Log 56 - Galactic year *****

As scholars, a certain degree of control over Aether is necessary. After all, it would be hard to learn and experiment with ethereal energy we cannot interact with. But our uses are more...mundane.

The weavers are another story entirely.

It is yet another object of study in regards to what gives individuals the ability to weave Aether. It is a learned skill, certainly, but not even the greatest weaver can teach one with no talent how to join their ranks. Some argue it's a gift by the beholder, others argue a genetic disorder, or an effect of Aether exposure at birth.

While I cannot say the reason doesn’t matter, the effects are far more interesting. While every core comes with a ‘gift’, or a natural ability, the Weavers shape their own. They wield Aether like clay or string, molding it to their purposes. If we scholars are the wise men, the weavers are the warriors, feared across the cosmos.

And yet, the strongest, those legendary individuals that catch the eye of the beholder...those are never weavers. They all live and die by their core powers.

The question is: If those powers were gifted by the beholder...then why does it find them so interesting?

-Acolyte Helman-

Grey mist infused the area around me, seeping into every crack, whispering in my ears. It was like the decimal point above freezing, so close to change. It was begging for it, it was made for it.

”You look like a fucking creep,” remarked Sarah, looking up from her familiar clipboard.

I closed my palm, siphoning my Aether back into my palm. And just like that, my office was as clear as ever, minus the scent of sulfur. “It’s been a month, sweetie, I would have thought you’d be used to my good looks.”

She shook her head. “You don’t usually smile like a murder-rapist 10 feet behind an underaged girl.”

Jesus, lady. This woman had some screws loose. Or a poor sense of humor. Or both. “Can’t two men experiment together in peace? Look at how pissed Goro looks,” I said, gesturing towards the aforementioned pissed Goro.

He was sitting crossed-legged on the floor, face red with exertion as he held out his hand and tried to manipulate his aether, failing miserably.

Sarah sighed. “He’s looked like that for days now. I’m starting to think this is a waste of time.”

Goro grunted angrily, eyes still closed. “Effort will never betray me. If he can do it, so can i.”

Maybe I should tell him that the journal specifically mentioned that some people don’t have the inherent ability to control Aether. It would be...merciful, give him a good excuse to stop. But I‘m not sure if he is awful at it or I’m just that good, so maybe more time would be necessary. I suspect he wouldn’t appreciate my meddling anyway.

The intercom on my desk chimed, and I hit the button with my prosthetic foot because I could. “This is James.”

John's steely voice rang out the other side. “The gate has begun to glow ominously. It’s time.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Any problem with the defenses?”

”None. We’re as ready as we can be. Bring the swordsman...Sir.”

I hit the button again, silencing his insolent tone. I nodded to Goro. “No more last-minute cramming. Time to get wet, wild, and do dirty, dirty things.”

Sarah shook her head in disappointment, and Goro stood to his feet with a grunt, picking up his sword from where it rested beside him. “Fine. Let’s go.”

I love the walk to the gate. Every single day is an improvement on the last. The kitchen staff is now functional enough that people are getting actual meals. The hospital was no longer a constant stream of triages. The corpses were long gone, and the defensive line was clearly defined and manned by dozens of well-armed individuals.

Vehicles came to and fro regularly, bringing supplies, materials, and more people, all while scouting the surrounding area. Most were used for delivery, but some were transformed into technicals: civilian vehicles with heavy weaponry attached to them. Beyond the Humvee that was well-armed by default, we had several trucks with a random assortment of machine guns mounted on the back.

We were beginning to look an awful lot like an insurgency, actually. I suppose all of humanity qualifies at this point.

Still, the armory had an immense store of ammo, but it had ammo of damn near every kind, which was...a lot. That meant individual weapon platforms were a little lacking in ammunition. The CROWS, the remote-controlled machinegun attached to the humvee, only had a few hundred rounds altogether, which is why it was thus far reserved exclusively for defending the line.

Gas was another problem. We’ve been guzzling from a few stations nearby, but with the entire supply line across the world obliterated, that only went so far. Food wasn’t as much of a concern due to the magical kitchen, but we had no way of upscaling food production, giving a hard limit on how many we could actually feed. This was a problem, as we had more people come in every single day. Clothes, medicine, creature comforts...

Well, that's why I just showed up, gave orders, resolved disputes, and looked pretty. The number-crunching was Sarah’s job. And, as much as I hate to admit it, Bradley has done an excellent job of keeping the people themselves organized into their respective roles. Seems the kid managed to rise to the occasion.

In short: we were doing well for ourselves. But that only lasted so long as we weren’t slaughtered.

Hence, all the machine guns currently pointed at the glowing portal. Goro and I marched towards John, who was standing atop the barricade with his arms crossed, glaring at the portal, flanked by his team. In the area were several more vehicles, and a sizeable militia made of volunteers of all shapes and sizes.

”Looks like the parties about to start,” I said, coming to stand aside John. He grunted.

”I don’t like not knowing what to expect. What if guns don’t work against whatever monster comes through?”

I shrugged. “Then we die, knowing that we were fucked from the beginning. Don’t fret about what we can do nothing about.”

John nodded, slowly. “Yeah.”

Goro looked down at his sword, deep in thought, seemingly unconcerned about the portal moments from opening. Perhaps he was musing on my words. Or maybe he was just taking a moment to appreciate the artistry of the blade.

It didn’t matter, for that was the moment we all heard a resounding crack, and the gate split open in an instant, almost anticlimactically. Something came through the moment it did, roaring with power. It was big, made of metal, and had four wheels.

It was a.... well, it was a fucking car, seemingly welded together with duct tape and dreams. It was lined with an obnoxious amount of rusty spikes, and held a humanoid driver, with several more grabbing onto different parts of the vehicle.

Said people were...pitch black, as if they had just crawled out of a house fire, and were all bald. The only way I could tell them apart was the ashy body paintings, sort-of artistic, but more disturbing than anything.

I didn’t catch any more details as it slid across the asphalt, driver screaming like an excited banshee as the vehicle flipped, smashing into the barricade top-first, squashing two of the ride-along's against it. Three more let go just in time, sailing through the air, straight at the people standing on the barricade.

Now, I‘m not sure if I can attribute the hesitation to fear, or shock at the absurdity, or concern that they looked very much human. And indeed, I might have given our new guests a chance to introduce themselves despite the entrance.

But when one of the ride-alongs grabbed onto a militia member and ripped her throat out with his teeth, I decided to save the diplomacy for later.

Especially since more vehicles were racing through the portal.

”Open fire!” I screamed, as if it needed to be said, and the shitshow began.

The next vehicle was bigger, and had a big fuck-off cannon strapped to the back, manned by a screeching cannibal, his voice joining the rest of the out-of-sync war cries. His head got a new hole before he got a chance to swivel the cannon, John having taken him out immediately.

Gunfire began to rattle through the alleyways, smorgasbord of calibers creating an erratic and violent noise. The cannibal that ripped that woman's throat out was now eating her face off, before being rudely interrupted by a shot to the back of the head, courtesy of Bradley. The other two that managed to sail over the walls were just beginning to get up, though never got the chance.

One of the cars exploded, sending ragdolled cannibals flying towards the wall, fuel having been ignited by the torrent of bullets. A section of the wall blew as well, one of the cannibals having thrown a makeshift grenade.

The defensive line was starting to take fire as well, as the cannibals got their bearings, having noticed that their first vehicles didn’t fare so well. They were starting to drive through slowly, using the armor of their cars to protect themselves as they fired back. Most of the guns were hilariously awful, made out of scrap and gunpowder, but metal propelled by explosions kill just as well anyway.

Goro was looking very upset, hunkering down, cradling his sword angrily. “I can’t do anything with this!”

”Then pick up a fucking gun!” I yelled back from my piece of cover. Maybe I should have just stayed in my office, but I didn't expect a damn gunbattle. I don't want to leave these people to their own devices anyway.

”I don’t know how to shoot!”

”Point and pull the trigger!”

He looked around, and, having seemingly set his sight on a gun, sprinted out in a low crouch, leaving me alone. I saw John pulling back, Bradley and Darius in tow, ducking as stray rounds ricocheted off all the nearby metal. It seems he was pulling back towards the humvee with the CROWS.

That was when the barricade exploded inwards, showering the area with bits of metal. A massive spear of steel poked through, attached to a sizeable truck, with what seemed to be a half-wrecked jet engine strapped to the back.

The spear was shaped more like an eagle's beak, and had gallons of fresh blood on it, with chunks of ashy cannibals stuck on the bottom. It would seem they simply pointed this damn thing straight at the portal and turned on the jet engine, like a battering ram on wheels.

Then I heard the warcries coming from inside, and I knew then that it was less of a ram and more of a siege tower.

I was close to the humvee, and I ran for it, prosthetic leg barely slowing me down. John and his team met me halfway at the moment that the beak snapped open, revealing a row of cannibals, holding guns.

We had two choices. Go into the prone position and return fire, or try to finish the mad dash to the humvee. Neither one had a good chance for survival. Luckily for us, that I haven't wasted the last month.

”Keep moving!” I yelled, raising my hands in front of me, allowing my aether to take my desired form. The hail of gunfire came shortly afterward, aimed directly at us.

But they didn't hit. They deflected off of the grey shield, flying into our surroundings, sparking into the concrete. The shield extended just barely over my head, but it was enough for John and his team to catch on. They folded behind me in an almost perfect single file, moving sideways with me, taking potshots from behind my magic cover.

We reached the humvee in seconds, and I barely kept from collapsing the moment I let the shield down. Darius dragged me into the back seat as the team folded into the vehicle, bullets deflecting off the thick armor plating.

”Bradley, man the gun!” yelled John, who took the wheel. The younger soldier reached for the CROWS system without complaint, while Darius kept his head down.

Against my better wisdom, I peeked out the rapidly cracking side window, only to witness the ram speeding towards us, passengers having disembarked save for one, who was holding on for dear life.

”Back the fuck up!” I yelled, and John slammed into reverse, though we wouldn’t have time to dodge...

Or so I thought, I caught sight of a familiar Russian, huge smile on his face, holding a shoulder-mounted disposable launcher. Exhaust spewed out the back as he fired, aiming far ahead of the moving target he was aiming for.

It hit the back of the vehicle, directly in front of the jet engine. Apparently, that was where they put the fuel for the damn thing, as the entire vehicle exploded with incredible force, blasting the entire thing into the air.

The scared cannibal who was still in the vehicle flew out the front, carried by momentum, and smashed into the side of the humvee hard enough to rock it, painting the side with meat paste. The CROWS struggled to center the barrel as John pulled a reverse 180, avoiding the flaming wreckage of the battering ram.

The vehicle and the weapon system centered on the surviving crowd of cannibals, and it began to let loose. Some tried to return fire and got turned to red mist, but most attempted to duck behind the cover created by the wrecked vehicles.

They might have had a chance to survive Bradley's onslaught, but my favorite pet clambered to the top of the barricade, holding an mg-50 by the hip, having seemingly ripped it off a nearby technical. It was a shame he didn’t give a warcry as he glued his finger to the trigger, as it was definitely a moment worthy of it.

The barrel began to glow red hot as he shot the surviving cannibals in the back. They were stuck between a rock with a gun and a hard place with an even bigger gun. Some tried to adjust into cover facing Goro, but were quickly dealt with by the machinegun on the humvee. The militia on the wall were still going strong, most of the fighting having been centered around the siege truck.

It didn’t take long after that to clean up the survivors. Oddly enough, they never tried to run. The very last man ran out of cover, holding a makeshift axe over his head, screaming towards the humvee. He was turned to chunks by three different heavy machineguns.

And then, it all fell silent. Or at least, I assume as much, considering I couldn’t hear shit due to the ringing. There may have been groaning and screaming, judging by all the bodies still twitching and moving, but...yeah.

I looked at the time. I expected to see dozens of minutes to an hour, but...it’s only been three minutes since the gate opened.

Damn, do I miss the orcs.