《Apollyon's Curse》 (1)The Ascent Refuted 1: Dragons Are Always Victims, Aren’t They? 38 System Hours until the end of the world The Divine Dragon. A vast, overwhelming being that coiled alone in His underground realm known as Purgatory. He was the only true god left in this damaged world. There were others, once, but a great reset befell the world 100,000 years ago, wiping away all traces of divinity and civilization that came before that point. Well and truly gone, with the Divine Dragon being the only bridge between times, their era might as well have been completely lost to history. Now with that tragedy a forgotten memory to the mortals on the ground, He was Alpha and Omega, the first and last god. And, as the singular will that overlooked the still recuperating world, should His corresponding duty and authority not have been all-encompassing as well? Indeed, this was the case. For it was said that all life that came into being - all creation, born lesser or greater, from the smallest insect to the mightiest beast - must first have obtained His blessing before they could be brought into this world. Truly, His dominion over life was absolute. As souls left their mortal shells, none floated away nor were any assimilated into the ether. No. They sank down. Down into the depths far below the surface, and into His domain. Before all that however, on the surface far away from Purgatory, people everywhere venerated His name. Yet none of them had a consistent understanding of their God. His wants, His goals, His grand design. All unknown. Lacking this, the mortals above wrote for themselves what they believed the dragon desired and expanded upon what little their God provided. But that brought with it its own host of problems. Around the world, disparate sects even disagreed on what the dragon looked like, despite the fact that some were privileged to obtain an audience with their God. Curiously, accounts from even verified meetings still differed. The only concrete information known was that this elusive deity was in fact a dragon, but with time even this once unifying truth had become a point of contention. Perhaps - though also needless to say - that the dragon¡¯s touch was felt around the world was the only thing in absolute agreement. No one in their right mind declared that the one they worshiped was not this deity, only that others had the wrong picture. Though this would bring up an age-old question: which were more hated, unbelievers or heretics? Regardless, records that dated back to the period before the deity¡¯s ascension were few and far between. To say nothing of the reshuffling the Great Calamity brought about, even the most prosperous and enlightened of civilizations would eventually crumble and decay over time - their countless great libraries ruined along with them. 1,000 years was more than enough to bury the legacies of most empires several feet under the earth, to say nothing of the span of 100,000. Especially in a world as war-torn as this one. Even harder still would be for individuals who have experienced the event personally to have survived to this day. Some of the most ancient among the elder races might have lived through that tragedy, but they were insular and hardly surfaced, if not sealed or insane. For those who sought the truth regarding their god, they tangentially understood that something terrible had occurred way back then... and that their god¡¯s ascension was deeply connected to it. But to not be content with Calamity told from the perspective of their deity was to commit the greatest heresy, the kind that foredoomed oneself to becoming an enemy of every large-scale institution in the world. Those who comprehended this much knew that they had found the line that cannot be crossed and stopped dead in their tracks. Those capable of making it that far generally had a sense of self-preservation and knew not to touch the taboos of the strongest being they''d known. Meanwhile, the few fools that stubbornly continued and were unfortunate enough to really discover something worth their troubles had a tendency of being stricken with madness or, if lucky enough, simply disappeared outright. However, those petty things were not done by the dragon Himself. For few actually qualified to touch upon His true secrets. So long as the majority of people still venerated Him - conflict or not - heresy or not, there was no need for much movement at all. Due to this, while its influence was felt across every social stratum, most people were more beholden to their local lords or to the kings and emperors that governed the land than to the deity. When everyone venerated the same god, how was it possible for that god to show favoritism towards any one party? As such, commoners were routinely sent off to die in wars of the faith, lives wasted over disagreements in dogma they''d never come to understand. Most believed that their cause was righteous, if only thanks to how proficient those on high had become in spinning rousing speeches over the time. But at the end of the day, from a perspective that overlooked the grand scheme of things, those small ripples generated by heretics and warring empires alike ultimately amounted to little. The world was still very stable. Nothing too big has happened for ages. If there was something that made waves within the stagnant pool that was this world, it would be a particular sect that, over the last few centuries, had seen meteoric growth. Spearheaded by the most recent [Blessed], they claimed that the dragon was no dragon at all. Rather, they preached that the deity was a manifestation of the will of the world, the consciousness of the world itself, and its descent and fated ascension was done to bring balance and guidance to the people in the wake of the Calamity. That they quickly became the most powerful among their peers shortly after their Delve gave credence to their claim. The major churches themselves often debated whether to amend their sacred texts, though these massive institutions were slow to change and even a century was not enough to shift directions. There were simply too many things to consider when one¡¯s reach spread across multiple planes and continents. However, most on the inside have already recognized this as truth. The Delve itself was a time-honored tradition, a test of faith and will, and the telltale signs of the [Blessed] after they succeeded were impossible to fake. Indeed, that the [Blessed] were the spokespeople of the deity living on the surface among the people to spread His good word would not be a wrong interpretation. Therefore, throughout the world, it was commonplace to hear stories telling of daring adventurers embarking on epic quests to find the deity. Everyone knew at least some variant of it, whether told by the local bard or someone who claimed to have attempted it and returned. This behavior was condoned by both the deity and churches alike. The god Himself had a keen interest in meeting those strong in soul - those with unbreakable conviction in their hearts. These tales told of people who endured the suffocating darkness of the underground. Heroes who navigated through the meandering, claustrophobic caves and fought against unforgiving waves of monsters and guardians that blocked them while on their journey down into Purgatory. Always left out of these stories, however, was how they had found an entrance. It always seemed to mystically appear in front of those that had a chance at success, but the exact conditions were never quite pinned down. What was certain was that after its appearance, the brave and foolhardy alike seemed to just have a calling, a calling that drew them into the caverns below. This call wouldn''t go unanswered, as these devoted followers would come in droves, no doubt emboldened by the successes narrated to them from a young age. Despite knowing that they would meet their God eventually, even the most fanatical knew that the circumstances that led up to such a meeting was important. The living, at least, had the right to bargain. Once one died, they forfeited their ability to make changes in the world. Regardless of the strength or connections they¡¯d cultivated when they were still alive, everyone would be equal in death. The goals of these brave souls ranged from simple to complex, yet they always led back to one thing - to petition this seemingly omnipotent being for a boon. Whether in a maddened bid for power, a rare chance at communion with a higher being, or a desperate attempt to bring a loved one back to the realm of the living. The answer to everything awaited them, down below. Fortunately for them, their destination was clear. As they entered the chasm, they¡¯d find a path without forks or winding passages. A path where natural laws were ignored, where space was shrunk, and where every direction, even backward, led straight down. A path of no return unless the destination was reached. A path leading straight to the Heart of an unfathomable being. A path leading straight to their God.
Once on this path, all ultimately found their way into Purgatory. Though, most would not enter in the way that they had intended. A majority quickly found themselves ill-suited for the journey and tried to quit part-way, but they soon came to discover that this was a one-way trip. These unfortunate souls inevitably failed their quest, their fragile, transient bodies finding rest kilometers beneath the surface. The rest of the way continued as a wayward soul, this meeting destined. Venturing ever downward. Always downward. Even for those with sufficient luck or skill, it was only after an uncomfortable and mind-numbing amount of time passed trudging along those cavernous depths that they finally passed into Purgatory. Such an endeavor truly tested the limits of mortal tenacity and endurance, weeding out many who were unworthy. Though the sight at the end, as every [Blessed] would recount, was nothing short of life changing. Despite having had this memory burned into their minds, to fully describe the majesty of this deity and his abode was a feat every storyteller had failed to accomplish. Every story had its own unique lens that captured what the dragon was, retaining but a fragment of the deity¡¯s true brilliance. Though each writer failed to comprehend the true nature of the god, they were able to catch a glimpse. That was what the original churches were for - a collection of these fragmented visions in the vain hope that everything would be pieced together as a complete picture. But mortals could not avoid their natural tendencies, not even those that were baptized with the knowledge of a higher being. With time, power concentrated, and politicking became commonplace, and the first scholarly communions became behemoths that crowded out room for new systems of belief. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Regardless, within their ancient libraries, one could find innumerable differing accounts, though religious scholars who dedicate their lives to studying these reports and ancient ones who have lived to see a majority of them get entered can see a few trends. Some said that they felt the dragon¡¯s suffocating gaze befall them as they entered. Unnerved yet determined, they looked to their surroundings to ground themselves. All before them was a vast, empty expanse of brown and gray. But, as they looked up expecting to see a ceiling of similarly gray stone, they would be met with the dragon¡¯s many eyes instead. Pushing past Purgatory¡¯s gates, as mortal eyes locked with those of the divine, they felt as though they were seen through in an instant. Those who met in this way would go on to proclaim that the deity was omniscient and that He used his great and many eyes to overlook the deceased as they were purified - the surveyor of the cycle of reincarnation. Others would lament that while the entrance of the domain was a blindingly brilliant sheet of cascading white light, the deity¡¯s domain itself was dark, darker than anything they had experienced before. This left them unable to see anything at all, and their meeting was forced to be done blind. Those who met in this way would go on to proclaim that the deity was omnipresent, convinced that the feeling that they had in front of the deity was there even after their meeting, persisting even as they reached the surface. Perhaps, blind as they were, with their most reliable sense cut off, they were able to better experience a facet of the deity others found ineffable. However, those testimonies would prove to be rather few and far between, reserved for only the most devout of believers. Ironically, most of those with lesser faith would go on to proclaim that they saw the dragon in the flesh. And, for these individuals of little faith, it was a sight that changed their views. They saw the deity¡¯s vast and winding body that extended far past Purgatory. With their own eyes, they would see the deity¡¯s scales, which shined with a resplendent light, compelling them forward. They could feel, with all their soul, the all-consuming power of the dragon washing over their mind. Those who meet in this way would go on to proclaim that the deity was omnipotent. That the deity had a certain charm that compelled others towards him was consistent with all these stories. To the souls of the dead, this was even more pronounced - feeling an irresistible influence compelling them to go toward Purgatory. To these poor souls, it was a warm and inviting light, one that guided them to their next life. Interestingly, this charm was the final and ultimate test of spirit, a test that many would find themselves unprepared for, tired and weary after scaling the obstacles that impeded the path here. Those that failed to resist this calling, those that chose to linger on after meeting the dragon, were thus robbed of the glory of returning as newly crowned [Blessed]. Their awe costed these poor souls their window to leave. And, with the way back closed, they could only venture forward, pushing deeper into Purgatory. Herein lay a vision that could never see the light of day. Herein, they were greeted by the recently deceased, a veritable sea of souls, piled en masse outside the radiant core of the world. The more perceptive individuals might have, at this point, developed a sinking feeling within their chest, coming to realize the sight for what it was. Those tortured souls served as a portent, and not merely because when they themselves would die, they would inevitably join them. No. This inkling was of what awaited them but a few moments later. Those fallen souls sought peace, solace in the light. Though peace was what they would inevitably find, it was not in the way that anyone had hoped. Though perhaps such a description had put things too mildly, as framing the feeling of one¡¯s memories and personality - the very makeup of one¡¯s very existence - being comprehensively erased as a ''disappointment'' would be an understatement no matter how it was phrased. From the steady yet madding decay into mindlessness to the feeling of fragments of oneself being stripped away piece by piece, even the most apathetic would have been desperate for another chance at life. However, for those present, it was far too late for them to be having regrets. Here, their movement was no longer under their control, and they could only wait for their inescapable oblivion. Though perhaps once born into a world like this, freedom was never on the table to begin with. Their fates were not theirs to write from the moment they crossed the threshold from the Starry River; their fate of becoming one with the World Core foredoomed from the moment they reincarnated into this world. Such was the sadness of those at the bottom. In a certain sense, every world was equally unequal. Only, in this world where a singular being dominated the absolute peak, such inequality could only be more pronounced. Faced with such a sight - like the souls of the deceased - these faithful petitioners will quickly realize that their god was not the kind sort. But remorse alone was not enough to get them out. As in here, they will have seen something they should not have seen - the true body of the dragon. Largely incorporeal, it was a floating, bubbling mass of mana and soul matter. Bereft a coherent shape, at times draconic features would take form, only to quickly dissipate into the collective soon after. It was a roiling tempest of mercurial soul matter spinning around a magnificent metallic World Core. This was the deity in actuality. For the audience granted prior was merely with deity¡¯s fleshly body - vast and awe-inspiring and filled to the brim with divine might as it might be, it paled in comparison to the truth. It was nothing more than a vestige of its pre-ascension state. A profoundly powerful puppet, but a puppet, nonetheless. The husk wrapped the entirety of the domain. And, under the deity¡¯s careful control, fused with it. Judging by this connection, it would not be wrong to say that he was Purgatory, and the Purgatory was him, though it would not be entirely correct, either. For how could a mere domain fulfill this Draconic God¡¯s greed and ambition? Presented with the choice between a World and a subsidiary realm, the choice was obvious. And, by making such a decision, the path ahead was clear. Champion of the World? Lord of Purgatory? Godhood? All practice. All tentative steps taken to prepare him for the true test. The first step culminated with the molding of his original body. Jutting out from Purgatory in all directions were three sets of wings, each an ascending sheet of white light that stretched far into the rocks above. There, they formed an uncountable number of imperceptibly small veins that ran all over the world. This was the true nature of the tunnels every hero delved. Thus, his form penetrated every inch of the world and drew upon its essence. His heart became the world¡¯s heart, each beat so in sync with the very breath of the world that they could not be perceived as separate entities. After those preliminary experiments showed such promising results, the deity¡¯s control extended far past Purgatory, hoping to engulf the world from the inside. However, it was only recently that this endeavor began in earnest. The deity was in a truly unique situation brought about by an unthinkably fortunate opportunity. With ambitions that reached the skies, he dug into the earth, becoming what he was now. Where gods would generally be assimilated by the world, becoming something akin to natural laws over time and lost their individuality and sense of self, this dragon was able to do the same in reverse as he fused the world unto it instead. This was no easy feat. Sacrifices had to be made to achieve this momentous accomplishment. His corporeal body, the one that those ambitious mortals sought an audience from, became nothing more than a tether and a chain, for both Him and the world. Mortals could only comprehend a being that enveloped a divine realm. Their understanding could only go so far, after all. They''d mistaken His body¡¯s position to be a barrier, and He a guardian that ensured no wayward soul ever had a chance to escape once they entered. They mythologized Him to be a warden, the first and only gate necessary between the world of the living and the world of the dead. A shield against baleful specters that would want nothing more than to harm the souls of the living. Through their fanciful tales, people believed this being to be a vital part of the world¡¯s functions. And with time, this became a sentiment repeated in the hearts of every believer. This faith, taught generation after generation and reiterated again and again over millennia, acted as a seal of approval in a world missing proper consciousness - in a world where the will of all sentient beings were the will of heaven. Now, over the years, this temporary measure was close to being replaced. The Will of Heaven was now the Will of God, and His consciousness alone was the world¡¯s will. At least, that was the end goal. Yet despite this dragon¡¯s immense power and control, he was currently the most agitated being in the world. All of this stemmed from one thing. Status
Name: Par????s Luce d¡¯C??thondaria
Titl??: Expand?
Age: 120,173
Total Level: 20??
Ma??: 985,??8 / 2,508,903,5??,190
Race: Divine Dragon (Proto-World Will[??]) Racial Skills: Expand?
Divine D??ains: Light, Souls, Corruption(Incomplete[??]) Domain Skills: Ex??and?
Main Class: Shini?? G??rdian of Purg??ory[??] Skills: Expand?
Subclass 1: Soul-Mana Alchemist S??lls: Expand?
Subclass 2: Burning Light Archmage Skill?? Expan??
Subclass 3: Mana-Soul Alchemist Skills: Expand?
General Skills: Expand? Blessings: Expand?
Conditions: Contract[??], World''s Annointed, Champion[??], P??? Co??up??on[13.07%], Marked
(2)The Ascent Refuted 2: Conclusion - Being Old Blows 100 System Hours until the end of the world The Northern Everfrost. The singular region that had still rebuffed the many attempts to inhabit its godforsaken lands. It was a cold and inhospitable continent, left as the only place bereft of the telltale marks of civilization. As the point of convergence for the world¡¯s ice-attuned mana, it was not a continent in the traditional sense. Rather, it was more so an ocean in the appearance of a landmass that consisted of densely packed chunks of ice. Though, even the smallest among them averaged miles in diameter and boasted a strength and durability far higher than that of steel, veritable magical materials in their own right. It was in this desolate place that an opulent tower of gold, fitted with all manner of wards and enchantments, stood. Grand and imperious, in stark contrast to the pristine white that surrounded it. Any onlooker fortunate, or perhaps misfortunate, enough to chance upon such a sight could only ever describe it as otherworldly. And, unknowingly, they would have been right. Yet, that was a nigh impossible event. Even directly beside it, the vast majority of beings in this world would have concluded that there was nothing there at all. The magic here was subtle, yet potent in its ability to ward off any would-be intruders. Hence, the only visitors were the occasional migratory animal. Granted, they made for poor guests. As these creatures, guided by their instincts, never stayed long. Birds flew over in a hurry without roosting, and fish fled quickly if they ventured too close. In spite of the chilling storm outside, a window at the peak of the tower was open. Within was a brilliantly decorated room filled with antiques and magical contraptions, yet none of them could have compared to the hunchbacked old man in loose-fitting robes who sat right beside the window. Eldridge Von Haueter. A name that had not been heard or spoken of for a long, long time. The robe that adorned him was a rather simple piece of clothing, one of pure white without any extra embroidery or embellishments. Though perhaps this very attribute made it unusual; being banal in a room filled with such luxurious excess was noteworthy in its own right. Perhaps he felt no reason to dress opulently. As, unrefined was not the same as uncomfortable. This could have been the case. The man''s slouched posture belied no sign of discomfort at all. Though, rather than the dress being the source of his comfort, perhaps something else contributed more. Indeed, the inside was mild. Not too hot and not too cold, a perfectly comfortable environment for any human. The place had been magically tuned to a temperature that would be pleasant for most people, but that was also not quite the reason the sole inhabitant was content. After all, he¡¯d long passed the point where a little cold could bother him. Yet, that did not mean that the temperature had not been soothing in some capacity. The environment inside was tailored towards the aesthetics of non-transcendent humans out of a deep sense of nostalgia. Everything in this room, in fact, brought to mind the past. The transcendent being inside the tower was old. Very old. Old enough for him to have accumulated an unfathomable level of knowledge, yet that was not enough. He was human. He''d chosen to remain human all this while, even after that withering weakness known as age showed its fangs. It ate at him unceasingly - only ever growing stronger as the days passed. Yet all this time, his knowledge and ability were able to keep up. His ever-growing strength was a testament to that fact. But everything, save for the [Detached], had a limit. And his limit coincided with his death. Only, that was then, and this was now. Everything was in place, and he would soon put all this behind him. This strength. This frailty. Meaningless, before what came next. In this place of comfort, Eldridge sat unperturbed. His eyes wandered lazily about the room, though focused on nothing in particular. At certain moments those cold, black eyes would glaze over, as if something deep within had suddenly stirred. Silently, he sifted through the memories of this life. Haphazardly browsing the [Soul Archive] he¡¯d created back when he was only 50 years old, a time that seemed almost an eternity ago. His attention was drawn to the path that brought him to where he was now. Looking at his earlier works with the knowledge attained after thousands of years of progress, he reflected on how much he had improved. Even in those moments, he could see a spark. A spark that would become a passion that blazed and burned to this very day. One example was perhaps the [Soul Archive] itself. It was a patchwork mess when first made, but it had served its purpose well enough. That it was still storing the wealth of knowledge he¡¯d accumulated over the years was enough to give his past self praise. The foundation had to have been laid well for the framework to have been able to accommodate such drastic improvements over time. Sure, it had been retooled to fit a new niche where its original purpose had become obsolete, but that was the case with pretty much every skill of his. Every part of him was alive, after all; each an ever-evolving, ever-changing organism in their own right. What mattered was that, while surpassed by other creations in even its primary focus, it had the capacity to become useful in another. Having analyzed those meticulously cataloged memories deeper, the [Soul Archive] seemed an even more curious creation. It''s a wonder that he''d finished it without inflicting irreparable damage to his soul. As a scaffold of a soul-based library, it had laid the foundation for the processing system that would be the lynchpin for the ritual about to take place. He¡¯d ruthlessly experimented with himself to create it - only after he''d had plenty of practice operating on others that shared a close enough likeness to him, of course. But, knowing what he knew now, he was certain his technique hadn¡¯t been polished enough to have proceeded with a surgery like that. My most ill thought out experiment. My most fortunate one as well. Fate... is fickle like that, right? One small misstep, and I''d have either died miserably or become a blubbering fool. Arrogance and recklessness were the domain of youth, after all. Ignorance bred fearlessness, and few could claim to be more fearless as he was back then. Perhaps his callousness and general deviance were sequelae of this inadequate procedure, but so much time had passed since then that such traits have long become a bedrock of his character. Plus, he was able to reach this height thanks in no small part to his deviancy. Most that reached his height could be considered insane in one way or another. Taking in a deep breath, he plunged further into the [Soul Archive], and dragged to light memories held within in its deepest recesses. Memories from his childhood that hadn¡¯t been viewed for centuries. The Golden Empire. His homeland. It had long been lost to the pages of history. The people he once had more intimate ties to had passed all too early. His life, thusly, might be summarized as a series of connections made and broken as he jumped from world to world. No one proved capable of keeping up with his footsteps. How different would I be if someone were to follow me? If I were to follow someone else? The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. I could be completely different. Though I¡¯d probably still end up here. But does any of that matter? All of this is merely a prologue. Yet now that it''s coming to an end¡­ What am I even supposed to feel at this moment? These were thoughts that came to him increasingly often as he approached this point. I''m alone. Alone to stew silently with only my thoughts, without anything else to ground myself. Without anyone to ground these emotions. And, perhaps most of all, without anyone to ground my sanity. ¡°Bah¡±, he snorted. What am I thinking? My mind is perfectly fine. It scores highly in every metric I can find. But the memories of the people he¡¯d met, of the friendships and comradery fostered during his travels, remained as clear as an icy stream. Time and again, even at this indescribable height, fragments of those moments would replay in his mind. Moments that reminded him of different times. Simpler times. Times when it was not strange to hear him laugh or boast boisterously with those he¡¯d recognized. It''s too painful to remember¡­ It¡¯s a pain unlike anything else. But I just can''t seem to bring myself to wipe them all away. Now even just the emotions surrounding them so that I can view them without these tinted lenses that I have now. Yet, I do not regret outliving them all. This dream of mine. This dream that I¡¯ve pursued all my life... was, and still is, worth all sorrowful partings - past, present, and future. Though that was not to say that such partings had hurt any less. Perhaps this pain was why he decided to hide away in his old age. He became hyper-focused on his work and dream and distracted himself from those messy thoughts and emotions inherent to humankind. Humans. Mortals. He still counted among their number, having not yet crossed the threshold into immortality. His withered form served as an ever-present reminder of that fact. Despite having possessed strength far greater than most beings that would call themselves gods, he still had a finite lifespan. However, this wasn¡¯t too rare. It¡¯s not like there weren¡¯t precedents of mortals shattering the heavens as they tore deities from their lofty heights. There were too many to count, really. Heroes. Legends. Champions. Sons of Heaven. Protagonists. Their names and titles ranged wildly from world to world, but their lives¡¯ trajectories were ultimately quite similar. Fate was a funny thing. With the authority divested upon an individual by the heavens, the vast resources of a world were concentrated onto their small, seemingly fragile frame. Great change followed their every move, which often resulted in an end and beginning of an era. Their time in the limelight was short, but they more than made up for it with their potential and ambition. Great and lengthy epics could be written from their lives - deeds that took but a few decades to accomplish. Mere decades or not even that. A time frame that might as well be in the blink of an eye for those on high. That potential was inversely proportional to age was something that was well-known across every world he¡¯d visited. This was why he hadn''t taken the step into immortality all this time. A mortal''s mindset. A mortal''s malleability. A mortal''s potential for growth. All of these things proved far too precious to give up until he¡¯d truly found a path of immortality that suited him. To rush into this kind of thing was folly. And towards those that make such a shortsighted decision, Eldridge only had one thing to say to them: The paths towards true [Detachment] are not suitable for you. This was to be expected, really. Without a high enough vision, longevity and power were the obvious pursuits for all. Worthless illusions. Bait thrown out for the greedy and foolish alike. Accordingly - ironically - strength, eternity or authority sought in this manner never lasted long. This included the fragile "immortality" many believed themselves to have achieved. Until [Detachment] was attained, death was and always will be an inevitability. A few passing millennia at most, and these prides of a generation were gone. As dead as those that they trampled upon to reach their height. The marks they so valiantly carved were doomed to be transient, quickly eroded by the unwavering march of time. Indeed, death was the greatest equalizer of all. In death, Gods and Heroes proved equal. In death, Heroes and civilians proved equal. Yet there was no afterlife to cherish that equality. What awaited beyond was only an eternal cycle of Samsara. The pattern that once made up one''s existence consigned to oblivion, leaving behind only a trace¡ªsoon to be washed away by the sea of countless lives, past and future. The present was ever diluted, becoming more ephemeral with each cycle passed. An eternity of reincarnation. Of breaking and reforming. Of breaking and reforming. For those that do not jump out of the chess board, fate is doomed. Just one among the many who inevitably waste away until nothing, until eventually not even the stories of their deeds remain... Indeed, even those are forgotten. And though he, Arcanist Eldridge, lived on to the point where even those legends had become lost, like most other mortals, he was also a once brilliant inferno that had burned through all its fuel. Now, dwindling and dimming, only embers remained. But his fire was not yet extinguished. Embers, too, could ignite a new inferno¡ªthis time a different, enduring blaze. A fire ever-burning. How else could he pursue the truth? How else could he see the world in its entirety, in a way devoid of the lenses that bound his cognition to a flawed perspective? He was one among an enlightened few, blessed to see what true [Detachment] meant. Eldridge saw a zenith, a height that he still failed to completely comprehend. Living paradoxes, the lot of ''em. Are they even alive? To become infinite and everlasting. To exist not as a result of matter, energy, information or even form. Rather, beings beyond all - existing for the sake of existence. ¡°Haaah,¡±He let out a weary sigh. What an enviable thing... Through that encounter, he''d seen the chessboard in all its dispassionate, interweaving complexity. And by recognizing the game¡¯s existence, he had already taken the first step toward transcending it. But he knew one crucial truth: a pawn should remain a good pawn until he finds the opportunity to become a player, lest he himself be played to death before he even realized what was happening. It was with this glimpse, this direction, that he set out to build a road that led to a true eternity. Now, as his lifespan teetered on the edge, the first meaningful step towards [Detachment] was but a few steps to being realized. Yet the next step would be one of no return. If he took that leap, the question of his humanity would become a foregone conclusion¡­ Even more than it already was. With a tired sigh, Eldridge lamented raspily,"Eternity. It seemed so simple at the time, but nothing seemed to click." Back in his original world, countless races boasted inherent longevity. Naturally gifted races like the illusive lithoids or even common elves - beings that could be found within or bordering his birthplace - could handily surpass his current lifespan by a magnitude and then some. However, their longevity dulled their pursuit of growth, something he strongly disdained. Fortunately, it wasn''t the case that longevity had to be an inborn trait. Stories of humans turned vampires or lich were commonplace, though tales of these profane transformations served more as cautionary tales than targets of aspiration. After all, despite the allure of an undying body, it was made abundantly clear that madness was all that followed. Numerous recorded instances of blood-starved vampires or insane and unstable liches who acted against their own interests were more than enough to prove the pitfalls of such paths. However, while those immortal creatures had some messy qualities, they certainly weren¡¯t the only ones. Blessed with the standing to see the plethora of examples in the world and, more importantly, the prowess to bring them to an operating table before him, he¡¯d felt that it was only a matter of time before he found one that fit his preferences. As such, back when he was still the crown prince, he¡¯d come to study many instances of immortality and longevity. The earliest experiment started in his teenage years, though it was executed with none of the finesse he had now. In all, things were quite¡­ messy during those years. In the end, he would come to discover that all immortal species were like those mentioned before in some way or another. They all had at least one trait that made for a horrible template. Splicing together different species also proved unfruitful. The fusion of differing aspects of immortality made only grotesque abominations; their incompatibility touched upon some esoteric Law that even now he had no ability to break. Dissatisfied with the writing on the wall despite having combed his world several times over - and gaining a number of displeasing titles as a result - he sought new options. And by luck, he would find new options. Options that would lead him to the ineffably infinite multiverse¡­ (3)The Ascent Refuted 3: Is Madness Really So Bad? 98 System Hours until the end of the world It seemed, then, that the only thing in his adolescence that could some close to equaling his pride was perhaps his luck. It could have been said that during that period he could be regarded as a Son of Heaven, a protagonist, or even a hero. A fortunate confluence of worldly favor that had set the stage only for him to throw it all away. At the time, thanks to the people he surrounded himself with, he believed it to be a work of providence rather than just blind luck, and perhaps that might very well have been the case. The higher he got and the more he saw, the less he felt that things just happened out of ¡°coincidence¡±. Ever the schemer himself, he recognized when things were too good to be true. Sometimes, the dominoes just aligned too perfectly to have not had at least a little touch from a guiding hand. Never more clearly had he perceived this ¡®touch¡¯ than when all the options in his home world were exhausted and his ¡®little¡¯ goal of immortality had grown to become an obsession. He¡¯d stumbled upon the prerequisites for the rare [Dimension Mage] subclass, which allowed him to travel via unstable rifts that connected to nearby worlds. It had been a series of coincidences that appeared wholly calculated no matter how he looked at it. For one, it came at a time when he¡¯d needed it most - running afoul with the world¡¯s guardians after a ritual was a bit too successful. He escaped cleanly with the newfound abilities. And, shocked by the power such a [Class] provided, believed that he would never need to forge lasting relationships again. The locals he¡¯d passed by his as he began his world hopping journey were exploited however he pleased. In his ignorant mind, there would be no lasting consequences, anyways. How foolish. Actions always had consequences. [Causality] was not a foundational Law entangling every world for nothing. It was during those adventures that he¡¯d come to learn of the vastness of the omniverse. Of how completely some worlds¡¯ development eclipsed his own in some fields while they lagged hopelessly behind in others. He¡¯d dismissed many a world as primitive at first, whereas the only one that had a problem was himself. He was unable to see and appreciate the path in which they developed their power and technology. A few near-death experiences brought about by said outlook quickly forced him to put that insolence away, however. These lessons learned through luck taught him to maddeningly hoard knowledge from every world, as he never knew when it could be applied. Even the most basic ones. Especially the basic ones. Though this revelation came only after a number of blunders had been made. If there was anything he would redo, since he would choose not to change any major events, it would have to be to go back and properly catalog all those worlds he had failed to do so in his youth. However, he would have to give himself some credit. The tools at his disposal were but a fraction of what he had now. True perception was the most important thing to obtain, and that could only be gained via experience. Nowhere did that principle apply more than in his reckless rift jumping. That period of brash world-hopping was very, very dangerous. After centuries without major accidents, his luck would eventually run out, leaving his hubris shattered. His current modesty and conniving nature were learned the hard way, though luckily the tuition for that lesson was not enough to completely break him. It was this careless world-hopping that ultimately led him to his first encounter with a [Detached] entity, for better or worse. Of course, it was not the true body, else he would not be himself right now. It was a reflection. Or perhaps it was a reflection of a reflection. In truth, he did not know. Even today, he still did not know for sure. A mere image that bore the being¡¯s great unfathomable likeness had warped his senses, tainting his whole reality in its color. It was in this hell that he saw the sky above the sky, the heaven above heaven. Though perhaps that entity would be better described as the abyss below the abyss. It was but a brief touch with a bringer of insanity. That was all. That was enough. He was very fortunate to be experienced in matters of the soul beforehand, otherwise, things would have become a lot more¡­ unpleasant. The pollution still existed today, though sequestered and suppressed to more manageable levels. Had that not been the case, had he not taken prompt and decisive action, his existence - both body, spirit and soul - would have been irrevocably twisted into the indescribable entity¡¯s shape. They probably didn''t even intend for this to happen. I just fell victim to "environmental effects". Truly, the weak have no say in the world, and disasters fall from the horizons beyond one''s sight. Over the millennia, adventures of a similar vein - though never to this extent - would teach him many lessons. The least of which being that ¡°simple¡± forms of true immortality were "simply" dead ends. Eternal life at the cost of one¡¯s ego or living at the whims of some enigmatic being whose thoughts were impossible to divine was no immortality at all. He was unwilling to lose himself, nor did he wish to play an endless game of cat and mouse throughout the multiverse, hiding in some forgotten corner as he hoped no one found him. He had experienced it once, and it had only stopped once he''d thoroughly exterminated his pursuer and both everything and everyone associated with them. Karma was something that proved difficult to sever, as every enemy slain only delivered another. It was a decidedly unpleasant experience that tied him down for hundreds of years and was something he did not wish to experience again. Especially so if the strength and scale of the pursuers were increased by several magnitudes. Over time, he came to terms with the fact that every key to immortality had a price to be paid. A shackle, a curse, a binding. Whatever the method, there was always at least one factor that dissuaded him from using it. If one knew how and where to look, inheritances that pointed toward some form of immortality or another were everywhere. If each world had a few buried, then even if he¡¯d missed most of them, by crossing into a new world every few years he¡¯d have encountered hundreds after a few millennia. After experiencing firsthand these ¡®inheritances¡¯ countless times, even a beast could recognize a pattern. Of course, it wasn''t as simple as just blindly accepting these inheritances. While each had the potential to contain the summation of a person¡¯s path, it would be thoughtless to simply take them. Each of them held hidden pits, just waiting for some naive fool to blindly fall face first into them. Old monsters that could bury inheritances worth his while always had a backhand prepared. He would know. Not only did he have firsthand experience as the victim, but he was also one of those that dug the pits as well. Fishing was a hobby shared by many elderly who looked for amusement. Things that seemed free were never truly free. They merely cost something you could not perceive. Consequently, these ¡®free¡¯ gifts often have the highest cost. Without a proper understanding of the expense, one might only realize they had been robbed after they reached a higher Tier, realizing only all too late that something integral was missing. Perhaps when they accepted such a ¡®gracious¡¯ gift they thanked their scammer with all their heart. Nevertheless, despite the unfortunate twists and turns made while he grasped blindly in the dark, the path ahead was eventually made clear. While not perfect, as it meant giving up a large portion of his autonomy, it certainly beat the alternatives. It was a path wholly his own, at least. A few events did point otherwise - which made him wary - but he¡¯d put his cognition through countless verifications and came to believe it was truly a result of his own thoughts. A moment of inspiration, of enlightenment, that was what it would be remembered as. If he wasn¡¯t able to convince himself of that fact, he would never be able to get anywhere, lost and paralyzed by his own paranoia, so it had to be the correct answer. The solution? Artificing. What he had once picked up as a passing hobby would be the door he chose to endless life. It¡¯s quite ironic, really. Despite all that manic searching¡­ and those unfortunate incidents¡­ the solution was right there¡­ right in front of me all along. That dream from many millenniums ago had not diminished in the slightest. In fact, with the knowledge gained, there existed a reason to fear death. Well, if one valued what he valued, anyway. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. But that was all behind him. Hopefully. Now, he had confidence in his success. His eternity was at hand, and nothing would ruin this moment. The only thing now was to truly savor the experience. It would be something truly novel, a sublimation unlike any before. To ensure that this momentous occasion went perfectly, he needed to get his mind in order. That included settling all his inner demons, no matter how minor, and making peace with his past. Even the slightest modicum of hesitation had to be wiped clean before he could begin, lest he give a chance for something untoward to happen. Though powerful, he was not above the world¡¯s more subtle influences. He would not go out like some brain-dead villain whose plans were foiled out of a sudden change of heart. He would relish his part as he performed upon a grandiose stage, but that enjoyment can only come once he was certain of his success and had contingency after contingency ready to go. The most tedious and difficult parts have been completed long ago. The core was finished carving yesterday, and I can only put the finishing touches on purifying my soul during the ritual. Everything is in place. Now, a spark to set everything off¡­ and a catalyst to keep things going. The souls in this world will suffice. They¡¯re on the weaker side of things, but that¡¯s to be expected from a world like this. I¡¯d hoped for them to develop more in the past few centuries but those dragons were more active than I anticipated. Their patron is the only god here, after all. Maybe I should have introduced some things to put a few checks on their actions... but that would make my actions much more overt. Too much risk. No point in second guessing. What''s done is done. I¡¯ll just have to foot the difference myself. Eldridge rose from his chair with a slight grunt. His skeletal arms pushed him up with great difficulty before he finally steadied himself. There was a reason why most mages after level 500, or Tier 6, preferred to use either a [Levitate], [Fly] or [Teleport] spell to get around. Eldridge had counted himself among their number for quite some time, which played a not-so-small part in his now atrophied legs. Though, no amount of exercise could reverse their decay at this age. Here, he was alone, so there was no need to save face. He decided to forgo this shortcut, letting himself savor what little time he had left with a physical, human body. Though, if anything, all it did was remind him of why he made this choice. Limbs like a desiccated corpse was cumbersome at best. He could hear his bones pop with every step. Awkwardly trying to adopt a suitable posture, he found that every joint remained stiff, forcing his feeble muscles to work just a little harder. Why did humans have to have bones instead of just fleshy tentacles? What am I thinking? It was a strange feeling, being so vulnerable again. No longer surrounded by a dense coating of mana. Not armed with a panoply of artifacts that improved his survivability. He trusted himself enough to know that his tower was more than enough protection in such a world, but it was still an uncomfortable experience, nonetheless. With shaky steps, Eldridge walked over to a gaudy mirror across the room. His gait was more fitting for a senior struggling to walk down the road than a powerful archmage. If he walked down the street of a crowded human city without wards no one would be able to tell the difference. Well, if he put away the robes, of course. Though, perhaps in another world, that kind of fashion might have been quite fitting for certain seniors. As he looked at himself weakly approaching the mirror, with his reflection growing ever so slowly, he thought back to how he used to see himself. Gone were the days when he would carry himself with pride; Gone was his sturdy frame that put even dedicated warriors to shame. The unceasing march of time had eroded it all away. Whether it be hubris, charm, excitement, or even warmth, an emaciated face with a long, unkempt beard was all that was left. Despite the relative peace he''d experienced in the past few centuries, red, bloodshot eyes tinged with a hint of insanity still looked back at him. The mirror showed a ghost of a man, bearing no resemblance to the bold figure in his memory. However, though a husk of his former glory, he was not broken by time. He was tempered by his age and all the more prudent for it. All of this wear was a testament to the determination that carried him through all those years. The stare gave way to a bemused expression as he compared the two images closely. The one in the past from his mind and the one that was before him now. He did not feel disgusted by this transformation. Beauty and renown were both things he had consciously discarded for knowledge and wisdom, and if given the opportunity, he would do the same again now. Even if his eyes did not reflect that kind of accumulation, he knew it in his heart and saw it in his soul. Did I grow more unhinged during my time alone? No. That¡¯s impossible. I can recognize and control my insanity now. That was not the case then. Though loathe to admit it, that encounter was the catalyst that drove him to pursue the truth in earnest. He wished to say his will had always been iron, but this pursuit of immortality started only because he didn¡¯t know what else to do. To put it bluntly, he was simply a spoiled youth who saw the world as his oyster. Born at the peak, he did not care who or what he had stepped on to achieve his goals. Blindly confident in his destiny, he should have received a reality check early on. Sadly, his vanity could only be matched by his skill, allowing his attitude to continue unchecked for a long while. Long enough to meet It. The encounter had fixed that outlook. It broadened his horizons far beyond the gaze of mortals and even most immortals, and for that, he was forever grateful. Though the manner in which such a meeting was held was unpleasant, it could not be helped. It was only far after that he realized that it had been a complete miracle to even escape carrying but a few scars and a ''little'' mental pollution. Reaching the doorway, he could already feel his neglected body failing him. Despite using it without the assistance of magic for only a few minutes, he was already starting to feel his knees buckle. Though knowing such a thing would happen, it disappointed him, nonetheless. ¡°[Levitate], [Form: Void].¡± Forced to use magic, he could only get on with it. Upon cast, his surroundings immediately shifted. The target destination was the place where he usually did his tinkering - a hollowed-out area underneath the tower spanning nearly the entire iceberg. He could have forced himself to walk there, tortured himself with multiple flights of stairs, and relived the ¡®human¡¯ experience, but he doubted his body could withstand such a monumental task. He still needed it for a little while longer. Not only because he still needed a tether to the living realm but also because it would be useful for the next step. While not physically strong, millennia of use channeling mana made it into an unparalleled magic conductor. There is a reason people used the bodies of saints as magical foci. The next part, after he had cheated a little using [Levitation], would still be done on foot. What could he say? He had a heart for theater. "[Form: Material]" Before long, a spacious room filled with magi-tech apparatuses came into view. They were mounted on the walls, interspersed around the floor, or just floated stiffly in the air. They all hummed softly in unison, like a choir of angels, each giving off a warm glow. Numerous as they were, they could only fade into the background of his attention. While integral for what was to come, something else''s presence dwarfed all else. At the center of the room was an altar, and around it was circles upon circles of gold, forming the bedrock of a massive ritual soon to be conducted. These golden lines ran like arteries, fanning out from the center and encompassing the entire room. Some even tunneled into the walls, no doubt going towards other prominent nodes of this great work. They were made out of gold, the metal. Not some material that shared its likeness. Yes, the gold that was found in nearly every world in large quantities, though highly processed, of course. It was a wonder that such a common material could find use in magic so advanced, but it truly deserved to be a metal everyone loved. Standing in front of this once more, on the eve of his sublimation into a higher being, a trace of nostalgia washed over him once again. And with it, an irresistible memory came over him. It brought him back to the first time he attempted something similar, all 10,000 years ago. His first step towards immortality. His first step on the road of no return. He quite literally sacrificed everyone he knew at that point for it to work. Once, it was a memory that carried with it a touch of guilt. That was good. He was able to recognize it as guilt. A hidden danger, revealed, isolated and removed. What was once a hidden danger to this ritual, now long extinguished, replaced with only the purest of determination. With firm eyes, he walked towards the center. However, his steps were still heavy, as though weighed down by the past he was unconsciously unwilling to let go. That it was his spirit controlling his movements through a [Levitation] spell only gave credence to that idea. This too, was calculated. It would not be his unconscious if it were easy to discern. Lingering regrets fragmented and locked deep within, brewed over ten thousand years. He''d done all he could, and now they were at a controllable level. Not enough to take hold of his mind. He had made his peace. Step by conscious step he approached. This in itself was a cleansing ritual, bringing to light the fragments that were unconvinced that this path was incorrect. Every step seemed to lighten his load, becoming brisker and less weighty. Until after what felt like ages, he stopped before the altar. Standing in front of his centuries of hard work, a whistling breath of relief escaped his lungs. The journey from his room to here satisfied all attachments to this human body. Though moving in a manner akin to a puppet on strings, he relived the experience of walking with his own two legs for the last time. Casting his eyes downward, his eyes settled on the core of the formation. An unassuming thing, really. An orb no larger than a marble, and perhaps one might even mistake it for one at first glance. From the outside, it had no special features. That would be a woeful misidentification if anyone ever did assume so. It is a World Core. Or rather, it was one. It was an object he¡¯d come across during one of his many world-hopping adventures. The story of collecting this treasure in particular could only be described as a misadventure, however. Stepping into an unstable rift, he¡¯d almost died instantly from the chaotic ambient mana raging as far as he was able to perceive. The coordinates that had this thing were strange and messy, completely unlike anything he¡¯d encountered before. The world itself was long gone even before he got there. Well and truly annihilated until only this treasure among treasures was left. Apollyon. That was its name. The only whisper of what the world once was, preserved in this tiny core. What had happened to the world that became only a chaotic mana storm or why its destruction hadn¡¯t affected the core was something Eldridge wasn¡¯t able to pursue at the time. However, how could he possibly refuse such a priceless thing? Even if it were not a natural occurrence, if such destruction was deliberate, it was meaningless for him to refuse. He was unworthy of someone able to destroy a world to scheme against, so he took it without a second thought. After all, when fishing, the bait must be appropriate for the prey. From the damaged state that spewed chaotic, distorted Laws and broken Rules in all directions to the current pristine artifact that would replace his soul as the core of his being. It was an undertaking that had spanned thousands of years. Now¡­ It was finally time. Everything was ready. The ritual could begin. Their sacrifice will not be in vain. Their souls will live on. They will be a part of something far greater than themselves. A part of me. A part of ¡­ Apollyon. My magnum opus.
Name: Apollyon
Item Type: Material
Equip Requirement: LVL 1
Durability: N/A
Effects: N/A
Description: An inactive artifact core carved from a World Core. Alone, it is useless. But with such a high, it contains infinite possibilities. Therefore, take special care of the initial conditions, as even a slight nudge from anything can make the final result take a very unexpected turn.
(4)The Ascent Refuted 4: What’s A God Gotta Do To Stop Being Targeted All The Damn Time? Parasmus felt something was out of place just now. A glance at his status quickly confirmed his suspicions. While the System only reflected changes that the individual registered with their own senses, it could be used to confirm a malady once it was sensed. And, just a moment ago, he''d felt something take hold in his soul. So quickly it was applied and so quickly was it masked that he¡¯d almost thought he¡¯d imagined it. Almost. He¡¯d learned to trust his intuition over the journey that got him to this position. The mark was quick to conceal and scramble itself, but now that he grasped a thread, he was able to follow it to decipher parts of it. Not very much, but enough to glean a general understanding. The curse had a simple enough structure: a ¡°tether¡± going somewhere imperceptible, connected to the ¡°body¡± which settled within him. Yet that simplicity was in itself troubling. Rigid mechanisms had a far higher fault tolerance as it reduced the struggle between his opponent into nothing more than a contest of power. However, his opponent had who knows how much time to prepare while he''d needed to hurry before something happened. The ¡°body¡±, or mark, comprised the bulk of the curse he could contact and was currently inactive. In the time between its application and his notice, it had already permeated every facet of his being, entering both body and soul. It was an extremely impressive feat, given the size and nature of his existence, and it showcased a deep understanding of his current situation. Though someone scheming against him was the last person he wished to be impressed by.
36 System Hours until the end of the world After a while, he was able to identify certain isolated parts that split off from the whole, parts that he hoped were too far apart to trigger a cascade should something go wrong. After an hour careful of prodding, he was able to parse the curse¡¯s overall structure. His cautiousness and reluctance to do anything drastic stemmed from fear. Fear that his actions would somehow alert the caster that he wasn''t blind by triggering some prohibition, an event that would prove disastrous in his current situation. Only by catching them unaware could he take the initiative. As, there was no indication that the caster realized he knew, with no movement from the mark after its application. Yet, if they knew and did nothing, that was all the more reason to be cautious. If possible, he would like to continue the current silence, no matter how unnerving it was. To his knowledge, there was nothing in this world that could threaten him, nor was there anything that could assist in the casting of a curse of this caliber. Nonetheless, existence was proof enough. The fact that such a thing had occurred could only mean one thing. There was an otherworlder about, and one who was proving extremely difficult to solve. Otherworlders. Most of the time he¡¯d ignore their presence and avoid interacting with them, as their methods ranged from strange to world-bending. By their very nature their abilities didn''t lie in sync with the world¡¯s rules, making most severely stunted upon arrival. Those pitiful weaklings were the bulk of the infiltrators, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, and required little to no attention. They integrated into his world with minimal issue. The next group needed close monitoring, but weren''t too much of a problem. They were the few that were able to ignore this worldly suppression. Those were generally much more trouble to deal with than it was worth. Their actions, while disruptive, couldn''t affect the world on a large enough scale. Leaving them to their devices and letting them carve a small territory for themselves was thus the most cost-effective measure. Provided they knew their limits, of course. Finally, the strongest among them were able to warp the very laws of the world around them. He¡¯d only ever experienced the impact of such a being once, which was more than enough times for his liking. His current clues, fortunately, did not point the current situation in that direction. That he was not already insane from the onset of this mark gave him solace in the fact he was likely not dealing with the latter. The Calamity had left an indelible mark in his memory, carving a lingering fear that did not abate despite the years. This gnawing fear only increased with the growth of his power. Further understanding of the existence that brought incalculable damage to the world only made the gulf that existed between them more and more apparent. He rid himself of the memories long ago, but their absence was reason enough to elicit dread. After all, no one knows how much he treasured knowledge more than himself. That he would be willing to throw away valuable knowledge to slow down his corruption proved the scale of that threat. Knowledge, too, was a form of corruption when dealing with that kind of entity. Therefore, was his current knowledge of his assailant insufficient to trigger such corruption, or was he just not dealing with such a thing, as worst-case scenario as it may be? Parasmus, ever the optimist, leaned further on the latter. For one, his current clarity was a good sign, and secondly, he needed to hold on to hope for a little while longer yet. Reassuring himself and pushing back the terror that threatened to overwhelm him from the sudden and forceful resurfacing of sealed memories, he went back to work understanding the hex he was put under. Comprehending its complexity, the ¡®tether¡¯ revealed a striking truth. The thread seemed to be anchored to a person. He could faintly detect the other side of this tether, and through it he concluded that it was a soul rather than a ritual focus. A very strong soul - one that approached his own in size. With his deep understanding of the soul, he''d never make a mistake in this kind of judgement. Unless this scheme was the product of multiple individuals, it likely led back to the caster. However, therein lied this discovery''s most unsettling aspect. How could a soul that powerful be hidden? Why would someone cast a spell that allowed the target to figure out where the caster was once they''d deciphered it? Were they simply that confident in their masking and obfuscation methods? Were they sure in their strength? Of course, he wasn¡¯t able to tell exactly where it led just yet, but with enough time and tinkering he would be able to narrow it down. The tether itself was like a taut string, just waiting for the person on the other side to pull. Now, that shouldn¡¯t be the extent of this segment¡¯s function, but it should be its major focus. The destination was hidden masterfully, but even still, he was able to tell it led to somewhere on the surface. Thankfully the opponent isn''t some higher dimensional being that just happened to take interest in me or my world. This narrows it down to just a very well-prepared schemer. Nothing insurmountable. A most comforting discovery, as at least it meant he had a fighting chance and wasn¡¯t put up against some impossibly more powerful being. It wasn¡¯t all good news, as it also indicated the opponent had carefully planned this curse out and had a staging ground on his world. It annoyed him that even with all the methods he had of gathering intelligence he was unable to catch this scheme during its planning and preparation phase. Is it the fault of myself or my subordinates? He humored the idea that this was all misdirection. That the curse was merely a red herring, thrown out to distract him from a different fire that was already burning. Parasmus took note of that idea, issued an oracle, and then suppressed the confidence that came along with it. After all, if that truly were the case he¡¯d be more assured in solving the issue, but it didn''t hurt to overprepare. With his current state, an attack on his soul was the only thing he was wary of. Though generally, the grander the plot, the weaker the mastermind. He knew this from experience. He was no stranger to plotting against those far stronger than him. With this background, he understood that the larger the gulf between the target, the more obfuscation was necessary. It was with this insight that he engineered the fall of a Greater God early into the Calamity, followed by multiple other attempts at fishing in muddy waters. Nothing as major as the first. Just a few deaths here and there, with him picking up the scraps. If the enemy had the strength to back themselves up, they¡¯d have tried to take a bite out of the world already as the great Calamitous Beast did all those years ago. For a being of overwhelming might and animalistic hunger, what plans did it need? With merely its approach the world became a mess, and when it finally did arrive, the gods gathered together for a last stand only to send themselves straight into its hungering maws. There was simply no semblance of resistance at all. Following the Calamity, there was a time when he¡¯d felt self-conscious, burdened by the guilt of sabotaging the Pantheon¡¯s resistance against a foreign threat. The beast had left after consuming all of them, though it didn¡¯t bother to clean up after itself. At the time, he made those petty moves with confidence in the gods¡¯ victory. The sky would not fall with those deities holding it up, even if they were missing a few members due to his actions. But the sky did fall. Not because his actions resulted in the disappearance of a few inconsequential pillars. No. It fell because the weight that pressed down was far too heavy for any being or group, united or otherwise, to bear. Even if the pillars themselves had the power to stand such a weight, the ground - the world beneath them - could not. As such, these worries were laughably misguided. ???? was going to have its fill, whether the pantheon at its full strength or not. If anything, his actions were able to save a few scraps of divinity for the world. Regardless, he saw the irony in the current situation. He, like those gods all those years ago, could not run away from the threat. Stuck confronting a terrifying unknown opponent, the only thing that could complete the picture was one of his followers coming along to give him a ¡°righteous backstab¡± during his weakest moment... Which would probably be now. At the threshold between God and World, immobile and blinded, it was the perfect time for someone he''d trusted to deal unto him a critical blow. But he shouldn''t have anyone with that level of authority. His followers were scattered, and that was how he''d liked them. Even his kin were in much the same situation. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Is there a someone amassing power or influence behind my back? Is that why I hadn''t noticed any signs before being marked? However, this wasn¡¯t the time to be doubting his dependents. Whether they were traitors or not mattered little at this point. There wasn''t enough time to clean out the organizations under him. Furthermore, they''d serve as fodder all the same. Resources to help bring this enemy into the light. But their mobilization would have to wait until after he¡¯d narrowed down the target first. He couldn¡¯t just send them after all the otherworlders; there were too many powerful ones. Too many smuggled in through the weakened world barrier, and those that were able to cross all possessed either strange abilities or overwhelming strength. He couldn''t be certain the current crisis was made by one that he had under watch, either. It could have just as easily been one that slipped the net. Most importantly, there were a few that approached his state prior to merging with the world. True Gods, or Tier 7 by the System¡¯s standards. They had no equals on the surface, as he did not allow his followers to reach that level of strength, but they were of no match for him. However, that was under the premise that they either went under the ground to fight him or he expended copious amounts of divine power, which was not even guaranteed to kill them completely. As a result, there was not much he could do about them squatting in his world. It was a peace that he did not wish to break unilaterally, everyone was smart enough to know each other''s boundaries. Furthermore, he¡¯d repair the barrier and recover enough control over the world eventually. Time had always been on his side. He''d planned to just wait it out, but this curse disrupted everything. In hindsight, the problem only grew to this point because of this attitude. He was patient before ascension, being a dragon, and was even more patient now. He saw time not in months, years, or even decades, but in millennia. This patience gave him unparalleled concentration but had also left him utterly blind to the movements outside his little bubble. He''d been safe for far too long, losing the urgency the Calamity fostered within him. Still, it wasn¡¯t like there was much for him to be proactive about. He¡¯s lost his body, which made many matters more challenging. The only way to affect the world above was to spend the divine power accumulated over the years. This was a precious resource - the only resource capable of assisting his assimilation of the World - that cannot be collected in a rush. Therefore, he''d concluded that doing nothing and hastening his breakthrough was the most correct decision. He¡¯d already laid the groundwork to step back into the background when he set the world back on track. But what good would a stronger presence on the surface have? It wouldn''t help until he''d at least narrowed the list of possible perpetrators down. For example, something he considered at first while still gripped by emotion was to carry out a large-scale purge on the otherworlders. Most had little capital to resist such a measure, but all that accomplished was showing his hand. It''d be a joke if such a wasn''t noticed. Satisfying his desire to do something tips off the one that truly mattered, to say nothing of the time and manpower wasted for such an endeavor. That I even had such a desire in the first place speaks of how indulgent I¡¯d become after ascending this far. I¡¯m not invincible. Far from it. I need to go back to my roots. Think back to the days when I laid in wait for years hunting my quarry. What he needed now was to gather his strength and give whoever schemed against him a decisive blow. Either disrupt their plans and buy himself some time or kill them directly. As unlikely as it was, he hoped for the latter. Oh, the sorrows of living in a damaged world. But who am I to complain? I only got here because it was damaged to the point of brain death. Deciding against venting his frustrations, Parasmus turned his attention back to studying. With dread, he moved on to the ¡®body¡¯ portion. He had futilely avoided messing with this, as it was bound to his soul. Touching that was the last thing he wanted, but he needed more information. He¡¯d reached a dead-end on the ¡®tether¡¯ and needed more reference points. This, being the bulk of the spell, took considerably longer. Every second mattered, but he needed to confirm a suspicion he had. The conclusion was not something he liked, however. The ¡®mark¡¯ clearly contained two Law fragments that he was all too familiar with, and their inclusion, which he wished was a result of misidentification, was the trigger for those unbidden memories. They are infinitely close to the tendrils with which the foreign Bringer of Calamity used to feed, distorting and twisting the world¡¯s laws of ¡®Corruption¡¯ and ¡®Sublimation¡¯ into nightmarish paths to power that were better left sealed. With the descent of that entity, whose writhing body was suffused with these laws, what were once minor backdrops in this world, became major players. They plagued the land for centuries and lured countless power-hungry mortals to abandon their reason. That was all in the past, though. Now, thanks to his efforts, one couldn¡¯t tell the existence of such a blight from looking at the surface. It was only after the monster left that Parasmus realized these laws he had so much trouble dealing with were akin to an animal¡¯s digestive enzymes, only, these enzymes specialized in painting the world in its color to facilitate consumption. This discovery made the fact that they were left over easy enough to understand. Why would something so powerful be left behind like waste? It was simply because they were waste. After taking a bite out of an apple, would you care if said apple still had some of your saliva? However, power, at the end of the day, was a relative thing. These dregs, waste unworthy of recovery in the eyes of that indescribable being, were still leagues ahead of native laws pertaining to ¡°corruption¡± and the like. Like prions to proteins, they bent the native laws to their shape, replacing them entirely. If Parasmus had chosen to incorporate them into his godhead he would have reached a height unfathomable compared to him now. It was fortunate, then, that he had a feeling early on that dependence on such a power was a massive pit, and that he was clear-headed enough to guess the consequences of using it any more than he had to. As a result, he¡¯d excised the parts of himself that were hopelessly corrupted, and ascended with the divinities he pieced together, cutting away the very thing that allowed him to reach such a position. Following this was a tale spread across the world, his very first myth, and possibly the greatest good he¡¯d done for the world. These tales spoke of him ending the Calamity, sealing the great evils, and bringing balance to the world once more. That much was true, if only a bit exaggerated. Obviously, he couldn''t have ended the Calamity himself, only its offshoots, but to the mortals below he might as well have done so. He was rightly crowned savior, bringing legitimacy to his reign. Had he not been so decisive the world would be in a much worse shape now. It''d be a miracle for anything to be alive at this point. Now, rather than a mark of his great triumph, those sealed fragments were essentially buried land mines. Are they stabbing me with a borrowed knife? Up to now, he hasn¡¯t felt any of the seals loosen or the contents taken away. While he wasn¡¯t arrogant enough to stare at each of them directly to ensure that fact, as he still very much liked his sanity, his myriad fail-safes indicated that everything was operating as usual. Despite this assurance, the similarities were uncanny and with the aid of those innumerable sealed corruption sources as nodes, the mark made sense. After all, with continuous study, the curse seemed more and more like some sort of sacrificial ritual, one set out to transmute his soul into a more palatable, or in this case, more useful state for the recipient. In alchemical terms, it would be likening it to the creation of a philosopher¡¯s stone, akin to what he was trying to do with the world''s heart. That his specialties lay in transmutation and the soul - a necessary outcome after his attempts at grasping the ineffable - paralleled the manner the enemy attacked him had not gone unnoticed. Maybe it was because they also studied the same thing as he - the vestiges of the ???? scattered throughout the world. If it weren¡¯t because they moved the seals, then perhaps they drew inspiration from ???? as well but failed to rid themselves of the corruption as he did. This theory would prove disastrous if true, as he can¡¯t afford to take in much more of their taint. Could it be possible for a native to be behind all this? It''s justifiable to be more wary of outsiders, but it''s not as though I had complete control over the people of my world yet. Those heretics were also strangely quiet for the past few centuries. I''d chalked it up to the efforts of my faithful and those otherworlders, but could it be that they managed to break a seal without my notice and understood something with its contents? That would be difficult to confirm, as he abhorred the idea of checking them all one by one himself. Sending fodder wouldn''t do, either, as they wouldn¡¯t make it deep enough to see if it were genuinely missing. Even the leftover residue would kill them. The [Blessed], his greatest creation, might be able to, but there weren¡¯t enough to check them all. Furthermore, doing maintenance would be a job with a high turnover, and it didn''t mean they would just quit being [Blessed]. Rather, they''d become problems in their own right. While sending a few every so often might be better than getting blindsided, the costs were too much for that kind of information. It was like that then and it was even more so now. He¡¯d rather just add preparations for if that outcome if it were the case. It didn''t change much from his current actions. The findings such a mission would provide could also be gleaned from more research on the spell in front of him. That said, whatever this spell intended, these conclusions were hardly heartening, to say the least. If their methods were anything close to his, he was in for a tough time. Parasmus knew what the victims he''d led into the embrace of ???? experienced, and he''d be damned if he were to suffer a similar fate as well. He mused the irony before, but it became increasingly clear that this time, he was the fish on the chopping block and was in no position to take advantage of the situation. Nonetheless, he was all but ready to make his next move. He made one final prayer hoping that it was not the worst case scenario. The only event that would be insurmountable would be if ????, as the system dubbed it, was not a singular existence, and another of its kin invaded. He hadn¡¯t felt the telltale warping of the world¡¯s natural laws that come with their presence, so he felt that this gamble was likely to go in his favor. He only had one example to go off of, but he felt that he would know if something that strong came through. Furthermore, it was impossible for ???? to invade once again. Not only because this did not mirror the haphazard way it did so during the Calamity, but because the world was sure of it. He''d gathered that tidbit from the pieces of the World¡¯s Will after the thing¡¯s feast. It seemed to know many things before being severely damaged. His inheritance over the broken world was taken forcefully. Multiple factors coincided to make much of the information he could have obtained incomplete. But that incomplete information was still enough to get some ¡°common sense¡± that changed his perspective completely. Hell, he was quite surprised to find out that the Overgod was actually an incarnation of the World''s Will. It had been rather competent, too, before being devoured. The next breakthrough would take too long, and the gains did not outweigh the losses. Based on that little bit he figured out time was of the essence. He didn¡¯t have more time to sit around studying the thing. He¡¯d narrowed it down to the Northern Everfrost. There weren¡¯t many people there, to begin with, and even fewer otherworlders. Furthermore, there was only one person that he had a feeling was the target. There was a foreign wizard who¡¯d built a massive entrenchment up there, though he didn¡¯t seem strong enough to do something like this, one could never guess what a mage could do with sufficient preparation. From the scouts he¡¯d sacrificed and probing attacks sent in the past, he¡¯d judged their level to be well past a thousand. If it were truly him, then even his highest overestimation was under their true capabilities. To be able to put such an insidious mark on him after he¡¯d assimilated half the world would be impossible for someone so much weaker than him. That old man, dubbed the Turtle of the North by his believers, hadn¡¯t shown any indication of being a threat so far, but that alone should have been an issue. If they truly were as strong as him, their history of silence meant something in the background he¡¯d failed to detect was going on. No one at their level just decided to go into a world as tumultuous as this one without a plan. Without the natural abundance of a world before the Calamity, there was no reason for anyone with the ability to travel around to stay here. Even he would have left had he not had the opportunity to assimilate the world. Why else would he become a god in such a place? Parasmus was not someone with a heart for charity. It was settled then. He¡¯d ascend an avatar and rally everyone that could be mobilized and see just how tough this turtle¡¯s shell truly was, all the while he hoped that this deduction was correct. While it may be a little hasty, he was running out of time. He felt a change in the mark about an hour ago, an unsettling shift that weighed on him. He wasn¡¯t sure what it was, but he was sure that it wasn¡¯t going to be good for him. Now was not the time for more study. Furthermore, as more and more of his followers mustered together per his instructions, a disturbing revelation surfaced. It wasn''t something he''d taken into account at all. Being marked as prey, he''d disregarded everything outside of himself. However, this trait blinded him to the true danger. It seemed it was arrogant of him to assume the mark was solely targeting him. No. It had its tendrils in everyone. The people, the plants, the animals. Elementals, blessed lands, and other manifestations of nature. Even otherworlders. Anything with any semblance of a soul were equal under this spell. All of creation borne lesser or greater, from the smallest insect to the mightiest beast were beset by this spell. And, unlike him, they were none the wiser. The scale of this threat had gone up magnitudes in his mind. He needed to make a move immediately. 28 System Hours until the end of the world (5)The Ascent Refuted 5: Human Beings Have Limits… So I Reject My Humanity, ——! 38 System Hours until the end of the world The spell started without much issue. However, as expected, it proved itself to be quite the endeavor. Any spell that encompassed a world required a truly astronomical amount of mana. The energy requirement was simple enough to fulfill. While the mountains of batteries that powered the behemoth of a spell had not been easy to make, his ¡°modest¡± wealth over the years had sufficed. Filling the mana banks to the brim was not a particularly difficult thing, either. It had slowly accumulated as he''d prepared everything else. The true hurtle came from mobilizing the mana on such a scale. The batteries were expected to be almost completely drained by the end of things. Such a task could not be overcome by simply plugging cables between the matrix and batteries. With more time he might have been able to engineer a tool that could do just that, but time was tight, and he had better use for his time and resources. While taking the task into his own hands left room for error, he didn¡¯t have the time to waste on an endeavor that could be accomplished just as easily with a little work. While it might have been shameful for an artificer to admit that their bodies were more reliable than a tool they could make, was it not more fitting for such a person to regard themselves as the most reliable tool? This little work, however, had left him completely drained. This was not a superficial physical or mental fatigue, either. He''d squeezed every fiber of his body, exhausted to the point of withering the last bit of his husk of a body. Over the course of a couple days, the mana accumulated over the centuries by a Tier 7 Mage streamed from his mana banks into the spell matrix, guided through his body into their respective locations. It was an immensely delicate process despite the scale and scope, but he was no stranger to work of this nature. As the hours passed, the array of artifacts prepared for this moment faltered one by one as his withered flesh evaporated, unable to accommodate the power flowing within. His body burned and his spirit experienced pain unlike any he had felt before. However, his will stood firm. Magical apparatuses built into the Mage Tower mended the holes in his form with mercurial Soulium and then stitched these fillings closed with Soulsteel filaments. This stopgap had been prepared long ago; the breakdown of his body an expected outcome. A patchwork body like this was no permanent solution, but it didn¡¯t have to be. It only needed to last long enough. Halfway through his body was already more Soulsteel than flesh. By the end of it, his purpose-built equipment had all become useless and the entirety of his human body had been completely vaporized. Indeed, by the time the spell finished, and his mark had been placed on every being in this broken world, he could already not be considered human. As he was now, he existed as a construct of pure energy, a soul - a pattern - made manifest through will and magic alone. It was a shape reminiscent of elementals, though warped beyond compare. It lacked any and all of the elegance and attunement with nature elementals might possess, existing as if to spite every last natural law there was instead. His new body was chaotic and unstable, but more than enough for the next step of this plan. While lacking a body of flesh and blood did make him more vulnerable to a certain extent, it would make his transition into an artifact smoother. Additionally, his body had been overdue for a replacement for a long time, but he''d stubbornly held onto it out of sentimentality alone. This endeavor was as good a send-off as it could get, serving as tinder burnt to catalyze his sublimation. Such a mission would be the most important it could ever have. The feeling of not having human senses was rather unique, though his mind was too exhausted to fully describe it. It differed from [Soul Projection], as he felt nothing tethering his soul to the physical world. Just a push was needed to send him straight into the Starry River. That said, there wasn''t much that were qualified to give such a push. After all, this form had been fashioned with efficiency and combat in mind. As such, it lacked many of the amenities an ordinary body would have. To put it in more straightforward terms, it was little more than an aggregate of mana arranged to form basic sensory organs. Not only could it socket perfectly into his new Artifact, but it also possessed fighting capabilities he could only imagine when still confined by his human form. With his overwhelming mana liberated, he was stronger than ever before. A necessity, as a battle must be fought. It would be a vain hope to believe his targets would surrender their lives easily. As he settled himself, he activated all the contingencies he''d prepared and put every automatic system on high alert. With everything in motion, Eldridge¡¯s bloated form compressed into a ball, falling into unconsciousness, finally letting his weary soul get some rest. It would be the last time he would need to do so.
18 System Hours until the end of the world Finally waking after nearly a day of sleep, the first thing he did was assess his body¡¯s situation. Everything was in order. His tower had handled his metamorphosis flawlessly, just as he had outlined. While his soul had remained largely unchanged, he knew that body and soul were reflections of each other. A change in one would invariably lead to a change in the other. Through numerous experiments, he knew that his current state should be stable for years, but those tests were done on beings far weaker than him, and not everything scaled up translated perfectly, so the less time spent in this shape the better. There was no reason to stay as he was now for long, either, as he had a more perfect vessel lying just in front of him. Now was not the time to savor the moment. The stage had long been set, and the actors were finally starting to move. ¡°That ignorant snake finally decided to move. I guess that little push was necessary after all. Though his reaction was less enthusiastic than I''d hoped.¡± Eldridge mused. If there was one thing he missed about his human body, it would have to be his voice. Talking to himself just didn¡¯t have that same satisfaction anymore now that what came out of his ¡°mouth¡± sounded so unnatural. It was like a cacophony of voices each screaming individually, none in sync. Paying attention to one might allow for something intelligible to be discerned, but one voice alone would not convey the entire message. Trying to listen to it all together was even worse, as it would only result in a garbled mess sanity reducing sounds. ¡°You try souls just a few times to see why so many races gorge themselves on them and your own warps into something indescribable.¡± ¡°Bah, I must still be tired. Thinking of useless things during such an important moment.¡± With a sigh that was not really a sigh, Eldridge gathered his thoughts and focused once more on his plan. Looking at the trend of the pieces on the board, he had a few decisions to make. There were a few minor deviations from his layout, but they weren''t a large problem. That their actions diverged from his initial expectations only hurt his ego and nothing more. His ideal scenario would have been for the dragon to gather together every one of import and crusade against him head on, saving some time and effort. He''d hoped the situation would prove dire enough to force the deity out of his hole. As an artificer, he knew very well the importance of fighting in an arena of one''s choosing. The force multiplier provided could be critical. Furthermore, strong as he was, he could not ignore the limitation excessive distance proved. Even in perfect conditions, this colossal undertaking, a weave that encompassed everything in the world, inevitably had a few weak points within it. Despite centuries of planning, these shortfalls were unable to be patched, and the farther from him the pronounced those holes were. It was due to his weakness that he was forced to choose a world like this. It was well worth the time to pin this place down, as well. Here was a world where all the pieces fell into place: lacking suppressive characteristics, contained signal-boosting nodes buried all over the place, and most importantly, not completely under System control. Had any of these conditions not been met his reach would likely not even span a continent, to say nothing of whether his plans would be smothered in its infancy or not. Though originally considered just a bonus, these signal nodes ultimately showcased their importance by expanding the scope of what was once a continental ritual to a worldwide one. While traveling around scouting for possible targets, his attention was drawn to this world quickly by their presence. He was able to identify them to be the leftovers of a [God Eater] that passed by. The natives had no idea of how to properly dispose of it and merely dug pits to hide them away. A rather primitive method, in all, but it made things cheaper for him so who was he to complain? Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. From the residue, he concluded that the [God Eater] was of greater strength to him, but even so he had no qualms about using its parts for his ends. Taking advantage of it¡¯s remnants would be of no consequence. The loss of a single signal marker likely wouldn''t even register in its simple mind. As, unlike him, even with their world-ending strength those creatures were relatively mindless and knew only how to feed. Or perhaps it was because of their lack of intelligence that they were able to get so strong. If true, then the price paid for their race¡¯s strength was heavy, indeed. In any case, the thing had likely already forgotten about this place and had no reason to return. Knowing their kind¡¯s characteristics, since the beast had already successfully feasted on this world¡¯s laws it should already be far, far away from this place. Maybe it¡¯ll return after an uncountable amount of time passes and this world advances, able to accommodate higher-tier laws, but whether this world can last until that point was a more pressing question. After all, it received a near-fatal bite to the head from the [God Eater], and what he¡¯s about to do might very well cut off its path to recovery for good. These nodes were long abandoned by their owner and were entrenched for a long time in this world. Retuned and repurposed, their corruptive influence made everything far easier than he¡¯d predicted. Despite this massive assist from that unknown [God Eater], there were still places that he had difficulty reaching. One notable example was the domain of that vegetative dragon. While there was a massive gulf between their respective levels of existence, the dragon¡¯s connection with the world was nothing to scoff at. His caution was warranted, as his skill set was not built around fighting, nor did he have much experience in doing so. When it came to fighting, he could only say that his ability to run was unmatched among those of similar level, and that he only took fights where there was certainty in victory. Measured and calculated were the foundational principles with which he¡¯d made his ascent, tempered through a number of unnecessary adventures forced as a result of his naivete in his younger days. ¡°Even so, this is the greatest gamble I¡¯ve taken in my lifetime. With the odds so stacked in my favor, I can only hope the dragon doesn¡¯t have a way to break out of this dead end I¡¯ve set up. None of his abilities indicate anything threatening, and he lacked the ability to hide from my gaze.¡± "He doesn''t seem to have the ability to self-detonate or sacrifice future potential for current strength. That wouldn''t match his character. His character profile has been good enough. I can mostly guess his thoughts and pursuits, but caution is still necessary.¡± "This somewhat passive position will lead to some fish escaping the net, but that couldn¡¯t be helped." To his knowledge, some had already fled the world themselves or smuggled a few others out, but a few grains falling from the bowl were inconsequential in the face of the whole meal. That was not to say he wasn¡¯t saddened by their departure, but it wasn¡¯t worth the extra effort to hunt them down. He was only disappointed to see a few buzzing flies escape. After all, even mosquitoes had meat, no matter how minuscule they were. And, for beings like Eldridge, they could just as easily derive sustenance from the insect''s soul as well. ¡°At least these weaklings had the self-consciousness to know not to disturb this layout during their escape. Saving themselves along with a few others is the extent of their abilities.¡± At the end of the day, they were the ones that stood out from the rest. Skilled enough to have the ability to notice something was wrong and escape. All of this tied back to strength. In a multiverse filled with the schemes and conspiracies of old monsters like himself, one needed to constantly grow in strength, or else they''d die from an unknown AOE. Even he was no exception to this. A behemoth he may be, but he was still an ant in the face of those higher than him. Even a damaged lesser world with only one main planet and a few fractured subsidiary planes like this required meticulous scheming to bring to heel, to say nothing of higher-order ones. There was always a Heaven above Heaven, an Abyss below the Abyss. After today, however, he can say with confidence that he will be one giant leap closer to the summit he can currently see. The total distance, however, was quite literally an infinite number of steps away. He could take the easy route and pledge himself to the System, but that was not true immortality. Not true [Detachment], and not true freedom. The path ahead would be forged by his will alone. While his vision had been broadened by those indescribable beings, he refused to be bent in their shape. He was almost half-step [Detached], a stunning feat for such little time, but he lacked any sort of truly infinite characteristics that would allow him to cross the threshold. His power was unfathomable and could be considered infinite by most, but that was not really the case. His mana pool was massive, but not infinite. His knowledge was profound and comprehensive, but not infinite. He could bend and break laws to meet his every whim, but that was mere child''s play in the eyes of the [Detached]. Perhaps from their eyes my actions were nothing more than the silly flailings from a silly little pawn, randomly jumping from board to board and never into a player''s seat. He believed that this spell would be a pivotal step in that direction, however. While not bringing with it a substantial increase in power - in fact it will likely greatly reduce his strength - it will give him time. It wasn¡¯t true eternity as he could still be killed, as unlikely as that was, but he would still have countless ways to save himself. Worst comes to worst he¡¯ll just have to cash in some favors. One benefit to knowing the existence of those at the top was the ability to bargain. After this, I¡¯ll take it easy for a while. Maybe I''ll live out a period of retirement. Go slow and simple. I¡¯ll have plenty of time to grope my way forward. Stability is the only thing I need with the foundation all laid out. He wasn¡¯t vain enough to plot out the entire path towards [Detachment] or to imagine that this would get him to the end in one go. He knew the massive gulf between him, a relatively fancy chess piece, and those who were actually playing the game. He could make quite the stir in the board if he wished, which was why he''d been recognized by the System, but that little recognition was all there was. Eldridge referenced the marks placed and saw that many were already converging towards a position not too far from him. He reckoned that they¡¯d soon arrive. Even more those in the middle of the pack among the transcendent, travel time meant little so long as one wasn''t opposed to paying a price. The people the god was able to rally against him were pitifully weak, their levels not even touching the thousands. Furthermore, they all lacked something truly outstanding that could distinguish them, with the skills and stats provided by the System the only things that made up their abilities. Varied as they were, they all drew their power from the same origin, an origin he was intimately familiar with. But their weakness was expected by him. If they''d reached a height similar to level 1000 defined within the System, the dragon would have had to share some of the world¡¯s authority, and that deity''s circumstances simply couldn¡¯t let that happen. To allow Tier 6s, or what amounted to Demi-Gods, was the limit. What he didn¡¯t expect, however, was the System¡¯s ability to assimilate the native power system so comprehensively. This was the first time he had properly surveyed these individuals. Such unscrupulous means of detection would have exposed him in the past, but now things were past the point where such a thing mattered. For beings born before the System touched their world, they threw away their roots surprisingly quickly. The world''s former Paths of Transcendence was completely gutted by the [God Eater], yes, but to embrace the System with such open arms? He''d expected at least a few of these people to hold abilities unique to them and the world. This place hadn¡¯t completely fallen under the System¡¯s control, but it seemed that to the people that lived in it, it might as well have. From the records he could view with his current authority, it had only descended upon this world a few thousand years ago, a mere instant in the eyes of a world, and it had already dyed nigh everything in its color. There was a few in the group that still held fast to their world''s original techniques. Unsurprisingly, though the dragons had taken advantage of the System, their patron deity cared more for them and didn¡¯t allow them to base the entirety of their existence revolve around it like his ragtag followers. Eldridge could see a whole mix of things in there but was unable to completely look through it. Hmm... Perhaps it wasn''t a matter of kinship at all. Rather, he was experimenting with them? I suppose they were as close a sample to him as he could get. Once this was done he¡¯ll need to thoroughly dissect those unique creatures. Beings with the potential to assimilate a world a viable path weren''t found every day, after all. Though the prime example likely couldn''t be saved, as he couldn''t allow himself any handicaps in this battle. Those lesser imitations, however... Could I transition my Artifact core into a world by leveraging its roots as a World Core? What are the prerequisites for a place to be regarded as a world? Is it even worth it if it were possible? Already so many questions I''d love to find out the answers to. Therefore, the only ones of importance were the dragons and the deity''s avatar. They''d be the only ones that could surprise me, unlike those rigid System Adherents. The avatar most of all. Its ability to channel the power of the world, along with the god''s hidden capabilities made it noteworthy. Perhaps through it he could unveil a part of the ontology''s abilities. "[Sever Earthly Attachments], [Return All Tethers]" With only a simple sentence, a prescribed script activated. The vast majority of souls in the world were ripped from their physical bodies and dragged toward the Northern Everfrost, reeled in like a fish on a hook. The first wave composed of mostly fodder, as only those that lacked the barest defenses against such an attack would find their souls pulled from their bodies so easily. Across the world, countless lively cities filled with commerce and industry instantly became still. Their denizens fell to the ground in unison, crumbling to the ground like puppets whose strings had been cut. Panic, fear, and ultimately hopelessness set in among those that remained. They could not see an enemy to fight or blame. Like birds caught in a storm, they could only attempt to brave the circumstances. However, they would not be able to experience these complex emotions for long. Soon, even the strong would not be able to hold on, finding themselves pulled along as well. Pulled straight towards the Northern Everfrost. 17 System Hours until the end of the world (6)The Ascent Refuted 6: C.F.L.M Cannon Fodder Lives Matter, Too 17 System Hours until the end of the world From the moment it triggered, those in the expeditionary force behind His Avatar all felt the change. They - a group that represented the peak of power in this world, which totaled about a thousand people - perceived an unignorable tugging in their chest that drew them forward, toward the destination they were already headed towards - The Northern Everfrost. It was a disquieting feeling that reverberated with every single beat of their hearts. This was wholly unlike the allure they¡¯d experienced back when they¡¯d Delved. No. This was no beckoning call. This was not comforting nor welcoming in the slightest. It was suffocating and forceful, not even attempting to hide the pure, unadulterated malice and contempt of the originator. Even without Parasmus¡¯ orders, everyone slowed their flight in unison and expressed shock. As they locked gazes with one another, they confirmed that they each were not alone in this feeling. With the group like this, the avatar was forced to stop for a moment with them. It was at the forefront of the group, a brilliant beacon that lit their way - a colossal serpentine construct of pure divine power. The avatar narrowed its glowing eyes as it communicated with the primary consciousness still below. The followers took this moment to stabilize themselves. Perhaps it was only now that they truly understood the gravity of the situation. Despite having been cautioned of the mark by their God Almighty, they might have felt that the situation was still under control. Those who have reached this height would have had to face all manner of obstacles, and they were no strangers to curses.. Though they were unable to detect this particular curse, which caused them to - in their mind - evaluate their enemy highly, they had greater faith in their comrades and - most of all - greater faith in their god. As allies and rivals who dealt with one another for centuries, they each knew all too well the power those among this group had. This, coupled with never meeting a truly insurmountable foe, led to the thinking that though this fight would be difficult, it would still very much be a possible one. The idea of failure had never crossed their minds. A part of this was due to complacency. Their growth had become stagnant, and their lack of progress led to earthly indulgence. They sank deeper and deeper until they truly believed the words of the sycophants that surrounded them. If progress for them was so difficult, should it not be so for others as well? Their God was the only exception to this rule, but even He had a long and storied history. Furthermore, their God was far away, his stance one of uncaring silence so long as faith was maintained. This meant they were the ones who truly lorded over the mortals of the earth. As such, with their status untouchable for so long, the idea of being marked for death didn¡¯t even phase them. If nothing else, their leader was already addressing the issue. With the dual assurance provided by their own individual strength and their faith, the current situation was not taken with the caution it had warranted. In their mind was the misconception that even if they were not the strongest here, they at least had the ability to run away. The shade provided by their deity could afford them that much, they¡¯d believed. The blame for this sentiment could ultimately be traced back to their dear leader. To say nothing of how he fostered such an outlook among his followers to maintain power, the situation¡¯s urgency was not relayed appropriately at all. The deity did not speak of how he himself was affected, nor of the magnitude of the problem at hand - a spell of global proportions. For one, it would damage the prestige his dependents held for him, and two, it would also greatly damage morale. If they knew, He¡¯d doubted whether they would give in and try to curry favor, as unlikely to succeed as it might have been. Therefore, these Myths and Demi-Gods all thought that their group alone was targeted. That they were the victim of a desperate and frenzied mage on his last legs. Forced into mobilization on such short notice, their ability to gather intelligence was limited. What conclusion could they make other than to trust the story from those above? They only knew that the enemy they had set out to destroy was the often ignored and pacifistic Turtle of the North, an objective that did not match the strength arrayed. To their knowledge, all otherworlders were tracked and profiled, and this individual otherworlder, though strong, had famously zero incidents to speak of. Furthermore, this one was old, too, so perhaps his senility got the better of him. Some among them were a little suspicious, but that was all. To obtain their position one needed faith and trust above all. Though most might not have been as devout as they were when they first joined, none were so socially inept that they questioned the orders passed down to them directly through an oracle. Especially since it was a case that involved them as well. Furthermore, their god had even coalesced an avatar to fight alongside them. Even the oldest among them only had the privilege of experiencing such an occasion once. Prepared to this extent, it was simply unthinkable to fail. Regardless, the reality of the situation was that these individuals were all merely fodder, and fodder could not be allowed to realize they were fodder until there was no path of retreat. The true situation wasn¡¯t divulged because Parasmus hadn¡¯t held much hope for this party in the first place. He didn¡¯t have much from the onset and had even less now. With how things were looking now, the most they could achieve would be to divert a moment''s attention, which could possibly allow him to land a fatal blow. That was why while he¡¯d entertained the thought of leaving them behind and investigating the situation himself, he ultimately decided against it. Now was not the time to rush. It was still necessary to take things step by step. Though this subsidiary soul only had a moderate thread of contact with the main body, the information that was transmitted over did not paint a promising picture. However, even if he were hopelessly outmatched in every avenue things were not completely without hope. He held a power in his repertoire that far surpassed his normal capabilities, one that he doubted even his highest estimation of the invader could predict. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. By taking advantage of a principle he didn¡¯t quite have a proper grasp on, he was able to explode with immense strength. Unfortunately, that explosion was literal, not some skill able to break his limits and the like. He still possessed those abilities, a vestige of his climb to the current pinnacle, but they have since become outpaced as he grew stronger, making none of them usable in his current situation. This ability had a near-guaranteed chance of killing him, barring some unexpected miracle, and he would only use it as a last resort to die with the enemy. A means unimaginable before was being considered now, that was how much the situation had deteriorated. If he had been able to communicate to the other party he had this option where both sides were fated to perish things would not have turned out this way, but he knew that such a thing was impossible. After all, no one wanted their hard work to fall into the hands of others. As such, ways of self detonation were common enough, why should his opponent expect him to be any different? From the moment the spell was cast Eldridge must have been confident in dealing with his method. In a situation where both sides were confident in their respective abilities, only direct conflict could solve the disagreement. As a veteran of countless battles, he knew that fights among those at his level were generally decided either in an instant or over centuries. The former was obviously the one his enemy preferred, with how quickly the spell was progressing. But at least he felt comforted in the knowledge that even if negotiations were likely to break down, they were not going to have their way. Though they had yet to make a proper encounter, the burning hatred Parasmus had towards that now all-but-confirmed enemy knew no bounds. He felt that though he may die, with his sacrifice the world would still live on, his legacy would be preserved in another form. It was a thought he had never humored before. Being driven into a dead end brought the mind to strange places. He only perceived something deep within himself telling him to keep the fire burning. It was rather uncharacteristic of him, though perhaps it was a natural consequence of staring death in the face. So many of his mortals also strangely devoted themselves to leaving a legacy during their twilight years. However, now was not the time to dwell on things. Every portion of his mental capacity needed to be allocated to adjusting everything according to the changes. Even if he had a way to guarantee mutually assured destruction, that was the last resort, after all. It would be best if it were avoided. He still wanted to live a little while longer yet.
15 System Hours until the end of the world As they began to approach their destination, the more perceptive individuals among them noticed things trailing behind them. Such things were not paid any heed, as they had a mission to accomplish. Parasmus knew what they were. It was a sight seen around the world. How could he not have noticed? But those in this party were not him. As they neared the Northern Everfrost, settlements and temperature dropped in equal measure. The specters were ethereal and wispy at first, but became more and more concrete as they drew near, until their presence was undeniable. The phantoms were approaching fast, even faster than the moderate cruising speed the battalion flew at, causing them to go on high alert. As they paused to ensure they were not caught off guard in case those behind them were enemies, they were met with a sight that enraged them. Behind were waves upon waves of souls, most silent, though a few who held a strong sense of self raged uselessly against the current. It was a veritable sea of people, dragged along by invisible threads only Parasmus could notice. It was a scene that gave Parasmus a touch of familiarity, but he quickly set that thought aside. Those among them with compassionate hearts, a minority, all told, wept bitter tears as they saw the souls approach. Their expressions twisted violently as they vowed to end this evil as quickly as they could. They vowed to save these captured souls before they were used up for whatever profane purpose the caster intended. In silence, the group prayed solemnly for those they were unable to save as they were engulfed by the tide. Despite not being attacked, they were all inflicted with immense psychological pain from the scene. While they might have scoffed at the sacrifices of a few million - the armies they led in campaigns against one another a testament to that fact - this was at a scale far above even that. Perhaps only the Calamity they heard so much about could equal such a disaster.
12 System Hours until the end of the world Harried by the lost souls that surrounded them on all sides, they eventually closed in on their target. The conflux of souls from all directions made the location all too obvious. They needed only to follow the tide. Though they had arrived, the question of how they were going to deal with it remained. Even the dimmest among the group could tell that such a thing was far beyond their abilities to deal with. Anyone who had held the hope that the spell wasn¡¯t as large a scale as they¡¯d feared had that fanciful hope die on the way here. The lost souls crowded together, forming a massive roiling tempest. The sheer scale of their presence disrupted the ambient mana, decreasing the already low temperature substantially. Though the Northern Everfrost was a cold and desolate environment, that was the description given by the average transcendent. Those among this group were at the peak of this world, yet even they considered that description apt. They saw the water completely glaze over, becoming a pristine sheet of pallid, sickly ice. But perhaps a ¡°sheet¡± was not an apt description, as the frost crept down an undetectable depth. As they stood in place awaiting their leader¡¯s orders, they saw the storm grow in intensity, swirling and siphoning ever more souls inward as later waves arrived and passed the point of no return. This was where they needed to go. Even out here, they were freezing. Could they even survive in that place? Rousing up their courage, they pushed their way past the ¡°storm¡± as they prepared themselves for what awaited them within. The path forward so far had been strangely unimpeded. Though they had all kept vigil, ready for an ambush. However, they presumed that was because every defense was concentrated here. There was a good reason for that, as well. Here, there were distractions from all sides and visibility was extremely poor, both physical and magical. As they waded their way through the dense crowd of souls, the closer they approached the slower they advanced, careful of any traps that might have been placed. But contrary to their expectations, there were none. Even so, the comparatively weaker individuals found it increasingly difficult to persevere amidst the raging tempest. One, overwhelmed in their frailty, had their soul torn from their body, succumbing to the insidious curse that gnawed at them from within and became one with the throng of restless spirits that encircled the party. Steadily, they reached the heart of the swarm of souls. Here, everything, from the mana to the fog to the souls was much less dense, allowing them to see what was before them clearly. A few wished they weren¡¯t able to, however.
Wreathed in the maelstrom of unwilling souls, atop an imposing tower of blinding gold, was a pale blue giant of crystal and mana whose mere presence caused the air to hum ominously with arcane might. It was still focused on weaving magic as they entered as though it was paying the densely packed ant-like intruders in formation no mind and continued to funnel souls toward a small object in the palms of its many hands. 11 System Hours until the end of the world (7)The Ascent Refuted 7: Everything Becomes A Bomb If You Try Hard Enough Both sides were in a standoff. Or rather, it was Eldridge and Parasmus that were testing each other. The champions of the world were all regarded as fodder by both parties. However, this disregard allowed them to survey their opponent. Every so often, they watched as a soul entered the giant. But they never saw any exit. Though the monstrous nature of the enemy wasn¡¯t important here. It was something they knew long ago. Far more noticeable was the small marble in front of them. The volume of souls that were sucked into it eclipsed that of the giant itself. As seconds passed, many realized that the rate was still increasing. Yet the crowd of souls did not lessen in the least. In fact, it had only ever grown, seeming even denser compared to when they had first arrived. Obviously, the ceremony had not yet reached its zenith. At least something positive had been found amidst a deluge of bad news. But how to disrupt the ceremony was the question on everyone¡¯s minds. The picture before them painted a rather straightforward picture. While no one in the party, save for one god, recognized what the object in the giant¡¯s hands was, they were all experienced in dealing with spellcasters. They understood that it was likely an integral part of the spell. If they destroyed it the whole crisis would likely end. But they knew that such a thing was impossible for them. Their enemy was way out of their league if they needed their god to confront. As such, their objective was just to provide support. However, the avatar of their deity had left them and hadn¡¯t issued any instructions before it left. But even if their deity was preoccupied with the enemy, these people were not like a group of headless lambs. Everyone was a leader in some capacity. While the current situation was far beyond any of their fields of expertise, they knew that they needed to take the initiative. Most quickly recognized that things could not go on like this - they would be wiped out by a random AOE if they stood still and the two behemoths before them started fighting. Nothing would be accomplished if such a thing happened. One woman shouted, "If we can¡¯t do anything about that monster or the core of this ritual, we can at least try to demolish the supports. Have faith in Him. He will prove victorious. But we cannot leave everything up to Him. According to my skills, the tower in front of us is only a small portion of this base. While it is at the center and the primary conduit, there are greater portions of underground that facilitate all this. Those should be our targets¡± ¡°Agreed. Let¡¯s first break in and then see how best to split up as we go,¡± remarked another. With some more murmurs within the crowd, the plan of action had been settled. The cohesion of this group was no surprise to any of them. Even if it was the first time everyone had gathered together in a display of combined arms, even if all of them were more accustomed to working alone, they were at least decently familiar with those in the immediate vicinity. With that, they used their respective abilities to break the ground and try their best to do the most damage they could. Once they made a little headway, they were immediately beset by magitech automatons and condensed ice elementals. None of them were surprised. Some were even a little relieved, as resistance meant they were working towards an outcome the enemy did not desire. The period before had just been too strange. Finally they could fight to their hearts¡¯ content. But their influence in this matter ended here. 9 System Hours until the end of the world
Their god, however, had other thoughts in His mind. As the only one among them that had an inkling of what was going on, He did not have such naive thoughts in His mind. Parasmus recognized the marble to be a World Core almost immediately. This particular World Core was modified so much that He almost couldn¡¯t recognize it, but the intimate contact He had with the one He¡¯d dominated made Him familiar enough to identify it as one immediately. Though He¡¯d never tested how durable it was, He knew it wasn¡¯t something that could be broken easily. He didn¡¯t speak out to remind his followers of this. They were unlikely to make use of that information and knowing what they should not know would only spread undue panic. Their current actions were enough for him. Hopefully they would wreak enough havoc to cause a small lapse in judgment. As He gazed at this monstrous entity before him, which bore no resemblance to the weak old human He had lazily watched cross the broken world barrier all those years ago, a decision had finally been made. He could see now, with renewed clarity, that this was a fight where He was hopelessly outmatched. The monster¡¯s heart-palpitating strength was no longer hidden under the guise of a weak and dying man who had traveled here to live out the rest of his life in peaceful isolation. Was this the demon¡¯s true form? It was no wonder He had failed to recognize it for what it was all those years ago. Even now, all means of identification fizzled when applied to it. Nothing could be gleaned aside from some surface-level observations. The creature¡¯s body had obviously gone through magical augmentation, that much was obvious at a glance. And among them was something that He''d wished He was unable to identify. A shame then, that it was all too obvious to ignore. It also seemed to have its own metaphysical field of gravity, as ambient mana was being pulled into it under the density of Eldridge''s own mana. It didn¡¯t seem to be a conscious action, either. He was only able to recognize this phenomenon by referencing the world''s heart, but even that did not even reach a fraction of the intensity He felt here. It appeared his earlier guess - and the situation He had dreaded - was correct. Something that could rival the Bringer of Calamity had descended. Although He didn¡¯t know why such a monster deigned to plot for several centuries rather than just take what they wanted directly, their intentions mattered little at this point. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. This life of his might as well go out with a bang. The Beast of Calamity had always been His nightmare. Something that could be considered its equivalent brought down by Him in His last moments¡­ It was not a bad conclusion to his story at all. Though He would have much preferred a story without an end, the circumstances were ultimately stronger than the people. Perhaps there was still a chance. While it wasn''t possible to split Himself off from the world, that did not mean this monster was unable to. From the way the ceremony was being held, He was absolutely certain that before it ended, He would also have Himself severed from his domain and brought here. The mark that held tight to His soul was a testament to this monster¡¯s greed. But that was also His most vulnerable period. Whether He could flee or was forced to detonate was up to fate. In a moment like this, a God like Him could only pray. But to destroy an entity that went against the world He would be bringing out an ability that flaunted the natural Laws as well, and not just a law unique to this world, his world. No. It was something that went against a foundational Law, judging by what He understood from his world''s inheritance. It was a power that turned against the idea that energy was impossible to create or destroy. This, among many Laws, was known instinctively from birth, as a keen understanding of the world¡¯s natural Laws was the birthright of all dragons. He was fixated on this particular law early on, as He recognized that mana seemed to go against this notion. Mana was essentially just an extremely mutable form of energy, however, everyone seemed to be able to regenerate it constantly without limit. Through repeated experiments, He noted that mana regenerated even in a void bereft of mana, meaning it wasn¡¯t coming from the environment, nor was it coming from the world itself. That much was clear, as the world¡¯s ambient mana had been completely corrupted during the height of the Calamity. As such, the mana that came in were proven separate through numerous correlating tests. As a result, before his ascension, He''d hypothesized that it came from the soul. Where else could it be from? His utilization of the Calamity¡¯s powers caused Him to believe this, though it did not solve the underlying issue. Where was the soul getting that mana? He had guessed that this contradiction only existed due to is lack of vision and that it would be made clear once his view was higher, but much to his excitement, it was not revealed even after his ascension. Rather, it only became even more mysterious. From the deity''s lens, the soul truly was an infinite wellspring of mana. From the inheritance of the world will, He knew that a person¡¯s mana was condensed from their soul core, the inner soul that greatly affected a person¡¯s personality and did not disappear after death. This was merely another layer deeper, however, and did not answer the fundamental question, only adding to the difficulty of its study. However, as the being with purview over reincarnation in this world, He was able to satiate his fascination with the inner soul. He came to the conclusion that while it didn¡¯t hold much information, as it lacked memories and habits of the individual, it still preserved part of the self for the next life in its own way. While dying reduced the size and strength of the inner soul, there seemed to be a lower limit, after which it became extremely difficult to shrink or compress. He theorized that mana came from this place. It could be influenced by external sources, but its origin would always be the individual¡¯s soul core. Through this, He understood why a thriving population was integral to the continued existence and growth of a world. As people used mana, whether for fighting or development, it was ultimately deposited into the world, serving as its sustenance. The stronger the individual, the more mana was produced. This was true for all classes, not just mages, though their mana took on different forms. And this was not all. Another discovery found through the world¡¯s inheritance was a way to artificially strengthen his followers. This was how He''d obtained the group of loyal individuals that were fully under his thumb. They would become the [Blessed] that surrounded him today. Granted, at first, He''d lacked the control necessary and caused their souls to directly collapse. But his control grew with time, and He learned a few tricks that greatly improved the success rate. For one, He learned to not frontload all that power, while also choosing only those that he felt could handle it. The collapsed souls, on the other hand, might have been useless, but it proved a point. This was because such a method only required one substance to complete - mana. It was a curious thing, then. Mana begat the soul and souls begat mana. In essence, it was through this process that the soul was able to elevate itself. This was the principle behind the use of natural treasures and potions in strengthening the soul. The discovery of this infinite feedback loop both astounded and frightened him. It became a way for him to become infinitely stronger than he was currently. However, it wasn¡¯t something he was able to fully control. The tentative successful experiments known as the [Blessed] were only an oversaturation of an already large vessel, not a comprehensive strengthening of the vessel directly. A perfect grasp on this subject would likely not be something he would be able to obtain for close to an eternity to come. Steps were made, however. Through continuous meditation over tens of thousands of years, he was able to finally sense his own soul core. It was much more difficult for him to find his own than for him to see those of his followers, but he was grateful for this. The numerous failed experiments spoke volumes of what hasty attempts at increasing power would result in. However, those failures were interesting in their own right, and with those results in mind he came up with a theory that then was tested multiple times. It only gave results once. Poor results, but results nonetheless. These experiments involved the use of devout, though weak, believers. He gave visions to countless people over the years and guided them into feeling their inner souls. He knew that it was a nigh impossible task, but by some miracle, one actually succeeded. The mortal that succeeded was fortunate beyond belief, accomplishing it in but a few decades. It was lightning fast compared to himself, and drew his envy, though only quelled after considering the numbers that failed before them. Then, through his careful guidance, the man was led to strengthen himself, cultivating their inner soul. This quickly triggered an irreversible feedback loop, forcibly elevating their power. This time, it was not an external influence that led to their strength. An external power that would be able to withdraw its influence and end the reaction. An external force that had a rudimentary understanding of how to operate such a process. Instead, it was due to their own unremitting effort. The person¡¯s conviction was laudable, though as the saying went, ¡°no good deeds can go unpunished¡±. It all went horribly wrong, and the believer eventually ended up detonating his soul. The explosion wiped their village off the map, even leveling the mountain beside it. The area today was still a mess, and chaotic mana storms were still abound. It was a supreme waste and left him without even a corpse to autopsy or study. He was never able to figure out how this outlier came to be as a result. To date, no one else has succeeded, but He knew He could do something similar. That was because the most challenging part, sensing the inner soul, was already complete. Due to the fact that it was impossible to test, he didn¡¯t know how strong the impact generated from his soul would be. But the ensuing blast will undoubtedly be much, much deadlier. After all, he was no civilian. However, he couldn¡¯t do this immediately. As much as he would have liked to just blast the damn invader directly, Parasmus needed them to move his true soul over. He didn¡¯t want to do this next to the Core of the World. This was all for saving the world, not destroying it. However, he found that he wasn¡¯t averse to the idea if things really came down to it. 3 System Hours until the end of the world (8)The Ascent Refuted 8: A Blast Of A Transition, Hunh? 1 System Hour until the end of the world The ordeal was nearing its conclusion. Everything had gone according to plan. The spell had been quite the spectacle. In fact, it was mostly a spectacle as well. From pulling these souls to staging a play with those heroes and the dragon¡¯s avatar. All of it was unnecessary for the ritual. It had meant to serve as a distraction. To distract the deity - the only factor that could make any waves throughout this whole process. It was meant to give them hope, so that they would not immediately take the most drastic approach. And that hope proved enough. It was too late for them to flee now. They were like an insect within a spider¡¯s web, trapped and helpless. Through the avatar, Eldridge had been able to deal a considerable blow to the dragon¡¯s true soul. A connection between clones was a vulnerability, in the end. There were countless ways to attack someone from across the network cable. However, while everything was settling down on the outside, the inside of the core was anything but. Within it, the collected souls were transmuted into a condensed Soulium and Haliatman amalgam - a self-replicating superposition of every state of matter. Its malleable properties made it the perfect glue - the perfect bridge between his current state of existence and the next. It was a compound he¡¯d synthesized only after referencing the corruptive properties of many indescribable beings. Naturally this alloy was chosen because his future form could not be rigid. Leaving as many doors open as possible had always been one of his core principles. Future discoveries could drastically shift his path and it would be too late to regret it then if he were unable to make such adjustments. This was only the foundation, after all. He was nothing if not stubborn. If his attachment to his human form was anything to go off of, he was content with taking the middle road even if it meant being weaker than his peers. Choices were what made getting out of dead ends possible, after all. Eldrige deepened his connection with the core of the spell matrix and began to meld into the artifact core. The pattern that was his existence was loaded into it while his inner soul merged completely with the core, marking the finalization of the process. Indeed, from this moment on, he had cast off his human cocoon! From today on I am no longer Eldridge Von Haueter! A new existence should have a new name. I do not know what kind of world this my core came from, but since it has benefited me so much, it is only right for me to carry on its legacy. From now on, I shall be Apollyon! As he felt his changes, he turned his attention to the only other thing that needed further consideration. His prized prey. The dragon, while not completely necessary for the creation of the body, would jumpstart his abilities once he was able to better control himself. He hadn¡¯t regarded it as a necessary piece in his ascension as it would have been foolish to put the lynchpin of something this important on an uncontrollable factor. But that did not mean he would disregard it entirely. The feast before him was the best case scenario. He was a new life form, after all. That inevitably lost him a lot of progress. As a newly forged Artifact, many of the abilities he was accustomed to before had not survived this transition. The lens with which he viewed the world had been drastically altered, and perspective itself was something that mattered disproportionately more for mages who sought to understand all that existed. But his [Soul Archive] was still operational. He¡¯d soon be able to properly study his new form and get back on track quickly, but the less time spent vulnerable the better. A soul as strong as the dragon¡¯s would likely allow him to skip much of the period of slow accumulation altogether. Though he¡¯d only consume it for energy after careful study first, of course. However, as he finalized the sublimation and pulled in the last batch of souls alongside the dragon, he had a premonition. A sinking feeling welled up within his chest. It was strange because, for one, he had no chest, and two, there shouldn¡¯t be anything around that could threaten him. But Eldrige felt that the situation wasn¡¯t quite right, and so acted according to his intuition and rushed as much of his consciousness back into his core as possible. It was quite timely, too. Not a second later, a thick, suffocating pillar of mana descended upon him, burning away the sizable portion of him still left outside. ¡°Ah, fu------¡± And then everything went dark. The world has been destroyed
105,890 System Hours after the end of the world Within the chaotic void between worlds, was a mess of ruins and debris. Here was an incomplete being who had finalized the repairs needed to restore his senses. Though the attack was unexpected and knocked out everything outside the core - which included every system he had built to perceive the outside world - everything within was still mostly intact. Immediately following its plunge into darkness, the being went to work, repairing everything that needed repairs while minimizing its presence. During this time it had not yet realized that the world it once inhabited had been utterly destroyed. Preparing to take everything back online, the sphere gave everything another check. Though he had wanted to get everything ready quickly and rid himself of this limbo, he knew that haste was not conducive to his current situation. That being said, the less time spent blindly groping around, the better. It was both unnerving and unsafe. It was only after everything was stable that the being surveyed its surroundings. What the hell? Where¡¯d the world go? Familiar. All too familiar. It¡¯s just like the place I got the Core for my current body. Was that why that World Core had laid unclaimed for so long? The failsafe I made in case it detonated itself was even enough to block even half-step [Detached] beings for a little while. How could it have faltered so spectacularly? That light¡­ What was that? That kind of all-consuming, blindingly bright light. I could see it without eyes, feel it without touch. Sublime, a thing of beauty. Was it his inner soul? It could only be that. That dragon was insane enough to mess with that kind of thing? Doesn¡¯t he know that damage to it means no shot at ever coming back? Like, even reincarnation or possession was off the table. He brought unto himself a truer death than I could ever have inflicted upon him. No, I can¡¯t stick around here. If that other world was the same situation, then that meant spending too long in this storm could even damage my new body. I have to find a way out of here. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. But he found himself stranded. A wakeup call before my new life even began. How miserable. But isn¡¯t this situation also because the dragon had such a big hand and never showed it? How could I have guessed he was able to blow up his world? Or that he was even willing to do so if he had such a method? I can¡¯t be expected to work with information I didn¡¯t even have¡­ Do I really have to get in touch with a major power so early? He didn¡¯t want to make deals so soon, as the terms always changed based on one''s standing and strength, but he couldn''t help it with his current circumstances. Not doing anything was simply waiting for death. His core only contained the barest of necessities to continue his existence, and his navigation and warp functions were all outside of it. They also weren¡¯t created with taking damage in mind, much like his other modules. After all, they were foundations as much as anything else in him right now. It was unreasonable to plan to get hit by a world destroying laser right at the onset of one¡¯s journey. But, since things had turned out the way they were, he could only accept it. He was rather curious to see how the system identified him. After all, he had gone through a, quite literally it seemed, earth-shattering change. While a part of him still wanted to try going about it completely alone, he also knew the benefits of having an immeasurably tall giant at your back, even if it liked to dig holes for him to fall into all the time. He was already familiar with it, so there was no need to change everything so drastically. There was no other patron that was quite as free as the System, anyways. [Ascension Paradise], [The Burning Heavens], [Heart of Man], [Neverending Samsara], and [Lord of the Abyss] were the few [Detached] beings he knew that were interested in playing the great game that was existence but they did not fit him. Those that knew the steps could make the connection anywhere, provided they weren¡¯t in the domain of another [Detached]. Though even then [The System] would still be present if only a little suppressed. Even with his current state without a brain to think or a mouth to talk he was still able to trigger his status. Omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent. Beyond time and space infinite. That was what made the [Detached] so revered and sought after. Request link to [System 001, Node 18]. Access code ???????????. Request Periphery Member Approval. Immediately after he made these series of surface level thoughts he felt the connection. It was an instant change - the chaos-filled surroundings unable to offer even a hint of resistance. This was natural, as [The System] could be found even in the void between worlds. Bypassing the scattered debris from a ruined world was child''s play, really.
New Entity Detected. Periphery Member Approved. Connection with ID: Eldridge - Weak Only quasi-core member permissions are granted. New Semi-Data Shell?
Reject Semi-Data Shell Damn. So I¡¯ll really have to start over? Those permissions can¡¯t get me out of here. Hmm¡­ The System isn¡¯t a transit station, so it¡¯ll cost me. Request trade of past Semi-Data Shell ID: Eldridge¡¯s permissions for Warp, information on Warp targets, and Assisted Identifications to make the difference
Calculating.
Trade:
Give: Quasi-core member permissions For: X1 Warp to designated World X1 Information on World Energy Levels for Warpable worlds X5 Assisted Identifications Accept?
Such a large markup? I guess I am the one that is requesting it, and I¡¯m in a rush. Alright Accept Request identification Scale according to settings of past ID: Eldridge
Identification Complete
Status
Name: Apollyon
Total Level: 1 Core Durability: 3,580,808,670,200,109/4,000,000,000,000,000
Equip Requirement: LVL 1 Body Durability: 2500/4000
Mana: 1000 / 1000 Age: 16
Race: ???? (Give Name?) Racial Skills: [U][Binding Covenant]:
Main Class: Locus of Misfortune: Cursed by the resentment of a world. Cursed by the resentment of countless lost souls. These curses coalesced and formed its own gravity. Misfortune commonly befalls those around you and will be a knot that will prove difficult to untie. Karma follows you even into a new life. Skills: [E][Curse of Misfortune] [E][Eldritch Reconstitution] [E][Perceive Luck] [E][Possession]
General Skills: [U] [Soul Archive] [U][Transcendent Camouflage] [U][Soul Mastery] [U][World Core] General Attributes: Strength: 5 Dexterity: 5 Constitution: 5 Intelligence: 5 Wisdom: 5 Charisma: 5
Special Attributes: Luck: -25
Positive Conditions: Negative Conditions:
He had his own way of identifying himself, but [The System] was more thorough and presented it in a manner that he was used to. He could either spend the next year or so measuring his current state or just ask it directly, and given how intimately he used it before, his results would not be much different. Since he only wanted to distance himself from the System and not completely cut himself off, the latter option was the obvious answer. Fewer abilities than I¡¯d hoped. It seems a larger portion of my outer soul was burned than expected, but this is enough. Nothing I cannot regain. But [Locus of Misfortune]? That dragon was so hateful that he even forcefully changed my path? A class was the System¡¯s way of synthesizing and making one¡¯s path of ascension. If one already had a path they followed, the System simply tried to catalog it as best it could. After a certain point, Eldridge had always derived his paths himself, only borrowing the System''s vast computational abilities to optimize it. He did this for good reason, too. [Locus of Misfortune] was just like one of those classes the System liked to goad unsuspecting newcomers into taking. The starting classes were generally normal enough, but it always pushed its users towards more and more fringe paths as they progressed. Paths that were either extremely twisted or simply led to dead ends. It''s only hobby, as stated by itself, was gathering knowledge of unique things, after all. The most difficult thing was that it didn¡¯t do this out of malice. Rather, it couldn¡¯t be happier if someone rose above those constraints and made something out of nothing. It often gave benefits to help these unfortunate souls tide over their difficult times, as well. This did not make it any easier for those it screwed over, however. Did the System screw me over? That¡¯s impossible. It would never make changes without my consent. But¡­ This kind of class looks like it has the handwriting of [The System] all over it. He had intended to become a freeloader that leeched off of others - rising as they rose. Karma and attachments unknown to him, as they were all borne by his wielder. This was likely impossible now that his class has become so crooked. What was he supposed to do now? Not the ideal start. I¡¯ll have to make do with what I have. System. Bring up the list of warpable worlds. Let''s get moving. Completed as a Short Story, follow-up is new book titled Prescript of Finality I''ve come to realize that while this section is something I''m quite proud of - and the idea of it is what got me into writing in the first place - it makes for a rather terrible prologue. While it sets the stage for what''s to come and established the ceiling of power well enough for me, it became far longer than it really had any right to be. Even after trimming it down a fair bit, it''s still way too long to serve as a meaningful introduction. However, I didn''t want to delete any of this outright, so I''m just going to mark it as complete. As such, this is essentially a short story about Eldridge''s attempted ascent. A new book has already been made for the events following this, as I''ve been told that it feels strange to start from such a transcendent perspective. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. After all, Eldridge''s story has indeed been completed, even if it is only a snapshot of his lengthy life. The new one is titled Prescript of Finality. Check it out if you enjoyed this.