Chapter 35 The Greatest Strength Part 3

“And this is the part where my second in command betrays me, after very little prompting from you of course. If that fails, I also have a tortured beast in a cage which you can free and will inevitably attack me.” - Megalovania, S-Class Super Villain.

This class was better than expected.

No one overtly psychotic from her observations, which already made them miles ahead of some of the other classes she’s taught. Even Hyde, who almost tried to shoot her in the back, backed down when the Zenin stepped in.

This class had good heads on their shoulders, even the Manifestation students didn’t seem to have any extreme personalities other than some minor bravado.

So she was slightly surprised when a student stayed back, waiting until everyone else had left, he approached her.

Aiden gave her a strange vibe. Not that of a child old beyond his years, but perhaps more accurately like an old man in a younger body. She was like that as well, as she was actually eighty-three, though her job required her to be in her physical prime, and constant use of rewinding left it that way.

He was initially flagged as someone she needed to pay attention to, as several months ago he attempted to join the Guard, but was rejected when tests showed depressive and suicidal tendencies.

Now? After Manifesting from those tendencies, those same people would likely welcome him with open arms.

“Ms Brake?” he began.

“I told you to call me Trist,” she answered. “What do you need?”

“I wish to learn more about Meta and Extended Techniques,” he answered, “I am aware it is generally considered too dangerous for Geneline students, but I’ve been told Manifested students are different. I was wondering if there was an advanced class I could take, or if there are extra curricular activities.”

Trist paused, and really looked at him.

Calm, black eyes, almost hawk like, yet she could tell, that was the eyes of someone desperate for something.

Remembering what happened yesterday, the decisions the school faculty had agreed upon.

“We can't seriously be considering this!” Grian yelled, tapping his walking cane in agitation.

Another teacher, Tang Rou, paced around the room, an umbrella fastened to her belt. “Calm down Grian. I don’t like this either, but if we don’t follow these orders, the repercussions could be-”

“There aren’t any orders,” Raj quietly said, the man sitting on a comfy plush couch, his leg bouncing up and down in agitation. “It was a suggestion to speed up our education, the only explicit order was to the Principal General, telling him to remain here at the school.”

“So whether we actually implement these suggestions is entirely up to us,” Trist deduced.

“What of Dr Oliver’s thoughts?” an elderly teacher, a bit older than Trist, William Afton asked.

Oliver poked his head out of Raj’s mouth for a moment, “Apologies for not speaking, I’m trying to calm down for the moment, but I am against it.”

“Then before we jump to conclusions, let us wait for the other teachers,” Afton said, “where are the rest of us? The Principal General, Ms Taylor, Sister Savage, Mister Monday, Four or Foxy?”

“Wendall is finishing a chore underground and will be with us shortly,” Raj replied, “Taylor is currently in the middle of a court trial against the Necron Overlord she arrested, so she won’t be around for a while. Sister Savage is consecrating the mass graves of the Necrada zombies, and Mister Monday is-”

They all felt it, the sudden shift in reality, as everything felt more wrong.

“Speak of the devil.”

The lights of the room started to flicker, as in came… Mister Monday.

He was a large, hunched individual with a long ragged brown cloak that covered his entire body, hiding it, but it was clear, whatever was underneath wasn’t in the shape of a human. He didn’t walk, but his cloak dragged behind him in a long tail, and as he moved there was the sound of skittering, like hundreds of insect legs tapping the ground in a chaotic symphony.

His face was obscured by a perfectly circular iron mask, carved crudely into the shape of a face.

“““I am here,””” Mister Monday said, his voice odd, as if screamed from a dozen tiny voices.

The man didn’t bother sitting, instead standing in an empty spot.

Soon after, two others came into the room.

“What is that?” Isaac asked, Foxy following behind him.

“👿👿📝”

“““As she says,””” Mister Monday answered, “““I am the Diabolism teacher.”””

Isaac paused, “Mister Monday then? I believe this is the first time we’ve met.”

“““It is, Isaac.”””

“Isaac?” Tang Rou asked, “You became a teacher?”

“Indeed,” Four answered, following behind them, “he’s the new Meta Techniques teacher. I was just catching him up with the duties required.”

“Worst employment decision I’ve ever made,” he muttered.

“Probably should’ve stuck to gadgeteering, there’s still decent money in it,” Tang Rou remarked.

“I spend it all too quickly trying new projects,” Isaac lamented, “My power isn’t budget conscious at all.”

Tang Rou nodded sympathetically, “I’m glad I made it out of that phase quickly.”

“““May we return to the subject at hand?””” Mister Monday asked, glancing at Raj.

The nurse sighed, “We’ve received a report that Hell will mobilize for another attack within the next five to thirty years, our Rus allies have also suffered major losses in recent Demon encounters, as such, we were given the suggestion to speed up student training, so that we may have more soldiers in reserve to rebuff such an attack.”

Suddenly, the staff microwave burst into flame, the TV projector lit up and began showing blind static.

“““They come again,””” Mister Monday said, and his voice was the sound of ice thaw and desperate screams in the blinding tundra. “““We have met them on every field with steel, flame and pact. It shall be so again.”””

“Calm down Monday,” Tang Rou said, “I don’t want to fix anything more than the microwave and TV.”

“““Apologies.”””

“I am against this,” Grian spoke frankly, the blind teacher stabbing his cane down. “All this does is leave poorly trained soldiers in one of the worst meat grinders in the world.”

“I am curious about this as well,” Afton said, “historically speaking a country employing younger and younger conscripts is a sign of desperation.”

“It is, but not in the way you think,” Tang Rou answered, rubbing her forehead, “the devils don’t use any fancy tactics. They just keep throwing more and more bodies until the walls start buckling. They’ve always done this during a direct attack. What we need aren’t a few soldiers who can execute masterful strategies and tactics, but the numbers to hold a thousand different defense lines. They don’t need to do anything other than to hold a line and survive the worst of it. Against Devils, quantity matters more.”

“““The true threat are Demons,””” Mister Monday said, “““Those will perform strategic strikes and break our leadership, we need Diabolists or elite units to match them.”””

“Doing this will stunt or slow some growth, prevent the next generation of our students, but we have to hope they are already good enough.”

“Either way, war against Hell is a horrific loss,” Oliver spoke again. “Both in resources and the loss of life.”

Afton nodded, “I am curious, I am aware of expeditions into Hell before, but none have been successful in sealing the Gate.”

“The Gate is too big,” Trist answered, “it requires hundreds of trained metahumans working in unison, all the while needing a significant force to defend them against Demon attacks. If a single one of the formation is slain, the entire attempt will fail.”

“And of an invasion into Hell?”

“““Unfeasible,””” Mister Monday answered, “““You cannot feel it, it is a sensation metahumans cannot comprehend, for you are too resistant. Normal humans can survive in Hell, but you do not understand the taste of ashes in your mouth, the feeling of a world revolting against you. To fight for every breath you take and every step you walk.”””

“Monday, you’re the resident Diabolist, what’s your opinion on this?” Trist asked.

The faculty fridge’s alarm began to shriek, as the sorcerer’s infected body began to leak.

“““We don’t allow them a single extra step into our world.”””

“And of our action?”

“““Conflicted,””” he answered, voice screeching like nails on a blackboard. “““I have paid many costs, I know the risks of sending Diabolists like me. But the lives of a few are worth it for the sanctity of the world.”””

“How many Demons have you banished?” Isaac asked.

The air turned heavy, as everyone turned to him.

“““Seven and One,””” Mister Monday said. “““I was taught the Name of the first Demon, back when I still had the form of man, then I banished the other Seven, before I was sent here to be imprisoned.”””

Imprisonment… despite the fact he didn’t do anything wrong. Yet none denied this, for Mister Monday was taught one demon and banished seven others.

Which meant he knew the Names of Seven and One Demons.

“““I have been useful in my time,””” Mister Monday said, “““To not be put down like a diseased dog is better than my kind deserves.”””

“Is that why you’ve never taken a student?” Isaac asked. He’d seen pictures of Mister Monday before he was… this. A sun tanned man with a bright smile, that reminded you of the look of a lumberjack, despite the fact he had worked in retail before.

“““It is a joke position, meant for a retirement amongst people capable of killing me quickly. If ever I turn, I hope your blade will swiftly find its mark on me,””” Mister Monday answered, whatever emotion in his voice, lost in its cacophony. “““And I have found none of the qualifications necessary for a good Diabolist amongst these students.”””

“““Despite my joke position, I hope my voice has sway. The Hells must not spread its roots any further.”””

“👍”

“You agree with him as well, Foxy?” Isaac asked. He sighed, taking a seat next to Grian, “I apologise, but I was there the last time they sent kids to a meat grinder, I can’t agree to this.”

Grian nodded solemnly beside him.

“I wish to abstain,” Afton sighed, “this is a trolley problem, in which all answers are incorrect.”

“I too abstain,” Four said, all three heads nodding in unison.

“We are against,” Raj said, “always have been.”

“Same here,” Trist murmured.

“We’ve paid worse costs,” Tang Rou said. “And any reinforcements we send only really need to hold till winter, even devils and demons cannot beat a Russan winter.”

“Where’s the ‘we’ in this?” Grian asked, his blind eyes turning to where Tang Rou was. “Most of us will still be sitting pretty back here. Half of them will die, or get injured so severely they end up abandoned in a hole somewhere.”

Tang Rou sighed, “I see what this is about. Grian, injuries happen in war, it happened to you and you were sent here, get over it.”

Grian’s grip on his walking cane tightened, “I knew what I signed up for, I know what kind of bloodshed happens far away from peaceful cities like these. But can you tell me with honesty, that every single kid in this school doesn’t believe being a soldier is a blessed and unproblematic patriotic duty?”

“I can’t but-”

Grian clicked his tongue.

At that moment, he disappeared.

Everyone tensed, Tang Rou grabbed the umbrella on her belt, eyes darting around, before she saw the shadow.

She drew her umbrella, breaking the cane that was about to smash into her face.

But it was just a sheathe.

Behind her stood Grian Gry, in his hand he held the handle of his cane, ending in a long, colourful blade. It appeared as if cut from an oil painting, yet it constantly changed, from one moment, it painted a grand frozen peak, the next, a willow forest.

The shattered cane sheath fell between them.

“I see you still have the Monody,” Tang Rou said.

“And you still have the habit of fighting with your umbrella,” Grian said, “couldn’t have had a better contriving theme?”

“I am a gadgeteer!” Tang Rou yelled as the umbrella opened, revealing on its face the symbol of the Eight Trigrams. “八變雨傘!”

Grian clicked his tongue, and disappeared once again.

It was true that Grian had once lost his ability.

Before, all those who saw his eyes were sealed away as paintings, locked away until he released the ability.

But when his eyes were blinded, he lost it, he was no longer able to create more paintings, only release the ones he had left. When this happened he had despaired, kept alive against his wishes because he had sealed away some truly horrific things in his day, and his death could release them all.

Then one day, he had an idea.

In his mind, he remembered and he painted. He remembered the face he saw in the mirror for over twenty years. He painted the shape of his eye, every single vein, the colour of it, all the tiny imperfections.

He spent years recalling that memory, painting every tiny detail he had forgotten, until he could see it with perfect clarity.

Until he could see his Mind’s Eye.

Tang Rou saw the painting of Grian behind her, slamming her umbrella back, she yelled, “艮!”

The shaft of the umbrella swiftly shortened, till she was holding on the hooked handle like a shield.

Grian became 3D again as he swung the painted blade, the spherical forcefield Tang Rou’s weapon created coming up just in time to-

-be cleanly sliced through.

Tang Rou jumped back, avoiding the blade just inches from slicing her arm, “Who gave a portal cutter to a blind man!”

She glanced around, at the other teachers beginning to use their abilities, Mister Monday had an owl devil made purely of bones perched on his shoulder, Foxy opened her mouth, water was spilling all around them as Oliver willed his ability. If this came down to a brawl, the most dangerous were Mister Monday, Raj and Oliver, then Foxy, in that order. Mister Monday could nuke the city in the breath of a speech, Oliver could have them all eviscerated with a puddle of water, while Foxy could command them all slit their throats-

Her vision branched into five, the sudden disorientation forcing her to her knees.

Trist slowly pulled away her hand, moments from touching Tang Rou, instead looking at Four, who had all three of his skulls filled with a brain.

“Banach Tarski Paradox,” Four said with three voices.

Grian paused as a hand was gently, but firmly placed on his shoulder. Suddenly, every metahuman’s attention was on the gadgeteer, as the blade in Grian’s hand began to dim and slow in its constantly changing landscape.

Grian clicked his tongue.

Nothing happened.

“You are a Savant,” Grian breathed.

The blind teacher shook his head, slowly breathing out, letting the rage subside.

“Sorry,” Grian said, “I won’t attack again, can you stop Isaac? This blade is all that remains of a dear friend.”

He lowered it, feeling the dimming of the remnant ability inside. “I don’t want to lose them again.”

Isaac let go of his hand, letting Grian slumped into a chair, the painted blade slowly brightening again.

Tang Rou’s five visions slammed back into one as Four ceased his ability on her. “You called me a fucking contriver!”

“That’s your problem?” Isaac asked.

Mister Monday looked at them, at the teacher’s room that now had several new cuts in it. “Halas,” he said, banishing the owl devil on his shoulder.

Foxy let out a sigh of relief. Attempting to use her ability on so many veteran metahumans would’ve been… dangerous.

Afton poked his head out from under the table, the one ‘non-combatant’ here.

They sat down, stewing in silence, for they could already hear the loud stomps that shook the very school ground.

“WHAT IN TARNATION IS HAPPENING HERE!” Wendell Richard Monger yelled as he slammed open the door.

“We had an argument,” Grian said, his voice tired, “I attacked Mrs Tang in anger and almost severely injured her. I accept any punishment.”

“Hey!” Tang Rou said, “I may be getting old but not old enough a blind man can sneak one up on me. The real problem is that he slandered me by calling me a contriver!”

“Seriously, that’s your problem?” Isaac said again.

“I am a gadgeteer!”

“ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!” Monger yelled. He turned to Raj, “ARE THEY TELLING THE TRUTH!?”

Raj sighed, “They are, we were arguing over whether or not to implement the suggestions Command sent us.”

Monger seemed to… slump, as he found a seat to sit down in.

“It does not matter what our response is,” he said.

No longer sat there was the powerful man, larger than life itself, right now, he just appeared… tired.

“What do you mean?” Trist asked.

“This does not leave this room,” Monger said, his eyes hardening, “Are you aware of Koschei’s Law?”

“That insane theorem?” Afton said, “The one that says the old forms of war between humans are no longer feasible, because the more you traumatise the opponent, the greater abilities they’ll Manifest, thus any conflict between humans must be a harmless proxy war or a swift and complete genocide to the last man, woman and child?”

“That is the intention of this,” he quietly said.

“What do you-”

“Many of our abilities do not scale up well to large scale and macro warfare,” Monger said. “Trist, despite being a superior combatant, in the army you would likely be relegated as a guerrilla or a field medic-”

“Despite my lack of qualifications,” she said.

“-while Raj and Oliver, the actual doctors here would be sent to directly face the enemy,” he said.

“Because our individual qualifications do not matter much compared to our abilities,” Raj said.

“Indeed,” Monger said. “In a direct fight, Trist would likely be able to defeat the both of you, but your abilities work better at a larger scale, so you would be the ones sent to the front lines.”

“Where are you getting with this?” Afton asked.

Four shook his heads, “He means that the large portion of abilities do not hold much use in a macro war, they hold value as smaller elite units, sure, but even if I could disable all of you with a thought, in an army, I would be spent duplicating supplies instead of sent off to fight any actual battles.”

“This applies to many of our students,” Monger said. “The only ones directly fighting are the ones who can replace something like an artillery company, an actual function of the army, and those are the types we lack the most.”

“We know this,” Tang Rou said. “That’s why I’m here instead of in an engineering core, my gadgeteering hyper focuses on improving my umbrella.”

“He’s saying that war against Hell is the perfect breeding ground for powerful Manifestations,” Dr Oliver Oliver quietly uttered.

And the room turned deathly silent.

“There is a part of Koschei’s Law that was never published,” Monger continued, “It said that an army with over 70% casualties can still function at full strength because any war or encounter that would cause such casualties would cause a large portion of the remaining 30% to trigger abilities that replaced the army’s lost function. In my observations, this is largely true.”

“Manifestations are reactive, based on extreme stimuli,” Four said, rubbing the brow of his leftmost head, “when Hell first opened, there was a disproportionately large number of Manifestations that focused purely on large scale annihilation, survival and fighting power. The situation was so extreme that it scarred the Manifested’s psyche enough to create specific counters against the endless hordes of devils. The rain Demon that killed AC/DC was also completely countered by a girl who was traumatised by it.”

“That is why they don’t plan on sending me,” Monger said, “because they don’t want to risk their strongest assets, but also want to gain new ones. The purpose of this isn’t just containment, but bloodying our armies for future conflicts.”

Grian stomped off his chair, walking towards the exit.

“Where are you going, Lieutenant?” Monger quietly said.

“Are you fucking listening to yourself!” Grian yelled, “I thought it was bad already, but I accepted it, Dawn does not fail, people get to live in peace, in exchange we pretend some criminals don’t exist, and we have a fucking mole as a student guidance counsellor, I accepted that there were certain evils we look away from!”

Monger stood up, “I will stop you.”

“Koschei’s Law applies,” Four sighed, also standing up, “we all know what happened in the Middle East. We don’t root out this country’s evils because a civil war of that scale, with the loss of life on both sides… not even counting external threats, the Manifestations it could cause would ruin us utterly.”

It could create an ability that was born for a singular purpose, the extermination of mankind, or at least, a significant part of it.

That cannot be allowed to happen, not again.

Grian raised Monody.

“You will die in the attempt Lieutenant,” Principal General Wendall Richard Monger said.

“Then I died a good death.”

“Grian, please,” Isaac begged, “you said that blade is the last remnant of a friend, if you died, who would carry their memory?”

The hand wavered.

Before Grian slammed his fist against the wall, “Damn it!”

“None of us like this,” Monger said.

“Hume is the only truly renewable resource in this world,” Tang Rou muttered. “Even if heat death comes, abilities that create resources from nothing will keep the human race sustained for eternity.”

“But to do that, they need to keep a strong Geneline family, or constantly trigger people through starvation,” Four said. “Abilities either embody the user or occur as an answer to an external problem, that is the rule.”

Monger held his hands behind his back, “They won’t waste soldiers and resources, Command’s primary goal is still the fortification of the Eastern Front. The threat of Demons coming here is still very real, we still need to help fortify the Eastern Front, but Command doesn’t care if we change our curriculum or not. They only want people for the Heroes Junior League.”

“As a propaganda unit,” Trist muttered. “That’s what this is really about. The creation of a propaganda unit so they may drum up patriotism in preparation to sending millions to their death.”

“It may not be that bad,” Afton murmured, “you don’t need death to be traumatised after all. They just need to keep them there long enough that psychology does the rest of the work. And they won’t allow it to get too bad to prevent dissent back home.”

“You say that as if it makes it better,” Dr Oliver said. “Sometimes I wonder if we both are really doctors.”

“My Doctorate is in Philosophy,” Afton meekly defended.

“They won’t send an entire army to their deaths,” Monger confirmed, “the normal situation in battle is enough to trigger the Manifestations they require.”

“Then the actual cost is nothing to us,” Tang Rou said, “a propaganda unit would be better cared for than most fighting units, so long as they are half decent, they’ll be famous and well equipped. Losses would be unlikely to occur.”

“There’s also a good chance whoever’s in the unit at the time of the invasion will be sent to it as a stunt,” Isaac said.

Silence.

“Tang Rou, Trist Brake,” Monger said, “I’m leaving you two in charge of selecting students for this Junior League, after they graduate they will be taken off, but ensure all you pick throughout the years up till the invasion will be most suited for escape and survival.”

“The Geneline families will want in on this,” Tang Rou said, “the easy fame and prestige… Do I just grab a few from the strongest families?”

“If they do not fit then don’t bother,” Monger said.

“The top families may withdraw their donations if none of their children are in,” Tang Rou said, “or even worse, if we take one, but not the others, then we alienate and make foes of them.”

“If that happens, none of your salaries will be affected,” Monger answered, “if they withdraw donations I’ll take the pay cut and pay out of my pocket to make up the difference. Do everything in my name so blame falls on me.”

Tang Rou rubbed her brow, “You’ll be the object of ire for everyone.”

“That is fine,” Monger continued. “Remember, we don’t need to take action immediately, the threat is estimated to happen anywhere from five to thirty years from now. We can drag this on for up to two years if we wish so.”

“When you say it like that bossman, it makes me want to not do that,” Trist muttered, “Ah fuck it, I have a class tomorrow that has… I think three of the top families? Glory, Abercrombie and the Zenins, then the Tubas the day after that. I’ll finagle a test and see what I can get out of them.”

Suddenly, Mister Monday screeched.

“““Ah sorry,””” he quickly said, answering the questioning stares. “““I just found something humorous.”””

“““With my Diabolism, I can easily cure many of my ailments,””” the voices screeched, “““I can return myself to the form of man. I know the right devils, it would not even be dangerous to me.”””

“Then why don’t you?” Afton asked.

“““Have you ever played at a casino?””” Monday asked, “““A few people can win jackpots, but in the end, the House always wins.”””

“““Thus, the greatest gambler is not one who is lucky, but one who knows when to stop,””” he said, “““It is the same with Diabolism. I can win the jackpot, but if I do not pay the price, someone else will. Maybe not in my time, but the universe will be made a worse place by every Pact. Thus, the greatest strength of a Diabolist is restraint.”””

“And why is that funny?” Trist asked.

“““I briefly saw a similarity here, how restrained our approach is, despite the power we could potentially wield,””” Mister Monday answered.

Oliver Oliver shook his head, “That is not funny.”

“““Do forgive me, my ability to feel humour is currently owned and divided between nine different devil shareholders.”””

There was a bit of awkward silence.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking with that,” Trist muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Trist told Aiden, “But there are no plans for an accelerated curriculum. I’m afraid you’ll need to wait to learn Meta Techniques.”

Aiden looked disappointed, but accepting, “Thank you for your time Ms.”

He turned to walk away.

“Wait,” she said.

Aiden paused and looked back.

“Because I simply am,” Aiden answered frankly, “I lack power, I have a dozen tricks but I don't have a singular powerful one.”

“What do you think is the greatest strength a person can have?”

He thought about it for a moment, before he answered, "Constancy, a normalcy that you can return to and rely on. Safe, treaded ground."

Trist chuckled.

“Funny, yesterday someone told me it was restraint.”

“I think that too, is a good answer.”

“It depends on the context,” Trist said, and she meant every word. “Before you go, I can’t teach you anything yet, but I’ll get you up to speed with all the other Geneline families. This is just common knowledge stuff, I’m aware you are an Awakened.”

Aiden paused, and stepped back into the gym.