V-38 Feed

It is not impossible to best the Fairest, despite everything that has been said. They are not beyond you in every way. You are still a Pathbearer—a being of considerable power and skill. Just because you don’t hold narrative significance in the face of the Fairest does not mean that your Toughness is lacking, your weapons are brittle, or your strength is paltry. You simply must think of how to best use your traits to overcome the fae through non-linear methods.

The fae are powerful, but they are also limited. The pawns are easy to banish back to the Fairwilds. Expose a Child of Winter to light and they will dissolve. Inflict darkness upon a spawn of summer and they will weaken. The stronger members of the court might be outright immune to certain things, but even those who cannot be harmed by physical or magical force can be overpowered.

And none of the Fairest will emerge unscarred with touched by the narrative-fraying material that is cold iron—dead metal born and still stained with lingering entropy from the pre-system ages. It is a rare metal for most to procure, but for those of you who know the Deep Routes have contacts near Cape Hope or the Chernobyl Nexus, you know what I am going to recommend.

But even without this, understand that it is the nature of a fairy to be consumed by hubris. For what consequence is there? They do not have ends. They live in cycles. Even if destroyed, they will simply return when the seasons reset. And so they will strike bargains and make agreements that seem absurd to us patternists.

And this is how you capture them. Because a fairy is bound to their domains and court. They do not step beyond those boundaries, and as an individual with free will, you can—and you can go beyond in terms of skills developed and experiences accumulated.

Ultimately, in times of desperation, it is best for you to provoke and then challenge their honor in something they are utterly unprepared to face you in. It will not work every time and the consequences of failure are bleak and worse than death, but it has been done. It can be done. And you might stand among the few to best a fairy unscratched…

Fairest the Eternal: The Fairwalker’s Guide to Interacting, Hunting, and Avoiding Fairies

V-38

Feed

As the mold and yeast receded and the cooking stations revealed themselves, Shiv felt his heart rise, climbing to his throat, as he beheld the kitchen in its resplendent glory. The Anointed One continued making his mouth noises, but Shiv was no longer listening. Instead, he felt a building feeling inside his gut, a floating sensation. It was a similar sensation to what he felt when he walked the streets with Uva. It was the beginnings of romance: the budding seed of love.

It took less than a glance for Shiv to see just how successful Monster Mystery Meat was. The Sauce Station was stacked full of gravy, stews, sauces, and more. They ran along the leftmost wall of the room, stretching from end to end, and there was even a curve along the sides allowing it to surround the other stations, seemingly a bit like a pair of handcuffs.

At the center, opposite of the Sausage Station, was the place where the fish and seafood were prepared. To its right: the Roast Station. To its left: The Grill. And beside that was the Fry and Vegetable Station. The Pantry was on the other side of the room, in the upper-right corner. Here all the cold items were stacked and partially prepared: there was a salad left sprawled over the table with a smear of blood splashed over it. Shiv suspected that the chefs were still working when the Faebread began their uprising.

The only station he couldn't see was The Pastry Station, the place where all the desserts, breads, and baked goods originated. There was a good reason for that: that was where the cold iron cage was built around the Pastry Station like a jail cell. It occupied its own poor place in the leftmost corner of the room, just a few steps away from the curving edge of the sauce station. And there, a bulge of yeast and sprawling bread hid its presence. 

Even so, Shiv knew it was there. The Chef Unwavering allowed him to sense the station's presence, but it was diminished and wrapped tight in unnatural foodstuff. The cage itself was barred from his sight, doubtless to prevent him from using it against the fae. But he knew where it was, and should the Anointed One prove to be a liar, Shiv would be driving the toasty-fuck’s crust face into those bars until he discovered what color of diarrhea blood sprayed out of a fairy-bread-man-things ass after it was kicked enough.

The Anointed One continued prattling on behind Shiv, but his words were little more than drowning noise.

The Deathless decided to take stock of his inventory. The ingredients were all well-supplied, and Shiv fell into a cooking trance as he counted nearly every available resource around him in a half-second with his The Chef Unwavering Skill.

• Olive oil

• Neutral oil

• Basilisk oil

• Butters (so many different varieties)

• Harvested from slimes: vinegars, salt, onions, garlics, lemons

• Peppers (so many different variations and colors)

• Sugars

• Rices

• Spices

• Pastas

• Dried beans

• Tomatoes

• Broth

• Cabbages

• Eggs

• Milk

• Cheese (Republic, cheddar, hullvard, and more!)

Multi-Tasking 46 > 49

This place was a wonderland, and his Chef's Unwavering Skill and Multi-Tasking began to feel like they were being stretched to bursting!

She used his Biomancy to unfurl his helmet. It folded around him and collapsed behind his head. He breathed in, ignoring the breadcrumbs surging down his lungs, filling his insides. The fragrances of the kitchen were beautiful and myriad, and he was finally here, finally at peace, finally in a place beyond the touch of war and destruction. 

He had been yearning for this moment for so long, so long. It didn't matter that he had to deal with the stupidity and absurdity of the Faebread. It didn't matter that his life was constantly embroiled in struggle after struggle, battle after battle. If he could have a moment, just one second here, make one dish, he would feel more himself. He would be nourished, his spirit restored.

For that singular instant, Shiv’s animosity toward the system lessened.

"Are you listening to me?" The Anointed One finally snarled.

Shiv heard that, but continued ignoring the bread knight. "Just  barely," Shiv answered honestly. He looked around and finally frowned. He noticed something missing. Actually, multiple somethings were missing. "The hells did you clowns do to the utensils?"

He then noticed how the gingerbread knights and the baguettes they rode upon were slowly riding up along the walls. He couldn't see any of the utensils glistening behind the layers of yeast and mold. And even as he swept the ceiling, the only things there were the other chefs. They were wrapped tight, writhing and struggling, but their bodies were devoid of that pale, glistening glow that indicated a tool or substance that could be used for cooking.

"You think we would provide you with utensils for our destruction?" The Anointed One chuckled bitterly. "You are a greater fool than I thought, Deathless. We allowed you to initiate this challenge, but that is all we allow. Everything else must be spawned from your own resources. You decided to issue this challenge, so you must provide for yourself. We will not allow you to simply take from what we have claimed."

A snort of derision escaped Shiv. He used it to hide the genuine anger flaring inside him. The fact that the Anointed Knight was behaving like a bastard wasn't unexpected. But still, it wasn't that much to ask for—to have a full set of tools provided to him. They were already going to let him use the kitchen. This just made things pointlessly inconvenient. Just felling petty.

"Fine, I'll provide for myself," Shiv said, folding his arms. He briefly saw a patch of shadows gliding in the corner of his vision, and he realized Adam was moving into position, melding in with the lengths of darkness projected by the grilling station. It was a good spot for the gate lord to shoot from as everything went south. It hid the quivering darkness that Adam was submerged in quite well. "But I'm going to need a source of vitality. All you fae are empty of that stuff, so....”

“And why do you need the kindling of passing existence?” the Anointed Knight asked with derision. 

“If I can't drain some life force, I can't come back. If you're going to deny me that as well, I'm going to start draining from reality directly. And the system usually doesn’t like that. Because the mana storms that come out of the ruptures and stuff.”

The toast-shaped knight threw his head back and let out a howl of scornful laughter. "You think to threaten us with Vitality Drain. You do not possess such an ability. That is a power only..."

Shiv didn't bother letting the idiot finish. Instead, he summoned his Last Morsel to his hand and casually beheaded himself. His head came free of his body, spraying blood in a wide arc. Some of that blood was splashed upon the Anointed One's chest. The Knight of the Summer Court took a surprised step backward—just in time for Shiv's corpse to strike the ground. 

It helped that Shiv used his Biomancy to guide his blood spray.

“Whoops!” Shiv huffed. “Got some blood on something.”

"You impudent mongrel, you dare!" But before the anointed one could bring his halberd to bear and descend into violence, Shiv reached out using his Vitaemancy, and his Vitality Drain Skill roared to full power. He ripped the thin veil of life sustaining the system's existential membrane asunder, and as a nourishing flood of vitality flowed into Shiv, drawing him closer to a new resurrection, and a rupture formed within the kitchen as well. 

It tore slowly at first, and the Deathless drank in every drop with greedy, slow, savoring gulps. Every second that followed as the rupture got a bit wider, and the anomalous mana spill in just a bit more. The pathway leading into the room was mostly covered now, and the Deathless continued on with his game of chicken.

Vitality Drain 122 > 123

The Faebreads flinched. The ginger red knights held up their arms, and their baguettes began to panic and buck as if genuine steeds beholding an oncoming storm. The anointed one froze. It suddenly realized that Shiv did in fact have the vitality drain skill. More importantly, the Deathless is more than willing to use it within the confines of the kitchen. Mana storm be damned! A notification appeared in Shiv's vision proclaiming a growing instability for the ambient mana threshold.

Warning: Rupture forming—Mana storm imminent!

"Enough! Enough!" The Anointed One cried aloud. "I heed your words! I see you are no liar! Enough, I say!" Though his words sounded hot with anger, he couldn’t hide another thing: Genuine fear.

But Shiv didn't comply. He ignored his adversary and continued sapping vitality from existence. "I got to resurrect somehow," Shiv said casually. He cast his thoughts out using his Psychomancy and waited to see how the fae would respond. If they didn't have any vitality to offer, this was what he was going to do. He wasn't going to drain from the chefs. If they offered them to him, he would ignore them and if they were willing to go to violence over this then so be it, but there needs to be consequences for the Faebreads’ impudence. 

They assumed they were the dangerous ones—that they held all the cards. They didn’t. Shiv would like to protect the people here and preserve the lives of the customers and chefs. However, if push came to shove, he would do everything he could to screw the fairy bastards over, even if it meant exposing himself. If he didn’t do this, there would be no incentive stopping the fae from escalating this matter—from changing the terms of this competition. 

Until Shiv was forced into an untenable position where even victory meant certain defeat. There needed to be a cost, and they needed to understand that he wasn't here because he had no choice. No! He intended to be here. He chose to be here. He was here because he wanted to save the chef's, the customers. He wasn't here because they held any power over him.

"Enough!" the Anointed One cried aloud. Then, suddenly, he reached inside himself using his upper left arm. The toast that crusted his plated body broke apart. Shiv winced: He prepared to throw himself at the Anointed One and deliver violence, before the fae could tear the chefs it had fused within his body asunder. 

Yet it didn't rip the trapped chefs apart; instead, it drew forth a beating heart that glistened and pulsed with billowing waves of life-force. At once, the room became sweltering with life-giving heat. Shiv stopped sapping from reality and took in the artifact the Faebreads’ leader was trying to offer to him.

At a glance, it seemed like a heart, its flesh glistening and pulsating with every beat. But upon closer examination, it was more than just an organ. A series of chains were encircled around its presence, each one crystalline and mithril, each one bearing a fluid, silvery thread running along its middle as well. It was a weaving of different materials, and they glowed with mecury mana—a variety Shiv had never seen before. This was likely another kind of fey magic.

And the Deathless felt a building sense of thirst the longer he looked upon it. More than the chains, however, there was another anomaly here regarding the heart. There were several faces dotting the sides of the pulsating muscle. Shiv could see eyes blinking at him, brilliant blue eyes. And then there were the small mouths. They opened and closed trying to mouth words, but he couldn't read them. They lacked lips and were devoid of teeth and tongues. Beholding that filled Shiv with an uncanny sense of dread.

"What the felling shit is that?" Shiv asked. The longer he stared at the chained heart, the more he desired it, and the more it left him disturbed. He could hear faint mental echoes coming from it. They weren't thoughts—not fully formed thoughts anyway, but they were like imprints of emotion. They were howling screams, an urge to be released, to be freed, or to be slain. 

Anything to bring the suffering to an end.

“Suffering… Please…”

Shiv faintly heard something that reminded him of… The feeling was lost. He wasn’t sure about what that reminded him of. He couldn't hold on to it. It was like trying to cling to moisture in the air. 

"You asked for a source of vitality, did you not?" The Anointed One said. There was a hint of something in his voice. If it was frustration at being outplayed or a hidden snarl, Shiv couldn't tell, but the Deathless was hesitant to accept anything from the Knight of the Summer Court.

Psycho-Cartography: Remember that the Anointed One despises you. You, and everyone like you. He wishes to inflict loss upon the people of this world for the other bread taken from him. The likelihood that he's offering you a free piece of equipment in a sign of good faith is less possible than Helix suddenly becoming humble in the next few seconds. Perhaps even less so. You want that piece of equipment, but the atmosphere here is pulling at your greed. It is affecting your emotions, and you cannot trust the enchantments. Worse, if you touch it, you may very well find your vitality ripped away from you as well.

And that sharpened Shiv’s focus. His paranoia and his combat experience proved greater than any greed he possessed. He shuffled away from the beating heart and started cultivating Overflow Tides, just in case a magical attack would be unleashed from the organ. "Yeah, I don't think so," Shiv said. "I've no idea what that is, and I'm under no obligation to accept any gifts from you."

The Anointed One let out a rageful snarl as he chucked the heart across the ground. It bounced a few times and tumbled toward Shiv. “Then be without it. But if you continue breaching the veil, we will decide this through arms and destruction. And you will taste nothing but ash before the end.”

The Deathless moved to avoid the heart, slithering to the other side of the room. He carried his body with him and made sure to snatch up his severed head as well. When he got to the other side, he resumed draining reality, making the rupture grow ever wider. The first spills of storm stuff crossed over. A gelatinous membrane of condensed electricity crashed and crumbled, lashing at the mold crusted over the walls.

All along the walls, the gingerbread knights drew back their arrows. They calmed their baguettes and prepared to descend upon the Deathless. The breadcrumbs in the air shivered and collapsed around Shiv, forming so many small pieces it was like he was a hive coated in insects. Everything was on the precipice of violence.

"I heard that you fairies can't lie," Shiv said, recalling Cullywier’s words from earlier.

The Anointed One hesitated. A beat of tense silence followed. "We are never untruthful."

"So you claim, but what my friend said earlier was that lying would hurt you in a way it can't hurt me. So I'm going to ask you, is that heart a trap? If I touch it, will I rip my vitality away, trap my mind, attack my soul, inject me with a dose of Necromancy?"

"No," the Anointed One declared with a growl of frustration. "If I wished to use schemes against you, I would have woven a plot so immaculate—"

"I got it," Shiv cut the bread-thing off. “Not interested in trading barbs with a piece of bread. This isn’t going to negatively affect me in any other way, right? Because looking at it is messing with my emotions. It makes me feel like I haven't had a drink of water in days. You tell me that there are no enchantments messing with my mind, and if there are, you tell them to me—explain what they do. Otherwise, I'm not touching that stuff. And if you choose violence, I'll tear this rupture open wide. Everyone in this room be damned.

“I know that you can't be destroyed through conventional means because of whatever story bullshit that's protecting you, but I can tell you this much: If the restaurant here gets exposed to the Ascendants, they'll come in, and they'll keep you in their own little prison for a good long while. Long enough that you're going to probably miss the next seasonal cycle too. So you think carefully and tell me all about that thing."

"There is no trap; it is simply a reservoir of vitality." The Anointed One fell quiet for a moment. "It also allows one to store vitality within it. Additionally, it protects you from being ascribed by diviners. Finally, it allows you to burn a specific thing, trading vitality for Loreflame. Should you feed it the heart of another, it will be able to trap them within."

That threw Shiv for a loop. "What do you mean by 'trap them within'? This thing isn't just a vitality cage; it's some kind of spirit mind cage, too?"

"It is a cage of narratives and memories. An imprint of someone is retained, and an echo of their being is swallowed by the enchained heart. Their life story will be remembered by you, and you may converse with it. If you wish to find out about the pasts of your victims."

Shiv's paranoia climbed new heights. "And you were going to use that to trap me?"

"No," the Anointed One declared with clarity and without hesitation. "Again, I would not have formed such ridiculous schemes. I would have faced you directly, inflicted harm upon you by wielding my righteous blade. You are not a worthy threat, and I will not flatter you with deception. Besides, I have doubts that you can be contained. Undying thing, your soul is wrong. Your being is an alloy. I cannot tell your heart, your life force, and the narrative of your existence apart. Your skills and vitality are mingled. It is more likely you end up damaging the construct instead."

Shiv regarded the heart once more, and flinched as all the eyes stared at him. "Where the hell did you get that thing?"

The Anointed One barked with vicious laughter. "Oh, it was a seed I took from a Fairwalker—one of your patternists that dared to brave the cycle to steal some of our wonders. I hid it within myself when I went to sleep, and when I woke for the start of this cycle, I realized I was not where I was supposed to be, and so the seed became my weapon against my captors. At first, it was such a small thing, barely larger than a speck hidden within my breadstuff. But then one of the chefs proved themselves a fool. One of the chefs was careless. They reached too deep, and in their moment of distraction, I thrusted the seed into them and it began to grow. You should have felt his insides boil and suppurate. And the power that it filled me with was so—”

"Wait, you've been using that to feed yourself power?"

The Anointed One didn't say anything, but the deathless felt a sense of pride and loathing radiate out from the bread night. But with that came something else: A faint trail of unattuned mana connected Shiv to the Anointed Knight, and the first chains of fear bound them together. The Anointed One tried to mask himself, but the Deathless unnerved him, and with each exchange that terror between them only grew stronger. 

And if I scare him, I can break him, Shiv said to himself.

Shape of Monstrosity 142 > 144

Shiv extended a vitae tendril toward the heart. Slowly, he touched it. After brushing it once, and realizing his life force hadn't been ripped away from him, Shiv wrapped his white and red strand of mana around it and drew it closer. It was like clutching a small star within the heart of his palm. With every second, it radiated warmth, overwhelming life force that nourished him from the very roots of his skills to the flowing currents of vitae that composed his outsides.

Equipment Obtained: [Chained Heart of Lifegiving]
Tier: Heroic
Condition: Perfect
Composition: Narrativium; Mithril; Focus Crystal; Faeblood; Fulcavium; Elderflesh; Human Flesh; Elf Flesh; Raptor Flesh
Enchantments > Nourish the Heartblood; The Story Thus Far; Enchain the Transgressors; Life for Loreflame; Binding; Fusing; Regenerating; Counter-Scrying

The sheer amount of vitality that offered him was delectable. If Shiv had had to guess, there was enough life force stored inside here to compose two Heroic-Tier Pathbearers.

But then he heard something else. An echoed cry, a voice he'd recently found himself familiar with.

"Marcus?” Head Chef Velly said out from within the shivering heart. "Marcus… whoever you are... Please, please. It is dark here, and I feel so choked. Please, I must, I need to be free. I ask you, please free me. Whatever you do, free me."

And Shiv’s stomach fell. It wasn't just one shift that the anointed knight used this piece of twisted equipment on. It was everyone, and that explained why Velly’s body was so mangled. Nornsong’s body was so splattered. Bowden’s corpse. Fae had drained all of them. They had fed them to this thing.

"You sick son of a bitch!" Shiv muttered under his breath.

The Anointed Knight cackled with brutal amusement. "It is simply the ripeness of our revenge you hold in your hands, and the means of which we sustain our own power. When you are done drinking your succor from it, please return it to me. I still have need of it."

Shiv considered not draining from the heart at all out of spite, but then the Anointed One went on. "It is but an echo. They are gone. Well, they are mostly gone, if it is your desire to see them restored to life. Perhaps if in the impossible circumstance you prevail, that can be negotiated as well."

Shiv scorned and scoffed. "Bullshit," he replied. "You don't have the power to resurrect someone."

"Who said anything about a resurrection?" The Anointed Bread replied. "A death is a death for most of you patternists, but you, you are unique, and we have our own ways around the limitation of a most unexpected end to one’s life. It is so hard to retain good help otherwise. Copies can be made. Replicas are sometimes superior to the real thing. All you need are the right memories, after all.”

After a moment's deliberation, Shiv drew in the life force from the heart. It felt like he was channeling the full heat of a passing star through his being. In a sudden burst of brilliant glimpsing, he emerged from his vitae cocoon, feeling more refreshed and stronger than ever.

Shiv looked down at his hands. He saw a glimmering glow shroud him. For a beat, he suspected he was about to be betrayed or attacked somehow. But that glinting flame simply lingered, simply shrouded him in an aura. It didn't feel hot—in fact it held no temperature at all—but it coursed through him. It flowed from the heart itself and engulfed him. Strangely, the scintillating fire curved and bent to his will as if it was a part of him now, and it quickly caught on, spreading over his other mana fields, granting them its shine.

"Ignore the lore flame. It will go out in a few moments. The heart, please. Return it, if you have any honor within that unnatural mass you call a body.”

Shiv didn't bother walking over to the Anointed Knight. He simply tossed it back with a bit more force than necessary. Instead of catching the heart, the anointed knight simply allowed it to slam back against its torso. The toast knight’s plating shattered, but the heart receded between the cracks and vanished without inflicting any lingering harm on the anointed one. A second later, cracks in the crust closed as well, and the Knight of the Summer Court brushed a few stray crumbs aside.

Shiv struggled against the desire to use his last morsel on the haughty fae. His Mince the Unminceable Enchantment yearned to be tested upon an adversary supposedly immune to harm from those he deemed unworthy. But Shiv held himself back. 

Might still have a chance to do that later. The Deathless comforted himself. For now, he looked down at his body. Let’s see what I can do with my own corpse. A beat followed. Man, my life is really kinds of all kinds of fucked up, isn't it? Can't believe I'm about to cook myself.

Devoid of equipment and ignorant to what a piece of bread might find tasteful, Shiv started by taking his body apart. He used his mana hydras to harvest his own organs, and he plucked his bones free from his flesh. His skeleton slipped loose of his body from the back with a slick pop, and Shiv left the meat inside a coat of skin while soaking away his blood.

In the meantime, he fired up the mana grill and watched as each of the metal ribs gleamed white-hot as circulating Pyromancy spells danced beneath. While the cooking station climbed in temperature, Shiv began breaking his bones apart and molding them together. As durable as a war column at a base level, Shiv began to shape them using his Biomancy, carving them into various forms of bone, hollowing their centers to create spoons and spatulas. He even made a pair of tongs from his femurs. As he laid each tool out from the side, he heard one of the gingerbread knight's mutter. 

"Well that's creative!"

The Anointed One's head promptly snapped toward the lesser knight, and the little soldier fell silent. Shiv could feel a building taste of fear sink up the air. That little gingerbread knight was probably going to face quite a bit of punishment for that bit of admiration expressed.

As he finished crafting the tools he needed, he assimilated the rest of his skeleton. Then he finally moved on to the meat. It was drained of blood, but still the insides were raw and red, and everything about the body was as unpalatable as it was repulsive to Shiv.

It wasn't that he was bothered by killing himself; he had done so just to harvest materials more times than he could count. But the fact that he was cooking and feeding himself to someone was still a strange thought. He used his Biomancy to skin his body properly, his outer hide slit free, and what remained was thick cords of muscles and dense bands of sinew. 

He took thin slices of meat from his thigh, while stripping his ribs and the meatiest portions of flesh. While he did this, he observed the Anointed One, and tried to guess what a humanoid bread-creature might like to taste in a human body. Instead of rushing through his preparation process, he watched and studied the surrounding bread. More than just the fae. However, he also regarded the chefs trapped within their cocoons. 

The Deathless couldn't touch them using his mana for fear that he might be infested with bread tumor upon contact, but he could see the general outlines of their bodies: several of them seemed intact, with torsos, but missing all of their limbs. That pattern was consistent enough that she suspected the limbs had been digested or eaten. And then Shiv recalled how the Anointed One barely held himself back from ripping into Shiv that infection earlier. That urge to infect Shiv with bread tumors was probably also part of the fae’s hunger.

More than that, the fairies couldn't lie. If he tasted good, they couldn't just deceive him and project his dish out, right? So, Shiv stopped for a second. He filtered out all the meat on his limbs, and he stared at his Last Morsel, considering doing something that might just be a little out there. If I can slice a bit away from all my magical skills, Shiv thought, and include a piece of my vitae as well. Maybe that will give me something entirely unique.

But something made him hesitate. It's been so long since he cooked something properly using his own two hands. The Last Morsel was useful, unique, and he hadn't truly touched the fullness of its potential. But even so, it was automatic. It took the joy out of the art, and it simmered and burned everything on its own. Creating completed meals without any additional touch-ups or careful adjustments on his part.

Shiv wanted to cook himself. He wanted to refine his art. He wanted to be the chef once more, instead of just a monstrous playing at a cook.

Shiv put the Last Morsel down on the fry station. "Sorry, friend," he said to his Legendary frying pan. "I'll pick you up in a moment if I really need you. For now, let's see what I can make on my own. Let's see if I still got it after all that killing. Gotta knock the rust off.”

The grill was ablaze with a brilliant glow, and Shiv began laying out chunks of his own meat along the sizzling ribs. As he did just that, he moved over toward the sauces and considered his options. After a moment, he simply shook his head and—

Blood splattered down on Shiv’s feet. The Deathless blinked. “The hel—”

His voice trailed off as he saw all the utensils he made from his bones—along with the flesh he cut away from his body—were decaying and spewing puddles of blood from a spreading series of cracks. The edges of the grilling station was consumed by a waterfall of viscera, and the Deathless watched on in horrified disbelief.

For a second, he suspected the fae to be cheating—to have used their magic to twist his culinary endeavor. But then, the Anointed One let out a gasp of surprise as well, and Shiv knew something else was at play. “What is this… What have you done to your tools? What point is there in the blood and the decay?”

Shiv’s mouth opened and closed several times as he struggled to process what was unfolding before him.

And then a Curse notification reminded him of something he had forgotten—a gift Maiden had cast upon him the moment they met.

Hands of the Bloodied - Anything you craft and create will be stained with blood and degrade at an increased pace.

And with that delayed hit of bullshit and utter unfairness, at the sight of his cooking ruined before it could fully begin, something inside Shiv snapped. The world turned red. Shiv’s body swelled in size and tremored with the unstoppable urge to commit violence on a very specific Ascendant. A sea of repressed rage exploded through the dam that was Shiv’s ironclad Psychology and mental resolve gained after his delve, and everything inside him came undone as he fully realized what had been taken from him. “FUUUUUUUU—-”

Berserk 24 > 40

Then something inside Shiv’s head popped as well, and he dropped dead once more.