Chapter 37 – The Stain
The ballroom was a cage of laughter.
The nobles were enjoying the show. To them, this wasn't a duel; it was a formatting error being corrected.
Uzo stood with his back to the crowd, his chest heaving. Blood dripped from his nose onto the pristine glass floor.
Grand Scribe Nero stood ten feet away, perfectly still, his Red Quill hovering in the air. The Red Line, the Editorial Horizon separated them like a wound in the air.
"You are persisting," Nero sighed, looking at his fingernails. "It is pathetic. Like a sentence that runs on for two pages without a period. Just end."
Uzo wiped the blood from his lip.
He looked at the Red Line.
He had tried speed. He had tried strength. He had tried magic.
Every time, the "Narrative" had reset him. Nero simply decided Uzo wasn't allowed to reach him, and the universe obeyed.
He demands Order, Uzo thought, watching the microscopic text scrolling in Nero's white eyes. He treats reality like a manuscript. If it's messy, he edits it. If it's unauthorized, he deletes it.
Uzo put his hand in his pocket. He felt the cold metal of a Smoke Pellet.
Ronnie had given him three. He had used one in the Weeping Pass. Two left.
You can't edit what you can't read.
Uzo smiled. It was a jagged, bloody smile.
"You like clean pages, don't you?"
Nero frowned slightly. "Order is the only virtue. Clarity is the only god."
"The problem with clean pages," Uzo said, pulling the pellet out, "is that they stain very easily."
Uzo didn't throw the bomb at Nero. That would be an attack. An attack has a vector. A vector can be edited.
Instead, Uzo dropped the bomb at his own feet.
CRACK.
Thick, greasy, black smoke erupted.
It wasn't magical smoke. It was chemical. Dirty. Oily.
It billowed up, hiding Uzo instantly.
"Childish," Nero scoffed. He raised his quill. "I will simply delete the gas."
He slashed the air.
[REMOVE].
A vacuum appeared, sucking the smoke away.
But inside the cloud, Uzo wasn't hiding.
He was Resonating.
Uzo slammed his boot onto the glass floor.
He channeled the Null-Ink into the soles of his feet and triggered the vibration he had learned in the Weeping Pass.
THUD.
The floor didn't break. It hummed.
The vibration hit the smoke.
The particles of soot didn't just drift; they began to shake violently. They became Chaotic Data.
Uzo poured his Void magic into the cloud. The smoke turned from gray to a shimmering, impossible black. It wasn't just smoke anymore; it was Static.
"Catch!" Uzo roared.
He kicked the cloud.
The vibrating wall of filth rushed toward the Red Line.
Nero's eyes widened.
He tried to track the particles.
Subject: Smoke. Vector: Forward. Action: Delete.
But there were billions of particles. And because of the Resonance, they were vibrating between states of existence and non-existence.
Nero's Editorial Authority tried to lock onto them.
Error. Syntax Unclear. Subject Undefined.
The Red Line flickered.
It couldn't decide what to delete.
The cloud of filth smashed through the barrier.
It hit Nero.
"How dare you!!"
Nero flinched.
For the first time, the Grand Scribe moved his feet. He stumbled back, waving his quill frantically.
SLASH. SLASH. SLASH.
Red cuts appeared in the air, erasing patches of smoke, but it was like trying to catch rain with a needle.
A single, heavy clump of oil-soaked soot flew past his guard.
It slapped against his pristine white cheek.
SPLAT.
The music stopped.
The laughter died.
The nobles gasped, dropping their wine glasses.
The smoke cleared.
Uzo was standing on the other side of the line, panting, covered in soot.
Nero was standing there, shaking.
The Grand Scribe slowly reached up. He touched his cheek. He pulled his hand away.
His finger was black.
He looked at the stain. Then he looked at Uzo.
The scrolling text in his eyes turned Red.
"You!..." Nero whispered. The air in the ballroom began to crackle. The windows rattled. "You are a very messy draft."
Nero raised the Red Quill. He pointed it directly at Uzo's heart.
There was no arrogance left. Only cold, divine fury.
The tip of the quill began to glow with a light so bright it hurt to look at. This wasn't a line. It was a Full Erasure.
"I think I will skip the edit," Nero said. "I will pulp the page."
Uzo braced himself. He had no more tricks.
"That's enough."
A third voice cut through the tension. Lazy, bored, and absolute.
High Lord Vane appeared between them.
He didn't look like he had run. He looked like he had simply been there the whole time.
He held up a single playing card—the Ace of Spades.
He placed the card over the tip of Nero's glowing quill.
The light hit the card and vanished.
"Grand Scribe," Vane said, bowing slightly. "He is my guest. If you delete him, who will entertain me?"
Nero stared at Vane the two men locked eyes the Editor vs the Mystery.
The pressure in the room was extremely suffocating even the nobles thought they would.
"Keep your pet on a leash, Vane," Nero said, his voice ice-cold. He lowered the quill. The Red Line vanished.
"Next time he stains my margin, I will redact his entire bloodline."
Nero took a silk handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped the soot from his cheek, looked at the black smear with disgust, and dropped the cloth on the floor.
He turned on his heel.
He didn't walk to the door. He stepped sideways into a fold of "White Space" and vanished, leaving only the smell of bleached paper and ozone.
The ballroom was silent.
Vane turned to Uzo.
The Lazy Lord was smiling. A real, terrifying smile.
"He edits Space," Vane whispered to Uzo, tucking the Ace of Spades back into his sleeve. "He removes the distance he doesn't like. But you found the loophole."
"Chaos," Uzo said, wiping blood from his nose. "He can't edit what he can't define."
"Precisely," Vane said. He plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray and handed it to Uzo.
"Welcome to the game, Uzo. You just pissed off a god."