The Great Core's Paradox

I broke the surface of my thoughts, pulling free from the comforting embrace of my mind-nest, as we approached the Coreless’ many-nest again. Fluids dripped from their skin and air burst from their lips in great breaths, signs of the journey’s exertion. They carried the corpses of the bad-things with them, food for the starving Coreless colony. Part of me was tempted to hiss demands for the corpses; though they hadn’t been particularly strong, every new Blooded Trait was a potential source of strength.

One of their stomachs gurgled, and I held myself back. Sustained by my constantly-renewing mana, I didn’t have to worry about eating or drinking for survival. Ever since I had received my mana core, I had never had concerns about my survival - not that I would have anyway, with the Great Core able to bring me back from death.

And yet, it was obvious to me that the Great Core only chose to bring me back. None of our other Coreless had returned, as far as I could tell. Just me.

So I pushed aside my hunger - because even though I wasn’t truly hungry, I was hungry for what it could give me - and allowed the Coreless to keep the dead bad-things. They needed it more than me. Eventually, they would repay that favor by growing stronger.

Eventually.

One of the Coreless grunted in a show of exertion; I turned to look at him, twisting my head around. He was taller than the-female-who-was-not-Needle, forcing me to look upwards to meet his gaze. His eyes were wet, fluids pressed against the membrane.

Those fluid-covered eyes stared at me. I stared back, catching the scent-taste of salt on my tongue. He held my gaze, dropping it down a moment later to the figure that lay within his arms.

The corpse was bloody, but not broken. It had been, but not anymore. I had fixed that, mended the tears and the shattered limbs with repeated use of [Life - Invigorating Bite], making it whole again. The corpse was bloody, but not broken.

Instead, it was the Coreless that lived that felt broken.

I could sense it in each [Little Guardian’s Totem] that surrounded me. Their wearers absently clutched at the Totems, radiating grief and loss. Failure. That last one was familiar to me. I felt it, too.

Only one Totem remained silent; it only took a moment’s effort to find it. Pale fingers rested against it, stifling the strength of its mana-light, but nothing came through. Nothing could come through, from the dead thing it had become.

The corpse was empty, but not broken. That was something that could not be fixed, and never would be. It - because the Coreless that it had been was gone, and only an empty corpse remained - lay limp within the other Coreless’ arms, cradled gently by strong arms that had only a short while before shattered bad-things in violent rage.

The tired Coreless looked up again, meeting my gaze. His eyes were wet, fluids pressed against the membrane.

He had no Totem of his own, and I couldn’t begin to guess at what lay behind those eyes - nor did I really want to know.

It looked painful.

“...in the defense of others. He was friend, family, and so much more. He was human,” a Coreless intoned somberly. The noises sounded familiar; I had heard them before, in those times when a Coreless had died. It had only been in passing, faint sounds that drifted over gathered crowds as I slithered by.

It made me wonder why I had stopped, this time.

Was it because, unlike the other times, I knew that one of my Coreless was involved? Or was it the weight of failure pressing against me, of knowing that the Great Core had lost a disciple when I had a chance to save them?

I didn’t know.

Whatever the reason, I was here this time. I slithered through the crowded Coreless, slipping between open legs. One reached down and picked me up in tiny hands; I recognized her. One of my tiny Coreless.

With one hand holding me and the other her Totem - radiating [sadness] and [sympathy] - she carried me towards the front of the crowd. They spilled to the side silently as she walked, her path cleared by those with a [Little Guardian’s Totem] of their own. I let the connections drift on by untouched, not wanting to look too closely at what lay behind them. A few, however, were too strong to ignore. Their emotions flared, shouting their existence.

I looked up to meet their wearers, and they met my gaze. Their eyes were wet, fluids pressed against the membrane. I looked away.

Finally, we grew closer to the speaking Coreless. He was covered in fancier skins than most, colored dark and untouched by blood or battle. He wore no [Little Guardian’s Totem], leaving me with no easy way to interpret his words.

“...in life, weighed down by the dangers of our world, but unbroken,” the Coreless continued.

On a large pedestal in front of him, my failure rested. A corpse, no longer bloody as it had once been. A corpse, just as empty as it had once been. The skin of ore-flesh had been stripped, replaced with the skins that the Coreless liked to wear within the safety of the many-nest, but I knew what it was.

I knew the [Little Guardian’s Totem] that still lay around his neck.

Beside him, beside the corpse-that-was-once-more, I saw the same Coreless from before. He, too, had stripped off his skin of ore-flesh. I still knew who he was.

I hadn’t paid attention to it before; so many of the Coreless looked the same to me. Still, I realized that this was something different. They looked so similar, this Coreless and the-corpse-that-was-once-more. The same brow, the same nose, the same mouth.

Only in the eyes could I find a difference; one set filled with fluid, the other with nothing.

“...as the null-water protects humanity in life, it will protect this soul in death - keeping him safe from the horror that our world has become,” the speaking Coreless continued. “No monsters will breach its surface, and no troubles will disturb its depths.”

The Coreless that looked so similar to the-corpse-that-was-once-more moved, stepping forward. He pulled the [Little Guardian’s Totem] from the neck of the-corpse-that-was-once-more, holding it carefully by the threads and slowly placing it around his own neck. The darkwood carving that made up the Totem pressed itself against his chest, only the skins that he covered himself in preventing the touch of flesh.

The-corpse-that-was-once-more was lifted from the pedestal; my failure was carried to the nearby edge of the many-nest. It was placed into a small darkwood not-sink, one barely large enough for it to fit inside. Strange fluids were poured over its surface, before the not-sink was pushed out onto the black-water.

When it drifted further away from the many-nest, a flaming needle thunked into its surface, setting it alight. The tiny not-sink burned quickly, until nothing remained.

My failure turned to ash, sinking into the black-water’s depths.

The Coreless spoke again, though my eyes remained fixed on the final resting place of the-corpse-that-was-once-more.

“May the null-water strip what remains of this world’s poison, leaving his soul free to return to the Skies Above.”

The crowded Coreless murmured in response, and I felt a wave of emotions press into me. They vied for my attention, each louder than the last.

They were far too quiet to steal me away - because, still staring out over the black-water, the Coreless that looked so similar to the-corpse-that-was-once-more stood silent. One hand snaked up to the [Little Guardian’s Totem] around his neck, touching it at last.

He was silent, when the other Coreless sobbed. He was solid, when the other Coreless held each other close. He was impossible to ignore, when my awareness of the other Coreless began to fall away.

His soul screamed.

He was silent, but I could hear what lay behind those fluid-covered eyes now. I wished that I couldn’t. I had been right - it was painful.

So very, very painful.