The very idea blew Logan away.
“Wait.” He pressed his thick fingers against his temples. “Let me get this straight. You went willingly into that reaping dungeon knowing that... best-case scenario... you’d be murdered horribly, so you’d get a guardian form and come here?”
“All victories require sacrifice,” Tet said.
Logan blinked. “Wow. That’s super metal.”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “My primary affinities are Morta and Terra. There isn’t any metal involved. That’s more up Magmarty’s alley.”
“Not what I meant. It’s just like, you’re the ultimate goth chick. You were part of a death cult, for crying out loud.”
Tet shrugged it off. “You must understand something. The Coptic Champions have nurtured the best and most powerful disciples from across the multiverse to become dungeons of note. There are two great lines of guardians on Eritreus, my people, and the Diabolus Diaboli, based in Haven’s Home. That’s Prince Chadrigoth’s line. He thinks the Diabolus has the most powerful cores, but he’s mistaken. More Coptic Champions have become Heartwood and Crown cultivators.”
To Logan, it seemed like a lot of posturing. Then again, back on Earth, in politics, sports, and art, dynasties always rose. Even in the military there was competition. Army versus Marines. Coasties versus Navy. Chairforce versus everyone else. And it got even worse when you got down to the battalion, company, and platoon levels. This was no different, he supposed.
And the existence of the old guard didn’t stop upstarts from making a splash.
Tet turned, perused the shelf, and pulled out a collection of The Tree Inside from several years back. She ducked as a poison dart came shooting out.
Logan wasn’t so lucky, but he did get a hand up just in time to catch it in his palm.
Tet blanched. “You need to get to Ned and Zed. Madam Gammy tips her darts with Coptician viper venom from my home temple.”
“It’s okay,” Logan said. “I have poison immunity.”
He plucked out the dart and tossed it over his shoulder. Madam Gammy wouldn’t mind. She would just craft more since they were Endogenous Apothos Manifestations.
Tet swung back over the chasm. “I must go, Logan. This has been a nice diversion. In the end, however, I am a solitary creature. The Coptic Champions trained their disciples to be that way. I will stay focused. I will stay at the top of the leaderboard. I will get my own dungeon, and I’ll protect the Tree.” She went to walk away, hips swaying, tail twitching.
He grabbed a rope and swung back over with her.
“Mind if I walk you out?” he asked.
Tet smiled wryly. “I suppose we can let the diversion continue for a little while longer. We can’t be friends, though. I don’t mind a diversion every now and again, but I do mind distractions.”
“I’m too mushroomy to be a distraction. And I’m friends with Marko, and he is like the Greek god of distractions.”
Tet’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what Greeks are, so I will agree and smile politely.” That wry smile never left her face.
After Tet checked the book out, she and Logan walked to the Stairwell of True Seeing.
At one point, they stopped to look at one another in the mirrors around them.
Tet Akhat’s true form was human, a twentyish-year-old woman with dark skin and a Cleopatra haircut. Her eyes were the same as in her cat form, like emeralds.
She smiled. “I must admit, you were rather handsome before you became fungal.”
Logan brushed a hand over his floppy yellow cap. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I rock the fungal look. And before, I wasn’t immune to poison, so I consider this an upgrade.”
“You are not wrong there.” Tet nodded. “That is precisely why we needed to shed our former bodies. So that we could become more than human. Immortal in a way, though different from the immortality the dungeoneers seek.”
She trailed off, falling into comfortable silence as they ascended the rest of the stairs. Eventually, she bid him goodbye with a raised hand and departed, bound for the Azure Dragons dormitory wing.
Logan, still reeling a little from the conversation, walked through the Golden Serpent Hall, letting his feet guide him while his mind worked. A few bushy Treegees were cleaning, and the tree-like kitchen staff were putting away the day’s coffee. It wasn’t as old as he liked, but Logan went over to grab a cup all the same. He was hard pressed to pass up coffee of any variety.
Cup of joe in hand, he wandered outside to the DIE Pavilion. It was a warm spring night, a little humid, which he liked now. He sipped the old coffee and then inhaled, taking more life energy from the chicken in his room. It was getting fuzzy—that would be mucor muceda, a type of mold, delicate and delicious. Like nightmare cotton candy.
His thoughts restlessly circled Tet like a ship caught in a massive whirlpool. She had trained her entire life to get into Shadowcroft. Logan had stumbled into their situation after a few beers and finishing a bloodthirsty video game. Life was weird. The afterlife was weirder. And yet he felt grateful for meeting such good friends and having such an interesting experience. He felt connected to the school, the professors, even the other students. Like Tet for example. They weren’t friends—she’d made that abundantly clear—but maybe they could be under different circumstances.
Idly, he wondered if there was any chance of romance. Then he had to pause. How would he be able to kiss the cat woman? Neither had the lips for kissing.
No. No romance. Not only was it wildly impractical, but it would actively get in the way.
He needed to focus on the here and now. Tomorrow night, there was an all-academy meeting in the Golden Serpent Hall. Rockheart would be explaining the leaderboard and the Winnowing in more detail.
Logan both dreaded it and was excited about it. That basically summed up his experiences at the academy, though it was far more excitement than dread.
As he killed his coffee, his mind wandered from Tet to Chadrigoth. Even with the very limited info he had, it was clear as good Kentucky moonshine that the Abyss Lord had tried to kill them. Well, that chucklehead was going to have to learn to live with disappointment, because Logan and his friends weren’t going anywhere.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE NEXT NIGHT, LOGAN sat with his friends, near the back of the Golden Serpent Hall. Naturally, the First Cohort sat in the front, close to Skip Shadowcroft and Professor Rockheart. The headmaster and the rector prime stood on the dais of the main hall, presiding over the evening’s proceeds like a battalion CO and the sergeant major giving the weekend safety brief. Shadowcroft was as regal if absentminded as ever, while Rockheart looked like he was ready to smite the next person to look at him wrong.
Logan had filled his friends in about his conversation with Tet. Their reaction surprised him. Marko laughed it off, just like he laughed off pretty much everything else. Treacle sighed and said it was only a matter of time before they were killed. Inga shrugged. She looked at the situation in a completely logical manner—they would become so powerful and earn so many points for the Azure Dragon Clan that Rockheart would eventually love them as much as he loved the First Cohort. Then both the rector prime and Chadrigoth would leave the Terrible Twelfth alone.