Die. Respawn. Repeat.

Chapter 207: Book 3: Showmanship

Gheraa wasn't entirely sure what had happened. One moment he was speeding toward what he assumed was Ethan and the others and the next the world had gone dark.

It was like he'd briefly died. Again! Which was insulting, first of all. Dying once was bad enough, but twice? While he was a paradox-sustained entity? Of all the...

Wait, no, Ethan was in trouble. He was getting distracted by his ego again. He darted off once again in the direction of that storm of Firmament, determined to help put a stop to the doubtlessly rampaging beast he'd helped create.

Then he stopped and blinked a few times, wondering if he was seeing this right.

That was definitely a giant hand. It was almost definitely the boss, considering the amount of Firmament he sensed within. It wasn't rampaging, though. Quite the opposite. It writhed around on the ground, screaming through a mouth it had manifested in the middle of its palm as golden Firmament poured out of a dozen cracks.

A mantis-like creature—Ahkelios?—stood next to it, lopping off its thumb whenever that thumb regenerated, which really wasn't very often. Dark, Void-aligned chains wrapped around every finger, drawing out every drop of non-dungeon Firmament the moment the giant hand tried to channel them.

Several steps away, there was an automaton that was almost certainly He-Who-Guards, and...

Gheraa had no idea what he was looking at.

It looked like a fully-armored being, except the armor was made of a sort of bone composite that covered every inch of his body. The only openings in that armor glowed bright with Firmament—thick streams of power jetted out from them occasionally, apparently to help their owner stabilize itself as it channeled a beam so bright that Gheraa had to squint to see past it.

The beam was directing Firmament straight into the boss monster's core. Was that even possible? Gheraa felt like that wasn't supposed to be possible.

He was also feeling very shown up at the moment, which wasn't something he was used to. Who or what was this thing? It was like nothing he'd ever seen in the Trials. And where was Ethan, anyway? If that was Ahkelios and He-Who-Guards, then Ethan had to be somewhere nearby, unless they'd decided to split up for some reason.

The only other possibility was—

Gheraa blinked, then felt out the Firmament in front of him a little more carefully. Now that he was paying attention, the armored man did feel kind of familiar. Those were some awfully recognizable skill constructs, for instance. He'd recognize Temporal Echo and its variations anywhere.

But the core he was looking at...

That was a third-layer core. When he'd last seen Ethan he'd been at, what, the first layer? He had a vague memory that Ethan might have gone a little further than that since, but his memories of his dungeon-self were like half-forgotten dreams. He didn't really know what had happened, and he certainly wasn't expecting Ethan to have hit the third layer.

Also, this was like no third-layer core he'd ever felt before.

Still, all evidence pointed to this being Ethan. Probably.

Only one way to find out.

"Ethan?" he asked awkwardly. He'd imagined swooping in to save the human, not... whatever this was. His plans were thrown off. How was he supposed to have a dramatic introduction now?

The thing-that-was-probably-Ethan glanced back at him, then did a double-take. "Gheraa?" he asked. "How are you—no, hang on, questions later. We need to finish up with this thing first."

Okay, that was definitely Ethan. His voice sounded strange—distorted by the armor and overlaid with a second, older voice that Gheraa couldn't help but feel like he should have recognized—but it was his voice.

Gheraa walked up to him, still a little stunned. "You look... different," he said. What was this stuff? He poked at Ethan's shoulder experimentally. Whatever this material was, it was even harder than his own stoneskin body. ℟AŊŐBƐš

Ethan threw him a look that Gheraa thought was probably a withering glare. He couldn't read the human's expressions as well through the helmet. "Not right now," he said. "We're trying to kill the thing that wants you dead."

"It wants me dead?" Gheraa blinked, looking at the giant hand. He felt like it should have been more threatening, but right now it was just squirming around on the ground screaming. "Me specifically?"

"You specifically," Ethan confirmed.

"I'll kill you!" it screamed, as if to add additional confirmation. Gheraa looked over at it—yup, it was definitely trying to get to him. It was digging its fingers into the dirt and everything, dragging itself slowly over, and it turned with him when he tried to move out of its way.

Something about it seemed oddly familiar, and not in a way he liked.

Fortunately, it didn't get the chance to get anywhere close. Its core was reaching some sort of tipping point—Gheraa watched in a mixture of fascination and slight horror as the thing that called itself a core began to tear apart at the seams, layer by layer, peeling away until there was nothing left but a single gold-black seed.

He turned back to Ethan, eyes widening slightly as he watched him work. The armor practically reverberated with the amount of power he was channeling, and there was a purity and stability to it that was different from any other type of Firmament he'd encountered. Many Integrators were stronger, certainly, but their power was wild and unchecked.

This was a steady beam of Firmament that barely even wavered despite its density. Gheraa wasn't sure he could pull that off, even if he was just working with third-layer Firmament. Ethan was controlling all that power like he'd been born with it, and the way his core was built—

Gheraa pointedly pretended he didn't hear either of them. It was not a coping mechanism.

Before they left, however, he made sure to pick up the coat he'd left folded by the portal and pull it back around his shoulders, letting the sleeves flutter behind him for dramatic effect.

Again, not as a coping mechanism. He just liked it that way.

It took a few minutes for the four of them to get settled somewhere outside the Intermediary. Gheraa was almost immediately fascinated by the forestry on Hestia—he'd never actually stepped foot on an Integrated planet. The paperwork required to get that kind of approval was too much work for him.

Besides, no one actually got approved for it unless one of their elected Trialgoers was being particularly stubborn.

The point was, he'd never stepped foot on a planet like this. There was wood here. And trees. And dirt! So much dirt.

He didn't really like the dirt. Or the insects that were buzzing about the place. How did Ethan stand this?

"Must we sit here?" Gheraa muttered. "Isthanok is nearby, is it not? Surely there's a palace we could lounge in."

"Not sure I want to risk bringing an Integrator into a populated city just yet," Ethan said dryly. "Word will get out. Unless you have skills you can use to hide yourself?"

"I do. What do you take me for?" Gheraa sniffed, but deflated a little as he thought about wandering into any of the Great Cities. "Though it may be for the best that I remain outside Isthanok for now. I would rather not be found by the Trialgoers. Or by Teluwat."

Ethan tilted his head. "You're worried about Teluwat?"

"I'm made of Firmament," Gheraa said. "And much as it offends me to admit, I'm also weaker than I should be. Certain types of Concepts are particularly damaging to me and my kind, and Teluwat's abilities are rather heavily reliant on them."

"Huh." Ethan frowned slightly. "Makes sense, I guess. Actually, that might explain that monster back in the dungeon."

Gheraa scowled. "Viral Concepts," he said. "A plague to Integrators."

"You don't think Teluwat had something to do with that?" Ethan asked, frowning.

"No," Gheraa said immediately. "He can do a great many things, but infecting a sixth-layer dungeon? Not even Integrators can interfere with dungeons this much."

Ethan nodded slowly, his expression troubled. "So something else caused that," he said. "Something intruded on the dungeon. And I'm guessing that has something to do with why you're back. Not that I'm not happy to see you, but... what's going on here, exactly? How are you alive before I've even brought you back?"

Gheraa hesitated.

There wasn't any reason for him to lie here. And he wasn't planning to! But he felt... nervous, oddly enough. Probably because, in all the eons he'd lived, he'd never really felt like he owed anyone anything. He'd never relied on anyone else, had never been part of a team—even with Ethan, all he'd been doing at first was pull the strings.

This was different, wasn't it? The Heart had entrusted him with a mission, and now Ethan and his friends were trusting him to give them answers.

It felt strange. Different. Like they were treating him as part of their team, even if they'd only just technically met.

He didn't dislike the feeling.

"The Heart brought me back," Gheraa admitted after a moment. "But she said she was only able to do it because you manage to bring me back at some point in the future. Something about a minor paradox. So, uh, thanks for that, but also please still actually do it at some point in the future."

Ethan smiled slightly. "It's the least I can do. And not that I'm not grateful, but why would the Heart do that?"

"She said I have to give you a warning," Gheraa said, and then he hesitated again. Would telling Ethan about this anger him?

No. Ethan wasn't Rhoran.

"And I think I figured out what she wanted me to warn you about," he added. "I found it exploring my—exploring the dungeon."

"Found what, exactly?" Ethan asked. Ahkelios and Guard leaned in, equally curious.

Gheraa sighed. "Information. To be specific, information about something called the Sunken King."