Slumrat Rising

Vol. 3 Chap. 105 Comes Around

>Truth could vaguely hear the System screaming at him. The crushing pressure of the serpent above made it almost impossible to focus. The sense of his body being pressed into pulp encouraged him to shift himself. He tried to sit up and almost puked from the nausea. Giving up, he began to slowly crawl towards the door. He was lucky- he hadnt gone far into the room at all. A few steps, he had thought. It felt much further now.

The door just pushed open from this side. No need for any locks. Truth had a vague idea that he was the first person to set foot in this room since the Eminence's shadow was summoned. Why would anyone go in at all? But you had to have a door, because if something went wrong in there, you really wouldnt want to wait around getting in.

He managed to push the door open and crawl out. The door swung shut behind him without his help.

Truth lay on the side of the roaring torrent of sewage, sucking in breaths of too-thin air. For a moment, he thought the collapse had happened, that the cosmic rays were just ignoring them. After a few minutes, his heart calmed down. It was just the normal amount of cosmic rays. He had gotten used to the super saturated environment in the chamber of the Snake That Eats Its Own Tail.

It was alright. Laying on the ground and gasping like a landed fish was about the limits of his ability at the moment.

How long were we in there?

>

Truth nodded. He was hungry, desperately thirsty, and needed the toilet. Which, knowing what was at the end of the sewer system, gave him very mixed feelings. He climbed to his feet. Shaky. Very shaky. But nothing good would come from lying here, so he started shuffling away from the chamber. His body felt strange. He couldnt quite put it in words.

So. A lot happened in the last day or so.

> The Systems voice was bone dry.

How far back do you think we got made?

>

Let me run to see where I would go and what I would do?

>

How much do you think they attribute to me?

>

At long last. Recognition. Truth couldnt laugh. The situation was more than just bad. The System agreed.

Yep. You are doomed. Just astonishing levels of doom. Your ability to torture yourself has always been your defining characteristic, and even for you, this is going to suck. Id think you were a masochist, but sadism has really been your thing, hasnt it? Well, chin up. You will have the chance to talk with some professional sadists in the near future. Wont that be nice?>>

Hooray.

>

No, negativity seems pretty appropriate.

> The system sounded hesitant.

I can feel it. How?

>

Not following you.

>

Yeah?

>

I mean, thats good, but why are you making it sound like such a big deal? We were already doing it with the Meditations.

>

Damn. So basically, everything I was doing, I am now doing better.

>

Just that we were all rats, because rats eat each other. And that humans- The vertigo came back, the sudden nausea. He was half expecting it this time. Humans help each other. Not for any particular reward, but because thats what people should do. And while it might not be realistic to run a society on that basis, I know damn well that reality is an illusion.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He could feel the vertigo coming under control. Not gone, exactly, but he could function.

>

The real is an illusion we cast on ourselves, because we cant imagine a different world. Like the Praegerites and their notion of Hell.

Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it. Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God and tasted the eternal joys of heaven, am not tormented with ten thousand hells In being deprived of everlasting bliss?>>

There was a pause.

>

They had made their way to a junction. Truth turned left, because why not? Any direction is as good as another when you were this lost. The demons were splashing and hunting happily. Presumably he could beat directions out of an imp, but he would rather just not be noticed. No rush. The longer he stayed invisible, the better.

MegaShroom. We need to keep an eye on it. If they go after it, then we will know how tightly they were able to keep us surveilled. If they dont, we will know we managed to break contact periodically.

>

Its interesting to me that I had the breakthrough in a place where things are broken down and refined. Remember what Manda said about a forbidden idea? What if its this?

strongly suggest that this was something done to you. To everyone. This redefinition of the real. And it's an ongoing process, or you wouldnt keep feeling nausea as you try to think about it.>>

A conspiracy of the real, then? Defining reality one particular way so hard, going against that way of thinking makes you feel sick.

>

Truth came to another intersection. Sooner or later there would be a door, or a stair, or a ladder. Or a dead end, but that would be something too. Why would you have a dead end in a system where everything was designed to flow down to the Chamber?

Who, what, when, where, why, and how?

>

Lay it on me.

>

Ah. Yes, that is usually the best first guess.

>

And if they banded together, they might build a stormproof boat.

It took a depressingly long time to find a manhole. It took even longer finding one that didn't have wagons running over it constantly. Truth spent another hour subtly testing the cover and environs, trying to ensure that there were no nasty surprises waiting for him on the other side. The way that old monster could suppress the foresight portion of Incisive was in some ways more alarming than his seeming immortality.

His caution proved to be wise. The manhole had a four centimeter thick iron bar bolted across it, enchanted, alarmed, cursed and all that was a distraction from the real threat. The golem was almost impossible to see from the street, tucked in the shadows of a window frame twelve stories up. Its sole job seemed to be to stare fixedly at the manhole. Presumably it would record and report if it ever moved.

Truth shoved a dumpster over the hole he had cut through meters of dirt, ten meters to the right of the manhole. It required more tunneling, and eating more dirt, than anyone could be happy with.

Told you.

>

In the dirt closer to the manhole. Remember how it didnt feel safe? Im betting it was lousy with earth demons waiting for me to pull exactly this trick.

>

Yeah, but at the end of the day, its been twenty four hours and there are how many manholes in Harban? Even if they exclude all the ones on major streets, it is TERRIFYING to me that they could set all this up in such a short amount of time. Im not docking points for failing to create a perfect trap.

>

Fair to say we have the System Astrologicas attention now, yes.

Truth didnt hang around the alley. Moving fast and keeping off the sidewalks, he managed to clear a couple kilometers before running out of cover. The streets were just too wide. And worryingly empty. Time to go to ground again, this time not in a sewer.

He avoided luxury hotels for the moment. That was not a pattern to repeat. Truth picked the nearest Citizen tower block he could find that he could reach without breaking cover. It was on lockdown. Promising, in a way. The city, and Starbrite, were spending yet more limited resources looking for him.

On the other hand, it meant that finding an empty apartment was likely impossible. He shrugged, found the door residents used to access the alley, and cracked the talisman lock. He wasnt in a rush, and it wasnt complicated.

No more violent breaking and entering, at least for a little while. Just vanish into the sea of people, diving in without a ripple.

He found an apartment with only one resident- an older man, passed out drunk in an armchair in front of the Scry. Truth spent a long minute looking at him. It wasnt his dad, of course. The house was tidier, for one thing. This man was a citizen. He was drinking whiskey, not schnapps. There was no evidence of children in the apartment. No evidence of anyone else, really.

Truth went and scrubbed in the shower. He looked down at his clothes. They had held together, but were badly torn from the digging. He rubbed a bit between thumb and forefinger. It disintegrated. He sighed and opened his backpack. The zipper ripped out, the fabric of the pack disintegrating almost as fast as his shirt. The clothes inside were intact, but very fragile. Delightful. Another opportunity for involuntary nudism in the future.

He plonked down on the only other chair in the living room, watching the scry. It was some sort of rolling, perpetual news performance, where they replayed pre-recorded bits seamlessly dotted with new news.

He sighed and settled into the chair. It would be bull- He suddenly shot forward, staring intently into the scry ball.

They had a not-wildly-wrong portrait of him hovering in the air.

Lockdown orders continue to be in effect in central Harban and are not expected to lift for another day at least. Widely believed to be responsible for hundreds, if not in excess of a thousand, murders, the National Internal Security Service has declared the terrorist known as the Hell-Prince Jeons Most Wanted. Any information leading to his capture will be heavily rewarded, likewise, anyone sheltering him will be considered a co-conspirator and executed.

The beautiful presenter looked fierce. We have him trapped, like a wasp in a bedroom. Its every citizens duty to ensure he does not escape before he can be forced to reveal all his conspiracies. For the Nation, for the Citizens, for your safety and the safety of your family, the Hell-Prince must be captured. Now.