The cosmic blade broken.., p.1
The Cosmic Blade (Broken Tech Book 2), page 1
BROKEN TECH
The Cosmic Blade
© 2023 Marc Mulero. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
Chosen
From atop a high mound of dirt, Slip called his obsidian-silver armor to wrap tightly around his body and demanded his spear materialize into existence mid-swing. He struck the wind, planted his feet, and in perfect form, spun to swipe a phantom enemy at his back.
He recalled his bouts in the slave pits – eight-against-one – imagining multiple weapons aimed at him, multiple foes charging from every direction, and moved to thwart them all.
Under the scorched sky of the Fields, in the middle of the night while his supporters slept soundly in his burrow, Slip trained. He stabbed, and slashed, and swung in hopes of activating his Unmeasurable abilities on his terms.
He remembered Roman Spear – his legendary mentor and pseudo-adopted father – calmly summoning fifteen floating orbs without so much as a single catalyst. How he called weapons and armor so fluidly was as if silk spun into flexible metallic right before his eyes.
Slip wanted that.
An hour of training elapsed to no avail, however.
He stopped short in a pose, out of breath, beads of sweat dripping down his temples. “Not one orb. Hell, even a measly Skyward marble is tough to form these days. I don’t feel the Ancients adhering to my Reverence, I don’t feel our Unmeasurable connection. I don’t feel anything, Tammy,” he complained to his bead, stabbing his spear into the ground before dissipating it to dust. “Everything just happens to us. We never command it unless a blade is at my neck. We have no control!” Slip shouted, voice echoing over the vast mounds of nothingness laid before him.
He took a deep breath to calm himself.
“Tammy, display progress… please,” he asked politely, feeling a slight twinge in his eye as the metallic dust within him intertwined with his optic nerve, presenting neon writing in his vision:
The Infinite Spear
Zel-ranked Dragoon
Physical:
Might – 20 20
Agility – 26 26
Resistance – 7 7
Tech:
Bond – Unmeasured
Weaving – 28 28
Analysis – 37 37
“Bullshit.” He fell flat on his bottom. “Drusilla said the Weaving stat would increase with solo practice. Is she messing with us? She is, isn’t she, Tammy?” He looked to his palm, where a stick figure shrugging inked into it.
“You’re spiraling.” Drusilla’s sudden voice jolted Slip.
A swarm of black, metallic dust lazily spread away, revealing the Specter watching him.
“See, Tammy? We can’t even sense this creep unless she intends to stab.” Slip shook his head, getting to his feet, and paced away from her.
“As much as I relish in watching you flounder like a fish out of water, I do think your uselessly-obsessive-ass should get to bed. We have a long day of remedial training ahead.” Drusilla held out her hand, stalking toward him and activating a ring of white-rimmed orbs floating in place – mocking him.
Her white braid and pale features were illuminated in the glow of her marbles, green eyes boring into his. “The Ancients chose you because you suffer, not because you are great.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t choose you because I beat your ass in front of the entire Jaradian Summit.” He stuck a finger in her chest, both smirking at one another, when shrieking winds left a swarm of black dust beside them, jarring them both back.
Their eyes widened as the obscuring cloud withered away like burned tissue paper, leaving a hunched-over bearded man with two fully metallic legs, clutching at wraps around his abdomen.
“Roman!”
“Father.” Drusilla lunged to help him stand. “You’re… out of bed.”
Roman winced. “It seems the remnants of a Sci-god’s dust is potently debilitating.” He referenced being mind-controlled by Regalus May weeks prior. “But it is finally leaving my system, I think.” He coughed, holding his hand up to let them know he was alright. Roman pushed lightly off of Drusilla and formed his cane out of a mini-tornado of outlined dust. “Slip. The Ancients have pushed you down a violent path of Ascension.”
His cane tapped as he struggled closer. “Your feats as an Unmeasurable have been admirable and awe-inspiring. However, rushing up a mountain paved with your opponents’ blood can render one drunk and blind.”
“Here we go.” Slip let his arms fall to his sides. “And here I was so happy to see you up and—”
“I’ve listened to the others gab of your journey while I lay useless. The only moments of non-combat you’ve endured since breaking out of Void-hood have been the months chained by your wrists and ankles. Not quite the ideal position to reflect, hm?” Roman paced around him, tapping at his armor. “Even the highest Roman generals had their time to unwind. But you… all hours of all days since the Sub-dens, have been surrounded by duels. Even the spectacle of them literally affects your abilities.”
“Yeah, about that.” Slip scratched his head. “You’re the jerk who started all this, remember? That tablet you planted for me to find way back when…”
Roman waved the notion away. “Your high-speed journey catapulted you far into the graces of the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Norse, and eventually…” he pointed his cane at Drusilla, “the Romans. However, your lack of pacificity keeps you and that ever-swirling bead of yours numb in the head.” He whipped his cane to the front of the mound. “It makes me wonder what her purpose is in all of this.”
Slip knitted his brow, trying to make out what Roman was pointing at. He crouched for a better look at what could be a hood swaying in the wind.
“You can open your eyes, Sci-god,” Roman demanded, prompting two swirling galaxy-orbs to peek up at them.
Slip once again jumped back. “What in Tech? Armada!” He rounded on them. “Do you guys watch me shower and pee too? Can a man get some privacy in his life, ever?”
Armada Eye huffed and pulled herself awkwardly up the mound, dusting herself and squinting curiously at Roman. “You could sense me?” She squinted curiously at Roman.
“I’ve had my share of Sci encounters.” Roman smiled facetiously. “One thing your heightened power prevents, is being a good candidate of stealth.”
“I see. And here I thought keeping my eyes closed and lightning at bay would be enough.” Armada snapped her fingers, creating a vibrant spark of electricity that lingered in the air, bringing a wash of light to their grimy surroundings. “It is wonderful to see you among the living, Broken Shadow. Seeing as Spear refused to leave you behind.”
“Mm,” Roman grunted. “And I suppose thanks are in order… for helping rescue me from the dreaded Regalus and his Dreadbane army. Though I still wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you, albeit such might be pretty far.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure it would be a fun ride.” Armada threw her hands in the air. “But seeing as time is of the essence, I do hope you’ll entertain me now. I have, after all, been waiting quite patiently, running two districts from an ex-Fieldy’s bunker.”
“What do you mean, time is of the essence?” Slip poked at Armada. “You said we could silo here until I controlled my abilities.”
“That was a fib.” She chuckled. “I was trying to keep you calm so you could find peace, maybe grow your meditative abilities. But at every turn, you swing your spear until your limbs are jelly and your form looks like that of a newly born fawn. It’s quite comical, actually. You cursing to your bead until your voice is hoarse.”
Roman and Drusilla refrained from laughing, which Slip caught.
“Ugh.” Slip called his gladius just to throw it into the dirt.
“Yes, well, since you’ve failed so spectacularly in these weeks of vacation, I must thrust us back on course.” Armada sat cross-legged and pushed back her hood, revealing a chic translucent veil covering most visibility of her face. “Allow me to begin by stating the obvious, since the Broken Shadow has been slipping in and out of consciousness and may have missed a thing or two.” She used her finger to draw in the gravel. “The solar system is terraformed. Neptune and Earth are the only remaining planets without chosen warriors to represent them in the universal event to come—”
“I don’t trust a word this foul Sci spits,” Roman grumbled. “She speaks like the mystics buried in the deepest levels of the Underground.”
“Yes, yes, you keep saying that. Just see how far you can throw me already and get it over with! Your father hit his head pretty hard, didn’t he Drusilla? Keeps repeating himself like a geezer.”
Roman tapped his cane, annoyed. “I imagined conversing with a Sci would be less… juvenile.”
Armada merely tilted her head back and forth. “Anyway, as I was saying. In the invisible world of dust, the western Ancients have chosen Slip as their unofficial pick.”
Slip shrugged. “Why would I ever want to leave Earth and fight on a moon? I nearly threw up just looking at a hologram of a space station.”
“That is a good question! I wouldn’t want to go either if I were you.” Armada shivered. “I much prefer roaming the sands of Obifie or taking janky boat rides to summits.”
“Good. It’s settled then—”
“However!” Armada sparked her finger. “We Sci-gods are imparted with great history of our lineage. The original Scis were not the wicked, electrical abominations you now know – like me
Roman folded his arms. “If I’m to entertain this outlandish farce, mythology of old would liken your journey to the children of the gods – Hercules, Bacchus, Turnus – who were all gifted great power above mortals and tested throughout their existence. It’s a test, you strange woman—”
“Perhaps. But perhaps this is not a retelling of history. You must entertain all angles, and listen to my experience if we’re to make sense of our impending journey.” She dug her finger into the gravel. “When I was chosen to become a Sci, I endured a process so painful it is deemed the thousand rings of death. It morphed my entire existence from mostly-human to mostly-Tech and gifted remnants of the founding Scis. Once the process completed, my entire mode of experience changed. Events of history – through the span of humanity’s beginnings to now – are bright and readily available in my mind.”
Roman snorted. “Hah! Read a book for the same result. I have volumes of history at my beck and call.”
“Will you shut up! I liked you better in a coma.” Armada punched the ground. “We’re not only talking about the myths and legends you can dig up in your caves, you big oaf. I’m talking about the history you cannot read. I can see the Sci expansion to other planets, the varying missions headed by the founding Scis. They terraformed using their Tech. Connected our augmented reality through one interconnected set of rules. The Ancients we experience are bound to their jurisdiction and can only move through their champions to other realms. So you see, Spear, Duchess, Shadow – you are all vessels as much as you are warriors in this plight.”
Slip plopped down across from her, formed his old dirk, and began digging at the gravel. “Then what Ancients do the other planets have?”
“Strange ones. The Scis who pioneered the solar system were the most daring, but not most prominent. Some of their contributions to the augmented system are bizarre, and some down-right evil – like on Uranus. Though that’s not important today.” Armada waved the idea away. “What you should focus on, is where we reside. The Sci-gods who stayed behind were those most rooted in history, and most prominent in terms of creationary power.”
“But you said it yourself: we on Earth, can’t seem to agree,” Slip surmised.
“Precisely. Just like you and Drusilla, rivalries run strong amongst the Scis.”
“In the end she confessed her undying love for me, and now we’re better for it.” Slip grasped for her hand, which she snatched away.
“Idiot,” she scoffed.
Armada cackled. “Those unwilling to change are also the most unwilling to compromise. We can’t agree to a warrior, we are on the verge of all-out district war, and ultimately, we might never qualify if there is nothing left to salvage. I don’t know exactly what happened on Neptune, but on Earth, we harbor those most stuck in their ways, and likely the most powerful. Though that remains to be seen. Which leads us up to today. Your question, Spear. The ‘why’ in all this? Why would you want to go to space and compete in an interplanetary event?”
Slip cocked his head, seeing how uneasy Roman appeared and how tense Drusilla became.
“Why, indeed. Because if you do not claim Earth’s place in the system, it is ripe to be conquered or exiled from augmentation.” Armada dug her finger deeper into the rocky dirt. “This might sound a bit odd…” She cleared her throat. “I get visions from afar… from the other Scis. They’re hazy, but I believe them to be true. Each of the other chosen warriors received their planet’s weapon. It’s quite unclear in my mind, and I have no idea why the vision is so distorted, but each warrior admitted to the event has met requirements that have been engrained in us Scis:
“The Ancients of the dust world must agree for this warrior to be chosen as the sole contender;
“The Sci-gods of the physical world must agree for this warrior to be chosen as the sole contender;
“The warrior must make a great sacrifice—”
“My family.” Slip shook his head.
Roman stepped closer. “You didn’t make that sacrifice, lad.”
Slip’s eyes bulged and he waved his hands back and forth. “Oh no. No way. I’m out. I didn’t just get my friends nearly eaten by Dreadbanes to save this old grump, only to sacrifice someone on my behalf. I’d sooner die.”
Drusilla crouched. “What sacrifice did the other contenders make?”
Armada sighed. “I cannot see…”
“Not interested. You hear that, Hephaestus? Freya? Jupiter? Pick someone else.” Slip uselessly attempted to scratch the brands off his back.
“Will you stop it?” Armada threw a harmless spark at Slip’s face, which made him cough. “It is not clear whether the aforementioned requirements must be met first, or can only be met if you complete this task.”
“What task?”
“The one most elusive in my mind: you must attain our planet’s weapon. The Cosmic Blade.”
Roman twitched, begging Drusilla and Slip to turn.
“What is it, Father?” Drusilla rose.
Roman held his chin, likely trying to remember something.
“Roman?” Slip poked him.
“I’ve heard of that weapon before,” he said.
“That’s impossible. It’s hardly a flicker in my mind from millions of miles away.”
Roman struggled to straighten. “You exist in the high-towers of elitism, Ms. Eye. While I have existed in the shadows. You would be surprised how much you can unearth in dark corners, from people who do not wish to be seen. Why else would Pluto smile as he rules the Underworld?” He took a brooding step closer to Armada. “Because he knows what he can hide from Mount Olympus.”
Chapter 2
Rally the Troops
Slip followed Drusilla back into his burrow, where his mother’s voice whispered from the speakers so as not to wake his guests. Her likeness still soothed him in the worst way, reminding him of a comfort he would never again know… and the reason why he embarked down this path in the first place – to get revenge on the Sci-gods.
He was forced to reflect in those seconds while Drusilla kicked at the sleeping guests to wake them, to remember that his family’s killer – Regalus – had already fallen with a knife through his heart.
And there were others like him.
I don’t like any of this, Tammy. I don’t want to chase some stupid blade and gain the approval of my enemy just so I can exit the planet. It’s all backward. He watched as Edgelord flapped his poncho at Drusilla to shoo her away, and then switched to Fogul, who slept with both hands rubbing his cap – old habits from suffering with Metlightous.
And there’s no way in hell I’m sacrificing anyone or anything on my account. He opened his palm to see two fists bumping inked into it. You’re with me, then? The ink morphed into a checkmark.
“Everyone up. Up, you lazy fools,” Drusilla demanded. “Roman has risen and Armada brings news. Today starts the end of idling chatter. No more low-stakes training. Today we move.” She ripped the covers off Keljin – the Liquid Sword – and unraveled Groa from her swaddled blanket on the floor.
Slip laughed, taking a mental snapshot of his burrow full of the friends who fought to save him in the end. A warmth circled his belly at the thought, one he should cherish before it fled. And so, he watched with a smile as the lot of them opened their eyes to a new day.
He climbed back out of the burrow, realizing he shouldn’t have left Roman and Armada alone outside, considering one had a deep mistrust of the other.
“Will you clean up the sky for those who do not deserve to be hidden from the sun?” Roman paced around her with folded arms. “You are the leader of this district now, are you not? Thousands of Fieldys still grieve from Regalus’ sinking of the Sub-dens. How will you aid them?”
“Spear!” Armada’s galaxy eyes brightened at the sight of Slip. She lunged for him and whispered, “Save me,” before raising her voice again. “Yes, how are the others? Awake? Good.”
