The Power of Ten, Book Three : The Human Race

The implications didn’t take very long to sink in.

If that was true, then that meant that the fundamental rules on how magic and chemistry interacted had changed.

That in turn meant that their thousand-some years of built-up alchemical knowledge was totally outdated and irrelevant, useful as little more than a reference source on what would have to be laboriously re-discovered, not shared, revealed, and exploited.

I watched their mouths turn down little by little as they realized just what kind of situation they might be in.

“Recovery of many of the testing modules is ongoing, but they should have a few of the basic confirmations posted online in a day or two, from what I’ve heard.” I noticed the Vice Master was starting to sweat and the tips of the Master’s fingers had started to turn black, but said nothing. “I believe members of your Guild knew this information, and it could have spurred the decision to open their archives to the public. If their gamble is true, you will have earned at least some positive reputation off what is basically invalid data.”

I knew some Alchemists knew the information, and Shvaughn and Legion had assured me that none of them cared about anyone releasing useless information to the public for some benefit. It would only be good for a short time, so a public relations coup mixed in with an information leak worked out well for them... right up until the Guild tried to take action to stop the leak.

“This...” Habbendeuf murmured, not seeing the drop of sweat that came off his nose. Both of their thoughts were racing.

Their monopoly on certain things was only going to last until the Shroud came down. So, the key thing was to defer that event as long as possible, find out the changes, re-tool and re-discover, and keep themselves in the seat of power.

I snapped my fingers, and two books appeared in my hands. I put them to either side of me on the opposite side of the table.

Both men’s faces went white on seeing them.

“Vice Master Habbendeuf, do you know Master Ibemecci is a Templar, has been one longer than you’ve been alive, and most disconcertingly, that his brain is green?”

Habbendeuf stared at the older man, who seemed to actually have gone somewhat green of skin, and then his gaze fell to the older man’s hands as they clenched on the table... and peeled off.

Ibemecci hissed as he snatched up his hands and stared at them, then over at Habbendeuf, who was rapidly turning red. Drops of sweat were falling from him, something he himself finally noticed when he looked at his hands.

“Master Ibemecci, did you know your Vice Master has been a High Priest of Skulos in good standing for over a century, and like you, has murdered over two hundred beings over the years to create your precious longevity Potions? The rise of the elves was such a boon for the two of you!”

Hearts of the very young, very powerful, or very long-lived were required for said Potions. The Blooded and Tomb Clans had often been targets of Alchemists for this reason. Those 1-10 years of additional life were paid for in murder.

There was a flash from a building window behind me and to the east. At almost the same moment, there was a gout of icy light behind the wall to the west, and the faint sounds of sandblasting there faded away.

Legion came up out of the water behind me. Hands about to go diving for surprises froze as the leyser from their drawn Grits centered precisely on the two men’s noses.

“Powder spread by moths mixed among the butterflies, a reactant gas from the sprayers over yonder to the pollen of the moon-washed gardenias after the worms you dropped in to die in their soil fed into their roots.” I took a drink of water as I stared at the Master, shifted my eyes over to the Vice Master. “A dispersive mixed into the water supply for the pool water, reacting with a vapor coming off of your suit, and your cologne, activated by ultraviolet light from the team in that room over there.”

I kept their eyes as I ran my finger around my water bottle, which the two stricken men stared at. “My associate here has seventeen Ranks in Alchemy.” Despite everything, they turned eyes on the demonic angel with holy flame around their oversized pistols, staring at the Tats for eyes in utter shock. “They made up a Reactant Ravage with Chaos and Holy energies that reversed the effects of the poisons and neutralized them... except if you have the antidote, in which case they were sped up immensely and increased in toxicity. Then they coated the backs of your chairs with it. Works by skin contact.”

Black flesh was falling off Master Ibemecci’s hands as his face twisted. “You will not get away with this!” he swore. Water was a stream coming out of all Habbendeuf’s pores as his face twisted in agony, and he lunged for things in his pockets.

The roar of the Grits was absolutely silent, and the bullets went right where they were supposed to. Brains and blood should have exploded everywhere, but there was so much Wrath and Dragonfire built in that instead they just vaporized, Banefire going down their throats into their chests and starting the burning there.

Not even the slightest amount of magical change was going to escape the eyes of a Void Brother. The alchemical additions to the environment had been subtle, but hadn’t escaped their awareness, and then it was merely working out what else was needed and what was required to do so.

Studying the air around Habbendeuf to reveal the compounds mixing wasn’t the same as targeting him specifically.

Legion stepped forward to put a hand on my shoulder as I felt a new headache arising. “The Templars?” they asked knowingly.

“I’ve already got a Firesword, Mindring, and Shadowknife working on it.” I think I had veins poking out, because they started massaging my temples, and I relaxed back into them as we watched the two master poisoners burn vivic on the chairs in front of us.

I was sure that in distant and hidden labs somewhere, clones were jerking and dying as True Death severed the connections of life between them and the originals, and the souls of these two went screaming into the Shroud.

I was also sure that bad things were going to start happening soon. Shoul, Skulos, the Alchemists, and the Templars... what a nasty combination. Organic, psionic, chemical, and alchemical warfare.

It was all going to hit now, as they panicked, as their masters gave the word to either conceal things or to open the way for the coming gods, letting people know that their gods were out there, real, and had to be feared and obeyed.

Millions were going to die at the hands of other mortals, some of whom had been pawns of Aberrant powers for likely centuries, turning themselves into puppets for cephalid masters.

Yeah, we might have wanted to save the brain of this guy for evidence, but I just couldn’t be bothered.

After all, we had their very private journals in front of us, and I had even broken the cipher, using a spell that detected the remnants of thoughts based around those who had last handled the books, which sank into the pages and left impressions behind. Match them up with the ciphers, and the books basically solved themselves.

No, it wasn’t a spell I’d shared with the public yet, but the Inquisitors of Harse knew about it, naturally enough...

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What they would eventually call the Harvest of Fear began two days later, when adherents of Skulos released the eggs of modified gutworm parasites into the drinking supply of Poitiers, France. They grew into worms that devoured people from the inside out, and when the unburied Animated at midnight, they instantly evolved into worm-spraying undead.

A nerve agent was set off in Tripoli, and two-thirds of the city bled to death out of their pores.

Psychoactive agents worked into the grain supplies of Cairo got into the bread supply, and the whole town exploded into episodes of psi-fueled delirium so intense reality itself was warping in the area.

Mutated rabbits carrying a custom plague spread through the hills and gardens of England, disseminating fleas to rodents and predators alike. When it exploded forth, mutating as it reacted with higher thought processes of humans, the death toll devastated the countryside, and it could not be kept out of the cities. Black-tongued zombies who moved with speed and energy rose from the dead, and attacked the living, spreading the plague even faster.