the goddess had brought out an “industrial heater” of sorts – most likely of her own creation – and she had activated it close to my face to put some heat back into my tiny bones. The air from that heater blew onto me like hotspring water after a long day of grueling labor, invigorating me just enough to remove my head from the button and stop blasting the temple with audio static. My overcoat receded back into my skin during that transition, showing that underneath that sopping mess of water and thickened fabric had only been a small fox-girl wearing a woolen sweater, some thick pants and mittens.

“You should mass produce these,” I haphazardly told my host with a sigh as I moved over to lie directly on top of the safety cage surrounding the machine. I had already opened my eyes by then, and I waved meekly at Shiloh once she finally spoke my name. “You are correct. I’m honestly surprised that you could tell, though I guess this body is strange enough where even if I don’t look the same I feel similar.” Taking the towel from her in that moment, I quickly realized given my current size that it was big enough to use as a blanket; so I did. The cage metal was starting to get hot anyway, and the “blanket burrito” that I cast around myself using my host’s towel was more than enough to protect me from its scalding temperatures. That setup also kept the towel warm whilst I continued my conversation with the Paranoiac Engineer, which was definitely a welcome change from the cold, stormy environs just beyond her temple’s main gate.

“Important? Probably, but I’d consider it more of a ‘better safe than sorry information session.’ As for food, I’ll take a Mamlakian beef burrito with extra wax peppers if you have em. If not, spicy Nisshokian foods will suffice.” Shiloh’s assertion that I only ever brought serious news would probably have hurt my wife’s feelings more than it did mine, but that was just the way things were between the two of us. The rogueish woman had made herself difficult to visit much like I had done when constructing my own temple, because she, like me, didn’t want to be bothered with frivolous concerns. Hell, I didn’t doubt her assertion that no one came to visit, because those obsessed with luck were rarely the hard working souls that would willingly brave Railoch’s perpetual thunderstorms in the first place. They preferred their taverns and their gambling halls instead. I suppose, in a way, I did too, but my drive to do more – as well as my generally well-known aversion to divinity – was what made me predictable whenever I decided to visit such far off, sacred places against my better judgement.

Either way, there was something different about Shiloh’s temple this time around. Maybe it was being in the body of a child, but I felt more of a sense of wonderment instead of my usual crankiness. The appearance of the talking ferret – Shiloh’s spirit animal – helped fuel that sense of childlike awe, as did the pneumatic tube that he eventually left in. For a lapsing instant, I even wanted my own version Niall, but that feeling quickly faded thanks to the fact that I wasn’t much for pets anymore and hadn’t been for ages. After all, once they started swearing like sailors (thanks Eden), they stopped being cute. So while I did think the word ‘cute’ during my brief meeting with the divine floppy cat, I stopped myself short of anything else until he was gone.
 
Shiloh and I waited for my food to arrive after that brief foray, though not in silence. The hallway was starting to evaporate the water trail I left behind, and I, knowing that Shiloh was probably anxious to hear what I had to say, started speaking again while leaning back into her heater.

“You know Angela asked me an interesting question the other day. She wanted to know what I did about world eaters, so we made a bargain because there was something I needed from her as well. I didn’t think much about it at the time, because I know where the nearest world eaters to Revaliir are at all times when I visit and, as far I was aware back then, they’d been staying in their holes like good little… things. But lately I’ve been on self-imposed house arrest, and I had nothing better to do than to examine the prisons. It appears there’s been some recent activity that might… no, will become a problem for Revaliir later on. Before I get into that, though, I figured I would come ask you what you’ve been told about world eaters, or if Angela’s even mentioned my information at all?”

"Looks like my senses are still working despite my chronic insomnia." It was a small comfort to get that right. Lately she had been so busy to visit Cymbel in Nisshoki, and he was probably one of the few things in the world that could get her to settle down to sleep peacefully. There was a prick of guilt for not seeing him more often, even if he was patient and understanding. Natsumi gave her order, and Shiloh sent the message telepathically to whoever was handling the kitchen. Though they didn't need food or sleep, her automatons found mundane tasks like cooking and playing music interesting. She encouraged them to take up hobbies by building wings for all sorts of recreational activities which the freely used when on break. She had no idea how the food would turn out, seeing the chef couldn't taste or smell. But if they followed the instructions of the recipe it couldn't be too off from the mark.

Natsumi didn't mince words and went straight to the point. Apparently Angela and Natsumi had their own little discussion on world eaters, more of a business transaction of information for services rendered. Wherever Natsumi lived, she had a good reading on world eaters closest to this world to which Shiloh figured made sense when you lived beyond the World Tree's influence. Lately those world eaters weren't sitting still, and that thought was already breeding all kinds of cosmic horror theories by the second. Next she asked her what she knew about world eaters, and if Angela had said anything. Shiloh racked her brain, pulling whatever she remembered from the deep archives that were metaphorically shoved in the backroom of her memory. "I know this isn't the first time I've heard somebody mention them, but I don't remember wh–oh hold on. Yeah now I do. No wonder it sounded so vaguely familiar–that was brought up on my first conference meeting with all the deities."

"So Angela brought it up, but she said the information came second-hand from somebody else. Whoever had Storms before me had a run-in with the things and ended up losing her seat for a prolonged absence. That's the first time they coined the term 'world eater', and I raised the question of possibly taking the things out first instead of waiting for it to come. Other than that I've got nothing else. So she's been thinking about too." The last sentence trailed off as she mumbled more to herself. "Knowing there's multiple world eaters is news to me, as if one wasn't bad enough." The smell of seared beef and spices wafted in, meaning Natsumi's meal order was going to be delivered. One of the automaton attendants arrived, heels clacking against the stone floor with a wheeled service cart and the food steaming hot. "One Mamlakian beef burrito with extra wax peppers fresh from the skillet. Enjoy!" The attendant gave a curtsy and was off, leaving the service cart behind as a makeshift table for Natsumi's smaller form. Eyeing the food, Shiloh assumed it looked as it should, though the taste would tell.

Shiloh’s pained expression following these remarks of mine was typical of someone trying to recall a far-off, distant memory. It was the same sense of consternation that I got from elder sages when they felt like they were forgetting something important, so much so that the relatively young deity didn’t even need to speak for me to conclude how much she had actually been informed. The Paranoiac Engineer was not one to forget such things regardless of her chronic insomnia, after all. That trait of hers was so reliable that I could tell from her expression alone whether or not the conclave had discussed my information yet. In this case, it was plain to see that they had not.

‘What are you waiting for, Angela’ I asked myself upon this realization? The question was more rhetorical than anything, because it was truly none of my business. I was used to people ignoring my advice, my knowledge: ignoring it to the point that they befell the exact tragedy I had warned them against. In fact, my general fear of attachment was directly related to that repeated experience; because, in my mind, it was far better to care about a select few that I could strong-arm into safety when necessary than it was to care about every poor soul I ever came across.

But then, if that was the case, why was I so concerned with getting my information out there this time that I would visit not one but two divine temples? In this unusual case, it was because I still had people I cared about who, in turn, cared about Revaliir. They still wanted to make memories of the world where we all met, and, although one day we would inevitably have to leave it behind, I wished to indulge their hopes as long as possible.

Perhaps the memories of those people that came flooding into the forefront of my thoughts while I lay against the heater were why Shiloh’s automaton’s burrito didn’t taste as generic as it actually was. I had used telekinesis to fetch that dish from the cart when it arrived so I didn’t have to leave my cocoon, but I didn’t exactly spare manners for my host when I immediately lay into the cylindrical object of goodness like a starving fox. It was a miracle I could taste the thing at all given how quickly I shoved it down my gullet, but then, as I said, generic.

“Thank you.” As unfortunate a statement as this is, a tasteless chef who only follows the recipe will never be as spectacular as a professional chef who takes risks. The automatons of Antikythera fell under this umbrella, and thus they were remorsefully limited in their ability to create memorable food. Nevertheless, the sustenance they had offered me was filling and not terribly tasting, and so I gave thanks as was proper before moving into the meat of my discussion with their employer and my primary reason for visiting her home.

“Sounds like Angela hasn’t passed on anything yet, because Moliira’s fall was not among the chief facts I had intimated to her. From the beginning, then, and I’ll make sure to pause at major points so you can ask questions. Bear with me, as this may be longer than you’re expecting.” Loosening the towel around my body just a bit, I sat comfortably as if preparing for a long, campfire story. I looked up at Shiloh with twitching ears and glistening blue eyes in that moment, subconsciously allowing my tail (now free) to sway back and forth in the artificial wind and providing an extremely odd combination in juxtaposition with the grim story I was to tell.

“We have known about them for a long time, but have also seen many worlds mistake what they are. World Eaters, as you call them, are not a species according to the knowledge of my people - who, for ease of reference, we’ll call the Archivists. They are, in fact, a classification of being that arises whenever power mixes just right with ambition and desire. The only things actually required to constitute a world eater are enough power to destroy or subjugate an entire world and the will to commit to such an action. As such, the weakest manifestation of a world eater is a tyrant with the ability and will to subjugate or destroy his world; while the strongest manifestations are the cosmic horrors that many people think of when they hear the term ‘world eater.’

This definition of eaters makes them far more common than what most people imagine, but it is for the best that their ignorance continues. After all, the people’s imagination helps them sleep at night, even if the truth is far more terrifying than what they have been led to believe. In reality, any attempt to eradicate world eaters entirely would surely fail, because there are simply too many of them and there is no way to stop another from being born without killing off all life everywhere – at which point you’d just become what you hated most and set out to destroy in the first place.
 
Actually, the only reason that most people never encounter a world eater in spite of their numbers is because there’s a lot of empty room out there between the universes. A human could wander aimlessly for years on end in what this world calls The Void and they might never find a populated world again until they were nothing more than bones or even dust.

Of course, all of this is not to say that I don’t know anything more about them. After all, the Archivists have been studying real world examples and potential candidates of world eaters for many lifetimes. We even came up with a system to group each member of that classification based on the desire they most embodied as well as the dangers that they posed. To achieve such a list, we used the equivalent of the 7 deadly sins, and so the World Eaters became known by 7 names: Lust, Wrath, Envy, Pride, Greed, Gluttony, and Sloth. Ever since, we have catalogued and frequently destroyed whatever eaters we have found in the Void, but, for every one we find and eliminate, we know there are more out there.”

"…Good God." This was not what she wanted to hear. In fact this was even worse than she thought she would hear. Instead of some rampant voracious monstrosities who were driven by an encoded purpose to consume, the truth made any of her initial worries look like small change. World eaters were not a race, they were the product of a specific psychological state of mind with an extra dash of moral and sometimes physical corruption. A thing if left unchecked which would destroy everything in its wake. It was like a seed. At first it enters the soil and breaks the surface with the right external conditions. Then it grows rapidly, spreading roots deep and wide. If left undisturbed it becomes a sapling, then a tree. By then, taking it out of the soil would churn several feet of it up and the earth there would never be the same as before. If a tyrant was a seedling, then the hundred-year oak was the cosmic abomination. Yes, ignorance truly was bliss. As knowing this probably would be counterproductive to preventing more world eaters from developing.

"It's an unsolvable problem." She said aloud in despair. There was no real solution. No way to make sure the problem completely went away. As long as there was sentient life the possibility of a world eater emerging would continue to exist. As the other continued to talk, she learned Natsumi had been more than just a former Revaliir deity. World eaters were old news to her and she'd been observing them for a long, long time. Next came the fox's bullet-point list of the major categories by which World eaters fell under. It was somewhat fitting that they were classified by the seven deadly sins, especially since their 'creation' included some form of psychological or ethical decline. There was a small comfort Natsumi provided as she elaborated on why they weren't up to their ears in these terrors. The Void lived up to its name by being an infinite, endless expanse which either couldn't or wouldn't be charted. But that was no guarantee of safety. It would only be a matter of time before an extremely overgrown world eater came close enough. 

"Is it possible for non-Archivists to take a world eater out?" Maybe she was asking too much. Natsumi was someone who lived outside the confines of this 'world' and had years of experience and knowledge. Whatever methods they used likely wouldn't be replicable for a world who relied heavily on magic and occasionally alchemy. Also there was the issue of resources. Revaliir might not even have anything that was effective against a world eater. But if there was a chance, Shiloh wanted to try. She couldn't always ask Natsumi to handle these things. She was the one with the obligatory responsibility of the general populous' well-being. And she wasn't sure if the others had the capability or drive to take this potential concern head-on. "Knowing world eaters will never really go away is bad enough, the least I can do is be prepared."

Though it was long compared to the duration of our previous interactions, the whole of my conversation with Shiloh thus far had not even the marked the half way point of my knowledge as it pertained to world eaters. In fact, I could have easily written a thesis on the subject, and, if anything, the information I had shared thus far was only enough to comprise a single section in that theoretical paper. Still, it was enough to raise the young deity’s anxiety levels to the breaking point. She spoke even before I was finished, declaring the problem unsolvable to which I could only offer a mental chuckle.
 
‘Welcome to my life, Shiloh,’ I thought even as I was still delivering information. ‘It’s full of unsolvable problems.’ The two of us reached a resting point shortly thereafter. My burrito was digesting nicely, causing me to feel a bit drowsy. I even yawned as the woman sitting in front of me asked the next logical question: if it was even possible for someone not related to my people to defeat a world eater?

“I would not be so cruel as to deliver you this news if such a way did not exist.” Apparently Mrs. Kyrie was unaware of Revaliir’s past given that she had asked that question. The feat had already been done before, albeit at great cost and with lack of permanence. At least the very least, I could share with her some hope via this mostly forgotten tale, though perhaps not as much as she needed.

“Eaters always start out as something else, and they usually keep a portion of their former selves despite the corruption that they suffer. Everything depends on finding that weakness and exploiting it to maximum effectiveness.

For example.”

Pausing for a moment, I used some light weaving to create the image of an underwater structure that Shiloh knew well and that was relevant to the discussion at hand.

“I’m sure you remember this ziggurat and how it was a prison the Voice deemed necessary to hold in secrecy. What you may not know, however, is that it is no ordinary prison. It houses a World Eater: the same one that led to Verya’s downfall all those years ago.

Within those coral encrusted walls lies the withered husk of a Wrath class. It was contained in that space through a combination of forces: deity and mortal alike; though it was never fully destroyed. Most of the war that surrounded its appearance fell into disinformation after the fact, mainly because of the way a Wrath class operates.

These angry horrors don’t simply rage in destruction as you might expect from their association with the well-known sin. Rather, they feed on other people’s anger: stoking it, cultivating what may be until everyone turns against one another. The strongest Wrath classes incite anger and madness in the masses simply by existing in close proximity, letting their prey tear out their own throats while it nary lifts a finger. Then, when everyone’s too weak to fight back, it comes in for the leftovers: sometimes keeping populations alive just enough so that they can fight against each other endlessly.

That’s why Verya was destroyed, in a sense. The people were already incensed from the unjust treatment of the gods, and the gods themselves eventually became paranoid, wrathful patrons thanks to their lack of immunity toward the eater’s easy temptations. Wrath, whose influence is now contained, did little to actually create that war. He merely set off what was already there, brewing below the surface until it erupted into an event the public only remembers in song and nightmarish bedtime story.”

Dispelling the illusion of the zigarrut, I closed my eyes for a spell as if taking a nap. Once again, I yawned, but this time summoning a bag of mushroom seeds on the bench next to Shiloh.

“But there’s a part of that story most everyone doesn’t remember,” I said in a strained voice as I did a long stretch. “There were fighters who fought against the entity while everyone else was involved in their divine war; and it was through their efforts that we learned of Wrath’s mushroom allergy. Apparently, the person he had been before becoming an eater had a mild allergy to a very particular type of mushroom: the Spotted Lactarius Indigo. As he succumbed to Wrath, however, this allergy worsened significantly. He could be subdued by mere contact with the fungus now, and so the men and women who fought against him created various instruments in order to take advantage of that weakness.

In the end, they were able to severely weaken Wrath with their secret weapon, but not kill him; and since they couldn’t kill him, The Voice imprisoned his likeness in a cage laced with the stuff and powered by mystical puzzles to keep the plants alive.

When I was secrets, I was privy to being a warden of that place. And at one point, there was a small breach that I had to take care of. I managed to get a piece of the eater’s flesh before I sealed that breach, and, being curious at the time, I decided to experiment.

I reanimated that slab of meat under very controlled circumstances, and applied various different mutations of the Spotted Lactarius Indigo directly to its exposed membranes. I wanted to know exactly what part of the mushroom it was allergic to, and I eventually created the seeds in that bag beside you before I destroyed the specimen.

Those are a new species of mushroom that I created, but they behave like crops more than fungi. You can grow them like any other plant that thrives in dark, damp environments, and they are extremely effective against the world eater that is in that ziggurat should it ever escape.  One application of even a tiny specimen from these mushrooms was shown to generate immediate necrosis in the flesh I had captured. I wager a big enough weapon, perhaps even a bomb, made from them would destroy the wrath eater entirely with enough applications.

Your biggest issue will be growing enough of them in time before such a need arises and also making sure they can be delivered to their intended target. The entity and its allies, I wager, will stop at nothing to prevent Wrath’s weakness from being exposed. In fact, I’m certain it instinctively knows the deadliness of these plants, because even the disembodied flesh I had been experimenting on, despite its lack of a brain, tried to escape from the mushrooms once I created them. It was afraid, and viscerally so.”

Natsumi again proved she'd been around for quite some time with the next series of revelations that few knew aside from certain individuals. Shiloh was fairly new to Revaliir and to godhood, so there was a lot of things she didn't know. First, Natsumi explained that in the process of that 'transformation', world eaters still retained certain aspects of their former selves. They were once mortal beings after all, and all mortal beings were programmed by nature to have weaknesses. Next came the image of a very familiar structure–the Eytelia Ziggurat. All she knew was that it had been used to contain the corruption that infected Verya, but she was never told that corruption was actually a world eater. With the former deity's explanation on how world eaters actually operated, it put the fall of the Parvporan Tree into a new light. This was the effects of 'Wrath'.

Mutually assured destruction. Instead of causing the devastation itself, it poisoned minds like a vial poured into a well. The fact horrific monstrosities could use such sophisticated tactics added another layer to how terrible world eaters were, especially since the one in the Luna Sea literally fed on what gave it it's classification. Natsumi took a few seconds to let this information sink in, then conjured up a bag of something before continuing. Someone obviously found a way to fight back, as the Wrath world eater wouldn't have been locked up otherwise. What Shiloh wasn't expecting was what that particular world eater's weakness was…mushrooms. There was a bad joke in there about fungi, but this was not the time for that. The ziggurat's design essentially made it a massive perpetual fungal incubator to constantly expose the unholy abomination to them. As Shiloh and the former deity had much in common, it came as no surprise that Natsumi took advantage of a chance to learn more about what exactly made this allergy tick. And for her efforts, she developed a strain of fungus that was everything the world eater hated.

"Mushroom seeds…?" Hefting the bag, Shiloh opened it to peer inside and took a whiff. If Natsumi wasn't still here providing pertinent information, the rogue probably would have tried to sample one. These specially bred seeds were the world eater equivalent of caustic acid–instant death of tissues upon contact. And once again they were on the same wavelength with the suggestion of using said seeds in a large-scale explosive. Shiloh was mildly amused at the fox's mention of the world eater sample's reaction to its lethal weakness. For something that was the bane of the world itself, the thought of it panicking at the presence of a mere mushroom cap was funny. "I'll get started on growing as much of these as possible then. Luckily for me, I happen to have the resources to set up a controlled growing environment. I have an alchemist I can ask to see if we can recreate the same toxic compounds artificially." Compared to the reconstructed biomes within the Greenhouse, a single room with specific levels of light, temperature, and humidity was easy. If she could mass produce this world eater toxin and make it shelf stable, then even if the mushroom crop turnover yield wasn't fully maximized she would still have something on hand to use.

Mimicry

My long-winded – if warranted – explanation to Shiloh ended with the revelation of my past experiments. I stopped speaking following that point in the conversation, allowing Shiloh to fully voice her own thoughts; but, apparently, there was no need. The two of us were already on the same track, her wasting no time in making plans on how to optimize the yield: to which I responded with slightest bit of verbal approval.

“Good. The mushrooms themselves should produce an excess of seeds at harvest, and theoretically you could accelerate their growth with herbology magics to have more than you could possibly need. As for the thought of creating an artificial mixture, I have likewise tried the same. It is possible, no doubt; but the mixture was always less potent than the natural source. You’d trade quantity for quality, so I recommend a mixture of both.” Pausing for a moment, I did think it wise to enforce the importance of the seeds to Shiloh, especially since it seemed she was already showing slight favoritism toward the artificial route. “Also, I would caution you about relying too heavily on artificial production and forgetting to protect those seeds. I gave another bag to Angela, and hopefully, in the event of an attack on her, your seeds will be spared. However, the Wrath entity in the Eytelia Ziggurat is a baby compared to the biggest one I’ve seen around this area. There is no guarantee the same mushrooms will work on it, and, if it desires the assistance of Wrath for one reason or another, it may seek to destroy those seeds. I hope that by giving them to two individuals I reduce the likelihood any such plans would succeed, but you should still be on your guard in case my fear of reprisal proves true.”

By this point in the conversation, I was finally dried off. I relinquished my towel at the foot of the portable heater, and then stood up facing Shiloh once again.

“There is one… no, two other things that I can give you just in case,” I told her in that moment. “First is a method to contact me if you absolutely need to.” Turning around shortly after opening my mouth, I conjured the image of a scrying bowl in the palm of my hand. It was from that image that I physically tore a piece of the magical energy off, and then I attached that same piece to the heater that had been my companion up until a few seconds prior. Then, as soon as the piecemeal energy stuck to the metal chassis, all parts of the bowl faded from view like the visage of a ghost.  “This is a type of magic that only I can do," I told Shiloh while turning back to her. "I’ve transferred an infinitesimal amount of power from one of my scrying bowls into your heater. You’ll be able to contact me just by speaking to it with intent, but, again, you should only do so if absolutely necessary. The connection will fade if you use it too much because scrying bowls don’t like to be torn apart like that and they’re liable to snap back together under enough strain.”

Soon after finishing my explanation of that communication channel, I received telepathic notice that my second gift was ready for delivery. Before I could give it to Lady Luck, however, I needed proper to assure some proper accommodations from my host.

“As for my final boon, we’re going to need to go elsewhere. Specifically, I need a very strong cage, preferably one that is sealed but still has air going into it. Reinforced glass would be best so you can watch the insides, but it needs to be big enough to hold an orc and strong enough to take a blow from about 20 steel daggers moving at the speed of a thoroughbred and with the bite strength of a medium sized Bakulawn resident.”

Her mind was still reeling over the fact the thing that caused one of the world's trees to go insane was considered a baby to whatever else was out in the Void. They said there was always a bigger fish, but not like this. Natsumi made a point to emphasize that there were some instances where the naturally-produced compounds yielded better results than a synthesized form, which had some merit. Just like heirloom seeds, protecting the original genetic source of the Wrath entity's mortal weakness was a card anyone would be a fool to discard. By her visitor's less waterlogged state and subtle motions, Shiloh thought the other woman was preparing to leave when she stated she had two more things to give her. The first gift was a very interesting way of creating a communication device, which Shiloh was grateful for since she and Natsumi didn't meet often. Having a way to contact the fox woman directly would be critical especially if the worst case scenario the paranoid deity was imagining came to pass.

"I didn't know you could do…that with scrying bowls." Whatever that was, but still intriguing. "I'll make sure not to burn it out or overuse it." The requirements for the second 'gift' was suspiciously more specific, and she had a feeling of what this was leading on to. "From these specifications, it sounds more like you want a solitary confinement cell with surveillance than a cage. I can make that right now, and it'll be completely separate from Antikythera entirely. An isolated fold of space where things can only be put in or taken out when I do so." Warming up her wrists and fingers, Shiloh began to twist and shape a small pocket dimension before them. In the same manner as the Machinarium was built from nothing, the isolation chamber took form with stronger reinforced parameters than even the most guarded portions of her Railoch fortress. Seamless walls, floor, and ceiling with air replenished and recycled through the entire area were made, and a spatially detached observation area which revealed the entirely of the chamber's contents materialized around them. Natsumi and Shiloh were now out of the Entrance Hall and in the newly-created, small-scale experimental testing facility. 

"The chamber we are viewing now is a hermetically sealed room with provided air, but anything that happens in there can be seen and heard completely here." She explained. "The space, resilience, and dimensions are custom-fit to your given specifications. Should I make any additional adjustments?" Shiloh asked her. She knew asking now would be the smarter choice than waiting for Natsumi to bring them up. Even though Shiloh didn't know what exactly she was planning, she was already feeling jitters in her stomach from dreaded anticipation. Natsumi like her never asked or did anything without a very good reason, and if she was asking for these things–it was a base requirement, not an option.