Sixteen million, four hundred twelve thousand, eight hundred ninety two souls.“That’s the largest mass digitization I’ve ever heard of,” Cato-Uriv commented to both sets of sisters as he perused the data packet. The information had been sent out from Gyvestral before the portals closed, the number including one pseudo-AI in the form of the mindripped System Interface. Despite completing the process only half an hour before the world’s exterminatus, the digital minds were in dedicated Summer Civilization technology. The framejack there stretched those final minutes into weeks of subjective time for interviews and debriefing, the summary of which got relayed through FungusNet just before the planet’s surface was destroyed.

    Unfortunately, planet-wide System-jamming had done nothing. It had always been a long shot, but Cato would have been remiss not to try it. The next item in the data packet was more interesting, as actually being able to talk to an Interface gave Cato some insight into the administration of worlds. For the first time Cato had a peek into the economics of essence, the esoteric energy that ran the entire System. Frustratingly, the AI had no idea what essence , or what specifically generated it, or anything about how the System-physics were applied or the System itself spread to new worlds. It was like asking an accountant who kept the books for a fusion power plant how exactly the power generation worked.

    Despite not finding any instant and easy wins, he fed the data went to various analysis algorithms to crunch for possible vulnerabilities and was pleased when it quickly became clear that the day-to-day operations of the planets couldn’t deal with the scale that Cato was prepared to apply. In fact, he could make planets too expensive for the System to maintain if he just constantly knocked out dungeons, a slow attrition of logistics. On the other hand, planets make excess essence, which was funneled back into the larger System or off to the gods for whatever reasons.

    Surprisingly few of the insights were actually for Cato. The conflict between him and the System-gods had escalated beyond getting away with long-term, wide-spread, and low-level sabotage. The success of the mass digitization campaign, horrific as the necessity was, demonstrated that he had a functional, albeit personally revolting, answer to the threat of exterminatus.

    Ripping people out of their bodies and putting them on a digital platform went against everything that Cato believed. It was a horrific invasion of privacy and obviation of someone’s personal choice, agency, and their very self — but it was that or let them die, and the latter option was so very final. It should have been necessary, but the System-Gods and their ilk had it, denying Cato the option to take down the System and limit the damage to only Bismuth and above. They people to die, and if only he could reach them Cato would have directed every single particle beam at his disposal to obliterate every last atom of their presence.

    Unfortunately, he could only take his victories where he could get them, and he was hardly the only one displeased by events — admittedly for very different reasons. Cato-Uriv didn’t spend too much time talking directly to Initik – their relationship was still uncertain, based on the slowly evolving habitat – but the option was always there. He had a frame on standby on the moon, monitored by a low-level process to check if Initik needed his attention, and he activated it when the comms device chirped and Initik’s visage appeared in the air.

    “I do not wish to accuse you of incompetence,” Initik began, his tone making it clear he had no such compunctions. “But I do not wish to contest the Core Worlds directly just yet, and that is what would happen if your agents become as blatant here as they were on Gyvestral.”

    “Believe me, I don’t want it to happen either,” Cato assured Initik. “Although it might help to know that everyone who was on Gyvestral is safe. The planet being sterilized is far from ideal, but not an insurmountable obstacle.” Terraforming generally wasn’t worthwhile, but with an already-extant atmosphere and magnetosphere, it was as simple as dropping a few billion tons of carefully curated biomass to kickstart an ecology. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

    All the various versions of himself were readjusting their industrial output and analysis processes for the adjusted strategy. He really, didn’t want to wind up having to digitize the populace of hundreds of thousands of worlds and re-seed and rebuild an equal number of planets, but some amount of that was inevitable. The elimination of the System would always result in some level of ecosystem collapse, especially in the higher rank areas where even basic plants demonstrated some level of essence use — like being constantly on fire, or blanketing the area in sourceless shadow.

    “I do hope you realize how absurd that sounds,” Initik pointed out, his claws clicking against his chitin. “But the eye of the Core Worlds is already upon us. We need not give them any excuses to investigate more closely.”

    “Definitely not,” Cato agreed. “But my agents shouldn’t draw attention anymore, so despite what happened with Gyvestral, the trail should be cold.”

    “Your agents won’t draw attention…” Initik repeated, eyeing Cato thoughtfully. “I assume your agents will be operating in the Inner or Core worlds, and the only shield that would last there would be the direct blessing of a World Deity. Which I certainly haven’t given, so you are clearly working with someone else.”

    Cato jumped into framejack to figure out a useful excuse, but of course Initik had the same capability, speeding himself up to catch Cato’s fractional hesitation. They both watched each other at several hundred times normal speed for a few subjective seconds before Cato sighed. There was no point in denying it, not really, even if he wasn’t about to share secrets over who exactly it is.

    “Of course,” he said, dropping back into normal time. “But I haven’t informed anyone of our agreement. The fewer people know, the fewer people can betray that confidence.” He made sure to send off a message to the other Catos to have some explanations ready so they didn’t prompt the same sort of suspicion from anyone else talked to — though it didn’t seem likely that many would jump to a conclusion so readily.

    “It would have to be from the alliance of independent gods,” Initik mused aloud. “They’re the only ones who would have incentive to help you, and most of lack the imagination to actually reach out. My first thought would be Neyar, but he’s so close to the Core, under scrutiny by so many Core Deities, that it would be a risk.”

    Cato said nothing, altering his control of the remote frame so he wouldn’t betray his own thoughts or emotions. The name didn’t mean anything to him, but he’d made the mistake once and wasn’t going to let Initik fish anything else from natural reactions. Perhaps he should have been keeping that level of remove before, but the of proper emotional reaction to things was, itself, its own sort of tell. He didn’t know if Initik could recognize that subtlety in human body language, but when it came to System translation – and the System had access to humans – he didn’t want to make assumptions.

    “Mishik is another possibility,” Initik continued, focused on Cato. “But he is fairly far from any of your areas of obvious activity. That leaves Mii-Es, whom I have learned over the past few years has a lot more imagination than I originally thought.”

    “I have certainly been open to every offer made to me,” Cato said, trying to be ambiguous as possible. “Of course I have been, since my grudge is not necessarily even with the gods of the System. That said, nobody is quite ready to admit openly they’re allied with me, and I’m sure would find it more than a little irksome if I were to admit to anyone, even someone nominally on my side, that I’d been working with you for years.”

    “I would indeed,” Initik admitted. “Perhaps I will have to reach out on my own.”

    “Or I could pass messages while keeping you anonymous,” Cato offered. “At some point we’ll have to extend a degree of trust, but I have ways to sanitize and rewrite any messages you might have for people currently allied with me — or those who might join in the future.”

    “Speaking of extending trust,” Initik muttered.

    “Indeed,” Cato agreed. “I really don’t like that the Core Worlds have set an executioner’s blade above anyone who even acknowledges my existence. Just because I save people from the planetary-scale sanitization doesn’t mean it’s something I to do. And if they figure out that I can, then they’ll probably escalate even further.”

    “If it’s even possible,” Initik said, then clicked sharply, dismissing it with a wave of his gripping claws. “Now that I know there are others approaching you, I can take steps of my own. Though I may take advantage of the coded messages. That could be quite useful.”

    “I live but to serve,” Cato said, and Initik barked a laugh, an odd chittering, clicking noise.

    “Leadership service,” Initik said, which might have been an admonishment. “Anyone who thinks otherwise isn’t worthy of the role.”

    “But worth doesn’t necessarily relate to the to seize power,” Cato said in half-agreement, as he did worry about other gods and high-rankers. Initik and Mii-Es were fairly reasonable and responsible, and the Crusade stripped out a lot of the less dedicated Platinums, but he would have to deal with people who only wanted power for power’s sake soon enough. People who really could not be trusted with even the most basic tools of Sol’s civilizations.

    He didn’t to be the arbiter of who got access to what, let alone decide who was in charge of planets and people, but he couldn’t sacrifice the purpose of doing good for the sentiment of being nice. If he was the one removing the System and the pre-existing hierarchy, whether it was functional or abusive, then he was the one who had to create its replacement. Cato was, ultimately, the king-maker, and it would be more than irresponsible to hand one of the high rank System psychopaths the keys to railguns and retroviral engineering. Let alone the unimaginable abuse possible with digitization.

    “Well, I am perfectly willing to help this alliance of independent gods — in fact, I’m willing to exfiltrate anyone who wants to leave the System. So long as they realize that it will not be quite the same on the other side,” Cato warned, and not for the first time. He’d said much the same to Mii-Es. “You have to work just as hard to excel in base reality as you do in the System, but the type of work can be very different.”

    The conversation closed on that note, as Initik went back to whatever duties he had as a System-god. Cato, of course, had a million things to do, communicating with his other selves and handling the constant, unrolling string of issues from the Urivan habitat. But at least he could rely on himself to handle any issues that might arise on other worlds.

    Even if Cato wasn’t able to synchronize so many of himself, up to hundreds of thousands of versions now as his presence girdled the System’s frontier, he was stable enough to not have any significant deviation. Decidedly fewer than the various Lineages of Raine and Leese, who had gone off in all kinds of different directions. Which certainly wasn’t a bad thing, but the percentage of Lineages that had entirely dropped out of the System was slowly creeping upward. Cato had been able to keep them out of any true behavioral sinks, but it was probably also his influence that caused them to detach from the System to begin with.

    A few versions of Raine had gone deep into shipbuilding, designing and testing of all kinds of crafts, many of which became part of the post-System fleets every Cato was creating. Similarly, quite a few versions of Leese had been picking apart the genetic and ecological muddle the System created on its worlds, doing her best to reconstruct the original biospheres. Or at least something that would function once the alien and System-empowered flora and fauna disappeared.

    Others had dug deep into summer civilization and virtualization technology, creating various sims and scenarios; some for onboarding System types, others just for fun. Some just had their own projects. The elder Urivs, for example, barely spoke with Cato anymore. With their industrial work finished and the potential invasion called off, they didn’t have any urgent tasks anymore and had turned their attention to their more personal projects, leaving Uriv itself to the younger pair. He missed talking with them at times, but he couldn’t impose on them too much.

    It was impossible for one instance of him to keep up with every instance of the sisters; with hundreds of thousands of versions they were their own statistical populations, enough to fill entire cities with just Raines and Leeses. Fortunately he didn’t have to, as there were just as many of him and he only needed to deal with his own versions, and a few that had fallen into the same metaphorical orbit.

    If anything, most of his interactions with them was managing the communications among the various Lineages. Having so many helpers was invaluable, and not a resource he could discard, but at the same time any competition for a specific solution between instances was fraught with difficulty. With reconciliation it wasn’t a problem, but since the sisters were decades of divergence apart, there was always the worry of a competition to another variant. It was a serious problem with digital life to find out you were less capable of something than yourself, and you started wondering if you weren’t just some failed copy rather than an actual person.

    As much as he tried to finesse the interactions to keep the various Lineages in communities with few redundancies, that sort of interaction happen. When it did, it was one of the primary drivers behind a Lineage opting out entirely, and doing their own thing in aestivations. Finding some specialization or niche that didn’t cast them as an inferior copy.

    The only Lineage that had nothing to worry about on that score was the Sydean one. No matter that they’d already been there; without establishing a presence on those worlds, Cato couldn’t even begin to think about direct action. Even if he was established in orbit of the vast majority of System worlds, none of that ultimately without an ability to defeat the System decisively, and he had to know if the Core was the key to that goal. If his opponents realized what was going on and cut him off, then his goal became nigh impossible.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    At least he had, however temporarily, the cooperation of a System-god to keep them safe.

    ***

    Raine Talis found the frontier to be rather strange as an Azoth. Everything was fragile; the materials were Platinum or Bismuth-ranked at best, which meant she could break even Nexus walls with a casual swat, not needing any Skills. The System shop didn’t even take the Azoth-ranked materials that they’d picked up on the war-world; an extra reminder that the frontier just wasn’t meant for them.

    Nevertheless, she welcomed having a break from being surrounded by hostile creatures and people. There was absolutely nothing on the frontier that could possibly threaten them — though she felt uncomfortable seeing the reactions of the lower ranks if their Azoth-rank aura slipped. It had not been all that long since they were merely Gold, not really, and the abject groveling did not feel earned. Or appropriate.

    She had to wonder, just a little bit, whether she would have truly been uneasy about the treatment if she hadn’t run into Cato and gotten an outside perspective. No matter how broadly she traveled, how powerful she got, there was still something greater, where all her power was completely irrelevant. Worse than irrelevant, it was .

    It was still power she had worked for, and she was still proud of how far she had come, but the view from far outside the world always hung at the back of her mind. Even the gifts that Cato gave them weren’t exactly the same sort of perspective, because they all worked within the System. It was that short time they were outside it that had driven home how far different Cato’s world was.

    “I think I’m done with being on break,” she said aloud, aware that she’d been lost inside her own head.

    “Yeah,” Leese said, bouncing to her feet from the seat. They had taken some time out on a Hunting World, where there was nobody else around to notice some out-of-place Azoths or the brief stint of Cato’s medical cocoons to check up on them, and their auras and Domains alone kept the surrounding wildlife away while they relaxed on a fairly nice beach.

    Raine sent, double-checking her Estate. It was crammed utterly full of supplies now, to the point where she’d actually discarded some of the less useful drops, handing them off to Cato to distribute elsewhere or try and disassemble for analysis. Whatever use he could get out of them.

    Cato instructed them.

    Leese replied. They had thought that they’d be sufficiently covered by the [Appraise]-altering artifacts from before, but in hindsight it should have been obvious that the ability for any lower-rank artifact would fail when it came to the higher ranks. A rank of protection, however, was of another quality entirely. She and Leese had not only changed their names, but taken on the appearance of entirely different races, leaving the only real connection to their prior identities their Skill preferences and the fact they traveled as a pair.

    Thanks to Cato’s efforts, they had a map of the frontier, loaded into their combat brains so they , with crystal clarity, where everything was located. Even with their new advantages they weren’t going to tempt fate by returning to the same Inner Worlds junction, instead circling around to another confluence. There were less than fifty of them overall, even if there were far more than fifty planets in the area known as the Inner Worlds.

    With their movement Skills, breezing through the hundreds of world connections to the target was the work of minutes. Easy enough, but it would have been incredibly tedious even at Azoth to try and find it without directions. There were so many connections and no easy way of finding which specific world they were looking for. Aside from asking, and it was hard to imagine an Azoth asking for directions without looking incredibly suspicious.

    The moment they crossed the portal though, the distinction between the frontier and the Inner Worlds was obvious. The ambient essence was far higher, the city surroundings more opulent, and Bismuth and Azoth-rank signatures abounded. Korkhol was one of the Inner Worlds where Cato did have a presence, albeit not a strong one. It took time to build what he’d need to deal with a planet full of high rankers, but they shouldn’t need the backup.

    With their new identities and divine blessing nobody seemed to take any special notice of them. More than any fresh Azoth would draw, anyway; there seemed to be at least a hundred

    At least nobody tried to accost them as they made their way to a System shop and began liquidating ten years worth of drops. They’d replaced virtually all of their equipment save for their growth weapons, and those were long overdue for some upgrades. Although after a decade of collecting materials, they certainly had the raw materials for that, and a wealth of information about what crafting thanks to work done by other versions of themselves.

    The crafting Skills had been there in the options list ever since they were Silver, but there had been no point in even considering them. Obtaining a crafting Skill, let alone mastering it, was just not worth it compared to scraping together every single possible advantage against dungeons and elites. When so much equipment was available from drops, there was exactly no point in picking up crafting Skills. Fortunately, they didn’t need to, nor did they need to pay a premium to determine the best options, because they had already been given a wealth of knowledge on how it worked.

    [Smouldering Titansteel] and [Incidendiary Heartbone] – along with some other minor fire-related materials - were good core components for Raine’s upgrades, and Leese sorted out her own preferences from the drops. A bewildering variety of lightning and wind and water-oriented weapons and armors went to the System Shop, netting Azoth tokens in return. In a way they were rich, but it wasn’t going to last. The System forge building was essentially empty, meaning that they would have to find a crafter with one of the clans.

    Considering how crafting cut into combat ability, only a large clan could afford to support high-rank crafters. Clan Shoak was the dominant force in the area, a humanoid, purple-skinned race with coarse, pebbled skin and greasy-looking purple hair, giving them an unpleasantly monochromatic cast. The mere sight made Raine dislike them, but there wasn’t any choice but to be polite.

    weren’t part of any of the clans or factions, despite their divine blessing, so they were outsiders. Just a little bit of looking around showed that crafters were independent, and most of them were simply not to unaffiliated persons such as themselves. In the end, they only found one that allowed access to non-Clan members, and even that one was restricted.

    “You’ll need an access token first,” the Bismuth Shoak guard drawled. He couldn’t possibly have stopped an Azoth himself, but there were protections around the compound that he could likely invoke. Not to mention bringing down the wrath of the Clan on anyone so audacious.

    She exchanged a sense of frustration with Leese over the link, but Leese stepped forward to start negotiating how much the bribe would cost. For most Azoths it would probably be far beyond their means, or at least a ruinous dent in their wealth. For Raine and Leese it was barely an inconvenience, but if transaction was that expensive it would deplete their funds rather quickly.

    They were finally let in and accompanied to the crafter, who was of course a Clan Shoak type, and while technically Azoth he seemed surprisingly weak to Raine’s essence senses. The Shoak man had some obvious scars, which had to be extraordinary to still be present on anyone above Bismuth, and while he once might have had the soul of warrior, he clearly didn’t anymore. He was a merchant through and through, arrogant and weak.

    Raine sent over their private connection, as she haggled with the blacksmith.

    Leese replied, though she clearly doubted that was the case.

    “If you want an upgrade that will last you to Azoth, it will be four times the base price — in Azoth-rank tokens, of course,” the smith said shamelessly. “That’s the rate for non-Clan members.” He was so insufferably smug, smirking at them with the assurance of Clan backing, that Raine had a very strong urge to slap the smile off his face. Or at least leave and find someone else — except there wasn’t anyone else.

    “Very well,” Leese said, more diplomatic than Raine. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford the tokens; in fact, they were relatively speaking wealthy because they had been fighting at Azoth for most of their time at Bismuth. She gestured and removed the tokens from her wallet, holding them up to show the smith. He went to grab them, but Leese pulled her hand back.

    “We will stay and watch,” she stipulated, making the tokens vanish again. “And you will use our materials.” Perhaps the crafter had ingredients of his own that were technically better, but neither of them trusted the Shoak to actually provide them. Raine didn’t much like relying on anyone for equipment that wasn’t Cato, but it was a straightforward transaction.

    The only crafting Raine had ever seen had been Cato’s factories, back on Sydea, and the endless array of mysterious mechanisms filling a massive cavern. She didn’t imagine that System crafting was the same, so they followed the smith – accompanied by the guards – behind the counter to his workshop and watched curiously as he used their materials to upgrade the spears. Despite having no real expectations, she was still disappointed.

    He had a hammer, which was the equivalent of their own growth weapons, and a number of worktables with System stones embedded in them, reminding Raine of the Planetary Administrator desk. Yet all he did was lay out the items and apply Skills, a few swings of the hammer transmuting the raw metal, horn, bone, and cloth into small crystals with the image of the initial material trapped inside.

    Those were assembled around the weapon on another, specialized table. The pattern was clearly meaningful, but Raine didn’t grasp anything other than a complex interplay of essence as the smith plied his Skills on her spear. With a rippling glow, one by one the raw materials streamed into the body of the weapon, altering its appearance just slightly until it was done. First Raine’s, then Leese’s, the process nearly identical for each.

    When she took her spear back, she could feel the improvements, and if she didn’t have an idea of how Cato went about making things, she probably would have thought nothing more of it. But she have that knowledge, and Ultimately though, it hardly mattered and so they simply paid the absolutely breathtaking pile of tokens and left. They could have tried negotiating harder, but didn’t want to draw any trouble from the local Clans or factions. No need to press their luck.

    She broadcast her impressions of her new weapon to Leese, who replied with her own, the two of them communicating with an understand that went beyond words. They had gotten so used to the link between them that they could share everything they thought in a single condensed burst, trading perspectives and instincts at will.

    It wasn’t as good as a proper spar for updating the combat brains, but it at least gave them a start. With proper equipment, they might well be able to reach all the way up to Peak Azoth. Perhaps they should have spent more time looking to upgrade their armor as well, but they were both too restless and tired of the disgusting Clan types, so they simply continued on.

    The next link in the chain of worlds was deeper in Clan Shoak territory, which unfortunately meant they were even more out of place. People there wore Clan livery, and were all part of either the Clan itself or one of major factions within it. Between thethey could have pretended to be part of any of the forces around them — but they didn’t know any of the behaviors or the people, and there was no telling how long a bluff would last.

    During their time off, Cato had provided them with what information he had on the inner worlds, gleaned from Yaniss, from other versions of themselves that had dipped their toes into the key entry worlds, and from some unattributed sources. The frontier was essentially a competition between the Clans, but the Inner Worlds were their actual homes. Anyone below Platinum rank was someone’s servant or child, and nobody below Bismuth was really worth engaging.

    According to Cato, the jager frames had experienced an almost even split between aggressive recruitment and aggressive extortion, and while at Azoth they weren’t at the bottom ranks, the two of them were still expecting a certain degree of attention. If anything, it was surprising they hadn’t been accosted while trying to find a blacksmith. So when a low Azoth directly approached them as they exited the Nexus of a world deeper into Clan territory, the two were ready for action.

    “Greetings, honored Azoths,” the Clan Shoak man said, giving them a polite bow. Raine gave him a quick [Appraise], finding it odd that he was so polite when he was technically a slightly higher rank than them.

    [Recruiter Hocine Shek — Low Azoth]

    “Greetings,” Leese returned, speaking for both of them. “Do we have business?”

    “I am certainly hoping so,” Hocine told them. “It’s not very often that promising individuals like you come through Clan Shoak worlds.”

    “Promising?” Raine asked, voice somewhat more sharp than Leese’s.

    “Unaligned, wealthy Azoths, successful enough to secure top quality items,” Hocine clarified. Raine sent a flash of disgruntlement over to Leese; clearly the smith or his attendant guards had reported them the moment they’d left his shop. “Clan Shoak would be more than willing to guarantee certain benefits were you to consider joining. there’s no need for you to demonstrate you can work your way up.” He waved his hand toward one of the taverns near the Nexus. “We can have a drink and discuss it, perhaps?”

    Raine sent to Leese. Given the reports from the Platinums and her own experiences with high rankers – not to mention the trouble they’d had on the war-world – she’d been expecting demands. Threats, deadlines, hints or outright explanations of how membership was optional.

    Leese sent back soberly, clearly following the same chain of thought.

    Raine had to take a moment to truly consider that. For so many years, they’d been at the mercy of those more powerful than them — and that included Cato, for all that he had empowered them. Always at odds with the higher ranks, always worrying somewhere that they might be the victim of some passing high rank disaster. Suddenly, she was taken back to her first resurrection around Sydea, that feeling of disoriented aimless near-freedom when she realized that all her striving had been rendered moot.

    Of course there was still more to do, still ranks to climb — so much more, in fact. From Azoth to Alum was more than going from Copper to Azoth, but at the same time, to feel that she’d finally breached the surface of the System’s depths was intoxicating. Everything they knew had entirely changed, a disorientation that she felt mirrored by Leese as their shared understanding resonated between them.

    “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to talk,” Leese said, though she shared her misgivings over the link, and Hocine beamed at them, turning to lead the way to tavern. Obviously they couldn’t just up and join a Clan without thinking — they needed to reach of the Inner Worlds, and even if they had the ability to change their identities, there weren’t so many Azoths about that nobody would notice multiple pairs of powerful spear-wielding newcomers. Better to keep to a single identity if possible, and it was likely that being beholden to a single Clan – or faction or whatever other organizations existed – would make certain places off-limits.

    Hocine paid for their drinks, which reminded Raine of a time long ago when it was the Flamewing buying them drinks — but at the same time, this was a far different situation. Hocine was not a high-ranker extending generosity to some frazzled Coppers, but rather a powerful representative of a powerful faction that was doing his absolute best to get on their good side.

    Raine sent to Leese as she sampled the liquor, which she found merely acceptable despite its rank. It was astounding how relatively uninteresting so much System food and drink was once the combat brains stripped out the essence tampering the System did to enforce the taste.

    Raine nodded to herself, sipping her drink and listening to Hocine’s pitch. Those were words that resonated down to her very bones, and took the temptation out of any possible offer the man could give. No matter what, they were still Cato’s agents, and in the end, they were just passing through.