ã€ŠTo Seize the Skiesã€‹


 1. Death-Marked

    ARC 1: PAVED IN GOLD

    Remus recalled well the first time the tax collectors arrived ¡ª the first time reality grabbed him by the throat, throttled him with brutal indifference, and struck him with a label he could never hope of being cleansed of.

    He was only . . . what, seven at the time? Perhaps a little older, if memory served correct. His brother, Damion, had been sat opposite to him, the two of them positioned to either side of a large oak working board, just one of the many replicating desks that made up a large percentage of their Carpentry Sect¡¯s interior. They were similar in appearance, with ginger hair so dark in shade it could pass for brown from a distance, and running mouths that often landed the pair in more trouble than they could handle.

    ¡°Honestly, you''re holding a saw wrong! A saw!¡± A ten year old Daimon could often be heard complaining, as Remus yet again failed to pick up on their family¡¯s trade.

    ¡°I am not.¡±

    ¡°Really? Are you certain about that?¡±

    Remus had nodded, acutely unaware of the river of blood streaming from his palm.

    Damion snickered. ¡°Carry on, then.¡±

    Even now, Remus cringed at his younger self¡¯s ignorance, but more so, he pitied his mother, who was tasked with the great misfortune of walking into her son spewing out half of his arteries¡¯ contents.

    ¡°Damion, you really have to stop teasing your brother so much. You know how easily he hurts himself.¡± Briella would reason with Damion, who didn¡¯t seem to take the words to heart.

    The sensation of a bandage against his skin was a familiar one to Remus even as a bright-eyed child. Him and tools, regardless of his sect¡¯s background and speciality, did not mix. Remus could pick up a ruler and be more likely to somehow misinterpret its purpose than to apply anything remotely resembling the gods¡¯ greatest gift to humanity: common sense. This idiocy, as a matter of fact, was precisely what was preoccupying the boy when one of Damosh¡¯s goons came calling. Right as he was attempting to slice through a plank of freshly supplied wood with a measuring stick¡¯s side, a knock came calling from the manor¡¯s front doors.

    Remus¡¯ father, Aiden ¡ª a respectful, but otherwise withdrawn man ¡ª came to the call, passing through the room with a passive, ¡®I¡¯ll get it,¡¯ and strolling by nonchalantly. If it were not for the innocence youth provides, Remus might have noticed the intensity of his father¡¯s casual air; might have caught his brother glancing up warily, or his mother¡¯s lips pursing. However, his interest was still piqued from the rough knocking at the door, but because of reasons far detached from concern.

    Instead, Remus pondered if the clan¡¯s leader, a Warlord-Ranked who doubled as his great grandfather, had finally returned from constructing barricades at the frontlines. The position defended off the infinite ranks of the malevolent Unbounded, preventing the fiends from flooding into the main territory of the Mortal Realms. Of course, the fact it undeniably supplied their humble sect a handsome spike in profits was not a benefit to be ignored. Its only downside being how often Remus¡¯ grandfather, Andreas, was forced away from the capital of First Rite on business errands.

    The mere prospect of him returning was a joyful one, but reality, as always, proved much more nefarious.

    Creeping silently on their tiptoes, Remus and Damion sneaked up to the building¡¯s entrance, garnering amused smirks from many of the sect¡¯s passing members, who graciously decided to turn a blind eye to the brothers¡¯ antics.

    A wall separated the eavesdropping boys and the manor¡¯s main hall, a streaking passage of ornate wood that stretched from one side of the building to the other, as if determined not to alter direction. Their current room was situated directly at this corridor¡¯s end, where the entrance sat. They needed only to lean over the door leading into the passage with as much discretion as they could muster, and a clear view of the elusive affairs of the Carpentry Sect would be theirs to lay witness to. And of course, two infamously mischievous children were sure to be both secretive, and gracious with their peeking.

    ¡°Do you see anything?¡± Remus asked, with Damion¡¯s back blocking his view.

    ¡°Father¡¯s talking with someone from the Wealth Sect.¡±

    ¡°Wealth Sect?¡±

    ¡°Yes, now shut up would you?¡±

    ¡°But I can¡¯t see anything!¡±

    A hand appeared over Remus¡¯ mouth, and before he could complain ¡ª the inclination to chomp on his brother¡¯s palm extraordinarily tempting ¡ª his attention turned to the two men conversing on his doorstep. They were obviously mid-discussion.

    ¡° . . . for the late payment. It won¡¯t become a regular occurrence, I can assure yo-¡±

    ¡°Can you now?¡± A harsh voice cut him off, regal and pestering. ¡°Times are becoming rough Aiden, y¡¯know, with the War effort requiring more resources than ever, a lot of clans are struggling. I can''t be as lenient as I used to be.¡±

    ¡°I can recognise that; we¡¯re feeling the repercussions too, so I understand where you¡¯re coming from. But your demands, they¡¯re just not sustainable. We¡¯re paying Damosh almost double of the Inklings we were before.¡±

    ¡° . . . And so are the rest of the fifty or so sects based in First Rite. Just because you happen to be in the top twenty amongst us, doesn¡¯t relieve your kin of the same requirements of everyone in the city.¡±

    Something in his father¡¯s voice changed. It was subtle, incredibly so, to the point Remus could only put a name to the switch in demeanour years later, during agonising sessions where he would replay the day¡¯s events in his mind over, and over, and over again. It was desperation.

    ¡°Please. Just one more Passing, you¡¯ll be paid in full then.¡±

    In deliberate melodrama, the tax collector inhaled deeply. ¡°The best I can offer is half paid now, Sir, and for the next Passing, I¡¯ll receive the usual amount plus the rest of this Passing¡¯s. I could get a rough chiding from the boss for this one, Aiden, so I hope you¡¯re grateful. You can always trust Damosh to be stingy with his money.¡±

    ¡°Yes Sir. Of course Sir.¡±

    The exchange ceased, replaced by a resounding clinking.

    In his raptness to the conversation, Damion had lowered his hand, leaving Remus free to speak his mind. ¡°Why¡¯s father speaking like that? Are they handing over money?¡±

    Damion¡¯s hand returned with such force that Remus was practically smacked. ¡°Shush!¡±

    No noise escaped the front door, and the brothers may as well have had their flesh displaced by marble, with how rigidly they remained frozen in place. Seconds passed, and their position did not change, staring unblinkingly at one another; not daring to do as much as breathe.

    ¡°I think you should keep better watch of your sect¡¯s children, Aiden.¡± A voice finally spoke up.

    ¡°Yes Sir . . . apologies Sir, my mistake. Please excuse the boys, it''s my fault for not teaching them better.¡±

    The tax collector released a laugh with no humour behind it, before his voice dropped to a deadpan. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen the two before. They are your boys, are they not? Why not introduce me?¡±

    Their father called for them, and the two trudged into view solemnly, heads down and their hands fidgeting gawkily.

    ¡°Just the spitting image of their father,¡± the tax collector mused, hunching down to his knees and examining the two.

    Now that they were only inches apart, Remus could take a thorough observation of the Wealth clansman before him. The man was bald, his wrinkles and the lines engraved into his forehead indicating age. Unnaturally wide eyes stared into him, and the man didn¡¯t seem to care that the way he was inspecting the two ¡ª as if examining their very souls for every fault or flaw ¡ª was causing them both great discomfort. Just barely in his peripheral vision, Remus could also spot his father, fitted with a buzz cut and a grave look, eying the scene stiffly, and with arms crossed.

    ¡°Grey irises,¡± the face before him noted. ¡°Not of your brown shade, Aiden. Their mother¡¯s?¡±

    Aiden simply grunted in confirmation.

    ¡°Two promising Enkindled are sure to help the sect bolster their profits! Just put your boys to work, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll earn enough to keep Damosh happy and content. See, problem solved.¡±

    ¡°Enkindled?¡± The fated line had escaped Remus¡¯, unaware, self-sabotaging lips.

    Years later, Remus would face much turmoil fighting off the urge to collide his head against the nearest wall, whenever this accursed memory resurfaced in his thoughts. Just three syllables, and he¡¯d set himself up for disaster.

    The tax collector glanced at his younger self, as if Remus¡¯ brains had just fallen out of his cranium to stain the ground below. There was a pause, and his eyes flickered back to the man behind the two. ¡°Gods above Aiden, haven¡¯t you taught the boy anything?¡±

    His father took a hasty step forward, forgoing his subservient air to free his son from the mess he¡¯d just created for himself.

    ¡°Of course, I think what he meant to say was-¡±

    ¡°Oh! You mean the Divine Ranks?¡± Remus interrupted blindly. ¡°¡®I don¡¯t know what I am, maybe-¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have a Rank yet, stupid.¡± Damion interjected.

    If he was really honest with himself, Remus had held a grudge against his brother for that little stunt for a countless time thereafter. Fortunately, in later years, he¡¯d had enough maturity to realise that it was he himself that had kickstarted this mess, and, therefore, it was only right that he paid the consequences. No matter how much it chafed against him.

    ¡°No Rank . . .?¡± The tax-collector repeated, evidently perplexed. ¡°Not even the first Rank? Has his blood not been saturated? Has he not become Engorged?¡±

    Aiden stepped forth yet again, face paling as he tried frantically to backpedal away from the topic.

    ¡°Apologies, there seems to be a misunderstanding. Our Remus, he¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°Can your sect not afford another measly Droplet?¡± The tax-man piped in, his voice deeply sorrowful ¡ª at least, on the surface ¡ª yet grating. ¡°My sympathies Aiden, I did not register the extent of your financial struggles.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°It''s not that, we¡¯re not suffering that greatly yet, thank the gods. It''s just that, well . . . we tend not to speak about it openly, but you see ¡ª ah, how do I put this?¡±

    ¡°Come on, Aiden, spit it out, we don¡¯t have all day here.¡±

    Remus¡¯ head glanced to and fro, from his father¡¯s reddening face, to the tax collector¡¯s icy stare. He didn¡¯t need exceptional skills in deduction to note that something was wrong. That something terrible was occurring before his eyes.

    Scratching the back of his head, Aiden could stall no longer. ¡°He . . . doesn¡¯t require a Droplet. We don¡¯t believe it would do him much good, with his status, and whilst we could afford more, Ichor is expensive. We have to save as many Inklings as we can nowadays.¡±

    The bald man considered this, and Aiden desperately hoped the inquiries would stop there. Of course, cruelty is the way of the universe, and they did not.

    ¡°Status, you don¡¯t mean . . .¡± Realisation dawned on the man¡¯s face, and his lips visibly trembled, teetering on curving into a fierce smile only barely restrained. ¡°His Mark, it''s not of the Carpentry god is it; not of Arcus?¡±

    The overwhelming silence was answer enough.

    ¡°Then who? What god?¡±

    Aiden¡¯s controlled mien began to slip. ¡°I think you¡¯ve questioned us enough, Edmar. I recommend that you leave. You have many other clans to visit this early into the day, have you not?¡±

    Edmar, as Remus had inferred to be the tax collector¡¯s name, didn¡¯t try to conceal his mirth any longer. His visage was sly, arrogantly amused at the tragic fates of others.

    ¡°Remus is Death-Marked, hmm?¡± His beam only grew in intensity. ¡°What god? What deceased deity was he stained with?¡±

    ¡°I told you to leave, Edmar.¡± Aiden huffed, voice verging on a yell. ¡°Do not make me shout in the streets of these slums, do not overstep more than you already have.¡±

    Edmar did not immediately step back, nor did he appear to take the man¡¯s tone seriously. Yet nevertheless, after a brief standoff, the tax collector wandered off, muttered what was sure to have been a few incredibly polite words under his breath, and went on his way.

    Remus¡¯ last memory of that morning was of his father walking the two back in, innumerable pairs of eyes staring hard into their passing backs. The judgemental stares of watchful clansmen, his first taste of the detestement soon to come.

    <hr>

    ¡°What¡¯s a Death-Mark, mother?¡± Remus would ask, later that day, as Briella tucked him into bed.

    Every family within the Carpentry Sect shared a private chamber each, which may sound claustrophobic to those born into wealth, but to the sects established inside the Labour District ¡ª a kindly name put to the slums of First Rite ¡ª the servants of the Carpentry god lived in the highest luxury. The room was fairly large, fit for the two adults and children that resided within it, with blank wooden walls occasionally cut into by a window or two. At each corner, a bed sat, and a general level of warmth was provided by a hearth chiselled into a rectangular column at the chamber¡¯s centre, this stretching from ceiling to floor.

    Every night, Aiden and Briella would put Remus and Daimon to bed, before drifting into sleep themselves. But this evening in particular, Remus had asked the question that had been playing on his psyche since his father¡¯s encounter with Edmar, putting any chances of either of them catching a decent rest in jeopardy.

    ¡°Where did you hear that term?¡± His mother asked with a small frown, pulling up the quilt over Remus¡¯ lower body to cover him fully.

    ¡°The taxman came. He asked dad what Rank me and Damion were, and then he mentioned it. Said it was a stain, or a curse, or . . . something.¡± Remus answered innocently, the vast majority of his attention directed on fiddling with a carved doll in his hands.

    Briella turned, looking at her husband aghast. ¡°Aiden! What were you thinking? You know how quickly a rumour can spread when the Wealth Sect is involved.¡±

    A sigh escaped the man¡¯s throat, ash still lingering on his skin from the day¡¯s intensive workload. ¡°I was pressured into talking, Briella. The boys weren¡¯t much help either, slipping out information every second sentence.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re only children, you can¡¯t really blame them there,¡± she defended, ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to tell Remus until he was a little older, I thought it might be a bit much for someone so young.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s old enough,¡± Aiden retorted. ¡°But what will people think? I dread to think that it could have a sour impact on Remus¡¯ reputation. Yet people these days tend to be more judgmental than not.¡±

    Befuddled by what he was hearing, Remus inevitably spoke up. ¡°What are you talking about? And you didn¡¯t answer my question.¡±

    From his bed, Damion watched intently, soaking the scene in with as much interest as his brother.

    ¡°Well, you see Remus . . .¡± His mother began sheepishly, playing with a strand of her brown hair. ¡°When you¡¯re born, a god bestows you with a Mark that represents them, like a birthmark.¡±

    ¡°Like the one on your arm?¡±

    Nodding, she presented the limb to him. Remus¡¯ eyes widened as he examined the artwork of a colossal wall, circling around a moon as a streak of orangery ambers rained down upon it. Beyond this great onslaught of flames, a figure hovered, appearing to be made of pale white fire himself.

    ¡°It''s a Mark of the Carpentry god, Arcus, constructing a fortress to protect himself from an attack of Ashbel¡¯s doing, the Flame deity.¡±

    ¡°Why are they fighting?¡±

    Briella chuckled softly. ¡°This was during the War, before all the gods signed a pact to stop fighting each other themselves, as it was causing too much destruction. Obliterating entire worlds in their wake. That¡¯s why we have Marks, to accept their power and patronage, and fight for them.¡±

    ¡°I have a Mark too, on my shoulder,¡± Remus recalled. ¡°But it''s not like yours. It has no colour, and it''s of a woman, I think.¡±

    The uneasy smile on his mother¡¯s face waned a little. ¡°Marks remain colourless until you channel Ichor to them, the golden blood of the gods. But you need to consume a Droplet to do so, to saturate your blood into godly essence, and we haven¡¯t purchased one for you, I¡¯m sorry to say.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    His mother shifted uncomfortably, eyes shooting to Aiden for support.

    ¡°You see son,¡± his father walked over, his expression implying immense apprehension for this conversation, ¡°do you notice how everyone in our sect has a Mark of Arcus?

    ¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t think Arcus is a woman . . .¡±

    ¡°Precisely. Your Mark isn¡¯t of Arcus. It is of Amani, the deceased goddess of Peace. She died in the early stages of the War according to our library''s records, her very nature as a pacifist preventing her from fighting back.¡±

    Taking a moment to digest this, Remus said nought. It was a lot for a seven year old to fully comprehend, and he wouldn¡¯t fully for several years to come.

    From the opposite side of the chamber, Damion exclaimed, ¡°So that''s why you''re so bad with equipment.¡±

    ¡°Damion!¡± Briella¡¯s voice rose in vexation. ¡°Be kind to your brother. He can¡¯t help the hand he was handed in life.¡±

    ¡°But . . . How can I activate the power of someone that¡¯s dead? How can a dead god offer power in the first place?¡± Remus muttered, ignoring the jab, his mind working overtime to process all the information being hurled his way.

    ¡°That''s the tricky part,¡± Aiden started to answer. ¡°When a deity dies, their power sort-of lingers. And, in unfortunate cases, Marks that can never be activated materialise on newborns, as a manifestation of that remaining power.¡±

    ¡°But why won¡¯t any other gods take me?¡± He inquired desperately, grasping at non-existent straws. Remus was barely understanding what his parents were talking about in the first place, with all the terminology they were throwing around. ¡°Another person would surely help them in some way, right?¡±

    The image of his own mother holding back tears was a sight emblazed into his retinas from that day onwards. A fiery visage to permanently remind him of the burdens ¡ª of the curses ¡ª he must carry.

    ¡°It''s . . . considered bad luck, or so I¡¯ve heard,¡± Aiden continued, sitting by his wife to comfort her, despite the emotion bleeding into his own tremulous voice. ¡°The proper term for it is a Death-Mark son. The deities up above find it distasteful to leave claim on someone with the touch of one of their lost kin, even if it''s only in a weird, afterimage kind of way.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t graced with the mercy of sleep until several hours later that night. Benumbed at the time, he couldn¡¯t quite recall his initial reaction at such earth-shattering news. But what he could remember was his brother¡¯s silent support, who¡¯d moved his own blanket and pillow to rest by him, holding his cold hand tight until the pains of the conscious world gave away.

    <hr>

    The memories of that shameful day flooded back to Remus years later, now a near fully-grown sixteen year old, though not much better off for it. He watched, as he¡¯d made a habit of doing so every Passing, with bated breath, standing in the barren roads of the First Rite slums. Behind his back, the Carpentry Sect lay; a modest fortress of ornate, handcrafted walls and beams etched from the finest oak and mahogany the clan could get their hands on.

    Gradually, in the distance, beneath the half-crumbled settlements of the Labour District, the silhouette of Edmar drew near. One spot of gold in an ocean of monotonous, weather-beaten grey. Remus held his ground firmly with arms crossed, fitted into a carpenter¡¯s uniform that had never truly fit him.

    He¡¯d taken the role as taxpayer for a multitude of reasons. Of course, it was a dire job having to deal with anyone affiliated with Damosh in the first place, but for many within the Carpentry Sect, the frequent sight of Edmar¡¯s unpleasant face was too much to bear. His father had always volunteered willingly to take the loathed position, seeing it as his responsibility, technically being second in command, and overseeing the sect when Andreas was away. Remus respected that sense of honour greatly, but with much persistence, had managed to sway the man into letting him take up the role. It wasn¡¯t as if he could do much else to benefit the carpenters, with his lack of a usable Mark, lack of golden, divine blood, lack of anything even remotely . . .

    The Death-Marked sighed. His mind had become riddled with dark thoughts again, overwhelmed with a terrible spite that could intoxicate the mind like nothing else. He had to stay focused.

    Edmar wasn¡¯t far off now, approaching with that smug, ever-punchable visage of his. Inwardly, Remus reflected on his motives. On his intimate causes for the admittedly rash action he was on the verge of taking ¡ª in the position of a man staring down the walls of a cliff from its peak, not a step away from diving into icy water with only his flailing arms as protection.

    Sure, he had indeed pleaded for the position to ease some of the workload away from the rest of the sect. That was all true. But his primary motivator was to put into action exactly what he intended to do next.

    And if it earned him a few bruises in the process, so be it.

    ¡°Death-Mar- I mean, Remus.¡±

    ¡°Edmar.¡± Remus muttered curtly, as the man came to a halt, standing rigidly with a venomous look in his eyes.

    Over the years, Remus had become especially familiar with the tax-collector¡¯s appearance. His waistcoat was of the deepest caramel, intersected occasionally with conflicting blotches of dark emerald; a plain jet tunic he adorned underneath, the crest of his clan sewn into said cloth, and weaved with strands of true gold that bedazzled the eye. It was a portrait of Damosh, artfully designed to highlight the hue of his glimmering skin, with a neatly slicked-back hairdo the shade of poisonous green.

    And Remus would bleed it all red.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re not much for a chat Remus, so let¡¯s make this quick.¡± Edmar began, as Remus struggled to restrain himself. ¡°Hand over the Passing¡¯s due of Inklings.¡±

    Gritting his teeth, his face scrunching in disgust, Remus¡¯ hand made slowly for his pocket ¡ª the action appearing as though it was eliciting a great deal of pain. It paused right as he trespassed into its contents, and Edmar looked all-around affronted.

    ¡°You told me the tax would lower. It''s been so long I can¡¯t even recall the precise extent of your lies.¡± Remus¡¯ voice was reduced to a low series of aggressive murmurs. ¡°But I know that you did feed me and the rest of the Labour District falsehoods. Costs haven¡¯t even stagnated, how do you expect people to keep up with demands?¡±

    ¡°Boss¡¯ orders, not mine Remus.¡± Edmar dismissed him dryly, by now tired with this frequent ordeal. ¡°Now, pass over the money, and you can go complain to the man yourself, if you fancy.¡±

    ¡°. . . and if I don¡¯t?¡±

    The tax collector said nothing further for a moment, and Remus was almost longing for an insult to be hurled his way. A threat to really cement his actions, or a flimsy excuse to attribute to his intentions. He wasn¡¯t sure how to feel when he received both.

    ¡°Then you¡¯d be breaking the law, Remus, and your entire sect will have to face the consequences of one foolish child¡¯s tantrums. Are you instigating a confrontation here?¡±

    ¡°Why could you possibly be getting that impression? We stand on Divine Ground here in First Rite, if that little detail went over that thick head of yours, Edmar. Any Mark activated with intent to cause harm will result in a swift smiting from the gods, if you can even manage it.¡±

    To Remus¡¯ surprise, the man smirked. ¡°That¡¯s not all the Moratorium Pact details. If provoked, and if in lawful obedience, we have the freedom to defend ourselves to the best of our ability. And . . .¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°The same applies if a duel is agreed to by both parties.¡± Edmar explained. ¡°But I¡¯m certain you at least have the brains not to request something as outlandish as that, Death-Marked or not.¡±

    Remus¡¯ blood ran cold.

    All around, residents of the local neighbourhood were peeking out of their windows, staring through the subtlest creeks of their doors, and Remus had the faintest notion that someone from the Sight Sect had activated their Mark to oversee the stand-off from someplace far off. At least, he couldn¡¯t think of anything else that hovering orb up ahead could be but an eye.

    ¡°Perhaps I am just stupid enough.¡±

    Edmar rubbed the skin of his bald scalp, chuckling something unintelligible to himself. ¡°Very well then. I, Edmar of the Wealth Sect, and honourable ambassador of the Godling Damosh, offer a duel to Remus of the Carpentry Sect, ambassador of none. Does the Death-Marked agree?¡±

    A shaky breath left Remus¡¯ lips.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

 2. Bad Decisions

    The next few seconds were a blur.

    Edmar was five feet away one moment, and the next, his knuckles were deeply embedded into the cloth of Remus¡¯ apron. Remus gagged, spittle flinging from his mouth. With little more than milliseconds to register the barrage of blows, he struggled to keep his increasingly fleeting vision clear, all the air left clinging to his winded lungs surrendering even their passing remnants.

    Another strike was all it took to fling him back another dozen paces, and by that time, the Death-Marked could hardly register the round-house kick threatening to crack his jaw. It was sure to have fractured it, if nothing more. Dazed, shrapnel from the piles of debris beneath him jutting into his back, and piercing the skin of his left calf, Remus¡¯ better judgement began to return in slow, gradual whisperings of reason. It rarely made appearances nowadays, but he was starting to feel very convinced that this whole ordeal had been a rather bad idea.

    Hands latching onto the dislodged rock around him ¡ª either its tarmac was of an incredibly weak mix, or the tax-collector was hiding more than just ageing joints in those old arms of his ¡ª Remus scurried backwards, his hands creating frantic rowing motions against the road to propel him. Inch by inch, he ascended a mound of upheaved stone and shrapnel, pebbles of which perished to dust with every desperate swipe.

    Edmar appeared by his side, moving so suddenly that Remus'' human vision hadn¡¯t registered any movement. Grasping him by the hair, where he was dangled like the human equivalent of a rabid canine, the man cackled. ¡°Feel like giving up?¡±

    ¡°Nev-¡±

    The ground appeared to spring up in front him, and a beaten Remus was met with a mouthful of concrete. Body spasming by its effort, he trembled upwards on twig-like arms ¡ª only for a booted foot to force him down once more.

    ¡°I really hate punching down like this, Remus.¡± The man spoke wistfully between swattings of the foot. ¡°You¡¯re making me resort to some very nasty deeds.¡±

    Edmar¡¯s words fell on deaf ears, his speech hollowed and empty. The heel of his boot dug into Remus¡¯ shoulder deeper, causing a most frustrated moisture to materialise in the crevices of the boy¡¯s eyes.

    Remus¡¯ shame was like none other he had ever experienced, and that alone was saying much. Like an ubiquitous presence gripping him from head to toe, imperceivable to the human eye, but quietly brutalising him nonetheless. Mortification given a vessel to enact its deepest desires, to punish him for his inadequacy; his failure. Not only was Edmar by law right in his actions, he had inflicted hell on Remus¡¯ brutalised body without sparing the effort to activate his Mark. But even considering the embarrassment of all that, what had stung him the most? Fuelling Remus¡¯ own indignities to pain him further?

    The fact that the man was holding back, even only relying on his bodily strength. And greatly.

    It had never before struck Remus the entire worlds of power that separated the Divine Ranks. What had been put into his drink for him to consider pulling something on one who had climbed that ladder, with vast success, where he could never possibly dream of ascending its first step?

    Finally, Edmar stood still, passively observing Remus¡¯ ruined form struggling back into a standing position, limping leg and all. The streets were silent, a trail of blood and cracked stone the only sign to indicate the one-sided beatdown that had just occurred. The man whistled, hands behind his back, and advanced in long, exaggerated strides. His robes were perfectly, absolutely clean. Not a crumple in sight.

    Glancing down at his own attire, Remus saw a shredded collection of slitted ribbons, just barely holding the form of a tunic and apron. He was fitted into the rags of a failure, and he¡¯d never before more closely related to such a label.

    ¡°The Inklings, Remus. Hand them over and you can save yourself any further humiliation. Though, I¡¯m sure this little encounter of ours has supplied you with enough to last a lifetime, but there¡¯s always more to be earned, if you wish.¡±

    ¡°Damn you Edmar,¡± he managed to murmur, a line of blood drizzling down his purpled cheek. ¡°Damn you to hell and back.¡±

    He may have been a sore fighter, but Remus sold himself on being anything but a quitter. Whether that made him a fool or not was up to others to decide, but right here, right now, he would not give in. He would fight until his legs could no longer uphold his weight, until consciousness left his beaten pulp of a body, until-

    ¡°Remus!¡±

    Swivelling round ¡ª only narrowly avoiding tripping over himself in the process ¡ª the Death-Marked laid his eyes on a familiar face, rushing forwards through the throng of onlookers, jaw set.

    Edmar¡¯s lips cracked a smile. ¡°Oh, what do we have here? Has the famed sect itself come rushing forward, to stop their pet from committing anymore mischief?¡±

    Remus breathed in roughly through a bloody nose. ¡°You-¡±

    Damion¡¯s arms circled around his inner body, hefting him off the ground. Remus scraped his hands towards the stationary man before him madly, Edmar¡¯s smirk the most hideous thing to have ever graced his vision.

    ¡°Let me go!¡± He huffed. ¡°I¡¯m not done, not like this, let me down Damion, let me down!¡±

    Damion said nothing, slowly backing away, gradually robbing Remus of his one chance. His one fleeting opportunity to get back at the world, for all the injustices it had casted against him. And he, like always, was too weak to do anything about it. Not of the strength to push away his brother¡¯s Engorged solidity, nor of the resolve to look at him squarely in the eye, and admit fault.

    The watchful eyes of the bystanders bore into him. Always so scathing, still so perceptive. He wanted to send them scattering. He wanted to put an end to the endless antagonism.

    But in his sibling¡¯s arms, Remus¡¯ vitality failed. His sore body desired nothing more than rest, and, his blinking eyes betraying him, that was just what he acquired.

    <hr>

    ¡°What could have possibly been running through your mind to stir you into doing, of all the stupid stunts you could pull, this?¡±

    Remus continued to stubbornly ignore his brother¡¯s words of scolding, eyes closed, in the comfort of his personal bed back within their family¡¯s quarters. Leaning over him from a stool at his bedside, a commissioned medic from the Vitality Sect examined his condition. Their near inaudible murmurs of quiet discontent was not exactly the reassurance he was looking for.

    At the room¡¯s corner, the sound of his parents uncomfortably shifting pricked at Remus¡¯ ears. They were obviously in the midst of a heated argument, with him as its primary subject. That was to be expected of course, after their son had initiated a conflict drawing the attention of over a third of First Rite. Attention that anyone with more than two operational brain cells would conclude to not necessarily be positive. Not by a wide margin.

    Remus bit his lip against the constant pains ravaging him from the inside out, the quilt laid over his body grudgingly determined to clutch against his every bruise and cut. And believe him, there were many. His face felt swollen, his every limb thoroughly exhausted of their energy supplies, and his leg was slowly but surely turning numb. Whatever that entailed, he wasn¡¯t keen to find out.

    ¡°Partially damaged jawbone, a mid-sized cut into his calf, and, lucky you! Only one rib was broken.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t able to surface out of the sea of his guilt to conjure a smile at that joke, questionably timed or not. Instead, he let out a fatigued groan.

    ¡°The rest is less severe. A lot of harsh bruising to be sure, and a couple modest cuts that''ll need to be bandaged, but nothing that an Engorged body couldn¡¯t shake off after a Duration or two, and my Mark¡¯s assistance should speed up that time just nicely.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not Engorged.¡± Damion explained, voice sounding exasperated.

    The medic¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Hmm, the Vitality Mark usually lets me read the Divine Rank of anyone I¡¯m examining, but I¡¯m not picking up on anything. Is he Enkindled?¡±

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°No. He¡¯s Death-Marked.¡±

    By her next words, the doctor sounded caught off-guard. ¡°Oh! Well then, with natural healing, and the Mark usage designated from my base booking . . . maybe a Passing? But if you slipped in a few more Inklings, he could probably manage a speedier recovery in ¡ª what, a few Durations?¡±

    Doing his utmost best to ignore the conversation, Remus spared the little strength he had to raise his eyelids, espying his mother Briella dropping her and Aiden¡¯s whispered discussion to question the medic. The years hadn¡¯t changed her much, save for a few additional wrinkles, and the first onset of grey hairs. ¡°And how much more would that be?¡±

    The medic winced, a plump woman whose black hair was concentrated into a thick bun, eying Remus¡¯ not-so-pristine state with an examining eye. ¡°Another three hundred coins or so, roughly. I know it''s a little expensive, and I¡¯m sorry for that. But as Remus has made a very pointed show of this morning, times are growing tough, and not even my sect remains unaffected.¡±

    ¡°Oh, because you would know, wouldn''t you?¡± Damion scoffed, ¡°It''s not as if you¡¯re one of Ruling District''s topdogs.¡±

    ¡°Damion, be polite.¡± Aiden piped in, tone reasonable, but stony. ¡°Extra money going out of our pockets is bad for anyone, regardless of the size of that pocket, or its hole.¡±

    The medic fumbled around uncomfortably. ¡°Of course Labour is taking the blunt of Damosh¡¯s blows, but for a service like ours, that relies on the coinage of customers, less of that cash going around isn¡¯t ideal for business. Or for anyone subject to this economy, for that matter.¡±

    ¡°Of course it isn¡¯t.¡± Briella replied, expression strained. ¡°We¡¯ll pay, somehow . . .¡±

    After graciously thanking the two of them with an overbearing series of bows, the woman left, stating that she¡¯ll begin properly at tomorrow¡¯s dawn. For now, Remus was instructed to sleep, and with a tap of the medic¡¯s finger, his pains seemed to vanish. Some fine powder was set as his bedside, colourless, and of a mint-like scent. It was apparently a plant-based anaesthetic he could take in small quantities, when the pain of his injuries inevitably returned with a blazing vengeance.

    Bedridden, but so troubled that the mercy of sleep wouldn¡¯t come to him, Remus was left with only two options: bathe in the misery of his idiocy, or commission his relatives to fetch him a few books from the sect¡¯s personal library to peruse. Not a hard choice, to be sure.

    ¡°What¡¯s got you so interested in world history all of a sudden?¡± Briella questioned, handing him a thick tomb the weight of a brick.

    ¡°Nothing specific, just curious.¡± He said quietly back, the two of them ignoring the enormous elephant in the room.

    Remus¡¯ relationship with his parents had grown tense, since he¡¯d lashed out at Edmar. After a few very disciplinary lines to chide him, they¡¯d mostly avoided the topic. Even Damion, who tended to speak his mind regardless of the gravity of the situation, rarely spoke of Remus¡¯ conflict with the tax collector, and only when their parents were elsewhere. Not able to bear the intensity of the air around them, Remus finally broached the elusive topic.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to pay for anymore treatment, Mother, I¡¯ll be fine. I promise. Save the money.¡±

    Briella shot him an icy look. ¡°What, should I leave you here to suffer for Passings on end? Would you prefer that?¡±

    Remus set down the book upon his lap. ¡°If it meant saving the clan a couple hundred Inklings, I¡¯d say so.¡±

    By the ire in her next words, Remus knew he¡¯d overstepped. ¡°You really are stupid sometimes, you know that? Is this what¡¯s got you so worked up, our financial struggles? Money isn¡¯t everything, Remus!¡±

    ¡°It is when our livelihoods depend on it!¡± He snapped back, dangerously close to drawing the two into a full-out argument. ¡°Life-sustaining income streams that Damosh and his henchmen are slowly sapping away from the rest of us. Who built the houses they live in, Mother? The houses where the Wealth Sect and the rest of the top five placements live in the highest luxury, safe and far-off in their damned Ruling District towers?¡±

    ¡°Remus-¡±

    ¡°Who puts the food they feast upon onto their ornate plates? While we¡¯re left to sustain ourselves on the leftover rations; when it''s the Labour District itself that feeds them in the first place! They bleed us non-combat oriented sects for all we¡¯re worth, we the Carpentry Sect, and the Clan of the Feast deity perhaps they abuse the most. I¡¯m barely scratching the surface here, but the list is damn near endless. I can¡¯t bring myself to mention the other half-a-dozen sects, or we¡¯d be sitting here all day debating. Must I go on? The list of their wrongdoings goes from here to hell and back. And you expect me to sit here, and not be even the slightest bit bothered by all that?¡±

    ¡°Of course not! But violence isn¡¯t going to fix matters, is it?¡± Briella reasoned. ¡°Look at the Leisure District, Remus. Damosh¡¯s taxes may have struck them badly, but the majority survive and make do. We just have to wait out the Wealth Sect¡¯s reign as the top sect. Then, the economy should slowly fix itself. Be patient, we have to play the long game here.¡±

    The longer the two went on, the less Remus could prevent his blood from boiling to near molten level. ¡°Wait out the reign of a God-Graced? The nearest thing to a deity that one can be, without fully giving up their grip on mortality? Until someone forcibly takes the throne away from him, Damosh¡¯s reign as a monarch won¡¯t end. You act as if he¡¯s just going to wake up one day, wipe the sleep out of his eyes and go ¡®whelp, that was a great run, but I don¡¯t really feel like continuing this whole King business. This endless stream of profits and power is getting pretty tiresome, better hand it off to the next sect! Yippee!¡¯¡±

    ¡°Remus!¡±

    Suffice to say, Briella wasn''t particularly happy with him for the rest of the night. She left in a huff, only half-slamming the door to avoid damaging it.

    Taking a second to compose himself, the weight of his own self-sabotaging actions struck down on Remus harder than Edmar ever could. He wanted to strangle reality itself, to bend it to his whims and undo all of his rash decisions. To reverse this nightmarish timeline and make amends.

    My every intention has only resulted in the opposite occurring, it dawned on him. First with getting back at Edmar like some stubborn child, and now I cast away my own mother in sightless anger.

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± he blurted to himself, pushing away his blanket and making for the door. ¡°I need to apologise, and then I¡¯ll track down Edmar and kiss his boots, if that¡¯s what it¡¯ll take to reclaim even a fraction of the clan¡¯s dignity.¡±

    In his haste, Remus took one step upon the floor, cursed in pain as all his mass went upon his leg, and promptly collapsed face-first. Seconds later, Damion rushed in, helping him up.

    ¡°Were you not listening to that medic?¡± His brother rightfully berated, pulling him upwards by the arm. ¡°You need rest, not to attempt a second round with the tax collector.¡±

    Remus grunted as he was laid back into bed. The momentary pain-resistance the doctor¡¯s Mark had provided seemed to finally be wearing off. ¡°I was going to apologise to Mother, I think I upset her.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°I started ranting about Damosh, and things quickly escalated. Much on my behalf, I¡¯m forced to concede.¡±

    Damion sighed, no surprise in his tone. ¡°Sounds like something you¡¯d do. So does immediately going to say sorry, despite the fact you have one functional leg, and a myriad of other wounds keeping your doctor well busy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just that dedicated.¡± Remus murmured through a pained smile. ¡°You tell her I¡¯m sorry for me, and be sure to mention my own virtuous attempt at seeing to it myself.¡±

    ¡°Replace virtuous with moronic and we might be onto something, but before that, aren¡¯t you forgetting something?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The big day? Don¡¯t you remember? Andreas'' arrival and the Day of Descension?¡±

    Remus jolted into an upright position. ¡°Gods above, how could I have ¡ª gah!¡±

    His broken rib openly disagreed with that sudden movement. ¡°Maybe I do need rest after all . . .¡± he considered, sprinkling the powder at his bedside into an adjacent glass of water, and stirring it into a mixture. With much reluctance, he scrutinised the murky, greyish fluid, before downing it.

    It tasted like leaves, and before he could deliberate on how he knew what leaves tasted like, a coughing fit overcame him. At last, Remus was done, and most gingerly, he looked back at Damion, who was shaking his head in exasperation. He was trying to be discreet about it, but Remus would¡¯ve sworn that the boy was smirking.

    ¡°Now, if I can continue, yes, the Day of Descension is less than a Passing away, or four Durations. So rest. Recover beforehand. Preferably before Andreas arrives in a few Durations¡¯ time. Then, when you do regain your past unwavering reserves of energy, be on your best behaviour, publicly apologise to Edmar, and to everyone for your actions. It¡¯ll be embarrassing for sure, but better you do that and risk ridicule, than not make amends at all. Can you agree with that plan . . . please?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to beg Damion,¡± Remus reassured. ¡°I would¡¯ve done something along those lines anyway, I just hadn¡¯t planned it out yet.¡±

    ¡°Of course you would have. Now, if this is the only advice from me you¡¯ll ever humour, rest, for the love of the gods and the grace of Infinity, rest.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, I get the point. Now be off, I¡¯ll be taking an early night.¡±

    At Remus¡¯ request, his brother did so. Yet, even as Remus attempted for the life of him to abide by Damion¡¯s instruction, the advent of the sect¡¯s Warlord returning caused an uneasy feeling to pervade his thoughts. What would his grandfather¡¯s reaction be when he heard of his confrontation with Edmar? Pride? No, he wasn¡¯t the type to endorse initiating an unprovoked fight, not in the boisterous manner he had. Then . . . fury? That too didn¡¯t seem quite right. From their brief meetings when he wasn¡¯t preoccupied with the war effort, Andreas had been a jovial, gentle man. Then . . . shame? Disappointment? It was these two outcomes that concerned him the most, for he couldn¡¯t help but think them the most likely. At the very least, Andreas would definitely disapprove of his shortcomings.

    Another factor preventing his much needed rest was the Day of Descension itself. The only span of the year where the deities could grace the Mortal Realms they played a hand in creating. The event was a momentous ¡ª and opposing its own title ¡ª multi-Duration spanning festival that brought much good cheer and excitement to whichever city it was held in. The whereabouts differed per year based on an ever-altering cycle. Last year, Remus recalled it to have been held in the city of Hybrid. Their sect hadn¡¯t bothered attending the last Descension for the same reason why they had withheld for many years prior; thinking it better to save the Inklings they would¡¯ve spent on transport to keep up with the ever-more demanding economy. Yet this year, at the birthplace of the gods, the festival would be right outside their doorstep.

    The gods were coming to First Rite, and Remus, if he knew it yet or not, was going to rob the pompous beings blind.

 3. Among the Clouds

    Remus had seen more of his bed than he had of sunlight for two long, tiring Durations. It seemed outrageously bizarre now that previously, the time reserved for entering its covers was something to be looked forward to, especially after a demanding day of performing odd jobs for the sect. As opposed to now, where he fully planned on setting its quilt ablaze the second the medic approved of his recovery.

    Speaking of which, like some miraculous spot of mercy from the gods, that was exactly what happened several Passings into the year.

    ¡°You¡¯re well enough to walk, at the very least,¡± the bespectacled woman informed him, ¡°but no strenuous activity. You hear me?¡±

    ¡°Loud and clear, Saige,¡± Remus replied delightedly. ¡°I can¡¯t recall the last time I felt the sensation of solid ground beneath my feet.¡±

    Through the many long days of his treatment, Remus had both grown to resent the taste of mint, and gotten to know his doctor Saige fairly well. Although her constant wariness elicited many a groan from Remus¡¯ mouth, he couldn¡¯t deny that he had become somewhat fond of her, exasperated by her worrywart nature or not.

    ¡°You should be able to continue your carpentry work now, undeterred, and whatever else you do to keep yourself busy.¡±

    Lining his arm across his nape and tugging it in a stretch, Remus replied, ¡°not much, as of late. Though I¡¯m sure Mother and Father will find some way to occupy my time, with the Descension coming up.¡±

    Saige wielded her accusatory look like a dagger. ¡°Nothing too demanding, no doubt?¡±

    Chuckling, Remus began to stride towards the room¡¯s door, eager to see the rest of his manor for the first time in recent memory. ¡°Yes, Saige. Gods, you dote over me more than my own mother!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s obviously false. Do you know how much Briella has questioned me about your health?¡±

    Remus halted abruptly at the doorway. ¡°She has?¡±

    ¡°More times than I can bother to remember.¡±

    There it was, jumping out at him when he least expected it, almost spoiling his jovial mood ¡ª a tinge of guilt.

    ¡°Do you . . . do you think she¡¯ll forgive me?¡±

    A resounding cackle echoed around the chamber. ¡°Forgive you? For what?¡±

    ¡°That stuff with Edmar,¡± Remus hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I did that. Mustn¡¯t have been thinking straight. And now the rest of the sect¡¯s reputation has took a hit because of m-¡±

    A blunt blow to Remus¡¯ head caught him off guard. ¡°Ah! Did you just swat me?¡±

    ¡°Yes I did!¡± Saige confessed sternly, waving a upheld fist. ¡°You¡¯ve been talking in circles for your entire treatment. Of course she¡¯ll forgive you. She likely already has.¡±

    Offering no words for a second, Remus bit the inside of his cheek. ¡°It still doesn¡¯t sit right with me.¡±

    ¡°Then follow your brother¡¯s advice. Apologise to Edmar. You agreed to, correct?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± He admitted, eyes appearing to be seeing something miles away. ¡°But that sits even worse.¡±

    ¡°And yet, that seems to be the only thing that¡¯ll ease this trouble from your mind.¡± Saige reasoned, somehow able to deduce his every worry and concern with the subtlest glance.

    Remus wasn¡¯t exactly keen on the idea of prostrating himself in front of anyone, and least of all for the man who had hospitalised him for half a Passing. Nevertheless, Saige¡¯s arguments never failed to be convincing. ¡°All right, fine, fine. Next time I see Edmar, I¡¯ll apologise with as much authenticity as I can muster. But really Saige, must you insist on being impossibly right all the time?¡±

    ¡°Alas, only I must bear this great burden.¡± She lamented with mock regret. ¡°Now, I do believe it''s about time you got going. A certain someone is arriving today, after all.¡±

    He looked blankly at his medic for a moment, not inferring her meaning, before slapping himself on both cheeks. ¡°Oh, Oh! Andreas!¡±

    Remus launched out of the room in a limping run, leaving Saige alone to cackle at the amusing sight.

    <hr>

    Inside of the carpentry manor¡¯s looming shadow, a crowd of men and women stood silently, all awaiting for Andreas, the pillar of their shared sect to make his long awaited return. A rising sun emerged behind a visage of grey blotches, interlaced with the occasional structure of somewhat admirable build. These were outliers, tiny fragments of finery in an abyss of bleakness that made up the main body of Labour District. Whenever Remus left the clan¡¯s manor, and was subject to traversing through such morbid territory, he tended to skirt through as quickly as his legs could carry him. To save himself from catching a glimpse of the space he lived in, a space manufactured by Damosh to do nothing but oppress.

    That would only spiral his thoughts back into that inescapable rabbithole of loathing. Just the sort of place his mind had been ensnared by, when he had made the worst decision of his life.

    Yet today, for the first time since he could remember, save for the brief instances in his youth where he was too naive to process the horrors encompassing his own home, a dash of excitement drew him out there. Made him actively want to stand within the district''s indistinct borders.

    Remus strolled behind his brother as quietly as he could, not wanting to encroach on the shared silence that hung above his family like an impalpable veil. Damion only nodded approvingly upon catching sight of him, before turning his attention back to the shadow speeding towards them.

    It had come into the range where one could hear the turning of wheels, rattling against the roads of mud and deteriorated rock, but could barely garner more than an impression of browns and blacks when trying to see the cause of the rumbling.

    ¡°He¡¯s here.¡± Aiden said quietly, so only the four of them could hear.

    ¡°I hope he isn¡¯t too mad at me.¡± Remus mumbled, both so intoxicated on his dread that his pupils couldn¡¯t linger on the advancing shape for more than a second, and near to bursting with gleeful anticipation. The two emotions raged war within him, producing a sort of uneasy queasiness that left him altogether apprehensive.

    ¡°He might have an awkward talk with you,¡± Briella replied, at the same volume, ¡°but my grandfather is a calm man, if you express remorse, he¡¯ll probably let you off with a pat on the back and some inspirational words.¡±

    Damion snickered affectionately. ¡°Like a motivational speaker, that man, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    As a comfortable quiet began to engulf them once more, Remus couldn¡¯t help but find it bizarre that his great grandfather was still alive and most virile, and yet his closest grandparents had perished years ago, long before he had been born. He knew it to be because of the life-expectancy increase that came with climbing the Divine Ranks. For a Warlord alone, a two hundred year lifespan wasn¡¯t uncommon. In fact, it was seen to be the average.

    His Rank of course, was the central reason explaining why Andreas had outlived his own children. Despite the glories advancement bestowed, and Remus desired dearly to claim even the first Rank as his own, he couldn¡¯t help but find that prospect ceaselessly depressing.

    Finally, the formless pigment sharpened into a bustling carriage, with two mighty horses at its helm parading forwards. Down a hill it strode, and straining, Remus could spot a superbly dressed man whipping the horses into action. He blinked, and the vehicle disappeared, as if blipping out of existence, before, bewildered, Remus realised it had reappeared at his side.

    Now, he could take a closer look at the suit-sporting coachman himself. He dressed clearly to impress, paying fine attention to ensure that every miniscule detail of his outfit was utterly perfect. A rose was set upon his tophat, somehow defying the laws of gravity to stay put; his tuxedo was pure black, adorned with buttons of glistening grey; and sat in front of his left socket, a monocle with a golden chain magnified his eye ever so slightly. Stubble spotted his defined chin, and the man¡¯s pride and joy, his well-groomed moustache, could attract envious compliments from anyone.

    He hopped out with a cane striking the ground before him, knocking onto the carriage door and shouting, ¡°open!¡±

    Damion leaned over to him, hand to his mouth, eyebrows raised. ¡°Do you see that?¡±

    ¡°See what?¡± Remus replied absently, the suited man¡¯s flamboyant outfit practically demanding his attention.

    ¡°On his hand, that¡¯s his Mark. The Speed god, it looks like.¡±

    Remus scrambled his memory. ¡°Java, right? That explains how the carriage got here so fast.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    For a second, Remus examined the deity¡¯s Mark: a myriad of hovering clocks in a vortex of contrasting reds and blues. Surrounded by this cocoon of blinding light, a series of images, like blurred visages of huddled men, sat in a perfect cycle. They depicted the most unfortunate group gradually decaying into bone, before only passing piles of marrow remained.

    ¡°Seems more Time related than Speed.¡± Remus couldn¡¯t help but comment, as the man¡¯s hand went straight into his waistcoat pocket.

    ¡°Java was apparently so fast during the war that he could manipulate time, but to what extent no one knows. He spent most of his time hiding then, his power reportedly so hyper-focused onto his agility that his other attributes, like strength and endurance, were left to suffer. To the extent that a couple blows from the other deities could prove fatal. Anyhow, none of his followers have ever displayed any time-warping capabilities, but this¡ª¡± Damion examined the coachman¡¯s odd appearance ¡°¡ªgentleman sure is quick.¡±

    Damion¡¯s rambles were largely left ignored, as right that moment the carriage door slid open.

    Two broad legs, stepping gradually down a set of laid-out stairs, were the first sight Remus caught of his great grandfather. The man was muscular, a behemoth of masculine strength that often participated in bodybuilding competitions when he was younger. Or, whatever counts as young when you¡¯re over a hundred years old. Slid over tightly on his hulking frame was a classic carpenter¡¯s uniform, rugged and worn from age. Perhaps the man took pride in the archaic piece, donning it to remember his roots. But Remus couldn¡¯t deliberate too much longer on whether Andreas was of the nostalgic sort or not, for his head was now in visible view.

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    A bald ball of a face poked out from the carriage, a beaming smile fit with all his teeth perhaps the most prominent of his grandfather¡¯s features. Stormy grey eyes settling upon his clan, Andreas let out a booming, earth-rumbling laugh from the pits of his stomach.

    ¡°My family and fellow carpenters!¡± An equally loud shout sent rubble on the streetside quaking. ¡°How much I¡¯ve missed you all! If I have to see another fiend pushing its repulsive head through one of my walls, I¡¯m going to go mad, I swear.¡±

    Many of the crowd let out a great clamouring full of cheer, and after the noise settled down, Aiden and Briella stepped forth to meet the man.

    Aiden took the courtesy of speaking first. ¡°It''s an honour, and a great relief if I may add, that you¡¯ve finally returned Andreas. We have much to discuss.¡±

    ¡°Indeed we do!¡± The Warlord patted the man on his shoulder, his smile seemingly permanent. ¡°Indeed we do . . .¡±

    ¡°It''s wonderful to see you, Grandad.¡± Briella matched the man¡¯s delight. ¡°Anything to report from the front lines?¡±

    Glowing expression not extinguishing, but evidently dimming somewhat, Andreas mused. ¡°Continued construction of barricades, a few skirmishes of Unbounded slipping past the front lines, a few more promising recruits to the army . . . more of the same, really.¡±

    Remus stood stationary at Damion¡¯s side as a sea of carpenters washed over him in a roaring wave of movement. All surrounding an exuberant Andreas, who talked to each of them in turn. He recognised those whose faces he could catch through the flood of human flesh, the Carpentry Sect being reasonably small, so that you could know most of the fifty-or-so members by name without too much difficulty. There was Arlen, the oldest of the clan¡¯s teenagers, beating Damion by a few day¡¯s slip, on the verge of adulthood and struggling to contain himself, as he battled his way to Andreas. He must have seen this as quite the auspicious opportunity to talk his way into a higher paying working position. Portia, Remus also spotted, an elderly woman ¡ª for an Emblazed Rank ¡ª who took pity on him when he was younger. Having handed him several sweets whenever she noticed him particularly downcast.

    Inevitably, quite a few leers were sent in Remus¡¯ direction, each of them causing him to wince on impulse. Remus had of course expected some resentment after his explosion with Edmar, but the sheer number of unapproving looks chafed away at his self-esteem. Unable to bear the weight of the stares, he fixated on Andreas, only now noticing the long strip of bandaging plastering his left arm. Had he always had that? Remus¡¯ memory of brief meetings with his great grandfather didn''t seem to match with this current version. A sickly feeling arose inside him, and suddenly the looks seemed a smidge less daunting. Blankly ignoring it all, Remus waited in a true test of his patience.

    Time seemed to decelerate, and he observed in slow motion as each sect member went up to Andreas to exchange a few words, their numbers gradually, ever so painfully gradually, diminishing. The coachman must have slipped away in the brief millisecond Remus took to blink, for he could catch no further sight of him or his vehicle.

    ¡°Oh no . . . ¡° he accidentally let out aloud, biting away on a nail pensively.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Damion inquired drowsily, at some inexplicable point having mastered the art of sleeping and standing simultaneously.

    ¡°People are clearing off, Andreas is going to be free to have a word with me any second now.¡± Remus found his fingers tapping against his thigh with unexplained urgency. ¡°Damn it, our first time meeting in a year, commenced by a harsh berating.¡±

    ¡°Could be worse.¡± Damion yawned. ¡°We could have had to wait out here longer.¡±

    There was a silence. ¡°. . . well yes, admittedly, that does sound equally bothersome.¡±

    Attention swerving back to Andreas, Remus took a step back in startlement at the empty patch of ground where the Warlord had once stood.

    A step back right into his great grandfather.

    ¡°Ah!¡± The two brothers yelped in unison.

    ¡°Boys!¡± The man shouted as he lifted the two in a fierce bearhug. He didn¡¯t seem to note the fact he was on the verge of rebreaking Remus¡¯ freshly healed ribs. ¡°How much have I missed my grandkids! How¡¯s the ripe age of nineteen treating you Damion, almost an adult now, eh? How exciting!¡±

    ¡°Its ¡ª its been good.¡± Damion managed to slip out between strained breaths.

    ¡°Excellent!¡± The Warlord howled in jubilation. ¡°And Remus . . .¡±

    The Death-Marked grew tense for reasons excluding the physical hold gripping his body. ¡°Y-yes?¡±

    ¡°How you¡¯ve grown! Ah, how I long for a chance for us to catch up, there will be much to discuss.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Remus mumbled. ¡°Quite a bit.¡±

    ¡°Excuse us Damion, but it seems that some, uh, private matters may surface during our talk. I¡¯ll have to drag this one along by himself, but never fear! I¡¯ll be sure to teach you a trick or not at your next shift. You¡¯ll never chop planks quite the same.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that sounds great.¡± Damion said, his eyes transmitting an unspoken good luck to his brother.

    Remus was slumped over the shoulder of his grandfather as if he weighed the equivalent of a feather. He was about to spurt out a hasty, ¡°Wait!¡± to his overly at ease elder, when the ground at his feet suddenly grew very distant.

    And the clouds, like blotches of white ink that had fallen off of the gods¡¯ palettes, dotted his vision. The air was stripped out of Remus¡¯ lungs, his every survival instinct screaming nonsensically, and yet still, they seemed to be gaining in elevation, much to gravity¡¯s annoyance. Then, inevitably, when the laws of the universe had decided to snap back into effect, Remus plummeted in the Warlord¡¯s steadfast hold.

    They were falling to their deaths, or at least, Remus couldn¡¯t see this ending in any other way. Remus the Death-Marked, accomplisher of nothing, and Andreas, who incredulously, was giggling all the way. Cackling insanely in the face of the final reaper.

    <hr>

    They didn¡¯t die, fortunately.

    But Remus found himself much less fond of heights after that incident ¡ª not that he had reserved any special place for them in his heart of stone in the first place.

    Angling downwards like twin arrows after passing the apex of their shot, they were slowly sloping towards a sweeping series of hills outside of First Rite. Up here, Remus could view the only city he had ever known in fine detail. The three districts, utterly differing from one another up close, conflicted in appearance more than opposing shades from his newfound bird''s-eye-view. There was the Labour District, the largest of the non-equal thirds, like a sooty stain ravaging the highland landscape. Their buildings¡¯ dark hues merged together in a splashing of ash, making discerning any one structure rather a challenge, though Remus was convinced if he squinted just hard enough, he could spot their sect¡¯s manor.

    Adjacent to this, after he had overcome another screaming fit, the smallest district, Leisure, stuck him as much more appealing. Even before the date of the Day of Descension had crept alarmingly forwards, Leisure had been a marvellous expanse of stalls, clean stone streets, and crowd-gathering hotspots. Now, with the deities closer to making their appearance than ever, it had an extra layer of crisp elegance to it. Banners were lined across every building, the flagstones that made up the streets seemed to gleam, and preparations were heavily underway.

    There was, of course, like a looming, unspoken-of shadow casted over everything, Ruling District. Remus only caught a glance of its spiking towers, before the acceleration of their trajectory left him more concerned with keeping the skin on his face than any sight First Rite could bestow.

    Andreas let out a playful cry in equal parts non-intelligible as it was mirthful. The noise emerged right when Remus¡¯ throat released an odd sort of whimpering sound itself, as his grandfather came to a resounding crash, mud spewing up to blind them. Time seemed to pause, and it took a great while for Remus¡¯ senses to kickback into gear, as he lay heaving on the Warlord¡¯s back.

    Feet deep into the ground, Andreas pulled himself free, before kicking back and resting against a patch of grass. Sun on his face as if mother nature herself intended him to rest there, a satisfied smile curved his lips, as the man exhaled deeply. Remus, meanwhile, was left to hunch into a ball, rocking with his knees just below his eyes and clutching at the daffodils sprouting from upheaved earth.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t stretched my legs like that in a long time,¡± Andreas reflected, stretching nonchalantly.

    After the world stopped spinning, Remus got up shakily. ¡°You can fly?¡±

    ¡°Heavens no!¡± Spat the man who, seconds prior, had been dividing clouds. ¡°I can jump high. Gotta work those hamstrings somehow, do we not?¡±

    ¡°I guess so.¡±

    The two soon found themselves under the shade of a tree¡¯s canopy, backs against its log, and staring lazily at the capital. Remus enjoyed the company of his grandfather, letting the wears of his recovery seep away from his mind and body, as light began to dim to a welcoming incarnadine. Andreas recited stories of his time at the front lines, all of them so ridiculous that, lethargic or not, Remus knew the majority to be embellished. Or the Mortal Realms were more chaotic than he could have ever imagined.

    ¡°A colony of supersized worms ate their way through your shielding?¡± Remus repeated, the words not quite providing sense. ¡°That¡¯s almost less believable than the army of squirrels you claimed to have attacked you.¡±

    ¡°They are feisty creatures!¡± Andreas held his ground, smiling so brightly that Remus failed to infer if he was serious or not. ¡°We may revisit this topic another time boy, but for now, there is an awkward subject we must discuss, mortifying for the both of us or not.¡±

    Remus suddenly became absolutely fascinated with the lines of his palm. ¡° . . . There is?¡±

    Somehow, he could feel Andreas¡¯ stern gaze. ¡°There is.¡±

    At his grandson¡¯s silence, the man began. ¡°I understand why you did what you did, Remus.¡± His voice grew as tense as bedrock. ¡°Believe me, I know.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re not mad?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I am.¡± He put bluntly. ¡°I just have the miraculous ability to control my emotions, and not let them take the reins of me. Something you, let us assume because of the shortsightedness of youth, sorely lack.¡±

    ¡°I . . . admittedly can see where you¡¯re coming from.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re not totally blind in this regard!¡± Andreas clapped encouragingly. ¡°Self-awareness is good.¡±

    ¡°I know that I¡¯m in no position to conflict with Damosh or his henchman,¡± Remus explained. ¡°But whenever I think of how they¡¯re abusing the sect, all logic in me bleeds red.¡±

    ¡°Red? Oh, we¡¯re speaking in metaphors now? Not my favoured means of communication, I must admit. Craft with your hands, not with words, I say.¡±

    ¡°What I mean to say,¡± Remus continued, ignoring the Walord¡¯s rambles, ¡°is that I¡¯m truly sorry for any shame my misconduct has put onto the clan¡¯s name. At the nearest opportunity, I plan on apologising to Edmar in person. Hopefully then, maybe, you¡¯ll be relieved of some of the consequences of my actions.¡±

    Squinting at him, Andreas examined Remus up and down. ¡°You¡¯ve rehearsed those lines in your head a hundred times, haven''t you?¡±

    ¡°Well yes, but that doesn¡¯t change the fact I meant every one of them.¡±

    His grandfather sighed, comfortably tired after a long day¡¯s journey. ¡°You may Remus, but there¡¯s something you¡¯ve got to understand if you want to survive in this world. Something vital.¡±

    Remus raised an eyebrow. ¡°And that is?¡±

    Characteristic ebullience abruptly fading to the backburner, Andreas¡¯s face grew very dark indeed. ¡°You are nothing.¡±

    The late afternoon breeze swept over the hillside, riding a new wave in a quiet humming. A series of chirps resounded from a flock of birds circling overhead, and the chirping of cicadas overlaid it all.

    But even louder, was the silence that engulfed the two.

    ¡°Not on a personal level, I should probably add,¡± Andreas burst the tense bubble between them. ¡°But Edmar is only a Foot-Soldier Remus, and from the sounds of it, you couldn¡¯t even rustle the hemming of his clothing. I¡¯m all for being ambitious Remus, but without a Rank, you can¡¯t choose your fights.¡±

    Remus¡¯ throat constricted, and his words seemed to become lodged before they could leave his lips. Andreas put an arm on his shoulder, smiling wistfully directly into his eyes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t say this to hurt you, but I can¡¯t have you getting yourself killed. The power between the Divine Ranks is unfathomable ¡ª hell, there are beings out there that could poof me out of existence with only a passing thought, and, not to toot my own horn or anything, I¡¯m seen as relatively powerful in most corners of the world.¡±

    The words dug deep, and Remus couldn¡¯t believe how a man who casually jumped amongst clouds like it was a work-out routine, could only be paired with such a dull description, in the grand scheme of things. Was he exaggerating? Well, no, he concluded, if you took into account the gods themselves, who tended to slip Remus¡¯ mind. They always seemed so far off, detached from regular human life, that he¡¯d failed to consider them.

    ¡°I understand.¡± Remus eventually managed, even if the words cut like razors in his mouth.

    ¡°That¡¯s a good lad.¡± Andreas beamed, tension fully vanquished. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get you back to your betters, eh? I¡¯m sure they have plenty to keep you busy, with the Descension almost upon us. And hey, maybe you¡¯ll even run into Edmar, and you can make amends with him. Then we can put this all behind us. Like a sour, distant memory.¡±

    ¡°Sure Grandad,¡± Remus muttered hoarsely, eying up Andreas¡¯ veiled arm, ¡°sure.¡±

 4. Decay

    Of course, both Saige and Andreas had been accurate in their predictions; Aiden and Briella did indeed commission Remus to help out in Leisure District, with Damion tagging along to give a helping hand.

    The morning was young, the sun applying a diluted yellow filter over everything. Not that the District required any extra layer of embellishment ¡ª the last few Passings¡¯ worth of bonus decoration was enough for the cobbled streets to undergo a true evolution. Anywhere the eye wondered, some form of colour marvelled it. Be it supplied by energetic advertisements, bombastic posters with endless promises of unseen wonders, and a myriad of patterned awnings protruding from each building. A general bubble of noise exuded from every street corner, the pathways positively soaked in the scent of imported spices and homegrown goods. You couldn¡¯t walk two paces without running into a cheery face. The contrast to Labour District was enough to give Remus a disorienting episode of whiplash. He wasn''t sure whether to be joyous at the fresh environs, or furious at the difference in treatment. Eventually, doing his best to temper himself, Remus settled on grudgingly enjoying the jovial surroundings.

    It was a spectacle, and Remus had to pause for a second to take the scene, and all of its fine intricacies, in.

    ¡°It looked beautiful from overhead, but this is something else all together.¡±

    Damion scowled softly. ¡°What do you mean overhead?¡±

    Remus let out a day¡¯s delayed groan. ¡°Long story.¡±

    The two worked their way up to the upper end of the district¡¯s central street, slipping through the adjacent alleyways that were by themselves a labyrinth to manoeuvre through. As they passed by, Remus spotted a cluster of loitering Flame-Marked, the second highest sect in all of First Rite. They seemed to be setting up a long banner reaching all the way across the avenue''s right wall like an unrolled scroll. Illustrated in fine, intricate drabs of ink, was a series of images depicting Ashbel, their patron god, and Divine Ambassador of the Elemental Pact.

    The deity himself would be representing the alliance during council sessions, offering guidance alongside Chantal, the goddess of The Wild, to ensure they weren¡¯t cut short in any agreements.

    Remus and Damion were largely ignored as they passed by, and Remus¡¯ attention was already swayed to the plastered characters printed across the ally¡¯s floor.

    ¡°The Poetry Sect is using poetry passages to style paths now?¡± Damion smirked. ¡°Such a fine verse, but I can¡¯t help but think that a backstreet tunnel is a little strange of a choice for location.¡±

    ¡°These aren¡¯t Labour alleys, Damion.¡± Remus recited the obvious. ¡°You could spit on a sewer drain here and, within a second, a mop attached to an obedient cleaner would conveniently materialise before your very eyes!¡±

    He didn¡¯t bother to mention that the cleaners in question were, yet again, lowly positioned Labour District workers.

    ¡°Blood may be shed, or future crisis averted. On the Day of Descension, let conflict be skirted, or by the Infinity that binds us all, the gods will be alerted.¡± His brother read, holding back laughter. ¡°Sounds like a long-winded way to remind us all that we¡¯re on Divine Ground.¡±

    ¡°Also a long-winded way to remind us why the Poetry Sect is not in the top twenty.¡±

    ¡°Like we needed one. Now, come on. We have to sort out preparations up ahead, before Andreas decides to carry us there himself.¡±

    Remus shivered. ¡°Never again.¡±

    Into central street they strolled, all together overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle that encompassed every nook and cranny of the expanse. Wagons waded through flocks of First Rite natives and newcomers arriving for the big day, and instruments appeared to be playing on their own, with trumpets bobbing up and down with no mortal hands to hold them aloft. They had the Music Clan to thank for that.

    ¡°So, what exactly were we asked to do?¡± Remus asked, absent-mindedly.

    Damion shrugged. ¡°Something to do with our sect¡¯s display, or offering, if you like, to Arcus.¡±

    ¡°Which is?¡±

    ¡°The most elaborate collection of abandoned projects you¡¯ll ever witness. There, you can see it poking out overhead.¡±

    Sure enough, there it was. A collection of unfinished chairs, tables, and other miscellaneous furniture, jutting over the rows of buildings as if trying to take a peek at what lay beyond.

    The rest of the street was just as extravagant, if not more so. Virtually every sect who had taken so much as a step into Leisure had some variety of intricate exhibit on display to flaunt their successes. In all, they were too numerous to name, but Remus was particularly moved by an expansive garden. Its base was created by The Wild Sect, a miniature forest that took up a quarter of the entire thoroughfare alone. Its ground was the hue of a rain-beaten moor, this grassy surface sprouting broad oaks, which in turn bore a series of nests. These housed birds of breeds utterly foreign to this fraction of the world, only brought here by the power of the deity of Birds and Flight, Avel.

    ¡°That¡¯s weird.¡± Damion commented. ¡°I thought Avel, his followers, and the Elemental Pact still carried bad blood.¡±

    Sharing in his brother''s befuddlement, Remus picked apart his memory to see if any resolution between the two parties had been met. Avel had withdrawn from the Elemental Pact in a controversial move over . . . Remus couldn¡¯t remember what, exactly. Something to do with how the elemental gods ran things. Then the most powerful bird in all of existence had joined another godly union, the Empyrean Alliance, to rub further salt into the wound. So, taking all of that political play into consideration, you could understand the nature of the twos¡¯ confusion.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it past Avel to have added his own personal flair to the structure. If his intention is to deliver one last trick on his past alliance, he¡¯s most definitely succeeding. Though I must say, aggravating Chantal, a literal queen, is quite bold indeed.¡± Damion assessed, before the two of them entered an open space, where the mountain of discarded projects was surrounded by other members of their clan, all peering towards it with vast concentration.

    Out of seemingly nowhere, Arlen walked into view. ¡°Just the two I¡¯ve been looking for. We need you to set up a few stands for some of our more special pieces. Understood?¡±

    Damion¡¯s features suddenly stiffened. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Arlen frowned slightly, as if not quite understanding what the matter was. ¡°Alright, good luck. You¡¯ll probably be expected to set up the displays as well, though¡ª¡± he quietened, putting a hand to his mouth conspiratorially ¡°¡ªif any pieces fall off, feel free to lump them into the pile. But be discreet about it, K?¡±

    With that, Arlen returned to a table surrounded at every angle by other members of the clan, presumably planning out the rest of their exhibit. Or merely putting up a front of hard work, Remus couldn¡¯t tell.

    ¡°Alright, alright, let¡¯s get this over with. If we¡¯re quick about it, we could be back by midday.¡±

    With that prospect setting their motivations ablaze, the pair worked diligently. Whilst Remus rubbed sandpaper across a large plank of wood which would serve as one item¡¯s display, his brother merely activated his Mark. Located upon his nape, the area was a radiant gold, with a crawling, fiery sensation waving over it like dancing sand dunes. The fully-grown, Emblazed Mark depicted Acrus slicing through a tree of unfathomable size. Leaving its creator, the deity of The Wild, Chantal, understandably vexed. Damion had to merely touch the slab, and its many faces would become extraordinarily smooth ¡ª not a speck of its existence out of line.

    Not gifted with divine attributes, Remus couldn¡¯t help but feel his efforts useless. Especially when in contrast to his brother, who, over his shoulder, was completing a task which would ordinarily take him well over twenty minutes, with only a dramatic tap of the fingers.

    There was much to do however, and Remus felt time drag to a slog, his insecurities left to rot in a deep, forgone crevice of his mind. He had never gotten so many splinters.

    ¡°Remus.¡± A familiar voice swept him out of his tunnel-visioned reverie. ¡°Seems you¡¯ve recovered! Took you long enough, but then again, hotheaded Death-Marked don¡¯t have the ability to heal too fast, do they?¡±

    Remus turned, and standing before him, somehow more smug and condescending than ever, was Edmar.

    Damion placed a hasty hand upon his shoulder. ¡°Remus-¡±

    Remus took a defiant step away from his brother¡¯s grip, meeting Edmar¡¯s glare head-on without reacting, expression unreadable. ¡°Greetings.¡±

    The tax collector looked him up and down, with the same utmost respect only reserved for the most artfully grotesque pieces of roadkill. ¡°Decided to play nice now? How selfless you are. How indescribably noble. And how idiotic, for even thinking of leaving your manor after the wave of second-hand embarrassment you inflicted upon all of First Rite.¡±

    Fighting his every impulse in a savage, internal war, Remus focused on any detail but the man in front of him. The low murmur of chat that pervaded the scene around him, the air sweeping against billowing advertisements in a low whistle, and the sound of his heart beating like the gong at death¡¯s door. It was difficult, but the boy had made a promise, and he intended on keeping to it.

    Bowing the upper part of his body so far down he almost smacked his forehead against his own kneecaps, Remus began, ensuring his voice was loud enough for all to hear. ¡°Apologies Edmar, I don¡¯t know what possessed me back there. Please, accept my humble plea for forgiveness. I only wish to make amends for my own immaturity. My sect shouldn¡¯t have to face any penance because of my own foolish actions. If you could find it in your heart to accept my attempt at a peaceful resolution, I would be most grateful.¡±

    A tormenting silence engulfed the street, and all voices ceased to nought but the occasional brave whisper. Remus had attracted the attention of dozens, for better, or for worse.

    Edmar¡¯s face was hard, not revealing a slither of his mindset.

    At last, the briefest words left his rigid lips. ¡°Nice speech. Very touching, may I add. Top marks for effort. But, my dear Death-Marked, sometimes words aren¡¯t enough.¡±

    Remus felt as the moisture vanished from the walls of his throat.

    ¡°Did you expect to just storm over here, retch out hollow words, and receive my forgiveness after the stunt you pulled?¡± Edmar turned to the assembly of onlookers, gesticulating feverishly with his hands like a promising future dictator. ¡°Surely some of you in the crowd must have witnessed Remus¡¯ insanity? No?¡±

    The onlookers only whispered under their breaths, not meeting the Damosh lackey square in the eye. None of them actively condoned Remus¡¯ actions per se, but for most of the crowd, a large majority heralding from the Poverty District, anyone willing to throw a fist at a tax-collector was an ally. Not that they would publicly state so, oh gods no, that sort of reckless warmongering was reserved for the positively insane.

    Not a glamorous label, but hey, Remus would take anything other than the famed ¡®Death-Marked¡¯. The familiar title was beginning to chafe against him, rubbing him dangerously raw.

    ¡°Come on!¡± Edmar cried, circling around the street. ¡°I know for a fact that at least half of you were present.¡±

    The tax-collector''s eyes shot to a distinctive face within the crowd. ¡°You! Yes, the one in the blue cloak. By the name of the King, I command you to come forth.¡±

    Slowly, a bearded man stepped before them. He had a bronzed complexion, tight lips, and a certain gleam in his eyes that suggested much irritation. When Edmar looked at him expectantly, he said nothing.

    ¡°One of you Sight Sect lot was watching the fight from far off ¡ª I know you were! Was it you behind that hovering eyeball?¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Perhaps.¡± The man replied curtly, glancing occasionally at his previous position in the crowd, evidently itching to remove the spotlight off himself.

    Edmar clapped his hands, chuckling. ¡°Good, good! Now tell me; describe the boy behind us. How he attacked me, how he made a mockery of First Rite¡¯s good name.¡±

    He glowered. ¡°Must I?

    Edmar nodded insistently.

    ¡°Very well then.¡± He sighed. ¡°There¡¯s not much to detail, you two seemed to argue, an agreement was made to duel in accordance with the Moratorium Pact, and then you two fought.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. Carry on now.¡±

    ¡°Carry on?¡± The Sight Sect member raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s all there was to it.¡±

    Edmar¡¯s voice suddenly grew a tad tentative. ¡°No it isn¡¯t! You didn¡¯t mention the fight itself, Remus¡¯ unjustified savagery!¡±

    ¡°Oh . . . the fight? I don¡¯t believe Remus managed a single hit in, let alone something remotely ¡®savage¡¯. Must have been the angle I was watching from, it is possible my view was obstructed. A lot of birds around, nowadays.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t see him fight back due to his incompetence.¡± Edmar spat, cheeks getting progressively more ruddy as the talk went on. ¡°Enough of your account, begone!¡±

    Cracking the ghost of a smile ¡ª Remus wasn¡¯t sure if he was imagining it or not ¡ª the man walked off, his image lost in the bodies of the crowd.

    Slowly but surely, the people of Leisure District began to return to past tasks, moving to whatever destination they were headed for, or otherwise minding their own business. The tax-collector watched the crowd around him, open-mouthed, with a few stuttering syllables leaving the wretched confines of his mouth.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Damion muttered to him, leaning in. ¡°That seems to have gone rather well. I must admit, I¡¯m somewhat prou-¡±

    His brother was abruptly cut off, and Remus found himself inches apart from Edmar¡¯s face, his shoulders grasped. He cried out in pain, the crunching grip enough to dislocate both bodily parts. Edmar was only seconds away from having broken the non-combat rules of Divine Ground, though Remus was getting the hunch that the man was well aware of this, but had evidently decided to test his luck.

    ¡°You think to humiliate me?¡± Edmar whispered almost inaudibly into his ears, ignoring the boy¡¯s squirms, as the intoxicating effects of his ire took hold. ¡°Damn Death-Marked, damn Death-Marked . . . I¡¯ll cleave you alive! But if I must obey a higher authority, so be it. Your clan''s taxes? You want me to drop the rates? I¡¯ll drain your sect of every Inkling I can until even the Labour District is too good for you. You are nothing. A dead god¡¯s posthumous oversight. If I can¡¯t kill you, I¡¯ll make your life a living misery. Don¡¯t ever dream of leaving these borders, for they''ll be no overseeing divinity there to protect you.¡±

    Remus simultaneously felt and heard something pop in his shoulder. The world seemed to be crumbling around him, and the faces of the passing citizens were a distorted blur, the street¡¯s backdrop reduced to a splodge of indistinct colour.

    ¡°Let him go!¡± Damion demanded, rushing forth, and gripping Edmar¡¯s arm. Watching as his brother defended him, Remus saw the teen¡¯s eyes widening, as if registering for the first time just how powerful the average Foot-Soldier like Edmar was.

    ¡°You keep holding onto me like that, and I may just get the inclination to toss you into that nearest wall. Shall we see how many bones a casual flick of my wrist can break?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re ludicrous.¡± Damion grunted. ¡°Wait until I report this to the counsel during the Descension. Then you¡¯ll have more problems to deal with than just one irrational Death-Marked.¡±

    His vision rearranging into clarity like an insufferably slow jigsaw puzzle, Remus saw Edmar falter, his fuming fires of anger dousing at last. He wanted to punch the man, and likely would have, if not for the blazing aching sensation rendering both his arms utterly numb.

    Taxes increased . . . drain the sect of every Inkling, Edmar¡¯s repulsive promises eradicated every logical thought within him. Remus¡¯ life was reduced to a pinpointed moment; he solely existed to enact his fury at this fiend, to cleanse the Mortal Realms of the pests invading it ¡ª and the leader of their hive, always so distant, yet nevertheless spoiling his life at every turn, Damosh.

    ¡°Take him away.¡± Edmar yielded, noticing the stern pairs of eyes shooting lasers into his back. ¡°But in a few Passings¡¯ time, when your clan is on its last legs, remember who''s to blame. Remember well.¡±

    With that, Edmar dropped Remus, who lay gasping for air on the street floor, hoping beyond hope that he would be the one to dig the tax collector''s grave.

    <hr>

    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine.¡± Saige exhaled wearily, looking over Remus. ¡°I¡¯d say lay off the heavy lifting for the rest of the day, but Edmar was careful not to cause any real damage.¡±

    ¡°So to avoid attracting the attention of the gods.¡± Briella finished, voice testy. ¡°This isn¡¯t right. That was a clear, unagreed-to fight between an unconsenting party. We need to report this.¡±

    In their private chambers, Damion gritted his teeth, his back to the rest of the family. ¡°To who? The Wealth Sect? To Damosh? Do you think our King cares? His own men, true and loyal, did this!¡±

    Consoling his son, Aiden¡¯s meaty hand patted Damion. ¡°You¡¯re right in that regard, but there are more people than just the Ruling District we can report to. The Descension is almost upon us, complaints like these are exactly what the people rivalling even Damosh¡¯s power are after to land a blow into First Rite¡¯s reputation.¡±

    The words washed over Remus. Here he was again, in these crumpled sheets; encased by this imprisoning room, filled with people distressing for him. Deja Vu didn¡¯t cut it ¡ª this endless loop of failing miserably, awakening here, and heading off to trigger the next mistake had no end. And this time, he had done everything right. Yet still, fate had to ensnare him with its unsympathetic misery. It had long since bound him to this ruthless cycle, and any disposition to leave was as hopeless as a child¡¯s pipe dream.

    ¡°I¡¯m only now starting to gain the respect of First Rite.¡± Remus spoke up. ¡°I do not intend to stab them in the back by giving the other kingdoms a chance to one-up us, be it a small advantage or not. Most of them only hold a base here because it''s the expected thing to do for the largest city throughout the Mortal Realms. Any chance to usurp the capital will be taken in a second.¡±

    Contrary to the current mood, Saige rolled her head back and laughed. ¡°One complaint isn¡¯t going to give Hybrid, Hell¡¯s Floor, or any other city the leeway needed to achieve number one city status. And besides, I thought any blow to Damosh, regardless of the consequences, was a win to you.¡±

    Remus scoffed. ¡°Why would you think that? I don¡¯t just despise Damosh for the sake of it. I dislike him, most definitely ¡ª and that alone is an understatement ¡ª but I hate the Ichor that runs through his ashy heart because of the things he inflicts on the people dearest to me.¡± The words felt lame on his own lips, but Remus persevered. ¡°And yes Saige, I may have been carried away there, but still, First Rite isn¡¯t to blame for all this, Damosh is. I wouldn¡¯t want to put dirt on my home¡¯s name, even if it''s but a speck.¡±

    There was a moment devoid of all sound, where all four of them took a breath, and paused.

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think more and more that Remus was on to something when he took a swing at Edmar.¡± Damion was the first to interrupt the silence. ¡°You know what? I may just have a go at him myself.¡±

    He rose up, only for both Remus and Aiden to hold him in place ¡ª Aiden taking the bulk of his weight. Saige and Briella went to join them in restricting his brother, but Damion¡¯s arms quickly slackened.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to actually do anything, don¡¯t concern yourselves anymore than needed.¡± He said softly. ¡°But I will still be heading out; I just need a walk to cool off. Don¡¯t follow me, I¡¯ll be fine. I promise.¡±

    They let him go, the silence returning, though more deafening than ever. One by one, the rest of Remus¡¯ relatives left with a few passing remarks, leaving only a tongue-tied Saige left to complete her final day of work. An endless stream of nonsensical thoughts drowned out Remus'' mind, as if blocking a plughole. If it lingered for as much as another second here, he was sure to go mad.

    ¡°May I leave?¡± He asked Saige, who was busy packing up her supplies.

    ¡°Yes, some fresh air might do you some good actually. But be relaxed about it, you don''t need any extra stress.¡±

    ¡°The last few minutes of your commissioned work, and you''re still a worrywart at heart.¡± Remus commented, smiling appreciatively.

    The medic turned away from her luggage. ¡°I haven¡¯t fulfilled my part of the deal until I¡¯ve completed every paid second of your treatment.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s . . . commendable. Though, I guess now I can be as irresponsible as I desire, without your watchful eye guarding over me.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you jest.¡± Saige groaned. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what¡¯s worrying me the most.¡±

    Soon, after exchanging a few parting words with Saige, Remus went about strolling through the Carpentry Sect¡¯s manor. Ignoring the curious looks shot by both his elders and juniors alike, the homely scent of wood mulch infiltrating his nostrils, the day¡¯s events wearied his mind. Remus had thought keeping on his feet would keep the nauseating thoughts at bay, but even that was evidently a fruitless hope. His brain was a cog that hadn¡¯t felt the sweet release of oil in aeons, and he was looking for something ¡ª anything ¡ª to set his mind back into motion again. To be relieved of this perpetual state of paralysed disarray.

    That was when he heard it. Murmured words; muttered, broken sentences practically seeking an eavesdropper. They sounded as if birthed from rock and magma, only escaping from their cavernous confines at the centre of the earth to now be translated into the human tongue. Remus only knew one person with a voice so flinty. Andreas. But that was not all. There were also two other voices, the two he had heard more than any other throughout his life, and were the first to rebound against his newborn eardrums when the blinding light of life had first graced him with all its raging chaos.

    Creeping just as he did all those years ago, though this time, to the sect¡¯s meeting room, Remus was stumped to find Arlen guarding the room¡¯s door. The man was so proficient at his post apparently, that he could accomplish the job at an astonishingly high standard, while in a state of unconsciousness. Remus tiptoed up to the man, urgently muffled the sound of his frantic giggles, and patted his sleeping shoulder haphazardly. A spot of luck in a Passing drowning in misfortune. A strip of light streaked through a door an inch ajar, and carefully, Remus hunched down by it ¡ª listening in to his mother, father, great grandfather, and a table crowded with sect representatives.

    Their voices were tense, and Remus could only catch bits and pieces.

    ¡°. . . I just don¡¯t know how we can . . . taxes . . . especially after Edmar . . .¡± Aiden¡¯s distinct voice was laced with worry.

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to, somehow.¡± Briella responded clearly, mere feet away from the door. ¡°Exactly how, I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s what we have to work out.¡±

    Remus caught sight of his mother turning to a towering Andreas, whose arms, one of them bandaged, were crossed.

    ¡°Do you think it''s worth complaining at the Descension?¡± Briella asked, and, bewilderingly, the Warlord actually shifted uncomfortably.

    ¡°. . . wouldn¡¯t advise it . . . wouldn¡¯t do . . . good . . .¡±

    More voices, originating from the table.

    ¡°Complain to Damosh himself?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Someone seated opposite cut him off. ¡°Don¡¯t . . . ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°Then . . . to do?¡±

    The conversation hit an impasse before it could get anywhere, and even with the bits and pieces he had to wrap his head around the situation, Remus knew it to be severe from the room¡¯s tentative air alone. As it were, it was only one bad comment away from crumbling upon itself. Eyes turned expectantly to Andreas, like children scrambling for advice from the nearest adult.

    ¡°Before we discuss matters further . . . something you should know.¡±

    Putting his palm to his mouth, Remus watched as his grandfather unwrapped his arm. The man¡¯s face was solemn, devoid of any hint of a smile. Aghast cries shot up across the room, and Remus had to force himself to look.

    Along Andreas¡¯ arm, the man¡¯s skin was attributed with a sickly grey, every vein prominent in the most unhealthy of fashions. The flesh was withered and distorted, crawling its way up from the top of his shoulder to the fingertips of his left hand, which appeared to be on the verge of sliding off.

    As Remus felt his last meal rising up his oesophagus, Briella was the first to speak. The words sounded pierced with razors, tremulous and painful to speak.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    Remus was leaning in alarmingly close, but he didn¡¯t care. He would catch every word if it was the death of him.

    ¡°It happened a few Passings ago, in the Silver Cavities ¡ª a network of mines choking with Supreme Steel under the frontlines. As you know, the resource is the highest concentration of Infinity that can be found within the Human Realms, aside from the gods themselves. An Unbounded wandered in one day . . . and devoured everything. The Supreme Fiend was born at that moment, a golem the equivalent of a God-Graced rank, and vastly stronger than even I.¡±

    ¡°The Supreme Fiend?¡± Aiden repeated, holding himself together as best he could. ¡°I¡¯ve heard old men¡¯s tales, but I thought-¡±

    ¡°It to be a myth?¡± Andreas inferred. ¡°I wish. We¡¯ve been trying to slay it for centuries, but whenever we manage to commission someone of equal Rank to dispose of the Unbounded ¡ª an agonising task, I must assure you ¡ª he delves so deep into the Cavities that it would be suicidal to venture after him.¡±

    ¡°So they threw you at it in their stead.¡± A man upon the table slammed his first, eliciting a quake from the desk. ¡°Cowardice!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not precisely right, but neither fully wrong.¡± Andreas attempted to console him. ¡°We arranged a team of Warlords, me and two others. We delved into the Cavities and . . .¡±

    ¡°And?¡± Aiden urged.

    ¡°We faced vast repercussions for that decision. One died, and the rest of us . . . ¡° A cruel laugh choked the man up. ¡°Were infected with this. Supreme Rot. More Infinity than we could handle is slowly working its way through our abused bodies from the points of contact. Crippling us from the inside out.¡±

    Benumbed, Remus was detached from the wider world around him. If even a titan like Andreas could be hindered so drastically, what hope did he have as a Death-Marked? Like watching a fire blazing its way through a city, he couldn¡¯t take his eyes off, and the next words were enough to crush him like the fist of a god.

    ¡°Is there a cure?¡± Briella inquired hastily. ¡°Is it lethal?¡±

    The Warlord¡¯s false smile vanished from existence. ¡°The other contaminated Warlord received the brunt of the Unbounded¡¯s barrage. The infected areas quickly lost their utility. Once they reached his brain . . . well, I think you can imagine. I¡¯ve already lost feeling in my arm, and my shoulder is up next.¡±

    ¡°How long until that happens?¡±

    Andreas couldn¡¯t meet his granddaughter in the eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t only return to the sect for the Descension only. If I wish to delay the rot¡¯s effect as long as possible, I¡¯ll need constant treatment. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve returned. The Vitality Sect will be overseeing me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not answering the question.¡± Briella accused. ¡°You¡¯re dodging it.¡±

    ¡°I . . .¡± Andreas struggled. ¡°The Carpentry Sect has as long as one year, and then a new sect leader, I¡¯m afraid, will have to be found.¡±

 5. Those Bounded Few

    It was only days until the Day of Descension, and Remus hadn¡¯t been seen in the flesh for many a Passing.

    Damion paced back and forth outside of the Carpentry Sect¡¯s private library, chin in his hands, and musing endlessly. He¡¯d been staring at those double mahogany doors for so long, he could practically recite every indent in their material. Remus had never been much of a reader, but had undergone an overnight transformation into a world-class bookworm. Once he¡¯d stepped foot into the library, not a soul had seen him leave ¡ª which posed many questions, questions Damion wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted answering.

    Poor guy, he thought to himself, mustn''t have taken the news well.

    After a private meeting, Andreas had announced to everyone the perilous state of his condition. Their leader was dying. It was a harder pill to swallow than anything Saige or any other doctor could manifest, especially so when no other soul in their sect had achieved anything beyond Emblazed. A year to cultivate themselves a worthy successor, with their financial struggles, would be a nightmare.

    Even if we get our hands on a Foot-Soldier Ranked, what good will a leader be if they¡¯re sent running to their deaths the second they advance?

    The question was torturing all of the Carpentry Clan, Damion included. Foot-Soldiers were all required to spend six years dedicated to military service. If anyone achieved the Rank, which, given their abruptly given time-frame, wasn¡¯t very likely, they¡¯d be preoccupied for a substantial time. Time where the sect would need leadership, or some kind of present figurehead, the most. That¡¯s not mentioning the fact that Carpentry had never proven to be a particularly combat-ready area of power, hence their lack of any highly Ranked individuals. Such was the conundrum that faced any sect within the Talents of The Realm alliance ¡ª none of them were suited for laying down hordes of Unbounded in military gear, but that was the cost needed to achieve greater power. To possess Ranks where they could perhaps do more with their god-given abilities, achieving new heights of success for their respective sect.

    So Damion understood why Remus may be upset enough to shut himself off from society. Nevertheless, this was beginning to become concerning. A few more days of this, and his brother would be a true hermit.

    He¡¯d tried to play it off when I told him as much, the memory of Remus¡¯ reaction to the news resurfaced in Damion¡¯s mind. Acting so casually like that, like he already knew . . . tch, I need to check up on him.

    With a dramatic deep breath, and a push of the hands, Damion entered.

    Immediately, the scent of dust struck him. It was intoxicating, every surface of the place from the walls, shelves, and rows of books themselves were plastered in a spindly layer of the stuff. It was a fairly small space, largely in a state of disarray after being left, for the most part, abandoned since he could remember. Lighting was little, for any use of flame would have resulted in the equivalent of a forest fire in a matter of a few idiotic seconds. The shelves were positioned in a circular design, with passageways leading horizontally and vertically through in a cross pattern. The occasional sitting space rested in between, either full of chairs, or eternally empty in a way that for some reason brought a stab of sorrow to Damion¡¯s heart.

    As Damion passed through, tapping the odd rundown shelf and restoring it with a flare of his Mark, his footsteps echoed eerily, making him very aware of how alone in that room he really was. Bored, he picked up a random tomb, and perused through. The pages were yellowing, its fading ink almost unintelligible, and incredibly thin. But what caught his intention was the lack of dust; this had been used recently, and if he was judgingly correctly, with frequent reading sessions. Checking the title only proved to perplex him further. Since when was his brother interested in the history of the gods?

    Turning a page of An Infinite Compendium, Damion read aloud to ward off the encroaching silence.

    ¡°Infinity. The resource all of existence stems from, including the gods. It encompasses everything, from the tiniest blade of grass, to the fuel that powers the climbers of the Divine Ranks. It appears to have a consciousness of its own, but of an intelligence we could never possibly understand. But what if this boundless resource detested its own creations? What if the Unbounded that are roaming more rampant as the years go by are actually, in a way, the gods¡¯ vengeful siblings; out for revenge for the destruction the deities caused during the Celestial War?

    ¡°This is the theory that most prolific researchers have accepted to be fact. The more powerful Unbounded, those who can converse in our tongue, also seem to back up this theory with their endless rants of divine retribution. But what does this mean for humanity, and the entirety of the Human Re-¡±

    A resounding noise behind Damion caused him to drop the volume upon his foot, leaving him hopping around in pain as his body entered fight or flight mode. This was of course unnecessary, as the mysterious figure behind him was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Remus.

    ¡°Ever heard of a polite hello, or I don¡¯t know, anything other than attempting to assassinate me via heart attack?¡±

    Remus smirked, surprisingly not looking too worse for wear after hibernating in a desolate library for Durations on end. ¡°I could, but then I wouldn¡¯t get to see the hilarious sight I just witnessed.¡±

    ¡°Where have you been anyway?¡± Damion questioned, slumping in a chair and rubbing his foot. ¡°No one¡¯s caught sight of you since . . . since Andreas made his announcement. What have you even been eating to sustain yourself down here?¡±

    Remus shrugged. ¡°When night strikes, and it''s too dark to read, I go down to the kitchens and grab anything spare.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ve just been sleeping down here? Did you forget that you had a perfectly usable bed in our chambers?¡±

    ¡°The seats are surprisingly comfy here,¡± Remus explained, taking an opposite seat. ¡°And make quite robust beds. Plus, staying down here helps me to stay focused on my goals.¡±

    Damion shot him a funny look, an eyebrow cocked. ¡°What goals?¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t look him straight in the eye, instead taking a sip from a glass that a second ago had been placed upon a shelf. ¡°Research. There¡¯s a surprising amount you can learn from these old tombs.¡±

    The longer he remained in this library, the more befuddled Damion grew. He was no longer concerned for his brother, only weirded out by his odd mannerisms.

    ¡°Look, is everything actually okay? Mentally sound people don¡¯t bunker into unused libraries without human contact for as long as you have. Or at all, for that matter.¡±

    Remus finished the contents of his glass, rubbed any excess liquid off his lips, and replied. ¡°Don¡¯t stress yourself out, I¡¯m fine. In fact, I¡¯m doing a lot better than I have in a long time.¡±

    For some reason, Damion found that hard to believe. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely. Speaking of which, it''s the big day tomorrow, and already late afternoon.¡± Remus stood up from his seat and stretched. ¡°We should prepare, then catch an early night.¡±

    ¡°In our own chambers?¡±

    ¡°Yes Damion, in our own chambers. Now, are you coming or not?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, just a second, you can go on ahead.¡±

    Remus did so without complaint, not bothering to do so much as glance back, as the steps of his swift gait reverberated around the room with grand finality.

    Damion stood still, scrutinising a lone book in the spot his brother had been seated in, with great suspicion. A few steps later, and the tome was in his hands.

    ¡°Now just what has got you so secretive, dear Brother?¡±

    Damion turned the cover, only to find the shredded side of a page completely torn out.

    <hr>

    The day the gods tore a hole in the sky above the capital of First Rite, Remus, the rest of the Carpentry Sect, and anyone who breathed air was packed tightly upon the streets of Leisure District, peering up above. The deities were set to arrive any time now, and you would only need one passing glance of the street to understand the importance of such an event.

    Travellers from Hybrid, the Ravaged Lands, further distant lands, and even a Splintered Rank or two from the frontlines had made an appearance. Their outfits contrasted heavily, as if the world had been concentrated into one tiny fragment, and you could take a good taste of the entirety of the Mortal Realms by merely being present, absorbing it all. The battle-nurtured war heroes from the front lines stood around the circle of eager onlookers, supervising them and ensuring no one stepped out of line. They were stiff looking, scarred beyond belief, and suited valiantly in the leathers or steel that made up their armour. Well, the crowd was not exactly a circle per se, as the gatherers for the Day of Descension were of such a volume that not even First Rite could house them all. A sea of tents had been set up outside, or those with the ability to warp reality to their whims had fashioned more extravagant temporary homes. Such as mini biomes, and the like.

    Regardless, the bulk of the horde were situated here, the looming towers of Ruling District at their side, which overwatched with a sickening level of pomposity. Balconies extended from their peaks, and the leaders of the top five sects stood with an air of untouchable finesse. The height of the spires reflected their ranking, with fifth being the shortest, and the first reaching so far up skywards it threatened to penetrate the stratosphere.

    Out of them, Remus first recognised Juniper, God-Graced of The Wild Sect, and reigning monarch of the neighbouring city, Hybrid. The woman was only fourth place, right in the centre of the ranking, and curiously low for someone of such status. Though, Remus suspected that was on purpose; a potential usurper was not high on the list of titles you¡¯d be eager to garner.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Jet black hair sank down the woman¡¯s shoulders like a coursing river, the water¡¯s colour seeming to have been concentrated into Juniper¡¯s diamond eyes, leaving the strands left to latch onto the sable remnants. She was tall, and of an athletic build, upper lip split with a permanent gash that tilted to the side. She seemed to exude an aura of prestige, as if you were too vile a sight to even consider laying eyes on. All in all, the precise image that came to mind when you heard the words ¡®dominant leader¡¯. The God-Graced¡¯s tower was thatched with winding vines that riddled down the network of oak logs, which strangled the spire, offering the occasional leafed branch as reconcile.

    Remus tore his eyes off Juniper, finding her and the tower much too imposing for his liking. Though, the rest of the brotherly structures didn¡¯t differ in that regard in the slightest. Flames besieged the protruding corners of the Flame Sect¡¯s tower, trailing upwards before coming to a crescendo in a fiery bonfire at its peak. Four mirroring replicas of Ashbel¡¯s face were carved into the walls¡¯ midpoints on all four surfaces, an occasional burst of flame streaking through their noses, which were all of a notably exaggerated length. The leader himself, Cyrus, was seated inside the peak¡¯s bonfire, only his murky silhouette visible through the haze of dancing yellows and reds.

    ¡°Knows how to attract attention,¡± Remus remarked, Aiden¡¯s steadfast presence behind.

    ¡°For all we know, any Flame Emblazed or higher could be up there, they¡¯re all fire-resistant to some extent.¡±

    Remus could sense Damion¡¯s smirk at Aiden¡¯s comment. ¡°Perhaps Cyrus fancied afternoon tea over watching the heavens divide. I¡¯d do too, if I knew a god was about to be by my side in the next coming minutes.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯d better get your pottery ready.¡± Briella said knowingly. ¡°Andreas is already by our exhibit, and once the gods are unleashed, Arcus will descend to discuss clan matters.¡±

    A chill ran down both brothers. The two had of course met the eccentric being before during past years, but those meetings were always . . . messy.

    Laying his eyes on the remaining spires, Remus recognised the antics of the fifth place sect of Gravity. It was a good thing too that they were the last of Ruling¡¯s monoliths, as otherwise, the structure¡¯s gimmick would have been exponentially more difficult to maintain. Its base floated miraculously twenty feet or so above the ground, with brass chains on the brink of rupturing attached to the hovering object¡¯s end. At the peak, a hooded figure sat with their legs crossed, face invisible from the crowd, and themselves sustained a few inches off the ground. Remus didn¡¯t recognise who he or she was, as dire conflicts within the sect rendered their leader unendingly changed, more often than the seasons, but Remus got the same distinct impression that he got around all sect leaders ¡ª asides from Andreas, whose bubbly exterior had firmly pushed away such a notion before it could form ¡ª that they weren¡¯t to be meddled with.

    Two places above at third, Saige¡¯s Vitality Sect was, thankfully, the least intimidating to inspect. It was simple, as the clan liked to keep most matters. A chiselled slice of white marble fitted with a tasteful amount of ivory patterning. Upon a cluster of brightly coloured cushioning, the elderly woman Eloise sat, nearly adrift in sleep, with grey hairs streaking down her wrinkled forehead in a most dishevelled fashion.

    And, it went without saying, the final tower obviously belonged to Damosh. Spearheading the sky as a dazzling glimmer of purest amber, the tower was refined gold, adorned with all the gems and underground treasures Damosh had either taken the time to manifest himself with his Mark¡¯s powers, or had purchased with the disgustingly handsome sums his tax-collectors gathered every Passing. The mere sight ¡ª no, existence ¡ª of such a thing disagreed with everything Remus stood for, so he dared not let his eyes linger on it for more than a second, lest his retinas bleed.

    He did, however, hear the Godling¡¯s voice. Equal parts deceiving and imperious, each letter was like a blow to his eardrums.

    ¡°People of the Human Realms!¡± He called from his ledge, moving in a great robe that¡¯s silk matched the spire¡¯s pigment. Though Remus was gratefully unaware of this, stubbornly staring at the arrangement of the pebbles at his feet. ¡°It is my esteemed honour and indescribable privilege to speak the opening words of this great ceremony. Every year ¡ª or Rebirth, if you wish me to use the god¡¯s archaic terminology ¡ª we gather in one of this Realm¡¯s great cities for one reason, and for one reason only.¡±

    Thunderous cheering broke loose. It goes without saying that the vast majority of Labour did not take part.

    ¡°To greet humanity¡¯s forefathers, our ever-lasting beacons of guidance, and the weavings of Infinity that assisted in our creation!¡± More ecstatic yelping resounded throughout First Rite, though not nearly as loudly as one may expect. ¡°Of course, we also must deal with worldly affairs, but let¡¯s pass over the drab parts, shall we?¡±

    It would be preferable if we passed over your whole opening speech, you walking inheritance, Remus couldn¡¯t refrain from insulting, if only internally. Perhaps your applauds would be louder, if we could hear you over the sound of your pockets rattling.

    ¡°Here, in my wondrous capital of First Rite, I present to you those bound few to the Righteous Oath . . . the gods!¡±

    Allowing himself to angle his head upwards, Remus¡¯ pupils widened.

    The clouds, the same wispy clusters he had been soaring across only days prior atop his grandfather¡¯s back, now had issues far more detrimental to their steady state of existence than just one cackling Warlord. They were spread apart, as if by two enormous hands, to make room for the fizzling, overflowing power appearing in their place. All shades of all eleven colours emerged, putting to shame any pitiful rainbow, and a gradually widening crack of uncontained energy nearly blinded the rows of spectators. This would be seen all across the earth, a godly eclipse the light of which would extend from here to every nook and cranny of the Mortal Realms. This light intensified, until the mirage of pigments festered into nought but a radioactive white. It was out of here that the deities stepped forth, their outlines quivering, as if reality was struggling to contain such immeasurable might.

    ¡°Surely you would go blind from looking at that for too long.¡± Damion winced, putting a hand over his eyes, his head staggered back.

    Briella was similarly posed. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to find out.¡±

    In slow-motion, the gods began to gain detail as they drew closer to the mortal layer of existence, but five figures stood dominantly in front, central figureheads.

    ¡°Aisha, Ashbel, Valarie, Chantal, and Septimus.¡± Remus recited their divine names from the previous night¡¯s extensive studying, as the godly quintet pulsed out of sight.

    Reappearing by Ruling¡¯s topdogs faster than any metric of time could fathom, not even the God-Graced themselves were able to conceal their unease. By Jupiter, Chantal, the subject of a huge chunk of the Celestial War¡¯s mythos, manifested. Her appearance was hard to describe when considered in human terms, primarily because it wasn¡¯t human-like at all.

    An emerald body of unspecified plantage was adorned by a natural armour of wood that appeared to be self-sustaining, with twigs jutting out all over. It wouldn¡¯t be a stretch to say that Chantal was split into four main quarters, each representing a season each. The leaved twigs on her left were thriving, a most healthy green in shade that was especially fresh in what appeared to be the spring sector. The right side painted a much different story however, where the greenery was either non-existent ¡ª patiently awaiting a change in seasons that would never arrive, seeing as Remus assumed they were only for cosmetic purposes ¡ª with branches glossy with ice, or deep into the yellowing effects of autumn. Chantal¡¯s head parted from the stem-design of the rest of her godly form, merging neatly with the oak of her armour to be fully wooden, with facial features sunk in deep, seamlessly.

    As was the same with all of the deities, she was tall, and dauntingly so. Juniper was a woman of considerable height herself, but the stark difference between her looming head and the towering goddess of The Wild was an eerie reminder, declaring in bold, capitalised letters that even the peak of humanity was only admirable in the presence of a god. Skirting over the rest of Ruling¡¯s deities, Remus¡¯ eyes caught another momentary lashing as the flames of Ashbel sizzled with the might of a supernova, before cleanly diminishing to a body of ash, after the deity contained himself.

    ¡°Apologies.¡± The Flame deity spoke through a mouth forged of coal, each letter threatening to tear First Rite Apart. ¡°The meagre eyes of humanity seemed to have eclipsed my memory. Though the flames of Infinity may be too much for you to behold, I am sure that this charred secondary form of mine will be satisfactory.¡±

    Screams of adulation flooded the street, once again testing the durability of Remus¡¯ ears. The day was giving his every sense a true endurance check, and if another fiery eruption exploded the sky for a third time today, he wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d pass it with functional eyes or ears, let alone flying colours.

    The stubs of amber in Ashbel¡¯s eye sockets glinted with an alien awareness.

    ¡°Do you desire to earn my sect a couple million extra patients for the day Ashbel, hmm?¡± A clearly cranky god questioned, voice punchy. ¡°Poor Eloise must be having a heart attack.¡±

    All heads turned to the Vitality leader¡¯s tower. She was sleeping peacefully.

    The tremendous presence who had spoken was Valarie, a deceivingly human-looking god who was adorned in modest robes of speckless white.

    ¡°Will you two stop bickering?¡± Septimus exhaled, as if his life depended on it. ¡°Or do you wish for me to be both deaf and blind?¡±

    Two hovering eyeballs bobbled around the blindfolded god, who had apparently been so scarred by the claws of the deity of Reptilians, Magnolia, that he¡¯d been maimed for life.

    Damion nudged Remus, who in the spectacle of it all, had almost forgotten he was there. ¡°Still one to anguish over things, looks like.¡± He began. ¡°Those eyes of his were constructed by the Sight deity in exchange for a favour, or so they say. Islene has never cashed in on it though.¡±

    ¡°Must you jabber on? We have a whole Passing¡¯s worth of events to get to ¡ª the title ¡®Day¡¯ never ceases to be misleading ¡ª and I find your insistent whining much more aggravating after that attack your sect sprang on my innocent medics. And you thought I wouldn''t notice!¡± Valarie was as condescending as her tone was fiery.

    ¡°A mistake, thank you very much.¡± Septimus hissed, though he didn¡¯t sound very convinced of it himself.

    The two volleyed heatedly back and forth, but Remus was more interested by the deity who had decided to stay silent: Aisha, the goddess of Greed. She stood next to Damosh silently, a suffocatingly regal air about her, equipped with the menacing appearance of a vat in space. It was as if she was devoid of physicality, of presence itself. A black hole whose only purpose was to consume, to feed on anything and everything. Even then, tiny pieces of reality from strands of grass, to crumbling stone were absorbed, as her two dashing white lines for eyes blinked indistinctly.

    Damosh turned, and if Remus¡¯ eyes hadn¡¯t been too scorched from Ashbel¡¯s outburst, he appeared to be trembling from head to toe. Subtly though, like a very contained earthquake, but it pleased Remus immensely nevertheless.

    ¡°Well . . . ¡° Damosh coughed into his hands, his suit of finery now seeming rather unimpressive. ¡°What an explosive opening! Now then, it seems the other gods have whizzed off to their respective clans. I wish you all fortune in your near futures, and success in the next Passing¡¯s proceedings. Farewell, and greet your respective deities with warmth! If you know what¡¯s good for you . . .¡±

    The man so lacking in self-awareness he¡¯d inscribed the word Wealth onto his very soul wandered off down a flight of stairs out of view, appearing all-together shaken as Aisha followed behind at a trudge.

    ¡°Well, off we go then.¡± Aiden stretched. ¡°Arcus and Andreas will already be deep into discussion knowing those two, might as well get a move on.¡±

    ¡°Then, if we¡¯re quick about things, we might have time to catch the fireworks tonight.¡± Damion added wearily, as if the thought of something detonating in the sky was now somehow off-putting.

    Remus followed his family¡¯s trail anxiously a few paces behind, idly fingering a scrunched up page in his pocket. Glancing up to a god-filled sky, his chest suddenly grew very tight.

 6. Golden Greed

    Arcus, the god of Carpentry, was an . . . interesting fellow.

    Seated with such casuality it reversed upon itself and became unbearably tense, the deity sat upon his own personal throne of miscellaneous wooden shrapnel. For a being so perfectly in tune with Infinity, Arcus was largely human in appearance. The most human god Remus had ever seen, save perhaps for Valarie, whose only visible divine attribute was the ability to wear pure white and not somehow stain it. Like all master carpenters, Arcus was never seen outside of his apron uniform ¡ª respectfully stained with a nameless black gunk ¡ª with a greasy, most ungod-like curtain of oily black hair trailing down his back. The deity¡¯s hand, like the subject of some horror campfire story devised to spook children, ended with a chisel in place of a hand.

    Talking feverishly, Andreas was perched at the god¡¯s side, the worry-lines of his winkles especially exasperated. His mouth shut mid-sentence, turning to face the arriving entourage of Carpentry Sect higher-ups, and his close family.

    ¡°Ah, Arcus, the rest of our sect has finally arrived! Though, Damosh really cut the opening ceremony short, didn''t he?¡±

    Arcus nodded with eyes closed, as zen as a monk. ¡°He¡¯s frightened of Aisha, by the looks of it.¡± His voice was just as rumbly as the words of the other deities that had graced Remus¡¯ ears, though it didn¡¯t quite have the same ferocity behind it. ¡°Not that I can blame him, that woman still frightens me sometimes.¡±

    There was a comfortable wave of laughter, neatly subduing the edgy air that came with the territory. That unspoken territory being the fact that they were in close proximity with a being like Arcus. One heavy breath from him, and First Rite may have ceased to exist.

    ¡°How are celestial affairs?¡± Andreas enquired pensively, looking into the sapphire abyss overhead.

    ¡°We continue to rebuild. And by ¡®we¡¯, I mean us non-combat-oriented gods, primarily.¡± The divine carpenter¡¯s voice was dripping with exasperation. ¡°Funny thing, that. We destroyed so much during the War in less time than this world has been alive. Yet still, to reconstruct will always be a more tedious task than to dismantle.¡±

    ¡°What exactly is it that you¡¯re restoring?¡± Aiden asked, genuinely curious.

    Arcus waved a dismissing hand, like the exact details weren''t important. ¡°Galaxies upon galaxies. Worlds might only look like orbiting chunks of rock, but it takes quite a lot more than that to restore them from the ground up.¡±

    Damion interjected, ¡°Is there other life up there?¡±

    ¡°Animal life is complicated to create, much more than a random spot of forest. When we crafted humanity into existence, much of our forms¡¯ concentrations of Infinity were sacrificed. To extinguish the same amount once more would be a benefit to none. Plus, intergalactic warfare is never fun.¡±

    At once, the god got up from his seat crowning the mountain of debris, looking down at his subjects. ¡°I¡¯ve seen that our sect is facing difficulties.¡± Remus could have sworn the god¡¯s eyes narrowed on him for but a passing moment. ¡°Care to expand on the topic?¡±

    ¡°It''s not just our sect, your grace,¡± Andreas explained, ¡°Damosh¡¯s hold on the incomes of all of Labour District has never been unwaveringly tight. In fact, we have evidence to suspect his cumbersome hand is now starting to plague the earnings of the lessers of Leisure also. The Feast Sect, who have standings in both thirds, have begun to face considerable adversary on their market front in Leisure. Their earning cuts are so repulsive it scorches my tongue to repeat them.¡±

    ¡°Though you must, in order for me to understand the gravitas of the situation.¡±

    ¡°Sixty percent, on bad Passings,¡± The Warlord sighed. ¡°And worse still, we have concerns that the Wealth Sect¡¯s tax collectors may have a grudge against us. All this financial turmoil at precisely the wrong time . . . I can¡¯t fathom how those not in the top twenty are managing.¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡± The same masculine voice from the last meeting spoke. ¡°I¡¯ve heard news of some deserting First Rite all together, hoping to garner better successes as stand-alone sects in the highlands between here and the city of Hybrid. Nothing confirmed as of now, but that inclination for many is stronger than ever.¡±

    Arcus held his head in his hand at a tilt, earning the question of whether gods had headaches or not. ¡°I sense conflict brewing. Not on the Divine Ground of First Rite of course, but if this Damosh figure ever decides to tread outside . . . I don¡¯t suspect he¡¯d receive many cries of thankfulness from his people.¡±

    ¡°Today¡¯s sorry excuse for an opening speech was the first I¡¯ve seen of him outside of that prized tower of his.¡± Damion noted. ¡°You don¡¯t think he actually might be so paranoid?¡±

    ¡°The man knows the people¡¯s conception of him,¡± said Aiden, a tad less gravelly than either his grandfather-in-law or the god, two of the primary figures supplying the street corner with its unexpected grandiose. ¡°They don¡¯t hold the highest of opinions, suffice to say. Cooping up in his sect¡¯s quarters, and gobbling down gold until he chokes on the glimmering stuff, seems to suit him just fine.¡±

    An impasse was reached, and all looked to Arcus for his insight. ¡°I can¡¯t say a clear solution has come to me, or any solution for that matter. Tragedy after tragedy has beared down on us since the Unbounded attack robbed us of so much.¡±

    Rather than remedy the increasing stalemate, the deity¡¯s words only stretched the moment out further. The Unbounded attack had been generations ago, far before Damion or Remus¡¯ time, but the oldest of the sect ¡ª the fortunate few who had lived to see the incident and survived to tell the tale ¡ª had recounted the infamous event on numerous occasions.

    ¡°That was when the Unbounded first appeared. We¡¯re fortunate we were able to fend them off to where our current front lines are based, but they seem to spawn faster than we can make good use of the beasts.¡± Speaking of such travesty had evidently rendered the more outlandish aspects of the Carpentry deity to the wayside, and an unseen, sober exterior had bubbled to the surface. ¡°I don¡¯t like to admit it, but even I fear death. I never thought it possible before, but . . . if things continue like this, First Rite may not be the safe haven it used to be for much longer. Sects will be crushed, the weakest first, and their deities abandoned, reduced to only their Infinity for the other gods to feast upon, to sate their gelatinous hunger for but a moment. No personality, no charming appearance, no assembled sect to call our own. I shall be reduced to nought but fleeting energy, diffusing throughout the cosmos. To become the arms of my siblings.¡±

    It was now obvious that whatever it was that Arcus was being afflicted with, be it a headache or some quirk of the godly form unknown to humanity, it was causing him much distress. ¡°And now I hear of Andreas'' oncoming passing, and my fears cannot help but be solidified.¡±

    The Warlord swallowed awkwardly, and for the first time in his life, Remus felt a smidge of sympathy for a god.

    ¡°I¡¯ve rambled on about nothing but misfortune for long enough. Apologies. Let us attend to lighter matters, whilst I conjure the will to toss array this sentimental mien of mine. It has slowly been corrupting me for longer than you know.¡±

    The remainder of the discussion went by at a particularly lethargic sloth¡¯s pace, who had just so happened to select a path leading straight through a mud patch gone turgid in direct sunlight. Or at least that¡¯s how Remus envisioned it, each speculative second worth a millennium¡¯s worth of their ordinary counterpart. If Arcus was beginning to become undone by his own piercing fear, things were exponentially worse for the sect¡¯s future than Remus had anticipated. Far worse. It wasn¡¯t a farfetched thought that they¡¯d be subdued to a footnote in the history books, and that was a reality Remus wanted desperately to erase from existence. The last Durations of his time spent labouring in the library reached a blazing peak within him. The five keywords that could set his life back on track were all he could think of, like some drunk yearning for that next sip, that next bottle of blissful victory to amend the sour fate the universe had spewed at him.

    Amid the talk, Remus excused himself wordlessly, marching through the street with an expression so deadpan it was as if the emotion receptors in his brain had inexplicably disappeared. And temper his raging seas of unhelpful feeling he would, for his every inclination, his every deeply integrated survival instinct the ancient ancestors of the Carpentry Sect had fought tirelessly for to engrave, were telling him to discard his madman plans. To live a normal, uninteresting life under the binding chain of Damosh¡¯s tyrannical rule.

    Remus refused.

    It wasn¡¯t until hours later, when the first pearly glimmer of moonlight snuck through the rooftops of the street around to spotlight the empty space adjacent to him, that Damion noticed his absence.

    <hr>

    Droplets were of some value throughout every stretch of the Mortal Realms, from the highest mountain to the lowest creek.

    Not only were they required in beginning to climb the Divine Ranks, they also were vital for the economy, and the main source of income for the God-Graced, and the higher rank, Godlings. The golden blood Ichor was the divine essence every sect in the market fought for, utilised to sprout promising new youths into raging machines of warfare, or adept warpers of reality.

    Distributed in all major towns, Droplets didn¡¯t come without a hefty price tag. This was usually compensated for greatly by the assistance of the gained Engorged, which would then compound as they quickly advanced to Enkindled, Emblazed, and possibly beyond, if the clan in question had been most fortunate in their younger generation¡¯s talent.

    Walking at a contained pace along the borders of Leisure District, Remus kept a hood up, and stopped half a step away from Ruling territory. The spiralling towers that had been so animated earlier that day now basked in a star-filled sky, all completely dark, save for the eternally fueled fires of the Flame Sect that raged in a spiral off to the side. Remus smiled under the hem of his cloak, knowing that soon, an explosive show of arranged fireworks would be joining them in an extravagant display. A show devised into existence through the shared ingenuity of deities and mortals alike. Whether he would be around to lay witness to such a sight was still indefinite, and this caused Remus¡¯ grin to waver. He pulled his hood down just a tad lower, and crept forth with bated breath.

    In First Rite, Droplets were sold at a stand positioned smack bang in the centre of Leisure District; a sort of overseen market, selling goods too high in value to merely be placed on a random stand in Leisure, lest hands infected with Damosh¡¯s gold fever came crawling. Back to a street corner, Remus kept an eye on the long line guarded by loitering Wealth Sect members. They conversed and chatted with an infectious ease under the cover of a projecting awning, which began to house several new residents of freshly arriving rain droplets, as the obscured clouds up above decided to bleed like their lives depended on it.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    No matter, Remus thought to himself as he stalked through the miniature ocean forming at his feet, at least my footsteps will be concealed, albeit waterlogged boots are never fun.

    Closer up, he could examine the drowning market in more detail. It spanned about twenty yards in a straight wall of brick that extended up to about waist length, crested at the top by a smooth sheet of wood where many a bored guard¡¯s hand lay tapping in idle drudgery. At the back, two identical staircases led upwards on either side, an equidistant space between one another ¡ª each the same murky hue of black the floor and back wall of the place were also made up of. Dashing around like curious manifestations of human wonder, distinctly familiar eyes hovered, their optical nerves hanging loose, and oddly blue. This was the chief position the Sight Sect filled: surveillance. There were a dozen at least outside, and undoubtedly an innumerable amount further up the fort itself.

    Biting the tip of his thumb, Remus¡¯ eyes scanned for any crack in the security¡¯s armour, a clink through which he could intercept the operation¡¯s extensive defences. None stuck out to him that perfectly met his needs, but the alleys running either side of the market only housed one Wealth lackey each. Remus wore the night¡¯s darkness like a secondary shroud, treading step by step deeper into a cluster of bushes that¡¯s thorns seemed to disagree quite overtly at his meddling.

    The guards themselves would only be Emblazed or retired Foot-Soldiers at most. Though still enough to repaint the market walls a lovely red with Remus¡¯ internal organs, they were still relatively low predators on the food chain. Remus tried to fixate on that truth, regardless of how little it mattered given his position on that impossible scale.

    Leisure was fitted with many complementary dashings of greenery in between its mansions of clan bases, and Remus entered an enclosure of knee-high grass overseen by a thick canopy of trees, tiptoeing along this without the slightest rustle as he advanced towards the lone guard. He reached a vantage point just opposite to the man, a rather grumpy-looking fellow with his arms crossed sternly. Perspiration leaking out his body¡¯s weight in water, Remus tensed up as he inched centimeter by centimeter onwards. The detached eye bobbled aimlessly through the air, taking long-spaced out blinks with eerily large eyelids. Every once in a while it would pan by Remus¡¯ approximate whereabouts, eliciting many an unwanted shiver from the boy, who was only now beginning to suspect he was way over his head.

    In a show of his notorious sagacity, Remus decided it best to wait for the safest opportunity to leap past. Perhaps when the guards switched post, or if they were preoccupied by some suddenly arising task. No such interval came, and cursing vulgarly under his breath, Remus headed back in defeat, only reaching a more rapid pace that reflected his state of mind, when he was safe out of ear shot.

    Of course it was going to be heavily guarded, he said to himself, it''s only natural, no point in getting mad over anything. It was only . . . only a few Duration¡¯s planning wasted.

    He halted, turned longingly with a jolting twitch that could only be expelled by an adamant tapping of his feet, and considered his options. Remus sat down, back against a decorative boulder, then put a thoughtful hand to his chin in his best impression of a wise scholar. He couldn¡¯t have come all this way for nought, else this bottled up frustration amounting within him would burn him up from the inside out, soon to ravage any level-headedness left lingering, and removing the restraints on his most insanely revolutionary of impulses. There must have been something he could attempt. Some way to sneak past right under the guards¡¯ unsuspecting noses.

    Right under, it occurred to him. Right under their noses . . .

    ¡°If there¡¯s something I hate in this world, something I despise above all else ¡ª perhaps with a stronger ire than even Damosh himself ¡ª it''s strolling around in the sewers at the dead of night, bathing in the city¡¯s filth.¡±

    So declared Remus, pushing through the clumps of waste that filled the winding tunnels of First Rite¡¯s sewers. His only light source was a soaked torch that kept extinguishing through the frequent spurts of sewer water originating from the capital¡¯s faulty plumbery. A more bittering fate than having to relight an oversized splinter with a waterlogged match every ten minutes, was the aggravatingly long time it had taken him to cleave through the manhole.

    But in the end, the job, however tedious, had been done. Now, his primary objective was to scout out a path leading into the market itself, and arrive there without permanently staining his carpentry attire with unrecognisable grime.

    Remus¡¯ footsteps echoed sonically across the oval passage, an enchanting, foreboding tune that sent the hairs on his back straight up like saluting soldiers. The passage soon came to a junction, and overhead, a network of structures that¡¯s outlines he could only vaguely perceive through the aid of his torch''s dim light became visible. If his speculations weren¡¯t utterly wrong, he was standing directly under his target. Problem was, climbing wasn¡¯t exactly Remus¡¯ forte.

    Exhaling, Remus grabbed onto the first of a series of syphons ¡ª in his eyes, a makeshift ladder. If he truly wanted to mould reality into the picture of his ambitions, it was going to take heapings of strenuous work, and many, many rash decisions. This was the positive affirmation he repeated to himself like a broken record, only he couldn¡¯t exactly work-out where ascending an underground sewer system came into all of that.

    <hr>

    Ola stood at her post on the third level of the Leisure market, joined by an obedient eye with no apparent owner over her shoulder, and a long list of places she¡¯d rather be but there. The post, at the very least, did offer a pleasant working space, a room so embellished it would be the most ornate that most Labour workers would ever have the chance to see. On a long table, a ceramic bowl sat, its golden contents unmoving, supplying a more clear reflection than even the most polished of metals could. A trio of vials were placed next to it, containing nothing but a transparent oil.

    It had been the most successful day for Droplet selling in a long while, as always tended to be the case whenever the Day of Descension rolled round with the turning of the seasons to Spring. Deals were allocated for the first Duration of the event¡¯s Passing only, leading an Ichor-thirsting crowd to arise from their pits to snag as much as their petty coinage could afford.

    Her lips pouting, Ola glared at the low contents of the bowl as if it was everything wrong with the world laid out in front of her. ¡°Only the first day, and we¡¯ve almost run out of our stock. I don¡¯t suppose Damosh is up for another bloodletting session . . .¡±

    The precise procedure that beings carrying potent Ichor went through to produce Droplets was unknown to Oda, though whatever it was, she highly suspected that it was something laborious. Perhaps it exhausted the Godlings or God-Graced that underwent it, to the extent that despite the massive profits it could garner them, they didn¡¯t sell their life-force any more than necessary. Whatever the case, she let the topic vanish from her mind for the moment, uncapping the first of the vials. With the world¡¯s tiniest saucer, she gathered as little as a hundredth of the yellow fluid, before dipping it carefully into the vial. There it settled in the centre, encompassed, but not tarnished by the surrounding oil. Ola repeated this process until all three were done. Then, with a melodramatic moan and a great stretch, she leaned back in a seat behind the desk, very much relieved by the notion that the day¡¯s duties had been fulfilled. Now all that was required for her was to wait until she was called for the end of the shift.

    As the stresses and concerns that came with working under Damosh finally began to subside from her body, he arrived.

    The young man, who she was soon to gain the habit of calling the buffoon, marched in stiffly, appearing strangely uncomfortable in his Wealth Sect uniform. As if it was a size too big for him, or possibly too small. Gawkily, he came to a stop, cleared his throat, and spoke.

    ¡°You may resign from your post. I¡¯ll take over from here.¡±

    Oda narrowed her eyes. The Wealth Sect had always been colossal in number, so it wasn¡¯t anything too outlandish to acknowledge that there may be members she herself hadn¡¯t met. Yet regardless, this maladroit idiot was hardly guard material. Of another cloth entirely ¡ª one she imagined to be especially flimsy, and prone to spontaneously tearing.

    ¡°Are you sure . . . ¡° She squinted at the newcomer. ¡° . . . who are you, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Wilfred.¡± The figure blurted, stepping back into a wall and dropping an ornament. He quickly grabbed the chalice mid-air, placed it back, and smiled at Oda most rakishly. ¡°I¡¯m Wilfred.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ve come at the right time, Wilfred. This feels awfully early.¡±

    ¡°That it does!¡± Wilfred interjected, clapping his hands with forced merriment in a sound that resounded across the room, threatening the vials into a startled jolt. ¡°The monitoring team thinks you¡¯ve done absolutely spectacular this last Passing.¡±

    Oda failed to conceal the ruddy complexion quickly gaining territory on the blank battlefield that were her cheeks. ¡°They do?¡±

    ¡°Very much so.¡± Wilfred assured confidently. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m not ought to tell you this yet, but the others are actually holding a surprise party in your honour.¡±

    ¡°They are?¡±

    ¡°They are. I¡¯d dread for you to be late to your own celebrations, so I thought it best to gather you quickly.¡±

    ¡°Well of course.¡± The guard replied, arms crossed and lips bent upwards in a stance practically radiating prideful mirth. ¡°Where exactly is this gathering, and will there be cake, dare I ask?¡±

    Wilfred nodded. ¡°Much. With wine and fruit platters and stacks of meat ladder-high and . . . ¡° the man looked down at his wrist as if inspecting the time, despite the fact he was only observing empty air, and that watches weren¡¯t on schedule to become a popular accessory in First Rite for several decades. ¡°Ah, it appears we¡¯re running out of time before the big event! Best get going ¡ª it''s on the top floor, at the Market¡¯s peak.¡±

    Oda frowned. ¡°Long walk, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Only more reason to start now. Off you go, don¡¯t let the leftover time stop you. I¡¯ll finish off the shift¡¯s last five minutes and clean up. Enjoy yourself.¡±

    Clapping giddily, Oda left the room with a beaming smile that could have burned a hole through an iceberg.

    Only when she was a good distance away, Remus sighed, tore off his helmet, and shook his ginger hair with an exasperated sigh. His body sagged against the wall, and he desired nothing more than to tear the clothing of his sworn enemies off his back. Nevertheless, the plan had worked.

    You¡¯ll never catch me sneaking around changing rooms again, Remus shook his head shamefully, striding from his seat to the vials of oil up ahead. And I wasn¡¯t even spared the luck of stumbling across my size . . .

    Remus picked up an oil sample carefully, fighting hard to keep his fingers from trembling. Holding it up to his eyes, he could see a glimmer of gold swimming steadily at its centre. The blood essence of the gods, the primary force of nature that differed stunted Death-Marked like him from the titans of creations that roamed the Mortal Realms, Remus couldn¡¯t help but think that he was holding pure, untapped potential. His hands were trembling now, an uneasy gulp visibly making its way down his parched throat.

    He looked away from the vial, swallowed a few times, and stared off into space, before inevitably succumbing to the urge of looking wide-eyed at it once more. He never truly believed he¡¯d get this far; to hold the amber fluid in his very hands. It was literally at his grasp, awaiting with quiet patience for him to pop off the cork, and swallow the pure energy coursing through the deities themselves. For once, a nonsensical scheme of his had appeared to bear fruit. An orchard¡¯s worth.

    It was but a drip. The inclination to burn his tongue whilst downing the remainder of the bowl in one furious gulp was tempting, but then his common sense smacked him square on the head, reminding Remus that he¡¯d probably prefer remaining in one piece instead of three trillion. Gradually, Remus held the vial to his lips, before noticing something from the corner of his vision.

    An eye.

    Remus spat out the colourless oil, too preoccupied to fixate on the fact that the prize of his efforts was now splattering across the floor. There was a swinging of doors that swept its hinges forcibly out of retirement, and three pairs of feet came rushing forward. He tried in one last desperate swerve to consume the remaining chunk of the vial, only for multiple hands beyond his fickle strength to pin him down.

    ¡°Nice try Death-Marked, but fortunately for me, I¡¯m not nearly as obtuse as first appearances may convey.¡±

    Oda smirked down at him, a Sight Sect eye performing cartwheels at her side. ¡°Never understood why they told us to keep our eyes around at all times, but even the most pestering of advice does sometimes come in useful in the long run, doesn¡¯t it Remus?¡±

    The final memory Remus had before passing out was the blow of some blunt object across his head. The entire world concentrated to a black pigment, and his weak struggle useless, consciousness failed him.

 7. Sisterly Bonds

    Violet stared at the fireworks through the obscuring lens of her window, positively miserable.

    She paced back and forth across her private chambers in the Chaos Sect, restlessly reading a letter repeatedly, until her head ached with the continued monotony of the words. In a huff, she scrunched the page up, shoved it into a pocket of her leather trousers, and triple-checked her luggage bags.

    It was all there: a few changes of clothes, enough smuggled rations to last a Passing or two if eaten scarcely, and other basic necessities needed to survive out of the comfort of First Rite. It was only now sinking in, the weight of all the luxuries she¡¯d taken for granted. The Chaos Sect, whilst not particularly high on the totem pole of sect standing ¡ª a mere eleventh place, virtually smack bang in the centre of the top twenty, and far from the heights of Ruling District ¡ª was successful enough to earn a residence in Leisure. Violet had always regarded the place as home. For her entire life, she¡¯d known its lively beauty, its certain aura of joy that pervaded all the flagstones, every market stall, and didn¡¯t neglect a single street corner in all its encompassing mystique.

    Now soon, depending on how the night went, she may never see it again.

    Violet was wincing at the Emblazed mark trailing down her forearm when her sister, Verity arrived.

    The twenty-something year old stood with immaculate posture, as stiff as pole, and fully clad in chainmail armour that she never seemed to take off, despite being hundreds of miles away from the front lines. Her hair was of the same hazel shade as Violet¡¯s, but instead of falling well past her shoulders like her younger sibling, it was curly, and of a medium length.

    ¡°Father requires you.¡± She said simply, eyes strangely distant despite the fact they were looking straight at Violet.

    ¡°What for?¡± Violet questioned, standing in such a way that her travelling bags were hidden from view. ¡°I thought he was busy speaking with Teival?¡±

    Verity blinked robotically. ¡°I¡¯m not privy to what exactly he wishes to discuss, only that he has requested for me to collect you.¡±

    Staring hard into Verity''s eyes, a pang of wistful regret sprang its face before Violet¡¯s inner consciousness. Her eyes darted to the floor, and the moody air quickly dispersed. ¡°Be there in a moment.¡±

    Verity left wordlessly, the resounding clink of her armour exaggerated with each heavy step. When the sound of her footsteps could be heard no more, Violet exhaled as deeply as she could without rupturing her lungs. Even with the fact that her sister was heading off to the front lines soon, having officially received a vision from the god of Havoc himself, almost a year ago now, bestowing her with articles of even greater power, Violet couldn¡¯t help but want to spend as little time as possible with Verity. It wasn¡¯t that she harboured any ill will for her sister, far from it. It was just that the methodical, orderly manner in which she completed all tasks was almost too organised. As if she was merely running through orders like some artificial machine, designed by the clan to conduct their drudgery and other juvenile tasks.

    Whatever it was that had triggered the obsessive perfectionism that defined Verity, Violet attempted to accept the personality shift the last few years had sprang with a passive indifference . . . and that was the root of the metaphorical wall between the two ¡ª you could try all you wanted, but when it truly got down to it, and Violet was overtly honest with herself, it was almost like a substantial chunk of her sister had perished. A chunk consisting of all the loveable charm and joy that had characterised Verity prior. A chunk whose playful wit Violet would die to catch a line from, a least one more time.

    Her hand placed tightly onto the slip of paper inside her pocket, Violet wandered out of the room, wishing with a familiar longing that she could just be left alone in the chambers to attend to her own endeavours, without any chafing interruptions.

    The Chaos Sect wasn¡¯t the most sprawling of manors by a long shot, but what it lacked in size, it made up for a hundredfold in absurdity. The locations of halls and rooms rearranged constantly, as if by the fleeting whims of some bored god, to the extent that traversing from one side to the other could either take passing through a singular doorway, or hiking through a mountain range. Violet wished she could have made that last comment in jest, but there truly had been times when she¡¯d gone up a flight of stairs, and only resurfaced to a gathering of concerned clansmen after surviving in the wilderness for two Durations. That was when she was young however, and now as an Emblazed teetering on Foot-Soldier Rank, she could revert the crazed crossings of her lifelong home with a casual activation of her Mark.

    Housing so many sown in the fabric of Chaos was enough to send any environment spiralling. But by subduing that Chaotic energy momentarily herself ¡ª as one would take a full breath ¡ª she could absorb that energy, allowing the manor to return to its original, much more logical layout. In the same manner, though it required some precision, she could bend the corridors to lead straight towards her father¡¯s office, free from obstruction. At least, when considered in theory, and ignoring all the intricate skill doing so would require.

    Despite her Mark being fully grown, warping reality to such an extent was a one way ticket into dispersing your body¡¯s energy reserves and fainting promptly. Maybe one day, if she ever achieved a Splintered Rank or higher, doing so would be much less of a strenuous task. As of now, Violet limited herself to only snipping a few shortcuts through the mansion¡¯s larger sections, and arrived at a foreboding doorway with minutes to spare.

    The material of the double door was ebony in shade, adorned with the magenta banners of the clan, these being outlined with a cloudy blue. Violet fixated on the charming secondary pigment that so often reminded her of warm summer days spent mindlessly cloud-watching in her youth. The innocent joys of such past times she hadn¡¯t been able to appreciate for some many a year. Latching onto the warmth the memories provided like a safety rope, she pushed open the doors.

    There was a creak, followed by a radiating aura of purple light, the sort you¡¯d imagine to be emitted by crystal within an underground cavern.

    ¡°Violet.¡± Nova boomed upon his throne, his massive musculature barely contained upon his frame. ¡°There is much we must tackle in the current Passing. Particularly, I believe your placing in the upcoming inter-sect tournament is of vital importance.¡±

    The room was spacious, with paintings of past clan leaders hung up proudly along each front and back wall. To the side, a table of considerable size was veiled by a map of the known world, with wooden figures placed at certain locales. Indicating what, Violet could never be sure.

    At the very front, Nova, her father, sat upon his throne rigidly, clapping a leather-bound tomb shut with a hand bulging in size. The man¡¯s dirty blonde hair was set into a neat man bun, and his features were reminiscent of one of nature¡¯s wild predators, who wouldn¡¯t hesitate to destroy you if the opportunity arose.

    Violet had almost forgotten about the ¡®friendly¡¯ tournament that occurred each Descension. The popular excuse for its occurrence being to create a spectacle for the gods as tribute. But anybody with the littlest tinge of wisdom orbiting their noggin was well aware that saying so was merely a front. Its true, much more nefarious reason for existence was for each sect to gauge their combative progress in comparison to one another. In the safe havens bustling cities like First Rite supplied, it was sometimes easy to forget that despite the smiley fronts most clans would put up inside their barriers, the second you exited Divine Ground, was also the precise moment they wouldn¡¯t hesitate to pull a cold blade against your throat.

    ¡°I¡¯m competing?¡± She asked with a perplexed frown.

    ¡°Indeed you are.¡± Nova said a split second after, as if it was obvious. ¡°A woman like you is old enough to represent the clan in official matters.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m only seventee-¡±

    ¡°Only?¡± Nova scorned. ¡°I was already out there battling for my life on the front lines when I was half that age.¡±

    For some reason, Violet struggled to imagine a nine year old wielding a spear without it looking immensely humorous. She also failed miserably, at the futile task of envisaging someone achieving Foot-Soldier Rank below the age of ten. ¡°Sure you were Father, sure you were. And then all the gods clapped and you were crowned supreme ruler of the cosmos.¡±

    Nova¡¯s scowl hardened, but he didn¡¯t react. ¡°But I can trust you will be participating, correct?¡±

    ¡°If you can answer a question of mine, then sure, I¡¯ll go brawling until my knuckles turn purple, then continue until they¡¯ve proficiently fallen off. If it would please you.¡±

    The man did not appear amused, but his eyebrow arched in evident intrigue. ¡°Go on. Ask away whatever is troubling you.¡±

    Violet swallowed as her throat cried out for the littlest moisture. She became very aware of the crumpled letter hastily slid into her pocket.

    ¡°Who is Akuji, and what have you done with him?¡±

    Watching as her father sank back into his throne, Violet could easily identify that something in the man had shifted. For a split second, she was greeted by Nova with no noble facade, no stoic mien behind which to hide his true ulterior motives. There was a ferocity there, a venomous ire that seemed to seethe through his every nerve, accumulating in a network of fury so innate, it stemmed from the first chemical reaction, the first lashing of anger to occur within the earliest few of man. And, just like that. It was gone.

    ¡°Akuji?¡± He enquired. ¡°If memory serves, that would be the Life Clan Warlord you¡¯re referring to?¡±

    Violet nodded. ¡°The one who just happened to go missing around the time you took the throne.¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°A peculiar coincidence.¡±

    ¡°Is it? I find him being mentioned quite a few times within this message.¡±

    Holding aloft the letter like it was the formula sustaining the universe¡¯s equilibrium, Violet was sure she had caught her father red-handed. Nova only chewed the inside of his mouth, an irked look bringing a surfacing bloodlust to his eyes. ¡°Why are you snooping through my mail? It¡¯s your sister¡¯s job to collect it.¡±

    ¡°Verity was busy with Descension preparations. The letter-carrier gave it to me in her stead. Now, no changing the subject. What have you done with Akuji?¡±

    ¡°What have I done to him?¡± The man repeated to himself, stroking his trimmed facial hair. ¡°Nothing at all.¡±

    ¡°The letter says otherwise. Its sender¡¯s name is nowhere to be seen, but they do repeat the phrase ¡®Akuji¡¯s location¡¯ bizarrely often. Care to explain why?¡±

    Nova appeared to have trouble swallowing, like an orb of stone was lodged deep into his throat. He coughed into a hand, before suiting a perfected smile. ¡°Oh? I think you¡¯re misunderstanding the letter¡¯s nature, Violet. To keep the sect¡¯s name clean and shiny, I fund as many good causes as I can afford out of my own pocket. That¡¯s thanks for funding another search-party for the man.¡± An expression of melodramatic sorrow eradicated any beam of joy in the sect leader¡¯s exterior. ¡°Though, I must admit, I¡¯m beginning to suspect the Life Sect¡¯s coinage is better spent elsewhere. A man lost for so many Rebirths on end is not likely to be found in a sound state.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re a humanitarian at heart?¡± The description felt wrong for the short moment it lingered on Violet¡¯s vocal cords. ¡°I find that hard to believe. And nowhere on this page does it mention anything remotely related to a search-party. They write more like he¡¯s being moved himself. Somewhere in Hell¡¯s Floor.¡±

    Nova said nothing. His eyes were as hard as pebbles.

    ¡°That¡¯s not the only peculiar thing I¡¯ve come to address,¡± Violet found herself spewing hurriedly. It wasn¡¯t like such a prime opportunity to speak her mind was going to pop-up again. Through the last years of silent inaction, she¡¯d built up quite the repertoire of irking questions. It was time to go hogwild. ¡°My irises have been crimson for as long as I can remember, but unnatural shades like that shouldn''t be possible until early Emblazed Rank; the Mark on my arm is unreadable, as if purposely stained by a splashing of sooty ink to prevent its depiction from being seen. Not to mention how weirdly you¡¯ve all been acting as of late, and by that, I should say the last decade or so! You¡¯re all gaunt, the entire sect I mean, never seem to care about anything other than the sect¡¯s priorities, and are devoid of any drab of personality.¡±

    The words left her in a tidal wave the equivalent of verbal vomit, each point projected with fiery accusation. Yet, no matter how furiously she pointed or cried out her points, her father remained fixed in place, in a fairly convincing impression of a statue.

    ¡°Well?¡± Violet questioned, voice resounding across the spacious room in a magnified echo. As if the exclamation mark at the end of her rambling rant. ¡°Have no flimsy argument left to defend yourself with?¡±

    Still, Nova kept his lips sealed. Slowly, in the most drawn-out movement the Mortal Realms had ever witnessed, he angled his head towards a side door. A second later, as if she had been standing on the other side awaiting command all this time, Verity stepped out.

    Equally engrossed in Nova¡¯s silence, Verity stood completely still, unblinking.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    Ignoring her, Verity turned her head to match her father¡¯s gaze. ¡°It''s time, is it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so. She¡¯s dysfunctional.¡±

    Violet stomped her foot. She hated not being in the know of things almost as much as she hated having to navigate the manor when several people were magically reconstructing it at once. ¡°Will you two listen! What are you talking about?¡±

    Finally, for the first time in minutes, Nova faced her head-on. ¡°I didn¡¯t want it to be this way Violet, believe me.¡±

    Verity continued towards Violet, hand placed on the sheath at her waist. She could hardly process what her optic nerve was signalling to her brain, when Verity drew the full length of the dagger. There was a pulsing vibration riddling through the room, and the Foot-Soldier¡¯s own fiery eyes darkened to the deepest inferno. A sickly churning sent Violet¡¯s intestines upside-down, and the very ground beneath her feet betrayed her, as every object in the room became atremble. The counters on the world map tipped off, clanging up and down on a floor that failed to remain stationary.

    ¡°Verity?¡± A tiny squeak escaped Violet¡¯s lips.

    The scene grew exponentially less understandable than the jumble of nonsense it already was, as the sect leader stood up from his throne, a lion in man¡¯s clothing. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can handle this on your own well enough.¡±

    His hand literally slipping through the wall before him as if it didn¡¯t exist ¡ª like a false projection set upon reality itself ¡ª he began to phase out of the room. At the last moment, he tilted his head to stare over his shoulder. ¡°I can trust you, can¡¯t I?

    A crack appeared in the room¡¯s throne. Violet put two tremulous hands to her mouth. She remembered sitting on that very same chair when the rest of the sect higher-ups were out on errands, and she was left to watch over. It was hard as bedrock.

    ¡°Of course you can. You think I¡¯d lose to someone a Rank below myself?¡± Verity glared at Nova with astonishing bravery. Or maybe stupidity, Violet couldn¡¯t decide.

    ¡°Obviously not.¡± Nova said with a parting smile, the last of his head vanishing from view. ¡°Forget I said anything.¡±

    Verity turned to her, as tears widened on every surface in sight. Dust sprinkled from an abused ceiling, carpeting everything in a suffocating layer of debris. Verity trudged through regardless, spinning her dagger rakishly in one hand, and in the other squeezing her fist, as if it were her own hand enclosed around the room itself, crushing it from the outside-in.

    ¡°I care little for emotional attachment,¡± she began pensively. ¡°But for some reason, killing you leaves a sickly taste in my mouth.¡±

    ¡°Because you don¡¯t want to.¡± Violet managed to choke, stepping haphazardly towards her sister, and gripping her blade hand. ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly what Father¡¯s done to you, but you don¡¯t have to do this. I have bags already packed. We can leave. You have a choice.¡±

    Empty eyes bore into hers, and Verity gritted her teeth, as if some distant sensation was paining her. ¡°Don¡¯t struggle. If you don¡¯t struggle . . . perhaps I won¡¯t feel so bad about this next part.¡±

    Verity took one careful foot forwards, as if the motion itself was unsure, and Violet sank to her knees, her innards seeming to turn on one another in a fiery self-sabotage. Her hands instantly went to her throat, the windpipe within it housing no air, as if it was being compressed by the second.

    ¡°St . . . op.¡± She managed, as her sister slowly but surely began to grow more confident in her advancing stride. By some primal urge to survive, the Mark on Violet''s forearm throbbed with power. Her own projected Chaotic energy mingled with the mountain load diffusing through the atmosphere already, a meek cry in the face of a lion¡¯s sky-tearing roar.

    Verity observed the air around her, the thin line of her lips far from pleasant. ¡°Is this you? Why, I knew I was stronger, but were you really always this meek?¡±

    Gritting her teeth to the extent that her gums were threatening to bleed, a wave of disheartenment sent Violet spiralling, as she realised the contrast of her own power to Verity¡¯s. Her willpower and manipulative ability was but a drop in her sister¡¯s screeching tides of frothing strength. Tensing to release more power proved an exponential struggle ¡ª her emotions weren¡¯t behind it, the outpour of energy clinging to only a tiny fragment of her mind, screaming with all its minute might to fight back; to swallow her feelings about confronting her own flesh and blood, and live by any means necessary.

    Though a vocal minority, it was nevertheless only a tiny quarter of a much larger whole, a whole whose vast majority was dead-set on silencing it.

    Her body seized up and popped uncomfortably in a multitude of locations. Simultaneously, a window to the side shattered, the glass whirling around at a snail¡¯s pace, before accumulating enough velocity to become a speed demon of its own. The razored tornado collected a myriad of other orbiting objects, varying from the arms of a grandfather clock Violet, in her pained haze, had forgotten to be there in the first place, and an entire armchair, the legs of which were in the steady process of being torn off.

    The Chaos swirling around the pair was too much. The room wouldn''t be able to take it.

    Violet screamed, the veins popping in her forehead as she fought terribly for every centimeter back she could drag herself. The hurricane was growing closer, and Verity, nonchalantly ordaining the assembled contents of the room to draw near, was the precise image of cruel difference.

    As the first bits of shrapnel dug against her flesh, eliciting both a terrified wail and several beads of incarnadine to escape her, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Violet¡¯s own nagged a tiny percentile of her brain¡¯s attention. Is this how I die? Whimpering pitifully as I let my own sister strip the life from my body?

    She only allowed herself to deliberate on that point for a passing moment, for her familial adulation smited it before the rest of her mind contracted any pesky ideas.

    So soon. So soon, and I already laid down my arms.

    The cyclone was a mere foot away now. Another indecisive second or two, and the choice of what happened next wouldn¡¯t be hers to make.

    She¡¯s only a recently advanced Foot-Soldier, and you¡¯re a high-tier-Emblazed. You have a chance here.

    Forgoing all any embedded compassion for but a minute, Violet pushed her Mark to its absolute limit. Not a single muscle fibre within her being was free from the oncoming tide of agony doing so would invoke, only slightly minegated by the knowledge that it was either this, or being mauled to death.

    The ravaging cyclone stubbornly withdrew a little under a foot, giving a bleeding Violet enough space to get up shakily. Verity narrowed her eyes, and the tempest quickly regained an inch or two of lost territory. There the two stood, too engrossed in their mental bout to spare the smidge of effort it would waste to conjure words. It was obvious that Verity was the superior combatant of the two, the Boundless Bank she had moulded into a Vault a divine blessing. It was a resource acquired exclusively at Foot-Soldier, one Violet hadn¡¯t accounted for. Verity¡¯s aura of Chaos was soaking in the reinforcing effects of Infinity she funnelled out, and this ¡ª through the lashing currents of frenzied wind ¡ª only appeared to exert Verity moderately.

    ¡°Why?¡± Verity said. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    The syllables entered and left Violet¡¯s ears, with her too preoccupied with side-stepping plummeting portions of the roof, whilst maintaining her guard, to properly process them.

    Her sister spat, teeth snapping shut in a reverberating bite. ¡°Why must you persist so-¡±

    The dynamic of the fight turned on its head, as Violet focused all her resources on tearing apart the wall to her side. A rushing gale flooded the room through a smashed crater, reacting with the overflow of Chaotic energy; becoming monstrously aggressive. It whipped all facets of the interior, slicing a number of other sizable gaps across the floor and adjacent walls. The previously collapsed window frames fell away, a tremulous wind billowing through. It was a bombardment from either side ¡ª air currents swooping inwards from the crumpled wall, and more from the thrashed window. The tornado was caught in between the crossfire; not fully interrupted, but greatly impeded.

    Before her sister could compose herself and prevent her frantic escape, Violet sank through the floor, rearranging the manor as to form a straight passage out of there. She was descending in a straight fall, the air whipping at her cut cheeks. There was a howl from up above, and the drop began to bend, as if tempted to toss her back into that hellish room. Violet yelled in a final eruption of her exhausted body¡¯s energy, retaining the manor¡¯s structure as if her life depended on it, which it very much did. A trap door slid open to the side, and her luggage shooting out, she grasped it.

    The building converged into a single upwards curve, mounds of energy defying gravity. As if the manor itself was only now realising that it had digested something foul, Violet¡¯s unconscious body was spat out.

 8. Peas in a Pod

    Remus stared at the fireworks through the bars of his cell¡¯s window, positively miserable.

    The sparks of colour were hundreds of feet away, and yet he felt as though if he could just wiggle his arm through the metal rods, he¡¯d be able to catch the mini explosions in his palm. Of course, they were too narrowly placed together, and attempting so proved impossible. Defeated, he sat on his lone stool in a cubed section of the room so sparse, it was hardly worth describing. But Remus mentally did so anyway, knowing with a wistful certainty that he wouldn''t have access to much other entertainment for a long while. It merely consisted of a pail for drinking suspiciously brackish water, a strip of stuffed cloth next to a carpet some sorry soul had mistaken for a bed, and the two foot long window he was currently peeping through. Through the cold air that provoked his stuffy nose, Remus observed the splashes of dye staining the skies, each of them representing a separate Divine Rank.

    A simple eruption of gold was delivered for Engorged, an allude to the divine nectar that set everyone off onto their ascension to power. How ironic that it''s so far off, Remus spat inwardly. What¡¯s more plausible, reaching up there, or a Death-Marked achieving Engorged?

    Within seconds, this was followed up by a fiery twin explosion of burning crimson, the first a wick of light for Enkindled, and the second a blazing massacre, meant to represent the effect a godly Mark acquired after becoming Emblazed, and fully grown. As the hour dragged by, Remus was momentarily able to forget all about his troubles, watching the spectacle so intensely that nothing else seemed to matter. His angers, his fears, his insecurities, they all ceased into a comfortable non-existence in the airborne bonfire, made up of a sea of sparks. Each one representing an individual Foot-Soldier, before coalescing into the three separating blasts of varying shades that were the Splintered Ranks. With them leading a collection of Foot-Soldiers, an army legion was almost complete. All that was missing was the most vital piece: a Warlord.

    Three more replicas of the Splintered Ranks ¡ª consisting of Vanguard, Warden, and Mercenary ¡ª materialised, whisking around one another before colliding into one blinding blast of white. This pyrotechnic seemed to sear itself onto the paint-splattered canvas of reality, bigger still than all the Splintered Ranks put together.

    Remus watched raptly, eyes wincing from the miniature moon situated firmly at the forefront of the legion. A tinge of emotion that could only be recognised as reluctant admiration settled behind his chest, the structure of the teams that kept the Unbounded at bay alongside his great grandfather sustaining him with another strange sensation. It was almost like he was beginning to grow patriotic.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been huddled by that window for an awfully long time.¡± A voice caused Remus to jump out of his skin. He¡¯d almost forgotten that his solitude was self-inflicted, and not a conscious consequence on behalf of the cell¡¯s layout. ¡°Do you think if you stare hard enough, the bars will simply undo themselves?¡±

    ¡°As useful as that¡¯d be, I don¡¯t believe the designers of this place would let such a fatal flaw slip through.¡±

    The figure who had spoken, a man wrapped in a moth-eaten blanket right outside of Remus¡¯ section of the facility, peered down at the floor flaccidly. ¡°Suppose yer right.¡±

    Feeling braver than usual, Remus advanced towards the man, abandoning the firework display that only proved to depress him, then sliding down next to the other prisoner. They were old and uncouth, with his only visible eyelid through the darkness closed, as if he was always on the verge of finally getting some shut-eye, and long grey hairs that couldn¡¯t have been washed in aeons streamed from his scalp. He didn¡¯t object to his presence, so Remus remained as he was.

    ¡°So, how did a young soul like you end up in here?¡± They questioned, breath reeking of alcohol.

    Getting personal already are we? Remus internally thought, but told the elderly man regardless. ¡°Theft.¡±

    ¡°Come on, don¡¯t generalise so much ¡ª what did you steal?¡±

    ¡°Droplets from the Ruling front. Or should I say, it was attempted theft. That¡¯s at least what my guard wrote down after I was apprehended, anyway . . .¡±

    The stranger titled his head upwards, interest perked. ¡°Let me guess, those floating eyeballs spotted you too?¡±

    ¡°Yeah . . . ¡° Remus said, the use of the word ¡®too¡¯ grasping his attention. ¡°Did you happen to be caught by them?¡±

    The old man shrugged. ¡°Possibly, I couldn¡¯t really see at the time. I¡¯m blind in one eye, you see,¡± he added, with a small chuckle that Remus had almost mistaken for a cough. ¡°After getting into a bit of a tussle with one of Damosh¡¯s men. I don¡¯t think they appreciated my pilfering endeavours much. Imagine a sea of coinage being hurtled towards your direction, except in a way that¡¯s not nearly as nice as that may initially sound. An Inkling struck my right eye, and I¡¯ve been stuck having to rely on the left ever since.¡±

    Remus said nothing, merely patting the old-timer softly on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve had my fair share of scraps with the Wealth Sect myself, those sort are deplorable.¡±

    Raising his head fully for the first time since they¡¯d met, revealing a strip of cloth concealing his maimed eye, the man¡®s wrinkled face inspected Remus. ¡°Not in that state, you haven¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Your meaning?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you did have a rough encounter with one, but you didn¡¯t fight them. There¡¯s no way in hell you would have left such a fight unscathed, no scars to tell the tale of your encounter. They were holding back. Lucky you, many of us don¡¯t get the privilege.¡±

    A rankled objection was working its way along Remus¡¯ vocal cords, before dissolving as better judgement swayed him to understanding. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your eye. Damosh is truly, truly evil.¡±

    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t you concern yourself. I¡¯m well adjusted now.¡± He pulled something out of his waistcoat pocket that made a swishing sound. ¡°Fancy a beverage on this chilly night?¡±

    In the dim light, Remus could still identify the unmistakable shape of a beer bottle. Given that he didn¡¯t tend to drink much in the first place ¡ª succumbing to the realms of intoxication within a sip or two ¡ª and that their current environs didn¡¯t seem to lend themselves as an ample drinking environment, he declined. Nevertheless, he found himself deeply intrigued.

    ¡°How¡¯d you-¡±

    ¡°Smuggle this in?¡± The man winked with his one functional eye. ¡°I have my ways.¡±

    Remus¡¯ next words didn¡¯t see the time of day to surface, before the old man cut him off. ¡°Oh, I know that look. That beaming gleam that lights up the features of youth when the prospect of rebellion is hung before you. We¡¯ve had enough escapees this Duration alone with Nova¡¯s daughter fleeing, we do not need another.¡±

    Holding that tiny nugget of information in the back of his memory for safe keeping, Remus edged eagerly closer. ¡°So you do have a way out of here?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± The man spat. ¡°The guards here simply don¡¯t mind giving out favours if you promise not to make a fuss. Makes their job easier if you¡¯re not a constant annoyance.¡±

    ¡°Like that guy?¡± Asked Remus, pointing to the man guarding the entrance, a green cloak covering the back facing them.

    ¡°Oh no, that¡¯s Elmore. Strictest of the bunch. From the The Wild Sect, it appears, trying to become the clan¡¯s perfect future leader. I¡¯ve already given up on ever trying to bribe him.¡±

    The old man indulged in another swig, the only sound resounding around them, save the distant explosions of the last of the night¡¯s fireworks.

    ¡°How long have you been in here?¡± Remus asked. He had been making numerous enquiries tonight, but the man didn¡¯t seem to mind. There evidently wasn¡¯t much else to get up to.

    ¡°Gods, do I know. A decade maybe. I was in and out before. Then they had had enough of my petty thievery, and made the very sage decision to just throw me in the cell forever. My potential future offendings done and dusted with before they could spring into existence.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯d you steal in the first place?¡±

    The man almost spat out his drink. ¡°You¡¯re one to speak.¡±

    ¡°Ah, forgive m-¡±

    The man waved Remus¡¯ hasty apologies away. ¡°No, no, I was only pulling your leg. I¡¯ll tell you, it doesn¡¯t trouble me.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re certain it''s not too much of a bother.¡±

    ¡°It''s not.¡±

    The old man exhaled deeply, as if releasing something else he¡¯d kept pent-up other than withheld air. ¡°Look around this room boy, what do you notice?¡±

    Remus obliged, but felt rather stupid as he scanned the bland cell. ¡°It''s a prison.¡±

    ¡°Always so general! I want detail.¡±

    This time, Remus concentrated.

    ¡°The defences seem relatively paltry.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°They let multiple people coexist in one shared environment.¡±

    Remus could sense the man¡¯s widening grin. ¡°Meaning?¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t take us as a threat.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    All these one-worded questions were starting to give the poor boy a headache. He was about to declare such when a notion wormed its way through the nexus of his thoughts. ¡° . . . because we¡¯re not even Engorged.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The elder shifted to face him with an unblinking eye. ¡°Because we¡¯re Death-Marked.¡±

    All minute details within the room became a thousand times more apparent. The tight grip with which the stranger held his bottle; the fading light slowly rendering the room to a perfectly pitch darkness; the accelerating thump of his own heartbeat. But above all else, Remus¡¯ own astonishment caused him to simply stare at the elderly man, mouth agape.

    It was the old man¡¯s next words which swept him out of his stupefied reverie. ¡°I couldn¡¯t serve my family of the Lightning Sect for that very reason. I¡¯ve always felt I¡¯ve had to somehow compensate, for their sake. Especially in recent years, with the oncoming tide of trouble Damosh is brewing. So I stole. I take no pride in it, but I did what I thought I had to. Even when my clan urged me to refrain after I¡¯d massacred their good name a thousand times over already, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to sit around and do nothing while good people were suffering.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°What god stained you?¡± Remus said, only just believing their every word, some of which were beginning to hit alarmingly close to home.

    The man laughed darkly to himself. ¡°We¡¯ve only just met, and I¡¯m spilling out my life story like the blood from a wound. But if you must know, Doron.¡±

    ¡°Doron? Haven¡¯t heard of him.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have. Not many have, and neither would I, if not for this wretched Mark he¡¯s given me, even in death. He¡¯s the deity of Defeat.¡± A long, sorrowful laugh blurted out of the man in quick succession to the first. ¡°I think you can guess why he didn¡¯t last long in the War.¡±

    Remus watched in a silence so heavy that it seemed to crystallise around him, as the man lowered his head and parted his hair. There, the precise image of a vague figure lay, stabbed through the chest with a blade, and with a broken crown over his head.

    ¡°Now, it appears to be your turn to speak. Come on, I¡¯ve done my due. Don¡¯t leave an old man in anticipation.¡±

    Lifting the arm of his shirt upwards, Remus revealed his own Mark.

    Or, he would have, if not for the fact he was currently crumpling across the floor in intense agony.

    ¡°Young man!¡± The figure jolted to his feet, grasping a trembling Remus by the shoulders. ¡±Young man! I just got someone to speak to for the first time in decades, and now you decide to keel over and die on me!¡±

    With shaky hands, Remus grasped him, the remainder of the firework show seeming to take place in the centre of his cranium. ¡°I¡¯m . . . I¡¯m fi- gah!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s happening? Do you . . .¡± His head turned to a dormant Elmore, who was too busy pursuing through a novel to take notice of the dying man. ¡° . . . need me to get help?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Remus whisper-shouted, the tone of that certain range a tad difficult to pull off when your own body is rebelling against you, resulting in the syllable releasing in more of a screech than anything. ¡°There¡¯s something you should know, something I was reluctant to tell you at first.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The man asked a heaving Remus desperately. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°It just so turns out,¡± Remus began, tugging up his tunic¡¯s arm with spasming fingers. ¡°That my future career in thievery may be brighter than I ever dared to imagine.¡±

    The old man recognised the deity of Peace streaking across Remus¡¯ shoulder, as if she was standing directly before him. But the gods surrounding Amani appeared to be . . . blazing away. The deity smiled contently amidst a spiral of flame, the Mark seeming to disintegrate by the second, with her being the last piece of the picture to succumb to the onslaught. Realisation flickered in the man¡¯s eyes, and Remus laughed amid the pain.

    ¡°Surprise.¡± He grinned, as his blood goldened into a divine syrup. ¡°It appears just a sip of the stuff sufficed.¡±

    The old man cackled madly as Remus began to settle, a repeating orchestra condensed into one, continuous sound that was certain to break several promises he¡¯d made to weary guards.

    ¡°Shut up in there!¡± Elmore shouted, having to make himself heard at his post for the first time since he¡¯d earned the position. ¡°Lights out.¡±

    <hr>

    Remus awoke the next day with a searing migraine, muscles that wanted to tear themselves out from the inside, and the body of an Engorged.

    His bed lay a few feet away, unused and yet to be slept in. It was evident that he had collapsed the second the cell¡¯s lights had been shut off, leaving him to drift away in a heavy slumber upon the prison¡¯s hard ground. That explained the aches panging through his back . . .

    Physically, there were very few occasions where he¡¯d felt worse ¡ª for some reason, the vague image of a very angry bald man in a golden waistcoat came to mind ¡ª but mentally? His own bouts of booming laughter was enough to gauge that.

    His fellow prisoner groaned audibly, rolling out of his covers, and rubbing his eyes drearily. ¡°Must you intrude on an old man¡¯s sleep?¡±

    Remus realised he¡¯d been laughing aloud, and composed himself. ¡°Apologies, but it worked. It actually, for once, beyond any shadow of a doubt, worked.¡±

    ¡°And whilst you have earned my unwavering respect for accomplishing that little manoeuvre young man, you¡¯ve also earned my title of a sad fool.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Remus asked, not appreciating any glum comments raining on his parade, when it had only just started. ¡°I¡¯m Engorged! I have godly blood flowing¡ª¡± He toned down his voice, remembering that Elmore was only a stone¡¯s throw away. ¡°¡ªthrough me. I must be like, the first Death-Marked in history to achieve a Divine Rank.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, no, no.¡± The old man chided. ¡°Don¡¯t you go about earning an ego now. You¡¯re Engorged, not God-Graced, most people have a Droplet put into their milk when they''re a few days old. You, my friend, are on the verge of adulthood with the power equivalent to a newborn.¡±

    Remus opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, especially in this man¡¯s presence.

    ¡°And plus, your hopes of attaining Enkindled, a Rank achieved by anyone with enough cognitive function to channel Ichor to their Marks, are so unfeasibly non-existent that considering to do so would only result in a tremendous waste of time.¡±

    ¡°People said I couldn¡¯t achieve Engorged, and I did it.¡± Remus argued.

    ¡°For Engorged, you needed to attain a Droplet.¡± The man prolonged the words, as if explaining something incredibly simple to a particularly inept three you old. ¡°Enkindled, however, requires you to already have a pre-existing, usable Mark. Yours, my friend, vanished promptly upon advancing to the first Rank.¡±

    Inspecting his shoulder, Remus was only met with an empty, standard patch of skin. ¡°I thought Marks only faded if you channelled Ichor to another Mark in favour of them, when advancing to Enkindled.¡±

    ¡°That comes down to another thing I should mention. You¡¯re not the first Death-Marked to achieve Engorged. Well, according to centuries old records, anyway.¡± He rubbed his head, glaring at the look Remus was giving him. ¡°I¡¯ve done my research in these things, didn¡¯t you think to research the history of your condition?¡±

    Remus¡¯ guilty silence was a serviceable answer.

    ¡°As I mentioned earlier, it''s been done before. On numerous occasions, actually. Some sects happened to supply their Death-Marked Droplets, either because of a lack of knowledge, spare riches lying around, or simply from the generosity of their hearts.¡±

    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t explain-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m getting to that! Gosh, didn¡¯t your clan teach you patience?¡± The man exhaled before continuing; a red-faced Remus shifting gawkily before him. ¡°As I was saying before, a few of them attempted to activate their Mark, only for it to blaze away, as if recalling that it probably shouldn¡¯t have existed up to that point. I assume that¡¯s what happened to you. Perhaps you activated it by accident, in the passion of the moment?¡±

    ¡°I do seem to remember focusing on my Mark for a second there, but I didn¡¯t think I was actually tugging any Ichor towards it.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps your Ichor control is weak. The older you are when you achieve Engorged, the more of a toll it has on your body. The extreme young are as susceptible to change as the seasons, always growing, but you? An adult in less than a Rebirth based on the look of you? You don¡¯t have much growing left, or at least the bulk has already been enacted. Your body''s well adjusted to having regular old, unchangeable blood of red. This outburst of divine might must have really come as a shock to the system.¡±

    Considering the man¡¯s words, Remus stood up, his body flooding with so much energy he found it impossible to stand still. He stretched; did a dashing sprint across the room; leaped as far as he could without crashing head-first into the nearest wall; and closed and opened his fist as if his own body was the most interesting instrument in the world. He felt refreshed ¡ª revitalised, and reforged with a newfound vigour beyond standard human comprehension. All it took was a good night¡¯s sleep, and a few hours to get his blood flowing, to subdue any initial fatigue, it seemed.

    ¡°Is this how good everyone feels all the time?¡± He heard himself saying.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t know,¡± the old man replied grumpily. ¡°But I presume the initial excitement wears off after a while.¡±

    ¡°I need to compare any strength differences.¡± He mused aloud, strolling laps around the prison. ¡°Mind if I make a bit of a racket?¡±

    ¡°Be my guest.¡±

    Taking in a breath that seemed to fill his lungs faster than ever before, Remus dropped to the ground, eager to exert himself. After formulating his most recent, highly secretive plan, Remus had found himself instilled with a newfound motivation to train his body in preparation for future endeavours. This involved a bodyweight exercise routine designed to define his scrawny body into something more prone to taking constant abuse. Something that would become commonplace if he ever did manage to escape the cell¡¯s confining walls.

    Minutes later, he found himself sprawled out on the floor, a huffing mess soaking in his own perspiration. Despite the spryness new to his step, it turned out that it was still very possible to exhaust himself. Nevertheless, Remus was rather pleased with the results. Thrilled, actually.

    ¡°That¡¯s almost a double increase in everything.¡± He muttered to himself in amazement.

    ¡°You¡¯re still a far cry from the heights of what the human body is capable of.¡± The other prisoner said, not sparing any bluntness from his words. ¡°But it''s a start.¡±

    Content for the first time in a long while, Remus sat, knees crossed, facing his fellow Death-Marked. ¡°I have a plan in mind that may sway even your doubts that Enkindled is impossible, but first, I need your advice.¡±

    The old man stared at him with hard features. ¡°I don¡¯t want to put a damper on your plans, truly, but in all these years, not one Death-Marked has achieved Enkindled. Not one. Because some things in this world can''t be gained out of the valour of one''s own efforts, only through the sheer luck of inheritance.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡± Remus was quick to intercept. ¡°Well, maybe for some things, but not for a Mark. Is it not true that one could garner the respect from a deity, and thus be bestowed their power as a reward for overcoming tribulations?¡±

    ¡°Ignoring the established fact that most gods keep their distance from any trace of their dead kin ¡ª out of guilt, I do not know ¡ª acting that into reality will be a lot more difficult than simply letting your blind optimism run wild.¡±

    ¡°Trust me on this.¡± Remus put a hand into his pocket, revealing a page torn out of a book. ¡°I¡¯ve done my research.¡±

    He handed it to the old man confidently. Sighing, and with great incertitude, his eyes scanned its contents. Squinting, he needed to pull it closer to garner the words¡¯ meaning, his sight obviously failing him in his old age. A second later, and the man¡¯s face set into a rigid portrait of deliberate indifference.

    ¡°It could . . . work.¡± He allowed, after a second¡¯s reluctance. ¡°The Trials of the Earnest. I¡¯m not saying it¡¯ll be easy-¡±

    ¡°Never implied it would be.¡±

    ¡°-but possible. Though let me stress, it will be excruciatingly difficult, and you¡¯ll likely perish before you manage to complete one of the three tasks.¡±

    ¡°The price a Death-Marked must pay.¡±

    ¡°And don¡¯t you think this all a little excessive just for Enkindled? Perhaps I would understand if this would ascend you straight to God-Graced, but I can¡¯t help but think your efforts would better be put elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, but someone around here needs to make sacrifices.¡± Remus retorted. ¡°Everyone is sitting around idly while the foundations of our shared city are pulled out beneath us. And for what? To feed a callous man¡¯s insatiable hunger? As much as it pains me to admit, the leader of my own sect is living out his last days. A sect that doesn¡¯t specialise in something with the potential to birth an equal within the next coming Rebirths on their own. So if extreme lengths I must go, then so be it, I¡¯ll conquer them, then do it all over again if I have to. And if that requires me to earn the respect of the god of Ambition through some frivolous missions of questionable difficulty, then I¡¯ll attempt them gladly.¡±

    ¡°No wonder Tanish has so few men,¡± the man scoffed. ¡°With such high requirements for simply joining his sect. Speaking of which, will you even still be of your own clan, when all is said and done? If you succeed, you¡¯ll be one of Tanish¡¯s own, won¡¯t you?¡±

    The question was the chink in the armour of Remus¡¯ already dubious plan. ¡°I¡¯ll . . . face that problem if I ever live to get that far.¡±

    ¡°Now,¡± Remus said suddenly, bouncing up, and walking towards the bars of his cell window. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say this place was built to confine base mortals? People not even of an Engorged¡¯s meagre strength?¡±

    ¡°Yes . . . you were listening, weren¡¯t you?¡±

    The boy¡¯s reply was delayed, whilst he grappled onto the bars before him; they appeared to be rather old, like stone already weathered from the persistent beatings of mother nature. ¡°To every word. Now, judging by the right state of this window¡¯s railings, I¡¯d say they didn¡¯t bother to account for anyone much higher on the Rank scaling than that. An embarrassing oversight.¡±

    Beneath his enhanced grip, Remus felt the bars tremble.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± The man shouted, getting to his feet. ¡°It isn''t even breakfast!¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± Remus grunted in reply, sweet sunlight raining down on him. ¡°I¡¯m getting us out of here.¡±

    There was a tremendous clanging, followed swiftly by an eruption of stone and brick. Remus heard Elmore yelp in horror, but largely left the distracting noise to hide in a corner of his mind, as he swept the sweat from his brow.

    ¡°Quickly.¡± He said, stretching out a welcoming hand. ¡°Come now if you want to leave with me. I can¡¯t ensure your safety, but maybe you could flee to an outside sect, beyond the shadow of First Rite.¡±

    The old man looked unsure for a moment, before any glimmer of hesitance vanished from his face. He jumped forth and grasped Remus¡¯ hands with startling strength.

    ¡°Your name?¡± Remus prompted.

    ¡°Tal.¡± He said, as if the word was unfamiliar to his jaded tongue. ¡°My name is Tal."

 9. By the Skin of His Teeth

    Remus took one glance at the plummeting height beneath him, and stumbled back instinctually.

    Elmore¡¯s insistent shouts as he rushed for the key to unlock the cell door reverberated warningly behind, as Tal himself took a weary look at what must have been a fifty metre, sheer drop. The prison had been partially carved, partially built into the side of a natural hill that had been renovated aeons ago, when First Rite had first established their central prison. It was the last bit of earth that still had its natural shape in the city, not flattened by the moulding hands of workers to make way for clustered rows of buildings. Remus had once thought the peak was a picturesque highlight of the otherwise industrial Ruling District.

    Now, one foot away from guaranteed death, he didn¡¯t quite feel the same need to praise its natural beauty.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way my retired sack of a body is going to survive that.¡± Tal cursed, and Remus was thankful for the words, however morbid they were, fixating on them instead of the eerie drop awaiting him.

    Hurried footsteps resounded behind, followed by frantic shouts.

    ¡°Tough chance I¡¯ll walk off scot free from this either.¡±

    ¡°It''s either you, or none of us.¡± The old man placed a hand onto Remus¡¯ shoulder. ¡°Make your choice, or Elmore will for you.¡±

    Bracing his body and hunching forwards, Remus edged closer and . . . nothing.

    This was all going terribly, astronomically wrong. What was the good in fighting tooth and claw for Engorged, just for gravity¡¯s impeding hand to pluck him off the road to success at the last moment? He could imagine Damosh on his throne, watching through a cauldron of mystified goo the Sight Sect had prepared, a sweet wine in his hands, and laughing relentlessly. A childish vision to be sure, but it agonised him nonetheless. He shook his head, the sound of guards alarmingly close now, and knew with foul certainty he could do nothing to bring Tal with him. Taking the drop solo wasn''t a merry prospect either.

    ¡°Last chance.¡± The Death-Marked rasped into his ear. ¡°Things aren¡¯t going to go as you always wish them to, but that doesn¡¯t mean you throw in the towel at the last minute. Now go, before I push you off this damn cliff myself!¡±

    Something clicked in Remus¡¯ head. He wasn¡¯t sure how much damage an Engorged body could take, but it wasn¡¯t so far-fetched that a mad leap like this would be survivable, especially if he clasped onto something on the way down.

    Turning his head to face Tal one more time, a thousand things of what to say mingled in his head. He settled on one. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Remus jumped.

    <hr>

    Violet wandered the streets of Leisure, her hood up, and biting down silently into an apple under the shade of the tree that had bore it. She stared pensively at the passing flocks of people streaming around her. Disguised in plain sight, she wished for nothing more, save perhaps for a way out of the city not absolutely flooded with guards, than for the passing populace not to notice her. And yet, she couldn¡¯t disguise the steady feeling of resentment twisting its grip across her chafed heart. How jealous she was of them, having to deal with regular, everyday problems, free from the troubles of running away from a family that didn¡¯t even feel like her own. How nauseatingly envious.

    Absent-mindedly, she dropped the core of her finished apple aside, and turned a street corner. Only for her immediately to turn back.

    They weren¡¯t plastered over every surface of course ¡ª saying such would be an insane overstatement. Though then again, it didn¡¯t feel that way.

    The posters seemed to follow Violet everywhere she went like some overhanging wraith, hellbent on reminding her of the worst day of her life. There was her face, illustrated with alarming realism, fit with the two hazel braids that fell thinly to the side, a pair of blazing irises of concentrated hellfire, and not to mention a bucket-load of other minute details; all coming together to paint her with frightening vividness. The artist had remarkable talent, which, to Violet at least, was wholly wasted on making it mightily difficult for her to get around without being recognised.

    Even harder was leaving First Rite. Since her daring escape, Nova had obviously convinced the other sect leaders to double-down on their surveillance near all exits.

    I¡¯ll just wait out the storm, she told herself. To retain her sanity it was all she could do. Then, when everyone¡¯s mellowed out from the initial shock of the incident, I¡¯ll slip away. No one will ever remember I was here.

    Calmed for now ¡ª as for now was the most she could ask for, considering her current circumstances ¡ª Violet was just able to sneak into a discreet back alley when something caught her attention. She was on the verge of Ruling District, which was odd for her. She typically avoided the place like it was the equivalent of giving herself into the nearest city guard. This time, however, she felt a very dangerous urge to advance in deeper, for something most definitely was afoot. There was adamant noise about, and going in as far as she would dare, Violet followed the gazes of loitering civilians, their mouths widely agape.

    Up above, dangling from the side of a rocky hill, was the hardly distinguishable dot of a boy just barely clinging on.

    Someone, it dawned on Violet, was somehow having a worse day than her.

    <hr>

    Being whipped half to death by raging winds didn¡¯t turn out to be much fun at all. After bumping and subsequently grazing the entirety of his back along a sloping shard of rock, Remus had, in a manevere that must have consumed the remainder of his life¡¯s supply of luck, barely hung on.

    The obtrusion extended a quarter of the way down the rockface, slanting downwards at an angle that assisted gravity much more than Remus¡¯ flimsy strength. Given the fact that he¡¯d just exerted himself by shattering through stone with his bare hands, it would suffice to say that the limbs had more than done their day¡¯s due of heavy work; beginning to signal to Remus¡¯ brain that they had the right to a well deserved break.

    You¡¯ll get a rest when we¡¯re not on the verge of death! So, uh, maybe in a year or so?

    Stony shrapnel the equivalent of pebbles ricocheted down with concerning frequency. Remus, scrambling as best he could to lean inside a three inch depression within the wall, was beginning to think that the protrusion hadn¡¯t sustained any sort of significant weight since erosion had birthed it into existence. Like the last wheeze to leave a dying man¡¯s lips, there was a fatal crack, and Remus¡¯ only immediate course of action was to launch himself into the wall before him.

    His hands failed to grip onto anything.

    Slipping down a few feet, he screamed, the fingertips of his scuttering hands receiving no licence from the wall. They bled from the fiction, and the only thing to prevent Remus¡¯ untimely demise was his outstretched legs, clinging onto almost a sort of natural pillar formed in the cliff-face. For a few moments, he merely shivered in the light drizzle that was beginning to rampantly pick up, as if even the greying clouds up above had a bone to pick with him. Slowly and steadily, like the gradual rise in tempo of a song about to break the fingers of whatever poor violinist was playing it, his body sank lower and lower.

    Remus looked down, which, in retrospect, likely wasn''t the greatest of ideas. He gagged on cold air at the disorienting sight of the fall still to go. For some perverse reason, the darkest, most unhinged avenues of his mind couldn¡¯t help but envision his deceased body splattered below. Looking up ahead, whilst by itself a blood-curdling sight also, it didn''t seem to cause his stomach to squirm quite so badly. He was a decent distance down, and, despite how it continued to tug his fingers into letting the rest of his weight surrender, the rain did him some favours. Namely, in that it must have obscured him from the jail guards above. Their silhouettes peered down, and flattened palms over their eyes, they struggled to tell if the maniac who had just barged out of his cell was dead yet.

    Can they see me? Remus pondered. He was aware that in many Ranks of power, the senses improved noticeably, with hawk-like vision the norm in certain sects like that of the Sight goddess, and a few specialised members of the Bird Sect. With his adrenaline threatening to rupture his heart in twain, Remus struggled to determine if he himself had received much benefit, though some giddy part of him was sure that the distance had never been so detailed.

    The men conversed, With Elmore¡¯s distinct green form patting his two assistants firmly on the back. He was dismissing them, as if to say that the outcome of this incident wasn¡¯t any major concern. It didn¡¯t matter if they could see Remus or not. He was going to die from this fall, and, if he did, who was to blame but himself?

    Their slipping shadows left his tunnel of sight, as gravity¡¯s momentum, combined with the slippery layer gradually building upon his fickle handholds, abandoned Remus on the verge of flailing through empty air.

    In a cry, he threw himself aside at the last second. Twice, these wild leaps had been his only hope of survival, and his thumping heart rate wasn¡¯t becoming any fonder of the stunts.

    Remus¡¯ hand gripped onto a rock that twisted out of its hold at his touch; his head collided with the rocky wall in an explosive pain that threatened to blow out the snuff of consciousness lingering in him. He momentarily managed to stop the descent by spreading his mass on a similar ledge to the previous, only this one evidently wasn¡¯t quite so feeble.

    After all that, his body finally seemed to cease its endless campaign for alertness, and Remus, in a motion so slow it seemed to go against the laws of gravity, fell unceremoniously.

    <hr>

    Violet, alongside a whole throng of onlookers, observed all this with rapt attention. Some gasped, others put their hands to their mouths, and a few couldn¡¯t stand to look, turning the other way. Past her, guards swept through the crowds, too preoccupied to notice her, and rushed to the scene. It was like the entirety of Ruling¡¯s guards were so bored out of their drudgery-drilled minds that they¡¯d used this one moment of excitement as an excuse to abandon their posts, under the innocuous guise of ¡®inspection¡¯.

    Then, it dawned on Violet. This was her moment to slip through.

    Amid all the chaos of such a freak accident, who would notice one lone, cloaked girl strolling out? She¡¯d reach the highlands past First Rite, arrive in Hybrid in a Passing or two if her travels were quick, and make her steady path to the Ravaged Lands. Where, to finally get to the bottom of whatever her family was hiding, she¡¯d track down Akuji¡¯s whereabouts, someplace in the Anarchy-Syndicate-ruled Hell¡¯s Floor.

    Without a second thought, Violet stepped towards a gateway situated at the outer bounds of the District, a pleased smile plastered on her lips.

    <hr>

    Crash-landing backfirst into a nettled bush wasn¡¯t an especially fun endeavour either, Remus also discovered that day.

    He¡¯d only fainted for but a moment, and that alone was a kick to the system of the kind that is never forgotten. Jolting up in a hasty movement, Remus cried out as his body demanded rest.

    Rest you will get when we¡¯re not on the verge of death! He internally chided, for the second time that day.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Nevertheless, it took all he had not to slump over and let himself bleed out. Remus¡¯ surroundings were not exactly foreign; a clump of bushes adding a dash of thorny greenery to the entrance of a winding staircase, carved into the inside of the hillside, and leading into the prison house. With a prickling sense of shame, he recalled being dragged along those stairs only a few days ago. Punchdrunk as he was, Remus still had sufficient cognitive function to speed away as quickly as his savaged legs would allow.

    He trudged with a limp, but nevertheless wavered past. You didn¡¯t pull a stunt like dropping from the highest point in all of First Rite without eliciting an entire band of guards on your case. Guards who it would only take one of to deliver more destruction upon his body than this measly fall had tenfold. His hopes of escaping unnoticed were non-existent ¡ª you couldn¡¯t exactly stroll into town a bleeding pulp without garnering at least a few inquisitorial stares ¡ª but fleeing all together wasn¡¯t a complete longshot. Working out how he would survive once he left First Rite was a question for another time; for now, his only concern was to get out of its borders as discreetly as possible.

    Which would be a lot less difficult if drops of his golden blood didn¡¯t keep trailing his every step. To rub salt into the wound, they weren¡¯t even of a potency to earn him any profits. And profits he would need, if getting to Hybrid would ever be anything more than a pleasant pipe dream.

    Remus was dashing as best he could through the underbelly of Ruling District, a set of alleys reserved for the dark businesses of underground society. The vapour of his breath became visible in the repulsive air of the place, and he hadn¡¯t sprinted more than a street¡¯s length when he ran into a group of errant men and women, huddled around a fire blazing upon a cluster of trash. Their clothes¡¯ threads dangled at their torn hems, and their skin obviously hadn¡¯t received ample washing in quite some time, judging from the grime-stained marks streaking across their cheeks. One figure at the front hefted a metal pole his way.

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to harm you,¡± Remus huffed, his body demanding a temporary respite as he sagged across the wall, ¡°I¡¯m just passing through.¡±

    His vision darkened. The screeches of a search party were becoming louder and louder, and it was only now occurring to Remus that he hadn¡¯t eaten a crumb in nearly two days. He¡¯d been relying on the burst of energy his advancement to Engorged had sent fizzling through him, and that initial eruption of vigour was quickly fading, revealing the creeping, total fatigue behind it.

    The dishevelled man before him stepped forward. ¡°We know. You¡¯re in no state to fight us even if you wanted to. Gods, you look like you¡¯ve just fallen out of the sky!¡±

    Remus laughed reflexively, much to his chest¡¯s disagreement. ¡°Sounds about right.¡±

    A guard sprinted past the passage, and any comedic persuasion disappeared. ¡°Look, I really should get going.¡± Remus muttered, leaning against the wall in an attempt to push himself up.

    ¡°Not like that, you aren¡¯t.¡±

    Remus gave him a puzzled look. ¡°Really, I mean it. I don¡¯t have time.¡±

    Hands grasped him. Remus struggled with all the might of an Engorged, but the man didn¡¯t seem to notice. Having only shattered past that threshold, Remus couldn¡¯t help but forget that, in the grand scheme of things, the achievement wasn¡¯t of much merit.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this.¡± The man said, contrary to his actions. ¡°But you walked into this yourself.¡±

    Searching fingers foraged through his pockets, but Remus knew they would find nothing. The man seemed to slowly realise this, his lips settling into a dissatisfied frown, as the other residents of the street scowled impatiently. ¡°You¡¯re really down on your luck, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    The guards of Remus¡¯ prison had stripped him of every single Inkling the second he¡¯d landed himself in legal jeopardy. The coins themselves would still be housed inside of some vault somewhere, left to collect dust in a numbered row that would be one of hundreds. The thought brought a stab of sorrow to Remus¡¯ heart, for he knew that ¡ª if he suited a realist¡¯s perspective ¡ª he¡¯d likely never lay eyes on the humble fortune ever again.

    ¡°What sort of honest burglar starts a conversation with their victims?¡± Remus spat, pure adrenaline substituting for nourishment, as he slowly managed to push the man away. Only for an overwhelming gale of air pressure to dig his back into the wall yet again. As if punishing his mind for merely thinking that he had stood a chance there, if but for a split second.

    A Mark on the man¡¯s neck glimmered subtly. Paying as much attention as he could when his body was only holding on by the impulses of fight or flight mode, Remus tried to inspect it. Through rapidly blinking eyelids, there lay Septimus¡¯ blindfolded face, attached to a hovering body situated in the centre, mounds of earth orbiting around him.

    ¡°You¡¯re from the Gravity Sect?¡± Remus yelped incredulously. ¡°You¡¯re clan is one of the most thriving in First Rite, how could they produce street urchins like-¡±

    Another manipulation of gravitational force, and Remus was forced to shut his wandering mouth.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t . . .¡± The man choked on his words. ¡° . . . want to go to the front lines . . . so they ¡ª my family, they . . .¡±

    The Foot-Soldier abruptly shut his mouth. ¡°Why am I telling you this?¡±

    His eyes portrayed honest confusion, and Remus felt as the pressure lessened from his body. Slumping to his knees, he took a hasty breath. For some perplexing reason, he wanted to say something reassuring to the man. Something comforting that would momentarily heal him of his turmoil. I understand sounded cheap even when considered in his own head, and it isn¡¯t your fault, you shouldn¡¯t be forced into war couldn''t withstand the slightest of criticisms.

    Mandatory military service, excluding the difficulty in ascending ranks, was a primary reason why many ended their journeys at Emblazed. The gods themselves, aware of the lack of enthusiasm at the prospect of being chucked into hordes of Unbounded, had incorporated the system of Visions to see if their followers desired to pay the cost of power. So when Remus looked into the man¡¯s pupils, with the concrete knowledge that they had accepted his patron deity¡¯s offer of power, and yet was now too afraid to face the consequences, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to be overly sympathetic. Especially as mugging civilians wasn¡¯t the most efficient method to garner good will in Remus¡¯ book.

    ¡°What¡¯s the hold up?¡± A voice from behind piped up. ¡°Does he have cash or not?¡±

    ¡°No . . . ¡° Remus saw the man turn his back to him. ¡°He doesn¡¯t.¡±

    Remus scrambled away, towards Ruling District¡¯s gateway, primed to get away from Damosh¡¯s territory, even if it killed him.

    <hr>

    Violet didn¡¯t bother to contain her gait to a paced rhythm; she was virtually sprinting towards the drawbridge, that ran over a rushing man-made moat ¡ª curving around only the outermost corners of Ruling, lest it overflood the other Districts.

    The sweet taste of freedom was near, and Violet was practically frothing at the mouth by the thought of it ; at finally being released from the shackles of having to constantly keep her guard up. Being required to burn through her ration supplies before she could take one step away from First Rite didn¡¯t bode well with Violet, and she was particularly keen to ensure that not another morsel of the bland, though lasting stuff, went to waste.

    But here she was, and being able to do just that was only a short leap or two away. She sped past the ranks of disgruntled civilians, a few yards¡¯ distance from an endless plain of green just out of reach, when-

    A bloody, staggering child collided into her.

    The two bundled on the floor, and Violet was only seconds away from rehearsing a very extensive dictionary of ruthless insults, when she recognised the figure before her.

    ¡°Just what do you think you¡¯re-¡± She blinked. ¡°You¡¯re that inmate that leaped off the hill!¡±

    Now that he was right before her, Violet made a few crucial realisations. Most obvious of these was that the panting person on the brink of collapse in front of her was not a child. They had only appeared so from a distance. Whilst not the largest of men ¡ª and the term only loosely fitted by the smallest strand of connection ¡ª he had a certain roughness to his edges that surpassed the confines of childhood. They were sparse in the muscle department, especially for this world, but not completely lacking, and their cut-heavy head was fitted with a contained outgrowth of ginger hair so dark, it passed for brown if you squinted.

    ¡°Apologies,¡± Remus murmured instantly. ¡°I don¡¯t seem to be quite so steady on my feet today.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to be, after, what, you fell a little under two hundred feet?¡±

    Remus grunted, getting himself up. ¡°I only had to take the last quarter, I sort of clambered down the rest.¡±

    It was excruciatingly apparent that Violet was about to object to this point when the girl suddenly glanced worriedly behind her shoulder.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Remus gritted his teeth. ¡°Sorry, the guards are after me, I have to-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get so big-headed, those lot are obviously after me.¡±

    Remus glowered. ¡°Why would they be after you?¡±

    The strangers around them were starting to wonder what all this commotion could possibly be about, so Violet, taking the initiative, promptly threw Remus into the nearest alley. Remus was starting to develop quite the distaste for the places. Nothing ever seemed to go his way when one of them was involved.

    The two sat in silence for minutes on end, hiding behind a rubbish deposit, and hoping beyond hope that the swarm of turquoise eyeballs up ahead didn¡¯t see through the mush of city junk.

    ¡°How can they be after you?¡± Remus repeated, the question plaguing his mind. ¡°No offence, but I sort of just broke out of prison and nearly broke my neck on the way down.¡±

    Violet gave him a look like his brain had been replaced with pastry-filling. ¡°Have you been living under a rock? They haven¡¯t been exactly discreet with the posters.¡±

    ¡°What posters?¡±

    She pointed without looking to a piece of parchment spread across the wall adjacent to them. Remus was met with an exact replica of the girl hunched up next to him.

    ¡°Ohhh . . .¡± He muttered. ¡°Oh!¡±

    ¡°Now he clocks,¡± Violet exhaled. ¡°Now, I really should get going. I only took you here because I wouldn¡¯t feel right leaving a dying man to choke on his own blood before he¡¯s thrown back into a cell for the rest of his life.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not dying!¡± Remus said adamantly. ¡°I¡¯m simply facing difficulties with the task of remaining conscious.¡±

    ¡°Like that makes a grand difference. Now scram. Us together is guaranteed to attract attention.¡±

    It might have been too late now, but Violet was still hoping to slide out of the city before the guards got bored and returned to their positions. Remus remained as he was, simply looking at her unreadably, as if he didn¡¯t speak the mortal tongue.

    ¡°What are you waiting for? If you¡¯re swift about it, you could make an escape.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Remus began, seeming to have finally mustered the courage to ask something. ¡±But it''s clear to me you¡¯re deserting First Rite also, for the time being, anyway. I don¡¯t want to intrude on your reasoning for leaving, but if you¡¯re passing by Hybrid, might you consider taking me along with you?¡±

    ¡°I might be passing through Hybrid, true.¡± Violet replied slowly. ¡°But no. I¡¯ll have enough trouble feeding myself as it is, another mouth won¡¯t assist me in that regard in the slightest. Plus, we¡¯ve only just met, and you¡¯re a tad too eager for my liking.¡±

    Internally, Remus was screaming. It had only now occurred to him, after spending entire Durations locked inside his clan''s library, committing theft, breaking out of prison, and then topping it all off by falling off the highest peak in all of First Rite, that he had no idea, absolutely none in the slightest, of how he expected to make it to Hybrid alone. Violet¡¯s generosity would be his only saving grace, or it would be sweeping floors in some no-name town in the highlands outside of Hybrid for the rest of his life. If he ever made it that far, that was.

    ¡°I¡¯m begging here. It doesn¡¯t have to be the full way, just the first couple days.¡±

    Violet crossed her arms stubbornly. ¡°What¡¯s in it for me?¡±

    Five words, and Remus was left to search every nook and cranny of his mind to forge a worthwhile proposal. ¡°Money. I¡¯m a little down on my luck right now-¡±

    ¡°Meaning?¡±

    ¡°Oh, alright, the guards still have my Inklings, but when I do get out of this mess, I¡¯ll be indebted to you.¡±

    She didn¡¯t appear convinced. ¡°I could offer you a mountain of diamonds, doesn¡¯t mean I''ll ever get them.¡±

    Remus was about to refute this as best he could when a swarm of eyes grew dangerously close to their whereabouts.

    ¡°There¡¯s no time. What Rank are you?¡±

    ¡°En-¡± Remus bit his tongue. ¡°Peak Emblazed.¡±

    Violet narrowed her eyes like she wanted to double-check the validity of that, but bundled Remus over a shoulder instead, like a farmer would a fresh harvest. Remus had as much as a two second time frame before he found himself being casted away, the vivid image of a drawbridge, and the lands beyond, steadily creeping into view.

    <hr>

    Overhead, Andreas sat perched upon the ridge of a house, grinning head in his hands. He watched silently as Remus was carried away from his birthplace, a dangerous burst of pride swelling up in his chest.

    ¡°You''re the boss Grandad,¡± Damion muttered idly, eyes locked onto the fading image of his vigilante brother, ¡°But is this really for the best? You actually think we should let him go, after absorbing the recoil from that fall?¡±

    The Warlord stood up, the last pulsing glimmers of a lazy afternoon sun washing across his bulk of a body. ¡°Yes. I am very sure.¡±

    Damion turned, being very careful to keep his mouth shut. ¡°I¡¯ll trust your insight.¡± A pained wince emerged upon his face. ¡°As best I can, anyway.¡±

    Andreas exhaled slowly, observing his grandchild as if living vicariously through him.

    ¡°There comes a time where all birds must leave their nests. He reminds me of a younger me, our Remus, one black-out drunk on their own ambition ¡ª not a sprinkle of wisdom in either of us.¡±

    There was a gush of air to Damion¡¯s side, and looking to where his grandad was but a moment ago, the carpenter saw nothing but dislodged roof tiles. With an expectant roll of the eyes, he looked up, Andreas¡¯s beaming face overlooking the confining walls of First Rite.

    ¡°Fly, my boy.¡± He roared to the heavens. ¡°Fly!¡±

 10. Where the Wolves Hide

    Remus clutched onto the fabric of Violet¡¯s cloak like his life depended on it, persistent winds very eager to cast him aside.

    The sprawling plains and mountainous territory that ate up the land outside of First Rite weren¡¯t a foreign sight; Remus had taken long walks through the picturesque landscapes many a time before. He knew what to expect from the first few initial miles outside of the city: grassy fields being beaten down by insistent winds, oaks trees that shot out in mini patches of forest every few kilometres, and only a vague blur on the horizon, if he¡¯d truly been adventurous with how far he risked venturing out from home. This time around, this all rang true, but Remus hadn¡¯t anticipated the thousands of camps set up for the Day of Descension. So much had happened since its beginning, he¡¯d almost forgotten about the ceremony. If such a spectacle could ever fully slip the mind.

    Now, it was all blurring past him in an eruption of distorted colour. To the extent that he could barely observe the temporary homes many had constructed. What he did catch was the obscured tents readily set-up, but the rest of the bases . . . Remus was indecisive on if the distortions of rapid acceleration were pulling tricks on his eyes, or if someone really had sprouted a desert microcosm in the middle of nowhere. The sights much too overwhelming, he turned his attention to his carrier. If he knew anything about the woman who had picked him up, and dashed for miles ahead without break, it was that she was unfathomably athletic.

    Would this be their normal speeds of manoeuvring? Remus hoped not ¡ª he heavily doubted, no was certain that his respiratory system would implode upon itself if he was tasked with reenacting the hurried sprint. Or perhaps Violet was straining to her own absolute limits, getting away from First Rite¡¯s surrounding lands as quickly as possible. They didn¡¯t appear to be being followed, anyway, in one gladly accepted slither of good news. If they were, Remus was certain they¡¯d already be dead and buried in some forgotten ditch.

    The memory of the Speed Mark-possessing gentlemen who had escorted Andreas eradicated all other thoughts in Remus¡¯ head, demanding his attention. Such acceleration was something not even Violet¡¯s wild bouts of speed had hope of eluding.

    Dying for a place where his body¡¯s plea for rest could finally be answered, and such tormenting thoughts kept at bay, Remus spoke. ¡°Mind if we stop for a bit?¡±

    Violet smirked. ¡°What, are you tiring out already?¡±

    ¡°Well you know, it''s been a long day, falling from two hundred feet and everything.¡±

    ¡°Alright, fine.¡± Violet gave in, and Remus couldn¡¯t help but notice how laborious her breaths sounded. ¡°A short break shouldn¡¯t hurt.¡±

    Remus¡¯ mind was hazardously close to a very misleading state known as ¡®relaxing¡¯. So of course, subconsciously picking up on his easing air, Violet chose to crash into the nearest flock of trees. The boy hadn¡¯t picked up on her direction at first, mindlessly closing his eyes, and allowing the imagined image of a shady spot to bring him anticipating joy.

    ¡°Mind if I take a shortcut?¡±

    Remus shrugged, eyelids still closed as he breathed in slowly. ¡°Yeah sure, whatever you want captain.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t tried this with anyone else before, so umm, sorry if you get an eyeful of wood or something.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it''s no ¡ª hold on, wha-?¡±

    Remus¡¯ eyelids retracted, and he was met with the scream-inducing sight of being hurtled blindly into a log. A log that didn¡¯t look welcoming in the slightest.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Remus found himself shrieking.

    Violet feigned a front of innocence, her stride not hesitating the least bit. ¡°I thought you wanted a shortcut?¡±

    ¡°Admittedly so, but I don¡¯t see how deforestation is any-¡±

    Remus reflexively shut his eyes, his entire body bracing as it anticipated a wave of pain. None came, but what did overwhelmed his senses to an equal degree.

    The trees blipped out of this plane of reality, reappearing elsewhere for a few dawdling seconds, and then manifesting to another, seemingly random place of residence. There was a loud crack, and his aching head feeling like it had been reconstructed painstakingly after being split into a million pieces, Remus struggled to comprehend the image of a log jutting out of a previously whole boulder.

    ¡°Oops,¡± Violet let out, with the face of a child caught misbehaving, ¡°I never intentionally damage the scenery.¡±

    Her pace dropped to a decreasing jog, before Remus groaned, being dropped harshly upon damp, windswept grass.

    ¡°We¡¯re far away from the trade routes, and some miles out of First Rite,¡± the girl spoke softly, sounding positively exerted, ¡°we shouldn¡¯t see a soul.¡±

    ¡°So . . . ¡° a tentative word crawled between Remus¡¯ dry lips, his fiery fumes of frustration quickly being panned at what was being suggested. After so long, comfort was a difficult concept to digest.

    ¡°Yes, you can rest.¡±

    The sentence was such a blessing that the reality-warping incident left Remus¡¯ mind, and he found the call of sleep a more powerful entity than ever. He was on the verge of succumbing to the engulfing shadows, when the sound of something dropping snapped him back into a tense state of alertness. His head turned, only to be met with a sideways view of a sack. He looked at Violet for an explanation.

    ¡°Oats.¡± She said simply, cutlery already deep into her own helping. From out her bag, Violet revealed a bloated waterskin.

    Remus jolted upwards at the glorious sight, only for several lacerations along his body to protest with all the agonising rage they could muster. Violet shot him a concerned look, and subsequently took away Remus¡¯ rations before he could lay one finger on its contents.

    ¡°That¡¯s just cruel.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll still get them,¡± she reassured, ¡°but you¡¯re going to have to answer a few questions first. I mean, I barely know you. Who''s to say you¡¯re not one of my father''s servants in disguise?¡±

    ¡°Why would your father be after you?¡±

    Violet exhaled as if she had been shouldering the weight of the world. ¡°Long story. But get the point ¡ª who are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m . . . from the Carpentry Sect.¡± Remus put reluctantly, readily expecting the girl¡¯s next words.

    ¡°Carpentry.¡± She mused it over like each individual syllable had personally offended her. ¡°Emblazed may be relatively impressive for your age, but a non-combat-oriented clan? How is that supposed to help us survive the journey to Hybrid?¡±

    Words left Remus¡¯ mouth before he took the precaution to think. ¡°I could earn some profit when we get there. It''s a versatile career, and not too far-fetched to think that maybe, I might be able to earn a few Inklings that we can use to restock on supplies.¡±

    It was a flimsy response, sure to maybe convince a five year old who hasn''t yet grasped the meaning of ¡®carpentry¡¯, or ¡®versatile¡¯.

    ¡°An enticing argument to be sure,¡± Violet murmured, ¡°but I¡¯m not especially in need of money right now. And any Inklings you do earn will likely be equaled out by the cost of your ration share. Now, putting that topic aside, here¡¯s the real kicker: just what exactly were you doing today? Why were you imprisoned? What drove you to nosediving out of there?¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t granted time to think; vital time needed to form an explanation that didn¡¯t reveal his blatant lies. The primaeval guilt on its way to drown him from the inside out didn¡¯t assist him much in that regard either. ¡°Long story.¡±

    ¡°Well, we don¡¯t have much else to do to occupy ourselves,¡± she hunched up to her knees, ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡±

    ¡°I stole.¡±

    The girl frowned. ¡°Damosh¡¯s hand affecting you heavily? Not to be blunt, but are your clan''s profits not coming in quickly enough?¡±

    ¡°You could say so.¡±

    ¡°Must you keep your answers so sparse?¡±

    Remus rubbed his head. ¡°Apologies.¡±

    Violet¡¯s lips only curved at a more downwards angle. ¡°I need to get this across to you clearly. I¡¯m under no obligation to take you anywhere. You¡¯re acting awfully suspicious. Don¡¯t think just because I was friendly enough to take you this far, that I¡¯ll let you tag along for the rest of the journey. If you want to get any closer to the Elemental Kingdom, I¡¯m going to need you to answer. And in detail.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Back to basics. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Remus.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a start!¡± Violet let her lips reach a neutral line. A smile would be far too audacious.

    ¡°And you¡¯re Violet, right?¡±

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    For a fleeting moment, Remus was worried he¡¯d said something wrong. The girl physically craned backwards, expression flinty.

    ¡°How do you know that?¡±

    ¡°The posters . . . ?¡± He said, unsure if that was the right thing to say. ¡°Your name was written there.¡±

    She visibly relaxed. ¡°Oh good, for a second there, I was getting worried my earlier instincts were true. But for now, let''s assume you''re not working for my father.¡±

    Remus wanted to confirm that he most definitely wasn¡¯t ¡ª seeing as he couldn¡¯t even recall having seen the God-Graced Nova ¡ª but reading the proverbial room, Remus¡¯s better judgement convinced him otherwise.

    ¡°So you were in prison for stealing,¡± Violet continued, of a more relaxed persuasion, ¡°but what exactly did you steal in the first place?¡±

    Taking his hand off his head, Remus opened his mouth to answer truthfully, not being able to stomach the falsehoods any longer, when something stopped him in his tracks. It was the sight of his palm; painted golden as his cuts reopened.

    As if on cue, Remus¡¯ injuries flared into action, and he was left to bite down on his thumb in his best attempt not to squirm pitifully.

    Violet launched to her feet, and scurried around her bags.

    ¡°Sorry! I, uhmm, kind-of forgot about your injuries.¡±

    Not restricted of its cool embrace any longer, Remus felt the chilly touch of clean drinking water course through his body after he was handed the waterskin. It helped considerably, yet the feeling of imminent death didn¡¯t fade.

    ¡°You were acting so nonchalantly about the whole ordeal, I never really took into account the severity of what happened to you. How do you survive falling off a cliff, then cruise around casually like nothing¡¯s wrong?¡±

    A sensible, multitudinous combination of reasons as to why occurred to Remus. But fatigue was razing his dysfunctional body to the extent that merely forming a tangible sentence was a herculean task. He had at most, the strength required to lay there, eyelids curtaining his view of the world, and to do nothing. So that was precisely what the man did. At some point between the delayed onset of pain coursing across his body¡¯s every nerve, and finally catching a quality sleep, he barely registered a blanket being lowered over him. There was also evidently a bowl of some oaty food being forced into his hands, as even when only half-conscious, Remus would never refuse a hearty meal.

    When Remus awoke next, feeling no more replenished, Violet was nowhere to be seen. It was dark out, with a whistling wind dragging the chilly night¡¯s air that dominated the atmosphere, as if the sun was a children¡¯s tale. There was the buzz of cicadas, the annoyingness of which was probably the only motivator getting Remus up. How he¡¯d managed to slumber through that dreadful earache, he¡¯d never know.

    ¡°Violet?¡± He called out to the glade, feeling rather brainless as his surroundings remained grudgingly quiet.

    Each of his steps were like gashes into the mute veil of night ¡ª a veil that''s imprintings were solely of nature¡¯s making, and his human, encroaching advances were tarnishing its sacred fabric. Nevertheless, the prospect of sitting down, twiddling his thumbs in the menacing allure of sundown, didn¡¯t do much to entice him. So Remus continued, his artificial movement disrupting the surrounding orchestra, like a strongman rudely barging through a stand of automatic instruments.

    ¡°Hello, Violet?¡± Remus risked a more intruding noise. ¡°Are you there?¡±

    Still nothing. Remus was about to explore a nearby entourage of trees ¡ª coincidentally the same Violet had previously erased out of existence ¡ª when he noticed something. His wounds weren¡¯t aching at all, and in no part because of absurd amounts of adrenaline. In fact, he was bandaged, even stitched in a few places. Putting a finger to his teeth, and then to his nose, Remus¡¯ nostrils picked up on the subtly tame scent of mint.

    ¡°Anaesthetic . . .¡± He realised, the same kind Saige had prescribed him, after Edmar had done the medical equivalent of flipping his insides upside down. A tinge of thankfulness, followed up by a stabbing guilt tore Remus from the inside out. Oddly, an additional burst of homesickness at the familiar flavour was added to the visceral concoction. How one could be sent down a reminiscing reverie by the smell of herbs puzzled Remus, but he spared no further thought on it.

    Violet had gone to such extreme effort for the closest thing to a stranger, and what had he done in return? Spewed out lies to get his own way and burned through her preciously limited supplies.

    He had to make things right. Remus had no choice; he would track Violet down, apologise profusely, before revealing his true Rank, and reasons for coming. Perhaps then, this feeling of unease would fade.

    Remus had explored the cluster of woodlands, and caught not the slightest glimpse of his leather-clad companion. Just where have you wandered off to hmm? He pondered, crossing a stretch of land that he should¡¯ve never laid a foot on.

    The relative quietude perished in a stretch of flowery grass. Instantly, Remus halted. There were several hints that something was wrong. First, the flowerbed appeared wilted, but not out of the cruelty of nature alone. Something had trodden across them, the same something that must have left the trail of footprints across the ground, rupturing out the surface layer of grass. All that was left was mud; mud so moldable a most unhuman-like paw had been perfectly preserved in its maroon surface.

    ¡°Violet?¡± Remus was shocked to find himself calling, though it only came out as an apprehensive whisper. ¡°Are you here?¡±

    The sound that he had picked up on, upon arrival, was the rustling. Surrounding bushes bent to the whims of roaming creatures. Roaming creatures, that, based on the steadily louder-growing growls that struck Remus¡¯ eardrums like urgent warnings to flee, were closer than ever. Remus scrambled backwards, as the first hint of fur appeared. It was dark out, to the extent that very soon, he would be able to see nothing at all. Yet even so, he could make out the horrific image before him in pristine detail.

    It wasn¡¯t a wolf exactly, but that was the closest comparison Remus could make, and so it would serve. The wolf sauntered closer ¡ª gingerly at first, as if the beast was itself sizing up Remus ¡ª revealing its coat of pigmentless white. In great contrast, the wolf¡¯s eyes were entirely ebony black, not a speck of white to be seen. Almost like it was personally vying to disobey the typical ways of mother nature, corrupting ancient foundations. Its paws led the wolf¡¯s body in a coordinated semi-circle, and hunching to its paws, the creature leered. Presenting a mouthful of pearly white molars, that almost blended in with the rest of its shade.

    Within seconds, Remus knew this was no ordinary wolf. Which would be bad enough on its own. This was an Unbounded. A weak one, true, but weak in comparison to Remus could potentially be deadly.

    ¡°Now boy, let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves.¡±

    He tried to discreetly step back, but it only screeched, and pawed the ground ahead of it in threat.

    Just one. Remus thought. Even if I¡¯m attacked, I can likely beat one.

    The thought had barely been generated by the convoluted nexus of his brain, when five more of the Unbounded crept into view. At most inconvenient angles, at that. Remus was surrounded, with the very thought of fleeing laughable. Outrunning these whilst only freshly stitched up would be agony, and even in a hypothetical world where he was healthy as can be, he¡¯d have hard luck outpacing the Unbounded anyway.

    Did Violet get surrounded as well? Remus thought, not needing an additional problem to concern himself with.

    A snarl from the nearest of the pack anchored him back to reality, and Remus felt with alarm as he backpedalled into the bulk of a tree. There was a moment of intense anticipation, as neither party made a move. Then, as if realising the number advantage at their disposal, the Unbounded¡¯s vanguard launched themselves at him.

    Remus responded in equal measure.

    After Remus grasped onto the neck of the foremost beast, which definitely wasn¡¯t the best of handholds, the Unbounded skidded back and forth, shaking its neck vigorously in the same manner as a wet hound swaying itself clean. Its brothers and sisters howled to a cloudless, starry sky, before whipping their tails at Remus¡¯ exposed form in a merciless beating. Much to his favour, Violet¡¯s dosage of the painkiller had been far too generous. Remus was largely numb, as the creatures whipped in sympathetic fury for their sibling. Not keen to pummel something that resembled an animal so closely, Remus withheld his own fist from the moving target he was latching onto. Seconds before the realisation that the Unbounded was closer to a monster than a dog drove him into action.

    The two of them were swept into a fumbling scrap across the floor, with Remus doing his utmost best to direct the fight away from the others. Alas, they kept up just as quickly as the pair could move, and a thousand points of contact stirred up a wave of hurt within Remus ¡ª one that even anaesthetic would have trouble blocking. The rocky floor stabbed into his rolling back; the Unbounded¡¯s clawed paws didn¡¯t show a whiff of reluctance as they made to peel off his skin; and worst of all, Violet was nowhere to be seen.

    They¡¯d rolled into a rocky section of the woodland area, a trail of golden blood marking wherever the wrestle took Remus.

    In a flare of crimson ire, he shoved the wolf-like creature into the nearest boulder. There were several of them scattered about, all ponderous and just asking for an accident. Momentum mixed with rage-induced strength accumulated in an impressive toss. A toss so impressive, in fact, that the Unbounded¡¯s head struck the rocky cluster in a resounding crunch, that even Remus had to spare a disgusted wince at. The Unbounded squealed in a heart-wrenching final cry. And then it lay there; motionless.

    Remus merely sat, catching his breath, staring at the Unbounded¡¯s corpse, not quite knowing what to think. Gradually, the Infinity stores that had brought the creature into being dispersed in a snowflake-like current, swirling overhead like the smoke from a funeral pyre. The fluff on Remus¡¯ apron uniform ¡ª the same outfit he had worn when embarking on the last few days of wild adventure, now soiled and torn ¡ª lingered, detached from the main body of the beast and preserved as low level concentrations of Infinity. He promptly pocketed it, the idea that he may be able to sell the residue at the nearest market a much welcomed spike in dopamine.

    It didn¡¯t last long, however. The underlying hard truth that he had killed for the first time in his life, even if it was merely an Unbounded, a harder pill to swallow than anything Saige could pull out of her apothecary stock. He didn¡¯t feel any different, and wasn¡¯t even particularly sympathetic for the Unbounded. It was of the same kind that had reduced his grandfather''s lifespan to but a year, of the same fiends that stripped the lives of thousands of young soldiers. Nevertheless, Remus felt . . . hollow? Devoid? Perhaps, but devoid of what? He didn¡¯t get much time to debate the topic however, as turning around, he was face-to-face with six other bereaved, and incredibly infuriated Unbounded.

    So Remus filled the gaping hole inside of him with the most instinctual urge that had kept humanity alive for so long. The impulsion to run.

    He barreled through a cluster of bushy ferns, overstepped a channelling creak ¡ª disturbing the local wildlife of tadpoles ¡ª and dashed to and fro through a natural labyrinth of birch canopies. His injuries roared in pain, and Remus complained internally about the aggravatingly slow healing-rate of the human body. Aren¡¯t Engorged supposed to be able to walk off most injuries like this in a few days? I would love to reap those benefits now, if possible.

    Of course, he had abused his body far too much for even divine capabilities to be able to begin the healing process properly. Sleep, proficient sustenance, and avoidance of danger, would likely have him back to snuff in less than a Duration.

    Though, whilst sprinting with his tail between his legs away from a pack of silver wolves, Remus struggled to picture a reality where he would get to do any of that in the first place.

    They were close now. Remus could feel their hot breaths against his nape, panting with a hungry lust that wouldn¡¯t be sated until his torn flesh was deep down their gullets.

    Faster! He cried to himself. Faster!

    There was a noise in the near distance. Almost like a parallel to the beasts behind him, yet they sounded to be having a significantly harder time. There were pained howls, an eruption of unintelligible noise, and in the midst of all that havoc, a familiar, feminine voice.

    Remus grinned like a madman. Violet was right ahead, and if her show of agility earlier was anything to go by, safety would be with her too.

    Like a circus director, Remus led his entourage of Unbounded, the thrill of the moment slowly intoxicating him with a giddy excitement.

    Violet was in for quite the fright.

 11. Aggravating Accomplices

    Violet served as the axis of a torrent of destruction, the landscape around her taking quite the beating as she threw everything she had at the Unbounded.

    This pack was the largest she¡¯d ever seen ¡ª twenty or more, with approximately half already disintegrating at her feet. Nevertheless, as she strolled slowly forwards, twisting nature itself as her weapon of choice, she could tell these beasts were only the equivalent of an Enkindled each. Teetering on tapping into the abyss of power that was advancing to Foot-Soldier, Violet had little to fear. Rather, she found a fuming mound of vexation birthing deep within her. She had gone to collect kindling for a fire with innocent intentions, and now risked getting lost from their camp, damaging on-hand supplies, and she still, after all that, had firewood to worry about collecting. Fuel needed for a fire that must be made before the night¡¯s air truly became frosty. Else, she and Remus would be shivering all night. Something told her the man would be no more charismatic with his teeth chattering non-stop.

    Then there was the topic of Remus himself. Violet wasn¡¯t sure what to make of the peculiar man; he seemed rigidly fixed in between the rakish boldness of the sort only valiant men of legends possess about them, and a bumbling imbecile. To think that someone like that was allegedly of equal power to her . . . Even amongst the bloody showdown shattering reality around Violet, that was a fact she struggled to fully accept. There was only one factor that enticed her to leave her scepticism as merely that, and not blossom into absolute doubt. Violet found it very hard to believe anyone below a certain stature in the power Rankings would be able to stay moving so long, after tumbling off the crest of a hill. Let alone flee the trail of guards.

    A thought for another time. Violet put the matter to the back of her mind, concentrating a portion of her Chaotic energy onto a rabid Unbounded. They were clearly intent on tackling her to the ground. Its eyes lightened to a haze of purple, as something intangible muddied the creature¡¯s thoughts. It loped from side to side, their sense of direction as accurate as a broken compass, and turned on its own kin, teeth bared.

    Perspiration formed on her brow, as she trespassed into the domain of the beast¡¯s mind. Looking as if she was trying to tear the earth in twain through sheer force of will, Violet concentrated. The carcasses of twelve white beasts reduced to only piles of fur ¡ª slaughtered by her own hand ¡ª rendering eight or so Unbounded very grievous. Grief. An emotion basking in the nonsensical, spawned from and ebbing in the abstract waters of Chaos.

    It would be easy for her to manipulate. Soon, Violet watched as three wolves pounced on their own brethren, empty sockets blazing purple, as they bent to her whim. It was a sight to behold, and, for but a moment, Violet could catch her breath without worry of invading claws. All she had to do now was maintain a mental hold on the beasts, which was fairly simple, given the feeble nature of their mental fortitudes. The fight was coming to its climax, and just at the right time too. Another few minutes of this, and she might¡¯ve actually grown exhausted to the point of-

    From out of nowhere, Remus and an array of very ticked-off Unbounded, perhaps cousins of the pack that littered the forest floor around her, came crashing into view. Remus flailed his arms, screaming in a decibel that didn¡¯t signal musical talent through a wall of oak trees.

    . . . to the point of collapse, she finished.

    Violet¡¯s mental hold on the creatures failed in her bewilderment, and the two parties of Unbounded rushed to unite in one force of war.

    ¡°Violet,¡± Remus called, slipping over towards her and almost losing the ground beneath his feet. ¡°There you are, I was looking all over for you! Look, I know this is a bad time-¡±

    ¡°It is.¡±

    ¡°-and we may be in for the dashing of our lives-¡±

    ¡°You mean you will be.¡±

    ¡°-But I¡¯m sorry, okay, I¡¯m sorry! I was desperate to get out of First Rite, and uhm, delicately fabricated a false, much more impressive version of myself. It was all I could think of, to convince you to take me.¡±

    She paused. For as long as she was willing to in the middle of a battlefield. ¡°You mean to say you lied?¡±

    Remus swallowed. ¡°Uhm, yeah, that about sums things up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not Emblazed, are you? An Emblazed would have no trouble killing the amount of Unbounded you were dealing with; Unbounded so weak. What are you, Enkindled?¡±

    It took all Remus had to face her. ¡°Engorged.¡±

    A sigh escaped her lips, and Violet turned to the gathered assault of wolfish fiends ahead of them. A sickly feeling lingered on her tongue. For some reason, despite only having known this moron for several hours, she felt betrayed. As if she hadn¡¯t had enough of that sensation to combat on a day-to-day basis.

    ¡°We¡¯ll talk about this later.¡± She said, in the most stony inflection her voice could produce.

    As squadrons of Unbounded came canonning into her, Violet brought down hell.

    <hr>

    Remorseful isn''t a sufficient enough word for Remus¡¯ guilt. It was both immediate and suffocating in its ferocity. Yet again, he had hurt someone else in the haste of his actions. First his clan, now Violet, and it pricked at the mind to debate what could have become of Tal. Hadn¡¯t he learned anything from his previous failures? Violet¡¯s utter shift from a relaxed, though cautious girl, to giving him the cold shoulder was soul-crushing. What kind of a man was he, if he couldn¡¯t even grow and mature from past mistakes? Cursed to fall ever again on his path; destined to repeat the same few errors indefinitely until he wheezed his last breath.

    These thoughts and more weren¡¯t uncommon, ravaging Remus¡¯ mind in a masterful collaboration with insecurities so ingrained, it would take a lifetime of introspection to pin their source. Enhanced a hundredfold were these intruding voices by the cruel reality he could do little to assist Violet in this mess. But little, however minute, is uplifted by the fact that it will always be, beyond a shadow of a doubt, something. So that was exactly what he did, however futile a pronounced presence in his head was making it out to be.

    A grave look about him, Remus marched towards the very same pack he had herded into this enclosure. The same wolves Violet was throwing all the power of an Emblazed at to slaughter. All the reaffirming excitement purged from his body, Remus was left with cold, harsh reality as he overlooked the makeshift battlefield.

    And what a spectacle it was.

    Entire portions of the ground were being upheaved into the air, as if by some invisible god, crushing Unbounded into a fine powder as a skin-tearing wind carried them in a lethal spiral. The little greenery not butchered by the repercussions of brutal battle sprang to life, as if a clansman of The Wild Sect was standing nearby. Weeds became whips; trees evolved into the batons of giants; and the environment as a whole shifted subtly. Almost as though pieces of an elaborate jigsaw puzzle were being rearranged. It was insanity. It was a marvel so deadly Remus had second-thoughts of straying from his place of safety. It was absolute chaos, in the oldest definition of the word.

    Arms over his head, Remus sprang forwards. Violet wouldn¡¯t be able to sustain this pantomime of destruction for any longer than a stretch of woodlands could endure a forest-fire. He would have to contribute, and hope blindly that the Unbounded didn¡¯t have any extended family lurking nearby.

    One wolf was trodding behind Violet¡¯s exposed back, and Remus hurtled himself at it, the network of bandages mummifying his body quickly unravelling. It was a repeat of his last squabble with one of the pests. Scratch marks painted a tapestry upon his base of body, and the two of them traded blows. Then, before one of the Unbounded¡¯s brethren could interfere, the environs altered to Violet¡¯s whims, and Remus found himself before the wrath of a tree that just couldn¡¯t quite keep still. It rotated as if on a moving pedestal, threatening to bash anyone to death who dared step near.

    An idea occurred to Remus, and tired of wild punches and kicks no more accurate than a spasming dolphin, he slipped his arms beneath the underbelly of the wolf, placed his hands firmly on its upper fur, and with all the progressing strength he had built from doing push ups when nobody was looking, hurtled the Unbounded. It struck the log, and Remus left what occurred next to the imagination, turning and stepping a safe distance away as the dust of Infinity sprinkled his back.

    His environment switched for what he hoped would be the last time. Putting his guard up instinctively ¡ª readily expecting yet another angry wolf to come for his neck, or a lethal hug from a flying chunk of earth ¡ª Remus was pleasantly surprised to find . . . nothing at all. He had appeared on a mound forming a raise in the ground. Not so much as a pebble whizzed past his head.

    It was difficult to tell, considering the fur imposing as snow over the ground, and the ravaged landscape, but the glade seemed to have reverted to its original positioning. The greenery returned to the stagnant state of inertia that Remus whole-heartedly believed to suit it much better, and among the razzed ground, Violet sat catching her breath. Slowly, as if each movement might spell out his death, Remus made to sit by her. Awkwardly slow, he nestled down against a patch of crushed leaves, and the girl said nothing. Yet the distinct impression that she was only refraining from protesting struck him. Remus couldn¡¯t find justified reason to object to this animosity. Did he apologise? Was that what he was supposed to do here? Yet, he didn¡¯t want to act as if a simple ¡®sorry¡¯ would nullify the lies he¡¯d spouted. He shot out a thousand-mile stare, as if conjuring a glimpse of the gods¡¯ abode by sheer force of will, to no direction in particular.

    If he was relying on the assistance of deities who had turned their backs on him decades ago, matters were grim indeed.

    ¡°How many?¡± He poked a hole into the draping silence, asking a question he already knew the answer to, simply for the sake of speaking. ¡°How many Unbounded were there?¡±

    No reply.

    ¡°Look,¡± Remus turned to Violet, desperation leaking into his tone. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have lied. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    The words sounded too sparse on his own lips. Remus wanted to explain everything. How he was born Death-Marked, how he was doing this all for the betterment of his clan, and how he truly believed he could put a dent into Damosh¡¯s tyranny if he sacrificed enough. But that all seemed suspiciously like excuse-making.

    Still, Violet said nothing.

    Tentative words leaked out of him. ¡°I meant you no harm. I had reasons for needing to get out of here, desperate reasons. I¡¯m sure you had factors pushing you out of First Rite yourself, equally as important as mine. I¡¯m not trying to alleviate myself of any blame, I just ¡ª what I¡¯m trying to say is that-¡±

    He couldn¡¯t ramble his way out of this one.

    ¡°. . . if it appeases you, I¡¯ll leave.¡±

    Remus stood up, staring wistfully off to a speck of brown in the distance. The nearest settlement of potters and their cabin buildings protruded from a cluster of hills, as though his next location was materialising promptly before his eyes. He¡¯d have to hunker down, and rethink his schemes. His original plan sounded positively outlandish now: to successfully steal a Droplet unsuspected, and use his personal funds to be escorted to Hybrid¡¯s Flame Territory, where the first trial would be undergone. A solemn laugh left his lips. Sure, he was Engorged, but that precious money? His one-way-ticket to Hybrid? In the prison¡¯s treasury. Unless he planned on pulling any heists in the near future, it would be lost forever. And who knew if the Flame Sect higher-ups still even remembered that the trials existed. There was no one to confirm that they weren¡¯t just a forgotten relic of time, and that was what terrified Remus the most.

    The more he thought on it, the more futile his plan appeared. The riddling flaws were as clear as creases in parchment; he¡¯d been blind not to see them before.

    So Remus walked off, each step like a shattering blow to his ideology forged out of misbeliefs. This was all stupid in the first place, he told himself, this was all . . .

    A reverberating thud triggered him into swivelling on his feet. The potential possibility of more Unbounded emerging sent alarm bells off in him. But there was no apparent danger, and Remus frowned. Then, looking down, realisation clicked into place. Violet had collapsed onto the ground, dozing dreamily.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Remus wanted to slap himself. She had been sleeping! No wonder she was exhausted, the woman had just ended the lives of dozens of malevolent Unbounded. Remus hastily got her up off the muddy ground, propping her against an oak tree.

    ¡°I¡¯m an idiot,¡± he whispered comically to himself, a faint smile playing on his lips. The spark of joy quickly fizzled out however, as he realised the weight of his actions still hung down on him.

    Violet grunted something unintelligible, snapping one eye open. ¡°Remus.¡± She said curtly, shooting him a look with a rapid turn of the head. ¡°The Unbounded, whe-¡±

    ¡°Dead. All of them.¡±

    The dazed girl stretched with a melodramatic yawn, before promptly hammering a fist on the crest of Remus'' head. ¡°That¡¯s for lying.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Remus blurted, rubbing his head. ¡°I can explain everything. I¡¯m Death-Marked ¡ª or well, I was, and that¡¯s the reason I stole. It was a Droplet that I took, you see, and-¡±

    A judgmental look embraced him with all the warmth of a piercing blade. ¡°You really are selfish, you know that?¡±

    ¡°. . . What?¡±

    ¡°I save you from a hoard of Unbounded that you played a hand in bringing to us, and your first impulse when I wake up is to defend yourself.¡± She crossed her legs and donned a stern look. ¡°Perhaps a thank you is in order?¡±

    Remus slapped himself, which especially hurt, given it was still sore from Violet¡¯s strike. ¡°Damn it. I was getting ahead-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she cut him off again, getting up. ¡°That was mostly in jest. Though, if you didn¡¯t seem so sincere in your regret, I might¡¯ve been tempted to abandon you . . . but then again, I could never do something that would weigh on my guilty conscience like that.¡±

    Skipping a few paces forward, Violet looked up at a crescent moon, appearing relatively free from fatigue. After that savage fight, it would be obvious to any one that she was merely putting up a brave front. ¡°So you really were Death-Marked? That sounds familiar for some reason . . . though I¡¯ll refrain from any questions until tomorrow. It''s getting, or is, awfully dark.¡±

    Remaining absolutely still, Remus watched as she jogged up ahead.

    ¡°Well,¡± She turned after a second, poking over a boulder, ¡°are you coming, or sleeping upright?¡±

    Remus gritted through his teeth, each letter lame as they left his mouth. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Violet nodded suspiciously, as if expecting a follow-up, before running ahead. She popped back over a moment later, snapping a few twigs out of a tree that dangled over. ¡°Aha! Almost forgot about the kindling.¡±

    <hr>

    Violet stared with evident perplexion at a circle Remus had inscribed into the mud with a stick.

    Two smaller circles were set inside the larger, with the outer layer divided into eight equidistant portions ¡ª or, more specifically, territories. Each one represented the domain of a sect either from the Animalistic Accord or Elemental Pact, with a rough illustration from the boy indicating which sect ruled over which. The smallest and last of the circles, firmly in the middle, was Hybrid¡¯s centre city itself. The space in between the territories and it was the Shifting. A place that, according to any self-respecting traveller, should be avoided at all costs.

    ¡°This is supposed to be Hybrid?¡± Violet asked the obvious, a sunny morning after the Unbounded attack, glaring quizzically at the boy.

    ¡°Yep.¡± Remus answered, biting his tongue and etching a circle around one particular territory.

    The brown fire engraving revealed it to be the Flame Territory, or Territory One. Violet frowned at the vague illustration.

    ¡°So, to summarise, your plan to get back at Damosh is to go on a wild-goose-chase, and all just to achieve the second Rank?¡± She said, recalling all that Remus had revealed in the early hours of the day.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t only to get back at Damosh.¡± Remus interjected, as tired as he could ever be at the comment. ¡°This is for my sect. They need support now more than ever. Andreas, our leader, has but a Rebirth left, even with the Vitality Sect¡¯s support. And to help myself, I need power, and to acquire power, I need to-¡±

    ¡° . . . scorn in the face of insurmountable odds.¡± Violet sighed, her braids flickering in the wind. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll suspend my disbelief a moment longer. If you do overcome these . . . what are they called again?¡±

    ¡°Trials of the Earnest.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, whatever ¡ª what¡¯s the next plan of action?¡±

    Much to her surprise, Remus didn¡¯t crumble under the question.

    ¡°To advance to Emblazed as fast as possible, then Foot-Soldier. What else? In the army, I¡¯ll send all my profits back home. That alone will be a huge help, especially for a sect not specialising in combat.¡±

    Throughout the entire conversation, Violet had held back the worst of her tongue. She had known Remus to be bright-eyed, but gods above, he practically had supernovas in those sockets of his. All this about a trio of tasks that needed to be completed to join some sort of sacred order. An order whose members had remained elusively evasive for coming onto a century at this point. Did they even exist? Would a god really go to such lengths to ensure that their members embodied their core perfectly?

    Violet examined Remus'' features, his eyes staring raptly at the hastily-made diagram. There may have been stupidity there, and a lot of it, not to mention a gambling gleam distinctive to only the most bold of risk-takers, but there was also a twinkle. A twinkle of fiery, slowly amounting ambition. It was little more than a flame now, but a flame so potent that it soaked Remus head-to-toe in its intoxicating allure. If it were ever to be fanned into a raging fire . . . what would become of him?

    Not entirely confident that she wanted to know, Violet continued. ¡°So you¡¯ll spend six years in the army? Complete your mandatory service?¡±

    Remus looked away from his masterpiece of mud-etchings. ¡°What? No! Of course not. I¡¯ll just advance to a Rank where I¡¯m no longer required to serve.¡±

    She wanted to laugh, but the amusement perished in Violet¡¯s throat. It took her a second to realise that he was being utterly serious.

    ¡°So God-Graced just like that huh? How exactly are you planning on vaulting past Emblazed, the Splintered Ranks, Warlord, and then God-Graced, when you haven¡¯t even broken into the realm of Enkindled? Why not shoot for Godling while you¡¯re at it, or better yet, ascending and leaving mortality behind entirely.¡±

    Remus conjured a focused look as he added the last minute details to the map. ¡°That comes after.¡±

    Violet wanted to tear her hair out.

    ¡°Alright.¡± She gave in. ¡°Tell me more about these trials.¡±

    She still wasn¡¯t entirely set on assisting Remus in what may turn out to be a suicide mission, but hearing him out wouldn¡¯t hurt.

    ¡°Okay, so as you know, each territory within Hybrid has a moulded environment, as an aftereffect of the combined Mark usage of a clan. For the Flame Territory, the surroundings are a volcanic wasteland of ash and streaming rivers of lava. This is perfectly suited to the first trial, which is an endurance test.¡±

    ¡°Lovely.¡±

    Remus continued, unperturbed. ¡°All the rivers lead into a colossal lake, the territory¡¯s primary landmark: the Infernal Bays.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t turn this into a geography lesson, get to the point.¡±

    ¡°Underneath here, the obsidian caverns have a centremost chamber, right beneath the lava lake. There, the perfect amount of heat, combined with the cave¡¯s underground environment, create the optimised conditions for Infirnite to manifest. A sort of fiery crystal that can assist in the Flame Clan¡¯s training.¡±

    ¡°So the first trial is to retrieve a shard?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Remus said gravely, ¡°the trial is to spend a Duration down there, enduring the heat, and endless waves of rocky Unbounded, and surface alive with a shard of Infirnite.¡±

    The gravity of that statement was enough to reduce the discussion to a few misplaced coughs.

    ¡°And that¡¯s just the first trial?¡± Violet voiced her bewilderment. ¡°There¡¯s another two after this?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Just as difficult?¡±

    Remus shrugged. ¡°Debatable. The second is rather vague, instructing you to slay a beast of notable power, and collect a part of it as proof of your endeavours. I have a few ideas as for what we can do for that, but let¡¯s discuss it another time. The third and final trial seems the simplest: hunting out the Ambition Sect, and presenting your shard of Infirnite and whatever you took as evidence of having completed the second trial.¡±

    Violet mused over all this. The more Remus revealed, the less eager she was to volunteer to join him on such a journey. Before she could utter another word, let alone come to a decision, Remus clapped his hands.

    ¡°Now then! That¡¯s enough about me and my mad antics. You¡¯ve received virtually my entire life story sprinkled through today and yesterday, and you¡¯ve revealed close to nothing on yourself. How am I supposed to know you¡¯re not some city guard in disguise?¡±

    His subsequent smirk was somehow the most punchable thing Violet had ever lay witness too, and believe her, Nova could be damn irritating sometimes. Most times. ¡°Don¡¯t go reversing this on me. Isn¡¯t my face plastered on wanted posters throughout all of First Rite not evidence enough? ¡±

    His grin didn¡¯t falter.

    ¡°Okay, fine, fine. I¡¯ll tell you a little, you deserve that much.¡±

    Violet didn¡¯t know exactly where to start, tugging on her braid nervously. Even before Remus had broached the topic in the most aggravating manner possible, she¡¯d intended on revealing some parts of her past. But there were many aspects she wasn¡¯t completely comfortable with sharing. Not yet at least; not until she completely trusted Remus. It had only been two days, and he had already lied. She was still irked by that, and her nature to close herself off was as restricting as it had ever been.

    But then again, the two of them were in the same boat. Wanted criminals from Hybrid. Even if she didn¡¯t want to publicly disclose it, hiding behind her introverted exterior, travelling alone for so long may have some troubling repercussions on her psyche. Someone to tow along with would at least keep her in check.

    ¡°I left my family because they betrayed me, but there¡¯s more to it than that.¡±

    Remus cocked a ginger eyebrow. ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve acted . . . off, in recent years. Or, well a decade, nearly. Like shells of their former selves, all the personality ridden out of them. And then there''s my eyes,¡± Violet felt foolish when she said it aloud, but there was no going back now. ¡°They¡¯re crimson.¡±

    ¡°So?¡± Remus prompted, appearing fully immersed to her every sentence.

    ¡°That¡¯s not natural! Not fiery like this anyway. I practically have embers frothing away in place of eyes. Bodily alterations like that should only be possible at my current Rank, Emblazed, and only rarely then. Most people don¡¯t bother, or get to change. I¡¯ve been like this my entire life. Unless I¡¯m some genetic anomaly, something is off.¡±

    Yet again, like it had with her monster of a father Nova, it all came streaming out with the unpreventable force of a tsunami. ¡°Everyone in my clan seemed to have their personalities stripped away . . . like, like they were being replaced by doppelgangers.¡±

    In the corner of her vision, Remus opened his mouth, but she cannoned onwards, before her withdrawn nature forcibly shut her up. ¡°Then there was this letter, about the missing Warlord, Akuji-¡±

    ¡°Akuji? The Life Sect Akuji? That Warlord?¡±

    Violet nodded. ¡°I thought they might have done something to him, something bad, so I confronted my father about it, and . . .¡±

    ¡°He lashed out?¡±

    ¡°Him and my sister, Verity. Things got out of hand, and somehow, ignoring the fact we were on top of Divine Ground, they went straight for my throat. But I swear, for a moment there, I could see her older self surfacing. Screaming at herself to stop. Then it was gone in a blink, and she reverted to that same old, robotic mien.¡±

    By the look on Remus¡¯ face, she needn¡¯t carry on. He could fill out the blanks.

    There was a silence, and when nothing occurred for Remus or her to say, Violet got up and stretched. ¡°Anyhow, we should get moving. Now, I¡¯d usually be entering Hybrid through the Undercrossing.¡±

    ¡°Not as a vigilante, you won¡¯t be." Remus scoffed. ¡°That place has more security than the city itself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m getting to that.¡± Violet huffed, somewhat peeved. ¡°But because of the reason you just mentioned, that option¡¯s gone.¡±

    It was a pity. The Undercrossing was a four-way-tunelled, interconnected passageway that met at the city proper, and led out to the same number of openings outside of Hybrid¡¯s borders, all underground. Via a carriage journey through, one could neatly avoid all the dangers and tribulations that came with the eight territories and their constant squabblings. Not to mention circumventing the absurdities of the Shifting entirely. Perhaps when they acquired enough power to defend themselves, the option would open up. Alas, for now, it was far off limits.

    ¡°So because of that, I¡¯ll have to travel through the mainland. I might as well be doing it with you. But,¡±

    ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°By the sounds of it, you¡¯re not at all prepared for your trials.¡±

    She knew the words to be harsh, but the Engorged was incredibly naive. It needed to be made clear. For his own safety, if nothing else.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to take the liberty to assist in your training. Primarily so you don¡¯t drop dead at the first sign of danger that approaches you. Most of the time, there isn¡¯t going to be someone to protect you. You¡¯re going to have to fend for yourself.¡±

    Surprisingly, Remus suited a stony expression, and refrained from rebutting her. Violet wasn¡¯t entirely confident in this master and pupil dynamic, but if it resulted in Remus being better prepared for Hybrid, she was happy to do it.

    ¡°I can¡¯t teach you too efficiently out here. But there are a few things we can work on. First, your fighting form is horrifically sloppy. Though, I can¡¯t really blame you for that, coming from a sect that doesn¡¯t specialise in combat. Every morning, starting from tomorrow, we¡¯ll go through some motions, and see how you do.¡±

    Remus beamed like a little kid waking up on their birthday. ¡°Thankyou!¡± The words escaped him in one frantic whole. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I can repay you for this.¡±

    An axe was dropped a foot away from Remus, rather haphazardly. His joy diluted to befuddlement in one unsure glance.

    ¡°Funny, because I do; you¡¯ll be hunting for us. Any meat¡¯ll do, as long as it looks edible. We¡¯re far enough away from that last Unbounded pack to only expect individual fiends, or a small group. The regular fight should help toughen you up, and we can see how fast those legs of yours are, when they¡¯re running after prey.¡±

    Picking up the weapon with undisguised hesitance, Remus spoke tentatively. ¡°And on the off chance that I am overrun?¡±

    Violet grinned sinisterly. ¡°Scream.¡±

 12. Leaf and Coin

    The prison was vacant by the time Elmore was called to interrogate the old man, following behind a Wealth Sect tax collector whose fury was palpable, radiating off him with each ground-shattering step.

    Apparently the bald man had history with the ginger-haired escapee; a history Elmore heavily suspected to have something to do with the rumours of a scuffle occurring in the Labour District, some time ago. Apparently it was between a Death-Marked, and given the man¡¯s obvious aversion to the unfortunate souls, it wasn¡¯t a long shot that such whisperings may indeed have factual origins.

    As Edmar slammed the frail form into the nearest chamber not suffering from a recently imploded wall, Elmore couldn¡¯t help but glower. In his time overseeing Tal¡¯s cell, he¡¯d not once been overly delighted in the position. Tal didn¡¯t make a fuss, sure, and it was a job after all that could garner him some respect amongst his Wild Sect elders and peers alike, but the man reeked of alcohol. Having to stand at-hand with expired beer infesting his nostrils for hours on end was not his ideal concept of a worthwhile shift. And he hid the evidence so well too . . . whenever Elmore was sufficiently bothered by the odour, to the extent that he would complain to the prison¡¯s governors, when they would come searching, nothing could be found. Now that Elmore thought about it, where exactly Tal kept the bottles was not something he was eager to find out.

    ¡°Get in, you old git.¡± Edmar huffed, tossing Tal in without the slightest care.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think you¡¯re being a bit rough with him?¡± Elmore felt obliged to ask. The look of contempt in Edmar¡¯s eyes was almost scary.

    Edmar turned. ¡°Are you siding with this sad excuse for a man? Look at this! Eleven arrests before the scribes got tired of keeping track. Eleven, and counting!¡±

    A sheet of paper was thrown Elmore¡¯s way, and he grasped it. After careful inspection, the man¡¯s words proved true.

    ¡°They¡¯re all charges for petty theft. And you say he has a life sentence?¡±

    ¡°He does indeed.¡±

    Elmore scowled. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s . . .¡±

    ¡°What? Excessive? No. Not in the slightest. Honestly, look at the bloke. This is the kind of material we¡¯re referring to when we talk about Death-Marked. The low-lives of society. ¡°

    His caramel coat flapping as he tied Tal to his seat ¡ª who didn¡¯t do so much as struggle, let alone complain ¡ª Edmar clapped his hands together at a job well done.

    All together, the sight before Elmore was thoroughly more depressing; even more so than the usual prison.

    The cell was devoid of anything. No bed, no stool, nor even a waste deposit. At most, perhaps one would feel inclined to address the sole window as something aside from the monochrome walls and ceiling, and yet its glass panes distorted any light passing through to the point of obscuration. So inmates weren¡¯t graced with even a glance of life outside bars. It only then occurred to Elmore that perhaps this extreme minimalism was because the cell wasn¡¯t a cell at all.

    It was an interrogation centre.

    The lynchpin of the scene was Tal himself. With bedraggled clothing that couldn¡¯t have been cleaned in Durations, and unkempt hair that veiled his face on its path to the floor. Both brought throbs to Elmore¡¯s jaded heart, a sympathy Elmore never thought he would hold for the man. Chronic alcoholic or not, this treatment was terribly undignified.

    Edmar, on the other hand, didn¡¯t appear to hold a shred of sympathy. On the contrary, he took two brisk steps towards Tal, and grasped the man¡¯s shoulders with disproportionate strength.

    ¡°Now . . .¡± he said, in the tremulous voice of something teetering on a fall. ¡°Just how did Remus destroy that wall? Outside help?¡±

    Tal screamed in pain, but said nought. If that was because he was purposely withholding information to protect Remus, or if he was too pain-dazed to form words, Elmore wasn¡¯t sure.

    ¡°Tell me!¡± Edmar hissed. When once again met with no reply, his head swerved to his reluctant accomplice of Elmore. ¡°What Sect is he from, or was he disowned?¡±

    ¡°His credentials list him as of the Lightning Clan. Why do you ask?¡±

    The tax-collector ignored him completely, towering over the elderly man. ¡°Listen here bub, every second you don¡¯t talk is another ten Inklings your family will have to pay when I pop over next. And for every subsequent Passing, too.¡±

    Tal¡¯s head shot up, and he stared at Edmar in dismay. ¡°What? No, yo-¡±

    ¡°One.¡±

    A rock seemed to become lodged in Elmore¡¯s throat as he realised an impossibly difficult truth to swallow. Edmar was being serious.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t fair! This is a crime!¡± The man was evidently attempting to spit out as many words as possible. ¡°I¡¯ll report you to-¡±

    ¡°Two and three!¡±

    Elmore felt compelled to take action, his body twitching with each tortuous moment this dragged on. His clan was ruling over an entire city of their own in Hybrid, and were firmly established in Ruling District, so he himself hadn¡¯t faced the consequences of Damosh¡¯s lethal taxes. Foolishly, he¡¯d followed the easy belief that the lower populace were merely exaggerating, that a little inflation was expected in any economy. But this before him ¡ª this irrefutable sight; this travesty ¡ª was stripping away any preconceived notions his privilege had drilled into him. Tal couldn¡¯t confide in any legal facility, because Damosh, and the people beneath him, were First Rite¡¯s version of that. However self-serving they were, when you really got down to it.

    Elmore found himself stepping forward, teeth chomping down with all his bubbling disgust. ¡°Edmar.¡±

    ¡°Forty Inklings!¡±

    Tal sobbed ferociously. ¡°Okay, okay! I¡¯ll tell you, I¡¯ll tell you, I say!¡±

    His whimpers descended into a feeble, very nearly inaudible noise. Elmore had never heard an old man weep, and the uncanny sound of it was beyond jarring.

    Edmar nodded. ¡°Of course you give in. Now, depending on how quickly, and how much you reveal to us, perhaps I¡¯ll take off a second¡¯s Inklings off that forty.¡±

    ¡°What do you want to know?¡± Tal raised his head, eyes somehow indicating such a deep-rooted hatred with but a look that Elmore couldn¡¯t fathom how Edmar could stand to bear it.

    ¡°Are you becoming hard of hearing in your old age? I said, how did Remus get through that wall?¡±

    Tal¡¯s lips visibly struggled to curve into a lopsided line, that some daring few may interpret as a grin. Mixed with the moisture settling in his eyes, the image seemed to conflict with itself. ¡°With his hands.¡±

    ¡°You lie. No Death-Marked could.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Well, I must concede, that is true. But that doesn¡¯t change the fact that Remus could.¡±

    Edmar grabbed the man by the chin, eliciting a few spittle-flung curses from the prisoner. ¡°Stop beating around the bush! Forty-five Inklings-¡±

    ¡°He advanced to Engorged!¡± Tal intercepted, bravado fizzling away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I . . .¡±

    Edmar stood completely still, as if a perfect-stone replica of him had taken the real Edmar¡¯s place. Hunching down after a moment, he faced Tal with the poise of someone reprimanding a misbehaving child. A dense vacuum stripped the trio of any words, and for a second so tense, Elmore had to focus on the thumping of his own heart beat for something to latch onto, only the circulation of their own blood would sate the shared need for noise.

    ¡°Forty-Five.¡±

    ¡°Bas . . .¡± Tal wisely cut himself off. ¡°It''s the truth! What do you think Remus was caught stealing at the Ruling market, hmm? Droplets!¡±

    ¡°And yet he was stopped, was he not, by the Wealth Sect¡¯s own Ola. Are you questioning her abilities? Does the thought of good, honest institutions oppose you?¡±

    Elmore couldn¡¯t stand on the sidelines for any longer. ¡°Not to overstep, Edmar, but the story matches. What if he did steal a Droplet? Suspend your disbelief for a moment, and think as if it is fact. Does it not make sense? Unless you have any other likely theories?¡±

    The sound of Edmar¡¯s sighs was like the heralding of war. ¡°Truthfully, I can¡¯t think of what else he could¡¯ve done. But a reason for a Death-Marked to steal Ichor eludes the mind. It''s illogical, like replacing a cup with a hole with a slightly bigger, cracked mug..¡±

    ¡°It''s the truth.¡±

    Edmar leered at the old man. ¡°Do not speak unless I call on you. Forty-seven Inklings.¡±

    Tal restrained his outcry to a subtle thumping of the boot.

    ¡°Engorged is better than nothing, Edmar, and these people are desperate for any crumb of power they can get their hands on. Gods above, for a Death-Marked, just the power of the first Rank would be a-¡±

    "World of difference.¡± Tal spoke, bearing his chipped teeth to Edmar before the taxman could speak up. ¡°Go ahead, add as many Inklings as you like. The Lightning Clan isn¡¯t reliant on First Rite. Our profits are from our soldiers fighting honourably at the front-lines, not any stall or business in this damn city. Don¡¯t think we won¡¯t hesitate to leave if you get too cocky.¡±

    In an impressive show of grit, Tal didn¡¯t waver. In fact, he only continued more rapidly. ¡°Remus told me before he left that he got involved in a fight with one of your lot. I¡¯m starting to suspect it was you he stood up to, and if he did, well, I¡¯m starting to like the chap more and more!¡±

    One look at Edmar, and Elmore knew for certain the man had pushed too far. He didn¡¯t lash out, and neither did he show any external change. His face painted a stoic image of a man merely doing his job, but deep underneath, Elmore recognised the hint of oncoming mirth. As if he was about to set into action something monstrous, and still draw endless joy out of it.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    That was when Elmore heard the chinking.

    It originated from seemingly everywhere at first, and Elmore suddenly grew alarmed, tapping into his blazing Mark in rigid preparation. Not another minute passed, and there came a knocking at the window. Visitors? Elmore pondered doubtfully. That didn¡¯t seem correct; who would be scaling up to the top floor of the prison when a staircase was readily available?

    Then came another hit against the glass, with a circular shadow accompanying it. The inkling of an idea that someone may be throwing rocks from below was quickly dismissed from Elmore¡¯s calculating brain, as a dozen more struck in quick succession. Steadily, with all the tentative intensity of someone constructing a house of cards, a crack began to web across its transparent surface.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Tal asked, to no response.

    The sound of a thousand keys jingling together ¡ª something Elmore had become very accustomed to the minor form of during his guarding position ¡ª resounded distantly.

    ¡°Answer me!¡± Tal screeched, frantically looking at the two in between looks at the window. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    Edmar didn¡¯t input a word. The noise wasn¡¯t so far off now, approaching, advancing closer, before-

    The windows shattered in an eruption of glassy shrapnel, and with it, came a torrent of Inklings. Soon, a thousand tiny replicas of Damosh¡¯s engraved face were spiralling around Edmar¡¯s uplifted hands. It was the most bizarre sight of Elmore¡¯s life, and he¡¯d seen literal gods descending from the sky on a yearly basis.

    Whilst Elmore wondered where exactly all the cash had come from, Tal spasmed in his chair. ¡°Damn you! This is corrupt, this is-¡±

    Edmar ignored the wailing man¡¯s existence, looking Elmore square in the eye with exaggerated eye bags. ¡°I¡¯ll take over from here Elmore,¡± he said, as if the Wild Sect prodigy had actually assisted him much in the interrogation. ¡°I believe we¡¯ve drained all the information we can from this man.¡±

    Something about the scene, other than the obvious, superficial moral depravity of a man punching down at his lessers, sent a tide of unease seeping through Elmore¡¯s bones, but he couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on what it was.

    Elmore had to catch his breath. ¡°You''re not suggesting what I think you are?¡±

    Their bald head turned to him. ¡°And if I am? What authority are you under to stop me?¡±

    Words failed to escape Elmore, and he could do nought but stall his departure by examining the scene before him. Right here, right now, he could finally understand what all the other sects had been referring to. This was the reality of Elmore¡¯s birth city, the reality of Damosh¡¯s rule, and it brought nothing but uncovered sickness to Elmore¡¯s tight chest. Something set ablaze within him, some deep crevice of his soul begging at himself not to turn out like this. One day, Elmore vowed he would ascend to the top of his clan, fulfilling his childish aspirations by taking Juniper¡¯s status as leader. Then in the turning of the years, when Hybrid¡¯s cycle of leadership landed the Wild Sect a seat on the Silver Throne once more, he would rule Hybrid with grace, eloquence, and compassion.

    Traits that must have been foreign concepts to the Wealth Sect¡¯s deafened ears.

    Elmore bowed as rigidly as he could, staring at the ground so as not to observe the horrors ahead. ¡°Thank you for assisting Edmar, I must now retire back to my chambers.¡±

    The structure of the words had been uttered a million times before Elmore had even been born, and would be indefinitely after his death, but he was of no mind for creative ingenuity.

    As Elmore closed the doors behind him, he could hear nothing.

    Nothing, except the screams of a dying man.

    <hr>

    Outside, it became apparent that the universe wasn¡¯t quite finished with slapping First Rite¡¯s flaws across Elmore¡¯s face.

    He had barely taken two hurried steps outside of Ruling District''s prison when a pandemonium of roaring noise threatened to rupture his eardrums. Flocks of people had arrived at the brink of Ruling, forming a most inconvenient barrier for anyone merely trying to get through. It grabbed your attention, Elmore would give them that; you couldn¡¯t quite ignore an entire row of protestors blocking your path, holding aloft signs spreading disquiet sentiments of revolution.

    They were all from Labour or Leisure District, with the former the most major force making up the bulk of the displeased clansmen. That was obvious by their attires: either working garments or pieces of too lacklustre a quality to be from the top five. With the preventions of Divine Ground making it impossible for a true uprising, the suffering populace ¡ª or at least those brave enough to push back against the Wealth Sect ¡ª had settled for holding up placards in the most attention-demanding manner possible. They all held the same general message: complaints about the taxes, Damosh¡¯s almost universally detested leadership, and quite a few slanderous comments towards Ruling as a whole, that Elmore felt to be a tad misplaced. Aside from those involving his own District, Elmore did have enough heart to support the campaigner''s cause of course, he just thought this entire stunt would be a lot easier to root for if it hadn¡¯t been so irritatingly timed.

    A crowd of activists blocking my path . . . exactly what I need after hearing a man being clobbered to death by flying gold.

    The procession must have only begun recently, for no watchmen had strolled over to . . . what could they do, exactly? Technically, the protestors weren¡¯t disobeying the non-combat rules of Divine Ground by only standing there, and if they refused to move, and the poor guy commissioned with getting them out the way was a tinge too forceful . . .

    A smiting straight from the gods it would be. A flare of pure Infinity, and someone¡¯s entire subcellular form would be erased from existence. For the second time that day, a sensation of wrongness rubbed Elmore the wrong way. Something about that line of thought wasn''t right. For several moments, he stood there like an idiot, until it struck him.

    Divine Ground. Edmar had killed a man, and had somehow avoided the gods¡¯ wrath. The realisation shook Elmore to his core. If Damosh had found a way to circumvent such foundational rules, the man would have the power to prolong his rule forever. How would one go about usurping an immortal king nearing the power of a god, when your only weapon was unuseable? If Damosh simply never left First Rite¡¯s partitions, he may never have to fear death again.

    His psyche trembling at the prospect, Elmore felt compelled to move. He couldn¡¯t bear to watch the innocence struggle pointlessly; if there was anything in the Mortal Realms that had the potential to drive him insane, this would be it.

    Instead, he hopped along a few roof tops, the Ichor channelling through his legs tossing him up. And yet, the protestors had thought of that too. As he dashed along the weather-beaten tiles of the lowest reaching buildings of the District, amongst him were both other Ruling residents with similar ideas, and one or two sign-holding civilians glaring at him as if he were the cause of the city¡¯s shortcomings. Reaching the less embellished, but still wonderfully decorated peaks of Leisure, Elmore darted past, the wind in his hair and the all-consuming dread slowly but surely expiring. Replaced by an emotion that could be accurately categorised as the other side of the same coin ¡ª excitement.

    Up ahead, nestled between the side of the centremost street and and a few nondescript buildings, was a stretch of flattened ground sparse of any protrusions at all, unless you counted the rapidly filling seats rising in rows off to the sides. For once, a smile formed on Elmore¡¯s lips in response to the sight. The muddy pitch of barren land was the fighting ground for the inter-sect tournament, a competition reaching its quarter finals, and Elmore just so happened to be one of the hundred or so left in the running.

    Those permitted to join could only be of Foot-Soldier Rank at most, competing either right before heading off to the frontlines, or returning after their mandatory employment was complete. Being Emblazed himself, Elmore knew he was virtually guaranteed to be kicked out this round. It was around this time into the competition that the Foot-Soldiers wiped out the peak of the Emblazed who had managed to worm their way up to the first stage of the finals, with only the truly exceptional of the upcoming generation getting any further. Elmore was upheld as a sort of prodigy in his clan, regardless of his own thoughts on the title, and yet even he doubted his prospects of success. It would be a miracle if he survived the first few minutes into his initial bout, let alone blast his way the full distance.

    Optimistic thoughts put aside, Elmore stepped off the edge of a building, flaring the Mark across his back in a luminous neon green, that glowed even through the beige material of his tunic. The branch of a nearby tree promptly expanded, large enough to withstand the force of his landing without snapping in half. Dropping off in one last fall, Elmore brushed his cape to the side in a playful flaunt, admittedly quite impressed with himself for rushing over here so smoothly, without so much as a misstep to impede him.

    The walls surrounding the arena casting a shadow over Elmore, he strolled to the entrance, where a woman who appeared as if she¡¯d rather be anywhere else but here twiddled her fingers against a desk. The crest of a quill and ink pot sewn into her gown indicated that the woman was from the Scribe Sect, which explained how she managed to wrap her mind around the hundreds of documents scattered about her.

    She only vaguely acknowledged him as he arrived, scouring through a thick pile of notes.

    ¡°Name?¡± She prompted, in a high, scratchy sort of voice.

    ¡°Elmore of The Wild Sect.¡±

    ¡°Age and Divine Rank?¡±

    ¡°Seventeen. Emblazed.¡±

    The hunched woman nodded, as if his profile had conveniently materialised before her, and turned to two guards standing to either side of a doorway. ¡°Let him through. Permitted.¡±

    The door¡¯s guardians uncrossed their lofted spears, making way for a drawbridge-like mechanism that revealed a stone interior. Nodding at the two of them in acknowledgement, Elmore entered.

    The training room was almost as sparse as the prisons, but given that he would be called for soon, Elmore didn¡¯t mind. The area was divided into separate cubicles, lines upon lines of them stretching the entire length of the pitch. He remembered well how packed these were on the first day, how humid and breathless he felt in the presence of so many overcrowded people. Now, only half of the spaces were filled. Elmore found his room ¡ª they were in alphabetical order, so this was simple enough ¡ª found his bag he had left there the other day, and took a seat with an earth-shattering sigh of relief.

    That feeling of the drudgery of work leaving his body was quickly reversed, when he made the very unwise decision of noticing the child seated ahead of him.

    Elmore took one look at the deepsea blue irises of his younger cousin and very nearly threw his tournament clothes at him.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± He scoffed.

    ¡°Hey? Why the rudeness?¡± Ash placed a hand to his chest and flinched back, scandalised. ¡°It''s not like I wanted to walk all the way here.¡±

    The tremendous task of holding back his tongue took more endurance than any training Elmore had ever undergone. Bad enough that he had to train the little twerp once a Duration under the advisement of Juniper, now he was finding ways to disrupt his life in other ways.

    ¡°How¡¯d you get in here?¡± Elmore huffed, looking around for the nearest Ash-sized window. ¡°You don¡¯t have entry. Besides, didn¡¯t you decide to skirt enrolling, on the basis of ¡®if training is this much of a drag, the tournament will be even more of a bore¡¯?¡±

    It was true that, whilst astoundingly young for his age, Ash could technically enter the competition if he wished to. He had just broken into Emblazed at the tender age of fifteen, an obvious oversight by whoever ruled this universe, because the boy put in the same amount of effort as a raisin into any task thrown at him. Particularly those that didn¡¯t involve sitting down, and doing absolutely nothing for prolonged periods of time.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here any more than you want me to, but listen. Juniper has a task for you.¡±

    That caught Elmore¡¯s attention. He¡¯d been trying determinedly to garner the God-Graced¡¯s attention for longer than he could recall. If he wanted to take her place as leader one day, it would be in his best interests to first be respected amongst the clan¡¯s higher-ups, and you couldn¡¯t get much higher than the leader herself. Perhaps this, after training vigorously everyday, and taking all the jobs he could get, would be his big break. The only issue that irked him was that Ash had been contacted by Juniper first.

    ¡°Wait, she spoke to you?¡±

    Ash nodded, as if it wasn¡¯t a big deal. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°And she actually said my name specifically? There¡¯s something she only wants me to do?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, give or take,¡± the child moaned, ¡°now, are we going to see her or not?¡±

    ¡°Now? As in, precisely this moment?¡±

    Ash shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s what Juniper said. She says it''s urgent or something. But oh yeah, you¡¯ll have to withdraw from the tournament, you¡¯re headed to someplace outside of First Rite. Sounds like you won¡¯t be having any fun for a while.¡±

    And hidden amid Ash¡¯s highly encouraging words, there was the catch at last. Elmore had to properly muse this over for a moment. Leaving the competition in its midst was a sour proposition, but then again, the inter-sect tournament would always be around. Next year, he could simply attend and be very likely to surpass any standing he would reach if he did remain to finish off. But a task from Juniper might never come again, and, as much as he liked to believe that he had a choice in the matter, he was not nearly mad enough to decline a God-Graced¡¯s request.

    ¡°Okay, fine. I¡¯ll go.¡±

    Elmore bent to pick up his belongings, walked out of the quaint chamber, and continued along to be discharged when he noticed that his cousin was still tagging along, as he cued to speak with the desk-lady.

    ¡°Why are you still here, scurry off, why don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Did I not mention?¡± Ash said under a mop of unkempt, jet black hair the same shade as Elmore¡¯s. ¡°For some reason, despite my pleas against it, Juniper requested me to join you in the task. No matter what I do, I just can¡¯t seem to dissuade her.¡±

    Stopping in his tracks, Elmore somehow choked on thin air. ¡°What?¡±

    Minutes had transpired, and Elmore was already getting second thoughts. Whatever Juniper had in store for him, it had better be worth it.

 13. The Shade of Envy

    The Wild Sect¡¯s base within First Rite, whilst irrefutably quite the tower, was nothing in Elmore¡¯s mind but a cheaply made rendition of the masterclass in arboreal architecture that was the clan¡¯s headquarters in Hybrid.

    In that not-so-distant city of their ruling, aside of course from the ancient castle that Hybrid¡¯s reigning monarchs inhabited, their base in their territory was a sprawling tree, larger still than the cliffside the runaway Death-Marked had descended earlier that day. However inferior, Ruling¡¯s version was nevertheless one of the coveted spirals of the tremendously wealthy district, and money alone was enough to buy a certain level of quality, regardless of whether the people constructing those towers bore hatred for their occupants or not. Like The Wild god, Chantal, both this base Elmore and Ash were heading towards and the more naturalistic build in Hybrid had a design of quartered sections, each representing a turning of the seasons. In Ruling, this was accomplished via stretches of wood like clinging hands offering different shades of leaves, or varying quality of the wood for the different forces of weather that struck down on the land, depending on the time of year. Whereas, back where the bulk of Elmore¡¯s family stayed, the tree reflected the same general concept in a much more momentous form, given the sheer colossal size of the towering oak.

    Perhaps the fact that the Mark on his back depicted the wooden expanse was a factor as to why he felt such a tight-knitted connection to the building; it was literally imprinted onto his body. But regardless of if it was the original or not, the tower before him was still home to Elmore, and the looming sight of it was a comfort. As if within those walls, mother nature herself would be protecting him.

    ¡°Does your training routine involve scaling these stairs?¡± Ash gasped for air, as they strolled up what felt like the millionth flight upon entry.

    ¡°No, but don¡¯t give me any ideas for our next outing.¡± Elmore allowed a smile. And why shouldn¡¯t he smile? Juniper herself was seeking assistance from him. Wait until his mother and father heard about this, they¡¯d act like he was this world¡¯s saviour.

    At last, they were stationed at the spire¡¯s apex. Up ahead, a canopy of gathered leaves could be seen, with a few tweeting birds flapping through its expansive boughs. A wall made entirely of glass jutted up a few feet ahead, extending to just below where the tangle of branches began. Curtains were currently draped open on each side, leaving the sight of Juniper right ahead in plain view, seated regally on a chair of impressive size. She appeared to say something to her appointed guards ¡ª an esteemed position Elmore was hoping to gain the experience for via his prison guard duties ¡ª and she beckoned them forward with a polite wave of the hand in her own direction.

    Keeping a watchful eye on his cousin to make sure he wouldn¡¯t act up, Elmore lowered himself to a humble, kneeling bow. ¡°At your service, my liege. Ash here informed me that you may require my presence for some kind of task, is that correct?¡±

    ¡°It is indeed.¡± The woman smiled down at him, delicate, light makeup discreetly lighting up her features. ¡°Apologies for demanding your withdrawal from the tournament Elmore, I hope it doesn¡¯t discourage you from participating next year. On brighter topics, I anticipate you completing your Bank¡¯s mould any day now. And then we¡¯ll have another promising Foot-Soldier in our midst.¡±

    Elmore flustered at the kind words. He recalled well the day Chantal appeared to him in a dream, showing him visages of woodlands growing and burning ¡ª the cycle of nature fulfilling its never-ending journey, only to embark on it all over again. He recalled the spark of power that had rushed into his chest from the goddess¡¯ fingertips after his rapid acceptance; the first taste of Infinity to spring his lifelong addiction. It had been an obvious offer from Chantal: to either remain eternally as an Emblazed, or risk the heights of power that came with ascending the Divine Ranks. How anyone felt content with reaching Emblazed in early adulthood, and simply living out the rest of their days restricted at that Rank, was an absurd thought for Elmore to understand.

    ¡°What Boundless Vault, may I ask, are you cultivating?¡± Juniper asked with a pleasant curve of the lips.

    Inwardly, Elmore could sense the winding tubes of Infinity superimposed over his internal organs. The majority of the colourless tunnels arrived around his Mark, with only an unfinished minority ending abruptly. As of present, the network was incomplete, in the initial stages where it could only be referred to as a Boundless Bank. Alas, the advent of acquiring a Boundless Vault ¡ª the term for the complete form ¡ª was still a ways off.

    ¡°Exuberant Patronage.¡± Elmore answered. ¡°I believe it would be best to prioritise maximising the potential of my Mark. Should assist with future plans I have in mind.¡±

    Bank-sculpting was the primary task-at-hand for any Emblazed trying to ascend to Foot-Soldier. When the subject¡¯s goddess or god bestowed them with the initial speck of Infinity, it manifested as little more than a dot behind the naval. Only the arduous, repeated gathering of Infinity allowed one to slowly build the Bank ¡®mould ¡¯ ¡ª or Vault ¡ª of their choice, by directing the all-encompassing resource in a certain pattern. Each Vault variety had special advantages and disadvantages that came with the mould in question, and Elmore had scrutinised each, assessing them endlessly compared to one another. The Stone Crusher Vault for example, would be far too raw power oriented for a soldier desiring to make speedy escapes from their enemies.

    ¡°Seems you selected the same mould I had at your Rank.¡± The God-Graced observed him with a strange look. ¡°Was that a coincidence?¡±

    Elmore concealed an awkward cough. ¡°Yes, I¡¯d say it is. Though perhaps I was admittedly influenced by your personal skillset. I have a similar path mapped out for myself.¡±

    ¡°Well, whatever the case, be sure to continue working away at it diligently.¡±

    He kneeled deeper. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡±

    Even as they spoke, Elmore was in the process of collecting in Infinity. The resource was to be found everywhere, and could thus be absorbed passively if one ingrained the technique of doing so so deep into their memory, that it became second-nature.

    ¡°Now then, back to the matter at hand.¡± Juniper properly began, and Elmore straightened himself ever-so-slightly. ¡°As you know, much of the sect is either busy at the inter-sect tournament, or other official business caused by the Day of Descension.¡±

    Elmore nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re also aware of First Rite¡¯s latest two escapees.¡±

    ¡°Yes . . .¡± Elmore began reluctantly, his excitement dampened somewhat. This had most definitely not been what he¡¯d expected. ¡°Remus and Chaos Sect girl.¡±

    Juniper nodded. ¡°Violet. You see Elmore, due to the lack of on-hand clansmen, we thought you may be the best pick for retrieving the two. I and a few other sect leaders were discussing the matter at a conference, and seeing how you were Remus¡¯ guard at the time, you may feel as though he is your responsibility. I would not wish to inhibit that rightful desire.¡±

    He felt no such thing. Elmore had barely registered the guy¡¯s existence in the two days he was imprisoned, and even with Tal, whom he¡¯d been overseeing for entire Passings at this point, he hadn¡¯t harboured any feelings of responsibility in the slightest. But he wasn¡¯t about to tell Juniper that.

    ¡°I¡¯ll gladly accept the privilege, my liege. Thank you for offering this opportunity, but, before I go, there¡¯s one last thing I must bring to your attention. A matter that I believe could have some catastrophic outcomes.¡±

    The woman actually seemed troubled, and over his shoulder, Elmore could even see Ash shooting him an intrigued glance in his peripherals. ¡°What is it? Please, go on.¡±

    ¡°Before arriving here, my guarding duties required me to interrogate Tal about what exactly happened between him and Remus, before the boy escaped. A tax-collector from the Wealth Sect, Damosh, I believe his name was, seemed especially interested in the case; requesting to assist in the interrogation.¡±

    The God-Graced¡¯s temporary worry subsided behind a mien of stoic understanding.

    ¡°When things didn¡¯t turn out how he planned, after I left, I think I overhead Damosh . . . I think I overheard him killing the man.¡±

    Still, Juniper appeared perfectly composed. She didn¡¯t even rustle at the urgency of his next words.

    ¡°But how is that possible? Doesn¡¯t that go against the Moratorium Pact? How could he fight on Divine Ground? How could he kill?¡±

    The last word came out as a shrill mutter, as if Elmore couldn¡¯t quite believe it himself.

    ¡° . . . there¡¯s another Oath,¡± Juniper spoke with obvious hesitance. ¡°Other than the Righteous Oath, or the Moratorium Pact. A third that¡¯s not exactly hidden per se, but not eagerly revealed either. It''s the Elimination Act.¡±

    ¡°Elimination Act?¡± The words sounded repulsive just lingering on his tongue for a second.

    ¡°It reads that, while some of the details aren¡¯t exactly well defined, that if someone has committed a crime, regardless of whether on Divine Ground, or not, that you can attack them. It was used more often in humanity¡¯s early stages, when times were more barbaric, and the current judicial system most cities abide by was only a speck of potential in the imaginations of the truly wise. Though that being said, they¡¯re not exactly civil now.¡±

    ¡°What counts as a crime then?¡± Ash piped up, and Elmore had almost forgotten his cousin wasn¡¯t a dormant mannequin. Perhaps he shouldn¡¯t have brought the topic up with Ash in the room, but alas, it wasn¡¯t as if he could ¡®undo¡¯ the last five minutes.

    ¡°That¡¯s one of the key complaints addressed with the Act: it''s not defined.¡±

    Elmore said nothing, mentally putting two and two together. ¡°So, by that description, if you went as far as offended those in place of ruling a settlement, it could be twisted as breaking some undefined law? Punishing virtually anyone they wished to?¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Unfortunately yes.¡± Juniper admitted. ¡°It''s a power I do my best not to manipulate in Hybrid, but what worries me most is that it can be abused by almost anyone in a place of power. You see, if this text was referring to laws before laws were rigidly set, it could have been made to refer to the codes of individual sects, which were what dictated what could and could not be done centuries ago.¡±

    Elmore had to fight to concentrate. He was simultaneously so immersed in the woman¡¯s words, that the rest of reality had waned into something approaching an afterthought, and yet at the same time, found that with each world-shattering revelation, he had to struggle desperately to decipher the deeper meaning. The deeper consequences; the impacts this would cast upon the political world.

    Her continuing so unflinchingly didn¡¯t assist him in this matter in the slightest. In fact, it fanned the flames of an oncoming headache. ¡°You see, I¡¯m actually quite glad that you brought this to my attention, for I do believe this has something to do with Violet herself. We sent a Mercenary-Ranked from the Sight Clan to investigate the Chaos manor, just to be sure nothing peculiar was going on. She says her proficiency in the Sight subject of power is so mastered that she can see, or more likely sense, changes in Infinity. ¡±

    Out of everything, Elmore almost struggled to comprehend that the most. ¡°A Mercenary Ranked? What, is she retired?¡±

    Mercenary was one of the three Splintered Ranks, the one Elmore himself was set upon achieving, right above Foot-Soldier but below the likes of Warlord. Altogether, the nitty gritty of that trio of advancements was quite complicated, and so his brain didn¡¯t dawdle on the thought of them for too long, lest his over-clogged mind combusted trying to keep up with it all.

    ¡°She very well could be if she desired, but when you¡¯re that strong, most of the Splintered Ranks and above desire to stay. After all, in the constant heat of fiery combat is most likely where you¡¯ll grow stronger, and the best place that is absolutely brimming with all sorts of demanding situations is the front lines.¡± Juniper explained, her almost jet eyes of sapphire blue seeming to pierce through the layers of Elmore¡¯s chiselled muscle and flesh, jutting into the tender soul that lay beneath it all. ¡°Anyhow, this Mercenary was in the city for the Descension, and kindly met the council, who collectively requested her to see if anything strange was afoot in the Chaos Sect¡¯s base of operations. Graciously, she accepted.¡±

    It was Ash¡¯s turn to have his face scrunched up in perplexion. ¡°Council?¡±

    The God-Graced turned to Elmore¡¯s cousin with a look of understanding. ¡°Oh right, forgive the confusion. You¡¯re not of age to participate, are you?¡±

    Elmore knew the God-Graced wasn¡¯t trying to be patronising, but Ash¡¯s trembling lip failed to conceal his upset.

    ¡°One of the perks of Ruling is that the top five get a lot of the say in what occurs in First Rite. Other sects may be able to contribute their requests and complaints at yearly gatherings, but our opinions hold the most weight, as we, in Damosh¡¯s eyes at least, provide the most for the city. A little . . .'''' Elmore wasn¡¯t sure how much he could say in front of Juniper. ¡° . . . Twisted, in my opinion. But once you turn sixteen, you might be randomly selected to represent the clan. I myself am yet to be picked.¡±

    ¡°Well explained Elmore.¡± Juniper nodded along, before Ash could state his grievances at finding out the ugly truth behind First Rite¡¯s management. ¡°Now, before we get sidetracked for the third time, I must insist you let me finish without interruption.¡±

    Now Elmore couldn¡¯t tell if she was purposely being patronising or not.

    ¡°So this inspector examined the mansion in full, though due to the structure of the place, it was compulsory that she had a Chaos Sect Ambassador at her side. Those people manoeuvre through their home via distorting the passages, you see, to guide them in the direction they desire. Sight, whilst undoubtedly powerful in many utilities, has no such capability. Because of this needed guidance, many of the council was concerned that the results of our investigation may be skewered. Fortunately, they stumbled onto something most interesting.

    ¡°In Nova¡¯s throne room, our investigator picked up an unusual imprint of Infinity. Apparently, usage of Infinity leaves detectable signs of it¡¯s happening that can be identified, if you possess the needed abilities, that is. According to her, there was an eruption of the ethereal stuff leaving unperceivable trails across practically every surface in the room ¡ª a residue of sorts, if that analogy helps you picture it. What do you think could have caused such an eruption of Infinity?¡±

    Her head tilted towards the cousins in prompt.

    ¡°A fight would be the obvious response, would it not? Between someone of Foot-Soldier or higher.¡± Even as Elmore said the words, he was beginning to understand. For now, he held his tongue.

    ¡°Good. But not only a fight, for the room seemed stitched together by Infinity, according to our investigator¡¯s accounts.¡±

    ¡°So . . . they rebuilt the room after the destruction?¡± Ash commented, and Elmore himself thought the train of thought to be quite reasonable in its assessment.

    One word, and that notion deflated. ¡°No. Chaos energy is powerful as all the wrath of the underworld, but it has one major flaw, besides a few other minor shortcomings. It cannot create. Chaos can only destroy or distort.¡±

    Elmore let that sink in, and yet, regardless of what he thought before, still didn¡¯t quite understand. Ash¡¯s placid look read as him feeling quite the same way.

    ¡°When compared with descriptions and eye-witness accounts of the throne room prior to Violet¡¯s escape, all describe it as slightly, very subtly different to what can now be found in its stead. The clock is etched out of a different wood; the carpet a shade several types deeper than its previous, and an array of other, all minute alterations far too multitudinous to name. The point is, I believe Nova, for whatever reason, got so furious at Violet that he twisted the ancient code of his clan, set how many centuries ago, to befit his needs. Then, miraculously, when the girl escaped, they patched the evidence as best they could.¡±

    It was an awful lot to consider, but Elmore was finally beginning to piece it all together. ¡°I think . . . I think I understand. This Chaos Sect is making great waves in their native city, in Hell¡¯s Floor, and some theorise it to be in for the running of the crown. Maybe this is all connected to that? Could the girl have done something to threaten their odds?¡±

    ¡°Possibly.¡± Juniper frowned in the regal way only those in a place of power can. It was as if she was vexed at the world itself for not submitting the information she craved. ¡°All the more reason to track her down. If they ever do grow to rule, we need all the information on the clan as we can get. A competitor is a competitor after all. And this Violet girl is likely afraid. Afraid, and therefore susceptible. We can offer that helping hand in the dark that she needs now more than ever, in exchange for . . . information. She¡¯d be a fool to refuse the offer.¡±

    ¡°And if she does?¡± Ash dared to pose the question.

    ¡°Well then,¡± Juniper¡¯s features suddenly became the portrait of all her divine power. ¡°That would be a dark day for her indeed.¡±

    The two cousins said no more, a notion to not explore the topic anymore bizarrely passing between them without the need of words.

    ¡°Now then!¡± The God-Graced clapped her hands merrily in a stretching smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure I can count on you three to help locate Violet, am I correct? And though it has slipped my mind, the council is in almost equal demand for Remus. Apparently he angered both the Wealth and Sight Clan in the span of a few days, though I am sure hatreds have been brewing for many a Passing longer than that.¡±

    ¡°Of course I¡¯d accept, your highness,¡± Elmore used the title she was known as in Hybrid, doing his best to format his subsequent complaint as politely as possible. ¡°But, forgive me for this next comment, I have trouble understanding why my cousin must be brought alongside me, for training or not. Does it not seem like a waste of time and resources? Would it not be more efficient to have someone else carry out the boy¡¯s training, instead of possibly slowing down our trail on the fleeing? It is merely a suggestion to consider, of course.¡±

    Ash¡¯s mouth became agape in unconcealed offence. ¡°Hey!¡± Within seconds of saying it, the boy seemed to realise the setting he was in, and for once in his life, demonstrated his possession of at least sub-standard intelligence, and shut his mouth.

    ¡°Settle down, both of you.¡± Juniper exhaled with lowered eyelids. ¡°Elmore, you are undeniably a great upcoming talent in our clan ¡ª if it were not so, I never would have commissioned you with this task in the first place ¡ª but that talent runs deep into your very bloodline, and it would be an unprecedented shame to put that to waste. Ash, excuse the unintended jab, has advanced from Enkindled to Emblazed faster than even you have my dear, and the most effort he puts in is merely showing up for his training sessions.¡±

    ¡°When it suits him . . .¡± Elmore murmured.

    ¡°Think of what potential he could tap into if he gave it his all. You need to be the motivating figure in his life to make him want to train until his body is exhausted, to tap into his Mark at any given opportunity. And, now that he is soon to receive his vision, to mould his Vault alongside you to the best of his ability.¡±

    How Ash would ever bring himself to accept Chantal¡¯s offer of power was a question Elmore couldn¡¯t help but find vastly amusing. It was sometimes blissfully easy to forget that his annoying younger cousin was of equal Rank to him, regardless of how close to the next stage of power either of them were. Elmore had cut his teeth, sacrificed hundreds of hours of his time, and suffered immensely to get to where he was today. But his cousin? No skill in his soul, merely leaching off his inherited talent that if in Elmore¡¯s hands . . . Well, if you could advance that easily, Elmore would already be a god by now. He would be standing among the pillars of heaven themselves, not in this copycat tower.

    All that dormant aptitude put to waste was tortuous to watch. Ash was innocuously unaware of what some would do to be in his position. The prospect of it stirred some festering feeling within Elmore; a brewing chemical reaction in the pathways of his mind seeping him in ¡ª seeping him in-

    ¡°We are not growing envious, are we Elmore?¡± Juniper¡¯s words cut cold, and Elmore couldn¡¯t conceal his gall at the words any longer.

    He spoke in the shrill, unbelieving words of the guilty. ¡°Envious? Me? Of Ash? Of this usurping, undeser-¡±

    The parts of him not particularly fancying being incinerated on the spot shut his mouth for him. ¡°Apologies.¡± He found himself spewing at Ash¡¯s disbelieving expression, and Juniper¡¯s shallow indifference. ¡°Forgi-¡±

    ¡°Exactly what I mean here, Elmore.¡± She scowled at him deeply, as if actually pained. ¡°You have so much potential yourself. I beg of you, do not let it be put to waste by the volume of someone else¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± Elmore rubbed his arm and cocked his head like a chided schoolboy. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll bring Remus and Violet back alive, I swear it to you.¡±

    A jovial air had returned to the woman. ¡°Music to my ears indeed. Now, I do believe it is an apt time for a family reunion.¡±

    Both of them looked at the God-Graced with squinting eyes. ¡°Family reunion?¡±

    There was a shuffling off to the side, as a familiar figure entered into view. Elmore almost didn¡¯t recognise the rather ordinary-looking boy for a moment, and when he did, he had to consult Ash¡¯s expression for confirmation. His cousin for once, appeared to be at a loss for words.

    Juniper continued, undeterred. ¡°I thought it a great shame that his blood would be wasted in our base in Hybrid. A terrible mistake that the high-ups decided to keep him there, away from you two. An oversight from me that I¡¯ll have to ask you to forgive.¡±

    The figure''s short dark hair was much neater than his brother¡¯s. He was noticeably shorter than Ash as well, given the year gap, and held his hands behind him sheepishly; looking to the side like he couldn¡¯t quite decide if he wanted to be there or not.

    ¡°I do not wish to prolong your journey any more than necessary, but I thought this may be a good bonding experience for you all to reunite, especially after so long apart. How long has it been again?¡±

    Elmore only barely managed to stifle a choke. ¡°Five Rebirths.¡±

    Juniper placed a palm in front of where her heart would be. ¡°How I ache for you. I have plans to supply the boy with the second chance I always knew he deserved; he will be under your guidance Elmore, alongside Ash. So please, will you take both of your cousins with you? You would be doing our sect a great favour, and I hold those who uphold our clan in the highest regard.¡±

    ¡°Of . . . Of course.¡±

    Ash didn¡¯t appear to have been taking in the conversation. He only stared, unbelievingly, at the boy shifting gawkily in the corner, a tremulous word departing from the port of his own lips. ¡°Koa?¡±

 14. Crimson Oak

    The cavernous expanse seemed to go on for as far as his Engorged eyes could see, but Remus'' attention was rather preoccupied with the onslaught of Unbounded eager to cleave off his flesh. The bug-like beings the size of hands darted about the place on spindly legs, masses of leaf green with freakishly long antennas. Violet observed his struggle from a higher perch with a placid expression, supplying the exhausted man with the occasional, extremely helpful comment of ¡®watch your footing,¡¯ or, equally as insightful: ¡®remind me again why I agreed to train someone with two left legs?¡¯.

    Remus kept his mouth shut, as much as it would please him to jab back, and instead focused on avoiding the hookish fangs of the Unbounded. Their bulbous eyes of blood-red rather well reflected his own dour mood. His customary apron, lovingly stitched together by his own mother, was now defamed by the murky blood of the dying beasts, who hadn¡¯t dissolved fast enough to not leave their mark on the material. It would grudgingly remain there for as long as it took him to find an adequate stain-remover. Which, in other words, meant that Remus would have to find some other appeal to wear instead, sooner or later. He didn¡¯t know which prospect was scarier: his mother¡¯s reaction at his illegal escapades, or the look that would emerge on her face if she ever saw the state of her handiwork.

    He was just in the midst of this thought process when a pointed end pricked across his forehead. Remus turned in a cry, instinctively put a hand to his head, and scrambled backwards like a fool as a swarm of the bugs neared. The wolf Unbounded didn¡¯t seem to trudge this far into the grasslands, and for Remus¡¯ training, Violet had settled on him murdering hordes of these vaulting pests instead. He¡¯d gotten rather effective at avoiding any danger on his hunting trips, being sure to only roam around sections of the plains home to regular, flesh and blood animals ¡ª not the false, fabricated life essence the Unbounded threw together in petty mimicry. Violet had taken the initiative that she would be overtaking the meat-gathering position, after Remus returning to camp without so much as a scratch had become a habit, and he instead . . . Well, Violet threw him into the middle of the nearest family of Unbounded. Daily.

    Only problem was, while he would usually only have to worry about two to three of the wolves, Remus wouldn¡¯t think you were lying if you told him hundreds of the bouncing things were down there to keep him company. Apparently, Violet couldn¡¯t care less about the precise nature of whatever situation she tossed him head-first into. Their power in numbers, type of Unbounded, and even partially their Divine Rank equivalence didn¡¯t seem to unnerve her, though you would be hard-pressed to find anything above Emblazed-similarity out in this wilderness. To Violet, a fight was a fight, and for Remus'' training, the first encounter she stumbled upon would be the one he had the misfortune of dealing with.

    Much to his misfortune, today seemed to be the day she selected a brawl that was unwinnable, no matter how much mindless motivation Remus basked himself in.

    A dozen spots of his skin roared in pain as tiny pincers dug through the fickle shielding. The Unbounded layered over his body as if deciding his next outfit for him, apparently finding the leaking droplets of his blood to be of high nutritional value.

    Remus spun on the spot, wrenched as many of the overgrown insects as he could off his form, only for yet another to place itself quite contently on the top of his face. Without thinking, in a testament to the emerging heat progressively boiling his blood to volcanic temperatures, he squeezed the life out of the wailing lifeform. This backfired immediately.

    Now not only was the leaden liquid dripping from his attire, the revoluting stuff was blinding him.

    Through the muck and constant humming, the distinct laugh of Violet entered his ears, reverberating across the cavern walls in a gong-like echo. ¡°Lucky these are only Engorged-level enemies at best. Any higher, and that blood may have been acidic.¡±

    Remus struck wildly into the invisible expanse. Some of his blows connected, but he couldn¡¯t help but imagine how stupid he must be looking, beating illogically into the gloom. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be helping me here? Sounds to me like you only agreed to oversee my progress just to patronise me.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Violet sighed. ¡°Patronising you is only half of the deal, unfortunately. Anyway, stop jabbering and remember the footwork I taught you.¡±

    Remus was trying his best ¡ª he really was ¡ª but typical movements through combat weren¡¯t designed for what felt like a thousand enemies coming at him in one fierce barrage, all of them unrelenting. Grunting, he rubbed the blood out of his eyes, thanked the gods that his eyeballs hadn¡¯t melted into a gory mush, and launched into a sprint. If he was going to succeed here, Remus needed to get out into the open; this cave was far too claustrophobic. More space to move would equate to more space to evade . . . or perhaps a wider area for these god-forsaken Unbounded to attack him from, but cheerful thoughts like that weren¡¯t exactly doing him any favours.

    The rolling gravel beneath his feet turned into the distinctive squish of wet grass, and Remus had never been so thankful to see sunlight in his life, however otherwise gloomy the morning weather was. As his eyes adjusted, he was slowly able to gauge the true extent of the swarm, and whilst not precisely the quantity he had pictured in that damp space, it still wasn¡¯t a crowd he would place any bets on defeating easily. Violet was close behind, obviously restraining her own potential speed to match his, and yet Remus was finding her presence more distracting than anything remotely approaching the sagely mentor he had envisioned her being.

    The lands had become less green in the Durations they had been travelling, adorning a light yellowish pigment that wouldn¡¯t do much to disguise the dead bodies of the insects he intended on littering there. That was of course, if he wasn¡¯t fortunate enough to disperse them into fleeting strands of Infinity before they could hit the ground. How exactly he would accomplish the feat of rendering the eighty or so creatures into servants of the netherworld wasn¡¯t certain, but he sure as hell planned on putting up a worthy fight.

    Violet would of course come to his defence if the situation grew truly sour ¡ª but other than that, for the most part, Remus was on his own.

    He veered aside as two Unbounded came for him, tore a branch off the nearest tree, and batted the duo into a bloody pulp as if it were a bat. More came as he backed away in what Remus would¡¯ve liked to call a strategic withdrawal, and as he slowly regained his resolve, his defence reached a stable point of reliability; the incorporation of simultaneously using his hunting axe in the other hand proved quite formidable. The Unbounded seemed less accustomed to the great outdoors, stuffed away in that foul cave of theirs until unfortunate wanderers like him took the plunge into their humble abode.

    Are they . . . fleeing? Remus cocked an eyebrow, smashing aside another Unbounded as up above, the rest of their kin appeared to be rushing off in the opposite direction, as if migrating birds.

    ¡°Is that really it?¡± Remus spoke softly to Violet, who of course had somehow managed to scale a tree overhanging above him. ¡°Feels awfully anticlimactic, I was just getting into the groove of things.¡±

    Violet didn¡¯t say anything for a moment, as though bewildered herself. ¡°Knowing Unbounded . . . watch carefully Remus. Watch very carefully.¡±

    This only caused his confusion to irritate him further. Did she have to be so vague, was it really required? He couldn¡¯t complain for long, however ¡ª the next thing he laid his eyes upon made sure of that.

    One moment the sky above was the backdrop of nothing more than a few evading insects, the next, Remus nearly dropped to his knees as the horror washed over him, crushing the marrow of his bones into a fine, fading powder.

    The Unbounded were clustering together in one almighty form, a vague shape of sorts that didn¡¯t seem to make out a particular pattern, at least not one that Remus recognised.

    ¡°Gathering into a stronger whole . . . ¡° Violet mused, as if in a trance. ¡°That¡¯s scarily intelligent for Enkindled equivalents. If they were any smarter, they¡¯d likely be able to coordinate an attack force that even I may find myself struggling against.¡±

    She spouted these words of doom and yet didn¡¯t move an inch, as the critters'' obnoxious buzzing evolved into an eerie, sky-splitting declaration of war.

    ¡°So,¡± Remus began, finding himself sweating for reasons that had nothing to do with exertion. ¡°Is this the part where you step in?¡± He was tempted to add a reluctant please?

    Her frown communicated indecision, and a second of hesitation would do Remus no favours. Indefinitely more so, if it meant another second where he could be squashed into a spot of grease. One that didn¡¯t have the privilege of dissipating peacefully back into nothingness.

    Violet leaned forwards as he dared to take a step forwards, as if eying something he couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Wait!¡±

    The monstrosity before them, whooshing through the breeze in great whippings of air pressure, wasn¡¯t as keen to the idea of patience. The assembly of Unbounded whose scientific names ¡ª much like the wolf foes he had faced prior ¡ª continued to elude him, had abandoned their leaping means of manoeuvring in place of all-out wing reliance. The tiny, grey, barely detectable attachments could hardly be seen from this distance, paper-thin as they were, but that didn¡¯t appear to be what was troubling Violet to such an ominous extent. The girl was extending a hand off in his direction as if forcibly warding Remus off, despite being yards away and above him.

    The fearful quarters of Remus¡¯ brain warred with the ambitious portions in a fiery negotiation.

    Those Unbounded, his curiosity teased, they must be powerful, musn¡¯t they? What other chance out in these barren grasslands do we have of facing such a foe? Even Violet is quaking in her boots!

    All the more cause to stay away! His sensibilities argued, unearthly spittle flinging all over the courtrooms of his mind. Yes we must grow strong, and yes we must do it quickly. But mindlessly flinging yourself into danger isn¡¯t the way to do it.

    His laid-back half scoffed. And how would we have gotten this far, exactly, if we hadn¡¯t sought out just that? We would still be a hopeless Death-Marked cutting his fingers against shed-tools forever!

    For an uncertain pause, it appeared that reckless action had proven itself the dominant combatant, and Remus trodded a few paces forwards. Only for his last remaining specks of logic to practically sucker-punch him.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Finally, concluding their case in an array of images other than words, Remus internally winced as the faces of those he¡¯d harmed passed across his internal eye. Tal, his clan, Violet for a time, and that poor old guard in green who would have to explain how two Death-Marked had shattered through a wall of sheer stone. It was enough for it to occur to him that he was on the verge of willingly walking into his death, and he leaped back in a frenzy ¡ª in the same manner as a small creature would, realising a lethal fall is directly below them.

    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± He muttered, sucking up his pride and consulting Violet for her advice. ¡°Us together may have a chance to subdue the Unbounded, though despite how much it stings to say it aloud, it would be mostly you doing the heavy-lifting. Or, fleeing is an option-¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll find,¡± Violet began, crimson eyes unmoving from whatever sight she was observing that appeared to have locked her eyes in place, ¡°that none of that will be necessary.¡±

    Remus frowned. Still, she had to refrain from giving him a straight answer. On the bright side, which was more difficult to consider than you¡¯d think, when a nightmarish amalgamation of the worst of nature¡¯s insects were coming for your head, at least Remus now had an additional incentive to advance. Perhaps finally at Emblazed, if he ever did ascend two additional Divine Ranks, he would catch a glimpse of whatever it was that she seemed so set on spending the rest of her life gazing at.

    ¡°What is it? Stop the long-con and spit it out already!¡±

    In reply, she merely uplifted a finger towards the Unbounded.

    Remus glanced at the same old sight before turning swiftly back. Nothing had changed. The Unbounded were still bobbling ever closer and closer, equalling out the shortening distance at a frightening rate. ¡°I can¡¯t see as well as you, I¡¯m only Engorged, remember? Just tell me ¡ª what are you seeing?¡±

    He first heard the eruption of incarnadine, then felt its gushing heat, before he ever did lay his eyes on the lethal fumes eviscerating the local woodlands.

    Remus¡¯ balance failed him, and the ground abandoned his feet, a wall of sheer flame blocking Remus'' view entirely of the advancing enemy. He blinked, expecting the visual trick to expire, but it never did. All previous ambition was nowhere to be found, and he scurried back, as if every inch away was an additional year added to his rapidly depleting lifespan. The body of the inferno soon faded, and with it, the congregating Unbounded didn¡¯t even have the luxury of Infinity dispersion, no exception to hunger of the fire. Only a few offshooting lines of fire remained, eating into the quickly disintegrating trees. Such was the great calamity they faced, being a flammable object in the immediate vicinity.

    ¡°Violet, we have to get-¡± Remus cut himself off. The girl was nowhere to be found.

    One hurried glance down at the smoking expanse, and her dashing back was visible to him. Grunting, Remus struck the ground with his bare first.

    Must she explain nothing to me?

    <hr>

    Violet entered the ranks of the charred hunks of wood, not entirely certain on what she would be greeted with there. Of course, with her training, her utmost objective was to push Remus to his absolute limits, but Unbounded of this intelligence were nothing to play with. And that was without taking into account what could have effortlessly slaughtered the gathering, as if by a click of their fingers. It was almost enough to send chills down her spine . . . almost.

    Smoke polluted the sky in greater quantities as she marched on, pivoting her path to the direction where it was strongest. Her eyes watered, and her nostrils outwardly objected to such an extent, that Violet had no choice but to place an arm before her nose. It did little to dissuade the wretched scent from suffocating her, but at least the ashy smell wasn¡¯t quite so strong. Blotches of red riddled the clearing, making it a mighty annoyance to jog through in an orderly fashion.

    The further she tread, the more obvious the source of all this havoc became to her. Had they really travelled so far already? The days had consisted of much of the same as of lately, to the extent that time held no meaning to her slacking mind. Violet¡¯s perception of the concept was about as accurate as a potato¡¯s understanding of quantum theory.

    Should she really be testing her luck out here? As much as she loved to gently show-off in front of Remus, Violet, in the harsh metrics of reality, wasn¡¯t really all that strong. The fact she had escaped her sister was a miracle in itself, and in the grand scheme of things, an Emblazed was about as remarkable as an individual pebble in a stone road.

    Her all-out run had been reduced to an almost tiptoeing advance, and right as she was considering withdrawing back to Remus ¡ª if that worrywart hadn¡¯t already come crashing down after her ¡ª an armoured figure sprang past, followed only a few feet away by a luminous amber. Violet blinked as the two strange sights vanished within a second of appearing, a wave of disconcertion scrambling her previous train of thought. She had barely registered the wailing man¡¯s shaved head before three more of the glowing creatures arose out the remnants of two nearby trees that had crumpled upon each other. They were almost exact replicas in appearance to the foes she had planned on having Remus fight. Only, their skin was a radiant lemon, with a sac of alarmingly crimson fluid attached beside wings of disproportionate size. Her Mark flared into action, and the Unbounded¡¯s bodies contorted, before setting alight in a flaming eruption.

    Panting out of shock, Violet inspected wide-eyed at the gap in the ground the mini-explosion had caused, the last drips of lava solidifying into a rocky product. Equipped with the new knowledge that . . . what should she call them . . . that magma flies existed, Violet could identify multiple flocks of them dashing about the place, with frantic clansmen doing their best to handle the situation.

    Well, she inwardly mused, ignoring the glow of that terribly vague Mark streaking across her forearm, might as well help out while I¡¯m here.

    Violet grinned, despite the circumstantial madness reigning king around her. For the first time in what felt like generations, she might get the opportunity to test her limits. Sprinting to the nearest cluster of the flies, this initial excitement quickly weared off.

    Two people were huddled at where she guessed to be roughly the centre of the ramshackle battlefield. One of them was a man so muscular it put even Remus¡¯ accounts of his great grandfather to shame, and might have posed a challenge to Nova, if that predatory beast in man¡¯s clothing could ever be bested. His leather armour reminded Violet of her own, only about a hundred times the size, and dyed a fierce black that was somehow striking, even against the backdrop of deep night. Contrasting this was the mane of red that coloured his neat stack of hair. What she first mistook for a tattoo, before realising it was a Mark, wormed its way up the man¡¯s chin and forehead, and from the short glimpse she caught, it depicted an outburst of red that you didn¡¯t need many active brain cells to assume to be fire.

    The woman at his side offered much sparser details, veiled almost completely in a beige cloak that only her face popped out of. Her eyes were subsequently her stand-out feature, the almost ebony shade of green withholding a sort of wisdom that, much like the majority of her appearance, was masked. Though in this case, it was behind a mien of intent ferocity, which seemed solely focused on defending the valiant people that made up her beloved sect. They were huddled back to back, hands outstretched, and with their expressions set grimly.

    Several troops had gathered before the duo, obviously of lesser standing than the well-adorned couple.

    ¡°It''s no use sergeant,¡± one man spat, who Violet couldn¡¯t help but notice was also shaved down to the centimetres, his scalp only one quick trim from baldness. ¡°We¡¯re doing more damage to the outskirts than we are to them!¡±

    The sergeant¡¯s voice was about what you¡¯d expect from a mobile pillar. Gruff, each syllable as if boulders stringed together, but surprisingly, there was an undertone of kindness. ¡°Forgive me, I didn¡¯t anticipate the difficulty of this task. I should have sent you all back when we had to move out of home territory . . . Oh well.¡±

    He turned to the woman at his side. ¡°Veida?¡±

    Apparently that was enough to communicate a question, for Veida nodded.

    Violet witnessed this all behind the cover of a drop in the land, an almost completely vertical few feet of dirt able to conceal her hunched form. Intrigued by what she saw, she stood up a tad straighter. As if on cue, Veida and the unnamed man looked upwards, the Mark on the latter of the two pulsating in emerging power. Her breath catching in her throat, Violet¡¯s eyes widened to their limits as they held their arms aloft suddenly, the first burst of red expanding from the centre of each palm. The liquid streams of magma-turned-lava didn¡¯t appear to abide by the laws of gravity, hovering securely, and, like a spiderweb gradually being expanded by its creator, gushed out in several directions.

    Violet had never ducked so fast in her life when one blazing current came rushing overhead, lasering through nature¡¯s architecture before making contact with a magma fly the girl hadn¡¯t registered the presence of. It had been attempting to catch her unawares, she suspected, like a portable landmine. She wasn¡¯t certain on whether she should be thankful for the Unbounded¡¯s death, or beyond irked at almost being caught in the crossfire instead. Violet was only just taking into account that perhaps she couldn¡¯t blame the duo for the mishap, as she had crept in against their knowledge, when the insect¡¯s innards erupted in one last squeal. One last agonising outcry to herald its death.

    As if a universal dirge signalling the massacre of hundreds, the sound scattered across the field in an eerie, insectile melody. Violet had never heard bugs share a harmony, and even as the sound subsided in place of delirious cheering, she wasn¡¯t keen to ever hear such a thing again.

    The network of flame passages still persisted for a few lingering, tenuous moments, before at last sinking back into the pair¡¯s hands; both of them exhaled in great relief.

    ¡°It is done, Hadrian.¡± Veida proclaimed, the humming of the few remaining fires like an encompassing bonfire.

    ¡°So it seems,¡± he swept himself down. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope this was enough of a message to the Unbounded not to gather inside our territory. I¡¯m so very tired of accidental eruptions.¡±

    His exhaustion dripped from every word, and Violet seemed to sense her own fatigue growing by the mere droning noise of it. A yawn worked its way up her throat, but she did her best to suppress it. Based on the grandiose of that little demonstration, these people weren¡¯t to be messed with. Sure, for Remus¡¯ future endeavours, they would need to be confronted eventually ¡ª and Violet herself wasn¡¯t exempt from this either, with the Undercrossing not a possible route to the heart of Hybrid, she would have to rely on the volcanic lands of the Flame Territory as her route over ¡ª but Violet had experienced the wary alertness one experiences after battle. Enough so to know that one paranoid Flame Sect soldier, and her sudden appearance might very well result in her early cremation.

    Alllright, now I just need to get out of here, report to Remus, and then plan a letter of gree-

    Her thoughts wavered, as movement behind sent Violet¡¯s instincts spiralling. She had leaped several feet backwards, causing a ruckus in the process, but her imagination sewed such heart-wrenching imagery that she failed to care. Verity, her sister, would emerge out of that scorched bush, she was sure of it. With a nagging comment, a demeanour empty of any and all emotion, and not forgetting the few chiding comments of disappointment Verity was sure to fire her way, Violet¡¯s hand felt for her hunting knife. She was foolish to think she could escape, to break away from the shackles of her clan.

    As a muscular arm presenting bare skin broke through the bushy coverage, she realised she was mistaken in that thinking; it would be Nova on her trail instead. And who better to properly deliver a humiliation, only fitting for someone of her degree of failure? His laughs would quake the earth as he dragged her back to that manor, that awful, accursed home she would strip to its timbers if she could.

    Alarmed voices spouted comments of alarm, but Violet took no notice. Her Mark that painted the image of Teival, all blurred out in the most infuriating of ways, sent ethereal power through the Ichor that coursed through her heart.

    Pebbles trembled, roots uplifted, and the immediate environment shifted in a hundred unidentifiable, minuscule ways. She would not let her family ruin everything, she could not-

    A man who was very distinctly neither Nova or Verity strolled forward through the charred greenery, a smile on his face, and hands grasping a tray upon which a jar sat. A purple liquid lay inside.

    ¡°Celebrations are in order!¡± He shouted merrily, expecting applause. When the man received none, he opened his eyes to the shocked faces of the soldiers all around, fixated on Violet¡¯s impromptu appearance. ¡° . . . Or maybe not?¡±

    Violet gulped at the expectant looks fired at her from all angles. Most of them weren¡¯t aggressive, simply cautious. Understandably so.

    Getting herself slowly up off the ground, Violet reaffirmed her grip on reality, and brushed herself down. ¡°Now then,¡± she exclaimed after a moment. ¡°Where should I begin?¡±

 15. By the Fire

    Remus¡¯ talents had never extended to running; stitches ravaged his side after barely a few paces; his lungs held a sort of fiery pain, as if the fumes choking him like misty hands had somehow set the organs alight in their rampage; and his legs were crying out for rest in a more demanding plea by the minute.

    Nevertheless, it was only a short distance down to the blazing battlefield, and his adrenaline was just intoxicating enough to offset the pain for a time.

    ¡°Violet!¡± He called into the gloom, the sound of eruptions a foreboding distraction in the middle distance. ¡°Where are you?¡±

    Of course, no one spoke up amongst the far-off, indistinct mumble of voices. Remus cursed inwardly as he manoeuvred around the ashy environs, the razed ground of which was indented by several unnatural-looking depressions. He couldn¡¯t see a soul via peeking through the lines of trees surviving the ranks of flame, which, whilst beneficial in the fact that no one keen to end the wick of his life came searching, it also meant no sight of Violet. Perhaps now he could finally get a taste of his own medicine, and he couldn¡¯t help but find it vile ¡ª he was supposed to be the one getting into reckless danger, not his peers!

    He sprinted a fair distance when he came to a screeching stop. Multiple glowing entities that he had previously ignored as isolated fires seemed to double, then triple-down in their brightness. His retinas got the beating of their lives, and Remus scrambled back-first into a muddy, leathery-feeling object. A facet of his mind not paralysed by shock registered it to be a tent, or a supply-bag, or something along those lines, whilst the rest did their best not to die.

    Eyes adjusting as best they could, the blinding glare appeared to be originating in a wide, illogical pattern, before dissipating all together. He blinked, waiting for something to happen, but for once, nothing did. Slowly, as if certain this was the universe performing some elaborate trick to catch him off guard, Remus stood, hands outstretched to his sides.

    Violet . . . he couldn¡¯t help but think. Please be alive.

    And yet he knew rather concretely that if he could avoid being pulverised abruptly by divine lashings, she would surface from the situation perfectly fine. He had no reason to worry, and yet did so regardless.

    Realising that the danger, for now at least, was but a distant memory, a disorienting amount of fatigue stripped his body from any superficial facade of boundless vigour. It felt disproportionate to be so rundown after fleeing with such intensity but a moment ago, yet alas, Remus desired nothing more but a moment¡¯s respite. So he lingered where he was . . . until an uproar of cheering nearby came crashing down, disrupting any temporary state of tranquillity.

    For a moment he was vexed by the noise¡¯s interruption, before recalling why he had dashed all the way down here in the first place.

    Drawing on energy he didn¡¯t have, Remus jogged through the wilting corpse of a dead, nondescript plant. He didn¡¯t stop when he saw clustered light on the other side of the greenery, nor when he heard the excited whisperings of victory. Axe in hand, he crept closer, and launched forwards.

    He rasped his companion¡¯s name with as much aggression as you could pack into a single word, only to let his weapon-hand droop to the side.

    Before him was Violet, chatting with an older man and woman atop a crate, and drinking from a cup. Judging on the smirks and ruddy cheeks of the other clansmen gathered, they weren''t drinking water. Everyone stopped, cups inches away from their mouths, and observing his scruffy form as if not quite knowing what to think. Remus turned to Violet desperately.

    The girl put her beverage down on the crate surface. ¡°Hey . . . ?¡±

    <hr>

    After a quick explanation, all returned to drinking merrily from a wall of casks set to the side. Remus would have preferred to parch his dry throat with water, but beggars can¡¯t be choosers, so he gave in, pouring himself a cup from a barrel¡¯s tap.

    ¡°So you¡¯re just passing through?¡± The redhead ¡ª though that description seemed improper to describe his impossible shade ¡ª who had introduced himself as Hadrian enquired, taking pensive sips of his own drink.

    ¡°Well, sort of.¡± Violet answered. ¡°We have business here to attend to. Or more specifically, Remus has.¡±

    Veida turned to the newcomer beneath her hood, which was dyed lightly in the shade of ivory. ¡°What sort of business?¡±

    Remus found himself sweating under the weight of the two¡¯s expectant glances. Whilst still not completely over the embarrassment of his entry, he struggled not to imagine them both either looking completely blank, with faces of unrecognition at the trial¡¯s mentioning, or to flat-out laugh. And then there was the chance that news of their escape had reached Hybrid¡¯s outer territories already, though Remus hoped that neither him nor Violet were of enough importance to have spread that far out yet. ¡°Have you heard of . . . the Trials of the Earnest? The god of Ambition, Tanish, requested that your deity, Ashbel, would have his sect carry them out. Are you aware of whether the procedure is still performed?¡±

    Hadrian¡¯s eyebrows, which were notably the same fiery pigment as his hair, furrowed in consideration. ¡°Whilst not performed in recent memory, if Ashbel really did promise such a thing, I must admit that we would be obligated to carry out the trial.¡±

    Remus let his smile widen, which must have been a burst of joy too much, for Veida¡¯s next words sent it fading.

    ¡°However,¡± she began, in the tone reserved for only delivering heart-wrenching news, ¡°our sect-leader is out on business. In First Rite, for the Descension, and only he can technically accept the trial¡¯s happening. Is that where you two set out from, First Rite?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Violet allowed, taking up the mantle. ¡°We were visiting the city for the Descension ¡ª we actually herald from the Ravaged Lands, you see ¡ª and during the festivities, Remus discovered the existence of the Earnest Trials. That¡¯s why we only came here asking about them now, on our way back home.¡±

    Though he didn¡¯t show it outwardly, Remus was impressed. The lie was well crafted, and just believable enough to not be scrutinised too closely.

    ¡°Excuse the abundance of my questions,¡± Veida said, honestly sounding remorseful. ¡°But why do you wish to carry out the ceremony in the first place? It is a rather archaic thing, is it not? Some doubt the Ambition Sect even exists, that¡¯s how elusive they are.¡±

    Attention once again returned to Remus, and he wasn¡¯t sure what to say without it sounding completely ridiculous. But pure madness or not, he was too far along this plan to back out now. ¡°I¡¯m Death-Marked. Violet and I are of the same sect,¡± he carried on the lies, as much as it made him internally cringe, ¡°and they were gracious enough to give me a Droplet out of pity. But if I ever want to get to Enkindled . . . the avenues to do that are limited, I¡¯ll tell you that. This legend is my last hope.¡±

    Remus took a drink of his wine, as to not have to see the reactions of the two strangers, and gagged on the liquid, resulting in the opposite effect than what he had been vying for.

    ¡°Gods above,¡± he managed between chokes of his coughing fit. ¡°This stuff is strong.¡±

    Laughter broke out around the group, dispersing the tense air.

    ¡°You¡¯re highly-aspiring for someone of your misfortune, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± Hadrian said, beaming, and Remus wasn¡¯t sure whether to take it as an insult or compliment. ¡°What does the first trial entail, anyway?¡±

    ¡°I have to survive a Duration under the Infernal Bays, then surface with a shard of Infirnite as proof of my labour.¡±

    The muscular man rubbed his chin. ¡°That does seem pretty strenuous for an Engorged, especially with the reported Unbounded running amuck in those caverns.¡±

    Suddenly the man¡¯s eyes widened, as if something was brewing in that intoxicated mind of his. Veida shook her head and exhaled, as if this was a common occurrence. ¡°Tell you what, how about you join me and my boys for training. And uh, you can too Violet, the more the merrier!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass.¡± Violet said with a kind smile. ¡°I have . . . other matters to keep me occupied.¡±

    Hadrian shrugged, before downing the remainder of his drink. ¡°So how about it?¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t even have to consider. ¡°I¡¯d love to! Thank you for your offer, that¡¯s awfully generous of you.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t think of an adequate thank-you, but that seemed to do. No offence to Violet, but there was no harm in having multiple educators; perhaps broadening his horizons would be a key factor leading to Remus¡¯ success. It was almost too good to be true.

    ¡°Are you really sure? I mean, we¡¯ve only just met, I don¡¯t mean to over-step-¡±

    ¡°Nonsense!¡± Hadrian boomed back, spilling some of his liquor on his leather, before Veida came to his assistance, a cleaning rag seeming to manifest in her hands.

    ¡°You¡¯re such an oaf. . . ¡° She complained, before addressing Remus. ¡°But no, he really would love to have you. Always looking out for more young ambitious men to indoctrinate into one of his squadrons.¡±

    ¡°I am not indoctrinating anyone!¡± Hadrian rebutted. ¡°All of my soldiers, regardless of gender, are free to join or leave if they like . . . well not really, seeing as most of them are under clan obligation, but that''s besides the point!¡±

    Veida had evidently given up on getting the patch out before it stained, pushing her handkerchief back into a pocket. ¡°Most of the fighters are Emblazed, remember? so make sure he isn¡¯t harmed out there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take perfectly good care of him,¡± Hadrian insisted, as if offended she could suggest such a thing, ¡°and young people need to be pushed to their limits to blossom. In fact, Remus might get more out of this joining men and women who are his superior. It could be a valuable learning experience!¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t be if he ends up maimed, or worse, dead.¡± Veida soon realised after speaking that the man was more preoccupied with having a private giggling match with himself than listening to her. ¡°You never were good with your drink were you? I think that¡¯s enough for today.¡± She sighed, exasperated. ¡°But keep an eye on Remus, even some of the strongest of the newer generation have been injured lately. This magmite swarm proved more trouble than we could have predicted.¡±

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Violet raised an eyebrow. ¡°Magmite? You mean the magma flies?¡±

    ¡°Most call them that, but magmite are what they¡¯re properly classed as in all mainstream Unbounded listings.¡± She explained. ¡°Hadrian was going to get me a sample to examine, seeing how he was already set on going off to deal with the pesky things. That¡¯s what I do for the sect, I research Unbounded.¡±

    Violet stared at Veida like she was the most important woman in the world.

    ¡°Do you happen to have a lab?¡± She asked slowly, oddly shy.

    ¡°Well yes, but it''s in one of our camps. Might take us a day to get there by foot. Interested in having a look?¡±

    Violet almost joined Hadrian in letting her drink spill, jolting forward in excitement. ¡°You¡¯re both too kind. Please, there must be something we can do to repay you for all of this. And yes, I¡¯d very much like to see the laboratory.¡±

    The two initially said the obligatory comments of it being fine, but both Violet and Remus were persistent in their wishes to help out.

    ¡°Yeah, come on Hadian.¡± Remus found himself saying, regardless of any future consequences. ¡°Anything? Any lurking Unbounded around that we could possibly clear out? Over the last Passing, I¡¯ve become very accustomed to that.¡±

    He considered. ¡°Hmmm, I mean, we still have a lot of magma flies around the entire territory that you could clear out. They usually aren¡¯t as abundant as this, Veida suspects an outbreak, or something along those lines. This was only the first flock of many, though undoubtedly the largest. There will be other smaller ones that I was going to send out my trainees to deal with, though I could likely utilise that time better in their training if I could hand the task over.¡±

    This all sounded swell to Remus¡¯ ears, perfect actually, but then the man scowled. He hated that expression. It was the same look people donned right after talking up a topic to be all fine and dandy, just to topple it all with one extra strip of information.

    ¡°But you¡¯re not flame-resistant. If even one of those decides to self--destruct, and latch onto you . . . that blood will be on my hands. And . . .¡± All trances of inebriety suddenly faded, and the man became utterly sober. ¡° . . . there¡¯s enough of that as there is. I do not intend to stain them further ¡ª not like that, anyhow. You two are my responsibility before Cyrus, our sect leader, comes back. Even from this brief time we¡¯ve gotten to know each other, I can tell you¡¯re good, decent people. And I will see that you¡¯re protected.¡±

    There was a silence. Remus found himself almost choking up at the heartfelt words. Good people? The term revolved around his mind, the focus of his psyche, and the target of all of his bashless scrutiny. After what Remus had done, was he still a good person? His plan was to redeem himself after he gained power, but when you truly got down to it, letting all of his cruelties hang upon the fragile thread of his success was beyond selfish. It was another cruelty in itself.

    Based on Violet¡¯s wayside expression, her thoughts were following a similar route.

    ¡°You¡¯re a good man, Hadrian.¡± Remus heard himself say, the words soft and kind. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    More minutes passed, filled with only laughter and the clanging of foaming tankards before finally Violet, who had been strangely silent for the last minute or so, spoke up gingerly. ¡° . . . Fire-resistant?¡±

    All heads to her, before breaking out in clamorous chuckling.

    ¡°What?¡± Violet raised her tone, her usual demeanour bleeding through. ¡°It''s an honest question!¡±

    ¡°What, did you think the Fire Sect didn¡¯t have some sort of immunity to flame?¡± Remus finally emerged from his sea of chortling humour.

    ¡°Would be a pretty perfect example of a double-edged sword if it were so,¡± Veida added, barely hiding a smile behind her palm, out of courtesy. ¡°Though, at the lesser Ranks, hair doesn¡¯t apply under that ability for some reason. Hence why the trainees just get it over with and shave it down.¡±

    Hadrian shivered, as if recalling the horrors of war. ¡°I remember the days where my hair was prevented from emitting its beauty into this world. Those were dark days.¡±

    The next few hours went by in much the same way, with the two of them even being offered a helping of the campsite barbeque. Remus hadn¡¯t felt the taste of properly seasoned, succulent meat in coming onto a Passing at that point. Sure, the deer he hunted were edible, but Violet¡¯s supplies were so sparse, they didn¡¯t extend to the luxury of salt. Salt! And then neither of them were experienced with cooking on handmade fires with kindling, and so it always resulted in the food either being under or overcooked . . . but now? Now those petty concerns could vanish.

    The food tasted like home, and as Remus found himself snuggling into his designated hammock, hung upon two trees safe from the day''s flames, he found himself growing painfully nostalgic.

    <hr>

    The next few days passed in the blink of an eye. Walk, train, sleep, repeat would not be an inaccurate description of the contents of those fresh and foreign days, where Remus found excitement in simply basking in the unfamiliar culture thriving around him.

    Trees became a thing of rarity by the second day of travel, and in their place, plains of gravel and obsidian fissures made way for brown, twig-like plants that latched onto the measly one or two droplets of moisture they would catch per year. Lava streams were apparently not far off based on the murmurings of Remus¡¯ fellow trainees, and Remus struggled to imagine how he would get across the perilous waters. The advantage of passing through the apricot streams, as if they were a mere hot bath, not a privilege his lineage could present to him, even if the now dispersed Mark on his shoulder hadn¡¯t impeded such inheritances.

    Hadrian and Veida had seen no real reason to rush the remainder of the route home. Cyrus still wouldn¡¯t be back for a time, and even as the Descension finally wrapped up, there would be no immediate causes for concern. None that those looking after the camps in their absence couldn¡¯t handle by themselves, anyway.

    A day before they were said to pass over a flaming ford into the heart of Fire Territory, where their bases would be but a few hour¡¯s swift march away, Remus was handed a leather tunic and trousers in the same style as Hadrian¡¯s juniors. For a stupid second, he merely glanced at the garments, befuddled.

    ¡°Do these need washing, Hadrian?¡± He asked, only for the towering man to chuckle heartily, in a fashion that sent a wave of home-sickness flooding through Remus¡¯ nerve receptors. It was so agonisingly like his grandfather¡¯s.

    ¡°They¡¯re yours! You fool!¡± He clapped him on the back forcefully, and Remus sucked up the pain, instead grinning in genuine thankfulness. ¡°I couldn¡¯t have you trodding along in those torn rags. Why, if I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d say they were the attire of a carpenter.¡±

    Remus gulped. ¡°You think? Anyhow, thank you! You really shouldn¡¯t have. Are people really this kind in Hybrid?¡±

    Hadrian mused as he continued to walk, a little behind the marching party. ¡°I like to think so, our sect is, at the very least. We don¡¯t get many visitors these days, gotta make a nice first impression. Though, if you do find yourself in the company of another foreign clan, I would advise you to be careful with who or where you meet. If a less welcoming sect saw you trodding along, away from Divine Ground as you were, they may not hesitate in pulverising you on the spot. As hard as it is sometimes to believe, this far out away from the front lines, the world is at war. And everyone, when you really get down to it, is fighting for themselves.¡±

    Remus considered these words, visualising the war-torn front lines Andreas would so often speak about. He knew that one day, if his aspirations held any real-world weight behind them, he himself would have to enroll in the army. Despite the fact the entirety of humanity was preoccupied in combating the Unbounded¡¯s frightening boom in prominence over the last few centuries, the real enemy for any sect was their human opponents: other clans, whose gods one day may prevail as the victor of this perpetual battle royale . . .

    ¡°Nice threads.¡± Violet teased, as Remus, sporting his granted armour, stared out over an abyss of liquid flame. Already, several of the trainees were passing through unperturbed, their Marks holding an ethereal quality against the cold night.

    ¡°Appears to be the current trend around these parts.¡± He replied, the gurgling cries of the disturbed stream not doing much to quell his nerves.

    Together they stood, unsure of how to advance. Finally, like angels descending to relieve them of any problems, Hadrian and Veida joined them, the last of the crossing party.

    ¡°Stand back,¡± Veida advised, ¡°the rivers are prone to spit.¡±

    Hadrian joined her side, his face too glowing momentously. Physically, the two didn¡¯t budge an inch, and Remus and Violet were left scratching their heads, lost on what they could possibly do to make the stretch of lethal liquid any less deadly. One second, the ford did little other than bubble forebodingly, like the calm before the storm. The next, both parts of the duo extended their hands out up and to the side in a ferocious movement. Remus was too distracted by admiring the sheer might that seemed to radiate from the shared action, before Violet tapping his side redirected his attention to the lava river. His mouth widened, and Remus found himself stepping back, just in case Veida¡¯s advice about flinging spittle proved true. Judging on the way the two ends of the stream had lifted up a few metres into the air, like incomplete waterworks, he thought it best to reverse several more.

    ¡°Gods . . . just what Rank are you two exactly?¡± Violet enquired, and though it was a less shameful distance, she retreated too.

    ¡°We¡¯re both Splintered Ranks, retired from the army.¡± Hadrian grunted, as if holding up the litres of lava with his bare hands. ¡°I¡¯m a Mercenary Rank, hence why my Mark is so large . . .¡± He took a breath. ¡° . . . It''s a Tapestry. The peak of a Mark¡¯s potential. However, as the cost of having mastery over my area of power, my defence is abysmal. Veida is a Warden, so she has the exact opposite problem as me. All defence, with barely any fight in her.¡±

    Veida looked as if she wanted to hit the man at the comment, but her face was the portrait of pure concentration. Indeed, it appeared Hadrian was doing the bulk of the lifting.

    ¡°You should be able to pass through now, I¡¯ve tempered the riverbed to a heat not as likely to burn off the soles of your shoes.¡±

    Remus was beyond impressed. The gap they had made was easily twenty feet in width, and the passage went on for metres upon metres. Taking a pensive step forward, he placed an anxious foot upon the surface of igneous rock, completely ebony in shade. With each advancing stride, he expected to be squashed and then subsequently sizzled. Violet appeared to be feeling the same way, and regardless of their outward amazement at the Splintered Ranks¡¯ demonstration, they crossed as swiftly as they could, without appearing doubtful of the two¡¯s abilities.

    On the other side, not too far off into the distance, Remus could make out the vague, dark silhouettes of fortress-like buildings ¡ª these people¡¯s homes, he suspected.

    Joining the trainees, whose faces revealed incredulous astonishment that competed with even Remus¡¯ reaction, the two of them watched with rapt attention as Hadrian and Veida relinquished the stream from its invisible chains. Smiling, Hadrian towered over the lava depths, unphased as he swam to the other side. Veida, much shorter than the hulking specimen of a man, had to crane her neck to avoid submersion. Remus had two questions upon witnessing this absurd sight. One, how come none of the trainees'' clothes were setting ablaze by making contact with the ford, and two, had Veida lost the ability to prevent her hair from succumbing to the wrath of fire? Did you really have to sacrifice so much of your arsenal at the Splintered Ranks? Remus supposed that was what separated a Warlord from a Splintered Rank ¡ª they regained what had been lost during the previous advancement.

    ¡°Which Splintered Rank are you going for when we get there?¡± Remus asked, as Hadrian finally surfaced. ¡°Mercenary, Warden or Vanguard?¡±

    ¡°Pah! You say that like it''s guaranteed that we¡¯ll get that far,¡± Violet scoffed. ¡°You always do that . . . but seeing the power of Hadrian here, Mercenary seems appealing. Perhaps Warden would be best for non-combat-oriented sects, but all of my strength is from my manipulation of Chaos. I can¡¯t lose that.¡±

    Remus mostly agreed. ¡°Yeah, imagine your Mark but supercharged. Maybe you¡¯ll be able to kill a million wolves instead of just a few thousand.¡±

    Her lips barely prevented a pleased beam. ¡°What about you? I¡¯m sure you already have plans.¡±

    Remus stared into the steaming waters, recalling the plan he had set out for himself during those Durations spent locked-up in the Carpentry Sect¡¯s library. ¡°I don¡¯t particularly like the idea of working so hard to get a Mark to Emblazed strength, just to sacrifice it, but nor does it appeal to me to have no defence whatsoever. So, in that case, I¡¯ll stick to the middle-ground. Vanguard.¡±

    Violet nodded, as if approving of this idea. ¡°That sounds good. But let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have a long stretch of the way to go before we even get you a Mark.¡±

    The discussion ended as Hadrian, with Veida at his side, set his sights on the looming structures Remus had been observing, not five minutes prior.

    ¡°Come, my disciples,¡± he regained his position as the head of the excited entourage. ¡°It''s about time we got home.¡±

 16. In Plain Sight

    The remainder of the journey passed by in little longer than a gruelling hour¡¯s march. They kept to a path not intercepted by any worming lava streams, so as not to exhaust either Hadrian or Veida any more than necessary. Remus was certain they could repeat the stunt multiple times over if needed, but it wasn¡¯t worth the hassle. Plus, it would weigh on his guilty conscience to watch others exert themselves over and over again for his sake.

    Nevertheless, possible shortcuts taken or not, they arrived at a stone wall winding its way across an area for as far as Remus¡¯ eyes could see. Within, buildings assembled out of combining various rocky materials ¡ª including patches of the same stone the walls consisted of ¡ª stood in a sort of confused hodgepodge. Violet and he stood at the back of the gathering as Veida stalked her way to two wielded guards, and the two of them did their best to blend in. Which proved to be more difficult than you¡¯d imagine, being the only individuals with hair within the large group not of immense power.

    ¡°A success, Veida?¡± A feminine voice prompted.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± The older woman confirmed, before effortlessly switching the conversation¡¯s topic. ¡°Have you received news of Cyrus¡¯ return, by any chance?¡±

    The guard sighed, as if this was a typical cause for concern. ¡°It''s the same as what was reported before, unfortunately. He''ll be back in a few Durations.¡±

    The other sentinel exhaled in relief, as if glad to have this one chance to voice his opinion on the matter. ¡°I understand that Cyrus is the leader of one of First Rite¡¯s top five, hence his extended stay in the city, but I can¡¯t help but find his absence terribly aggravating. I just wish he would get back sooner than later.¡±

    A few of the trainees expressed agreement at this, and even Hadrian had to nod along to the words, contrary to his grimace. ¡°Cyrus has his obligations, and we must respect them. But in brighter news, yes, we did clear out the magma flies. There''ll still be some smaller gatherings scuttling about here and there, but we have . . . extra hands to manage those.¡±

    Both guards looked at him from below the helms of their armour, eyebrows narrowed. ¡°Extra hands?¡±

    Remus cringed as all heads turned to him. Extra attention . . . just what I was trying to avoid. Before he could even murmur a word of explanation, the female guard examined him sceptically. ¡°You brought in outsiders to one of our bases?¡± She addressed Hadrian directly. ¡°Our largest base?¡±

    The man coughed into his fist. ¡°They called upon an ancient obligation of ours, we can¡¯t object to their presence. And they¡¯ve promised to assist us in clearing out the remainder of the Unbounded ¡ª we can focus our energy on the rest of our duties.¡±

    The woman stared Remus and Violet down, but never did outwardly complain. ¡°Affirmative. Just make sure they don¡¯t get on anyone¡¯s bad side. We¡¯re not in Divine Ground until you reach Hybrid¡¯s actual, central city. Territories are fair play, and if one of our men or women find themselves holding a dislike for the newcomers . . . it won¡¯t be pretty.¡±

    At last, after the most intense staredown of Remus¡¯ life, the guards stepped aside, and they were permitted entry.

    The structures taking up the fenced off area looked as though they were constantly preparing for a siege. They were like tiny fragments of a castle scattered all about, with only a moat missing, if you didn¡¯t count the bajillion interconnecting rivers coursing towards the Infernal Bays, though those were outside of the camps¡¯ borders, thankfully. Simply having to manoeuvre across one was enough to deeply ingrain a lifelong disliking towards any sprawling, fire-prone vessels of liquid in Remus. The only peculiarity about the settlement was that all the buildings held a faint, sooty purple shade to them, which Veida soon explained to be obsidian.

    ¡°Obsidian?¡± Violet repeated, disbelieving. ¡°Gathering this much must of took . . .¡±

    ¡°A lifetime,¡± Veida answered, ¡°or more accurately generations. Before we rose to power, this territory was one of the most attacked in all of Hybrid. All eight of the factions are constantly vying to extend their space, to use their Marks to mould the environment to their liking. This place used to be a sprawling fortress at one point. Pity what has become of it. This is the state it reached after centuries of warfare. I was lucky to not have been born in the heat of that hellish conflict. The War has reached a stalemate now, and most territories are too occupied with the Unbounded uprising to bother with increasing their lot.¡±

    Remus had been listening intently to the discussion, and chose this as his chance to partake. ¡°You could argue that the main factors preventing humanity from a true state of peace are, of course, the Unbounded, and the corruption that seems to pervade every state of authority.¡± He had intended to expand on this point, addressing Damosh¡¯s tyranny, when the glare the cloaked woman shot in his direction dissuaded him.

    ¡°You¡¯re a fool if you believe humanity will just stop bashing their heads against each other when, or if, the Unbounded are dealt with. The gods have overstepped in their annihilation of reality, and these servants of Infinity are now enacting her will. And Infinity is nothing but vengeful. Some believe rightfully so.¡±

    ¡°Do you?¡± Violet enquired.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care if the Unbounded are rightful in their cause or not,¡± Veida spoke so darkly that the air around Remus seemed to chill, ¡°I will see every last one of them slaughtered regardless.¡±

    The words unnerved Remus, to the extent that he conversed no more as they ventured deeper into the Fire Sect base.

    Tents were set up practically everywhere, with clansmen strolling through casually going about their daily affairs. The slight scent of something burning infested his nostrils at every step, and three long wooden tables were set up at the camp¡¯s exact centre, with a few cleaners passing through collecting dirty plates and cutlery.

    ¡°This is where you¡¯ll be eating for the foreseeable future,¡± Hadrian explained joyfully, ¡°three meals a day. We¡¯ve missed breakfast and lunch, but we¡¯re just in time for dinner! Everyone, pack away your things into your bunks, and enjoy a couple hours of free time ¡ª you¡¯ve deserved it!¡±

    This was met most positively, with the trainees scattering about with gleeful looks about them.

    ¡°Not to overstep on your already extraordinary generosity,¡± Violet began carefully. ¡°But where will we be staying?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s enough space in the bunks for both of you . . . but enrolling does require you to shave your head.¡± Hadrian¡¯s promising start ended rather sourly, in Remus¡¯ humble opinion.

    ¡°Shave?¡± He asked, just to double-check. ¡°As in, completely? Until my scalp is fully bald?¡±

    Hadrian crossed his arms. ¡°Yes. It''s customary to demonstrate your commitment to the clan¡¯s forces, as well as the practical uses of doing so. Is there a problem?¡±

    Shoving down a thousand unruly complaints, Remus put on a brave face. ¡°None. None at all!¡±

    He could clearly eye Violet snickering behind a hand. Wait until she realises she¡¯ll have to trim her hair also. Won¡¯t be so funny then, will it?

    ¡°I do not believe it would be fit for Violet to stay in the bunks, if she doesn¡¯t wish to enrol. However, I do have a spare room in my laboratory that has been left to gather dust for quite some time.¡±

    The spiteful portions of Remus'' mind didn¡¯t like the sound of this. But soon the rest of his psyche won over, and he felt genuinely happy for her. Pity that his poor head was about to face the waxing of its life.

    ¡°Would you like to stay? I am aware you have shown interest in my research. There are many things I could show you.¡±

    Violet¡¯s grin widened, as if in slow-motion. ¡°Really? I¡¯d desire nothing more.¡±

    The two women soon walked away after that, deep in the depths of a feverish conversation that Remus¡¯ mind couldn¡¯t process, already filled to the brim with songs of loss for his beautiful flock of ginger. He¡¯d never before spent time taking particular care of his hair, a mistake he could only recognise now upon the harrowing prospect of losing it. He vowed that the oversight would be remedied in a few Passings¡¯ time, however, when it finally sprouted back.

    ¡°So!¡± Hadrian roared, summoning a crackling fire into the centre of his palm. ¡°Shall we get it over with?¡±

    Remus only vaguely comprehended his legs carrying him away, as he screamed in horror.

    <hr>

    Violet followed the veiled woman up a row of cracked stairs, taking her first full view of the famed laboratory. Her first impression was that it appeared . . . ordinary? That didn¡¯t quite seem to fit however, for it still was a far cry from the architecture in any other city she¡¯d visited. It was brick, for one thing, not the miscellaneous varieties of stone and obsidian like the rest of the outpost, and whilst not indifferent from most buildings in this regard, its general structure set it apart wildly. It appeared as if some bored god had assembled each individual room as if they were gigantic building blocks, with no care for logic or reason. Its base floor¡¯s design wasn¡¯t the ordinary cuboid, but a scattering of several jutting out from a circular centre. It only stretched to a secondary floor, which instead of a typical roof, housed multiple glass domes.

    The entire thing was painted white, and as she followed behind the back of an entering Veida, it occurred to Violet just how blinding the entire building would be on a hot, sunny day.

    ¡°Your room will be up the staircase, and to the second door on your right,¡± she explained, pointing to an open doorway, through which a few stairs could be seen, ¡°I¡¯ll be right up. Make yourself feel at home. I just have a few notes I have to jot down from this Duration¡¯s expedition.¡±

    Expressing her thanks, Violet did as she was bid. Walking up the steps and then the stairway, she couldn¡¯t help but observe in awe the many paintings the woman must have hung up, presumably years ago. They all depicted the equally grotesque forms of Unbounded, with their scientific names listed below, on the frame.

    Amongst them was a dramatic scene of the wolves she and Remus had encountered on a multitude of occasions ¡ª a seemingly endless sea of the fiends forming an oval, where two of the most gruff and imposing of the pack were pouncing at one another at the epicentre. One of them was painted beautifully, if Unbounded could ever be beautiful, in mid-air, at the peak of a jump towards the other. It was clear who the victor of the brawl would be, and subsequently, the pack¡¯s new leader. Below this, in information new to her, the species name was written in spidery handwriting. Snow Hounds, it read. Violet thought it a strange name for the creatures, seeing how snowy glades were hardly the only place they appeared, but quickly moved on to the other artworks.

    The rest of the Unbounded were far more impressive, with giants of all varieties causing terror across desolate battlefields, bird-like creatures whose wingspans could easily crush multiple buildings at once if they were to collapse, and strangely, the further she walked on, they appeared to showcase . . . ordinary people? All of them wore heavy armour, and had distinctly human appearances, as if they were valiant paladins who could do no harm. For a second, Violet thought Veida¡¯s handwriting was simply too crabby to make out, but on a second glance, no, it wasn¡¯t penned in the mortal tongue in the first place. The odd series of scratches meant nothing to Violet, but she suspected that to an Unbounded of vast intelligence, they may do.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Not that she had ever met an Unbounded with anything remotely resembling intellect, but then again, she had never encountered one stronger than Emblazed, and that was at a push.

    Nevertheless, she couldn¡¯t help but find the stoic faces eerie as anything, and so quickly sped the rest of the way to the room Veida had described.

    It was quaint, and unlike the rest of the house¡¯s cluttered interior ¡ª Veida was clearly a hoarder ¡ª barren, for the most part. A lone twin-sized bed sat in the corner, its white covers and feathered pillows undeniably appealing. There was a desk with a chair next to it, both crafted out of oak, and other than that, that was about it. Up above, dim light bled through the oval windows she had seen earlier, and after a few hours, Violet knew that she¡¯d be able to see stars through them. Snuggling in for the night in a comfortable bed, and falling asleep to a starry sky reminded her much of years past, and the time she and Verity had shared a room together in their youth. It was before either of them were old enough to warrant separate chambers, and she recalled wistfully, with a grimace on her face, the times she and Verity had sneakily stayed up, observing the night sky and all of its intriguing mysteries.

    There were no creepy paintings here thankfully, and Violet took a seat upon her covers, resulting in a groan from the bed. It must have been ancient, but she didn¡¯t mind. After sleeping in the wilderness for so long, this was almost a paradise. After a while, she stood up, obliging the need to stretch, only to notice the patch of dust she had removed. Running a finger across the soft material, a build up of a grey, furry substance lingered on her fingertip.

    Dust. She noted to herself. Veida hadn¡¯t been lying when she said the room hadn¡¯t seen some use in quite a long time. Before she could dwell on this discovery too deeply, footsteps grew gradually louder beyond the door, and it was slowly pushed open. Veida¡¯s smiling face emerged from the other side.

    ¡°Do you like it here?¡± She asked, taking a seat by Violet upon the dust-ridden bed.

    Violet nodded. ¡°You¡¯ve done so much for us. Thank you.¡±

    There was a comfortable silence for a moment, before Veida continued. ¡°I haven¡¯t even been in this room for the longest time . . .¡± A look with an indecipherable emotion behind it possessed her features. ¡°I¡¯d forgotten what it looked like.¡±

    ¡°Why is that?¡±

    Veida shrugged, face angling downwards. ¡°It stirs up bad memories.¡±

    Violet didn¡¯t mean to intrude any further, but the woman continued. ¡°I never wanted to research Unbounded ¡ª at least not originally. Neither did I want to join the military, or advance past Emblazed. I didn¡¯t care for all this power I¡¯ve found myself with now. Oh, what a joy it would be, to be as innocuous as I was back then.¡±

    ¡°So why did you advance to Warden?¡± Violet prompted, sensing that Veida was merely searching for an excuse to vent. Everybody deserved one, once in a while.

    She sighed, as if great chains that had been confining her all her life were now finally beginning to slip off. ¡°I had a brother, once. He was always so very happy.¡±

    ¡°What was his name?¡±

    ¡°Leander.¡± She smiled, as if merely reciting her sibling¡¯s name brought her joy. It quickly faded, however. ¡°We used to spend all our time together as children: playing games, annoying our parents . . . it was one of the highlights of my life. Then one day, bless his soul, Leander wandered past the territory''s borders. He was always a curious boy, I believe he just wanted to play. Camps like this can be very confining, you see, even more so when you¡¯re too young to venture past them.¡±

    That hit rather close to home. The Chaos manor, even if she somewhat missed it now, in a disturbing sort of way, had seemed like a prison for most of Violet¡¯s life. Nova had always been so protective, and then that parental protection had morphed into all out control. She wondered why that was.

    ¡°An Unbounded was out there,¡± Veida spoke slowly, as if each word was both a relief to get out, and a great labour, ¡°one that most definitely shouldn¡¯t have been. It was a Foot-Soldier Rank apparently. It must have been, for the watchmen who inevitably went out to deal with it reported the fiend to have been speaking.¡±

    ¡°In the mortal tongue?¡± Violet enquired.

    Veida gave her an odd look. ¡°What else would it have been? But yes, though they can only mutter a few words at that strength. Our language, to all accounts, is apparently quite complex.¡±

    ¡°On the way here, I saw what looked to be a different language on the portraits of . . . soldiers? I can¡¯t be certain.¡±

    Understanding clicked into place. ¡°Oh yes, I know what you¡¯re referring to. Those weren¡¯t knights my dear, but very, very powerful Unbounded. At that level, they can speak the mortal tongue as close to fluency as you can get. Though their names don¡¯t translate well into our means of communicating. It would come out as a series of growls and grunts. So they still use their own sickening tongue to refer to their own names. Researchers like me have been trying to get a grasp on the language for decades now. What you saw were my attempts at writing it down.¡±

    This was all a great shock to Violet. Of course, she had heard of Unbounded becoming more humanoid at higher realms of power, but the people in those paintings ¡ª no, not people; monsters ¡ª had looked perfectly human. And then there was this talk of an Unbounded language. It shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise, but when all you¡¯ve been exposed to for so long of the species is the absolute weakest of their kin, it was hard to imagine having a civil conversation with one. Or them conversing amongst one another in the first place.

    A dark suspicion she had held in a forgone crevice of her mind for so long, though never fully confronted, arose once more within her. It was giggling to itself, as if a boisterous child proven right, screaming told you so! over and over again. And yet, alas, she couldn¡¯t address these concerns to Veida as immediately as she desired to. Telling her the real reason she had come on a whim would have to wait, as much as it agonised Violet, for Veida was evidently on the verge of returning to her own wistful story.

    ¡°What the Unbounded that-¡± She choked on her words. ¡°That killed Leander was saying, I don¡¯t know. Reports said it sounded like a two syllable word, but that piece of filth was barely of enough mind to speak, even for Unbounded standards. Whatever the case, I was distraught at my brother¡¯s murder. Then benumb, and then finally, after all the grief, oh so terribly angry. I funnelled that fury into researching Unbounded, to understand what they mean by ¡®seeking divine justice¡¯, as many of the strongest of the fiends claim.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Violet managed, unsure of what words could ever quell such pain.

    Veida stood up and stretched, her next words of a much lighter tone. ¡°Oh don¡¯t you concern yourself. I shouldn¡¯t be bothering you with all this, you¡¯re not my therapist. The rest of the story is relatively happy anyway. I became as powerful as I am now after decades of gruelling work, and a respected individual in my field of research. And oh, I found my partner in Hadrian ¡ª there¡¯s that too.¡±

    ¡° . . . Wait. You two are married?¡±

    The woman gave her a disbelieving look, that soon wavered into a booming laugh, that challenged the likes of her husband. ¡°What did you think we were?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Violet frowned. ¡°Old friends?¡±

    Another chuckle. Despite her embarrassment, Violet was pleased to hear the woman express such delightment, after that depressing reminiscence.

    ¡°At one time, we originally were. Now then, I do believe I''ve been talking far too much, and don¡¯t you deny it! Now then, as for why we actually came here. You¡¯re interested in my research, correct?¡±

    ¡°Actually,¡± Violet began tentatively, ¡°it might seem stupid, but I wanted to ask you about something.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    She took a heavy breath, as Veida waited patiently. ¡°Can Unbounded hide among humanity?¡±

    The researcher considered these words carefully. ¡°It is rare, but yes. It''s called the doppelganger phenomenon. Beings equivalent to Splintered Ranks or above are able to accomplish it, though it doesn¡¯t seem to be a strict rule, with it getting easier and easier to blend in as they grow in power. Why do you ask, if you don¡¯t mind answering?¡±

    ¡°Well, you see . . .¡± Violet was frantically brainstorming. How was she going to explain what was bothering her so much, without coming across as a complete lunatic? After much deliberation, she decided to just get it over with. ¡°Veida, I¡¯ve been lying to you.¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyebrows furrowed. ¡°You have been?¡±

    She took a deep, unsteady breath. ¡°Yes. Remus and I are from completely different sects. Hell, I¡¯ve only known the guy for coming on to a Passing at this point. And while I have family in the Ravaged Lands, I was born and raised in First Rite.¡±

    ¡°But why lie?¡±

    It was an innocent question, and the woman was being incredibly reasonable in not throwing her out at the nearest opportunity. Nevertheless, this, and even more so to what was to come after, were what Violet was dreading most.

    ¡°We¡¯re both . . . fugitives of sorts. Remus stole his Droplet, before breaking out of prison, and I . . . ran away from my sect. But I had my reasons. Please, just listen to me for a few minutes, okay?¡±

    Slowly, after a terrifying second of hesitance, Veida nodded. ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°My family has been acting strange for coming onto a decade now.¡± She winced as the vulnerable words left her mouth, as if each was a target ready to be ridiculed. ¡°They¡¯re almost emotionless, but not at the same time. I remember when I was younger, my father and sister were so full of life, but now all of that has been removed, I fear forcefully. Their interests in anything not regarding the sect faded, as if not existing in the first place, and their tunnel-visioned focus on the clan ¡ª its robotic. And then, when I confronted them about a certain letter that was never supposed to enter my hands, they attacked me.¡±

    This had definitely caught the woman¡¯s attention. ¡°In First Rite, on Divine Ground?¡±

    Violet nodded, immensely thankful that Veida was taking her the least bit serious. ¡°Yes. But I escaped. The letter, the same one that kick-started this mess, mentioned a Warlord, one who''s been lost for years. Akuji, Warlord of the Life Sect. I think . . . I think they have him captive.¡±

    The researcher appeared fully interested now, almost troubled. ¡°But why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Violet muttered darkly. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m travelling to a location mentioned in the letter. I have a hunch that whatever I find, it¡¯ll have something to do with the man. Maybe even the Warlord himself, if he¡¯s even survived.¡±

    There was a silence where Veida allowed her to catch her breath. Peculiarly, letting it all out had been both therapeutic, and frightening enough to quicken her heartbeat to an alarming speed.

    ¡°I-¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I think . . .¡±

    Veida smiled reassuringly. ¡°You can tell me, I won¡¯t judge.¡±

    Violet exhaled. ¡°I think my clan are . . . all Unbounded.¡±

    The moment seemed to have its tension drained out of it. I finally said it! Violet internally cheered to herself. For so long, she had tried to suppress the chances of such a prospect proving true, but deep down, she knew with a foul certainty that it would be better to accept the possibility of the suspicion, then to let the paranoia of it eat her alive.

    ¡°So . . .¡± Veida spoke after a moment, scowling, not quite facing her. ¡°You believe your family has been taken over by Unbounded doppelgangers?¡±

    When put like that, Violet realised just how bizarre it all sounded. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t flat-out deny your suspicions,¡± the woman said carefully, ¡°but by your account, your family was once human, only to have been replaced by Unbounded look-alikes. Do you believe the whole sect to have been replaced by these imposters?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t be certain. Some of them act equally as methodical as my close family, most definitely. But the idea of them all being replaced . . . I don¡¯t know, it just doesn¡¯t sound-¡±

    ¡°Realistic?¡± Veida interrupted. ¡°Yes, to put it bluntly, it doesn¡¯t. There are a few key flaws with your suspicions. Most notably, doppelgangers don¡¯t replace already existing people, they fabricate fake identities. I don¡¯t know of many Unbounded varieties that can replicate someone¡¯s appearance, and the few that can only manage it for a few minutes at best. Assuming that you don¡¯t have extremely brief encounters with them, I¡¯d have to rule that explanation off. I¡¯m not dismissing you entirely, however. Unbounded are cunning, and the secret takeover of an entire sect sounds exactly like what the smartest of them would organise. Have you ever seen any of your clansmen''s Marks, by any chance?¡±

    ¡°Only my sister¡¯s and father¡¯s, when we were very young.¡± It then occurred to her just how long it had been since she had. Violet had never really noticed their absence, but now that it was pointed out . . . ¡°Though not in recent years. No.¡±

    Veida shot her a disturbed expression. ¡°And the sect itself? What¡¯s their area of divine power?¡±

    ¡°Chaos.¡±

    The woman stood up, pacing frantically around the room, as if the mere thought of keeping still repulsed her. Just watching the researcher, Violet could see her mind running a thousand theories by.

    ¡°That might just be general enough to feign . . .¡± The woman turned to her, a determined look on her face. She offered a hand. ¡°Come to my actual laboratory. I need to run a few tests. Come, and tell me anything and everything you think may be of even the slightest importance. If what you¡¯re saying is true, one nugget of information may just be the vital key to unravelling what¡¯s really happening here. And I already know that whatever it is, I won¡¯t like it. Not one bit.¡±

    With that, Veida left the room. Following swiftly behind her, Violet couldn¡¯t help but find the flinty look masking the researcher¡¯s features to be terribly frightening. There was a furious darkness there; a darkness she wasn¡¯t keen to unleash any time soon.

    And gods save the poor soul that would.

 17. Brotherhood

    You would think that after Durations upon Durations of exercise, and a power boost in the Ichor Droplet he had . . . taken out of other¡¯s possession, that Remus would be able to keep up with the Fire Sect trainees. It soon became painfully apparent that he was very, very misinformed.

    Lumped into his cradling arms, two boulders that were much heavier than their deceptive appearances conveyed, attempted to tear his limbs off. This was the second ¡®hold¡¯ of the day ¡ª the first being the laborious task of holding a much larger shard of igneous in two hands, as you pressed your back against a wall, forcing the strenuous load onto your poor, defenceless legs. Suffice to say, Remus would likely be the first to succumb to the seemingly insurmountable weight. Which only mortified him further, upon realising that his boulder, in contrast to several of the others'', hadn''t even been particularly heavy. He didn¡¯t want to use his Rank as an excuse, that would have been awful sportsmanship. And yet he couldn¡¯t help but feel cheated of any potential success, considering the Enkindled, or Emblazed Rank of the others. Whilst those Ranks¡¯ main improvements were Mark-based, physical strength and endurance did take some boost, with Ichor slowly saturating further with each subsequent advancement.

    No excuses, he mentally huffed to himself, realising that he was trying to divert the blame of his inadequacy. Just don¡¯t be the first one to collapse, don''t be the first to collapse, don¡¯t . . .

    Remus repeated the motto to himself endlessly, as his eyes scoured across the room, latching onto anything but the aching sensation ravaging his arms.

    Attached to the sleeping bunks, was a hall so expansive it could fit the one hundred or so trainees enlisted within, without the slightest trouble. Each with their own personal, designated mat, that was of surprising quality. Apparently each of the Flame ¡ª or Fire, the clan suited both titles ¡ª sect camps housed a similar number of future soldiers as this vast chamber did. It was an airy, hollow expanse with great windows slanting in the last remnants of the day¡¯s fading sunshine. This light flooded throughout the room, illuminating the fixed stances of the fellow men and women enduring insufferable pain alongside Remus, though they weren''t fidgeting quite as much as he was. The image of such impressive military wrath for just this generation of combatants alone put the Flame Sect¡¯s might into perspective for Remus. He had known that they must¡¯ve been strong, being a main-stay in First Rite¡¯s second place in the top five, but this was something else entirely.

    Near the entrance, Hadrian stared down at them all, his fiery hair seeming to radiate a faint glow as if it really were a self-sustaining fire hazard.

    ¡°Three more minutes!¡± He roared, his voice echoing across the room. ¡°Then we move on to our third and final pose. Let¡¯s see who makes it to the end shall we?¡±

    Judging over the stoic looks of his peers, this bunch of trainees had undergone this routine long enough for the majority to survive right to the bloody end, each and every time. Remus tried not to let this dissuade him, but admittedly, he couldn¡¯t help but be a little disheartened. It had been two agonisingly slow minutes, but Remus, feeling his body on the verge of giving in, vowed to himself that he¡¯d push through one last tortuous minute.

    You¡¯re going to have to endure worse under the Infernal Bays . . . the portion of his psyche taking the post as motivational-speaker whispered into his ear, keep pushing.

    Nevertheless, his arms made one concerning pop too many, and Remus let the load collapse beneath him, before he promptly joined it. His fist slammed into the cushiony material, and yet he didn¡¯t get to savour the lush texture too long, however, the panting raises of his chest burning in painful puffs outwards. Muttering a few silent curses under his breath, he only moved his arm away from his face to suffer further disappointment. Every single other trainee was still going strong. He sighed.

    First to drop again, and I ache like hell.

    The last minute passed within a blink of an eye ¡ª funny how relative time can be; the bliss of relaxation seemed so fleeting, to the dragging shackles of gruelling labour.

    ¡°Final hold!¡± Hadrian boomed, as workers off to the side quickly, and with systematic grace, took away each boulder.

    Remus watched with confusion as everyone placed a thin oval onto the centre of their palms. It was completely blank: a dull, pearly white colour.

    Sensing movement ahead, Remus turned his head to see Hadrian. ¡°Apologies Remus, but this hold involves sustaining a pillar of fire at a high output level for as long as possible. I¡¯m afraid it may not be wise for you to linger here, being flammable and all.¡±

    The man said it in such a way, you would think Remus had fallen ill to an incurable disease. He scratched his nape awkwardly, half-expecting to see welts covering the skin of his arm. ¡°May I watch?¡±

    Hadrian frowned slightly. The subtle signals of consideration consumed his face. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not, but do it from a safe distance. Come, I¡¯ll join you off to an observing point.¡±

    Following the walking mass of leather up a stone staircase set against the right-hand wall, Remus found himself atop a fenced platform. Grasping the railing, he leaned in closer to catch a better look at the mysterious gadget placed upon each trainee¡¯s inner hand. For some reason, as every leather-clad trainee called on their Mark, the previously pigmentless white bled into a furious, dark red.

    ¡°What is that thing?¡± He eventually bursted out, his curiosity uncontainable.

    The Mercenary-Ranked glanced to where his pointed finger indicated. ¡°Oh that? It''s a Progress Calibrator. Veida works with a wide breadth of researchers and inventors all over the map, so managed to purchase a few in bulk with the clan¡¯s royalties.¡±

    ¡°What do they do?¡±

    ¡°Keeps track of different statistics about yourself.¡± Hadrian explained. ¡°General health, intensity of Mark-usage, records of strength and endurance . . . and a bunch of other nonsense, but you can badger Veida about that if you must know. Plus, they can do this.¡±

    Hadrian clicked on a seemingly empty space on his own hand, tapping on it lightly. Instantly, one of the same circular dots manifested on his own skin. ¡°It''s a convenient feature to have; it avoids a lot of repeating questions about what exactly the thing is. We just haven¡¯t told the trainees they can camouflage yet. They only borrow them for these training sessions, you see, and we wouldn''t want them to be sneaking off with the Calibrators. They''re damn expensive!¡±

    His words were punctuated with row upon row of sizzling flames erupting upwards, even past the platform¡¯s height. The lashing sound of their sudden arrival caught Remus off-guard, and the immediate wave of moisture-snatching heat wasn¡¯t very comfortable to adjust to, to say the least.

    ¡°They don¡¯t get damaged by that?¡± He asked, finding it hard to believe that even the most durable of this earth¡¯s resources could survive the constant beating, if this really was a daily occurrence.

    ¡°Well yes. They¡¯re created by the Marks of the Matter Sect, animating individual pieces of Supreme Steel ¡ª incredibly dense concentrations of Infinity. That¡¯s both why they''re so stubbornly resistant to all major forms of attack, and why they¡¯re so grossly expensive . . .¡±

    The phrase Supreme Steel was so tightly intertwined in Remus¡¯ mind with the Supreme Fiend, that he couldn¡¯t help but be overcome with a sudden wave of anguish for Andreas. With the rot that creature had left on him cutting his lifespan short, what would the old man think of Remus, dashing off so nonchalantly? Would it be prideful admiration for him, seeing his great grandson rushing out into the perils of adventure? Or, perhaps more likely, would he harbour deep-rooted issues with the fact that in his last days, Remus had willingly decided to spend a great number of them eluding his company. The question unsettled him, to the point that he struggled immensely to kick the topic back into an unused closet, somewhere within the forgotten depths of his mind.

    A minute passed. Then another. Still, the fumes didn¡¯t do so much as cease. Remus was starting to get a little concerned. ¡°Do they normally last this long?¡±

    Hadrian nodded, something reminiscent of pride glinting in his watchful eyes. ¡°Sustaining an ability as long as this isn¡¯t as impressive as you might first think. Without any distractions, and whilst keeping perfectly still, you can draw out your energy into sustaining this for as long as possible. Fire is the least difficult of all of the Flame Sect¡¯s potential summonings. It has no real substance to it. Try and get them to pour out, let¡¯s say, lava for instance, they would not last quite as long.¡±

    Another thirty seconds came and went, before a beeping noise from several locations resounded around the room. This was quickly followed up by several trainees recalling their explosive streams of steaming fire. They looked thoroughly exhausted, but Remus was glad that at least a portion of the men and women had finished. The smoke made his eyes water, the heat was more irritating than if you were to inflict a thousand itches onto his body, and the perspiration would not stop leaking from his pores. Looking onto the recovering trainees¡¯ wrists, his eyes stinging a little from the still raging pillars of heat quite a few were still managing to maintain, he spotted the colour from their Calibrators slowly fade out.

    He felt like a nuisance, continuously seeking explanations from Hadrian, but just another turn of the head towards him, and the man started talking without him having to ask. ¡°Veida set them to beep when their Mark output isn¡¯t at a certain degree of intensity. Once they do, they¡¯re out of the running, and have to quit. Or, they can carry on I suppose, if they want to push themselves further, but it won¡¯t count in the final rankings of everyone¡¯s time.¡±

    Minutes flew by, and in tiny groups at a time, the same buzzing sound that was quickly becoming familiar reverberated repeatedly. Until, at last, all one hundred or so were laying on their backs, panting for dear life. The whole time, only one thought other than an impressed admiration circulated Remus'' mind. One day, I need to get my hands on one of those. Legally, he felt obligated to add.

    ¡°With power like this, why haven¡¯t you sent any of them off to the tournament?¡± Remus enquired.

    ¡°We train every group of budding soldiers in a five-year cycle, though many trainees have been known to advance to Foot-Soldier far before the end of that run. These, believe or not, are first years. And whilst nearing the end of the first tenure, I dislike giving them the opportunity until they are reasonably further into our supplied education.¡±

    Hadrian stepped up to the railings, grasping them with his gigantic hands, and exclaiming loud enough that Remus wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the other two camps in the Flame Territory had overhead. ¡°Twenty minute rest before the bouts begin! Please return any sect property and prepare yourselves ¡ª I am aware that we usually hold these training sessions at dawn, and not right before nightfall after a Duration long expedition, but no excuses!¡±

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    With that, the man darted away, before Remus could catch the chance to ask if he would be participating. He exhaled, shook his head to no one in particular, and walked down the stairs to join what he supposed were now his fellow siblings-in-arms.

    They headed right outside of the vast chamber, where a sizeable water tank stood. Drinking taps protruded out of the grey body of the vessel, and after surviving off sour, watered-down wine for the last few days, it was refreshing to quench himself on the purest drink there is. Bored, and now recovered enough to actually want to do something other than lying face-first against the floor, he examined the trainees more carefully. Not for their ability, as he had before, but what they were like as people.

    It was reasonably dark out, so their faces weren¡¯t perfectly clear, but by their builds, the overwhelming majority of the squadron were male. And presumably around his age too. They gathered in groups he assumed to be established friendship circles, gossiping amongst one another, tossing water upon themselves, and laughing merrily. A couple fought off the oncoming darkness with tiny flecks of fire lingering on a fingertip or two, highlighting the rigid features that set these few individuals apart as the strongest of the group.

    Eyes flickering over their hard expressions, the sentinel¡¯s words of wisdom echoed in his head. One false move, or if they just found a disliking for him, any one of them could decide to turn Remus into extra kindling for their fireplaces. In only a simple incineration. For some reason, he now wasn¡¯t so interested in striking up conversation.

    No one approached him ¡ª perhaps wary of the foreign newcomer, which Remus could understand ¡ª and in return, he approached none of them. He merely sat, drinking his body weight in cool water, before Hadrian strolled out before them yet again.

    ¡°Duelling time.¡± He smirked. ¡°My favourite part of the training regiment! Everyone, get into the hall once more and . . . ¡° His eyes scanned the awaiting faces of the trainees. ¡°You, Tanguy! Come over here ¡ª you too Remus!¡±

    Sceptical, and his ears teetering on bleeding out from the man¡¯s excessive volume, Remus and a boy of similar age made their way towards the Mercenary, as the others did as they were told. Tanguy was one of the few Remus had sussed out to be of considerable strength from his brief observation. His head was fully bald of course, with only an area of the faintest brown as its remnants. His irises were coal, and as an aftermath of advancement or hereditary, Remus couldn¡¯t be sure. His lips seemed to be set in a permanent scowl that didn¡¯t exactly scream ¡®friendly¡¯, but Remus refrained himself from passing any judgement.

    Hadrian¡¯s eyes passed over the two of them, obviously expecting them to introduce themselves.

    After an uncomfortable moment, Tanguy extended a hand. It was frighteningly muscular, with both his bicep, tricep, and the rest of the muscle tissue bulging out, as if inmates breaking out of their fleshy cells.

    ¡°Nice haircut.¡± He said, in a voice that was neither deep, nor high in pitch.

    For a moment, Remus gave him a perplexed look, before recollection slapped him in the face. His precious hair . . . it was all but a memory now.

    ¡°Same to you,¡± was his rapier reply, doing his best to match Tanguy¡¯s grip strength. He was embarrassingly weak in comparison.

    Whilst not quite smiling, he allowed the end of his mouth to curl upwards in a subtle motion.

    Finally, sparing the two from any more gawky attempts at curt conversation, Hadrian spoke up. ¡°As you know Tanguy, Remus is unfortunately of a background that,¡± he was clearly very carefully choosing his words, ¡°that rendered him stuck at Engorged for quite some time. Because of this, I would ask you to fight him without activating your Mark. It won¡¯t exactly be completely fair, but the best of brawls never are. Would you do me and Remus a great favour, and satisfy this request for us?¡±

    Tanguy said nothing for a few painful seconds, eyes darting between a reddening Remus and his trainer. Finally, killing the tension, he shrugged. ¡°Sure, why not. Might be fun to actually have a fist-fight for once. It can get so boring just marinating my foes in lava.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t sure how he should feel about that.

    ¡°Great, just what I wanted to hear.¡± Hadrian smiled at the two reassuringly. ¡°Come now, we mustn¡¯t keep the others up. They must be itching to get today¡¯s training over with.¡±

    As they walked at a contained pace back into that spacious expanse, nervous butterflies sprouted to life in Remus¡¯ stomach.

    Something about Tanguy¡¯s rigid features unnerved him . . .

    <hr>

    Everyone had gathered into the training hall, and during their brief outing outside, the place had undergone quite the impressive makeover. Instead of mats layering the floor, trapdoors Remus hadn¡¯t noticed in the room¡¯s floorboards had now been pried open fully, the stone slabs previously concealing what was hidden beneath resting against the very back wall. Freed from their plight of darkness, foot-deep pits of sand were now brought into view, fifty of the things sitting in an equidistant grid. It had gotten so dark out now, that touches circling the entire place, set in their respective brackets, danced lazily against the walls. Remus noted that the time took lighting all fifthteen would be surely wasted. They would certainly be an ample amount of illumination; the oncoming bouts made sure of that.

    ¡°Students!¡± Hadrian roared from his perch. ¡°The first two rows, and half of row three, please come up and take a name out of the chest below the platform where I¡¯m standing.¡±

    They all did so without complaint, and Remus had espied upon entering the building the half not presently drawing, writing their names on a thin strip of parchment. These were the names making up the lucky-dip of sorts the rest were blessed with pulling a combatant out of. He watched them silently, before a voice off to his left grasped his attention.

    Standing next to him, Tanguy murmured under his breath just loud enough for Remus to coincidentally hear. ¡°Such an ineffective way of doing things. Why can¡¯t we just have permanent sparring partners, and save ourselves the trouble?¡±

    It was logical thinking, and Remus cringed at the waste of parchment. It had become something of an expense, whenever traders and their trotting carts ported it into First Rite. Clearly not here apparently, otherwise they¡¯d be sure to use the material much more sparingly.

    After what felt like a generational-spanning wait, all fighting pairs had been selected by the fickle whims of luck, and everyone got into position. The sand crushed under the soles of his feet, shoes having been required to take off for safety¡¯s sake. Remus had trouble understanding this however ¡ª what damage could the sole of a sandal do that a wall of fire couldn¡¯t? But primarily however, his attention was pinpointed on the stretching view of Tanguy, who was substantially more calm in regards to the situation.

    ¡°Three rounds!¡± Hadrian called. ¡°Being kicked out of the perimeters counts as a loss, damaging your opponent at risk of taking their life, or maiming them will result in an automatic forfeit to the entire brawl, and a round is won when your opponent is dropped, and does not get up within three seconds. Or, you incapacitate them. Take your pick on whichever strategy you wish you to use on your path to success. Now . . . start!¡±

    Remus was still enraptured in the man¡¯s explanation when his hand cleaved through the air ahead of him, in signal to start.

    ¡°Wh-¡± He barely managed to get half the syllable out, as motion in his peripherals alerted him to danger. Tanguy was apparently not the waiting type.

    Launching himself to the side, being sure to leave a few feet between him and the boundaries of the sand pit, Remus immediately went on the defensive. Tanguy punched, and he blocked. A flurry of flame from all directions seemed to generate a curtain of fire around them, the rush of heat disorienting as all hell. And as he was caught off guard, enduring a blow to the abdomen, that was exactly what their battleground looked like: the underworld. Throwing blow after blow in an attempt to turn his innards into a thick goo, Tanguy served the role of a punishing demon quite nicely. All he was missing to perfect the position was a whip, and a snug pair of horns to emerge from his bald scalp.

    A fist to his side threatened to cave in his ribcage. His flimsy guard Violet had taught him managed to save Remus from the wrath of two more, but his forearms paid dearly for it. They stung red, and with each subsequent attack either absorbed or just about intercepted, he lost an additional few inches of territory. The most infuriating part wasn¡¯t the beatdown he was taking, it was the placid, emotionless face that masked his opponent the entire time. Not a bead of sweat wetted his brow, the launches of his fists and the movement of his feet was almost a blur to comprehend, and there was a methodical emotion behind it all. No, not emotion; the absence of it. The boy was getting bored.

    Unholy anger flared as a vein bulged on Remus¡¯ forehead. He skirted to the side, skidded back a few paces more, and paid his environment no mind. Remus¡¯ attention was solely centred on the abomination in front of him, the devil in human coating that Tanguy had become. Or had been all this time.

    Remus hunched forwards, tightened his fists, leaned forward, and-

    Tanguy circumvented the attack entirely, with Remus¡¯ arm flinging past his dodging upper body. And alas, the worst was yet to come; before he could do so much as blink, a ton¡¯s worth of muscular leg was sent flying into his exposed stomach. All it took was one second of contact, and agony ravaged his core. Entire body sent hurling, Remus was only vaguely aware that he had just been casually tossed out of bounds. Like a puppy.

    Grasping for breath, it took him well over five seconds just to get up, and a few more until his lungs seemed to function again properly. Vision dazed, he blinked rapidly as his chest decompressed, Tanguy¡¯s placid face eventually coming into sharp quality.

    ¡°Not terrible.¡± He commented, sounding unfocused, as if even this talk was immensely uninteresting. ¡°But dodge. Blocking doesn¡¯t work if you just absorb blow after blow mindlessly.¡±

    ¡°I-¡± Remus shut his mouth. It was solid advice after all. His predatory instincts were just aflame after such a humiliating showcase. All those Durations with Violet, and this time he lasted what, a few more minutes than his first real fight with another person? What spectacular progress. Though, he wasn¡¯t exactly certain if this trainee, powerful or not, could stand up to Edmar. That cranky old man was a Foot-Soldier, after all.

    The second round started the moment Remus regained his place in the ring. Taking heed of his enemy¡¯s advice ¡ª which wasn¡¯t a sentence he ever thought he would be thinking, right in front of said foe ¡ª he bobbed and weaved between the blows as best he could, taking a sort of middle-ground between complete offence or defence. Nevertheless, and despite his great exertion, Tanguy was faster. Indisputably so.

    For every kick or rapid punch that missed him, three more he was forced to either painfully block or simply take. Remus sensed his anger swelling, but he wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake twice . . . well, he intended not to, anyway.

    It was his rage and reliance on blocking that had spelt his doom last round. This time, he couldn¡¯t let it get the better of him. Nevertheless, emotion was a powerful tool if wielded correctly; the only problem was, actually doing so proved immensely challenging.

    He poured the blazing ire into his body¡¯s every movement, the adrenaline pumping through his very heart the only painkiller he could rely on, as a kick to his legs threatened to sweep him off his feet ¡ª and not in the romantic way. Somehow he flickered out of the way, failed to kick Tanguy in his shins, and the barrage finally ended with him rushing through the air for but a moment, unable to successfully block or manoeuvre out of the way of the boy¡¯s next ferocious attack. Flung to the floor, it was all his disconcerted mind could do to roll aside, and leap clumsily back to his feet.

    One second. That¡¯s how close he had been to disqualification.

    Slowly, with one hand behind both of their backs, the two circled each other in a cautious gait.

    ¡°You were right.¡± Remus panted.

    ¡°What?¡± Tanguy¡¯s eyes narrowed in perplexion.

    ¡°Dodging does help.¡±

    Time seemed to slow, as if even the gods were watching. Making sure to drag this one moment out for all its worth. The flames crackled around them both. Sweat appeared to water Tanguy¡¯s face. The grunts of forty-nine other bouts reverberated around the two in an endless, self-sustaining echo. For a moment, for some inconspicuous reason, both of them halted. For a pensive moment, they stared blankly into the depths of each other''s eyes.

    Then they leaped.

    Tanguy was the first to pull his arm back, his face the image of concentration; all boredom had long since perished. Remus followed a close second later, mimicking the action, going towards his chest. Before, right at the last possible opening, he withdrew the fist, swinging upwards with the other hand instead.

    Right into Tanguy¡¯s chin. Or well, brushing against it. But a hit was a hit. The first Remus had gotten on the evasive trainee in all their collective time of battle thus far: a valiant five minutes. He was nothing but gleeful, but Tanguy on the other hand . . .

    Remus hadn¡¯t known a face could convey such loathing. In the highest kick he had ever seen someone pull off, he felt Tanguy¡¯s ankle smash into his head over and over again, as if doing its utmost best to rearrange his facial structure. There was blood of course, and a lot of it.

    Suffice to say, feign successful or not, that round did not go in his favour.

 18. Supper

    ¡°It looks ordinary,¡± Veida mused, gloved hands holding onto Violet¡¯s outstretched arm, ¡°this is a Mark alright. Only strange part is why half of it is blurred out.¡±

    The laboratory around the two was the actual test centre within the building ¡ª a white expanse, with the walls choking on the amount of draws hung upon it. A strange red rock set inside a net hung above the entire expanse, radiating with a faint vermillion that drowned the room in an almost eerie, otherworldly light. Past a table scattered with various equipment for a myriad of purposes that Violet could only darkly speculate upon, glass aquariums bubbled hoarsely. Inside their smelted prisons, bobbled the husks of creatures, in suspended animation. It didn¡¯t take long for Violet to realise that they were tiny, insectile Unbounded; including the weak variety Remus had struggled immensely against. At the end of the row, sat an empty tank. For some reason, Violet was certain that was where the magmite sample would¡¯ve been held, if the things weren¡¯t so hellbent on self-destructing the second you came into close contact.

    Violet sat somewhat uncomfortably on a flat, leaning-back chair set in the middle of this chaos, feeling like a test subject herself as Veida examined her eyes.

    ¡°Crimson irises,¡± she commented, ¡°what Divine Rank are you again?¡±

    ¡°Emblazed.¡± Violet replied nervously. ¡°I¡¯m still awaiting a vision from my patron god.¡±

    She left out the details of just how long she had been waiting.

    ¡°Have they only recently bled red then?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°No. I think I was born this way, or developed it when I was young. Or . . . something.¡±

    Veida noted something down on a winding scroll, quill dipping aggressively into her ink pot.

    ¡°It''s not unheard of to have bodily changes like that before Emblazed, but it''s not exactly common either. Usually, it''s a sign of great affinity for your Mark¡¯s area of power, but I¡¯ll keep a record of that just in case it come in use later on.¡±

    She hated to pester Veida, but Violet¡¯s mind was still brimming with an insane amount of inquiries. And, not to insult the researcher¡¯s capabilities, this discussion had merely highlighted her concerns, instead of drawing them closer to resolution.

    ¡°Any idea what my Mark depicted? Before this blotch emerged?¡±

    Veida pursed her lips, lightly grasping Violet¡¯s arm in two hands yet again. In a slow, drawn-out motion, as if she were expecting the onset of pain, Violet inspected her Mark at the same time as Veida¡¯s scrutinising eyes did. The sea of indistinct bodies were there as always, with only the lower body of the god of Chaos, Teivel, visible. Violet had seen the god in countless paintings, sculptures, and even in person for a few years, whilst attending the Day of Descension. The god was adorned in a dark, faded blue cloak that seemed forever cursed to whip in the wind, even if the breeze was mild. Their face was permanently set in a freakishly wide rictus, and a pointed hat sat comfortably on the crest of his head. The deity didn¡¯t have eyes, or if he did, Teviel kept them draped behind a river of inky darkness that covered his upper face, not unlike the infuriating blotch disguising two thirds of her Mark. Violet stared at the murky scene, as if expecting it to reveal its many mysteries if she simply glared at it long enough.

    For some odd reason, almost as if she couldn¡¯t just rework the universe to suit her, the Mark remained firmly unfazed.

    Veida appeared to be having similar trouble. ¡°As much as I¡¯d like to understand the composition of your Mark, I cannot say. But what side this swarm of corpses belonged to could change its meaning entirely.¡±

    Violet raised an eyebrow. ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Well, they''re just indistinct enough ¡ª purposely left as only vague shapes ¡ª so that their species cannot be confirmed. Were these Unbounded as you might originally expect, or human soldiers? The answer might very well throw our perception of it upside down.¡±

    ¡°But why would Teviel kill humans? He can¡¯t, without just reason, at least.. That goes against the Righteous Oath. Only other humans can kill humans, not gods. Unless they¡¯re punishing a mortal, of course.¡±

    Veida nodded along. ¡°Yes, yes, but . . . nevermind, it''s too soon to jump to conclusions. But thank you for telling me all of this. It was a very brave thing to do.¡±

    A ruddy complexion reigned supreme over Violet¡¯s cheeks, as she refrained from shifting gawkily. ¡°Thank you. It''s such a relief for these suspicions to be taken off of my chest . . . for a while back there, I thought I was slowly going insane.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s still to be decided yet,¡± the woman smirked, before her face succumbed to a look of sudden remembrance. ¡°Oh right! I do believe this investigation may last longer than your stay in our humble camp will. If you wouldn¡¯t mind, may I interest you in Pippin?¡±

    ¡°Pippin?¡±

    Veida extended an arm to her side, and, as if on cue, a hazel sparrow ruffled its feathers, squatting down on her arm in an elegant landing. ¡°He¡¯s a messenger bird. He¡¯ll be another tiny mouth to feed on your travels, but you can send letters to me whenever you want with Pippin¡¯s help. Primarily if you encounter another revelation that could help in our investigation. But, if it''s too much, you can refuse.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of him.¡± Violet smirked. ¡°Thank you. It''s just one surprise after another with you and Hadrian; it''s almost like I should be sceptical. Not to be accusatory, but what¡¯s the real reason you¡¯re doing all of this?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°At first? Boredom, and clan obligation. You don¡¯t get many tourists in our territory, and those that do visit are always gone within the day. There¡¯s also the ancient rite your friend called upon ¡ª I can¡¯t exactly ignore an agreement between gods.¡± Her voice became lighter. ¡°But now, if I¡¯m being honest, it''s out of curiosity. If you¡¯re right, this could be the biggest thing the Unbounded have achieved since their first appearance. It''s enough to send a tremble down my spine.¡±

    The woman looked down to Pippin, whose eyes had been suffering from a series of rapid blinks. There was one last yawn of sorts to escape the bird¡¯s tiny throat, and an intense feeling of lethargy eradicated any alertness left in him. He had fallen asleep.

    ¡°Despite what the Infirnite¡¯s glow over us might tell you, it''s getting awfully late. Now, let''s head to dinner, shall we? We can¡¯t have Hadrian¡¯s trainees steal all the food before we even get there.¡±

    Violet rolled her head back and laughed. ¡°Let¡¯s!¡±

    <hr>

    Of course, Remus had lost the second round of his bout in spectacular fashion. Though, he himself wouldn¡¯t have been able to tell you that, for his head had ached too intensely at the time to register anything other than the pain. By some insane feat of luck, he hadn¡¯t actually passed out, which was more than what could¡¯ve been said about his encounter with Edmar. It did occur to Remus, mulling this all over at he Flame Sect¡¯s dining tables, that remaining conscious whilst being helplessly beaten down was probably not an achievement, but Remus would gratefully embrace any improvement he could. He had to work himself to the bone for every last one.

    He was sitting in the middle of the three rectangular tables he had spotted upon entry of the camp, an absolute feast of food and refreshments before him. Plates stacked with mountain¡¯s worth of meat somehow avoided tumbling off the table; trays of fruits both familiar and exotic were laid out in ornate patterns, and Remus¡¯ sympathies went out to the efforts of the servers, for the platters would soon be destroyed. Rice, grains, whole loaves of bread, cream, honey, noodles, fish and so, so much more. Remus¡¯ only concern was what he would tackle first in his glutinous onslaught.

    As esteemed guests, he and Violet were seated next to Hadrian and Veida respectively, on either side of the table. Hadrian seemed to be saying something to him, but through his mouthful of food, it came out as a string of unintelligible muffles.

    ¡°Pardon?¡± He asked, preoccupied with slamming as much salmon as he could into his mouth.

    The Mercenary took a forceful swallow. ¡°Enjoying the food?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    All around them, filling up virtually every seat, tens upon tens of trainees ate and drank to their hearts¡¯ contents. Remus couldn¡¯t help but smile. The air was so jubilant, and after spending years merely passively keeping to his own sect, he felt a part of something. His only worry, whilst a minor one, was Tanguy. He had seemed so outraged from only one minor scrap of the knuckles, but was he really, even now, in this jovial environment, holding a grudge against him? Perhaps the mere thought of an Engorged ¡ª or Death-Marked, whatever the boy viewed him as ¡ª even being able to touch him disgusted Tanguy, to the extent that he would forever be repulsed at Remus¡¯ very existence.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Remus shook his head frantically, dispelling such depressing thoughts before they could ruin his merry mood. Tanguy was seated on a table behind Remus, and in the corner of his eye, he could see the Emblazed chewing away like it was nobody¡¯s business. For now at least, Tanguy appeared fully unbothered by the last hour¡¯s events, so why should Remus let them sap away at this moment of happiness?

    Turning his attention to people who likely didn¡¯t feel the need to bruise his forehead to oblivion, Remus eyed Violet and Veida laughing loudly amongst one another. Since meeting, the two had become unbelievably close in such a short time frame. Whatever it was they spent so long discussing together in quiet corners, Remus hadn¡¯t the slightest, but whatever it was must have been riveting, with how intensely they spoke about it. Before his mind could even begin to speculate on what that elusive topic could be, he noticed a bird pecking away at Violet''s plate. Apparently Violet knew the creature, because she didn¡¯t seem bothered by this, but Remus had never known the girl to keep pets.

    ¡°So what do you think of our training regiment?¡± Hadrian perked up conversation, after adequately eliminating a tower of dishes.

    ¡°Gruelling.¡± Replied Remus. ¡°But I¡¯m glad it is.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit, that is,¡± Hadrian murmured, an adventurous hand crawling towards a slab of peppers, ¡°but I must warn you, today was a skipped over version of our usual routine. Time-constraints, you see.¡±

    Remus very nearly spat tea all over a whole roasted chicken. Herbal water would have been a very strange marination for the meat indeed. ¡°It was?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. We normally have a sprint around the camp for a few laps, and two more holds before we test the trainees¡¯ Marks in that Inferno you witnessed earlier.¡±

    Remus considered this between bites of potato. ¡°So . . . that¡¯s five holds, a multiple-lap sprint, and the bouts?¡±

    ¡°What? Is that not enough for you? I mean there¡¯s always extracurricular-¡±

    Shaking hands flying up, Remus almost scrambled out of his seat. ¡°No! No! Anymore, and I won¡¯t get ample recovery.¡±

    That may or may not have been a lie. Remus wasn¡¯t exactly certain on what the full extent of an Engorged¡¯s healing factor was ¡ª the process of testing such a thing wasn¡¯t the most appealing of prospects, to say the least. He had recovered from a death-defying height only after a few days of rest and recovery, so perhaps it was possible. Still, Remus was certain that he had enough on his plate already, both literally and figuratively. There was no need to push his body to breaking point, if it would only put his first trial in jeopardy.

    ¡°Ah, understandable. I¡¯m sure the standard regime alone will be enough to push someone of your Rank to their physical limits, no offence.¡±

    ¡°None taken.¡±

    There was a comfortable silence, where neither of them muttered a word ¡ª instead, wordlessly agreeing to stuff their own weight¡¯s worth in food into their bodies first, before conversation may once again, after some reluctance to turn away from the grub, be approached.

    ¡°I know you were lying.¡± Hadrian eventually said, looking quite uncomfortable.

    That was quite the bombshell. Some may even argue a little too intense for a conversation starter.

    Remus was definitely one of those people. ¡°What?¡± He bursted out, choking on some juice vaguely reminiscent of winter berries.

    ¡°Violet spoke to Veida about private matters I¡¯m not ought to be the one to tell you about. That¡¯s for the girl to reveal out of her own violation.¡± Hadrian said soberly, contrary to the vast collection of empty tankards before him, gathered in a semi-circle, as if in the midst of a mothers¡¯ meeting consisting of inanimate objects. ¡°Amid this discussion, they revealed your rather unfavourable status.¡±

    Remus was sweating bullets. All the liquid he had consumed now seemed to have taken the memo to leave his body immediately, with no notice. ¡°Apologies for not telling you earlier. I suppose this complicates our relationship somewhat.¡±

    ¡°That it does,¡± Hadrian swirled an empty cup between two fingers. ¡°Or it should, if I let it. But I like you Remus, I admire your determination and steel in the face of difficulty. Plus, I did a little snooping through your personal history, and I¡¯m less appalled than I am impressed.¡±

    ¡°History?¡±

    The man waved a hand to the side, like it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°I just nagged Veida for what Violet had revealed. If your crimes were too severe, we wouldn¡¯t risk playing dumb and housing you for the time being. But petty theft, provoking combat with an authority figure, and breaking out of prison are-¡± Hadrian rubbed his stubble, as if re-mulling things over. ¡°Okay, that actually does sound pretty substantial when said aloud, but many have done worse in their lifetimes. Plus, you could scratch that fight off as a consenting duel if you pushed hard enough in court.¡±

    He scoffed. ¡°The same courts that are funded in large part by the same people I wronged.¡±

    ¡°Ah, good point,¡± Hadrian took another sip. ¡°But you have noble intentions, indeed? You¡¯re doing all of this for your sect¡¯s benefit, if I¡¯m not mistaken?¡±

    Remus¡¯ fist tightened. ¡°Yes. I¡¯d like to help others after, but everything¡¯s stacked against the Carpentry Clan. Dragging them out of this mess will be a grand challenge in itself.¡±

    Nodding, Hadrian poured himself what must have been his twentieth drink of the night. Or, Remus thought he had, seconds before the Mercenary pushed the glass to his side of the table. ¡°Take it. You deserve a drink after standing up to that corrupt system. Drink your head off tonight, for tomorrow morning heralds the most gruelling Passing of your life. ¡±

    Grabbing the glass, Remus allowed himself a hearty smile. ¡°It better be.¡±

    <hr>

    The carriage rolled by dull hill after dull hill in the most bland looking stretch of land Elmore had ever witnessed.

    He was seated quite comfortably in the lavish interior of a mobile carriage, striding along at a comfortable, but swift pace along the most flat highlands he could ever recall witnessing. Before him, sat his two cousins, and in his mind¡¯s privacy, he couldn¡¯t help but think of them as polar opposites.

    Ash was gangly, the little muscle he did suit more of an accident than the result of continuous training, and by the way he was leaning to the side on the perch of his hand, eyelids drooping before flickering momentarily open every few seconds, thoroughly bored out of mind. His brother Koa, whilst similar in several other aspects, appeared fully immersed in a deep reverie of thought that would only be broken occasionally to shoot a pensive look Elmore¡¯s way. Upon turning his head to meet these gazes, the boy would grow flustered, and quickly act as if he had been sightseeing through the windows the entire time. Koa and Ash weren¡¯t too dissimilar appearance-wise, but they held such differing airs about them, that were the primary cause of the great contrast separating the two apart. It was enough to give Elmore whiplash, if people could.

    Elmore didn¡¯t know what to think of Koa in particular. They¡¯d barely ever met apart from at extravagant family gatherings, where they would at most exchange an obligatory greeting, before quickly retreating to opposing sides of the room. He didn¡¯t harbour any ill will to the boy, but if he was anything like his brother . . .

    Gods above, Elmore didn¡¯t enjoy holding a disliking for his own flesh and blood, but Ash¡¯s waste of such abundant resources was enough to send him insane. And some people, despite the boy¡¯s lack of ever committing himself to any task set before him, still viewed his slacking cousin as material for a sect leader. What, just because he had somehow achieved Emblazed in his sleep, Ash was automatically a better contender, simply because he had climbed the Ranks younger? All it would take for all of Elmore¡¯s work ¡ª the very same training that had consumed all the moments chinking together to make up his life ¡ª to be cast to the flame. Gone in a blink, with his cousin none-the-wiser.

    Was he letting childish, somewhat selfish fears get the better of him? Maybe, but he couldn¡¯t muster the will, or want, not to succumb to such thoughts.

    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± A voice called from the front of the vehicle. ¡°I can¡¯t travel much more than this, it''s too dangerous, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    Elmore peered out of the window, or the blank space forming a square in the carriage wall. Pulling the curtain fully aside, the image of a murky abyss of trees, brown waters, and thriving weeds was blazed into his retinas. In other words, they had reached the Seventh Territory, that of the Reptilian Clan. It was the most direct territory one could reach if making a beeline from First Rite to the neighbouring city. It was the most likely path their targets would have taken, and with no other leads, Elmore had no other obvious option but to search here first. Nevertheless, it would still be a considerable stretch of land until they caught sight of the Reptilian clan itself, or perhaps the other, sister Amphibian Sect that was attached to it as an arm is to its socket.

    ¡°Must we stop here? You would be saving us quite the walk if you would continue. I¡¯m willing to pay, if necessary.¡±

    Ash mumbled unintelligible, before jolting awake with a shrill cry. ¡°What-! Are . . . are we here?¡±

    Elmore expelled his complaints at his cousin in a drawn-out huff, arms crossed firmly. It was becoming increasingly difficult to not simply speak his mind to the boy.

    ¡°Apologies, but the fellas back at the clan would kill me if I returned with a bashed up carriage. Unbounded are far too prominent in Hybrid, not to mention multiple enemy clans. I wish you safe travels, but I can¡¯t go ahead.¡±

    Elmore bit his lips tightly, containing his bad mood as best he could. Why had he been so infuriated on this trip? He should be as happy as can be at the honour of fulfilling a request from Juniper; he should barely be able to keep his facial muscles from aching, after smiling to an absurd extent. So why then, did every little thing seem to irritate him to no end?

    ¡°Ash, Koa, we¡¯re leaving.¡± He finally heard himself saying, grabbing his luggage from a compartment beneath his feet. ¡°We may be travelling for a while, so make sure you don¡¯t leave anything. It''s not unlikely that we¡¯ll have to live off these supplies for quite some time. And, Koa, at any point in the day, if Ash falls asleep, do me a favour and wake him the hell up, would you? I don¡¯t mind if you have to splash water over him, we can''t afford to waste time when those criminals might be gaining distance on us, as we speak.¡±

    At first, Koa gave him a look that read as confusion as whether he was joking or not. The drowsing form of Ash answered that question for him, and he swiftly nodded.

    The carriage soon departed, and the group, including a just-about conscious Ash, frowned at their fresh environs. The Speed Clan carriage had escorted them all the way here in the course of a Duration, which Elmore suspected to be substantially faster than their prey. Nevertheless, their going would be reaching a sharp decline from this point out.

    Please just be nestled up in the Reptilian base, he droned to himself, this will be so much easier if they are.

    Elmore took a heavy breath, face-to-face to the territory that they¡¯d be venturing across for however long. For some reason, he felt nothing but dread.

    Koa was evidently feeling much the same way. ¡°You ready?¡±

    Wiping his emerald cloak down, Elmore nodded, surprised to hear his cousin talk for once. Despite not having seen much of his family for years, including his own brother, the boy had abstained from saying anything other than an awkward greeting, and a quick, private chat with Ash that Elmore was able to sense the tense air of, just as a bystander.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he eventually said, taking his first step into Hybrid land, ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±

 19. Fist of Flame

    Sprinting was quickly proving, yet again, to not be Remus¡¯ forte. Not that he had found an area he excelled in yet, besides from getting himself in an ample amount of mindless trouble, but he was hoping beyond hope that something he could excel at would turn up sometime soon. But it was becoming quickly apparent that even baseless faith would expire if granted enough time, as the days until Cyrus¡¯ arrival ticked by at a snail¡¯s pace. It was only now dawning on Remus, like a creeping shadow snickering knowingly at his naivety, that any helpful skill or talent wouldn¡¯t just appear under a turned leaf or shifted pebble that destiny would set in his path.

    Experience informed the truth: Remus would have to put in the hours, no matter how gruelling they were, if he ever wanted to stand a chance at improving. And that didn¡¯t exclude the prospect of growing stronger ¡ª the only requirement in scaling the Divine Ranks.

    Somehow, his morning laps around the Flame Sect camp, the obsidian buildings flying past him like fractured shards of twilight, took a far larger toll on his body than the five holds could have even dream of. Which was saying something, for it had taken several days of tirelessly lofting up oversized boulders before his body had finally stopped making those concerning popping noises. Cardio, on the other hand, stuck out in Remus'' mind as a practice in futility. A stitch that he couldn¡¯t quite manage to remove lingered upon his side, the metallic taste of copper never quite departed from the parched chamber of his throat, and his legs . . . Well, he didn¡¯t quite know how they were doing. Any speck of feeling in the limbs had vanished approximately two laps ago.

    At Remus¡¯ side dashed Tanguy, and Remus, for but a moment¡¯s haste, felt a pang of pride pulsate through his fatigued mind. It had received nothing other than reports of endless aches and pains for an unbearably long time, that the mere possibility of dopamine, if the gods dared to permit it, was the emotional equivalent of the most outlandish of the underworld¡¯s drugs. It had barely begun to form however, before Remus recalled that the trainee was about three laps ahead of him. Damn his operational memory.

    The two passed a glance at each other in wordless acknowledgement.

    Hadrian had seen to it that the two were continually paired together in evening bouts, and his explanations for doing so were dubious at best. Apparently he believed setting Remus against the best of the best of the class would do wonders for his training. Insane difficulty was exactly what he had to endure, with limited time on their hands before he was to be tossed into the Infernal Bays¡¯ caverns. Where he would subsequently either emerge victorious, shard of Infirnite in hand, or as a dragged out corpse, promptly disposed of. Remus felt his stomach churning at the thought.

    Needing something to direct his attention on as his body withered away by sheer excess of expenditure, he reflected on his time spent within the camps¡¯ perimeters, eying the stony walls not too far off from his current stride. A Duration had dragged by in a jumble of aches, pains, and an all encompassing fatigue. Nevertheless, no matter how hard he believed he would work himself to death, he would wake up the following day with nothing more substantial than a sore sensation in his muscles. And, for some perverse reason, he found that indescribably aggravating. Some twisted part of him was awaiting the day he would finally overstep, and then would thus have an excuse to avoid training. It was obviously beyond stupid to yearn for this, for a multitude of reasons that didn¡¯t need to be spoken into existence, but drained of all his capacity to care and more, logic was lost on Remus.

    He watched in silence as Tanguy rushed off in a spike of resolve, his back slowly reducing to but a speck in Remus¡¯ vision as the boy demonstrated impossible vigour. Needless to say, the trainee had floored Remus each and every bout with pinpoint accuracy. It was almost as if Remus was doing worse, as each day¡¯s fight found new ways to disfigure his face, which was quickly amassing quite the repertoire of cuts. He supposed his body hadn¡¯t yet bothered to fully heal the damn markings, too preoccupied with patching up the packets of dust his muscles would be reduced by, by the day¡¯s climax. Funny how Engorged healing functioned, it was much more exact then a carrier of red-blood, prioritising what urgently needed healing instead of scrambling to patch-up everything at once. Shame his mind couldn¡¯t work as efficiently, perhaps then he would be freed from this fit of humiliation. Just thinking about it turned his cheeks red.

    One flick on his chin. That was all he had managed to land on his sparring partner ¡ª a mere dent in the shield of a god. It was somehow more pitiful than if he would¡¯ve left no injury at all. At the very least, he wasn¡¯t required to endure the face of rage veiled behind Tanguy¡¯s mask of indifference. One part of him wanted to uncover the guise once more, to see just how far it could slip off if Tanguy was pushed, and the other was terrified at what the implications of accomplishing such an impossibility would be.

    A few more laps until we fight again, Remus thought, the pain building up throughout his entire body a herculean task to ignore as blatantly as he was attempting to. The only thought that propelled the momentum of his footfalls was spite. The first few sprints, many days prior, had resulted with him collapsing in a puddle of his own perspiration, only saving a shred of his dignity by not passing out completely.

    It was an image he was not keen to recreate. Not without fighting tooth and nail first, at the very least.

    ¡°Remus!¡± A tremor of syllables off to his side caused a mini quake in the air. ¡°Don¡¯t let me catch you slacking now!¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t entirely surprised to see Hadrian jogging alongside him, an infectious smile on his lips. He couldn¡¯t help but notice that not a drop of sweat smeared him. In reply, Remus nodded, worried that even a muttered word would be a waste of energy too far, spelling doom for his chances of finishing the track.

    In tremulous, quivering breaths, Remus visualised his destination. With Hadrian at his side, failure wasn¡¯t an option. He would not allow a timeline to exist where he would disappoint the man.

    ¡°Quickly now Remus, if you survived all five holds without collapsing, you can push through this. Push forward!¡±

    He took the words to heart.

    <hr>

    ¡°I hate running,¡± Remus finally muttered, some time later, after he had recovered enough to form words without them sounding like the empty winds of a desert.

    Amid the sounds of his insistent huffs, and the chugging water of his cup, his peers voiced agreement. He wasn¡¯t particularly close to any of them, but a bond of sorts between Remus and the other trainees had formed over the course of his stay. You didn¡¯t exactly endure agonies daily and not build an endearment for those suffering alongside you.

    They were seconds away from preparing for the day¡¯s final activity: the famed bouts. One more challenge, and Remus could eat like a rabid animal to his heart¡¯s content. Dinner was the highlight of his day, and at the worst of times, his singular motivation pushing him through. The problem with breakfast was that it was immediately before training, and physically exerting oneself to extremities when bloated was not the best idea. It was awful to miss out on the trays upon trays of fruits, creams, and breads, and not to mention the pitchers of the best quality milk Remus had ever had the pleasure of guzzling upon, but he had learned it was best to have a light meal the hard way.

    Tanguy was leaning against the doorway, and his shuffling to the side drew everyone¡¯s attention. They were all enraptured with the sight of the door finally opening, with Hadrian¡¯s looming shadow coming into the limelight.

    ¡°It''s not time yet,¡± he announced, which received an equal amount of gloomy looks as it did sighs of relief, ¡°just thought I would stretch my legs.¡±

    He met Remus dead in the eye. ¡°Would you mind joining me?¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t especially keen to spend his recovery time mulling about, but he got the implicit impression that Hadrian wanted to discuss something. In private.

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    Together, they strolled far out of ear-range of the rest of the curious trainees, heading deeper into the camp, before Hadrian finally stopped at a bench beneath the shade of a boulder ¡ª the best replacement for a tree you could get in these parts, where the colour green was evidently an archaic rumour.

    ¡°Apologies for interrupting your rest, but I¡¯m rather interested in your future, Remus.¡± Hadrian then rubbed his chin, and set his eyes slanted to the side like a misbehaving child, caught red-handed by their parents. It was quite a bizarre sight for the beast of a man, one Remus silently prayed he would never repeat again. It didn¡¯t quite suit him. ¡°I was doing a little snooping through our records, looking into the Earnest Trials, and I couldn¡¯t help but have my interest piqued by your following challenges, after you collect the Infirnite.¡±

    He spoke as if his success for the first trial was already set in stone. It was both daunting to support the weight of so much blind faith, and yet at the same time, warmly reaffirming. If Hadrian was so confident in him, then why shouldn¡¯t he hold a little belief in himself?

    ¡°The second trial in particular, about killing a beast of considerable power, what exactly do you have in mind?¡±

    Hadrian¡¯s reaction could have gone in several ways, many of them not very unappealing. So when Remus spoke, he did it slowly, and deliberately. ¡°Styrmir, the Giant of Tempests. I don¡¯t believe he¡¯s too far away from here. According to the rumours, the Unbounded is the equivalent of a Foot-Soldier Ranked.¡±

    Scowling, the Mercenary¡¯s immediate reaction wasn¡¯t exactly reassuring. He didn¡¯t entirely strike down the idea, but his scepticism dripped off his words and formed a puddle of doubt at their feet. That coursing dubiety set the tone for the remainder of the discussion, and didn¡¯t waver once.

    ¡°With you and Violet working together, it''s possible . . . but remember, Styrmir¡¯s power is in his speed. He¡¯s an elemental Unbounded, one whose notoriety precedes him. And there is nothing in this world, aside from the Speed Clan perhaps, that is more nimble in nature than the wind. Defeating him would garner you some respect, most certainly. Even so, that is only if it were revealed that you two were the ones that slayed him, and even ignoring all the trouble that can of worms opens up, your names would still be far from clean. But it will be no small challenge. The power difference alone is a concern that troubles me deeply.¡±

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Remus exhaled, not attempting to disprove any of the man¡¯s points, for they were all true. ¡°You¡¯re right of course, but I can¡¯t think of any other potential Unbounded nearby that we have nearly as decent a chance at taking down. For his speed, we¡¯ll have to think of something, but for now, all I can do is train, and focus on the task at hand. I still have the first trial to tackle, after all.¡±

    A hand patted his shoulder, and Hadrian beamed down at him. That pose was so alike his grandfather, it stung to gaze upon. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit. I would be tempted to assist you on taking Styrmir on, he¡¯s a bother to us all. But my clan duties don¡¯t leave me free for such an excursion. I hope you can understand.¡±

    ¡°Of course, don¡¯t feel obligated. Anyway, I don¡¯t suppose the creators of the trial had in mind a Splintered Rank taking part when they devised it.¡±

    Hadrian boomed in hearty chuckle, before realisation widened his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re running late. Quickly Remus, we have to be back for sparring!¡±

    With that, the two said no more, making a brisk beeline back to that obsidian cuboid, where outside, loitering trainees came into view.

    Many entered before he even had a chance to announce the bouts. ¡°Rest is over, you know what to do. It''s time to spar!¡±

    Remus cleared his mind free of any berserk wind giants, as he followed the last of the group to settle in. As everyone drew names, Remus took his position opposite to Tanguy, adjusting to the cushiony texture of the sand beneath his feet.

    ¡° . . . You¡¯ve improved, y¡¯know,¡± a voice called, and Tanguy so rarely exchanged words with Remus, that it took him a foolish scan of the hall before he realised it had been him who had spoken.

    Already, Remus was sceptical. Praise from Tanguy? Pah! What would happen next, the gods calling it a day and giving up the War?

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem like it,¡± Remus eventually replied, ¡°our first fight has been my most successful, and that wasn¡¯t exactly a fabulous showcase of my fighting skills.¡±

    For a nanosecond, the boy appeared to have frowned at the past bout¡¯s mentioning. His lips reverted to a straight, unrevealing line so quickly, Remus was forced to rethink what he¡¯d thought to have seen.

    ¡°I was going easy on you then,¡± he said hurriedly, ¡°you¡¯re losing now because I¡¯m not holding back.¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t know whether to cringe or laugh. One scrap on the chin was evidently enough to mar Tanguy¡¯s ego irreparably. Without a doubt, there was the possibility that he had been somewhat restraining himself, but the trainee was trying to make it out as though he had been fighting with a blindfold and both arms behind his back.

    ¡°So . . .¡± Remus raised his arms and pushed a leg forward in a fighting stance. ¡°This fight will be how you would normally face any other equal fighter? Mark usage excluded of course.¡±

    His lips quivered. ¡°If that¡¯s what you desire, you can count on it.¡±

    Each word was forged out of the clear-cut parchment of honesty, and Remus smiled. Perhaps if he could hold his own against an Emblazed, them being handicapped or not, that would be proof enough that the last two Passings hadn¡¯t been entirely fruitless. The two exchanged a glare that held no anger, no frustration; only concentration, as Hadrian called for the spars to begin.

    Remus dived forwards, throwing an arm back in one rapid breath. Skirting out the way, Tanguy gave Remus a bemused look, as his opponent unleashed a barrage of flying kicks and blows, not unlike a tornado of disembodied limbs. In all their previous fights, Remus had never come on this strong right out the gate, and they both knew it.

    Tanguy didn¡¯t refrain from punishing him back.

    In a duck so fast it was triggered out of pure instinct, and not any decision of his own, Remus skimmed away from a kick, jumped to the side of a flinging fist, and now closer than ever to his opponent, aimed low ¡ª for his stomach. Tanguy didn¡¯t even bother to intercept the blow, vaulting aside with casual grace. Skidding forwards, his legs not quite able to keep up with his speeding body, Remus very nearly toppled over. Well, perhaps he would have escaped receiving a face-full of sand, if it were not for the brisk series of blows hammering down on his back.

    Legs forced to buckle, Remus embraced the fall, strategically entering a roll, bouncing back up in record time, and kicking Tanguy in his pompous gut before he knew what hit him. Remus couldn¡¯t be sure whether it was pain, wheezed breath, or simply bewilderment that kept his opponent from immediately striking back. Tanguy¡¯s teeth clenched, and this singular action somehow altered his demeanour wholly.

    Punches bursted forward in a frenzy of predatory rage, with Remus left scrambling to block, duck, and most likely of all, endure them. For twenty whole seconds, his string of successes was cut frustratingly short. One good kick cannot be the most I get after day after day of hopeless beatdowns!

    The centrepoint of an aura of ire all his own, Remus danced with his enemy. Blows were traded, sand was sent billowing in the air with a terrible eye-watering tendency, and all concept of time was lost. It was a routine of violence, a showcase of cruelty at its finest. Thinking was a requirement of the past ¡ª his body was the puppet of some inward aptitude, developed over Durations upon Durations of drilling in stances and foot formations into himself, with the consistency of an insane person. Remus was only vaguely air of his nose bleeding out like there was no tomorrow, but as there was no feeling in his body from the waist up, he didn¡¯t let it deter him.

    One lucky sweep of his right leg, and Tanguy was sent to the ground. He shifted back up in laborious movements, just in the nick of time before Remus could properly pounce on him.

    The two launched blows in perfect unison, both combatants'' cheeks turned a nasty shade of purple. Adrenaline could only be relied on for so long, and the pair ¡ª grudgingly trudging on as they were ¡ª could ignore the grip of fatigue and pain no longer. Punch-drunk, they grasped against one another, throwing weak punches at the other¡¯s back that wasted valuable energy for all the good they did.

    Blinking idly, Remus realised they were the only combatants left still fighting. For a second, he doubted this. They were only on their first round, there was no plausible way they could have dragged it out this long . . . but the empty sand pits encompassing the two stated otherwise.

    ¡°Alright boys, let''s get this over with,¡± Hadrian began, before erupting out with: ¡°sudden death! This one round decides the victor. Now stop hugging each other like newly-weds and give us a fight!¡±

    The Mercenary was positioned at the head of the rest of the gathered trainees, also on the sidelines, at the platform overlooking the pits. Through his eye that was not becoming gummy with dried blood Remus didn¡¯t know the owner of, their astonished expressions bore into his eyes.

    The words seemed to spur a second wind in both Tanguy and Remus, and they vaulted away from each other ¡ª grains blasting upwards in their midst. With so many eyes watching them, neither of them would be able to bear the burden of defeat.

    You win this round, or die trying, Remus cemented to himself, in a resolution he didn¡¯t believe to be extreme in the slightest.

    As the two threw pensive blows, not wanting to be the one to open themselves up for a swift defeat, Remus focused a portion of his mind on channelling his Ichor. It wasn¡¯t until the advent of a Boundless Vault at Foot-Soldier Rank that he would be able to truly accelerate his healing process at will with full effectiveness, but there was no harm in trying. Directing your own blood is odd. A close analogy would be swishing your hand through a tub of water to direct the current, only at a much more meticulous level. Directing the tide of gold to his most battered areas ¡ª namely his bloody nose, bruised chest, and the cut above his left eye, Remus felt as though the pain was numbed somewhat, but ¡®healed¡¯ was another matter altogether.

    Finally, abiding by the pleas of the screaming trainees, Tanguy took the plunge, flying towards Remus with a grave expression, as if he were a servant of the Grim Reaper himself, commissioned to strip Remus of his soul. Remus sure hoped that when he did perish ¡ª if immortality was out of the question ¡ª that the creature tasked with ferrying him to the afterlife wouldn¡¯t be nearly so stone-faced.

    He dodged the first blow, which was followed up thrice, none of the hits landing. Dread crept up Tanguy¡¯s face, an expression that Remus would be sure to savour for years to come. Dread quickly gave way to desperation, and Tanguy sent one last wild kick Remus¡¯ way. The move was so unorthodox in its trajectory, it managed to strike Remus¡¯ wrist with shattering ferocity. Crumpling backwards, Remus saw nothing but red, instant loathing birthing in his heart, eradicating all, and any sense of level-headedness, dead in its tracks.

    His hate would pave the way for his victory. Time to pull out an old trick, he mused to himself.

    He struck out. Relying on instincts more than ever, Tanguy flung himself to the side . . . whereupon Remus let him accept a faceful of his real blow. It didn¡¯t take anything more but a firm kick, and Tanguy was on his knees, hand clutching onto his nose.

    Remus laughed like a villain, high on the sweet taste of success. ¡°Twice! You really must practise handling feigns Tanguy, but hey! At least now we have matching nose-blee-¡±

    Several things occurred at once.

    The most urgent to grasp the extent of his focus was Tanguy grunting in fury, uplifting a hand squarely ahead of Remus. The air suddenly grew to a foreboding heat, a slither of fire erupting out of his palm. Hadrian burst onto the scene, as if by teleport, and grasped Tanguy¡¯s lofted hand. The snaking spire of flame crawled up his arm, only to fade, revealing a forearm completely unscathed. Hadrian¡¯s look of visceral disgust made Remus want to run all the way back to his snugly home back in First Rite, and he wasn¡¯t even the target of the intensive look.

    ¡°Out. Now.¡± The Mercenary muttered, pointing towards the hall¡¯s exit behind his back. ¡°Go before I lose my temper anymore than I already have.¡±

    Tanguy appeared to hesitate for a moment, but quickly obliged when Hadrian¡¯s glare didn¡¯t back down.

    Catching his breath, Remus was exhausted. All the excitement had dispersed from his bones, and the only thing preventing him from crumpling into a pile of limbs atop the sand was Hadrian¡¯s hand, tugging his arm upwards.

    ¡°By virtue of disqualification, Remus wins!¡±

    There was a resounding cheer that Remus would have enjoyed substantially more, if he wasn¡¯t one false move away from face-planting into the wooden curb of the pit.

    ¡°The bout was to fight without use of one¡¯s Mark, and in the last twenty minutes, it has become abundantly clear that Tanguy did not possess the capacity to do so.¡±

    Twenty-minutes! The last of Remus¡¯ brain cells not fully spent for the day internally cried, no wonder I feel like death.

    ¡°Tanguy will no longer be joined with Remus, and he instead will draw for his opponent, as is the typical way of doing things. Unless anyone feels compelled to challenge him directly?¡±

    Through his one eye not dried shut, Remus saw several hands shoot up.

    Hadrian nodded at the volunteers, as if this was the proper way of things. ¡°A nice line-up, this will be. I do believe sparring against Remus will be a good opportunity for you all, to sharpen your hand-to-hand combat skills that have been left in the dust for so long, in favour of spurting flame madly instead. His next combatant will be decided later, though, for whoever that will be, you will be required to wear a Progress Calibrator. ¡±

    Some excitement was sparked at this, which immediately proved misplaced.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up, it''s not for anything fancy. I¡¯ll badger Veida into setting it so that the gadget will send a warning, if it ever so happens that an incident like this occurs again, and someone tries to use a Mark against Remus. We were far too close from possibly turning our guest into ash. Incineration of your fellow trainees will not be tolerated.¡±

    Slowly, everyone filed out of the hall, with a half-conscious Remus bobbling from side-to-side as he trudged his way forward. Dazed, he struggled to grow excitement for his cueing line of future fighters, all likely to mess him up with equal skill.

    If today was anything to go by, he had quite the series of Durations ahead of him.

 20. At Long Last

    Violet woke with a start, jolting upwards with a back terribly sore from leaning against a chair all night. Her makeshift cushion was the now compressed pages of one of Veida¡¯s journals, listing various details about Unbounded, and all their heavenly terror. Light crept in from the glass curve situated above, and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, a dark realisation struck Violet like a pile of bricks.

    Today was the day Cyrus would arrive; more likely than not, the day Remus would be plunging into the depths of the Infernal bays. Either to emerge victorious, or not at all.

    And of course, as consequence for staying up every day into the dead of night, until her eyes and brain ached from endless hours of trying to get to the bottom of her Unbounded conundrum, her sleeping schedule had deteriorated severely. For all she knew, it could be approaching midday, with Remus and his party of escorts already gone.

    With that terrifying thought, Violet scrambled up, didn¡¯t bother to do any more than clumsily put on a change of clothes from her personal supplies, and rushed down the stairs in a mad clamber. She found Veida sipping lightly at a steaming cup of herbal tea, laughing at her hurried pace in the middle of a neat kitchen.

    ¡°You mustn''t worry, dear.¡± She began, offering her a seat, ¡°You¡¯re not late, I would have woken you otherwise. We still have a good few hours until our sect leader arrives.¡±

    Violet let out a sigh of relief. ¡°Nevertheless, I should better get going. Remus is likely doing his last preparations before embarking out.¡±

    Veida nodded. ¡°Sounds sensible. But get properly ready first, there¡¯s no rush.¡±

    As much as she wanted to fly out of the front door immediately, Violet heeded the woman and retraced her steps back upstairs. As she got washed, and neatened down her leather outfit ¡ª which was the extent of her taste in fashion ¡ª her worries for the day ahead never settled. Durations had passed scarily quick, and she had seen practically nothing of her bald companion, aside from his trips to the infirmary after several particularly gruesome duels. They conversed during meal times of course, but even that was sparse. Both of them were so hyper-fixated on their own goals and commitments, that in a way, they¡¯d forgotten to socialise with each other. Which was jarring, when during a Passing of travel together, she was sick with the sight of his constant presence.

    And now, her time left knowing him might just be cut short. Violet punched the water amounting in the sink before her, sending droplets of cold water splattering across her cheeks. No, Remus has been training for this like a madman since first stepping foot here, all under the supervision of a Mercenary. He will succeed. But still, as much as she hated to admit it, her doubts persisted. Nine whole days trapped in a humid, expansive cavern choking to the brim with malevolent Unbounded, and crystal debris jutting out to cut him at every turn.

    Violet didn¡¯t fancy her own odds of survival, if it were her in his place. Depressing thoughts left to the wayside, she departed not half an hour later, zipping through the door after a brisk farewell to Veida.

    Despite the occasion, it wasn¡¯t exactly a sunny day ¡ª a convergence of grey storm clouds painted the skies a dull shade, with the foreboding promise of a downpour scheduled for whenever nature willed it. Everybody was up and about, and that did not exclude the trainees, who, after training was cancelled for the day, were spared from spending the morning hours grunting and working up a sweat. In the centre of a crowd, not too far from the camp¡¯s entrance, Violet eyed the top of a carriage sticking out. It didn¡¯t take much mental deliberation to work out what the gathering had congregated for, even if she couldn¡¯t directly spot the man who was the focus of a whole camp¡¯s worth of eyes.

    Stepping closer, her anticipation strengthening with every suspenseful step, Violet finally saw the famed sect leader: Cyrus.

    It was quite apparent that Veida was either horrible with her timings, or the Flame Sect leader had arrived earlier than expected. Unlike many of a God-Graced or higher¡¯s power, Cyrus sacrificed size for a more well-rounded lean look, his steel armour failing to conceal his muscle in several places where the plating didn¡¯t extend to. Namely, his right arm, where a bundle of thorns wrapped tightly against his flesh, to what looked like a painful degree. Violet suspected the portable death-trap had something to do with the abilities God-Graced allocated, though she wasn¡¯t knowledgeable enough on the subject to garner any other information on it but that. His smile and outward mirth at reuniting with his people discredited the assumption that the thorny plantage may be a health-hazard entirely, and much due to his buzz-cut, he fitted in with his clan better than most sect leaders did. Slowly but surely, Violet stepped closer, ignoring the steady hum of hushed whisperings resounding around her.

    It was only after finally ripping her eyes off of the new arrival that she noticed who he was talking to. A familiar face who had been her primary cause of worry all morning.

    Remus looked as he always did, or at least a tad bit more scruffy. His hair had grown back somewhat over the Passing, but it was not nearly enough to make up for what had been lost. Violet had been forced to contain a snicker the first time she had laid eyes upon his bald, glum face, but the minimalist look did somewhat suit him, if she was feeling particularly nice on any specific day to admit so.

    Hadrian was at Remus¡¯ side, holding onto his shoulders like a proud father. The Splintered Rank had evidently made it his goal to turn Remus into a little summer project ¡ª whatever the season was, Violet had been cooped up too long studying dusty scrolls to properly tell ¡ª as you could never catch the two apart. The three were talking fervently, before the Mercency finally laid eyes on her.

    ¡°Ah, just who I was mentioning. This is Violet. She¡¯s currently studying under Veida.¡±

    Feeling compelled, Violet strolled up awkwardly to Cyrus. Other than her father, she had rarely been this up close and personal with someone nearing the height of this realm¡¯s power. Suffice to say, as she confronted the sect leader¡¯s kind eyes, only now noticing the irises to be of imposing shades of stark ruby and sapphire, she didn¡¯t quite know how to act. Many sect-leaders were treated like royalty, or literally were monarchs in their own right. But Cyrus didn¡¯t read like he bothered with all that; he was a man who was clearly very down to earth, and preferred to get matters done and dusted with, without all the hassle of superficial status.

    ¡°Greetings,¡± he spoke, voice not verging specially high or low in any specific vocal range, ¡°I do hope that you have been treated with grace in our humble camp. But with Hadrian and Veida overseeing you, I can trust that you have received amply warm welcomes, correct?¡±

    ¡°Without doubt,¡± she quickly answered, trying to match his polite tone, ¡°I hope your travels have treated you well.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Thank you, and that they have. The Descension, on the other hand . . .¡° His entire body sank down in a sigh. ¡°Excuse my bluntness, but I found it an astronomical bore.¡±

    Violet wasn¡¯t certain on how she was supposed to react to this, some paranoid section of her mind afraid that she¡¯d be incinerated if she made one false move. Everyone else, on the other hand, were of a jovial air so comfortable, she couldn¡¯t understand how they weren¡¯t fearing for their lives. Even Remus, who had exchanged a brief grin to Violet upon her arrival, seemed as calm as he could ever be. Too calm.

    Holding all this line of thought deep within her, Violet jumped on the bandwagon, and forced out a few reserved laughs.

    ¡°So, back to business,¡± Cyrus said, focusing his attention on Remus, ¡°your travelling companion here has called upon the oath my god, Ashbel, made to the god of Ambition, Tanish, before any of our great great grandfathers were born. According to the legends, Tanish saved Ashbel¡¯s life, and his saviour¡¯s only request as a reward was for us to toss his potential followers into a riddling cave system for days on end. And that, despite my doubts on if the Ambition Sect hasn¡¯t been completely eradicated, excuse my cynicism, is exactly what we¡¯ll do.¡±

    In an action so abrupt, Violet couldn¡¯t believe her eyes, Remus bowed deeply, his body almost forming an acute angle as his waist and up curved down. ¡°Thank you for your generosity, Cyrus. I find it beyond commendable that you still abide by promises made millenia ago, whereas others in your position may toss them under the rug, as inconveniences.¡±

    Cyrus smiled. He evidently enjoyed indulging in a little buttering-up every now and again. ¡°Please Remus, you flatter me. Though you can¡¯t give me too much credit, I can¡¯t exactly ignore an oath, even if I was inclined to.¡± He clapped his hands, as if finally getting into matters. ¡°Back on topic, our chefs have already prepared your supplies and rations for when we arrive at the Infernal Bays. If we¡¯re quick, we should arrive at the crack of dawn to commence the Earnest Trials as fast as possible. You must have waited patiently for a long stretch of time, and for that, I hope you¡¯ll forgive me.¡±

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Remus shook his hands to the side desperately, as if he¡¯d made some grave mistake. ¡°No, no! It''s been no trouble at all ¡ª quite the rewarding experience actually. I should be apologising to you for eating up your clan¡¯s time and resources.¡±

    The two consequently began a sucking-up contest that made Violet want to puke. She tuned out the following back and forth that seemed to last a lifetime, only to pay attention once more when their expressions grew serious.

    Cyrus swivelled round to face a travelling party, all armed with spears and light armour as if heading off for war. It was less than a fifth of the camp ¡ª about eight trainees in their last years under the overseeing eyes of Hadrian and Veida ¡ª and yet still were somehow terrifically imposing. In the admittedly minor task-at-hand, to the wider Flame Sect, at least, they would do perfectly.

    ¡°Report to Hadrian and Veida when you wish to depart Remus,¡± the sect-leader¡¯s shaved head turned over a shoulder to face Violet, ¡°and will you be coming also? If not, we¡¯d be happy to look af-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡± Violet blurted defiantly, before immediately slamming both hands over her mouth, as she realised that she¡¯d just interrupted a God-Graced mid-sentence. She might as well have set several temples on fire while singing pleas for the gods'' doom.

    Cyrus only grinned wider. It was a peculiar quirk of beings of such power ¡ª they either beamed constantly, developing the strongest facial muscles known to mankind, or didn¡¯t let their lips twitch at all.

    ¡°It''s good to have supportive companions. You¡¯ll find that at the worst of times, they¡¯re all that really matters.¡±

    Remus gave the go-ahead to begin the journey, obviously anxious to get moving as quickly as possible. Soon, after Cyrus saw them off at the camp¡¯s boundaries, before returning to whatever work occupies a sect leader, they left the remains of an obsidian castle at a swift stride. The formation of the party was Hadrian at its front, Veida at its back, and the squadron of guards gathered around Remus and her. It was obvious to see who they thought would be the most at danger.

    Unlike times past, they didn¡¯t have to worry about abundant magmite exploding in their unsuspecting faces, as Violet and Remus had almost made it a game of who-could-return-with-the-most-dead. The beasts were hard to kill when you weren¡¯t immune to fire, and Remus had gotten the short end of the stick, having to combat the destructive insects while being stuck at Engorged. How he managed to slaughter so many without burning to death was beyond her. In fact, it seemed such an impossibility, that Violet was beginning to suspect he was lying.

    To extinguish the awkward barrier between them that had manifested after Durations of limited conversations, consisting solely of arbitrary small talk and flaunting Unbounded kill-counts, she addressed her scepticism directly to him.

    ¡°Come on, there¡¯s no way that you could have cleared out so many of the things, with solely your physical strength. You can¡¯t exactly punch them to death without receiving a face full of molten lava. Or losing a limb.¡±

    ¡°Oh that?¡± Remus replied, looking distracted. ¡°I ran.¡±

    ¡°You . . . ran?¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±

    Violet stopped dead in her tracks, receiving a few perplexed glances from their guards. ¡°What do you mean you ran?¡±

    ¡°The magma flies¡¯ only real way of harming you, aside from biting or clawing away at your skin, is to implode. Draw out the fight long enough, and they¡¯ll erupt in a last ditch effort to finish you off. Kinda like how a bee dies after stinging you, just a lot more deadlier.¡±

    If there were ever an unconventional method to dispose of your foes, that would be it. Violet voiced this opinion, only to be laughed off by Remus.

    ¡°We made a promise that we¡¯d help out with the Unbounded swarms around the territory, and I had to hold up my side of it, by any means necessary. Plus, extra cardio can never hurt.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Violet murmured, ¡°nothing like fleeing for your life as exercise motivation.¡±

    The pair chuckled, in a fashion that felt distinctly too casual for the foreboding air, choking them both in a tighter grip with every step they took. They were tiptoeing lightly around a gaping abyss in the conversation, whose ominous presence could never be wholly ignored. Taking a steady breath, Violet took the plunge.

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡±

    She didn¡¯t have to specify what she meant. ¡°Fine.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Remus visibly gulped. ¡°Okay, maybe a little frightened, just a tad. Or a lot.¡±

    The camp was but a blip in the far distance now, a barely perceivable silhouette on the verge of disappearing entirely. Their environment hadn¡¯t altered too much, the same standard barren wasteland devoid of any depth of colour stretching out for miles all around. These lands knew not of moisture, nor of the colour spectrum, save a few select pigments of brown, yellow, and an orangey black. They were crossing by a route avoiding the lava rivers as far as it was possible, and as faint blurs of radiance on the horizon, these could just be made out.

    ¡°Well, of course you¡¯re frightened,¡± Violet did her best to reassure Remus, who didn¡¯t bother now to limit his wincing expression from surfacing. ¡°But you¡¯ve trained for this as hard as you can. If there¡¯s ever a chance you''ll succeed, it¡¯ll be now.¡±

    ¡°But what if I haven¡¯t trained hard enough? Maybe I prioritised sleeping too much, I could have spent a few more hours running, or practising spars with the other trainees, or, I don¡¯t know, something instead of lazing around in bed.¡±

    The tension dripped from his words.

    ¡°You oaf!¡± Violet had to refrain from slapping the clueless child. ¡°You have to recover Remus, you can¡¯t just work yourself into a hole. You trained enough, probably a little too much. You can do this. If you didn¡¯t think you were able to, you wouldn¡¯t have set out in the first place, robbing markets and vaulting out of prisons. Don¡¯t let all those hours of effort be put to waste. Focus.¡±

    He was silent for a moment, as if mulling her words over. The rigidness of his face didn¡¯t wholly fade, but it did relax somewhat. ¡°Yeah,¡± Remus took a deep breath. ¡°Of course. You¡¯re right. I can do this.¡±

    Traversing over rocky fissure after rocky fissure, arising over a sort of natural wall formed from an upwards curve of igneous, the two engaged in a light, comfortable chat, free from the chains of unease and fully delighting in its unimportance.

    ¡°Why exactly have you become so interested in Unbounded lately anyway?¡± Remus asked a few hours later, miles of land passed by without so much as a feather ruffled. ¡°You never showed any interest before.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that!¡± Violet bursted out, not expecting a topic so closely focused around her myriad of secrets. ¡°It''s a . . . long story.¡±

    Despite having known Remus far longer than Veida ¡ª or at least, that Passing travelling to Hybrid had been such a slog that it felt that way ¡ª Violet had never addressed her familial suspicions directly to Remus. Sure, after that argument before, she had revealed her conflicts with the Chaos Clan openly, and the fact that she had a hunch that not all was as it seemed. Still, the admittedly far-fetched theory of her family being taken over by doppelgangers hadn¡¯t yet graced Remus¡¯ uninitiated eardrums. For better, or for worse.

    It was personal after all, and she¡¯d only fully believed the theory herself after much consulting with Veida, involving many heartfelt conversations. She hadn¡¯t been trying to hide it, at least not with active purpose or intent. The boy had simply been so fixated on his training with Hadrian, she hadn¡¯t had ample chance to fill his ears full of wild conspiracy theories. Around the dinner table wasn¡¯t exactly a prime opportunity to deliver something so heavy.

    There was a painful second where the two simply stared at one another, neither making a move to speak. The tension was so tangible, so material, that it was daunting to merely play with the prospect of shattering the wall between them.

    Perhaps it was time to tell him. Hell, he¡¯d taken the courtesy of revealing every detail of his own backstory so thoroughly, that Violet could have written a biography on his life, and likely do a half-decent job of it. Ah, if it meant erasing the awkwardness of this moment, why not?

    ¡°This might sound bizarre,¡± she began without preamble, ¡°but I actually . . .¡±

    And so she told him. Remus didn¡¯t say a word throughout the entire explanation, face gaunt and serious. She couldn¡¯t tell if that haggard look was because the nerves were making him feel sickly, or if it were a byproduct of his vast attentiveness. Either way, when she finished speaking, admittedly feeling a tinge of self-consciousness, he didn¡¯t try to pick apart the theory. Instead, he rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

    ¡°Unbounded taking over an entire clan . . . ¡° He shivered. ¡°Now that¡¯s scary. And I thought meeting an Unbounded that could talk would be dreadful enough.¡±

    Thankfully, the pair of them had been conversing in hushed tones. Otherwise, Remus might have been the receiver of quite a few odd expressions from the rest of the travelling party.

    ¡°So, do you think it''s possible? I¡¯m not losing it?¡±

    Remus shrugged. ¡°Who can say? Nevertheless, after you sacrificed so much dragging me all the way here, I¡¯ll fight a sect full of frenzied Unbounded alongside you, if it ever comes to that. Though I must admit, the prospect isn¡¯t exactly appealing.¡±

    A burst of warmth spread like wildfire through Violet. At least she had someone to rely on now; that comfort at least, she had to her name.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine you tackling my father head-on in battle. That¡¯s a bold promise to make, to say that you¡¯ll go against someone of a God-Graced¡¯s power.¡±

    ¡°Eh, I was planning on taking down someone of a similar Rank later on down the road. Two won¡¯t hurt, in that case.¡±

    Staring at Remus, keeping her face devoid of any emotion, Violet didn¡¯t say a thing for a drawn out, steely second. ¡°Are you joking?¡±

    Remus turned to her, grinning slyly with infuriating poise. ¡°I don¡¯t know . . . am I?¡±

    The stare-down continued, before neither of its participants could keep a straight face any longer. Bursting out into infectious laughter, both Violet and Remus clutched at their stomachs, without a doubt appearing insane to everyone else present. Wiping a tear from her eye, Violet reflected on how nice it was for things to get back to normal.

    If only she could have seen the future laid out before her. Perhaps then, Violet wouldn¡¯t have been quite so cheery.

 21. Into the Dark

    ¡°Rise and shine, gentlemen,¡± Elmore boomed throughout the tent, fighting away the urge to whack his slumbering cousins awake with a gentle tap of his staff, ¡°we have a busy day ahead of us.¡±

    ¡°But it''s sooo earlyyyy,¡± Ash dragged the words out, face engaged in a fierce kissing match with his pillow.

    ¡°It''s midday. And we have an important meeting scheduled with this territory¡¯s higher-ups. Now get out of bed before you fossilise there.¡±

    Apparently the laws of time didn¡¯t apply to Ash, for he spent the next several minutes conjuring up wild excuses as to why he should be permitted extra time in bed, allocated for his obviously incredibly important beauty sleep. Consequently, sacrificing more energy than what it would¡¯ve taken to simply get up in the first place. Koa watched his brother complain about as melodramatically as he¡¯d come to expect, having arisen out of bed himself several hours ago at this point. Their journey to the Reptilian Clan¡¯s base had been, perhaps, the worst stretch of Koa¡¯s life since the time Ash had been selected to head off to First Rite instead of him. Of course, being the older sibling of them both, it made sense for Ash to be chosen, but it still rattled Koa to the bone to be bested by someone who put in a tenth of the effort as him, for ten times the reward.

    The sound of Ash and Elmore arguing had become a familiarity Koa had become used to channelling out. Amongst a few unconnected words and defiant huffs from Ash, the most he caught from the conversation was a final ¡®do as you will then, I¡¯ll go by myself¡¯ before Elmore left, slamming the flap of the tent as aggressively as you could to a piece of fabric. It didn¡¯t quite have the intended effect he knew his cousin to have been aiming for.

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Ash mumbled, before promptly tossing his covers back over himself, yawning within seconds.

    Koa sighed, observing, through the slight translucence of the tent¡¯s thin fabric, the scene of several large boats bobbling upon a lake filled with murky swamp water. The expansive vessel of throthing, mud-brown liquid was situated in the almost pinpoint centre of a territory filled with nothing but wading patches of similarly dirty water, and hunching plantage from which both animals and Unbounded alike scuttled across. Based on the regal air that infested the entire proximity of the area, the ships served as the home for the most powerful, or politically important of the clan. Likely, there would be a few representatives of the Amphibian Sect lurking aboard up there with them, but the vast majority of the sister sect had their own base, further out.

    It made no difference to Koa, who, sprawled out on his bed with nothing to do, was about to try his luck at joining Elmore¡¯s discussions when he overheard Ash rustling in his own cot. An inclination arose within him.

    He decided to act upon it. ¡°Ash?¡±

    There were a few unintelligible sounds, that Koa would have recommended his brother to consult a throat doctor about, before a lethargic, ¡®yeahh?¡¯ could be heard ¡ª with all the excitement of a man being sentenced to his death behind it.

    ¡°When do you think we should start our training with Elmore?¡±

    It had been a Passing or so of non-stop travel, and neither of them, contrary to Juniper¡¯s words, had begun anything remotely training-like.

    ¡°Did you seriously just ask that?¡± Ash sounded fully awake now, apparently kicking into full alertness just to spit in the face of physical exertion. ¡°Come on, Koa, I know you haven¡¯t been away from the family for a while, but you really should work on getting to understand how the world works. If I intended on running through formations, or activating my Mark a bajillion times a day ¡ª or whatever Elmore would make us do ¡ª don¡¯t you think I¡¯d have started Durations ago? Elmore already knows I¡¯d refuse to train, that¡¯s why he hasn¡¯t even attempted to try pressuring me into doing it. I¡¯m stubborn as hell. As for you, he probably assumes you don¡¯t want to either. You should be thanking me, I saved you a lot of hassle.¡±

    His voice was so patronising, it was at moments like these that Koa wondered why he had ever wished to be alongside his brother in First Rite.

    Koa departed without another word, leaving his brother to waste away the day immersed in the depths of his dreams. Just because you can get by in life by lazing around, Koa inwardly mumbled to himself, doesn¡¯t mean that the rest of us can.

    This was the sentiment that played on his mind all day, every day. Even now, spotting his cousin playing cards at one of a few tables set beside the lake, it plagued him relentlessly.

    All his life, he¡¯d trained non-stop to match his family of prodigies ¡ª and for what? All those hours, and he hadn¡¯t even shattered the boundaries into Emblazed. Koa¡¯s only abilities over a typical child¡¯s strength were the physical. Standard bodily training seemed to go his way, being one of the select things that did, earning him a somewhat lean build which he wasn¡¯t too ashamed of. But Marks? Ichor? Infinity?

    He couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around any of it. Sure, the topics were understandable enough in theory, but no matter how much he tried to utilise his Mark to its limits ¡ª the depiction of his patron god, Chantal, laying down Unbounded that made it their primary course to disrupt the nature she oh-so-loved ¡ª just never would grow. So, to this day, and until he cracked the code of Mark-growth, he would be stuck rigidly at Enkindled for the foreseeable future.

    ¡°Elmore!¡± He called out to his cousin, not paying attention to who exactly he was seated next to. As soon as he did, he immediately regretted being so brash.

    Across the table from Elmore, a figure of obvious importance sat. Reptilian eyes were set into an otherwise ordinary face, the woman occupying the chair of almost inhumanly good posture. Those amber slits for eyes bore into Koa with no obvious intentions behind them. For some reason, that spooked him beyond belief, as if his mind couldn¡¯t quite decide if he were in danger or not.

    ¡°Is this one of the two cousins you were referring to?¡± She enquired, receiving a sharp nod from Elmore.

    ¡°Yes, Koa, the younger of the two.¡±

    Elmore indicated an empty chair at his side, and in motions gawkily stiff, Koa took it.

    ¡°You¡¯ve come just in time for some vital news,¡± the women spoke, who Koa had long since deduced to be the leader of the clan, ¡°we¡¯ve heard stirrings from neighbouring territories. News that might be able to pinpoint the fugitives¡¯ location, and their motivations.¡±

    Both relatives leaned into the edges of their seats.

    ¡°Sentinels of Territory Eight are prone to be extra cautious than most guards put on watch,¡± she spoke slowly, with each word waning away at Koa¡¯s already thin patience, ¡°to the extent that they have outposts just bordering on the outskirts of their neighbouring territories.¡±

    ¡°Guards of the Earth or Desert clan?¡± Elmore asked. Territory Eight was known for its long standing civil war between both groups, and to think they spent valuable resources on keeping watch, when blood was constantly being shed, sounded a little far-fetched. But then again, periods of temporary peace were always being reported about in the news, only for subsequent articles to showcase both sides'' slow descent back into senseless battle yet again. It was an unceasing cycle, triggering most level-headed people to do their best in avoiding the two clans entirely. So Koa wasn¡¯t especially keen to get involved with the territory, but if it meant getting closer to Remus and Violet, and earning Juniper¡¯s respect after nothing but lifelong disappointments . . . well, a little civil tension couldn¡¯t hurt.

    ¡°Earth clan.¡± The woman answered the question, which Koa had completely forgotten about in his own private reverie. ¡°Near their mountains. Lots of vantage points up there. Ignoring my dislike for the clan, they say they spotted two individuals matching their descriptions heading towards the Flame Sect territory ¡ª Territory One.¡±

    Territory One. Koa wanted to curse as the soul-crushing realisation they were an entire territory away debuted all hopes of catching the pair any time soon.

    ¡°Why hasn¡¯t this been reported to First Rite, if they knew both criminals were on the run?¡± Elmore posed an interesting question, disguising his own disappointment behind hundreds of layers of outward formality. It was impressive, a trick Koa was tempted to ask his cousin to teach him once this was all over. He had always struggled to hide his anguish, when faced with the weight of the disappointed looks of The Wild Sect¡¯s higher-ups.

    ¡°News transferring between our cities is far and few in between. After you asked for any information on the fugitives, I asked for accounts of all and any sightings from the local look-outs. Those regularly present around the general areas of Hybrid they were most likely to have emerged from. Seeing how we¡¯re in the south-east regions of the city, the areas most direct from First Rite, something was bound to turn up eventually, and that it did.¡±

    ¡°Eliane, you said you might know what their reasoning behind all this is,¡± Elmore spoke, ¡°you really think this isn¡¯t just a desperate rush away from the gables of First Rite¡¯s courts?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Eliane said firmly. ¡°It¡¯s likely they''re participating in the Earnest Trials. Remus was a Death-Marked, correct? The god of Ambition is said to bestow any victor of the trials with a Mark personally. It might be his last chance at getting anywhere in this world. After doing a little digging, I discovered the first trial is held below the Infernal Bays. That¡¯s likely around their current location right now.¡±

    Elmore burst out of his seat, knocking it over. ¡°Then we have no time to waste.¡±

    He dropped a bag of rattling coinage onto the table. Both First Rite and Hybrid shared the same currency of Inklings, so Eliane would have no trouble using them.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already paid-¡±

    ¡°No matter,¡± he cut off her objection, ¡°your crucial assistance deserves more. Hopefully, it¡¯ll also be enough to overlook the abruptness of my departure. Wake up Ash, Koa, we¡¯re leaving.¡±

    With that, as well as dragging Ash out of bed, and receiving additional supplies from an insistent Eliane, they were gone within the hour. See, Koa was trapped between two impressions of vast dislike. He didn¡¯t want to stay at the Reptilian Base¡¯s crew of ships, or, more accurately, that flimsy net of loose cloth they called a tent for any longer than fate heeded. But, then again, traversing through nothing but damp swamp for miles upon miles was enough to send him down a spiral of dread just thinking about it.

    It was a catch twenty-two, though one of the two decisions was unavoidable. No matter how long he wanted to delay his exit as his future self¡¯s problem, it wasn¡¯t like he had a choice in the matter. Elmore seemed to be refreshed with a newfound surge of resolve, a second wind of motivation putting new life into a journey that had been quickly becoming stale. For how long it would last, was the question, though Koa himself was of the stark disposition that left him devoid of any aforementioned ¡®inspiration¡¯.

    Ash had the worst of it. He was so drained, he couldn¡¯t even conjure the will to complain. Koa was tempted to just pick him up, cushion him over a shoulder, and carry his brother for the remainder of the way, for how much his waddling gait was slowing them down.

    What he needed right now was a distraction. As much as the blossoming shade of green reminded him of home, this putrid, almost pitch variety that coloured everywhere he looked was going to send him mad. Elmore wasn¡¯t saying anything, a determined look in his eyes seeing onto some visage of patriotic glory, teetering on delirium. Perhaps with this version of Elmore, one whose veins were coursing with the vigour to conquer any task set before him, it would be the perfect opportunity to ask the question lingering on his lips.

    ¡°Elmore?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡° . . . Are we going to begin training anytime soon?¡±

    His cousin abruptly stopped, leaving a rocking ash to collide face-first into his hamstrings. He swayed to the side dangerously, only snapping awake at the last second to stop himself from toppling over.

    Elmore turned to Koa. ¡°Training? You want to train?¡±

    His tone of voice ¡ª for some unbeknownst reason, dripping with unspoken disbelief ¡ª very nearly offended Koa. Did his own cousin take him for a slacker, like Ash? Did his entire family share the same impression, believing his inability as a result of, out of all the possible reasons, laziness?

    Koa wanted to cry out in anguish. No, my legacy will not be reduced to the wasted potential of a layabout.

    ¡°Yes.¡± He answered briskly, as if his resolve was an irrefutable fact of the universe. ¡°More than anything else.¡±

    Elmore allowed the subtlest sign of a smile. ¡°Okay, yeah. We can train. You¡¯re Enkindled, right?¡±

    Turning his head away, Koa blushed. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be too much trouble to advance from here . . .¡± Elmore muttered, scuffling about with a borough drooping overhead.

    Easy for you to say, Koa scoffed.

    He handed over a leaf to the boy, who simply glanced at it blankly, as if expecting something spectacular to occur. Nothing did. He looked up for answers.

    ¡°Levitate that leaf for as long as possible. Maybe grow it out a bit too, if you can.¡±

    Koa grinned, as if part of an inside joke Elmore wasn¡¯t privy to. ¡°Come on, I can levitate a leaf. I¡¯m not that far behind. Anyway, wouldn¡¯t this exercise be better suited to someone of a flying, or wind focused Mark?¡±

    His cousin displayed no emotion. Instead, he grasped the bags slumped over his shoulder, and tossed them towards Koa. By instinct, Koa grasped them, scrunching his leaf of most valuable training utility in the process. Before he could cry out in complaint, Elmore rambled on in explanation.

    ¡°In nature, plants and wind come hand in hand. It''s how flowers reproduce ¡ª transferring pollen via the convenient passageway of the air currents. Thus, we can allow some light plants to hover through the air, but that''s about the extent of our mastery over the winds.¡± As he spoke, he stripped a snoozing, sleep-walking Ash of his own supplies.

    Yet again, the pouches and sacks were thrown haphazardly in Koa''s general direction. ¡°And yes, obviously you can do something as simple as that already. I¡¯m not ridiculing you. But even the simplest of tasks, when intensified, can be damn well gruelling. For now, as I can¡¯t teach you one-on-one properly, lest our targets escape our trail, keeping the leaf airborne while sustaining all that load should be challenging enough. Think of it like doing a simple exercise with extra weight, or a harder variation of it. It''s the same principle. When you can keep it up for twelve hours, report back to me.¡±

    Koa had to fight down the urge to cry out in dismay at that impossible goal.

    Breathing already growing ragged, he focused. The Mark on his left leg radiated in activation, sending an almost undetectable trickle of energy whirling through his body. With his spare hand, he picked a fresh, wet leaf from a nearby branch, and focused his will.

    It spun in the air for a second. Two more, and then a third ¡ª each subsequent nanosecond requiring a more demanding appliance of his willpower. A fourth dragged by impossibly slow, and then, inevitably, with a grunt that would shake the heavens, it collapsed into a puddle to his right, beyond use.

    In a fit of rage, Koa nabbed himself a third leaf. This one didn¡¯t even last a moment before flipping out of his control. Koa cursed in a resounding profanity, a vital realisation occurring to him.

    This was going to be the longest journey of his life.

    <hr>

    Remus stood before the dancing streams of fuming lava, a dozen or so rivers interconnecting to the larger whole at their centre. Barely perceptible things swept through the current, as if it was nothing more than a hot bath, and in the corner of his vision, Remus eyed even a few guards backing away from the fire nervously.

    Hadrian¡¯s next words explained the reasoning behind this, besides basic human instinct. ¡°This, my friends, may very well be the hottest concentration of lava throughout the entirety of the mortal realms. Not just any old fire-resistance will aid you in its shores, so, if I were you, I wouldn¡¯t be tempted to push my luck. But please, go ahead, if the urge beckons you, take a plunge into the infernal waters!¡±

    No one volunteered. Veida held her head in her hands, sighing. If this was Hadrian¡¯s idea of a humorous joke, Remus¡¯ stomach did not find it amusing in the slightest.

    As the guards strolled up to a dense wall, set into a mountainous uprising of the igneous earth encompassing them all, Remus merely stared at those fiery waters, thoughtless.

    Well, not entirely.

    After all these hours of mentally putting it off, they were finally here ¡ª the Infernal Bays; the same location he had read in those dusty history books, back in the comfort of his own clan . . . his own family. And now, because of a reckless decision that had sent him further than he had ever trodden in his life, he may never see them again. He flinched, eyes shooting towards the opening stone doors, revealing the image of nothing but pitch black darkness behind their groaning gears. Just a few yards away, in a surreal visage he imagined facing a countless number of times, but never truly considered the daunting grandiose of, was his destination for the entirety of the next Duration. A sickly sensation was building up in his chest, and Remus had to fight the urge to gag.

    At his left, he sensed Violet. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±

    Another presence, this time to his right, put a hand on his shoulder. The strength the grip implied was enough for him to infer who it was. ¡°Have a breather, you can take as long as you need. We still have some time until dawn.¡±

    Remus only now recalled, amid the gushing seas of his emotion, that, despite the illusion of daylight this illuminating pit was applying over the general area, that it was very nearly the dead of night. A star-filled sky sat above them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine when I get down there. It''s worse just waiting to seal my doom, y¡¯know?¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Hadrian roared. ¡°Let¡¯s not get pessimistic already. I know that you can do this Remus. There¡¯s not a chance in hell that any other Engorged who''s ever undertaken this trial has prepared as excessively as you have, nor as vigorously. And, remember, people have been in the same position as you are right now, and succeeded. If those past victors were at the same Rank as you, what''s stopping you from accomplishing the very same in the present?¡±

    Remus mumbled something.

    Hadrian put a hand to his ear, leaning in with exaggerated perplexion. ¡°Hmm, what was that?¡±

    He spoke up slightly. Yet still, it was unintelligible.

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    Remus groaned. ¡°Yes, I suppose you¡¯re right.¡±

    Laughing, Hadrian slapped his back mirthfully with enough force to kill a rhinoceros. A nervous grin played on Violet¡¯s lips. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± reaffirmed Hadrian, ¡°I¡¯m always right ¡ª ignore my wife¡¯s objections to the matter. If you don¡¯t surface in nine days time, holding aloft a shard of Infirnite in glorious victory, I¡¯ll eat my own leg!¡±

    The three of them laughed. As his final hour passed by until Remus would take the plunge, he spent it engorging himself on his last meal, and raising his spirits with the crucial assistance of them both. As time drew short, and the cavern-mouth appeared more ominous than ever, a sense of responsibility swelled up in Remus¡¯ chest. Losing wasn¡¯t an option at this point. Too much was hinging on these trials: the future of his clan, the future of his advancement, and, somehow more immediate than the rest, his own uncertain fate.

    Veida called from the side, and Remus knew it was time. It was pitch black at this point, and Remus would¡¯ve been wholly blind, if not for the thousands of gallons of flaming liquid blazing at his back with a raging luminescence.

    Guards formed short lines on either side of the entrance way, and, taking a deep breath, Remus made his way directly ahead of them. Even from a few yards away, the humidity of the cave system could be felt like a malicious tease of what was to come. He took a deep breath, Violet, Hadrian, and Veida at his side.

    Violet said nothing, her solid look alone striking him with a much needed rush of confidence. It was almost enough to subdue the terror coursing through his brain upon the slightest glance at the airy cave, and its unspoken depths hidden from view.

    Key-word ¡®almost¡¯.

    Squinting at the sky, the crescent moon beaming down from above amid an abyss of nothing, save a spark-filled emptiness, Hadrian spoke severely. ¡°It is time.¡±

    As Remus took the tentative first step forwards, the Mercenary winked at him. ¡°I¡¯ll see you on the other side.¡±

    Remus was suddenly acutely aware of the supplies pressing against his back ¡ª lovingly packed from the sect that had shown him nothing but generosity.

    Now but an inch away from the wrath of the underground, his eyes passed over their faces, besieged by an innumerable amount of emotions. They warred and conflicted so intensely, that no particular feeling bled brightest above the others. But Remus could feel it clearly through the stuffy atmosphere, a bittersweet vacuum reigning supreme, the core from which all the other sensations could only spring-off of. He found his throat to be constricting rather uncomfortably; the result of something entirely irrelevant to the clammy passageway looming for miles before him.

    He turned, in one last wild movement. ¡°Thank you all!¡± He screeched, desperate to flood the explosive emotion out of his system.

    Taking his final look of the outside, he vaulted forwards at a sporadic pace. Gravel dislodged in the wake of Remus¡¯ scattering feet, the shrieking doors crawling shut behind him. A pathetic spurt of moonlight perished in the face of a chilling darkness, and then all was quiet.

 22. The Belly of the Beast

    It wouldn¡¯t be entirely unreasonable to assume that upon breaching the lightless, engulfing gloom, that Remus¡¯ immediate action would be to set a torch alight; paving a careful way forwards.

    But no, such faithful assumptions would be dead wrong. Instead, he spent approximately ten minutes rushing around sightlessly into the deeper darkness, muttering madly with as much spacial awareness as sea moss.

    Survive, survive, survive, survive! Remus intoned, his mind quickly proving to self-destruct when put under the littlest pressure. After finally colliding face-first with a wall ¡ª and Remus could''ve sworn he had caught a scuttling off to the side in the process ¡ª he pulled his bag off his back, uncovering its contents. Rummaging an arm inside, he scoured his possessions for a stick of wood, and a rectangular piece of metal in the vague shape of a cuboid. Upon retrieving the tinderbox, he spent several moments achieving approximately as much as he would have twiddling his thumbs, until ¡ª finally ¡ª a spark beckoned away the darkness.

    The light, however little, seemed to restore his sanity somewhat, and he was finally able to think clearly again. First things first . . . I need a den.

    Securing a solid base of operations, to rest, recover, and collect himself over the maddening Duration to come, was an idea that brought a much needed sense of relief bursting through Remus. A portable sleeping bed, and a pitiful pillow that even his prison bunker put to shame were the extent of his nightly comforts. Nevertheless, when you¡¯re hunkering down in the very crust of the earth, complaining about your level of luxury doesn''t sound particularly productive.

    After catching his breath, Remus ignored the wafting heat eradicating the mere rumour of moisture, and checked his surroundings. He was in a circular chamber, one with only two routes: up or down. Suffice to say, it wasn¡¯t a choice that ached the mind. The area was barren, for the most part, still too close to surface level to exhibit any of the trademarks of a truly deep cavity. Chiselled into the rock, was a sort of bench. It was a generous description, and in actuality, more akin to a suitable indent in the cavern wall. Even so, such sanctuaries of rest likely wouldn¡¯t appear any deeper into the abyss, for the further he descended, the more danger would bear its ugly face.

    So Remus took the opportunity, taking a seat, and assessing the items on his person. He carried enough rations to bring him through to the other side, if he let them, consisting mostly of starchy foods so dry, they would be inedible without the assistance of a pitcher of water. To his luck, and much to the betterment of his well being, a waterskin, plus several large capsules of the liquid lay inside. Remus took a much needed sip, made as likely an estimation of how he could make the fluid last as one could, and filled the pouch of skin to the brim, attaching it to his waist. The remainder of his bag, aside from the components of what would be his camp, were empty. Well, that wasn¡¯t entirely true.

    At the bottom of the sack, a sickle gleamed, even in the little glimmer his torch provided. It was conventionally a farming tool, but then again, conventional Death-Marked didn¡¯t make senseless journeys across the world for the slim hope of advancing. Packing away, Remus bit down his fear, pocketed his weapon, and set into a valiant march in search for a certain red crystal.

    Infirnite formed most prosperously in intense areas of heat, and, while hot, this stretch still had a ways to go before achieving an adequate humidity.

    This was how much of Remus¡¯s first day down there went. Strolling, taking spaced out sips from his pouch, and relighting his torch every time its flame withered out and died. He was concerned for how long his tinderbox would remain functional, though rumours of Infirnite¡¯s glow kept such worries mostly at bay. Once he stumbled across a thriving cluster of the stuff, he could settle down in its radiance to his heart¡¯s content.

    Down, deeper, then lower again. The repeated motion of his footfalls against hard rock rendered his lower body the victim of relentless sores, an achy sensation Remus got the feeling he would get used to.

    Seeing how his body was well occupied, his mind did its best to entertain itself with pointless rambles. Its primary method of stirring up terror was reminding Remus of the supposed Unbounded that called this hellscape home, and with each extra metre he passed into their home-territory, his anxiety only clutched him tighter in its coil. Was his paranoia, mixed with the quickly amounting heat, weaponising his senses against him, or were those creaking, unnatural sounds becoming explicitly more common? A rock goblin, or whatever these fiends would take the form of, bursting out at him was exactly what his jumpy nerves didn¡¯t need.

    Sometimes, when something horrifying occurred right when he prayed against it, Remus wondered if the gods simply took pleasure in messing with him.

    A presence latched onto his back with a crumbling, rocky grip evidently designed less for general utility, and more precisely to bring him as much pain as physically possible. How Unbounded got on with their day-to-day lives with such unfunctional bodies, Remus would never know.

    Remus intentionally swung to the side, his back-riding companion crashing into dust as it slammed against the curved wall. Remus swivelled round rapidly, eying a four-armed, two-footed gremlin screeching at his feet ¡ª a crack riddling through its entire form. Remus didn¡¯t even think before blasting a fist to reduce the rest of the stone-goblin into shrapnel, though his bleeding fist likely would have appreciated the courtesy.

    Bounding across the chamber, his cries of anguish as he clutched at his wounded arm echoing in sonic reflections of pain, Remus scrambled, his torch flying out of his hands. It struck the floor before snuffling out entirely. Wailing out as if his objections alone would be enough to return its lost spark, Remus vaulted to the floor, feeling nothing but pebbles grazing against his searching palms. No charred branch in sight, or, more accurately, touch.

    Just to make matters worse, rumbling footsteps sent riddling reverberations through the ground, kicking up tiny rocks into his exposed face, and ensuring that Remus¡¯ torch would never grace his vicinity again. More dire was the nature of the oncoming footfalls; they originated from all directions.

    Inevitably, before his mind could properly clock what was happening, a barrage of blows encompassed his senses. Tiny hands of granite, simple sediment, and whatever else the Unbounded consisted of, beat down upon him. They were of small enough forms that he could flick them off to the side given a decent enough angle, but the darkness wouldn¡¯t expose their exact positions so easily. After a swift but severe beating, Remus felt the ground roll painfully against him.

    He was being dragged. Being taken someplace where his body would likely never be found. To hell with that.

    Remus jumped about the place in a convincing impression of a hysterical hen, his flapping limbs weighing uncomfortably more than what he was used to. Multiple times, he collided into something solid ¡ª whether a stagnant wall, or more of the little freaks coming for his blood, he wasn¡¯t entirely sure ¡ª but never once did he waver. It was either a few additional bruises now, or a world of hurt once these Unbounded hauled Remus to his own private death-party.

    Being manhandled by a family of stone midgets wasn¡¯t precisely the way he had imagined himself going out. Perhaps, after becoming the strongest being to ever live, assuring his clan¡¯s future for centuries to come, and giving both Damosh and Edmar a good walloping, he could finally rest. But now? The mere prospect of a premature death repulsed him.

    After what must have been minutes of endless wrestling, Remus availed. Tossing his bag off of his shoulders, Remus flung it around in a full circle. Keeping away the Unbounded just long enough to draw his sickle, and set his tinderbox alight. How effective the weapon would be against bloodless foes was a topic to be debated upon, but fire, for creatures literally living under a lake of lava, ironically kept the fiends at bay.

    As they leered at him through the faint glow, Remus counted maybe twelve of the rocky goblins. At the same time, he broke off a bit of kindling, sparking a much greater flame from his torch that the Unbounded did not react well to at all. They waddled backwards, eyes wide, and a few others tripped onto their backs in the least threatening show Remus had ever seen.

    ¡°Gods above,¡± Remus spoke for the first time in hours, the sound of his voice now a strange melody that came off as oddly raw, ¡°how about you guys take a look outside for once? You¡¯d probably disperse at just one look at what lies above you.¡±

    It quickly became apparent that insulting his enemies, regardless of whether they deduced the meaning of his words, was probably a bad idea. They likely at least inferred the patronising tone Remus had adopted so well after hearing it all his life, and Remus could tell you first hand that it was the exact tone that refined the firmest of wills.

    A few Unbounded stepped forwards. Remus¡¯ current source of light was considerably larger than it had been during the initial attack ¡ª much due to the fact it had been wearing down after hours of valiant service ¡ª and the Unbounded hadn¡¯t shown reluctance to pounce on him back then. Maybe fire wasn¡¯t the fatal weakness of the creatures Remus had assumed it to be. Given enough time to muster their courage, then the Unbounded likely wouldn¡¯t hesitate to pick up their bout from where it had been left off.

    Remus examined his surroundings, thinking fast. Contrary to last time, the sheer abundance of his possible routes was almost overwhelming. From one in particular, a faint, incarnadine flicker of blood-coloured light lasered through. It matched the description of his prize perfectly.

    The breadth of the winding tunnels couldn''t possibly be much deeper now. He had traversed miles, only now noticing via the shortness of his breath the airless heat that pervaded the cave system. Any intenser, and not even the finest lungs in the world would be able to draw out the air supply.

    From the bottom of his torch, Remus tore off a tiny section of wood, an inch or so at most. One flick across the heart of his torch, and he tossed the now alight strip into the bulk of his enemies. As the fire spread, though its potential brevity was limited greatly by the lack of any flammable material nearby, he dashed.

    Putting his respiratory system to the test, Remus utilised the experience so many runs had granted him, running in what felt like an endless spiral for minutes on end.

    There were most definitely others of the Unbounded as he passed by at a jaguar¡¯s pace, torch held above his head clumsily. After what must have been his seventh passage deeper, tiny shards of red crystal protruded off the walls. More likely than not, these would fit the trial¡¯s description of a shard of the stuff, but Remus was after something more substantial. Why return with an apple core when you could arise with a maple tree?

    His legs took one step too many, and he slipped unceremoniously, grazing his knee raw and skidding to a stop mere feet away from . . . from a . . .

    He shut his eyes, the sheer luminance threatening to remove his ability to see. Stumbling backwards, panting for dear life, Remus formed a tiny gap through his fingers, catching a tiny peek of the largest cluster of Infirnite to be found throughout all of the mortal realms. Shards at least a foot long expanded outwards from every crevice, the ratio of grey to glistening red astounding. The largest of the fine collection was one particular piece, jutting out alarmingly close to his stomach. It must have been a metre long, and Remus, even amongst all this fiery crimson, saw nothing but gold as he gazed longingly upon it.

    Remus took one last check of his surroundings. No Unbounded, check. If a little fire could petrify them, the gremlins wouldn¡¯t be found for miles around this glimmering monstrosity. Enough space? Check. There was a turn in the passage right ahead, the glow of the crystal still reaching there abundantly enough, but not to an unbearable degree. For an underground network, it would surely suffice ¡ª beggars can¡¯t be choosers, as some said.

    Turning to his new home for the next Duration, Remus spilled the contents of his bag over the ground, assembling the poorest excuse for a bed one could fathom creating. He settled down, ate his first bland meal of bread and nuts, refilled his waterskin to as high as he would dare, and then finally, turned his sickle around in his hands. It''s a far-fetched idea, but perhaps . . .

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    He got up, sated for the time being, and returned to the Infirnite overgrowth. Staring at the colossal shard easily bigger than him, Remus pressed the sharp side against the head of the crystal. Through the magic of hard work, and committed diligence, Remus managed to shave about a centimetre deep into the resource. A tiny, fiery smoke billowed up from where he cut, joining the humid atmosphere that was already putting his endurance to the test. Flicking the mist away, he got back at it.

    Even here, seeking a safe-haven away from a blazing abyss of lava in a jumble of caves, Remus took comfort in the one truth he knew for certain. The one indisputable fact reminding him of the harmony of the wider universe.

    This was going to take all damn day.

    <hr>

    Violet had vowed to stare at the unrelenting doors that binded Remus to his cavernous prison until her eyes erupted.

    So far, she had kept to that promise.

    Hours had passed since Remus had left, but to Violet, such sounded ridiculous. It had been at least a day, right? She scowled, took a deep breath, and lay down. The skies above remained an expansive pigment of pitch, not budging from the same black veiling it had suited hours ago. The majority of the guards were asleep now, beside the two who had opted for the first shift of the night watch. Veida was in her own private tent, Hadrian having left at roughly the same time, immersed in wild dreams of Unbounded, most likely. That woman¡¯s work ethic was so insane, Violet wouldn¡¯t be surprised to find out that she''d devised a way to hijack her sleep, allowing herself to work even longer.

    Violet herself, unlike the rest of the travelling party, was anything but tired. How could she be? Remus might be fighting for dear life down there, while she could rest easy in the company of eight of the Fire Sect¡¯s elite, not even a hair¡¯s rustle a threat to her. With sleep not an option, and the Infernal Bays eliciting an achy sensation when stared upon for too long, that left Violet with nothing to do but count the individual scratches and indents of the doors. A vastly entertaining task, to be sure.

    There was movement to the left of her, and Violet jolted backwards, half-expecting some dark minion of the night to flicker into view. After a moment of spiking adrenaline, Violet relaxed. Unless Hadrian doubled as a nightly assassin, Violet was safe. He helped to rub away the layer of tiny pebbles engraved into her leather, laughing all the while.

    ¡°Am I really that scary?¡± He questioned, beaming contently at her.

    Despite how mentally drained she felt, Violet managed a matching smile. ¡°Maybe you wouldn¡¯t be so frightening if you announced your arrival, instead of sneaking up on people. Just an idea.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the fun in that?¡± Posed Hadrian, grin turning empathetic. ¡°Can¡¯t sleep either, hmm?¡±

    Violet shook her head.

    The two of them turned to face the menacing doorway, that allowed not a peep through to the other side. Her mind, instead, was forced to conjure its own conclusions on what might be occurring behind that stone, of what Remus might be enduring, and none of it was optimistic.

    ¡°We¡¯ve done all we can for him,¡± Hadrian spoke gently, eyes not budging, ¡°all we can do now is keep our faith in Remus. Staring at his prison, it might not seem like it, but the boy has a good chance of victory. A great chance, I might even suggest.¡±

    Violet detested the scepticism bundling her next words together. ¡°You really think so?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be saying it otherwise, would I? I¡¯m not the type to confide in false hope.¡± In a change of mood so sporadic it gave Violet whiplash, the man¡¯s voice gained a jolly inflection. ¡°I was thinking that instead of laying awake until dawn, which seems like a sure-fire way of losing our minds, we could actually do something. And, by happenstance, this place is absolutely sprawling with dormant Unbounded. Hence the need for our guaring squad.¡±

    Glancing over to the two trainees standing outside of the collective group¡¯s tents, Violet considered them with a greater appreciation.

    The man wasn¡¯t exactly subtle in what he was implying. ¡°You want us to go hunting Unbounded? Won¡¯t they be a little strong around here?¡±

    ¡°Nothing you couldn¡¯t handle,¡± the Mercenary reassured her, ¡°and aside from getting our minds off these damn doors, we could get our hands on another sample for Veida, if we¡¯re careful about it. Unless you¡¯d rather sleep?¡±

    Violet shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s an impossibility, for tonight, at least. As long as they aren¡¯t magmite, I¡¯ll gladly tag along.¡±

    His head curving backwards, Hadrian erupted in boisterous laughter. ¡°No, no. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ve learnt by now to keep well away from you. We have bigger fish to fry.¡±

    ¡°Nothing too big, I hope,¡± Violet said, stretching, ¡°after killing nothing but magma flies for the last Passing, I¡¯m a little rusty.¡±

    The two broke into a comfortable stroll, a candle-lantern rocking lightly in Hadrian¡¯s hand. They followed the edge of the lava lake, though kept a safe distance. Whereas Hadrian could probably treat the waters like a hot sauna, Violet got the impression that making any contact with the bubbling liquid would likely disagree with her general health. Their aim was to stray no more than a mile away from camp, and they¡¯d reported their departure to the half-conscious guards before setting out. Lest eight trainees, plus Veida, awoke in the morning with a terrible shock.

    For all its intimidating aesthetic, Territory One really wasn¡¯t all that impressive, after the initial awe of the crimson dreamscape wore off. It was like the dread you felt upon awakening to see your entire street plastered in ice, only for the fickle layer to dissolve in the span of a few tentative hours. In Violet¡¯s book, once you¡¯d seen a few miles of the place, you¡¯d virtually seen it all.

    ¡°Remus battles Unbounded down there, and we do the same up here, only willingly.¡± Violet commented. ¡°I don¡¯t quite know what to make of that.¡±

    ¡°Is his trial still playing on your mind?¡± Asked Hadrian ¡ª the last dispersing remnants of what one had been a snake of flame scattering from his uncharred hands. ¡°I must admit, the strategy is yet to prove effective for me either. Perhaps the next fight will grant us salvation, amid the heat of battle.¡± He sighed in uncharacteristic exhaustion, not sounding very convinced. ¡°One can only hope.¡±

    On they trudged, trouncing weak-powered Unbounded after weak-powered Unbounded, not one of them worth the bother of preserving. Veida would undoubtedly gain little from creatures so weak. Finally, in a clearing of brown, stringy plants miraculously uprooting from the least fertile ground Violet had ever seen, they considered heading back. They were just about to for that matter, an hour before dawn, when a hoarse sound in the distance snagged at their attention.

    The two of them sealed their lips, unconsciously hunching down slightly in a defensive position, bent at the knees, listening. A wet, moist sort of sound resounded eerily around them; a faint hum, of too great a distance to be intelligible, also rang out, puncturing through the slavering noise. A silent agreement passed through the both of them in a single, uneasy look. It was a direct and simple message, a message that declared in earnest: one more fight.

    And so, following the viscous sound to its source, Violet and Hadrian tiptoed past the plantage at a permanent wilt, the advance of sunlight not quite there yet, but the skies were of a visibly lighter tint.

    After strolling forward for some time yet, and still not quite reaching the target of their search, Violet dared to speak. ¡°What do you think it is?¡±

    Hadrian shrugged his broad shoulders, conversing in hushed tones. ¡°Haven¡¯t the slightest.

    Veida would know better than me, I couldn¡¯t tell you the difference between two Unbounded species, unless they''re at polar opposites on the power spectrum.¡±

    ¡°But it won¡¯t be anything too strong . . . right?¡±

    The Mercenary was abnormally quiet for a moment. The awkward silence was a far cry from the vote of confidence Violet had been holding out for.

    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be. Not this far away from the front lines. Though that screech. Bleed me if that¡¯s typical of a low-Rank equivalent.¡±

    Neither of them felt any need to continue conversation from that point on, a disquiet tension arising from the very atmosphere itself, only manifesting with a higher intensity the closer they tread. The closer they drew to whatever in the gods¡¯ names was causing suck a drizzling racket. One stumble over a mound in the stoney ground, and their anticipation could at last, die off.

    Only to be displaced by blood-curdling dread.

    The monstrosity ahead was an Unbounded alright. Violet repeated that one concrete fact to herself over and over again, as her eyes swept over it, for that was the only similarity to the other Unbounded she had come across that would anchor her down to reality. To prevent her from drifting off in a perilous spiral that would only lure her into rash decision-making. And, in turn, her death.

    It was less a creature comprised of assembled organs, organised in a way that heeded the firm laws of sense and logic, and more a heap of unstructured insanity. A mass of jet black goo spanned the stretch of open ground, giving off the distinct impression of mud so concentrated, it had lost its trademark dirty maroon. It bubbled grotesquely in places, a being whose existence had known nothing but the damp coldness of dirt and impenetrable stone.

    Hadrian halted, his forgone muscle deserted for marble. In a turn of the head agonisingly slow, but evidently manufactured to be so, he turned to Violet, pupils dilated in fear. He mouthed a singular, pleading syllable. Run.

    Violet took gradual steps backwards, not risking even the slightest noise. The Unbounded¡¯s own tremorous splutters were of such volume, it would likely cover the meagre sounds without the need of so much caution, but she wasn¡¯t going to take any risks. At that exact moment, Violet didn¡¯t think it possible for her terror to reach a crescendo any greater than it already was ¡ª put the emotion on a graph, and it would be a straight line upwards. At least she could seek comfort, no matter how slight it was, in the knowledge nothing could terrify her any further. Even the neurological pathways of her mind had its limits.

    That naive notion lasted approximately one second, before a fatal realisation dawned on her. She hadn''t noticed it in her stupefied reverie, but the Unbounded ¡ª it was speaking!

    ¡°Yield.¡± The creature croaked in a slimy voice, a false impression of language that charred against the eardrums. ¡°Yee-uld!¡±

    That was about the extent of the creature¡¯s vocabulary, and yet nevertheless, it was enough to send Violet¡¯s brain screaming at her to flee. She didn¡¯t budge. Out of either steadfast courage, continued petrification, or illogical stupidity, of the kind that had not prior surfaced in this world, Violet was left unawares.

    Violet stared out blankly towards the mass of animated mud, the image of her drowning in that very same essence a haunting spectacle, topping even the worst of the nightmares that had plagued her childhood. Before she could form the vital question of whether it had noticed their presence ¡ª an inquiry that would decide the breadth of her lifespan ¡ª vague contours of brown that could only be identified as eyes bore into her.

    Hadrian had seen enough. One moment, he had been a mere foot away from Violet, equally, if not more aghast, and the next, he had suited his own personal cape of flame. Brandishing the sole weapon in his arsenal against the repulsive beast: overwhelming heat.

    The entire back of his body, from behind his head to the ends of his ankles, billowed out dancing sparks in a trailing afterimage of flame. Hadrian¡¯s feet left ashy footprints even into the igneous below, at a blitzing speed that hurt the eyes to follow. Or perhaps ¡®trace¡¯ would be the more accurate word, for at the speed this man was operating at, Violet didn¡¯t possess the impossible senses needed to follow his wild jolt in real-time. His Mark, a lambent harmony in the shadow of it Violet caught, finalised the demonic image of a crimson blur, razzing anything and everything in its path.

    The Unbounded may have appeared strong, initially, but a pile of gloop, no matter how ominous, could only be so strong. Perhaps a peak Foot-Soldier equivalent at most. In short, at this rate, the fiend would be reduced to its ash in the span of a few seconds, withering to death in its own personal hellfire. In her time in the man¡¯s company, Violet had never really taken into account the true ferocity of Hadrian''s strength. His bubbly exterior did a damn good job at disguising the decades of expertise laying dormant underneath, simply awaiting to be tapped into.

    Hadrian was a Splintered-Ranked. A Mercenary, the most adept out of the three at simply lashing out raw, world-quaking power. To him, a Foot-Soldier might as well be a toddler with a little promise.

    Violet blinked, and the Unbounded was reduced to nothing more than a quickly dissolving tar, plastering against the flattened area. Hastily, Hadrian pulled out a strange-looking jar from seemingly nowhere, placing a squirming piece of the beast firmly inside, air-tight.

    He lifted the fruits of his labour before him with a wry smile, the portion of the beast within on the verge of demise, but not yet dissolving. Obviously thanks to the effects of whatever was containing it. ¡°There we go!¡± Hadrian sighed, not having even worked up a sweat. ¡°See, we did get the sample in the-¡±

    The casing dropped from his hands, crashing onto the floor and erupting into a hundred individual pieces. The twitching goo promptly dissipated, into the Infinity that sustained its nightmarish form.

    What spooked Violet wasn¡¯t the man¡¯s expression, though that in itself was horrifying. What frightened her was what he was looking at.

    Violet gazed downwards, immediately wishing she hadn¡¯t.

    Rising up to her feet in height, was a layer of spasming, screeching goo.

    ¡°Justice . . .¡± It belched. ¡°Jus-tice!¡±

 23. Ruthless

    Remus clutched onto the luminous shard in a bloody grip, breathing in deeply, the dispersing carcasses of dozens upon dozens of Unbounded leaving nothing but rocky shrapnel in their wake.

    He was either cut, bruised, or bleeding in more places than he could count, clutching onto his waterskin with trembling fingers for dear life. He drank, the coppery taste of his own blood polluting the water. Not that he could muster the will to care, instead focusing the rest of his mental energy on preparing his final meal of the night ¡ª unbuttered, plain, and starchy bread. Taking a bite, he clutched onto his drink once more, being able to resist the lingering heat no longer.

    In a few purposefully sparse drizzles, he let the cool sensation of the liquid drip down his ashy face; quelling his discomforts, for the time being. Whether it was a waste of his resources or not, Remus didn¡¯t care. The temperature down here was agonising, reducing his skin to the equivalent of sandpaper.

    Refreshed at last, he turned back to his sorry excuse for a meal, in a slow, depressing bow of the head. He couldn¡¯t help but think of the others; whatever they were doing up there, he solemnly hoped they were experiencing a much more enjoyable time than he.

    He wasn¡¯t sure exactly on how many days had elapsed since his descent, though it was likely early into his second. Remus¡¯ plan had been to count the days in accordance with his body¡¯s natural circadian rhythm. Whilst likely accurate on paper, he had failed to take into account how sporadic Unbounded attacks would significantly deteriorate the quality of his rest, and in consequence, the idea was robbed of all its worth.

    His eyes shot out into the dimly lit murk, waiting avidly for whenever a batch of the stone devils would conjure the courage to attack. It was typically every few hours, but who knew how long that consistency would keep up. Maybe they would eventually lose interest in him, perceiving Remus as the fresh newcomer to play around with for now, only to be ignored once his fun had worn off. But alas, that was likely wishful thinking on Remus¡¯ part.

    Remus¡¯ eyes drifted idly to the Infirnite chunk in his hand. It was heavy, about the size of his head, but keeping the prize of this trial close to him at all times kept Remus driven. Made it somehow seem easier, as if the bulk of the task had already been completed.

    Restored with a newfound confidence, Remus got up. It was more likely than not that someplace in these tunnels, a water source would be present. If his pitchers ever ran out, he was done for.

    Stretching, his body making a few odd popping sounds as he did so, Remus put on his bag. It seemed to weigh more than usual, but upon careful inspection, Remus discovered its contents to have had actually reduced. He ignored the bad omen for his general health, slotting the crystal deep inside, and charging forwards into the dark, with a piece of crystal hung at the rim of his trousers. No longer would he waste torches so willingly.

    Water, was the only thought occupying his mind, I must find water.

    <hr>

    Violet shook manically from side to side, the brown sludge encapsulating her not giving up its steadfast hold for anything. Her breaths came with sporadic consistency, a concerning reality when you were preoccupied with the very taxing chore of suffocating.

    Shouting ¡ª Hadrian¡¯s shouting ¡ª was but a vague notion beyond the lightless barriers, which were an oozing, blackish opaque deadset on consuming her whole.

    Panic seeped into the deepest crevices of Violet¡¯s mind, but her logic, just in the nick of time, kicked into high gear. I will not meet my end at the hands of a mud monster!

    Her Mark flashed in a luminous purple, causing the slimy walls encompassing her to recoil, as if sensing the power she was drawing from. By whatever improbable means these Unbounded had sneaked through the front lines, and Foot-Soldier equivalents at that, was now irrelevant to Violet. This was far from the first instance where she¡¯d been pegged against opponents stronger than herself ¡ª her sister for one, had been at a similar level of power during the fiasco of her escape. And still, back then, despite the overwhelming odds, Violet had survived.

    So now, arguably more equipped with knowledge than ever before, what was her excuse? It was simple: there was none.

    The Unbounded hissed as she sent the air quaking with chaotic energy. Little whisperings of havoc, the devil¡¯s tongue muttering into the ears of existence to simply break.

    ¡°Jussss . . .¡± The foe spasmed, tiny stretches of the oily material tearing open, letting in the first rays of sunshine to come slashing through. ¡°Justice!¡±

    Regardless of whether she could see the battlefield in full detail or not wasn¡¯t important. The fact was that out there, with Hadrian setting the oozing masses ablaze in a sea of flickering red, there would most definitely be an endless array of debris to play around with. Violet set her mind¡¯s eyes onto the pebbles likely littering the floor around both her and her foe; onto the snapped twigs and other seared plantage not already victim to Hadrian¡¯s fumes; onto the amounting carbon infesting the atmosphere, now solidifying in accordance to her mind¡¯s will.

    In a motion no more extreme than the tight closing of a fist, she sent all of her makeshift weapons hurtling. Right into her Unbounded prison.

    The already-expanding cuts in the goo¡¯s flesh only fanned open further. Jagged rock, thorny ends of weeds, and cemented articles of a blackish substance were only a few of the Unbounded¡¯s troubles; all stabbing into one side of its sticky layer, and out through the other.

    Violet was grazed here and there, but otherwise unharmed, staring through the largest of the fiend''s slits, about twice the size of her head. She latched two hands on both sides before they could recover back into place, double-downed on her will, and tore.

    Rip, she beckoned to the slithering walls of her prison, puncture open. Return to the base form of all existence, to havoc itself, and let yourself be formless.

    The words themselves had no effect of course, and wouldn¡¯t have even if she muttered them aloud, for that wasn¡¯t how Marks worked. But their intent bled into being, sharpening the blade of her focus like a waterstone. The Unbounded made a retching sound, the gap now easily a metre or larger. Her upper body passing through, Violet caught sight of what really was occurring out there.

    She was positioned at the end of the Unbounded ¡ª the beast of a larger size than she could''ve ever fathomed, even if given a million Rebirths to merely sit in an empty room and speculate. They were mobile, the creature conquering metres of land in seconds. Boulders, foreign plants, and dim lamp-posts were mere pebbles in her escort¡¯s wake, consumed and flung out without a second thought. In the distance, Violet eyed a literal giant of flame. She was forced to double take at that.

    Emerging from what appeared to be, from this distance, a carpet of thriving ruby, the flaming feet and legs of a wholly ablaze entity supported a colossal weight. Fitted with whips and talons of solidifying lava, turning gradually into a steady obsidian, the entity roared in the face of an entire squadron of the enemy Violet was up against currently. Based on the cloudy ashes of Infinity draping over the scene, quite a few had already been killed. Violet, despite the urgency of the precarious situation, couldn¡¯t help but think that the view would make for a fantastic painting from Veida. Too bad she had other concerns prickling away at her attention, other than memorising the scene to recount to the researcher later.

    Hadrian, a mere silhouette in the chest of the giant, and the mastermind behind the construct of destruction, was quite efficient with how he handed out death.

    His feet toppled foes, his hands were channels through which more beams of incineration could fit their job description, and the leer in the giant¡¯s ethereal eyes was almost enough to stop Violet¡¯s heart from beating. Ignoring Hadrian¡¯s puppet as far as possible, Violet suddenly became extraordinarily aware of her distance from the warring Mercenary. She was being dragged away. For what purpose, she wasn¡¯t keen to find out.

    Freedom was close now, she just had to grab it by the throat. The creature binding her from the waist down taking too long to release its stagnant hold, Violet decided to hurry things up. She commanded the obstructions in the beast she had previously sent flying to twist around in a tortuous manner, and, ignoring the Unbounded¡¯s shrill screams, Violet took a more practical approach.

    She punched down rapidly.

    ¡°Jus-¡± It spluttered, fragments of jet, bubbling gunge flying off the body.

    Violet didn¡¯t dally long enough to catch the rest of the Unbounded¡¯s ramblings, though it didn¡¯t take too much mental energy to make a very likely assumption. This strain of Unbounded weren¡¯t very creative with their vocabulary. She dived out, rolling onto hard ground with world-shattering force. They appeared to be at a roadside somewhere, now devastated from the encounter, but she didn¡¯t spare too many of her vital seconds on sightseeing.

    A wave of vertigo struck Violet, and she wobbled upwards, dashing across the paved street below. The Unbounded was faster, but she didn¡¯t dare to look back. Running, running, running, until her sides roared in two simultaneous stitches. She had a plan, however flimsy, but their environs had simply been too ravaged to fit its vital requirements. She would have to reach unflattened land first, somewhere with obvious obtrusions she could work with.

    She could hear the grovelling form closing in on her; smell the repugnant scent of dirt and tar that sustained its grotesque body. Violet kept her Mark active, hurtling anything she could get her hands on to impede the creature¡¯s path. And, until she arrived at her desired destination, that only extended to shovelling excesses of dirt, stand, and the grains of forcibly crumbled rock their way.

    A miniature sandstorm wafted between both monster and mortal, doing little to prevent either of their advances other than watering the eye. Violet¡¯s ankle gave in, twisting painfully to the side, and she sagged, hopping onwards for a desperate moment on one leg.

    Violet could feel strips of goo clutch onto her skin, chafing away patches as she scrambled away, the threat of once more being consumed and taken to gods'' knew where more prevalent than ever. Her breath was desperate, her Mark seeming to burn against the flesh of her forearm as she pushed it to its limits. Fear driving her insane, her eyes swerved up ahead. She allowed a crazed smile. It was time ¡ª she¡¯d made it.

    In a surge of power, Violet virtually flung her body to the side, her Mark steaming enough to boil water. The Unbounded didn¡¯t have time to halt and reorient itself. It crashed into the jumble of boulders, uplifted roots, and miscellany uprooted from the local area in one almighty collision. Its oily form was stretched to breaking point, like a seething tide slamming itself against the base of a cliff.

    Buckling down to one knee, Violet raised a palm, squashing her now flattened foe in the airborne wreckage, commanding it to cluster together in a makeshift imprisonment. Now who''s the one being held captive, hmm?

    For eight glorious seconds, that seemed to be the end of it, her will availing over the Unbounded¡¯s pitiful struggles. Then a slippery tendril came slithering out, and with it, the rest of the creature followed. Violet toppled over further, failing to catch her breath, no matter how hard she tried. The mess of objects crashed down haphazardly around her, sending chunks of dusty stone erupting up. She didn¡¯t pay enough attention to try and dodge them, only avoiding a grisly end beneath their weight by sheer luck. Something she was evidently out of.

    The Unbounded was on to her, inches away now, and there was nothing she could do.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°Justice!¡± It cried.

    ¡°Shut it!¡± Violet spat back.

    Too exhausted to think of anything else, Violet readied her fists once more. She didn¡¯t like her chances with simply punching the thing to death, but she didn¡¯t possess infallible energy stores. Maybe if given enough time, she could whisk the discarded articles back into action, and try yet again at concentrating the beast into an even thinner pulp than it already was. For now though, classic brawling it would be.

    The Unbounded leaped, and her hands became a fuzzy blur.

    The fiend¡¯s sap warped and convulsed unnaturally, as Violet poured a tiny amount of Chaotic energy into her attacks, the creature screeching all the while. Forgoing active focus for her instincts, Violet''s mind went awry with worry. Would this be how she perished, whenever her fatigue won over? Would Remus return from his trial, never to see her again? Would she never uncover the conspiracies poisoning her family, destined to die at the hands of an overly-aggressive puddle of mud?

    It was at times like this when Violet typically turned things around, achieving a swift victory after reaffirming her reasons for being in this world. But as she forced her hands forward, eyelids drooping, into the unbothered flesh of her enemy, imprisoned once more, no such second wind came.The walls of the Unbounded closed in, and a perverse smile played on Violet¡¯s purpling lips. After all this, she would die from suffocation. She had always envisioned herself perishing valiantly at the heart of a battlefield, or in her bed peacefully, at a comfortable old age, well into the hundreds. All those potential years blipped away in the blink of an eye.

    Right before her eyelids were to close fully, a pupil in the wall of the fiend formed, staring raptly at her. Violet barely processed its existence, half-conscious as she was. It scrutinised her beaten form, looking her up and down with no emotion behind its lens. After a hesitant moment, it spoke.

    ¡°One.¡±

    Violet spluttered. ¡°What?¡±

    The creature said no more. In the most abrupt turn of events Violet had ever experienced, the creature unravelled itself from around her. It was fully morning now, and the urge to sleep that had eluded her for so long finally returned, with all its due impact. Even the ground below her would have been a passible place to take rest, but Violet momentarily ignored the feeling of weariness, in favour of a stronger sensation: confusion.

    The Unbounded turned, crawling over a mound of rock, and out of view. Violet didn¡¯t try to follow, let alone stop it.

    For how long she was sat there, benumbed, Violet didn¡¯t know, just that after some time, Hadrian arrived. In a blazing bundle of limbs, he crash-landed, as if a miniature comet, worry written over his face. He dashed towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders.

    ¡°Violet,¡± he began, breathing a little rugged, ¡°are you okay? I cleared out the pack of them over there. Twenty or so Foot-Soldier equivalents! We have to report this, it''s not normal ¡ª unheard of, even. Maybe Veida wi-¡±

    In his rambles, it took Hadrian a second to notice just how bad Violet¡¯s condition was. Something in his eyes changed.

    Twenty . . . Violet thought, deliriously, Hadrian killed twenty of them, and I¡¯m left like this with one.

    ¡°It''s not dead.¡± she managed to croak.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The Unbounded, the one I was fighting . . . it¡¯s not dead.¡±

    Hadrian grimaced. ¡°Where?¡±

    Violet pointed in the rough direction she had seen the gloop fleeing past.

    Conflict dawned on Hadrian¡¯s face, his eyes darting repeatedly between Violet, and into the distance. ¡°Can you walk? Or should I carry you?¡±

    Thinking for a moment, Violet tried to get up. It took some difficulty, but she persevered. ¡°Yeah, I think I¡¯ll manage.¡±

    Hadrian nodded. ¡°Good. We¡¯ll deal with the last of ''em on our way back. Camp is roughly in the same direction. If you ever feel too unwell to continue by yourself, tell me.¡±

    They began to walk, but before they could get anywhere more than a few steps forwards, Hadrian turned to her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Violet. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°It''s okay.¡± Violet muttered, any ire she could¡¯ve held dissolving in seconds. He was far too sincere to stay mad at.

    For the rest of the way back, the man didn¡¯t look up. The shadow of his forlorn face bore into the ground, muttering nothing but apologies.

    <hr>

    Violet didn¡¯t remember much of passing out.

    After she and Hadrian had stumbled into camp, with the Mercenary sending the rogue Unbounded to the netherworld with a casual drift of flame, everything became a blur. Violet had heavily underestimated just how injured she was; several of the objects she¡¯d been stabbing the attacking Unbounded with had slit her also, she¡¯d just been too high on adrenaline at the time to feel it.

    Let¡¯s just say, it wasn¡¯t very fun when that rush of chemicals wore off. Multiple people had appeared to dash towards her in worry, before Violet¡¯s dazed mind could even begin to process what was going on. The last thing she could remember was being sent to bed ¡ª carried, presumably ¡ª and slipping adrift before her head had hit the pillow.

    Only now, stirring awake after however long it had been, did she recognize the tent around her to be Veida¡¯s. The woman was at her side, stirring some sort of steaming liquid around a heated pot. She glanced over to Violet, a smile expanding upon her face. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been better,¡± Violet groaned, ¡°and worse.¡±

    Veida contained a chuckle. ¡°Haven¡¯t we all? But I¡¯m glad you weren''t too badly injured. I still don¡¯t understand what Hadrian was thinking that day, apologies. I¡¯ve already chided him sufficiently, if that helps.¡±

    Violet wasn¡¯t a fan of that wording, particularly ¡®that day¡¯, and its implications. Panic seeped into her mind yet again, jolting her fully awake. ¡°How many days has it been?¡±

    ¡°You slept through yesterday, and a portion of today.¡± Veida answered. ¡°That should be more than enough to have healed you. I bet you¡¯re hungry though, correct? I¡¯ve been preparing some soup, here,¡± she handed over a wooden bowl, filled to the brim with a faintly orange liquid, ¡°be careful, it''s hot.¡±

    Violet accepted it gratefully. She was never a fan of soup, but after almost two whole days without a crumb of food . . . it ranked high up there, amongst the best things she¡¯d ever eaten.

    Only once she had ravaged the bowl of its contents, did Veida continue. ¡°So what happened? I¡¯ve heard Hadrian¡¯s account, but I¡¯d like to hear yours.¡±

    ¡°Well . . .¡±

    Having no real reason not to, Violet recounted the enthralling tale of her battle, which was considerably more fun to listen to than to experience yourself ¡ª and, come to think of it, that was how most stories worked.

    ¡°So I was trapped inside the Unbounded for the second time.¡± She was in the middle of saying, when a question occurred to her. ¡°Would you happen to know why a Foot-Soldier equivalent was this far out from the front lines? I thought that was impossible.¡±

    ¡°Not impossible,¡± Veida corrected her, ¡°just unlikely. See, for an Unbounded to advance, they have to increase the concentration of their Infinity. And to do that, if you don¡¯t want to be passively breathing in Infinity from the surrounding aura for ninety years, requires killing. Both mortals with a Boundless Bank, or a higher development of the godly construct, and other Unbounded are the most obvious sources.¡±

    ¡°They kill each other?¡±

    Veida nodded. ¡°Do humans not kill each other? Arguably for more material things? It''s the way of life, Violet.¡±

    When put like that, it sounded painfully obvious.

    ¡°On a battlefield, where death is the most abundant, is the perfect environment for Unbounded to grow their strength. And there is no larger battlefield out there, other than the front lines themselves.¡±

    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t explain why a pack of Unbounded of such strength was roaming around here. Unless the entire family is impossibly old, or have been slaughtering the surrounding area for decades? Both sound like stretches . . .¡±

    Veida took a sip from a cup of herbal tea at her side, the same drink she was always seen sipping at. ¡°It''s a combination of the two. And Violet, I must thank you.¡±

    ¡°What for?¡± She frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t think being beaten senseless is worth congratulating, no offence.¡±

    Veida¡¯s demeanour suddenly grew very dark, and something signalled to Violet that matters were about to grow very serious indeed.

    ¡°I know the Unbounded you and my husband were fighting, the fool. And not just their species,¡ª tarlords ¡ª I mean I literally know them. Or perhaps know isn¡¯t the correct word, for I¡¯ve never actually met them in person. But I sure as hell won¡¯t ever forget those vermin.¡±

    Violet wasn¡¯t catching on. ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Veida sighed. ¡°Do you remember when I told you about Leander?¡±

    . . . and understanding clicked into place. Violet kept her lips tight. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°The tarlord that,¡± she fought to get the word out, ¡°that killed my brother was likely one of the family, or maybe even was the manufacturer of the dozens of offspring you and Hadrian ran into.¡±

    Violet thought the term ¡®manufacturer¡¯ was an odd descriptor, but understood the reasoning behind it. Unbounded didn¡¯t reproduce in the standard way, instead sacrificing a portion of themselves, of their Infinity, to beckon into existence a weak copy of itself, or a version of themselves when they¡¯re in their weakest form. It was one of the only two methods through which Unbounded could crawl into this world ¡ª that, or spawning naturally in Infinity rich areas.

    ¡°One of the family . . .¡± Violet repeated, ¡°why do you think so?¡±

    ¡°The details match up. They''re the same breed, and both mutter singular words ¡ª perhaps the Unbounded you fought, spouting ¡®justice¡¯ is the two syllable-word we¡¯re looking for. A Foot-Soldier equivalent could maybe produce so many kin in the thirty-five Rebirths or so its been since Leander passed.¡±

    Veida grabbed Violet¡¯s hands. ¡°Thank you for risking your life alongside my husband, to bring my brother¡¯s killer to rest. I¡¯ll never have to stay up at night worrying again.¡±

    Blood swarmed in Violet¡¯s cheeks, and she didn¡¯t quite know what to say. Veida withdrew, and Violet coughed awkwardly.

    ¡°Ah, no problem. Anyhow, back to the story . . .¡±

    Violet explained the rest, and Veida kept a straight face the entire way through.

    ¡°The tarlord didn¡¯t withdraw Violet,¡± she put a hand on her shoulder gently, ¡°the injuries must have been making you see things.¡±

    Moving to object, Violet thought the comment was bizarrely incorrect, especially coming from someone as intelligent as Veida. Did she think she was lying? Alas, before she could even fully open her mouth, Veida cut her off.

    ¡°Save it.¡± She said, strangely curt. ¡°Trust me.¡±

    ¡°I know what I saw Veida, I¡¯m not crazy-¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say you were Violet, but it''s common to get delirious after suffering from too many wounds. It''s not something to be ashamed of.¡±

    Violet¡¯s eyebrows furrowed. ¡°I¡¯m not ashamed, because I wasn¡¯t seeing things! The Unbounded turned and left, right before it could have killed me.¡±

    Suddenly, the examiner¡¯s face wasn¡¯t quite so soft. She got up, making to leave the tent. ¡°Drop the matter Violet. Hadrian arrived right before the Unbounded could deliver the final blow, and incinerated it. Now, leave. It.¡±

    For some reason, Violet didn¡¯t feel like backing down. It was an odd hill to die on, sure, but Violet didn¡¯t appreciate being called mad anymore than she did a liar, even if it was only insinuated. And she definitely didn¡¯t appreciate being talked down to like a child.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re getting so worked up, but I know what I saw. The Tarlord was about to crush the rest of the air out of my lungs, and then stopped ¡ª honest. Come to think of it, I don¡¯t think they tried to kill me the entire time we battled; it was more like . . . more like they were trying to take me somewhere.¡±

    Veida halted by the flap of the tent, which was fairly spacious, as rigid as a statue. She appeared to be thinking something through, as if finalising a thousand calculations in the space of a second. A little shakily, she spoke in a quiet, determined voice. ¡°Get out.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Veida spun on the spot, her face a mask of fury, her features blending into coals, setting ablaze as kindling to enact her ire. ¡°Leave!¡±

    Her hands really did erupt in streaks of fire then, and Violet found herself taking a step back. Amid the terror, amid the confusion, a deeper feeling arose. The familiar face of a demon unveiling its face once more; the face of betrayal.

    ¡°Veida-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it.¡± The woman muttered, the undertone of all that anger causing her voice to quake. It brewed beneath the fickle barriers of her words, barely contained from breaching out to the surface.

    Her palms were free from any threatening red, but Violet got the impression that Veida wouldn''t hesitate to beckon those crimson tides back forth, if pressed.

    ¡°Where am I supposed to go?¡± She asked, her voice a pathetic squeak.

    ¡°Wherever. You have five minutes. Gather your supplies and leave this territory. Leave it before I won¡¯t be able to stop myself.¡±

    Violet dared to catch a glimpse of the woman, forcing her own dawdling eyes off of the safety of the tent¡¯s flaxen floors.

    Veida¡¯s teeth were gritted in visceral disgust. It was the kind of look that elicited a greater pain with every second stuck staring at it, and Violet quickly tore her gaze away. For some reason, that only magnified her emotions, suffocating her in its unfathomable depths. She wanted to linger at the bottom of that abstract void, never to surface again.

    ¡°What about Remus?¡± She managed to splutter to the ground.

    Veida inhaled, not quite facing her. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll have no problem following you. You both likely have a planned route. If he survives, he¡¯s sure to seek you out, knowing him. Now leave.¡±

    Violet tread a few steps forwards, lifting the flap of the yellow tent. A strange moisture she couldn¡¯t quite wipe away materialising in her eyes, she had no choice but to leave.

    And neither of them said a word.

 24. Fish Out of Water

    You would never think that someone could develop a disliking for leaves, until you spent even a fifth of the time Koa had, trying to keep one of the damn things levitating.

    In the Durations that had followed, his personal best time had been twenty minutes straight when moving, and two hours when stationary. Apparently, you could condition yourself into activating your Mark whilst asleep, and that perhaps would have assisted in quickening the rate of his Mark mastery, if it was not for the fact that when the time came to drift asleep, his mind was far too fatigued for any subconscious shenanigans. It only seemed logical after all, activating your Mark every waking second would do that to you.

    It was the dawn of another lacklustre, monotonous day of travelling. Elmore had dragged both Koa and Ash all the way to the mountains of Territory Eight, which the looming silhouettes of made dark shadows on the material of their tent. They were on the verge of packing up for another few hours of mindless strolling, hoping to slip into the Flame Territory before the next few days came and went. Likely, Remus and Violet would have already departed, or would be within the Duration, and that alone was enough to motivate the group to hurry on.

    Or at least, two thirds of it. Koa hadn¡¯t even started on his breakfast of eggs, and his brother and Elmore were already bickering. He was still in his own personal tent, but their voices were so irritatingly loud, he didn¡¯t even have to try to eavesdrop.

    ¡°Could you for once listen to me?¡± Elmore pleaded, his food likely cold after the shouting match that had preoccupied his mouth for the last ten minutes. ¡°Must we go through this nagging routine everyday?¡±

    Ash slapped the yoke of his egg with his cutlery in aggressive, sloppy movements. ¡°First it was that damn swamp, and now this mountain range. It''s been entire Passings at this point, why don¡¯t we just take the most direct route out of Hybrid and head home from there?¡±

    ¡°Because that would require us to give up on a task handed to us by Juniper herself! Gods above Ash, you must be the only one in our entire sect who would discard such an opportunity so readily. Don¡¯t you want to make The Wild Sect proud?¡±

    ¡°Not particularly, no.¡±

    More insistent shouts, consisting of more noise than they did reason, and Koa groaned. Concentrating on the leaf hovering above his shoulder, he turned an hourglass at his side. One hour down, he thought to himself, the sound of scattering footsteps informing him that the two had finally gotten sick of each other.

    Elmore popped his head through the flap of Koa¡¯s tent, very nearly sending the poor boy into cardiac arrest. In the shock of it all, his leaf plummeted.

    ¡°Can you believe the gall of your brother?¡± The Emblazed muttered, sounding innocently unaware of the hour of hard work he had just put to waste.

    Koa closed his eyes, set his face into a stern scrunch, and flipped the hourglass back over, the leaf now returned to floating near his cousin¡¯s invading presence. ¡°Could you be a little less sudden with your appearances, please.¡±

    Elmore¡¯s eyes darted from him, to the leaf, to the depleting sand within its glass prison. ¡°Apologies. We¡¯re leaving now, so you would¡¯ve had to restart anyway, if that helps.¡±

    It did, admittedly, though only to the extent that a drop of water can settle a freshly-acquired burn. ¡°It''s fine. Is Ash ready?¡±

    At the mere mention of his cousin¡¯s name, Elmore scowled. ¡°Ran off somewhere, most likely. Come and help me find him.¡±

    Koa had become exhausted with this morning routine of hide-and-seek, but pushed his grievances deep down in favour of getting it over and done with.

    The two of them searched in opposite directions, and Koa took advantage of the extra time to merely walk around, and mull his thoughts over. The leaf rose swiftly now, and high up above into the brooding skies, choked full of gathering, blackish clouds. A storm was soon stirring, sure to send battering rounds of rain to strike the target of his will downwards, but for now ¡ª free from the extra burden of any bulky luggage ¡ª he found his control over the frond to be more precise than ever. Exhibiting his commands was as simple as breathing, and knowing full well he¡¯d have to discard the leaf to gather his belongings, Koa decided to test his limits.

    How effective had all of this training really been? With a flicker of the hand, Koa centralised all his focus on one central intention: grow.

    Around his feet, reeds spurted, reaching up to his waist. The trees to the side extended a few noticeable feet, swaying dangerously, as if on the verge of collapse. These however, whilst undoubtedly more than he was able to perform before, might as well have been mere drops in the pool of his potential. Which, if Koa truly pushed himself to his extreme limits, would run dry within the next few moments.

    Roots bursted from the hovering leaf with the sound of cut steel, extended outwards in long, wooden tendrils. They struck the soily ground, embedding their ends, and serving as the fertile bases for yet more constructs of nature. Trees erupted into existence in a strange formation; bushes blocked his view of anything past his personal wall of greenery, and Koa was forced to step back, controlling fingers of oak spiking towards the skies.

    Koa dropped to the ground, his legs apparently surrendering to exhaustion regardless of his opinion on the matter, and he sat there for a long while, heaving, but managing to resist the urge to retch.

    ¡°Whoo.¡± A voice called out from the side.

    Flinching, Koa glanced upwards, catching sight of Ash strolling casually into view. Getting to his feet, Koa found himself re-energised with no other fuel than hot, surfacing annoyance.

    ¡°W-where were you?¡± He panted, gripping his stomach.

    Before his brother could respond, Elmore dashed into view. ¡°I heard loud noises, is everything-¡±

    His eyes widened, his posture softening. In a slow, silent turn, he observed the jumble of plantage too disorganised to be naturally-forming.

    Finally, Elmore¡¯s eyes settled onto Ash, twinkling with pride. ¡°There we go, some hard-earned progress at last!¡±

    Koa stood rigidly, as Elmore put a hand on his shoulder, beaming. ¡°All of this must¡¯ve done a number on you. Forget about training today and rest, you deserve it.¡±

    His cousin turned to Ash, a vicarious smugness playing on his features. ¡°See Ash? This is what happens when you pin hard work against talent. Your brother here is sure to reach Emblazed any day now, and then you won¡¯t be the special little newborn of our clan any longer. I knew there was some justice in this world after all, I just needed a reminder . . .¡±

    Unsure of what to think about those remarks, Koa didn¡¯t even have time to process the realisation that he was close to advancing a Rank, when Ash¡¯s face rivalled Elmore with equal arrogance.

    If Koa had learned anything over his time knowing his brother, it was that the expression plastered across him now was never, ever good.

    ¡°I went out here to catch a few more minutes of rest if possible ¡ª somewhere neither of you would find, and shake me awake.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve established that you adore your sleep Ash,¡± Elmore jabbed, ¡°please, enlighten us with something new for once.¡±

    Ash sighed. Koa got the impression that his brother would have gone on a long, self-absorbed tangent about the brilliance of his next reveal, but fortunately cut to the chase in four lethal words. ¡°I had my vision.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡± Elmore laughed awkwardly, the disbelief contorting his face in bizarre, subtly grotesque ways. ¡°Even if you were, you¡¯d be the sort to reject the offer of power in favour of a comfortable, easy life.¡±

    Ash continued, ignoring him. ¡°Chantal appeared to me in my dreams. We talked but I . . . I don¡¯t even know what about. Then I jolted awake. Awake with a Boundless Bank right behind my navel. Even now, I can feel it . . . expanding with every intake of air, every breath of Infinity I take.¡±

    Neither of them said anything over the drumming of the rain bearing down on them all; each one of them waited for Ash to reveal the belated punchline of his joke.

    But none came.

    ¡°Congrats.¡± Koa mustered up the sense to say, only just about processing that his brother ¡ª his delinquent, idle slacker of a brother ¡ª was now technically at the same status of strength as Elmore. They were both Emblazed, working to cultivate fully-fledged Vaults. No matter how far into that particular journey either of them were.

    Elmore stood without motion, not bothering to pat his cousin on the back in congratulations; not bothering to mutter a word. He merely stood there, the rain darkening the already jet tangles of his air, a grim air about him.

    The brewing winds flickered his mop of hair to the side for just a moment. And just for that one singular, fleeting moment, Koa saw his cousin¡¯s pupils dilate in a neon, blazing green.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    With those cold, harsh eyes, he bore into Ash. He bore into Ash, with irises the colour of envy.

    <hr>

    Remus basked in a comfortable darkness, not any urge to skimper out of his deathbed of rubble and stone occurring to him. Of course, whilst it was a pleasant prospect to think of a little light transmitting through his pupils, and up to his optic nerves to deliver him the glorious gift of sight, that would require moving. And moving . . . moving posed several glaring issues.

    First and most prominent of all, was that movement consumed energy. Energy that could be better preserved in the simple act of doing absolutely nothing. Remus was intent on stretching his stamina for all its worth, lest he be forced to dig into the very last of his rations. If those finite supplies were to run out, Remus would be left to starve. Because of no one''s fault but his own.

    Over the Duration, Remus had completely lost track of time. It could be day four, or day nine of his trial, and he would be none the wiser. Of course, even a whole Duration wouldn¡¯t be enough time to perish to malnourishment, but Remus would much rather avoid the inconvenience entirely, thank you very much.

    Even if he wasn¡¯t going to such extreme lengths to keep himself sated, there was no greater annoyance in this world than Unbounded ¡ª especially gremlin Unbounded, who had done their utmost best to disrupt his sleep, and even harder to tear his face off, in his time spent trapped within this accursed cavern. Facing them again, risking further injury, also sounded to him like a pointless risk that would merit him no reward.

    No reward, except gathering another drink of water. Water that would quench his throat, appeasing it of its most uncomfortable, sandpaper-like quality.

    Remus wanted to punch his psyche for dangling such a dangerous opportunity in front of him. Maybe he couldn''t starve in a few days, but dehydration? That was another matter entirely.

    At last, struggling against the mound of earth that had formed over him, Remus arose in a series of scampering movements. Only after hitting his head against a particularly stiff piece of rock did the radiance of Infirnite blind him. After a fit of rapid blinks, his eyes adjusted to the crystal¡¯s specific luminance, and he slipped down to solid ground, instantly grimacing. All around him, scattered into tiny piles of rumble, were the leftovers of Unbounded, after their carcasses had dissolved.

    The sea of chipped stone, in the vague shapes of limbs, did not contribute to the homely feel Remus had been going for, when setting up the base. It was almost the equivalent of perching a skeleton against a chair opposite to where his bed lay, so that the first thing that struck Remus in the morning was a cold, sobering reminder that all things in life were finite; that one day, when he least expected it, even his lifespan would expire, fizzling out like stray wind.

    He shook his head, redirecting his focus to . . . he would¡¯ve said lighter matters, but the task at hand wasn¡¯t all sunshine and rainbows either. Though at least his demise down here would be an avoidable one. If he did overcome this trial, it would be some time until Remus¡¯ life was reduced to dormant sand, resting at the base of an hourglass.

    How useful one of those would be right now, he mused, following a series of tunnels he¡¯d become familiar with over however long it had been.

    The creek of water had taken him a full day to locate. It was close to the surface, as he should have anticipated it to be, though was still in a hot-enough environment to induce steam. So, after a short while of locating the dimly lit chamber ¡ª he¡¯d set up a makeshift light-source of Infirnite in one corner ¡ª he wetted his face in brisk splashes of water, and refilled both pitchers.

    Remus could tell by the droplets leaking down his chin that the water was far too warm for his liking, and sighed. Leaving it to settle down here wouldn¡¯t work, he¡¯d have to reach somewhere not nearly as humid. Lava streaked downward from the lake for miles below, making finding the rare, airy locations an out-of-the-blue luxury. Remus had the whereabouts of one such expanse instilled into his brain however, and wiping himself down, plopping his now-full pitchers into his bag, made his way there.

    He arrived, mind devoid of thought all the while he travelled. Thinking down in this abyss tended to elicit dark images, the sort that made the difficulty of the trial overwhelming. As a result, Remus had conditioned himself to keep his thoughts sparse; reserved to only the vital topics that concerned his survival. How he would acquire food, water, shelter and the like.

    It was only outside of a quaint depression, the exact one just ¡®chilly¡¯ enough to set the liquid to room-temperature, that Remus blinked at the sunlight glaring in his eyes. He glowered, shooting his head to the side, eyes blazing in pain. After a moment of turmoil, he stumbled into the rocky opening, dropping his bag, and taking a well-deserved seat. Yet, for some reason, his mind didn¡¯t seem to empty itself of thought quite so easily as it normally would. Remus scratched his head, plagued by an all-consuming notion that something ¡ª something painfully obvious, doing somersaults on the tip of his tongue ¡ª should be gripping his attention with all the strength of God-Graced.

    Then it hit him. Sunlight!

    Remus scrambled out of the depression, back into the main passageway, and peered forwards. There, in a turn in the tunnel, the golden light dazzled the eyes in spreads of amber honey, and Remus almost crumpled to his knees right then and there in delight.

    Time seemed to slot into place again, logic returning, as Remus very nearly weeped in realisation. The Duration was over, it was the dawn after his final day stuck in these forsaken caverns. A relieved smile spread across his lips. A laugh burst out his throat, a ludicrous laugh. In his desperation to reserve energy, Remus had almost spent an extra day under a carpet of debris. Before he knew it, he had retrieved his bag, too exhilarated with the prospect of escape, of completing his first trial, to wander all the winding way down to collect his bed. No one in their right mind would miss that lumpy sheet.

    Up and up Remus went, dashing now, spraining his ankle twice in his mad rush. His water sloshed against his back in their containers, but he had soon forgotten all about them; where he was going, he¡¯d have access to all the water his heart desired. There wasn¡¯t long left, just one long stretch of chiselled stone, one last wild jolt and he would-

    Remus shrieked embarrassingly loud, only now noticing the dozen ¡ª no, the brigade ¡ª of Unbounded behind him. The gremlins squealed, in ranks easily surpassing a hundred, choking the tunnel with sheer force of numbers. Remus fought the urge to break his knuckles via smashing the nearest wall to smithereens. All this strategic evasion of the fiends, and for what? They had awaited patiently for his one moment of weakness, the morning of the day he would think himself to be safe, drunk on the ignorance that only being so close to victory can brew. And Remus couldn¡¯t even grab the shard of Infirnite in his bag to ward them off, not unless he wanted to be crushed in the process. Shaking on his waist now was the jangling piece he¡¯d hung there earlier, just barely able to light the way forward, let alone enough to scare off a mini army of stone goblins.

    Not that he needed the light. The strip of regular sunlight was enough to illuminate his pathway in its own right. Whilst some of the Unbounded near the front of the view hissed at the gleam, the majority shared an impassive reaction.

    Amid the frenzy of affairs taking place in his mind, one slither of wit managed to squeeze to the surface of Remus¡¯ psyche. Feeling adventurous today, aren¡¯t we?

    Clearly, no small radiance would be enough to put the Unbounded off now. He was done for, and they knew it. More than ever, Remus wanted to put an end to his perpetual struggle. All of this, to be a third of the way through a series of monotonous trials. And even then, he¡¯d have only fought tooth and claw to be on level footing with ninety-nine percent of the population. There was sure to be a three year old out there right now, accidentally setting their Mark of choice into motion with but a drooling half-thought. So much effort, such a cost, for a child¡¯s strength.

    Remus heard the rate of his footfalls lag, his will waning. Hands of sediment latched onto him, rasping voices puncturing his ears, the taste of dust lingering on his tongue.

    His face looked up from the hard, empty floor to the visage of two double doors, open right ahead. Through them, a morning¡¯s sun beared its ethereal head, windswept lands of igneous looming beneath.

    And that was when Remus remembered.

    He remembered why he had spent so long, hidden away in the crevices of his clan''s library for Durations on end. He remembered why he had overstepped the law, with no heed for the ramifications, tunnel-visioned on what he had to accomplish. He remembered the smug look that would appear on Edmar, every time he badgered his father for the Passing¡¯s worth of coinage. He recalled it all, tiny fragments of memories, capsules of time, all materialising one after the other in rapid succession.

    And, with it all, he remembered his resolve.

    Success was but a sprint away; failing now would be somehow worse than simply perishing on his first day down here. With a cry, Remus wrenched himself away from the grubby clutches of endless Unbounded, a few still clinging onto him for a second as their appendages tore off with him, only to come crashing down in a resounding shatter.

    A leap into fiery amber, and Remus crumpled. Desperate hands set on capturing him tightened around his ankles, pulling up to his back with insistent tugs. Remus dragged himself forwards, inch by inch, a dozen pinches causing him to squeal, a lingering anger distorting all he saw with an unshakeable red.

    He was deep into the limelight, eyes watering from the neon white. The hold began to loosen, a few giving up entirely. Yet still, the most determined of the bunch persevered. Remus had had enough.

    He jolted to his feet, toppling over the first time, but successfully getting to an upright position the second. In his ire, he cared not for the agony striking each of their rocky surfaces sent up his arms. Only for the sweet taste of triumph. He laughed, not in glee, but merely for the sake of it. A crazed, senseless expression, revelling in the madness of it all, in the mere fact he was here right there and then, alive and breathing. If for but this one moment.

    The conquest of chemical reactions sustaining his form were nothing short of marvellous, quaking in a glorious harmony, every cell in his body operating in unison to fulfil one, ever-important goal. To, above all else, prevail.

    Rock crumbled, bone and muscle bruised, and not even then could he rest. Back again, he found himself, wrestling upon the ground, golden blood highlighting the outlines of his chafed fingers.

    ¡°Up.¡± He screeched through gritted teeth ¡ª a raw, aggressive sound, like that of a depraved animal. Who he was talking to, not even Remus was aware, but with each tremulous step, it felt right. ¡°Up!¡±

    Unbounded gave way to dust beneath his weight, and finally, at long last, he found himself alone. The floor was littered with debris, splattered with a few beads of Ichor, but once the Unbounded¡¯s forms dissolved fully, not a speck of evidence of Remus¡¯ fright would remain.

    Remus lay stationary on the cavern floor, wind ¡ª actual, tangible wind ¡ª tugging at the shreds of his torn leather, in a now unfamiliar sensation. After a time, he got to his feet, a vein on his forehead bulging as he struggled to maintain balance.

    Outside, he went.

    He stood, wordlessly, eyes passing over his surroundings in a gradual turn of the head. It was all there, though for some reason, that came as a surprise. The Infernal Bays bubbled lazily; the tents of his travelling party stood vigilant under the wrath of a merciless spot of wind, and the skies overhead were sulking with as much angst as you would expect from Territory One. For a moment, Remus blinked dumbly, wondering if this was merely a disturbed hallucination from his dazed mind. His body presumably still laid beneath a pile of dislodged earth, only just restraining from crushing him entirely.

    But no. This was far too lifelike. Unless the gods were pulling a particularly cruel gag on him, Remus had succeeded.

    Clutching onto the front of his tunic with trembling hands, he exclaimed in heavenly mirth¡ª his mind aching after such a rollercoaster of emotion.

    In a sad turn of events, the rest of his celebrations were cut terribly short. Remus barely processed the existence of a hurtling blur rushing his way, before two arms of pure muscle latched onto his entire body.

    Not even champions had the luxury of rest, it seemed.

 25. The Parted

    Whoever had grasped Remus so haphazardly was fortunate to have winded him. Otherwise, they would be on the receiving end of a very colourful series of outbursts.

    After his vision stopped swimming, Remus rounded on his attacker, eyes wide. His belligerence faded before it could properly form, the only feeling left in his pulp of a body perplexion.

    ¡°Hadrian?¡±

    The older man put a finger to his lips, glancing over his shoulder. ¡°Quiet, we must be quiet. Follow me, I have to fill you in on a few things.¡±

    With that, Remus found himself following the Mercenary to a discreet patch of boulders, sitting in the middle of them.

    ¡°Hadrian, what¡¯s going on? Why do you keep looking around like someone¡¯s about to jump out at me? Though, then again, it wouldn¡¯t be the first time today . . .¡±

    His conspiratorial air faded in favour of an apologetic wince. ¡°Sorry, I had to get you away from camp before the others saw you.¡±

    ¡°But why?¡±

    More grimacing. ¡°Veida kicked out Violet. Days ago.¡±

    And with that, Remus¡¯ ire had no problem revitalising. ¡°What? Why-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But I¡¯ve never seen Veida this angry. I can¡¯t reason with her.¡±

    ¡°Looks like I¡¯ll have to try my hand at convincing her then.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Hadrian roared. ¡°Listen to me, please. You need to sneak out of camp this instance. If Veida locates you, there¡¯s no knowing what she¡¯ll do. Can you live off the land?¡±

    This was all happening too swiftly. Remus¡¯ spiralling mind could barely process what was occurring, but the general gist of it sent his stomach withering. Veida and Violet had been so close, as thick as thieves, what possibly could have happened?

    ¡°Yeah, I can.¡±

    ¡°Alright, but just in case, take this.¡±

    Hadrian tossed over a sack of general goods. Remus didn¡¯t need to inspect its contents to know they were rations.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t have much time to gather supplies, apologies,¡± Hadrian muttered hurriedly, still peering behind them like he was just now revealing some sort of chronic paranoia, ¡°but this should suffice until you catch up to Violet. Forget about us for now, and leave. Now.¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t need any more persuasion. ¡°Alright . . . I¡¯ll get going. But thank you for the training. I wouldn¡¯t have survived if it weren¡¯t for you.¡±

    Hadrian smiled. It came as a shock, which in itself startled Remus. If someone as easy to crack a grin as Hadrian was becoming stony faced, matters were grave indeed.

    ¡°Congratulations on your victory Remus.¡± He gave him one last approving nod. ¡°You deserve it fully. Now, scram!¡±

    Remus did as he was bid, inserting the smaller bag into his larger, before scampering off.

    He had to catch up to Violet. He had to reach her before something terrible happened.

    <hr>

    Violet had found herself in the company of an endless stream of thoughts. Not even the roaring winds raging this high up, in a tiny nook in one of District Eight¡¯s mountains, could quieten the gushing, relentless tide.

    Why must everything be so complicated? Violet sighed, staring out from her vantage point.

    It was from here that she would await for Remus to show his head. And, if her sanity was to in any form remain intact, that had better be sometime soon. The matter of whether he would survive or not wasn¡¯t a question now, nor in doubt. Violet was more certain than anything that he would succeed.

    Or, now a few days past that Duration, that he had succeeded. The prospect of his death wasn''t where Violet¡¯s troubles lay. All that was occupying that particular slot of worry now was how long it would take him to locate her. Violet had been keeping to the rough path the two of them had planned out together Passings ago, heeding Veida¡¯s words, regardless of her personal feelings on the woman after that spontaneous eruption.

    Speaking of, why had she been so furious? Veida had been a mostly calm woman ¡ª stern, true, but level-headed. How could you go from thanking someone for avenging their brother¡¯s death, to exiling them in the span of a few minutes? No matter how many brain cells Violet sacrificed in the countless hours she had spent, mulling things over, no clear-cut answer had occurred to her.

    There was something she was missing, some vital clue that without, Violet would never wrap her mind around the precise happenings of that day.

    On her shoulder, a series of pecks swept Violet out of misery. Pippin rested there, cooing absent-mindedly. ¡°Ah, Pip,¡± Violet addressed the sparrow, ¡°you don¡¯t happen to have any solutions to my problems up in that brain of yours, do you?¡±

    Unless a series of incoherent tweets was bird-language for some profound offering of wisdom, no answers fell so readily into Violet¡¯s lap. At the end of the day, whether she consulted Pip¡¯s bottomless knowledge or not, she would have to come to her own conclusions. As gruelling as such a prospect was.

    ¡°And I am still yet to receive my vision.¡± Violet spoke to no one, with words teetering on madness. It was the final cherry of frustration, complimenting the cake of dissatisfaction that served for a fairly accurate analogy of her life.

    Too jaded by a Duration¡¯s worth of grievances, Violet didn¡¯t let herself get too bothered by that. After all, she was bound to find . . . bound to . . .

    Who is that? Violet thought, getting to her feet, and peering down. Far below, in a valley between a wall of mountainous territory, two indistinct figures strolled by, dressed in a mess of green.

    Green was not the first colour to pop up in Violet¡¯s head when she heard the term Earth Sect. Especially not shades that demanded the attention so readily, in a territory prone to constant land disputes like Territory Eight was. But people of what clan adorned the lime pigment, who would also have a reason to be scouting about this far into enemy territory?

    There were bound to be several sects who held a liking for green, but due to her upbringing in First Rite, the only one that occurred to Violet was The Wild Sect.

    What the hell were they doing loitering around here? What was their motive?

    A dangerous suggestion appeared to Violet. She could easily sneak down amongst them, to eavesdrop, and to take a closer look. But that risked revealing her position. Was Violet willing to invoke such danger, simply because she was bored?

    Yes, she discovered to be the answer, her feet trekking down the mountain-side without her mind¡¯s consent. Yes she would.

    Getting as close to twenty feet away, Violet kept her back to a corner, and listened in.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± a voice that pricked at the ears spoke, ¡°neither of them are here. Let¡¯s get back to Elmore.¡±

    Another presence, this one not quite so nagging, replied. ¡°There¡¯s no point. We¡¯d be left twiddling our thumbs, waiting for him to get back anyway. Look Ash, simply because you¡¯re hungry, doesn¡¯t mean we can quit our search now. Besides, we can¡¯t prepare dinner without Elmore.¡±

    ¡°Why can¡¯t we prepare food ourselves?¡±

    ¡°Because,¡± the other dragged out the word in emphasis, ¡°you cremate anything handed to you like a neanderthal discovering fire for the first time, my own cooking skills are subpar, and Elmore carried the cooking supplies with him ¡ª he knows you too well.¡±

    There was an audible grunt of defeat that signalled the end of the discussion, but Violet kept listening in. Too many questions had been lodged deep into the nexus of her mind, and discovering the truth surrounding these two, if any interesting reason for their presences did exist, would be the most fun she¡¯d had in days.

    Unfortunately for Violet, the two seemed determined not to mutter another word to each other. The rivalry in the air was tangible, suffocatingly so, the kind that most commonly spawned between competing siblings. Violet¡¯s past history with Verity made recognising such a bond easy. These two were definitely brothers, though the younger of the two, for some odd reason, seemed much more responsible.

    Violet was keeping by their side on a ledge above, when they finally broke the silence.

    ¡°Nothing.¡± The older of the two spoke.

    ¡°I told you so, Koa. You know, if you ever listened to me, you¡¯d save yourself a lot of wasted time. We could be back in camp right now, munching down on whatever Elmore hunted for us last night. But nooooooo. We have to mosey around here instead.¡±

    ¡°Come on Ash,¡± the voice droned, fatigued, ¡°we have to fill our days with something until we find the two.¡±

    ¡°Well at that rate, our grandchildren will be busy purchasing our coffins and picking out nice little squares of land to bury us in, by the time we get anywhere. Honestly, this whole task is a bust.¡±

    ¡°It might very well be, but that doesn¡¯t mean we can return to Juniper empty-handed. Not without exhausting our options first.¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Another sigh, from whom Violet couldn¡¯t disdain. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye out for burial costs in the coming centuries then, shall I? Unless either Violet or Remus decide to conveniently appear before us. That would really help.¡±

    As Ash called out their names in mock sincerity, Violet quivered; her blood running cold. In an abrupt snapping-into-place, she suddenly felt like the world¡¯s greatest moron. These two were hired by their sect leader to hunt down the latest duo of criminals to wander into town, obviously working alongside some more qualified figure. Somebody called Elmore.

    Violet crept deeper under her cover, never before so fearful for individuals obviously younger than herself. Seventeen wasn¡¯t too ancient an age compared to some of the most powerful beings in this world, but it should be more than enough to keep her cool in the face of a few adolescents. Though it wasn¡¯t directly these two triggering the drabs of perspiration leaking down her, the wider picture, that their searchers were but a few metres¡¯ distance, was what really sent her spiralling. And Remus was still nowhere to be found.

    Violet had to track him down before The Wild Sect did. And if they were to get their clutches on him first . . . well, she couldn¡¯t let that happen.

    Violet got to work.

    <hr>

    Time was relative.

    It was a theory several of the sharpest minds of this world held, those not expiring every ounce of their intellect on combat-related equations. By how slowly the last day had dragged by, Remus was beginning to firmly believe it.

    Never before did he realise just how much he had been relying on Violet during their Passing of travel to Hybrid. Sure, he could hunt, but it was an unearthly pain, and every second step seemed to come with its own separate problem he was forced to devise a solution to. Like, for example, how he was going to find shelter to sleep in for the night, or how he would manoeuvre around that goat without it taking out his front teeth via a swift jolt of the hooves.

    He didn¡¯t get so far as rustling a bush ten yards away before it rushed out of view. Punching a nearby tree, Remus tempered himself, relying on the consoling knowledge that he still had Hadrian¡¯s rations to rely on if need be.

    The noise of more movement ¡ª a different shrub being stirred ¡ª sent Remus¡¯ predatory instincts into overdrive. That ancient need to hunt, to sustain his life through any means necessary, led him to lifting his sickle in a noiseless action. Step by step he tread closer, the thought of gathering a meal fresher than rations pinpointing the world to this one goal. To this one instance where he would do his most ancient of ancestors proud.

    Poising himself, Remus dived.

    . . . achieving absolutely nothing but an aching, empty hand, a powerful presence pushing him insistently into the ground, and a split second of pure bewilderment.

    ¡°This is how I find you? Really?¡± Violet¡¯s familiar voice berated. ¡°And if I was a hare, just to let you know, I¡¯d probably let you kill me out of pity for that form.¡±

    ¡°Violet!¡± Remus roared, face beaming as she jolted up. ¡°What happened with Veida? Hadrian rushed me out of camp, but I don¡¯t know what-¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she cut him off, ¡°we don¡¯t have time to discuss this in detail yet. We have people on our trail, and they¡¯re close.¡±

    Right before Remus was about to express his ample amount of concern at this, Violet spoke. ¡°And congrats on surviving the Infernal Bays.¡± The smile that mirrored his quickly faded to a questioning glare. ¡°But you do have the shard of Infirnite, right?¡±

    Remus nodded. ¡°In my bag, among some other supplies.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now, keep quiet. Three Wild Sect clansmen are lurking nearby.¡±

    ¡°The Wild Sect . . .¡± Remus repeated in hushed tones. ¡°One of them doesn¡¯t happen to be . . . never mind.¡±

    ¡°What is it? Spit it out.¡±

    Frowning, Remus continued. ¡°The guard overseeing my cell in Ruling was from that clan. It¡¯s possible they¡¯re one and the same.¡±

    Violet gave Remus a look as though he were suspected of committing every crime in the law book. ¡°Did their name happen to be Elmore?¡±

    A sound up ahead sent them both rigid.

    There was a shrill squeak, and Violet didn¡¯t hesitate. The Mark on her forearm blazed in activation, luminous through her leather padding. Remus blinked, and his environment altered drastically.

    Most noticeably, was that the bush which they had been patiently observing from afar was now directly ahead of them. And with it, in the least inconspicuous manner possible, a young, brown-haired boy huddled. His head lifted up slowly, hands cradling the crest of his head.

    One look at the both of them, and he screamed. Scrambling backwards, his hands balled into fists, and roots arose from the ground in a blur of fuzzy movement. One simple intervention from Violet, and the boy¡¯s summonings were set against him. All it took was a swift distortion of reality, and the oak strips grew dormant once again, though this time, holding him captive in what looked to be a most uncomfortable entanglement.

    He struggled in a series of scraps and grunts, which, after proving unsuccessful, left the boy dropping his arms, accepting defeat.

    ¡°Are you going to kill me?¡± He muttered, voice quavering.

    Remus¡¯s heart actually ached for the poor child. He didn¡¯t like striking down, but knowing Violet well enough at this point, he could rest assured, knowing that she wouldn''t push them too far.

    ¡°Of course not! What do you take us for?¡±

    Looking from side to side, he didn¡¯t reply for a moment. ¡°Well . . . you are criminals.¡±

    ¡°Petty criminals.¡± Violet corrected, arms crossed

    ¡°Since when was fleeing to a whole ¡®nother city petty? You¡¯re full-fledged fugitives.¡±

    ¡°Bah. Whatever. I¡¯m gonna need you to answer a few questions for me, alright?¡±

    Naive hope leaked into his next words. ¡°And then you¡¯ll free me?¡±

    ¡°No. I can¡¯t have you rushing off immediately to inform the rest of your searching party of our whereabouts.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t some valiant, upstanding mentor when it came to morals, but that crossed a line too far, even for him. ¡°What? You¡¯re just going to leave the kid to starve if his group doesn¡¯t find him?¡±

    ¡°Gods above, you two keep talking like I¡¯m some mastermind villain orchestrating all the crime in the mortal realms. Think for a second Remus! If he was able to manipulate the roots into appearing in the first place, he can easily do the same, but in reverse. Though,¡± she shot him a warning glint of the eye, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend doing that quite yet.¡±

    The boy looked like he was holding back sick, but Remus let Violet continue unperturbed. She clearly knew what she was doing.

    ¡°Okay, okay.¡± Their hostage finally spoke up, after looking away from her leer. ¡°What do you want to know?¡±

    Violet visibly softened. Putting on her proverbial investigator¡¯s hat, she scrutinised him. ¡°You¡¯re Koa, right?¡±

    If possible within his confines, Koa leaned back. ¡°How do you-¡±

    ¡°I overheard you and your brother speaking ¡ª Ash is it?¡±

    ¡°Damn. Yeah, that¡¯s us.¡±

    Remus felt the urge to enquire about a few questions of his own. ¡°How are you connected to Elmore? Blood?¡±

    Koa nodded. ¡°We¡¯re cousins.¡±

    ¡°What Ranks are you all at?¡± Violet took the wise precaution to ask.

    ¡°Elmore and Ash are Emblazed, and I¡¯m . . . Enkindled.¡±

    The sidelong glance Ash delivered, to a patch of empty air, was more than enough to gauge his embarrassment. An Enkindled being so mortified at revealing his Rank, when that same boy was younger than Remus, was enough to send his own cheeks flushing in a stark rose.

    ¡°Are they nearby?¡± Violet continued

    ¡°Within the mile.¡±

    ¡°Will they come looking for you?¡±

    ¡°Given enough time.¡±

    She pressed further. ¡°Which will be?¡±

    He half-shrugged amongst the boroughs. ¡°Perhaps half an hour? I can¡¯t say.¡±

    Violet held herself a little more tightly. ¡°How grave will our sentencing be?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a jurist, but it''s not good.¡± Koa put it bluntly. ¡°You likely wouldn¡¯t have faced much repercussion yourself, until you tagged along with the Death-Marked in his own flee. Evasion of the law is not favoured in the legal circles, not at all.¡±

    ¡°Fabulous.¡± Remus felt the word slip out of his mouth. ¡°Looks like I won¡¯t be visiting the family for some time.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll be the least of our problems.¡± The reality of their situation seemed to finally become apparent to Violet, and her eyes flickered to her feet darkly. ¡°Damn. There¡¯s no way we can show our faces in First Rite now, or likely ever again. This won¡¯t be something that just blows over in a few Passings.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll worry about that when we amass enough power to challenge the systems that did us dirty,¡± Remus said, ¡°though a little news about the place won''t do us any harm. How is the Carpentry Sect doing?

    ¡°I can¡¯t say I pay particular attention to the Labour District.¡± Koa admitted. ¡°Probably fairing as they normally have. I was ushered out of the city to track you two down before the Wealth Sect really cracked down on them, but their future isn¡¯t looking particularly bright.¡±

    ¡°New news, old news,¡± Remus scrowled, ¡°always the same.¡±

    Violet evidently wasn¡¯t interested in enquiring about her own clan, for she skipped over to other matters. ¡°Is it just Juniper trying to track us down? I can¡¯t see how The Wild Sect is involved with this in the first place.¡±

    To her surprise, it was Remus who answered. ¡°Likely this is due to Elmore failing to carry out his duty as a guard. It wouldn¡¯t have done his reputation much good to have two Death-Marked breaking out, under his supervision.¡±

    ¡°The fault went to the wider prison as a whole, so it wasn¡¯t entirely making amends that motivated Juniper into dropping the task into Elmore¡¯s lap,¡± Koa corrected, ¡°several other sect leaders were disgruntled with what had occurred. Namely Nova-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mention him. ¡° Violet visibly shivered, despite it being a warm day. ¡°Just don¡¯t.¡±

    All of Koa¡¯s blood ran to his head ¡ª and if the situation wasn¡¯t so dire, Remus would have been marvelling at how so much golden liquid could induce a face so red.

    After a split second where pure terror stole his words away from him, Koa continued. ¡°I think Juniper likes to keep on top of things, reaffirming her concrete status as a leader not to be meddled with, via clearing up issues like these. Plus, it served as an excuse to bring me back to First Rite.¡± Koa abruptly stopped there, as if putting a leash on his misbehaving tongue.

    ¡°But why you and your brother?¡± Violet asked. ¡°I get Elmore being sent out ¡ª based on the bits and pieces I¡¯ve heard, he seems to be more-or-less an adult ¡ª but you two are virtually children.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s training us,¡± Koa answered, sounding a little butthurt at the passing comment. ¡°Or mainly me.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Violet sighed, the conversation drawing to an end, ¡°do you know where we¡¯re headed next?¡±

    ¡°Immediately?¡± Koa began. ¡°No, but you''re obviously following the Trials of the Earnest. So, eventually, you''ll be heading deep into the Shifting. To your deaths, presumably.¡±

    ¡°Tone down the optimism.¡± Remus piped in, the conversation so unbearably serious.

    Judging by their blank expressions, neither of them appreciated the humour.

    ¡°Well, thanks for the cooperation.¡± Violet said. ¡°It made this a whole lot easier than it could have been.¡±

    Slowly at first, Koa angled his head towards Violet, suspicion written across his lips. ¡°Wait, what would have happened if I had kept my mouth shut?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡± Violet revealed plainly. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to torture someone for information, let alone a preteen.¡±

    Koa bore into the ground at his feet, as though the entire world had betrayed his trust. An aggrieved ¡°I¡¯m not that young . . .¡± was all he could murmur.

    ¡°Well, pleasure doing business with you.¡± Violet smiled in a completely innocuous fashion, tapping the wood of Koa¡¯s confines.

    It fizzled out of existence, with the boy in tow.

    Remus rushed forwards, clasping onto nothing but fading air. ¡°What are you doing?¡± He screeched.

    ¡°Relax Remus. I only changed his location. We can¡¯t have him informing Ash or Elmore of what direction we¡¯re headed in.¡±

    Sense returned to him. ¡°Right.¡± He allowed himself a deep exhale, before redirecting his attention. ¡°Speaking of, for the second trial, are we sticking to the plan? To take down Styrmir?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be a long way ahead, but yes.¡± Violet agreed, the two of them picking up a swift march. ¡°You sure you won¡¯t die of boredom on the way?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll refrain from dropping dead until I have a Mark glistening on my arm. Now then, for what possible reason did Veida kick you out?¡± A lick of anger lingered on the words.

    Violet groaned. ¡°I haven¡¯t the slightest idea.¡±

    ¡°Tell me what happened then, that¡¯ll be a start.¡±

    Violet exhaled. ¡°It''s a long story, but if you insist . . .¡±

 26. Will of the Winds

    If Remus were to recount to you what filled his days as he journeyed to Territory Six, he would fall asleep right before recounting his twentieth hunting session, which was no more exciting than the nineteenth ¡ª or the last eighteen prior.

    He and Violet, as they strolled past the Reptilian Sect¡¯s swampy lands over the course of a few Durations, arrived at the Tempest Territory with all the eagerness of a corpse sauntering into his own funeral service.

    It had been almost a Passing of pure boredom, devoid of any event of even the slightest interest. Well, except for perhaps the time Pippin had arrived, one sultry morning, a letter clutched in his talons.

    Violet held onto that letter even now, as swamp was abandoned for flatland. The scrunched parchment was held tightly in one of her balled fists, and Remus looked onto the scene of her grasping it with quiet despair. Hadrian¡¯s message had been brief, sparse even, and a simple apology on behalf of the wider sect for Veida¡¯s behaviour.

    Two lines, and that was the extent of it. Violet¡¯s stoic face was unreadable, each and every time the message was the topic of conversation, but Remus got the distinct impression she wasn¡¯t coping well. The whole situation was unjust, disgustingly so. And still, with entire Durations of thinking time, neither of them had gotten to the bottom of what had truly occurred. What had sparked Veida¡¯s seemingly nonsensical meltdown would, for now, continue to elude them.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be around here.¡± Violet spoke, staring out into an abyss of empty air.

    ¡°What will?¡±

    She groaned. ¡°Remus, what have we been chasing for the last Passing?¡±

    Remus wanted to punch himself. ¡°Styrmir, right. An Unbounded of the giant variety, with reported control over the air currents. . . Something fitting that description shouldn¡¯t be too hard to find, at least in theory.¡±

    Even on the very edges of the territory, Remus could see how the Tempest Sect had moulded the territory to their liking. Step out there, and you might not need wings to fly. The very air currents, gushing with a force keen to tug the organs out of you, was a natural deathtrap if one wasn¡¯t careful, serving as a barrier for any enemy territories wishing to extend their land.

    Suffice to say, they had their work cut out for them, devising a way to traverse through an environment that was untraversable.

    ¡°How do we find him?¡± Remus asked, upon which Violet lifted her finger promptly skywards.

    Remus followed the length of her arm, gasping.

    Up above, blending into the murky blues and whites of the sky so perfectly, Remus hadn¡¯t paid it any mind, lay a town of clouds. Buildings forged of wispy, semi-solid cushion stretched out across the azure horizon, and what only boggled his mind further, was the fact that breathing, talking people walked amongst it. Some of them fluttering about the place via wings. Living out their lives in an orderly fashion, as if a village in the middle of the sky was business as usual. Birds flocked around the entire territory¡¯s sky in absurd numbers, which Remus knew could not have been possible without some sort of godly meddling.

    ¡°We need to ask around for Styrmir¡¯s last seen location. Up there is our best shot, but it''s risky. The Tempest Sect might not be as welcoming as the Flame Sect . . .¡± She cringed. ¡°. . . were previously. And then there¡¯s the question of how we¡¯ll introduce ourselves, or even get up there in the first place. ¡±

    Remus narrowed his eyes into the far distance, below the pearly fortress. Tiny, oblong dots loitered there, presumably people seeking entry into the sanctuary of clouds.

    ¡°Down there looks like a start.¡±

    Violet nodded. ¡°Keep a low profile. We should scope out the area first, and see how aggressive the folk appear.¡±

    Their plan of action settled, the two advanced forwards in silent strides. All the while, Remus couldn¡¯t help but give the airborne town suspicious looks, as if certain the living miracle would collapse any second now, under the sheer weight of its impossibility. Something this grand could not have feasibly been from a portion of one sect, no matter how intensely they worked. Creating clouds and sprouting the bird-like wings Remus had witnessed earlier sounded like too much of a stretch to fit under the umbrella of ¡®Tempest¡¯ ¡ª likely, you could still get away with flying, but there were very obviously some other factors in play here.

    Namely, other clans.

    ¡°The god of clouds, who is he?¡±

    ¡°Mazin, or something like that.¡± Violet replied, the settlement now nearly directly above their heads. ¡°It''s probable that his clan was paid handsome sums to construct this base, or maybe some of them might have even lived here once. Sounds likely that a few would remain to sustain the structure¡¯s balance. Wouldn¡¯t do much good for the entire place to come crashing down, or to disperse into the wind.¡±

    A terrifying possibility occurred to Remus. It was unlikely, but horrifying enough to contort his face in disgust. ¡°If the Cloud Clan wanted to, they could send an entire base of an opposing sect crashing down.¡±

    ¡°Theoretically,¡± Violet allowed, ¡°but that¡¯s if you make a lot of assumptions.  They probably formed a sect-wide oath promising not to pull any shenanigans, or have motives not to. Multiple clans coexisting together means extra protection, and in areas not covered by Divine Ground such as these territories, that could make all the difference.¡±

    At last, they arrived so close to the looming town that its shadow was a visible line in the ground ahead of them. Past it, Remus¡¯s mouth opened in awe, as he observed a winged individual, shooting up and out of the foamy material above.

    ¡°And wing-bearing clansmen,¡± Remus muttered, ¡°surely people of the Bird god, Avel?¡±

    ¡°Before he abandoned the Animalistic Accord for the Empyrean Alliance, the Bird Sect probably held a strong populace here. Now, there¡¯s just the lingering few who took a liking to the place.¡±

    Remus listened to all this raptly, eyes baring into the carpet of white above him. It took Violent tugging on his arm for him to tear his eyes off it. ¡°Huh? What is it?

    ¡°Over there,¡± Violet answered, ¡°notice the trail of destruction?¡±

    Angling himself to face where she was pointing, Remus saw a collection of ordinary carriages ¡ª except they had all been forcibly disassembled; likely via the direct means of bashing fists. The breeze of the wind was noticeably stronger from this direction too, with the hair that had regrown upon Remus over the last Passing and some flickering upwards to expose his forehead.

    ¡°Annnnd there¡¯s our lead.¡±

    Violet nodded morosely. ¡°Looks like we have to head deeper in. We might as well be walking into the heart of a tornado.¡±

    ¡°The heart of a tornado with a rampant giant in the centre of it.¡± Remus added. ¡°C¡¯mon, it¡¯ll be fun!¡±

    Abandoning the sky fortress for a moment, the two passed the short distance over to the wreckage. Immediately, among the wooden shrapnel and punctured wheels, the sound of voices sent them ducking.

    ¡°We don¡¯t get paid enough for clearing that devil¡¯s messes,¡± an aggrieved presence complained, ¡°surely the sect can afford to deal with one Unbounded? He might be a Foot-Soldier equivalent, but we have more than enough soldiers of our own that could easily make short work of the speed-demon. Only care for themselves up there, I¡¯m telling you.¡±

    Remus inwardly snorted. If he were to ever visit First Rite . . .

    ¡°Well what can you do?¡± There was the sound of grunting paired with a series of heavy footsteps, before something was lumped down. Hands being dusted down were indicated via a resounding clap. ¡°Look on the bright side ¡ª we never have to worry about being out of work. Every morning that blue blur rushes out here to cause a little mayhem, and we get to profit from it. It''s a nice ordeal we¡¯ve got going on, us and that Styrmir.¡±

    ¡°You and your baseless optimism,¡± the other scoffed, ¡°let¡¯s just get this over with. And stop talking like we¡¯re business partners with that thing; it''s sickening.¡±

    Sensing that there would be no more info-rich discussion to eavesdrop on, Remus and Violet rushed out of the scene, before they could do so much as ruffle a feather.

    Once of a sufficiently safe distance, Remus spoke, ¡°so we can expect for Styrmir to appear in the early hours, somewhere around these parts.¡±

    Violet nodded, her face furrowed in concentration. ¡°Now we know how to get in contact with the giant. Our problem lies with how we¡¯ll kill it.¡±

    It went without saying that the primary issue with killing the Unbounded would be its rumoured speed. Violet had reported her struggle with a rogue tarlord separated from the bulk of its family Durations prior. It had been of the same power as Styrmir would be, and Violet had only scrapped by in that conflict, and would have certainly perished, if not for Hadrian¡¯s last minute assistance. Even with Remus¡¯ help, an Engorged and mid-level Emblazed could only do so much. By competence in battle alone, they would never prevail.

    They needed some trick; some ace in the hole to increase their chances of victory. The difficulty was in working out what exactly that would be.

    ¡°If we¡¯re staking out the area for the night, we should find somewhere nearby to stay,¡± Remus found himself saying something smart for once, ¡°somewhere nondescript enough not to draw attention, before we can assess the clan¡¯s attitudes towards newcomers.¡±

    ¡°They should have no problem with us trying to eliminate one of the thorns in their side, but you never know.¡± Violet said, assessing their environment. ¡°If I had any other requirements, some cover from the breeze would be favourable.¡±

    Remus kept this in mind, joining in as Violet did a full three-sixty around them. Within seconds, an idea occurred to him. It both tore up newfound trauma, and sent a giddy rush of excitement through him in an odd mixture of emotion. ¡°We could scout out a cave, or some depression somewhere.¡±

    ¡°That would work, but I doubt if the land formation around here is any more interesting than the straight plain we¡¯ve seen. Never before have I had a problem with terrain being too flat . . .¡±

    ¡°The hills near the outskirts of here have some discrete areas, before the ground fully levels out. It won¡¯t be as efficient a shield as a cave, but the mounds could bear the brunt of the wind for us.¡±

    Violet agreed with this, and Remus found himself moving towards the cluster of inclines without commanding his feet.

    ¡°Violet, do Unbounded require anything to continue living? Like how we need food, water and sleep?¡±

    It might have been a question with an obvious answer, but Violet didn¡¯t make fun of him. ¡°All they require is a steady supply of Infinity to sustain their forms. It doesn¡¯t have to be much, just a few animals killed here and there would be enough.¡±

    ¡°What would happen if they didn¡¯t get that supply of Infinity? I don¡¯t imagine they instantly implode.¡±

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    A high laugh escaped her at the thought. ¡°No. Like humans when starving, they start to use up the nutrients they have on them ¡ª as our bodies drain away at our fat reserves, their Infinity starts to dwindle, until there¡¯s nothing left.¡±

    Remus halted, frowning. ¡°So they basically eat themselves to death?¡±

    Another chuckle. ¡°In a sense.¡±

    Unpacking his supplies and putting up a flimsy hammock, Remus thought. ¡°Is there any chance-¡± he stopped himself. ¡°Forget it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Violet turned a head towards him, finishing up her own nook of the area. ¡°Say it.¡±

    ¡°Could we starve Styrmir? And then kill their weakened form?¡±

    The girl put a hand to her chin, eyes in distant deliberation. ¡°Theoretically. But it won¡¯t be that simple. The giant¡¯s known for his speed, so trapping him anywhere won¡¯t be easy.¡±

    ¡°We could lure him.¡±

    ¡°With what? And to where? We would need an enclosed space, somewhere shut off at all angles. In this prairie-¡±

    ¡°That would be very difficult to find indeed.¡±

    Remus swallowed before the unfamiliar voice even hit his ears, the feeling of sharp steel across his throat not a comfort.

    Violet jolted to her feet, pebbles hovering off the ground ahead of her in preparation to be thrown, with a little magical assistance.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend moving.¡± A woman spoke, voice oddly sweet for someone on the verge of splitting his voice box open. ¡°It''s quite windy around these parts, I wouldn¡¯t want my hand to slip.¡±

    Grudgingly, Violet removed her hold on the pebbles, but that expression of eagerness to throw a punch never faded. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°A lot of things: a cup of tea, a few books, and . . . oh! To know what exactly you two are doing creeping around. You must admit, it''s quite suspicious, no?¡±

    Violet¡¯s teeth gritted in a violent visage. If she wanted to assure the newcomer of her innocence, she wasn¡¯t doing a brilliant job of it in the looks department. ¡°We¡¯re just passing through. We mean you no harm.¡±

    ¡°Sneaking up on my fellow clansmen certainly appears to be out of malicious intentions.¡± Above the frantic thumping of his heart, Remus heard the weapon shift against him. ¡°We¡¯re not on Divine Ground, and you two are likely sabotaging the Cloud Sect. Explain to me right now why I shouldn¡¯t make short work of your companion.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s . . . telling . . . the truth.¡± Remus spluttered.

    The clanswoman ignored him entirely.

    ¡°We¡¯re trying to kill an Unbounded around here.¡± Violet evidently decided to tell the truth. ¡°The giant Styrmir. We weren¡¯t sure whether your sect took kindly to foreigners, so we didn¡¯t show our faces. We were just trying to gather information ¡ª I can swear an oath upon it.¡±

    Interest sank into his captor¡¯s voice. ¡°What are you, bounty hunters?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly.¡±

    ¡°Then what?¡±

    She tsked. ¡°Maybe we can sit down and have a nice chat about it, though that will be substantially harder with you holding a dagger across his throat.¡±

    After a moment of consideration, Remus was let go. Rubbing against the sore spot of his throat, he angled his head downwards, concealing the flush of colour gathering in his cheeks. Remus had never been so humiliated, but even that saying in itself had been worn out with use.

    How much stronger do I have to grow, before I stop being treated like extra weight?

    He couldn¡¯t agonise over his embarrassment for too long however, as both women swiftly picked the conversation back up.

    ¡°For now, I¡¯ll take your word as truth, though your offer of making an oath is one I¡¯ll keep in mind.¡±

    Now that he was free from her clutches, Remus could face his captor in all her contained ferocity. She was a blonde woman, her hair set in a tight ponytail at the back, and her overall stature was fairly shorter than most. A guard¡¯s light armour sat comfortably upon her, the silver shade of it a sharp contrast to the jet black of her eyes. Her features were altogether angular, with her face ending in a sharp point ¡ª reminding Remus of a certain object held against him not a minute prior. Sheathed, but ready to be drawn at any time, was a dagger. Remus¡¯s attention couldn¡¯t help but be brought to the longer rapier placed just above it. Obviously, this woman was no laughing matter.

    This was a fact cemented from the Mark streaking across her face. Beginning from her forehead down to her right-hand side, was a blur of colour. It illustrated Erjon, the Tempest god summoning what must have been a continent''s worth of wind. All in an attempt to quell the anger of a bundle of red at the Mark¡¯s end. None other than the deity of Fury, Lorcan.

    She examined the pair of them with inquisitive, drawn-out stares. ¡°If you¡¯re not bounty hunters, what cause do you have to strike up a fight with Styrmir?¡±

    Remus exhaled. Oh boy, this was going to take a while. He took the courtesy of explaining matters to her in a simplified manner. The gist of the Trials of the Earnest, and Remus¡¯ involvement with them. He left out several details, which may or may not have included the dubious states of their criminal records.

    Despite how far-fetched it all sounded ¡ª even to Remus¡¯ own ears, the words he spoke seemed to match the insanity of a children¡¯s fable ¡ª the woman appeared to relax. ¡°Interesting. Very interesting.¡±

    She seemed to mull something over in her head, and Remus inwardly prayed that word of their history hadn¡¯t spread this far out. That was part of the reason they had skirted around the Amphibian and Reptile Clans in Territory Seven. That seemed to have been the direction Elmore and his crew had crossed from, and it was more likely than not that Remus and Violet would have surfaced in conversation.

    ¡°You told me about the first and second trials, but what¡¯s the third?¡± The woman asked, at a constant pace around the enclosure. ¡°Do tell ¡ª I love a good story.¡±

    ¡°He has to locate the Ambition Sect, In the hidden depths of the Shifting.¡± Violet answered for him, the mere thought of having to eventually tackle the task exhausting her.

    Once more, the woman took a second to think. ¡°You would be doing our sect a great deal of help with getting rid of Styrmir. That in itself would merit an award. If you show us evidence of killing the beast, I might be tempted to fly one of you up to the peak of the Sky Fortress.¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t see how this correlated to anything they had been discussing. Until her next words.

    ¡°From up there, you¡¯ll have a bird¡¯s-eye-view of the entirety of Hybrid; including the Shifting. If you don¡¯t spot the Ambition Sect from up there, it likely doesn¡¯t exist. But don¡¯t get this twisted, you¡¯ll still have to take down the wind giant yourselves. As always, work drains away most of the hours in my day, and I¡¯m not spending the little free time I get running around trying to catch a fleeting breeze.¡±

    ¡°We understand.¡± Violet interjected, her fatigue wavering in the face of a chance to accelerate the rest of their journey.

    ¡°You better.¡± The guard stretched, staring longingly into the distance. ¡°Until you show me evidence of Styrmir''s death, I¡¯ll be keeping my eyes on the both of you. Your names?¡±

    The pair of them gulped simultaneously. Two words, and their interrogator''s memory might just be jogged into recalling the rumour of two fleeing fugitives. And then the future wouldn¡¯t be quite so bright and shiny. The instinct to lie occurred to Remus, in a sudden desperate appeal, but she¡¯d treated them both well, considering their admittedly suspicious arrival. Regardless of whether it was a logical move or not, Remus ultimately took the risk.

    ¡°I''m Remus.¡±

    Violet¡¯s face suited a vexed, firm narrowing of the features for but a millisecond, before once more retaining a placid exterior. ¡°Violet.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°I go by Iris.¡± Her back turned, the winds seeming to circle around her in a mini cyclone of pressure. ¡°I would very much appreciate it if you didn¡¯t make me regret this decision.¡±

    With that, and a burst of speed, she was gone. Zooming through the air in a show that put the wing-bearing followers of Avel to shame.

    After a minute¡¯s pensive silence ¡ª on the off-chance Iris was lingering nearby, watching ¡ª Both Violet and Remus let go of their held breaths. Remus sank to the floor, taking a much needed sip from his waterskin. It was the only piece of the supplies from Hadrian that had survived the Passing¡¯s journey; even the sickle had been chipped one too many times against a hard-shelled Unbounded, and promptly discarded.

    ¡°Now we really have to defeat Styrmir, or we¡¯re screwed.¡± Violet spoke up, cheerful as ever.

    ¡°Tomorrow morning we have to be up and ready to kill that bastard.¡± Remus found his hands unveiling a piece of parchment out of their own volition. ¡°Tonight, we plan.¡±

    On the eve of the second trial, the two got to work.

    <hr>

    ¡°Are you certain it was in this direction?¡± Elmore questioned for the thousandth time, squinting through the swamps of Territory Seven.

    ¡°How can I be?¡± Koa rehearsed the endless exchange, that his cousin seemed dead-set on replaying every few hours. ¡°Violet warped me into the middle of nowhere. But I have a hunch of the general direction they departed in.¡±

    Elmore swivelled on his feet, dank water splattering at his heels. ¡°You¡¯re really leading us right through the territory we just passed through on a whim? A guess?¡±

    ¡°What do you say we do then, hmm?¡± Koa felt his temper hottening, but made no attempt to settle it. ¡°Sit down and let this opportunity slip through our hands? Damn, I¡¯m starting to sound like you now!¡±

    ¡°At least you¡¯re self-aware.¡± A deflated Ash trudged at their backs, knowing at this point not to complain about the endless journey.

    Both of them grumbling under their breaths, the argument was dropped. It had taken Elmore and Ash hours to locate Koa once he had gone missing, and even longer after that to stop throwing an endless array of jabs and complaints his way. The encounter had been so embarrassing, Koa could hardly concentrate on his own training. His leaves would explode in an eruption of pollen, or fly wildly into the nearest blunt object. Koa could sense that he was on the verge of advancing to Emblazed ¡ª it was teetering on the very tip of his being. But every time he activated his Mark, the visage of all those corrupt trees, that had been plastered into his skin at birth, would evade his every will and command.

    Just for once, a little of his brother¡¯s endless talent would¡¯ve been handy. It seemed to Koa like that would resolve his every issue in life.

    Except perhaps, for the constant aura of gloom his cousin projected, which was not helping to lighten the already dire mood. Not in the slightest. Ever since his miracle child of a brother had attained his vision, cementing himself as on equal footing with Elmore, the man had dove far deeper into the darker aspects of himself. As if casting his typical passive personality into shadows, only to pull it back out again, all the joy diminished in the face of a growing tide of discontent.

    As the group came to an abrupt stop, Koa couldn¡¯t help but notice the newly-acquired lines engraved into his cousin¡¯s face. They spoke of a sombre dwelling behind the guise of his stoicism; of a magnitude of emotion etching each and every early wrinkle.

    It took him a while to tear his eyes off Elmore, to see what had spawned such alarm in his eyes.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Elmore rasped, hands pressing against his belt. All it would take was one swift action, and a line of throwing knives would be at his fingertips.

    Koa held no weapon of his own aside from a simple cutting knife ¡ª on occasions, he was known for wielding a bow and arrow, but he didn¡¯t exactly have the time to go rummaging through his bags.

    The woman ahead of the three of them was deceptively young, for the empty glint in her eyes spoke of knowledge beyond her years. She stood as rigid as a plank of wood, the embers where her irises should have been passing over each of them. In the same examinary fashion a hawk would eye its prey. Her hair was styled neatly in curls of hazel, and upon her, sported in an eerily pristine fashion, was a set of chainmail light armour that would not have looked amiss on a knight of legend.

    Koa found himself thinking that she looked awfully like . . . awfully like . . . Violet.

    Elmore caught on far quicker than he had. ¡°Seize her!¡±

    In a blinding flash where, in a stark surprise, both Ash and Koa worked in unison for one hasty second, branches tore themselves forth from the nearest trees. With unnatural, contorted branches of horrifying size, the space the woman had just been occupying was promptly attacked. A bewildering realisation it was for them all, seeing it empty before the puppeteered wood could deal any damage.

    Elmore had rushed forth, nothing but void air grasped in his flinging hands.

    ¡°Enough of this.¡± A strangely plain voice spoke, devoid of any particular inflection. ¡°I¡¯m not my sister.¡±

    The sound came from above, and the three of them turned upwards in one shared instance of panic. She had moved so quickly . . . too quickly for an apparent Emblazed ¡ª that was Violet¡¯s reported Rank, at least according to the little background info Elmore had been granted. So Koa dropped his suspicions for a moment. It wouldn¡¯t be too daring to take her word as truth, for the time being.

    ¡°What do you want? This is Wild Sect business, and I will not be having you jeopardising our mission in any form.¡± At her silence, Elmore revealed a tiny blade, a few inches length at most. ¡°Answer me!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to achieve precisely the opposite,¡± she dropped down, with all the implicit grace of a feline, ¡°Nova is not happy with how slowly you¡¯re progressing. He requested for me to quicken affairs. We can¡¯t have one of our own running rampant without punishment, you see.¡±

    Elmore looked as if he had just been slapped. ¡°You have no right to involve yourselves, this i-¡± He stuttered, eyes widening. ¡°Unless-¡±

    A knowing smile materialised on her lips. ¡°We are perfectly in our right. Violet is of the Chao Clan¡¯s blood, and if we see it fit to deal with her ourselves, we can do just that. There¡¯s no point in dwelling on it now, Elmore. There¡¯s nothing you can do to refuse my assistance.¡±

    Koa observed quietly as Elmore fought back his sinister inclinations. He levelled his head, eyes closed, angled towards the ground as his lips tightened.

    ¡°Our relationship will only last as long as the mission, but for now, you may refer to me as Verity.¡±

    ¡°But why?¡± Koa didn¡¯t fight back the urge to ask, sensing something underlying beyond Verity¡¯s nondescript front. ¡°What reason do you have for coming out here?¡±

    Verity set her crimson glare upon him, and Koa found himself growing tremulous under its forceless leer. ¡°First and foremost, to serve my father, and the wider Chaos Clan. Secondly . . .¡± She stalled.

    ¡°Secondly?¡±

    Verity¡¯s head shot back to face him, eyes dilated in pensive anticipation. ¡°Violet is going to die by the end of this Passing, and mark my words, it will be by no other hands than these.¡±

 27. Palace of Clouds

    Remus had come to learn that there was no better motivator in life, than running with a mass of claws and fangs mere feet away from you. How do you outrun the swiftest of speeds? How do you strike terror into the coldest of hearts? And most important of all these arbitrary questions, is how exactly one went about toppling the most steady of standing.

    The answers to each and every one of these ordeals would have helped out Remus a great amount, when Styrmir, giant over the forces of nature, came calling for his flesh. Already, his back was an abstract painting involving a lot of splattered golds and sparkling yellows, but the Unbounded seemed dead-set on bringing his gory masterpiece to completion. Remus had to find a way to wrench its makeshift paint-brushes off of him ¡ª the ends of Styrmir¡¯s elongated fingers an odd dye of Ichor ¡ª before his canvas of a body would be amply eviscerated in one last finishing touch.

    In a mad scramble, Remus launched himself onto a boulder protruding from the ground. Styrmir promptly joined him upon its surface, re-materialising from his secondary form of a brisk wind, to a fully-fledged abomination of nature. It flickered through both states in seamless, rapid transitions, depending on whether the fiend was favouring scare-factor or speed at any particular moment.

    ¡°Friend!¡± It belched merrily through a toothy grin, though if by ¡®friend¡¯, it was referring to its next meal, then Remus didn¡¯t find the invitation particularly enticing.

    Before reality inverted in a flash of purple, Remus got another look at the Unbounded, in all its abominable glory. It was a hulking mass of blue, the shades that made up its leathery skin forever shifting in a thousand interchangeable colours. And not a single one brought beauty to the looming devil. Yellowing claws mimicking the colour of Styrmir¡¯s abundant teeth ¡ª these protruding out of its crevice of a mouth, like icicles in a snow cave ¡ª punished his back for sagging too close behind.

    Wailing wasn¡¯t an activity Remus took pride in, but with every rupturing strike he was forced to sustain, he found himself growing from adept to a master of the craft. The all-encompassing magenta waned in the face of a fresh set of environs, and despite the war of pain inflicted upon him, Remus found himself beaming.

    Violet had sent them one step closer to their destination.

    That had been the third zip across the terrain of the land surrounding the Sky Fortress, also known as the giant¡¯s number one stop for running amuck, and generally inciting havoc at every corner. Whilst Remus had been transported metres ahead, Styrmir was lagging behind. He silently thanked Violet for that clever manipulation of her abilities. Intentionally supplying Remus with a head-start every time she altered their locations was just the advantage he needed to survive, and Remus latched onto it like a safety rope.

    . . . a safety rope that was flimsy as all hell, considering the array of injuries streaking down him, but hey, it was something right?

    One more stop, one more stop, he thought, having already adjusted to the fresh surroundings after he and Violet had practised this course for hours on end, the night before. Any overlooking guards probably thought they were mad as anything, if any of them did catch the amusing sight of Remus scrambling ahead of an imaginary monster, but Iris likely informed them all of their harmless intentions.

    The plan was to lead Styrmir towards an enclosed cave, with Violet blipping them around reality to ensnare the Unbounded. The trouble came with the distance. The amount of pure energy it would take to transport someone so far, in one explosive manoeuvre, would kill you on the spot, or would simply result in nothing of interest happening. Let alone attempting to accomplish the same thing with a literal giant.

    Nevertheless, Violet had her work cut out for her even with the task cut into manageable chunks of land. The poor girl was likely more exhausted than he was, but Remus couldn¡¯t be too sympathetic, when the structure of his back was being rearranged second by second.

    Another gurgling roar from behind, and Remus let out a pitiful whimper.

    Preparing an activation of a Mark¡¯s power at a later time, like Violet had the night prior, typically took much preparation. Individuals at the apex of the Divine Ranks were able to do away with this step, possessing such a mastery over Mark manipulation that they could either withstand attacking over great distances with accuracy, or could blitz through the intricate preparations needed in a matter of seconds.

    As an Emblazed however, Violet had created vast swathes of areas with intensive amounts of Chaos energy. Then, after creating links between her Mark and these sources, she could remotely teleport Remus from a safe distance, whenever he crossed any aforementioned checkpoints.

    ¡°Com . . . rade!¡± Styrmir was clearly feeling ambitious today, attempting two-syllable words, but Remus was too terrified to process them as anything other than declarations of war.

    The final stretch was a grand, sweeping stretch of empty flatland. It was a microcosm for the entirety of the Tempest Territory, encapsulating exactly what Remus hated about the place. There was no terrain to use to his advantage, no obstacles to impede Styrmir, nor any shade against the blazing sun.

    And, arguably worst of all, absolutely nowhere to hide.

    Daily runs for Passings on end had reduced Remus¡¯ shoes to flopping pieces of leather, and he was very tempted to abandon them all together as they chafed against his raw skin. Actually doing so, however, wasn¡¯t a question. A breeze was building up behind Remus, an unearthly gust of wind comprised of a compressed Styrmir, edging closer to tear the thumping heart out of his chest. An explosive sound, like a tear in reality itself, was enough indication to Remus to scurry faster. The giant of tempests was up to his last steps now, and, like always, the universe decided it was prime time to screw him over.

    His ankle twisted. Remus was staggering before the pain hit him, and even earlier before a large, scaled hand grasped him from the legs up to his neck. His lungs were emptied of all their air, his organs were the subject of an agonising amount of pressure, and Remus¡¯ mind couldn¡¯t take this for reality. Dying now wouldn¡¯t just be anti-climatic, it seemed impossible. After achieving so much, slipping out of so many tight corners, he had admittedly grown cocky. Developed a belief of invulnerability that only scraping by death itself could conquer.

    ¡°Mine.¡± Styrmir declared. ¡°Mine!¡±

    The next zip was only a metre away, and there was nothing Remus could do. A scream throttled its way out of his throat in a hoarse sound, something in his arm bending in a way that was not natural. Not at all. His Engorged strength was nothing to Styrmir¡¯s, and moisture birthed out of both pain and frustration settled in the crevices of his withering eyes.

    Not one of his proudest moments, Remus bit into the Unbounded¡¯s gripping arms, scales of its flesh scattering off in fickle strips of skin, but Styrmir didn¡¯t so much as budge.

    It may very well have been a desperate thought, stemming from the terror that arose nanoseconds before being squashed like a grape, but it occurred to Remus that Styrmir had no way of knowing the trap that lay ahead. He rocked his body with all his force, adrenaline invigorating his worn-out muscles with newfound strength. His teeth chomped down in the most disgusting, last ditch attempt at survival possible ¡ª grey streams of blood soaking his hair in a monochrome makeover. He fought the urge to gag, lest he swallowed any of the Unbounded¡¯s lifeblood.

    Howling threatened to rupture Remus¡¯ eardrums past the point of functionality, and what made it worse was that he couldn¡¯t tell who it originated from. Styrmir¡¯s grip loosened, just enough for Remus to breathe in desperate, heavy inhalations. The Unbounded tripped forwards a couple steps, and after another vicious bite, a few more.

    That did the trick. And good fortunate it did too; any longer, and Remus would¡¯ve been a deadman. A word-shattering mauve reduced the word to a single plain, consisting of one overflowing pigment of purple. Remus felt a surge of relief as Styrmir¡¯s weight was released from his body.

    Before the adrenaline could wear off, leaving him to suffer the consequences of whatever the giant had inflicted upon his arm, his eyes blinked lazily at the visage of utter darkness. As they adjusted, the contours making up the image of a basic, mundane cavern filled out the environment before him. A hand latched onto his shoulder, and before Remus could even wail out, he was sent hurtling to gods¡¯ know where. No time to catch your breath today, it seemed.

    The distinct sensation of hard dirt sent a wave of thumping pain through his lower-back. The same back that was currently bearing the weight of a whole range of crude lacerations. Suffice to say, his next series of howls were no more soothing to the ears than the previous dozen. Over the generator of noise that was his throat, a secondary crash could be heard, as simultaneous vibrations riddled the trembling ground beneath him. Remus supposed, in a delirious thought, that such a racket was to be expected, after both a giant and boulder had just been plopped down in a rash activation of Violet¡¯s Mark.

    Remus noticed the airtight blockage impeding Styrmir exit out of the cave, at the same time he did Violet¡¯s sprawled form. She was lying prone, not an inch of her body moving. Hurrying over to her, Remus grasped his ginger locks in tight bundles, wondering with growing apprehension just how dire her situation was. The both of them had demonstrated a complete lack of foresight within their planning. Sure, they had rehearsed the same exact route over and over again in preparation for this morning¡¯s frantic rush, and Violet had only worked up a sweat back then. But how the extra strain of transporting an Unbounded on top of that had eluded their thought processes, Remus was left clueless.

    The last portion of the stunt, with Violet awaiting in the cave for their arrival, had obviously been the final straw. As soon as Remus and Styrmir had materialised, she had transported both herself, Remus, and the monolith of rock that would keep the giant at bay, each into their proper positions.

    For the cluster of rock, that had been the cave¡¯s entrance. For them, it was somewhere safe. Judging from the unconscious girl before him, the latter had proved hugely unsuccessful in that regard.

    Steadying his breath, Remus composed himself. The remainder that Violet would recover after a good rest was the only thing keeping Remus sane. This wasn¡¯t anything serious, thank the gods.

    He sat by her side, awaiting for the time ¡ª however long it would be ¡ª when she would stir.

    <hr>

    Iris arrived a day later, armed, and ready to draw any of her blades if necessary.

    She sauntered over in a deliberate fashion, each of her steps slow and exaggerated, as if she wanted them to grow anxious at the sight of her. Remus had watched silently as she descended, and as much as he hated to admit it, he found his throat running dry; his hands growing clammy. Violet, at his side, was much more effective at retaining her poker face.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°So,¡± Iris began, without preamble, ¡°how is hunting Styrmir going? I normally keep an eye out for you two, but you haven¡¯t appeared to be up to much for a while now. It''s . . . almost suspicious.¡±

    Violet held the woman¡¯s gaze without faltering, pointing over her shoulder at the cave entrance. Her mouth opening ever so slightly, Iris appeared to not have noticed the depression as of yet. Curtly, Remus spoke. ¡°Past the boulder. It should be safe now.¡±

    Discreetly, Remus gulped. They hoped.

    The three of them approached the boulder, and instead of having Violet simply activate her Mark and muddle around with reality ¡ª they didn¡¯t want to alarm the guard with any sudden actions ¡ª Violet and Remus came together to nudge it aside. Iris, after scowling at their struggle, came to their assistance. Wind circulated around the hand, and with a few well placed punches into the stone, it was reduced to flinging debris.

    Through the ashy smoke, Remus coughed. How he longed to one day possess such strength.

    Together, they entered the cavern, the sun from behind slanting its haunting light through. One thing that immediately struck Remus as alarming was the fact that in the prison of a giant, he struggled to locate the Unbounded. He charged ahead, both women at his heels as he peered into the gloom.

    Remus could sense the sceptical look appearing on Iris. ¡°If this is some kind of trick-¡±

    ¡°No trick.¡± Remus insisted, treading cautiously deeper, his own alarming ideas of what had happened to Styrmir concerning him. What if the cave wasn¡¯t truly airtight, and the giant had squeezed through in his gale form? It was a frightening prospect.

    But one that was quickly disproved, as he turned a sharp corner. It was the only area in the entire expanse not visible from the entrance, pressing deeper in a stark turn into the earth. There, unmoving upon the floor, the renowned giant of winds lay huddled . . . barely larger than the size of a feeble man.

    ¡°Gods above.¡± Iris muttered, hunching over the Unbounded¡¯s body. ¡°Did you starve him?¡±

    ¡°Well that was the general idea, yeah.¡± Violet spoke, but something in her voice had changed. Some miniscule shifting of tone.

    ¡°Well, whatever gets the job done, I suppose.¡± The other woman said, hand moving towards the dagger hanging from her waist. ¡°Now just to finish off the job.¡±

    Remus screeched in alarm, putting his body before the guard, arms spread out in a star shape. ¡°Stop! I have to deal the finishing blow, to fulfil the requirements of the trial ¡ª it would only make sense that way.¡±

    Iris, after some time, moved her hand away, nodding. ¡°Right. Well, credit where credit is due. I¡¯ll be waiting outside to take you to the Sky Fortress when you¡¯re done here. We¡¯ll report Styrmir¡¯s death, and I¡¯ll fly Remus up from the base¡¯s apex. Though, I will be checking that the giant is dead, so no tricky schemes, you hear?¡±

    They both nodded, in a for some reason solemn fashion. As Iris left, Remus kneeled by Styrmir. Every part of the Unbounded was exceptionally weaker, as if an animal, whose millennia of evolution had reversed. Their skin was a singular, sickly shade of pale blue, compared to the vast collection of pigments that had previously adorned the giant ¡ª though the title didn''t quite seem to fit the creature anymore. It was oddly depressing, like watching a vital part of someone¡¯s identity being forcibly torn away from them, in the next best thing to flesh itself.

    Its once gigantic hands were now stubs, from which tiny claws extended, a fading yellow not nearly as menacing as their former glory. With hesitance, Remus unsheathed a cutting knife he had previously used to prepare meat at meal times.

    He found himself trying to locate the area of the beast that would be the least painful to take, for, of course, he required proof of slaying Styrmir ¡ª regardless of Remus¡¯ own personal feelings on the matter. It was then that he found himself questioning his pity for an Unbounded. These creatures desired nothing more than to crush humanity, to dance around and play with its ashes, as harbingers of the apocalypse. And the most intelligent of the fiends, well, they were even worse. Yet even so, his sympathy didn¡¯t subside.

    Remus sensed Violet at his side, who was noticeably just as hesitant at killing the fiend. Or perhaps, barely disguised behind her superficial stoicism, she was coping with a more powerful dose of anguish than he would have been able to fathom. Remus shook his head, chiding himself. It would be impossible to tell.

    Perhaps it was the feeling of punching down that was bringing him so much trouble. It felt viscerally wrong, like he was as bad as Edmar, always striking at the little guy.

    But nevertheless, this had to be done. Remus, as swiftly as he could, sliced off a finger. He ignored the silvery blood, pocketing the thumb with uncomfortable grace.

    Breath heavy, Remus raised his blade above the creature, ignoring the quiet sniffle from Violet, echoing across the cavern walls behind. The knife was directly above Styrmir¡¯s heart, and the creature, in a gentle stir, groaned lightly.

    Remus¡¯ hands shook.

    ¡°Friend . . . ?¡± It rasped, in one, final breath.

    Remus plunged his dagger.

    <hr>

    Entering the Sky Fortress proved a challenge in itself.

    ¡°There are two possible pathways to enter the Tempest Clan¡¯s base,¡± Iris explained, the roaring winds not seeming to disturb her in the slightest, ¡°either you fly, or, for those not advanced enough to manage that, you climb.¡±

    ¡°Climb?¡± Remus spat, as they halted before an imperfect pillar, colossal in size, and shooting up to the cloud¡¯s surface up ahead. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to clamber up that? In this weather?¡±

    ¡°Indeed you are.¡± She answered, a hint of nostalgia glistening in her eyes. ¡°Ah, I recall almost falling down it a number of times, in my heyday.¡±

    Violet¡¯s lips scrunched. ¡°Is that a common occurrence? Has anyone died?¡±

    Iris shrugged, in a far too indifferent manner. ¡°There¡¯s typically guards like me on watch, to catch any falling rookies.¡±

    ¡° . . . So none have died?¡±

    Iris shot a hollow glance at Violet. Despite being of only one Divine Rank higher than her ¡ª Remus had speculated that Iris was a Foot-Soldier, taking to protecting her sect to skirt military service ¡ª the power difference between them was jarring. Hadrian, Veida, and even Andreas had concealed their ferocity under close watch, but Iris obviously didn¡¯t care for containing anything. She wielded her power openly, and Remus found his blood running cold whenever he was exposed to that suffocating aura. The only other individuals to rival the sensation, was on the very rare occasion he found himself in the company of a god. But those times felt to him like shreds of a dream ¡ª fleeting insights into a world greater than Remus. The woman before him was of flesh and blood, and indisputably real.

    ¡°I¡¯ll climb.¡± Remus came to a decision before had thought things through. ¡°Just catch me if I fall.¡±

    Violet spun on him. ¡°What? With all those injuries?¡±

    Remus hadn¡¯t considered that. He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful.¡±

    ¡°Careful?¡± Violet didn¡¯t relent. ¡°Remus, this is exactly the kind of shortsighted, spur of the moment decision-making that lands you in all the trouble you find yourself in! Can you for once think with your logic, instead of your boyish ego?¡±

    It was Iris¡¯ turn to round on him. ¡°Injuries? What injuries?¡±

    Remus was tempted to brush aside the gallery of marks lining his back, but Violet infomed her anyway.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll definitely be flying the both of you.¡± Iris said, in a manner that left no room for dispute. ¡°I¡¯m a nurse in training. I¡¯ll check up on your injuries as an additional thanks for dealing with Styrmir, but listen to your friend. She knows what she¡¯s talking about, by the sounds of it.¡±

    Remus had no time to formulate an argument, if any would have been possible, before the air streaked around him in an encompassing orb. A similar rush of the airflow surrounded Violet, and before he could even think, Iris muttered one last line of guidance.

    ¡°The bubbles will carry you along with me, but feel free to hold onto one of my shoulders. I¡¯ve heard it helps with the feeling of imminent doom.¡±

    ¡°Wait-!¡± Remus and Violet yelped in unison. Iris didn¡¯t abide by their desperate cry.

    The ground left Remus¡¯ feet in a buzz of the senses, the disorienting sight of a wall of sheer rock zooming past in a fashion that didn¡¯t appease his stomach. For a few terrifying seconds, it had seemed that he¡¯d lost the ability to breath. His lungs decompressed, and before Remus could take a mouthful of much needed oxygen, a breathtaking sight threatening to rob it off of him all over again. The trip had only taken six whole seconds of blood-curdling madness, and Iris had already reached the apex of the chiselled mountain, and up through the foamy carpet that was its crest.

    The air pocket faded, and Remus landed on a pearly material far too solid to be of a cloud. Nevertheless, his eyes didn¡¯t deceive him, and the material did diffuse slightly if he willed any part of him forcibly through it. Nevertheless, walking through a palace in the sky was not something he could ever get used to.

    Violet looked like she was about to retch, doubling-over. ¡°A moment¡¯s warning would have been appreciated.¡±

    ¡°What? You¡¯re fine. No harm, no foul.¡± Iris strode forwards into the airborne settlement, not granting them any chance to catch their breath.

    Together, Remus and Violet followed at her heels at sensible gait, taking in the unreal scene enveloping them.

    Ivory lined the cushions of white in clearly defined paths, and Remus was grateful for a standable surface not sending his survival instincts into overdrive. Buildings of varying sizes were scattered about the sides of these roads, consisting of bricks coloured the only shade this sect apparently knew: white. The surface was oddly reflective, as if glass, and an upside-down view of the clouds up above ¡ª in their proper positions ¡ª dazzled the eye in an enchanting spectacle. Remus assumed these were formed out of clouds even more concentrated than the drifting fog at their feet, with a sprinkling of Infinity supplying the buildings with their mystical touch.

    Glancing upwards, the centrepiece of this wonderland was revealed. A citadel soaring up to great heights protruded at the exact middle of the fortress, embellished windows showing a winding interior brimming with the shifting cloaks of clan higher-ups, through the distortion of their multicoloured panes.

    Remus couldn¡¯t disguise his awe, and despite his fear of slipping through the stuff at their feet with any heedless step, he was itching to explore every nook and cranny of the ethereal expanse.

    Iris turned right before him, stopping Remus before his excitement got the better of him. They had reached a rather humbly-sized building in contrast to the goliaths that were its neighbours. ¡°You two wait here. It''s the camp infirmary. I¡¯ll inform the higher-ups of Styrmir¡¯s death, check your injuries, and then, Remus, I¡¯ll carry you up to as high as I can fly. I can¡¯t assure you that you¡¯ll find the Ambition Sect for certain, but this is your best chance.¡±

    Remus nodded, feeling his bandages tickle against his wounds. Violet was talented in many avenues, but he had to admit, binding someone¡¯s abrasions wasn¡¯t her strong point. Nevertheless, Remus was thankful that she took the effort to do so anyway. It wasn¡¯t like she had to tend to his wounds, and regardless of her healthcare¡¯s quality in contrast to a training professional, her time had saved him from a world of unnecessary pain on numerous occasions.

    ¡°Almost time.¡± He murmured, an hour or so later. Iris had escorted them to the apex of the citadel, and both Remus and Violet had received several disapproving glares from old men with more wrinkles than care for the world. Remus had gotten the distinct impression that if they weren¡¯t under the surveillance of one of their own, a few of the clansmen wouldn''t have hesitated to hurtle them off the side of the Sky Fortress, right then and there.

    Now at its peak, Remus was about to do so willingly. With professional assistance of course, Remus was only partially insane.

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep watch over you from down here.¡± Violet told him, arms crossed. Remus wasn¡¯t sure how much help she could be from down here, but it was the sentiment that counted. He muttered a brief thanks, too anxious to offer anything of more substance.

    Iris arrived seconds later, the breeze rendering Remus¡¯ hair in a fixed sway. Connected pillars lined the quaint area at every side, and he knew they would seem insignificant, once he was sent hurtling into the sapphire abyss overhead.

    ¡°You ready?¡± She asked, and Remus wasn¡¯t sure of the answer.

    Regardless, as he handed a bag full of Infirnite and Unbounded flesh to Violet for safekeeping, he knew there was only one possible answer. One word of confirmation that he was ready to bring this wild jolt to its end. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Once more, the air gathered around Remus in semi-tangible drifts, tugging at his clothes in a motion that in no way settled his nerves.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to want to hang on this time.¡± Iris said, as the wind billowed far more intensely. ¡°Trust me. We¡¯ll be travelling near my maximum speed, and I¡¯d hate to accidentally tear your skin off.¡±

    Taking one last scan of the Sky fortress, Remus wrapped his arms around Iris, shoving down the blush threatening to purge his cheeks.

    All it took was one eruption of movement, a vast billowing of air, and Remus¡¯ fate was sealed.

 28. Watchful Eyes

    Remus shut his eyes tightly against the pressure threatening to tear the hair off his brows, fingers stubbing with pain as he clung on with all his might.

    Unfortunately, this ascent was substantially longer than his first. Dancing winds launched themselves at his flailing form for no other reason than to annoy him, and even through the closed curtains that were his shut eyelids, Remus found himself blinded by an impossibly bright light. Out of sheer, mad curiosity ¡ª the kind that killed innumerable numbers of cats on the regular ¡ª he allowed them to slit open ever so slightly.

    The sun beamed down with all the storming wrath you would expect from a perpetual hellblaze, and Remus only had time to squirm under its authority, before Iris stopped abruptly mid-air. Imagine hurtling upwards at a hundred miles per hour, only to abruptly stop in one wind-whipping halt. It was enough to make his stomach heave.

    ¡°Any higher, and you¡¯d have trouble breathing, or there would be too many clouds obstructing your view,¡± Iris explained, bobbling in a barely noticeable fashion, ¡°I¡¯ve tempered the winds to disperse in our local vicinity, but it would exhaust me too much to maintain our position this high up, and do the same to the entire local sky.¡±

    ¡°How long do we have up here?¡± Remus questioned, eyes scanning in awe at the collection of circular and triangular strips of land that made up Hybrid.

    ¡°Hovering is considerably less demanding than flying. We have enough time.¡±

    Reassured by the admittedly vague answer, Remus processed the entirety of the city expanding below him in a splurge of contrasting colour. First was the very outer areas of Hybrid: the eight territories. All unique, warring regions, in a perpetual stalemate where hardly anyone could conquer an extra inch of land.

    At their immediate location, gusting winds beat down stubbornly on the immense flatland that was the Tempest Territory; the Sky Fortress now a mere blip far, far below their feet. Of course, nearby, in roughly equally as large landmasses, were the other territories he and Violet had dragged themselves through ¡ª Territory Seven¡¯s non-ending sprawl of green muck, neighbouring the pyramids and mountains jutting out on either side of the ravine that split Territory Eight roughly in half. Just beyond, the haunting bonfire of the Flame Sect¡¯s territory set a hazy filter over the entire area, but Remus spared little thought for the territories as a whole.

    Sure, the crystal-clear waters of Territory Four, hosting the underwater cities of the Aquatic Sect, were nothing to scoff at. And, yes, without a doubt, Remus couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the colossal tree at the precise epicentre of The Wild Clan¡¯s Territory, stuck in all four seasons at once in a bizarre clash of aesthetics. But that didn¡¯t change the fact that Remus had come here to search for the Ambition Sect, and it would never be found here.

    No, for if he ever wanted to arrive at that elusive landmark, Remus would have to pass his line of vision further up, and to the right. Towards the ring of nonsensical earth that was the Shifting. A bizarre dreamscape right out of a fever dream. One spawned out of the disillusions of a fierce headache, a blood-curdling nightmare, and a drunkard, with more alcohol than Ichor passing through him.

    It was an imperfect circle containing yet another imperfect circle, the latter being the city proper. A run-down, plant overrun castle where the reigning monarch, God-Graced Juniper of The Wild Sect, would sit comfortably upon the Silver Throne. Remus almost drooled thinking of the power that seat could bestow, but he knew he was not yet ready to harness it. One day, however, he thought to himself, anchoring his attention fully to the Shifting, one day.

    The secondary circle demanded considerably more willpower to station his gaze at, primarily because the millenia old castle was far simpler. The eyes strayed towards the sight they were most accustomed to, and something he could put no descriptor upon was utterly foreign. He did his best to fashion the absurdities into words, as he turned his attention to the Shifting, regardless.

    Imagine a thousand different environments, a least half of them alien, with no regard for the kinds of biomes that would ever naturally form. Now shred all of these into a grinder, and watch the fragments flicker through the air like fleeting snowflakes. Lastly, in the world¡¯s most convoluted jigsaw puzzle, plaster them all together, with no heed for logic. And visualise this process occurring over and over again, in a perpetual mishmash. A mess basking in a greater havoc than Violet could have ever hoped of spurring into being.

    This was the sight Remus laid witness to, blinking rapidly in a fruitless attempt to stop his eyes from stinging.

    ¡°Are you finding anything?¡± Iris called, over the deafening sweeps of the wind.

    ¡°Just getting to grips with what exactly it is I¡¯m seeing . . . or what I¡¯m looking for.¡±

    Remus hadn¡¯t actually considered what a legendary, ancient sect would look like. Particularly a clan of such a vague idea. What powers could an Ambition Mark bestow the Enkindled? Remus hadn¡¯t the slightest idea for either of these questions, but he felt a giddy excitement that could have very well been sickness mistaken. Remus¡¯s entire journey, in a sense, had all been one long search, scouring for these answers. If he knew anything, it was that up here would be his best shot at acquiring them, or at the very least, a start.

    There was also the troubling issue of how the sect would maintain its position, in a land prone to reconstructing itself from the ground up at any passing second¡¯s whim. If it travelled along the tide of the altering turbulence of the Shifting, he had a better chance of finding a needle in a haystack.

    Iris spun slowly in full, repeating turns, allowing him to strain his eyes in his efforts. It was hard to see anything in full detail up here, and yet another aggravating issue presented itself: what if the clan was too small in size to be spotted from miles above? Perspiration dripped down Remus, as he was struck by the scale of his task.

    Think! He told himself, scrambling his brains. Assuming that the Ambition Sect stays put, that would mean the surrounding area would also remain unchanged.

    Collecting himself, blind hope pushing frantic fear at bay, Remus underwent another scan of the surroundings. ¡°Tell me if you see someplace that¡¯s left unaltered down there. I¡¯m getting the feeling that might be our jackpot.¡±

    Restraining from speaking unless necessary, to preserve energy, Iris obliged by his request. For a time, this silent search continued, with Remus¡¯ scowl growing more defined by the minute. With every passing second the fabled clan eluded him, his finite hope gradually tapered out.

    One word, and it was revitalised to maximum capacity. ¡°There!¡±

    Remus shot to where Iris was looking, a hearty laugh booming out of him. An unmoving patch of razed land was situated beyond the perimeters of Territory Three, of the Mammal Sect. The vague outlines of buildings were but toy blocks the size of dust particles beneath him, and there was the chance it wasn''t even the Ambition Sect at all. Nevertheless, it was his best shot.

    ¡°Thank you Iris,¡± he practically yelped in glee, a smile presenting all his teeth widening on his face, ¡°I¡¯ve found it. You can take me down now. I really mean it, I can¡¯t thank you a . . .¡±

    He trailed off, noticing the horrified expression contorting the woman¡¯s features.

    ¡°Iris?¡± Remus spoke again, carefully this time. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡±

    When greeted with no response, he instead followed the direction she was facing.

    If Remus wasn¡¯t under the mercy of an air bubble, and a steady hand upon his escort, he would have scampered backwards in a lethal reaction.

    A splinter in reality itself, like nothing he had ever seen, pulsated in a harsh violet light before him. Throat running dry at the sight of it, Remus didn¡¯t know what to think, as a hand followed by an arm ¡ª embraced by a wildly expensive gauntlet ¡ª reached out of the tear. The upper body of Nova, God-Graced of the Chaos Sect, emerged. The leonine man grinned in a fixed rictus, his crimson irises ¡ª Violet¡¯s irises ¡ª tiny pinpoints of hellfire.

    ¡°At last we meet, Death-Marked,¡± he intoned, and Remus found himself joining in with Iris, as the woman trembled gently, ¡°though I suppose that title doesn¡¯t quite fit you anymore, does it? Remus it shall have to be then.¡±

    ¡°How did you,¡± Remus choked, feeling the supporting tempest around him growing abnormally shaky, ¡°how did you find me?¡±

    Nova barked in a laugh that ended a little too quickly. ¡°Perpetual Sight. Us God-Graced are quite intune with Infinity you see. We can have eyes anywhere we wish. Once I sensed a group of presences so high above Hybrid, my interest was piqued, and just look at the fortune I scored! Now then-¡± He huffed. ¡°-where is my daughter?¡±

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Remus felt his every muscle contract, as a thousand agonises were inflicted upon his helpless body. The winds surrounding him dispersed, and the only power keeping him aloft was Nova, but under the cries that throttled out of his throat, he wasn¡¯t entirely sure which scenario he would have preferred. Hurtling straight to his death, or being left as the subject of Nova¡¯s ever creative cruelties.

    A warm presence beside him was robbed of all its heat, leaving a shallow cold in its place. In a turn of the head that cost him an agonising struggle, Remus'' eyes had no trouble widening.

    They watched as Iris¡¯ body swayed from side to side, the Mark streaking across her forehead dimming, and in a fate that now seemed so painfully inevitable, she toppled over. Her lifeless form sank downwards, and for the very first time, right at the end of her life, the woman was at the ruthless mercy of gravity.

    A pitiful squeak escaped Remus, followed up by a world-shattering wail.

    ¡°You bastard!¡± He roared, giving no heed to the consequences spouting such profanities to a sect leader would have. ¡°Rot. Rot in he-!¡±

    A blast of power, not meant to kill or maim, but to simply hurt, cut him off.

    ¡°What are your feelings on death, Remus?¡± Nova teased. ¡°Are you afraid?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He spluttered in response. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll have settled my feelings on the matter after I pull the heart out of your- gaah!¡±

    Another vexing chuckle. ¡°You have quite the mouth for someone at the end of their line, I¡¯ll give you that. But you haven¡¯t answered my question.¡± His tone grew serious, and Remus whimpered under the added pressure threatening to crack his bones right down to their marrow. ¡°Where is Violet? I know she must be somewhere down there with you. At the Sky Fortress, perhaps? Please save me the boredom of summoning down hell onto this petty outpost, and tell me of her whereabouts. We¡¯ve had enough bodies raining down today, but don''t think I won¡¯t hesitate to add yours to the stockpile.¡±

    Before Remus could omit his next breath, a blast of neon green fizzled into existence at their side. Nova scrowled, before the woman could even make her appearance. ¡°Joining us for tea?¡±

    ¡°For Infinity¡¯s sake, what on earth are you doing right above my city, Nova?¡± A stern voice questioned, as Juniper¡¯s face appeared.

    Gods above, Remus cursed inwardly, his throat aching too much for the comment¡¯s strain, two God-Graced after my head. Lovely.

    The leader of The Wild Sect laid her eyes upon Remus, no surprise at his presence.

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like you¡¯re not aware of why I¡¯m here.¡± Nova spoke. ¡°Our little fugitive here got too cocky ¡ª too comfortable ¡ª and thought it a wise idea to reveal his location right to us. Not that I¡¯m complaining.¡±

    Juniper did not look pleased at all, the tiny cut above her lip more prominent than it ought to be. ¡°I sensed another presence here, but it simply vanished. Did you kill a citizen Nova, not on the battlefield?¡±

    ¡°She was conspiring with a criminal Juniper, and in case you have forgotten, the world has been at war for the past millennia! Humanity was stirred into the Mortal Realms as vessels of warfare, and noting the fact that we¡¯re out of Divine Ground, no holy oath inhibits me from killing who I see fit. I could even raise my arm towards you, gods forbid I ever be tempted.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get cocky Nova.¡± She wrinkled her nose. ¡°Just because your sect has seen some impressive progress in the past two decades, doesn¡¯t mean The Wild Clan couldn¡¯t diminish your men to their Ichor if they so wished.¡±

    Nova waved a hand to the side. ¡°Water under the bridge. We¡¯re both after the same thing at the end of the day, to deliver justice.¡±

    His eyes returned for what felt like the hundredth time to Remus, and it was only out of his inability to move that allowed him to hold Nova¡¯s glare. ¡°Answer me, or I might just get bored of keeping you up here. Where. Is. My. Daughter?¡±

    Each word came with its own puncturing attack. Remus shivered, as what felt like four separate blades, unperceivable to the human eye, knifed him. Whether he would be actually injured, or if this pain was just for show, wouldn¡¯t be revealed until later.

    If Nova didn¡¯t render him a grease stain onto the palace below, that was.

    Remus looked over in desperation to Juniper, but she kept her features rigid. Whilst not necessarily agreeing with torturing Remus, what reason did she have to oppose it?

    Remus knew he was done for, after ten seconds of stubborn silence, before the burly man groaned in exasperation. ¡°More guests. Wonderful.¡±

    His saving grace was the last person he¡¯d come to expect. A third haze of colour ¡ª in this instance, a dazzling gold ¡ª and the situation somehow grew a billion times worse.

    Damosh¡¯s signature skin of gold would have been a spectacle, if it wasn¡¯t for the Godling the layer adorned. Well-kept hair, the shade of poisonous green, was set into a ducktail cut on his flawless face, which eyes of the same pigment were set into like insidious pearls. His perfect whites actually twinkled as he opened his mouth.

    ¡°What is all of this commotion about?¡± His voice dripped with annoyance, despite the fact the Godling had taken the time out of his own day to arrive here, out of no-one¡¯s violation but his own.

    ¡°Stick your nose out of business that doesn¡¯t concern you, Damosh.¡± Nova muttered, wise enough not to raise his voice too loudly against the ruler of a city he was partly based in.

    Remus¡¯s heart leapt into his throat, as the target of all his ire turned a lazy head towards him. ¡°The Death-Marked. So you found him.¡±

    ¡°So he can see!¡± Nova laughed with no humour behind it. ¡°Now if you would kindly bugger off, I was just finishing up business.¡±

    Damosh frowned, and Remus knew that Juniper was exhibiting more intelligence than any of them by keeping her mouth shut. Nova wasn¡¯t particularly high amongst First Rite¡¯s sect Rankings in the first place, and had solidified himself as one of the key players in Hell¡¯s Floor. Losing a little favour with the reigning king wouldn¡¯t impact him too severely, even if Damosh did decide to punish him a little for his insolence. Nevertheless, he was pushing his luck.

    How Remus longed to hold enough power to openly spit in Damosh¡¯s face, knowing full well the Godling couldn¡¯t do anything of substance to get back at him. That was the ultimate goal, to choke Damosh with a helping of his own medicine.

    ¡°I''ll soon be leaving then. I won¡¯t be taking your insults personally Nova, not only because I¡¯m above your petty attempts to squabble, but also because I can¡¯t turn a blind eye to the issues you¡¯re resolving for my city, with tracking down the Death-Marked and his associates.¡± Damosh rambled, sinking back through his rift in space. Remus didn¡¯t know how exactly the trio surrounding him were achieving the quirk in reality, but he concluded, in his dazed state of mind, that it was likely something to do with their symmetry with the greater forces of Infinity. ¡°Though in the future, in case I¡¯m not in as forgiving a mood, learn to hold your tongue, okay? It would do you some good.¡±

    Juniper spoke up before Nova could bark back.

    ¡°I¡¯ll too be departing.¡± She announced, her features slowly being engulfed by a verdant corona. ¡°I trust you not to overstep too far in my kingdom, Nova, correct?¡±

    ¡°You have nothing to worry about, Juniper,¡± Nova muttered, before the group finally disbanded in flashes of fading light.

    ¡°A little privacy at last. Where was I? Oh yes, you.¡±

    Remus could do nought, as his entire body spasmed, a puppet at the whims of intangible shackles.

    ¡°Last chance.¡± Nova said matter-of-factly, almost nonplussed. ¡°Tell me. Or die.¡±

    There it was, creeping through the crevices of Remus¡¯ mind in deadly toxins, destroying the essence of his character. Fear, doubt, indecision ¡ª all elixirs to undo his being, to crush away his own will, leaving nothing in its wake but the retired desire to simply obey. To let his endless struggles slacken.

    ¡°I know where we are Remus. In case you aren¡¯t aware, I sent off my other daughter, Verity, to assist Juniper¡¯s clansmen. How inefficient they are, left to their own devices. My point is, one simple message from me, and Violet will be found either way, regardless of if you decide to cooperate or not. You either die without cause, or live. It''s that simple.¡±

    The God-Graced leaned in closer. ¡°I have nothing against you personally Remus; it''s Violet I¡¯m after. Killing you just comes down to business. I could almost see myself admiring your schemes if they weren''t so foolish.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Remus quavered. ¡°Always wanted an unhinged fanatic as my number one fan.¡±

    Nova furrowed his overgrown eyebrows. ¡°You¡¯re in an exceptionally precarious situation. Buckling a knee to me is your only means of salvaging your own life. So be a good little Death-Marked, and kneel.¡±

    His lips gained a lopsided imbalance. ¡°No.¡±

    Suddenly, Remus felt his secured position wavering, the spaces between the invisible netting holding him in place seeming to expand. His hands instinctively scrambled for non-existent handholds, but found no purchase in the formless air encompassing him. As the last of Nova¡¯s suspending strings dispersed into the reaction of Infinity and Chaos that sustained them, Remus caught one last glimpse of Nova.

    Or the horrid beast that had taken his place. A pale white entity waved a pale white hand, its bald scalp as free of hair as his grin was restriction. ¡°Sweet dreams, little one.¡± Gravity seemed to catch up with Remus, all the world¡¯s weight plunging down upon his chest with the sole purpose of crushing the life out of him. ¡°Sweet dreams indeed.¡±

    Nothing held a crumb of sense. He was hurtling now, the ground rising below him in an indisputable fatality. Not even the cushioning from any catching clouds would save him, the material that made up the Sky Fortress seeming to harden depending on the pressure omitted upon it. His burning form might as well have been a comet dislodged out of orbit, zooming directly into the indifferent arms of concrete.

    You were right Violet, even his internal voice choked, what you said about your family . . . you were right.

    Still persisting over the threat of his imminent death was Nova¡¯s face ¡ª his true face ¡ª all cruelty and spite under his undercut front.

    Remus stopped struggling. He stopped racking his brain for solutions that weren¡¯t there. If he was going to die, he would face his fate with dignity.

    The last thing he saw before shutting his eyes was a blaze of purple, before everything went void.

 29. The Shifting

    Remus only reopened his eyes after it occurred to him that he wasn¡¯t dead. It was a strange notion with no clear explanation as to why. He had fallen thousands of feet at gods¡¯ knew what speed, accelerating with every fate-sealing second that rushed by.

    And yet he was here. Alone, but breathing. Or perhaps even that was a deception.

    Moisture surrounded him; cold, damp moisture. Had he fallen into water? But that didn¡¯t make any sense. Not even a vessel of gushing liquid could spare his body from the impact of that fall. Logic declared that Remus should have been a splattering of gore upon some random patch of grass, so why wasn¡¯t he? His body was in one whole, and similarly, only one inclination struck him, prevailing above the sea of enquiries. The urge to breathe.

    He erupted upwards, arms snapping into action as he grasped clumsily onto both sides of whatever it was that surrounded him. His fingers slipped as what felt like mush evaded his clutches. Blinking out a runny substance from his eyes, his chest heaved, his lungs grateful for something to rely on, other than a harsh deniance of oxygen.

    Familiar hands assisted Remus in dragging him out of the mud pit, which he may have found disgusting, if he wasn¡¯t already grateful for every additional second of life he was blessed with.

    He recognised Violet instantly. She began speaking before he could even open his mouth. ¡°We have to go, Remus.¡± Violet was breathing in deeply, somehow more alarmed than him. ¡°I managed to snag you out of there mid-fall. I would apologise for the poor location, but I really didn''t have much choice.¡±

    ¡°Violet, Nova, he¡¯s-¡±

    She extended a hand before her, eyes scurrying from left to right in obvious paranoia. ¡°Save it for later, we have to go now. The Tempest Sect isn¡¯t going to be very happy with us for leading one of their own to their death, and directing two God-Graced and a Godling up here.¡±

    Remus slung on his bag that Violet handed to him, actually sighing in relief at the weight of its contents. The shard of Infirnite and Styrmir¡¯s finger ¡ª tokens of his efforts ¡ª were safely in his keeping.

    He turned once more to Violet, suiting his most serious of looks. ¡°I think it would be best if I told you now. This could be word shattering, and for once, I truly mean it.¡±

    For a second, something in the girl¡¯s eyes changed, some visceral sprinkle of emotion that she shunned out before it could fully blossom. Her composure returned, and with it, her stubborn resolve. ¡°Once we reach the Shifting, no earlier. Now stop talking, and run!¡±

    There was no arguing with her. Remus took one last glance over the territories of Hybrid, felt an odd pressure build up in his throat, and broke out into a dashing stride.

    It was time to find out if the Shifting was just as bizarre as it appeared.

    <hr>

    Violet strolled through the forest of overgrown fungi, not at all surprised at the bizarre environment. She took a seat upon a toadstool of notable size, clutching her head in one hand and sighing.

    So it was true. Nova was an Unbounded, and the rest of her family, likely even Verity, had more chance of being monstrosities too than ordinary people. Strangely, Violet didn¡¯t experience the ultra-hit of despair she had been readily expecting. Perhaps her firm beliefs that it was an inevitable outcome, a depressing state of affairs that couldn¡¯t be argued with, had meant her acceptance of the reality had occurred Passings ago. Now she just felt numb, devoid of any superficial emotion.

    The notion to contact Veida through Pippin, informing her of the revelation, occurred to Violet. But it was shut-down before the alarming idea could take-off. She couldn¡¯t message Veida after what had happened, falsely pretending that everything was fine ¡ª the very prospect made her cringe.

    Feeding the sparrow at her side without the slightest thought, she didn¡¯t look up as the familiar gait of a certain someone strolled over.

    Remus took a seat on a mushroom beside her. In unison, both of their impromptu seats morphed into the crest of a sand dune, as their environs couldn¡¯t quite decide if they were supposed to be in an addict¡¯s haven, or a desert.

    ¡°Strange, isn¡¯t it?¡± He muttered, staring at the mound of ashen dust accumulating at their dangling feet. ¡°All of those territories ¡ª all of their respective sects, moulding the earth to their liking. All of those Marks activated for the same course, and this is the result.¡±

    Violet nodded in agreement, not particularly in the mood to chat. Nevertheless, some tiny iota of her with a slither of interest had to agree with the boy. She almost felt bad for the Shifting in a way, the stretch of land in an eternal fight to meet the commands of thousands of Marks ¡ª each of them demanding wildly varying biomes that suited that particular clan¡¯s area of power.

    ¡°We¡¯re almost there now.¡± A smiling Remus sipped at his tea, in a manner so painfully reminiscent of Veida. How could he be so carefree, when the entire world seemed to be crumbling everywhere they turned?

    ¡°It¡¯s less terrain to cross than we thought.¡± he continued, obviously trying to direct her focus onto lighter matters. Regardless of whether it was working or not, Violet had to appreciate that. ¡°The environment being what it is makes it hard to judge distance, but I¡¯m sure we¡¯re only a day¡¯s walk or so from this all being over.¡±

    Violet frowned. ¡°You out of everyone should know the most that there¡¯s still far more to come.¡±

    ¡°Yeah . . .¡± He muttered lethargically, finishing his drink. ¡°But it''s a nice thought.¡±

    Their final destination to fulfil the trials was so close now, and that was definitely thanks to the last Duration''s mad chase. After they had sprinted out of Territory Six, they never really stopped. Nine whole days of maintaining a breakneck pace, had led the two of them through a wonderland comprised of fever dreams. Violet could barely recite the things she¡¯d seen. They weren¡¯t based in reason, and thus couldn¡¯t be defined by the restrictive definitions of language. Nevertheless, visages of the Shifting would forever haunt her, if Violet was ever to let her eyes close for a little too long.

    ¡°Stare into the void and the void will stare back at you.¡± She muttered.

    Remus choked on the last of his tea. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    Remus appeared slightly disturbed, retaining a sidelong glance at her, but muttered no words to disrupt the overdraping silence quickly forming. It lingered as the allocated time for their break reached its end, and the pair returned to advancing forward with reserved enthusiasm. After a minute, Violet did away with the veil.

    ¡°What do you think will become of us?¡±

    ¡°Praise Infinity, you''re in a philosophical mood today aren¡¯t you?¡± Remus replied, actually sounding concerned. ¡°Is everything alright? You can talk to me Violet.¡±

    After a moment, she spoke. ¡°Doesn¡¯t the War seem like it will last forever? If we were only born to play as pawns for the gods, what happens when one of them finally wins? What happens when one deity stands on a pile of its kins¡¯ bodies, triumphant, with all of the gods¡¯ Infinity the playthings of one entity? Does humanity have any part in that? Do we cease to matter? A tool can only retain its use for so long.¡±

    Evidently taking his time to properly articulate an answer, Remus said, in a sure voice: ¡°of course we will, in one way or another. The gods will owe a considerable amount to us. We¡¯re the weapon they wield to enact victory, and only a fool would neglect the care of their blade.¡±

    Violet scoffed. ¡°What good is a sword you¡¯ll never have to wield again?¡±

    She had stumped him there. ¡°You raise a good point, but nevertheless, have faith.¡±

    ¡°Faith in what?¡±

    ¡°In humanity. In at least some of the deities being moral. That¡¯s all we need ¡ª one god who appreciates the hardships of mankind. And who is more deserving to win above all others? Someone who doesn¡¯t spit in the face of their followers, who sees the struggles of their people as their own battles. That is the god who will win this war. That I am certain.¡±

    Violet said nothing for a good while, and Remus let the time drone along as he immersed himself into a bottomless daydream. His idle reverie was only put to rest when Remus eyed Violet, passing a piece of parchment into Pippin¡¯s talons.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Messaging Veida.¡± She said the words as if they were a deadly parasite, forced out of her body. ¡°I might not know what to think of the woman now, but the world needs to know if a sect leader is an Unbounded in disguise. I can¡¯t let Nova continue unsuspected, merely because of a grudge.¡±

    Remus nodded. ¡°True enough.¡±

    A shallow breadth of water, barely a foot deep, expanded as far as the two could see in all directions. There might have been something identifiable in the distance, but amid the wafting fog obscuring everything in sight, they only had their imaginations to speculate on what may lay beyond.

    ¡°Not many Unbounded here,¡± Violet noted, trudging through the rippling murk, ¡°that¡¯s both surprising, and a nice change of pace for once.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Aside from a few minor ones, we haven¡¯t run into any. Why is that?¡±

    Violet put a finger to her lips, theorising. ¡°Perhaps they were cleared out? We¡¯re not the only travellers through Hybrid. The Undercrossing is the standard means of transport in and out of the city proper, true, but the Shifting is a popular tourist attraction. I don¡¯t get the appeal myself, but there¡¯s no place in the world like it.¡±

    ¡°What combination of strong and insane do you have to be to see this,¡± he gestured vaguely all around them, ¡°as somewhere worth visiting for fun?¡±

    ¡°Bored, retired Foot-Soldiers with too much time on their hands. Let¡¯s just hope we don¡¯t run into any on our way over.¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Nothing but the distinct, salty smell of brackish water infiltrated the atmosphere, the fog dispersing slightly just as it was beginning to grow too dark to see into the distance. The two of them agreed to keep travelling for a few hours, until it truly would be unwise to continue on ahead. They kept their talk to minimum, neither of them particularly in the mood for any more gloomy topics to exhaust.

    Despite the resting expression on Remus'' face, Violet could tell the boy was shoving down his excitement. Every so often, she could hear his shard of Infirnite jangling along with their supplies in that worn-down sack of his. How a sharp corner of the material hadn''t already split the flimsy bag open eluded her, but his anticipation at finally delivering it ¡ª however well buried ¡ª was almost infectious.

    Violet on the other hand, knew with solemn certainty that her own leg of the journey was only commencing. Through the central city, all the way to the Ravaged Lands, and from there, Hell¡¯s Floor, was their journey out of Hybrid, and to Akuji.

    Akuji. The name felt strange even to the tongue of her internal voice, a thought that hadn¡¯t crossed her mind for a time far longer than it should¡¯ve. What had become of him? Why was Nova, a confirmed Unbounded, entangled with a Warlord who had gone missing decades ago? One question answered after Passings of travel, and still it seemed that a hundred more continued to elude her. I¡¯ll be on my deathbed before I get the bottom of this. She scoffed. Before I finally get peace.

    Instead of altering, the Shifting appeared to have intensified their surroundings. It was like hitting the jackpot at a casino, a random decision of the land that occurred for the worst possible area.

    Swirling visibly into concentrated drifts, the fog grew to a virtually opaque, smeared appearance. It was as if the clouds had been wrenched out of the skies, dragged down with the sole purpose of being a detriment to the sight of any unlucky travellers passing by. What a misfortune that they met that description.

    And then there came the voices.

    ¡°Of course mist.¡± A boyish voice complained. ¡°No, not a mountain forged in gold, just swampy waters, and fog. We¡¯re really being spoiled today.¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± Two other presences, terrifyingly familiar, spat back.

    Footsteps crept closer, and both Violet and Remus froze in place, and she even found herself holding her breath. The footsteps continued, but something was wrong. The attentiveness of Violet''s ears told her there were four sets of them. Being raised in a house full of . . . full of whatever it was the people of her clan were, you developed the ability to distinguish individual gaits very quickly. And this fourth set of feet was so hauntingly recogniseable, so reminiscent to a familiar tapping that filled her childhood, that she couldn¡¯t help but attribute it to-

    No. Gods, please no.

    Suddenly, it occurred to Violet that things were far too quiet. The sound of the approaching group had ceased, the footsteps having slowly quietened over the course of her frantic thinking. What was she to do? They must have known they were there, or at least had sensed something lurking ahead.

    Remus stood with the poise of chiselled marble, the only facet of him with any motion at all the tiny trickles of sweat leaking down his forehead. His eyes were wide, not budging for fear of even the flapping of his eyes alerting the enemy.

    The walking commenced again, and Violet crept over to Remus on her tiptoes. He looked at her like she had a death-wish.

    Violet leaned in, whispered a desperate run into his ears, when all hell broke loose.

    The Shifting changed yet again. The water poofed out of existence in a bizarre sensation, an environment on the complete opposite end in the moisture department displacing it. Obsidian expanded everywhere she looked. Which wasn¡¯t exactly far, for Violet didn¡¯t dare lift her head; lest she be forced to see what was irrefutably there. She fought down the urge to squirm, the realisation that the fog had vanished ¡ª and with it, their one source of protection ¡ª reiterated by the fact that every inch of land encompassing them had come into stark detail.

    Slowly, she raised her head.

    Verity stood there, face as plain as it had ever been. She hadn¡¯t done so much as muttered a word, before her hand moved towards her sheath.

    ¡°Stop Running, Violet.¡± She said simply, the rest of the group too stunned to speak. ¡°It''s pointless. You only extend your suffering. For what reason? I do not understand.¡±

    Violet screamed, shards of obsidian tearing out of the ground beneath her, as the Mark upon her forearm blazed with all its might. Verity rushed towards her, clutched Violet by the throat, and then there was nothing.

    <hr>

    Remus could only watch, aghast, as Violet disappeared in an aura of purple. Too many thoughts, too many to process, befell him, and a knife appeared in his hand. He didn¡¯t remember drawing it.

    Elmore, and his two reported cousins, Koa and Ash, stood before him. The two younger boys merely stared at Remus, amazed expressions widening their eyes; stretching the oval shape of their mouths.

    Elmore stepped forth, emerald cloak and jet hair swaying in a casual breeze. ¡°Remus, Engorged of the Carpentry Clan. I, Elmore, Emblazed of the Wild Sect, by right of the law and personal request of the God-Graced Juniper, am permitted to take you under custody. Your crimes include robbery, desertion of sect, and evasion of the law as a known fugitive. You may resist, but I would not recommend it.¡±

    He punctuated the words by drawing multiple kunai, five of the throwing knives dangling on the ends of his fingers. Remus didn¡¯t dare move, and stepped firmly onto the ground ahead of him. Light from Elmore¡¯s Mark shone from his back even through his flapping robes, and eating through the igneous rock, grassy earth appeared.

    Elmore clicked his fingers without turning, signalling to his cousins. ¡°Be of some use, won¡¯t you? There¡¯s not a leaf or tree in sight, so we must forge our own battlefield.¡±

    ¡°Planning on spilling your entire plan?¡± Remus asked, taking a step forward. ¡°I appreciate the assistance.¡±

    Three sets of weapons were poised before him. Wincing, Remus suddenly lost any hint of motion.

    ¡°There¡¯s no point in concealing what can¡¯t be changed.¡± His past guard boasted, and Remus only then noticed that Elmore¡¯s unorthodox jewellery had been reduced to four. He lowered his gaze slightly, keeping all three clansmen centralised in his vision, but concentrating on his peripherals. There, jutting out of the ground in a sight that set goosebumps dancing across his skin, was an embedded knife.

    Elmore swirled the article on his index finger. Already, spreading out around the group like a festering disease, a carpet of brown and green steadily creeped across the floor.

    Remus tried to think, to formulate a plan. This wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d gotten himself into a hopeless corner, and he was determined not to make it his last. Nevertheless, no spur-of-the moment schemes, no trickly ploys to drag him out of the fray occurred to him. His nexus of a mind only conjured a rising tide of panic, and any sensible ideas steadily forming were swept up in its crashing waves. Dismantled into the tangles of logic they were at their core, discarded, and never to be ignited again.

    Instead, like a dying man with no other lifeline, he latched onto something beyond his wits, onto the code of life etched into every cell of his body. The urge to dash away from any dangerous scenario was an inclination Remus had conditioned himself to shun, after hapless fight after hapless fight. He allowed it to surface, let the riddling fear seep into his bloodstream, his bones, and then into his very marrow. It devoured him from the inside out, quickening his breath, pumping his body full of hormones and accelerating his heartbeat to deafening levels.

    Run, his subconscious advised him, each beat of his heart like the chimes of death, run like hell.

    His body followed orders, and ignoring his aching muscles ¡ª yet to recover from Nova¡¯s beatdown ¡ª he abandoned any iota of sensibility left within him. If Elmore could only attack Remus on fertile soil, he wouldn¡¯t dally as the Emblazed summoned him his own private funeral service.

    He was pretty sure he could outrun Ash and Koa. He had both age and experience in his favour in that regard, and physical enhancements after Engorged, up until the Splintered Ranks, were only minimal. It was Elmore who was the cause of his distress, the near adult likely of the cut able to keep up with him. Likely even to surpass his speeds.

    Nevertheless, catching up to Remus wouldn¡¯t be the clansman¡¯s priority. All that was required of him now was to slip within throwing range, and Remus was as good as dead meat.

    Or he could simply wait out the Shifting to disperse a more naturalistic setting, and abuse his Mark to his heart¡¯s content.

    ¡°Stop running!¡± The teenager teetering on adulthood spat. ¡°I don¡¯t intend to kill you, but if you¡¯re going to be tricky about it . . .¡±

    Not catching the rest of Elmore¡¯s words, Remus almost collapsed as a jagged point grazed against his back. It was more bruise-inducing than anything, but the blow was nevertheless painful enough to push through the numbing barrier of Remus¡¯ adrenaline. It took all his focus not to crumple right then and there.

    The sprint continued for what felt like days extending to Durations, and from there to a full Passing. Remus would be grey, wrinkly, and beset by rheumy eyes by the time either of them quit, he just knew it.

    Elmore¡¯s cousins weren¡¯t even visible now, having collapsed minutes ago. He couldn¡¯t blame the boys ¡ª Remus himself was feeling the aftereffects of his expenditure, from the soreness of his toes to dryness of his throat. But he couldn¡¯t see them for the innocuous youths they were; the pair of them were associates of a man doing everything in his power to lock Remus in a cell and throw away the key. If fleeing from only one advancing attacker were to be Remus¡¯ only crumb of relief, he would savour it gratefully.

    Elmore¡¯s fifth and last throwing knife made a whistling noise as it cleaved through the air. Not thinking straight, Remus crumbled under pressure ¡ª hopping to the side in a jolt without hope, slipping in the process. He turned the fall into a rolling turn at the last second, shielding himself with extended hands and-

    He only vaguely registered his screams as a secondary sensation, the keystone of his focus a seething, explosive ire unlike anything he had ever experienced. Nova¡¯s torture had been child¡¯s play compared to this, and the fact Elmore was mere feet away from towering over him mattered little in that moment.

    Let him take me away, some quiet sector of him thought, just put an end to this pain.

    No chemical in his body could numb the strain of this, and Remus dared to glance at his hand. It was less an appendage and more a ball of overflowing crimson. Tears gushed down his face, but he didn¡¯t dare wipe them away. Trickling rivers of diluted red would be quite the sight indeed.

    He launched to his feet, ignoring an agony that had his attention in a headlock.

    He was too slow.

    From behind, Elmore grasped him from beneath the arms, his hold unshakeable. ¡°I may have run out of blades . . .¡± he heaved, barely less out of breath than his captive. ¡°But I have you now. Any minute, and the Shifting will deliver me a fresh biome. Someplace where your¡ª¡± he said nothing more for a split second, steadying his hold against the boy¡¯s insistent squirms

    ¡°¡ªdeath will be assured. You struggle too much. Dragging you all the way home would be a living hell.¡±

    ¡°Why not just suffocate me then?¡± Remus blurted, in a comment that was probably unwise. ¡°Or snap my neck?¡±

    ¡°Are you suicidal, or simply stupid?¡± Elmore jabbed back. ¡°To be honest, I¡¯m still debating what I want to do with you, but I dislike such crude methods of killing. Maybe if you zipped your mouth for more than a few seconds at a time, I''d consider letting you live.¡±

    Remus could hear the conflict in Elmore¡¯s voice. He was altering from being dead-set on stripping Remus of his life, to indecision at any given moment. It was very possible the teenager had never killed before. Unbounded, he had likely skewered enough to construct his own personal castle in their ashes, but humans ¡ª other living, breathing ambassadors of gods ¡ª that kind of killing only really occurred at skirmishing villages, or the front lines. Not yet a Foot-Soldier, Elmore would not have been exposed to those horrors. Time was young, and in the grand schemes of things, the man latching onto Remus was even younger. His eyes had not yet witnessed the extent of this world.

    ¡°What happened to Tal?¡± The thought suddenly occurred to Remus, as precarious as his position was. ¡°Locked up in some deeper cell I suppose?¡±

    Elmore¡¯s silence dripped of unease. ¡°Edmar interrogated him, and . . .¡±

    He shut his mouth.

    ¡°Well?¡± Remus urged, noting the man¡¯s softening hold. ¡°What happened?¡±

    Another pause. ¡°He never left that room.¡±

    Everything suddenly grew very silent. The darkness of night seeped through the air, eliminating the last of daylight¡¯s amber essence. Bugs chirped, the lands at their feet began to shift, and in the very distance, just about recogniseable through the veils of midnight, familiar structures he had only seen from overhead came into stark view.

    A high-pitched screech rendered Remus¡¯ voice box into a thing of nightmares. His fleeting strength pinpointing to a fierce flick of the head, he crashed into Elmore¡¯s nose.

    He heard the sound of crushed cartilage, saw the birth of a sweeping new vista birthing below, but Remus no longer cared for his own safety. Let it be begone with the wind, for all the good it would do him. For at that moment, in that visceral second that twisted at his guts, he only cared for one thing.

    He would avenge Tal, no matter the cost.

 30. Battle of Blood

    Violet skidded across a floor of ice, slush mingling with the leather of her clothes. A blur launched itself towards her, and in accordance to Violet¡¯s will, both the lump of frost she was clinging to and the rest of her disappeared in a rush of energy.

    They rematerialised further out into what appeared to be an accurate recreation of an entire sea. Clinging onto a strip of blue, Violet stared wide-eyed at the wider glacier they had snapped away from.

    Upon its apex, Verity rivalled her glare, unveiling a rapier. She pointed it forward and down, mounds of snow, ice, and pure slush zipping around her in a chaotic entourage. Scrambling around to empty her own pockets, Violet uncovered no weapons on her person. She wanted to cry out, to whimper until she garnered enough pity for some overseeing god to throw her a bone ¡ª some kind of sharp end she could use to defend herself. No divine intervention came, and Violet was left to dodge and slide around her tiny chunk of rime.

    The projectiles faded out of the air in bursts of amaranth, only to reappear behind her, but there were too many for Violet to deal with all at once. Snow whipped at her limbs, leaving a scathing, burning sensation across her skin. Pushed back to the very edge of the platform, Violet could tell she was mere seconds away from being cast overboard.

    It hadn¡¯t been long since Verity had tossed the two of them into the ice-field, but the water had developed a tiny, millimetre high span of ice along several patches of the liquid. If the slamming waters below were chilly enough to form that, their temperature would be more than sufficient to inflict a fatal wave of hypothermia. The notion to escape, to get away and back to the bulk of the glacier, occurred to Violet.

    She didn¡¯t have time to set it into action before a glint of metal alerted her. Violet sent her Mark steaming, blipping away as far as she could. That was what Chaos was at its core: the action of taking things out of their rightful place, to strip legions of atoms away from their natural positioning. And thus relocating them to wherever her mind willed it. Of course, there were other things at the Chaos Clan¡¯s disposal, aside from spatial manipulation, but in the heat of combat, you didn¡¯t experiment. You stuck with what you knew.

    Violet imagined herself being torn metres away from that sinking lump in the sea. She needed a break after that round of abusing her Mark senseless, and desperately, but with her sister on her heels, that was a luxury she wouldn¡¯t be receiving anytime soon.

    There was a tugging disrupting her Mark¡¯s command, unphased shackles making the distance seem all the more daunting. Verity was fighting back, not allowing the chaotic energy to drag her anywhere. Violet returned from that black limbo, the mental exchange all taking place within the breadth of a second.

    There was a resounding clink from mere feet away, the grey blade of a polished sword deep within their dissolving podium. Violet was lying sideways, head inches away from the embedded weapon. She gulped, not blinking for even the slightest second. She means to kill me!

    ¡°Veri-¡± She muttered, before cold, unforgiving tides became her world.

    The two of them in one tangle of limbs sank, Violet¡¯s body suddenly gripped from head to toe by a cocoon of frosty savagery. Allowing her Mark to rest, Violet grabbed tightly onto her sister, holding her breath before any more liquid could freeze her insides. They were barely submerged for but a second, before yet another subversion of reality rendered the frothing waters replaced by striking winds. They were noticeably high up. How high, Violet didn¡¯t have the time to register, before Verity tossed her entire body downwards.

    Violet crashed onto the icy surface, an impact that encompassed her entire form sweeping through her. Rolling to the side, she narrowly avoided a second sweeping; this time delivered by Verity¡¯s sword.

    For a solid minute she ducked and weaved, her sister teleporting about the place in a ruthless circle. Violet contained her own interspatial joltings to a minimum, partly out of exhaustion, partly out of panic, and mostly to avoid retching where she stood.

    Cuts tallied her skin one by one, only the brushing of Verity¡¯s sword and the throthing waters below keeping the moody silence at bay.

    ¡°Are you one of them too?¡± Violet panted. ¡°One of those things?¡±

    Verity ignored her, not showing the slightest reaction at the words.

    ¡°What did you do to my sister¡¯s body huh?¡± She huffed, crying out as her shoulder was left wide open. ¡°Discarded at the bottom of a dump somewhere, or are you donning it, like some sort of sick doll?¡±

    That was enough to quiver Verity¡¯s lips. ¡°Stop speaking.¡±

    Violet centralised every speck of energy in her bleeding body, trembling drunkenly with a hand extended. Chaotic energy swarmed around Verity¡¯s rapier, causing it to lay stagnant in the air. Whatever was playing around with her sister¡¯s body narrowed their eyes, brandishing both their physical and mental wills on the weapon.

    ¡°I know Nova¡¯s an Unbounded,¡± Violet grunted, each step forward a herculean task, ¡°and soon all the Mortal Realms will too. It''s over.¡±

    ¡°Stop struggling, sister,¡± Verity spoke, just about stringing together a few words of the mortal tongue, ¡°you might have slipped out of my grasp last time, but not today.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that!¡± She shrieked. ¡°I¡¯m not your sister. I never will be.¡±

    The sword quivered in the air, stuck in response to two streams of screaming commands. Verity scurried away from its handle, hissing, turning a burnt palm over, as steam streamed from the hovering pommel. ¡°Continue to turn a blind eye then. Not that it will matter.¡±

    Her mental hold on the weapon didn¡¯t slip, and under the pressure of two conflicting wills, a chip appeared in the sword. Then a riddling crack, before the thing split apart entirely. Metal shrapnel skidded across the slippery ground, sinking into the devouring waters below.

    ¡°Save for the Rank difference.¡± Violet breathed in deeply, ¡°we¡¯re on even footing now.¡±

    Verity smirked. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on that.¡±

    The woman let out a guttural roar, her skin sinking into an expanding layer of pure white. The silky veil covered her whole, tiny points of black emerging out of the pearl pigment in a false impression of eyes. Before Violet could wrap her brain around the foreign entity before her, the Unbounded opened its slit of a mouth. ¡°I only carry out what I do for the greater good. I am but the lesser of two evils.¡± Clawed hands shot before her in a fighting stance. ¡°A shame you could never see that, little one.¡±

    Stumbling back, Violet failed to compose herself. Her heart simply refused to settle in the confining cage of her chest. The being before her exuded only the strength of a Foot-Soldier . . . but what Unbounded equivalent of the Rank could pose itself as a perfect copy; a flawless clone?

    Something else was happening here, something she would likely never live to discover the truth of.

    <hr>

    Remus tasted blood.

    You would expect ichor-infused lifeforce to taste a little different, to perhaps carry a rich tinge to it, but no ¡ª that same old coppery taste lingered on his tongue.

    A branch twisted around Remus¡¯ bloody arm, locking it in place with a refined grip that wouldn¡¯t do so much as shake. Despite his insistent attempts at tearing it aside, all Remus accomplished was staining the branches more aggressively with fat drips of gold.

    Elmore sat a few feet away, sipping at his waterskin and minding his own business. He appeared all together fine for a man who had just participated in a mad scramble. Maybe a little untidy, or you could venture so far as rakish, but otherwise, the Emblazed had only suffered from a few scratches.

    ¡°So,¡± he finally put down his drink to address him, ¡°I¡¯ve decided to let you live.¡±

    ¡°Go to hell.¡±

    The older man sighed, getting up. ¡°Don¡¯t be unreasonable now Remus, I had no part in Tal¡¯s death. Do you think I wanted to hear that man¡¯s final cries? Edmar¡¯s at fault here, not me. I detest that man just as much as the rest of us.¡±

    Remus knew he was grasping at straws, but he didn¡¯t care. He needed someone to blame, some target to redirect his self-hatred towards. Two people had died as a result of his actions. Tal and Iris . . . he saw their faces even now, overlaid upon any flimsy sight that would cross his vision. Not even in the refuge of darkness, as he shut his eyelids so tightly they hurt, would their ghosts elude him.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have-¡± he whimpered. ¡°Done something? Anything?¡±

    Elmore turned to the side, not quite facing him. ¡°I tried. I promise you, I tried. But I have my own sect to think of. A people I one day wish to lead. I won¡¯t let the Wealth Sect deliver any harm onto them, no matter how little.¡±

    Remus fought down the urge to scoff. The Wild Sect were literal royalty, in a sense, so they weren''t exactly in great jeopardy when it came to financial troubles. Nevertheless, he had to respect a man who put his people before himself. Tal would have done the same, and Remus, ignoring the constricting of his throat, would pick-up where the man had left off.

    Gods, what have I done?

    The man stretched. ¡°My cousins should catch up with us soon,¡± he murmured, turning around in a full circle, ¡°unless they¡¯ve lost our trail . . .¡±

    And so Remus was left with no option, no last trick in his arsenal. Elmore and his company would drag him by the hem of his tunic all the way back to First Rite. Back to Ruling¡¯s prison; back to the insidious hands of Edmar, who wouldn¡¯t hesitate to render his body into a bloody pulp, left to rot in some unseen crevice of the great city. His sect would have no saviour to undo the damage he had inflicted, no means to survive as their taxes went up and up ¡ª and whose fault was it but his own?.

    For real this time, there was nothing Remus could do. It was all over.

    <hr>

    As the Shifting burst into a sandy vista, Violet materialised upon a crumbling dune. A flash of purple followed her own, and mere seconds later, a clawed hand tore the braids out of her hair.

    Violet tripped into sand, as Verity dived upon her. With no time to resort to anything more cunning, she grasped the Unbounded¡¯s arms, flattening herself against the carpet of grains below. The creature roared inches away from her face, flecks of spittle splattering out of its mouth ¡ª open wide enough to split the jaws of any regular human.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Grunting, Violet lifted her arms centimetre by centimetre, keeping the fiend at bay. ¡°What are you?¡± She roared. ¡°What are you!¡±

    Reappearing feet away, now standing, she punched the Unbounded squarely in its distorted face. It waddled backwards a few dizzy feet, the being apparently unaccustomed to the form after doubling as Violet¡¯s sister for years on end.

    ¡°What are we, but a reflection of our memories?¡±

    The creature¡¯s attempts at speech sounded viscerally wrong, as if the entire universe had made a million mistakes in sequence, all leading up to the abomination standing right then and right there ¡ª a virus of the cosmos yet to be put down. It mimicked the beauty of language with every croaked word; with each uttered syllable. What was once birthed to connect people, now served as a tool to sever those very ties.

    Everything about the Unbounded seemed to be a deliberate mockery: not just of her sister, but of the world as a whole.

    Violet would do everything in her power to put it down. Not just out of contempt, but out of a sense of righteous duty. She couldn¡¯t let these venomous husks plague the human realms, left to their own devices to ruin the lives of others. As they had hers.

    ¡°If only she was still there.¡± She muttered, blipping behind, and kicking the beast in its defenceless back. Once more, it tripped forwards. ¡°What did you do with my sister? At least tell me that. Please.¡±

    The Unbounded kept its mouth shut, withering in uncontained fury. A series of blows like no other left Violet¡¯s mouth overflowing in a fountain of gold.

    ¡°I know you felt something before,¡± she blurted desperately, in between the punches, ¡°I saw Verity somewhere deep within there. I want to know if that was really her, if she isn¡¯t fully gone.¡±

    It gripped Violet from the throat, the dark abysses of its eyes glancing around in peculiar shuffles, as it narrowed down upon her. Even in those pits devoid of emotion, something tangible was transferred between them. Something like . . . pity.

    ¡°What you see is but an echo. I¡¯m sorry . . .¡± It hesitated. ¡°But Verity is dead. Moreover, the entire Chaos Clan.¡±

    Violet laughed, which would have appeared positively insane with her face coated in blood. ¡°Dead? The Chaos Clan isn¡¯t dead! I don¡¯t know how many of us are left, but I-¡±

    She paused, her attention grasped by a quaint oasis over the dune. The water sparkled in the moonlight, and below the crescent moon, both Violet and Verity were reflected. Except, in this image, the two of them were one and the same. Violet stared thoughtlessly at her skin, coloured the shade of ivory. Her voice croaked. ¡° . . . What?¡±

    Violet glanced downwards at her own tremulous hands. Except these couldn¡¯t be her¡¯s, there had to have been some sort of mistake. These were the palms of a monster.

    A hand not unlike her own patted her shoulder. ¡°Now do you see sister? Now do you understand?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She choked. ¡°Nonononono . . .¡±

    The Unbounded continued, but Violet wished it would just stop. To cease the suffering. ¡°We didn¡¯t know why that girl¡¯s memories persisted so strongly with you, to the point that your own history, your own sense of self, was overlaid. But I promise you,¡± the demon extended a claw towards her, ¡°stop this, and come with me, and everything will be okay. Justice will be delivered.¡±

    In the span of a second, everything slotted into place. These had been the answers Violet ¡ª if that name even belonged to her ¡ª had been searching for, for the better part of her entire life. Now she desired nothing more than to sink into a foetal position, cradling herself, as all the pain washed away. Veida had known of my true nature all along, hadn¡¯t she? It occurred to her in a defeated realisation. No wonder the woman abandoned me, she knew I was a monster.

    Verity shifted anxiously, awaiting for her response.

    Still, Violet remained trapped in her own reverie. From deep within, she felt the resource she had been straining for swirling, a once dormant entity sparked into life. The Infinity that she would¡¯ve sacrificed a leg for simply awaited to be tapped into. It was almost laughable, in a perverse sort of way, that she had ever wondered why Teviel had denied her of her vision. What deity would gift an imposter any sort of power?

    Benumbed, Violet allowed the energy to swirl through her body, cleansing and reinforcing her entire form cell by cell. Her fatigue rolled away, remnants of a distant past, displaced by a quaking sense of vitality. The strength of a Foot-Soldier, to accomplish anything she could possibly want and more, flooded up her limbs. The concentration of Infinity that made up her body, or at least most of it ¡ª the ruse of her disguise seeming to encapsulate even flesh and Ichor ¡ª deepended. Her Unbounded body wasn¡¯t even wholly of Infinity, it occurred to her. Even among devils, she would be a black sheep.

    Once more, she lowered her gaze onto the Unbounded¡¯s hand. They may have been kin in literal terms, but she would never be Verity.

    ¡°Sister?¡± The beast pleaded.

    Power gushing through her in intoxicating waves, Violet grabbed her palm.

    They smiled. ¡°See, that wasn¡¯t so-¡±

    As purple light flooded the area encompassing them, Violet tore off the Unbounded¡¯s arm. She felt the mass still dangling in her grip, even as the pair of them were stripped away.

    <hr>

    ¡°Just what is taking them so long?¡± Elmore mused out loud, staring forwards impatiently.

    The words didn¡¯t transfer to Remus. Sure, they ricocheted off the air particles through the atmosphere, arriving at his ears and inside his eardrums, but he didn¡¯t process the words. Their meaning was lost on him.

    Instead, his mind only had room for one sight. It was of his right hand, golden blood dried, but with one striking issue. An issue that would haunt Remus for the rest of his life.

    His ring finger had been completely severed off.

    Elmore looked over, in a manner that read as him being about to complain, before he too noticed the laceration. ¡°Holy . . .¡± He swallowed. ¡°I didn¡¯t intend to maim, I- I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    A thousand flaming, ire-driven insults lingered on Remus'' tongue. There were so many jabs he could spout, so many words of hatred he could fling to ease his pain if but for a moment. Instead, he muttered, ¡°It''s okay. You did what you had to. This is wholly my fault.¡±

    A sect on the brink of economic collapse, two innocents dying, and a severed finger. Was this what his legacy would amount to? Was this the extent of all that he was, of all that Remus would do during his brief time on this planet? He certainly couldn¡¯t argue that he deserved better, but truly, he had never meant for things to play out like this. Not one detail. If he could just go back; if the clocks would simply reverse a few Passings, none of this would have ever happened. But Remus knew better than childish sensibilities like that. History was set in stone. He had made his bed, and now, if it preserved the last shred of his dignity, he would lie in it.

    As the Shifting regurgitated a forest, at first superimposed over the flatland, before displacing it entirely, Remus vaguely noted that Elmore¡¯s summoning of a tree might be the most direct command the land was obeying. He flickered his head up, as if to take sanctuary in the tranquil swaying of the leaves, before several things happened at once.

    Up ahead, the vague silhouettes of wandering teenagers stumbled into view. Elmore turned to face his cousins, a relieved smile appearing on his lips. ¡°There we are,¡± he exhaled, ¡°now we can finally leave this damn pl-¡±

    An explosion of colour, of such an incredibly bright variety that Remus couldn¡¯t identify the purple undertones, and all four of them were forced to cover their eyes.

    Before Remus¡¯ mind could make a very obvious connection, two hulking masses frolicked into view. Well, they less sauntered than they did charge. Remus watched, mouth agape, as two Unbounded wrestled together, one of the creatures very noticeably armless on their left side.

    The tree keeping him in place must have truly been one of a kind, for not even his last ditch struggles could escape their winding fingers of oak.

    Elmore was the first to take action, summoning a wooden pike fitted with a stone end out of the immediate surroundings¡¯ resources. Wood and earth collided in the span of a few seconds, and the man twirled the staff in experienced hands. He cannoned forwards, only to abruptly halt metres away from the conflict.

    At the level these two were fighting, he would only get himself killed.

    ¡°Die!¡± One of the Unbounded roared, and the most concerning part was that Remus couldn¡¯t identify which of the two it had been. It was the second phrase he had ever heard an Unbounded to utter, and the false sound of it, the distorted enunciation, was something that would stick with him for life.

    Something about the creatures was screaming at Remus, like a distant echo of the past. Nevertheless, he couldn¡¯t for the life of him pointpoint what it was.

    Putting irrelevant matters aside for now, Remus glanced down. Elmore had thrown his bag aside before charging valiantly forwards. It was only a few feet away, the distinctive glint of steel surging hope within him. Not bothering to be discreet considering the circumstances, Remus fumbled with his legs, catching an end of the sack and dragging it closer. With his free hand ¡ª only one of his limbs entangled by the tree ¡ª he grabbed a standard cutting knife. Cleaving through the wood with this seemed to take forever, but with Elmore¡¯s focus away from maintaining the wood¡¯s strength, and metal on his side, he knew an escape for him would be etched out eventually.

    Elmore whipped his head over his shoulder, delivering a glare as deadly as a blade¡¯s edge to Remus. ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t.¡± He said firmly. ¡°Not after everything I¡¯ve done. This mission isn¡¯t over just because a few Unbounded interrupted us!¡±

    His voice grew hotter with each word spat out, the man''s features now somehow unsightly to look at. All surface-level patience and ease of mind disappeared, kindling for a deeper emotion surfacing in what may as well have been a volcanic eruption. Elmore¡¯s face turned red, and he stuck a finger towards Remus. ¡°Why did I ever grow to pity you, even for a second?¡± He edged closer, weapon lofted suspiciously. ¡°Don''t you understand Remus? This is nothing personal, but I need this victory ¡ª the embarrassment from having my own younger cousins nearly best me in power . . . my future would be jeopardised. So I¡¯m going to kill you. Yes, that will set things right.¡± He muttered, in a tone that read as plain as day as him reassuring himself. ¡°Your blood, and I¡¯ll be the sect prodigy once more. All will be fine.¡±

    ¡°Even over the lives of your kin?¡± Remus spoke softly, not the barest hint of an insult creeping through. ¡°You would let your cousins die?¡±

    A war of emotion ravaged Elmore¡¯s face. His features contorted so dramatically that Remus could hardly encapsulate precisely what the man was feeling. The two of them looked over to the duo of battling Unbounded ¡ª which in itself was a bizarre sight ¡ª and to the direction in which they were headed. Directly in their path, helpless to face the two goliaths, were Ash and Koa.

    ¡°You might not be able to defeat the fiends about to crush them.¡± Remus continued. ¡°But I¡¯m certain you would be able to evacuate them both away in time. Correct?¡±

    Elmore took one last glimpse at Remus, before setting his face to the ground.

    ¡°Damn you Remus,¡± Elmore croaked, turning to face his family, ¡°damn you.¡±

    Elmore scampered over in a blur of movement, reaching his kin in no time. Cutting through the last of the now brittle branch, Remus set himself free from Elmore for the second time, watching with a grim smile on his face as the trio rushed off.

    Out of one mess into another, he thought solemnly, concentrating back on the Unbounded fight. It was dawning on him to flee, to search for Violet, when one of the creatures toppled over.

    The ground trembled, vibrations riddling the earth in worming trails as the limbless Unbounded began to dissolve. The second towered over the first, panting before its form seemed to . . . shrink?

    In a bizarre transformation, Remus blinked, and Violet was standing over the crumpled form of an older girl. The two of them were almost inseparable in appearances, but Remus had heard Violet¡¯s description of the girl many times prior.

    Violet, who had just been a hulking Unbounded mere seconds ago, kneeled by the body of her dying sibling. Remus joined her without a word, not daring to question a thing. He wouldn¡¯t yet, and though Violet¡¯s alternative form had bewildered him beyond belief, the bereavement of one¡¯s own flesh and blood demanded respect, and above all else, patience.

    Her body dissolved slowly, in accumulating wisps of fading white. The strands of Infinity that made up the creature¡¯s body had already begun to disperse into the atmosphere. Violet didn¡¯t have long until Verity would disappear for good.

    The girl appeared to be at a loss for words, scrambling for the right thing to say. Remus understood that sensation greatly. That feeling of obligation to utter nothing but profound words, that would put all at ease was a nice thought, but a matter of seconds was not ample enough time to express everything she wanted to say in a few succinct sentences. So she didn¡¯t bother saying them openly, hoping Verity¡¯s understanding of her would be enough for them to understand. That the wistful look capturing her face would get the message across just as well as any rambling monologue could.

    ¡°Goodnight, Violet.¡± It ushered in a weak, hauntingly human voice, delirious eyes staring upwards, to nothing in particular. ¡°Goodnight.¡±

    ¡°Goodnight Sister.¡± Violet sobbed. ¡°Rest well.¡±

 30.5. Revelations

    Before the two of them could depart to the Ambition Sect, Violet had insisted upon bandaging Remus¡¯ hand. Neither of them said a word about the injury, and in exchange, Remus kept his lips sealed about Violet¡¯s true form. Clearly, it would elicit an explanation with no clear answers, and he was not particularly in the mood to broach any convoluted topics that enquiring upon would likely do more harm than good.

    ¡°Elmore and the others will return once they realise the fight¡¯s over.¡± Violet said, not wholly present. ¡°We move now, and quickly.¡±

    Remus nodded, staring out in wonder as they advanced deeper into a valley. Jutting out all around them in protective formations were mountains. They weren''t quite as high as those of Territory Eight, but were more than enough to supply a tactical advantage. If the Ambition Sect ever were to be attacked, if their location ever did become widely known, the land would act as their shields.

    Both of them were exhausted, and Remus knew he had lost too much blood today. He would need to rest soon, but not yet. Not until he received the divine fruits of his labour.

    ¡°My finger,¡± Remus finally found the courage to address the severed end, looking straight ahead, ¡°it won¡¯t heal back, will it? Not at Engorged, of course. But what about when I reach higher Ranks? I¡¯ve heard entire arms or legs can be restored, at certain realms of power.¡±

    Violet could have stopped at her hesitance, and that would have been answer enough. ¡°It''s true that an Emblazed can restore lost fingers, and other small parts of the body, but they cannot heal injuries acquired before that Divine Rank is achieved. I am sorry.¡±

    Remus turned his attention to the ground at his feet. ¡°Suspected as much.¡±

    The Ambition Sect was fairly spacious, as they arrived at its borders, with minimalist buildings protruding out of a levelled area. Standing one step away from trespassing its outer-gate, Remus steadied his breathing, avoiding the few loitering citizens staring his way. Too delirious to pick up on many details, Remus left a full-inspection until he was sound of mind.

    ¡°Go on,¡± Violet urged, ¡°accept what you have earned.¡±

    Remus composed himself, and stepped forwards.

    Instantaneously, he found himself standing on thin-air, clouds dotted about the skies as he found himself transported in a seamless transition. He became acutely aware of the sack upon his back growing noticeably lighter. The Infirnite and Styrmir¡¯s boon, it occurred to him, gone with the wind. A fitting end for the last of the giant, he couldn¡¯t help but think.

    He was just about getting his bearings with the area, adjusting to wandering upon nothing at all, when a voice like no other demanded his attention.

    ¡°Remus.¡± The depth of a god¡¯s words left him stunned. ¡°Finally, you¡¯ve found your way to me.¡±

    Swivelling round, Remus took his first glimpse of Tanish, the god of Ambition.

    It went without saying that the deity was muscular; his scarred, tanned skin bulging as it contained him. What came as a surprise, however, was that Tanish suited the appearance of a young, blonde man ¡ª going against the image of a bearded being of vast age, that always surfaced in Remus¡¯ mind when he heard the term god. A rakish smile played on his lips, and he was adorned simply, in robes that did nothing to veil his physique: a picturesque musculature, that would inspire adulation in the most powerful of men.

    Looking down at his wrapped hand, Remus murmured, ¡°it wasn¡¯t easy.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I made certain it wouldn¡¯t be. You ought to be proud of yourself, young man. You¡¯re the first new recruit to have fulfilled the Trials of the Earnest in a long time indeed. The clansmen you saw, pardon their intrusion, are all descendants of people like you.¡±

    He slapped his knee in a sudden movement, resting on a throne crafted out of the finest ivory. ¡°I won¡¯t keep you waiting any longer Remus. Here you have it ¡ª my Mark.¡±

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Remus felt his very skin stir. Whether it was out of what was to come next, or merely goosebumps, he couldn¡¯t tell. Surfacing under the torn shreds of his tunic, a colourless Mark spread, worming down his right shoulder, to across his tricep. He barely let it materialise fully, before channelling his Ichor towards it.

    Tanish laughed. ¡°An impatient one, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Colour blossomed across Remus¡¯ flesh in the most surreal sensation of his life. Remus could barely differentiate the Mark¡¯s image from its striking blues and reds, through the waterfall of moisture arising in his eyes.

    Wiping them clean, the stark illustration stuck out to him. It depicted the being before Remus, withstanding a gire of flame from the Fire deity, Ashbel, who Remus was just now noticing to be a common appearance throughout all the Marks he had seen. His arms were crossed while doing so, an erupting turquoise encompassing him as Tanish grinned smugly.

    ¡°I¡¯m Enkindled.¡± It dawned on Remus, unable to tear his gaze away from the most beautiful sight of his life. ¡°I¡¯m Enkindled.¡±

    There was a comfortable silence, where Remus had never felt more at peace. He was not content ¡ª far from it, this was merely the first step in a long and winding journey ¡ª but for a few fleeting seconds, everything seemed okay. And that was enough for now.

    ¡°Not to be the bringer of bad news,¡± Tanish began forebodingly, after a time. ¡°But not all is sunshine and rainbows, I¡¯m afraid. The same forces that tried to capture you in the first place won¡¯t settle now; in fact, they¡¯ll be keen to strike back, stronger than you could possibly imagine. You will have to be ready.¡± The deity warned. ¡°You will have to train like never before.¡±

    As the abyss of cloud and sky disappeared around Remus, like a curtain stripped back to unveil the reality creeping behind, the Enkindled steeled his will.

    A tiny flicker of blue flame settled on the tip of Remus¡¯ index finger. ¡°Let them come,¡± he intoned, ¡°let me see just how much more this world has left to throw at me.¡±

    Tanish shot him one last boisterous smile, and then there was nothing.

    <hr>

    Damion stood sharply outside the perimeters of the Carpentry Sect''s base, breathing in deeply as a morning sun shone down upon his body. A larger presence, that of his great grandfather, towered behind, omitting a shadow where the light dared not stray.

    The two of them walked wordlessly to either end of a sketched out rectangle, the chalk vague in places often trodden.

    ¡°Okay Damion,¡± Andreas said, strangely serious, ¡°show me what you¡¯ve learned.¡±

    Taking a steady breath, Damion tried to eradicate any surfacing thoughts of Remus out of his mind. The mere thought of his brother, of what he had done before dashing away half-way across the world . . . it elicited a greater ire than Damion was aware he had within him. The Carpentry Clan had been on its last legs, and Remus had decided to topple it onto its knees.

    Then, with each Passing¡¯s taxes more ridiculous than ever, and the death of Andreas a dreadful certainty, a gaping hole had been left in the clan. A leader. As much as Remus might desire to fit that role, the Carpentry Sect needed a figurehead who was present, and not to mention free of any criminal charges. All in all, things were looking grim indeed.

    Damion mentally smacked himself, marshalling the occupying thoughts away and wielding his will. By his hands, carpentry tools hovered.

    ¡°This is a truly unorthodox way of using the Carpentry Sect¡¯s Mark, but if you ever want to grow beyond Emblazed . . .¡±

    Hovering slabs of wood materialised before Andreas, the material probably stripped off some structure in the immediate vicinity. With a yell, the Warlord sent them flying towards Damion with startling speed. The Emblazed hopped back, sawing the projectiles away with his own summoned arsenal. Beaming in delight, the sound of sliced wood smacking against the ground was a glorious harmony to his ears, only to be cut short as a slab collided with Damion¡¯s forehead.

    ¡° . . . you¡¯re going to have to manipulate a labour-purposed power into something utterly foreign. If you ever hope to take my place son, you¡¯ll need to twist your Mark into a weapon. Stretch beyond your set boundaries and expectations, and become greater!¡±

    Steeling his temper, Damion got up off the ground, and held his tongue. These words had been the very same the Warlord had been drilling into him for the last few Passings. Ever since Arcus had appeared to him in a dream, offering him a Boundless Bank, Damion hadn¡¯t hesitated to accept the divine tool, using it to all its worth. With Remus leaving their sect in jeopardy, Damion had been at a loss for Durations on end. But this was it ¡ª this was his purpose.

    Without words, the two of them began again. Instead of being the target of a flying piece of timber, this time, Damion was the subject of a hurtled awl. He tripped in his attempt to escape, reuniting with his most familiar friend of all: hard ground.

    For the hundredth time, Damion leapt to his feet.

    END OF ARC 1: PAVED IN GOLD

 31. Complications

    ARC 2: CAST IN SHADOW

    Remus had never been good at starting conversations with strangers; particularly strangers with a spear-point to his throat.

    The Ambition Clan spanned out around him, and Remus couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the tight-knit community, clustered between cloud-tearing mountains at all angles. Lit candles, many of their wicks a noticeably blue flame, beckoned away the night¡¯s encroaching darkness. Whilst many of their buildings were lost to Remus in the gloom, the vague contours of the hamlet gave him the impression of a humble, but serviceable place.

    What a pity that the obscuring veil didn¡¯t extend to the armed gathering around him. The little light available was more than enough to highlight the glares scrutinising Remus, in that awfully thorough manner.

    Dazed, he could barely register the swarm of faces, blades hefted his way amongst the clansmen. In the ghostly luminance, it was all the more haunting. With Violet to his back, the two of them huddled together, the inclination to lash out at them all terribly intoxicating.

    ¡°Are you trying to expose us?¡± One voice shouted, out of the angry mob.

    ¡°No, I-¡±

    ¡°First the Unbounded attacks, now you two lead other clans towards us!¡± Another presence, equally as furious, didn¡¯t hesitate to speak their mind. ¡°Or were you both behind that first incident as well?¡±

    The Mark on Remus¡¯ shoulder ¡ª a new addition to his arsenal, but one he could certainly make useful ¡ª was practically beckoning at him to activate it. It was addling his mind, eating away at his self-restraint; freeing Remus of his cautious inhibitions. Who were these people to threaten him? Now that he had his Mark, the destruction he could inflict . . .

    In a rush of reasoning, Remus shook his head. Sure, the potential power on his hands now was nauseating, even more so compared to the meagre strength he possessed beforehand. Perhaps, if he really was swift about it, at any passing second, enough power to get away from the Ambition Clan could be whipped out of his fingertips.

    But the last time Remus had made a rash decision, two people had died. If there ever was a time to be logical, now would be it. He was about to speak up, shoving down his fiery inclinations, when a bearded mass of muscle waltzed over.

    ¡°Is this any way to treat newcomers?¡± An elderly voice enquired, bushy, snow-white eyebrows masking his face. ¡°Particularly, a new member of our clan?¡±

    Disbelieving faces scrutinised Remus. His torn tunic veiling nothing of his Mark,Tanish¡¯s smug, undeniable form was visible to all.

    A blonde young man, eyes fixed with a neon, unnatural blue with no whites, refrained from his previous silence. ¡°The Gallery will host the proof of his efforts, if this is true. Ma?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll check,¡± a woman, quite obviously his mother, stepped forth. ¡°Come, Aziel.¡±

    The two left, and Remus, for some peculiar reason, couldn¡¯t help but feel abandoned. The two had been the only individuals of the gathering without that awful dislike in their poise.

    Violet shifted uncomfortably behind him, muttering into his ear. ¡°By the aura he¡¯s giving off, that old man is their sect leader. Use your head, and we can probably talk our way out of this.¡±

    Swallowing his pride, Remus fell to one knee. ¡°My sincerest apologies.¡±

    All murmuring ceased, an entire clan¡¯s worth of eyes set on him. ¡°Me and my companion here were caught in the crossfire between a few members of The Wild Clan. I didn''t mean to intentionally reveal your location to them, I can swear an Oath upon it.¡± Sensing their anger slipping, Remus decided to push a little further. ¡°I hear you¡¯ve had Unbounded trouble, care to expand on that? Perhaps we could help out.¡±

    It was here that Remus realised something crucial. The people of this sect weren¡¯t angry at them, exactly. These poor clansmen had just been scared out of their skins in the middle of the night, and by the sounds of it, were likely expecting an Unbounded raid in his stead. After growing that paranoid, Remus would be looking for something to target his anger at too.

    Quite a few sighs resounded all around. Pity sprouted in Remus¡¯ heart at the weary sound pervading through it all.

    The sect leader approached. ¡°Seeing how you¡¯re a member of our clan now, Sir, it would only be right to inform you of some of the dangers you¡¯ll be facing, if you do decide to stay here, mister . . . ?¡±

    ¡°Remus.¡±

    He seemed to mull the name over, as if sucking away on a piece of confectionary. ¡°Remus, eh? I¡¯m Brison. I¡¯ve been ruling over this clan for nearly a century, and lived nearly for twice that long. But never before have I seen so many raids befall us. The Unbounded are trying to eliminate the lot of us, it is quite clear, so you might be able to imagine why your welcoming may have come off as a little hostile.¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t have to feign his sincerity, an unbecoming frown settling on his face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that. And don¡¯t worry, I took no offence.¡±

    Inwardly, Remus let out the greatest sigh of his life. Whoever this Brison individual was, their sheer lifespan alone meant they were at least as powerful as Andreas. Remus had no business starting grudges with Warlords.

    That should settle things, he mused. Only for his tension to spike straight back up, as pointed hands turned to Violet.

    ¡°Who is she?¡± Several people enquired, and their tones, whilst not impolite, held a foreboding quality to them that Remus didn¡¯t find to his liking.

    Stuttering, Remus was saved when he recalled that Violet was quite capable of talking for herself.

    ¡°Excuse my intrusion,¡± she began, stone-faced, ¡°I¡¯m merely passing through ¡ª I have business in the Ravaged Lands you see, clan affairs. If you would allow me to work for my stay, I would most appreciate it.¡±

    More muttering, but less heated.

    ¡°By the sounds of it, you¡¯ll have plenty of odd jobs to attend to,¡± Brison said, ¡°but I need to know one key thing.¡±

    Violet narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Can you fight?¡±

    She grinned, but it was the most subtle curving of the lips Remus had ever seen. More like the hint of amusement, instead of actually expressing it. ¡°Whilst not nearly as well as you, I suspect, I think you¡¯ll find my capabilities . . . adequate.¡±

    Brison nodded, and, realising there was no real danger, the crowd flocked back to their respective huts.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see about finding you two somewhere to rest, and in the morning Remus, you may explore the Gallery, as is tradition for all newcomers arriving through the trials.¡±

    Nodding, Remus acted as if he knew exactly what the man was talking about. By the sounds of it, the Gallery was some sort of museum associated heavily with the Trials of the Earnest. Putting aside his scepticism for now, Remus supposed a little sightseeing would be a breath of fresh air.

    ¡°Not to badger the two of you after a long night, but I must make something crystal clear: hide no secrets. There¡¯s enough danger afflicting us as there is, and, not to antagonise, but you two bringing any extra would not sit well with any of us. Not at all.¡±

    Remus could sense Violet¡¯s struggle not to pass him a wayside glance. The two remained painfully silent, as Brison marched away.

    <hr>

    ¡°You really shouldn''t have,¡± Remus spoke to the back of two blonde heads, walking around a stretch of fences, and to the front of a line of barns. He hadn¡¯t known what to expect when arriving at the Ambition Clan, but an entire farm, spanning out as far as he could espy through the twilight gloom, certainly wasn¡¯t the first thing to come to mind.

    ¡°Oh, it''s no trouble,¡± the older woman reassured, smiling sweetly, ¡°I know stacks of hay don¡¯t make the most comfortable of beds, but they¡¯ll keep you warm.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± a sleepy Violet spoke softly, her drooping eyelids and slanted posture indicating all it needed to. ¡°I think I could sleep on brick right now.¡±

    Hansley laughed, but Remus got the troubling impression that comment hadn¡¯t been intended to amuse.

    ¡°Aziel, dear, would you take care of our guests?¡±

    Hansley¡¯s son nodded, sapphire irises clearly no hereditary inheritance from his mother. Remus¡¯s attention was drawn to the woman¡¯s naturally blue nails however, and it didn¡¯t take a genius to tell there was another cause for the shade, other than standard nail polish.

    With Violet hitting the hay ¡ª quite literally ¡ª before any of them could notice, Remus struck up a conversation with Aziel.

    ¡°Your eyes, are those an alteration you gained from reaching Emblazed?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± he answered, leaning over a fence, and staring distantly forwards, ¡°bodily changes after Emblazed are quite common amongst our sect. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if I saw you running around with blazing blue hair in a few Passings.¡±

    Remus chuckled. ¡°So, this Gallery. What¡¯s it like?¡±

    ¡°Big place.¡± Aziel said dryly, eyes not looking away from the dormant crops. ¡°It houses all the pieces of evidence for each trial-taker. Nowadays, it''s a rare thing indeed for the sect to expand that way. Most of us are descendants from past takers of the trials.¡±

    The sustainability of this troubled Remus, but before he could comment on it, he noticed what Aziel was staring at so fiercely.

    Out in the farm, entire rows of vegetables had been torn out of the ground. Soil flickered here and there to stain the fences an unpleasant brown, and the perimetres were toppled in several areas.

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    ¡°What happened here?¡±

    One word, and Remus was told all he needed to know. ¡°Unbounded.¡±

    There was an awkward silence, where neither of them said a thing. Dark thoughts spawned in Remus¡¯ speculating mind. The aversion to the fiends was so strong here, so all-encompassing. If Violet¡¯s true form was ever exposed . . .

    But could he blame them? Remus was Violet¡¯s closest friend, to his knowledge anyway, and not even he knew what to make of her revealed identity ¡ª however much shame that truth sparked within him. Remus didn¡¯t hold a grudge against her of course, or any sort of prejudice. If there was anything Remus could rely on as fact within this whole Unbounded ordeal, it was that Violet was nothing like the rest of her scheming kin. Alas, the people of the Ambition Clan didn¡¯t know her as well as Remus did. It was insanely dangerous for her to merely stay here for a few hours, let alone Durations. Regardless of how inconspicuous she attempted to be.

    But then again, was there anywhere on earth that wouldn¡¯t merit a risk?

    A sickly sensation sent Remus¡¯ stomach churning.

    ¡°Do you work on the farm?¡± He asked, purely to change the subject.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been helping out since my father died, a few years back.¡± In a sudden change of mood, Aziel scowled. ¡°Mother wants me to spend the rest of my life ploughing these fields. That¡¯s the problem you see: all of her ambition is directed at the farm, on mastering agriculture. She can¡¯t seem to accept that my passions aren¡¯t her¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°Then what do you want to do?¡±

    Aziel¡¯s face softened. ¡°To become a Foot-Soldier, and join the war-effort. Out there, I¡¯ll really be able to pay back the Unbounded. Who do they think they are? Trampling over here and dashing away before we can strike back?¡±

    Remus'' eyes widened, as a subtle blue spark arose from Aziel¡¯s clenched fist.

    ¡°Um, Aziel-¡±

    ¡°They contributed to my father¡¯s death, I just know it. He claims his injuries from one of the first raids weren¡¯t a problem, but I know that if they had never laid a scratch on him-¡±

    His entire hand was ablaze now, flickering with the might of turquoise flame.

    ¡°-he would still be around!¡±

    ¡°Aziel!¡±

    The fire reached the sleeve of his tunic, and, in a wild panic, Aziel patted it down. Any sign of blue withdrew, and the boy sighed.

    ¡°A-apologies,¡± he stammered, holding himself a little more closely. ¡°Sometimes my anger gets the better of me, and-¡±

    ¡°How the hell did you summon so much flame?¡± Remus cried. ¡°I can barely get my pinky to glow.¡±

    Aziel chuckled awkwardly, holding himself a little more tightly. ¡°It''s nothing, you¡¯ll learn with time. Here, give me your hand, I¡¯ll show you.¡±

    Taking one glance at Remus¡¯ extended right arm, Aziel staggered back. ¡°Gods above, what happened to your hand?¡±

    In all the chaos of the night, Remus had almost forgotten the severed state of his ring finger. He quickly whisked the bloody bundle out of sight. ¡°It''s nothing. Just injured my hand on the way here.¡±

    ¡°That bandaging is doing you no favours.¡± Aziel unwrapped it, before gagging. ¡°You severed it?¡±

    Remus laughed gawkily, but there was no humour behind it. It fell false on his own ears. ¡°You should have seen the other guy.¡±

    Aziel evidently didn¡¯t find the joke amusing, urging Remus towards their front cottage. ¡°Come in. Ma¡¯ has some medical experience; she¡¯ll patch you up just fine.¡±

    Remus nodded, the disturbing reality that his hand was entirely numb motivation enough.

    Within five minutes, Remus found himself seated in a kitchen, Hansley dabbing the remains of his finger with all sorts of substances. What exactly they were, he couldn¡¯t tell you, and yet it stung almost as badly as losing the appendage itself did.

    ¡°You poor thing,¡± she doted, ¡°and at Enkindled too.¡±

    Fighting through the tightness of his throat, Remus put on a brave front. ¡°It could have been worse.¡±

    ¡°We saw that Unbounded¡¯s finger at your stand, in the Gallery,¡± Aziel said, ¡°was it that beast that caused this?¡±

    ¡°No, Styrmir wasn¡¯t too much trouble. It was those Wild Sect clansmen chasing us on the way here.¡±

    The entire table suddenly grew painfully tense. It was obvious to anyone that the Ambition Sect was secluded far away from the rest of the Mortal Realms¡¯ inhabitants. Distance often paved the way for aversion, and hostility from there, was simply one step further.

    ¡°Likely warranted, I¡¯ll admit.¡± He finally spoke. ¡°But that¡¯s a long story.¡±

    It was getting beyond late, so, despite how overtly curious the two of them were, neither of them enquired any deeper. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t face too many difficulties with your hand,¡± Hansley eventually said, ¡°but you¡¯ll have trouble holding onto things ¡ª and I won''t lie to you, that may mean you won¡¯t be able to keep a steady grip on a weapon. Though you could always train with the other side.¡±

    That came like a sucker-punch right to Remus¡¯ abdomen. ¡°Good thing I normally fight with my fists then,¡± he mused, ¡°this could have jeopardised any other fighting style.¡±

    ¡°It''s still possible of course, but a handicap like that won¡¯t benefit you in the long-run. Besides, like you said, martial arts alone will be enough, if you utilise your Mark¡¯s abilities accordingly.¡±

    Remus let the woman finish her remedies for the hand, before continuing. ¡°How long would you say the hand will take to heal?¡±

    In a yelp, Remus shook the limb feverishly. There, where an open wound had previously laid, was a patch of burnt flesh. It was sealed, sure, but such archaic practices weren''t what Remus had in mind when consulting Hansley.

    ¡°Was cauterising really necessary?¡±

    ¡°Yes, apologies, if you want to be in tip-top fighting shape any time soon. Maybe it would have sealed on its own given long enough, or a Mark with healing properties could have sorted you out, but this is the best you¡¯ll get out here, I¡¯m afraid.¡± The woman held not a hint of sarcasm about her, each word wistfully honest. ¡°Your Engorged abilities should render any signs of burning gone within a Duration.¡±

    Impressed by the speed at which Hansley had summoned the flame before recoiling it, Remus was left stunned.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky you have your Mark now,¡± Aziel took a sip of water from his cup, ¡°you¡¯d likely be in tears without the endurance boost from Tanish.¡±

    This neatly skirted the conversation in a direction Remus had been set on exploring. ¡°Speaking of which . . . are we fireproof? I trained with the Flame Sect for a time, do the abilities overlap much?¡±

    ¡°Not really. And no, you¡¯re as vulnerable to fire as any old person.¡± Hansley crushed his dreams. ¡°The sparks we release are manifestations of our aspiration ¡ª the flame of our Ambition, or so they say. You¡¯re immune to that, or specifically your own Ambition, but not fire, nor any other clansman¡¯s equivalent. Hence why you felt pain back there.¡±

    Aziel raised an eyebrow. ¡°Working with the Flame Sect? You have an intriguing past Remus. You¡¯ll have to tell me about it when we train tomorrow.¡±

    Remus very nearly bounced out of his seat. ¡°You mean to say-¡±

    ¡°Of course. I couldn¡¯t deny us of another recruit. Especially one willing to help us out during the Unbounded raids. Plus, if it means I don¡¯t have to work on the farm for a little while . . .¡±

    ¡°Aziel!¡±

    Laughter reverberated around them all, crashing out of Remus¡¯ throat as his last drop of energy dispersed. The next few seconds were a blur, and before he knew it, Remus felt the cushioning of hay pressing against his body.

    <hr>

    Remus had trouble sleeping that night.

    It was to the extent that a faint rustling off to the side was all it took to stir him. Jolting upwards in a rush of movement, Remus gasped for air, the chill of night pervading all throughout the barn. Perspiration oozed down his borrowed tunic and trousers, and Remus almost fainted, having half expected Elmore to come rushing out with a fiery vengeance in his heart.

    It was a subtle coolness that the atmosphere carried, leaking in through the barn¡¯s ajar door. After rubbing his eyes, it was through this that Remus spotted Violet ¡ª sitting stationary, and staring up at a starry sky.

    Stretching, it didn¡¯t take him long to join her.

    ¡°Trouble sleeping?¡± He asked, taking a seat by her, and gazing above at a strange constellation.

    Violet nodded, hugging her knees.

    Two words, and the awkward silence Remus had been dreading finally confronted him. The two shifted uneasily where they sat, finding the activity of twiddling their thumbs far more enjoyable than confronting the ginormous elephant in the room.

    Inevitably, Violet sighed. ¡°I could run away.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Remus spun on her. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t belong here Remus. I¡¯m an Unbounded!¡± Violet glanced back and forth, noting that she may have spoken a little too loudly. ¡°It''s not right for me to stay here, while my kin are regularly invading this clan every other day.¡±

    ¡°You kin? No, Violet, you¡¯re not like them.¡±

    Her features were seized by a rush of emotions. ¡°Veida would have to argue with you on that front . . .¡±

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t know you.¡±

    ¡°Do you even know me?¡± She challenged. ¡°I¡¯m not Violet, am I? Just some fiend that took her form. How, I doubt even the gods would know, but it''s true.¡±

    The conversation was only going in circles; Remus was going to start pulling his hair out, if this maddening roulette dragged on any longer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. Where would you even go? I mean, at least think this through first.¡±

    Violet¡¯s silence exposed the abruptness of her decision. She exhaled, refraining from any hasty retorts. The stiff quietude returned, and Remus gazed around the cobbled pathways of the Ambition Sect, admiring the peaks that guarded the clan at all angles. Apparently not enough to ward off trespassers, he thought sourly.

    It was so obvious to Remus, to an almost painful degree, that Violet was far separated from the likes of the Unbounded. The same fiends that sought nothing but destruction. To cast away the natural order of things, building the Mortal Realms from the ground up like a phoenix from the ashes. Only this phoenix was rotten to the core, imbedded with a divine justice no line of human logic could understand. Violet, on the other hand, was just trying to fend for herself. How could she not see the tremendous contrast?

    ¡°Stay and fight for the Ambition Sect.¡± Remus urged, an idea suddenly sparking in his fatigued mind. ¡°If I can¡¯t make it clear to you, prove to yourself that you¡¯re not like the other Unbounded, by actively opposing them.¡±

    She mumbled under her breath, sped through a second array of expressions, before finally dropping her shoulders. ¡°Fine. I just need time to think.¡±

    Falsely assuming that was the end of it, Remus got up to retire back to his makeshift bedside, when Violet spoke again. ¡°How¡¯s your hand? I heard the three of you discussing it earlier.¡±

    He glowered. ¡°Just how long have you been up?¡±

    Violet shrugged. ¡°Who knows? Maybe Unbounded need less sleep than mortals. Wouldn¡¯t surprise me.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on it. And the hand¡¯s fine. Thanks for asking.¡±

    The conversation was dropped, but Remus¡¯ concern would linger for hours longer. After only just slipping his way out of a lethal altercation, his new home was perhaps in a state far worse than the Carpentry Sect. The faces of Damion, Andreas, his mother and father, the rest of his sect fighting tooth and claw for every additional Passing they could survive . . . it all weighed on his mind. A hidden, but always present vision he would carry with him for the rest of his days, it would seem.

    Or, until he gained means of supporting them himself. But that prospect appeared more and more distant, as the miles he gained away from First Rite grew. Despite the progress the last Spring had bore, Remus¡¯ journey was an almost tangible staircase, soaring into the heavens ¡ª a staircase he felt to have only ascended the first initial steps of.

    The Ambition Clan, and the Carpentry Sect. Were both of them counting away their final days? And then there was the matter of Violet, of what on earth the Unbounded were up to, taking over an entire clan with barely a few people¡¯s notice.

    For the second time that night, Remus let the living world escape him ¡ª a sickly feeling arising in the pit of his stomach.

    Dark days are ahead, he couldn¡¯t help but think, a brewing darkness draining his mind of any thought. Dark days indeed.

 32. Into the Gallery

    The sun slanted through the open entrance of the barn in lambent rays, and the only thing to deny Violet of her deep slumber was a furry presence.

    Drowsily, she opened her eyes with lethargic slowness. It had become quite apparent that no, Unbounded still required an ample amount of sleep. Or whatever you would classify Violet as. Whether she could still refer to herself as that mortal name was a matter that troubled her greatly. Using it felt viscerally wrong; it had belonged to an innocent girl from the Chaos Sect, and no matter how vivid her memories of that past were, they weren¡¯t hers.

    But then again, it somehow sounded equally as bizarre to replace it after all this time.

    What is my Unbounded name, in their tongue, anyway? The idea intrigued her, but the memories of that past ¡ª arguably her true one ¡ª eluded her endlessly. There were still countless questions to be answered. Namely, why she and her target¡¯s memories had been so muddled in the first place. Her own life had been replaced by a stranger¡¯s, one she likely had no feasible connection with.

    A scary realisation occurred to Violet then: what would happen when the extent of both her pasts surfaced? Would the duality have no palpable effect on her personality, or would a darker self arise? Merely biding its time, to bear its devilish head when the time was right.

    Violet could have spent all morning terrifying herself, but the fuzzy bundle pecking away at her forehead had other ideas. Opening her eyes, Violet¡¯s ire dispersed before she could lash out.

    ¡°Pippin!¡± She cried, shooting up in a burst of hay.

    The sparrow had quite the shock, flapping through the air and cawing violently. Finally, Violet settled, taking a breath, and stroking the bird to calm it. Nevertheless, it took much self-restraint not to squeal in sheer surprise. If Pippin is here, does that mean-

    One flicker to his talons, and Violet saw what she had been looking for.

    A letter.

    Petting Pippin half-a-dozen times as reward for his service ¡ª how he¡¯d managed to locate her was a marvel ¡ª she examined the parchment with a sceptical eye.

    Meet me at the City Proper. You''ll know where to find me.

    <ul>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Veida</li>

    </ul>

    Violet put down the letter, reread it several times, before sitting idly; not entirely sure how to react. In the distance, the yelps of Remus and his new pal Aziel filled the morning sky, the heat of summoned sparks offering Violet no respite from the hollow chill she now found herself with. It seeped through the fibres of her muscles, into the marrow of her bones, and then deeper, through the tissue of her churning organs. Rendering her all together at a loss.

    As she got up, heading to locate some food for Pippin in a simple excuse for movement, Violet¡¯s thoughts never quite untangled. When she had first sent that message off to the researcher, it had never crossed her mind that the woman would see to it to respond.

    Veida. That name held a thousand connotations to it now; none of them particularly pleasant.

    What in the gods¡¯ names did she want?

    <hr>

    Remus strolled along the table of candles at the slowest gait imaginable, each step careful and precise, as to not let the wick of blue upon his fingertip dwindle.

    Twenty-two candles, he counted, reaching the twenty-third and hovering a patient finger above it. He watched as the tower of wax took light, his humble sea of already lit articles diffusing through the air, in an odd mixture of fruity scents.

    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Aziel advised, watching off to the side, ¡°you¡¯re almost a quarter of the way through. Maintain your focus.¡±

    The number shook Remus. Only a fourth? He wanted to cry out, merely sustaining his own flicker of blue taking as much effort as holding his breath, or refraining from blinking.

    Moving his index finger in a steady drift through the air, Remus kept his head full of bold proclamations.

    I will reach Emblazed.

    The next candle was mere centimetres away, the spiral of mahogany brown likely carrying some sort of woodland scent.

    I will protect the Ambition and Carpentry Sects.

    The black strip protruding out of the wax¡¯s tip blazed a fierce blue, and Remus beamed as he made for his twenty-fifth.

    I will gain full mastery over my Mark.

    A pungent odour of rose-petals infested his nostrils, sickly sweet.

    I will-!

    In a rush of excitement, Remus lost his stream of thought. And with it, he found his finger spotless. All speck of fire gone.

    ¡°Damn.¡± He chomped down on his teeth, strangely drained.

    Aziel stepped forth. ¡°Hey, that wasn¡¯t so bad. Better than your last five attempts.¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t saying much.¡±

    The boy confronted him with those diamond eyes, grinning knowingly. ¡°You won''t have to concentrate so much on your aspirations in the future. For now, you need to actively keep a connection to your Mark, but sooner than you think, this¡¯ll be as easy as breathing.¡±

    Remus winced, somehow doubting the words. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s blow them out and try again-¡±

    Aziel blocked his path with a hand. ¡°Actually, that¡¯s it for now.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m just a little tired, I can still go on. Watch.¡±

    Yet Aziel didn''t budge, waving his hands dismissively. ¡°No, you misunderstand. Weren¡¯t you listening yesterday?¡±

    For a pause, Remus suited a befuddled look, before memories of last night slotted into place. What was it that Brison had mentioned? Oh yes, the-

    ¡°Gallery!¡± Remus shouted. ¡°Right.¡±

    Understanding passed between them. ¡°Come, the ceremony shouldn¡¯t take too long. Who knows, you might even find it interesting.¡±

    His words rang true, for Remus undeniably held interest in a museum specifically curated for the Earnest Trials. There, individuals who too prevailed through the nightmare he had just forced himself through would have housed the fruits of their labour. So much Infirnite, so many severed off monster limbs . . . how would it all fit in there?

    Keen to find out, Remus followed at Aziel¡¯s tail, walking past hut after hut, as he noted that they were headed well past the clan¡¯s housing facilities.

    Towards the mountains.

    It was on his way to a depression carved into one ¡ª metres deep, with a locked door of stone guarded by a figure shrouded in shadow ¡ª that Remus saw Brison once more.

    He was seated upon a throne that crested a rising wall at the end of the valley, deep-cut blocks stacked upon each other to form a robust staircase. Leaning against one of the throne¡¯s arms, the Warlord¡¯s chin rested upon his palm with nonchalant grace. Remus supposed that if you spent so long overseeing a sect, you¡¯d eventually lose any trickle of care for maintaining a regal front. He had to respect the sheer disregard for vanity that was such a fundamental part of Brison¡¯s appearance, whether or not others claimed it to be sloppy. But the Warlord gave no impression of dirtiness at shall, simply a pragmatic attitude to get straight to the point.

    ¡°You likely won¡¯t hear from Brison much,¡± Aziel snapped Remus back into focus, ¡°some joke he barely mutters more than a sentence a day.¡±

    This sounded precisely the opposite of every other sect leader Remus had met. Which, bizarrely, was quite a number of them, now that he thought of it. ¡°How come?¡±

    ¡°Oh you know,¡± Aziel stopped directly before the tunnel into the mountainside, ¡°he mainly spends his energy on clan matters, or when there¡¯s no work to attend to, sleeping. Some speculate it''s the cause of his longevity. One hundred and eighty seven is quite the age for a Warlord. Unless he advances to another Divine Rank in the coming decade . . .¡±

    He stopped himself. Aziel shook his head, before signalling to a guard. They came to an agreement, and Remus watched in quiet anticipation as the door creaked open.

    Aziel took the plunge first. ¡°Come in.¡± He laughed. ¡°It''s not as scary as it looks.¡±

    Taking his word for it, Remus hurried in before a ruddy complexion could claim his cheeks as theirs.

    The sheer scale of the place was what struck Remus immediately.

    A pale white material made up the flooring and walls, as rows upon rows of identical cabinets stretched out for a considerable distance. Remus examined the first of these, looking past the transparent glass to observe a shimmering feather of spotless gold. He was about to enquire on where the Infirnite was being kept, before Remus realised where the blood-red glow filtering over everything was originating from.

    Up above, in a cluster that¡¯s utter size put even the most overgrown burrows of the Infernal Bays to shame, was the largest collection of any raw material Remus had ever seen.

    He must have let out some sort of amazed mutter amidst his awe, for Aziel allowed himself a  vicarious grin. ¡°Pretty neat, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say.¡± Remus murmured, entranced by the alien beauty of the crimson glow. In a motion that required a surprising amount of effort, he wrenched his eyes away from the upended hill of stark red. ¡°Does it have any function? Apart from providing light, of course.¡±

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    Even before Aziel answered, Remus had already noticed the subtle currents of flame weaving around the gigantic shard, providing a faint smokiness to the air.

    ¡°Marks with control over heat, or the equivalent, are strengthened in its presence.¡±

    A sidelong glance was exchanged between the two. Remus tilted his head, does that mean . . . ?¡±

    Aziel stepped aside. ¡°You¡¯re free to try.¡±

    In a rush of adrenaline, Remus extended a hand. Within seconds, blue coils of flame had wormed their way up his tunic, setting every fibre aflame. Instinctively, Remus yelped as his entire body was consumed, a wall of sparkling blue obscuring his vision. Rolling to the floor in frantic movements, only Aziel¡¯s booming chuckles brought him back to earth.

    Shakily, he placed one leg beneath him, then the other, before getting upright. Remus¡¯ eyes scanned the two of his outstretched hands as he did so, blurry through his blazing obstruction. It was here that the very curious state of being that was his uncharred flesh struck him. And then he recalled Hansley¡¯s words, or at least the gist of them: you can¡¯t be harmed directly by your own Ambition.

    During his journey, Remus had learnt much the opposite. But in this context, he could take relief in the fact he wasn¡¯t being grilled alive.

    Aziel, sniffling away the last of his boisterous laughter, placed a hand just above Remus¡¯ blinding corona. Slowly, but surely, Remus felt the fires withdrawing.

    Taking deep breaths, his first thought, amid the sea of embarrassment, was that of bewilderment. ¡°You can control other people¡¯s flames? How does that work?¡±

    ¡°It''s only really doable when someone is allowing you to, or is incapacitated beyond the ability to fight back.¡± Aziel explained, reverting to his typical mien of casualty. ¡°Anyhow, I would abstain from Mark-usage within these walls for now, or at least until you have a better grip on your capabilities. You¡¯ll either set yourself eternally aflame, or gain the motivation to challenge Tanish, if you try anything rash again.¡±

    Remus slowly nodded, acutely aware of the inflation his ego had received after that outburst. It was a kind of arrogant nonchalance that pervaded through the network of his mind, egging him on to indulge in yet another split-second decision. Try again, it urged, surely he must be exaggerating. Concentrating on his breathing, Remus waited for the sensation to wash over, only reopening his eyes to confront the Gallery once he was in a level-headed state of mind.

    ¡°Like a double-edged sword, this Mark.¡± He commented, as the two picked up a comfortable gait. ¡°All the willpower to take over the world, but never the wisdom needed to control oneself.¡±

    Nodding, Aziel only stopped his advance once he noticed Remus¡¯ absence. Swivelling round, he spotted Remus staring in awe at yet another cabinet ¡ª this one positioned on a stand of marble, accompanied by decorative items of ivory.

    Through the glass pane, a severed head stared lifelessly. It would have passed for human, if not for the puffiness of the cheeks, and the dangling light extending from the forehead that wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place on an anglerfish. It had obviously been quite the powerful Unbounded, its final expression of furious agony preserved as a perpetual rictus, for all to see.

    Below, inscribed in a rectangular golden plate, were the words:

    Prize of Brison of the Ambition Sect. Severed head of the River-King. High Foot-Soldier to Splintered Rank equivalent.

    Remus reread the final phrase over and over again, not quite believing that last bit.

    . . . to Splintered Rank equivalent.

    ¡°If Brison beat this thing as an Engorged, just how powerful is he?¡±

    ¡°Strong indeed. He had assistance, of course ¡ª  being one of the last members of the Doom sect before they were wiped off the map. This thing reportedly killed a number of that clan, before it was enough of a bloody pulp for Brison to finish off the job. Not to discredit his power.¡±

    ¡°If that was the case, wouldn¡¯t he have already had a Mark? That of the Doom sect¡¯s goddess, obviously. Hel¡¯s.¡±

    Aziel merely looked at him for a moment, not uttering a word. ¡°A lot of our members joining through the trials already had a Mark. Tanish just replaces it.¡± He cocked an eyebrow. ¡°Were you-?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Death-Marked.¡±

    Remus spoke without shame. That title was one he had long since overcome, or at least it felt that way; there was no need to harbour grievances with its reference any longer.

    ¡°We have a few of those ourselves.¡± He replied, a distant look in his eyes. ¡°I think my own bloodline originated from a Death-Marked. I can¡¯t imagine how much you must have endured.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± Remus put a hand on Aziel¡¯s shoulder, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, ¡°it worked out okay in the end. Mostly.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he grinned, ¡°you¡¯ve got me as your mentor now ¡ª I couldn¡¯t think of a greater honour. Though, maybe in a way, you were fortunate to be a Death-Marked. I¡¯ve heard throwing away one¡¯s Mark for another doesn¡¯t make your first deity very happy. Brison once claimed the removal of Hel¡¯s Mark was the most painful experience of his life.¡±

    Unsure whether to find such a comment horrific or somewhat amusing, Remus supposed the same could be said for all of Brison''s past. But the former greatly outweighed the latter

    The thought of a sect being so weakened, brought so low that the remnants of that clan would scatter to join another, before its complete and utter demise, caused an odd tightness in Remus¡¯ throat. His fingers began to fidget, imagining a younger Brison ploughing towards the Flame Territory. He saw Brison¡¯s bloody hands carrying an Unbounded¡¯s head, one that refused to dissolve, the entire way there.

    He only fidgeted more, as it dawned on Remus that in a way, he had been doing precisely the same thing. Fleeing his own clan the second danger had bared its ugly head.

    I¡¯ll be back for the Carpentry Clan, he vowed to himself. I just need time.

    And that was the one resource he couldn¡¯t get enough of. Nine Passings, and Andreas . . . Andreas would succumb to his Rot, leaving behind an empty throne to an already crippled sect.

    Remus began to move faster, the urgency of his mission returning to chill his bones. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with and go back to training,¡± he said to Aziel, ¡°I need to advance to Emblazed as quickly as possible.¡±

    ¡°Uh? Oh, alright then.¡±

    Near the end of the Gallery, the cabinets made way for a quaint clearing, a table of mahogany contrasting the pearly white. Upon the table, under yet another layer of glass, a dusty piece of parchment sat.

    ¡°Looks like it hasn¡¯t been touched in centuries,¡± Remus commented, to which Aziel nodded.

    ¡°Likely hasn¡¯t.¡±

    You could have obliterated half of Remus¡¯ brain cells, and he would have still recognised what the papyrus was depicting: a map of the Mortal Realms. Any speck of ocean restrained to the very boundaries of the yellowing paper. The pangea housed all major cities, the divided landmass of First Rite a few inches away from their current residence of Hybrid, which even through the ageing parchment was an explosion of colour.

    Ignoring the ominous stretch of land above this, designated for the ever-frantic front lines, the Ravaged Lands was a calloused scar, further burdened by the ugly splurge of Hell¡¯s Floor, deeper within. This blur of ruddy maroons made up the extreme south-east of the map, the airborne city of Eclipse not too great a distance above.

    Remus could have spent all day admiring the map, with Great Oasis and Heaven¡¯s Pinnacle, the respective cities of the Lawful and Virtuous gods, catching his eye, with the two sharing an almost joint structure. The entire thing could be simplified to a relatively flat plain ¡ª the gods¡¯ perfect battlefield, immaculately sculpted for their disciples to beat each other senseless.

    At the bottom of the parchment, below the key, the words Mortal Realms and Descent were written in cursive lettering. The two most common names for the wider world; the earth all mortals must wander.

    To reach the height of this world¡¯s power, Remus knew with an almost terrifying certainty that all of this land mass, every single one of the illustrated cities, and their unique cultures, would have to be explored. It was a herculean task, but one he was already in the process of completing.

    Remus was on the verge of moving away from the display, when something he had never before noticed caught his eye. Off the coast of the Ravaged Lands, a small island lay. A few other isles were dotted around the map, but these were all small, seemingly depicted as if to look insignificant. But this initial island ¡ª whoever had created the map had evidently put in effort to direct the observer¡¯s eye. Drawn upon the tiny stretch of land, the shade of it a fading sepia from the passing of time, was a curving flame.

    Aziel must have noticed the direction of Remus¡¯ gaze, for he strolled over. ¡°Ah, West Ember. Where the Ambition Sect originated.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh. See, it¡¯s sort of dangerous for a god to only allow someone to join their clan if they complete a series of trials, especially when that deity''s life hinges on his clansmen surviving. Very dangerous, in fact.¡±

    This, Remus could understand completely. The Divine Oath had made it so the gods were free to destroy any hostless deity, the second their clan was destroyed; absent of any living ambassadors. Remus had seen how panicked the Carpentry god Acrus had grown, when his clansmen were put under a little danger. Tanish had truly been playing a dangerous game, so many centuries ago. It was a miracle to think the Ambition clan had survived in any sort of state.

    ¡°It was on West Ember where Tanish handed out his first few Marks to a very limited group, before they spread out. Whilst I¡¯m sure he would have loved to force them through the challenges of the Earnest Trials, it would have only been possible for Tanish to do so once he had at least a few members living out on Descent. Enrique is our earliest known member, and according to the remnants of our history . . . that man ¡ª and practically the entire clan at the time ¡ª was of a greater strength than anything the Ambition Sect has known for years.¡±

    The overbearing silence gathering around the two supplied Remus with the space needed to digest this. The Ambition Clan had been losing power; losing their old ways, and was now the subject to relentless attack. A cloudy, disconcerting line of thought threatened to crush his otherwise swell mood, when Aziel¡¯s voice snapped him out of it.

    ¡°Remus.¡± He called, staring at a cabinet off to the side. ¡°Look here.¡±

    Curious, Remus obeyed, waltzing over to spot . . . Styrmir¡¯s finger.

    Somehow, compared to the abominations of flesh the other exhibits were displaying, his own spoil of war felt rather lacklustre. Leaning over, Remus read his own platter.

    Prize of Remus of the Ambition Sect. Severed finger of the Wind Giant, Styrmir. Engorged Equivalent at time of death, Foot-Soldier otherwise.

    Aziel then proceeded to pose a very uncomfortable question. ¡°Hey, what does this mean by Engorged at the time of death?

    Remus coughed into his hand. ¡°I may have, ahem, starved the giant to death.¡±

    Sapphire eyes gazed blankly at Remus. ¡°You what?¡±

    ¡°Look, there¡¯s no way I could have killed a Foot-Soldier equivalent at Engorged, regardless of Violet¡¯s help. I¡¯m not Brison. Cut me some slack, okay?¡±

    His expression not revealing a shred of his thought process, Aziel looked back and forth between Remus¡¯ expectant frown, and the Unbounded¡¯s detached appendage. Then Aziel learned dangerously back, gripping his stomach as he chuckled most heartily. ¡°You have the strangest past, Remus.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t I know it.¡± Remus exhaled.  ¡°One last thing before we leave,¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Who organises all this stuff? Or what? When I arrived, I felt my prizes from the trials leaving my bag, as if some greater force had whisked them away. What''s the deal?¡±

    Remus purposefully made his suspicions of divine interference obvious. Gods couldn¡¯t directly interfere with humanity in most situations, save for under certain allowances the Oaths offered, but Remus couldn''t see any other possibility.

    ¡°Oaths are a powerful thing,¡± Aziel began, ¡°and an Oath between gods is even stronger. A thing to be feared in most cases. When Ashbel and Tanish agreed to set these trials up, certain things like these were automated in the process. Now I just need to find a means to automate Mother¡¯s farm . . .¡±

    Throughout all the danger the last season had merited, Remus had never known himself to crack up so much. ¡°Come, let¡¯s reset those candles before we return to an overflood of wax.¡±

    As the two of them strolled out of the Gallery, Remus finally thought, for once, that things were starting to look up. The imminent danger was still rife, of course. Denying such would be lunacy. But here, amongst people who could understand his woes, emphasise with his struggles, he had acquired more than just a Mark.

    He had acquired hope.

 33. Dark Places

    Nova drummed his fingers across the arm of his throne, smiling pleasantly to himself as two figures entered the airy chamber.

    One of them was of a casual, typical gait ¡ª perhaps too perfected; suspiciously indifferent. The second, ignoring the slobbering sounds their many mouths were producing, seemed to drag themselves along. I must insist they have more legs added to that beast, Nova mused. It wouldn¡¯t do for the poor thing to get stuck, if in danger.

    They were situated deep into the labyrinth that was the Chaos Sect¡¯s base in Hell¡¯s Floor, only the protection of metre deep walls muffling out the sounds of distant explosions. Still, the advancing duo approached, agonisingly slow.

    He snapped a gloved finger. ¡°Faster.¡±

    True, Nova may have been acting a little curt, but these were his subjects. He knew the best for them, and if that included hurrying their pace a little, then the two would gladly oblige.

    ¡°Nova.¡± A deep, careful voice broke through the darkness engulfing the room. ¡°I have heard of the . . . misfortunes that occurred in Hybrid.¡± A man ¡ª or at least, an Unbounded with the appearance of one ¡ª bowed deeply before him.

    Nova took no notice of his looks. The Pet-Keeper was as plain as any being could be, as was the norm for most powerful Unbounded. Violet¡¯s schemes had managed to produce a sect¡¯s worth of unique doppelgangers, through a series of rather unorthodox methods, but standard Unbounded, without that luxury, always came off as a little uncanny.

    The Pet-Keeper wasn¡¯t a part of those schemes, and, if they kept this up, never would be. Nova slammed his fist. ¡°Silence! You dare speak . . .¡± he silenced himself. ¡°Do not mention my daughters in my presence. Or next time, I won¡¯t be so lenient.¡±

    The thought sickened him, and that sensation only expanded deeper, when Nova realised how he¡¯d referred to the duo. As his daughters.

    Whilst yes, they may have been his kin, Unbounded didn¡¯t have familial connections in that sense. There were merely manufacturers and their offspring, not these frivolous roles of father, mother, and so on. For Infinity¡¯s sake, they hardly had genders either. They were purely human concepts, adopted by a powerful few with a well developed mortal mien.

    ¡°My liege,¡± the Pet-Keeper muttered hurriedly, ¡°I merely thought-¡±

    ¡°You thought wrong!¡±

    For the first time in what felt like a millennia, Nova felt disoriented. So much emotion, he husked, perhaps I¡¯ve gone native.

    ¡°How are our troops doing?¡± He enquired, tired of scaring his minions sightless for the time being.

    ¡°The Ambition Sect grows ever weaker,¡± the Pet-Keeper reported, ¡°and Territory One, the Flame Sect, proves brittle. A Duration of attacks, and they¡¯re already devastated.¡±

    Nova allowed a smile. Not out of mirth, but merely to quell the servant¡¯s nerves. Fronts should convey exactly what you desired them to, or so was how Nova always thought. ¡°Good. We will not stop until the two of them are completely obliterated. Work alongside enemies of the Chaos Clan, and observe what happens.¡±

    Delayed by a few moments, the second mass huddled closer, a splurge of alien noises in tow. The beast must have had the strangest insides, for it to both look the way it did, and to spur such unnerving sounds into creation.

    It was less an organised system of limbs and organs working alongside each other, and more a drape of skin piled over a mound of disordered flesh. How the tissue contained it all was beyond anyone, with the layer bulging oddly in several places. An array of mouths slit into the flesh in disturbing protrusions, the other facial features dotted about seemingly without care for placement or quantity.

    Dropping to his knees, the Pet-Keeper stroked the grotesque pile of limbs, grinning like an idiot.

    ¡°Daisy . . .¡± He uttered, with a babyish inflection, ¡°who''s a good girl, ah? You!¡±

    Nova raised an eyebrow. Another human habit, damn them.

    ¡°You¡¯ve seen to name it? Do you not consider Unbounded names enough?¡±

    Even now, the two of them conversed in their own tongue. This not only served as a safety-net against eavesdroppers, not that there were any, but the language held a certain elegance to it no mortal throat could replicate.

    ¡°Well, I-¡± the Unbounded was clearly flustered. ¡°All intelligent Unbounded have names in both tongues. Daisy is perfectly in the right to follow in that practice.¡±

    ¡°I never knew the definition of intelligence to be so broad.¡±

    The Pet-Keeper kept his mouth shut, but his eyes carried a certain animosity that no tightness of the lips could conceal.

    ¡°Tell me, Pet-Keeper,¡± Nova hurried matters along, ¡°what Rank equivalent are the two of you?¡±

    ¡°I myself am similar to a typical Warlord, and Daisy¡±¡ªhe gave the monstrosity a weary glance¡ª¡°is somewhere around a Splintered Rank. But after all those experiments, who can say?¡±

    Nova swept his eyes up and down the creature of science. ¡°Quite a remarkable use of the nonfunctional lot. I must say, we don¡¯t waste any resource at our hands, do we?¡±

    ¡°Never, my Lord,¡± the Pet-Keeper half winced, half smiled, ¡°never.¡±

    A moody quietude infested every crevice of the atmosphere, and Nova basked in the discomfort within his servant¡¯s shifting features. Closing his eyes, Nova ignored the duo ahead of him, knowing full well they wouldn¡¯t dare leave until his direct dismissal.

    Merging with the former Nova¡¯s body had rewarded him with quite the interesting after-effects. Abilities no standard Unbounded were privy to sat at the corners of his perception; the strengths of a God-Graced awaiting his call. Perpetual Sight, Nova focused inwardly, the lingering darkness making way for a fresh visage.

    He was above all of Hybrid, a splurge of purple upon the horizon. The winds of Infinity pervaded anywhere the eyes dared stray, painting the world a husky grey. Colour would be an option of course, but detail wouldn¡¯t arise to Nova until he pinpointed on his desired location.

    Closer, his lens focused. Sifting through, sifting through . . .

    Across plains of igneous his eyes crawled, airborne vessels through which physical mass held no power. In and out of streams of lava, up and through clusters of the blackest obsidian, laid a wasteland. His minions rushed through the primary base of the Flame Sect, walking, humanoid beasts of crystal amid their ranks. Through the savagery, across the warring tides of flesh and Unbounded, a further vista lay.

    Amid mountains now, the puffy white mist of clouds syphoned across his field of vision. Through this, and lower, ever lower.

    Below, the target of his desire lay. Barely scrambling together after the last siege, the Ambition Clan may as well have been a valley of tombstones. The vision grew muddy, and, seconds before he saw to withdraw, two familiar faces stuck out amongst the swarm.

    In a rush of air, Nova snapped his eyes open.

    ¡°Pet-Keeper!¡± Nova boomed.

    ¡°Yes, my Liege?¡± The kneeling figure jolted.

    ¡°Prepare for both yourself and your servant to depart for Hybrid. I need you to be ready to attack at any moment¡¯s notice.¡±

    The Unbounded leapt to his feet, already rushing to manoeuvre a collar around Daisy. ¡°Right away my Lord, right away. Your word is where my hand shall stray. Your word, Nova! The prodigy of the Unbounded, he who will strike divine justice upon those lousy-¡±

    Nova raised his hand, not bothering to yell. They were wise enough to obey either way. Whilst some crevices of him could appreciate the sentiment, there still lay figures within this grand scheme beyond even a God-Graced¡¯s might. Beings that could make the gods themselves tremble.

    He could not disappoint them, if he was ever to reach that level.

    ¡°Be out of the Ravaged Lands before the Duration ends, and do not let a soul see you. In the meantime,¡± he dusted down his hands, ¡°I have a message to deliver . . .¡±

    <hr>

    Remus didn¡¯t appreciate being interrupted, in any scenario.

    He especially didn¡¯t treasure being interrupted mid-training. But worse? Being caught off-guard by an Unbounded at the perimeters of his clan.

    Remus could physically see Aziel swallow, the both of them holding flaming hands aloft, heads poised to the target of a dozen screams. Aziel took one shaky breath, before dashing off. Scrambling to follow him, Remus¡¯ racing mind could barely comprehend the boy¡¯s next manoeuvre: a very technical form of flight that involved expending fires through the palm.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    He must have reached the ground borders in seconds flat, whilst Remus was left in the dust ¡ª arriving a minute later, clutching at his stomach. Panicked civilians grabbed any sharp end in the near vicinity, pointing it towards the singular entity with gritted teeth.

    And what a mystifying specimen it was. In the perfect outline of a human, the creature was more a silhouette than a being of blood and flesh. An outline of the purest shade of black Remus could recall seeing, as if the being was the very absence of space. With pristine posture, it stared out at the leering clansmen with its blank, alien face, communicating nothing.

    Finally, it spoke. ¡°Bring me your sect leader. There is much to discuss.¡±

    Several people near the front charged their way towards the living shadow, weapons poised. Only a gush of fire from Hansley, a few other quick-thinkers, and the woman¡¯s furious expression stopped the fiend¡¯s utter destruction.

    ¡°Are you all insane?¡± Hansley shouted. ¡°Think!¡±

    Remus nudged Aziel as discreetly as he could, for any sudden contact, and the boy looked like he would set you alight by instinct. ¡°Why aren¡¯t they killing it? That¡¯s an Unbounded, right?¡±

    His sparring partner¡¯s tone held a quality rarely heard; only when Aziel mentioned his father, or the wider crisis facing the Ambition Sect. ¡°Yes. Or, maybe. It''s complicated.¡±

    ¡°That,¡± he levelled a spear the being¡¯s way, pointing in the most aggressive means possible, ¡°is what we call a Projection. A weak Unbounded imbued with a slither of a stronger one, as a means of communication. It''s typically used past the front lines to send non-threatening messages to humanity, or so I¡¯ve heard, the Unbounded equivalent of Perpetual Sight.¡±

    So they¡¯re trying to send a message, Remus assessed, but why? Threats?

    As Brison marched down towards the flock, a ginormous hammer over his shoulder, Aziel somehow scowled deeper. ¡°Zero points for guessing what he¡¯s gonna do with that thing.¡±

    Silence sucked away the words of all tense clansmen, a vacuum seeming to follow the Warlord anywhere he tread. Winds whipped through the air as he hefted the bulk of the weapon towards the Projection, expression hidden behind a nest of grey hair. Remus¡¯ tunic shook as a disturbed breeze lashed out, the impact of the swipe seeming to persist for seconds that lasted far longer than they should¡¯ve.

    Remus was shocked to find himself shaking, and, grasping his own wrist, promptly stopped himself.

    The man was as succinct as ever. ¡°State your business.¡±

    ¡°Violet.¡± It spoke, each word ripples of twilight. ¡°Hand her over, and our attacks shall cease.¡±

    Even through the distorting filter, Remus could recognise that regal voice anywhere. Yet Nova¡¯s presence put to the wayside, he could hardly stomach what the Projection had just said. All eyes turned to Violet, and Remus could have sworn he saw multiple people twitching to move. To forcibly hand her over to Nova the second they saw an opening. Of course, they weren¡¯t aware of that fiend¡¯s exact identity, but they would have casted Violet to the ruler of the underworld, if it ensured their safety.

    Mutters inevitably returned in a swarm of noise, and Violet shifted in the most discomfort Remus had ever seen her in.

    ¡°What¡¯s with her?¡± He heard multiple people utter.

    For some reason, the Projection found this absolutely enthralling. ¡°Oh?¡± It jested, ¡°you don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°I knew something was off about that girl!¡±

    ¡°Quickly, one stranger for the entire sect!¡±

    Heat pervaded through Remus¡¯ entire body, his irises flickering a light blue for a moment as he fought to chain down the wild ideas his Mark was handing him. Before he could so much as take a step forward, Violet had run off, sprinting back to Hansley¡¯s farm in a desperate hurry.

    No one tried to stop her, but Remus knew many were tempted.

    Whispers continued, elevated to a greater volume, and Remus couldn¡¯t even read Aziel¡¯s expression as Brison stomped his foot. Fighting to maintain balance, Remus clutched at his knees, the world appearing to spin around him.

    ¡°Enough!¡± The sect leader shouted. He swivelled round from his chided juniors, before levelling his sights on the Projection. It was a motion far too swift for an old man.

    ¡°Do you accept?¡± Nova posed the question yet again, to which Brison said nought. ¡°Your people seem to be in agreement, why not lend your ears to their pleas?¡±

    In a movement so swift Remus barely caught it, Brison lifted his hammer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t make deals with Unbounded. And I certainly do not trade life for life.¡±

    The Projection was crushed, its fickle body not standing a chance against the raw power of a military veteran. Hoarse screams resounded all around, the repetitive outcries seeming to echo, despite the lack of any enclosed space. Brison lifted his weapon out of a crushed spot, fissures now spreading through nearly the entirety of the pavement.

    As the Warlord turned around, and began to stroll casually back towards his throne, a speck of viscous goo arose from the Projection¡¯s ashes.

    ¡°You made your grave Brison,¡± Nova spat, ¡°just recall who commissioned it, when you meet your downfall.¡±

    As the last of the Projection dispersed, Remus couldn¡¯t quite breath through the tightness in his chest, as all eyes turned towards the farmhouse.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go check on her.¡± He blurted, ignoring the disgruntled expressions of his peers.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to mistrust you Remus, but your association with Violet will lead to suspicion ¡ª it wouldn¡¯t be unwise to suspect you have ulterior motives to protect her.¡±

    Brison¡¯s words weren¡¯t harsh per say, but they certainly rubbed Remus the wrong way.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go with him,¡± Aziel stepped forth, like a heaven-sent angel. ¡°You mustn''t worry.¡±

    One slow nod of acceptance from Brison, and the two of them zoomed off. Constricted throat inhibiting his ability to express thanks, Remus kept his eyes dead-set on a blaze of purple in the distance.

    <hr>

    Violet entered the barn in a rush, skidding across scattered hay as she blinked ultramarine dots out of her eyes. An awful sickness churned her insides upside down, and staggering to a stand, she had to lean against a pole supporting the rafters to stand upright.

    Thoughts upon thoughts spiralled out of control in the panicked nexus of Violet¡¯s mind. They held no beginning, nor any clear end, the mystery of how an Unbounded could have a Mark scaring her incessantly.

    Her father¡¯s face, her father¡¯s stolen face, emblazed into Violet¡¯s retinas for all eternity. In her maddened haze, Veida¡¯s letter somehow found its way into her hands, the words seeming to morph into the things of nightmares, out to eat her alive.

    Violet threw the letter across the barn, reluctantly picked it up, and repeated this cycle half a dozen times. Finally, she laid cross-legged at the centre of the barn, eyes twitching, and considering whether or not to tear the parchment to shreds.

    Footsteps outside demanded her attention, an outside force dragging her back to reality a smidge. Violet looked around, blinked, and did absolutely nothing.

    ¡°Violet?¡± Remus called. ¡°I¡¯m coming in okay? Aziel¡¯s here with me. We should be able to talk this out.¡±

    That was the least reassuring should to have ever graced Violet¡¯s ears. ¡°Fine. Come in . . .¡± she murmured, though she supposed she didn¡¯t have much choice.

    Deliberately slow, Remus opened the door an inch ajar, glanced over to her, before swinging the gates open fully. Then, each step painfully slow, the two strolled over, crouched down to join her, and swallowed.

    No words escaped any of their lips, until Remus eyed the sheet she was clutching. ¡°What is that?¡±

    The two exchanged a look, and the tense curves growing in Remus¡¯ face conveyed understanding.

    Aziel looked blankly at the two of them. ¡°What? What is it?¡±

    Remus flickered two fingers towards himself, though the effect was lost with the stump that had become of his ring finger. Violet understood anyway, handing over the message.

    ¡°Holy . . .¡± he sounded honestly stunned, eyes almost comically widened. ¡°And this is actually her, not a trick?¡±

    Understandably, Aziel was quickly becoming red in the face. ¡°What letter? Hello? I am here, you know!¡±

    For the first time since their arrival, Violet levelled her gaze at him. True, she understood the frustration of being out of the loop as well as anyone, but his constant interruptions weren¡¯t doing any of them any favours.

    ¡°It''s real,¡± she turned back to Remus, ¡°her handwriting, delivered by Pippin. Scary how well birds can locate things, even people. We¡¯ll have to keep a watch on the skies next time we travel.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± Remus tore his eyes off the letter with some difficulty, ¡°what are you going to do?¡±

    Aziel had clearly abandoned any attempts to gain an insight, sitting silently with his lips twisted in a pout Violet probably would have found humorous under other circumstances.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to the city proper.¡± She eventually spoke. Previously, Violet had only considered this as a possibility, but now it felt right. ¡°I can¡¯t endanger this sect by staying here, and if¡±¡ªViolet shot a glance at Aziel¡ª¡°she knows anything, it could be invaluable.¡±

    Taking a step forward, Remus opened his mouth, before shutting it. His silence was louder than words. The two had been travelling together for entire Passings at this point, across wolf-ridden grasslands, formless dreamscapes to which could be put under no descriptor, and now here. A humble sect in the middle of nowhere: Remus¡¯ last hope at attaining power. To suddenly separate after all of that sounded peculiar; a foreign concept that boded one instinct ¡ª danger.

    The two had only survived this long by their united power, left to their own devices, who could say how they would fare?

    ¡°We¡¯re both headed to Hell¡¯s Floor, we can regroup eventually. Continue your training, and depart when you¡¯re ready. It¡¯ll take me some time to formulate usable plans anyway.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re departing?¡± Aziel¡¯s eyes, directed at Remus, read of nothing but treachery.

    ¡°Yes, but . .. not yet. It''s complicated.¡± Remus spoke, face trapped in an eternal wince. ¡°I¡¯ll explain to you as best I can when the time is right, but you¡¯ll have to trust me. I¡¯m working towards the benefit of us all.¡±

    Aziel kept his lips sealed, mind evaluating every word they uttered. At last, Remus confronted Violet, the regrown curls of his ginger hair as dishevelled as ever.

    ¡°I can¡¯t stop you, but be careful.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I¡¯m not an-¡±

    ¡°No, I mean it. If you perish, there''ll be no one left to oppose Nova. The consequences then . . . it would be catastrophic. So don¡¯t get yourself killed. If you do, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    Taken-aback, Violet was too stunned to point out the blatant nonsense he was spouting, nor the paradox of that.

    ¡°And,¡± he seemed to cringe before the words left his mouth, ¡°I hate seeing a friend getting hurt above all else.¡±

    A most uncomfortable air pervaded the interior of the barn, as Violet wrote out her belated message to Veida on the parchment¡¯s other side. If you found me, she thought, attaching the reply to Pippin''s talons, you sure as hell should be able to find her. Feeding the sparrow a chunk of her leftovers from breakfast ¡ª Hansley fed them handsomely ¡ª she gave the sparrow one last therapeutic stroke, before the bundle of feathers went dashing off.

    ¡°Come,¡± Aziel muttered, rising to a stand. ¡°We¡¯ll oversee your departure.¡±

    A dazed look somehow aroused in his whiteless eyes, Aziel standing stiffly as the both of them went to join him.

    Violet hardly recalled her exit, for her eyes were squarely on the ground beneath her feet the entire time. But she felt the clansmen¡¯s gazes, their piercing stares seeming to penetrate through her mortal form, appalled at the Unbounded monstrosity that lurked underneath. Logic told her they had no way of knowing, but logic was just as tricky as any other enemy.

    Past the erected huts, standing like sentinels to oversee her passage; through the gathered crowd, not a word of complaint arising; past the cocky poises of said people, standing broadly, with arms crossed, as if to exclaim this is what you get!

    But there were no words. No farewells, or well-intentioned goodbyes. A grim smile from Hansley was all she received, as silence reigned supreme.

 34. Before the Storm

    Elmore was used to bowing.

    He had been programmed to do it all his life, the proper etiquette with which one should treat their superiors drilled into him like the words of a holy scripture. In the Wild Clan, honour was a virtue more highly regarded than one¡¯s own ability to breath. This, amongst a myriad of other factors, was what many of the sect¡¯s superiors claimed to be the cause of their rise to power.

    And yet, knee-deep in a morass the Shifting had decided to throw their way, Elmore felt no greater shame in an action that was supposed to encapsulate that concept at its core. Beside him, Koa and Ash prostrated their bodies completely. Not because this was required, but simply to stare at sweltering mud instead of the look of fierce disappointment on Juniper¡¯s face.

    Elmore forced himself to stare at it, remembering every disgruntled scrunch of her face so that one day, when on the cusp of failure, he will recall the cost.

    ¡°I take full responsibility for our unit¡¯s failure.¡± Elmore spoke, carefully fine-tuning his voice to carry no particular tone. ¡°Whatever punishment you see best to bestow upon us, I will gladly take, but please excuse my cousins. It is my negligence that ultimately led to this. They were merely following orders.¡±

    Through the shifting gate of fluorescent emerald Juniper¡¯s Perpetual Sight granted her, the God-Graced observed the three of them with stoic distaste. But alas, fully concealing your emotions was impossible at the best of times, and the woman hardly did a good job of it.

    ¡°An Engorged and Foot-Soldier eluded you.¡± The proverbial poison of Juniper¡¯s blade needn¡¯t be harsh insults or reprimands, but the greatest toxin of all: facts. ¡°You allowed two Unbounded to discourage you, at the very verge of victory. You have allowed these fugitives to continue unpunished for such a time that they have now become a city-wide issue. Ash has yet to partake in one single training session ¡ª don¡¯t raise your head at me young man, I know. And after all that, you kiss the floor at my feet and beg for mercy.¡±

    When put like that, so painfully raw and direct, disguising his anguish became impossible for Elmore. ¡°I will see to his advancement immediately during our return journey, and-¡±

    ¡°Oh no, you¡¯re not heading home yet.¡±

    Elmore blinked. ¡°Your meaning, your Majesty?¡±

    Juniper sighed. ¡°I took a risk when I handed this task over to you Elmore, and whilst not ideal, you haven¡¯t failed on all fronts. Both Koa and Ash ¡ª despite the latter''s seeming idleness ¡ª have made some progress in their individual paths.¡±

    A venomous ire blazed through Elmore as he recalled Ash¡¯s Vision, meaning, on a technical front, his cousin was at the same grade of power as him. If he concentrated, the tangle of white tubes that made up Elmore¡¯s incomplete Bank would appear before him, hovering over the outline of his body as if engravings on a doll. Within the year, he was certain, Foot-Soldier Rank would be his.

    Skill and experience still separated Elmore to his cousin by a grand distance, but for Ash to be creeping so close behind, at such a tender age . . .

    Elmore internally slapped himself. Circles . . . he huffed to himself, you¡¯re thinking in circles. Ash¡¯s purpose on this earth isn¡¯t to swoop in and stun your success. Nor is anyone¡¯s.

    The sound of Juniper¡¯s voice snapped Elmore out of his reverie. ¡°And saving the two from that Unbounded attack was in the pursuit of virtue; a remarkably noble act I must respect.¡±

    ¡°What other choice was there?¡±

    Juniper looked blankly at him. ¡° . . . Yes, indeed. What other choice was there?¡±

    He frowned. What is she getting at?

    ¡°Perhaps you too, Elmore, are benefiting from this journey. It is for these two reasons that I''m willing to give you three a second chance.¡±

    Koa and Ash lifted their heads at this news, and, if you were to ask Elmore to depict pure joy, he would hand you a painting of those momentary expressions.

    ¡°Your new destination is not The Wild sect¡¯s bases in either Hybrid or First Rite, but the Ravaged Lands. How do you gentlemen feel about a bit of espionage?¡±

    Unsure how to take that, Elmore deliberated on a thousand possible explanations as to what she meant in the span of a second. With how adept most clans had grown at detecting intruders, spy work, for the most part, had become a thing of the past.

    Met with no response, which, in retrospect, Elmore realised to have been awfully rude on his part, Juniper continued. ¡°I¡¯m getting ahead of myself. Don¡¯t worry, it''s nothing you shouldn¡¯t be able to handle. For now, follow our fugitives to the Ambition Sect. You¡¯ll have back-up to the clan¡¯s south. Rendezvous with them, and the details of your next mission shall be explained.¡±

    The initial mortifying effects of this meeting wearing off, Elmore had no qualms with making a few enquiries. ¡°Not to be rude, but why not just enlighten us here? Any extra time to prepare could be invaluable.¡±

    ¡°Though my Perpetual Sight is discreet, it would not bode well if any enemy sects were to overhear us. Or anyone, for that matter.¡±

    Elmore wasn¡¯t a fan of how she phrased that. Whatever Juniper was hiding from them, anything that required such confidentiality couldn¡¯t be good. ¡°Thank you for the explanation your Majesty ¡ª it is most appreciated.¡±

    The brevity of that title weighed upon Elmore, and he couldn¡¯t fathom how the Queen could bear it so nonchalantly. Soon, in the most reasonable ruling structure of any of the great cities, Juniper would lose her placement on the Silver Throne. The yearly allocation of monarchs would revolve to the Water Sect, or namely, the God-Graced Maris. On the last day of Summer, it would be nearly a decade until Juniper would ever take that seat again.

    Alas, despite her regal front, the God-Graced¡¯s true emotions at the news were plain to all. And they certainly, beyond any shadow of a doubt, weren''t pretty.

    As the image of his Queen fizzled out, Elmore set his eyes onto the horizon.

    The Ravaged Lands ¡ª the home of the Chaos Sect.

    <hr>

    Remus side-stepped Aziel¡¯s first flaming fist, and, in a backwards dive, avoided the other. Heat danced through the air, contrasting the chill of night in a surreal sensation that only fueled his adrenaline, as punch after punch were hurled his way. Cornered, he was forced to absorb a few of the blows, summoning a patch of worming flame at each point of contact, as a sort of protective shield.

    The entrance to the barn was pressed against his back, and in a wild jolt, Remus reached its apex. He staggered for a moment, but managed to regain balance as Aziel joined him on the tilted rooftop; flying up in a burst of azure flame.

    ¡°Show-off.¡± Remus smiled.

    ¡°Hey, it''s a chilly night. Some much needed warmth won¡¯t harm anyone.¡±

    Stars shone, fists blurred, and Remus slipped back and forth along the roof''s surface. It had been raining not long ago, the remnants of an earlier storm still persisting in the sky via lingering clusters of grey. As thunder rattled around the two, Remus smirked, imagining himself as some sort of vigilante hero of the night.

    When he recalled he was more of a public menace than the people¡¯s champion, his mood dampened severely.

    Jolting forwards, Remus made for Aziel¡¯s chest. Looking up at his opponent¡¯s face, Remus expected to see staggered shock, and yet was rather confused when met with the complete opposite: smug confidence.

    Coiling snakes of pure flame encircled his palm, a terrifying heat working its way up the rest of the limb. The arm of his tunic was sent flying in ashy shreds, and Remus fought back the only way he knew how.

    Concentrating every wick of fire in his body in one churning wave, Aziel¡¯s slithering companions were vaporised in a fiery vortex. New strength reinforced Remus¡¯ punch, and Aziel stumbled back, clutching at his chest.

    Remus wouldn¡¯t give him the chance to recover.

    Sliding forward ¡ª manipulating the moisture of the barn¡¯s roof to his advantage ¡ª he kicked furiously at their leg. Aziel fell, and continuing his descent to drag the boy down, the two came crashing in a heap beside Hansley¡¯s wheat farm.

    Remus held Aziel down, pointing a sparring knife at his throat. They tried to toss him off, but Remus kept stable. The both of them were a similar weight, and so it was a manageable task.

    ¡°Well, well, would you look at that?¡±

    Saying nothing, the blond teen struck Remus¡¯ arm in a disorientingly fast movement. The knife fell out of his right hand¡¯s fickle grip, and in his bewilderment, Remus¡¯ guard dropped at one critical moment.

    In a blurr, Remus found their positions reversed.

    ¡°Remember, what my mother told you,¡± Aziel smiled, sharp end alarmingly close to Remus¡¯ throat. ¡°People won¡¯t hesitate to twist your weaknesses against you. If you¡¯re going to use a weapon, use your left side.¡±

    The two disengaged each other, catching their breaths, and observing the collateral damage all around. It wasn¡¯t much, simply a few burn stains here and there, but nothing the sect wasn¡¯t used to.

    Almost immediately, the two returned to fighting poses.

    If Remus had learned anything in the last few days of constant combat, it was that the Ambition Mark was perfect for honing one¡¯s skill. Not only did the endurance boost it provided mean Remus could fight for hours on end, and recover after a reasonable sleep, the insane motivation it supplied gave Remus the will to push on to his heart¡¯s content. Nevertheless, they had been punching each other silly since the crack of dawn, and the sun had long since set.

    As if the universe was serving as the voice of reason, Hansley popped her head over their cottage¡¯s doorway. ¡°Come in you two. Dinner¡¯s ready.¡±

    Patting their hands down, the two entered, with Aziel staring down at Remus¡¯ Mark. Already, the illustration of Tanish¡¯s valiant stand had grown noticeably.

    Aziel must have noted the lingering, neon glow it was emitting. ¡°Your Mark . . . how come it''s still producing Tanish¡¯s power?¡±

    Whenever a Mark was in use, it had a visible sign. It was a minute effect, true, nothing more than a faint emittance that intensified depending on how large the strain on it was, but even the slightest activation was difficult to conceal fully.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to keep my Mark active for as long as humanly possible,¡± Remus explained. ¡°Right now, I¡¯m increasing my durability by a tiny amount. The only problem now is to master the art of maintaining it during my sleep . . .¡±

    Aziel looked at him disapprovingly, an almost horrified wince possessing his features. ¡°Don¡¯t burn yourself out Remus. There is such a thing as overtraining, even for folks as endurable as us.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still here, aren¡¯t I?¡± He muttered defensively. ¡°If there are any adverse effects, I will feel them sooner or later.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± Aziel gave in eventually, ¡°just be careful. Slow and steady progression is the best progression. Even for us Ambition clansmen. You have to reign in that hunger for constant improvement sometimes, you know?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have the privilege of taking my time,¡± Remus spoke bitterly, ¡°even if I do nothing but train non-stop for the rest of the Rebirth, I still might not be strong enough in time.¡±

    ¡°In time for what?¡±

    Remus waved a hand to the side, sighing. ¡°Apologies. That was rude of me. Come, we¡¯re leaving your mother waiting.¡±

    Aziel scowled, but didn¡¯t outwardly object. ¡°You¡¯re hiding stuff Remus.¡± He said quietly. ¡°I know it might be private, but what if I could help you? Training yourself to death isn¡¯t going to do you any favours in the long-run. Your Mark has already developed so much in a little over a Duration ¡ª how long has it even been since you were without a Divine Rank?¡±

    ¡° . . . The start of Spring.¡±

    If there was a table under Aziel, he would have banged on it frantically. ¡°Spring? Is your plan to blitz your way to Godling by the day¡¯s end?¡±

    On the verge of uttering that would be ideal, Remus had to stop himself. Stop it with the rude act. You¡¯re acting like a spoiled brat.

    ¡°I¡¯m . . . sorry Aziel. I¡¯m not thinking straight. I¡¯ll take your guidance to heart, but I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have much choice in the matter. If I don¡¯t gather power soon-¡±

    ¡°Boys!¡± Hansley called.

    The two dropped the topic, but tension remained high even as they settled by the dinner table. Hansley had prepared a thick broth for the late meal; the servings were generous indeed.

    After expressing their thanks, the pair of them spent the first few minutes simply scoffing down their food. With an entire pot overflowing with food at the centre of the table, none of them were short of refills. Sighing, as if he had made vicious battle with the meaty stew, Remus laid back in his chair.

    Small talk filled the contents of the next few minutes, before they landed on the topic of their pasts.

    ¡°I was from the Carpentry Sect originally.¡± Reading their expressions of indifference, Remus chuckled lightly. ¡°I know, not the most grand of clans is it?¡±

    ¡°Each sect is important, Remus,¡± Hansley spoke reassuringly, ¡°the labour clans all have their purposes. Without them, whether some of the more prominent, combat-oriented sects like to admit it, we¡¯d all be at a loss.¡±

    ¡°But why did you leave?¡± Aziel asked, to which Hansley looked more taken aback than Remus himself.

    She pouted at her son. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s a little intrusive?¡±

    ¡°It''s fine,¡± all eyes turned to Remus. ¡°To put it simply, my clan¡¯s in trouble. Our sect-leader won¡¯t be around much longer, First Rite¡¯s economy makes Hell¡¯s Floor look like a  well-rounded community with no flaws, and I don¡¯t know how much longer we can last until enough is enough. Even our deity, Arcus, is at a loss. If someone powerful doesn¡¯t arise from the sect soon, I can¡¯t imagine what will become of us.¡±

    All eating stopped, and Remus struggled to maintain a stoic face as they both offered him their sympathies. ¡°Gods above.¡± Aziel had more to chew on than just his bowl¡¯s contents. ¡°Sorry for pressing you Remus-¡±

    ¡°It''s fine.¡±

    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t.¡±

    Remus stared at the rippling liquid of his leftover broth, the redness of his cheeks somehow reflecting in the murkiness of the liquid. ¡°There¡¯s more to it, but I don¡¯t want to bring a sombre end to this day. Let¡¯s just say, I won¡¯t be able to return to First Rite anytime soon.¡±

    They didn¡¯t press him, which Remus was thankful for, as they would be perfectly in the right to do so. Plus, dropping his criminal history at the dinner table didn¡¯t sound appealing at all.

    ¡°I suppose I should tell you a little more about myself in return.¡± Aziel broke the encompassing silence. ¡°Equal exchange, eh?¡±

    Of course, the two went through the charade of saying it''s perfectly fine, before Remus gave up.

    ¡°No, I insist. You already know about my reasons for joining the front lines, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m far off from being eligible. You see, Tanish gives out his Visions the second a clansman reaches Emblazed-¡±

    Remus¡¯s face shot up, as he looked directly at Aziel. ¡°He does?¡± It was more of a surprised exclamation than an actual inquiry.

    Laughter filled the kitchen. ¡°He does indeed.¡± Hansley answered. ¡°You see, us all being the embodiment of Ambition means that practically all of us agree to the military service. It''s expected, almost.¡±

    Frowning, Remus asked, ¡°if all of you head to the front lines, how come most people believe the Ambition Clan to be a boyish rumour ¡ª wouldn¡¯t partaking in the War grow your notoriety?¡±

    ¡°A rumour? Really?¡± Aziel sounded honestly shocked, words muffled as he swallowed another mouthful. ¡°Are we really that detached from the rest of Descent?¡±

    Both heads turned to Hansley to answer, like clueless children consulting the nearest adult to solve a basic sum for them. ¡°Those stationed at the front lines know about us, but nevertheless, there are hundreds of thousands fighting there; likely millions. Our few Foot-Soldiers sent off every few decades are lost in the numbers.¡±

    The explanation made sense, and Aziel, as if only then realising how truly miniscule his clan was, shook his head furiously. ¡°Anyhow, I¡¯ve been developing my Bank for quite some time now. A few years in fact. I¡¯ve been taking my time to ensure it''s perfect. I¡¯m confident that in the coming Passings, I¡¯ll be a fully-fledged Foot-Soldier.¡±

    Remus¡¯ lips tightened, his stomach dropping at the time frame. A few years to go from Emblazed to Foot-Soldier.

    That was quite frankly too long.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been cultivating the Diamond Marrow Mould. Not to go into excess detail, but when I complete the Vault, I wouldn''t recommend throwing any punches towards me, in the near future.¡±

    Only having to imagine throwing a jab at a body with impossibly tough bones to squeal, Remus wrinkled his nose. Such defences sounded precisely what someone aiming for Warden at the Splintered Ranks would go for. If Aziel ever fulfilled that ultra-defence, he would become a true menace on the battlefield.

    ¡°Within the year, I¡¯ll be heading off to join the War.¡± Aziel revealed. His mother didn''t look particularly pleased, but didn¡¯t object. Obviously, the woman had come to expect this, with years to come to terms with the decision.

    ¡°Though, I suppose we technically are all involved with the god¡¯s fight the moment we¡¯re born. We just don¡¯t truly realise it until a few years later.¡±

    With that profound comment, Remus¡¯ mind went whirling. ¡°Not to intrude, but how old exactly are you, Aziel?¡±

    ¡°Hm? Oh, twenty.¡±

    The spoon slid out of Remus¡¯ hand, sinking into his fifth refill. ¡°Twenty!¡±

    Aziel scowled, squinting his eyes with an antagonising air about him. ¡°What . . . do I look that much older?¡±

    Remus spluttered, scanning the man¡¯s face up and down, as though scrambling to find the missing piece of a puzzle.

    He must have been looking pretty forcefully, for Aziel leaned back in his chair ¡°Is it really that bad?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got this backwards. I didn¡¯t think you were that much older than me.¡±

    Leaving them to their own devices, Hansley provided background noise that was definitely not distracting at all, through her endless hysteria.

    Aziel peered closer, blonde hair falling messily along his forehead. ¡°Wait . . . how old are you?¡±

    ¡°Sixteen . . . seventeen mid-Autumn.¡±

    Now it was Aziel¡¯s turn to jump out of his seat, features exaggerating fiercely, as both his mouth and eyes widened. ¡°I was under the impression you were just a few years younger than me! For a Death-Marked to reach Enkindled, and at sixteen . . .¡±

    Old memories surfaced in Remus¡¯ mind ¡ª the words of an old friend, whose life was cut terribly short.

    ¡°Hold on a moment,¡± all humour was wiped out of the moment, as the two listened in intently. ¡°Before I came here, I met another Death-Marked. He told me none with the affliction had ever reached Enkindled, and here I find entire bloodlines descending from the very same  individuals. What¡¯s the deal?¡±

    Once more, the answer came down to the least exciting. ¡°As odd as it may sound, claiming you were once Death-Marked isn¡¯t exactly a glorious achievement. Centuries ago, when this sect of ours found new recruits much more abundantly ¡ª the remnants of the first wave of crushed sects ¡ª people harboured a greater hatred towards those kind than even today. As you can imagine, those that were burdened by the curse didn¡¯t go out of their way to speak about it vocally.¡±

    Given Remus¡¯ life up to this point, he didn¡¯t find that a tough pill to swallow. Prejudices ran deep, and even though the current world wasn¡¯t all sunshine and rainbows, the past had hardly been better. By the sounds of it, much worse, in fact.

    ¡°Back then, if a child was born with the Mark of a dead god, general perception was that they were of no use. Dull tools, or so to speak. We are very fortunate to have our cushy zones of Divine Ground as developed as they are. Back when the entirety of Descent was as absorbed in combat as Hell¡¯s Floor, you either fought for your sect, or were cast astray. In other words, Death-Marked were burnt at the stake.¡±

    Ohh, Remus gulped, his throat suddenly dry, maybe I should be more grateful. If I was born a little earlier . . . he shivered.

    With conversation bled dry, and their stomachs full to bursting, Remus looked out at the luminous moon, the ghostly white of which seemed to leak through the windows. The ethereal light flooded the kitchen, and the extent of Remus¡¯ fatigue suddenly struck him.

    Minutes later, Remus found himself lying against the now-familiar bed of hay he had become so acquainted to, the last Duration having flown by impossibly fast. Right as he was going to catch some much needed shut eye, Remus heard the barn door open, the familiar silhouette of Aziel dispersing his initial panic. Even after all this time, the fear of sudden attackers refused to leave him

    Sighing, Remus found himself filled with giddy laughter, a lightness pervading his body. ¡°For Infinity''s sake Aziel, you sure know how to terrify someone.¡±

    ¡°Apologies.¡± The young man murmured, sounding honestly apologetic. ¡°I was just wondering if we could talk about something. I know it''s late, but I thought it more likely to get an answer out of you without my mother¡¯s company.¡±

    ¡°Ask away, I¡¯m all ears.¡±

    Straw was crushed as Aziel took a seat, any strands of the stuff conveniently lost in the mimicking shade of his hair. It was here that it occurred to Remus that for straw to be here in such high abundance, animals must be kept at the farm, and yet he hadn¡¯t seen any of the like since his staying here. He didn¡¯t have to use his imagination to work-out the fate of the last inhabitants, his eyes attracted to a set of unnatural claws grazing across a row of the stalls.

    ¡°Violet. Why do the Unbounded want her?¡±

    . . . and that was precisely the one question Remus couldn¡¯t answer.¡±

    ¡°Look, I get it if you don¡¯t want to tell-¡±

    ¡°No, no, it''s not that.¡± He quickly cut him off. ¡°Just . . .¡±

    How on earth was he going to word this without sending alarm bells off in Aziel¡¯s head?

    ¡°Violet has caused a lot of trouble for the Unbounded in recent times. Primarily, the night we arrived here, she killed a high-authority figure in their ¡®social system¡¯, or whatever you call Unbounded communities. Having her killed is probably one of their top priorities right now; at least for the creatures roaming around these parts.¡±

    Aziel actually sighed with relief. ¡°Thank the gods, for a minute there, I actually thought . . .¡± He trailed off and, judging on what Remus had been fearing Aziel to say, he was thankful that he did. ¡°Anyhoo, not to be too nosey, but that letter she received ¡ª I won¡¯t ask about its contents, but is everything okay? An enemy of those vermin is a fast friend to us.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Remus said stiffly. ¡°She¡¯s fine.¡±

    The troubling part about that statement was that Remus was still unsure on whether it was a  lie or not. A suffocating warmth was crawling through Remus¡¯ insides. It wasn¡¯t the reaffirming, comforting kind he experienced when laying sore eyes on an old friend, or being full after a delicious meal. The dreadful feeling was the soul-sapping variety, drowning him out with a growing tension that simply refused to subside.

    ¡°Good.¡± Aziel put his hands on his waist, evidently of a much better state of mind then Remus. He turned around, making his way towards the barn¡¯s entry. ¡°Good indeed. Hey, maybe with the Unbounded so focused on your friend, we¡¯ll be able to recuperate. Yeah . . . that would be nice.¡±

    The barn shut with a dull reverberation.

    Remus fell into an uneasy sleep. If only I could share that optimism.

 35. Havoc

    That barn didn¡¯t survive the night, but that was the least of Remus¡¯ problems.

    Waking up in a pile of shrapnel wasn¡¯t exactly comfortable. Spluttering, Remus coughed the dust out of his lungs, a trail of blood lining down his forehead dripping into his eye. He blinked the substance out, slowed down his breathing, and set his Mark alight.

    Instantly, a newfound wave of confidence, in combination to a much needed endurance boost, rendered his body practically humming with power. He pinpointed the energy of his Ambition to a fist, not bothering enough to set it to a flame, and sent the surrounding debris encasing him flying.

    The early glow of day provided enough light to take in the devastation all around, but the frantic blaze of blue at every turn would make the place blindingly bright, even in twilight hours. Despite a steady grasp over his initially erratic breathing, Remus still couldn¡¯t fully prevent his terror from having a tangible effect on his body. He stumbled away from the frantic battlefield, toppling to his knees as last night¡¯s banquet worked its way up his oesophagus.

    They lied. It dawned on him, trembling hand to his mouth. Those bastards lied.

    Heavy, ashy fog obstructed his view of what was occurring at the bulk of the sect, and Remus wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to see.

    A screech from the side, and an Unbounded like no other Remus had ever seen leapt upon him. The collection of crystal sheaved through his clothes, via the simple means of its bodily structure. His Mark filtering out the pain with adrenaline, and the fear with blind stupidity, Remus concentrated the vast majority of his energy towards his palms. Fire streaked across both him and the Cluster ¡ª as he¡¯d recognised the Unbounded¡¯s type to be. In a roll, they streaked across the farm¡¯s perimeters, dashings of fire creeping away from him on their own respective trails.

    Monstrous wails, vaguely metallic, deafened Remus, threatening to burst his eardrums open as his foe melted to oil in his very clutches. The sight of its oozing head, persisting through the now pure white heat, was the most disturbing to settle upon his eyes since a considerable time indeed.

    Hurling the dissipating husk to the wayside, Remus clutched himself, grasping at his bleeding chest. It wasn¡¯t severe amounts, but he had been cut just enough to elicit golden outpours in several locations. Focusing on his Ichor, Remus channelled their general passage to those very spots. He had no idea if this was an effective manipulation of the divine nectar, but he was sure he had heard somewhere that this would prioritise the targeted areas¡¯ recovery.

    Dashing down, knocking aside the rubble in his path, Remus scampered through the insistent smoke. Through the murk, a few surviving huts could be spotted, but a notable series of them were beyond saving.

    Desperate shouts, eager footsteps, and hopeless cries. Human and Unbounded alike, combined to echo the most primaeval emotion of all: outright terror.

    The pandemonium had no feasible end, and Remus¡¯ training failed him for a moment, as he looked back and forth mindlessly through the dancing hordes of Unbounded, utterly lost on what he should do. Amongst their ranks were tens upon tens of the Clusters Remus had just faced against, the ever familiar Snow Wolves, and a few fresh faces ever keen to purge the lands of human flesh.

    Squinting, Remus could eye Brison at the hem of the fight, metres of flattened Unbounded stretching out behind him as he fought most vigorously. Every swing of the elderly man¡¯s hammer carried an audible whipping sound, and, in his crazed state of mind, Remus latched onto the intriguing detail that it was most likely forged out of Supreme Steel. Pure concentrations of Infinity to squash the servants of that very same resource ¡ª Remus couldn¡¯t help but find it bizarrely ironic.

    Snapping himself out of his paralysed reverie, Remus performed a run-up, jumped, and at the vault¡¯s apex, blasted fire through his hands. In a unique addition to Aziel¡¯s ability, the soles of his feet too blazed; his sandals reduced to their ash in line with the rest of his flaked appeal.

    For a few wonderful seconds, it worked perfectly. Zooming past the heads of marching Unbounded, Remus delved deeper into the attacking forces, completely unscathed as all manner of claws and nightmarish hands swiped upwards.

    Aziel, even his inner-voice sounded exhausted, I need to find-

    Hands spluttering, and his balance failing him, Remus¡¯ trajectory reached a downwards angle in one fatal mistake. Razzed land sprang up too quickly to avoid, and Remus collided with solid ground in an impact that completely winded him. Giving him no time to recover, a swarm of various Unbounded pounced on him.

    A whirling strip of red entangled him by the mid-section, toxic saliva blazing his skin raw anywhere it touched. Dangled upside down, Remus barely managed to shuffle his arm out of the grip of an oversized tongue. Setting his index finger aflame, he swished his hand across in the pattern of a straight line, and the amount of blood released alone told him that he had succeeded.

    Once more on the ground, Remus wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake twice.

    The Unbounded before him was in the vague shape of a toad, their hide a sickly splash of red on orange. Almost slipping over the half of the creature¡¯s tongue he had condemned to the mud below, he was ready for when the toad stuck again. The remaining portion of the crimson whip rushed towards him, and, extending a hand, Remus latched onto it, ignoring the pain with the most stony face he could conjure.

    Dodging incoming projectiles of crystal, Remus swung on the strip of muscle, in the same manner as one would a vine. In a clunky landing, Remus pressed all his weight across the creature''s back. Then, as the Unbounded serenaded him with a series of agonising croaks, he proceeded to do what any reasonable man would in his shoes.

    He choked the creature with its own tongue.

    Heaving with all his might, Remus ducked and shifted as yet more crystal flickered through the air. All around, concentrating in one advancing group, he didn¡¯t get the impression the Clusters were exactly pleased with him.

    Remus was just about to shower flames their way with his spare hand, when the oncoming corpse of a Snow Wolf smacked against them. Two more were tossed over, and, head flickering to the source of the raining caracasses, Remus spotted exactly who he¡¯d been searching for.

    Aziel ran around the place in a constant huddle of blue, the stern lines engraved into his face a heated fire of their own. More of the bested creatures lay dormant at his feet, and he¡¯d evidently set himself to using them as makeshift projectiles.

    Surprisingly, the plan appeared to be working.

    Visible fractures riddled down the crystal Unbounded, and a few of the smaller creatures squirmed under the weight of the dissolving wolves, unable to escape. As Remus watched, the toad could take no more, reduced to a disintegrating sack that Remus promptly hopped off of.

    Flying over, Aziel recognised Remus instantly. They skipped over the small-talk.

    ¡°How long have they been attacking?¡± Remus asked, back to Aziel.

    ¡°Not sure. Hard to track the time. Twenty minutes or so?¡±

    So I haven¡¯t missed too much, Remus mentally assessed. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±

    ¡°First,¡± Aziel stepped forth, shooting out a fireball into the middle-distance, ¡°we need to find my mother.¡±

    Remus nodded, and at Aziel¡¯s command, followed his back deeper into the battlefield. As he marched along, a thousand inquiries formed in Remus¡¯ head concerning details of the fight, but he kept them to himself for the time being. Chances were, he wouldn¡¯t like the answers.

    Aziel abruptly stopped, crouching behind a piece of rubble, and cursing under his breath. ¡°That guy there,¡± he whispered, and he didn''t have to point out the man dominating the battlefield for Remus to know who he was referring to, ¡°that¡¯s the leader of these Unbounded, I believe.¡±

    It was during that quick, one-second inspection of the man that Remus realised that the being in question wasn¡¯t a man at all. Rather, an Unbounded. Not even his Mark could distil the surge of fear flooding through Remus. For an Unbounded to a resemble a mortal that closely, putting aside the strangeness of Violet¡¯s family, they would have to be-

    ¡°They¡¯re Warlord equivalent, at the very least.¡± Aziel¡¯s voice carried a professional grace to it, but Remus could hear the shakiness just barely hidden below. ¡°Damn it, we¡¯ve never had stronger than Foot-Soldiers before; how have so many powerful Unbounded rushed past the front lines, all at once?¡±

    Remus had come to learn that Unbounded of all strengths roamed every corner of this world, but he wasn¡¯t about to drop that bombshell to Aziel in the heat of combat. The being¡¯s appearance was made up of middle-grounds, in the sense that he never swayed too far in any specific detail.

    Neither too handsome nor too ugly; not quite overly muscular, but his frame wasn¡¯t completely sparse either. His hair was a bland mop of an average length, and the Unbounded¡¯s eyes were a virtually colourless grey. If this was what most Unbounded at higher realms of power looked like, as if the result you would stumble upon if all of humanity¡¯s faces were combined, Remus would find them all equally as uncanny.

    Attached to their hands was a shredded collar, as if a dog had forcefully bitten their way out of the confines.

    Out of nowhere, before either of them could move, Brison blurred forwards, holding his signature hammer aloft, to the back of the being¡¯s head. For a split second, they didn¡¯t appear to have noticed, when a crackling like thunder resounded all around.

    Remus blinked, and the next thing he saw was the Unbounded¡¯s extended palm. The hammer did little more than push him back a few inches, until Remus'' heart skipped a beat, noticing the state of the creature¡¯s crumpled hand.

    The entire appendage had been squashed.

    The Unbounded merely glanced at the hand, frowned, as if inspecting an oddity, before the rest of his arm contorted grotesquely. Within seconds, a perfect replica of the lost hand reformed, springing outwards like freshly moulded clay. Remus blinked again, only to be met with the sight of Brison being tossed feet away, a bright pink slap mark plastered upon his cheek.

    The Warlord spat, still standing. ¡°You¡¯re all scum.¡±

    Shaking his hand, the Unbounded didn¡¯t seem bothered in the slightest. ¡°It''s all a matter of perspective.¡±

    With that, clansmen at every angle bombarded them with showers of flame, but the Unbounded didn¡¯t even buckle. ¡°Stupid.¡± He muttered, stepping out of the wall of pure fire, practically unscathed. ¡°Impossibly insolent.¡±

    His skin was scorched, but yet again, the Unbounded¡¯s healing factor restored any damage.

    Remus heard Aziel take a breath in at his side, and Brison threw himself at the Unbounded yet again. Again and again his hammer landed, the surviving clansmen at the scene pouring all of their energy into scorching the being alive. Slowly but surely, the wounds on the being persisted, but they were little more than bruises.

    ¡°Come,¡± Aziel tapped Remus¡¯ shoulder, who realised he¡¯d been holding his breath, ¡°she¡¯s not here. Brison will be able to manage, there¡¯s a reason he¡¯s grown so old. That Unbounded will fall eventually.¡±

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    For the second time, Remus copied Aziel as the blond man whisked himself overhead, the mode of flight, whilst shaky, not tossing him into any aggravated toads this time. Abruptly, Aziel stopped, with no explanation as to why.

    Eruptions for metres all around elicited a faint buzzing in Remus¡¯ ears, and he couldn¡¯t make out what his companion was saying for the life of him. Not to mention the fact his lip-reading skills had never been spectacular.

    ¡°What?¡± He called.

    Expression not revealing a thing, perhaps out of an inability to process the sight before him, Aziel raised a shaky finger, almost sabotaging his flight in the process.

    Remus followed the length of the arm, towards the patch of piled corpses Aziel was pointing to, and then at the monstrosity laying before it. A mass of body parts thrown together in a sickening hodgepodge squirmed as it inched forwards, sideways legs kicking out at the ground from misplaced locations. Dead clansmen, dissolving Unbounded ¡ª both reduced to food for a ravenous beast that could never be sated.

    Blinking, Remus awaited for reality to set in, but it never did. He found his eyelids quivering with a newfound quickness, as he laid witness to the body half dangling out of one the creature¡¯s many mouths.

    The limp body of Hansley.

    Remus tore his vision away from the putrid sight, and had to squint through wet eyelids as Aziel donned a draping, withering white flame. Ignoring the moisture leaking out of eyes at all costs, Remus too let his Mark¡¯s inhibitions flood his mind, numbing anguish with impossible resolve. More precisely, the resolve to enact an endless revenge.

    Let me feel nothing. He asked of his Mark, knowing full well that it couldn¡¯t hear him. Please.

    In unison, the two of them flew forwards.

    Still not accustomed to flying, and his seething emotions not helping his concentration in the slightest, Remus¡¯s trajectory was slightly off. Fumbling to the land beside the swarming mass, he just about recovered in time to see Aziel collide with the Unbounded head-on.

    An eye of the beast erupted in multicoloured blood; one of its dangling arms caught flame and corroded to mush; and Aziel didn¡¯t stop destroying limbs the entire time Remus stared numbly at the onslaught. The remains of Hansley¡¯s body lay soaking in its own blood off to the side, discarded like an object that¡¯s usage had expired.

    Remus didn¡¯t even realise he was screaming before his fist was embedded arm-deep into one of the creature¡¯s salivating mouths. An assortment of teeth, mismatched from a wide selection of absorbed beings, chafed against his skin. Both of Remus¡¯ arms had been rubbed raw now, by both this servant of devils, and that oversized toad. Regardless, he didn¡¯t care much for the state of his body. Right then and there, he wanted to burn the villain before him from the inside out, like a hog-roast.

    Blue flame turning white as he amassed all his body¡¯s heat into his lodged arm, Remus felt as the cracks widened within the Unbounded¡¯s molars. Pressure built up around the limb, as gummy walls chomped down repeatedly upon him, but with the Unbounded¡¯s mouth in ruins, it was more uncomfortable than anything.

    As Aziel beat the being¡¯s exterior bloody, Remus let out a mini supernova to obliterate its innards.

    Screams; screeches of agonising torment unlike anything Remus had ever heard reverberated for metres all around. And it was like music to his ears.

    Steam rolled off of Remus¡¯ shoulder, his Mark glowing alarmingly bright, but he ignored the possible danger categorically.

    Clansmen all around had joined the two¡¯s beatdown, supplying flame to the steadily rising bonfire Remus had created, or tossing any sharp object in the nearby vicinity towards the Unbounded. A pitchfork sticking out of the being may have been an amusing sight, if circumstances had been any different.

    To his side, Aziel yelped out strings upon strings of unintelligible curses, fists a blur as any tears he bored evaporated the instant they appeared.

    His Mark burning now, to the point of searing his skin, Remus¡¯ eyes grew blurry. Not yet . . . not until Hansley¡¯s murderer is-

    A resounding crash threatened to deafen anyone within a mile range. Remus¡¯; eyelids were forcibly shut by a furious bout of air pressure, and he didn¡¯t like in the slightest what he saw when reopening them.

    The leader of this group of Unbounded had come crashing to the scene, looking perfectly fine aside from a few bloodstains that dotted his face. He didn¡¯t bother to wipe the golden stuff off.

    ¡°Daisy!¡± He cried, bursting out in anguish at the sight of the melting mass. ¡°What did these horrible people do to you?¡±

    Remus barely had a second to savour that look of tragic outrage, when the head of a hammer crushed into the Unbounded¡¯s side.

    The being, this time, collapsed to the ground, holding himself to a sitting position with one arm. Brison didn¡¯t hesitate to clobber away at his exposed back incessantly, no one else intervening out of sheer, stupefied shock.

    ¡°Do-¡±

    One strike of the hammer, swift and precise.

    ¡°Not-¡±

    Another.

    ¡°Flee-¡±

    The sound of bones cracking sent the Unbounded crumpling even lower.

    ¡°-from me!¡±

    As Brison swung down to deliver the final blow, the Unbounded¡¯s hand grasped the hammer¡¯s handle. It visibly cracked.

    Brison gagged, a punch to the abdomen rendering him empty of all air.

    The Unbounded shook with every passing second, but he held enough strength in his bashed-up body to murmur one fatal line.

    ¡°Third Divine Right: Just Immunity.¡±

    They suddenly exhaled, body lifted forwards by some invisible force like a ragdoll. Remus charged up a fireball in his palm, but his Mark smoked in a painful infliction. The spark stuffed out and died, and Remus barely had the energy to stay conscious.

    Through half-closed eyes, he watched the creature¡¯s body contort, the repeated sound of crunching resounding out every few seconds ¡ª as if they were reconstructing their entire skeleton by brutal force.

    Skin pulsed, eyes rolled back, and a euphoric smile settled on the creature¡¯s mouth in an eerie visage.

    ¡°Ah ha! They clashed their fists together, sidestepping a barrage of projectiles and giggling like a madman. ¡°Now, out of all of you, who was it that first laid a finger upon my precious Daisy? Who out of you punks wanted to die so badly?¡±

    All attention had been drawn onto the humanoid Unbounded, and the image of a human heart that had manifested on their brow. To the extent that Daisy was left unguarded, to overcome the flames.

    Murky blood poured out of every orifice in the mass¡¯s body, and it simply refused to stop choking, but the creature was alive alright.

    As if everyone had snapped into their senses all at once, the two Unbounded were bombarded, met with some kind of resistance at every angle. Remus could see Aziel pounce once more on the sprawl of limbs, kicking and screaming. A tug in Remus¡¯ chest grew as he watched the man grip onto the shaking mound¡¯s flesh, setting himself fully alight, and letting the mass of flame spread in a swarm of withering cobras.

    The other Unbounded gave Aziel a look, as if wondering what his entrails would look like neatly laid out across the ground, before Brison¡¯s glowing white fist restructured his face.

    The human Warlord Brison lashed out again, impossibly quick, but somehow, his target weaved out of the blow¡¯s way. This dance continued for an entire disorienting minute, with any damage Brison¡¯s prey did take being healed within a literal nanosecond. And Remus might have been in a dazed state of mind, but he would¡¯ve betted the rest of his fingers that it was no exaggeration.

    Hidden beneath a length of wood blown off of someone¡¯s house, Remus wasn¡¯t sure whether to consider himself the most lucky, or unfortunate soul in the world. Some of the weight pressed down upon him in a manner exactly as uncomfortable as you¡¯d expect. And yet, he was virtually fully concealed below its coverage, protected whilst his Mark recovered for the time being.

    Suffice to say, using his Mark so abundantly after only turning Enkindled a little over a Duration ago had truly run a number on him. It took all he had simply not to pass out, as powers beyond anything Remus had ever seen duked it out; the overall losses only continued to tally higher.

    What was that image on the Unbounded¡¯s head? Remus latched onto the question to keep his mind active, in his semi-conscious state. Divine Right? Just immunity?

    It seemed that every passing day, the Unbounded unveiled some sort of new trick out of their proverbial magician¡¯s hat, and Remus found it exhausting simply to keep up with all the revelations.

    Violet would have a field trip with this news, Remus thought, on the very verge of passing out. And possibly Veida two, if the both of them ever amend their ways.

    In the heart of a raging battlefield, the embrace of sleep had never sounded any sweeter.

    <hr>

    Wet grass squelched as Violet strolled deeper into the outer city ruins, cloak drifting along her wiry frame, her hood kept stiffly up.

    Hearing a place¡¯s description a hundred times over is one thing, But actually being there was a whole different matter entirely. Sure, Violet had seen maps, illustrations, paintings and all other means of depicting the renowned place, but none of them quite captured the strange serenity that seemed to linger about every crevice of the grassy plain.

    Perhaps it was simply the fact she was returning to Divine Ground after so long, but an easiness that appeared to define the series of crumbling structures paved its way into her worn out muscles, soothing her with that very same tranquillity.

    A light rain had been persisting since morning, and through it, the slightly obscured image of a figure resting with a hat on their laying head encapsulated precisely what Violet liked about this place so much.

    Out here, back on Divine Ground, no one would try to butcher her.

    That notion, however mirthful, quickly subsided after she recalled one crucial detail: being an Unbounded, the rules of Divine Ground didn¡¯t apply to her. The pseudo-conscious of Infinity couldn¡¯t care less about abiding by god-made laws, and so didn¡¯t. And, of course, she had the misfortune of fitting into that category.

    Once more, a cloud of doubt engulfed Violet¡¯s mind, and she stared out at her outstretched palm. As if superimposed over, Violet could eye the stretch of white that was her Unbounded form, and the scariest part wasn¡¯t the mere thought of that horrid appearance. It was that Violet couldn¡¯t discern which was reality.

    Swallowing, Violet slumped her arm down and pressed onwards.

    Veida had informed Violet that she would know exactly where to find her, but whether she was lying, or had forgotten to pen down her whereabouts, that was seeming more and more like a lie. Or perhaps simply optimistic thinking. A notion occurred to Violet that perhaps this was all a wild goose chase, or worse: a deliberate trap.

    Several times, the inclination to tear the researcher¡¯s letter into increasingly smaller pieces had befallen Violet, but it always ended with her throwing her arms up in defeat.

    Circling around the City Proper in an inwards spiral had seemed the most efficient way of covering as much land as quickly as possible, and yet no miraculous signs of Veida fell into Violet¡¯s lap.

    For what it was worth, the place was extravagant.

    In the direct epicentre of the dotted ruins, a citadel sat. The outer areas of the place reminded Violet distinctly of the destroyed castle that the Flame Sect¡¯s main base had been positioned within. Except, the castle-like structure here was immaculate. Right in between so much raging conflict that had filled the lands in centuries past, it was a miracle that the building remained relatively unscathed. Judging by the state of the land immediately extending past these grounds, however, it was clear that this pristine care was extremely selective.

    The walls of stone that extended skywards from the citadel¡¯s base were without so much as a scratch. Lined against either side, were life-like statues of the deities comprising both the Elemental Pact, and the Animalistic Accord ¡ª the two godly alliances that grudgingly ruled alongside each other in the relatively peaceful kingdom of Hybrid. Ignoring the weekly raids between territories, civil wars that seemed never-ending, and the constant, unresolved ruins to be found at every turn, they would assure you it was a sacred time of prospering tranquillity.

    Apexing it all, slanted windows allowed Violet a sneak preview of the Hall of Thrones. There, individual seats especially designed to match each respective deity lay, handcrafted meticulously by the Matter Clan for their base¡¯s worth in gold. At this angle, Violet could only eye the seat of The Wild Sect, reportedly crafted out over over a hundred types of wood. Vines wreathed the seat¡¯s back, with these being replaced by the yellow of Autumn leaves, or frozen branches every time Violet did so much as blink.

    But this particular throne had been left to gather dust over the past Rebirth, as its occupant seated a much more important position.

    The Silver Throne, crafted out of pure Supreme Steel, was the throne that the God-Graced would be seated upon if present.

    Nevertheless, no matter how visually-stunning Violet found these all to be, she wasn¡¯t here for sightseeing. The desire to sit on some nondescript stone and fall asleep with her head in her hands was a powerful one, but one overcome simply through a persisting, irritating sound.

    Chirping hummed through the air, and turning her head towards its direction, Violet scowled. Just what exactly is causing all that racket?

    Turning around a crumbling wall, Violet discovered her answer.

    Stacks up stacks of cages contained countless birds, all shrieking up a ruckus for no apparent reason. Ignoring the insanity of this sight alone, Violet had to double take as she noted that every single one of the sparrows matched Pippin virtually completely in appearance.

    ¡°I like to breed birds, in my spare time,¡± a familiar voice spoke, ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if you¡¯d find the signal, or even understand it, but here you are now.¡±

    Violet swivelled round, met with the cold mien of Veida.

    ¡°Welcome, Violet. There is much to discuss.¡±

 36. Cold and Calculated

    Remus was bleeding out on the floor when the Wild Sect rudely interrupted.

    Through much trial and error, Remus discovered that burning up one''s energy stores wasn¡¯t ideal for ensuring a speedy recovery. The open wounds lining his chest ¡ª the same injuries he had gained from a particularly beserk Cluster ¡ª soaked his tunic, and if he had any more reason to succumb to the call of sleep, bleeding out dangerous amounts of Ichor would likely be it.

    All that fury, all of that blind resolve had dwindled to the burnt wick of a blown-out candle. The sound of his breathing was all that Remus could focus upon, to both ignore the crushing weight threatening to finish him off, and the chaos occurring mere feet away.

    Brison and the Pet-Keeper, or so the Unbounded had started to refer to himself as, during bizarre bouts of eccentric rambling, had been at it for five minutes straight. Brison did not look good in the slightest, collapsing to one knee and forcing himself back up, just in time to avoid a lethal blow, every few seconds.

    The Pet-Keeper, smiling smugly as ever, would score full points at a medical check-up. He was more dishevelled than anything, but this seemed like the trivial inconvenience it was, when his unmarked flesh was taken into account.

    He didn¡¯t cackle quite so jovially once the engraving on his forehead flickered out, however.

    Whatever that illustration of a heart was, losing it obviously was a great cause of distress for the Pet-Keeper. ¡°Damn it.¡± They gritted a set of flawless teeth. When diving spears of wood impaled him through the stomach, they appeared even less pleased. ¡°Double damn it.¡±

    The shock of the moment sent a newfound wave of adrenaline surging through Remus, and grasping the opportunity, he quickly vaulted out from under his imprisoning debris.

    Back on the battlefield, however dubious the colour of his tunic, Remus was granted a much clearer view of the battlefield. Peering through the pervading greyness of lingering smoke, Aziel¡¯s unconscious body was being carried by a sprinting clansman; Daisy still preoccupied with another team of butchering fighters. The heart in his throat making it impossible to swallow, Remus stared out blankly at the razzed plain that had previously been the Ambition Clan¡¯s base of operations. He couldn¡¯t lament for too long however, as the shifting of cloaks in the distance grasped his attention: more specifically, their shade: an emerald green.

    The bloody, hulking form of Brison grasped the Pet-Keeper by the throat, pounding them against the ground again and again in his greatest string of blows all fight long. Blood oozed out of the Pet-Keeper¡¯s mouth, and before Remus could wonder what had occurred to his apparent invulnerability, he spluttered, ¡°why must I-¡± he received a mouthful of mud, ¡°always lose track of the time?¡±

    By the looks of it, the rest of the Unbounded forces had been rounded out, or left dead, dissolving in a sect turned graveyard.

    But the losses . . . Remus let out a gawky croaking sound, not caring enough to pay the newcomers any mind, despite the imminent danger. The losses had not been worth it. Not in the least bit. Aziel had looked okay, nothing too strenuous afflicting him, but one could never be too sure. Not knowing how he would cope if he lost Aziel too, Remus stopped ignoring Elmore¡¯s silhouette on the horizon.

    Several things happened at once.

    For one thing, as the Pet-Keeper and Daisy made a surprise flee, a barrage of projectiles from The Wild Sect rained down heavily upon them. Daisy had been reduced to a fourth of their original size, beaten and on the verge of death, but the Pet-Keeper plopped the bloody bundle against his side. For a being afflicted with a horrible case of internal bleeding, the Pet-Keeper was remarkably swift. They reached the boundaries of the sect, before a portal of violet light enveloped them whole. The burst of purple faded, and nothing but the destruction they had left remained of the two.

    Brison took in deep breaths that included his entire chest, and everyone else present joined him for a moment of respite. Nobody asked a thing, for doing so would require them to accept the devastation that had robbed them of both a home, and clansmen not a soul dared to attribute a number to.

    Strength returning to him just enough to hide behind the remains of a crushed hut, Remus watched with bated breath as Brison offered a hand to the evident leader of The Wild Sect squadron. To Remus¡¯ surprise, the woman was distinctly not Elmore.

    ¡°Whoever you are,¡± Brison began, voice hoarse, and interrupted by occasional pants, ¡°I cannot thank you enough. The entire Ambition Sect is in your debt.¡±

    All the clansmen present dropped to their knees, and even out of view, Remus found himself instinctually joining them.

    For the longest pause of Remus¡¯ life, only the rustling of wind carrying away the dust of the base could be heard.

    Abruptly, the woman stepped forth, and Remus recognised Elmore and his two cousins standing awkwardly, amongst the ranks of the squadron.

    ¡°So they know their place . . .¡± the woman mused with a deep voice, fixed with a light smile just short of a snicker. With her voice raised, even Brison stood to attention.

    ¡°From here on out, the Ambition Clan is custody of The Wild Sect. You will be treated as a minor fief, under the rule of her Ma-¡±

    She talked still through the crescendo of outraged refusals. By the woman¡¯s indifferent glaze to the eyes, she would forget about the tide of anguish the second her tasks here were complete. The complete lack of any sort of sympathy in the slightest was painfully apparent, and frustrated Remus to no end. Blood thumping in his ears, he could barely hear her next words of overt mockery.

    ¡°Oh? Sorry to say, you have no choice in the matter. Sure, you could fight-¡±

    At that moment, one clansman, who was either crazed out of his mind, or beyond courageous, dashed towards the woman. Flames covered his body in one shimmering mass. The squad-leader didn¡¯t expend the effort to look the shrieking hooligan¡¯s way. Clicking a finger, roots sprouted under his dashing feet. The man fell, and oak spikes ruptured through one side of him, and out the other. He stopped screaming.

    ¡°As I was saying,¡± nothing but a few horrified squirms escaped the lips of the observers. ¡°Resist if you must. I hold no qualms with increasing the dead. Heck, with less of you to rule over, you¡¯d just be lessening my workload.¡±

    Whilst Remus wasn¡¯t a fanatic admirer of The Wild Sect, he had never despised them. They had ample reason to seek justice for Remus¡¯ actions, and were reasonable at the worst of times. But the woman before him right now . . . such cruelty could never be warranted.

    Eyes turned to Brison for support, but they were left waiting for a rebuttal that would never come. All of his fear, pain, and complete and utter exhaustion rendered Remus unable to move any further. He unwillingly lowered to the ground, bleeding only reduced somewhat. He knew with a foul certainty that there was nothing Brison could do. His sect had never suffered such a dire turn of events, and with their numbers weak-to-the-bone after a fierce attack, they didn¡¯t have the power in strength or numbers to pose a meaningful resistance.

    One sect strangled by the economy, and the second reduced to slaves.

    And Remus couldn¡¯t help but feel both fates were his fault; his responsibility.

    Eyes blazing a neon blue, wisps of flame masking the rising moisture, Remus¡¯ last thoughts before succumbing to the darkness yet again was one of vengeance.

    Rash decisions be damned, I¡¯ll butcher you all.

    <hr>

    For an hour, Elmore did nought but watch in stunned silence, as the Ambition Sect was completely overtaken. Willow, the woman overseeing this operation, had always spooked him as a child; his early years spent in the same base as her, in Territory Five. Something about the Vanguard was beyond eerie, something about her demeanour he had never been able to pinpoint.

    If he was perfectly honest, he had had his inhibitions when it was first revealed that she was the back-up Juniper had been referring to ¡ª a unit made up of over twenty middle-Ranked soldiers in tow, from the bottom of Emblazed to the peak of Foot-Soldier. But not once had he expected her to be quite so sadistic.

    Considering his own stupefied response to not only Willow¡¯s actions, but the sheer chaos the Unbounded had unleashed on a base so far out from the front lines, Elmore knew his cousins would be much worse for wear. Ash, for once, dropped his carefree attitude to engage in a fierce, one man trembling competition. Not quite so bad, at least externally, Koa displayed no outward difference. But the hollow depth to his unblinking eyes . . . they told a different story entirely.

    Clansmen had been rounded up in temporary bases of either half-destroyed huts, or quickly constructed tents. There were a few clansmen designated to each group, as the intricacies of The Wild Sect¡¯s control were organised.

    Finally, Willow¡¯s approach swept Elmore out of his frozen reverie.

    ¡°Elmore.¡±

    He stood to attention immediately. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am. How may I be of assistance?¡±

    She glowered. ¡°If you could help me locate clansmen Remus, Aziel, and Brison, that would be a wonderful start.¡±

    Elmore would have cursed, if his environs were any different. That sneaky weasel! He inwardly screeched. Perhaps if Remus hadn¡¯t evaded him so persistently, Elmore wouldn¡¯t have thought too much of a few clansmen slipping out of their grasp. The Wild Sect often took over dying clans like these to expand their military might, and a few runaways were to be expected.

    And yet, that was ignoring the bigger picture. A sect leader had evaded them. A Warlord scheming against their squadrons wouldn¡¯t be good at all.

    ¡°If it''s any help, I can round up a few of our men to form a search team. With our spare numbers, we should cover a substantial amount of land pretty quickly.¡±

    She waved a hand. ¡°Already on it, my dear.¡±

    Ignoring the cold affinity that seemed to linger on Willow¡¯s every word, Elmore continued, unperturbed. ¡°Shall I join them? My cousins and I are unoccupied.¡±

    ¡°The added help would be beneficial, but that''s soon to change. It''s time to fill you in on the details of your next mission.¡±

    The hairs on Elmore¡¯s nape stood up. For days now, he¡¯d been eagerly awaiting this information. Second chances from Juniper were slim, and he was keen to make use of it like the diamond in the rough the opportunity was.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t inform you of its contents until a certain someone arrived,¡± Juniper explained. ¡°Donovan?¡±

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    As if manifesting right at that moment, a tall, built man strolled into view. Elmore would have jolted in shock in any other circumstance. The draped figure had appeared out of nowhere, and he could tell instantly that this newcomer had the makings of an assassin.

    At that precise moment, two thoughts clicked in Elmore¡¯s head. Something about espionage had been Juniper¡¯s words, and if this ¡®Donovan¡¯ had anything to do with it . . .

    ¡°I should probably explain some things beforehand.¡± Willow put both hands on her hips. ¡°First, you and your cousins will be heading to the Ravaged Lands. More specifically, Hell¡¯s Floor. Your mission is to infiltrate the Chaos Sect, bringing back any information you may come across.¡±

    Elmore swallowed. Suffice to say, he wasn¡¯t exactly cut out for this line of work. Second of all, he could hardly understand the purposes of the task in the first place. ¡°Excuse me, but why the Chaos Sect specifically? I understand the fugitive Violet¡¯s connection with them, but aren¡¯t they actively funding the search for her arrest?¡±

    Willow shrugged, and out of the corner of his eye, Elmore took careful notice that Donovan was still yet to mutter a word. ¡°They¡¯re . . . suspicious, to say the least. I don¡¯t know the full extent of Juniper¡¯s reasoning, but some basic points are their unknown reasons for turning on Violet, and Verity¡¯s strange disappearance. For a girl to go missing, and two rabid Unbounded to instantly appear not ten minutes later . . . it¡¯s fishy.¡±

    At last, the man at Willow¡¯s side was fully addressed. ¡°Donovan is a Foot-Soldier from the Shadow Clan, specifically sent away from the front lines so we can use his particular set of skills. If anyone will get you into that base relatively unnoticed, it''s Donovan.¡±

    The man offered Elmore a handshake, words methodical, with no excitement behind them. They went through one of Elmore¡¯s ears, and out the other, as he examined the Foot-Soldier from head to toe.

    Earning his clan¡¯s name, Donovan¡¯s tunic, cloak, and lower garments were all of a severe jet shade. His eyes were a troubling grey, black hair spilling over his head in a neat batch of a medium size. He held himself lithely, as if trained to quickly manoeuvre out of the path of any sudden attacks.

    Smiling awkwardly at the man, Elmore quickly diverted his attention back to Willow.

    ¡°I appreciate any help we can get, especially someone as qualified as Donovan. But why use us for such a prestigious mission? It''s a little dangerous if this goes wrong, don''t you think?¡± When met with no immediate reply, Elmore expanded on his point. ¡°Not to undercredit us, but my cousins and I cap at Emblazed, and a Foot-Soldier on top of that, whilst nice, seems less than ideal for a mission so serious. If Nova discovers what we¡¯re up to, he¡¯ll have a reason to openly hate Juniper. Perhaps, to enact even worse than open grudges.¡±

    Elmore stopped himself firmly there. Not even he was a fan of where his thoughts were leading him.

    ¡°I hold the same grievances,¡± the Vanguard Willow admitted, ¡°but Juniper¡¯s logic stands to opposition. She states that a group of overall less power is certain to attract less attention. In theory, this raises our chances of success.¡±

    In theory wasn¡¯t the most reliable of foundations, but Elmore would take it.

    ¡°Right, I must be off,¡± Willow abruptly said, already marching off someplace else. ¡°I recommend gathering Koa and Ash, and leaving immediately. Hell¡¯s Floor is quite a distance.¡±

    Before he uttered another word, the woman sped off, with unnatural agility. Feeling acutely aware of the two¡¯s shared isolation, Elmore blinked at Donovan¡¯s unrevealing features. He did not like what he found in them.

    <hr>

    Violet stood absolutely still, as the woman of her nightmares met her gaze. Pippin was resting on Veida¡¯s uplifted hand, stuffing his beak with a wide variety of seeds. The moment seemed to stretch on for uncomfortably long, until Violet realised that an entire minute had passed, and she still was yet to speak.

    ¡° . . . gone mute, have you?¡± Veida asked, though her voice wasn¡¯t harsh. Violet had been expecting them to be aggressive, but the researcher held herself together, at least superficially.

    ¡°No.¡± Violet hastily muttered. ¡°Your letter? What did you want to speak about?¡±

    More agonising silence. Apparently words were worth more than diamond, for neither of them were willing to give anything away easily.

    ¡°First off Violet,¡± the temporary quietude was snapped short, ¡°I have to . . .¡± the woman hesitated, as if retching up a stone in her throat that only came undone out of sheer moral obligation. ¡° . . . apologise. My actions at the Flame Sect were uncalled for, and-¡±

    ¡°Save it.¡± Violet huffed. ¡°I get it. I don¡¯t suppose you called me all the way out here to rendezvous, solely to apologise. What¡¯s your real reasoning?¡±

    The woman''s lips curved downwards. ¡°Violet, it may not seem like it, but I¡¯m being sincere here.¡±

    Really sounds like it, Violet mentally scoffed, but she failed to muster any ferocity behind it.

    ¡°I have some news to exchange,¡± she continued, eyebags somehow having deepened since their last meeting, ¡±and plans to form. But first of all, the news: the Flame Sect is under attack.¡±

    Violet blinked. ¡° . . . What?¡±

    ¡°The Flame Sect is under attack. One of our minor camps has been completely flattened, and the main base is being bombarded every other day.¡±

    Still, the words wouldn¡¯t surrender their meaning. ¡°What?¡±

    The older woman exhaled, the motion emphasised by the dropping of shoulders. Violet, for the first time, felt the weight of Veida¡¯s years. It was almost as if she had gained a decade¡¯s worth of ageing in only a few Passings¡¯ time. That sort of transformation only occurred under the most intensive of situations. Sect leaders often amassed a few grey hairs after their first few Rebirths at the post, but for the same to occur to Veida so quickly, as only a minor advisor to the sect . . .

    Something most definitely was amiss. Speech heralded meaning, and Violet, stumbling back a step, finally took to heart the woman¡¯¡¯s words. ¡°Attacked? By Unbounded?¡±

    For the hundredth instance, silence. If there were a god of uncomfortable pauses, they must have been having the time of their immortal life right about then.

    ¡°Indeed. How do you know specifically by Unbounded, dare I ask?¡± Veida craned back as she spoke, and Violet wanted to claw her hair out at the action.

    ¡°Look Veida, I¡¯m not aligned with the Unbounded! Do you think I was behind this?¡± She took frantic glances all around, half expecting a band of assassins to be hiding in the foliage. ¡°I might be part of their damned species, but I thought I was human until a few Durations ago! I only came here because it was on the way to the Ravaged Lands, but now I¡¯m starting to regret that choice.¡±

    Violet didn¡¯t care one bit about how loud she was screeching. Veida had been the most dominant presence poisoning her thoughts ever since their last explosive encounter; if there was ever a chance to get over her grudges, there was no time like the present.

    ¡°Heavens Violet, I didn¡¯t mean to accuse.¡± Violet wasn¡¯t certain if she could take the hurt in Veida¡¯s scrunching features for truth or not. She wanted to, but if last time was anything to go by . . . she shivered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    There were so many elephants in the room that it would be renovated into a circus, given one or two more unresolved issues.

    Leander ¡ª Veida¡¯s deceased little brother. Violet was fairly sure, with a daunting certainty, that his death at the hands¡¯ of an Unbounded had been the prime reason behind the researcher¡¯s outburst. Discovering that your newly made friend was one of the same kin that slaughtered your sibling, was sure to spark some past trauma.

    Recalling the atrocities her species were capable of, Violet wanted to bury herself in a hole, someplace out in the middle of nowhere. Preferably, where she would never be found. That way, Descent would never be subject to the horror she was well aware of her Unbounded form to be capable of.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for now.¡± Violet eventually spoke, not ever inching closer, ¡°but any other part of my trust is out of your reach. We¡¯re business partners from now on, nothing more, nothing less.¡±

    Veida didn¡¯t object, and not once did that wistful look leave her eyes. In a swelling up of emotion, Violet couldn¡¯t help but feel empathetic for the woman. Her brother dead, her clan under siege, and their friendship in tatters.

    But only time and slow healing would change that last part. It couldn¡¯t be rushed. If it ever it were to be restored.

    ¡°We¡¯ll continue to communicate via Pippin.¡± Veida suddenly continued. ¡°You mentioned travelling to the south-east kingdom . . . overruled by the Anarchy Syndicate, correct? The Chaos Clan has growing influence in that corner of the world. If they really are the puppet-show of the Unbounded, as you say they are-¡±

    ¡°They are.¡±

    ¡°-then we''re in deep trouble. That fellow you mentioned before, Akuji . . .¡±

    She didn¡¯t have to finish. Violet could infer the rest of her sentence, and the unspoken question at its end. ¡°Indeed. I¡¯m going to search for him. Or, whatever remains of the Warlord.¡±

    Veida nodded. ¡°I wish I could send you help . . . but our forces are occupied with the invasions. I hope you understand. And there¡¯s also the confidentiality of all of this.¡±

    Violet nodded solemnly. Her throat was incredibly parched, but for reasons far irrelevant from thirst. ¡°You mean to say, you have no plans of reporting this to the rest of the gods?¡± A range of emotions splashed inside of Violet like warring tides, reducing each other to mingling droplets. They settled in a perturbed sea, each emotion never quite surviving long enough to truly be felt, in any meaningful way.

    ¡°Until we have evidence Veida-¡±

    A voice up above cut them off, resonating power with every syllable. ¡°-no one would believe you.¡±

    In unison, both of their heads shot to the hovering image of Juniper, the visual oddity that was a moving current of branches sustaining her weight. They originated from a balcony jutting out of the Hall of Thrones, with the rigid might of ancient trees, despite the fact the boroughs had only been manifested seconds ago. To Violet''s knowledge, anyway. How long had she been eavesdropping?

    ¡°Do continue,¡± the God-Graced urged, ¡°quite the enlightening discussion you were in the midst of. Very interesting indeed.¡±

    ¡°How much did you hear?¡± Veida asked, genuinely sounding panicked. ¡°You had no right-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in my kingdom.¡± She said matter-of-factly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not going to punish either of you.¡±

    Violet somehow managed to keep upright on trembling legs, as Juniper¡¯s all-seeing eyes settled on her. They must have been ancient ¡ª at least nearing two centuries or more to have amassed so much strength ¡ª damn near impossible to withstand. ¡°That includes you, Violet. You¡¯ve revealed yourself to be a crucial part of all this; a vital instrument that could give us the edge we need to get the upper hand on these invading vermin.¡±

    Her eyes gained a wary crossness to them, as she warned, ¡°but if I ever, if for a second, suspect you of endangering us all, you will come to realise just how fragile my mercy really is. And, how could it slip my mind, there¡¯s no room under the blanket of my safety for your dear friend, Remus. I have no reason to protect him, and, so, for that reason, I won¡¯t.¡±

    It was very possible that Juniper was expecting Violet to be overjoyed at this part. To start cheering now that there was one less city that would vaporise her on sight. But aside from this brief excursion, Hybrid was still untouchable, with the Sight, Chaos, and Wealth Sects so prevalent. Besides, she was so stunned that even the chemicals in her brain seemed paralysed.

    ¡°Thank you, I suppose.¡± It was a lame response, perhaps a little rude for a literal Queen, but it was the most she could offer at that moment.

    ¡°It would no doubt benefit you, to speak a little more formally, if you wish to separate yourself from your kin.¡± Juniper continued, a beautiful array of flowers blooming upon her makeshift dais. ¡°And to think my suspicions were well-placed . . . I didn¡¯t expect the realities to exceed my expectations this much, but I find myself believing you.¡±

    The sound of Veida gulping was tangible, all moisture eradicated in a few intensive seconds. ¡°What are you going to do? Expose the truth? Rally forces against the Chaos Clan? Council the gods? I believe they can be consulted in times of extreme danger.¡±

    The woman took a breath, delicate black hair shifting as she did so. ¡°Absolutely nothing.¡±

    Violet had never known silence to have a depth, but this one felt kilometres deep.

    The sect leader had her reasoning. ¡°It''s too early to act so fast, unfortunately. Our lack of evidence is one thing, and such valuable information solely in the hands of those I choose . . .¡± She smiled, a faraway look in her dark, sapphire eyes. ¡°Quite the tactical advantage, would you not agree?¡±

    Veida possessed the courage a statue-still Violet did not. ¡°You think to make a game out of this? To play with millions of lives?¡±

    Something about Juniper changed. Or perhaps it was multiple things. A hundred, miniscule details, all combining to form a mien no poor soul should have to face. Wisely, Veida pressed no further. It was the best for her health, after all.

    ¡°I would word yourself very carefully, next time.¡± Juniper advised.

    Violet would have to give her credit where credit is due, however little. Most God-Graced in her position would be holding a weapon to the speaker¡¯s lips right about now.

    ¡°I don¡¯t only do this for personal gain, but if this became common knowledge, the Unbounded would be put under immense pressure. Think of how many units they could have patrolling all over Descent, all ready to go out in one last fiery blaze, the second their situation grows dire. Information is what we need right now. Enough information to deal with their higher-ups in one fell swoop.¡±

    All three women looked at each other, anxious to spit out a hundred things, and eager to mutter nothing at all. Minutes drifted by, until Violet found herself all on her own, glassy eyed. Unsure entirely of what to think.

 37. Campfire Tales

    Remus had been half-expecting to awake in a prison cell, or to never see the light of day at all, for that matter.

    So when he found himself sprawled across a basement floor, disoriented, but very much so alive, his initial reaction was one of surprise. His chest was bandaged, though clumsily, and several parts of his body ached when he dragged himself into a sitting position. Blinking groggily, the crudeness of the cuboid chamber he found himself in revealed itself to Remus, along with the half-a-dozen men and women, most of which he didn¡¯t recognise. They stared at him, and his vision snapping into focus, he identified Brison and Aziel amongst the group.

    He had caught them in the midst of a heated discussion, one Remus wasn¡¯t keen to interrupt.

    ¡°. . . we can¡¯t even hold a funeral service. What are they doing with the bodies of the dead up there?¡± Remus noticed that Aziel¡¯s arm was set into a cast, and yet this didn¡¯t disturb the man¡¯s ability to converse feverishly. ¡°They deserve a proper farewell!¡±

    Reality shot back to Remus in one horrific rush of memories, that would be better left forgotten. Had The Wild Sect captured them ¡ª was this some temporary place of holding? One quick swerve of the dusty room, and a recollection of Aziel¡¯s fiery complaints, and that foolish notion was quickly disproven. Not even Aziel would be so blind-sighted as to spout such words of lOathing under his captors¡¯ watch. But then again, the absolute rage Remus had seen propel him mere hours ago was not a sight to be quickly forgotten.

    Remus was almost shocked that Aziel wasn¡¯t out there, looking to break some Wild Sect heads, and ravenously revenge-hungry.

    ¡°Of course they deserve a proper burial!¡± Brison spoke up, as a few unfamiliar strangers assented to Aziel¡¯s complaint. ¡°But direct your anger on forming a plan. That energy will be wasted if you don¡¯t channel it to-¡±

    He stopped, noticing Remus out of the corner of his eye. The man didn¡¯t smile, but his mood seemed to have lifted a little. ¡°Ah, Remus.¡±

    A woman at the back shot Remus an undisguised leer. ¡°This is the fella Aziel insisted on dragging here?¡±

    ¡°It is indeed.¡± Aziel crossed his arms. ¡°Got a problem with that?¡±

    ¡°It was your choice, I guess.¡± The woman glanced to the side. ¡°But when our supplies are run into the ground, don¡¯t come crying to me when you''re savouring your last meal.¡±

    Harrumphing, Remus couldn¡¯t help but feel extraordinarily out of place. ¡°Thank you Aziel, for taking me to . . .¡± he paused. ¡°Where exactly are we?¡±

    Brison answered, ¡°the basement of one of our houses. The Wild Sect must be looking for us by now; our escape wasn¡¯t exactly discreet. The top of this building was on its last legs when we slipped in here. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if a pile of rubble has collapsed above us.¡± He rubbed his chin. ¡°Would explain all the bangs we heard earlier.¡±

    Eyes glossing over them all, Remus took in the injuries of every single clansman present in the claustrophobic space. None of them had gotten off scot free ¡ª bandages draping everyone to varying extents. Finally, he glanced back at Aziel¡¯s splinted limb.

    ¡°You carried me here with a broken arm?¡±

    Aziel sniffled, not quite meeting his eye. ¡°Adrenaline numbed the pain, and our Marks have effects indicative of a weak painkiller. Plus, I saw how fiercely you thought the two monsters that-¡± the words refused to surface. ¡°I couldn¡¯t leave you to bleed out. Or worse: be taken away by The Wild Sect. Didn¡¯t you say it was those bastards that severed your finger?¡±

    Suddenly insecure, Remus hid the hand along his back. ¡°I can¡¯t say it was undeserved, but yeah.¡±

    All faces, save for Brison, turned to Remus at that moment. They were obviously keen to see the maiming in question, but never went so far as to ask. ¡°So,¡± Remus coughed into his palm, ¡°what¡¯s the plan of action?¡±

    Crickets.

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing,¡± a man whose head was encircled by a damp piece of cloth spoke up. ¡°There is none.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do, for now.¡± The same woman as before sighed. ¡°We were lucky to find food down here in the first place. The best we can do is wait out the days, until we either starve,¡± she nodded upwards. ¡°Or they find us.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely enthralling possibilities.¡± Aziel¡¯s chin sat upon his hand, and Remus could hear the undertones of his surely-boundless enthusiasm kept at bay. ¡°Is dancing around naked and waiting for the dark forces of the underworld to save us also an option?¡±

    Brison clapped his hands. A movement so simple, yet with unfathomable strength behind it. The thunderclap resounded all around, and Remus too found himself glancing upwards anxiously. How they hadn¡¯t been discovered by now, was a miracle. ¡°Since when did the Ambition Sect lose their resolve? What would your forefathers think, those brave men and women who fought tooth and claw just to be here?¡±

    Every head turned downcast.

    ¡°Activate your Marks.¡± Brison demanded. ¡°Activate your Marks and think properly! Think with Ambition!¡±

    ¡°Our Marks are activated.¡± An annoyed voice rose. ¡°This is the only pain-number we can get our hands on, as our injuries slowly sap away at us, and you think we are so useless as to neglect even that basic advantage? Have you no faith?¡±

    ¡°I have hopes for each and every one of my clansmen, but I need more.¡± Brison demanded. ¡°Activate your godsent gifts until you feel as if you¡¯re drowning in the will to act! Then, you may turn to me and sob that there is nothing to be done.¡±

    Of course, as he had made a habit of doing, Remus¡¯ Mark had been activated since the nanosecond he¡¯d reawakened in this gloomy chamber. Nevertheless, he, along with the rest of this unfortunate lot, closed their eyelids. Luminesce artworks flooded the place, tripling the power of their only operational light source in this glum prison: their Marks. Instantly, those dark inclinations Remus had been fighting a silent war against for Passings on end grew louder.

    And they were screaming.

    Blast your way out of here. His inner self instructed ¡ª no, ordered. Render this place alight with your flames, and fan the fire until every speck of green is no more. We will sweep the earth to ash.

    He dimmed the might of his Mark for a moment, and in doing so, silence devoured the voices. That motivation dispersed, reforming as an all-engulfing presence, and though it was now wordless, Remus still felt the urge to be crowned king of the world. After that, supreme champion of the cosmos didn¡¯t sound half bad. Not bad at all . . .

    Eyes opening, Remus found himself surrounded by a group of fidgeting clansmen. It wouldn¡¯t be irrational to fear that someone would succumb to their inner wills; that this entire place was a ticking time bomb waiting to erupt. A few seconds finally passed, and the stone panels of the basement not obscured by a ring of withering blue, Remus could take a breath.

    Aziel¡¯s eyes may have taken on a stronger azure, and several of the alterations on the others intensified, but the man found it within himself to reign all that justified ire under control.

    ¡°So . . .¡± Brison raised the tip of his mouth ever-so-slightly, in a lopsided curve. It was the most smug expression Remus could fathom. ¡°Shall we surrender?¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°No? No-one vouches to simply lay down and let the hunger kill us?¡±

    Multiple moans. ¡°Get to the planning Brison, you¡¯ve made your point.¡± Aziel was the one who had spoken. ¡°But no matter how much I want to burst out of here, Marks blazing, we still have a ways to go before that idea becomes any less suicidal.¡±

    ¡°We need to sabotage The Wild Sect,¡± the suggestion was thrown about, ¡°if we can somehow worm our way out of here in small numbers, perhaps we could put up some sort of resistance.¡±

    ¡°But getting out of here, unnoticed . . .¡± Doubt dripped from Remus¡¯ words, and he slid a finger across the dusty flagstones at his feet. ¡°Additionally, keeping this place secret won¡¯t be the easiest of tasks. It''s probable that a search party has already been formed up above, and the Ambition Sect doesn¡¯t cover much range.¡±

    You could practically hear the frantic sounds of people thinking, brains speculating like the din of clockwork. ¡°I believe it would be a safe bet to assume rubble is covering us up from above.¡± Clansmen turned to their leader. ¡°I hammered away on the foundations on the way down. Disagree with my assessment if you wish, but I believe making it hard for us to get out is well worth it, if it keeps us concealed.¡±

    Minutes flew by. Ideas were thrown at the wall, but very few stuck. There were no hidden exits built into the structure¡¯s design; no secret, miraculous abilities any of them were carrying that could flatten the invading forces. All they had were their wits about them, and Tanish¡¯s power.

    So, left with no other choice, they put it to use.

    Brison lined them up against the furthest wall of the chamber, a knowing twinkle hidden behind his bushy brows. At his command, all present set their hands aflame, poised before the ageing brick of their surroundings. Between Remus and Aziel, stood the man with the wounded head, and that loud-mouthed woman from earlier. Gideon and Sibyl. They may not have been on friendly terms with Remus, but if they were ever going to work their way out of this ordeal, none of them could be picky with their companions.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Gideon had a mound of dark hazel hair beneath his scarfing bandages, a rectangular scheme to his build, and a finalising get to work attitude Remus had to grudgingly respect. Remus didn¡¯t get a feel for sibyl, before Brison¡¯s next words took hold of his focus, but it had become increasingly apparent that her earlier rudeness was spawned out of momentary distress, and ¡ª seemingly ¡ª not out of a characteristic discourtesy.

    ¡°As we¡¯ve discussed,¡± Brison loomed behind them all, his mere shadow a menacing presence, ¡°you all need to be careful when we form these tunnels. The plan is great in theory, but if any of you accidentally surface in the middle of a camping group of Wild Sect clansmen . . . we¡¯re screwed.¡±

    After much discussion, the group had stumbled upon a plan they could all agree on. They were to dig their way out of this quaint expanse, creating a series of tunnels that carved through the entire area of the Ambition Sect ¡ª popping up into other basements much like this, where hopefully, they had a far greater chance of running amuck, and generally ruining The Wild Sect¡¯s day without notice.

    ¡°There are issues with the scheme.¡± Brision admitted. ¡°And I¡¯ll be the first to accept that truth. Navigation will be risky, and no one is to emerge upwards without consulting the entire group.¡±

    With thorough estimation, and careful plotting out of the Ambition Clan¡¯s original, undestroyed layout, they knew their rough whereabouts. The utterly altered landscape above increased the challenge of all this a tenfold, but the task ahead was all they had. The group couldn¡¯t risk losing hope now.

    Within minutes, they were off. Flames enveloped Remus¡¯ hands, and he utilised the appendages like the tools they were, dirt nothing to his smouldering power. His world was pinpointed to this one, fragile moment of destruction. Such mirth filled Remus, as finally his target was one as fickle as dust. Such relief at his enemy not being one of unfathomable strength, but simply standard old, uninteresting soil. Ever reliable soil that would disperse at his touch.

    Time quickly lost its meaning. Seconds to minutes, to hours, in an unstoppable domino-chain. The group had two options: to sulk and await for death¡¯s delivering swipe, or to fight. For a clan with Ambition literally channelling through their veins, there was no choice in the matter.

    Designated breaks were arranged, and Remus¡¯ group was called to rest. There was no sense in burning through their energy reserves, and dying from exhaustion before their valiant stand could truly begin would be beyond anti-climatic.

    Smoke drifting off both his palms, and an equal amount from his overdriven Mark, Remus went to join the others. A burning sensation had started to spread in the illustration of Tanish¡¯s own unstoppable stand against Ashbel. It had expanded considerably by now, showcasing a strange, alien planet, burnt to shreds in the twos¡¯ wake The power of the gods¡¯ was still something that Remus failed to fathom. So much destruction, and for what? The Celestial War had no foreseeable end, and now Infinity itself was striking back with its own vengeful brethren: the Unbounded.

    For a split second, Remus reactivated his Mark. The boost to his will was precisely what he needed.

    Do not concern yourself with matters so far above you, his slightly inflated ego advised something useful for once, not until you can make the gods themselves tremble.

    Remus shook his head, exhaling. ¡°Aziel?¡± He called over a shoulder. ¡°Rest up, before you-¡±

    He abruptly stopped.

    Aziel was still raging his own private bout against the earth itself, the corona of stunning sapphire encompassing him was a frightening sight to behold. He didn¡¯t dig, he punched through the soil, each connection a shattering collision. The handicap of one functional arm didn''t seem like a disadvantage at that moment, or at least Aziel didn¡¯t let it affect him. Dirt draped down the man from above, sizzling to nothing, and the entire chamber shook, as if with any oncoming blow, the walls would cave in. Remus called out his name again, but Aziel didn¡¯t stop. Nothing could get in the way of his devastating campaign.

    Taking a step forward, most of Remus¡¯ vision of the man was obscured by dancing, hazy fires. But even so, he could have sworn an Oath on what he saw. Despite the raging fumes, despite the mystifying flames, and despite the unchanging neon of his eyes, Aziel¡¯s tears could not be concealed.

    <hr>

    Ever since he was young, Elmore had considered the twilight hours to hold an unreal, ethereal quality to them. It was especially apparent tonight, as the group waded through a stretch of overgrown greenery that would have been a gardener¡¯s worst nightmare.

    As strange as it was to say, the number of footsteps troubled Elmore. The last time three pairs of feet had trodden across the land beside him . . . suffice to say, never before had he suffered through a night quite so disastrous. It was as if he and his cousins were all perfectly positioned on a three-way scale. Any extra weight, and the natural order of things went out of balance. But this Donovan individual hardly seemed to hold any presence to his person at all.

    No heat seemed to emit from his person when Elmore found himself in close quarters with the man; he somehow held the inexplicable ability to silence the subtlest sounds of his body, whenever they suspected prey was near; and he spoke so sparsely, it was like he wasn¡¯t there at all. At the very least, Elmore had to admit, the Shadow Clan had perfected creating the ultimate predator.

    It was almost as though the man were a shadow himself.

    After much searching, the group had stumbled upon a reasonably safe clearing, and began to set up camp without so much as a word. The process had become methodical at this point, a self-completing process that only required the party to forgo their active minds for muscle memory. Soon, Elmore found himself staring at the flickering embers of a campfire, eyes following the paths of the individual sparks. It was oddly therapeutic, his void state of mind only interrupted when Ash opened his mouth.

    ¡°I¡¯m bored.¡± He complained, in much the same manner as a child ten years his junior. ¡°How about a ghost story?¡±

    Koa shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not losing sleep for a few minutes of entertainment.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come off it,¡± Ash waved a hand, as if dismissing his brother entirely. ¡°Just because you get frightened easily, doesn¡¯t mean we have to ruin the fun for everyone else.¡± He turned to Elmore, sporting puppy-dog eyes. ¡°Pleeease, Elmore? You¡¯re like five hundred and thirty, so surely you have a ghost story or two?¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Elmore scoffed. ¡°I doubt if anyone living but the gods¡¯ are that old.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Elmore flickered his head between his two cousins, trying to work out who had spoken. When realising the two were searching just as frantically as he was, surprise dawned on him, as all three heads turned to Donovan.

    ¡°The God-Graced of my sect,¡± that odd voice of his spoke, ¡°he¡¯s the only sect-leader the Shadow Clan have ever seen.¡±

    The implications of that sent Elmore through several mental rabbit-holes. The most troubling thing was that the deeper he dug, the true depth of each only became progressively more apparent. Shaking, he pulled himself out of those impossible reaches.

    ¡°. . . How old?¡± Ash prompted, uttering the questions the others hadn¡¯t dared.

    Donovan didn¡¯t reply immediately. ¡°Old.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. But how old?¡±

    Their plain expression revealed no change. ¡°I doubt even he knows that.¡±

    As the silence returned ¡ª a more palpable veil than ever ¡ª Elmore still failed to get his mind around Donovan, and all of his delicate idiosyncrasies. Even as he listened to them converse, as untalkative as ever, the man was seated at a slight tilt. It was like he was expecting to be jumped at from any angle, at any passing moment, and the thought of that alone was enough to drive Elmore¡¯s wandering mind into a paranoid spiral.

    Thankfully, Elmore had adept control over his psyche, and quickly snapped back into the present.

    ¡°If only that guy was here with us.¡± Ash continued to speak at his own accord, referring to Donovan¡¯s sect leader. ¡°He must have a good campfire story.¡±

    In his most adventurous move all day, Donovan allowed a smile. It was subtle, but an unmistakable curving of the lips. Elmore blinked, expecting the mind-made apparition to disappear, but reality held true. ¡°A scary story . . .¡± he began delicately. ¡°I may have a few.¡±

    Koa frowned, but didn¡¯t complain for their sake. Ash was practically bouncing up and down in anticipation, urging Donovan on, and Elmore himself wouldn¡¯t decline a good tale. They could push you through the dullest of nights ¡ª if the storyteller was capable, he had come to learn.

    Met with a series of nods, Donovan began, shifting subtly as if preparing to be tackled from a slightly different direction this time. ¡°Once, there was a man whom the people called Draven. He was the love of his clan. Strong, but caring. Boisterous, but not rude. Witty, but never mocking. One day, after gathering power over the course of his early life, Draven set out for the battlefield of the great War, keen to serve humanity just as he had his clan.¡±

    ¡°Where are the ghosts, or headless monsters?¡± Ash broke Elmore out of his intrigued rapture, ¡°at least include some sort of haunted building; there¡¯s always a haunted house.¡±

    An aggressive nudge by Koa, and Ash sealed his lips, rubbing his shoulder.

    ¡°There, Draven quickly built quite the reputation for himself. Myths were spun from his heroic feats in the depths of the battlefield, reportedly returning from skirmishes where he was outflanked by hundreds, without so much as a scratch to his name. Soon, Draven was known far and wide throughout every corner of Descent, but, inevitably, his name caught the attention of people not so keen to revel in his glory.¡±

    Donovan paused for dramatic effect, and Elmore felt the urge to pounce at the man and force him to continue. Ash held onto his breath, and if the Shadow Sect clansman hadn¡¯t continued right that moment, he probably would have fainted.

    ¡°Draven was found killed at the bottom of a trench, choking on his own blood, and his back split clean open. In multiple places.¡±

    Based on Ash¡¯s reaction to those words, every suspenseful second posed a risk of toppling him over, but for reasons unattached to his oxygen intake. Koa shifted a foot away, wrinkling his nose at his brother¡¯s sickly expression.

    ¡°Draven¡¯s clan were a highly loyal people, and none of their men were wronged without vast repercussions. They tracked down who Draven¡¯s murderer was. Then his family, and, from there, his sect. By a Passing''s time, the entire clan were found dead in their homes, seated within their houses, their bodies acting out typical activities, as if nothing had occurred.¡±

    Donovan leaned in, giving none of them a chance to process the bombshell. Forgoing his constant vigilance, he dropped something exponentially worse.

    ¡°That destroyed clan was the Sect of Defeat. And Draven . . . Draven was one of the most ancient members of the Shadow Clan.¡±

    Those words were the verbal equivalent of tossing a grenade in between them all, before proceeding to pull out a good book, leaning back in a comfortable armchair, and enquiring upon how everyone¡¯s day was.

    After swallowing, Koa craned back to where he¡¯d been previously seated, before he had jolted backwards a metre away. He may have flinched in a somewhat melodramatic fashion, but Ash, with his face turning green, was much worse for wear. Nevertheless, you wouldn¡¯t have known it from how tremulous Koa¡¯s next words were.

    ¡°Nice story. That¡¯s what it is right? Just a story?¡±

    Donovan took a sip from his waterskin. They all waited for an answer. And to this they were left waiting, for Donovan muttered not a word more.

    ¡°Get some sleep.¡± He advised simply. ¡°I¡¯ll do the first shift of the night.¡±

    Elmore doubted there would be many threats roaming about out here, but that was besides the point. The Clan of Defeat . . . hadn¡¯t that been the old man¡¯s sect? Tal¡¯s?

    The breadth of the Shadow Clan, and its roots seemingly as old as time, sent Elmore¡¯s body aquiver. For tomorrow¡¯s stretch of the journey, he would be running short on energy, or so it would seem.

 38. Rebellion

    It wasn¡¯t long before Gideon went missing.

    For three days, they laboured endlessly in the tunnels beneath the Ambition Sect, plotting and plotting on how they could possibly retake their rightful home. The group had been surprised with a mere few days of eluding capture, but like all things hinging on pure luck, that didn¡¯t last long.

    After finishing up his one and only meal of the day ¡ª sneaking into decrepit buildings wasn¡¯t the most effective means of gathering food ¡ª Remus and the rest of the gang assembled around a makeshift ¡®table¡¯. In more appropriate terms, it was a dislodged plank of wood balancing on other assorted debris, discovered from the destruction the group had stumbled across so far.

    Brison, as always, stood at the head of the arrangement, strangely glum-faced. Of course, he always suited a stoic line of the lips, but there was something subtly different about the man. Something that troubled Remus to the extent that one little detail could send him clenching and unclenching his fists.

    Beyond a shadow of a doubt, something terrible had transpired, and everyone could tell.

    This moody atmosphere bore no advantages for the Warlord. ¡°Ladies,¡± Brision acknowledged Sibyl, and the other women huddled by one side of the table. ¡°And gentlemen,¡± he turned a hand towards Aziel, Remus, and the other men, all eyes immediately twitching to the absent space by them.

    He exhaled. ¡°There is no easy way to say this. Gideon went out to gather supplies from the furthest point of our western tunnels, and we have yet to see him since. That was five hours ago.¡±

    Blood rushed to Remus¡¯s still fidgeting hands, and he forced himself to untense them. Instead, terror seized his body by chattering his teeth.

    Remus may have thought he was doing a foul job of keeping his emotions under check, but Aziel was another matter entirely. His fists slammed against the table, splitting the space unevenly into two. Shrieks of surprise resounded around, and as rage poured into Remus towards Aziel, he took his first proper look at the blond man in what felt like days.

    The word dishevelled didn¡¯t cut it. Aziel was downright filthy. Hair in tousles, clothes in tatters. His arm was, for the most part, healed ¡ª a showcase of the might of a Rank-enhanced healing factor ¡ª and yet it still hung to his side clumsily. Remus was shocked by the fact he had even bothered to attend the meeting. Aziel¡¯s smeared, calloused hands, smashing against dirt for hours on end, was all that the man would set his mind to day after day, night after night.

    But what had undoubtedly changed the most was Aziel¡¯s eyes. The pure blue domes had been robbed of their previous, carefree sensibilities. Now a rage sifted through that diamond canvas; a rage that reminded Remus far too much of his own.

    ¡°Tanish¡¯s Ambition, what do you think you¡¯re doing young man?¡± Brison was the first voice of reason to rise above the buzz of noise.

    Sibyl soon followed him up. ¡°Aziel¡¯s really lost it now, hasn''t he? I knew something was off about him, when he dedicated his life to smashing that tunnel.¡± She twirled a finger to the side of her ahead.

    Aziel held the air of a canine let off his leash. ¡°Quiet sibyl. Your constant complaining has been such a help.¡±

    ¡°And you smashing everything in sight to smithereens has really been a massive assistance!¡±

    Arguments flooded the room, and Remus found himself drowning in the brutal verbal seas. How these two were willing to argue so fiercely before their sect leader was beyond Remus. In the Carpentry Sect, not a soul would dare mutter a bad word before Andreas. The level of respect for both Brison and Andreas had seemed equal, so Remus knew something else was afoot to spark such outrage.

    This claustrophobic environment was driving them all mad. If the Ambition Sect were to ever return to its rightful hands, this ragtag group of rebels would have to seriously pull-together. Staring once more at Aziel, face set into a menacing snarl, Remus couldn¡¯t help but see something familiar through the superficial surface: a visage from the past.

    ¡°Aziel.¡± He put a hand on his companion¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Do not let your Ambition consume you.¡±

    The man blatantly ignored him, eyes scanning the room as if searching for the next object to destroy.

    Remus continued. ¡°I¡¯ve learned first hand what a double-edged sword your desire can be. The flame of your Ambition may not be able to literally consume you, but if left untempered, will as sure as anything wither away at your being. You need to practise self-restraint.¡±

    Aziel had a murderous look in his eyes, the sort that read as him calculating precisely where each of Remus¡¯ vital spots were. He opened his mouth, spluttered nothing intelligible, then grasped at his chest.

    ¡°He¡¯s really lost it now.¡± Sibyl muttered, as always, contributing exactly nothing to the conversation.

    Taking a step forward, Remus reached out to lay a hand on Aziel¡¯s shoulder once more. Aziel raised a hand, as if to sway him away, but let it drop. ¡°But my mother-¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± He squeezed a little tighter. ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t let her die for nothing,¡± Aziel suddenly spat, ¡°I can¡¯t let them get away with crushing my home to dust. And now even Gideon is lost. Don¡¯t you feel it Remus? That nagging itch you just can¡¯t scratch? Trapped down here, shovelling soil with our bare hands, what can we possibly do? Her killers roam out above here, gods know where, without so much as a care in the world. No justice, no reconciliation. Just as they stole the life of my father. How is that even remotely fair?¡±

    He stopped at Remus¡¯ unreadable look. ¡°I out of everyone have no right to be telling you this, but please, do not act rashly. It may seem like the right thing to do in the moment, but sudden reactions are hardly ever the best. Bide your time, gather your wits and power, and we¡¯ll wreak our revenge the proper way. But right here, right now, the last thing you want to be doing is throwing it all away, simply to appease some impatient side of yourself.¡±

    The two stared at each other. Remus had hardly participated in many, but never before had he endured a staring contest quite so intense.

    Eventually, Aziel sat down, each of his steps towards the makeshift stump that was their seating pronounced through the lingering silence.

    As always seemed to be the case, Brison spoke first. ¡°Well said Remus. I wasn¡¯t aware you had wisdom so far beyond your years within you.¡±

    Remus managed to crack a smile, still stiff after the tense encounter. ¡°I¡¯ve come to learn that experience is the greatest teacher.¡± The grin disappeared as quickly as it formed. ¡°But the mistakes I made to learn that lesson . . . it¡¯ll take years to reverse some of the damage I¡¯ve done.¡±

    Brison patted his back, the action oddly fatherly. ¡°Then start now.¡±

    Remus nodded. Despite his regrets, he couldn¡¯t see how he could have possibly done anything differently. True, becoming one of the most wanted men in all of First Rite, and building up brewing hatreds with sects far more powerful than himself sounded ludicrous on paper. But without those bad decisions, he would have never surpassed Death-Marked. He would have never met Violet; never built strong bonds with either Aziel or Hadrian.

    Without his idiotic instincts, he would still be a no-name Death-Marked, cursed to watch as his clan slowly, but surely, met its fate at Damosh¡¯s hands.

    Yet Tal and Iris would still be alive.

    This time, Remus found himself grabbing his tunic. Anywhere he tread, death seemed to follow. His trail was one of devastation, and though the fate of the Ambition Clan would have still occurred, even if he had never made that fatal mistake of duelling Edmar, it was beyond Remus¡¯ ability to not feel guilty.

    It was as the weight of responsibility struck his shoulders, when Remus recalled a crucial piece of information.

    ¡°Aziel!¡± He called, failing to disguise the growing excitement from his voice.

    The man lifted his head, embarrassment displaced by honest confusion. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Tell me again about West Ember.¡±

    Sibyl scoffed. ¡°Oh please, not that children¡¯s tale again.¡±

    Ignoring her, Aziel explained. Remus listened intently as he informed them all of the most mysterious location in the Ambition Sect¡¯s history ¡ª an isle off the coast of the Ravaged Lands. The tale of the founder¡¯s techniques, of their past¡¯s superior strength, cast them all into a rapt trance; even an initially sceptical Sibyl.

    Voices rose after Aziel finished his story, cheeks ruddy with so much attention on him. He appeared especially disoriented, with no limitless anger to numb the true terror of public speaking. Most vocally, was the enquiry of whether West Ember was anything more than an embellished legend.

    ¡°Like all parts of the Ambition Clan, our past is draped in mystery.¡± Brison began to explain, having been mostly silent during the entire exchange. ¡°Just as most outsiders believe our sect to be fiction, so is our past equally as misunderstood. Though, I can confirm, to the best of my knowledge, that all Aziel has explained this morning is true.¡±

    Supplied with the slightest piece of validation, that was the ammo Remus needed to vouch everything on one more crazed idea. Except this time, the only person he would be putting at risk would be himself.

    He dropped a palm on the remnants of the table, drawing attention. ¡°How long do you think you can go unsuspected?¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, forever,¡± the Warlord earned a few uneasy laughs, ¡°but if we continue as we are now, time is of the essence. If Gideon has already been found, we have to assume the rest of The Wild Sect is closing in.¡±

    Remus slumped. That put a hole right through his plans. ¡°What if we laid low? Only did what was required to survive and nothing more?¡±

    Brison frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t see much point in a rebellion that doesn¡¯t rebel, but I would wager substantially longer.¡±

    ¡°How long?¡±

    The elderly man cocked an eyebrow. ¡°Why are you asking?¡±

    Here came the kicker. ¡°Could you, theoretically speaking, survive an entire passing; potentially longer? Long enough for me to go on a little . . . expedition?¡°

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Like clicks going off around every person inside that chamber, a universal understanding slid into place.

    Sibyl was quick to speak her opinion. ¡°Do you realise how slim of a chance that scheme has of working? To head to West Ember alone may take a Passing. We¡¯d be lucky to last until then, much less near double that length.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s without taking into consideration the time it¡¯ll take to both learn our founder¡¯s techniques, and impart them to us.¡± Brison did not hold back his concerns with the scheme. ¡°Who''s to say these ancient arts will even be all that powerful? I know my history, and it was a barbaric time when our founder was around. What was considered powerful has changed exponentially since then.¡±

    ¡°A gamble.¡± A previously quiet woman spoke. ¡°That¡¯s what this is: a gamble.¡±

    ¡°But a gamble that could work.¡±

    More disgruntled discussion. If Remus wanted to follow through with this idea, it had become painfully apparent that he would have to fight for it.

    ¡°I admire the way you¡¯re thinking, Remus.¡± Aziel lifted his head. ¡°But answer me this: how are you going to leave these grounds unsuspected?¡±

    Now that left him stumped.

    ¡°Two many people would attract attention, so this will be a one man job.¡± Remus said, after a second¡¯s deliberation. ¡°I¡¯ll travel to the furthest point of our tunnelling, surface around the outskirts of the base, and make an escape from there. I shouldn¡¯t be noticed, but if worse comes to worst, it isn¡¯t unlikely that I¡¯ll be able to make a run for it.¡±

    This appeared to appease the man to a degree, but Aziel still pressed him hard. ¡°How would we know you escaped? The outermost section of our network is where Gideon was found, so I would refrain from charging towards the complete ends. But even if by some miracle, this all played out perfectly, if you did make it out, we wouldn¡¯t have the slightest clue.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t the best at devising solutions under pressure ¡ª as history had shown ¡ª and additionally with a time-restraint, but strangely, the answers came easily this time around. ¡°I should be able to work-out a means of doing so outside. There¡¯s bound to be a possible means of communication. But I just need a connection to this place.¡±

    Brison¡¯s frown had evolved into a full-fledged glower. ¡°Assumption is never a stable basis, but here-¡±

    Aziel raised a hand. ¡°If you would allow me, Sir?¡±

    A wordless debate seemed to transpire between the two, before the Warlord finally nodded. ¡°Go ahead. This should keep your Ambition underwraps, for the time being.¡±

    For the life of him, Remus couldn¡¯t understand what the two were referring to. Out of his pocket, Aziel revealed the tiniest piece of Infirnite Remus could have imagined. A pebble in size, the man held it between two fingers, closed his eyes, and concentrated. Instantly, a flame appeared in the crystal¡¯s centre. Except this flicker of blue felt different; somehow more real in a way Remus couldn¡¯t pinpoint.

    A look of relief appeared on Aziel, and after the cycle of emotions the blond man had phased through today, Remus could barely believe the sight of it.

    ¡°The Infirnite will keep that flame going for entire Rebirths if you let it,¡± Aziel explained. ¡°I¡¯ve extracted the purest part of my Ambition into it. Meaning, until my Mark¡¯s effects flood me with desire once more, I''ll be graced with a few days of clarity. I¡¯ll be sure to use it to think on what you¡¯ve told me.¡±

    Fumbling around with his pockets, Remus rivalled Aziel¡¯s grin. ¡°Be sure to.¡±

    Gods above, Remus thought to himself, searching his attire for any place of safe-keeping, how I¡¯m not going to lose this tiny thing is beyond me.

    ¡°When will you be leaving?¡± Sibyl asked, to which Remus was caught momentarily off-guard.

    He swiftly composed himself before replying. ¡°I suspect the sooner, the better. I¡¯ll see if I can get my hands on any more rations from unsuspecting Wild Sect clansmen. After that, my departure will follow shortly.¡±

    As each member of the rebellion took turns to offer Remus his farewells, a gloomy realisation stripped him of any pervading excitement. He was brimming with a sinister apprehension, threatening to drown him from the inside out, as he pondered cluelessly on the fatal flaw of his schemes.

    The unlikelihood of travelling so far, on so many trips simply for this mission had already been pointed out, but what about the promise Remus had made to Violet? He was obligated to assist his friend in her Unbounded troubles, and, even without the moral tug of a promise, he would have whole-heartedly wanted to regardless.

    There was something crucial he would have to find if he wanted to make this all work, but no matter how much Remus tried to wrap his brain around it, no sudden epiphanies would come to him.

    Heavensent assistance always sounded nice, but never was practical.

    ¡°Goodbye Remus,¡± Brison shook his hand, ¡°may fortune follow you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need it.¡±

    Already, Remus¡¯ body was making a thousand tiny complaints, all collectively screaming at Remus to go back on his choice. The dryness of his throat, the stiffness of his limbs, and the clamminess of his hands, just to name a few, all revolted against him.

    But his choice had been made. Even Sibyl was offering her sincerest farewells.

    Right as he was on the verge of making his grand exit, the Warlord directed him towards an isolated corner for a quick word.

    ¡°I cannot promise that if you do succeed, we¡¯ll even still be around here.¡± Remus had come to expect such cynical words, but they made his heart ache. ¡°The Wild Sect reportedly kills any revolters in cold blood, so our very lives are on the line. But if you really think this could work-¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    A wistful smile arose on the man. ¡°Then give it your best shot.¡±

    Remus nodded, took a deep breath, and tried to keep his mind void of thought as he entered the tunnels.

    <hr>

    You never notice wanted signs until you recognise the faces they capture.

    Such were the thoughts of Violet, left staring at a notice board in the middle of the city proper. Alongside the rows of unassuming faces, the blank, innocuous visage of Remus stuck out to her. She was taken aback by the sheer realism of Remus¡¯ flickering poster.

    Typically, these were illustrated by those in the rural Art Sect ¡ª a peaceful subset of people, unaffiliated with any of the greater alliances. For the most part, they were left to their own devices, the promised protection from sects benefitting from their pieces more than enough to keep them on the map. But this right here was a recent innovation in technology known as a photograph.

    The brainchild of the Matter and Sight sects respectively, the two clans united their strengths to print reality perfectly on paper. Apparently, the Sight Sect supplied the image, whereupon the Matter Sect recreated the mental ¡®blueprint¡¯ perfectly, at an atomic level.

    For Remus to have upgraded from illustration to groundbreaking technology . . . well, it was a testament to just how badly the world wanted him behind bars.

    Violet sighed, tearing her eyes off the stuffed board. With Veida gone, she had been mulling around mindlessly without cause, for the last hour or so. She had to get back to action.

    The Undercrossing, she pinpointed her focus. Somehow, her subconscious had seemed to direct her body vaguely towards the correct direction. Ignoring the miscellaneous ruins dotted about every corner, Violet saw a thick grey haze at the very tip of her vision. There, fuzzy from distance alone, appeared to be the place in question.

    Quickly, she got to moving, tightening her brown cloak around her. In unison to the average maroon of her appeal, Violet suited the appearance of a street urchin ¡ª someone your eyes would never even dawdle upon. True, she wasn''t technically a wanted criminal in Hybrid anymore, but the last few Passings had drilled into her the constant survivalist need to lay-low. To skirt around anyone, or anything, armed the barest chance of recognising her. Only time and continued persistence would change her habits.

    Reality seemed distorted following her rendezvous with Juniper; the event seemingly too bizarre to fit within her perception of reality. But nevertheless, it was an irrefutable fact that the exchange had been real.

    Real. The word held no true meaning to Violet now. Obviously, she understood the literal definition, but what was considered real when the most twisted quirks of her brain had somehow imprinted upon reality? Every single one of her worst, most terrifying fears had turned true. Perhaps Violet had her own personal, miniature god resting on her shoulder, constantly listening in to her stream of thought. Ever eager to find new means to manipulate the severest of Violet¡¯s insecurities.

    This train of thought was about to send Violet off the rails, before a looming grey building directly ahead of her forced its proverbial steam engine to a huffing stop.

    The Undercrossing was quite possibly the most impressive structure Violet had ever seen. She didn¡¯t possess the metrics to describe its height ¡ª well, okay, it was likely the size of a large hill; approximately four hundred feet or so. Sheer concrete, the tunnel opened up like the jaws of a humongous monster.

    Hundreds of people drifted in and out, like the bustling streets of a city centre, and there was more than enough space to contain everyone. Lambent torches supplied an ample amount of light to the inner chamber, and taking an unsteady breath, Violet braced herself.

    So many eyes. Aside from the traversing crowds, the Sight Sect had a few of their own eyes lingering in the corners. Surely someone was bound to recognise her. Until this morning, Violet¡¯s face had been hung up everyday on that stupid signpost, empty eyes awaiting to catch the attention of all passing travellers. How would they know she was innocent in all this? Well, less innocent, and more pardoned, but that didn¡¯t stop the worry from distressing Violet to no end. She found herself biting on her nails, a foul habit she had quit years ago, but for some odd reason was now once again surfacing with a newfound vengeance.

    Steadying herself, Violet took the plunge.

    The methodic drum of feet on pebbled ground was all that filled the place, everyone too busy trying to worm their way through to engage in any sort of conversation. It wasn¡¯t long until the space lowered into a wider, central expanse. A chandelier up above lit the place with spectacular efficiency, shards of charged Infirnite far more effective than any old regular candles. It was here that the linear pathway began to divert, a four-way junction ¡ª including the avenue Violet had just trod across ¡ª splitting through Hybrid in near exact quarters. Behind her, past the deep staircase the crowd had crossed a moment ago, a tunnel leading underneath paved the way towards the southern route of the network.

    Miles upon miles of tarmac.

    The place elicited many an awed gasp from Violet any direction she turned, her mind too astonished to focus on the task at hand. And yet, simultaneously, too preoccupied to be concerned by any of her lingering issues.

    Violet found herself carried by the moving current of the crowd, and through her own volition, she rode the stream of human motion that took her closest to the passage she had just examined. It felt like backtracking, but she knew exiting Hybrid at the southern end would lead most conveniently towards the Ravaged Lands.

    It was at this moment that the weight of her journey truly set in for Violet. In only a Passing, or perhaps less, she would finally be making strides to uncovering the secrets of Akuji.

    Who knows, Violet thought, walking down a splintering pathway, discovering what happened to a missing member of the Life Sect might just land me in the clan¡¯s good books. It¡¯d be nice to make some allies for once.

    But Violet was well aware that was simply wishful thinking.

    Straight ahead, the corridor she had picked without thought, yet again, split into several alternate passages. Except, this time, clear inscriptions had been carved above each. Violet strolled by them one by one, reading their titles aloud. ¡°Walking, flight, carriage, sonic.¡±

    Ignoring the odd name for the last opening, Violet noted the substantially wider gap that sat beneath carriage. Two sooty trails zipped into the darkness, the stone weathered by decades of abuse by wheels. The rest of the exits weren''t in much better condition either ¡ª dust lining every visible surface, and the occasional crack quite apparent. A few torches glowed dimly through the encompassing gloom, but for the most part, the brackets held nothing but ash.

    And yet, alas, this was nothing in comparison to sonic.

    Entire pieces of tarmac appeared to have been forcibly torn off, and not one single torch had survived all these years. Cracked pieces of Infirnite lay sprawled across the ground, glimmering sadly.

    Great, she scoffed, I pick the one tunnel the maintenance team has given up on.

    Judging on the abuse the passage took, and its apt name, Violet figured this was the place individuals possessing great speed zipped through.

    With a sigh, she walked as far away from that airy tunnel as possible.

    . . . right under the walking sign. She found herself exhaling yet again.

    It was going to be a long Passing after all.

 39. Back to Basics

    For half a Duration, Remus spent his sweet time doing absolutely nothing of substance.

    Leaving the Ambition Sect without attracting The Wild Clan¡¯s gaze turned out to be substantially easier than expected. In the dead of night, half of the sentinels were deep in their own private slumbers, and the men on shift? Well, by the drooping eyelids that seemed to plague every single one of them, Remus assessed that they were in the nearest state to sleepwalking one could achieve without being fired immediately.

    He proceeded to spend the next day frantically covering as much distance as possible, and wondering what exactly Willow¡¯s troops were paid for.

    The content of the following days wasn¡¯t worth discussing. Remus seemed to achieve an automatic state where he could simply allow his body to run-though a basic series of tasks, without the need to mentally engage himself. Acquire food, travel, sleep, and repeat until his destination was reached.

    Perhaps a barbaric existence, but with his physical self preoccupied, Remus had a lot of spare thinking time. It was the night before he was scheduled to reach the city proper, at least based on his estimations, and Remus supposed it was apt time to get up to little . . . experimenting.

    Having finished setting up camp in the most dry part of a swamp he could locate, Remus was rather tired of the Shifting¡¯s shenanigans. Before he even dared to test out a few of the actual ideas his free time had merited, a few unresolved issues demanded his attention.

    Even given days to speculate, practically endless hours, Remus still had no idea how to contact Brison and the others. That¡¯s a mystery to solve at the inner city, Remus supposed, but saying even that felt cheap. He would hate for the group to be spending their precious energy worrying over him, out of all people. Twirling around the physical form of Aziel¡¯s Ambition, Remus'' chest tightened slightly.

    The man had changed so much after Hansley¡¯s-

    Remus cleared his mind, fighting back a rising sickness.

    In summary, Remus hoped beyond hope that Aziel would take in what he had been trying to express. Words sometimes seemed so flimsy; the most useless tool in his arsenal. Had he worded himself right? Did he properly convey his intentions? Remus threw his arms up. It would be impossible to know, but given a few days of clarity, there was a chance ¡ª however small ¡ª that the man may return to his old, jovial self. Though, for now, he let that topic drop to the back of his mind. It was time to get to business.

    Remus pushed the gap of his tunic, unveiling his shoulder. As always, he kept the Mark active to protect himself an additional slither; the Mark faintly glowed as an aftereffect.

    ¡°Alright, back to basics,¡± he murmured under his breath, speaking aloud to centre his attention, ¡°what is a Mark?

    Almost immediately, the nexus of Remus'' mind tossed out an answer.

    A Mark is a divine link to our patron god, allowing us access to a particular subject of power.

    It was a simple question with a simple answer, but the following would be the core of Remus¡¯ plans.

    What are the limits of a subject of power?

    And, with that, the difficulty of these questions spiked harshly. After a few minutes, Remus came to his answer.

    It was vague, to say the least. There weren¡¯t any set barriers to a subject¡¯s abilities, but limits must have existed. There was a reason why an Ambassador of the Sword god couldn¡¯t spew fire from his mouth ¡ª it had no link to his Mark¡¯s subject.

    Okay then, so the limitation must be the needed link to the subject¡¯s concept. And then we have to take into account your ability to actually carry out a technique. Things more loosely connected, or grander in scale, will therefore be harder to pull off.

    All sects typically had a basic range of abilities they relied on. Normally, Remus had noted, these were the first thing to come to mind when you thought of their god¡¯s affinity. Lightning users could travel at frightening speeds, and send electricity coursing through their fingertips. Water users manipulated . . . well, water.

    But if you were a little more creative, couldn¡¯t you expand those powers outwards?

    Lightning users could potentially focus on one part of their body to glow, like an automated torch, or have extreme fire resistance. Many Water Ambassadors actively practised ice techniques ¡ª they would be substantially weaker than a Frost Ambassador¡¯s take on the abilities, but regardless, the connection was there. The same applied to dozens of Marks that overlapped in their affinity.

    However, this was a much harder process for certain subjects of power. Particularly vague subjects, and if there was anything more vague than a concept like inward desire, Remus would be damned.

    Ambition.

    The basic connotations of the word had already been morphed into tools for power. Endurance, willpower, desire. Translated to the flames of Remus¡¯ Ambition, and boosted vitality. But what else was there?

    The most powerful individuals in this world had spectacular mastery over the most fundamental aid in the toolkit: a Mark. Some creative ingenuity was required here, but Remus was altogether left stumped.

    Aziel had once summoned snakes of flame, or had they merely been fires in the shape of serpents? Remus wanted to tear his hair out, no progress made in the slightest.

    If Ambition can be harnessed through a medium like flame, there must be other avenues.

    The idea sent a buzz of excitement across Remus¡¯s arms, as goosebumps infested his body. What about with no medium at all?

    He was sure he had done exactly that on multiple occasions before; he just hadn¡¯t been paying enough attention at the time to register it.

    Remus scowled. Ambition, at its core, was the desire to be greater. To expand past one¡¯s current limits. Curious, Remus picked up the nearest pebble in sight. It weighed virtually nothing, and yet, for a standard person without even the virtue of a Droplet, it would refuse destruction no matter how hard you squeezed. An Engorged would have much less trouble doing the job, but it would take a painfully longer time than someone is willing to mess around with rocks for.

    Closing his eyes, Remus visualised his Ambition streaming off his Mark, flooding through his inner self with untapped potential. Purposefully not succumbing to his ingrained instincts to set such energy aflame, he poured it into his arm, unchanged. A newfound strength seemed to immerse his right hand, and despite the disadvantage his missing ring finger posed, the pebble didn¡¯t stand a chance. Dust fluttered across the ground at his feet, mere moments after he pressed.

    Intrigued, Remus retried the experiment, though this time, used his free hand to release a burst of the Mark¡¯s signature flame. Like he expected, there was a loss of power and quantity. The stone perished to fleeting dust in his right hand, but barely a slither of smoke was extinguished from his left. Then, in one final rerun, he attempted to equally disperse his Ambition through both mediums: pure physical enhancement, and smouldering might. It was difficult, like working out a muscle group for the first time. Except in this case, the muscle was invisible, and all the pain was directed to an amounting headache. To compensate for the demand of both outpours, he had to strain. Nevertheless, a humble stream of blue blazed across his one arm, and in the other grip, sand filtered out.

    It had taken noticeably longer to crush the stone the third time around, and his burst of flame was much less impressive. Nevertheless, he had set the ball rolling.

    Remus centred his attention back on his maimed hand. He knew full well it would never truly be healed. Maybe if he convinced the most powerful of the Vitality Sect to quite literally lend him a hand, it would return to its past state. But the vast majority of Descent¡¯s healing could only accelerate an individual¡¯s personal recovery-rate. And, as Violet had informed him not long ago, if you gained an injury at a Rank unable to reverse the damage, no matter how high you ascended, you were stuck with the affliction for life. Unless you became a god of course, but for the timing being, Remus would be stuck with the empty gap between fingers.

    But that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t get creative.

    He imagined Aziel styling his flames into hissing creatures, but Remus moulded his own fire into a different outcome. At the empty gap between digits, a stubby blaze of azure filled the regular spot.

    It was messy work, but the strip of blue did a fairly decent job of disguising his wound with something interesting.

    But the possibilities this opened up . . .

    Was there a means of turning this solid? It would only be temporary, of course, but if he had a way to resolve his issue of a ruined grip, arming himself with a weapon may not have been out of the question.

    For an hour straight, Remus set his mind to transforming his blue appendage into the only solid piece of matter related to heat he could think of: obsidian.

    Obsidian had much the same traits that you would pin to an ambitious person: tough. resilient beyond belief, and unsuccumbing. If it fitted within the subject, it would work . . . right?

    Finally, at a time far later than Remus had been planning to call quits, his efforts bore fruit. Well, if he was to continue that analogy, it would be spoiled fruit. Left to rot in someone¡¯s attic for half-a century, liquidising from sheer passage of time and the equivalent of mother nature¡¯s poison.

    The line of blackish purple was terribly uncomfortable, put so much pressure on the wrist it was painful, and it had only just occurred to Remus that he couldn¡¯t bend or twirl around obsidian like flesh and blood. It was also substantially harder to cast away than simple flame. Resorting to shattering the thing, Remus exhaled; fatigue and disappointment drowned him.

    His Mark was steaming after so much abuse, but Remus had one more idea before retiring for the night.

    Once more, he imagined the outline of his missing appendage, demanding flames to fill the empty space. He was not disappointed, with careful control, he began his next ploy ¡ª raising its temperature to molten levels.

    This little manoeuvre of his had the potential to cause some serious damage in close-quarters combat.

    Blindingly bright this late into twilight hours, Remus found it insufferably difficult to concentrate, and yet the technique seemed to demand every ounce of his attention. Pure danger laid at his enhanced fingertips. Ordinarily, your Ambition couldn¡¯t harm you, but if Remus lost control, who''s to say how true that statement would hold up?

    Not in the mood to challenge any theories, Remus tempered himself. The blaze reached a degree that almost frightened him, the flames having unified into what Remus could only describe as pure heat.

    Carefully, he tested his creation. Clenching and unclenching his hand, the misfit of the digits did exactly as he commanded. It was almost uncanny, and although it didn¡¯t necessarily hurt, Remus could at some level register the temperature being omitted. Nevertheless, Remus would have hated to have seen himself from an outsider¡¯s perspective. He was grinning like an absolute idiot.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    He cried out in exclamation. ¡°It works! It-¡±

    He cried out in pain, his steaming Mark demanding rest. He lost control, and before Remus could even register what was occurring, he got the dreadful sense it wasn¡¯t going to be pretty.

    His makeshift finger erupted in actual, tangible pain, hurling Remus backwards several feet. Crash-landing against the log of a tree, Remus groaned, leaves settling in the messy bundles of his ginger hair. Stumbling to his quilt, Remus rolled into its embrace, falling asleep, and ignoring his raging Mark as best he could.

    At least I didn¡¯t lose another finger, Remus thought in the only moment of mirth he would receive until the moon ceased, clutching onto the bloody bundle of his hand.

    <hr>

    Shambling into the very outskirts of the city proper several hours later, Remus looked as if he had spent the night visiting a wide variety of local taverns, with no care for his general wellbeing.

    Suffice to say, he fit right in place.

    Not the worst sleep I¡¯ve ever gotten, Remus reconciled with himself, clutching the bridge of his nose.

    Now, if you were in any way, shape or form sensible, it might have occurred to you that his presence here was asking for trouble. His face was hung on every noticeboard in a hundred-mile vicinity, skilled men and women from all corners of Descent would be gathered here, keen to collect his bounty, and a simple passage through one of the eight outer territories sounded much less risky.

    But Remus had his reasons. One, this was the route Violet would be taking. The sooner the two reunited, the sooner the both of them could be safer in each other¡¯s company, and the sooner he would know for a fact that she was okay. Secondly, the Undercrossing would be substantially faster. If he dawdled in Hybrid for any longer than needed, he was finished.

    The Wild Sect would have made sure the warrant for his capture was known to each sect that called the city home. Shuffling into the epicentre of the fractured buildings, Remus was keen to slip through to the Undercrossing as quickly as possible.

    From there, he should¡¯ve been able to navigate the crowds, selecting the passage with the least traction.

    Maybe it would have been a better idea to approach at night, it occurred to him, the sight of so many people making him uneasy. Shaking his head, Remus took a deep breath and composed himself. No one was going to to even look his way if he just acted discreetly, so why was he so-

    A figure staring directly his way really wasn¡¯t the help Remus was looking for. He had never known a plan to fail so suddenly. Most of his schemes were slow, gradual descents into chaos. An initial nosedive so prematurely was disconcerting, to say the least. The man said nothing, and blinking, Remus realised why their features were so oddly familiar.

    Tanguy had barely changed a detail since their last meeting. The line of his mouth was still set in a perpetual scowl, the coal pigment to his irises stared at him dully, and his posture was immaculate. But his scalp. Hair had grown there. It wasn¡¯t much, barely a few seared strands, but the fact remained.

    That must have meant he hadn¡¯t been training with Hadrian¡¯s lot in some time. But why? Had he abandoned the Flame Sect? But that didn¡¯t make any sense. Despite the fierce end to their last encounter, the teen had exhibited such loyalty towards his clan, taking training so seriously. To the extent that he had fought against an Engorged like Remus without complaint . . . for the most part.

    Stepping forwards, Tanguy repeated himself. ¡°Fight me.¡±

    Remus stared back at him blankly, not a feature of his face twitching. It was like his brain couldn¡¯t process what they had just muttered. Tanguy didn¡¯t even show the courtesy of insinuating that he wanted to brawl, he straight up demanded it. In summary, it wasn¡¯t the warmest of greetings.

    ¡°Tanguy,¡± Remus began carefully, holding his ground. ¡°Long time no see.¡±

    ¡°Stop stalling Remus.¡± He spat at his feet. ¡°I know you¡¯re involved with them somehow. I don¡¯t know how exactly, but it''s the only thing that makes sense.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about? Fight? Surely you know this is Divine Ground?¡±

    Remus knew full well that his criminal status would merit him no safety, regardless of their location. But Tanguy didn¡¯t, and any chance to stall he would gladly take. Plus, there was the worrying thought the technicalities of Divine Ground wouldn¡¯t allow him to fight back; this was the loophole through that.

    Tanguy continued, their glower doing everything in its power to set permanent wrinkles in its owner¡¯s face. ¡°That''s how you were able to beat me before, eh? Some trading of power.¡± This appeared to bring some relief through Tanguy, false knowledge numbing his pains. ¡°But now you¡¯re cornered. I can finish you here once and for all, and everything will be set right.¡±

    Ask Remus a few Passings ago, and his response may have differed. But right here, right now ¡ª in a city that would love to get its hands on his head ¡ª common sense beat sheer impulsive Ambition.

    ¡°I¡¯m not fighting you Tanguy.¡± He said defiantly. ¡°What¡¯s happening? I can help.¡±

    ¡°Stop playing dumb. Don¡¯t act like you don¡¯t know what those Unbounded did to my clan.¡± A crazed look widened his eyes disproportionately. ¡°And you don¡¯t have a choice in the matter. You¡¯ll accept the duel I offer you.¡±

    Stumbling backwards more out of surprise than drowsiness, Remus had difficulty processing that former part. Unbounded had been moving forces towards the Fire Sect too. The statement sent an additional wave of adrenaline crashing through him, consuming any sense of fatigue in its wake. Hadrian, Veida, Cyrus, all the trainees he had been working with for Durations. If anything had happened to them too, he didn¡¯t think he could take it.

    Yet no matter how genuinely concerned Remus was, Tanguy wasn¡¯t talking sense. He had to take control over the situation, before things got out of control, and fast. Crossing his arms, Remus put on a brave demeanour. ¡°Or what?¡±

    ¡°Or,¡± Tanguy flickered his head to the busy streets around them, ¡°I¡¯ll just report your presence here. I think Juniper would do a perfectly fine job of tearing you limb from limb. But to be perfectly honest,¡± Remus could have sworn a slither of flame highlighted the boy¡¯s irises, ¡°I¡¯d much rather do that job myself.¡±

    Quite a convincing argument, to be perfectly fair.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do this, Tanguy.¡± Remus couldn¡¯t think of what to say. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re getting yourself into.¡±

    Crap. Remus bit his bottom lip. That came off more aggressive than I¡¯d intended.

    The fated words left Tanguy¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°I, Tanguy of the Flame Sect, and honourable ambassador of the deity Ashbel, offer a duel to Remus of the Carpentry Sect, ambassador of . . .¡± he hesitated, looking Remus up and down.¡±

    ¡°Tanguy, stop this. Stop this righ-¡±

    He flew his arm aside, cutting him off. ¡°Whatever, the point is, or what I mean to say-¡± he groaned, cutting to the chase. ¡°Do you agree?¡±

    Remus had no choice here. It was either skimming his way to survival in this bout, or certain death. If Juniper¡¯s forces discovered his whereabouts, he wouldn¡¯t be able to fight off entire squadrons far beyond his Divine Rank single-handedly.

    His tongue invoked destruction. ¡°I do.¡±

    The air spasmed around both of the twos¡¯ palms, heralding their own respective weapons of lethal heat in one crucial split-second.

    Immediately, as he hurtled out of the way of Tanguy¡¯s deadly blast, plans were formulating in Remus¡¯ mind. In much the same manner, a crowd was gathering around the two already, distant mutters turning to close shouts. This was going to be a city-wide spectacle; precisely what Remus didn¡¯t need: attention.

    Remus uncalled his outburst of blue as quickly as he had summoned it, the shade luckily lost in Tanguy¡¯s own raging sprays of red. This would be his only advantage over the Emblazed. Now that he wasn¡¯t holding back, Remus¡¯ sole trick to best Tanguy was the element of surprise. He¡¯d referred to him as ¡®of the carpentry sect¡¯, and whilst not technically incorrect, it revealed Tanguy¡¯s blind spot. For the time being, Remus would have to keep his Ambition Mark as discreet as humanly possible.

    But in the meantime, that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t utilise a few of his more subtle abilities. Exactly as he had last night, Remus rushed his unshapen Ambition through his body, though this time, to his feet. As Tanguy swooped inwards to close the distance, he jumped.

    Immediately, he found himself thrown two metres above, his lower body aching in pain as Remus landed clumsily on the nearest wall. Ignoring Tanguy¡¯s cries of outrage, he scrambled across the remains of the half-crumbling building, applying tiny bursts of Ambition to his feet to continue his hopping escapades. Andreas would surely be proud at the sight, but Remus didn¡¯t feel very elegant, as he kept barging into everything in range.

    The rest of his forces went straight into endurance. Whilst their size wasn¡¯t a drastic difference, Tanguy was undoubtedly bigger, and so would-

    Sudden fires caught Remus'' shoulder. He fell to one knee, coughing out smoke, as Tanguy came running. Red flames enveloped their lofted fists, accumulating and accumulating into obsidian gauntlets. Precisely what he had attempted last night, only infinitely more efficient; it was like fate was trying to taunt him. Remus dodged the first blow, but his footwork became sloppy in his surprise ¡ª reinforced skin forced to bear the impact.

    The man didn¡¯t stop there, charging in with bone-crushing shot after shot.  Managing to avoid the barrage, empty air met Remus¡¯ back. He didn''t dare risk a second¡¯s glance, but he was acutely aware of the fall awaiting him. Tanguy set his own leg alight, and, too preoccupied with his upper body, Remus fell victim to a rapid kick.

    The world flipped upside down, and Remus hardly felt the impact of two extra successive blows. Soil struck his body, or the other way round, he was too disoriented to tell, and Tanguy didn¡¯t dawdle to follow.

    Ignoring the pain, Remus rolled out of the way, a current of crimson streaking across the patch of grass he had just been laying within, as Tanguy came plummeting down. The flames dispersed, leaving only withering weeds in their place.

    Tanguy¡¯s fist appeared an inch away from him, but Remus¡¯ reflexes saved him. Ignoring the growing murmurs all around, Remus ducked and skirved out of the way, flooding his fingers numb with Ambition, and caught the man on his chin. It never would have hit, if his performance thus far hadn¡¯t been so overwhelmingly sloppy, that Tanguy¡¯s guard was down.

    He drew blood.

    Ignoring the line of gold oozing down his chin, Tanguy¡¯s stoic expression matched the man Remus had been throttled by so many times. Remus attempted a feint, but a blur of a hand caught it.

    Remus smiled through gritted teeth, realising that he too was amounting quite the pool of Ichor. ¡°So it''s true.¡±

    Tanguy frowned, punching Remus right in the abdomen, still holding him put.

    Gagging, Remus spluttered, ¡°old dogs do learn new tricks.¡±

    Tired of being punched like a ragdoll, Remus grasped Tanguy by the hem of his shirt, putting his everything into one desperate manoeuvre. Tanguy¡¯s eyes widened at the initial wisps of blue, his hand hastily withdrawing. Out of pain or pure bewilderment, Remus would never know, but at that moment, all he was focused on was his next hit. Heat amassed in his free hand, and launching his entire body into a push, he forced the azure blast right into Tanguy at point-blank rage.

    Their body went crashing into the nearest wall, where he promptly crumpled ¡ª unearthed debris joining him.

    Remus was fighting dirty, and he knew it. But after taking so much damage so quickly, he couldn¡¯t conjure the will to care.

    Flying forwards using Aziel¡¯s technique, he lodged his kneecap into his enemy, summoning superhuman might into his right hand. He lodged all four digits into the wall¡¯s ageing stone, anchoring himself, whereupon he regretted his choice of hand immediately. The grip wasn¡¯t likely to hold, and was hurting like hell after being embedded, but Remus couldn¡¯t afford to care.

    Before Tanguy could catch his breath, he beat the man senseless. Of course, he wasn¡¯t actively trying to kill, per se, just damaging the man enough to incapacitate him, but that didn¡¯t necessitate being gentle.

    ¡°You- advanced-¡± Tanguy spluttered between mouthfuls of Remus¡¯ flying blows.

    ¡°Thanks for noticing,¡± Remus replied, looking over his shoulder anxiously. Someone from the amassing spectators was sure to recognise him. ¡°Took a lot of time and effort to get here, but it was worth it in the end.¡±

    Making small talk with the same man he was beating mercilessly probably sounded morally ambiguous, but it felt natural in the moment.

    ¡°How nice.¡± Tanguy caught his forearm in a sizzling grasp. ¡°Was that what you gained from joining them? You damn traitor.¡±

    Credit to him, Tanguy managed to wrestle a path away from that sifting wall. Put under anymore stress, and it probably would have toppled over.

    In a bizarre turning-of-the-tables, Tanguy took the initiative to flee. Remus was soon to follow after him in a wild sprint, Mark deactivated, and not wanting to burn himself out like last night. For now, he would have to abuse his respiratory system while he dashed after Tanguy¡¯s tail.

    Who currently, reaching the apex of another building ¡ª this one domed, and all together more complete ¡ª was seemingly preparing another ability. His ace-in-the-hole, if Remus¡¯ suspicions proved correct.

    The familiar highlights of his flames, now taking on a blood-red tinge, was a breathtaking spectacle. It stretched through the air in complex patterns, like several helixes embedded inside one another. His face hidden by the whirling flames, Remus could only see Tanguy clicking his fingers.

    The fires bubbled, however that worked, and Tanguy fell to his knees. Unless Remus¡¯ blows were getting to the man with a delayed effect, the effort this next technique was demanding of him was extreme. The bloody fires appeared to deepen in a way, almost becoming more whole; the colour shifted-slightly; an extra weight appeared to define the hovering stream; and the gas that is fire seemed to grow more physical.

    Like it was turning into a liquid.

    Remus watched in horror, as the skies bled orange; raining down a sickly lava.

 40. Boiling Point

    Remus¡¯ first reaction was to find shelter.

    Then he recalled that ancient ruins from ages long ago were a lot less functional than they were visually-appealing. One droplet of the steaming stuff Tanguy was producing, and their primitive architecture wouldn¡¯t last a second.

    Remus wanted to scream, both out of fear, and frustration. Right when it looked like he had Tanguy on the ropes, the man turned around and unveiled this monstrosity. Remus had to grudgingly respect it, but nevertheless, if he didn¡¯t come up with something fast, he was toast.

    Like a gradually expanding net, the ability mimicked the same technique Veida and Hadrian had used to destroy that colony of Magma Flies so long ago. It wasn¡¯t nearly as powerful, and by the looks of it, was driving Tanguy to breaking point, but it posed a very good chance of burning Remus down to his marrow.

    Only if he let it.

    Scrapping aside the idea to let his Mark rest, Remus risked driving himself to his own limit. A trickle of Ambition infested his entire outer body, boosting the endurance of his skin, and a spread of diamond flame blazed across his entire form in a protective layer. Remus was currently sporting the fire-resistant clothing Hadrian had gifted him so long ago, as well as actively focusing on leaving the leather unmarred. From the outside, you would only be able to espy his dancing silhouette through the armour equivalent of an inferno. Perhaps overkill? Remus didn¡¯t think so.

    Dying an agonising death at the hands of trickling lava didn¡¯t sound appealing at all.

    Remus whisked forward. He would have been faster if he directed a measle of his Ambition to his legs, but he didn¡¯t possess that precise of a control over his Mark yet. Directing his energy to so many focuses simultaneously was a balancing act, one ready to topple over at even the slightest mistakes.

    If his reaction time had been any slower, Remus would have perished a second later. Right ahead of him, a ribbon of lava whooshed through his path. These larger currents interwoven through the larger downpour were his real struggle here. The droplets themselves were fated to meet an anticlimactic end upon meeting his blazing barrier, but these larger stretches were far more condensed. They would cut through him like a thousand degree knife.

    Flying past this lethal trap, Remus cursed under his breath. All of this was putting his Mark under some serious strain. Any prolonged period of this, and he would fall unconscious from pure exhaustion.

    He had to get to Tanguy as quickly as possible. If he could break his Mark¡¯s connection to the stream, it would be all over for the Emblazed. But then again, how long could Tanguy himself keep this cyclone up?

    It was a battle of endurance, and based on Tanguy¡¯s next move, he intended on winning.

    The condensed currents all lashed out for Remus¡¯ location.

    He leaped upwards over one whip, outpoured flame through one hand to keep himself airborne as two more threatened to intercept his line-of-flight, and quickly allowed himself to drop. He hit the ground in a huff, barely avoiding decapitation by a hair¡¯s breadth. Raising two fingers, Remus fired a tiny, arrow-sized fireball towards Tanguy. A strip of lava immediately blocked its path, before the spark could get in a metre¡¯s vicinity of its summoner.

    In a mad trance, Remus focused on nothing but evasion. These slashing constructs did a frustratingly good job at keeping Remus at bay, but he edged forwards, inch by inch. But time was ticking. As an Emblazed, Tanguy¡¯s Mark was able to lash out damage far longer than Remus¡¯. If Remus was going to win this, which virtually meant the same thing as surviving, he would have to reach Tanguy ¡ª and fast. Another minute of this . . .

    Rolling behind a long-running wall, unconnected to any other sort of ruins, Remus decided to get risky. Diving down a set of stairs that must have been the basement of this would-be fortress, Remus let his Mark relax, uncalling the fire. Bricks and other detritus scattered across his feet, and the tunnel expanding ahead was nothing but pure darkness. He tripped over an odd bundle, possibly a sleeping man, before continuing to rush forwards.

    Daring a glance behind, Remus eyed an advancing bundle of currents, alarmingly close to his exposed back. Remus prayed for their sake that whatever he had tripped over was a bundle of junk.

    Don¡¯t die, he croaked hoarsely to himself, don¡¯t die, don¡¯t die-

    His eyes adjusted, and a looming set of stairs at the other end came into view, like Remus¡¯ divine saviour. He actually yelped in glee, not far away from tears of delight, when Tanguy just had to ruin it.

    Now from ahead, a separate set of advancing lava currents came to pulverise Remus¡¯ flesh. His head turning between both directions, Remus saw nothing but an emerging, corrosive river at either end.

    It was now or never. The grand show-stopper. Remus used up every drab of Ambition within him. Flames carpeted his form with a greater density than ever; pure, unfiltered Ambition surged through the nexus of his body, both drastically improving his tolerance to senseless pain, and revitalising him with so much strength it was stupid. His Mark screamed in blistering agony, but Remus even had that covered, doubling down on Tanish¡¯s pain-killing properties.

    A second before both crashing tides reached him, he shot upwards through the dirt.

    <hr>

    Tanguy failed to steady his breathing, as he directed all of his focus on the lava circulating the immediate atmosphere.

    He had only used the technique once before, under Hadrian¡¯s direct instruction. Now, with Unbounded marching through the remains of his base, his mentor might not survive the conflict. And it was all Remus'' fault. He didn¡¯t know how, but there was a direct connection between the irritating young man, and the recent invasion. Veida kept her lips sealed, but he was certain the woman knew more than she told. And yet, she hadn¡¯t displayed the desire to act upon that knowledge.

    So Tanguy took the courtesy of acting for her.

    Surely he¡¯s dead now, he cocked an eyebrow at the narrow tunnel, or seconds away, at least.

    For his health¡¯s sake, Tanguy solemnly hoped that was true. His Mark was searing against his skin, his legs shook beneath him, but Tanguy kept one thing in mind, just one thing, and it was all he needed to keep going.

    No matter how quickly Remus may have advanced, there was no way in hell Tanguy would lose to an Enkindled.

    Tanguy made the mistake of blinking, and the universe grew erratic.

    Something must have been incredibly wrong with his vision, for the man saw a misleadingly convincing sight. It was of mounds of earth, bursting through the air with unfounded ferocity. He blinked again, but reality refused to return. A dot of blue flew out of the eruption, expanding into a sapphire wildfire like a stain on Tanguy¡¯s eye. It moved too quickly for him to intercept, lava ribbons rendered useless obstacles.

    A sucker-punch sent him flying, and in his petrified daze, Tanguy lost his bearings. The stone material of the domed roof came crashing towards his back, his Mark guttering out as Tanguy¡¯s hold on the lava streams failed. Falling with a pitiful squawk that disgusted even him, Tanguy heard his brain rattle in his skull. The man to his left, the very same who couldn''t possibly be Remus, dived out of the way, as the lava pool melted through the ruin¡¯s stone.

    Shocked gasps from all around sent Tanguy¡¯s mind spinning. Coughing out smoke, he struggled to an upwards position, blinking furiously as he found himself in a half-melted chamber. The lava streamed through a gap in the cracked wall, slowly flooding outwards as the resource itself dispersed. Without Tanguy¡¯s intervention, it would soon fade away completely ¡ª borrowed might returning to Ashbel.

    There was a rustling to Tanguy¡¯s side, and he instantly recognised it.

    Both men leaped to their feet, extending out a hand and screaming. The last remnants of their Marks¡¯ let out a trickle of fire each, red on blue, before the pair buckled in unison. Fuzzy dots appeared in Tanguy¡¯s vision, his world nothing but the pain.

    He had gone too far. His Mark, located across his nape, refused to settle.

    The burning, he thought through watery eyes, its burns so bad.

    As a Flame Sect clansman, Tanguy had enjoyed his fair share of fire-resistance. But the sensation his abused Mark was omitting, the illustration of Ashbel escaping the advance of the Water goddess, was out of his range of protection.

    Remus must be feeling a similar level of pain, he realised, heaving. In a few moments, I should recover quicker as an Emblazed, and Remus will be-

    A dark shape approached from the corner of his vision, blurry in his peripherals, but undeniable. The shadow picked up something unidentifiable from the ground, trudged over, and brought it before Tanguy. He tried to leap out of the way, but his Mark ¡ª his damn Mark.

    In the agony, he could do nothing more than roll over.

    Remus held the object to his throat.

    Gods above. He¡¯s going to kill me. Tanguy was as sure as that as anything. He''s going to kill me, and there¡¯s nothing I can do.

    The man lowered to Tanguy¡¯s level, all the weight of the world in the action, and he prepared to hear the words that would seal his fate.

    There was an awkward pause.

    ¡°Do . . .¡± The ginger man huffed. ¡°Do you surrender?¡±

    <hr>

    Remus held the jagged piece of marble in his left hand, acting now before his adrenaline wore off.

    Tanguy merely stared at him blankly, so Remus repeated himself. ¡°I said . . . do you surrender?¡±

    The man below flickered his head in all directions, as if searching for some means of getting out of here. None came. ¡°No.¡± He mouthed. ¡°No.¡±

    Remus glowered. ¡°No?¡±

    He had to get this done and dusted with, and quickly. The crowds had gone from being entertained from the utter havoc of the duel, and now bored beyond belief. Such was the attention span of the average person when something wasn¡¯t being destroyed. Remus wasn¡¯t committing a crime here exactly, but the equivalent of law enforcement around here wouldn¡¯t be happy with the disturbance they¡¯d caused, to say the least. Plus, once word got out of his identity . . .

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    No, it wouldn¡¯t be good. Not good at all. His criminal background would permit him no saving grace, simply because he was within Divine Ground.

    Tanguy didn¡¯t mutter a word, deflated.

    ¡°Surrender.¡± Remus urged. ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill you.¡±

    ¡°You might as well.¡± Tanguy hissed, slamming his fist against the marble. ¡°First the destruction to the Flame Sect, and now . . .¡± he clenched his teeth, firing a look of visceral hatred Remus¡¯ way. ¡°I¡¯m bested by a nobody like you. Again!¡±

    He continued to squirm, donning childish mannerisms as he hammered against the floor.

    It was here that it dawned on Remus: Tanguy hadn¡¯t truly believed that Remus had been behind the Unbounded attacks. That was just a front, a flimsy, seemingly noble reason to hunt Remus down. Maybe he had convinced even himself, but nevertheless, it was his hubris that had led him here; not his heart.

    Because, after all this time, the man couldn''t accept that he¡¯d been bested by an Engorged.

    It was risky to stay here, but Remus felt a sense of obligation to say something. ¡°Some people grow stronger at faster rates than others, but that doesn''t undermine the-¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Tanguy screeched. ¡°Don¡¯t speak to me like a child. I get it, you weren¡¯t involved with the attacks ¡ª there, happy?¡±

    Remus looked down at Tanguy, unable to hide the pity in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry what happened to the Flame Sect,¡± he said gently, facing a sizeable gap in the wall. A cloak of flame trailed his back and hands. ¡°I¡¯ll do everything in my power to crush the Unbounded, I promise. But first-¡±

    Flames erupted behind him, producing a sound reminiscent of an engine. ¡°I have people to protect.¡±

    Remus flew off, not offering Tanguy so much as a look back.

    Remus had, at most, a few minutes before he would find himself in a state not too unlike a squirming Tanguy. Which wasn¡¯t much help, especially when two figures in the corner of his eye were already advancing on him.

    Can''t catch a break, he scoffed. Oh well, it wasn¡¯t like he had been expecting a welcoming party when he stepped foot into the city, but this all really did seem like overkill.

    He would have to make a quick escape. Unless his attackers decided to sit them all down and arrange a duel ¡ª which seemed highly unlikely ¡ª Remus wouldn¡¯t be able to harm them with his Mark, whilst they were perfectly in the right to thrash him. His Mark was still active, however, and so peaceful acts like simply evading harm would be his only licence.

    The first of the dots followed a few metres to his left, eight insectoid arms extending from the woman¡¯s torso. The Arachnid Sect was known to have some of the most extreme bodily alteration in the Mortal Realms, to the extent that Remus couldn¡¯t identify how much of her appearance was permanent, and how much was temporarily donned through Mark activation. He discovered that, oddly, he wasn''t keen to find out.

    Webs shot out of her tendrils. Half of the strands didn¡¯t reach anywhere near Remus, and the rest burnt to a crisp, ultimately failing to entangle him. The other individual, the same man who was summoning icicles to rotate through the air, didn¡¯t possess much more luck.

    Feet landing on grass, Remus slipped where he stood ¡ª a sheet of ice forming instantly. His head collided against the chilly surface, the world suddenly growing very dark indeed. A wiry material ensnared his lowered body, as if sowing a cocoon around him strand by strand. His flames had vanished, the icy substance growing across his very flesh in competition with the webbing for territory. In the distance, the grey block that was the entrance to the Undercrossing taunted him. So close . . .

    Screeching, Remus activated his Mark to its limit for one nanosecond. It hurt like hell, but both frost and string vaporised.

    He didn¡¯t wait for two advancing shadows to crush him. Dashing into the flock of travellers, Remus hid in the power of numbers. He¡¯d previously heard that spiders had a monstrous amount of eyes. Yet again, somewhere in the back of his mind, Remus also recalled that the creatures were apparently lacking in the vision department. As contradictory as both statements sounded, Remus hoped for his own sake that the latter was true. The agony consuming every fibre of his body was nauseating. If they found him, Remus had as much chance of surviving as an ant disturbing a God-Graced¡¯s rest.

    I¡¯ll be one of the few men to have ever died in Divine Ground. Lucky me!

    Plunging deep into the Undercrossing, Remus barely paid attention to his surroundings as he trudged inside, every second a war to remain conscious. Get to a tunnel, and then you can drool against a wall all you like, Remus told himself, as much good as it did him. He barely paid attention to the signs, and in his dazed state, found himself remembering an exchange he had with Violet when first travelling to this accursed kingdom.

    A huge reason as to why the two decided to circumvent the Undercrossing on the arriving trip was because of this scenery right here: being attacked at by clansmen luring at every corner.

    Collapsing, Remus let his eyelids droop as he found himself in an empty tunnel. Snapping an eye open a few minutes later, he lifted up his leather tunic to observe his Mark. It was longer than ever, faintly radiant through the encompassing darkness. The illustration had expanded considerably, the snapshot of space it allowed a mystical sight.

    Space. The original battlefield of the gods. How badly had the deities scouraged the expanse? It was rumoured to be infinite, but Remus¡¯ mind failed to understand that notion. Throughout his life so far, he had learnt that absolutely everything had its expiry date. Everything. And most of the time, it was far, far earlier than Remus would have liked.

    His Mark had stopped burning now, but Remus immersed himself deeper into this reverie. After the hell he had forced his body through, he thought he deserved a little more rest than the bare minimum.

    His entire life, when it came down to it, was extending the brevity of the things closest to him. The Carpentry Clan, The Ambition Sect, the survival of those dear to him.

    Without his intervention, everything would crumble. Or was that his ego simply spoon-feeding him lies? To justify his decisions? No matter how much he deliberated, he could never know. If action was the only tool in his arsenal, his only way of ensuring none of these things occurred, he would have no choice but to use it.

    And yet, even if he dedicated the rest of his life to protecting these few precious things, be it in a thousand, or a few hundred years later, chances were, both sects would be crushed. At the root of it, the Celestial War was the core of all his problems. In the grand schemes of things, neither of the sects had a chance of prevailing. And no matter how much strength he amassed, no matter how many impulsive decisions he cannonned towards, that would never change.

    Exhaling, Remus got up, and stretched. Up above, he read the titles for each section. His eyes landed at Sonic, a grin sprouting above his chin.

    Well, I do have to make a speedy escape . . .

    He reactivated his Mark, expecting crippling pain, but none came. Nothing severe, anyhow. Remus extended two arms behind him, angled forward and down, and immediately swivelled round in alarm.

    A sheet of ice was forming across the ground. Remus let out a muffled curse. This is what he got for taking some time for himself. Oh right, I forgot I¡¯m not allowed to rest.

    Remus leaped ahead into the gloom, a curtain of azure fire propelling him forwards.

    <hr>

    Packing up her supplies, Violet prepared to venture further into the surrounding darkness. She couldn¡¯t tell how long she¡¯d been travelling in this forsaken tunnel, living out her days in almost complete darkness. It had been a rather long time since it had set in, that beyond a shadow of a doubt, she¡¯d selected the worst possible route.

    Half of the Infirnite making up the torches had shattered, and the designated spots for rest integrated into the design of the walking route were in disarray. Sure, they were only large blocks with dispensable water available at the sides ¡ª glorified camping sites ¡ª and yet these places had now been reduced to junkyards. No safe haven would be granted.

    Any longer of this, and Violet was going to lose her sanity.

    She exhaled, refilling her waterskin from the pools at the side. At the bottom of the pit, a sparkling blue crystal sat. The Water Sect¡¯s equivalent of Infirnite. Seastone was a less common resource, rumoured to be found in the deepest reaches of Descent¡¯s one ocean, that dominated the vast majority of the Mortal Realms past the Pangea¡¯s reach.

    Its main functionality was pumping out copious amounts of water at seemingly random intervals. Slowly, by doing so, it would sacrifice itself layer by layer. However long this place had been abandoned, it must have been some time ago indeed, for the entire floor of the site was drenched. Shoes soaked, Violet somehow managed to keep her temper in check as she swished the waterskin through the depths.

    At one look at what was inside of it, she dropped the article.

    The face of an Unbounded peered back at her, right where her reflection should be. Violet blinked, and, miraculously, it was gone. She froze for a moment, before the many components of her brain came to the executive decision to punch the water¡¯s surface repeatedly.

    She was tempted to throttle the water more, before grudgingly deciding it was not not the liquid¡¯s fault. Sighing, Violet picked back up her floating waterskin, now bloated to the brim. Taking one more suspicious examination of the water vessel, she saw it to be empty. No scary alternate version of herself coming to split her stomach open.

    That was when she heard rustling behind her. Immediately, Violet swivelled round, Mark blazing. Chaotic energy pervaded the atmosphere, awaiting its chance to wreak absolute havoc with reckless abandon. Nothing caught Violet¡¯s eyes, shifting around uncomfortably.

    That was, until she heard the frantic flapping from up above. Tiny shadows stirred in the gloom, squeaking in an eerie symphony. The dark ambiance wasn¡¯t her cup of tea exactly, she preferred the pitter-patter of rainfall, but nevertheless, a weight left her shoulders. Whilst annoying, bats would be harmless.

    Tevial¡¯s havoc, she cursed, if bats are starting to call this place a home, when was the last time this tunnel was checked?

    It wouldn¡¯t be out of the question that Violet had somehow stumbled upon an abandoned section of the Undercrossing, but that prospect sent a tremor down her spine. But, no matter how unnatural it felt, Violet pulled herself together. If anything, that eerie notion was just fuel to her rapidly growing motivation ¡ª motivation to get out of this artificial cave right this second.

    Violet gathered her supplies, shook herself off, and headed onwards. The sound of her feet slamming against the rocky surface below was enough to overlay the incessant squeaking. So her mind, finally, was allowed to rest.

    For approximately five seconds.

    Landing directly before her, a creature that was definitely not a bat confronted Violet. Sure, it had the vague shape of a flapping mammal, but Violet knew an Unbounded when she saw one. Grey-skinned, with fangs about a foot long extending out of either end of its exaggerated maw, the fiend merely hovered before her. Violet wasn¡¯t so courtly.

    In one terrifying reflex, she focused on the reality surrounding the beast. Then, as if scrunching a piece of paper, she compressed the enveloping space without missing a beat.

    The Unbounded screeched, resisting. Violet frowned. It must have been slightly more powerful than she¡¯d anticipated. Judging from the fact it was beginning to mutter something to her, yet another of Violet¡¯s horrifying predictions proved true.

    ¡°Praise Nova.¡± The words rung with squeaking agony, as if each syllable was being spat through a mouthful of blood. Chances are, they probably were

    Then, it stopped resisting. Before Violet could even double-down on crushing the life out of the monstrosity, it seemed to surrender itself. Or, more specifically, its physical mass: their Infinity.

    Without her interference, the pale white molecules flew through the atmosphere, bizarrely visible through the near-darkness. Like bone-meal dispersing through the air, it rushed towards her. Violet flapped her hands feverishly in refusal, but the strands of Infinity couldn''t care less about her reaction. She could do nought as the otherworldly substance seemed to . . . become part of her.

    Violet felt her inner strength expanding a mere smidge, barely enough to be recognisable, and then, nothing. Dropping to her knees, Violet almost gagged.

    That Unbounded . . . it dawned on her, it recognised me as a subordinate of Nova, and sacrificed itself.

    So she could grow stronger. Violet was close to retching at the thought. No, not close, not even teetering on. She doubled over, vomiting on some poor patch of the wall.

    Blinking out the moisture from her eyes, Violet inevitably recognised the entire colony of the Unbounded, hanging upside-down from the oval roof. Without a second thought, she screeched at the top of her lungs. Pure, unfiltered Chaos energy swept through the length of the passage, collecting up the Infinity of the mock-bats like dust in a sandstorm.

    If the Unbounded were so stupid as to offer her power, Violet would gladly take every morsel. And she wouldn¡¯t stop there.

    The key to her advancement was obvious now; as clear as day.

    If she needed to become more intune with Infinity, and increase the depth of her concentration, then consuming more of the stuff was the obvious solution. And if slaughtering thousands of Nova¡¯s minions was Violet¡¯s path to getting there, then she would walk it with pleasure.

    Before Violet, tiny slits through space opened up to her, connected tears manifesting wherever remnants of the enemy laid in recovery. Like meaning wormholes, perfectly sized for her arm. She sent her fists flying towards them all.

    A cyclone rumbled around Violet, and within its whirling tides, dormant power awaited.

 41. Brothers in Arms

    Violet reached the end of the Undercrossing the next day, unfamiliar might settling in the pit of her stomach. At the memory of last night, she fought down the urge to gag. Bonding with the beings she detested so much, more than she already had . . . it was enough to churn her stomach in ways she hadn¡¯t known possible.

    Like divine mercy, sunlight made her eyes seize up, and blinking rapidly, Violet stumbled out of the Undercrossing. Straight ahead, empty marshlands shot out as far as her stunned eyes could see. Flickering out moisture, she let out a sigh of relief, with enough force to shatter a small mountain behind it. That was a gross exaggeration of course, but nevertheless, it felt like it.

    A metres long shadow protruded away from the stretching building behind her. A little distance off, large quantities of travellers strolled out, and Violet couldn¡¯t help but feel a tinge of jealousy as she noted the luminance leaking out of each of their tunnels.

    What a fortune it is to have functioning torches, she glowered wordlessly.

    Returning her gaze to the flooded landscape, the early morning sun diluting the waters with a sickly amber, Violet felt her throat restrict. She downed a mouthful out of her waterskin, and murmured a curse as the sensation lingered.

    She had escaped from one path of travel to the next. And, for some reason, not even the notion of marching forth through the humid weather of Summer could relieve the distaste from her mouth.

    Violet felt homesick, but she couldn¡¯t have been. She had no place to attribute to that title. Not anymore, at least.

    A roaring sound from behind caused Violet¡¯s ears to perk up. Diving out the way, she saved her skin in the nick of time from being deep-fried by an oncoming projectile. A projectile she soon came to realise wasn''t a projectile at all, but a blazing mass of sapphire blue.

    Remus hit a puddle at Violet¡¯s feet, Mark deactivating as he let out a long series of groans. Tentatively, Violet angled a concerned look at one of the passages a few away from her own. Its walls and floor were charred beyond belief. As if someone had been laying tar across the passage to trip an unsuspecting traveller.

    Violet towered over Remus¡¯ tangled form, hands on her hips. ¡°Why do we always meet when you¡¯re in some sort of precarious situation?¡±

    Slowly, Remus pulled himself up, wiping sweat off his brow. ¡°Believe me, I¡¯d love to know.¡± He glared towards the tunnel he had just emerged from, a certain weariness behind his features.

    ¡°How did you get here so fast? In fact, why are you here already?¡±

    Remus spluttered, stepping cautiously away from the looming mouth of the passage and focusing her way. ¡°Long story. Mostly bad stuff.¡± He swiftly back-tracked on this statement. ¡°In fact, all bad stuff. But I¡¯ll tell you all about that later.¡±

    He pointed a finger towards that gods¡¯-be-damned door. You¡¯d think he had a complex, or phobia, for that one specific opening. ¡°I was being chased most of the length here. Big spider-lady and some guy with a severe case of frostbite. If you notice any-one, zap us out of here.¡±

    Suddenly, Violet didn¡¯t feel the need to take the passageway quite so lightly. Whilst his gibberish descriptions had to be sorted through a filter, Violet didn¡¯t like the sounds of their unpacked meaning. But, gaze returning to Remus, the majority of her attention was spent on processing the absolute state the boy was in. She had been on the verge of figuring out a way of contacting Remus, like the Projection Nova had utilised in the Ambition Sect. It was a ginormous coincidence he had miraculously arrived here, but the cost of that speedy arrival . . .

    Perspiration covered Remus¡¯ form, and he was in desperate need of a bath. Cuts littered his body, some of them so gruesome Violet winced. And yet, much to the contrary, Remus continued to recover there as if his only problem was fatigue; not the subtlest sign of a reaction to the pain. His leather tunic would need some sewing, but Violet had come prepared with a sewing kit she had packed some time ago. His shoulder was revealed, a bruise lining his tricep, but what really caught Violet¡¯s attention was his Mark.

    God above . . . if he¡¯s managed to progress so much already . . .

    She killed that thought there. Sure, he was growing his Mark at a remarkable rate, but it wasn¡¯t as if this was an unfounded speed. Still, she couldn¡¯t quell a certain level of excitement for him. It was undeniable that he¡¯d come a long way. For a few minutes, the pair sat in silence. Violet hadn¡¯t wanted to admit it, but after last night''s massacre, she was feeling particularly fatigued herself. She wouldn¡¯t deny an opportunity to rest when it was offered to her.

    The two conversed frantically, discussing all that had transpired since their last meeting.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know Violet,¡± Remus began sceptically, the topic of Veida arising, ¡°if last time was anything to go by-¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± She said firmly. ¡°But she seems sincere, Remus. Besides, an expert in this field might be a crucial part of unravelling this Unbounded business.¡±

    ¡°Attracting Juniper''s attention . . . I know she gave you her blessing, but I hate getting more entangled with The Wild Sect than we already are. Though, her aversion to me does explain a few things.¡±

    Violet questioned this, which led to Remus spilling the events that had been preoccupying him. He spoke of nothing but hardship. Despite the drag the last few Passings had been, it became painfully apparent that Remus had drawn the short-end of the stick.

    ¡°Unbounded are attacking so many major clans at once.¡± The statement was frightening enough left just there.

    ¡°They¡¯ve gathered power recently.¡± Remus murmured, a faraway look to his eyes. ¡°That alone should be apparent enough to the sect leaders, though I sometimes doubt if they can see past the ends of their own noses. With the moves the Unbounded have been making as of late, they¡¯re playing into that obliviousness.¡±

    ¡°But how long can that last? The Ambition Sect is one thing, but waging a campaign against a clan as major as the Fire Sect? That¡¯s bound to attract attention.¡±

    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s what they want.¡±

    A moody silence made short work of their conversation.

    After awkwardly transitioning to other topics, the pair of them packed up their things, preparing for their trek to the Ravaged Lands. Violet wasn¡¯t sure what to make of Tanguy¡¯s attack on Remus, but had to respect her companion for prevailing in that conflict nevertheless. A newly Enkindled besting a full-fledged Emblazed.

    Again, not unheard of. She reminded herself. Every time Violet allowed herself to grow excited about something, reality, somehow, sabotaged whatever it was. It may sound silly, but she, beyond anything, wanted to see Remus succeed. Inadvertently working against that was the last thing Violet desired.

    Beginning to walk, she unveiled a piece of parchment, and a self-inking quill the Chaos Clan must have purchased from the Scholar Sect. It was sometimes a marvel how many random objects she had initially packed before leaving that manor. As they maintained a restrained gait, Violet began to plot out their plans.

    ¡°So, we reach the Ravaged Lands together, somehow navigate our way to Hell¡¯s Floor, and from there, we begin to plan out our assault on the Chaos Clan¡¯s base.¡±

    Remus appeared plainly apprehensive at that. Though, very kindly of him, never objected. It was an insane mission ¡ª perhaps, from a very reasonable point of view, suicidal ¡ª but this was the same reason Violet had ventured out of her family¡¯s manor in the first place. Akuji, alive or dead, would be held up there. If it was the last thing Violet would do, she was going to locate the poor man, and acquire answers.

    But the dormant realities awaiting to be revealed . . . was she ready for those harsh truths?

    Tremors sped across her body. The last time a mystery of the Chaos Clan was unveiled to her-

    The image of an alien, featureless white face took hold of Violet¡¯s thoughts. It refused to let go. The being maintained eye contact, and Violet couldn¡¯t do so much as blink. The Unbounded, the awful, approaching fiend that was an insult to everything good on this forsaken world, didn¡¯t so much as laugh. It didn¡¯t poke fun, jibe, or express mockery via some other means.

    It simply stared.

    A hand was placed on her shoulder, a human hand of flesh and blood. Its warmth snapped her back to reality. Violet breathed in deeply, as Remus furrowed his eyebrows at her.

    ¡°Violet?¡± He asked, his words sounding distant for a moment. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    She exhaled, and all the sounds of the universe seemed to resume. ¡°Yeah . . . where were we?¡±

    Judging by the unbecoming frown on his face, Remus wasn¡¯t appeased. ¡°Invading the Chaos Sect¡¯s base in Hell¡¯s Floor. That¡¯s where that Life Sect Warlord should be, right?¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Plans returned to her memory like paint flooding through parchment. ¡°While I plan out how exactly we¡¯re gonna manage that, you should have enough time to visit . . . what was it? East Flame?¡±

    The man laughed. It was annoyingly infectious. ¡°West Ember. I don¡¯t know how successful the trip will be, or how long it¡¯ll take. And there¡¯s a major underlying issue with the entire plan I have to resolve. I hope I won¡¯t have to keep you waiting for too long.¡±

    ¡°Take your time.¡± Violet reassured, braids flickering in the faint winds. ¡°Anyway, the longer I spend preparing, the better the chance I have of making it out of this.¡±

    Nodding along, Remus stopped in place abruptly. Scrambling around in his remaining pocket that wasn¡¯t in pieces, he presented the smallest piece of Infirnite Violet had ever seen. ¡°This might be a stretch, but do you have a way of contacting the Ambition Sect? This is connected to Aziel. If they don¡¯t hear from me soon, I worry they¡¯ll grow concerned.¡±

    Tentatively, Violet held the tiny shard. Inside, a raging blue flame resided. But it wasn¡¯t Remus¡¯. It gave off a different kind of energy than the boyish man to her left. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she glowered, ¡°I¡¯ve been throwing around the idea of attempting my own Projection, but . . .¡±

    The events of last night span around the surface of her mind, but this time, she didn¡¯t regard the fresh memories with disgust. Instead, an inkling of intrigue ran through her.

    The peculiar phenomenon of a Projection had been included in Veida¡¯s journals. When Violet had read through them, the definition of one had lingered: a very weak Unbounded imparted with the consciousness of a stronger one, primarily to transfer messages.

    Simultaneously, as if both sides of her brain were working independently, Violet recalled the disturbing fact that an Unbounded could manufacturer other Unbounded, in a gross, industrial sort of way.

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°I have an idea,¡± Violet said slowly, ¡°and it probably would work.¡±

    Remus grinned like a child on the last day of school. ¡°Really? That was a shot in the dark, but-¡±

    She held up a palm. ¡°Though, I have to warn you, it''s disgusting beyond belief.¡±

    His smile was a little more strained. ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind.¡±

    Slowly, Violet closed her eyelids, centering in on . . . herself? Was that what she was supposed to do? In the strangest sensation of her life, she focused on the Infinity that sustained her. More specifically, the Infinity she had cultivated yesterday. It was like keeping your eye on one individual grain in a sandpit, but still, clenching her fist, she managed it. Then, composing her breathing, she pictured the tiny batch of Infinity departing from her body. Clenching down on her teeth to the extent that it hurt, the process had appeared to work. Until it didn¡¯t. Cursing, Violet had to muster up all her self-control not to lose focus.

    Based on a gasp from Remus, she had done something. Now it was just a game of finishing that something off.

    The outside world became obscured, and that dissociation only double-downed. Then it tripled, until Violet couldn¡¯t even sense the moist ground at her feet. The speck expanded in her vision, her senses pinpointing on the Infinity like it was the only thing to exist. Once more, Violet tried to imagine it leaving her. Like a traveller exiting one territory for another.

    The grain minimised, slowly dispersing until a sizeable amount had gone missing. Opening her eyes, Violet turned her head, seeing nothing but wetlands upon wetlands. A squelchy sort of sound from below, and Violet angled her head downwards.

    There, sitting aloof in a mudpatch, was a tiny, rat-sized slither. It was the same pearly white as Violet¡¯s Unbounded form, except without the humanoid contours. It was as though someone had splattered white paint on a canvas, whipped the brush along the top as a makeshift head, and called it a day.

    If she was their employer, Violet would have fired the artist.

    ¡°Woah.¡± Remus intoned. ¡°Is that-¡±

    ¡°An Unbounded.¡± She replied. ¡°But one as weak as they come.¡±

    Crawling around uselessly, the being clearly had no idea what to do with itself, past its basic survival instincts. If it wasn¡¯t an Unbounded, Violet may have felt pity for the creature. A heavy downpour could have probably killed it.

    Alas, as things stood, Violet couldn¡¯t help but feel revolted. Ignoring the implications of this being¡¯s existence, she picked it up by one ¡®hand¡¯ ¡ª a deformed corner of the Unbounded.

    This next part, surprisingly, came as easy as breathing.

    She imagined completely dominating the being before her. She could utterly destroy the Unbounded with but a brief squeeze of the hand; it had no right, no way, to refuse. Its will was as fickle as morning ice. It shattered, as Violet¡¯s will penetrated every crevice of its barely sentient mind. Infirnite in the other hand, she ordered the Unbounded to relay a message.

    It fizzled out of existence. The Flame of Aziel¡¯s Ambition dimmed. Then, the sensation of oncoming sickness she was quickly becoming accustomed to threatened to empty her quivering stomach of its contents.

    Remus simply looked at her, a disturbed quality to his eyes, but brightened by a bemused quirk of the lips. ¡°That¡¯s one way of getting a job done.¡±

    For an hour, the two trudged through terrain so waterlogged, it was the nearest thing to a swamp without frogs leaping across lilly pads. They covered what Violet would consider a substantial amount of land, but on a map, their progress would be unrecognisable. Perhaps a centimetre, if she allowed herself to be generous.

    Remus, just as agitated as she was, looked ready to set every tree in sight ablaze. Reflecting off the clusters of water dotted about, that fiery spectacle whilst blinding, would likely be much more appealing than this boring excuse for a landscape.

    The pair of them threw their hands up in undisguised frustration. ¡°At this rate, I¡¯ll go mad from boredom light-years before we get anywhere near the Anarchy Syndicate.¡±

    ¡°There has to be a faster mode of transport.¡± Remus racked his brain. ¡°But there¡¯s no way the Speed Clan would accept a booking from us. We¡¯ll have to rely on our own might.¡±

    A switch was evidently flipped in him, for Remus spun to face her at blinding speed. ¡°Violet, I¡¯m terribly sorry to press you after that feat you just pulled, but do you have any means of manipulating your Mark, in a way that could increase your speed?¡±

    Violet frowned. ¡°My usual means of Mark-assisted transport is medium-distance spatial manipulation.¡±

    As impressive as that sounded, the technique didn¡¯t lend itself to long-term travel over significant distances. For one thing, forcibly tearing herself through space across vast stretches was draining as anything. Violet didn¡¯t have to recall their experience subduing the wind giant Styrmir for that fact to remain deeply embedded into her consciousness.

    She informed Remus of this, who, remarkably, spoke words of genius: ¡°what if you were to tear through space at closer intervals, for shorter distances? It might take some practice, but if you could figure out a range that stood in a middle-ground between burning you out, and being ineffective, it could work.¡± At her blank look, he waved his hands. ¡°Or maybe that wouldn¡¯t work. Forget it.¡±

    ¡°I mean, it''s worth trying,¡± Violet admitted. ¡°But before we get to that,¡± she aimed an accusatory finger his way, ¡°when did you learn how to fly?¡±

    Remus¡¯ features went from shocked, to a series of wrinkles as he grabbed at his stomach. He simply refused to stop chuckling, despite Violet¡¯s adamant attempts to snap him back into reason.

    ¡°Oh, that?¡± He muttered, wiping a tear from his eyes, ¡°it¡¯s a little technique I learned from Aziel. With it, if I gauge the amount of flames I unleash, I can cover much more ground.¡±

    ¡°Can it last?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°I haven¡¯t tested its limits, but by pacing myself, I can probably make it last a while.¡±

    So that was one of their techniques sorted. Now, once again, Violet was required to partake in a little experimenting. What was the least demanding jolt forward she could manage? Sprinting forwards would inevitably exhaust Violet, but if she merely jogged, it wouldn¡¯t be out of the question that a few hours of steady travel would be achievable. Taking a few sheepish strides, she pulsed forwards. To preface, zipping only a few feet ahead is terribly disconcerting. Violet barely caught herself, one unsteady second away from face-planting into a puddle of murky brown water.

    Second time¡¯s a charm, she mused, recalling her ever vague Mark. She tried not to focus on the image still covered by a sooty blackness; no one¡¯s focus was assisted by nagging theories. This time, everything went swimmingly for several uninterrupted metres.

    ¡°Gods.¡± Remus murmured behind, and she caught herself for the second time. Cracking her head open against some protruding boulder wouldn¡¯t be an elegant way to go.

    These activations of her Mark were like submerging her pinky-finger into a tank of water. Barely tapping into the vast power source that was the Mark, she could maintain this assisted sprint untroubled for far longer than the larger vaults through space. The trouble then came with maintaining her balance.

    ¡°Give me half an hour to adjust to this,¡± Violet said. ¡°And then we¡¯ll race to the Ravaged Lands. Unless you want a head-start?¡±

    Remus boomed at the top of his lungs. Violet was going to rub that smug expression off his face. ¡°If you think I won¡¯t overtake you when literally flying, you have another thing coming. Maybe it''s you who needs the head-start.¡±

    Twenty minutes later, Violet couldn¡¯t help but crack a childish grin as she pictured what any passing travellers would see, once they set off. A rushing beast of blue dividing the skies, and not too far beneath him, a blur of dashing limbs, erupting in purple every other second.

    It was a spectacle she was itching to create.

    Not long later, as if someone had blown into a whistle at their side, the two were off.

    <hr>

    Koa knew he would hate the Ravaged Lands the second he laid his eyes on the desert vista. Elmore had led the group fairly directly to the ruined, sandy landscape, but for once, Koa found himself wishing his cousin had taken his time.

    They had lasted three steps into the city, and, already, twenty-three explosions had resounded from the distance. Twenty-three, and counting, he should add, for as the group settled to rest for a moment, five more had already sent the ground thrumming.

    Even Elmore let his features slip into a striking frown, and Ash, as usual, complained as if he was compensating for the entire populace of an irritable village.

    But Donovan, the definition of a stoic man, didn¡¯t so much as sigh. Unpacking his own belongings as if it was the most important task in the world, he placed a piece of cloth before himself. Rolling it open, a whole array of lethal weaponry laid ahead of the assassin. They were all tiny, metallic instruments, the majority daggers with slight variations. Koa shivered, imagining how a victim may be tortured by that horrifying arsenal, with Donovan not so much as batting an eye.

    Whilst not pulling a knife to any of their throats at that moment, Donovan did, however, turn his attention to Koa. Silently, he flickered a hand towards himself, beckoning Koa over.

    Immediately, dire visages of those very same tools twisting against his skin overcame Koa. Logic returning, he walked over ¡ª each step requiring every ounce of his attention. The inclination to turn tail and sprint towards the lesser danger of those explosions a walk in the park by comparison.

    He indicated the empty spot by him. Without thinking, or, more accurately, without paying attention to all his primal instincts screaming danger, Koa obliged.

    Donovan put a hand to his chin, as if engrossed in thought. He examined each of his blades in turn, as well as the small collection of needles. The longer this progressed, the more certain Koa was that the man was planning the best means of murdering him right there.

    Finally, he picked up a dagger of reasonable size. It was of a dark wood, its edged end a substance Koa couldn¡¯t identify.

    ¡°Its blade was naturally harvested.¡± He began to speak, catching the youth by surprise. ¡°Developed from a weed that, over the course of centuries, grows unbelievably dense. The handle is long-lasting wood. It should match your fighting style and Mark quite well.¡±

    He placed it gracefully in Koa¡¯s palm, being careful not to cut him. ¡°Use your Mark on it. You should be able to extend either part of the dagger, if I inferred The Wild Sect¡¯s abilities correctly.¡±

    Anticipating some sort of trick, Koa faltered for a moment. But the man had given him a gift; the least he could do was oblige him. Even if he was only allowed to examine the article for a few moments.

    With a pulse of his Mark, he extended the knife¡¯s handle until it became a pole in its own right. With it, the blade, as the man had promised, expanded until it was a curved, three-inched point. Koa lofted the spear, the weight somehow perfect in his grip.

    Returning it to its original size, he handed it back to the man.

    To his surprise, Donovan shook his head. ¡°No, keep it. It''s yours now.¡±

    ¡°Really!¡± Koa shouted, attracting a turn of the head from Ash. Cheeks reddening, he levelled his voice. ¡°Really?¡±

    They nodded. ¡°In the Shadow Clan, we have many steadfast beliefs, but one of the most important is this: a man¡¯s blade is a reflection of his worth. None of you have worthy weapons, from what I¡¯ve seen. You deserve better.¡±

    This time, he beckoned Ash. Koa¡¯s older brother appeared just as uneasy as he had been, but he more marvelled at the weapons than anything. Before Ash could mutter a word, Donovan examined him from head to toe.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you wield a weapon before,¡± he eventually commented, ¡°tell me, is that a personal preference, or a lack of resources?¡±

    Ash¡¯s words became lodged in his throat. ¡°P-personal preference.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, I see . . .¡±

    After a few seconds of calculated inspection, his gaze was drawn to an outlier of the sheet¡¯s contents. Ash¡¯s eyes visibly widened as he was handed a pair of knuckles.

    ¡°Like your brother''s, it''s made from a combination of tough, natural resources. Most too obscure to name. Is it to your liking?¡±

    Delayed only by a moment of awe-filled inspection, Ash hastily nodded. ¡°Of course! Thank you Donovan.¡±

    That left only one person. Donovan waited patiently for Elmore to arrive, his item already selected. Koa kept waiting for some sort of catch to befall the group. Perhaps their new friend here was tracking their locations through the blades, or was in the midst of some other dastardly scheme that was yet to come to light. But nothing. Donovan, Koa almost couldn''t understand why, was acting out of the kindness of his heart.

    Koa suddenly felt extraordinarily guilty for suspecting anything. After all, you shouldn¡¯t turn your nose up at an act of kindness. No matter how peculiar it was to receive from another sect.

    Elmore hid his surprise much more skillfully than his cousins.

    This time, subverting Koa¡¯s expectations yet again, Donovan put away his piece of cloth, removing the myriad of blades out of sight. Right before Koa could wonder if he was excluding Elmore, he unveiled a branch from seemingly nowhere.

    ¡°This is a detached borough from a scythe-plant. The leaves it will bear, you will find, are just as sharp as those throwing knives you bear. Except, if your Mark can accelerate the process, you¡¯ll have an infinite supply.¡±

    Skeptically, as if certain this was all too good to be true, Elmore handled the branch. Immediately, vicious-looking ferns slashed into existence. Snapping a few off, Elmore practised tossing them up and down. For once, Koa caught his cousin cracking a smile.

    ¡°You¡¯re too kind Donovan.¡± He addressed the man. ¡°Quiet, but kind. Thank you.¡±

    The three of them watched as Donovan made for an early slumber. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me.¡± He said, in that nasally accent of his. ¡°Put those weapons to work. The Chaos Clan will know blood.¡±

 42. Memories of Gold

    There was such a thing as overconfidence.

    Seconds away from collapsing where he stood, Remus had learnt this, like seemingly every lesson in his life, the hard way.

    Three days. For three days, the two of them had exhibited impossible speed. With only occasional rests dispersed throughout the day, and a brief night¡¯s sleep, Violet and he had charged valiantly ahead. The very outskirts of the Ravaged Lands lay less than a mile ahead ¡ª somehow meeting the terrible expectations Remus had come prepared with, and surpassing them.

    Canyons separated the land into dusty chunks, layers of sediment looming hundreds of feet high above lethal drops. Sand littered over the lands encompassing these ravines for presumably the entirety of the city¡¯s coverage, and in the distance . . . Destruction ensnared anywhere the eye dared stray. Craters dotted around the place, looking no more like natural erosions than the remains of an explosion, reiterating exactly what the rumours of this place had warned Remus about. Death, skirmishes, and above all else, chaos were commonplace in this hellscape.

    And yet, Remus was beyond determined to enter its reaches as quickly as possible. There was no way, not on this perpetual battlefield of Descent, that he was going to let the last few days¡¯ mad scramble go to waste.

    Was he personally investing a little too much in a stupid game? Most definitely. Was he setting himself up for immeasurable disappointment? Quite possibly. Was that going to stop Remus, or dissuade him in the least bit? Not in the slightest.

    Victory was in reach, and tearing through the dusty skies overlaying these fresh environs, Remus felt giddy with excitement. Violet was nowhere in sight, probably entire acres behind.

    Ignoring the constant hum of distant conflict, and doing his best not to focus on the array of skirmishes popping up on several patches of dry land, Remus smiled gleefully to himself.

    A few seconds now. One final stretch and-

    Remus cackled with uncontained insanity. Reaching solid ground, and recalling his flames. He landed awkwardly. Nevertheless, blinking the sand particles out of his eyes, and ignoring the exhaustion sapping away at his vigour, nothing but mirth flooded him.

    . . . approximately for three seconds, before he noticed the young woman standing smugly, arms-crossed ahead of him. For a fleeting moment, he couldn¡¯t help but find them oddly reminiscent of Violet. Remus blinked, his idiocy slapping him across the face as his brain computed.

    ¡°Damn! And I was this close at finally beating you in something.¡± He hovered a digit slightly over his thumb as demonstration.

    ¡°Aw well,¡± Violet didn¡¯t bother to get that cocky quirk out of her lips. ¡°Someone has to constantly best you, might as well be me.¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t ask how she had managed it. With a little thinking, the answer was obvious. Right as they were in range of the finish line, she had reverted to her standard practice of jolting over a larger distance in one go. It was clever; infuriatingly clever.

    Nevertheless, she had won fair and square. ¡°Congrats.¡± He tried not to say it grudgingly. ¡°Now then, we have this blessed sight to enjoy.¡±

    ¡°Is there dust in your eyes?¡± Violet grimaced at the ledge¡¯s lip. ¡°This is where things really get dangerous. There¡¯s no Divine Ground protecting us here, not even in Hell¡¯s Floor. You have to prepare yourself.¡±

    No snarky replies left Remus¡¯ mouth, as much as he wanted to clear this sudden shift in mood. Everyone had heard of the antics the Anarchy Syndicate pulled here. Greed, Fury, Suffering. Only three of the clans that called this circus home. The list continued with sects that sounded just as appealing, but despite his aversion to those groups . . . wouldn¡¯t Tanish, the god of Ambition, fit right in? Tanish had always been unaffiliated, never opting to join one of the major godly alliances.

    But out of all these traits, be it Fatigue, Disease, or any of the other members he¡¯d mentioned, it was only one fatal concept the others derived from: Ambition. Remus had seen twice now how one¡¯s own drive could lead them down a dangerous path: both Tanguy and Aziel¡¯s cases. Thrice, if he counted himself into the equation. To grasp his desired future by the horns, Remus couldn¡¯t allow himself to become consumed. He couldn¡¯t let his desires pave the way for anarchy.

    ¡°Are you listening to me?¡± Violet asked. ¡°We¡¯ll have to be discreet to survive out here. There are small batches of civilization within, but those safe havens are few and far in between. You got that?¡±

    ¡°Loud and clear.¡± Remus retained a flinty expression. ¡°How far to Hell¡¯s Floor from here?¡±

    Hell¡¯s Floor was a vague mass, and how much land it actually encompassed was a heavily debated topic. Nevertheless, Violet¡¯s estimations were quick. ¡°We could probably make it in a day if we blitzed our way there, like we have up to this point, but . . .¡±

    ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a one-way trip to amassing attention. So, we¡¯ll have to approach on foot, with no flashy powers. Taking that into account, our best case scenario is within a few days.¡±

    Remus threw his arms up at that, but several hours of arduous walking later, he wished Violet had been correct. Her guesses had been overly-generous to the land they would have to cross. Sure, it was difficult terrain, but not difficult enough to save the two a premature encounter.

    It was the incessant clanging they heard first. Like a god banging his head against a planet, over and over again. Yet such sounds made up the general ambiance of the city and so, for the longest time, blended in. Though, with no collective structure, Remus still didn''t understand why the Ravaged Lands was counted as a recognised city. As far as he was concerned, this was less a civilised collection of neighbourhoods, and more a pitstop you took on the road to actual hell. Only after a few minutes of the persisting noise, did it occur to Remus that something may have been afoot.

    When entire mounds of earth began to shift, it was no longer a question of if. Without a word, the two of them rushed off in respective blurs of colour. Forgoing holding back to avoid causing a ruckus, the pair of them soon discovered the source of this turmoil.

    A skirmish, waged between members of two opposing clans Remus couldn¡¯t identify. Looking down into the man-made ravine carved around the battle, Remus may not have known who exactly was fighting, but the abilities being showcased alone were enough to intrigue him.

    Men and women on one side of the tunnel, clad in a mixture of stygian black, extended hands to their side. Remus watched, fascinated, as one man, whose brow was bugling in focus, appeared to manifest something in his palm. A red article surfaced in his hold, and Remus had to squint to identify the object. He almost gagged when it mentally clicked. A living heart, still beating.

    The man crushed it to bloody shreds, without an ounce of hesitation.

    One of the men making up the opposing side crumpled to his knees, clutching at an empty chest. A lifeless glint devoured his eyes, and life deserted his dying husk.

    Given no time to mourn their loss, a collection of clansmen sporting a vicious red donned fighting stances. Streams of smoke left their nostrils, as if they were literally steaming in anger. A foot before them, the mist concentrated into hulking masses, gangly arms manifesting at their sides. The grey apparitions grasped nearby enemies, crushing their bodies in an agonising end.

    It was simultaneously the most comical sight Remus had ever witnessed, and by far the most terrifying.

    In tandem, he and Violet stumbled backwards. All-consuming voids had appeared in several locations, dragging anything within a ten foot vicinity. The colourless pits muffled even the screams of its grasping victims ¡ª an insatiable vacuum.

    His heart racing until he thought it would burst out of his chest, Remus stared wordlessly at the massacre. Two shadows in the distance duked it out in mid-air, the air swooping for miles at every exchange of blows.

    ¡°We need to leave,¡± he managed to utter over the pandemonium of noise. ¡°We¡¯ll be crushed like ants if we get caught up in this.¡±

    Violet only nodded, as if muttering another word would seal their fate.

    Scrambling his mind for who these two clans could be, Remus arrived at no clear answer. He let his survivalist instincts take over, creeping swiftly towards an empty pit that ate into the ground. What sect steals your heart ¡ª in the least romantic means possible ¡ª or summons warriors of smoke from their noses?

    He received no clear answer. But as he dived into an abandoned stretch of tunnelling, his only concern was getting out of here unscathed. Judging by the deserted supplies lying about the place, this had been one of the sect¡¯s trenches, up until this fight had broken out. Suddenly, Remus didn''t feel so cosy here.

    ¡°This is dangerous.¡± Violet spoke the obvious. Remus didn¡¯t blame her though; his own mind was too fried to speak coherently. ¡°One of those sects was the Fury Clan: followers of the Rage deity Lorcan.

    ¡°Sounds like a nice guy.¡±

    ¡°His ambassadors certainly aren¡¯t. But that does explain their abilities. Slight flame manipulation and those mist entities they can weave. They literally smoke with rage. The other clan however . . .¡±

    She looked to Remus, as if waiting for an answer. He shrugged. ¡°No clue. Summoning voids and crushing hearts ¡ª I don¡¯t see the correlation myself. But there must be one.¡±

    Based on the formation of the forces, this place was the property of that unknown clan. Their last line of defence. Who was to say traps galore hadn¡¯t been laid here? And without the knowledge of what exactly their subject of power was, anticipating any nasty surprises would be difficult.

    Nevertheless, this place seemed to lead away from the conflict. In Remus¡¯ humble opinion, the best direction there was. Flying through, and Violet teleporting metres ahead, they reached a section of buried huts. Seemingly the headquarters of this place.

    They then proceeded to do something exceedingly idiotic. Even for Remus¡¯ standards.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Backs pressed to either side of the wooden exterior, they prepared to dive in. If there was anyone lurking here, and Remus was in their shoes, he would hide in this tiny building. Flames wreathing across his arms and fists, he prepared to fight if the need arose. Violet summoned a small, palm-sized rift in space, revealing the inside of the expanse from another rift she¡¯d located within the hut. She peeped through with obvious anxiety, which did nothing to improve the clamminess of Remus¡¯ hands.

    At last, his tension dropped. ¡°It''s safe,¡± she assessed, ¡°but let¡¯s keep our guards up. There are some powerful people near us. Perhaps . . .¡± she killed that thought there. ¡°Let¡¯s just enter.¡±

    His throat still dry, Remus practised caution as he emerged into a small, dim room. It wasn¡¯t anything fancy, with dirt walls only kept at bay by a few select planks, and the grace of sheer luck. He got the troubling notion a hundred tons of earth would crash down upon them any second. It wasn¡¯t a prospect that encouraged bravery.

    There was a table at the centre, slanted at one angle due to the uneven land at their feet. Three chairs created a ¡®U¡¯ shape at the desk¡¯s back, and crates of cargo sat nestled into one corner. Remus watched as Violet walked towards a board at one side. It was a list of names, each a squiggle until Remus looked closer.

    Violet scrutinised those names with a glare. ¡°A register of everyone in this clan . . . the Greed Clan.¡±

    His stomach restricting, Remus had trouble digesting that. Damosh¡¯s original sect, before, as a Godling, he became the founding-father of the Wealth Clan. At her side, the number of the names stuck out to Remus. Well over a hundred. A smaller board, inside of the frame of the first, read a smaller, but reasonably extensive list of names. A tiny, spidery font revealed it was a list encompassing their sister sect; Wealth. It didn¡¯t take Remus long to find Damosh and Edmar there. In fact, Edmar was placed right below the Godling.

    ¡°That¡¯s weird.¡± Remus whispered, the scene suddenly feeling very fragile. ¡°How come-¡±

    Reading a stretch of writing by Edmar¡¯s name, his question was answered for him.

    Edmar, right-hand man of Damosh.

    The need to keep quiet suddenly left Remus, a shout leaving his lips. Oh well, with the havoc taking place outside, it wasn¡¯t like the sound would travel far. But nevertheless, Violet had flinched at the yelp.

    ¡°What?¡± She turned her eyes to where he was looking. ¡°What¡¯s the-¡±

    The pair of them stood there, but Remus found his body unbelievably rigid. ¡°Out of all people, Damosh promotes the one man who has it out for me. If he¡¯s the main consultant during political decisions, my sect really is screwed.¡±

    My sect. The phrase brought a whole host of concerns with it. On a technical level, you couldn¡¯t be part of two clans at once ¡ª the world simply didn¡¯t work that way. But, just as equally, he felt a part of both. Even his most recent duel with Tanguy had him referred to as of the Carpentry Sect by word of mouth, but something told him that unlike an Oath, the precise details of the agreement didn¡¯t matter, if the intent was there. Reality wouldn¡¯t hand him an answer so easily, on a silver platter like that.

    His quest to save the Ambition Clan at least had a tangible plan that, whilst insanely difficult, could be accomplished. His way forward in that regard was clear. The Carpentry Sect on the other hand . . . what was he to do? One strong clansman, one possible leader. With Edmar¡¯s hold more unyielding than ever, that would never be enough. Sure, once he earned money as a powerful ally on the front lines, he could save them some difficulty, but how much?

    An idea sparked in Remus'' mind. Two struggling clans. If they were to come together . . .

    The possibilities that sparked excited Remus. But he didn¡¯t want to get ahead of himself. The prospect of the Carpentry Clan receiving paid work to rebuild the remains of Brison¡¯s home was thrilling, sure, but would never work whilst the sect was enslaved.

    More than anything, Remus had to survive. If he just held on long enough, he might be able to salvage something from this mess. Something beautiful.

    ¡°Come,¡± he turned away from the list, not an iota of ire in him whatsoever. ¡°We have things to do, both of us. We¡¯re not going to die as collateral damage. Especially in a conflict we have nothing to do with.¡±

    Violet appeared surprised by his sudden boldness. But she agreed with his words completely. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±

    ¡°A bit drained, but content.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean physically.¡±

    ¡°Physically?¡± Remus¡¯ eyes blazed a neon blue, lighting up the dark interior substantially. Flames licked at his fingers. ¡°Never been better.¡±

    Violet cracked a smile. ¡°Good. We¡¯re going to dash out of here. Screw being discreet; it''s not like we¡¯ll attract any attention with this battle going on anyway.¡±

    Remus nodded. Together, they slipped out of the room, emerged from the crest of the trench, and-

    Something he couldn¡¯t fathom knocked Remus aside. Hard. He rolled across the trench¡¯s floor, golden blood leaking from the inside of his mouth. One of his teeth sat awkwardly in his mouth. Teeth were one of the few things an Enkindled could heal, but still, it took an activation of his Mark to numb the pain. Violet took the brunt of the impact. Her body was hurled upwards, and her arm-

    Remus screeched, for that was the only action that would prevent him from retching. Violet''s arm had been crushed, broken so badly, he wasn¡¯t sure how well it would heal. It hung at her side limply, the sleeve of her shirt cut to shreds. With a horrified expression, Violet disappeared in an explosion of purple. She rematerialised at his side, and what she did next was enough of a surprise, that Remus didn¡¯t think his body could take any more excitement.

    The destroyed limb spasmed, writhing, before, bizarrely, settling back into place. Violet¡¯s face turned a sickly green, but otherwise, she was fine. ¡°Unbounded ability,¡± she explained, sounding exhausted, ¡°I sacrificed some of the Infinity I gathered last Duration.¡±

    She grasped his arm, tugging a stupidied Remus. ¡°Come, I don¡¯t want to have to sacrifice any of my power again.¡±

    Snapping back into focus, he set off with her. For about three steps, until yet again, the two of them were tossed back. In winds so furious they tore at Remus'' skin, two paragons of power crashed into the ground ahead of them. Terrain shifted at the impact, and winded, Remus couldn¡¯t breath for a few moments until his chest decompressed.

    Manic laughter filled the air, as the gigantic man being pressed into the ground refused to stop beaming. He suited the greens and blacks of the Greed Clan, only with a much fancier outfit. It probably would have looked better, if not for the array of tears stripping the outfit of its appeal.

    The women jamming him down with forceful, world-shattering strikes, was of equal mirth, an insane look in her eyes as she delivered blow after blow. ¡°Die, die, die!¡± She squealed in delight. With that kind of force, you would think she was trying to shatter the world¡¯s pangea into continents.

    A blend of flames and fog enveloped the woman, in an ethereal kind of armour. From where Remus was thrown, in a wall of sifting dirt, he watched as the man below seemed to fall out of existence. An empty void in the shape of a person sat there in his stead, jewels and gold spurting out of him in an unstoppable current. The woman was forced away, but he wasn¡¯t finished. Not by a long shot.

    As a ravenous pit expanded rapidly away from the male sect-leader, Remus and Violet realised something vital in one shared moment.

    They had been caught amidst two warring God-Graced. Two God-Graced, who, between them, didn¡¯t hold a shred of sanity.

    <hr>

    Edmar bowed beneath Damosh¡¯s throne, an assembly of witnesses gathered to either side of the two. The Godling himself, sat with his chin perched on a hand, dressed as ornately as ever, in a long cloak of ¡ª could you guess it? ¡ª gold. Rhinestones were sown into the material, and a crown settled on his head, contrasting his poisonous, green skin.

    The King recited his speech methodically, with all the excitement of a man being sentenced to the rafters. ¡°And so, I couldn¡¯t be happier to name my loyal servant, Edmar, as my personal consultant. I can assure you all, his wisdom will be crucial in all future decision-making.¡±

    Crucial, Edmar thought with a rasp, as in, I¡¯ll be taking over ninety percent of affairs, while you lounge around drinking wine.

    The gathered crowd clapped with forced enthusiasm, light filtering into the room through decorative mosaics at either side. They were at the apex of the Wealth Sect¡¯s tower, also known as Damosh¡¯s throne room. It was typically only used for grand ceremonies such as the extremely rare coronation, the Day of Descension opening ceremony, and the appointing of important positions.

    This little gathering fell into the latter, and finally, Passings full of negotiating his way up the political ladder, Edmar had, at last, landed the position he oh-so desired.

    Yet still, this was only the first step of his plan. Edmar eyed Damosh¡¯s throne, pure, bejewelled gold dazzling his eye. One day, it would be him sitting there.

    Then, he would show the world how to really govern a city.

    The speech now over, Edmar stood, shaking hands with the rest of the bearded politicians. He did his best not to scorn at his two-faced opposition. They may have smiled and laughed merrily, but that false joy didn¡¯t reach their eyes. Hatred settled there, and Edmar knew, given the chance, they would much sooner stab him in the back.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse yourselves. I would like a private word with my consultant.¡±

    Relief filled Edmar as his competition departed. But then again, were they even worthy of that title now? Failed competition wasn¡¯t competition at all. In fact, he promptly saw to it to forget their existences all together. After today, he would never have to talk to them again. If that wasn''t a big enough burst of joy to get him through the day, Edmar didn¡¯t know what was.

    Tapping the arm of his throne, Damosh levelled his gaze at Edmar. ¡°There were more protests this morning.¡±

    Edmar didn¡¯t mutter a ¡®yes¡¯. Nor did he nod in confirmation. Damosh wasn¡¯t asking.

    ¡°Any damage?¡±

    Now, Edmar did nod. ¡°A scratch on the Wealth Sect tower, I am sad to inform you, my Lord.¡±

    Truthfully, the man didn¡¯t feel a drab of remorse. Edmar would let the tower burn to its foundations if that ensured him the crown.

    ¡°The perpetrators have been punished amply, I am certain?¡±

    ¡°Silenced, your grace.¡±

    He seemed to relax somewhat. ¡°Good, good. Keep their disposal quiet, hm?¡±

    ¡°Of course. But if I may, Sir, how far can the Elimination Act be stretched?¡±

    It was a question Edmar had been playing with for Passings on end. The ancient law that allowed Marks to be activated on Divine Ground, if the person they intended on attacking was counted as a criminal. Except, the laws themselves had never been addressed; never realised as a set list. Nothing was set in stone. By a technicality, the Wealth Sect would be allowed to cause all the harm they wanted in First Rite, without risk of being attacked back ¡ª their only concern would be keeping it hush-hush. But how far could they take it? Classifying someone as a criminal simply for leaving a scratch unintentionally was a push, but how far could they push?

    Damosh raised an eyebrow. ¡°As far as we need. Say, I could, by some vague inclination, register breathing as a crime. Then, by right of the act, the Wealth Sect could use their Marks against anyone.¡±

    ¡°Excuse my scepticism, my Lord, but mustn''t there be a catch?¡±

    ¡°A catch?¡± Damosh let out an empty laugh. ¡°The catch, Edmar, is that you have to rule over an area to abus- I mean, utilise this loophole. But lucky for you, the King of this city is also the leader of your sect. So you, my loyal servant, also benefit. Just don''t go telling any old person about this. Very few people, save for myself, have discovered this little technicality.¡±

    Just as I suspected, Edmar thought. Another reason I need kingship.

    Edmar always worked efficiently, but sometimes, people slipped through his grasp. Including that ginger Death-Marked whose name . . . no, he couldn¡¯t quite recall it.

    But with the resources Damosh had, and the authority. Anything he desired would be his.

    But not yet. He may be teetering on Vanguard, but even the Splintered Ranks wouldn¡¯t land a scratch on a Godling. Still, while he waited, the second best thing wasn¡¯t too bad. Not bad at all.

    Edmar recalled the final pleas of the protesters. It irritated him without end. The yelps of the worthless begging for salvation.

    Under his rule, none of them would receive it.

 43. Scraping By

    Remus felt as if he was being dragged by a hundred hooks planted into his skin.

    Upon the arrival of the stygian vortex, he had flown upwards as far as he could. There was no way, no matter how hardworking of an Enkindled he may have been, that he would be able to fight back the tug of a God-Graced.

    Violet had teleported out of there, and Remus cursed. If they had been in close range, she likely would have been able to warp him away too. This manic pair had sent them flying in opposite directions.

    Remus¡¯ mouth was numb, his nose was leaking Ichor, and countless lacerations had reduced his skin to a cutting board. And these madmen still weren¡¯t finished with him. Intentionally or not. They probably hadn¡¯t even registered his existence.

    One of Remus¡¯ shoes had been sucked into the pit. The darkness had consumed the article, and for some reason, Remus got the funny feeling he was never going to see it again.

    Nevertheless, he was too far out of range for the magical pull to really deliver its full force on him. It felt like he was flying with weights attached to him, but inch by inch, he gained attitude.

    At last, he left the field of effect. Possibly two hundred feet high, nausea ravaged his body. Well, it was either because of that, or the devastation taking place below.

    It was like the Ravaged Lands was a cake, and some hungry behemoth had just taken out a slice. Thousands of pounds of earth continually fell into the void, and Remus got the impression the sect-leader wasn¡¯t taking much notice of who was being caught up. In indiscriminate tugs, even his own men and women met their grim ends.

    If this wasn¡¯t the decider of the conflict, Remus wouldn¡¯t be able to bear what came next.

    Greed clansmen sprinted after fleeing members of the Fury Sect, protective waves of gold providing defence, as fireballs and fists of smoke came for their throats.

    Suddenly, from the void, the Rage sect-leader blasted upwards. A floating stream of condensed mist had been her only barrier from a sour end. But how she had escaped needn¡¯t be asked.

    A vague giant of fog encompassed her entire form like a titan of mass destruction. In its clutches, a man struggled, devouring pieces of the form wisp by wisp. The abyss below dispersed, leaving behind a newfound cave-system in its own right. In the distance, the vague, hazy silhouettes of buildings danced, adrift with the sandstorm triggered by the rampage. An outpost of the Ravaged Lands, it seemed.

    The only obstacle in his way was this raging duo.

    Sprouting his own armour, the Greed Sect leader Remus still didn¡¯t know the name of refused to go down without a fight. Fizzling into existence from all angles, jewels, trinkets, and hundreds of a kite-shaped object swept towards him. Tyrants, Remus identified the foreign currency. They were all of varying colours, indicating value. But as of that moment, Remus was far too busy flying between hurtled ores, unearthed out of the pit below, to admire the collection. The resources converged, melting down into a shimmering stream of gold that swirled around the man. Finally, as if a team of invisible blacksmiths had just completed the final touches on their best work yet, an oversized suit of armour settled on his form. It looked as if you could fit ten separate people inside that thing, but the cackling man manoeuvred within without trouble.

    In a frenzy of limbs, the two brawled, remaining airborne through the sheer force they were exhibiting.

    Remus didn¡¯t dawdle. Flying out of there before something else threatened to kill him, Remus couldn¡¯t remove the visage of their wicked smiles out of his head. It was like they were enjoying this. Hell, he suspected they felt no greater euphoria than in the heat of battle.

    Before his Mark gave out ¡ª flying this high-up was exhausting, especially with projectiles threatening to cave his skull in at every turn ¡ª he pivoted towards a patch of ground a somewhat safe distance away. Landing, he was immediately enraptured by a blinding mauve. He blinked out the lingering dots in his eyes, resurfacing into reality, before Violet¡¯s face met his.

    ¡°Who were those people?¡± He asked, taking in his new location. They were at the crest of a canyon, the warring God-Graced blips on the horizon.

    ¡°Gulliver of the Greed Sect, and Hilda ¡ª the self-proclaimed angriest leader the Fury Clan has ever seen.¡± She said it slowly, breathing uneven. ¡°Give me a second to recover, and I¡¯ll carry us further.¡±

    Grimacing, Remus tried and failed to ignore the echoing cries of delight. ¡°Are all the leaders here missing a few marbles?¡±

    She shrugged, taking a sip from her waterskin. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t know. But Nova isn¡¯t the sort to make too many appearances here. That¡¯s probably how he¡¯s gained so much political leverage in the last decade. He¡¯s the only one not looking to break heads. Well, not publicly, at least.¡±

    Sipping from his own canteen, and washing away the blood from his face, Remus frowned. ¡°Who is the monarch of Hell¡¯s Floor? Surely clans this rowdy would be hard to rule over.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s precisely the reason there is no set King or Queen. Not a soul here would agree with anyone sitting on the throne but themselves. Though the clan with the most influence . . .¡±

    ¡°The Chaos Clan.¡±

    Violet nodded.

    ¡°Alright, c¡¯mon.¡± Remus urged, not feeling too comfortable being anywhere near Gulliver or Hilda. ¡°I won¡¯t be able to rest easy until we''re a few miles aw-¡±

    Remus clutched at his chest, grunting from the worst case of heartburn he¡¯d ever had to deal with. Fighting off the impulse to drop to his knees, Remus¡¯ eyes centred on a wounded man clad in the uniform of the Greed Sect, hand extended towards him.

    A worming fear drowned his mind. The image of a heart being crushed in an uncaring grip threatening to split his brain into a panicked mess.

    He couldn¡¯t allow that memory to bleed into reality.

    Before he could do so much as activate his Mark, Violet was already behind the clansman in a surge of purple. She had him in a headlock within seconds.

    It was a strange sensation, when someone was trying to tear the heart of your chest. A ghostly grip entangled itself around the organ, and only by sheer force of will was he able to prevent it. Activating his Mark, Remus summoned a burst of flame to provide a protective layer over his heart. The grip loosened, harmed by the Ambition that was benevolent ro Remus, and Remus only.

    The three of them froze, as Remus summoned a blast of fire in his palm. Was he to release it at the man? He¡¯d never killed before, at least not another human being, and if there were any other means out of here, he wasn¡¯t keen to pick up the habit now.

    ¡°If you stop attacking us,¡± he grunted through the strain, ¡°and run as far away as humanly possible, we¡¯ll forget this ever happened.¡±

    The man spat towards Remus. A tiny strip of gold struck him, delivering no more harm than a light impact.

    Violet grabbed his neck more aggressively. ¡°If you don¡¯t deactivate your Mark within the next ten seconds . . .¡±

    The man was a Foot-Soldier, presumably, so Violet would have no trouble handling him herself. Especially when he was already bleeding heavily. They must have received the injury amidst the chaos, seeked refuge all the way over here, and Remus had faced the misfortune of stumbling across him.

    Whatever Boundless Vault the man had cultivated, it was obviously no help to him. Whether he streamed Infinity through his body or not, it would be useless in comparison to the vast pool Violet possessed as an Unbounded. The clansman wouldn¡¯t know this, but in a rush of hysteria, evidently realised he was outclassed.

    In one last desperate manoeuvre, a void appeared at his feet.

    Without a thought, Remus fired a trickle of fire into the man, concentrated in a bullet-like mass. Simultaneously, Violet twisted his neck at a gruesome angle. The man¡¯s eyes rolled back, his arms sagged, and, once Violet let go, his lifeless body dropped to the floor. In that moment, the thumping impact was the most eerie sound Remus could recall hearing.

    ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± Violet rasped, disgust scrunching her features.

    Remus swallowed. ¡°Oh. Oh right.¡±

    An almost material silence hung over them, seeming to replace the marrow in Remus¡¯ bones. Ignoring the body a mere foot away, Remus shut his eyes, as a familiar purple returned.

    <hr>

    Aziel waited for nightfall, to set his plans into motion.

    The rest of the rebellion had taken an early sleep as usual, besides the few on night watch, of course. When the only thing that filled your days was dread and the sight of soily tunnels, you tended to make them as short as possible.

    Call him judgmental, but Aziel thought that was a major waste of time. There were limited hours in the day, and even if he didn¡¯t have an extensive list of things to do down here, he still felt the impulsion to be resourceful. So he trained.

    His Boundless Bank was almost fully evolved. Closing his eyes, the superimposed image of the structure was revealed to him. Leading into each of his bones, the white tubes advanced through his body in efficient patterns; an almost exact replica of the diagrams Aziel studied of the Vault religiously. The pearly white tubes ended abruptly in several places, but overall, he would say he was seventy-five percent done. Drawing in the Infinity dispersed across the room, he drew it through the incomplete network, focusing the mystical resource on extending the complex pattern tiny bit by bit.

    It was oddly therapeutic. It gave him something to focus on. Something other than the injustice cast upon his clan. A few more Durations of pure training like this, and Aziel would be eligible for the front lines in no time.

    He was in a meditative position at the very edges of their tunnelling. This way, via the sparse amount of light that filtered through one of the rebellion¡¯s more risky creations ¡ª a tiny hole, approximately an inch in diameter, hidden beneath a rubble pile, but placed in such a way that sunlight would still slit through ¡ª he was able to gauge roughly the time.

    Noting that nothing but darkness had veiled the expanse for a substantial time now, he infused himself with one more intake of Infinity.

    Not too far from there, another tunnel led upwards into a destroyed house. Aziel hated that pathway. Not because it was dangerous, all of them were, but because he was forced to take notice of the obliterated remains of his sect whenever he was obliged to trod through. The same could be said about any path leading into the razzed outdoors, but still, it left a sour taste in his mouth.

    Emerging into the house, he replaced the stray plank of wood that disguised the hole, and compressed his back against the wall. After a heart-racing second, he confirmed, as well as he could, that there was no one in the vicinity.

    Sneaking through the darkness, making sure to keep by the areas more infested with rubble, he left the clan¡¯s perimeters.

    It was a long walk. Aziel had made sure to leave his destination far away, lest The Wild Sect were to discover it.

    It was raining, which largely was a help. Sure, being pelted by moisture was a slight irritation, but it would disguise Aziel¡¯s image. Ignoring the squelching sound from the muddy morass below, he finally stopped at a wooden post in the ground. It was ramshackle, looked as if any drab of rain would knock it over, and the letters he had inscribed were barely legible.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    She deserves better. He thought with a frown, kneeling by the gave, his mother¡¯s name level to his eye. Her body wasn¡¯t beneath, but with no knowledge of what The Wild Sect had done with the bodies of the dead, curse the lot of them, it was the best he could do.

    ¡°When we get the base again,¡± he spoke softly, ¡°I¡¯ll arrange you a proper grave, with a funeral service. You and everyone else who died.¡±

    The thought was the only thing keeping him going most days. More than anything, he refused to live in a world where the dead were mistreated. Even if he had to wait in the dark for their day of glory to arise, he had to hope the Ambition Clan would succeed. He had to believe.

    Finally, Aziel addressed the burly man at his side.

    ¡°I assume you¡¯ve known about my trips here since the start?¡±

    Brison nodded. ¡°At first, I was afraid Remus hadn¡¯t gotten across to you. I will not lie, I believed you were planning on throwing your life away for a brief moment of revenge against The Wild Clan.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not that idiotic,¡± Aziel sniffled. ¡°I just couldn¡¯t rest easy until she had something. It''s not nearly good enough. But it¡¯ll serve for now.¡±

    Through the curtaining rain, Aziel had never seen the man look so sober. ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell you that this is dangerous, because you have the sense of mind to already know that.¡±

    Aziel kept silent.

    ¡°And I won¡¯t stop you from coming here, either. It''s your safety being put at risk, and you¡¯re well past the age needed to choose to take it.¡±

    When Aziel turned his head to address the man, something rather strange occurred.

    Between the two of them, a tiny Unbounded appeared. Immediately, instincts snapped him into action, and flames enveloped his body. His half-functioning Bank swept Infinity into his skeleton, reinforcing his body with impossible might.

    Aziel would have crushed it in an instant, if the pearly apparition didn¡¯t speak.

    ¡°Remus has safely left the Ambition Clan¡¯s base, without interception.¡±

    With that, the creature dispersed, in an explosion of Infinity.

    ¡°Well.¡± Brison seemed slightly troubled. ¡°That was strange.¡±

    Aziel found that to be the greatest understatement in the world. ¡°That was a Projection. A Projection . . . carrying a message for a human.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± The sect leader was never much for words, but at that moment, he seemed at a loss of them. ¡°This does provoke some intrigue . . .¡±

    ¡°But Remus ¡ª he got away safely! Maybe, if the universe decides to hand us a bone for once, this could actually work out after all.¡±

    Brison appeared less than convinced. ¡°I don¡¯t like hinging all of our success on a long-shot, but then again, we don¡¯t have much else going for us.¡±

    The older man smiled. ¡°I think a little hope wouldn¡¯t be too audacious.¡±

    <hr>

    The first outcropping of civilization wasn¡¯t as far as Remus had perceived it to be.

    In little less than an hour, motivated by generally staying alive, he and Violet found themselves on the outskirts of a tight-knit community. Dropping to the dusty ground in a heap of sweat, he caught himself, taking in the new environs at the same time.

    He couldn¡¯t tell which clan ruled over the area. There weren¡¯t many buildings, merely an inn or two, by the look of the towering structures, a few huts, and a tavern at the centre. Remus deliberated on entering for a drink, before the state of the place sunk in.

    Windows were shattered, empty bottles littered the stairs leading up, and the door swung uneasily on its ageing hinge. Decades of being slammed daily by drunkards hadn¡¯t appeared to do the doorway much good. Suffice to say, no matter how ravenous Remus was, nothing was going to make him enter that saloon.

    Homeless looking men fought with nothing but their fists, a small crowd cheering them on. No Marks were activated, probably because of some arbitrary rule for this brawl, though neither of them looked like much of a threat. They faced difficulty standing upwards, let alone throwing a punch.

    Violet appeared at his side. ¡°Lovely vacation spot.¡±

    A snicker escaped Remus¡¯ throat. Vacations. The concept was foreign to all but the top percentile of society. Namely, people like Damosh. And even then, you didn¡¯t have much choice for locations that didn¡¯t risk your rapt assassination.

    ¡°Come,¡± Violet led straight towards the tavern.

    Remus dawdled for a few seconds, before shambling into a follow. ¡°We¡¯re going there? This place might be slightly more civil than that fight we just slipped through, but we¡¯re newcomers here, Violet. We¡¯ll stick out like a sore thumb.¡±

    ¡°This place is commonly travelled through,¡± she reasoned, ¡°and besides, we have no choice.¡±

    Remus was about to enquire on what exactly she meant, when she brushed through the door. Sighing, he entered behind her, the clamour of the inside deafening out his own thoughts. Ignoring the reek of old liquor, Remus still had to blink rapidly and focus his hearing. The place was an attack on every one of the senses.

    Chattering men and women gathered by rounded tables; the clang of bottles resounded from the bar as a small team worked frantically; and arguing groups ganged up on one another. Up above, a chandelier glowed with a brightness putting the darkening afternoon outside to shame. All in all, it was enough to give Remus a headache. He activated his Mark ever-so slightly, just to be on the safe side. You never knew when it would be you being pressured like that poor gentleman in the corner.

    Stalking up to the bar, Violet placed a pouch filled with Inklings on the desk. A burly man with an apron examined it idly, cleaning a mug with a washcloth. His salt-and-pepper beard was impressive indeed. Swaying with every swipe of the hand.

    Remus eyed the money-pouch with growing tension. Is she planning on wasting all our funds on, gods forbid it, beer?

    ¡°How may I help you?¡± The barman spoke sceptically. His gaze focused away from Violet for a split second, and onto two arguing men in the corner, but he quickly met her eye.

    ¡°I was wondering if you would be willing to convert any of these into the Tyrant equivalent.¡± Remus felt a wave of relief at Violet¡¯s words. ¡°Any assistance would be most appreciated.¡±

    He scowled. Not the most reassuring of signs, but the man put down his half-washed mug to examine the contents. For a minute, he counted the coins, creating stacks after considering each one.

    At last, every Inkling they had managed to salvage throughout their travels was gathered there. A pang throbbed at Remus¡¯ heart, as he looked upon the amassed collection in woe. In some fortune, since setting out from First Rite, they had managed to preserve most of their savings ¡ª instead relying on flavourless rations, gifted to them throughout their travels, or the dubious offerings of nature. Still, it wasn¡¯t much, and their supplies had reached their end. The hospitality of others, sadly, wasn¡¯t reliable. They would have to eat into their savings.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have much use for Inklings myself,¡± the man admitted, an angry curse from behind snagging his attention for a moment. ¡°But, seeing as people like me serve as the only means of conversion in this damn city, I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±

    He moved to the back, leaving his assistant to mind the bar in his absence.

    It had occurred to Remus that asking a bar-owner to exchange currencies was a strange means of doing so. Though, upon recalling how unstructured the Ravaged Lands thus far had been, he wondered if there was a standard place of conversion, even in Hell¡¯s Floor. Asking Violet about this, she confirmed his suspicions.

    ¡°There¡¯s a central bank in Eclipse ¡ª the only other city where Tyrants are commonly used ¡ª where you can transfer from Inklings to Tyrants, and vice versa. But apart from that, businesses on the outskirts of the Ravaged Lands are the only accessible way to do so. Like this establishment, for instance.¡±

    A raucous uproar from behind snapped Remus out of his intrigued reverie. The two men in the corner were grasping at one another now, and Remus felt his heart skip a beat. A purely black Mark across the bigger fighter¡¯s face glowed. Before the other brawler, who had been obviously stalling for his life for minutes on end, could do so much as activate his own in response, he screeched in agony. Dropping to the ground, they writhed in fitful screaming, like a dying worm.

    Before Remus could catch his breath, he stumbled back in horror. The two opposing gangs in the back were in the midst of their own scuffle, completely unrelated, and the victor was obvious. Complexions turning a sickly green, one group toppled over in tandem, clutching at the nearest objects in sight. Oversized boils broke out all across their skin. A few spasmed with no hope of survival.

    Tables crashed down, innocent civilians flooded out, and the weakest of the bunch died with nothing more than a painful splutter.

    The staff shouted for the owner, who, dashing into the fray, screeched at the top of his lungs. Faint etchings in his face blossomed into blazing colour, stretching across every visible section of his skin. The man possessed a Tapestry, the trademark of a Mercenary Ranked. In summary, it was a Mark on steroids.

    The grey colours exhibited nothing but swarms upon swarms of sleeping mortals and Unbounded alike.

    Realisation clicking into place, Remus knew what god this man was of, and what he was teetering on doing, seconds before it all played out. The surviving fighters blinked blearily, eyelids drooping as if they¡¯d just been startled out of a decades long slumber. Then, as if wondering what they were doing awake in the first place, fell face-first onto the floor ahead of them. Marks deactivated, and suddenly, the room was very quiet indeed.

    The barman breathed in deeply, the chandelier clung overhead, and Remus swore he could hear crickets.

    ¡°Apologies,¡± the man muttered, turning to face the kitchen in the back. ¡°Carry them out.¡±

    Slowly, with methodical grace, the team heaved the dead bodies onto makeshift stretchers, carrying them out to gods¡¯ knew where. The surviving fighters, one of them drooling onto the floor, were tossed down the stairs at the entrance. Remus heard them stir slightly at the impact, groaning, before submerging into unconsciousness yet again.

    The bar may have been a mess, but hey, at least they were efficient.

    ¡°Please excuse the trouble,¡± the barman said, ¡°standard business, you understand.¡±

    Even Violet appeared a little spooked. ¡°Right. Is it always this bad?¡±

    ¡°This is the Ravaged Lands after all. It¡¯s more blood and guts than sunshine and rainbows. But the power of the Fatigue Clan usually keeps things from going too far. Brute force is the only way to marshal this lot in relative order, anywho.¡±

    His choice of words didn¡¯t do much to settle Remus¡¯ shock. If this was business as usual, what constituted being too far? Remus swallowed, doing everything in his power not to glance at the drops of Ichor dotting around the floor.

    Finally, the man placed a small chest by their Inklings. ¡°Again, sorry for keeping you waiting. I can¡¯t exchange everything, it wouldn¡¯t be worth it.¡±

    Pushing down his disappointment, Remus forced a smile. Presumably, these personal converters profited from taking a little extra money for themselves. Then, when they had stockpiled a sizeable amount, making the trip worth it, they would exchange it themselves at Eclipse. Still, Remus wasn¡¯t confident that they could survive off this much alone.

    Hell, he was barefooted now after losing his shoes. Call him wasteful, but walking around with one boot was terribly inconvenient. Remus had been forced to desert the other, primarily so he didn¡¯t trudge around with a limp.

    Remus didn¡¯t know the exchange rate between the two currencies, but the man handed an array of Tyrants, piled in various colours. They may have been smaller, but outnumbered the amount of Inklings they¡¯d possessed tenfold.

    ¡°¡®Lot of Tyrants . . .¡± He mused.

    ¡°One Inkling is worth five of them. Red is one Tyrant, purple is two, and with each additional colour, the value doubles.¡±

    Remus was left scratching his head.

    ¡°It sounds confusing, but you¡¯ll adjust. I know the amount might be a burden to carry, but I seem to have only reds and yellows on me at the moment.¡± He sounded too sincere for a resident of the Ravaged Lands, to the extent that neither of them had the heart to complain. ¡°You two are new to the city, I presume?¡±

    Violet nodded.

    ¡°You¡¯ll hear this a lot, but be careful. This little outpost is managed by people just trying to get by, so you¡¯ll be able to rest without a large risk of dying in your sleep. But other places, those tending to be closer to Hell¡¯s Floor, they¡¯ll put on an innocent front, and kill you for all you have. My own clan included. Be careful.¡±

    An uneasy air about them, the two departed after thanking the man, sidestepping the array of bodies still out cold.

    It was getting late, and, even if it was pricey, an inn sounded much more appealing than yet another night of camping. They entered the building, and half-awake after the long day, bought the cheapest rooms possible.

    Their chambers were opposite each other; just two doors at the end of a repeating corridor that seemed to replicate itself exactly on each floor. Inside, it was more a cubicle than a memorable hotel experience. Though, this place likely would stick in Remus¡¯ mind, but not at all because of its quality. A bed and walls. That was it. Remus had been in prison cells less compact than this.

    Right before heading to bed, both Violet and Remus met in the corridor. The issue was obvious.

    ¡°We¡¯re dirt poor.¡± Violet said plainly.

    Wincing, there was nothing Remus could say to refute that. ¡°We won¡¯t be able to travel far if we barely have enough to eat. We need to work.¡±

    Violet wrinkled her nose. ¡°You have your background in carpentry, but I¡¯ll probably be stuck cleaning that damn bar. Not many job prospects in the middle of nowhere.¡±

    An involuntary yawn left Remus. ¡°Tomorrow, we¡¯ll have a look around. Who knows? We might even be able to travel as we lend a hand from place to place.¡±

    Neither of them said a world, not wanting to admit how unlikely that was.

    Some inward part of Remus screamed.

    Here they were, ready to fight against the entire world, and what was the largest obstacle in their paths? Monetary gain.

    With a sigh, Remus entered his room, too tired to check for traps. He fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 44. Money Troubles

    ¡°This should be enough,¡± the clansman dropped a bag of Tyrants into Violet¡¯s open palm. ¡°Thank you for your service.¡±

    Violet nodded, frowned at the light contents of the bundle, and forced herself through a polite farewell. Yet again, she was being cut short.

    A few Durations had come and gone, and whilst Violet may have crossed a considerable distance in that time, she hadn¡¯t warmed up to the endless deserts of the Ravaged Lands. Not at all.

    In the first drizzle of rain she¡¯d experienced throughout her travels in this wasteland of a city, Violet did her best to ignore the moisture slapping against her cloak. Descending a few creaky stairs, and ignoring the abundant laughter of drunkards keeping the night alive, she opened up the bag.

    After thorough inspection, she came to the careful conclusion that the Tyrants were indeed real. This was a village under the rule of the Trickey Clan, and it wouldn¡¯t be the first time she¡¯d been put under a hallucination. Imagine Violet¡¯s surprise after breaking her back in the kitchens all day, only to realise she¡¯d been paid in pebbles. Violet had returned to that establishment to share a piece of her mind, of course, in a raging blaze of purple. Turns out chefs weren¡¯t the best of fighters.

    The only reason she¡¯d been staying in this rural hamlet in the first place was because of what lay ahead. They were on the very outskirts of Hell¡¯s Floor now ¡ª the worst battlefield this planet had ever seen, save for the hellhole that was, and always will be, the front lines. Approaching before they were fully committed to the idea would be a disaster. Plus, her opinions on the quaint village put to the wayside, Violet had unfinished business here.

    Remus was in another outpost closer to the shores of Descent. Looking for a means to West Ember, by the sounds of it, and had secured a promising string of jobs repairing the broken furniture of the locals. Seeing how the place was an offshooting vassal of the Fury Clan, Violet could see the root of the problem clearly. Nevertheless, work was work, and she wasn¡¯t going to sabotage their earnings. Least of all by recommending anger management classes to the townsfolk

    Materialising outside the largest building in the village by far, Violet had to look up to admire the true size of the place. It was a manor alright, fitted with towering windows cutting into ageing mahogany. Red carpets, chandeliers, and all the fancy miscellany the most vain of people could desire. This she saw, and a few masked individuals crossing the corridors. One veiled soul saw her, eyes filling with irritation as they recognised her as an outsider. Curtains were briskly drawn, cutting her view short.

    How welcoming, Violet snarled.

    Nevertheless, she understood the need to keep oneself masked by shadow. Strolling up to the front, double doors, Violet rapped her knuckles on the entrance. A slit of stone was moved out the way, and two beady eyes met hers.

    ¡°State your business.¡± A woman¡¯s voice commanded.

    ¡°I want to utilise your area of expertise. I¡¯m willing to pay the fee.¡± She jangled the bag for emphasis. ¡°This is the Clan of Two doors, correct?¡±

    The moniker was another name for the Trickery Clan. The reason for which was about to be reinforced for Violet.

    The slit was closed without a word, and Violet was left twiddling her thumbs for a few dragging minutes. Finally, right as she was beginning to suspect she was being stood up, the door opened. A hand snatched her in, and Violet barely caught herself as the doors closed with a deafening clang.

    The individual didn¡¯t bother taking off her mask. It was plain, with the words truth and fallacy inscribed to the side of both eyes. Grasping Violet¡¯s arm once again, she pulled her closer, placing a familiar, white dot on the extended limb. Violet almost didn¡¯t recognise the contraption for a second. It was a Progress Calibrator; the same device the Flame Sect trainees had been using. A tiny pang from the device sent her arm flinching.

    ¡°It''s a little faulty.¡± The woman spoke, not apologising for any of her brash behaviour. ¡°But it¡¯ll shine up to challenge a star¡¯s light if you so much as activate your Mark.¡±

    Violet got the message. ¡°Wasn¡¯t planning to. I¡¯m here to conduct business, not start a brawl.¡±

    For some reason, despite the mask, Violet got the impression the woman was smiling at that. ¡°Come with me and keep quiet. I¡¯ll find us a quiet booth to discuss business in.¡±

    Violet followed the woman, staring daggers into her back. Besides from literal deranged murderers, and inhuman beasts birthed into this universe solely to eradicate humanity, she couldn¡¯t recall a person she hated so intensely. First impressions were important after all. And her escort obviously spared no effort in making hers a good one

    The other clansmen paid her no mind, as if seeing nothing but the wall behind her as Violet passed by. Suffice to say, this was not what Violet had been expecting when she heard the term ¡®¡¯Trickery¡¯ Sect. Maybe a circus with red-nosed clowns mulling about would have been too on the nose, but nevertheless, Violet was bummed out by the lack of practical jokes. Not even a banana peel to pretend not to notice.

    Finally, she let herself be dragged into a smaller chamber, offshotting from a hallway seemingly brimming with similar rooms. A red, cushioned stretch of seating lined the walls, and taking a seat, Violet examined the room. It was sound-proofed, based on the solid appearance of the walls, and a standard, but large table sat ahead of her.

    The veiled woman sat opposite, with the velvet cushioning forming a ¡®U¡¯ shape. It reminded her, eerily, of the hut she and Remus had discovered not long ago in the trenches. There was a forced silence from the woman. Right as things grew too awkward to bear, she spoke.

    She really loves playing with her guests, doesn¡¯t she?

    ¡°Based on what you said earlier, I presume you know how things work here.¡±

    As if conjured out of nowhere, a stack of paper was placed onto the table. ¡°Here are our terms and conditions. I want you to carefully read through, and form an Oath with me. Promising that you fully agree, and will not approach the Clan of Two Doors with an itch for vengeance ¡ª should things turn sour.¡±

    She pushed the contract towards Violet. Even though Violet already had an extensive knowledge on just how the Trickery Sect operated, she read through the contents, slowly, and with care. Then she read it a second time, though perused slightly.

    One line struck her. Information, whether true or false, may take time to gather. Especially if exceedingly valuable.

    Violet lifted her head. ¡°How long would it take you to collect information on the Chaos Clan? Namely, their base in Hell¡¯s Floor ¡ª who is stationed there right now, a map of the manor¡¯s standard structure, defences, et cetera.¡±

    Something in the woman¡¯s voice approached mockery. ¡°Planning a siege, are you?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡± Violet snapped back, too vexed to be nice.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, none of my business if you want to get yourself killed.¡± Violet was one second away from setting off alarms at that comment. ¡°I¡¯m not willing to say too many details until you¡¯ve agreed to the Oath, but likely, no wait at all. Let¡¯s just say, my sect has paid personal interest into the Chaos Clan for a while now.¡±

    With Nova¡¯s growing influence, the reason behind that was obvious. All sects within the ¡®alliance¡¯ of the Anarchy Syndicate would be jumping at the chance to overtake the upstart clan.

    With a sigh, Violet decided to bite the bullet. ¡°Okay, fine. Let¡¯s do it.¡±

    Violet handed over the funds, and a little extra so her own information wouldn''t be up for sale. Who knew how many enemies she was to gain if her true identity was revealed, and a little precaution in exchange for a tad more ease of sleep was well worth it.

    At last, the woman spoke. ¡°As a rightful Ambassador of the Clan of Two Doors, I see to it that you will agree to everything stated within the pages of the contract I have set forth.¡±

    Inhaling, Violet tensed. A strange, mystical air infested the space between them. ¡°I, Violet, the rightful ambassador of the Chaos Clan, accept this Oath and all of its intricacies.¡±

    Violet couldn¡¯t tell who was more surprised, the clanswoman, or her.

    So the universe does recognise me by that name . . .

    Oaths, and divine agreements to duel both operated through the collective divine force of the gods. The orderly nature of the energy saw to it that all arrangements were fair, largely without loopholes, without being purposefully planted into the Oath itself, by one of the parties, or by stark negligence. Whilst gods¡¯ could look into any Oaths or duels being made, there were far too many of them at any given time, and other matters to preoccupy the beings. They wouldn¡¯t catch something as unimportant as a deal made with Foot-Soldiers at most. Or at least the woman before Violet didn¡¯t strike her as much more powerful than herself, if at all..

    But if she was recognised by a human name, and not whatever her Unbounded past-self was called . . . that, with the fact her Mark still functioned . . .

    A thud from two hands slamming down on the table caught Violet off guard. ¡°A Chaos Clan member going against their own! If you weren''t paying us so handsomely, I might have even been tempted to offer you this information for free. You know, just to stir the pot.¡±

    Violet cocked an eyebrow at the sudden change in demeanour. ¡°The opportunity is still available, if you want to return those Tyrants.¡±

    The woman laughed, as if Violet had just said something completely ridiculous. ¡°No, no. So what exactly is it you''re pulling here? Some sort of civil war?¡±

    Opening her mouth to speak, Violet found she couldn¡¯t utter a word.

    ¡°Oh right,¡± the masked clanswoman sounded disappointed. ¡°The Oath. I forgot you¡¯re not allowed to reveal what you¡¯re going to do with the information. Helps us to narrowly avoid any proper conflict with any clans hurt by the info we offer. Nevertheless, you intrigue me Violet. And guesses aren''t too hard to make.¡±

    ¡°Enough small talk. Where is the information I paid for?¡±

    ¡°We regularly send oracles to examine the opposing clans in the Anarchy Syndicate. I can¡¯t confirm how accurate it is, but I¡¯ll get it to you in a moment.¡±

    Violet watched silently as the woman headed away from the chamber, and then exhaled. Unveiling her arm out of a rift she had created, sparks flew from the mangled Calibrator. Soil sifted through her fingertips, the result of transporting her arm metres underground. She looked at the destroyed contraption in dismay.

    Unbounded detected. It read, before guttering out in a perpetual blackness.

    Destroying the device had been the cost of muffling the sounds of its alarm. Violet silently thanked her prior self for putting on a cloak this morning, for otherwise, she wouldn¡¯t have been able to disguise the missing limb under a mass of cloth. Hiding a glowing vortex under a table was difficult too, especially when agreeing to an Oath simultaneously.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Nevertheless, she had managed it, but the implications of what the Calibrator had recognised troubled her.

    So divine energy recognised her as the human Violet, but this complex piece of machinery ¡ª the most complex Violet had ever seen ¡ª saw her as an Unbounded. What kind of a middle-ground was that? It was beyond frustrating. Every recent clue she had gathered seemed to contradict the last, all unifying in a nonsensical mess that led her nowhere. And how was she going to explain the broken Calibrator? Looking back and forth, Violet finally mustered up the courage to open up yet another rift.

    Tossing the fractured disc inside the magenta portal, Violet half expected a gang of clansmen to leap on her, blades drawn. They never did, and the broken article was disposed of efficiently. Reappearing in a random patch of dirt deep underground. Alas, she had no way to explain herself if the clanswoman questioned her, or if she sensed the energy her active Mark was omitting. It was a dangerous game to play.

    Before she could think up some kind of feasible explanation, especially one that wouldn¡¯t trigger a brawl, the woman returned. She slid a file across the table. Immediately, Violet opened it, scrutinising its contents like a ravenous beast acquiring food for the first time in Durations. This was where things turned difficult.

    The Clan of Two Doors is widely known as one of the, if not the best, source of gaining difficult to come across information. Throughout several points in history, the tide of battle has altered drastically in favour of any clan successfully cooperating with the clan. However success was one of two pathways: reality, and fallacy.

    When the clansmen cultivated information through their Marks, it was a miraculous, but long-winded process. And then there was a fifty-fifty chance the information wouldn¡¯t be accurate at all. But Violet was willing to take her chances. It wasn¡¯t like she had any other source of leaked info at the ready.

    ¡°Everything looks reasonable . . . the layout will be mostly useless, with the manor constantly altering, but everything else . . .¡±

    Violet shivered at two listed occupants. The Pet-Keeper, and his monstrous companion, Daisy. However, the pressure lifted from her heart at the writing near it. Yet, both were recently seen in Hybrid. Low probability.

    ¡°Why the glum face?¡± The woman asked. ¡°You can tell me, if it doesn''t reveal any of your own plans. The Oath isn¡¯t too restrictive.¡±

    ¡°There are some familiar faces around there, powerful people.¡± Violet said carefully. ¡°But most clansmen are busy on errands.¡±

    Violet was beginning to read the contents with growing dread. If the Trickery Clan did extensive research on the Chaos Sect as they stated to, wouldn¡¯t their divine insight reveal their Unbounded status? She glanced at the masked woman sceptically. Or perhaps, that was proof this was all false information . . .

    Mysteries within mysteries. Violet gritted her teeth, clenching her fists to stop them from shaking.

    ¡°Thank you for your cooperation,¡± she said, abruptly getting up, ¡°I¡¯m afraid your Calibrator malfunctioned.¡±

    She slung another pouch of Tyrants onto the desk, documents bundled up under her arm. ¡°Hopefully this will cover it.¡±

    Before the woman could respond, purple engulfed the room, and Violet was nowhere to be seen.

    <hr>

    Remus swung his legs over the end of a jetty extending out from the shore, counting five Tyrants in his palm. The kite-shaped articles were oddly translucent in shade from certain angles, but from others, as opaque as snow.

    He had come to know, over the last few Durations of hopping from outpost to outpost, doing all sorts of odd jobs, that these equated to twenty Tyrants each. The highest value they could come in.

    It was also, despite his days full of nothing but drudgery, not nearly enough to cross this accursed ocean. Remus poised his arm to toss the trinkets into the gentle waters, before forcing his arm down. Wasting the little money he did have was beyond stupid, no matter how gratifying it might feel in the moment. His new shoes dangled a few feet above the crashing waves. They were second-hand, likely wouldn''t see the end of the Rebirth, but it was all Remus was willing to spend. Upon enquiring with the local fishermen, he¡¯d been informed that a trip to West Ember and back would cost every last Tyrant he had gathered, and more. Apparently the waters were perilous, and no sailor would be persuaded without a hefty handful of coinage involved.

    Fighting off the urge to kick the waters like a stubborn child, Remus swallowed back a curse. ¡°The Ambition Clan are under constant subjugation, and I¡¯m here failing to arrange a boat.¡±

    There was no time. This plan had been flawed from the offset. Remus had no option but to watch his hopes slowly crash and burn, every clan he was a part of destined for devestation. Remus closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing.

    There¡¯ll be a way. He told himself. There always is.

    ¡°Am I interrupting?¡± A voice spoke.

    Scrambling back, Remus activated his Mark, jumping to a stand. ¡°Who are you?¡± He asked, and upon swivelling round to no avail: ¡°where are you?¡±

    A sloshing sound from beneath the jetty grasped his attention. ¡°Down here Remus! Come over, you have nothing to fear.¡±

    Real convincing, he inwardly scoffed, a sense of aquatic power washing over him. Whoever was here, they were generously placed in the Divine Ranks. With undisguised reluctance, Remus peered down.

    A humanoid mass of water looked up at him, transparent features smiley wryly. Her form was only visible up from the shoulders, which were plated with decorative strands of seaweed. The rest was fully submerged, with no shape more defined than the liquid she basked in. She looked innocent enough, but the same could be said about the most seductive of predators. And plus, her identity terrified Remus.

    ¡°Maris,¡± he recognised the God-Graced of the Water Sect instantly, ¡°to what do I owe the honour?¡±

    Remus kneeled. Sure, maybe a little extreme, but his mind was going a hundred miles an hour. Was she here to arrest him; to finally cleanse Descent of one more criminal? He couldn¡¯t see any other reason why someone with as much influence as Maris would speak to him. Especially out of the blue like this. Quite literally.

    As if having read his mind, she suited a placating smile, and repeated herself. ¡°Do not fear. I¡¯m not here to personally arrest you. You¡¯re not worthy of that treatment yet, no offence.¡±

    ¡°None taken.¡±

    ¡°And, as improper as it is for me to admit this, observing your antics from afar has amused me greatly. Any irritant to Juniper is a source of laughter for me, and a constant thorn in her side? Even better.¡±

    Swallowing, Remus was taken aback by that. Any more startling surprises, and he would topple over this pier. Presumably, through Perpetual Sight, Maris had been watching his misadventures. The thought caused him to cringe. So many mistakes. Plus, if she was privy to some secrets . . . no, you would need much more extensive knowledge on him and Violet than the occasional glance, to comprehend everything that was occurring. Maris likely thought Violet was simply an angsty teen going against her father. There was no reason to suspect she knew better.

    The next thing he recalled struck Remus like a disciplinary slap across the face. According to the cycle of Hybrid¡¯s monarchs, going anti-clockwise through the territories, Territory Four¡¯s most prominent sect would be taking the crown.

    And there was a very good chance Maris would be sitting on the Silver Throne. As of this moment, Remus might have been conversing with the next Queen of Hybrid.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to have pleased you, Maris. How exactly may I assist you?¡±

    The God-Graced beamed, all her shiny whites glittering, as if in a dental hygiene advertisement. They were far too reminiscent to the open jaws of a shark for Remus¡¯ liking. Being the only physical part of her made it all the more unnerving. Likely, this had to do with her God-Graced abilities. He wasn¡¯t completely knowledgeable on the topic, but something called soul-scribing was involved. Remus would have to read up on that later.

    ¡°Up for a story?¡± She asked, still grinning eerily. ¡°Or, more realistically, a long-winded, but entertaining tangent?¡±

    Remus shrugged. It wasn¡¯t like he could deny a God-Graced. Not in his right mind, anyhow. ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡±

    Despite how out in the open this place was, unless they had an eagle¡¯s sight, none of the villagers would be able to spot Maris. Remus might appear a little strange, talking to what would look like a mini-whirlpool, but he couldn¡¯t care less what the Fury Sect thought of him personally. Leaning in closer, Remus paid rapt attention as Maris cleared her throat.

    ¡°Territory Four has been strife with inter-sect conflict for centuries now. The Frost, Aquatic, and, yours truly, the Water Sect, have waged a constant power struggle for as far as any history book bothers to remember. And now, with the clan¡¯s turn to inherit the crown creeping closer and closer, battles have turned downright barbaric. Even for our standards.¡±

    True, that all sounded horrific, but Remus wasn¡¯t following. ¡°I can sympathise with your struggle . . . but what exactly does this have to do with me? I¡¯m only Enkindled, remember. I don¡¯t really have the power ¡ª nor the right, really ¡ª to do anything about it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯m getting to that,¡± Remus felt trepidation course through his system at those stern words, but Maris continued without strangling him underwater. Thankfully. ¡°The Water Sect has always prevailed in the three-way war, for the most part, our area of power being the most easy to generalise. The Aquatic Clan manipulates undersea creatures, the Frost Clan is self-explanatory, but Water is just water. You¡¯ll find that the stronger the sect, the more broad their divine subject.¡±

    Remus would have checked his watch if he had one.

    ¡°And yet, with our rise to power becoming more certain as we deliver the final push for the throne, we find both clans have temporarily unified for a fierce push black. Abominations of Aquatic life rush for our bases, and a town of ice aims their weaponised icicles our way. My forces have been able to fend them off, but I¡¯m forced to think ¡ª how long? How long until the sheer force of numbers gets the better of us?¡±

    Maris exhaled, light ripples generated by her every move. Then she opened one eyelid, a demonic eye winking at Remus. ¡°This is where you, my favourite pyromaniac, come in handy.¡±

    ¡°Look,¡± Remus couldn¡¯t bear to keep this up any longer. ¡°I don¡¯t want any trouble. I have enough excitement in my life as it is.¡±

    The God-Graced pouted. ¡°Come on . . . you haven¡¯t even heard my proposal yet. You¡¯ll have an ally in my sect, instead of burning bridges for once. And, most importantly, I can help you out with your little predicament.¡±

    Remus¡¯ neck shot towards her so fast it popped. How did she know? And if she was aware of his qualms, could Maris actually help him out? Maybe for a God-Graced, such petty inconveniences as transport became non-existent.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you staring at these boats all day, everyday since you¡¯ve arrived here. Apart from when you¡¯re working, I assume, for a chance to buy one.¡±

    ¡°Very attentive of you.¡± He replied, not liking the manipulative direction this was all taking.

    Maris clanged her teeth, the very same ivory spears worthy of a white shark. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised at how destructive fire can be for certain sects. It¡¯s destroyed on sight if even a spark appears in Territory Four, and the Flame Clan is prohibited from trespassing. With force. So you can imagine why no fiery incidents have occurred for quite some time now.¡±

    Remus struggled to stand his ground as the shore splashed madly, seemingly intune to the woman¡¯s excitable mood.

    Not wanting to cause a scene, and interest piqued, Remus let his guard loosen a little. ¡°Fine, what is it? What¡¯s this grand scheme that I¡¯m a vital piece of?¡±

    If Maris was offended, she didn¡¯t show it. ¡°If I secretly transport you to the Frost Clan¡¯s town of ice, you could send the glaciers melting with as little as a touch of fire. Well okay, obvious exaggeration, but still. The damage a little heat could cause, from a man with no powerful clan behind him to muddle things up . . . it¡¯s the perfect, artificial disaster. And you¡¯ll be out of there before any of the clansmen knew what was happening.¡±

    She spread her hands, clearly pleased with herself for that masterful piece of persuasion. ¡°So, what do you say? Wherever you wish to go, I can take you there and back with as little as a click of the finger. Anywhere else your heart may desire too! It¡¯s a win-win for the both of us.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°Why me? Why hire an Enkindled when you could probably pay some Flame Sect clansman to get the job done for you?¡±

    Maris gave him a disgruntled look. ¡°First off, that¡¯s terribly boring. Secondly, the Flame Sect is in a spot of trouble right now, using up all their forces. Not to mention the fact everyone in Territory Four has the scent of Ashbel¡¯s Mark memorised. Or, more accurately, the feeling of the energy it transmits. Every sect would obliterate them the second they activated their Mark; it isn¡¯t just Frost in our territory with a phobia for fire. But you? Ambition? Far more obscure. Hardly anyone will notice.¡±

    Aside from that first point, all good reasoning. It killed Remus to lose a possible friendship with a possible monarch, but he saw no other option. ¡°I¡¯m sorry; I just can¡¯t. This deal has been very generous, and I''m eternally grateful for it, but I have enough enemies holding a knife to my back as it is. Attacking a sect when they have done nothing to personally begrudge me simply doesn¡¯t sit right.¡±

    Maris said nought for an awkward pause, both literally and figuratively downcast. Then, out of nowhere, shot him a cheery grin. It was so forcefully upbeat it tasted sour merely to look at.

    ¡°Well. The offer is still on the table. This was only one plan I had in mind, of course. Always smart to keep yourself open to several avenues of action.¡±

    The God-Graced¡¯s form began to sway rapidly, as if tectonic plates were struggling directly below her.

    ¡°Just remember Remus: every pool, you see, every drizzle of rain, each tankard drowning with liquor ¡ª any drab of water at all ¡ª are my eyes. If you have second thoughts, you need but call. I¡¯ll be waiting. ¡±

    With that chilling note, Maris dispersed in a tsunami¡¯s worth of water. Dropped to the jetty¡¯s boards, Remus tasted nothing but salt water, was sent flying by the liquid¡¯s crusade, and choked as he came to a clumsy stand at last. Spitting out what felt like an entire ocean, ignoring how flimsy the pier now felt beneath his feet, Remus pulled a strip of seaweed from his soaked hair.

    Oh come on. Now that¡¯s petty.

 45. Beauty Sleep

    Elmore let the warmth of his drink devour the fatigue of his travels.

    The Ravaged Lands was his least favourite of all the major cities to visit. Every night posed greater danger, you couldn¡¯t tell if the locals of each splintered outpost would be more willing to offer you a warm meal or a tankard full of poison, and the sect leaders were all varying degrees of insane.

    But, gods forbid the thought, they knew how to cook a finer meal than any other place on Descent combined. That was likely his bored tongue speaking after eating nothing but tasteless rations, but the quality of the food spoke for itself.

    In unison with Koa, Ash, and Donovon, who bizarrely, had vouched not to drink, he leaned back in his chair. With a full stomach, the crackling fire of the humble restaurant to soothe his ears, and Ash finally ceasing to complain, Elmore¡¯s eyelids fluttered downwards with a growing resolve.

    Who opted to make these seats so comfy?

    It took everything he had not to drift off right then and there. No matter how friendly this place appeared, at least superficially, Elmore had promised himself to only sleep in environments he could guarantee to be fairly safe. If a bar fight broke out, which wouldn¡¯t be a rare sight in this hellhole, his unconscious, sprawled form would be none the wiser.

    Elmore raised his head off the table. His half-closed eyes settled on the sight of his slumbering cousins. Typical, he thought, even the mental note sounding slurred. But, angling himself a little more leftwards, a fully conscious Donovon stared blankly at him.

    The eerie sight startled him awake a fraction more.

    The man spoke curtly, tone of voice as bland as always. ¡°Do you have the branch on you?¡±

    ¡°Of course I do,¡± Elmore murmured back, ¡°I make sure all of us bring our weapons out with us.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Donovan rose from his seat. ¡°Get ready.¡±

    He inched closer, frowned behind him, before raising a hand.

    . . . and slapped Elmore across the face, who promptly spluttered. ¡°Hey! What was that-¡±

    ¡°No time,¡± he interjected, shaking Koa and Ash into consciousness. ¡°This is a trap.¡±

    Ash sprang upwards, flickered his head blearily all around, before accidentally slamming his face against the table. All in all, it was a very good shot at giving himself a concussion. ¡°W-what? Trap?¡±

    Nodding, Donovan turned towards a group of Fatigue clansmen he hadn¡¯t paid any mind to. ¡°Notice how we all felt drained upon entering? You best believe that wasn''t a coincidence.¡±

    The man drew a sword, completely stygian black, as Koa too woke up in his own fit of panic.

    ¡°Draw your weapons, and activate your Marks. It¡¯ll help fight off the soporific effects.¡±

    ¡°Cut it out with the big words,¡± Ash groaned, but obliged the man ¡ª as did them all. ¡°One of these days, I just want an uninterrupted rest. Is that too much to ask for?¡±

    Elmore twirled a set of cultivated ferns between his fingers, their ends deadly sharp. The squadron of Fatigue clansmen rushed forwards, every one of them cloaked in a fierce black. Why they bothered to conceal their identities, when this was their home territory, was beyond Elmore. In a warding toss, he threw out a series of throwing knives right before their feet. They halted immediately.

    ¡°Let us leave peacefully and we¡¯ll gladly ignore your brash actions.¡± He tried to reason with them, a nagging tiredness making the branch seem heavy in his grip. ¡°Don¡¯t do anything stupid.¡±

    Based on their growling advance, Elmore had obviously irked the group. In surprisingly fast thinking, Ash equipped his knuckles, and Koa extended his blade into a stunning spear. The air whooshed as it sprouted outwards, and Donovan made his own advance forwards.

    The air grew gloomy around him. No, Elmore soon realised, the entire room did. Black contours deepened every casted shadow, and Donovan¡¯s own umbra caped him in a protective barrier that was hard to look at. It was darkness itself, the absence of familiar form and substance. The twilight construct continued to grow, serving as the foundation for a hovering mass bulging with muscle. The shapes were indistinct, not lending themselves to visibility. But with a little focus, Elmore took in the hulking entity with quickening breaths.

    The shadow was in the vain of its owner ¡ª that much was clear ¡ª but if Donovan was thrice the size, had muscles that put Andreas to shame, and an eerie emptiness to him.

    As quick as a bullet, it grabbed the nearest masked enemy, crushing them into a bloody bundle. Elmore wasn¡¯t squeamish by any means, but the mass of gore unnerved even him. Outaged, the rest of his three-man group focused their gazes solely on Ash or Koa respectively.

    Elmore felt the fatigue lighten off his body like an invisible curse finally broken. But his cousins dropped to the floor with a bang, instantly asleep. The Fatigue clansmen charged through with mutant strength, tables split to shrapnel beneath their flying limbs.

    ¡°They¡¯re pulling on the energy of your kin!¡± Donovan roared from within his hulking vortex. ¡°Wake them up!¡±

    Elmore veered towards the unconscious bundle, right as an oncoming enemy vaulted towards the cousins¡¯ helpless pile. An axe was lifted in both hands. The sight of that alone, and Elmore didn¡¯t have to think; it was all instinctual.

    His Boundless Bank flooded Infinity towards his Mark, and Elmore felt drunk on the frothing power. The uncompleted network meant that some of the resource was lost, of course, like a cracked vase gushing liquid, but he had stockpiled more than enough to burn through. The wooden debris of the tables uprooted into a sudden cage, enveloping both boys in spider-webbing strips. The axe was caught in the mass of wood, and screeching, Elmore outed the oak material of his enemy''s handle. It shot into its owner¡¯s chest, failing to penetrate flesh. Nevertheless, the man was hurtled across the restaurant, crumpling.

    In the perfect position to be punched repeatedly by a giant shadow¡¯s fist.

    There, the two beings struggled, with the real Donovan clashing blades with an oncoming group of yet more clansmen. Elmore slid across the floor, and, taking advantage of the wooden material of the ceiling, sent extra walls of the same material streaking down to the floor. He had slotted himself off into an isolated cube. It contained the corner which featured his guarded cousins, a torch shimmering in its bracket, and nothing more.

    Dashing over, he commanded the shielding to sink aside, and grasped the two of them. With some rough shaking, they awoke quickly. Koa rubbed his eyes, a disturbed confusion paving the way for fury. Ash was just as agitated.

    ¡°You two focus on keeping yourselves safe,¡± Elmore demanded of them, a banging against the walls of their hiding spot troubling him. It had been created hastily, and so wouldn¡¯t hold for long.¡±

    He put up three fingers, conjuring his most severe of expressions. ¡°On the count of three, I¡¯ll drop this barricade, and we''ll turn every resource available in this restaurant against those bastards. Just try not to harm Donovan, kay¡¯?¡±

    They nodded.

    ¡°Three . . .¡±

    Two extra sources of enchanting green light birthed from the duo, as they activated their Marks. The grunting outside became incessant, with all sorts of violent sounds trespassing the walls.

    ¡°Two . . .¡±

    Screams, with what sounded like a storm crashing down out of nowhere upon the building. Elmore found himself sweating.

    ¡°One!¡±

    In a unified leap, the trio scrambled through Elmore¡¯s revoked fortification.

    Only to find Donovan, his titan of a shadow at his back, crowning a pile of leaking bodies. He pointed the tip of a dagger at one last squirming man¡¯s throat, shadow-duplicates of the blade appearing like ghostly apparitions at either side. It was like Elmore was seeing double ¡ª no, triple.

    ¡°Please,¡± the man rasped helplessly, dragging himself back as far as he dared. ¡°I¡¯ll tell the others not to mess with you, I¡¯ll do anything you ask of me.¡±

    Donovan said nought, and Elmore thought he was going mad as something occurred to him. Was he considering the man¡¯s plea?

    Not saying a word, Donovan threw his blade aside. The dagger clanged against the blood-soaked matting a yard away, and the clansman whimpered in gratitude as Donovan turned his back to him.

    ¡°Thank you! Thank yo-!¡±

    The monstrosity of a shadow appeared behind the weeping man, faster than Elmore could have blinked. As a colourless fist punctured through their chest, Elmore couldn¡¯t help but think that at least the man had died with a smile. Delirious or not.

    Stunned, the three of them stared blankly forwards, cheeks blanched of any healthy red. The drip-drip of Ichor was the only sound apart from Donovan¡¯s patient footsteps; the music of nightmares. Elmore couldn¡¯t decide which of the two was more haunting.

    As the Foot-Soldier peeped through a series of cabinets, Elmore heard Koa¡¯s dry throat force out words, like the escaping winds of a desert. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    Still scurrying through the cabinets, Donavon uplifted a bottle, before placing it onto the nearest unbroken table with a slam. Elmore came to realise it was the only surface to have survived the onslaught. In the distance, a bell rang, and the growing panic of the locals ushered up a symphony of frenzied, though faint, shouts.

    Dovonavn placed down another glass of wine, several baskets of bread, and a bowl of seeds.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know of much of this we can make last,¡± he rubbed his beardless chin innocuously, ¡°but it would be wise to scavenge through for anything that will, before we leave.¡±

    He stopped at the way they looked at him.

    ¡°What?¡± He sounded genuinely bewildered. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re safe now. I doubt the locals will bother getting in our way. If they¡¯re intelligent people, that is.¡±

    Getting up, Elmore harrumphed, brushing down his emerald cloak. It was torn in places, with drops of gold muddying the colour. ¡°Indeed,¡± he said with forced nonchalance, that sounded unnatural to his own ears. ¡°Let''s make it quick, I don¡¯t want to stay here any longer.¡±

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    The buzz of surging with Infinity and adrenaline had long since worn off, and the crash filled him with nothing but chagrin. They had been utterly useless in that fight. Donovan didn¡¯t even appear shaken, but Elmore?

    He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and did his best to clear his mind.

    A few minutes later, raiding the destroyed restaurant and ignoring the stink of drying blood, Elmore asked the one question lingering on his mind. ¡°Just what kind of Vault do you have, Donovan?¡±

    ¡°Two-Part Identity.¡± He replied instantly. Elmore didn¡¯t have to ask for an explanation. ¡°The entire network of Infinity leads to my brain, making either side as alert as a full mind when enough of the resource is supplied.¡±

    Elmore¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°So that¡¯s how you¡¯re so coordinated with your shadow ¡ªone mind for each fighter?¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t there any side effects to, you know, manipulating the mind like that?¡±

    The man shrugged. ¡°Some people say the more we use the ability . . .¡± he frowned, blinking rapidly, ¡°the more numb we grow to emotion.¡±

    His head shot towards Elmore. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m emotionless? Is that why you¡¯re asking?¡±

    The question took Elmore aback. He couldn¡¯t tell if Donovan was actually asking, or was somehow offended. He at least sounded sincere. ¡°I don¡¯t know. You obviously have some emotion, but sometimes-¡±

    ¡°Sometimes?¡±

    ¡°You tend to act a little too casual. It''s not an issue, simply . . . a bit unnerving.¡±

    Momentarily distracted, Donovan seemed to mull these words endlessly over, mouthing them to himself. ¡°Thank you for being truthful Elmore.¡± He smiled awkwardly. Elmore could tell it was artificial, but appreciated the sentiment. ¡°That explains a lot.¡±

    They finished packing up their bags right as a stampede of steps rumbled the ground at their feet.

    Peeking out of a window, Ash shivered. ¡°Well, looks like they finally mustered up the courage to come face us. And good gods, it looks like the whole outpost has been riled up!¡±

    Donovan collected his sword from the bloody pile, swishing the weapon repeatedly through their air. Drops of gold flickered off all around. ¡°Draw your blades,¡± he spoke forebodingly. ¡°If we have to fight our way out, so be it.¡±

    Hand extending towards a leather pouch hanging across him, Elmore gripped onto his deadly branch. And yet, even as a stone shattered through the windows ahead, Elmore felt no fear.

    With Donovan here, nothing could stop them.

    <hr>

    Remus scrutinised the table overflowing with Tyrants at Violet¡¯s side.

    With their varying colours, it was quite the spectacle to gaze upon. Mounds of purple, mountains of red, and the rare creek of white all combined together in a monetary landscape. It would be a hassle to carry of course, but after a Passing of gathering funds, it was oh-so satisfying to observe. The physical fruit of their efforts, laid out right in front of him.

    Not even Violet could force down a gratified smile. ¡°If this doesn¡¯t last until we¡¯ve both cleansed the earth of every last Unbounded, I¡¯ll personally rob the Wealth Sect of every coin.¡±

    Remus laughed. ¡°I doubt we can spread ourselves that thin, but now we¡¯re ready to get going.¡±

    He struck his hands against the table as forcefully as he could without creating a shiny mess. ¡°So, what exactly have you been planning? You¡¯ve been examining those notes of yours endlessly. So tell me ¡ª what grand scheme have you devised to topple the Chaos Sect?¡±

    Sighing, Violet failed to hide the amusement from her lips. Remus¡¯ voice was far too loud for this tiny hut they had rented, but nevertheless, he couldn¡¯t contain his excitement. Surely she had something monumental prepared after so much planning.

    Obliging him, Violet opened up a small cabinet in the room¡¯s corner, filled-to-choking with various pieces of parchment. Remus opened a door for her, and Violet carried the stack into one of the two cell-sized bedrooms. She slumped it onto the bed¡¯s covers, shifted the pages around, before turning to Remus.

    ¡°Your part of the plan is essential,¡± she began mysteriously, holding aloft a detailed map of the sect¡¯s manor. ¡°I''ll be the one rushing in, whilst you cause a distraction outside. Now before you complain-¡±

    Remus let the rapier retort fade on the cusp of his mouth.

    ¡°. . . there¡¯s several important reasons as to why I think this would be the most efficient way of doing things. First of all, the Chaos Clan¡¯s bases are deadly to those not familiar with their shifting nature. The entire layout could contort at any second¡¯s whim, and only other manipulators of Chaos can fight it. If we¡¯re sent into the jaws of a deathtrap, I¡¯m the only one with the means to keep it at bay.¡±

    Despite the certitude of her words, Violet didn¡¯t look nor sound very sure of herself.

    ¡°And you''re sure you¡¯ll be fine?¡± Remus¡¯ glower only deepened. ¡°Now that I think of it, charging into an entire Unbounded-filled manor by yourself . . . not to be blunt, but do you have a death wish?¡±

    ¡°Please listen before you pick holes into the plan. I¡¯ve been thinking things through for Durations on end; trust me, I have everything covered.¡±

    Remus continued to stand, twiddling his fingers anxiously. ¡°. . . Okay. I¡¯ll listen.¡± He sat on an edge of the bed not camouflaged under a mountain of notes. ¡°But let me voice my concern when you''re finished. I know it''s impossible for this all to be one hundred percent safe, but I¡¯d like to get as close as possible.¡±

    Violet nodded. ¡°As I was saying, while I charge inwards, you¡¯ll keep the bulk of the clansmen preoccupied by raining down hell. Set as much of the manor ablaze as possible. Don¡¯t worry about my safety, I can warp in and out of the fray as necessary. You have your fair share of conflict, but whenever they gang up on you too excessively . . .¡±

    She showcased a sketch of four identical pods. ¡°These are tiny Projections I¡¯ll make in advance. Whenever you¡¯re in danger, destroy one¡ª a squash of the fingers will be enough ¡ª and I¡¯ll be notified. Using the forth pod to keep track of your location, I¡¯ll teleport you out of there. Just remember, don¡¯t destroy the fourth unless in the most dire of circumstances. I intend to rejoin with you after some real damage is dealt, but if I have to tug you over prematurely, well, so be it. Do you want me to re-explain anything?¡±

    Remus shook his head. As he put the plan to memory, his eyes were drawn to the intricate notes that contained information far too exact for Violet to have amassed herself. Something else was obviously afoot. The question was what.

    ¡°Where did you find out all of this?¡± He pulled up one page that was simply a list, eyes widening as he inspected the names. ¡°Everyone located there is listed here? Including . . .¡± his throat constricted, and Remus fought the urge to crumple the sheet right there. ¡°Oh, now I really have motivation to start an inferno.¡±

    A purple tear appeared next to Remus, and Violet¡¯s transported hand snatched the page away from him. Arm surfacing from her own tear in space, Violet held the sheet defensively. ¡°Careful. The last thing I want is you getting so enraged, you stop fighting tactically. We can¡¯t let this turn into an all-out brawl. That¡¯s the worst case scenario we can¡¯t win. We get in and out, stir a little havoc, and from there . . .¡±

    Violet frowned. So did Remus. Neither of them had bothered thinking so far into their futures, with the task at hand so looming. What were they going to do once the dust settled? Leave the Ravaged Lands obviously, but then what?

    ¡°I think,¡± Remus looked up at Violet gingerly, as if apprehensive of her response, ¡°I think we should make our way to the front lines. Once I get to Foot-Soldier, I can earn some profit. You don¡¯t have to come of course, but-¡± he flickered his arms to the side. ¡°We¡¯re getting ahead of ourselves. But still, I can¡¯t let you evade the question: how do you have all this?¡±

    Beginning to pack up the paperwork, Violet began to tell the truth. ¡°Have you heard of the Clan of Two Doors?¡±

    He cocked an eyebrow. ¡°The other name for the Trickery Clan? Yeah, what ab-¡±

    Shooting upwards, the sheer speed of Remus¡¯ jolt sent papers flying. ¡°You consulted them?¡± Yelling of course, was rude, and the sound echoed subtlety in the claustrophobic hut. But nevertheless, this was nothing short of madness.

    ¡°It was our best option,¡± Violet¡¯s head drooped slightly, ¡°I know it''s not ideal. I¡¯m sorry for not consulting you first, but I wasn¡¯t staying by their base for too long. I didn¡¯t get the chance. I only had a small window of opportunity to collect these, and so I took it.¡±

    Remus settled down. ¡°That was an overreaction. I¡¯m sorry. But nevertheless, buying information from a clan literally titled after their trickery . . . I wouldn¡¯t pin this down as trustworthy.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know,¡± Violet patted down the stacked papers, eying the tower with concern, ¡°but it all appears correct. Regardless, the plan will still work if this all turns out to be false, gods¡¯ forbid. For the most part.¡±

    Nearly all questions answered, a temporary silence fell over the two. A greater noise, except one only alive in Remus¡¯ head, spurred into existence. Raucous, and demanding every ounce of his attention. So much hung upon its utterance.

    ¡°How long until we set this into motion?¡±

    Judging her nonchalant reaction, Violet had been expecting this. ¡°As soon as we¡¯re ready to charge into that battlefield.¡± The woman glanced through the panes of their one window, eyes scrutinising every detail of the ashy visage.

    A few hours of walking, or one hour of frenzied sprinting, and they would reach it: Hell¡¯s Floor. That didn¡¯t sound real.

    ¡°Unless you have to go to West Ember?¡± Violet interrupted his brief reverie. ¡°I know you had trouble before, but has anything come up?¡±

    The image of Maris flickered across his eyes, refusing to perish until he blinked rapidly. ¡°I¡¯m . . . working on it. Just give me a day or two, apologies. I have to consider some things.¡±

    Violet looked at him strangely, but nodded. ¡°A few days is fine. It¡¯ll take us a while to manoeuvre through Hell¡¯s Floor safely anyway.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Remus walked into the hall, closing the door behind him, ¡°sorry for the delay.¡±

    Ignoring the growing tightness in his chest, Remus entered the bathroom, gripping the basin with both hands to steady himself. Guilt warped its way around and through the chambers of his heart, ensnaring him like some sort of emotional parasite.

    That same choice spun in his head, twisting his stomach. Is it right to destroy one sect to save another?

    Beyond a doubt, ¡®destruction¡¯ was blowing the matter way out of proportion. But still, Remus hated the prospect. But it was the only choice he had. Slumping against a wall, he gazed at his Mark. Even now, like always it was activated. This power was only possible through the Ambition Sect ¡ª to repay them, the least he could do was prevent their downfall.

    But the cost of doing so. It taunted his moral compass. For a few seconds he paced the room, hoping the motion would marshal his wild thoughts into order. It didn¡¯t. Remus dragged his back down the base of the sink, too preoccupied to acknowledge the discomfort of the surface, and groaned.

    ¡°Having trouble, are we?¡±

    Remus had never vaulted upwards so fast. His joints recoiled at the sudden motion, but Remus spun around regardless. In the basin, an inky blackness formed an eyeless, toothy face. Nova¡¯s voice struck his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± He spat, scanning the walls around him as he imagined any one of them caving in. The image of being splattered like an ant in a fist did nothing to slow his heart rate. Did Nova know where he was? The Unbounded must have, to send a Projection. Maybe he had been tracking them with Perpetual Sight for a while now, waiting for the perfect moment to skin his mangled body.

    Laughter. Vile, humourless laughter.

    ¡°What am I doing? I¡¯m the one who should be asking you that, dear Remus!¡± The amusement leaked from his every word. ¡°Why, how much gall do you have to possess to plot against me?¡±

    Remus spat out a rapid string of curses. Then another, simply for the sake of it. Where was Violet? Surely she would sense the presence of a God-Graced. But then again, this was simply a Projection. Who was to say if Nova had bothered to imbue any might into at all?

    An idea sparking within him, Remus set his fist ablaze, and whooshed his arm towards the oily creature. It caught it between its teeth.

    Nova¡¯s voice was distorted around his hand. The unintelligible uproar sounded distinctly like mirthful cackling. Molars penetrated his flesh, and Remus spasmed as the Projection refused to let his clutch go. In fact, it didn¡¯t appear affected by the fire at all.

    As blood enveloped the trapped appendage, Remus struggled to keep the moisture in his eyes at bay. Screaming, he stopped thinking, instead sending untempered Ambition quaking through his free hand. The basin cracked in a wave of debris and dust, with water gushing upwards. The momentum sent Remus flying, and ¡ª still attached to the slimy creature just short of a Tarlord ¡ª his mind scrambled, trying to estimate how powerful this Unbounded was. Splintered Rank? If he knew one thing for certain, it was that their stout size was as deceptive as anything.

    ¡°Come now Remus, you mustn''t be so afraid. I merely want to show you something. Something very interesting indeed.¡±

    As the world turned grey, Remus screamed until his lungs felt like tearing. The Projection spread its oozing mass across his body, chomping sporadically at Remus whenever it pleased. As his thoughts were forcefully tugged away, Remus¡¯ pleas for help were muffled.

    And all he saw was ungodly destruction

 46. A Drop in the Ocean

    Remus¡¯ head hadn¡¯t exploded, but then again, it didn¡¯t feel as if he was within his own mind in the first place.

    Clouds whisked by in bundles of mellow, as what felt like disconnected eyes panned the environs. His altitude began to lower, a pandemonium of sounds ¡ª none of them good ¡ª resounding through the air as an empty field came into view.

    It looked as if a god had scooped a mass of dirt out of the ground. For miles all around, there was nothing but loss. Remus received the unnerving impression that anything crucial had been removed, leaving a shattered nutshell in its place.

    Rubble dotted the dusty expanse, deflated buildings crumbling upon themselves. Fires fought for kindling, enveloping lifeless bodies as they made their way across the plain. The crimson lines dazzled the eye, and, like insects surviving a detonated  bomb, Remus felt his heart seek relief in the survivors worming their way to the surface.

    Nova¡¯s voice boomed in his head. Watch my minions trample over the makings of man.

    What? Remus tried to open a mouth, only for his voice to reverberate around without the need of one. He was about to ask what they meant, before realising he had misidentified the tiny figures. They were Unbounded.

    How does it feel to watch your city fall?

    With each utterance from Nova, Remus¡¯ soul was further crushed. Anymore of this, and he¡¯d have himself a spiritual pulp. This landscape before him was the remains of First Rite. And yet, it couldn¡¯t be real. Whatever demonic twisting of Perpetual Sight Nova was manipulating him with, it was a ruse, and nothing more. Remus told himself that same proclamation over and over again, and yet his body wouldn¡¯t stop rebelling against him.

    Even detached from his own physicality in whatever this mental transportation was, Remus felt as if he was trembling. This isn¡¯t First Rite, he reminded himself, this isn¡¯t-

    It sounded as if Nova was shrieking directly into Remus'' skull. No sympathy for your past home, eh? Are you simply beyond them now? Well, you did desert them after all. Oh well . . . I have other means to get under your skin.

    The image rippled away as if forged from water, and a new wave, baring a fresh atrocity, made Remus want to pull his eyes out. The familiar structure unique to only Hybrid materialised before Remus, but he was drawn to all the worst details.

    What I¡¯m showing you here is the future Remus. He barely registered the Unbounded¡¯s words, as his focus was dragged towards the city proper. One you cannot possibly change.

    The finest creation of Supreme Steel, the Silver Throne, sat empty upon a pile of corpses. Juniper, Cyrus, Maris. The bodies of every territory¡¯s sect leader sat motionless. Remus¡¯ vision flickered to a different perspective of the same scene. He found himself seated upon the throne, an army of Unbounded bowing at his feet every which way. Those not feasting on the millions dead, that was.

    Looking down, Remus felt giddy with sickness as Nova¡¯s lower body was laid out below him. Another angle, and Nova¡¯s undisguised head in Unbounded form stared into the depths of his being.

    Get out of my head, you freak! Remus attempted to punch the sinister face, but found no disposable limb to meet his command. Craft lies all you want. That won¡¯t stop us from exposing your plots to the world. When every god aims their wrath your pitiful way, you¡¯ll be the one begging for mercy.

    Nova cackled, as visions of everyone dear to Remus spun through his vision. Their carcasses lay in golden puddles, limbs either severed, or contorted at grisly angles.

    Oh, but they never will hear, my sweet summer child.

    Daimon¡¯s body, prone against a watery floor, stared up towards him. Half-drooping eyelids covered his pupils, but the unspoken shame in them made Remus want to weep. An underlying hatred, one brewed from Remus¡¯ departure, never would be quelled. Damion would remember his brother as a deserter who brought nothing but disorder to their clan.

    I was going to leave you to your own affairs Remus. Honestly, I¡¯m quite impressed you¡¯ve survived this long. For that, I was willing to leave you unbothered, to let the little havoc you draw into the world add some excitement to the mix. Nova¡¯s voice suddenly sounded disappointed. But now I hear you¡¯ve been plotting against me. So this is your reward.

    Andreas, consumed by his Supreme Rot. Violet, torn into two pieces. Hadrian, Veida, Tanguy, punctured by more holes than Remus could count. No matter how much he strained, he couldn¡¯t block the barbaric stream. Aziel¡¯s rotting body, leaking Ichor out of every orifice . . .

    It wouldn¡¯t stop.

    As soon as I¡¯ve had my fun with you, I will personally see to it that neither you nor Violet live to see another day.

    Shut up . . . hopeless misery drained Remus of his once boundless ambition; the concept now sounding frivolous and silly.

    The havoc of Hell¡¯s Floor infested the rest of the Ravaged Lands. Foreign horizons he didn¡¯t recognise became junkyards, and distant isles sunk back into the sea. The front lines merely became another razzed abyss, and the Unbounded reigned supreme.

    Remus tried to reconnect to his physical form. All he had to do was move his mouth for but a  second, and perhaps, maybe, he could get out of this. But the sole word became a fleeting impression, devoid of meaning. Nova obviously found this most hilarious. Remus imagined him clutching at his stomach, doubling over and slapping at his knee incessantly. She of all people won¡¯t save you, let alone hear your desperate plea.

    A fiery sensation raged through Remus¡¯ senses, morphing and morphing until it became a separate presence of its own. It appeared in his mind as a current of unstoppable red, bubbling and writhing in a spider-webbing network. It was anger incarnate, and like a safety rope, Remus latched on to it with all he had. The emotion was so familiar; so easy to bring into himself.

    He had felt angry at the whole world for treating him like dead weight. Angry at a deceased god for cursing him with no hope of salvation. Furious at anyone or anything he could direct his ire toward. Remus had let that hate devour him whole, just so he could feel something other than the most terrifying state of being of all: a numb emptiness. Because, at his core, that was what he had been all along. Afraid.

    And now, on the brink of death, he greeted it like an old friend. With his only kindling raw spite, Remus fuelled the flame of his Ambition.

    There, like a connection that felt as flimsy as a string that may be snipped any minute. His Mark answered his call.

    Seas of Ambition flooded through Remus¡¯ every vein, formless and free-flowing. With it, his body, sprawled across a stream of water, became tangible once more. He heard the broken sink continue to gush; felt the wet ceramic below his face, and the oozing Projection bundling across him. None of these sensations were particularly pleasant, but Remus anchored himself to them. The portals through which he would trespass into reality once more.

    The tables turned as Nova and his indignities became the distant impression. Hyper-fixating on every minute detail of his body, Remus managed to splutter a single word through numb lips. ¡°Maris!¡±

    A tidal wave crashed through the room, and Remus¡¯ eyes snapped open in a jolt of wild movement. Breathing in deeply, both him and Nova¡¯s Projection settled their eyes on each other.

    ¡°You sneaky-¡±

    Unfiltered Ambition channelled through Remus¡¯ legs, and he launched himself upon the Unbounded. The wall cracked where he sent the Projection flying, paving the way for a hole when he proceeded to kick at the lump in senseless strides. If his flames wouldn¡¯t work, booting the ever-loving crap out of Nova¡¯s apparition would have to do.

    Remus kept launching himself at the slimy remains well past the time Nova stopped speaking. He dropped to his knees, ignored Violet¡¯s oncoming footsteps, and looked at Maris¡¯ way for the first time since her arrival.

    The God-Graced looked at the evaporating streams of Infinity with something akin to amusement. ¡°Do you think you got him?¡±

    Standing up to attention, Remus bowed at the waist. ¡°Thank you. I . . . almost died back there.¡±

    Violet warped into the room in a surge of purple, flickered her head around the destroyed cubicle, before noticing Maris. Surprise, then a murderous look filled her eyes.

    ¡°No time to explain,¡± Remus took a step towards her, muscles screaming after being compressed. ¡°Nova¡¯s coming to kill us.¡±

    Maris whistled under her breath; Violet blanched.

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    Spinning on the spot, Remus grabbed the God-Graced¡¯s hand. Despite being literal flowing water, it felt oddly physical. ¡°If you promise to protect Violet and I from Nova indefinitely, I¡¯ll do anything you ask of me.¡± When it occurred to him this sales pitch may not have been convincing enough, he expanded. ¡°For the rest of my life.¡±

    Violet was appalled. If there was water in her mouth, she would have spat it out.  ¡°What?¡±

    On the other hand, Maris clapped her hands giddily. Calcareous teeth chomping, Remus had never seen someone grin so widely. ¡°Deal.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait.¡± Violet intervened, ¡°don¡¯t you think we have to talk about this? At least a little?¡±

    The ground shook beneath them, and, peering through a destroyed wall, Remus saw a lance of blinding amethyst divide the skies. After everything that had happened, he couldn¡¯t even offer up any surprise. ¡°There¡¯s no time. Maris, take us away ¡ª we can finalise matters someplace safe.¡±

    Raising her hands, Maris summoned enveloping clouds of moisture to surround them. Despite being covered from head to toe, Remus found that he could still breathe just fine.

    ¡°Order received, captain!¡± Maris¡¯ teeth, her only definable feature through her own stream of water, clamped. He couldn¡¯t help but find her boundless enthusiasm in this particular  scenario misplaced.

    As an indescribable bang approached from above ¡ª like a planet being blown to smithereens ¡ª their eardrums were spared from being ruptured. Remus¡¯ body seemed to alter forms, the physical portions liquefying. He had read somewhere that the body was mostly made up of water, but still, he couldn¡¯t help but feel that his physical portions were equally as important.

    Like a hook planted behind his naval, the soothing sensation was cut short. With one almighty tug, Remus was swept away. Like a drop in the ocean.

    <hr>

    Remus resurfaced into an abyss of blue.

    They were still underwater, but so deeply submerged, the sky was merely a white haze miles above. Below, schools of multicoloured fish swam peacefully, ignoring their existence all together. There were no signs of the seabed underneath, merely a murky emerald.

    Remus¡¯ lower body met his gaze when he looked down, but, staring at his lofted hands, he wasn''t restricted under that physical mass. More like . . . he was a passing stream in the waters, insignificant, but centred to this general area.

    Violet, an equidistant spot away from him, too looked down at herself in wonder. ¡° . . . What?¡±

    That question evolved into an abrupt exclamation, as they realised they could talk down here. How the sound travelled was beyond Remus, but nevertheless, with Nova out of the picture and the chance to explain himself, he wasn¡¯t about to complain.

    Nowhere to be seen, Maris made herself known through clearing her voice instead. ¡°Now Remus, we both know how much your specialties would benefit me. Plus, you seem to be more entangled with Nova than I ever could have guessed.¡±

    Remus heard the catch in her voice before she ever did mutter it. ¡°But warding off a God-Graced? This time I was able to merely transport you into a random patch of water miles and miles beyond the shores of Descent, but if I¡¯m forced into a brawl with Violet¡¯s father, I don¡¯t know how I¡¯d fare.¡±

    ¡°I know it¡¯s a lot to ask of you.¡± Remus would have bowed, but found the ripples of his body hard to control so precisely. ¡°But without someone as powerful as him protecting us, Violet and I, quite frankly, won¡¯t live to see another day. Your word is my action ¡ª anything at all ¡ª if you can keep his clutches at bay. I¡¯m well aware that risking so much for an Enkindled is a  wild gamble, but I promise you, given the time and resources, I¡¯ll ascend the Divine Ranks as fast as humanly possible.¡±

    Nothing but the churning waters of the ocean could be heard, as Maris considered him with a suddenly serious expression.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to interrupt,¡± Violet began tentatively, ¡°but have you two met before?¡±

    Nodding, Maris suited a jovial smile. ¡°Wise observation. I offered Remus transportation to and fro West Ember not long ago, in exchange for completing an errand for me. Mostly unfortunately, he declined.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Violet spluttered genuine surprise yet again. She fixed Remus with a stern expression, crossing her arms. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°She wanted me to attack the Frost Clan unprovoked.¡± Remus sighed. ¡°To ensure her acquisition of the crown. I, however, don¡¯t wish to brew any more bad blood. At least, I had the luxury of that choice until now. If Maris agrees to our deal, I¡¯ll grit my teeth and get it done.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Violet uttered. ¡°That changes things.¡±

    All around them, Remus felt a mystical energy drift. The encompassing water grew unrestful, fish fled away from their vicinity, and Maris extended both arms, the epicentre of it all. ¡°I¡¯d be willing to offer you an Oath Remus, to finalise our dealings, but first of all, I would like just one question answered.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡± Remus felt ready for anything. ¡°I¡¯ll answer anything I¡¯m able to.¡±

    ¡°Why, and how, is Nova controlling Unbounded?¡±

    Like a knife to the stomach, Remus felt a nauseating dread hit him. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°That Unbounded he kicked to death behaved eerily like a Projection. And for Nova¡¯s voice to have emerged from it . . .¡± She frowned. ¡°I want answers.¡±

    Panic seared across Remus¡¯ mind, neurological pathways providing no sort of solutions to this mess. Yet, despite the contrary he had experienced countless times, stress could often times provide clarity. After mentally scrambling for a moment, Remus composed himself. ¡°The answer to that is one I¡¯ll be happy to reveal to you. But after your Oath to protect us has been made. The knowledge you¡¯ll become privy to is only known by a slim few individuals, and only by Juniper on the God-Graced level, as far as we are aware. It could be just the thing you need to reach a level playing field with her.¡±

    He stood up straighter, the sensation strange in his liquid form, to add impact to his next words. ¡°But, like I said, I¡¯d only be willing to reveal such valuable information to someone I can completely trust. Make the Oath, and it''s yours.¡±

    On the whim of a last minute thought, Remus turned to Violet. ¡°Is that okay?¡±

    After a worrying second of reluctance, she nodded. ¡°Yeah. Our survival is worth it.¡±

    Two sets of eyes turned back towards Maris, whereupon she laughed deliriously. Remus inwardly exhaled. Is becoming insane a requirement for reaching God-Graced?

    ¡°You two are just full of surprises,¡± Maris eventually said, what felt like a deepsea storm enveloping the trio. ¡°Fine, let¡¯s get this Oath under wraps. But, just to warn you, Oaths involving someone of my Rank are particularly potent. If our surroundings go a little crazy, don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡±

    Remus stood to attention, as the leader of the Water Clan began to speak. ¡°I, Maris of the Water Sect, and honourable ambassador of Dwyn, will see to it that the mortals Remus and Violet will be protected from the God-Graced Nova, to the best of my ability. In exchange, he will meet any request I shall ask of him.¡± She seemed to consider something for a moment. ¡°And will offer me all the information he¡¯s gathered on Nova.¡±

    Their immaterial forms began to blur, gushing water growing so dense, he would have died in his regular state. Before it could grow anymore rampant, Remus held up his side of the deal. ¡°I Remus, Honourable Ambassador of Tanish,¡± that felt strange to state, ¡°agree to all.¡±

    An invisible tug, like a key sliding through a lock, and the surrounding disorder ceased. Remus sagged, and with a ponderous weight lifted off his shoulders, he was able to breathe. Finally, the threat of being squashed off this earth at any given moment would be put to rest. Nova would still have means to make their lives a living misery, sure, but inexplicable death by his own hands wasn¡¯t one of them.

    Maybe, in the faroff future, if he lived to accumulate some power, the Oath would become a bothersome constraint. But that was a risk Remus was willing to take for long-term safety, If such an issue ever arose, he would confront it then.

    Still, Remus couldn¡¯t rest for too long. It was time to be interrogated. A lovely way to pass the time, before being hurtled into the fray of the Frost Clan, to be sure.

    ¡°Thank you, your future Highness. I am indebted to you.¡± After a few polite words to appease her, Remus didn¡¯t waste time waiting for Maris to ask the overhanging question. ¡°Nova is-¡±

    ¡°Nova is an Unbounded,¡± Violet interjected, ¡°and so am I.¡±

    Maris¡¯ eyes scrutinised the two of them, as if expecting some kind of punchline.

    Violet continued, unperturbed, like a child downing some sicky medication to get it over with. ¡°The Chaos Clan has been overtaken by Unbounded dopplegangers, and they¡¯re steadily amassing political influence, with some sort of ulterior motive in mind. I¡¯m stuck with the memories of an actual member of the Chaos Clan, before they were presumably butchered, so no, I¡¯m not about to attack everything in sight under the will of some saviour complex. Once Remus finishes up on his detour, we¡¯re going to storm their base in Hell¡¯s Floor for more answers. I think that¡¯s about everything?¡±

    All laid-back air dissipating, Maris acquired a severe air about her. ¡°From what I¡¯ve processed from all that, this is a matter far more serious than what an Enkindled and Foot-Soldier equivalent should be dealing with. And Juniper really kept this to herself? Who else knows?¡±

    ¡°She did.¡± Violet answered her first question, seemingly unbothered. Whether this was simply a ruse, Remus couldn¡¯t infer. ¡°It would be difficult to convince the rest of the Mortal Realms without concrete evidence, apparently. Not to mention the political leverage attaining such information early could grant.¡±

    Maris spat scornfully. ¡°This could lead to the most dangerous catastrophe Descent has potentially faced in millennia , and that narcissist is concerned about politics?¡±

    ¡°Her words.¡± Violet sighed. ¡°As for your second question, an Unbounded researcher I keep in contact with, Veida, also knows. Apart from that, no-one.¡±

    Gigantic fangs shut tightly, Maris considered this. ¡°This has been a more informative deal than I ever could have imagined. I¡¯ll have to mull things over before coming to any proper decision as to how I¡¯ll use that info. Before we proceed, I¡¯ll transport Violet to somewhere safe, any ideas where?¡±

    ¡°Any outposts on the verge of Hell''s Floor would be fine.¡± She said simply. ¡°Do you mind transporting our belongings too?¡±

    Maris shrugged. ¡°Sure, but I¡¯ll have to personally travel there for you, unless they¡¯re drenched in water.¡± She sighed. ¡°So much hopping is draining, even for me. But don¡¯t you worry, I¡¯ll get it done.¡±

    ¡°But first,¡± she turned the vague, watery contours of her head to Remus. ¡°I¡¯ll have to send you on your way. Give them hell for me, okay?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Remus didn¡¯t hide his hesitance, ¡°but I¡¯m not going to hurt anyone if possible ¡ª is that fine?¡±

    She laughed. ¡°It¡¯ll be hard to do when you set all their homes ablaze in one beautiful bonfire, but why not?¡±

    She snapped a finger, and Remus felt that now-familiar hook-sensation below and behind his sternum. As the water began to bubble frantically, Violet called out.

    ¡°Be careful Remus! I¡¯ll continue to plan, so don¡¯t get yourself-!¡±

    There was a sound like the entire universe guttering out, and Remus allowed his body to be dragged away.

 47. Tip of the Iceberg

    Pacing up and down the icy passages of the palace, Foot-Soldier Lumi scowled.

    Territory Four¡¯s boundless waters were visible through a translucent section of the turquoise walls. They frothed and slapped themselves against the bobbling glaciers, as if attempting to knock the Frost Sect out of the sea. One of Maris¡¯ constant attacks, no doubt.

    The hallways themselves were grand and sprawling. They would have been chilly enough to evoke hypothermia in any other circumstances, but Lumi¡¯s Mark, dashing across her forehead, kept her immune to any potential dangers. It was one of the few passive effects of her Mark, in use even when inactive. Biting her nails, white hair spilling down her back, Lumi waited. Waited and waited for all hell to break loose.

    Jumpy clansmen passed around her in similar states of disarray, stress seeming to have seized the entire clan. Maris had been quiet ¡ª too quiet ¡ª for far too long now. All Passing, the desperate God-Graced had been throwing all sorts of bizarre tactics at the wall, seeing if any would stick. Alas, thank their god Jokull, Lumi¡¯s clan had held steadfast. But up until now, they had only faced minor schemes. Terrifying, yes, but contained.

    Explosives, intruding forces, tidal waves. Merely a few of the sadistic woman¡¯s mad ploys. They hadn¡¯t been too effective, with the bombed areas being evacuated, the attacking squad captured and swiftly eliminated, as well as the combined power of their Marks freezing over the approaching wave. Yet they had all arrived in rapid succession, in a matter of days. Sometimes less. This bombardment was the crux of Maris¡¯ plans.

    Or so it had seemed, up until this Duration of relative silence.

    Sure, the waters were as vicious as ever, and their standard skirmishes still occurred daily. But where were the elaborate exploits? Nowhere to be seen.

    Lumi fought the temptation to slam her head against the wall, composing herself. This was either a mental game, involving Maris attempting with much success to make them paranoid, or, she was negotiating something much bigger. Something worth sacrificing so much time on.

    Walking to the training grounds, simply to have something to do, Lumi drew from the moisture of the environment with a flick of the hand. It solidified into an icy halberd in her grip. Armour of the same material adorned her in a flush of water, constantly fluctuating between states so as not to shatter at the slightest impact. As it were, the uniform suited Lumi¡¯s every dexterous movement, constantly adapting between pure water to sheets of fractured rime.

    Hopefully, she would find herself another like-minded clansman to brawl with. Entering the spherical expanse at the very depths of the glacier, Lumi¡¯s wishes were met, and exceeded.

    A man draped in a cloak that only served as a tripping hazard strolled to the centre of the expanse. At his side, an entire patrol of guards eyed every angle with dark suspicion. As if within every inch of ice, a potential assassin may be lying in wake.

    With growing awe, Lumi watched the clan¡¯s leader concentrate his will. Featureless sculptures of ¡ª could you guess it? ¡ª ice materialised from him in dancing flakes. They all armoured themselves with a varying array of weapons: rapiers, crossbows, truncheons, and curved, crudely cut daggers.

    Tushar looked upon them all blankly, didn¡¯t bother to conjure any weaponry of his own, and ordered the wary brigade to stand aside. A billowing whirlpool of snowflakes streaked across the room, the second the mannequins took one step forward. With a bored expression, Tushar didn¡¯t even bother to raise his arms. The snow amassed around the summoned fighters with suffocating volume. After a few seconds of visible struggle, the dummies finally gave out. The sound of broken glass reverberated all around, and the man lowered his head to the scattered debris with unspoken disdain.

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to make these opponents tougher.¡± Tushar said dryly, in the tone one would suit when delivering a sarcastic comment. ¡°Far, tougher. See to it immediately.¡±

    The guards saluted. Based on their charmed expressions, every word uttered out of his mouth was a grand blessing. ¡°Yes, Sir!¡±

    Not doing so much as looking at the detritus littering the floor, he clicked a finger. The frost dispersed into water, which swiftly vanished.

    It was the quickest training session Lumi had ever witnessed. Not dawdling, the sect leader quickly made for the nearest exit. Which just so happened to be the one Lumi was occupying. She almost didn¡¯t hear his words.

    ¡°Is something amiss, young lady?¡± He asked, face emotionless as always.

    Realising she was blocking up the main way out, Lumi stuttered nonsensically before settling herself. ¡°Apologies, my Lord. Dread has seemed to slow me down substantially.¡±

    ¡°Do not let that fraud Maris bring you stress,¡± not a strand of Tushar¡¯s pearly white hair was out of line, as she moved out of his way, ¡°she lives in constant fear of my prowess. Why do you think she¡¯s constantly avoiding a direct conflict with me? Maris knows, should we ever draw blades, I would completely, and unequivocally crush her.¡±

    Those words couldn¡¯t have been timed worse.

    Wails of distress, from all over the glacier, sent goosebumps shivering through Lumi. Maris had finally come through. A scheme had been set into motion.

    A steady drip of water, and she looked up, horrified. The chamber was melting. Tushar took quick notice, and with nothing more than a blink, the ice solidified. Marching ahead, he shot off orders, marshalling the guards into specific locations all across the palace.

    ¡°Maris is finally making her final big push for the crown.¡± He put his fists together, ice forming over them both. ¡°The only option is to defeat her so dramatically, she will live the rest of her days in constant shame. Or, better yet, dead.¡±

    Water sploshed through the chamber, a line of water impaling a clansman through the chest. His arms scrambled madly from side to side, before not at all. Lumi put her hands to her mouth, and it was all she could do to trigger her Mark alongside the rest of the room¡¯s inhabitants. So much imparted will made the chamber as tough as could be. Nothing would get through that invincible sheet. Then, yet again, nothing should have been able to get through into a chamber this deep into one of their glaciers in the first place. Especially with Tushar in the room. Only an individual of equal might would possess the capabilities needed.

    Maris had arrived.

    ¡°Get back to your standard squad,¡± Tushar commanded, ¡°and be careful. Something tells me it won¡¯t just be Maris and her men who we¡¯re dealing with.¡±

    Ignoring the pandemonium of noise, Lumi ran out of the nearest exit, immediately stupified by a clash of sudden light. The entire tunnel was leaking, a stream of water lashing at her feet. Fires, oh-so many fires, casted a ghostly blue over the hall, their origin unknowable. Flaring her Mark, Lumi directed pure cool energy towards the azure fires, stifling their onslaught and repairing the hall as best she could.

    Her Boundless Vault was designed for dexterous movements as a Featherweight¡¯s Grace Mould, so she glided through a twist of the passage with relative ease. Lumi saw feuding batches of Frost and Water Clansmen, bodies totaling by the minute.

    This was a war of attrition no longer. The next monarch of Hybrid would be decided today, and no later.

    Lumi leaped upon a solitary pillar, superhuman speed and agility momentarily defying gravity as she sped across it. In much the same manner, she vaulted across the room, doing her best to ignore the raging inferno below. A silhouette sprinted through the bonfire, seemingly unfazed, features masked by the raging fumes. She didn¡¯t pay them much mind, and yet their seeming immunity was suspicious as all hell.

    Every passageway she traversed only unveiled yet more destruction. It appeared as if the entire Water Clan¡¯s attacking force had arrived, possibly hundreds of them commanding the ice to disperse. And yet Lumi¡¯s own people were far too preoccupied by the consuming sapphire to do anything about it. At this rate, the glacier would fall.

    Screaming, she searched and searched for her squadron. Each possible location proved a dead end, her Infinity reserves running low as Foot-Soldiers and beyond inhaled as deeply as they could of the surrounding supply. In a few seconds of frustrating consideration, she turned back. The pathways of Lumi¡¯s Vault strained as she pushed it to its limit. She would have to confront that flaming shadow herself. They were the one behind these neon streaks, she just knew it.

    Her head thumped against a wall, as an eruption of ice and gushing liquid tore the chamber in twain. Knocking her aggressively aside as collateral damage.

    When the frost equivalent of dust cleared, the image of Maris biting down into Tushar¡¯s bleeding arm was enough to send her spiralling.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Her sect leader shrugged the humanoid of moisture away in one broad stroke. Yet another wall shattered, the abundant shrieks refusing to settle.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you Maris.¡± Tushar declared simply, a crazed look in his eyes. ¡°Then I¡¯m going to personally visit the rest of your sect, and deliver them the same fate.¡±

    Maris sank into the water, rising and falling with the currents so that her shape was lost within. ¡°Water will always prevail over snow, my pretty friend,¡± a voice originating from nowhere in particular giggled, as cracks expanded across every surface in sight, ¡°it''s simply a matter of time.¡±

    How Tushar kept his cool was beyond Lumi. Nevertheless, she couldn¡¯t dawdle in this room ¡ª merely staying put in the same area as these two beacons of power was a recipe for disaster.

    Leaping out of there in a streak of Infinity, Lumi bit her bottom lip as cuts gathered across her back. Daring a risky second¡¯s look behind, nothing could be identified through the eruption of hail. When another gash opened upon her brow, Lumi didn¡¯t linger.

    Things had progressed so crushingly fast. Chamber after chamber had caved in, and halls were drowning with water. To the point she saw several Frost Clansmen swimming through. For approximately three seconds, that was, before rogue attackers from the Water Clan tore them to shreds. In their home domain of aqua liquid, Maris¡¯ soldiers needn¡¯t don a physical form. They became one with the fluid, unavoidable predators with no tangible mass.

    Lumi watched her peers¡¯ bodies contort as they became disposable husks. And there was nothing she could do about it.

    Expending the last of her Infinity, Lumi spent a few seconds prior directing the energy to her Mark. This wasn¡¯t what her Vault was designed for, and without the assistance of inner tubes, it didn¡¯t feel natural. The pathways were like roads, in the fact they made travel much more direct and simple. Sure, you could always walk on foot ¡ª or skirt your carriage away from the trodden path ¡ª but it was slower. Not nearly as efficient. The same general idea was occurring as her Mark, reinforced by the final drabs of her Infinity storage, froze the flooded room into one huge slab of ice.

    Frozen corpses of the Frost Clan hung suspended in the ice, but they weren¡¯t alone. Water clansmen, so smug and braggadocious as they were previously, now were confined in suspended animation. If they would¡¯ve had time to react, no doubt their mouths would be agape in helpless horror.

    Lumi commanded spikes of ice to finish them off, without a second¡¯s hesitation. Then, ignoring the urge to scream at the sight of her lost allies, she split the icy cuboid right at the epicentre. A new path formed, and she was through it in a split second.

    Right before surfacing to the other side, Lumi grasped at her knees, and allowed herself a moment¡¯s respite. The riotous noise encompassing the battle was an audible sea in its own right, but through the whooshing tides, one distinct sound ahead narrowed her focus.

    Crackling flames.

    Launching forwards, a breeze of heat fanned across Lumi. The frosty armour enveloping her visibly thawed. Only a thorough extension of her will retained the defensive layer. And even then, flakes refused to stay put.

    Lament highlights of that bizarrely blue fire made the chamber a blinding spectacle. Wincing, and looking through a gap between her fingers, Lumi took a moment to take in the environs.

    If it was somehow possible, this room was by far the most ravaged. In times now long since passed, it was an ornate antechamber junctioning into a variety of other practical sectors of the glacier. Now, Lumi couldn''t recognise an inch through the sea of combatants, a wall of flames, and one poor boy being beaten senseless. Her sympathy guttered out and died there, the second she noticed the azure sparks leaking out of his fingertips.

    If he were the one behind this travesty, in any sort of way, he deserved everything that came to him.

    The burly man throwing him over and over again upon the floor was substantially bigger. A crowd had gathered to occasionally deliver their own attacks into the torturous mix, and Lumi felt inclined to join them. Speeding into the fray, she almost felt pity for the child. His golden blood was splattered across the icy floor with every additional blow.

    In a hoarse cry, he suddenly jolted up, a Mark depicting a god Lumi had never seen engraved across his exposed shoulder. Beginning to glow in a sickening amount of blue and red, the Mark¡¯s activation heralded danger.

    The established fires around blazed with new ferocity, shooting upwards an extra few feet. They swept into one whole, a fiery vortex that filled the chamber from floor to dripping ceiling, in a sight that forced Lumi to stop. The humidity she had sensed earlier came crashing down, only heightened by a hundredfold. Frost clansmen raised their hands to intercept the attack before it reached its apex, but, as if materialising from thin air, enemy Water troops prevented their advance.

    A wild scream escaped Lumi¡¯s throat, as like a detonated bomb, loops of sapphire shot off from the lone fighter. Everything in sight was incinerated, and nothing but a white light consuming her vision, Lumi could do nought as her entire arm was seized by insidious fire.

    <hr>

    Remus had never wanted to push to such extremities. Truthfully.

    But he was bleeding from a score of points across his body, several of his teeth had been smashed into crooked positions, and at least one of his ribs must have been broken. His Mark was working overtime simply to numb the pain. He was teetering on completely guttering out of energy in this final blast of power.

    But the other option was being bashed to death by a stout man having a temper tantrum.

    Okay, maybe that comment was ill-placed for someone simply trying to protect their home, but Remus¡¯ rage was indiscriminate. In his false ocean of lashing azure, Remus felt the tug of his Oath egging his every act of destruction on. He felt like a dog on a leash, one that linked around his very brain. Addled thoughts were all that he could focus on. The need to survive, to get out of this hell now that irreversible damage had been dealt, sounded so blissfully sweet.

    Maris wasn¡¯t spared from his overwhelming ire. Before, as a Death-Marked, he had been a useless, blunted tool to the gods. And now, after so much trial and tribulation to attain a measle of might, barely a thing had changed. He was still a tool ¡ª just one that could come in useful every now and then.

    He wanted more than anything to be reasonable. After all, Maris would be saving them from certain death at the hands of Nova, but he couldn¡¯t fake sincerity. Not so punchdrunk and high on pent-up anger as he was.

    Few projectiles trespassed into his blazing domain. He saw flickers of icy spears dissolve, razored snowflakes disintegrate. A few Infinity-inforced blades stabbed into his flesh, but barely deep enough to bleed. A reliable amount of Ambition was ensuring his defence from blows this distant. Oddly, in the eye of his personal storm, no noise other than that he generated himself reached his ears. It was either lost in his billowing tornado, or he must have subconsciously filtered out their desperate voices. He didn¡¯t want to hear them scream.

    So much for not hurting anyone, Remus thought bitterly. With people this eager to dice him into smithereens, being choosy with how he dealt with the opposition wasn¡¯t an option.

    Remus would be dead by now, without Maris¡¯ forces suffering the brunt of the Frost Clan¡¯s forces. The notion that he was Maris¡¯ only ace up her sleeve now sounded beyond idiotic, even to just the small fraction of his brain not preoccupied with strain.

    A minute later, sensing inexorable pain finally creeping past his failing pain suppressant, Remus didn¡¯t have any focus to spare on idle deliberation. Once this final strip of energy faded into a hollow lethargy, it was all over. Stretching these reserves to their absolute limit, to secure him as much time as possible, was the only objective worth fixating on.

    Another minute in this blazing abyss. An additional minute so strenuous, his every muscle trembled, but he latched onto every passing second like the key to ascending the Divine Ranks.

    Death was not an option. Death was failure, Death was-

    As a tidal wave fluttered out his bonfire, only one of the chills that went up Remus was because of coolness. What was happening? Had the Frost Sect found a means to incapacitate him at last? Reaching out to his Mark, Remus attempted to trigger the divine gift into action yet again. Fire wouldn¡¯t last a second in this tsunami, of course, but increased endurance in case anything came crashing his way would be hugely helpful.

    The Mark did nothing but fry his pain receptors. Or perhaps this agony causing him to wither was a byproduct of his litany of injuries. Either way, Remus had lost his usefulness. All he could do was hold his breath, hope he didn¡¯t bang his head against a flying object, and pray that Maris didn¡¯t leave him for dead.

    It was hard to see through the water, but the looming space surrounding him . . . this was far, far larger than the reasonably sized room he had been fighting for his life in.

    The glacier, it occurred to him in a rush of panic, we sent it crashing back into the sea.

    Lower and lower he sank, too exhausted to make any attempt at swimming. There was nothing he could do. Eyes stung, injuries screeched, hands grew clammy. And still, the disturbed seawater all around wasn¡¯t done playing with him.

    Remus, closed his eyes, reflexes forcing his mouth open.

    The fact he didn¡¯t feel his lungs crush with water was a surprise. A welcome one, but a surprise nonetheless. Oxygen enveloped him in an invisible barrier, and Remus noticed his vision adjusting to the aquatic world.

    Her power flooding across his body in healing pulses, Remus almost cried at Maris¡¯ smiling face.

    He opened his mouth, only for a placed finger from the God-Graced to impede him. ¡°Don¡¯t waste energy by talking. Let my currents soothe your ailments. It''s not much, but my clan is blessed with subtle abilities to heal at higher realms of power. You¡¯ll be on your way soon, shhhh.¡±

    She was treating him like a child, but Remus didn¡¯t care. All he wanted was to get out of here, uncover the nearest safe patch of dirt, and sleep. For three decades, preferably.

    ¡°You did well,¡± she admitted with a smile. Or Remus presumed; his eyelids wouldn¡¯t stop fluttering. ¡°Met my expectations and well exceeded them. We toppled an entire base of theirs!¡±

    Remus spluttered. ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up for things to go . . .¡± Nausea struck him. ¡° . . . this far. ¡°

    ¡°Our Oath would say otherwise.¡± The undertones of annoyance in her voice unsettled Remus. ¡°Now then, off to West Ember we go!¡±

    Before Remus could even ask desperately to be brought to an infirmary instead, he was useless as his body liquified.

    The last thing he saw was Maris¡¯ widening rictus, a backdrop of splintered ice spreading for a mile all around. Then he promptly fainted, letting the will of the seas carry him as it pleased.

    What had he done?

 48. To Hell and Back

    Remus had been conscious for several minutes at this point, but he continued to lay upon the shore motionlessly.

    Tiny waves washed over his lower body every other second in a steady rhythm. Sand coated his pores in a chafing, irritating layer he was keen to rinse off. Yet alas, with a beaming sun directing its mighty gaze at him, a docile lethargy robbed him of the motivation. Nevertheless, the prospect of becoming sun-burnt didn¡¯t entice him. Taking a breath, he scooted up into a sitting position.

    Only for his body to recoil. He winced, crumpled back down, and groped his chin. It felt numb, pins and needles supplying an uncomfortable touch to his jaw-region. But, testing his teeth, he found them all perfectly back in place.

    So enough time has passed for minor injuries to subside, Remus pondered, forcing himself deeper into an oncoming wave. The wall of liquid washed away his second-skin of sand. How long exactly have I been here?

    His stomach grumbled, his skin felt tender to the surrounding sea salt, and an obfuscating fuzziness overlaid his thoughts. Not exactly painful, but not ideal either. Like he was always on the cusp of a headache.

    Getting to a stand proved a herculean task. Nausea submerged his stomach in that sickly feeling, wearing Remus down, and every breath brought a spike of pain behind his abdomen. An activation of his Mark quelled the pain; cleared his head a little.  Nevertheless, no matter how long he had been lying back-first upon that beach, his rib hadn¡¯t fully healed.

    Without Tanish¡¯s nullifying powers, he likely wouldn¡¯t be able to move without shedding new tears with each step. But Remus put that sobering thought somewhere deep in the nexus of his mind, focusing on a more immediate issue: hunger. If he hadn¡¯t eaten for multiple days, it was no wonder why he felt so exhausted.

    Maris really knows how to treat her loyal servants, Remus scoffed, adjusting to the light of the beaming oasis with a few finalising blinks.

    The island was broad, but he was fairly sure he could eye either end. Especially to his right and left. It might have been a mile or two of land altogether, choking with emerald greenery from end-to-end. They were difficult to make out among the overgrown shrubbery, but ruins so old they were only just about recogniseable caught his attention. Rumours of the sect-base of old jogged Remus¡¯ memory, a certain founder whose name was eluding him cropping up too.

    But food.

    It had been quite some time since Remus had been forced to live solely off the land. Everything he and Violet had learnt together, the accumulation of Passings of experience, felt like untrained mental muscles. It was all still there, somewhere in the depths of his noggin. The issue was simply searching through those unused corridors of mind to retrieve such precious info.

    And who was to say predators wouldn''t be laying in wake, somewhere upon this prehistoric landmass? The last thing Remus wanted was to be pressed by a gang of Unbounded, or any other standard beasts, for that matter. Though it wasn¡¯t all glum; no human touch to pluck the lands in centuries made for a vast array of plants to pick from.

    He feasted off berries, other foreign fruits, and anything he didn¡¯t suspect to be poisonous. As ample vigour began to return some presence to his form, Remus found himself itching once more to carry out one particular task. The reason he had gone to this wildlife exhibit in the first place. To master the old arts of the Ambition Sect; to return an ancient spark so desperately needed.

    Nothing had struck out to him until he reached a trio of monoliths. Three erected pillars of stone with verbose inscriptions, and a sole engraving above each respective script. But what really caught Remus'' eye was the figure lounging upon the crest of the central stone.

    Remus blinked, reached out a hand, and teetered on calling out when it simply vanished. He blinked again. Nothing.

    Am I going mad?

    Having learnt to trust his intuition when it came to potential dangers ¡ª as they always proved to be way past mere possibilities ¡ª Remus demanded more brewing power from his Mark. Head glancing from side to side, he saw nothing more than unkempt vegetation. Remus shoved down his sceptical inhibitions, reading from the first stone pillar. It was oval at the top, like a gravestone.

    An illustration of a circulatory system overlaid the vague drawing of a human body. Across the various veins, arteries, and other networks, a writhing substance flowed through. Only after reading through the inscription below, written in a tongue not unchanged by the winds of time, did Remus realise it was fire.

    ¡°Setting your circulatory system aflame.¡± Remus double, then triple checked the engravings. It was all correct. But something that sounded so innately dangerous, it made him reel back and grimace, wasn¡¯t exactly appealing. Sure, Remus knew the flame of his own Ambition couldn¡¯t harm him, but survivalistic instincts, primaeval ones, advised heavily against it. He¡¯d even set his own organs aflame before, like the time he¡¯d enveloped his heart to protect himself from a Greed Sect clansman. But still, he found himself stiffening at the thought.

    Unfortunately, Remus wasn¡¯t blessed with any more time to dawdle and scrutinise. The end of a dusty shoe sent him flying.

    Right into an ancient tree, the roots of which expanded a metre across and deep into the ground. He only avoided breaking another bone by expending blue flame through his fingertips at the last second. Hovering in space, he took a deep breath.

    An action that cost him a blow to the back of the head. Brains feeling like mush in his skull, Remus poured all his Ambition into resistance, letting himself drop and roll unceremoniously along the forest floor.

    If today ¡ª no, wait, it had been a few days since his encounter with the Frost Clan ¡ª was anything to go by, misfortune came in pairs. He couldn¡¯t go two conscious days back-to-back without the universe dealing him some sort of atrocity. If Remus ever took up gambling, gods forbid it, sheer bad luck alone would rob him of every coin.

    His invisible assailant brought on the pressure, undetectable, yet hitting with such force that every point of contact was sure to bruise. Remus¡¯ bones jangled in his trembling skeleton, his stomach twisted into a knot, and it was all he could do to stand upright as his face was painted a purpled mess.

    Even against the Frost Clan, he hadn¡¯t been outmatched this badly. Remus would have bet his every tooth that the attacker was multiple Divine Ranks higher than himself. What kind of hermit lived out in this wilderness in the first place, and how on earth had they amassed such unfathomable might? Had the isolation chafed away at their sanity?

    Using anger like a waterstone to harness his focus, Remus sidestepped right as a blur whirled past his head. A blast of sapphire burst out of his palm, but they¡¯d already escaped. Doubling down more, Remus turned faster than he ever had, almost spraining his ankle in the motion. Fighting with a damaged rib wasn¡¯t ideal, but drinking to the point of numbness on his own Ambition made it manageable.

    A rapid punch of his own landed. It felt like it had slammed straight into metal.

    Squealing, Remus grasped the appendage, hopping around haphazardly and hopping he hadn¡¯t broken anything. Allowing a coat of protective flame to shield him, Remus couldn¡¯t seem to steady his breath.

    If fighting directly would only get him killed . . .

    Remus blasted through an outcropping of trees, burning any speck of green in his path to char. He was back-tracking now, not really taking too much consideration to his exact placement. Acutely aware of how astonishingly fast his anonymous opponent was, Remus didn¡¯t know how long he had until yet another strike landed. Every multi-coloured petal swaying by caught his attention, any one of them possibly his opponent¡¯s disguised form blurring past. He couldn''t trust any of the strange sensations this place provided him: the ubiquitous scent of wet grass, the chilly, billowing winds sweeping gently over everything, and particularly, the human-shaped mass before him.

    Without having to think, heat amassed in an extended hand. It shot outwards, consuming the shape whole. With such speed he felt like he was flying, Remus landed directly ahead of the blazing bundle.

    Huffing, he swiped sweat off his brow, the physical presence of his own Ambition blazing brighter than any morning sun. A satisfied smile fluttering on his lips, Remus examined his defeated enemy with growing suspicion. Hair that fell back to their nape sparkled through the pillar of blue, imposing features unmoving on their youthful face. They weren¡¯t excessively young, but you wouldn''t class them as middle-aged either. Most accurately, far into their twenties. But then again, the unaging effects of higher Ranks had really screwed with Remus¡¯ perception of age. Their hands were poised in a fighting stance, unmoving, a bandanna sweeping back like there was a perpetual gust of wind wrapped around the man''s forehead. A raucous eruption of emotions twisted round Remus¡¯ heart, as precise descriptions were roused from the depths of his memory.

    Without an ounce of doubt, this was Enrique. The founder of the Ambition Clan.

    Only problem was, they were made out of metal. It was a statue.

    Remus realised this far too late, turning around too slowly to escape a direct uppercut. Besides the fact his back was pounding with pain once he collided with the ground, his teeth threatened to bend unnaturally yet again. A foot pressed into his back, the rib rebreaking in a surge of agony no amount of Tanish¡¯s power could disguise.

    Seething, the image of that first monolith and its teachings returned to Remus. In a motion so bizarre, it took all the concentration he had, every vein in him set ablaze. A network of sizzling blue sent his body into overdrive.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Time seemed to slow. To the extent that Remus had enough space to breathe, and skirted out of the way of his assailant¡¯s fist felt like it was nothing. A fissure spread through the ground where the man had struck, but as Remus came to a steady stand, their actions had lost their superhuman touch. No longer did Remus feel overwhelmed, like a puppy coming into this world with nothing but a vague sense of danger.

    So much throttling might surging through his legs, Remus leaped into his attack. With a sound that felt like a whip cracking, Remus dug a blazing fist into the man¡¯s chest. A surprised expression overcame his opponent, and a version of Remus in his right mind would have abused this instance as the opportunity to attack again it was.

    Instead, Remus opened and closed his mouth stupidly, as he recognised Enrique¡¯s features.

    The founder was the spitting image of his statue ¡ª or perhaps it was the other way round. Remus didn¡¯t have too long to scrutinise their appearance, but the only outlying difference was the symbol for nine etched onto their forehead.

    They smiled knowingly, before shooting out their own current of aquamarine flame. Remus didn¡¯t see much of them from there.

    Ambition versus Ambition. It was like Remus was fighting himself; an alternate version only about one thousand times more powerful.

    Enrique¡¯s onslaught was undeniably the more potent of the two, but Remus was even more disadvantaged by a scrambled mind. How was Enrique here? How? He should have been reduced to ashes within his coffin aeons ago. Something beyond Remus¡¯ understanding was occurring here, something that unnerved him to the bone.

    At the worst moment possible ¡ª fate¡¯s favourite time to traumatise him ¡ª Remus lost control. The flames circulating through him rebelled, and unfounded pain sent him crashing. Blinking out moisture, and choking down whimpers, every tiny movement of Remus¡¯ body earned a divine smiting. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open, twitching as he assumed the position that elicited the least pain. There was none that matched such a description, so, in a more accurate assessment, Remus squirmed.

    It was only after a few minutes of slow, horrific recovery, that Remus realised he wasn¡¯t being bombarded with killing blows. Sitting upright, his blurry vision was slow to clear.

    Enrique stood with his back to the log of a tree, one foot over the other, chewing on a stem. ¡°Relax,¡± he raised the plant out of his mouth. ¡°The pain will subside slowly. I myself recall the shock of using Flaming Gold for the first time.¡±

    Remus had to fight an internal war to get the next words out. ¡°Flaming . . .Gold?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the name of the ability you used.¡± He spoke casually, as if it was perfectly normal to still be alive. ¡°Where you flood your circulatory system with Ambition. Hence the name. You quite literally set your Ichor on fire. Though I doubt you needed me to explain that much.¡±

    The action of nodding now beyond strenuous, Remus'' jaw recoiled. ¡°Yeah.¡± Was all he could mutter. There were so many questions he wanted to ask; a boundless number of enquiries. But at that moment, hunching against hard ground, he could only ask one. ¡°How?¡±

    Enrique frowned, but not without following this up with a sly grin. Remus got the impression he would have smile lines if not for his Divine Rank. What had he been . . . Warlord? God-Graced?

    ¡°How what?¡± He began finally. ¡°How am I here?¡±

    Remus put a thumbs up, but that hurt equally as much as nodding.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not alive, per se, if that¡¯s what you''re asking.¡± Enrique¡¯s form suddenly grew ghostly transparent. ¡°I died well before anyone alive currently was born.¡±

    He scowled again. ¡°But that isn¡¯t exactly true either. There¡¯s that man for instance. Probably a few others I can¡¯t name.¡±

    Sheer curiosity, and quite possibly good timing, allowed Remus to speak without immense resistance. ¡°That¡¯s nice and all. But care explaining why you decided to beat up an injured man?¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Enrique didn¡¯t sound sincere in the slightest. ¡°Apologies for that. I wanted to gauge your general strength, and this seemed the most effective way of doing so.¡±

    Remus grumbled, but dropped the matter there. There were topics far more important to get to. Keeping petty grudges wasn¡¯t something he could afford. ¡°How are you speaking to me? The Ambition Clan is being held captive right now. If you could retur-¡±

    Enrique shook his head. ¡°Not possible. I¡¯m bound to this island. As for how I¡¯m here . . . I don¡¯t suppose the Spirit Clan is still around?¡±

    At Remus¡¯ blank look, he exhaled. As if it was the most disappointing news in the world. ¡°Should have thought as much. Makes sense a clan as dangerous as them were wiped out. The power to bring a memory of someone temporarily back, even in a far weaker form, is just about the scariest thing I can think of.¡±

    ¡°But you decided to use it yourself.¡± Remus didn¡¯t refrain from putting out.

    ¡°Yes.¡± He agreed. ¡°With just about a third of my life¡¯s savings, I asked those ancient clansmen to keep me bound here. To let me reawaken when someone of my own clan arrived once more.¡±

    Remus could see the reasoning behind that last bit. ¡°So if anyone not from Tanish arrives here, they¡¯ll just see an overgrown island with a few monoliths, and won¡¯t bother to stay?¡±

    ¡°Right on.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that number on your brow?¡± Remus mustered up the courage to ask. ¡°Was suiting random symbols trendy in your time?¡±

    The man howled with laughter. ¡°Gods no! Your coming here activated my presence. Ancient energy from the Spirit Clan, possibly the last strand on Decent, has enough power to keep me here for nine days. That¡¯s what the number indicates. You have a Duration with me. A far weaker, restricted version of myself, but you have Enrique the founder at your service nonetheless.¡±

    Remus shivered. The power to revive the deceased, even if temporarily. What if someone was still out there, clutching onto that ancient power somehow, just like Enrique had? It was unlikely, but Remus would have to be the most optimistic man on earth to deny its possibility. Never was the most deceptive word of them all.

    But only a Duration. Nine days to master techniques so advanced they had been lost to time. Even if he had his hands on a few more Durations in the worst case scenario, the Ambition Clan was a ticking time bomb. He would have to be quick. And these injuries of his were doing nought to help in that regard.

    ¡°Teach me.¡± Remus requested desperately. ¡°Without these techniques, the Ambition Sect doesn¡¯t have much hope. Please.¡±

    The man, the founder of a sect so impossibly old, the first of Tanish, beamed down at him. ¡°Of course. This was precisely why I implanted myself here in the first place. If any danger was to arise for the Ambition Clan, I would be there to help them. And after all these years,¡± a hungry look consumed his eyes, ¡°I am all yours.¡±

    ¡°Set your Mark ablaze right now,¡± he suddenly stepped forth, ¡°let Tanish numb your pain. By the end of this Duration, my Enkindled friend, I will have made you a monster.¡±

    <hr>

    Sleeping in the middle of a warzone was exactly as hard as it sounded.

    Yet, nevertheless, Koa and the rest of the travelling party bunkered up in an empty stretch of land as best they could. The luxury of warm, lit, and scented rooms were a thing of the past. After their last little incident, none of the group were courageous enough to risk any of the inns.

    Besides, this deep into tho Hell¡¯s Floor, the opportunity for sleep was so far and few in between, that Koa¡¯s head couldn¡¯t tell the difference between a pillow and concrete. The entire expanse of mud was rife with conflict at every turn, regardless of the hour, and they were lucky to catch half-an-hour of uneasy rest every few hours. This was one of their more fortunate instances. Two entire, uninterrupted hours had passed so far. An unexplainable miracle frankly too good to be true.

    And yet Koa¡¯s mind refused to make use of it. No matter how utterly exhausted sprinting away from random conflicts made him, lethargy was a slim foe for a greater emotion. Pure curiosity, demanding his attention.

    Elmore sat cross-legged at the mouth of the dank cave they were occupying. The constant trickle of the rain, and the remote whisperings of death only indicating what was happening outside, should have been enough ambiance to set them off asleep. But Elmore let the downpour patter across him, completely motionless. Koa would have thought him asleep if not for the occasional shifting motion he made.

    What on Earth is he doing? Koa thought incredulously, both annoyed by his lack of sleep, and too intrigued to fully care.

    Some time later, it was hard to fully keep track of how long had passed, a bang far louder than the others sparked alarm into all of them.

    Donovan got up so fluidly, it was like he had been conscious the entire time. ¡°A battle is closing in our location, by the sounds of it. It would be wise to keep moving.¡±

    Ash took several minutes to rouse, as usual. Their lack of quality resting time was probably his idea of the worst fate a human could endure. Though with time, after some drooled complaints, and a few shakes from Donovan, he managed to get up eventually.

    They were packed up and ready to go within minutes.

    By the time Koa and his brother had gotten outside, the damp moisture of the air hitting them, Donovan had gone off to scout out the immediate area.

    Elmore, now standing, coughed into a fist. It was mumbled too much to be intelligible.

    ¡°What?¡± Ash asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. ¡°What did you say?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Elmore eventually managed, turning around slowly and gritting his teeth.

    Frozen, hand mid-sweep through his tousled air, Ash¡¯s eyes widened. ¡° . . . Pardon?¡±

    Fully facing the pair of them now, a profound look seized Elmore¡¯s features. ¡°I apologise, alright? I was jealous of you before, Ash, I admit it. I hated how fast you were progressing, hated how effortlessly everything came to you. I was . . . yeah, to put it simply, envious.¡±

    Koa took his own pause. It wasn¡¯t that he hadn''t thought his cousin capable of admitting his faults and apologising, he simply hadn''t expected it in this regard. And to Ash, of all people. Still, the words, raw-cut and real, struck a chord with Koa. He too, even if only admitted inwardly to himself, or at the crescendo of a heated argument with his brother, had held a similar line of thought all his life. But to think that frustration was shared, even with someone as seemingly capable as Elmore, made him reflect. Thinking back, Koa was left scratching his head on how he hadn¡¯t noticed the cause of his cousin¡¯s previous animosity far earlier.

    Not saying a word, Ash held Elmore¡¯s gaze blankly.

    ¡°I was worried you would usurp me in the running for sect-leader,¡± he confessed, looking flustered. ¡°That sounds ridiculous in retrospect, but it''s true. Besides, my interests at heart, at their surface level, all link back to the sect¡¯s prosperity. Growing talent can only be a net positive in that regard. ¡±

    Ash found it in him to open his mouth at last. But the movement felt disjointed; forced. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about that . . . sect leader? Pff, I¡¯d never take up that responsibility. Too much paperwork, too little sleeping.¡±

    He forced out a laugh. It was awkward, terribly uncomfortable. But it seemed to settle everyone¡¯s nerves. ¡°Good, good.¡± Elmore smiled, swivelling away from them. ¡°But who knows? Maybe one day, once my time as sect leader passes, it could be one of you two who picks up the mantle.¡±

    A stunned quietude enveloped the brothers, as Elmore took off at a pace far too leisurely for a deadly battleground. For the first time in Passings, he stood up a little straighter, a jovial air about him freed from a now lifted weight.

 49. Testing the Waters

    ¡°We need to wear you down,¡± Enrique explained, on the dawn of the third day, ¡°the ability will come much more naturally when you¡¯re already exhilarated.¡±

    Remus tried to keep that in mind, flying as high above the island as he could, a phantom blur coming for his hide. Down below, West Ember was the size of a button in a sheet of blue. The winds were chilly this far up, and he only avoided ascending any higher to circumvent the obscuring clouds. The divine power of Tanish¡¯s Mark eliminated the pain of his damaged rib, which had surprisingly healed at an unprecedented rate.

    Unfortunately for him, flying, numbing his pain, and drowning himself with enough potent Ambition to risk the staggering heights was demanding as all hell. If Remus ran out of stamina up here . . . his death as a golden blotch dying the waters below was assured.

    And Enrique just wouldn¡¯t get off his back.

    They drifted through the sky in intricate patterns, the founder always just one step ahead. Bullets of flame so hot they turned white tried to tear through Remus¡¯ flesh, but they achieved little more than skimming past him. Conjuring a mini supernova of flame between his palms, Remus directed all his focus on maintaining the blinding orb.

    Enrique was shirtless as he soared, leaving his Tapestry plainly in view. Like Hadrian¡¯s, the godly construct was the tell-tale sign of a past Mercenary-Ranked. Cleaving through the skies as he was, Remus could hardly sit still and examine the heroic feats of Tanish it undoubtedly displayed, vision enhanced from Engorged or not.

    Of course, despite how much of an unstoppable force Enrique felt like in the heat of battle, if Remus were to fight him at full strength, it wouldn¡¯t even be close. This ghostly form may have been tough as steel, but a full-powered Warlord or higher-

    Remus shivered, almost losing his hold on the charging might.

    This compressed mass of pure power brewing between his hands was his only hope of dealing any real danger. Remus was still yet to get a good hold on how to utilise Flaming Gold properly, so for now, until Enrique instructed him to do so, its use was off limits. The other two techniques may have been viable, if he knew anymore about them, but the founder had inhibited Remus from even thinking of their usage until he had mastered the first.

    In short, at this rate, Remus might never get the chance to discover the contents of those two monoliths.

    Flying aimlessly in sporadic patterns, Remus avoided horrific punches from Enrique by a miraculous string of flukes.

    It was hard to describe the sensation between his fingertips. Burning would evoke images of pain, but he felt none in the slightest. At least, unlike past attempts at supercharging one pinpointed blast of power, he knew roughly where the threshold between warmth and pain was. He walked along it carefully, hoping he didn¡¯t have the equivalent of a faulty bomb on his hands.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Enrique spoke to himself, placing a hand on Remus¡¯ shoulder, ¡°you¡¯re thinking along the right lines with tha-¡±

    Expending bucket-loads of Ambition, Remus centralised the blazing mass he had generated into one appendage-shaped model, over the missing ring finger. Concentrating a larger initial bundle proved worlds faster than the slow, careful method he had utilised so long ago now.

    His every muscle roaring at the split second of blinding speed, Remus flipped midair. Where his finger had swiped a blazing path, a bleeding tear formed down Enrique¡¯s chest.

    The returning strike came instantly.

    Crushing Remus¡¯ shoulder, muscle and bone were flattened. Remus found himself descending. Descending and descending until the very air in his lungs was whisked away from him. Gagging, West Ember unfolding from a pin in his vision to an entire land mass, Remus flailed. Relying on one arm down, a gust of fire propelled him up steadily higher, and breath came easy at last.

    Mobility taxed, Remus didn¡¯t have the freedom to dodge Enrique¡¯s oncoming shape. A burning grip incinerated the sleeve of Remus¡¯ shirt, and, like a yoyo, Remus found himself spinning downwards once again.

    One, two, three rapid hits from the founder. Remus revitalised his Mark in a surge of panic, was tossed upwards in his own urgent blaze, and came swooping into the shore¡¯s waters. If not for three key factors, Remus would have been at gravity¡¯s cruel mercy. Endurance blessed by Tanish, the softening catch of the water, and that last outpour ensured his descent did little more than disconcert him.

    Remus never thought about spreading his Mark usage thin when facing Enrique. He found himself burning out less and less these days, and besides, without the boost, the founder would have him choking on sand within seconds. The man was quick to follow, and it was all Remus could do to wrestle as the battle was drawn once more onto the island.

    Sometimes I wonder if you intend to kill me with this training. Remus recalled often saying, eyes stinging from his own sweat. The founder would laugh, before forcing an exhausted Remus into yet another bout. I would be doing you a disservice if you didn¡¯t feel that way.

    Like the beacon of a lighthouse tripping on, Enrique was devoured by blue flames. A one-worded screech of, ¡°now!¡±, and the colour lightened to a vaporising white.

    Remus obeyed his mentor. All at once, his every muscle bracing in anticipation, golden veins turned blue.

    Before the pain could even hit, Remus held his breath, dashing out of the way. Sand was unearthed, flickering in his direction like the waves of an ocean turned physical. He jolted to his right, took a brief flight up and to his left, and one more directionless leap. All sporadic minions, but it was all he could do to avoid being crushed. Stripes the colour of ivory floated in his vision ¡ª a relentless Enrique impossible to gaze upon.

    And all the while, agony made Remus want to crawl up into a ball. Not an inch of his body was spared, perspiration leaking out of every pore so fast, Remus felt like he was being wrung dry. Tanish¡¯s endless adrenaline could do so much, and Remus was forced to focus on a tool in his arsenal he¡¯d left unused for far too long.

    Unshakeable willpower.

    He liked to think his mental fortitude, his discipline, and mental strength were all sublime without any divine boost. But as he flooded a decent percentage of his might towards his mind, the pain that was once so unbearable was laughable in comparison. It was like drinking excessively, reaching the high that came before crashing down into a stupor, but he could dictate exactly what was affected without any of the impending, would-be drawbacks.

    Dangerous confidence, teetering to the point of arrogance, allowed Remus to keep fighting. And yet, as he and Enrique danced around one another, neither risking the first strike, the tiny logical portions of his psyche warned him. He had minutes until this self-inflicted torture would become insufferable once more.

    So, in the only viable move to impress his mentor, Remus dived forwards. He feigned, made it look as if he was going for the legs, but actually set his sight on the man''s neck. A chop of the hand would slam the air out of Enrique¡¯s throat. But Enrquie wasn¡¯t new to the intricacies of battle. Decades of veteran experience gave him the breathing room needed to both read the trick, and intercept it with his own.

    He disappeared. Remus looked round, saw nothing, and fought the urge to scream in frustration. If he could just slowly lead the fight into a certain direction . . .

    Infinity must be propelling him even faster. What Mould does he have? Something speed bas-?

    A hurtled tree, roots and all, snapped the cartilage of his nose.

    There was only so much that sheer willpower could drown out. Thorns dug into Remus¡¯ skin, other branches snapped into his face, and, likely, a whole array of other obstacles punished him. Remus stopped paying attention.

    He landed in a ditch within the earth, perfectly shaped to his body. Enrique¡¯s hand appeared a second later, with the founder doing his best to disguise a thin smile. ¡°I saw you trying to lead me to the ocean. Clever, but should I let you in on a little secret?¡±

    Enrique learned in conspiratorially. ¡°You can alter the flame of your Ambition in such a way that it¡¯s unaffected by water. You¡¯re treating your attacks like literal fire ¡ª it isn¡¯t. The only reason it''s sharing the same traits is because you''re subconsciously basing it off the real thing. Don¡¯t. It isn¡¯t.¡±

    Remus would have slapped himself if his arm wasn¡¯t tight with pain. Expectations shaping the properties of his Ambition made sense ¡ª that would explain why his own flames didn¡¯t burn his hair off, or as to why standard clothes sometimes didn¡¯t erupt in flames. Contrary to what Flame Sect trainees were forced to suffer through. Subconsciously, he hadn''t wanted to go hairless, or to buy a new shirt every time trouble stirred. ¡°That would have come in useful. Approximately the hour before I came here.¡±

    ¡°Oh well.¡± Remus could do nothing as Enrique picked him up, hand on his chin. ¡°Now seems about right. No time like the present.¡±

    He tossed Remus metres away. His lower body roared in pain, and he gagged, every movement like a blade piercing into his skin. Once he landed, it was all he could do to obey Enrique¡¯s next command.

    ¡°Sit straight and completely still! I¡¯m coming to strike you at full strength. Flood as much Ambition as possible into your skin, if you don¡¯t want your chest to collapse inwards.¡±

    Suffice to say, Remus didn¡¯t need any more convincing. Fear kept his body petrified, and demanding more Ambition from his steaming Mark than ever, the blind desire to survive pushed Remus to unfounded heights.

    It was an odd sensation, empowering such a fickle layer of tissue. Really, how resistant could a millimetre barrier really be? Remus'' mind went into overdrive, a hundred, and then a thousand more horrific images of his inexorable demise occurring to him. Each more brutal than the last.

    He kept his eyes shut tightly. All respects to Enrique, but a millennia of slumber had left the man ignorant. Remus had escaped death a score of times from their hand, and the spirit hadn''t even seemed to notice. Some people on this earth may have been invincible warriors, but Remus was weaker than eighty percent of Descent. No matter how handicapped the God-Graced was, a true hit would cleave Remus in two.

    Skin. Endless energy sinking into his skin now felt meaningless. Like he was watering a plant in the rain. But it was all he could do.

    A brush of wind indicated something ¡ª a certain someone ¡ª approaching. One second dragged into a mental battle that felt like an hour. Like a guillotine descending over his head, a fist collided into Remus¡¯ chin.

    As his face was forced back in a mess of spittle, Remus prepared to die. For his brain to explode. But it didn¡¯t.

    This one fact; this one miracle of existence caught him so off-guard, that Remus was left marvelling as an array of barraging attacks rained down on him. He felt their impact of course, but his body was only pushed back a few inches. And the pain. Aside from the eruption still persisting from earlier, he felt next to none.

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    What is this? No answers occurred to Remus, but he was just thankful to be alive.

    A laugh from Enrique, full of prideful mirth, struck his ears. ¡°Good, good! That¡¯s perfect!¡±

    He continued to beat down upon Remus as he spoke. ¡°Thick Skin is near impossible to use whilst moving without Passings, maybe Rebirths of training. But if you catch an instance where you can stand completely still¡ª¡±a sound like clanged steel reverberated where the man struck¡ª¡±you can catch your enemy off-guard with protection as tough as metal. You might even break a few knuckles in the process too.¡±

    The cost of using Blazing Gold faded away, leaving Remus with nothing but the strange feeling of Enrique¡¯s painless blows. If he could absorb attacks from someone as powerful as this man without harm . . . the possibilities that opened up made Remus smile like a maniac. But the disadvantages limited its use severely. When in a battle did you have the chance to remain completely immobile? It was certainly something to consider, but the potential was there.

    ¡°Oh, and by the way,¡± Enrique began nonchalantly, ¡°I was lying earlier. If I were to go all out on you, you¡¯d be dead. No offence, but it''s the truth. Thick Skin can work somewhat against foes a few Divine Ranks higher than yourself, but don¡¯t go sticking your nose in the business of Godlings any time soon.¡±

    Remus scoffed. ¡°Too late for that one.¡±

    The sound of something tiny spinning overlaying his words, Enrique chuckled. ¡°Not a people pleaser, are you? But, just to preface . . . this is something closer to my actual wrath.¡±

    Snapping his eyes open to face a fist implanted into his stomach, Remus heard something along the lines of a bomb powering to go off. Time stretched out, and his mouth widening in slow motion, a wick of white so concentrated it was a perfect sphere slowly expanded.

    This all occurred in one-split second. Knowing full well he was about to face an explosion at point-blank range, Remus demanded his exhausted Mark to do the impossible. Calling on so much Ambition it was ridiculous, Remus¡¯ Ichor and outer body set ablaze with energy he shouldn¡¯t have.

    He sprang upwards with enough speed to shatter an Engorged¡¯s legs, expending flames to accelerate his get-away. In a noise that made his ears pang, Remus shut his eyes tightly.

    A sensation like he was once more being whisked away by Maris consumed him. Enrique¡¯s frantic cries became a faint din, and, as if by somebody else¡¯s accord, his body slumped.

    <hr>

    What felt like ten pillows knotted together held Remus¡¯ weight, but his senses were muffled. The vague sort of awareness of a second-grade reality, the best job a copy can accomplish, encompassed everything. From the touch of the floating marshmallow below, the almost unidentifiable chillness an endless wind seemed to carry, to so far as the weight of his own body.

    Even before Remus snapped open his eyes, it was plainly apparent. He was dreaming.

    Skies surrounded him, only blue revealing a deeper blue meeting his eyes in any direction he glanced. Remus was mid-air, not exactly sitting on the enveloping clouds, but instead held in place by some invisible force. Or perhaps that was simply the logic of this lucid expanse. Memories clicked into place faster than he could fathom: this place, and the one time previously he¡¯d visited it, in a trance exactly like now. The realisation merited such joy, he fought the temptation to weep.

    Remus swivelled around, and, before even locking eyes with the god he knew to be there, scrutinised his Mark. With a thought, his shirt disappeared, and his Mark, acquiring a faint blazing sensation, stretched down from his shoulder, across his back, and reached his tricep.

    Ashbel¡¯s stand against Tanish was more detailed than ever. The colours were now deepset, acquiring a newfound definition ¡ª bright and varied beyond belief. Tanish¡¯s musculature bulged as he sported that signature look of superiority, and the endless coals behind Ashbel¡¯s front of insidious fire were just about visible. The two gods were the polar opposite in practically every factor, but the means through which they channelled their boundless strength . . . with his time spent at the Flame Sect, Remus knew that similarity better than anyone. And then, in the freshest addition to have manifested mere seconds ago, a coating of faint flame created a texture of swooshing waves.

    There was only one word to describe the affliction: Emblazed. With his Mark finally completed, Remus had ascended a Divine Rank.

    His head shot upwards in a moment turned  sickly with mirth. He remembered being a Death-Marked, the black sheep of his clan. He recalled the roiling hatred driving him on when nothing else would. It may have been the exhilaration of being thrown out of battle, the relief of a temporary haven, but for a thousand tiny reasons, Remus couldn¡¯t fight back his own amounting waterfall. Each recollection merited a tear of its own, and Remus clenched both fists. The stream refused to settle, visions of his life spinning in his head. Days occupied with nothing but chaos and training. It hadn¡¯t been a waste. He latched onto that thought like the warm embrace it was.

    When he mustered the courage to look up, the moisture lining his face not doing much to present him as a menacing figure, a lopsided smile elicited a matching grin of his own. Looking further up, past the coldness of a dozen scars, a counteracting warmth could be found in Tanish¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°You don¡¯t waste your time, do you?¡± The god of Ambition said wryly. ¡°What, it''s only been two Passings or so since our last meeting, and here I have another budding Emblazed on my hands!¡± Tanish smacked his chest, letting out a boisterous laugh drowning in boyish pride. ¡°Typically takes years.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it does,¡± Remus cleared his throat, wiping his eyes dry. ¡°Though I don¡¯t think most people quite have the urgency to strain their Mark as often as I do.¡±

    A little over two Passings of constantly keeping his Mark activated seemed to have done the trick. To think that Remus was now as powerful as the rest of his clan, disregarding one notable figure out of that equation. Something told him he should have been awe-struck, but it didn¡¯t feel real. Was yet to sink in.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be humble, my dear Emblazed.¡± Remus¡¯ mirth only grew each time the title was used. ¡°Between dealing with the War front on the godly side of things, I¡¯ve been keeping an eye on your progress. Fascinating indeed.¡±

    His petted ego put aside, that first part caused Remus to double-take. The only portion of the Celestial War the gods had the liberty of partaking in was with the Unbounded. Reportedly, they¡¯d tried to wipe out the fiends before, but doing so would mean obliterating billions of their own humans in the process. Besides, the few Unbounded that rivalled the might of the gods probably kept them far too preoccupied to attempt anything so extreme. It was a perpetual stalemate, but if either force were to gain the upper-hand, the total destruction of their weaker servants was risked.

    Nevertheless, the thought of those false knights of virtue rivalling the might of deities themselves sent a shimmer through Remus that lingered. He could hardly imagine a battle on such an impossible scale.

    Putting such thoughts aside, Remus suited a brave front. ¡°You don¡¯t bother to dawdle either,¡± he began to joke, ¡°Aziel informed me of just how quickly you deliver Visions. It seems he¡¯s a man of his word.¡±

    For a second, Remus wondered if Tanish would even recognise the name. Surely keeping track of an entire sect must be difficult ¡ª especially if you had a divine war to wage. But surprisingly, this wasn¡¯t the case. ¡°Almost as hungry as you are for success, that one.¡± That rictus of a smile refused to fade. ¡°But how can I not be impatient for a brewing generation of talent, including you too?¡±

    ¡°I will admit Remus,¡± his tone grew momentarily sombre, ¡°for a few decades, the fate of my people was left in the balance. New recruits were lacking, the Unbounded were gathering power, and even now, I find my clan facing impossible adversity. But it''s gems in the rough like you that put my concerns at ease. I¡¯m certain, once you help us get over this stumble, that our rise to power will be so sudden, the world won¡¯t know what hit them.¡±

    Remus wished he had as much confidence in himself as his patron god did, but his anxieties were near damn endless. Yet, even he was susceptible to so much blatant buttering-up. ¡°Thank you for the encouragement. I¡¯ll spend my every waking moment ensuring the clan¡¯s future.¡±

    Tanish ruffled a hand through Remus'' hair like he was his father. In a weird, technical sort of way that hurt Remus¡¯ brain, he was. Or at least a great-times-a-thousand grandfather. The gods had created humanity, after all.

    ¡°I won¡¯t keep you waiting any longer,¡± Tanish clasped two hands excitedly together, ¡°this is a redundant question, for I already know the answer, but I must ask it. Do you wish to continue along your path up the Divine Ranks, knowing full well of the obligations that will be expected of you?¡±

    The question, largely, was pointless. Not just for the fact it was made to appease a few grumpy denizens who didn¡¯t like the idea of warfare, but for Remus in particular.

    Despite all of the impossible achievements, his miraculous ascent up the Divine Ranks, golden blood and a fancy Mark wasn¡¯t enough for Remus. He hungered for more. And growing complacent wasn¡¯t going to get him anywhere. ¡°Of course.¡±

    Tanish¡¯s insatiable look mimicked Remus¡¯ own inward ambition. Remus had to wonder, being the god of desiring ever more . . . was he ever truly content? It was the nefarious underside of ambition that hardly anyone dared to mention.

    The need to improve oneself ¡ª to trespass into greater realms ¡ª was a double-edged sword. It was a boundless pit of possible achievement, and those accolades did have the potential to merit long-lasting happiness, but what was the underside of that? Always hungry, always rushing off in the meaningless quest of being greater. It wasn''t as if Remus thought Ambition was a bad thing. Hardly. Without that internal desire, he would still be a miserable Death-Marked. Stuck in a clan cursed to be snuffed out by a broken economy. But there had to be a line.

    Accepting one¡¯s current circumstances with open arms; embracing them. That was the key to real contentment, to inward peace.

    Yet Remus shook his head at the notion. Aside from the fact he was getting far too philosophical, contentment, if he was ever so privileged as to reach that point, was a long and winding road. There was still an endless array of things he had to do. It wasn¡¯t a matter of having the freedom to work on himself as he saw fit. There were people ¡ª possibly in the hundreds ¡ª relying on him.

    And Emblazed was nowhere near enough.

    Tanish let out a satisfied sigh, lounging with arms behind his head as he hovered casually. ¡°This will be the last we speak, Remus, until perhaps the next Day of Descension.¡± He glowered, looking away abruptly. ¡°Yet even that event is getting harder and harder to manage. An entire day away from the Unbounded may prove to be too much. I might even be one of the few minor deities forced to remain. Fending the onslaught off.¡±

    Before the consequences of that could really sink in for Remus, the god suddenly called out.

    ¡°And ¡ª oh!¡± The deity¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Though I didn¡¯t have a chance to mention our founder, Enrique is probably scared out of his skin right now. Annddd yep, he thinks he killed you.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Remus shouted.

    ¡°Oh well,¡± Tanish chuckled to himself, his image becoming fuzzy, ¡°he¡¯s in for quite the surprise when you awake. The dead walks!¡±

    On that concerning note, their rendezvous was cut short. Like an invisible god had tossed him out of that cloudy heaven, Remus felt himself be dragged away.

    <hr>

    ¡°Oh dear Tanish,¡± Enrique crumpled to his knees over the sprawled body. ¡°Please forgive me.¡±

    Remus lay in the most uncomfortable position the founder could imagine. Limbs spread out as if broken, eyes rolled back, and foam rapidly spouted from his mouth like a broken basin.

    ¡°Come on, come on,¡± he shook at the boy rapidly, ¡°don¡¯t tell me I just sabotaged my clan¡¯s only hope of survival . . .¡±

    Enrique prayed to every god he knew. Some would have been dead by now, a majority wouldn¡¯t care, and nearly all of them would be too preoccupied to hear his call. Much less answer it. Nevertheless, as Remus¡¯ head thudded against the dirt below, he couldn¡¯t think of anything else to save the boy. Divine might was his only hope.

    Manslaughter. He panicked. I¡¯ve committed manslaughter!

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Remus.¡± Pure dread snuffed out every other emotion. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to go so far, I didn¡¯t-¡±

    Jolting upwards, Remus headbutted the founder. ¡°Oh, save it. You¡¯ll need more than that little love tap to get rid of me.¡±

    Pure relief, then a coaxing ire made Enrique so overwhelmed, his body didn¡¯t seem to know how to react. His fists clenched, and he swallowed back an unmanly sob. ¡°How long were you awake, you sick bastard? Do you enjoy dragging out the suffering of others?¡±

    ¡°Apologies,¡± Remus couldn¡¯t help but smile drowsily, ¡°I was unconscious for the most part . . . but not because of you, don¡¯t worry.¡±

    Had he smacked the child a little too hard? He wasn¡¯t making a drab of sense. ¡°Oh come on. You just so happened to take a nap, right as I hit you with an attack with some power behind it?¡±

    His eyelids began to flutter in spaced-out blinks. ¡°Was talking with Tanish. Reached Emblazed, and accepted my . . . ¡° their eyes remained shut. ¡° . . . Bank.¡±

    With that, Remus began to snore.

    Motionless, Enrique wasn¡¯t sure whether to shriek with excitement or slap the trainee.

    The founder sighed, lying down as his own wave of lethargy consumed him. ¡°Youth these days,¡± he grumbled, falling asleep with an unshakeable grin.

 50. Homecoming

    Aziel wasn¡¯t doing anything warranting attention, when The Wild Sect clansmen found him. Honestly. Oath on his very soul and Tanish himself.

    Passings had, well, passed, and he felt his sanity slowly chip away. These days he closed his eyes, focused on his Bank¡¯s expanding Mould, and hoped the hours would transpire with no added danger. A few more days now. Aziel must have told himself those same reinforcing words a hundred times over, but this time, with only a few of the smaller bones left needing tunnels, he meant it.

    By the end of the Duration, Foot-Soldier would be his. His only qualm was the slight issue of his entire clan being enslaved, but once they slapped The Wild Sect out of here, he¡¯d be earning his keep at the front lines. But heavens forbid the prospect of having to work as a soldier enlisted as under one of Juniper¡¯s vassals. Oh well, that fate was virtually impossible. If they found him, his body would be decaying long before Willow considered the advantages of a new Foot-Soldier. The Wild Sect wasn¡¯t the most pragmatic of clans, in truth.

    During his lunch break, Aziel, for the most part, ignored the stale bread lying in the basket before him. Eyelids darkening his world, the excess of his attention went to the arduous task of Vault-creation. Shovelling crust into an open mouth idly, he only snapped back into reality as multiple footsteps entered the main chamber. Far too many more than the usual two or three who shared this break with him.

    He opened his mouth, about to ask why the tunnel expansion had been cut short, when the image of Brison striding forth sent a tremor down his spine. An entire entourage, making up the rest of the rebellion, at his tail. Their haunted, fatigued eyes stuck out like sore thumbs. Pinpoints behind grimacing masks of ashy dirt.

    And, in some near intangible change, they were more gloomy than ever. Aziel immediately stood up straighter, choking down a dry piece of the loaf. ¡°Andreas?¡±

    ¡°Bad news.¡± The burly man stated the obvious. ¡°It''s sibyl.¡±

    He didn¡¯t need to expand.

    ¡°Gods. How long ago?¡±

    ¡°A few hours.¡± One of the others near the front, a gangly man Aziel hardly talked to, answered. With desperation, he looked up to Brison. ¡°Sir, do you think we could-¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t make any promises, Edmund, but time is of the essence. I¡¯m not saying you¡¯ll be able to find her, but a small group leaving now might have a shot.¡±

    A second of stress seemed to age him by a decade. ¡°I¡¯ll go. It''s only right.¡±

    Something in the man¡¯s tone made Aziel¡¯s throat constrict. That wasn¡¯t the tone of voice one suited when merely referring to an acquaintance. Memory jogged, and he recognised the pleading man as Sibyl¡¯s younger brother.

    Lost family. Endangered loved ones. That was something Aziel could relate to.

    ¡°Allow me to come, if I may,¡± he suddenly got up off the chair. ¡°One would be too dangerous, and three would draw too much attention. A duo is our best shot.¡±

    Several faces looked at him strangely, as if wondering why he out of all people would volunteer. But staying cramped up in these burrows like rabbits was insufferable ¡ª feeling powerless was the reason Aziel had almost lost it in the first place. This was his chance to make a difference.

    Edmund nodded. ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll lead you to her last whereabouts.¡±

    ¡°Be car . . .¡± Brison began, before cutting himself off. The two were gone within a second. Besides, they knew the dangers ahead.

    ¡°What Divine Rank are you?¡± Aziel asked swiftly, drawing in Infinity until his reverses were full to bursting. Being as close to Foot-Soldier as he was, he almost felt naked without a good supply on him at all times.

    ¡°Foot-Soldier.¡± He muttered curtly, eyes locked ahead on the twisting avenues. ¡°You?¡±

    ¡°More or less the same. Give or take a few days.¡±

    Edmund nodded approvingly, halfway between a scowl and blank expression. As if he were trying to remain stoic, but was failing miserably. ¡°Good. The Wild Sect up there are all eligible for the front lines. Any less, and you could put yourself at risk.¡±

    Aziel was momentarily inclined to highlight the danger of charging out in the open regardless, but decided it better to keep his mouth shut.

    For a minute, the two set themselves to silence. Left, right, right, left, left. Concluding at a sharp incline upwards, that became a practically vertical line at the end. It was a short climb, but one sure to crease and dirty Aziel¡¯s ruined clothes more than they already were. What he would do for a bath. Even for one that would only last a few minutes. As soon as they turned the tables on their captors, Aziel was going to soak for a Duration straight.

    They clambered up a distance away from the sect, inches from breaking out of the earth. Gripping the last handhold before surfacing, the pair of them went rigid. Voices. Voices from above, and voices most definitely not of the Ambition Sect.

    ¡°. . . down here somewhere.¡± They eavesdropped onto a man. ¡°That girl came from around here.¡±

    Brushing through a hundred silent curses, Aziel cleared all of the Infinity out of the atmosphere. He sensed Edmund doing the same, eyes wide in an almost manic look.

    ¡°Check the area.¡± A different voice spoke. So there were at least two of them. ¡°Willow keeps nagging us about ¡®secret passages¡¯.¡±

    Two Foot-Soldiers, and them: a peak Emblazed, Foot-Soldier, and the element of surprise. A tricky fight, but maybe-

    The muscles in Edmund¡¯s forearm became pronounced, as Ambition and Infinity flooded his system.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Aziel whispered loudly, ¡°we have to deal with this carefully. If an entrance to our network is discovered-¡±

    Flames sped out of Edmund¡¯s fist in an unstoppable stream. Flecks of dirt watered Aziel¡¯s eyes, and he was forced to blink as a blinding blue enveloped the dark space. In a rush of neon colour, the Foot-Soldier jolted to the surface.

    Idiot! He internally mused, restraining his Ambition to simply reinforcing his system. Unlike some people, Aziel wasn¡¯t about to send a flare jeopardising their position for everyone to see.

    Yelps above reverberated through the ground, oncoming vibrations ratting the mud walls of the passage. Before he could react, a web of branches whisked through the dirt, grazing his skin. And yet it was only wood: weak and flammable. Aziel focused on his Ambition, outpouring the energy as the corrosive, destroying resource it had the potential to be. Blue flames destroyed the construct in a second, and he doused his skeleton with Infinity in advance.

    He felt like a raging bull, an unstoppable object drawing in power. Forgoing marvelling on the wonders of Infinity any longer, Aziel flew through the opening.

    We need to keep this conflict efficient and unnoticed, he told himself, the whole rebellion will be slaughtered if we don¡¯t go about this carefully.

    Sunlight slanting across his body for the first time in what felt like decades, it took Aziel all he had not to be temporarily stunned. Head cocking to the side, the sight of Edmund being hung up ¡ª as if about to be crucified ¡ª left him clueless for a moment as a body hurtled into him.

    A figure clad in wooden armour summoned out of nowhere pressed him into the ground. But Aziel had only been knocked aside because of momentum. With bones swarming with more Infinity than calcium, he rolled the man beneath him. Again and again he punched down, the conflict becoming an all out wrestle.

    As he was wrested from side to side, Aziel caught sight of the Ambition Clan. A brown blur on the cusp of his vision. They were further than Aziel had originally thought. Then, why were Wild Sect clansmen on brigade this far out in the first place? And then it struck him like a pile of bricks: the graves. They must have discovered the ramshackle graveyard, he, and the rest of the bereaved rebellion had stitched up together.

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    Molten fury seeped through the fibres of his every muscle. If they had so much as touched that sacred ground, Aziel would go manic. Way out of range of the Ambition Sect, Aziel didn¡¯t have to be careful of attracting attention. With a guttural roar, he sent his entire body smouldering. A sapphire, smoking cocoon draped over every inch of his form, and extending all of his Infinity to his arms and legs, he pinned the clansmen down.

    The Wild and Ambition. Aziel couldn¡¯t think of an encounter where his clan¡¯s arsenal would be more advantageous. The only reason Willow and her squadrons were able to keep an iron fist over them, was simply because of the power in numbers. But one-on-one . . .

    The man shrieked helplessly as his oak armour melted off his exposed skin. Vines snapped at Aziel from every angle, rising out of the ground, but he ignored them: his corona of flame would take care of the plantage passively.

    Their grip rapidly increasing, Aziel was pushed aside as the man must have made use of his own Infinity. No matter; Aziel simply fired a dozen flaming shots from the end of his index finger.

    They hit home, and the clansman sunk over, writhing in agony. Fire consumed him, and the man abandoned any ploy to attack. He rolled around, yelping, magically demanding any nearby greenery to let go of their moisture. But it wasn¡¯t enough

    Aziel may have despised The Wild Clan, but this was simply too cruel. He leaped before them, empowering his fist with every possible resource. One punch, and a gaping hole was cleared right through their stomach.

    He held his hand back, dripping with golden blood, and recalled his flames. A mangled lump was all that remained.

    Catching his breath, it took Aziel an embarrassingly slow time to turn around. There, with reflexes any fighter worth his title would be ashamed of, his mouth hung open in the picture of an idiot.

    A net of trees hung up Edmund like he was about to be executed. Knots of wood stabbed into his flesh, locking him in place, and the unconscious man''s head drooped. But this horrific sight put aside, what really left Aziel breathless was the two figures fighting to the right.

    A figure encased in the signature flame of the Ambition Clan threw itself at an opposing woman relentlessly. Seeds billowed away from the clanswoman, chafing against all in their wave¡¯s path with frightening intensity. A few got so far as scraping across Aziel¡¯s skin, but were reduced to burnt kindling before any real damage could be dealt.

    She screamed, great trunks of wood splitting the ground into a ruin of fissures. Below, roots upon roots upon roots seemed to carry the whole world¡¯s weight, and Aziel was left skipping from place to place to avoid the ensnaring depths. One fall down there, and no amount of flame would prevent him from being crushed.

    She whacked at the man repeatedly with sloppy form. Yet nevertheless, the sight made Aziel wince. That close up, even through this stranger¡¯s brigade of flames, that must have hurt.

    And yet, they didn¡¯t do so much as react. In fact, an audible clang was heard each time the woman struck futilely. At last, the blazing silhouette moved out of their stiff stance, and clicked a finger at the opponent''s direction.

    The woman blasted back, as if caught in the path of a carriage cannoning past. Aziel blinked, realised he had been doing nothing to assist the shadow, and dived forwards.

    It all happened so fast, and the clanswoman was too dazed to react. Crashing into the bundle of twisted branches below, Aziel saw nothing but the coals of a furnace sitting in wake. Raising his hands in tune with the newcomer, the pair of them poured a blast of fire onto the exposed bundles in tandem. As if draped with oil, a bonfire roared before them within seconds. The woman shrieked in fear, the land around them being pierced by random spots of attacking greenery, as she lashed out with the last of her dying power.

    Aziel grimaced, raised a finger, and exactly as he had with her companion, put the woman to rest. All it took was a merciful shot to the head.

    For a moment, no one said a thing. Aziel caught his breath, examined the ravaged scene expanding around them, and choked down the taste of sick. Smoke stung his eyes, made it hard to inhale, but he ignored the burnt, woodland scent.

    Remus turned to him, flames perishing, eyes diluted with a striking blue. Aziel felt his heart stop for a moment as he recognised a bodily alteration. Now permanent, reinforced through the tribulations of Emblazed. He faced Aziel with a disturbed expression, as if not quite sure if it was appropriate to smile. Finally, Remus broke the silence.

    ¡°Your friend.¡± He indicated Edmund, still hanging limply. ¡°Let¡¯s get him down. He¡¯s alive; I can see him shifting. ¡±

    Trust Aziel to miss the obvious. ¡°Of course, of course.¡± He hesitated, then cracked a gawky smile. It may have been inappropriate, but the tension was threatening to break him. ¡°Then we can catch up. I trust you¡¯ve delivered?¡±

    Remus nodded, obviously doing his best to remain humble. ¡°I just hope I can train you all in time. Once The Wild Sect stumbles across all this,¡± he gestured vaguely to the fractured land, ¡°we¡¯re going to be hunted with more force than ever.¡±

    Slowly, despite Edmund¡¯s squeals of pain, they cut the man free. Thin strips of oak still jabbed into him, but neither of them trusted themselves to pull the protrusions free. Surely, someone back at the rebellion would have some idea of how to reduce Edmund¡¯s suffering. For now, they rested the man¡¯s arms over a shoulder each, hoisting him up.

    ¡°Sibyl,¡± Aziel kept recalling urgent matters, ¡°she¡¯s gone missing. We came out to find her, but ran into these two.¡±

    Remus grimaced. ¡°Tricky.¡±

    ¡°I know. But we might as well have a look now that we¡¯re here.¡±

    Standing still, the pair dedicated themselves to thinking on her possible whereabouts. Aziel whispered a curse, rubbing a palm to his brow. He couldn¡¯t arrive at any obvious conclusions, and the chance of Sibyl being-

    He inhaled. The chances of her being okay . . . it was crushingly improbable.

    ¡°Those clansmen,¡± he turned to Remus, who was just as absorbed in thought as him. ¡°They spoke like they had already got to her.¡±

    Remus closed his eyes, as if experiencing physical pain. ¡°Damn it. Another one. Another person dead.¡±

    They spent the next several minutes looking around, hopping across one dislodged mound of earth to the next. They didn¡¯t expect to uncover anything ¡ª knew full well what Sibyl¡¯s fate had been ¡ª but entertained the incessant need to search regardless. They were left gritting their teeth, regretting bothering to look in the first place. They had been setting themselves up for disappointment.

    ¡°Come,¡± Aziel directed them towards the exit, unable to look Edmund in the eye. He was too dazed in his reverie of agony to fully appreciate the gravity of what had happened, but once the bereaved brother woke up, Aziel didn¡¯t know what he would say. He already felt like Sibyl¡¯s death was his fault, regardless of how little that was based in truth. ¡°We need to head back in, and immediately collapse this section of the tunnelling before The Wild Sect uncover what¡¯s happened. The destruction might disguise the blocked up passageways, but one can only hope.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡± Remus muttered, setting a palm ablaze as if about to chop something, and cutting through the tangled branches. At last, they located the familiar indent into the ground. ¡°Not exactly the homecoming I was expecting.¡±

    <hr>

    ¡° . . . and that¡¯s about the extent of it.¡± Remus finished up, feeling self-conscious as the subject of a dozen gazes.

    It was a few hours later. Despite everyone¡¯s outward amazement at Remus¡¯ return ¡ª some likely thought he had just ran off to save his own neck ¡ª Brison had made them all save their questions. Only after shovelling nearly a third of their dirt-halls off, did the Warlord feel secure enough to allow Remus to speak.

    He had recounted everything. Sure, many eyebrows were raised at the mention of Enrique¡¯s miraculous presence, and Remus couldn¡¯t find it in him to blame them. He too hardly believed it, and he¡¯d spent a Duration training with the man. But all in all, not a soul objected any more than a half-hearted murmur.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t mastered his techniques per se, they¡¯re difficult. But I have a good enough handle over them to teach you all the basics.¡±

    ¡°Forgive my forwardness Remus,¡± Brison butted in, ¡°but do you truly believe with these abilities, we¡¯ll be able to take down Willow, and her troops? We will have to dedicate all our time if we want to hone these techniques, and putting all your eggs into one basket, as they say, is risky.¡±

    Remus inhaled. He¡¯d been expecting some opposition. Utilising hidden powers embedded deep into their forgotten pasts, to prevail over a dominating enemy ¡ª no doubt, it sounded like a wild pipe dream. Something out of a book he might find in someone¡¯s dusty attic. But after witnessing Enrique¡¯s unparalleled strength, and how much stronger he himself had grown with their assistance, he couldn¡¯t help but have faith.

    If this wouldn¡¯t obliterate Willow¡¯s forces, nothing would.

    ¡°I have a plan.¡± He mustered as much confidence as he could. ¡°But I need all of your assistance. All of your dedication. Even the basic version of these techniques, those I can transfer to you in the coming Duration, will inspire new strength into each and every one of you. Together, with a little careful preparation and luck, we will send Willow and her forces scattering.¡±

    Enraptured faces bore into his. All of them latching on to the hope he had presented like a warm hand in the dark. And, past their stoic facades, he eyed the burning desire to succeed. He would stoke those fires into an army of infernos.

    ¡° . . . Unless any of you have a better idea?¡±

    Aziel wrapped an arm around him, grinning like his birthday had come early. ¡°I¡¯m all for gathering all the power I can get. It would be selfish to not at least entertain Remus¡¯ plea after all he¡¯s done for us.¡±

    A few seconds went by without a word. Then a minute. Finally, Brison took a step forward, for once beaming with undisguised mirth. ¡°For the next nine days, you may train us as you see fit. If there are results . . . well, there might be a future for us after all.¡±

    Voices rose. Some excited, some plainly sceptical. He approached those frightened faces, forcing his features into those of a leader. Soaking his words until they dripped with confidence, he at last spoke.

    ¡°So, we¡¯ll start off with Flaming Gold. How accustomed are you all with pain?¡±

 51. Funeral Pyre

    Willow was beginning to grow frustrated.

    ¡°Say that again.¡± She demanded the clansman before her, who was a few loud questions away from trembling where he stood.

    ¡°Two of our soldiers were discovered dead. We¡¯re trying to look for evidence of where the perpetrators went.¡± He cleared his throat, doing everything in his power to avoid her icy glare. ¡°But the collateral damage is astonishing. We could barely recognise their bodies. One of them was almost completely charred ¡ª Ambition Clan work. ¡±

    ¡°We know that!¡± She struck the table before her, the impact tremoring up the walls of the mahogany hut.

    Willow regarded her own creation with relative disdain. As a Vanguard, her Mark was still powerful, but such arrangements had been a horrific annoyance. A Mercenary, no doubt, would have sprouted a small village within an hour of spare time. An exaggeration of course, but the difference was enormous nonetheless.

    And the place hardly resembled a building as it was. More like a cluster of trees contorting around one another with uncanny grace. She wasn¡¯t an architect, or a carpenter. Grotesque distortions of nature like this was the best one could do without careful preparation, and full mastery over Chantal''s Mark; mastery that far surpassed an Emblazed, or even herself. Two things she didn¡¯t have the time, nor the specialities for. Yet, no matter how creepy the way the canopies stretched above may have been, you would catch Willow dead before stepping foot inside one of the lesser tents.

    Now that was truly barbaric living.

    The clansman rubbed at his neck. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Willow.¡± His voice was tight, tense like a string stretched to breaking point. ¡°With all the evidence we¡¯ve accumulated ¡ª the sounds from below, destroyed supplies, and the missing fugitives who fall into our hand Durations later ¡ª our suspicions of a rebellion are all but confirmed. They must have tunnels underground. That would explain how they operate out of sight.¡±

    She nodded, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°This settles it. Tonight, none of you are allowed any shut-eye until they¡¯re found and brought to justice. Juniper sends us here, offers them to join the glorious splendour of The Wild Clan, and this is how they treat us?¡±

    Willow leaned forward, hands clenched. Never before did she remember being nearly this irritated. Dark, underground societies, right under her nose . . .

    The man said something along the lines of feverish agreement, but Willow paid him no mind. ¡°Instruct every squadron to send roots deep into the ground. We¡¯re going to crush these fugitives like the vermin they are.¡±

    ¡°Right away. Of course.¡±

    With that, the man scuttled off as quickly as possible. The pathetic sight left Juniper wondering what the younger generation had come to.

    Departing the hut into a valley of tents, Willow dealt with her agitation the only way she knew how: by doing something.

    She commanded a nexus of roots to ravage the hidden depths below. She took in a breath, smiling pleasantly to herself as she imagined evasive rats finally receiving the treatment they deserved. Inexorable death.

    Then Willow opened her eyes with a start.

    Blue flame.

    The soldier who had reported to her, all knees and elbows, stopped dead in his tracks. Two blazing clansmen, masked head to toe in the azure fashion so many of the Ambition Clan liked to don, had ensnared the camp in a blazing circumference. The raging barrier stretched out two metres above, an encompassing humidity sweeping through the air.

    Already, small groups were skirmishing with the two of them. Willow grabbed a tiny splinter of wood from a pocket, imbued it with a little Wilderness energy, and sent the tiny thing flying. Before the wind could knock it astray, the sound like a boat rocking ashore resounded. A log burst into existence, gliding towards one of the pair with the power of a battering ram. Troops around applied their own Marks, until the construct grew truly terrifying in scale.

    It was too large for the tiny figure to dodge out of. They were going to be crushed. Willow would cackle at the pitiful attempt at glory, before crushing their partner with equal-

    The colossal pole thundered down with the force of a thunderclap. The heat around was challenged as a clapping gust of wind brought chill air with it. But Willow''s initial mirth dissolved quickly.

    The figure remained fighting, only a few metres away. Willow couldn¡¯t even tell if they were shaken, cloaked under that fiery ruse.

    And then, like every bad thing in the world was snowballing, she realised a lethal truth: she had grossly underestimated the scale of this campaign.

    Everywhere she turned, anonymous fighters draped in much the same fashion kept her men and women well occupied. Willow¡¯s teeth clenched until they ached, as again and again, the strength of her troops was matched. This might even turn out to be, heavens forbid it, a close encounter.

    Where the hell is Brison? The thought terrified her, but none of the crusading rebellion matched his physical stature. Speaking of which, fighters in numbers far surpassing the initial two made up the rest of the Ambition Clan. Everyone was fighting, a noticeable group far more powerful within the enemy sect than their peers, but the determination shining through each and every one of them was ubiquitous.

    She supposed they were called their namesake for a reason.

    Within a second, Willow found herself at the back of one flaming specimen duking it out with a clanswoman of her own. Infinity sped through her Astute Warrior Mould, a hybrid specialty that enforced the flesh and bone of each major limb. A green fist appeared over her own, superimposed, before sprouting into a gigantic appendage. The stiff plantage was carried forth by her enhanced strength, squashing the enemy dead in a single stroke.

    A deafening noise reverberated around the blow, and Willow rushed through attack after attack of flaming projectiles. Truthfully? Each impact stung. Not incredibly intensely, and she summoned a small shield of oak to absorb each, which she quickly cast aside. But Willow didn¡¯t possess any abilities focused on pure defence.

    Two more she squashed in less than one minute. This obviously enraged many of the Ambition Clansmen.

    A dozen or so confronted her in one group. Swirling around, she enlarged yet another splinter. Those in the group not wise enough to take a steady step aside were squashed. Bones and cartilage may have been crushed. But no immediate deaths.

    More flames than she could easily block amassed upon her body. Protective skins of wood layered over her, taking the brunt of the fires. Right before Willow felt like the inside of a boiling cauldron, she would shred the thin armour. Like a snake overdue on their skinning, she repeated this temporary protection again and again.

    A club appeared in her hands. Substantially smaller than the rams Willow had manifested before. Constant protection being worn down was tough to sustain. But Willow didn¡¯t worry ¡ª this conflict would be done and dusted with soon enough.

    A skull caved in where she struck. She sent a smoky silhouette flying with another swing. Nothing, no matter how many of these dimwitted clansmen threw their lives away, would stop her onslaught.

    Through the cyclone of rage bearing down on the Vanguard, Willow spotted a number of her own subjects dead. Charred masses dispersing to ash in grim visages.

    And then, past the hellish pandemonium, she saw him: Brison.

    One exchange with him; one death ensured, and the Ambition Sect¡¯s plan will be foiled.

    He stood plainly, beckoning her forward with a taunting hand. His stoic expression was clear, no flaming waves draping him, but the hidden mockery was overwhelming. Obviously, the man wasn¡¯t one to delay the inevitable. If they were to cross blades regardless, why wait?

    She flew forward, all Infinity streaming to her legs, and dived to the old codger.

    There was no need to exchange words. That was a formality Willow ignored all together when the passion of combat roused her spirit. She braced herself, mentally preparing, calculating a score of potential approaches to the fight Brision might take. He was a Warlord after all; an entire Rank higher than her own. This wouldn¡¯t be an easy fight.

    They approached one another with forced nonchalance, speed ramping up ever-so slightly with each progressing stride. Willow drew her last few splinters. They enlarged like the others, about an eighth of the size of the previous battering rams, moulded together through a strip of leafage. Within those lengthy, bound strips, carried the force of a thousand year-old canopy. One strike, and the Warlord¡¯s skull would cave in. One swipe of the arm, and Brison¡¯s head would-

    The man turned tail and fled.

    ¡°Coward!¡± Willow spat in disgust, hefting the overgrown hammer over one shoulder and rushing forwards.

    Brison barreled ahead, but Willow was always one step behind him. Their distance wouldn¡¯t budge, the difference in Divine Rank more overt than ever. It was beyond infuriating ¡ª a rat race Willow simply couldn¡¯t win.

    The surroundings, razed as they were, offered little in the way of plantage she could manipulate. Chantal¡¯s prowess allowed Willow to manifest her own, of course, but creating nature where there was none was much more draining. Instead, she focused on the already existing wood of her light armour and weaponry.

    Spears of average size flew towards the fleeing man, who didn¡¯t do so much as summon flame. He skirted out of the way of the few that came near, and the others . . . Willow¡¯s aim hadn¡¯t even been close.

    Am I being led? The possibility was rage-inducing. The fight, more chaotic than ever, continued on without her presence. The Ambition Sect collectively smiled in obvious glee, more determined than ever now that the opposing leader had been waylaid.

    Help crush the Ambition Clan¡¯s populace one by one, or deal with their leader directly? The trap was obvious, even as Brison leaped through the flame boundary. But traps only worked if they succeeded, as obvious as that sounded. Call her vain, but Willow was confident in her abilities to crush the man. Problem was, she couldn¡¯t get his clutches on him.

    A gap appeared before Brison, and he jolted through the fire boundary unscathed. The same couldn¡¯t be said for Willow, who, upon catching up, was met by a whole inferno. Fires be damned, she sent every drab of Infinity into her legs. They had already been full to bursting, but one last surge was all Willow needed to leap overhead.

    The wall trespassed, she turned her falling dive into a roll. Free from the Ambition Clan¡¯s artificial perimeters, Willow vaulted into an all-out run.

    Her squadrons were capable. It wouldn¡¯t be her fault if they couldn¡¯t deal with a clan so modest, so obscure as Tanish¡¯s. Pah, she hadn¡¯t even heard of the cocky god¡¯s name before Juniper had allocated her with this accursed vassal.

    Spinning the hammer, one pulse of energy transformed the leaves into writhing, tentacle-like vines. With one almighty toss, she threw what was virtually a sledgehammer into Brison¡¯s back. Before he could react, the verdant tendrils enveloped his body. For one glorious moment, the Warlord was impeded. For one glorious second, before Brision had the breathing room to set himself aflame like a human monolith, he was all hers.

    She launched upon him like a rabid canine. Flames consumed him all over, but it mattered little. Willow retrieved her weapon, spun into her next blow, and pounded down at the man over and over again.

    Out here, there was no one to intervene with their conflict. Willow¡¯s men had all been occupied with the brief instance they all shared a resting time, and the Ambition Clan had obviously all gathered together, within their shielded battlefield, to carry out their coup.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Willow hardly paid attention to their surroundings. It was clear now she had been overthinking. Brison had never had the cunning, nor the patience for something as technical as that. This oversight would be his downfall.

    ¡°You sorry excuse for a Warlord,¡± she spat molten lava, ¡°and I had you pinned as a potential threat. Could I have been more over-prepared?¡±

    Brison swivelled up and around, a whip of pure flame manifesting in his hands. Their weapons collided, sparks flying, wood chips scattering through the air.

    Her weapon was fully alight, and Willow¡¯s confidence was shattered with the antidote it dearly needed. With a shriek, leaves appeared from thin air itself, gliding towards Brison like kunai locked onto their target. Tiny wisps of fire scattered off the man, incinerating the emerald constructs whole, but a few got through. The stems immediately sprouted into full coatings of oak, giving the impromptu throwing knives a jutting weight.

    They slit across his skin, drawing Ichor in a dozen places.

    Willow didn¡¯t even have the chance to laugh maniacally when a fist blurred into her chest. She staggered backwards, gagging as all the air was winded out of her.

    Another wave of covered leaves shredded into the Warlord, but it wasn¡¯t enough to prevent him enveloping her completely. Flames crawled across her flesh, pure white, and far more humid than anything she¡¯d witnessed from the clan before.

    Screeching, Willow sped away, summoning every plant bloated with water she could name. Primroses, small trees with her namesake, small batches of cotton ¡ª all offering up their moisture.

    Water splurged upon her, but the fires persisted. Again and again she tossed liquid, but nothing would quell the flames. Further and further she ran, crying out like a snotty-nosed child.

    Only after rolling across the dirt, summoning more water, and running around frantically was Willow freed. Her skin was charred, boils popping up on virtually every inch of skin. It was agony, the worst pain she had ever experienced. She visualised her men and women who had lost their lives in much the same manner. It was a pity they didn¡¯t have the privilege to escape such a demise.

    Brison was sprinting off yet again, and Willow clenched her fists ¡ª the action evoking yet more pain as her blood boiled. Her Infinity reserves were severely drained, she could taste nothing but the coppery taste of blood, but still, she persevered.

    I¡¯m going to kill him. Her mental voice sounded more like a series of scratches than anything her vocal cords could emit. I¡¯m going to tear that bastard limb from limb. I¡¯ll drag it out. I¡¯ll make him choke on his own-

    In a sudden gust of power, the man expelled flame through the back of his palms. He flew towards an indent inside the mountain range, blasting through a doorway into the Gallery.  From her investigation of the surrounding area upon arriving at this stretch of land, Willow knew the place to be nothing more than a museum. Juniper was a benevolent leader, and so allowed their vassals such items of history. What could he be possibly doing there? One part of her mind quietly enquired.

    Another answered. Fleeing of course! Snap that old man¡¯s neck.

    Willow found herself finding that assessment quite reasonable. She cannoned into the pearly white interior only seconds after he had. Through an empty, linear antechamber she marched, breathing deep of the encompassing Infinity. New strength reinvigorated her body, eased the persisting pain. Her Divine Rank ensured the smouldering flesh was already healing, and with each footstep closer, Willow felt her confidence grow. Her grip on the hammer tightened until her hand began to cramp.

    Into the main chamber, she entered.

    Immediately, Willow was forced to put a palm up.

    The blinding, incarnadine light of Infirnite hung overhead. Her eyes stung at the eerie, enchanting glow, but she strained her eyes wide open, despite the temporary strain. She had to fight not to flee right then and there.

    Up above, clinging onto the mountain of the crystal, hung Brison, and two other boys at either side. Ginger and blonde hair respectively, they glowered down at her. At last, three Marks activated at once, supercharged by the overhanging crystal.

    As their snaking flames deepened into a terrifying white, Willow¡¯s skin flared. She turned to run in the fastest motion of her life.

    It was a trap all along. I fell for a trap, I-

    She couldn¡¯t hear the sound of her own screaming. It was like being mowed down by three separate flamethrowers at once. Any healing her tissue could have accomplished was undone, the entire room setting aflame. Fighting stances, techniques she had mastered, hours of endless training ¡ª it was all lost into the bonfire. Soon the pain ceased all together, but that only made her yelp all the louder. Her nerve receptors must have been fried off.

    Willow could barely feel her own body as she scrambled out of the room, but they were upon her before that flimsy escape was possible. Fists flew, kicks landed, and Willow was left useless. It didn¡¯t matter how much Infinity she poured through her Vault, it didn''t change anything that she was straining her god-given Mark to its absolute limits. Being a Vanguard, she had sacrificed the maximum potential of both divine gifts, to bind them into a Boundless Mark. Even now, as flames ravaged her skin, it remained as a pearly white construct, tubes off-springing from the Mark like roots.

    Her Vault ¡ª though even that title fitted little ¡ª had been reduced to a limited set of tunnels she was yet to fully improve. Her Mark could only pump out half the might of a Mercenary-Ranked, and there was nothing in that moment she could do to change that.

    Demons. She was being attacked by demons.

    Some time later, long after she had stopped thinking, stopped doing anything other than trudging madly towards the exit, a beefy hand gripped her from the nape. As Brison whipped her out into the chilly, acrid air of outside, she spluttered. Smoke had blackened her lungs, and Willow¡¯s vision was blurry from blood, purpled eyelids, and moisture. Nevertheless, she could still make out, faintly, her own people defeated. Most were fleeing off into the distance; the others dead or soon to be.

    ¡°Now,¡± Brison spoke carefully, nothing malicious in his tone. ¡°You have two options here. One ¡ª accept death from my hand, thus protecting my clan with brute force. Or, if you have some wits about you, you¡¯ll run. Report to Juniper that the Ambition Clan isn¡¯t to be meddled with. That we¡¯re not some feeble, subservient people on the brink of extinction. Best make your decision fast.¡±

    Willow glanced around feverishly. ¡°What? I, no-¡±

    She was sent sprawling without another word. Chucked out like an abandoned child. Immediately, molten ire as hot as the flames that had consumed her sent Willow rasping for vengeance. Keen to slit the man¡¯s throat. To watch as he suffered as she had.

    But she knew, with a wistful surety, it wasn¡¯t the smart move. It was either stand her ground and be put down ¡ª her legacy shattered ¡ª or throw in the towel to fight another day. Returning home with a ruined reputation, but one she could slowly, with time and careful political manoeuvring, repair.

    She took the first few footsteps away, as leader following her people, when something stopped her. Willow¡¯s legs froze in place, as if her Mark had gone rogue and transformed her legs into fixed stumps.

    She should go. Heal with the longevity her Rank as a Vanguard provided. There may be some scarring, but-

    Like a wolf watching his prey, Willow felt Brison stare daggers into her back. That sense of overhanging death only intensified as she took her valiant stance. Mania sped through her, the prospect of stepping down, of admitting utter, undeniable defeat to a sect so . . . so worthless, so good for nothing . . .

    The image arose of Juniper greeting Willow after her failure, wrinkling her nose in disgust. It was unbearable, an inflated picture more tangible, more visceral than life itself.  Her mind was made.

    Willow screeched, swivelled round, gathering every resource within her. If she was going to die, she would bring this bastard down to burn in the hellfires of the underworld with her. Her Mark appeared to shimmer, as if seen through a desert¡¯s heat. The Infinity left clutching to her tunnels, pervading through the surrounding atmosphere, all of it was devoured.

    Running on so much mad power she felt like Juniper¡¯s ¡ª no Chantal¡¯s ¡ª equal, Willow cackled. She set her eyes to where the man had stood eagerly, keen to pinpoint his vital areas.

    She was forced to freeze. Brison was gone.

    All that blind confidence vanished. Gone like water seeping through a basin. Disappearing as quickly as the Warlord himself.

    ¡°No,¡± she said dumbly. ¡°No I-¡±

    A hand streaking with a white as deep as ebony flashed to her right, and even before her head was cut clean off, Willow knew it was all over.

    Her neck was reduced to a mangled mess in a single stroke. Willow sputtered nonsensically for one helpless second, before her vocal cords too failed her. Her head settled to the ground below, body thumping down to join its other part. Droplets of Ichor splattered, and unable to utter a sound, unable to drag the entire world to suffer in the depths of hell with her, Willow died quietly.

    <hr>

    Once the rejoicing concluded, after the people had enjoyed their fill of food and drink, and after clansmen finally stopped nagging Remus and Aziel to recount their sect leader¡¯s brave crusade, the night took on a much more sombre tone.

    The cool night air, adrift with patches of lingering smoke, was a fierce shade of unchanging twilight. Only the raging fires, these orange beacons made the natural way, dared to clash against the draping night. Mounds of wooden debris burned away feverishly. It was the collected remains of their wrecked grounds. The foundational, barebones structures from which once stood fine buildings.

    Now they served a greater purpose.

    Most of the bodies had been found. Some, however, including the ones lost at the start of The Wild Clan¡¯s campaign, had been lost. Likely disposed of by Willow¡¯s people themselves. For these few, honourable bundles and items closely intertwined with their being were added to the sizzling heap.

    Remus stood side by side with Aziel as he observed the roaring flames. For a man who had drunk his weight in wine mere hours ago, Remus had never seen him so sober.

    ¡°We did it.¡± Aziel finally said. ¡°We did it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Remus blinked. ¡°This is strange. I¡¯m not used to things working out this well.¡±

    ¡°But look how many people we lost.¡± The crackling spoke for itself. ¡°Is this the cost of survival? What if the Unbounded attack us again? What if-¡±

    Turning to his friend, Remus planted a hand on his shoulder. He wasn¡¯t surprised to find the man to be shaking a little. ¡°Then you¡¯ll be ready.¡± Remus said firmly. ¡°Tanish himself told me, whilst I was advancing to Emblazed, that he¡¯s more hopeful for the sect than ever. The hardest days have already passed.¡±

    Aziel smiled meekly. ¡°I almost keep forgetting how fast you¡¯ve advanced.¡± Aziel shook his head. ¡°It''s almost unbelievable. Just in a few Passings, you¡¯ve acquired full mastery over your Mark, reaching heights long since thought dead to our branch of godly power.¡±

    They continued to make ego-boosting comments, laughing as much as they dared. Yet, it was all pervaded by a serious tension. The people they had lost, the things they had witnessed tonight . . .

    ¡°Willow¡¯s fate.¡± Remus found himself broaching the gruesome topic. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a death so barbaric. Why would she give it all away? Brison was giving her a chance to recuperate, and she just . . . discarded that chance. What a waste.¡±

    ¡°Some people don¡¯t know when to swallow their pride. It''s a skill, in some ways. Nevertheless,¡± for a moment, that old, hate-choking version of Aziel surfaced, ¡°Willow received exactly what she deserved. Brison was being merciful.¡±

    Merciful. If decapitation was deemed fit to fall under such a title, gods be damned. If this sort of savagery was every-day in the front lines, Remus would have to acquire an iron stomach.

    It was then that the man of the hour, Brison, returned, beaming with obvious content. ¡°Gentlemen, it was an honour fighting alongside you. We may not have been able to thwart Willow so overwhelmingly if it wasn¡¯t for both of yours¡¯ assistance.¡±

    Remus matched his grin, only for his heart to falter at the sound of the funeral pyre. The cost. It stung. But for now, he pushed those emotions down. ¡°It was our honour Brison. I¡¯m thankful for everything you¡¯ve done for me.¡±

    ¡°Nothing more than any other clansmen of mine would receive. But oblige my curiosity if you will: what are your plans now? As a full member of our clan, you¡¯re free to stay of course. But I suspect you have other intentions.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± He replied honestly. ¡°I know it''s unorthodox, but I consider myself of two clans. Carpentry and Ambition. For now, things here are settled. Now I must do what I set out to, seasons ago. I have my eyes on the war front.¡±

    The man¡¯s beam widened. For a man as withdrawn as the Warlord, that was practically the equivalent of breaking out into hearty laughter. ¡°Never change Remus, never change. But I must warn you. I don¡¯t want to be patronising, but for an Emblazed ¡ª even one as remarkable as you ¡ª it¡¯ll be a fight for survival. Hell, I don¡¯t think they even allow Emblazed to enter the front lines.¡±

    ¡°A problem for when I get there. Though, before that, I have . . . other matters to attend to.¡±

    ¡°Do these nondescript matters have anything to do with Violet?¡±

    Remus'' thoughts raced. How much had the man inferred? Surely sending a Projection had warranted some suspicion.

    Now, the man really did laugh. Remus grew flustered, closing his mouth which had been foolishly agape. ¡°No matter. Whatever it is, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re doing some good out there.¡±

    In the distance, as clansmen  finally retired to their beds, Remus caught sight of a familiar God-Graced. Waving at him in ripping waves of humanoid liquid.

    He turned back to both men. ¡°Looks like I¡¯m needed.¡±

    Aziel crossed his arms. ¡°It seems this is farewell.¡± The two clasped hands, learning shoulder-to-shoulder.

    ¡°If you ever need me, call.¡± Remus offered. ¡°I may be in the midst of my own entangled life, but if the opportunity ever arises, I¡¯ll be happy to help in any way I can.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve done more than enough. If you¡¯re in danger, don¡¯t hesitate to ask the same of me.¡±

    It was bittersweet. Remus looked from one man to the other, pride in his heart. ¡°What are your plans now that we¡¯ve recovered? It would be unwise to ignore the elephant in the room.¡±

    All three of them did their best not to glance at the surrounding debris.

    Brison stroked his chin. ¡°Money has never been an issue for the Ambition Clan, thanks to how many of our folk our veterans of the front lines. I suppose we¡¯ll have to hire some builders to assist us. Might even include some better barricades while we¡¯re at it.¡±

    ¡°I wish this place a speedy recovery.¡± Remus knew he could delay his exit no longer. It was time to say goodbye.

    He made his final farewells, took the first few initial steps towards an aggravated Maris ¡ª it was never advisable to keep a God-Graced waiting ¡ª before stopping in his tracks.

    Remus, an idea occurring to him ¡ª a brilliant, masterful idea ¡ª turned around. ¡°Actually, speaking of builders . . .¡±

 52. War Plans

    Violet was getting some much needed fresh air, when Remus was retched out of the nearest puddle.

    Damp, clothing in tatters, and with his hair tousled, Remus looked . . . well, like he always did. He sat up straight, smiled like the world¡¯s problems had undergone a mass cleanse, and appeared perfectly content to bask in his obvious victory.

    Suffice to say, this was not the sight Violet was expecting to be greeted with. Especially not in the dead of night. Yet relief flooded through her system. ¡°Come in.¡± She smiled lethargically. ¡°You can tell me all that transpired with your lady goddess friend once you wash yourself off.¡±

    She swivelled round before Remus could shoot her a fierce scowl. ¡°She¡¯s not my lady goddess friend ¡ª business partners at most ¡ª and this is the heroic homecoming I receive?¡±

    She laughed, left the door ajar behind her, and entered, the main chamber in disarray. Books, notes, and boards connected by pieces of string were scattered across every surface. Such were the schemes of her mind put into physical form. ¡°You¡¯ll be able to inform me all about your glorious achievements. But get changed first. You do have another pair of clothes, right?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s likely something lying around here.¡± Remus'' eyes widened. ¡°Is this what you¡¯ve been doing whilst I was away?¡±

    ¡°It has been half a Passing. But we¡¯re ready now.¡± Her frown faltered, but quickly settled. ¡°Or as ready as we can be.¡±

    It was over an hour later, the pair of them seated around a small coffee table. Hands clutching on respective cups of steaming tea. Violet sipped lightly, doing her best not to knock the stacks of paperwork aside, as Remus finished explaining.

    Warmth spread through her. ¡°That Willow sounds like a nasty piece of work. But congrats, you earned that victory. I know how hard you worked for it.¡± Her eyes strayed towards the nearest window, all temporary joy dispersing at the sight of Hell¡¯s Floor. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s a good omen for what¡¯s to come.¡±

    No matter how glad she wanted to be for Remus, Violet couldn¡¯t seem to congratulate him without it sounding insincere. The knowledge that Nova was out there, one self-serving God-Graced away from wiping them off the map, filled her with nothing but dread. A lingering anticipation that refused Violet rest, until what must be done was carried out to total completion.

    ¡°So you killed Willow.¡± Somehow that statement was a less daunting thought. ¡°Or at least attributed towards the act.¡±

    Violet¡¯s features scrunched up. ¡°Juniper told me she would come after us both if we stayed together. Killing one of their personal Vanguard is sure to earn her wrath.¡±

    For the time it took to exhale a long sigh, Remus seemed transfixed by a bout of worry all his own. ¡°All I wanted was to protect the Carpentry Clan, and look at all the enemies I¡¯ve garnered. I¡¯m sorry to have dragged you into this.¡±

    That took her by surprise. She hadn¡¯t approached this topic to glean an apology out of him. ¡°No, no. I didn¡¯t mean it like that. You were totally right in your actions. Maybe she¡¯ll be lenient on you? Brison did offer Willow a chance to flee.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it.¡± Remus hung his head, before forcing it up. ¡°Simply the fact I help spearhead a rebellion will be enough to earn her fury. And the Frost Clan I had to-¡±

    Remus failed to catch his breath. ¡°Once they find out I¡¯m the perpetrator . . . they¡¯re not going to think too favourably of me either, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    It was a hard truth neither of them could deny. Nova and his army of Unbounded, Juniper, the Frost Clan, Damosh ¡ª if there was a meeting of people who would like Remus¡¯ decapitated head on their desk, it would be quite the gathering.

    ¡°We should pack,¡± Violet suddenly said, the urge to act now all-consuming. ¡°I¡¯ll repeat our plans as we do.¡±

    Time was ticking like the sand out of a shattered hourglass. The Chaos Clan wasn¡¯t far into Hell¡¯s Floor, which in itself was only a small portion of the Ravaged Lands. Consequently, and to both of their delight and dismay, it would only take a day or so to reach their target. A day or so until the Chao Clan ¡ª Nova¡¯s lair ¡ª would be upon them. It was a prospect that inspired a contrasting nerve and thrill.

    There wasn¡¯t much to pack, all things considered. Their travelling bags, rations, waterskins, and a myriad of other necessities would all fit comfortably, dangling off their back. When the tension reached a crescendo, the two of them gathered outside. They wouldn¡¯t be setting out until Remus was rested and fully recovered, some time tomorrow morning most likely, but they had other matters to attend to.

    Namely, burning the evidence.

    Violet tossed the last of the pages onto a mound of paperwork. It was the accumulation of possibly an entire Passing of preparation. Nights of dedicated research, an appointment with a clan notorious for its troublemaking, and days and days full of headache. Yet, keeping it all here was virtually inviting the next resident who rented this cabin full access to snoop through all of Violet¡¯s secrets. And carrying, what would be no exaggeration to call a ton¡¯s worth of notes, was not only inconvenient, but would slow their trip to a crawl. No, with all of the information engraved into the pathways of her brain anyway, it was better to destroy the mound.

    ¡°Set it aflame,¡± she asked of Remus, ¡°but control the flames if you can. We want to draw the least bit of attention possible.¡±

    Cautious, Remus asked Violet if she was certain, but she quickly nodded. This was it; setting the bonfire alight would really cement the start of the end. Violet shivered, mentally chiding herself. That sort of phrasing was doing nothing for her. Confidence. She would have to conjure boatloads of it, if they were going to stand any chance in her father¡¯s domain.

    Remus shot one single, concentrated blast, and the pile was enveloped by azure flame with pinpoint accuracy. The fires never grew too large, exactly enough to reduce the information to ashes without nagging outside attention.

    As the two of them walked silently to their respective chambers, Violet couldn¡¯t unclench her teeth.

    The time was nigh. She just didn¡¯t know if she was up to it.

    <hr>

    Donovan sharpened each and every one of his many blades, treating his whetstone with the same respect one should a priceless artefact. He slid each blade slowly across the oiled surface over and over again. Over and over, until the action became methodical.

    Finally, once he had checked for any attackers on impulse, he admired the fruits of his labour. All of the fifty-one weapons didn¡¯t so much as glint in the grace of night.

    ¡°We¡¯re ready.¡± He finally sat up, ignoring the valley of bodies expanding out before him. He scowled, which only caused him to frown more. Such expressions, doors into the temple of his mind, were nothing if not a hindrance. ¡°Some of my blades chipped back there. I must be getting rusty.¡±

    Slowly, making sure to avoid the patches of mud damp with blood, he returned to The Wild Sect trio. Those looks he couldn¡¯t identify, the same widening of the mouth and eyes that perplexed him beyond reason, frustrated Donovan. Nothing angered him these days ¡ª anger was an unpredictable tool, one too unreliable to allow into one¡¯s arsenal. But at tiny moments like this, where the Old One¡¯s teachings wiped away any understanding of things like emotion, he felt like he was grasping at straws.

    Elmore¡¯s explanation, which the clansman had kindfully supplied him, had opened up his understanding a little. They were ¡®shocked¡¯. Or he at least thought that was the correct term. Memories burst through the floodgates of Donovan¡¯s mind at the concept. When he was younger, training within the floating Kingdom of Eclipse, his peers . . . it was difficult to recall. At the time, he had been so hyper-fixated on his training, on his training alone, but the other trainees his age, those of other sects, seemed distinctly . . . what was it again? Shocked? Maybe amazed? Or was horrified the right word? Something along those lines.

    Emotions do nought but addle the mind. The conclusion comforted Donovan. Perhaps that was why the Old One, and the other elders upon their great hovering thrones, discouraged such distractions.

    Yes, it was better to stay out of areas that muddled his thoughts like that. Donovan inhaled with precise, exact movements, centering his focus.

    The mission. The Chaos Clan was upon them.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Donovan watched as Elmore shook himself back to reality, strolling over to him. They coughed quietly into a fist. ¡°I know this may be a little late to ask, but how exactly are we going to investigate the Chaos Clan? I don¡¯t suppose they¡¯d care to give us a tour, nor would instigating an attack be much good. And, I don¡¯t know of your own abilities, but like I¡¯ve said before, no one I know in The Wild Clan is cut-out for spywork.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t concern yourself,¡± Donovan replied automatically. ¡°Come a little closer, let me show you something.¡±

    Elmore obliged him, raising an eyebrow in the process. What did that indicate? Donovan hadn¡¯t ventured out of the Shadow Clan long enough to tell. With a flare of his Mark, and without the help of Infinity, he tapped the man¡¯s shoulder.

    Instantly the pair of them gained a gritty, monotone affliction. Like they¡¯d been erased out of a world of colour. In more direct terms, they were shadows.

    Ash gasped. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were a part time magic act!¡± He laughed, which likely meant joy, eyes scanning where they were standing. He really couldn¡¯t see them. ¡°Show me a card trick, won¡¯t you? We must have a deck lying somewhere around here.¡±

    On the other hand, Koa was far less expressive than his brother. Observing, calculating, and above all, pragmatically critical. This, Donovan could understand. ¡°That¡¯s a neat trick. Only problem is that your shadows are visible.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the flaw of the ability.¡± Donovan confessed. The elders back at the Cube might not approve of revealing the intricacies of his abilities, but these were his business partners; his comrades. They would work best together with a common understanding. ¡°There are a few Marks that allow for disguising oneself ¡ª some of the Reptilian Sect for instance, can camouflage into their surroundings ¡ª but no deception is perfect. I can reduce the size of our shadows if I strain, like this-¡±

    Their shadows silently reduced to a circle, no more than an inch in diameter each. ¡°-but it  quickly uses up my resources. But don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s not as striking as one may think.¡±

    Rubbing his chin, Elmore mused. ¡°Truth be told, I don¡¯t recall the last time I took notice of the shadows around me.¡±

    ¡°And if we infiltrate at night,¡± Koa added, ¡°it¡¯ll be even harder to detect.¡± His lips widened in a smile. Pleasure, Donovan noted at the familiar gesture.

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan.¡± Donovan reiterated. ¡°We find some means of sneaking in, check for any form of security, and gather the info we need. And then . . .¡±

    Ash frowned. ¡°And then you tell me what card I''m thinking of?¡±

    ¡°And then.¡± Some vague impulse, a relic of his past, stretched the corners of Donovan¡¯s mouth. It felt unnatural, but he stuck with it. ¡°Pay day.¡±

    ¡°Pay day.¡± Elmore repeated, looking up blankly. It had begun to rain lightly, overpowering the scent of flung Ichor. A change of features, so slight Donovan doubted he would ever be able to discern its meaning, seized Elmore. It wasn¡¯t a frown, which he understood enough to be sadness, but not the surefire display of delight that was something so simple as a smile.

    Donovan had never laid his eyes on something that left him so utterly lost. Confusion paved the way for annoyance. Only slight annoyance, the sect¡¯s training made sure any emotions were subconsciously quelled, but it was an irritant nonetheless.

    ¡°What¡¯s on your mind, Elmore?¡± He asked of the man.

    They ruffled the back of their hair. ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain. I am glad we¡¯re almost here, the end of our journey, but everything is riding on this success. My future, and that of my cousins.¡±

    Something seemed to click within Elmore, and he stood up straighter. Again, Donovan hadn''t the slightest what that was meant to convey. He got the feeling he wasn¡¯t doing something as simple as paying attention to his posture though.

    ¡°But I have confidence we¡¯ll succeed.¡± Finally, a recognisable expression ¡ª a smile ¡ª returned to the man. ¡°We make a formidable squad. Whatever Nova is hiding, it won¡¯t be cast in shadow for long."

    ¡°No.¡± Donovan matched Elmore¡¯s gawky smile. Once more, it felt strange, but a smidge less so. ¡°It won¡¯t be. We¡¯ll make sure of that for certain.¡±

    <hr>

    The Pet-Keeper barely paid attention to the revolving tunnels, face set as he scoured for one room in specific. One chamber in this nexus of a maze. Here, there, and everywhere, miscellaneous rooms shifted like disassembled blocks; constantly rebuilding in new formations, new pieces, and new, delightful terror.

    A trivial activation of his Mark, and the infirmary arose before him. He may have been the equivalent of a Warlord, but the Unbounded found his muscles tighten. His breath grew abnormally intense, like he had exchanged respiratory systems with a feeble human, and he just couldn¡¯t shake a terrible gut feeling.

    Heart heavy, the Pet-Keeper barged through the door.

    It was a dimly lit expanse. Cobblestone walls, flooring, and a roof stretched around, with ample lighting provided by the occasional torch. The distinct, stuffy scent of dust pervaded through the atmosphere, wrinkling the nose, but the Pet-Keeper was too overwhelmed by sheer, unfiltered joy to notice. Past the tubes of bubbling liquids, the wiring cluttering the floor, and stretching over two of the medical beds, rested Daisy.

    The Pet-Keeper was so moved, he had to wipe a tear from his eye. ¡°Daisy . . .¡± The Unbounded gurgled back at him. ¡°You¡¯ve finally recovered, haven¡¯t you!¡±

    He leaped upon the mound of flesh, petting it in much the same manner mortals would a dog. But Daisy was something far more special than just a simple canine. Daisy was science¡¯s greatest innovation. Once they worked out a few quirks, the ones that had harmed his precious companion would meet the grim demise they dearly deserved. Oh yes, not long now. It was all coming together.

    ¡°Am I interrupting?¡± A voice sounded from the back, regal and imposing. Precisely the sort of voice that the Pet-Keeper equated to nails on a chalkboard. Their name, too, seemed an insult to the continuing function of his ears.

    On the contrary, most Unbounded names were like music to the Pet-Keeper. But even in this regard, Milap grated against him. So his human name it would have to be.

    ¡°Yes, actually, you are. Bugger off.¡±

    Stepping out of the shadows, Milap stood at matching head-height. ¡°Oh, please.¡± A series of scratches escaped his throat. The Pet-Keeper¡¯s own name in their native tongue. ¡°Is that any way to greet an old friend?¡±

    ¡°Unbounded don¡¯t have friends.¡± He scoffed. ¡°Why did you really come here?¡±

    Milap, amethyst armour shining like he himself was a crystal from some underground grove, sauntered a few steps closer. His aquiline features, roguish and untrustworthy, did nothing to appease the Pet-Keeper. He spoke the Unbounded tongue with the amateur inflection you would expect of Unbounded new to the holy crusade. Like he was always downplaying how much of a threat he really was.

    ¡°Quickly Milap.¡± He beckoned him, the human name sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the string of rough rasps. ¡°I don¡¯t have the time to stick around idly, while you stretch out whatever it is Nova has commissioned you with telling me. Speak now, before that pretty face of yours is mauled off.¡±

    Milap chuckled, like something humorous had been said. The Pet-Keeper must have missed the joke.  ¡°As you request: Nova wanted me to tell you they¡¯re coming.¡±

    For one second, where the Pet-Keeper was the greatest fool in the cosmos, Daisy completely slipped his mind. Leave it to Nova to not give you any time to collect yourself. ¡°Those two?¡±

    ¡°Who else?¡± Milap leaned against a wall lazily. ¡°Nova tried to wipe them off the map himself, but the pair seem to have some sort of godly protection.¡± He shook his hands at the Pet-Keeper¡¯s incredulous look. ¡°No, no, not an actual deity ¡ª just a God-Graced at the most.¡±

    ¡°Who, out of everyone on this graveyard of Descent, would agree to risk Nova¡¯s might? And just to protect an Enkindled and Foot-Soldier equivalent?¡±

    ¡°Emblazed, actually.¡± The man corrected, for some reason smugly. ¡°But the ins and outs matter not. We just have to make sure they¡¯re dead the second they arrive.¡±

    It was at this moment that the Pet-Keeper realised he had discerned all the information needed. The topic of Daisy immediately seized his mind. ¡°If that¡¯s all the intruders you need to inform me about, then leave. You should have saved your breath and gone about your day normally ¡ª regardless of a pre-warning or not, the pair are as good as rotting corpses already. Nova himself will see to that.¡±

    It was true. The gods had sealed their own fate the moment they had signed all those frivolous Oaths. It had given Infinity exactly the leeway it needed. Now the deities were occupied by divine servants equaling their own might easily, leaving less, but still terribly strong Unbounded like Nova to pull the rug out from under them. It was the perfect plan; infallible. Nobody fought the universe and won.

    No matter how drunk on ambition you were.

    ¡°You only have to tell me once,¡± Milap grinned. ¡°But once you¡¯re done coddling that demon child of yours, why not share a feast on one of the lesser Unbounded with me? In celebration of tonight.¡±

    Milap simply wouldn¡¯t budge. What would it take to get the man to leave? Obliging him; stroking his ego? Yes, yes, that would send the man on his merry way.

    ¡°Perhaps I would be so inclined, but why?¡± He flickered a palm to the side, as if dismissing the event. ¡°This brawl isn¡¯t going to merit any sense of fun in the slightest.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± Milap nodded, ¡°I might be overindulging myself here. But there¡¯s one thing for certain. One thing I¡¯ll make any excuse to celebrate.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and what¡¯s that?¡±

    Inch-long teeth shuddered out of their mouth. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a bloodbath.¡±

 53. At Deaths Door

    They arrived later than expected, but that didn¡¯t stop Violet from barreling right ahead.

    Their journey there was characterised, surprisingly, not by warfare, but by bodies. Hundreds and hundreds of bodies, painting a sea of gold all across the aptly named Hell¡¯s Floor. They were haunting waters to sail, or so to speak, and Violet couldn''t help but get the impression they were following the trail of some abominable creature. A bloodlusted specimen with an insatiable hunger for Ichor.

    But at least they didn¡¯t run into any major conflicts. Memories of their last run-in with two warring clans did not bode well. Violet¡¯s arm seemed to go numb at the thought of it.

    Many of the bases within this ruin of a battlefield took on bizarre defences. Some were dug miles below, so it was like trekking down a mountainside to arrive. This alone was enough to discourage many would-be attackers, but the rest of the clans ¡ª the most reasonable out of an insane bunch of people ¡ª merely erected great barricades. Sheer walls of pure metal where you would stick out like a fly scaling a window pane.

    The Chaos Clan would scoff at the both of these.

    Rising high into view, the great manor had absolutely no defences at all. Similar in style to the Trickery Clan, only on a substantially grander scale. Maybe there were a few spy Unbounded situated in the great wades of grass that surrounded the place, but sentinels weren¡¯t so easily tossed aside as something for the weak to rely on. Even a thriving community of monstrous Unbounded, plotting the dawn of the apocalypse, couldn¡¯t relent on that front. But then again, perhaps most average clansmen did think that Nova possessed the gall to do so. After all, Violet was only semi-suspicious of the existence of the look-outs because of her insight into the truth ¡ª a truth a pitiful few knew about.

    All combined, painted the Chaos Clan as an unstoppable, near invincible force. Precisely what the miserable, plotting lot wanted you to think.

    A full moon stretched out overhead, like a hole in the ether. She and Remus were sloth to trespass into the moonlit valley, transfixed by the ambient glow of the stars, glittering out like tiny, golden pinpricks. There was no need to go into detail over their plans. Both of them had memorised everything that strangely, it was almost instinctual.

    As Remus remained behind to enact his part of the plan, Violet crept forward. Oddly, she was utterly devoid of fear. The thought that she had done everything she could have was comforting. If she died now, at least it was by putting up the good fight.

    Being Unbounded as she was, Violet had a close enough relationship with Infinity to notice several large concentrations of the divine resource, all at separated locales. Going off like beacons. These, without a doubt, were the sentinels she had been mulling over earlier.

    They were simple enough to avoid, and so she did so. They loped around in unorganised patterns, conveying that they were more animalistic than anything implying intelligence. So weak Unbounded then, Violet mused, tip-toeing forward.

    But they didn¡¯t need to be strong. Perhaps, now that Violet thought of it, these were all Projections in themselves. They would all be easy to slay, but doing so would garner the attention of bigger fish.

    Of course, she sensed her connection to her own Projections vaguely ¡ª the four tiny, barely conscious pods of power she had handed Remus ¡ª but they were so flimsy, so incredibly weak by design, that her links may as well have been non-existent. All she could infer was that they were still alive, but nothing more than that.

    After a few minutes of simply staring towards a window, hunched down beneath a canopy and waiting for the sentinels to pass, Violet made her move. As a Chaos Clan member in herself, veiling her presence was easy enough. The energy that radiated off a Mark informed you of what kind of clansmen you were dealing with. But it was incredibly difficult to pinpoint one thread of energy, when everyone in the vicinity was gushing out the same kind. That came immensely useful in situations like these. No one would be able to detect Violet¡¯s presence without paying rapt attention. And even then, it would be a difficult task.

    Violet erased the reality of the window for all the time it took to dive in. It reappeared promptly behind her without so much as a sound. It was within that bland looking room, scanning from wall to wall with a quick swerve of the eyes, that the weight of the situation truly set in. This chamber alone ¡ª ornate in a way that was somehow boring ¡ª was not enough to confirm if her maps of the place were true. They had better be, for a substantial chunk of her mind was preoccupied with marshalling the images of the different pathways, trying to recognise her current location. This proved a futile task, and Violet set herself to the immediate situation.

    Not a soul was present here, luckily. She¡¯d guessed as much from her observations of the interior from outside. But as Violet had explained before, detecting individual strands of Chaos when this place was dripping with the energy, was tricky. Harder still inside the manor than outside.

    She strained her senses in an attempt to detect presences in the next direct rooms, and after some estimation, noticed none.

    Violet took a breath, keeping her eyes on a small pocket-watch before shoving it back into a  cloak pocket.

    Soon, Remus would bring down hell.

    Remus¡¯ distraction would help, but there was no reason as to why Violet couldn¡¯t start her advance now. She felt the handle of the nearest door, found it unlocked, and stepped through to the other side.

    A long corridor met her, with a trio of chandeliers shaking up above. Strange paintings, abstract and surreal, lined the walls in a collage of colour. Violet ignored them, and slowly, delaying the change so as not to draw attention to herself, transformed into her Unbounded form. Her posture deteriorated, bending near her shoulders so Violet looked like a hunchback. The form¡¯s full size would be too noticeable ¡ª she had to be small, as insignificant as the corner of a table. Something you acknowledged but never really paid any mind to.

    Shouts, closer than they were distant, rebounded through the mahogany of the walls. Violet had one second to prepare, before the structure of the hall was jeopardised.

    Doors that hadn¡¯t been there before appeared from all directions. This didn¡¯t exclude the ceiling and floor, one crystal chandelier vanishing. Violet blinked, and a myriad of forms swarmed out of the black pits.

    Some Unbounded suited the human appearance of a Chaos Clansman¡¯s body, whereas the others were rapidly altering into one. Clearly, they planned to storm Remus in human ruse. It wouldn¡¯t be wise to leave themselves unveiled, out in the open.

    Ignoring them all, Violet launched herself into the gaping gap below. None of the Unbounded bidded an eye at her. She blended in perfectly.

    The descent was surprisingly long. A pain thudded through Violet¡¯s feet as a small bedroom expanded around her. Her eyes gazed along the white quilt, the pillow choking with feathers, and the bedframe far too small for most Unbounded.

    She froze for a moment, the gap above closing up, as her heart throbbed with nostalgia. Being the daughter of Nova, Violet had seen her fair share of travel amongst their central bases. It was in beds like these that she had seen many of the lesser clansmen and trainees sleep.

    Back then, Nova had been a better father than she could have ever asked for. He had been busy, sure, as busy as any sect-leader is. Yet, no matter how large the stack of paperwork on his desk was, how long he had to spend in arduous meetings consulting other Godlings and God-Graced, he would always drop everything for a few special hours at the end of the day. A short, precious time laughing merrily along with his children.

    Now that was all gone. His body robbed; a walking, talking, reanimated husk. It made Violet sick to her stomach.

    And all the more keen to kick this place into the depths of hell.

    Violet began to pick up her pace, before inexorably, she gave into the urge to clamber forwards on all fours. It was a fierce run, but Violet couldn¡¯t afford to waste time. Remus hadn¡¯t crushed one of her Projections yet, but no-one could stand up to a battalion of Unbounded, solo, for long.

    Soon, he would be becoming more and more reliant on her ability to transport him out of sticky situations. But that game wouldn¡¯t last long. This mission wasn¡¯t designed to stretch on for any prolonged period of time; she had to act quickly.

    It may have been the distortion the Unbounded were unleashing upon the manor as Violet barrelled deeper and deeper into their private base, but in no way did this place resemble her plans. Had the Trickery Clan lied? No, they didn¡¯t operate like that. Their predictions, then, must have been false. The most important fifty-fifty chance in the world, and Violet¡¯s luck couldn¡¯t pull through. Typical.

    Violet knew, when she entered a blank, cubed chamber that the act was up. They had found her.

    Spikes clawed out of the perpendicular walls, like talons scraping through paper. Violet activated her Mark as panic slapped her across the face, and it took all she had to delay the oncoming assault. The advancing caw of the spikes was enough to put anybody on edge. In her Unbounded form, Violet¡¯s every action was imbued with Infinity. One jump, and she flew out of that chamber. The next was no better.

    She came to a staggering stop, grasping the outlines of the door, as a chasm bore down below her. Chilly air whistled up from those unfathomable depths, and for a distinct moment, Violet was sure she could make out a clicking noise, rebounding across the pillar-shaped cavity, and smacking against her eardrums with deafening volume. Like a crab clicking its claws.

    Violet flexed her will, and yet another depression formed to her right. She leapt through it. Inevitably, Remus called her for help. Like the snapping of a string in her mind, she felt a pang of visceral empathy as the Projection perished.

    Meanwhile, with growing speed, a mass from behind pulled itself out of the depression¡¯s hidden depths. There was no lighting in the cave, so Violet could hardly make out the aggressor at all. But it was large. Large, and charging forward with growing speed.

    Multitasking wasn¡¯t efficient, but very doable. Violet surged her Mark in a blaze of neon purple, concentrating on the whereabouts of her Projection. Sending energy towards Projections was a clumsy process ¡ª it diluted the energy you sent, wasting resources, and it was a bother to target your lesser part. Otherwise, Projections would be glorified extensions of yourself. And that would be a fearsome power indeed. More often than not, the cost of sending power was not worth it.

    Yet Violet transported Remus in a copious surge of her Mark anyway. This was another reason to be swift. Besides the fact the entire mansion of hideous fiends had just discovered the nature of their invasion, and the enemy on her tail, her resources were diminishing by the minute.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    He would be safe, for now. Violet couldn¡¯t have sent him far with so much strain, but hopefully it was enough to avoid dying outright.

    A screeching from behind, and Violet¡¯s reverie was torn to shreds. Shortcut after shortcut she opened and closed, trying to lose her assailant, but they kept at it. Reopening every closure she made, or simply bashing through the cavern as she dashed down nondescript halls.

    They must have a Chaos Mark then, it occurred to her, breathing deep of the Infinity around even as a throng of monsters drank the atmosphere dry. If they could manipulate reality like her, this wasn¡¯t some lone Unbounded on the level of a Snow Wolf.

    Fleeing was useless. She would have to make short work of this attacker before even more arrived.

    The aura of a peak Foot-Soldier flooded over her, and a gangly, drooping beast with a score of limp arms charged forwards. Each of its palms widened, revealing a yellow, infected-looking eye gazing upon her soul.

    Infinity gathered into each of them, shooting out towards her as deadly lasers.

    Violet teleported behind the fiend, still in Unbounded form, and kicked into its side.

    It came crashing ahead, skittering along to where a rift appeared directly above. Violet thrusted her fists down upon a matching tear in the space below her. Her blow cheated past the length of the tunnel to come crashing down on its head, circumventing their few feet of distance. That should have been enough to give a lesser Emblazed a concussion.

    Instead, the beast merely shrieked. With impossible grip-strength, each of its palms implanted into the rock of the tunnel. As if defying gravity, the Unbounded blasted forwards in loops of motion across the tunnel¡¯s curvature. Forming a helix pattern as it went.

    Violet was quick on its tail.

    Tugging on the reserves of her Mark, she skidded ahead, jolting through space every second step. With the technique¡¯s help, her fist was pounding against the Unbounded in the time it took to inhale. Again and again she struck, the creature¡¯s squeals only growing more nonsensical. Fingers split, nails fell off, and Infinity dispersed off the bundle in leaking drifts.

    And all the while, that irritating clicking didn¡¯t cease. In fact, Violet was certain it was becoming louder.

    Sheer disgust made Violet¡¯s features tighten. Without thinking, forgoing any basic awareness, the incessant din became less illogical to her ears than it was understandable. Scratches became syllables, and the Unbounded¡¯s pleas ¡ª all the more pathetic in its own tongue ¡ª were crystal clear. It was like listening to a tune you¡¯d blocked out all your life; a melody so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

    Similar sounds came out of Violet¡¯s own mouth. It was either a thank-you or a highly offensive insult, not referring to the Unbounded¡¯s mother in a positive light.

    Like inhaling deeply, Violet consumed the Unbounded of all it had.

    This wouldn¡¯t have been possible for any average mortal. It wasn¡¯t a matter of simply channelling the Infinity into yourself, like you would from the immediate atmosphere when recharging your reserves. Only her special circumstances as an Unbounded allowed her to bring the creature into herself ¡ª so, instead of sipping on the drabs of Infinity that poured out of it, Violet, in a sense, ate the creature. Unbounded bonding with Unbounded.

    There was no time to sit idly. Making haste, Violet rearranged the manor around her. She made it out of the cavern, into three deeper, cellar-like rooms, before an influx of wills oppressed against her own.

    She staggered to a stop, feeling heavy from her freshest intake of Infinity. Chains hung from the walls of this quaint chamber, with a stack of barrels squeezed into a corner. Shunning the inclination to engorge herself on whatever liquor was inside, Violet braced herself as yet more Unbounded rushed closer in.

    Violet didn¡¯t have time to marvel at how quickly one devoured Unbounded could revitalise her. Nor did she have the breathing room to consider her ability to speak the Unbounded tongue ¡ª yet another way she was like these freakish devils. But the benefits did much to appease her: cuts knitted together, bruises faded, and the amounting fatigue diminished.

    Like advancing bonfires, the Chaotic energy engulfing Violet was overwhelming. She had all the time to brace herself, before the room itself turned on her.

    Squirming flesh sprang out of every surface in grotesque distortions, growling towards her. Bubbling boils of violent, warm colours riddled the enclosing tissue, and Violet felt oncoming sickness putting her oesophagus into a frenzy. The room itself was an Unbounded. It was as plain as day, and like a rabbit lodged between a fox¡¯s jaws, she had been caught whole.

    Never before had being in the belly of the beast been so literal.

    It was at times like this where Violet regretted her lack of weaponry. But, at least, she could always rely on the most universal weapon of all: Infinity. Her form feasted on the Infinity reserves she sent rushing towards it, having finally ¡®digested¡¯ the Unbounded of many hands. Claws elongated at the end of her ashy white fingers. With a screech, she raked the oversized nails across the gory substance.

    The unbounded squealed, but Violet didn¡¯t relent. The flesh concentrated where she stuck, becoming tougher, almost shell-like. For an entire minute she scraped and scraped, but despite this, the Unbounded was clearly a tier above her.

    Her Mark flourished, and lightning the eerie shade of magenta crackled inside of the beast. Violet jolted from location to location, slashing at the stretched tissue before it could decide which portion to protect.

    Every drop of Infinity she cut free instantly became one with her. Violet allowed her form to extend in size, before becoming a lumbering giant shooting into the roof. Dust, various distorted organs, and a vicious outpour of blood neither red nor the familiar gold of Ichor splattered.

    The Unbounded crumpled beneath her onslaught. Violet devoured the beast as she fought, wrestling with its primaeval will to survive. She vaguely registered the fact the room was falling, dislocated from its positioning in what felt like a grand descent. One well-aimed blow to the floor, and the entire room capsized like a ship slamming helplessly into the depths.

    Debris sprinkled into a grand hall, and Violet teleported just right of the drop. The creature flailed, gravity¡¯s latest victim.

    Already, another beast was upon her.

    The mound of limbs, organs, and stretched tissue salivated at the sight of her. Remus¡¯ descriptions, whilst sometimes hard to believe, told her all she needed to know.

    This specimen had killed Hansley. Chewed away at her lifeless body like it was an afternoon snack. Violet snarled, plotting out exactly how she was going to make the vermin pay.

    Several things proceeded to occur all at once. The two weren¡¯t alone in the room ¡ª an entire squadron of human-looking Unbounded froze at the sight of her. Cloaks and basic mortal appeal clung to all of them uniformly, their faces like hollow masks. Masks in the fact she recognised each and every one of them in bittersweet reminiscence. Hollow in the empty way they bore into her. Mannequins fitted with only the motives to fill out their mission; gladiators enacting the will of the cosmos. Nature made into the things of nightmares.

    Amil, Jacan, Lowell, Raven. All dead. Or the next best thing to it. Their bodies were being used like dolls, and the thought made Violet screech. She hadn¡¯t known any of them particularly well before they had been taken over, but nobody deserved this. People were people.

    White husks, exactly like her strand of Unbounded, emerged from the mortal fronts. Like a spring rebounding forward. Good, Violet thought, anger seething. These she could tear apart, the false images of her past clansmen earning her no guilt. They¡¯re simulacrums, nothing more.

    Two scores of Unbounded, all coming for her flesh. Surely, the stronger Unbounded were preoccupied by the blazing fires far above, but nevertheless, Remus'' side of the mission wasn¡¯t going very successfully, was it?

    Speak of the devil . . . a mental jolt, and Violet received yet another signal from the man. He appeared to be in a spot of trouble.

    Fissures spread across the tiled flooring. To Violet¡¯s dismay, the side windows showed her nothing but a blur progressing upwards. All of these Unbounded were trying to drag her back to surface level, undoing all the work she had put in to penetrate this far into the base. Their Marks were illuminated in synchrony, demanding reality to push them back.

    There was only one thing for it: slaughtering the fiends before they could.

    As Violet charged forwards, the mysteries of Akuji were all she could think of. The same could have been said for every fleeting moment of her life. When she ate, she could see the visage of Nova reflecting back at her. When Violet woke up in the morning, the plots of the Unbounded were her immediate thought. And when her head hit the pillow, it was the last. She couldn¡¯t walk, train, speak, breathe or do so much as think, without the weight of her ignorance keeping her in a chokehold. One man was the difference between her perpetual naivety; the antidote to a lifetime of enquiries.

    She would get to that man if it killed her. Purple light flooded around Violet, and in a hasty breath, it began.

    <hr>

    Maybe Elmore was just bad at reading plans, but he couldn¡¯t recall anywhere in Donovan¡¯s schemes where the manor being up in flames was mentioned.

    Ash did a low whistle, by his side with the rest of the party on top of a small knoll. He planted his hands firmly on either hip in a satisfied gesture. ¡°Looks like our job here is done.¡±

    An elbow from Koa shut him up. ¡°Now this changes things . . . are we sticking to the original plan?¡±

    Stony-faced as always, Donovan sat hunched on the edge of the hill. ¡°There¡¯s someone down there.¡± He said simply. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve interrupted somebody¡¯s assault.¡±

    Elmore felt his arms hang limply, despair overcoming him. They¡¯d come all this way, only to be interrupted at the last leg. ¡°We might have to wait a few days for this to blow over. Damn it ¡ª what are the chances?¡±

    Silence took hold of the group. For a second of deliberation, they all remained as they were, heads hanging low and nothing but the sweeping winds to soothe them.

    ¡°No.¡± Donovan finally said. ¡°There¡¯s no better time than this.¡±

    All three of them turned to him, but it was Ash who spoke. ¡°What? Their base is literally on fire. Last time I checked, it''s hard to investigate a clan, and kinda pointless, when they¡¯re on the brink of death.¡±

    ¡°This won¡¯t finish them.¡± The Shadow Clansman turned to the group. ¡°It¡¯ll be a distraction at most; I suspect that was the point of this attack in the first place. But we can use this to our advantage. We act now.¡±

    Realisation struck Elmore. What had he been thinking? With such an uproar, who would notice a few stray shadows? ¡°Behind that withdrawn mien, your genius never ceases to amaze me. Use your Mark on us if you will then. If we¡¯re gonna do this, we should hurry.¡±

    Donovan nodded. It was here, for the first time, that Elmore noticed the man¡¯s Mark. Located across his chest, Elmore at first thought the construct was completely black. There was barely a detail, simply a faint swirling pattern that the entire thing consisted of. Then, he activated it, and Elmore at once understood. Now illuminating with a subtle brightness, a patch of olive skin, struck with two closed eyes, made up a gigantic man¡¯s face. The jetness enveloping the dozing man was, in fact, a gigantic beard.

    ¡°Is that your god?¡± He asked Donovan, who was in the process of tapping the foreheads of his cousins.

    He shook his head, tapping Elmore¡¯s gently. ¡°No. It¡¯s the Old One. Our sect leader.¡±

    That perplexed Elmore on such a level that he didn¡¯t even notice as the colour sank out of him. Marks typically only depicted scenes from ancient history. Literal millennia  ago. If the current, reigning sect leader of the clan, the one still eating, breathing ¡ª and, presumably, sleeping ¡ª was still alive . . . Elmore had heard the rumours, had heard it from Donovan himself. But this here was irrefutable proof, really putting things into perspective.

    The more he learnt about the Shadow Clan, the more terrifying Elmore found Donovan¡¯s withdrawn nature. But he put that thought aside for the time being. Down below, he was about to invade a clan equally, if not more terrifying.

    Simultaneously, Elmore and his cousins stared at their palms. They were transparent, made up of drab, monochrome shades. Their contours were vague, as if only half-there with a ghostly quality. Looking further up, their arms, shoulders, chest, and entire body followed suit. Directly below, Elmore watched, mouth wide, as their shadows thinned to little more than a fidgeting dot. He walked a few steps, and the effect remained perfectly stable.

    Elmore made a signal with his hands, and without so much as another word, the three dived downwards.

    Like moths to a flame, they crash-landed ahead of the manor. Which, for some peculiar reason, was the mysterious shade of azure blue.

 54. Carnage

    Remus crushed the third Projection, every second welcoming a new world of pain.

    The manic man in the amethyst armour refused to relent however, and Remus had little more than a second to defend himself against the next blow. Directly beneath where he flew, his own personal inferno raged in spitting sparks.

    He¡¯d been forced to scale up the manor¡¯s side in one last desperate ploy. Having his ribcage rearranged by an insane paladin had about as much appeal as sticking his hand into a vat of acid. Yet, the cackling maniac wouldn''t let loose. Wherever Remus ran, his shaven face would pop up. Whenever Violet transported him away from the brink of death, the attacker always had a way of locating him.

    It was like fighting Styrmir all over again. Though this individual, much to Remus'' despair, surpassed even that giant in pure might.

    Left with only one Projection, Remus couldn¡¯t afford to rely on Violet. If fighting near the ground only meant exposing himself, the skies it would be.

    Flames gushed out of him, propelling Remus directly into the overhanging moonlight. His tiny, raisin-sized Bank could support his flight little, but Remus used every resource at his disposal. And, all the while, the circuit of sapphire clinging onto his Ichor made every action just that much more arduous. Far more effective, true, but strenuous. At this pace, the pain would kick in any second.

    Metres overhead, Remus finally had the chance to compose his breath. Perspiration was leaking down him, but satisfaction outlived fear. A wild laugh escaped his split lips.

    The manor was a ruin. Smoke obscured his view of the place, but the scent of ash and tar pervaded through the atmosphere, even this high up from the turmoil. Unbounded flooded down below, but not many of them could fly. Those that could weren¡¯t particularly menacing.

    Remus skirted past hovering eyes, demonic ravens turned mad, and grotesque distortions of nature he could put no description to. Fireballs flew out of his fingertips, keeping the fire going whilst Violet sank deeper and deeper into the Unbounded¡¯s lair.

    Remus made the mistake of smiling, and everything crumbled.

    The advancing being from earlier, armoured and oncoming, launched onto the raven-looking Unbounded. It squawked, as a gauntleted hand squeezed with all its might. Remus would have cursed, if it wasn''t for how rigid he body had gone. He retained all the sense needed to stay airborne, and that was the extent of it.

    ¡°Oh, come on Remus!¡± The Unbounded snarled. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me ¡ª is it Violet who¡¯s behind your sudden disappearances?¡±

    Remus gripped onto the remaining pod, gritting his teeth. Did he risk it? If Violet failed to transport him in the time frame she had to sense the Projection¡¯s death at his location, he would be stuck here. Helplessly stuck with no way to get away from what was clearly a Splintered Rank Equivalent. And that was likely a generous underestimation.

    It may have been futile, but he burst off in a stream of fire. After a few seconds, Remus risked a glance behind. He wished he hadn¡¯t.

    The Unbounded clung on to the miserable bird, controlling it with clunky motions and tugs of the wrist. Suddenly, in a scene that was eerily familiar to days past, a plus symbol appeared on his forehead. The shade of freshly drawn animal blood.

    Their eyes rolled back with tangible force, and with an absurd smile, they spoke. ¡°Fourth Divine Right: Fusion.¡±

    Each word struck like thunderclaps, and Remus stopped moving completely as . . .  as they bonded with the bird.

    An oval enveloped the two of them, forged completely out of Infinity. Remus sent bullet after flaming bullet made of pure azure light. Cracks appeared upon the construct, but it was no use. One Unbounded arose out of the structure like a chick breaking out of their egg.

    It was the same being as before, only this time, with wings. An eccentric series of giggles escaped out of their rasping beak, and Remus realised with growing terror that his initial assessment had been wrong. As talons pierced into his back, the true, avian modifications of his adversary became painfully apparent.

    Remus was dragged across the night sky, the speeding breeze irritating his freshly opened wounds. Flaming Gold failed him, the combined pain threatening to make Remus faint. It was like invisible fingers were poking away at the lacerations. It was amongst this assault that their decision to come here truly struck Remus as ludicrous; whatever had been going through his and Violet¡¯s mind when they came here could not have been logical. Remus¡¯ hand scrambled into his cloak, latching onto his last pod in desperation, but a series of pecks from the Unbounded, and it was forced out of his grip. He yelped, a litany of holes transforming the appendage into a mangled lump.

    Inexorably, the Projection descended metres below.

    But Remus didn¡¯t let his hope die. The Projection was sure to be crushed when it reached the ground. It would be difficult for Violet to pinpoint his location from there, likely fated to be incinerated down below, but it would attract her attention. He wasn¡¯t sure how Violet could help him out of this, but-

    The Unbounded spotted the Projection from yards above. It nipped down, grabbing it by a talon carefully, so as not to break it. Of course, an eagle¡¯s vision had come with the fusion.

    Now he truly was hopeless.

    ¡°So Remus,¡± it was uncanny to hear mortal words out of the beak, ¡°how would you like to die? You don¡¯t have much Infinity on you, so I couldn¡¯t care less myself how the process goes. How about a swift slash of my talons against your throat? But that¡¯s so terribly anticlimactic!¡±

    Remus set his entire form ablaze, cupping his palms at the sides of the great bird. Fires engulfed the pair of them immediately, blue like artistic lightning, but the Unbounded simply continued to speak.

    ¡°Long and painful then!¡± This was followed up by a much more natural caw. ¡°Really, these fires are impressive. You might even hurt me given enough time. I''m terribly sorry to have to flay your tissue off, but we can test how long those fires can really go on for!¡±

    Remus put his index finger and thumb together, concentrated his Ambition, and snapped his fingers before the Unbounded¡¯s face.

    A hole was torn through one of its wings, and immediately, they began to fall. The Unbounded let out a great roar, hate as explosive as dynamite reducing the two of them into a fitful tangle. Remus half-recognised the sensation of Chaos energy fluttering past him as Violet¡¯s Projection finally died. His fingers hung limply, his fists did more damage to the armour than to the Unbounded himself, but every scrap of amethyst metal flying past did much to appease him.

    Imagine his despair when he noticed it visibly regrowing. Scraps elongating themselves as a thin layer returned. Disgust at their rapid fall aside, he suspected the material was a weak variety of Supreme Steel. If left long enough to flourish with rampant levels of Infinity, it would be damn near impenetrable.

    Very fortunate then, that they were crashing backs-first into the manor¡¯s roof.

    Splinters of wood flew to their sides, shrapnel implanting itself into Remus¡¯ skin. A hellhole of fire enveloped everything in sight, the sapphire eruption blinding them both. The Unbounded made to speak, only the top and bottom of his body visible through the unmoving patches of white light, staining his vision. They managed so much as a venomous splutter, before Remus shoved a hand over the being¡¯s mouth. No need to keep his body enveloped by flame when it was swirling around them. He instead poured all of that energy into making his palm as hot as possible. White fire contrasted the azure all around, and, to this, not even the Unbounded could disguise his pain.

    Remus was not in the mood to hear him jabber on.

    The roof groaned beneath them, caving inwards. Pits were scorched open, revealing an attic used as a standard storage room, before Remus was forced to blink. It had changed to a lab filled with miscellaneous equipment, then morphed into a prison stuffed with rows of cells. The sight put his stomach into knots, so Remus looked away, back to the Unbounded at hand.

    Who had finally had enough. The strength of a Splintered-Rank equivalent pressed down into Remus, as he was rolled beneath the bird of prey. They flared their talons like ten-inch long daggers, hissing. The ends of their feathers were burnt, the area of the armour he had chipped off previously at melting point. Remus had just enough time to cross both his forearms in a pitiful guard.

    Nails slit the skin in an outpour of Ichor. He had been lucky to catch the Unbounded off guard; there was nothing he could do now to save his own skin.

    Again and again the grotesque fusion of bird and holy knight pounced on Remus like he was a cutting board. They fell onto the rafters below as he flared the surrounding flames to their limit, screeching as gratifying visages of burning the fiend alive played out in his mind.

    The room below reached a state of equilibrium, at last remaining unchanged. One swift headbutt, and Remus¡¯s neck made a popping sound as he was sent barreling down. A standard living area, the kind you would find at a fancy hotel, expanded around him.

    Onto an old mat he collided, the fire clinging to his back spreading across its new prey. Up above, like he had awoken on the crest of a hill under the sun''s glare, the raging cyclone of his own making was a mystical sight. Even more perturbing was the claws heading straight for his face.

    He rolled aside, jolted to his feet, and sent a score of heated shots directly into the Unbounded. Most perished upon his armour, and the few that got through did little more than burn him.

    He walked through purposefully slow, one wing gummy with dried blood and the rest of his body patched by burn marks. Now that he could take a close look, Remus was impressed by the harm he¡¯d caused. At least he wouldn¡¯t die without putting up a good fight. It would be a valiant death.

    Suddenly, the Unbounded rose to his tiptoes. Like he was a marionette compelled upwards by the tug of a string. Their eyes rolled back in a fashion Remus was getting far too used to ¡ª the addition symbol on their brow blazing in a carbon copy of a Mark. Unlike last time, there was no grand oyster to surround the fiend.

    The carcass of the bird from before simply splattered across the floor next to him.

    Its wings were crooked; legs sprawled unnaturally at odd angles; beak crushed and talons chipped. All in its own personal sea of multicoloured blood.

    Remus¡¯ head turned to the other Unbounded, who, apart from some damage to his armour, was completely unscathed. Heat from within him, the spawn of frustration instead of his Mark, made Remus want to scream. There wasn¡¯t the need for an explanation. When the Unbounded used his Divine Right ¡ª the same source of power the Pet-Keeper had tapped into ¡ª and fused, all the harm went to the being he bonded to.

    Remus had never held sympathy for the Unbounded. He despised the lot of them, in fact. LOathed all divine fiends with every fraction of his heart, with indiscriminate disdain. Yet, whilst all that was true, such a grim demise, the final moments the creature had to endure before dispersing back into Infinity, were simply cruel. It had done nothing to merit such a gruesome death.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Pity, that was the word for it. Pity.

    ¡°Aha, that was fun!¡± The creature boomed. ¡°It¡¯s been so long since I last bonded with an Unbounded that could fly. Oh, being stuck in the base all Rebirth long with¡ª¡± he let out a crackling sound in his native tongue ¡°¡ªcan get oh-so tiring.¡±

    Even through Remus¡¯ expression of pure hatred, the armoured Unbounded must have identified a tinge of confusion.

    ¡°Oh, my apologies. That¡¯s the Pet-Keeper¡¯s Unbounded name.¡± He repeated the unpleasant noise. ¡°Quite awful, isn¡¯t it? Not nearly as good as . . .¡±

    They proceeded to repeat their own name. Laughing maniacally, and obviously enjoying every second of Remus¡¯ extended torture. Gradually, they approached. Step by step, ramble by ramble.

    Remus stopped listening, flipping upwards, hand on the ground, in a learning crouch. Flaming Gold flooded across his Ichor, his blue eyes glowing strong enough to rival a torch¡¯s light. He wasn¡¯t going to stand here and simply give himself up to the Unbounded, just because they had a few tricks up their sleeve.

    They both screeched simultaneously, cannoning straight towards one another. Remus suited his own armour of fire, crossed his wrists, prepared to set off two clicking eruptions at once, when¨C

    Violet light consumed him. Remus both felt the need to crumple to his feet in sheer relief, and pull at his hair. It was like drowning in the ocean, only to miraculously gain the ability to swim. Yet still, the coast guard was inclined to rush you out of the water.

    Nonetheless, largely, Remus was thankful. Whilst he was pumped-up to cause as much destruction as possible, before the Unbounded would inevitably kill him, it was far wiser to not die at all.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, the light vanishing, ¡°a few more minutes there and-¡±

    He shut himself up. Back to Violet, he found himself in the centre of a field of dead Unbounded, Infinity flooding through the atmosphere like a cyclone. She was huffing, each breath a great labour, purple light exuding off her Mark and her form slowly down-sizing to mortal form. Sporting her gangly Unbounded side must have taken a toll on her.

    Ahead of them, the only other being left alive in the room, stood Daisy. Or, seeing as the Unbounded didn¡¯t actually use its array of legs for walking, crawled. Either way, it didn¡¯t make much of a difference; with the Pet-Keeper nowhere to be found, nothing could stop Remus from finishing what he and Aziel had started.

    Revenge would finally be his.

    Still, he reigned in his ire. First of all, he would have to play catch up. ¡°How deep into the manor are we?¡±

    ¡°Not deep enough.¡± Violet clenched her teeth. ¡°I was almost to Akuji, I¡¯m sure of it, when these Unbounded dragged me back up. Obviously, they¡¯re dead.¡±

    Remus'' eyes panned over the tide of dissolving bodies. ¡°Obviously.¡±

    It occurred to Remus, like a hideous beast sticking its tongue out at him, that the mass of dead around him were all Chaos clansmen. They must have been, in order to distort reality; to rearrange the manor. He gave a tentative, sidelong glance at Violet. How was she coping? Her blank expression revealed nothing, and she continued.

    ¡°I¡¯m done with hip-hopping from room to room. I¡¯m sending us straight down from here. How long do you think you can fare against Daisy?¡± She scoffed. ¡°What an unfitting name.¡±

    Remus flooded his hands with fire, diving forwards. ¡°If I could hold my weight as an Enkindled, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll survive now.¡±

    She nodded, and that was the end of it. It was time to get to work.

    Unintelligible screeches spluttered out of Daisy, spittle flinging towards Remus. He channelled the Infinity around within him, the sensation still new and familiar as it filled his fledgling Bank full to brimming. Already, in amounts so small, no metrics could but put to it, the construct was expanding. He attempted to direct the resource to his injuries, but with no tubes, such proved a struggle. It was expended after doing little more than spreading behind his naval.

    Daisy approached in slow, inexorable movements strangely reminiscent of something slimy. It gave Remus all the time in the world to pinpoint his Ambition on the end of each finger. He held the bundles of power, allowing the tiny missiles to grow more and more potent.

    Only when the grotesque bundle was within reaching distance did he free the Ambition.

    The Unbounded was swept back, their frontal limbs splitting open, and great cries resounded through the chamber. Whips of blood, greyish and vomit inducing, stained the floor in dark patches. Remus flew past them, gushing fire all over the gelatinous fiend until all you could see of it was a dark shadow, through a veil of spectacular azure.

    Thanks, Enrique, he thought, the explosive ability the man had taught him, Eruptive Will, as useful as ever.

    That was when the beast barged into him. His personal flames didn¡¯t harm Remus, of course, but the sheer force of Daisy pushed him back a step. The being turned, limbs with a mind of their own whacking him with the force of a tossed brick. He drowned out the pain, Ambitious adrenaline a constant saviour.

    In unison, all legs and arms abandoned their reckless scrambling. They slapped the floor in booming connections, the sound deafening. Only after amply stunning Remus, did the limbs throw the main bulk of the body upwards.

    For the space of one second, Remus allowed Flaming Gold to rejuvenate him. Time became a freeze frame, and he bolted past the crashing impact of fat and muscle.

    A crack expanded across the floor, and Remus was actually thrusted into the air. Using Flaming Gold so haphazardly merited a stab of pain, but endorphins shoved it down.

    Daisy was carried by the myriad of hands and feet, his main mass still hovering as all the Infinity in the room was suddenly consumed. Now dents in the ground appeared wherever the flaming beast wandered.

    You don¡¯t have to kill it, Remus did his best to not let his emotions get the better of him. Stall. Do whatever it takes to stall and stay alive.

    Once more, the Unbounded vaulted into the air, flying down straight overhead Remus. He dodged in the same manner as last time, but the immediate pain was far fiercer. Again, and again, as if Remus¡¯ flames were mere decoration, the beast interjected itself before him.

    Remus yelped in frustration. This wasn¡¯t working. Daisy wasn¡¯t as immobile as Remus had first-

    What felt like five hundred kilos pressed down into Remus'' back. One second, and bones were already on the brink of breaking; a few probably had. He felt the urge to squirm, to yelp and spasm, but his compressed chest wouldn¡¯t release so much as a noise.

    In a moment of panic, he fell back onto his training. He embraced the stillness of his body, tissue stiffening like the entire layer had been calloused a dozen times over. The pain became muted ¡ª a distant annoyance instead of an urgent danger. Still, he couldn¡¯t breathe. Taking a nap down here was not only impractical, but deadly. He had to escape. Issue was, Daisy wasn¡¯t going to budge on their own accord any time soon.

    Remus focused in on his Mark, not moving a muscle. Every measle of Ambition, everything his Mark could tug off the divine might of Tanish, it all went towards setting himself aflame. The dark expanse suddenly acquired light, the squirming mass above him fidgeting. But it wasn¡¯t enough.

    More! He thought, not daring to do so much as move his lips.

    The fire deepened to a ghastly orange, and the creature visibly shifted.

    Is that all? Is that really everything?

    A dizzying magenta filled his vision, flames surpassing even the heat of Brison¡¯s white for one terrific moment.

    One final pulse, and a fire so bright Remus couldn¡¯t even identify their shade sent Daisy howling.

    It jolted away from Remus, who, promptly, vomited all over the floor. His breaths came hurriedly, his overworked Mark demanding the encompassing fire to return to its typical shade.

    And Violet was still not finished transporting them. Remus let himself rest for a moment, only expending the energy needed to maintain the heat burning away at Daisy. This, at least, appeared to harm the specimen.

    But, given a second of breathing room, Remus¡¯ mind scrambled. If Daisy was here, didn¡¯t that mean Violet¡¯s schemes had been, well, incorrect? The Clan of Two Doors, that fifty-fifty gamble, couldn¡¯t possibly have paid off. That explained the other Unbounded¡¯s presence ¡ª the Fusion Right man with a tendency for wildlife abuse. But Daisy . . . Daisy was never alone.

    Was the Pet-Keeper here? The thought made him glance to and fro.

    He had to get his mind off the matter. ¡°Violet! How much longer?¡±

    ¡°Almost there!¡± She shouted back, through gritted teeth. ¡°The manor, I don¡¯t remember it ever being this large. I¡¯m trying to keep other Unbounded away, blocking them from entering and manoeuvring around them, but there¡¯s so many.¡±

    ¡°Keep at it.¡± Remus urged, Daisy finally rounding on him. ¡°I can hold on a little-¡±

    The wall to the side barreled open, and a shard of rock struck Remus on the face. Dust was all he could eye, the world becoming one of fog and darkness. The ground burst up before him as he crashed against it, his Mark finally guttering out fully. It happened so quickly. Soot was drooping from the roof, and Daisy¡¯s fires had been extinguished from the sheer force it must have taken to punch through the entire right wall.

    ¡°Violet!¡± He boomed through the ash. ¡°Violet, are you okay!¡±

    There was no sound for the most stressful moment of Remus¡¯ life, before finally, he could relax.

    ¡°I¡¯m here!¡± She shouted, voice strained. ¡°Nearly there, I promise! Just hold on for a second, I¡¯ll teleport us out of-¡±

    ¡°You bastards won¡¯t be teleporting anyone.¡±

    Every hair on Remus'' back went up, his worst nightmares mingling with reality. Please no, please-

    But the voice was undeniable. He recognised it immediately: the Pet-Keeper.

    His footsteps were such that Remus was half-expecting an earthquake to break out any minute.

    ¡°Once I sensed that Daisy was in danger,¡± Remus shot to attention, ¡°I knew it was you vermin. Nova foresaw your arrival Passings ago. I¡¯m going to do everything you inflicted upon my darling, only ten times worse. A hundreds times, a thousand, a-¡±

    He continued in higher and higher metrics. What to do? Remus was exhausted after his first two encounters; a Warlord and Splintered Rank equivalent were sure to kill him. Hide. He had to hide.

    They grew closer. Each advancing stride sounded to Remus like the final beats of a heart, before destiny snuffled it out.

    ¡°I heard from Milap about your little scrap Remus. He was just wearing you down. Don¡¯t be so tempted as to think you really did something there. And Violet, you really aren¡¯t as discreet as you think you are. Straining your Mark with such reckless abandon was sure to grab my attention. And I thank you for it. Shame I had to bulldoze through all those rooms to arise here though.¡±

    All at once, the dust cleared. A gaping hole revealed the inside of another nondescript chamber that quickly flickered past. But Remus¡¯ attention was drawn to Daisy, sooty and burnt all over the place, and the Pet-Keeper. As standard looking as ever.

    He and Violet were out in the open, the shattered windows around them still showing walls zooming past. Violet was frantically sending them down, but it was no use. The Ambition still lingering in Remus¡¯ system spat at that thought, crushing it into a paste, but not everything could be confronted with boundless optimism.

    Sometimes, all you could do was lose.

    So he would do so with grace. In a fierce grunt that seemed to push his vocal cords to the limit, Remus unleashed all the fire his fatigued body could muster.

    A bruise maybe. Some scorch marks. He would even take a cut. Something. He just wanted something to make this final stand worth-

    A dozen branches cleaved through Daisy. Like the roots of an ancient tree, they pierced into the Unbounded¡¯s gelatine flesh. Blood spurted, recoating the fissured floor, but the onslaught was hardly finished there. In what would be no exaggeration to say, a hundred blades of pure, unfiltered jet black, manifested out of nowhere. The sound of metal swinging through ice resounded across the chamber. The Pet-Keeper screamed, raising a hand towards his forever companion in what felt like shockingly slow motions. A humanoid mass with the same hazy quality as the floating array of daggers raised two clenched fists over the exposed Unbounded.

    Several of their mouths were already choking on their own greyish blood. The effect only compounded as the equivalent of a porcupine¡¯s spikes pricked deep into their tissue.

    The hovering shadow may as well have relaxed by the fireplace, a job well done, but instead, he decided to do something very different indeed. A dozen times over, then thirty, then fifty, then until nothing remained of Daisy but a dark pulp, he threw down his fists.

    All at once, as the Pet-Keeper remained stupefied by his own horror, four figures appeared atop the deceased mound. Remus recognised the three familiar, emerald-clad clansmen, but the fourth ¡ª his striking black robes indicating that he must have been behind the shadow attacks ¡ª failed to ring any bells.

    ¡°Remus.¡± Elmore struck him with a blank expression. He crowned Daisy¡¯s mutilated corpse like it was the finest platform in the world. ¡°Long time no see.¡±

 55. Untangling the Web

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you!¡±

    The speed at which the Pet-Keeper tossed himself towards the group was unbelievable. For one, soul-crushing moment, Remus was certain they were all dead. Once Elmore, his cousins, and that terrifying man with the floating knives were turned into tombstones, Remus and Violet were next.

    But that didn¡¯t happen. The Pet-Keeper didn¡¯t enact unearthly sufferings on Remus and the rest of the group. Instead, her nose bleeding and hands shaking, Violet transported them all in a gush of mauve light.

    Even before Remus blinked to an underground grotto, he was already scrutinising the safety of their escape. The Pet-Keeper didn¡¯t have a Chaos Mark, as far as Remus was aware, so couldn¡¯t follow them directly. Neither could any other Mark-wielding Unbounded in the nearby vicinity track them down in his stead. Seeing as, quite simply, they were busy soaking in their own blood, and doing their best to dissolve as silently as possible.

    So, Remus grudgingly put that worry to rest for the time being. But that still left new issues to sour his already terrible mood.

    The expanse, whilst gloomy, was lit somewhat through a few luminous spots of crystal. He suspected they were of the same family as Infirnite. Though largely devoid of anything really, the space was expansive and airy. A few bats squeaked metres above, but the dimness of the cavern made seeing them a challenge ¡ª even for the enhancement of Engorged eyes. Presently, Remus sat gathering his breath in a winding tunnel that clearly opened up to a bigger cavity further in.

    If he was in a bad condition, gasping for air and clutching onto the dissolving dust that coated the cave floor, Remus could think of no ample description for Violet. She laid bundled up against a network of boulders. Breathing in so deeply, it was like she was trying to make up for the oxygen needs of six missing men.

    Remus suddenly stumbled back, fatigue temporarily forgotten at the sight of Elmore. The man was in much better condition than the two of them, barely a trickle of sweat on his brow. In fact, Remus'' reaction took him by surprise.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± He said, like it was a guessed answer to something.

    Pain, plucked out of nothing from his own mind, seemed to gather where his missing ring finger ended abruptly. The memory caused him to wince, but most of all, images of that horrible cell back in Leisure District flooded his mind. ¡°Are you after us?¡± He asked defensively, moving backwards. ¡°Please, I don¡¯t plan on returning to First Rite any time soon, just hear me-¡±

    Elmore put up a hand. The small action somehow inclined Remus to go mute. ¡°Relax. It¡¯s true that I have a warrant for your arrest, but after the things I¡¯ve seen today, I really couldn¡¯t care less at the moment. Besides, I¡¯m here on a different mission.¡±

    There was an awkward pause for all the time it took for Remus to go red at his own overreaction.

    Ash yelped out from the back, with all the rage and grace of a baby hippo. ¡°Why the hell, why in the name of every god and goddess, on Infinity itself, is there a travelling circus of Unbounded going rampant in this random manor? I didn¡¯t sign up for this!¡±

    The rest of their party retorted immediately. ¡°You did.¡±

    The man in all black stood up. His features, raw in a way that Remus couldn¡¯t pinpoint, like a freshly opened wound, looked down at him in a fashion that was very nearly a glare. ¡°These two have history with you, do they?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Koa answered from the back. He appeared to be dealing with everything much more easily than his brother. On the surface level, at least. Who knew how much he might be panicking?

    ¡°But history is history. I can¡¯t make any promises for the future, but for the time being, how about a truce?¡± Elmore extended a hand. He looked so sure of himself, Remus was mightily inclined to simply let bygones be bygones, and grab onto it.

    There was some level of safety that would be acquired from joining up with the quartet. Elmore alone had proved himself to be a respectable force on the battlefield, both minutes ago, and in times past. And his cousins weren¡¯t too shabby either.

    But teaming up with the man that had maimed him had all the appeal of offering Elmore another finger. Was this some scheme? If they all did successfully escape together, wouldn¡¯t Elmore, perhaps under some sort of Oath, or simply a sense of morality, be compelled to arrest Remus and Violet immediately? And why, after so long, was the girl still yet to stir? He had to check up on her. He didn¡¯t have the time to dawdle over petty matters.

    He came to a quick decision. ¡°Swear on it. All four of you, make an Oath not to harm either of us, or to pull any sort of tricks for that matter. Not until we¡¯re out of here, and not until one day has passed. And we¡¯ll do the same in return.¡±

    Elmore didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Agreed.¡±

    They quickly sped over the Oath-making process, with Elmore instructing his brothers to join in. The other man, however, froze.

    ¡°In my clan, we¡¯re not allowed to make Oaths. Save for the one that restricts us from agreeing to them. The Old One thinks they¡¯re easy to abuse.¡±

    That sounded awfully like an excuse, before Remus saw the certainty in the man¡¯s eyes. They weren¡¯t lying. Besides, whoever this guy was, he obviously wasn¡¯t from The Wild Sect. At best, an employed missionary. What reason would he have to take them into custody? Remus wasn¡¯t exactly worth a lot of Inklings or Tyrants. Well, relatively.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. But can I have your word, then?¡±

    They frowned, as if not understanding the point of the exchange. Nevertheless he obliged him ¡°Sure. I promise.¡±

    That was all Remus needed. When Violet¡¯s name was prompted for the Oath, the need to rouse her died. An agreement was made without any of their intervention.

    She got up a moment or two later. ¡°How long was I out for?¡± She asked blearily.

    ¡°About a minute.¡± Remus replied. ¡°But head back to sleep if you need to ¡ª you more than anyone need rest. Especially after expending your Mark so much.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± She refuted instantly. ¡°I should recover if I just walk. But this is the deepest section of the manor. If we¡¯re to find Akuji anywhere, it''s here.¡±

    Ignoring the remarks of surprise from behind him, the lines of Remus¡¯ frown only deepened. ¡°Then we move now. We gained some distance over the Pet-Keeper, but he¡¯s sure to follow.¡±

    He started to walk when a voice interrupted him.

    ¡°Hang on.¡± Elmore interjected, tone finally varying from the placid agreeableness from earlier. ¡°I know you have no reason to tell us, but what exactly is going on here? Juniper hired us to investigate the Chaos Sect, but I never expected to uncover all this. I would like answers, if you¡¯re willing to give them. It would build trust, no?¡±

    Remus and Violet shared a glance. This contained an entire discussion in itself. ¡°Violet can tell you in detail as we walk. There¡¯s no time to waste.¡±

    They made haste, their only haven against the damp coolness all around the heat of movement, and the cloth on their backs. Slowly, with many inhibitions lingering, the two groups¡¯ aloofness diminished. There was no need to keep secrets from each other. Juniper already knew from eavesdropping on Violet¡¯s rendezvous with Veida about the true nature of the Chaos Clan. She would be perfectly capable of revealing the information herself if she was so compelled.

    ¡°When were you sent on this mission?¡± Violet asked smartly, to which Elmore answered Passings ago.

    So before their sect leader knew, Remus realised. Juniper must have had suspicions beforehand, using these clansmen to confirm them. It would explain why she hadn¡¯t informed the four of the Unbounded swarming the place. It wouldn¡¯t look very queenly to suddenly spew baseless conspiracy theories, with all the evidence of one frenzied conversation.

    All at once, Elmore and his cousins took a step back. Remus had expected this, but couldn¡¯t help but grimace at their unsure expressions. His heart went out to Violet; he couldn¡¯t imagine everyone having the same reaction upon meeting you. Or, as a matter of fact, he could. But he had freed himself of that curse.

    Violet, on the other hand, never would be able to. In the same way Remus would always be human.

    Unless he ascended that was, but such a reality was separated by both the barriers of time and his own undying dubiety. The point was, not everything could be moulded, or changed, through sheer force of will.

    But Violet, mysteriously, didn¡¯t take any offence to this. Was she used to this type of behaviour, after being exposed to it? Possibly, but it wasn''t resigned indifference he spotted in her confident eyes. Then, acceptance? A faith in the steadfast truth the gang were bound by Oath not to harm her?

    ¡°The true reality of what I am,¡± she finally spoke, though her voice was strained, like she had been shouting all day, ¡°will be revealed when we get to the end of this cave. Whatever that is, I¡¯ll accept it. I don¡¯t care what sort of weapon fate hands me. Somehow, I¡¯ll use it to slaughter Nova and all of his false guardians. Then the rest of their sorry lot. That, I am now certain, is why I am the way I am. Unbounded are Infinity¡¯s mistake, not humanity. And I¡¯ll serve as the antibody to that virus. Be sure of it.¡±

    Remus couldn¡¯t be sure if this made the newcomers more, or less inclined to stand near her. A sort of mental middle ground must have been reached, where they all quietly returned to their usual demeanours.

    The hollow ahead was in complete darkness. Without a thought, Remus set a finger alight. Despite how little time they¡¯d had to recover, Remus felt no strain at all.

    Elmore gave a slow whistle. ¡°Someone¡¯s been busy.¡±

    His messy curtains of hair swinging, Ash turned to inspect Remus, mouth agape. ¡°Wait, wait, wait. You¡¯re the guy who incinerated the manor? You? I thought you were Engorged.¡± He shot a vexed look at his cousin, scandalised. ¡°Were you lying to me?¡±

    The taller man laughed, but the noise sounded more like a mockery of humour, as it echoed distantly overhead. Even if they didn¡¯t show it overtly, no one present looked the slightest bit comfortable. This place, more than anything else, was the antithesis of light. With the greatest aid in the toolbox gone ¡ª bog-standard vision ¡ª Remus somehow felt naked. They would be susceptible to any sudden attacks down here, if Violet wasn¡¯t in good enough shape to sense the oncoming Unbounded. Remus found himself fidgeting; glancing over his shoulder to nothing but an encompassing void.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    He gave the faces of the entourage a once-over. It was then that he discovered himself mistaken. Donovan, as he¡¯d overhead him to be called, looked perfectly at home. Insofar as the fact he smiled, like recalling a nostalgic memory. He noticed Remus¡¯ gaze instantly. ¡°You were behind that assault? Impressive that you look relatively unharmed. What Rank are you?¡±

    ¡°Reached Emblazed not long ago.¡± For some reason, this comment made both Elmore and Koa act a little oddly. Elmore, however, quickly fixed an approving smile, as if catching himself falling back on bad habits. His cousin wasn¡¯t as self-aware, grimacing, like he had swallowed something particularly sour.

    Oh right. Memories surfaced. He¡¯s an Enkindled. Remus scrutinised the visible parts of their Mark as secretively as he could. Though not too far from Emblazed, by the looks of it.

    Thinking of himself as on even playing field with Elmore was disconcerting. They were both Emblazed, regardless of how far along that leg of advancement either of them may be. Donovan was hard to judge. Emblazed at the very least, but based on the show he had put on when silencing Daisy, Foot-Soldier was well within the realms of possibility. Hell, likely.

    And if he was, who would come out on top in a conflict against Violet? She too was a  Foot-Soldier equivalent. Both were extraordinarily skilled. He didn¡¯t want to imagine what destruction such a brawl would cause. Yet, doing much to soothe Remus¡¯ nerves about his lack of an Oath, Donovan didn¡¯t strike him as the kind of man to go against his word.

    For people like him, honour flowed thicker than blood.

    ¡°How did you all get in so far, unscathed?¡± Violet asked, walking now with a vigorous stride. ¡°I had to forge an elaborate plan for Durations, and it still failed.¡±

    ¡°I can turn people invisible, save for their shadow.¡± Donovan explained succinctly. ¡°Speaking of which, it would be wise to do so now. We only dropped the ability because Elmore thought we could rendezvous.¡±

    Violet and Remus, putting aside their scepticism, allowed the man to tap both of their foreheads. The sensation was a peculiar one, but did exactly as Donovan described. ¡°I can minimise the size of your shadow, but I¡¯ll leave it for now. The darkness veils us thus.

    ¡°If we¡¯re invisible,¡± Ash asked, ¡°how come we can all still see each other?¡±

    ¡°Another weakness of the ability, I forgot to mention. Others utilising the same effect are perfectly able to spot your monochrome form.¡±

    After going-over the ethos of the Shadow Clan, which Violet had informed him to be Donovan¡¯s sect through discreet whispers, Remus nodded. Abilities seemed to be moulded by your expectations and attitudes. Take, for instance, as to why Remus¡¯ flames had always stayed true to the effect of the real thing. Like Enrique had explained, he¡¯d expected it to. In precisely the same way, a clan so renowned for its code of honour wouldn¡¯t dare think their own kind to betray them. So there was no need for defences against this ¡ª like veiling oneself amongst peers.

    Likely, if you concentrated on what you truly wanted, the consequence could be mitigated. He found the entire subject fascinating. If he ever had the spare time required for a spot of light reading, perhaps it was something to look into.

    Violet came to an abrupt stop up head. A shiver went down Remus'' spine, as he widened the area of his flame. It lit the place dimly. Just enough to eye the gigantic rod of wood intersetted deep into the ground.

    There, slumped up, and with manacles forcing his arms up, sat the saddest image of a man Remus had ever seen. What they sported now was practically rags, all the colour weeded out from the gnawing of time and abuse. Their dark features were barely visible in the light of Remus¡¯ wick, that, if the man stirred, would look like a floating apparition. But he was out cold.

    They huddled together, whispering like a sports team discussing game plans.

    Violet had gone pale. ¡°Does anyone have any water?¡±

    Koa handed over a canteen. He was shaking. Poor boy probably hadn¡¯t seen anything so frightening in his life.

    Donovan, meanwhile, gave the man a light tap as he did with them. ¡°He¡¯ll be able to see us now.¡± That was intelligent thinking from him.

    After accepting the can graciously, Violet splattered water over Akuji¡¯s face. The man began to splutter, but ceased to rebel the second he felt the cool touch of water sating the dry walls of his throat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry . . .¡± the man half-whispered, the empty canteen moved from his lips. He wouldn¡¯t stop apologising. The words flooded out of his mouth like he had just recalled something abhorrent from his past. Like terrible crimes committed decades ago and since covered up.

    ¡°You have nothing to be sorry for.¡± Violet put a hand on Akuji¡¯s shoulder, summoning a brave face.

    The newcomers merely stared blankly at Akuji. Because of the constraints of time, Violet had been forced to gloss over several key parts of the Unbounded ordeal. Remus swiftly brought them up to speed. Even after the havoc the evening had contained, they all seemed to find this a hard pill to digest. Nearly everybody had heard of the Life Sect Warlord that had mysteriously disappeared

    ¡°We¡¯re going to get you out of here. Can you walk? Are you wounded?¡±

    Akuji groaned, face scrunching. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    She leaned in closer, words steely. ¡°Can you walk?¡±

    The man blinked. Words came to him with much difficulty. ¡°I . . . maybe. I can¡¯t remember. It¡¯s been too long. Awfully long. Tell me, does the sun exist?¡±

    Remus thought he had misheard. Moving forwards, he asked, ¡°what do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The sun.¡± The man said after inhaling. His chest kept rising and lowering, like conversing like this was the hardest job in the world. ¡°That white orb in the sky. Hurts to look at. Or was I imagining that too?¡±

    All of them donned fierce scowls. Remus hadn¡¯t been expecting the Warlord to be in swell condition, but this was another matter altogether.

    Violet leaned closer to the man. ¡°Yes, we know of the sun.¡± She swallowed. ¡°Akuji, you might be suffering from hallucinations, but we¡¯ve come to save you. The Chaos Clan have kept you captive down here for,¡± she did the mental maths, ¡°decades. Do you know why?¡±

    The man¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°No. No, no, no no!¡±

    Elmore winced. ¡°I can¡¯t bear to watch this. Who would do this? How can you break a man down like that? It¡¯s inhumane.

    Violet made a shushing sound. ¡°Please Akuji. We can only help you if you help us. What did they make you do?¡±

    There was a silence, for a lengthy time, where only one tremulous sound filled the chamber. It took Remus a rather long time to realise it was the man weeping.

    ¡°Copies.¡± The sobbing man huffed, between sniffles. Remus couldn¡¯t tell where the emaciated body was getting all that moisture from. It was an ugly, unstoppable overflow.

    ¡°Copies?¡± Fear seeped into Violet¡¯s tone, until Remus found himself staring at a pair of equally frightened people.

    Akuji nodded furiously. He eyed a wilted weed sticking out of the flagstones beneath them. Plucking it up, the subtle action settled the man¡¯s nerves. Then he activated his Mark. The unparalleled might that swept out of him made Remus¡¯s chest constrict. At larger realms of power, one allegedly got used to minimising the aura of their raw strength. So as not to constantly stun those around you. It was the same reason why being in the presence of a  god tended to leave you with a feeling of imminent death; like you were about to spontaneously explode. That habit must have been beaten out of the Life clansman via decades of torture.

    But one real concern blazed through Remus¡¯ shock ¡ª a deranged man rivalling the power of some sect leaders had tapped into his own reserves. If he attacked them by accident, the damage could be catastrophic.

    Instead, Akuji proceeded to do something very unexpected. He replicated the weed completely. It was an exact, one-to-one copy.

    Instantly, he and Violet understood.

    Violet looked like she was going to vomit. ¡°Oh god. Oh god, a copy.¡±

    The rest were left to merely scratch their heads with concerned expressions. They weren¡¯t knowledgeable enough to understand the horror of this statement.

    The memory of Milap¡¯s Divine Right suddenly flashed before Remus¡¯ eyes. He squatted down instantaneously, eye-to-eye with the broken man. ¡°Akuji. I know you¡¯re confused; I know you¡¯re scared. But this is very, very important. Did an Unbounded going by the mortal name Milap do anything with the copies of the Chaos Sect you created?¡±

    He had a dazed look in his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know their names, don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°A knight in amethyst armour. A man with a cross on his forehead the colour of animal blood. Red animal blood.¡±

    ¡°I- oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.¡±

    ¡°What did he do?¡± Remus didn¡¯t want to frighten the man, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself not to sound desperate. ¡°What did he do?¡±

    ¡°Pale white monsters. He made the Unbounded stand by the copied bodies of the butchered Chaos Clan. Then, a great oval went over each of them, and then, and then-¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°What?¡± Violet piped in. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t . . .¡± he trailed off with a helpless cry.

    So many connotations. So many answers now within their reach. How was Violet coping with it all? He glanced over to her.

    But as he turned his head, something about Akuji¡¯s look stunned him.

    Akuji¡¯s eyes diluted until there was virtually no white left. His mouth widened, his freed hands inching towards Violet''s face. ¡°You ¡ª I remember you! You were one of the clansmen I had to replicate! Yes, you, they made me- they made me copy you, but you were one of the first. Something about memory. They reprimanded me for keeping your memories in tact, in the process, and--¡±

    Their arms shook, fingers looking almost contorted as they stretched wildly. Akuji masked his aged face with the appendages, smacking himself in the process. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡±

    For a second, Violet made no move. Then she hunched by the crying man, so many emotions trying to seize her face that an empty stalemate was reached. ¡°That explains a lot. Thank you, Akuji. I-¡±

    She looked down at her Mark. Located on her forearm and blotted out as always. ¡°So this belonged to Violet ¡ª the real Violet ¡ª before she died. When our memories fused, hers must have come out on top. I¡¯m . . . I¡¯m-¡±

    ¡°A fusion between Unbounded and human.¡± Donovan answered. ¡°The first humanity has ever seen.¡±

    ¡°But originally, I was Unbounded. I think I always knew, but that confirms it. I don¡¯t why, but a tiny portion of my mind hoped-¡± she stopped herself. Out of nowhere, her expression became a trillion times more resolute. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. In fact, I¡¯m glad I was originally Unbounded. Imagine the entire tyranny of those fiends being toppled by one of their own. It¡¯s-¡± A sickly expression seemed to oppose these words for a moment. ¡° . . . the perfect triumph.¡±

    She shot a look over to Donovan. ¡°I saw those weapons you were wielding earlier. Are they sharp enough to cut through his restraints?¡±

    The man nodded, two twilight daggers appearing in his hands as he got to work.

    ¡°You¡¯re freeing me?¡± Akuji asked disbelievingly. ¡°My masters always said they would, but kept delaying my freedom. You¡¯re not lying are you? Please, I don¡¯t know how much longer I can endure here. If you¡¯re lying, just give it to me straight.

    Remus suddenly felt the need to pulverise every Unbounded alive in this world. To reduce a great Warlord, one whose name was a token of respect all over Descent, into calling such monstrosities masters . . . it disgusted him.

    ¡°We¡¯re freeing you.¡± Violet promised. ¡°I can swear an Oath upon it. We¡¯re going to take you back to your sect. You¡¯re a legend, y¡¯know that? All across the Mortal Realms. With you as irrevocable proof, the reality of the Chaos Clan will be exposed at last. Thank you Akuji.¡±

    The agonised man smiled. A genuine, full-fledged, curvature of the lips. A brilliance filled his widening eyes that must have been blurry with tears. For the first time in what no doubt had been decades, joy filled the man.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He spluttered, watching with childish delight as his bounds were undone. ¡°This is the best thing to have ever happened to me. Thank-¡±

    Akuji¡¯s head erupted like a balloon filled with Ichor.

    This isn¡¯t real. Was all Remus could think. Even as the shadowy figure of a powerful Unbounded sauntered into his casted light. One moment ago, Akuji was the happiest he¡¯d ever been, on the verge of helping to change the course of history. Now his beheaded body laid limp at Remus'' feet. Their apparent invisibility had made no difference.

    Donovan, cheeks splattered cold, didn¡¯t do so much as howl. In fact, he dived into the darkness behind, dragging Elmore, Ash, and Koa with him in the arms of his hulking shadow.

    A leonine beast, Nova arrived.

 56. Until Their Bones Break

    ¡°Come out, come out, wherever you are . . .¡± Nova crept closer into the gloom. His sandy hair tied in that same man-bun as many described. ¡°I know you¡¯re using some sort of ability to disguise yourselves. Should I simply cave-in this place and get it over with?¡±

    That was the last Elmore saw of the man, before Donovan forcibly dragged them feet away. Even as the Shadow Clansman ran, he could hear the sect leader¡¯s booming voice. ¡°Or maybe I should just do this-!¡±

    There was a blaze of magenta that briefly illuminated the entire chamber for a second. It was the same mystical, reality-distorting power that Violet wielded. Only infinitely more potent.

    Fear streaked through Elmore. It all happened so quickly, and before Elmore¡¯s body could even clench up in fear, the sound of a storm at sea made his ears pang in pain. Blinking, straining through the gloom, the little, enchanted light of a wall of frothing seawater separated Nova from the rest of the group.

    It was hard to make out, from their rapidly extending distance, but Nova didn¡¯t look surprised. ¡°Oh Maris. What is a no-name God-Graced like you doing, meddling with my affairs?¡±

    The more that was revealed to Elmore, the less he understood. What was the sect leader of the Water Clan doing here; protecting criminals? It must have been a political move of some nefarious nature. The rivalry between Maris and Juniper came to mind, but Elmore didn¡¯t spare the thought to consider the matter too deeply.

    The moment Akuji¡¯s face ¡ª that poor, tortured man ¡ª erupted in smithereens. It replayed in his mind over, and over. But that didn¡¯t take up all the space in his noggin. No, not by far. The truths flung into his face tonight, so terrible and disconcerting. They shattered Elmore''s perceptions of the world, that he¡¯d defend by instinct. Yet, every time, they came toppling down. There was no choice but to accept the sour truth: that imposter Unbounded had penetrated into the underbelly of society. Pulling the strings from beneath.

    ¡°No matter.¡± Nova¡¯s now fuzzy voice knocked him out of the panicked reverie. Truth be told, Elmore often found himself getting far too philosophical.. ¡°I¡¯d like to see her defend you against this.¡±

    The next words cascaded across the grotto, distance mattering little. ¡°First Divine Right: Mastery.¡±

    For several seconds, Elmore had no idea what was happening. The entire atmosphere seemed to be shifting, but in no visible manner. Only after paying attention to the Infinity suffusing the cavern, did Elmore know himself blind.

    How he didn¡¯t see an entire mountain¡¯s worth of Infinity pouring into the room, was beyond Elmore. Like tiny pores into the rock walls, the stream of energy was relentless. They should have been drowning with how much energy was flooding into the chamber.

    He didn¡¯t dare channel the overflood inwards. His Bank would no doubt be overwhelmed, And promptly collapse upon itself. Even If he did nothing, Elmore would passively take in absurd amounts of the resource anyway. It was a testament to just how bombarded the cavern was.

    Despite the murk of the cave, Elmore swore that Donovan exchanged a glance with him. They both knew exactly what was going on, with equal amounts of disgust. If someone using their Mark intensively was a flare, this right here was a beacon the size of a small city.

    Streaks of purple ¡ª so many that Violet was incredibly outclassed ¡ª lit every inch of the gloom. Squinting, Remus saw Nova once more. Yet he was far more akin to an Unbounded than his previous, false demeanour. It was sort of like Violet¡¯s Unbounded form that Elmore had only caught sight of as she was reverting out of it. Yet still humanoid.

    Unbounded typically became more human-like as they acquired power. Never as perfect as Akuji and Milap¡¯s clones, mind you, but enough that you wouldn¡¯t think twice if they passed you in a crowd. The same wasn¡¯t universal, clearly. For Nova, as powerful as he was, held the most terrifying face Elmore had ever witnessed. On their ebony white brow, the image of a hand stretching out towards you made Elmore shiver.

    Immediately, more Unbounded than he could put a number to, poured into the cavern. The Pet-Keeper and Milap at the forefront of the fray. Milap giggled like a toddler let out for play time, whilst the Pet-Keeper frothed at the mouth with curses. It was a perfect example of how insanity was a wide spectrum.

    ¡°Have fun!¡± Nova screeched, like a proud Father. Not for Violet, certainly, but he looked upon his summoned army with triumph. Then, without so much as another word, he was gone.

    Donovan abruptly stopped, putting the three of them down. There was no need to keep running; there was no escaping.

    Elmore whispered, which was rather pointless, considering the raucous sound the Unbounded were generating. ¡°How long can you keep us hidden?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not an ability that exhausts easily. We can stay hidden, but that isn¡¯t our issue. They¡¯re going to attack everywhere until they find us.¡±

    Right as he spoke, the Pet-Keeper dived to the ground. The stone below shifted like a tidal wave where he landed, pressure threatening to rip the skin off Elmore¡¯s face. But even louder, eliciting a boisterous war-cry from the berserk sea of Unbounded, was his screech.

    Given one second, Elmore had all the time to summon a protective cocoon, before the forces charged. He had no idea how his cousins, Remus, or Violet were faring. But if he was going to help them, he would have to help himself first.

    He strained his Mark. The structure of his enclosing barrier threatened to compromise, with every slithering creature that smacked into it. But deep, vine-like tendrils of his own making struck out in response. Elmore couldn¡¯t make out much within here, but cries of pain were like a sweet symphony to his ears. Being within this construct was only giving away his location to a few, attentive minority. It was time to move.

    Elmore launched himself, swept Infinity to his Mark, and whipped out Donvan¡¯s sacred gift; a boring plant with a ferocious touch. Like his life depended on it, because really, it did, Elmore conjured tens upon tens of the dagger-like leaves. He commanded them to swirl around him in an enveloping cyclone. It was exactly like the training method of hovering fronds Koa had dedicated himself to, when they first travelled to First Rite. Only amplified to its true potential.

    As the minute went by, and more and more Unbounded blood was dragged along the currents of his leafy storm, Elmore was sure his arsenal must have been in the thousands.

    The only issue was the hellfire they kept colliding with.

    As he wandered slowly across the cove, Elmore eyed each of his companions putting in their all.

    Remus, as mentioned, was doing an ample job of incinerating everything in sight. Where Elmore¡¯s hurricane was powered by nature¡¯s most wicked ends, fire proved much more simplistic. Controlling each individual leaf, ensuring they spun out in a large range, towards Unbounded, and without launching into one another, was a major pain. Remus, however, simply vented his fury. Nothing could get within a two metre range of him, save of course for a few fire-resistant beings. But to these, his silhouette did little more than click a finger. Their carcasses would subsequently cannon into the crowd.

    Violet, regardless of his own unique ability to see through their shared ruse, was nowhere to be seen. Many of the Chaos-Marked individuals had eluded her earlier rampage by means of tricky escape, or by grace of having been preoccupied with Remus¡¯ antics at the time. The girl must have blended in with their constant torrents of magenta. But Elmore did eye a rift pouring out Unbounded limbs here and there, but for never more than a second.

    His cousins, praise the gods, were fine. They were both skilled fighters, when the incentive was there. Trained by, if he dared say, the best. A third of the cave had become a remote, underground forest. It was the kind of enchanted space you might expect to find in a children¡¯s book, featuring fairies and unicorns.

    Only, it was the forest from hell. Great packs of wolves were smashed to dust by animated trees, boulders were tossed by manipulated weeds to crush anything that came within reach, and little by little, Koa and Ash built up their private nature reserve.

    Donovan, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. The Pet-Keeper continued to thrust into every surface in sight, reshaping the cave and deepening it in several places. Milap was preoccupied with observing everything from afar, eyes flickering from spot to spot like he was searching for a prized jewel.

    It was becoming more and more apparent that Donovan¡¯s vanishing technique was a masterclass in disguise. Did it veil the scent of their energy output? Or was the anarchy all around them, with the thick taste of Infinity overlaying everything, covering them just fine? Perhaps, even, it was for more simple reasons. The fact that Violet was using Chaos energy herself; the territory Elmore and his cousins were covering to spread their energy thin; Donovan¡¯s reserved amount of any other Mark-usage, and his concealing touch diluting their own. All very plausible explanations, excluding the overtness of Remus¡¯ wild rampage.

    But time was ticking. The Pet-Keeper was bound to run into them eventually, or perhaps Milap would finally find what he was searching for, and bleed them all dry. Whatever the case, Donovan, inexorably, acted first.

    Every shadow in the area became its own unique weapon. Wiry Unbounded at ten-foot tall had their ankles sliced off by inky tendrils. Blades hurtled through the air with pinpoint precision.

    And a dominating fiend of all black punched the Pet-Keeper square in the face.

    Like Elmore, it caught the Unbounded off guard. They were sent flying several yards, jumped to their feet, and rubbed their chin. Then, with a sickened expression, a tooth was spat out. Their fury was unlike anything Elmore could put to words. Palpable in a way that seemed to send tangible drifts of emotion emanating off them.

    The Pet-Keeper uttered something Elmore couldn¡¯t catch, before every shadow jolted towards him. Together, they stirred, power brewing, grappling onto the Pet-Keeper with unreal weight. Scores of blades, a hulking figure with a more defined musculature than ever, and a jet carpet swimming with ready tendrils. An invisible man, out of Elmore¡¯s view, must have made a simple command, and then the Pet-Keeper was done for.

    Blood splattered. Bones, tissue, flesh, cartilage and all the other building blocks in mother nature¡¯s arsenal were cleaved, smashed, or otherwise rendered useless. The Unbounded was an unrecognisable pulp of gore. Elmore¡¯s mind made the betraying comment. It can¡¯t be that easy. And then, through a broken jaw and cut off lips, the Pet-Keeper spoke those damned words. It likely would have worked even if his mouth was nonfunctional.

    ¡°Third Divine Right: Just Immunity.¡°

    Within seconds, their body began to heal with frank horror. It was like watching the fluff put back into a doll that had been ruptured open by a rabid dog. Suffice to say, not the prettiest sight. Flesh mended, bones fused, and chafed skin gained a healthier hue.

    The Pet-Keeper reached out an arm wildly. Right onto Donovan''s neck.

    The Shadow Clansman didn¡¯t even squirm. No surprise was evident on his lips, not a sign of anguish at his ruse being undone. Colour returned to his monochrome body, and either due to the ability being trespassed, or the need no longer there, Donovan became visible to all.

    Without thinking, Elmore rushed towards the Pet-Keeper. He sent several of his blades hurtling towards the invincible being, like scouts venturing ahead of their main body. They clinked against the Unbounded¡¯s skin, but merited not a slither of blood.

    The Pet-Keeper was relentless, slamming Donovan again and again. His haunting ghost of a shadow materialised behind, razors in place of fingers outstretched. They too failed in their assault.

    Elmore wanted to cry out. In fact, enraptured by the din of the fight, he submitted to the urges. Screaming as more of Donovan was purpled by the Unbounded¡¯s impacts.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Weaponry the shade of jet cleaved through the air, at the same time as Elmore and his personal storm arrived. They combined mid-air, becoming a fuzzy blur of black-on-green while the pair¡¯s Marks blazed. Elmore concentrated on his leaves, exaggerating their serrated ends, increasing their width until each was larger than his palm. Donovan¡¯s own arsenal seemed to double-down in its ferocity, with tendrils leaking out of the daggers. All of them, in the brief glimpses he got, appeared to wiggle towards the Pet-Keeper. They latched onto his body, swinging upon themselves so the connected blades would land home.

    It was like trying to put a dent in steel. Repeatedly, with murderous intent, the tentacular streaks stabbed towards the being. Like mechanical hands swinging an axe, with no end in sight. Following that analogy, the Pet-Keeper would be the toughest tree the lands had ever seen.

    The Pet-Keeper grunted, the onslaught ticking him off to unfounded levels of rage. At the same time, Elmore weaved through the crazed barrage, strands of his hair being trimmed down by whizzing projectiles.

    Donovan¡¯s shadow put the Pet-Keeper into a headlock, who, promptly, tore the limb off with a swipe of the chin. Instead, sprouting a second set of arms at the waist, the dark presence wrapped itself around the Unbounded.

    But still, the Pet-Keeper was the equivalent of a Warlord. His hold on Donovan wouldn¡¯t be undone so easily.

    As the holder of the ability, Donovan, as beaten up as he was, must have still been able to see through Elmore¡¯s invisibility. Even with the guise not veiling himself.

    About a metre away, as Elmore got into hailing distance of the Unbounded, the two shared a look. Through his black eyes, swollen and partially gummy, Donovan¡¯s intent was clear as day.

    One way or another, they were going to kill this fiend.

    <hr>

    For what must have been the twelfth time, Violet regenerated a mangled limb.

    Gaping holes through her torso, arms and legs forcibly cut off, and other small appendages pounded. Every time she had to restore one of these, absorbing the Infinity brimming in the atmosphere to do so, the more natural it felt.

    Putting aside the dozens of lesser Unbounded she was brawling through, Milap had decided to give chase. And ¡ª surprise, surprise ¡ª he was an expert in this regard. The being¡¯s raw power, wielded like a drunkard¡¯s bottle, sent tremors through Violet. Tremors that devastated her body.

    Donovan¡¯s protection was a fickle one. After gaining a few injuries, it disappeared from Violet entirely, and Milap, watching above like a hungry predator, pounced.

    Yet, if there was any place to be beaten to a pulp, this would be it. Her Unbounded side meant that any non-lethal attacks could be easily remedied. All it took was Infinity. And, whether intentional or not, Nova had supplied her with the ideal amount; an indefatigable medkit.

    How ironic that she was relying on the man who wanted her dead more than anything, to survive.

    As she came out of a rift, Milap was ready. His hand cleaved through her chest like it was a rapier. She coughed blood, the golden stuff leaking onto their face. But Milap¡¯s coated lips never scowled. He seemed to be enjoying this all to an absurd amount. ¡°Come on Violet. Your regeneration really is impressive, but good gods, why continue? All you¡¯re achieving is my entertainment.¡±

    Violet wrenched herself off, disrupting the ground at their feet simultaneously, so that it pierced Milap¡¯s flesh in a sudden, jutting cluster. It cut his skin, but no pain great enough to wipe that smile off his face arose. She warped away, rebuilding her crushed chest in the process.

    As she fled, Violet¡¯s mind never kept quiet. The answers of today, they spun in her mind in the world¡¯s most terrible distraction. Her only question left was the reality of her Mark, but she felt as if she already knew the answer. The truth beneath that obscuring blackness. It terrified her; made Violet want to scream into the abyss, but she silenced such thoughts for now.

    Milap landed before her. Reality wouldn¡¯t let her get away that easily. Not even after surviving so much damage.

    Another Unbounded scuttled at their sides, and before Violet had the time needed to take in its appearance, Milap whispered something at the speed of light. Instantly, both of the beings disappeared. Replaced by a hovering, flawless orb of white. It cracked open, and once more, Milap came into view.

    But they had changed, multiple spidery appendages spreading out of their main body. Milap crawled away, but that wouldn¡¯t give you the right image. He didn¡¯t crawl, like a drunken man having trouble getting home, at the dead of night. Their movement was staggeringly fast ¡ª an arachnophobe¡¯s worst nightmare.

    After gaining some height, scaling the wall in an effortless scurry, they dived towards her. Pincers pinned Violet to the ground, drawing more Ichor.

    Violet was about to try her hand at distorting Milap himself, when a line of fire cut off one of his legs.

    Now he wasn''t smiling.

    In the blink of an eye, Remus was upon them. A fiery leg shoved Milap, but the Unbounded was heavy. He was hurled a few feet, before recuperating himself, but that was enough time for Remus to launch himself into the Unbounded anew. The sound of a bomb going off stunned Violet, and yet again, Milap was tossed aside.

    Without a word, Violet nodded appreciatively to Remus.

    She got up, shook off the pebbles embedded into her clothing, and scanned the lay of the land. Her view was blocked by scampering Unbounded, at the lower end of the totem pole. In face of her initial annoyance, an idea occurred to her. Memories of controlling Snow Wolves, during her and Remus¡¯ humble beginnings . . . it was time to see how far she could stretch the concept. Just how much of a difference could half a Rebirth make?

    Violet invaded the minds of hundreds of Unbounded. She flickered from place to place, expanding her reach, grasping the darkness in their souls. Havoc, turmoil, chaos. All of these were there in abundance, mastered traits of creatures of war. She fed those desires, eradicating all other emotions until it became all-consuming.

    The Unbounded collectively twitched in anticipation, waiting for her call. She sent it, and the slaughter began.

    Unbounded turned on Unbounded, particularly around the Pet-Keeper and Milap. She couldn¡¯t see the former, but the Infinity he was sending off was enough to make sure it was him. After what felt like hours, the Infinity in the cavern inevitably began to drain. The result was a conflict of self-hatred, Chaos and Infinity surging through the swarm like the most potent steroid. They tore one another to shreds.

    Clusters, masses of walking crystal, stabbed into Milap. He rasped, shouting a hasty: ¡°Fourth Divine Right-¡± Blood spluttered out of his mouth. ¡°Fusion.¡±

    Again, the oval appeared. A diamond blur, Remus was a second too slow to destroy the construct. It was already falling apart as his blow landed. Instead, the sound of glass breaking resounded as crystal fell off Milap, now exposed and reborn.

    His amethyst armour had expanded, spikes erupting off at the shoulders and various other locales. A shattered patch expanded rapidly at his chest, but his crystal affliction did more than enough to outweigh the damage.

    ¡°Throw all the Unbounded you want at me!¡± He rasped. ¡°I¡¯ll just fuse with them. Like sharpening your enemy¡¯s bla-¡±

    Remus fired a score of fire his way. Milap took alight in an instant, fumes roaring. From the distance, a volley of wooden projectiles stabbed into the Splintered Equivalent. They acted as literal kindling, and Milap¡¯s incessant bravado fumbled.

    Koa and Ash, scratched-up but not hurt, rushed forwards. Their Marks blazed in a neon emerald, and together, they summoned thick tendrils of oak to claw out of the ground. These slithered across Milap like a great snake, holding him in place for all but a moment. Violet blinked, and the Unbounded had escaped, already fusing with another Unbounded. Great prison that turned out to be . . .

    They were too stunned to stop him, and wings sprouted out of a burning Milap, hoisting him up after yet another oval released him. One second passed, and hurtled fireballs and bundles of oak were already rushing closer.

    He flapped his wings, the produced gust keeping both at bay.

    Again, the oval appeared.

    Violet, Koa, Ash, and Remus, alongside Controlled Unbounded, rushed to destroy it. But the transformation was over in the blink of an eye.

    Does it accelerate with every fusion? The thought was petrifying. Violet screeched over the roar of battle. ¡°Don¡¯t let him fuse again, or it¡¯ll be too fast to stop! We kill him now!¡±

    But every few seconds that passed, more and more Unbounded became one with the man. He became a clump of meat, misfitting limbs streaking over his body in ways that were gag-inducing. It was almost like Milap was becoming a second Daisy.

    A second Daisy. That one tiny thought, and understanding clicked. Her stressed out mind was near breaking point, and each new epiphany was doing nothing to stifle the issue. Yet, now it was clear: Daisy must have been a byproduct of the Chaos Clan clones. The remains of imperfect clansmen, whose fusions had failed. Disposed-of ¡®trash¡¯ recycled, or per se. And, doing absolutely nothing to calm Violet, was the prospect that she may have only avoided joining him by a slim margin. Her steadfast memory outed her as an anomaly, holding the potential to reduce Violet to a few disposable limbs.

    Milap was doing the same here, but with other Unbounded instead of morphed mortals, and to himself. Their Divine Rank may have been the same as that vile hodgepodge, but Daisy had been a false being. Enmeshed corpses given mock life.

    This oval-loving Unbounded, fitted with a ¡®Divine Right¡¯ ¡ª whatever the hell that was ¡ª and his Supreme Steel armour, would be substantially harder to kill.

    Nevertheless, they couldn¡¯t let his morphing rampage continue until every Unbounded in the room was engulfed. It was time to strip the real Milap out of that hideous monster.

    Violet skidded forward at blinding speed. At her side, Remus had done the same via his impromptu jetpack. Sliding under the cerulean fires, Elmore¡¯s cousins leaped up, roots already off-shooting from the ground.

    They covered yet another floating oval at opposite angles. Violet teleported around, punching it from all sides; Remus poured out sizzling fires, delivering an explosive punch every other second; and Koa and Ash¡¯s uprooted oak pierced into the blank egg.

    Five seconds of the onslaught, and right as Violet winced in dread, expecting an even stronger Milap to arise, it blasted outwards in shell-like shards. Perspiration pelted down the few patches of skin Milap had ¡ª the rest occupied by fur, scales, or crustacean shells. The symbol on his forehead began to dim, as if finally fading. Then the whole group showered him with attacks.

    He spat; feathers, blood, and other random miscellany flinging off his tremendous form. Milap lifted off with his main set of wings, but Violet warped over him, donned her Unbounded form completely in a flash, and shredded both.

    They fell as easily as dead crows. Milap¡¯s own raw defence may have been nothing to mess with, but he was borrowing from a dozen creatures. All of which on their own, anyone of their group could destroy with ease.

    Other wings, from other airborne Unbounded Milap had stolen from, began to flicker. Thorns shredded them in an instant, the work of Elmore¡¯s cousins. Right before the squirming form could devise any other quick means of escape, Remus hugged the bulk of his body. Violet needed only to watch, as his rising fires became deadly white.

    Save for the more heat-resistant components, the pressure was enough to destroy the vast majority of the flesh. All reduced to tinder.

    Milap consumed Infinity like a madman, bleeding the room dry, doing his best to keep every organ and bodily part going. But all he achieved was a waste of resources. The cavern finally reached its last dreads of Infinity, nearing a normal, but high volume area in standard terms. It was like the Unbounded was cursed with an insatiable appetite, clinging onto all the divine sustenance he could get while his stomach screamed for more.

    Futile attempts to fuse yet again overtook Milap, but it was no use. His mangled mouth could hardly utter the words, and regardless of if the oval could be mentally summoned, Remus¡¯ flames, at point-blank range, and the rest of the squadron¡¯s attacks cracked the construct before it could fully form. Plus, Violet had been focusing primarily on controlling the Unbounded around this whole time. Bit by bit, she had dragged them away. Now, there was nothing for this coward to latch onto.

    Inexorably, like a butterfly whooshing out of its cocoon, Milap surrendered the gory form. With one final expenditure of Infinity, he whooshed upwards, but Remus was quick on his tail.

    He may have been physically fine, due to his fusions taking the brunt of the attack, but Milap couldn¡¯t disguise his exhaustion. Activating his Divine Right a dozen times over had obviously taken a toll on the Unbounded.

    He was sloppy. So sloppy, that an eruptive upcut from Remus was enough to hurtle him upwards.

    Milap¡¯s body grazed against a cluster of stalactites. In a moment, Remus was there, flying via one hand. The Emblazed grabbed Milap by the throat, tossing him head-first into the rocky spikes with brutal indifference.

    Right before her own strength guttered out, Violet cut through the space between them. She clung to the stone protrusion. Her angle was an odd one, and trying to claw at Milap herself would only get in the way of Remus. So, in the only reasonable decision, she set herself to obliterating the man¡¯s mind.

    Of course, regardless of how dazed the subject was, fully dominating a being Ranked above herself wasn¡¯t a possibility. But she could confuse the Unbounded. Addle Milap¡¯s mind so he struggled to make coherent thought, as Remus enacted horrors.

    Repeatedly, with no end in sight, he threw the Unbounded into the stalactite. Each time, more blood would spout out of Milap¡¯s face and mouth. His teeth were cracked, his eyes gummy with dried lifeforce. Even the armour forged out of weak Supreme Steel, that protected his lower body, was beginning to succumb. Pity he hadn¡¯t thought of producing a helmet.

    It was all Milap could do to gurgle incoherently through a mouth swimming with blood. Remus wasn¡¯t aflame any more than necessary to keep afloat. Ninety percent of his strength went into his upper body, each twist of the waist bringing bitter misery to Milap.

    The skin on his scalp chafed over. Then the muted pink of his brains were exposed. Then, in a sight so grim, Violet had to shove down the impulse to vomit, the portion of his skull not already crushed dented inwards. Milap stopped moving after that. But it wasn¡¯t over. Remus kept hold of him, pushed his Mark to the limit, and consumed the Unbounded with more, fierce white fire.

    If it was anyone else suffering the same fate, Violet may have found it hard to watch.

    But she did. And as Milap¡¯s split-head cracked for a final time metres below, Violet¡¯s heart allowed no sympathy.

    Two down, one to go.

 57. Blood Ties

    When things couldn¡¯t possibly have gotten any worse, reality found a way.

    The Pet-Keeper yawned. Fully, hand to his mouth, lips widened, the whole ordeal. It made Elmore want to tear everything in this damnable cavern to pieces. But he wasn¡¯t so infatigable as he liked to make out.

    For minutes on end ¡ª five, ten, possibly more ¡ª he and Donovan had been throwing everything they had at the plain-looking Unbounded. It had achieved, aside from keeping the man at bay, precisely nothing. Like hacking away at a marble pillar for hours on end, only to walk out of the endeavour with one indent made and a calloused hand.

    And, what exactly, did the Pet-Keeper do with all that spare time, you ask? He absorbed all the Infinity that gathered around him. Dousing himself over and over in the empowering currents. It made it so that even the brief scratches they landed on the Unbounded were swiftly remedied.

    Diamond armour appeared on him, bit by bit, and inch by inch, the suit expanded. It was Supreme Steel no doubt. All powerful Unbounded at Splintered Equivalent or higher could don all the armour they wanted, if the resources to do so were available. And what better place than this divine banquet?

    It wasn¡¯t the futility of it all that drove Elmore mad. It was the fact, the undeniable truth that any second the Pet-Keeper so wished, he could put Donovan to an end. But he didn¡¯t; purposefully so.

    ¡°You sadist.¡± Elmore snarled. ¡°What do you stand to gain from all of this?¡±

    Speaking words was risky. The combined might of Elmore and Donovan pushing themselves to the brink was the only force preventing the Pet-Keeper from killing them outright. Or, as he knew the Unbounded would much prefer, enacting all the torture and suffering he desired in a long, drawn-out demise.

    ¡°Surely,¡± the Pet-Keeper¡¯s lips quirked. ¡°You prime examples of humans understand such fickle concepts as honour, and revenge? That is exactly what is propelling me, right this moment. Not blood, not flesh, not even Infinity. Vengeance. That is what animates me so.¡±

    Elmore tried to push another inch forwards, closing in on the Pet-Keeper, but it felt as though an invincible barrier was blocking his advance. With great motions of the hand, the Pet-Keeper ensured Elmore could never gain more than a few centimetres at a time.

    They were in a stalemate. But an artificial one; a stagnated playing field that the Pet-Keeper had devised simply to entertain himself.

    He was teetering on spiralling madness, when four blurs in the corner of his vision made Elmore¡¯s heart flutter. The others, they had finally arrived ¡ª alive! Six against one. Their invisibility may have faltered by now, but they were all as competent in battle as ever. His mask of worry cracking to reveal a smile at them all, Elmore paid rapt attention as Remus met the Pet-Keeper square in the eye.

    Who didn¡¯t have a care in the world. ¡°Took you long enough.¡± He put simply, increasing the range of his strikes to offset the newcomers. The broad strokes of his arm really were devastating. ¡°Now, how many corpses do you think I can stack in the next five minutes?¡±

    A fireball from Remus waved across his face. Elmore was startled to find the Emblazed dripping with multicoloured blood, a hungry look in his eyes. Like he planned on devouring the entire world for supper. Something told Elmore, besides the lack of glinting gold, that the blood wasn¡¯t his own.

    ¡°Milap¡¯s dead.¡± He said, in a voice so nonchalant, it made Elmore double-take. He opened his mouth again, as if to proclaim something heroic, but no noise came out. Instead, he kept quiet, pouring a steady stream towards the Unbounded¡¯s eyes.

    It was like the Pet-Keeper was enjoying a warm bath. The day Elmore made the fiend flinch, he¡¯ll have peaked in life.

    Through the fires, the shadow knives, the natural projectiles, and Violet¡¯s frantic claws, the Pet-Keeper rivalled Remus in dark casualty. ¡°Of course that pipsqueak died. Always hiding behind nameless Unbounded to shield himself. But when push comes to shove, and you reach your breaking point, only your own strength matters. And mine,¡± every vein in the Pet-Keeper popped, every fibre of his now massive musculature bulging visibly even through his armour, ¡°is a gift from the universe itself. You are fighting reality.¡±

    Save for Elmore half-heartedly, none of them listened. They were too busy tossing everything they had at the Pet-Keeper, splitting open small cuts that shattered his face; chipped away at his azure armour. It was progress, more than he and Donovan combined had managed. Yet, at the same time, it was terribly slow.

    Remus and Violet, despite their best efforts, were clearly at their wits¡¯ end. Remus¡¯ fires proved useless against the Pet-Keeper, and each attempt of the explosive ability ended with diminishing results. Several times over, until Elmore¡¯s eyes hurt by the constant changing from blue to white, white to blue, the Emblazed tried to go hotter. Bring his blinding streaks to temperatures that would make even the Pet-Keeper crumble.

    But defeating Milap had drained him too much. Even keeping his Mark alight was clearly bringing the boy immense pain. The same could be said for Violet ¡ª consuming all the Infinity suffusing the area could only do so much. Elmore realised there were only remnants lingering now, thank the gods, but the Pet-Keeping was engorging himself on it all. She would get her clutches on trickles at most.

    Suffice the say, Elmore couldn¡¯t rely on their support. And, while formidable in the right circumstances, Koa and Ash were simply too inexperienced to be of much help. It was harsh, but an undeniable truth.

    Eventually, the Infinity in the room would be drained up. Violet was already commanding the few Unbounded left alive to bloat themselves with as much as they could. Therefore, the Pet-Keeper¡¯s own reserves would reach a point where the Divine Right could no longer be supplied the necessary fuel. Then, and only then, would the opportunity arise to give the Pet-Keeper the slip.

    But time was precious, and yet so fleeting.

    Donovan himself seemed to understand this. His hulking doppelganger materialised behind his back, gripping the Shadow Clansman¡¯s own shoulders. It sank into him, as if being uncalled, but Elmore had gotten the wrong impression. As if Donovan had taken a note out of Milap¡¯s book, the two became one whole. Donovan donned the shadow like a twilight cape and armour. Two images appeared to superimpose one another, Donovan¡¯s toned body topped by a flux of darkness.

    Every shadow in the room, all those constructs the man had been manipulating remotely, flooded into him as if by individual strings. Donovan and his appeal expanded in size, no longer buckling under the Unbounded wrath.

    At that exact moment, all of their focuses were the same.

    Wood and flame shot into The Pet-Keeper¡¯s arm, and simultaneously, Donovan wrenched his arm away.

    The Pet-Keeper¡¯s grip failed.

    Elmore expected his companion, battered and bruised, to go on the defensive. Hopping back a number of steps to recover. In reality, he grabbed onto the Pet-Keeper. Together, as one intertwined bundle, the pair fell to the floor. The sound of sharp wind reverberated around the chamber, until Elmore couldn¡¯t tell if the redundant noise really was repeating, or if the echoes in this cavern were absolutely extreme.

    It took him a slow moment to spot the blades streaking out of the darkness, directly into the Unbounded. They rolled across the floor, and Elmore, his cousins, and Remus, ceased attacking. Anything they sent their way had just as much risk of hurting the Shadow Clansman as it did the Pet-Keeper.

    Hope flared up inside of Elmore. Is he actually hurting him?

    That feeling fizzled to dust, when Elmore laid his eyes on the image of the diamond-clad being, pinning Donovan down. The half-shadow¡¯s open mouth was pushed down to enjoy the dusty taste of the rock floor. The only force preventing the Pet-Keeper from crushing Donovan¡¯s head was the now detached shadow. Its dark arms encircled them by the chest, shaking terribly. Like any second, they would buckle. Donovan was, quite literally, holding on for dear life.

    For what it was worth, Donovan¡¯s efforts hadn¡¯t been for nothing: the Pet-Keeper¡¯s skin was chafed all over. In some places, even bleeding.

    They all kicked back into high-gear, pouncing on the Unbounded. He yelped out one hasty word. ¡°Now!¡±

    Up above, blind-spots in Violet¡¯s campaign to skewer every last one of her clan¡¯s Marked clones, hung suspended from the cavern roof. It wasn¡¯t just their positioning that compared the trio to bats; they were vermin of the lowest kind.

    Imagine someone teleporting you directly in front of the sun. That, aside from pending incineration, was precisely what caught Elmore ¡ª and the rest of the group ¡ª so off-guard. The rug had been pulled out from under them, the room alternating to nothing but the brightest environment any of them had ever seen. What exactly the walls were forged out of, possibly fire and crystal, Elmore hadn¡¯t the slightest clue.

    But he knew one thing for certain. In this expanse, there would be no shadows.

    Panic seemed to trigger Elmore¡¯s eyes into adjusting quicker, the image of the Shadow Clansman being uplifted by one gauntleted arm encompassing his entire world. No shadows, no armour. Just the man¡¯s helpless, fatigued, and raw form.

    ¡°Donovan!¡±

    The Pet-Keeper crushed his head. There wasn''t a squeal of horrific pain. No twitch or last minute plea. Just the sound of a grape being squeezed.

    Screams that used up every iota of his body threatened to snap Elmore¡¯s vocal cords. He hadn¡¯t known Donovan for very long. He¡¯d been frightening, slaughtering hundreds without so much as a drab of emotion. But he was human. They¡¯d proved as much through the rare cracking of a smile. The occasional, knowing glint in their curious eyes.

    Now, the man would never do so much as twitch his lips again.

    Elmore sped forward, oak armour encompassing his body within a second. Hundreds of serrated leaves, sharp enough to cut through bone and scatter marrow, concentrated over him. The Pet-Keeper didn¡¯t doge, standing his ground, bloody hands outspread. It would be his funeral.

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    Voices screeched at him to top, but against their best wishes, Elmore stifled the nagging voices. If he didn¡¯t do something now, they were all going to die. Now was the only chance. The image of a heart staining the Pet-Keeper¡¯s brow was losing its colour. Any minute now, pushed to his regenerative and defensive limits, the Unbounded would no longer be able to rely on that vile ability.

    The Pet-Keeper moved nearly too fast for Elmore to intervene. He flickered his head to the side, just in the nick of time, an otherwise lethal shot splitting his shoulder instead. Elmore pushed through the pain. His halo of ferns pierced past the Pet-Keeper¡¯s shattered armour, and Elmore mentally rasped in a voice too inhuman to be his own. An eye for an eye!

    The bone of his kneecap made a crunching sound, and tears momentarily blurred Elmore¡¯s vision before he blinked himself to clarity. The toughest wood he could think of ¡ª quebracho ¡ª flew out of his chest, already sharpened like the finest handmade spear, right into the Pet-Keeper¡¯s abdomen. Blood flew, and Elmore would have smiled if the pain hadn¡¯t been quite so intense.

    A flurry of strikes answered him. His achilles tendon tore, both elbows gushed blood, and it was all he could do to keep a hand on his side, as what felt like all the Ichor in the world came rushing out.

    Spiked, thorny vines materialised out of nowhere, entangling the Pet-Keeper. The great Unbounded humphed, ripping them apart. But Elmore didn¡¯t relent. The stronger bundles enraptured their feet, and large, twisting logs encircled the Unbounded. Elmore imagined squeezing the fiend as one would a water balloon. Exactly as Donovan had been slaughtered.

    It was the perfect vengeance. An irony that would transcend this moment, ringing out through the most obscure crevices of existence. It filled Elmore with drunk excitement.

    He flattened three of his spiked leaves together, piercing the Pet-Keeper¡¯s eye.

    A hand, no longer gauntleted, was raised before the bleeding hole. ¡°You little-¡±

    Elmore screeched over the Unbounded. Projectiles from the others covered for his now sloppy footwork, every step he took eliciting a spike of pain through his entire body. But this momentary pain would be worth it if his cousins survived. Why had he ever been jealous? It was ridiculous, it wa-

    A swiped hand left a gaping hole in Elmore¡¯s chest.

    He rasped, vaulting himself on top of the Unbounded. He was weaker, willpower alone suffusing him with the might needed to pin the devil down. Gore splattered in Elmore¡¯s face, but all he saw was the innocuous faces of his cousins. Ash, ever laid-back and carefree; Koa, logical, calculating, and a great talent left in the dark for far too long.

    Elmore saw, faintly for a moment, Koa¡¯s torn tunic revealing a brilliant Mark. Chantal, the goddess of The Wild, sending a batch of corrupted trees scattering.

    It was subtly flaming. Like the fuzzy look sand dunes acquired through the filter of a desert¡¯s heat.

    Koa had made Emblazed. Possibly days ago, they¡¯d just been too busy to notice. Pride warmed Elmore¡¯s heart, love and adoration for his clan quelling the impossible pain riddling through his tortured nerves.

    Turning his attention back to a bewildered Pet-Keeper, Elmore raised his neck backwards. His own eyes must have a blazing, sickly green ¡ª the brightest shade he¡¯d ever acquired, no doubt. Elmore had never had the luck for permanent bodily alterations, only when his Wilderness energy reached a crescendo did it appear. But here, at the accumulation of everything, the image of those pupilless spots of green would be engraved into his legacy.

    Horns, of the same wood Elmore had forged the spear from earlier, sprouted from his brow. He swung himself forwards at lightning speed, Mark feeling like it was going to burn itself off his body.

    There was a devastating second of contact. Winds lashed off in a gathering tempest around them; more blood leaked down their faces, and Elmore had stopped paying attention to his hearing once all the pandemonium had begun.

    The starkest agony he¡¯d ever experienced struck Elmore, and he crumpled to his knees. He wiped out blood from his eyes, knowing full well the Pet-Keeper could slice off his head any second now. He glanced at the point of contact.

    His entire right arm had been severed off. The pain became numb as he realised this, disbelief his greatest painkiller.

    But the Pet-Keeper wasn¡¯t faring too well either. His head was coated entirely with blood, but even through the sticky barrier, he could see their Divine Right fizzle out for good. Elmore leapt, knowing his fate, but foreseeing no alternative. He concentrated all his Wilderness energy into one wild blast.

    It flickered from state to state in the brief distance between Elmore and the Pet-Keeper. A spear, vines, miscellaneous plants, a bird''s nest. It struck the Unbounded square in the chest mid-transformation, tearing a sizeable chunk of flesh away from him.

    An angry yelp, and time seemed to accelerate. There was a blow to his left, which he more acknowledged then felt, as Elmore¡¯s other dismembered arm joined the first.

    He turned his head hastily to Remus, a mouth full of Ichor making it difficult to speak. ¡°Remus! Protect my cousins won¡¯t you? Won¡¯t you!¡±

    It all happened so quickly, but Remus didn¡¯t hesitate, bless his heart. The Emblazed nodded, expression so resolute, all of Elmore¡¯s fears perished.

    As his body was split in twain, Elmore, for once, felt at peace.

    His clan was in safe hands. Even as he wheezed his last breath out of severed lungs, Elmore knew that for certain.

    <hr>

    Koa stopped thinking. He simply acted.

    He rushed forward. Past the line of Elmore and Violet, past the piles of gore, and right into the Pet-Keeper. His Mark blazed brighter than ever, the showings of an Emblazed, but barely a fraction of his mind registered the advancement.

    Great wooden claws blasted out of Koa¡¯s hands, and in the same fashion as Violet would in her Unbounded form, his arms swept down.

    The Pet-Keeper cackled through his gushing mouth. ¡°Come join the death toll! You know, I really am starting to feel bet-¡±

    Koa roared something incoherent that even he didn¡¯t understand. Remus rushed forward at his back, but at that moment, nothing could stop Koa.

    The gods themselves could try to integrate themselves between him and this loathsome bastard, and he¡¯d devise a way to get through. With brute-force if needs be. Again, Koa swiped down. Once more, a third time, and then Koa¡¯s arms became a blur. Blood splattered upwards, the last scraps of wrecked armour flying overhead.

    Hands wrapped themselves around his chest, pulling him back. He fought and fought, cursing like a madman. Remus was dragging him back, snatching away his vengeance. Ash was on Violet''s shoulders, eyes glazed over.

    ¡°What are you all doing?¡± His vocal cords shook. ¡°We have to kill him! Look ¡ª look at him! He¡¯s half-dead as it is, we can finish him off!¡±

    The Pet-Keeper was exposed. Armour destroyed, one of his eyes burst, and an arm Koa had torn off dangling by a thread. It was the single greatest thing he¡¯d ever achieved, but he couldn¡¯t get celebrating until the Unbounded was reduced to his Infinity. Until he was six feet under, for all the world to see.

    But they were already running away. Koa whacked his knuckles against Remus¡¯ back, screaming until all he could hear was the sound of his own voice. He had to fight. He couldn¡¯t just focus on his own survival after what that freak had done to Donovan and Elmore. Never. Never-never-never.

    Purple light exploded. Violet and Ash disappeared for one second, before rematerialising. The three hiding Unbounded which had transformed the room earlier, dropped past them. Dead.

    Another eruption of magenta. New environs formed around Koa, but more blasts of mauve transported him before he could take any of them in. Hall by hall, room by room, Violet was getting them out of this hellscape. Under any other circumstances, he would have cried out in joy.

    They were in the air, far overhead, the ruins of the manor beneath them. But it wasn¡¯t enough. It¡¯d never be. The place could easily be rebuilt, repaired even. That wasn¡¯t anywhere near satisfactory. Koa¡¯s ire wouldn¡¯t reach its end until the entire place was razzed. With the Pet-Keeper¡¯s head spiked on a pitchfork, embedded into the ashes.

    But in the end, as Remus flew him for what felt like miles away, Koa didn¡¯t have in him to fight anymore. Not even to fight for consciousness.

    Sleeping in the air wasn¡¯t practical, but his exhausted body made it work.

    When he next awoke, no more energised, it was to Ash¡¯s nagging words. He was calling his name, over and over. Finally, when Koa guessed that he couldn¡¯t feign deep sleep any longer, he got up slowly to a sitting position. They were at a campsite.

    Koa focused on a weak campfire blazing away, half-expecting to spot Donovan and Elmore there. When he saw nothing but empty logs, by a pitiful fire of sticks, he burst out into tears. It was at times like this that Koa was thankful he couldn¡¯t see himself from an outside perspective at all times. It would have been quite the sorry picture.

    ¡°Koa.¡± Ash said, choking on his own words. ¡°Violet and Remus dragged us out of there. They promised to escort us all the way back to First Rite if need be.¡±

    Motionless, it was all Koa could do to listen. Even achieving Emblazed ¡ª an event he had been eagerly anticipating for literal years ¡ª now seemed trivial. He wanted to lay where he was, preferably forever, and sob his woes away.

    ¡°I refused.¡±

    Jolting upwards, Koa shot his brother a wide-eyed stare. ¡°Why? Those two are the only people that know the truth behind why Donovan and Elmore died tonight. The only link we have in getting justice, and you throw that chance away?¡±

    Ash snorted. ¡°Oh, get a hold of yourself. Don¡¯t you think I want to tear the Pet-Keeper to shreds? I do, I do more than anything else Descent has to offer.¡±

    ¡°Then why would you decline?¡±

    ¡°Because I am not working with criminals!¡± Ash snarled, the most serious Koa had ever seen him. It took him aback. ¡°If we¡¯re to kill that devil, we do it properly. Through our clan. They won¡¯t take this lightly.¡±

    Koa had gone from outraged, benumbed in his half-conscious state, and was presently rebounding back to overwhelmed.

    He got to his feet, not caring that with any step, he could teeter over. ¡°Who knows if they''ll even be bothered to help us? How many failed missions can you recall?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Probably hundreds, why does it-¡±

    ¡°How many of those were ever revisited? This will all be overlooked as a freak accident.¡± Koa was trembling. ¡°No one would believe the truth anyway. What proof is there?¡±

    Ash, far faster on his feet than usual, had a rapier reply at the ready. ¡°We advance! We reach Splintered Rank and above, and make them care. Command them to. It would take time, a few years if we dedicate ourselves to nothing but ascending in physical and political power, but what other choice do we have?¡±

    They locked eyes. Koa didn¡¯t need to speak for Ash to divine the message.

    ¡°Like I said.¡± Ash¡¯s voice rose in volume. ¡°No. Our cousin dies, and the first thing you want to do is work with the people who opposed the sect he loved?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡± Koa spluttered. He couldn¡¯t believe his brother was turning things on him like this. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t want to start an argument. But waiting until people will finally listen to us, while that fiend is still out there, slaughtering others . . .¡± He shook his head. ¡°I just can¡¯t. Especially when there are people out there actively opposing the Unbounded as we speak.¡±

    His brother inhaled. Koa tried not to look at their tremulous fingers. But, despite the affliction, Ash eased slightly. ¡°We don¡¯t know their intentions. One of them is an Unbounded themselves.¡±

    ¡°An Unbounded that helped kill two of Nova¡¯s strongest units. You''re cherry picking details. You heard everything Violet revealed. She probably wants to kill the Pet-Keeper more than us.¡±

    Ash spat at his feet. There was blood in the saliva. ¡°I can¡¯t stop you.¡± He said, after pacing back and forth for a heated minute. ¡°But I won¡¯t join you Koa. You might even be listed as a deserter of our clan. Are you willing to face that?¡±

    Koa went to open his mouth, but his brother raised a hand. ¡°Not yet. You need to think first. If you become an enemy of the clan, and if we cross paths . . .¡±

    Neither of them said anything. The intention had been clear.

    ¡°Let¡¯s . . . Let¡¯s get some sleep.¡±

    He nodded. Ash turned back to him for a second, as if about to say something. But then he was gone.

    Koa lied under his kilt for hours, trying to ignore the sound of someone sobbing. Eventually, some indiscernible time later, sleep finally took him.

 57.5. Wanted

    Andreas crossed his arms.

    He was seated within a tent, the colour of ageing oranges, in a rickety chair. His feet hung beneath him as dead weight, but he didn¡¯t let the woes of injury sour his mood.

    For Andreas was smiling more than he ever had.

    Through the tent¡¯s opening, it was a beautiful day. The blazing sun, a permanent fixture in the sky this deep into Summer, hurt the eyes slightly if one raised their head too much. The brisk energy of a busy day suffused the atmosphere, wonderfully reminiscent of the bustling movement of Leisure District. Carpentry clansmen carried great planks of oak, pushed crates stuffed with cobblestone, and all around smiled at the lustre of good, honest work.

    After the last six Passings, they¡¯d needed the opportunity dearly. And what stranger source could there be for this latest commission, than an obscure, rural clan smack-bang in the centre of Hybrid? Journeying through the Shifting had been a cumbersome process, sure enough, but Andreas supposed his people would willingly trek to hell and back, for all the real help this task was doing them.

    Andreas couldn¡¯t stop beaming. Even as he broke out into a coughing fit, a toothy grin persisted.

    His granddaughter, Briella, and his assigned Vitality Sect nurse, Saige, were at his side in seconds. It took him a few reassuring gesticulations, until they were confident he was okay.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you fuss.¡± He laid back in his chair. ¡°Be happy! Rejoice! We¡¯re earning profits. Profits to keep us afloat for the time being.¡±

    Briella smiled, but Andreas could tell it was half-forced. It must have been hard for her to see him like this. When they¡¯d shared a carriage together, hired from the Speed Sect, even then he had spotted the tears rolling down her cheek. Her eyes would flicker towards his immobile legs, bandaged and victim to Rot, and he would pretend not to have noticed. But each time he saw the pity expanding through the gateways of her eyes, his smile grew just a little harder to maintain.

    Andrea¡¯s nurse laid a hand on his broad shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit. Keep staying positive. Stress may accelerate the process. But you have time. The least you should do is enjoy it.¡±

    He wasn''t afraid of death. At over one-hundred-and-seventy, Andreas couldn¡¯t complain. When it was time to go, it was time to go. Still, the prospect of one¡¯s mortality was enough to sober up anybody. It took his grandchild''s words to boot him back to a cheerful state of mind.

    ¡°I should go.¡± Andreas sensed divine energy rush off her, as Briella activated her Mark. ¡°It¡¯s not fair for Aiden and Damion-¡± She caught herself. ¡°Force of habit. It''s not fair for Aiden to work while I rest easy here. I¡¯ll be back in a few hours, okay?¡±

    Andreas nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Take as long as you need.¡±

    For a long time, all was quiet. Saige read her book in the corner, running various tests on him once in a while, as Andreas simply let his own thoughts entertain him.

    Finally, the nurse spoke up. ¡°How is Damion, by the way?¡±

    ¡°Very well, from the last time I checked. The front lines are treating him well. Or, as well as they can.¡± He cackled, a string of memories of his own decades spent there resurfacing. He debated whether to let Saige in on a little piece of information. Of course, leaking your own plans to competing clans was never wise. But, after caring for him, helping to prolong his life through Durations of careful work, she had done more than enough to earn that right.

    ¡°You know, I don¡¯t give out info like this to just about anyone, but for Damion to have achieved Foot-Soldier through the exact methods I had as a youth . . . I wonder if we could do the same with some of the younger clansmen.¡±

    Saige cocked an eyebrow. ¡°You mean using your Mark in that strange way you do, fighting like a mad man with a toolbox?¡±

    Andreas bounced up in a fit of laughter. So hard, a spike of pain surged through him. After she rightfully chided him, Andreas continued.

    ¡°The front lines offer a lot of money. Now, I¡¯m not a monetary man, but we¡¯re talking about my clan''s survival. If even a third of our youngsters were able to join Damion down there . . . we could have enough Inklings to rest easy. Maybe extend ourselves to a few other locations. After all, we all end up travelling to complete odd jobs like this, don¡¯t we? We¡¯d be far more efficient if spread out.¡±

    Saige, nodded, opened her mouth, right as a burly man blocked out the sun¡¯s rays. Andreas turned to the sect leader, grinning. Finally, a man with a few years on him.

    Truth be told, if Andreas hadn¡¯t opted to cut off all his hair, he¡¯d be as grey as Brison. But the look fitted the Warlord, who was a tad older than himself. One of the few people Andreas knew to rival his age.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re faring well, Andreas.¡± Brison spoke. ¡°Your people are really outdoing themselves. I cannot thank you enough.¡±

    ¡°No, I must thank you for this opportunity.¡± Andreas wasn¡¯t trying to butter up the man. He truly meant each and every word. ¡°Times have been hard, but this has all been a massive help.¡±

    ¡°No, no.¡± Brison shook his hand to the side gently. ¡°You should be thanking yourselves. After all, it was one of your own that recommended your aid. He had quite the convincing sales pitch.¡±

    Saige and he suddenly paused. A notion occurred to Andreas, but it was too extreme; too unlikely. ¡°Who? I don¡¯t recall any of our own travelling this far out.¡±

    ¡°One of your boys came here in search of our god¡¯s Mark. Your own blood, I believe. Does Remus ring a bell?¡±

    Andreas said nothing. Everyone in the tent simply stared at each other. Expressions so blank as to be comical. Humour drowning out the pain, Andreas slapped his knee, clutching himself, features scrunched.

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    The poor Warlord at the tent¡¯s flap harrumphed awkwardly. ¡°Is everything okay Andreas? I understand you may take offence in your own great grandson pledging his allegiance to my clan, but I¡¯m sure we can make things-¡±

    ¡°Oh, Remus!¡± Saige rushed to him, but Andreas spluttered out words through a throat hoarse from laughter. ¡°Of course, of course! Has your Mark, you say? Good for him! Tell me, has he reached Enkindled ¡ª Emblazed? What abilities does he have? Hell, what is he up to? I don¡¯t suppose Remus is hiding out here, or maybe he¡¯s . . .¡±

    The sound of his rambles resounded out of the tent, blaring through the entirety of the razzed clan.

    Even mentally, Andreas prattled. What a funny thing fate is.

    <hr>

    ¡°Kill him.¡±

    Tushar struggled to settle his breathing. Staring at the portrait, it was hard to tell if he recognised the boy. They were young, late to mid teens, with dark ginger hair and a plain, unimpressive look.

    He¡¯d had to fork out quite the pretty penny to have this delivered from the Matter Clan. Photographs were expensive, but Tashar was more than willing to pay the needed sum. Especially if it meant wiping the saboteur, and anyone associated with him, off the map.

    Being forced to push back from the front lines between his clan and Maris, was the greatest shame yet in his tenure as sect leader. The dark void on his otherwise perfect record. Something so disgraceful couldn¡¯t go unpunished.

    ¡°And you¡¯re sure it''s him?¡± He raised his head to Lumi. She was a reliable girl, and, after the disaster, had quickly proved herself as a fast-thinker. He¡¯d prompted her to adviser almost without thinking.

    ¡°There have been reports of a man matching the description of his blue flames, rushing through the woodlands between Hybrid and the Ravaged Lands. Juniper confirmed their identity.¡±

    Tushar nodded. That made sense; Juniper, after all, was the natural enemy to Maris. She was sure to do anything within her power to assist them. Still, a comradery based on a shared enemy was a fickle one. Once Maris was out of the picture, if things ever progressed that far, the God-Graced wouldn¡¯t hesitate to turn her armies towards him. It wouldn¡¯t be wise to lean all in on the woman¡¯s support. Owing a God-Graced a favour, regardless of who, was never a good idea.

    ¡°Here¡¯s a report on all we know of the perpetrator. He¡¯s an Emblazed, or so we think, heralding from the Carpentry Clan, but currently residing with the Ambition Sect to escape his status as Death-Marked.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Tushar perused the tiny text. ¡°Quite the criminal repertoire he¡¯s developing. Why is it always the seeds with the most promise that turn sour?¡±

    ¡°Why indeed.¡±

    Inside their quaint chamber ¡ª a far cry from his great, spacious abode within the sunken glacier ¡ª the following silence seemed to have an echo of its own.

    They¡¯d retreated to a secret, centuries old series of passages, carved into a random patch of snow. It was miles away from their previous home, many of the buildings of which were still unharmed. But heading back was too risky. They¡¯d given Maris one victory; the confidence that supplied you was dangerous. And, in the greatest consequence of this whole ordeal, she would no doubt have no trouble acquiring the crown.

    The sight of his downsized home made Tashar¡¯s blood boil, to levels not even the collective might of his own sect could cool.

    He scribbled something down, not caring how spidery his handwriting was as a result. He handed it to Lumi. ¡°Tell our clan a simple message. If Remus is ever seen, the man who hands me his skull is an immediate candidate for my successor. Tell them it''s an Oath.¡±

    The energy in the room fuzzled, as the self-bound promise was made.

    His next words were molten. The desire to stay stoic and indifferent had long since burnt away. ¡°One way or another, that man will pay.¡±

    <hr>

    Joshua walked with flawless strides, through the darkness.

    No one, not even the God-Graced himself, knew the location of the Old One. His Mark was a genetic miracle, tempered by the winds of time. As a result, it was always active; always masking him in that shrouding shadow.

    The exact extent of the foggy expanse was subject to much rumour and exaggeration. Some said miles, others just the length of a few chambers, and a few swore it had no end. Joshua knew this mattered little. However long the lightless void went on, he would have to trek through it regardless. There was no need to scrutinise over the details.

    After marching through the lightless haze, he finally got into contact with something cushiony. It was too hard to see, but there was no mistake. It was the Old One. More specifically, their beard.

    Immediately, in a movement so ingrained it was instinctual, Joshua got to one knee. ¡°My Lord. I bring news.¡±

    There was no difference through the dark, but a voice spoke. It carried the authority of a millennia behind it. ¡°Who¡¯s death?¡±

    ¡°Donovan¡¯s, Sire.¡± For some reason, uttering that made Joshua croak. It was a trivial thought of course, but before, not saying the truth out loud almost made it unreal. But you couldn¡¯t escape reality. It was an infantile thought. ¡°Honour by blood?¡±

    If Joshua could have seen the God-Graced, he got the feeling they would be nodding. The exchange had been so succinct, so precise, it was all methodical. Events like these always involved the same protocols. Communication was to the point, insofar as possible. Delaying time that could be spent on missions was a disgusting thought.

    The next words, however predictable, were spoken in such a way, they inspired the darkest visions of bloodshed from Joshua¡¯s inner-consciousness. Had it not been for his emotional training, his body would have no doubt shivered.

    ¡°Honour by blood.¡±

    <hr>

    Days went by, wounds healed, but Remus¡¯ memory remained all the same. Survivor¡¯s guilt didn¡¯t quite articulate his thoughts. It was more like survivor¡¯s disbelief.

    He had never been that close to Elmore, and much less so to Donovan, having hardly known the Shadow Clansmen for more than an hour. Hell, the former had sliced off his ring finger, the same stump he was inspecting over and over again, even now. But their deaths ¡ª the Shadow Clansman¡¯s head erupting, Elmore fighting as the wounds only stockpiled ¡ª they had been braver than anything Remus had ever done.

    He sighed. Violet was out hunting. Neither of them really knew where they were going yet. They needed time to recuperate. Breathing room. Yes, that was what Remus needed.

    But no matter how much he tried to process everything, his thoughts would only entangle. Like a thousand knots, enrapturing his mind.

    Elmore, dead. The memory of his valiant attacks spun in his mind in a never-ending ferris wheel. How could this be reality, if someone as powerful, as promising, a hundred other things Remus wasn¡¯t, died as somebody¡¯s afterthought?

    The sound of someone approaching, foretold by the rustling of branches, tore Remus out of the destrutctive reverie.

    ¡°Violet,¡± he called, ¡°got anything we can cook?¡±

    Silence. Remus frowned, walked forward, when someone who was definitely not Violet walked into view.

    Koa stood with forced resolve, face split between boundless bravado and uncertainty. But an air of determination, meek but undeniably there, held it together.

    Before Remus could utter a word, Koa cut him off.

    He inhaled deeply. ¡°I want to talk.¡±

 58. Recuperating

    Remus scrutinised the three sheets of parchment scattered across the oak desk.

    He¡¯d been in this same claustrophobic cabin for nearly five days now, and, contrary to what an optimistic Koa would have liked him to believe, it hadn¡¯t grown on Remus the least bit. Already, surprise surprise, he was itching to leave.

    Of course, this was no fault of the cabin itself. For any ordinary traveller, few as they were nowadays, it was the ideal suite: remote, free from the eyes of any hostile clans, and with enough natural scenery to keep you sane. Yet, accustomed to his nomad lifestyle as he had grown over the last nine Passings or so, Remus couldn¡¯t help but long for departure.

    Especially with the recent slew of assassins that had come for his head.

    Nevertheless, his skull still neatly resting on his neck, Remus had promised himself not to leave until he answered one important question. What exactly was he going to do with his Bank?

    Until he arrived at a Bank Mould he was happy with, Remus¡¯ advancement was stuck at a lagging pause. There was nothing that could irritate him more than this indefinite break, especially when he was pressed for time as it was. But, despite his inclinations to do away with all this tough decision-making, that wasn¡¯t a logical thought. In the long-run, taking the time to delicately select an ideal Mould would benefit him hugely. Infinitely more so than storming ahead and jeopardising his future scaling of the Divine Ranks.

    Footsteps thudded down the stairs, and Remus didn¡¯t need to look up to know it was Koa.

    Either that, or he was going to have a very nasty encounter with someone from the Frost Clan. Or perhaps one of Donovan¡¯s vengeful brethren, if they hadn¡¯t focused their ire towards an actual worthy target yet. They sure were taking their sweet time to ensure Remus¡¯ death, whilst the Pet-Keeper was still out there, scot free.

    ¡°Remus,¡± Koa¡¯s casual voice rang out, and Remus was strangely disappointed that he wasn''t in for another frantic conflict. At least then he would have temporary respite from staring blankly at these wretched sheets. ¡°You still haven¡¯t come to a decision?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Remus said through gritted teeth. ¡°Gods above, I don¡¯t think I could imagine a more infuriating task if you threw me into a blank room for five-hundred Rebirths, with nothing to do but think.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± Koa mused, sliding a sheet over to himself. ¡°Exuberant Patronage.¡± Recognition lit his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s Juniper¡¯s Vault, and was going to be El-¡± He stumbled over himself. ¡°My cousin¡¯s. Anyhow, it could definitely work, especially if you¡¯re going for Mercenary at the Splintered Ranks.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not.¡± Remus sighed. ¡°I¡¯m trying to discover a Vault that¡¯ll help to use Flaming Gold for longer, and if possible, without as many adverse effects. Trouble is, I¡¯m starting to doubt such a thing exists . . ¡°

    Koa moved onto the next sheet. An intricate system of tubes wormed through the vacant outline of a body, each connected directly to the skin. Written above in ink that must have dried decades ago, were the words: Metallic Mass.

    Even Koa couldn¡¯t force baseless excitement at this. In fact, he was downright sceptical. ¡°It could work well with your Thick Skin technique, true, but I¡¯m inclined to say no. Again, that would work better with a different Splintered Rank than Vanguard.¡±

    ¡°Warden.¡± Remus nodded. It was the pinnacle of defence, even matching that of a regular Warlord . . . but again, it wasn¡¯t what Remus was striving for. ¡°I thought the larger area could help decrease the pain of Flaming Gold, but it¡¯s not precise enough.¡±

    Both heads turned to the last sheet. Remus felt no anticipating thrill: he had long-since identified the Bank to be a no-go.

    ¡°Stone Crusher.¡± Koa mused, swiftly moving on. ¡°Very similar to Willow¡¯s Astute Warrior Mould in reinforcing the limbs. I heard you¡¯re more prone to injury with the Stone Crusher ¡ª something to do with the ratio of Infinity supplied to the bone. But that¡¯s besides the point.¡±

    Remus suppressed the urge to exhale, purely to avoid repetition. ¡°All useless then. I thought enforcing my Mark would be a decent idea, but that¡¯s pointless if I can¡¯t handle the backlash of its most potent abilities. And, just like Metallic Mass, Stone Crusher doesn¡¯t cover enough area to properly numb Flaming Gold either.¡±

    Suffice to say, they were stumped.

    To some people, knowing you¡¯ve tested every possible avenue of success that you can would leave them feeling relieved, triumphant in their efforts or not. At least they¡¯ve done everything they can, right? Leaving no stone unturned. But Remus simply felt himself growing more anxious. The walls around him suddenly appeared flimsy; as easy to bypass as windswept paper.

    All the while, his grandfather¡¯s illness would continue to ravage his body. They¡¯d be fortunate if he had a few Passings left, before the Rot ran its course. And that wasn¡¯t the only concern taking up his plate.

    Remus and Koa weren''t just travelling for the sake of sightseeing, they had enemies after them. Staying put in one locale was risky, even for the brief stop they¡¯d entertained thus far. Remus didn¡¯t have time to laze around here, examining potential Mould after Mould. Koa and he were only Emblazed, their strongest ally in Violet off pursuing her own research. They always had their last resort, and Remus had come close to using it in a few tight pinches, but he hoped it wouldn¡¯t come to that.

    Finally, after some pacing and frantic muttering, Remus came to a decision. ¡°Staying here for so long was a mistake. I think we should leave tomorrow morning.¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t hesitate. He¡¯d obviously been expecting this. ¡°Sounds good, we should start to pa-¡±

    An influx of energy startled them both into alarmed silence. Remus wasn¡¯t the best at inferring information from the energy output of a Mark, but during their travels, had some limited free time to practise.

    The eruption of energy demanded attention, yet not overwhelmingly. Like a contained explosion. Contrary to this, Remus got the impression that In small amounts, it would be practically impossible to sense. That implied it was specialised for keeping hidden. That, and the fact Remus had been forced to confront this particular strand of power multiple times over these last few Passings already, was enough to give it away.

    The Shadow Clan had arrived.

    All the hypothetical relief Remus had imagined earlier fizzled away in the face of reality. Truth be told, he would much rather turn his brains into mush by looking at dusty old scrolls all day then the alternative: actually having them be pulped by a vengeful clansman¡¯s fist.

    ¡°I only sense one person.¡± Koa noted, eyebrows furrowed as they hunched down by the house¡¯s entrance.

    ¡°Only one?¡±

    He nodded. Remus had always been in awe of Koa¡¯s knack for energy-reading. Perhaps such skills were taught from birth in The Wild Clan. ¡°They¡¯re showing off their power, or so to speak. ¡®Want to make their presence known.¡±

    ¡°Lureing us in?¡±

    ¡°Possibly. But I don''t like this.¡±

    Remus kissed his teeth. ¡°What should we do? Do you think attacking is . . .¡± Remus cut himself off. ¡°I sometimes forget your age Koa. I should be protecting you here, not the other way round. It''s the least I can do for Elmore.¡±

    Koa stayed silent.

    ¡°I¡¯m going off ahead, cover my back. Jump in if things escalate.¡±

    He tried to argue back, but Remus shut him down. ¡°We¡¯ve had too many close calls, Koa. I don¡¯t feel right putting you in any more danger than necessary. Besides, we need someone to keep an eye on things.¡±

    He frowned, though didn¡¯t bother arguing. ¡°Are you sure they¡¯re here to talk? Would be quite the change of heart from their usual breaking-everything-in-sight routine.¡±

    It sounded bizarre, but there were only two possibilities that Remus could see. ¡°It¡¯s either that, or this is a trap. On what scale, I can¡¯t be sure, but if you see any other guys approaching . . .¡±

    Remus crept through the entrance. ¡°Give them hell for me.¡±

    Outside, a plain grassland served as no comfort for Remus. They were smackbang in the land between Hybrid, Great Oasis, and First Rite. Miles upon miles of quiet land, safe for the occasional drunken skirmish, had served well as the perfect hideout. Or as perfect as it could be, when the world¡¯s best spies were on your tail. To be precise, he was in the middle of nowhere.

    Down below, past the steep hill his current abode was erected upon, he could see the beacon emanating dark power. Remus now understood what Koa had meant. Energy was lashing off this clansman in waves that had to have been deliberate to conjure such force. The shadows shifted unnaturally across the flower beds, the excess of energy immediately causing them to wilt.

    He strolled down as menacingly as he could, but, to be perfectly honest, Remus wasn¡¯t in prime fighting shape at all.

    Stress had been sapping him of every drop of energy; his training, whilst not as strenuous as it had once been when pushing for Emblazed, was still exhausting; and he was mentally fatigued from Bank research.

    One activation of his Mark, and those burdens were greatly diminished.

    Remus sauntered down with deliberate slowness. It was a chilly night, the cool sweepings of wind oddly soothing as they caressed his body. Now mere feet away, he could take a full look at the intruder.

    It was a man, draped in the nondescript black robes and light armour the clan seemed accustomed to. Tradition, Remus mused, imagining their ancestors suiting exactly the same thing. There was no visible weaponry, but that wasn¡¯t nearly enough to put Remus at ease.

    ¡°I notice you¡¯re not attacking.¡± He muttered, unsure where to take this. This silent showdown was quite possibly the strangest interaction he¡¯d ever had.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°I notice you¡¯re not either,¡± a deep voice, but free from the solidity of old age, replied. Hollow eyes looked him up and down, reading Remus with a gentle smile. ¡°Wise decision.¡±

    ¡°Look,¡± Remus took a risky step forwards, ¡°I don¡¯t know why you''re all after us. We fought on Donovan¡¯s side. It should be his killer you¡¯re tracking down, not us! We can work together.¡±

    The man smiled deeper, threads of dark hair flickering just above his eyes. Obviously cut short, so as not to obscure his vision. It was one of the many battle-ready habits that had been so charming with Donovan, but deeply unnerving with anyone else.

    And that smile. It was so freakishly held, Remus knew there was no joy behind it. But regardless, why smile in the first place? It was like this was all going exactly as the clansman wanted. Clearly, he wanted Remus to know that.

    ¡°You were allies then, true ¡ª however temporary?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t one take responsibility for their allies?¡±

    The way he said it, like he¡¯d just uttered a great point, or had made a brilliant move in a chess game, made Remus¡¯ blood boil. He felt his fingers twitching in a fashion that wasn¡¯t one of his more friendly mannerisms.

    ¡°Again, of course, but supporting your comrades doesn¡¯t ensure their safety. Tragedies happen, and sometimes, there¡¯s nothing we can do about it. But isn¡¯t that what your clan is all about? A pragmatic attitude towards all avenues of life?¡±

    Their eyes twitched. Nothing overt changed, buried beneath years of emotional control. Remus hadn¡¯t hit a nerve, it was more like . . . like he¡¯d posed an argument they hadn¡¯t been expecting.

    Cooly, the man¡¯s smile faded. ¡°A correct assessment, but nevertheless, you failed to defend someone you were responsible for. That in itself is an outcry. First, we¡¯ll take care of those who failed our kin, and soon enough, Donovan¡¯s killer will be dealt the same fate. Clean and efficient.¡±

    Remus sensed things were spiralling out of control. It was futile, but he had to try and get a handle on things. ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight you. I respect everyone in the Shadow Clan for raising someone as admirable as Donovan.¡± He tried to keep his tone polite, but right at that moment, an illicit fury surfaced. ¡°But this is nothing short of lunacy. Don¡¯t think for a minute that I won¡¯t hesitate to defend myself.¡±

    He let his eyes shine to their brightest sapphire.

    Silence. Unchanging, uncomfortable, droning silence. Then, with no care to disguise the movement, the man¡¯s hand moved to his waist. As if the universe had forgotten the weapon existed until this point, a rapier suddenly appeared. He drew it in one smooth, rapid movement.

    Remus blasted off the second he¡¯d caught their hand moving. The clansman looked from left to right in a shake of the head so fast, Remus was surprised it hadn¡¯t broken the man''s neck. Finally, he looked up lazily to Remus, a blank expression on his face.

    ¡°It¡¯s Joshua by the way,¡± he parried an oncoming wooden projectile. ¡°I thought you would like to know the name of the man who¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    Fire streamed out of Remus¡¯ palms. The dark filter of night shook, refilled by an azure ocean of his own making. Yet, where there had been darkness, a new silhouette now thrived.

    Remus zipped away from a shadowy fist, one impossibly large. He grunted, eyes scurrying to identify his opponent¡¯s summoned protector. If it was anything like Donovan¡¯s shadow, which had been capable of crushing Daisy into a paste at only Foot-Soldier, he would need to avoid it at all costs. But there was nothing: just an expansive, empty stretch of night sky. He was mildly disturbed to discover, as he avoided another skimming punch the size of a carriage, that he wasn¡¯t looking at a twilit horizon at all. No. This was that deeper darkness he had recognised in the first place.

    It was Joshua¡¯s shadow itself. The size of a giant.

    A sphere of fire concentrated around Remus, as the colossus sank into him. Tendrils of oozing black broke through his blazing protection, but raising his flames to the haunting shade of white soon saw them vaporised.

    Just what Rank is this guy?

    Remus flew upwards, leaving the world of darkness. Down below, past his dangling feet, a blur of black with no rhyme or reason to its form consumed the landscape. It was spreading towards the hut, outside of which Koa was releasing a barrage of conjured spears.  Most of them would, more likely than not, be harmlessly devoured by the shadows. Unless Koa was aiming for something Remus couldn¡¯t see.

    Like Joshua¡¯s actual body.

    In a burst of all the Infinity he had, which wasn¡¯t much, Remus propelled his flight back to the building. He crash landed by Koa, staring straight towards Joshua. With every swing of his rapier, the man blocked whatever wooden shrapnel Koa threw at him. Remus didn¡¯t want to panic, but never before had the Shadow Clan come after them with such raw might.

    Once more, that daunting question left Remus at a loss. How powerful is Jousha, exactly?

    Splintered Rank made the most sense. Perhaps Mercenary, to maintain such a raw manifestation of his Mark for so long.

    Without another thought on the matter, Remus took one explosive stride towards the man, focusing untempered Ambition within his clenched fists.

    His blow landed, or at least it seemed to, a burst of power leaving a trailing pit in the ground for multiple yards. But Joshua had disappeared. Remus let the Ambition in his other hand dissipate, not wanting it to go to waste, when his midsection was encircled.

    Tentacular binds, seemingly weaved with the pure pitch of night, held him in place. Remus jerked in all directions, but the worming construct held. His breaths growing more rapid, Remus didn¡¯t take long to note that the trap was reinforced with Infinity. Based on his own senses, enough Infinity to choke a horse.

    With a guttural roar, Remus unleashed his Ambition in azure waves. The grip loosened, much to the relief of his chafed skin, and he could undoubtedly breathe easier. That didn¡¯t stop the fact he was still held in place. Held in place as a vibrant array of all the torture devises you could imagine flashed into dark existence to his side.

    They flew forwards.

    He acted at the same time as Koa. Exactly as several layers of earth and wood shot upwards to impede the attack, Remus channelled a gross amount of his Mark¡¯s energy. It blazed through him, though manifested largely as explosive power, locked-in to his skin. It sent him rocking back, snapping the tendrils like they were solid matter, and freeing him. The eruption hurt more than Remus was willing to admit, and he was fairly lucky none of his internal organs were rearranged.

    While he gargled like a fish swept out of water, the grasping shadow spasmed. Koa¡¯s organic walls had obviously been soaked in the little Infinity he did have, as, for a few priceless seconds, they held true. Precious seconds for a freed Remus to scramble across the floor.

    Remus compressed himself against the mud below, the volley of lethal attacks blitzing past him. He wanted to screech in delight, and, in fact, he did. That had been too close. If not for Koa, it wouldn''t be a stretch to say that attack could have dealt some serious damage against him. Perhaps even-

    As if possessed by invisible puppet strings, the weapons flickered back to face Remus. He had precisely one second before they rushed ahead. Then, in a cosmic boast just to prove that things could, in actuality, get worse, Joshua¡¯s shadow towered over him. The giant¡¯s dark features, like mist etched into twirling darkness, glared down at him.

    He was draining himself of energy too fast for it to naturally recover. But when facing beings beyond your realm of power, you had to be liberal with your energy output to make up the difference.

    Perpendicular to the mud below, Remus flew towards the starless shroud. Directly into its centre he flew, like invading the axis of an entire universe. Flaming Gold coursed through his body, increasing his speed upon discovering that even within Joshua¡¯s own shadow, the hovering weapons were following him.

    Koa, despite his best efforts, could only do so much. Great vines and mahogany shields swept around Remus in a clumsy protection, but it wouldn¡¯t be enough. Screeching, Remus flew through the darkness that made up the shadow, a contained barrier of flames his only real protection from instant death.

    It was difficult to see, even for his enhanced vision, but Remus could have sworn he saw a humanoid mass in the centre of this stygian storm. He blazed towards it, focused explosive Ambition to each one of his left hand¡¯s digits, and attempted one of his more inventive tricks.

    It was hard to construct so far away, but a blazing clone of himself, all fire with no flesh, materialised. It was practically useless, only able to blaze away finitely in its set location.

    But Joshua suddenly swept away from it in surprised alarm, or at least the tactical recognition of danger.

    Right towards where the real Remus extended a hand.

    Five mini-explosions ruptured across his back, sending Joshua flying from his shadowy titan. Mercenaries¡¯ weak points were their defence; a couple more blows like that, and he might be able to force the man into a strategic withdrawal.

    Remus kept his sights on his enemy¡¯s body, even as it hurtled away. A trio of trees suddenly swept to life with the aid of Koa¡¯s Mark, vile, twisted faces grimacing at Joshua. They held steadfast as the assassin¡¯s body collided with their branches. Alas, it wasn¡¯t enough. With a sweep of his rapier, all three burst into a mountain of pinpricks.

    He was quick to flee, but Remus didn¡¯t have time to stretch things out. He needed to incapacitate Joshua now. For what felt like an entire minute, which was practically the equivalent of an hour in a fight on this level, he flew after him. But Joshua wasn¡¯t an idiot, and knew all sorts of tricks to slow Remus down. He slid across the night sky as effortlessly as if it were solid ground. Shadowy creations of all description hindered Remus, as he navigated around them all.

    In return, he sent fireballs flying after him. Not one of them struck. Either cut short by yet more nightly tentacles, or swiftly manoeuvred out of the way of. Neither were Koa¡¯s own projectiles having much success.

    He¡¯s trying to wear us down, Remus realised far too late.

    Rasping, Remus launched a substantial amount of his Infinity into one last desperate strike. A lashing of aquamarine flame lit up the sky, leaving Joshua¡¯ abundant shadows trembling. The impact reached the clansman, if only narrowly, and yet again he was scattered ahead. But Remus''s satisfaction was hindered by what happened next.

    Joshua¡¯s shadow, a juggernaut in pure energy consumption, extended a hand at the end of its master¡¯s tossed trajectory. Its fingers closed over the body ¡ª a complete, and perfect protection.

    Remus descended to the ground in the most amateur fall of his life. Down on a formed morass below, his Mark burned, his breath came in slow intervals of oxygen, and he fought the urge to collapse. The effects of Flaming Gold were finally taking their rightful toll. He¡¯d reaped the benefits of the ability¡¯s use, and it was now the technique¡¯s term to receive its end of the deal.

    This was why he needed a compatible Mould. This was a prime example of the one terrible flaw in his fighting style. A disastrous oversight he couldn¡¯t afford to ignore any longer. But, truth be told, it may have already been too late.

    Appearing at his side, Koa formed several layers of protective shelling around them.

    ¡°Do we use it?¡± Remus called over the pandemonium of energy, still raging in the atmosphere.

    Koa¡¯s face was the reigning king of mortified expressions. ¡°I don¡¯t think we have much choice.¡± His eyes suddenly widened, and Remus felt his already overworked heart go frantic. ¡°Do you feel that? I think-¡±

    The energy around them increased tenfold. More beacons of Shadowy power, all hostile and closing in on their location. Remus wanted to curse, but couldn¡¯t conjure the required energy. All he could focus on was his breathing, as the pain raging through his body turned all the pathways that made up his flesh into corridors of torture.

    He grasped his only lifeline in a numb hand. ¡°I¡¯m going to crush it, I just hope they-¡±

    An explosion sent Koa¡¯s defences flying. The object rattled across the floor, and in the complete absence of light, Remus feared it was lost permanently.

    His hands scrambled, and even through the suffocating dark, Remus only needed to rely on his inward senses to know how much danger he was in. He yelped in despair, one last flood of flame lighting up the immediate surroundings for all but a second. It was all the time he and Koa needed to catch sight of the dozen clansmen surrounding them, all dressed exactly as Joshua had. That very man was seated on the palm of his shadowy monstrosity in that split second of radiance, not a spot of emotion on his face.

    Remus laid limply on the ground, seconds away from blacking out as Flaming Gold was still yet to be done with him. His hand, positively drained of all vigour, had all the strength needed to merely grasp onto the sphere. He hoped it was the right one, not simply some random pebble, but as he felt himself being carried away over someone''s arm, he hadn¡¯t the time nor strength to crush it.

    Remus¡¯ Mark guttered out, and the darkness engulfing them somehow deepened.

 59. Darker Places

    Koa didn¡¯t realise he had opened his eyes for several moments, for all the darkness was still there.

    Memories of the latter half of that conflict were fuzzy, but he vividly remembered outlasting Remus. That one final outbreak of light, when he was already on the brink of collapse, had ensured him nothing but a swift rest. Koa himself had been thoroughly exhausted, firing out wooden projectile after projectile. But it hadn¡¯t been enough. In reality, his significance to the outcome of that battle was minimal at best, and none existent at worst. He knew the thought wouldn¡¯t assist them one bit, but Koa couldn¡¯t help but deliberate on how Ash would have fared in that encounter. Far greater than himself, he feared.

    And now they were here, wherever here was, with the distinct sensation of manacles encircling Koa¡¯s wrists.

    ¡°Remus.¡± He whispered, hoping to get the man¡¯s attention.

    A drowsy voice replied, as if Remus had only just awoken from his slumber. ¡°Yeh? Where are we?¡±

    ¡°Those Shadow Clansmen took us somewhere. We¡¯re chained down. Do you think you can burn off our restraints?¡±

    Remus let out a subdued scoff, but a scoff nonetheless. ¡°I can try, if you want me to put up a firework display. But I have a hunch Joshua and his men didn¡¯t leave an oversight as big as flammable chains in our midst.¡±

    The two retired into a tense silence as they overheard movement. Footsteps from some direction, Koa couldn¡¯t tell which, approached, each as haunting as the snapping of a whip. A spacious chamber must have surrounded them, for every snap echoed in persistent drags of noise. Then a great thunderous cracking sound reverberated across the cool expanse, and Koa realised they really did have a whip, ready to beat them down at any moment. The notion to activate his Mark occurred to him, but something told Koa that for now at least, that wouldn¡¯t be the best idea.

    ¡°Who told you to speak?¡± Joshua spoke. His voice was frustratingly plain. ¡°Besides, you both should feel honoured. It''s not often that a criminal gets to meet the Old One, or anyone at that rate.¡±

    ¡°Criminals?¡± Remus¡¯ voice was drowning with indignation. Personally, Koa was more concerned with that second bit.

    ¡°The Old One? You mean your God-Gr-¡±

    A wave of dark energy, riotous and more abrupt than anything, sent them both crashing back. The chains grew taut. Only then did Koa sense their material: Supreme Steel. For some reason, only upon discovering that frightening reality, did the real gravity of the situation hit Koa. And it was threatening to crush him.

    Almost as much as the next presence that arrived.

    It was like walking out into the sunniest day of the year, after spending several decades dedicated to the hermit lifestyle. Koa¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t water, but goosebumps swept across his tender skin.

    A bored voice, the most ancient Koa had ever heard with its gravelly inflection, and it was like the room itself was speaking to him. ¡°A long endeavour indeed to gather these two, and I¡¯m still dubious on whether they''re really worth an execution of this magnitude.¡±

    ¡°For Donovan¡¯s memory, we must take every measure.¡± Joshua replied flatly. Koa almost didn¡¯t catch it, but he could¡¯ve sworn they muttered something with a tone verging on sadness. Something about honour and blood.

    ¡°I suppose.¡± Koa shivered, as he sensed an impossibly old presence settle its gaze on him. It reminded him, vaguely, of the aura of a god. If this was their sect leader . . . how the Shadow Clan wasn¡¯t a global superpower on Descent, Koa was left unaware.

    Remus, on the other hand, was more spiteful than impressed. ¡°You have no right. Wait until our clans hear about this. Not Juniper, Andreas, nor Brison will take this sitting down.¡±

    For one moment so tight with tension it could burst, no one said a word. Then, in a sound too eerie to be true, the Old One laughed. Koa thought that was ample material to fuel his nightmares for the next several years, and then the God-Graced did something Koa couldn¡¯t process at first.

    Light. Koa¡¯s eyes swelled, and he had to blink several times as a hovering sphere threatened to blind him. The sudden contrast gave him visual whiplash, and, judging from Remus¡¯ silhouette swiftly putting up a palm, he was just as affected. His mind raced, all sorts of deadly techniques ready to erase their own existence spinning through his mind. It reminded him immediately of the all-devouring voids of the Greed Clan, or a miniature star produced by a promising member of the Star Sect. Only when the sphere blinked, did Koa truly comprehend the sight before him.

    It was an eye. A massive, watching, hovering eyeball that observed everything with a sort of rapt hunger.

    ¡°Do you know how long I have wandered across this earth?¡± The Old One questioned, each word carrying lethal severity. There was an underlying mockery hidden there, one that made Koa feel like the biggest idiot in the world. ¡°I have outlived some of your eldest ancestors. I witnessed the first Unbounded, Enos, raging war from the ether with his agents of Infinity. I watched the seed of humanity sprout into the ferocious boroughs of civilization you now call home. And I will continue to do so until my god claims their rightful hold on all of Infinity. And you have the nerve, the naivety, to believe your petty sect leaders will bother to challenge me? Their own gods will be fleeting ash under my sandal by the time the thought will ever cross their minds.¡±

    Koa braced empathetically for Remus, as the outraged eye settled solely on the ginger man. ¡°And you. None of your secrets are safe from me. None. I know all about your companion from the Chaos Clan. That disease will be dealt with soon enough, I assure you.¡±

    He felt his heart drop. How? No God-Graced or Godling, to Koa¡¯s knowledge at least, had been able to unravel the Unbounded mystery of the Chaos Clan without Remus or Violet plainly admitting it. The Old One was no doubt efficient in Perpetual Sight ¡ª anyone with that many years to them would be ¡ª but the scale of his skill was unprecedented. Scary, even. Was there anything the mass of shadow didn¡¯t know?

    Koa could only see Remus¡¯ side profile from the slight glow the eyeball emitted, but he was sure the man was scowling.

    A second later, an extra source of light appeared, with Remus at its centre. Shadow Clansmen, now revealed in the azure illumination, all wielded their blades. But Remus, average Emblazed or not, evidently wasn¡¯t fazed. ¡°If you¡¯re so wise, you should have sensed the Projection.¡±

    Without eyelids, it should have been impossible, but nothing inhibited the Old One¡¯s only visible eye from widening. Then its pupil flashed a sickly shade of crimson, and Koa knew they were really in trouble.

    The entire space rattled, and Koa felt last night¡¯s dinner working its way up his oesophagus. A tiny orb slipped away from Remus, dissolving as they spoke, and despite the overwhelming vertigo, Koa savoured a rush of dopamine at its sight. The Projection! He didn¡¯t know how much help Violet could be against the Old One, but any assistance, belated or not, could be just the push they needed to tip the scales in their favour.

    Then a blast of Infinity rushed out of the Old One. Koa fully-expected a laser to cleave through his heart. Instead, its trajectory was aimed at the orb itself, but for a more malicious purpose than simple destruction. Remus appeared to notice this before Koa, for, tugging against his unrelenting chains, his snarled in a fair impression of demonic cave drawings.

    The Old One¡¯s tone was one of smug delight. The Projection ceased to crumble from the might of Remus¡¯ quick burning, weakened as he was from their kidnapping. It settled, its continued existence ensured by the laser¡¯s suffusing Infinity. It was like the Old One was supplying a wilting flower with all the nutrients it needed to continue living.

    ¡°Imbeciles.¡± The God-Graced must have been on the verge of cackling. For a sect leader so hung up on emotional suppression, he had seemed to forgo repressing his own. ¡°You might as well have handed me a map to your Unbounded associate. I¡¯ll kill her myself through the gateway you so kindly supplied.¡±

    It was then that Koa understood. All this time, Remus had been their voice of reason, albeit a terribly angry one. Now, Koa felt his own teeth grate. ¡°For a man so wise, you really are so twisted up in your ways. Violet is helping to defend against the Unbounded. She assisted in killing a Right-bearer! Do you need it spelled out any clearer?¡±

    ¡°Truly an advanced doppelganger, to have convinced you so.¡±

    They wouldn¡¯t listen. There was no reasoning with someone like the Old One. Someone who had grown so comfortable in their ways, so at one with their ideologies, be them false or true.

    Koa was still drained from last night, but he let his own Mark activate in a burst of neon emerald. The Infinity on him was but a drab, but Koa couldn¡¯t expect much more when his Vision from Chantal had been mere Durations ago. During the early days of his travels with Remus. Nevertheless, he hoped it would be enough. He raised his head, binded his Mark¡¯s energy and Infinity into one pinpointed mass, and spat.

    A tiny shard of wood flew out, and his aim proved true.

    Even through the overflow of the God-Graced¡¯s own Infinity, the Projection was crushed. Maybe if the sect leader had been focused on destruction, things wouldn¡¯t have gone so well. Though Koa accepted his good fortune without complaint. The clump of wood spun within the spotlight of divine essence, before crushing the Projection to dust. All heads turned to the spot of its death, as if they were waiting for something lethal. Something like a supernova erupting through the room. But, rather anti-climatically, there was nothing. At once, both Koa and Remus realised that simply crushing a Projection wouldn¡¯t magically transport Violet over here. For all they knew, she could have been preoccupied halfway across the world.

    Now that the dust had cleared, a group of frowning clansmen all settled their gazes on Koa. Shadowy apparitions formed by all of them, like dark reflections of the soul.

    There was another rumble, and the disembodied eye was nowhere to be seen. The only light was from all of their Marks, forebodingly lit. It did not share the comfy warmth of a burning candle, or a raging fireplace amongst the ferocity of winter. It was more closely reminiscent of the match that started a funeral pyre.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Time seemed to kickstart once more, and he and Remus acted in tandem. Wooden fortifications erupted before Koa, and Remus, two furious eyes amid a robe of flame, became the deadly explosion they had all been awaiting. The streak of blue had crawled across Koa¡¯s own chains through some sort of intervening anchor. But Supreme Steel, whilst not indestructible, would have to blaze away for days at this rate before eroding enough to escape.

    It would be unnecessary to say they did not have days. Minutes were looking unlikely.

    In brighter news, the Old One had appeared to have vanished. Obviously, he saw no reason for lingering here, when the odds were stacked so overwhelmingly against them. But Koa couldn¡¯t die yet. He had to at least survive to reach that date. Yes, at least until that day.

    His barricades were shredded like paper mache, dark spinning blades coming for his face next. Koa dodged one as best he could, flung a clumsily summoned clump of wood to redirect another, and met twenty more with a blank face. If not for Remus¡¯ abrupt wall of flames, Koa would have been punctured in more places than one. There was no avoiding the next attack, however.

    Three shadowy fists hammered into his chest, stomach, and temple. Koa was thrown back, but the chains kept him in close proximity like the ring of a boxing match. Oak armour donned his body, but the pummeling blows cracked the hasty material in seconds. Koa¡¯s Mark burned, a sizzling sensation warning him to drop his rampant energy consumption.

    As he dished out a volley of wooden spears, about as effective as watering a flood, he couldn¡¯t afford to relax. Remus was a spot of blue in his left eye, burning with such ferocity, most of the attacks dissolved before reaching him. The chains ricocheted with tremulous motions, the result of Remus¡¯ Eruptive Will technique. Yet even low-grade explosives would have trouble with Supreme Steel of this quality, much less what an exhausted Remus could produce.

    Blood dripped down Koa¡¯s brow. His attacks grew more sluggish, like the wild wallops of a drunkard. The darkness itself, all around, became its own confining enemy, squeezing his flesh with the resolve to make him burst. His breaths were shallow. Koa¡¯s flesh prickled. His lacerated sides had been screaming in their own private agonies, but had since fallen numb.

    Remus collapsed in a sea of sweat. He shook upwards on one knee, hateful venom in his grimace. Strands of fire appeared and disappeared as he fought to keep his Mark active. Koa¡¯s horrified gaze was torn away, five meaty fingers of pure midnight grasping him. He tried to breathe; tried to inhale, but his lungs . . .

    Thoughts raced through Koa¡¯s delirious mind. Images of Elmore¡¯s death, his cousin¡¯s bleeding body soaking the cavern floor as the Pet-Keeper tore him to grisly shreds. Donovan¡¯s head had exploded, in a more gory sight than he could comprehend, and the image appeared to be a fixture in his blurring vision. Splinters of wood struck into a giant, enclosing fist. It loosened. Loosened for all the time it took to catch a breath, before he felt his guts continue to compress. Koa¡¯s own wooden splinters chafed into him. The world was spinning. The world-

    Something broke. Koa couldn¡¯t tell if it was himself or something external, but the sound of fissures spreading through rock, or perhaps bone cracking, alarmed him beyond compare. The sound continued, the pressure changed, either loosening or tightening, he didn¡¯t have the sense of mind to tell. His Mark was fully gutted out, the Infinity in his measly Bank non-existent.

    Noise. Noise that was definitely external. Koa felt his body fall. Shrieks and howls filled the air, yelps of contempt pervading through it all in violent exclamations. For a few seconds, he simply laid there, hoping his own damage wasn¡¯t too terrible. Something tugged him up. Koa didn''t fight back, prioritising his breathing as his vision finally settled.

    Behind, there was the district sound of chains snapping. But something more significant was occurring ahead.

    At last, sight clearing, his eyes focused on one vital image through the gloom.

    Violet, seated upon a Snow Wolf Unbounded. The wolf itself was the most powerful Koa had ever seen of the variety, its musculature bulging even though the white fur. Golden highlights streaked down its flesh, and all around . . .

    All around, an army of similar Unbounded awaited her command. To the side, a light breeze

    filtered in through a scar in the wall, the unfamiliar buildings of Eclipse, a city he hardly knew, dazzling to his fatigued gaze. Drifts of cloud in a milky blue backdrop dominated much of the outside, extravagant towers bounding upwards amongst them.

    The Unboundeds'' eyes, purple with a sort of swirling entrancement, were all the indication Koa needed to know they were under Violet¡¯s control.

    Some distance away, Remus struggled to a stand. He himself had suffered quite the beating, requiring the support of his own Unbounded helper. Remus¡¯ entire body lurched with every breath, but an exhausted smile crept across his lips. ¡°Took your time.¡±

    Violet laughed triumphantly, arms crossed. ¡°Honestly though,¡± she rivalled his beam, ¡°how many times am I going to have to save you both from the brink of death?¡±

    Koa stuffed his face into the pelt of the Unbounded, and altogether stopped thinking.

    <hr>

    Violet didn¡¯t have much time to converse. Breaking those chains through some adept Infinity manipulation had been draining, and cracking open that wall had been challenging enough all on its own. After ordering her personal ride to break the back of the nearest enemy in sight, she dived into the fray.

    Two armed clansmen rushed towards her, the others preoccupied by the pack of Snow Wolves she¡¯d taken executive control over for this little manoeuvre. In unison, blurring fists and a sword of shadow rushed in a race to bludgeon her first.

    They struck empty air.

    Violet reappeared from behind in a splurge of reality-warping purple. She concentrated Infinity into both fists, and struck out. One hit the back of the attacking man¡¯s head as planned, while the other trespassed through a forged violet rift. She felt it brush out of another crack in space right ahead of the other man¡¯s face. Before he could react, she felt the cartilage in his nose crack. The pair of them went flying in opposite directions.

    From behind, Violet sensed a creeping shadow lash out for her. Once again, she was gone in a flash.

    More shadows encircled her immediately from where she reappeared, but she didn¡¯t pay the amassing crowd much attention. This was a rescue mission, not a glorified beatdown.

    Remus was at her side, eyelids drooping like he was to fall unconscious any second now.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting you out of here.¡± She promised at a volume she hoped he could hear, tapping his shoulder. Immediately, Infinity filtered from her own current supply into his channels. It wasn¡¯t much, and a splurge of sudden Infinity was sure to upset any fledgling Bank. Nevertheless, after a series of groggy mutters, he appeared fully alert. If her assumptions proved correct, the divine essence should accelerate his recovery.

    ¡°Thank you for coming.¡± His voice sounded strained; probably due to a multitude of punches directed at the throat.

    ¡°Thank me when we¡¯re out of this place. I have some interesting developments to discuss.¡±

    Violet had originally planned for her Snow Wolves to rush Koa and Remus out of here without trouble. Meanwhile, she would exert some of the Infinity she¡¯d been storing to distract their captors. But there were more clansmen than she had been anticipating based on her initial energy readings ¡ª a lot more.

    And that giant hole she¡¯d busted through the wall was rapidly being filled. Taken up by a creation of Shadow energy on a scale that made Donovan¡¯s lumbering titan look miniscule.

    ¡°That¡¯s Joshua.¡± Remus said, a little more clearly. At her frown, he explained: ¡°one of the clansmen who dragged Koa and I here.¡±

    Remus got to a stand, forgoing the support of his Snow Wolf. With a bold activation of his Mark, he swept his hand forward and sent a group of assailants scattering.

    Fire and explosions. Violet reflected. She grasped Remus and teleported him to a safer stretch of the battlefield. Koa¡¯s unconscious body was being upholstered, and defended, by a thick concentration of her furry friends.

    Settling for a moment so as not to burn through her energy, Violet scanned through the darkness. The previous impenetrable blackness had lightened in the wake of so many activated Marks, and the glow of the eyes of Violet''s controlled fiends. Nevertheless, the chamber was still gigantic. Violet couldn¡¯t see far enough to spot another wall other than the one she had imploded. And, by the growling sounds unleashed by Joshua¡¯s shadow, Violet supposed that wouldn¡¯t be a possible exit.

    At once she came to a decision. ¡°Stay close,¡± she instructed Remus, and a sphere of magenta erupted around them all.

    Three separate times, Violet dragged Remus, Koa, and the Snow Wolf that supported him, through space. Only on the fourth time did she spot a hallway up ahead. Two Shadow Clansmen guards awaited them there, a man and a woman. Upon coming face to face with a lashing of fire from Remus, they fled for just long enough for them to dive through.

    It was still dark down there, almost pitch, but the subtle light they all exuded, and the occasional torch guided their passage.

    Racing down random tunnels at the whims of her split-decision making, Violet had no way to know if they were making progress. Nevertheless, away from that chamber of death seemed to be the best direction there was.

    Broken chains still hung limply at the end of Koa and Remus¡¯ hands. ¡°Nice bracelet,¡± she muttered to the pair of them.

    Koa was still fast asleep, and Remus didn¡¯t seem to appreciate her humour. ¡°Ha ha, very funny. Now how do I get these off?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s highly concentrated Supreme Steel, it¡¯ll take me time to break the full thing.¡±

    ¡°How am I supposed to fight with these things weighing me down and flopping everywhere?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± they entered another chamber in a blast of purple, ¡°use it as a lasso or something.¡±

    Violet almost hesitated at this new room, and they both fell silent sensing the power emanating from it. It gave off Infinity density matching that of a top-tier Unbounded. Yet, in a seeming contradiction, they sensed no movement. No sound, or anything else inconspicuous either, for that matter. After a second of indecision, she approached closer.

    At one sight of the interior of an adjacent chamber, she had to cover her mouth with a hand.

    The walls, ceiling, and floor of the place were all supported by incredibly concentrated sheets of Supreme Steel. Nearby, the corpses of great Unbounded dispersed with a slowness that must have been manufactured, through some sort of method she couldn¡¯t identify. At the centre, a meditating clanswoman channelled all the excess Infinity inwardly.

    Creeping past, she saw several duplicate rooms showcasing much the same thing.

    Remus looked astonished. ¡°Think of how fast you could expand your Bank with that kind of set-up . . . but just imagine how expensive this would all be.¡±

    Dashing further ahead, before those clansmen began to wonder what that riot of energy outside was, Violet sensed foreign, external energy detached from the workings of the Shadow Clan. That meant the outside, and their freedom, were close.

    They reached a wall, which based on a few frantic knocks, led straight outdoors. Frantic footsteps were closing in on them. There wasn¡¯t much time left to act.

    She concentrated the final remnants of the power in her Mark, and focused on the brick wall. Within a few seconds, it appeared a few feet away, floating in the open air. All that was left was another convenient gap. When reality returned, and gravity took hold, the removed section promptly fell, brick by brick.

    Fell and fell and fell through a cushion of cloud. Likely to erupt into smithereens once it made contact with the ground below.

    Eclipse was an airborne city floating on clouds, much like the one in the Tempest Territory inside Hybrid. Only this was on a scale that surpassed all of that, consisting of floating islands linked together by great stretches of chain, held perpetually by a series of colossal statues. Their bronze had never weathered, the result of laborious Mark usage, and their carved faces each represented a respective god of the Empyrean Alliance. From outside, the Shadow Clan¡¯s base wasn¡¯t glamorous ¡ª a jet cube making up for its lack of creative ingenuity through sheer scale.

    Violet prepared to finish off their grand escape with one more flash of purple, when an oozing darkness flooded through the tunnel.

    Joshua¡¯s shoulders and face protruded sideways from his shadow¡¯s hall-filling mass. He looked them all dead in the eye, hovering blades appearing before him. ¡°Leaving so soon?¡±

 60. From Shadow to Ash

    It wasn¡¯t Remus¡¯ plan to add Eclipse to the number of cities he was banned from, but judging on the way things were progressing, that may have been inevitable.

    The good thing about being beaten-up, if there were any, was that it actually made the effects of his Mark more potent. Or, at least, he had heard such from the likes of Aziel, and other bearers of Tanish¡¯s Mark. A kind of ¡®last stand¡¯ of sorts, or a second wind multiple members of the Ambition Clan had reported occurring to them, on the brink of death. This wasn¡¯t quite that dramatic, but Remus experienced similar, though subdued effects nevertheless.

    His healing factor, which was already a developed ability, from the number of scrapes with death Remus found himself in, was accelerated enough to the point he could stroll around comfortably. Maybe even fight. For how long, he wasn¡¯t certain, but his energy supply hadn¡¯t had much time to recover.

    Despite how often he found himself bested in a fight, It was a utility he rarely got to use. That was largely in part to the fact that while yes, his Mark itself could improve, however temporarily, his actual energy intake would still, by the time of his failure, be drained. But with Violet¡¯s recuse put into the equation, Remus had enjoyed all the time he needed. Or, well, at least a short period of rapid recovery.

    He confronted an oncoming Joshua with a glare, Violet to his side, and an unconscious Koa behind.

    It was here that you¡¯d typically say something imposing to intimidate your enemy, but Remus couldn¡¯t come up with a thing. With a sharp inhale, he lasered a barrier of flames between Joshua, his shadow, and them.

    The Splintered Rank didn¡¯t seem phased, now fully emerged from the tight hallway.

    ¡°Violet,¡± he called back. ¡°How long until you can get us out of here?¡±

    At her silence, he risked a glance over his shoulder. Her face had gone pale. Over and over again, she tried desperately with a sway of the hands to open a rift. A rift that refused to comply. ¡°It¡¯s,¡± she grunted, ¡°not . . . working.¡±

    Joshua¡¯s shadow raised a fist over them all.

    ¡°Kinda short on time here, but I should be able to hold him back for a few minutes.¡± Even Remus himself was doubtful of those words. ¡°Keep trying. If not . . .¡±

    Well, Remus could always try flying with two people dangling off him.

    He vaulted up just in time to avoid the giant¡¯s fist, and used that as the needed momentum to kickstart his flight. The cool air of Eclipse washed over him, and Remus found himself half-distracted by the foreign environment spreading out up and below.

    ¡°Let''s take this elsewhere.¡± Remus shouted, trying to divert the fight away from Koa and Violet insofar as he could.

    ¡°No.¡± Was a grasping Joshua¡¯s reply, the puppetmaster of this abomination nowhere to be seen. His voice nevertheless resonated like a murder of screeching crows. ¡°You fight and die on my turf.¡±

    Remus internally sighed. Of course it wouldn¡¯t be that easy.

    Truth be told, he wasn¡¯t a fan of his odds in this encounter. He¡¯d only been able to put the pressure on the Mercenary last night with Koa¡¯s assistance, and regardless of how grumpy he¡¯d been at the time, also when verging on full power. Now, he could probably only fight at a decent level for a handful of minutes, and Koa was out cold.

    That left one last card in his hand to employ: Violet. Plans formed in his head, were torn apart, and devised again a dozen times over before he arrived on one possibility.

    He flew to Violet as fast as he could, disguising it as merely avoiding another wild shadow blow, whispered ¡°wait on my cue,¡± and sped off again.

    Then, without a second¡¯s extra deliberation, he delved into the shadow¡¯s spreading darkness like a missile honing in. Familiar, ever-reliable fire streaked off him in the bare minimum needed to defend himself. He located Joshua almost instantly, but reaching him this time wouldn¡¯t be so easy. He couldn¡¯t use the same trick twice.

    The silhouette, a tiny blur only a shade different from the ocean of twilight all around, folded into the darkness, reappearing wherever his heart desired. This was his domain, and so, consequently, Joshua could materialise anywhere he so wished.

    In one of the biggest gambles of his life, Remus stopped abruptly in the centre of the shadow. Like his Mark was the only restraint holding back floodgates from the netherworld, he let them open. Fire rushed out in a spiralling pattern, expanding rapidly. His Mark burned, threatening to gutter; perspiration leaked out of him like a faucet; and a panging headache felt as if Remus¡¯ head was splitting into two.

    Thick tendrils of smoky darkness pierced through his fires, and subsequently, Remus¡¯ flesh. They felt oddly cool, like jagged icicles had been inserted inside of him. Endorphins rushed through his body, and for a short vital period, he was capable of channelling out the pain. With some struggle, like trying to block a leaking tap, the fiery outpour came to a close. Gasping, Remus settled his spinning vision on the butchered surroundings.

    Holes punctured through the colossus, the light from outside piercing through. Raising his head, Remus focused on Joshua yet again, but a Joshua trapped between slashed sections of shadow. He had his hands around the Mercenary''s throat in seconds.

    ¡°Getoff!¡± They spat, and Remus had to rely on his pure physical vigour to hold on. If not for the adrenaline flooding through his body, they would have escaped instantly. Only momentum, the element of surprise, and sheer grit allowed him to hold on for a few crucial moments.

    His Mark fizzled out as he carried the man forward in his final burst of flame. Through a dry throat, he wailed, ¡°Violet!¡±

    A flash of purple consumed them both.

    Remus collapsed onto the ground, whatever ground it was, for what felt like the millionth time in the last two days. Even for someone like him, with a Mark specialised for getting up again and again, he would need some serious rest to make up for this.

    He was a little disappointed to see they were still on that ledge, but one look in the sky, and that feeling was quickly amended.

    Joshua was flailing through the morning¡¯s frantic winds, falling at an unprecedented speed. Tendrils of shadow lashed out of him, hoping to grasp onto anything in the nearby vicinity. Like a drowning man rushing for flotsam. But Violet had been tricky with where she transported him.

    There was nothing to latch onto for hundreds of metres. And, with his defence fickle as a Mercenary, there was no way he would survive the full plummet below. Aside from for a rare few, gravity was an indiscriminate killer.

    Remus let his curiosity get the better of him, learning past his own ledge as far as he dared. Down below, a vast meadow of various vermillion shades expanded. Pricks of brown made up trees, with creeks and other splatterings of blue few and far in between. Even if Joshua was to make for those, it would make little difference than if he hit concrete. In a desperate plea, the Shadow Clansman stretched his tendrils to whatever bird had the misfortune of flying in his path. Violet transported them well and far away.

    Fifty feet from solid ground, he grasped out again, this time for the tallest of the nearby trees. Again, Violet teleported each far out of his vicinity.

    Fighting the urge to put a palm over his eyes, Remus saw a spot of black abruptly burst red.

    Koa awoke at their sides before either of them could say anything. He looked lazily to each direction, seated himself a little straighter on his Snow Wolf, before following the gazes of them both. He squinted for a second, rubbed the buildup of sleep out of his eyes, and froze.

    Closing his eyes once more, and sinking into the mane of his Unbounded again, he murmured, ¡°I¡¯m not even going to ask.¡±

    Despite the shock, the relief, and a dozen other emotions raging within him that Remus couldn¡¯t pinpoint, they couldn¡¯t stand idly. More Shadow Clansmen had gathered during their battle, and, despite not outwardly showing it, none of them would be particularly pleased with one of their Splintered Ranks dying.

    ¡°Violet!¡± Remus called. ¡°Can you-¡±

    Only when another wave of magenta consumed his vision, did Remus really feel safe.

    <hr>

    Turns out street corners don¡¯t change much, whatever metropolis you find yourself in.

    Violet was exhausted. Her muscles stabbed with a pain more striking than ordinary achiness, her Mark ¡ª drained to its last morsel ¡ª gave off a burning sensation even when deactivated, and her lungs felt like they were having a fit inside her ribcage.

    ¡°I think the only other time I¡¯ve abused my Mark this much was in the Chaos Clan manor, and never so rapidly.¡±

    Remus nodded his agreement, in his very comfortable seat of the city¡¯s trash bins. Koa was still seated on his Snow Wolf, who Violet was now only controlling with Infinity manipulation. Truth be told, she had neglected mastering the art of actually utilising her load of the Divine resource, in favour of consuming as much as possible. It was a blindspot in her skillset she would need to attend to sooner or later. Or she would be no better than a bulky, muscular fighter who doesn¡¯t know how to throw a punch.

    She had transported the three of them to the nearest floating island in range. She had a hunch, a tiny hint, as one would say, on what sect oversaw this isle. Using her renowned deductive prowess, Violet came to the conclusion that the nonstop downpour of rain was most likely caused by . . . well, the Rainfall Clan.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting really bored of water focused Clans,¡± Remus mused, ¡°some sects blur the lines so closely you begin to wonder what the distinction is.¡±

    ¡°Well, water is a versatile concept.¡± Koa sprang into explanation, a little more awake. ¡°The Water Sect is the most general, the Frost Clan is self-explanatory, the Aquatic Sect focuses on the wildlife within water, and these clansmen are weather based.¡±

    ¡°Why you would choose to be constantly drenched beats me,¡± Violet chimed in, ¡°but I suppose this is the perfect place to train for them.¡±

    This was just one floating island of many that made up Eclipse, and it was a sight to behold.

    Houses floated on either the main rock mass, or upon detached, smaller clumps of airborne earth nearby. There was a layered structure to the base, like the gradually rising fondant of a cake. These provided the perfect environment for more rivers than Violet could count to trickle down, with elaborate stairs of ancient stone allowing for simple traversal. Each layer served as a small neighbourhood of sorts, or a humble strip of houses. This continued unchangingly until the island¡¯s peak. There, also serving as the source of each waterfall through tiny slips through marble walls, was a vast mansion Violet could spot, even in a back-alley in the second layer. Without a doubt, the home of their sect leader, and most renowned members.

    Out of interest, she¡¯d peered down the side of a vantage point to discover where all the waterfalls led, upon leaking off the island. She discovered, in the most uninteresting answer, that they simply dissipated back into energy.

    With the perpetual storm clouds up above raining down enough water to quench a small, thirsting nation, the sound of droplets rebounding off water streams never ceased.

    At least it washed the blood and gunk off them all.

    ¡°Violet,¡± Remus¡¯ voice whisked her out her reverie, ¡°what happened back there? I saw you struggling to teleport the three of us away. I thought you were fully drained of energy or something, but you seemed to fight just fine moments later. Superbly, actually.¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The compliment was swallowed up by her own abashment. How could she freeze up in the middle of battle like that? ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think I must have . . . been overwhelmed for a second.¡±

    Remus nocked an eyebrow at that, but didn¡¯t push further. ¡°Anyhow, we should rest. We can work out what to do about shelter later on.¡±

    A fully conscious Koa agreed. ¡°Definitely. Besides, we all seem to have a lot to discuss.¡±

    Violet nodded, but didn¡¯t like the way the pair of them glanced at each other so nervously.

    ¡°What is it?¡± She couldn¡¯t prevent a frown from climbing up her face. ¡°Did something bad happen?¡±

    Koa exhaled. ¡°When we were with the Old One, before you came-¡±

    ¡°You were with the Old One!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, him.¡± Koa spoke as though it were as casual as having a picnic with his grandma.

    The Old One and his Shadow Sect had ruled over Eclipse for centuries at one point. Before it was ever a floating city. The Lightning and Cloud clans had only established joint power over the rest of the Empyrean Alliance, through the construction and fortification of modern Eclipse: the famous hovering kingdom of cloud. What once was a constantly sieged settlement was now an impenetrable monument of the skies. And this was all only in large part due to the Old One growing tired of ruling.

    These days, he kept himself snug inside the cube they¡¯d just vandalised, passing on his techniques and simply . . . watching. So why would he possibly want to personally oversee Koa and Remus¡¯ execution? Surely a being of that age had seen his fair share of brutal deaths. Especially in the early barbaric years, when Descent was the equivalent of a bunch of apes poking each other with sticks.

    While she was too deep in thought to reply, Remus picked up for Koa. ¡°He said he knows that you''re an Unbounded. And it sounds like he¡¯s after your head too.¡±

    Koa shot Remus with a deadly glare. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to say it that bluntly!¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Violet swallowed. ¡°It''s fine. Do you know how he knows?¡±

    Now that was a shock to the system. Violet had managed to keep herself composed, and despite both of their examining looks, they couldn¡¯t see through her calm mien. Nevertheless, she was deservedly a little spooked. Maybe that was undercutting it, but incredibly alarmed sounded too extreme. Violet always was aware of the possibility of other God-Graced knowing the truth about her, or at least the Chaos Clan, but had never really taken it seriously. Now reality was punishing her for that oversight.

    ¡°Our guess is that he found out through Perpetual Sight. That¡¯s what he¡¯s doing down there right? When he¡¯s not ordering the Shadow Clan around with hypocritical nonsense, that is. He observes.¡±

    The comfortable silence preoccupying the three prior to this ramble had rapidly gone sour. Like curdled milk.

    ¡°So what about you?¡±

    She raised a head she hadn¡¯t realised to be drooping. Wettened hair clung by her ears in interwoven threads, but she still heard Koa repeating himself just fine.

    ¡°You said you had something to tell us? Some developments.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Normality returned, as the events of the last few Durations, or more likely Passings, resurfaced in her mind. ¡°As you know, I visited Veida. Things are still tense, but a little less so. It''s kind of hard to stay angry at someone when you share a common goal. But getting to the point, I asked her about the Right-bearing Unbounded.¡±

    Remus learned in closer, his already dark ginger hair looking virtually brown in its moist tousles. ¡°And what did she say?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s five of them, all bearing one Divine Right each. They¡¯re derived from Enos, the Originator. Or their abilities are, at least.¡±

    ¡°The first Unbounded,¡± Remus murmured, his eyes elsewhere in reminiscence. ¡°The Old One mentioned him. Says he saw when he first arrived at Descent. The equivalent of an Unbounded god, though I fail to imagine such a thing.¡±

    Violet did her absolute hardest not to shiver, and she liked to think it was because of the rain. But that excuse sounded phoney even to herself. The more she learned about the Old One, the less inclined she was to find out any more. The facts were less intriguing than they were outright disturbing.

    She quickly moved on. ¡°The actual mechanics of his Right-gifting aren¡¯t fully known, but we suspect it works like an Unbounded manufacturing another. He sacrifices his own might to enhance already powerful Unbounded, turning them into killing machines.¡±

    ¡°If the Pet-Keeper is Enos¡¯ equivalent of a Projection . . .¡± Remus lowered his gaze. ¡°It''s sometimes so hard to picture power at that level.¡±

    ¡°I don''t think they''re the equivalent of Projections. Unbounded offspring at the very least. But who¡¯s to say, when they''re on the level of a deity?¡±

    ¡°A little like a Mark . . .¡± Violet suddenly came to realise. ¡°Similar to an Unbounded Mark, if Marks were ten times more powerful, and with only one technique.¡±

    These things were hard to quantify, or even explain in understandable terms, but that was the closest they were likely to get.

    ¡°Five?¡± Koa questioned. ¡°We know about Milap, Nova, and the Pet-Keeper, but what about the other two?¡±

    ¡°In order it goes Nova, granted Mastery. He¡¯s able to manipulate Infinity at an incredibly intricate level; that¡¯s how he was able to round-up so many Unbounded, and overload them with power at his manor.¡±

    Both of the men before her muttered very colourful sayings under their breath.

    ¡°Next is the Supreme Fiend, with Supreme Rot.¡±

    Violet had never seen Remus jolt to action so fast. ¡°He¡¯s a Right-bearer? I thought Rot was just, like, a disease or something. One that spreads when you come into contact with too much Infinity than your Rank can handle.¡±

    She tried not to slap herself as she recalled the fate of Remus¡¯ great grandfather. Violet maybe could have been a little more sensitive. Koa glanced between the two of them, a confused quirk to his lips.

    ¡°My grandfather, Andreas, contracted Rot when he came into contact with the fiend around the Silver Cavities. Doctors from the Vitality Sect gave him around a year to live, and that was almost,¡± Remus¡¯ voice cracked up, ¡±a Rebirth ago. I need to see him soon. I¡¯ve wanted to visit, but my presence in First Rite isn¡¯t exactly a possibility right now.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan then?¡± Koa asked delicately, continuing this offshoot of the conversation.

    ¡°I heard they¡¯re away from First Rite currently, on business errands ¡ª practically all of them by the sounds of it; big projects. Some people mentioned it in an Inn we stayed a few nights in.¡±

    Violet learned in closer. ¡°Where are they now then?¡±

    ¡°The front lines.¡± Remus titled his head, like he wanted to say something right about then, but stopped himself. ¡°But we¡¯ll get back to that later. What are the others?¡±

    ¡°The third is the Pet-Keeper, with near-immunity.¡±

    More disgruntled sounds from the two of them. Curses that not even the slapping moisture overheard could drown out.

    ¡°Fourth is our favourite dead Unbounded, Milap. Blessed with Fusion.¡±

    Memories flashed before the eye of Violet¡¯s psyche. The bodies of her past clansmen, Akuji¡¯s tearful face, more unsightly images of blood staining an emblem of purple. She shut her eyes tightly, pushing the vile scenes away.

    ¡°Fifth . . .¡± Violet continued once she had recovered. ¡°Is Belindo. An Unbounded in the form of a gigantic, flying lizard with mastery over the Elements.¡±

    Koa slumped deeper into the Unbounded¡¯s fur. ¡°So not only do we have to kill a knightly warrior that can become invincible for hours at a time, an Unbounded fused with a human, who¡¯s successfully tricked all of Descent, but now ¡ª on top of that ¡ª an actual monster who could burn us all to ash with a snuff of its nostrils.¡±

    The rhythmic dripping all around was all that could be heard, as the trio fell silent.

    ¡°If we¡¯re gonna accomplish any of that, or at least get revenge on the Pet-Keeper, I think our best bet is heading to the front lines. Now.¡±

    Both heads turned to Remus, and for a second, Violet believed she¡¯d misheard him. ¡°You mean before you two reach Foot-Soldier? Is that even legal?¡±

    Remus gave her the blankest expression of his life. ¡°Is anything we do now not breaking some sort of ancient decree?¡±

    Point taken. Still, Violet found this a troubling pill to swallow. There would most certainly be means to sneak in, and she understood Remus¡¯ unspoken intent.

    ¡°I know it sounds selfish, but this might be my only window of opportunity to see Andreas before his condition takes him. You guys don¡¯t have to come, of course, but what we all need right now to advance is Infinity. Whether that be learning how to manipulate it better, or simply intaking as much as possible, there¡¯ll be no better place than the outskirts of the battlefield. And if any of us could somehow get listed as an official soldier, the profits we could make would outshine anything on our hands right now. I¡¯ll be giving most of my profit away to the Carpentry Clan of course, but-¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Violet cut his trailing speech off. ¡°You¡¯ve convinced me. Plus, I do need all the Infinity I can get my hands on.¡±

    That left one person to decide.

    Koa twirled his thumbs together nervously.

    Eventually, he began to mutter, face pointed determinedly away from them. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t think I can.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Remus said instantly, and Violet could tell he meant it. ¡°But you¡¯ve been acting . . . not strange, but a little off lately Koa. Is everything okay?¡±

    Violet hadn¡¯t been present for most of the time that Koa had ¡®officially¡¯ joined them. After that disaster at the Chaos Clan manor, she couldn¡¯t rest easy until she had her hands on answers. Answers she could only get by taking the painstaking trip to Veida. Yet Violet did notice Koa to frown an awful lot, since their mad escape. She¡¯d pinned the blame on the obvious: the brushes with death the three of them had just about returned from harm free. Or at least nothing that a good few days of rest couldn¡¯t fix.

    But maybe Remus knew better.

    Slowly, like he was still debating with himself whether to go ahead, Koa revealed something from his trouser pocket.

    It was . . . a coin?

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Violet couldn¡¯t help but ask. That may have come off as a little intrusive, yet Violet¡¯s curiosity had gotten the better of her.

    He turned it around, whereupon she and Remus leaned in for a closer look. Protruding in stone letters, was the number eight-nine.

    ¡°Juniper gave it to me not long ago.¡±

    Violet felt her blood boil at the merest mention of The Wild Clan. For some reason, only now in retrospect did the true evil of using an Unbounded attack as an opportunity to overtake a struggling sect strike her as ceaselessly evil. Merely thinking of what Remus and Aziel must have endured sent her teeth gritting together.

    Remus appeared more alarmed than she was. To be fair, Juniper had made it clear she would turn Remis into a sapling at the nearest opportunity. Some level of uneasiness could very well be understood. ¡°What did she say?¡±

    ¡°She was understandably angry. Furious, more accurately, but in that terrifyingly veiled way. Like she''s calm, but you can feel the ire bubbling beneath. She said travelling out of my own discretion is a privilege, not a right, that I put dirt on Elmore¡¯s memory.¡±

    ¡°While we seem to be the only ones who give a damn about putting down his actual killer.¡± Remus was getting awfully fidgety.

    ¡°She said I¡¯ll have to prove myself to earn that freedom. Proving myself through combat with my brother; in front of almost the entire clan. Duels seem to be a big deal amongst us, and everything surrounding Elmore has become quite the controversy.¡±

    Violet felt her own problems dwarfed by the weight Koa carried. ¡°So I¡¯m guessing that coin serves as a timer.¡±

    ¡°A timer that when it hits zero, I¡¯ll be instantly transported to the battlefield. I know I can¡¯t win through sheer, raw might. Ash¡¯s natural affinity for everything will outclass me in that regard. So I need to win through skill. Chugging endless Infinity won¡¯t help me there, nor will the Exuberant Patronage Mould that my clan loves so much be of any help. I have something else in mind.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Remus enquired.

    ¡°I would take out a diagram of the Mould that I always carry around, but I don¡¯t like its odds of surviving,¡± he gesticulated vaguely upwards, ¡°in all this torrential downpour. The Mould is called Delicate Touch. It¡¯s similar to my clan¡¯s signature Mould, but focuses more on accuracy and detail, than might itself. Like summoning a few powerful weapons, instead of a cluster of weak ones.¡±

    There was one last vital question hanging in the air. One last elephant in the proverbial room none of them wanted to confront.

    ¡°Where will you be going?¡± Violet found the courage to speak.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to travel around Hybrid. Not to sightsee ¡ª I¡¯m dead sick of the place ¡ª but I think if I observed how other Marks surrounding the natural sphere of godly influence utilise their power, I could extend my arsenal of attacks.¡±

    ¡°But how will you get-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a wanted man quite yet, not until the victor of this next match is decided. While my fate hangs in the balance, I¡¯m in this weird grey area of simple . . . shunning, from my own clan. I¡¯ll be able to buy a carriage from the Speed Sect relatively fine.¡±

    For a minute, with everything that had to be said over with, they got up, stretched, and looked blankly at the floating city around them.

    ¡°This place is beautiful,¡± Violet found herself admitting, ¡°it''s a shame we have to leave so soon.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be back.¡± Remus promised. ¡°But, for now, to Hybrid and the front lines we go. I¡¯m getting awfully sick of travelling. Once this all blows over, and I reach the pinnacle of power, I¡¯ll think I¡¯ll stay put in one place to train.¡±

    Koa sighed with a sort of relieved heartiness. ¡°Ah yes, travelling. It¡¯s nice to imagine we''re only doing something as relaxing as that. Grand missions forgotten about.¡±

    The three of them looked out past the ally, past the thrashing waterfalls, even past the other islands and clouds of Eclipse.

    Through the vague mist of dissolving energy and early morning fog, Violet imagined those new frontiers she was yet to breach.

    Yet Koa¡¯s smile was shaky, and Violet could perfectly understand why.

    In less than ninety days, he¡¯ll have to face his brother. And in ninety days, the whole course of Koa¡¯s life would be determined by skimming success, or complete and utter downfall.

 61. The Root of All Evil

    Edmar stirred the mixture into the mortar, using his pestle to blend it together with various other ingredients a man from the Vitality Sect had instructed him to use. Then, with a sort of bored, retired aptitude to him, placed it by a weak man¡¯s bedside.

    They were surrounded by a humble room ¡ª a little too humble for his refined taste ¡ª with some simple furniture the poorer folk in the Labour District would call lavish. There were some old paintings of sea and cityscapes, with dusty frames he really couldn¡¯t find the will to scrub. He half considered hiring a maid, before reflecting on the longevity such a position might have. Towards the actual artworks themselves, Edmar paid them no mind, aside of course how much each could be sold for, if the need arose.

    A man groaned, lifted himself up into a sitting position, and, refusing help from Edmar, drank from the Mortar as though it were a bowl. They released a sort of disgusted splutter, clumsily placed the ceramic back down, and panted heavily in visible liftings of the chest.

    ¡°I wish they would find out how to make those elixirs more pleasant. Something even my few remaining tastebuds wouldn¡¯t reject.¡±

    Such products likely existed, deep within the stock of the Vitality Sect¡¯s herbal markets. Though Edmar didn¡¯t feel obliged to follow that possibility through for the man.

    He¡¯d lived comfortably for long enough, refusing to change the fate held by their family. Edmar could spare little sympathy for his father, be him a kind person or not.

    ¡°Tell me Father,¡± he said to the dying man, ¡°the history of our bloodline.¡±

    It was a story Edmar had been told of since birth. At the end of practically every evening at one point.

    ¡°Oh, you like that tale, don¡¯t you?¡± His father said brightly, with a smile Edmar couldn¡¯t help but find moronic. ¡°I¡¯ll oblige you. As you know, we are descended from two great companions. Friends as thick as thieves.¡±

    Twins, Edmar had long since internalised the truth.

    ¡°Our ancestor, Maso, and his comrade Ulan, were around a few thousand years after the creation of the Greed Sect, when humanity first stepped foot on Descent. The two were friendly rivals, competing for who would be the successor of the previous Sect Leader. They both reached Warlord in due time, mere years from God-Graced each.¡±

    Edmar listened attentively, doing his best not to clench his fists too tightly. ¡°Go on. I¡¯ll fetch you some water as you do.¡±

    That was simply a front not to appear too interested. Nevertheless, Edmar didn¡¯t suppose the man was bright enough to recognise his ulterior motives. He probably still saw Edmar as the little child he brought up.

    ¡°Finally, after the sect leader was mortally wounded on the front lines in a close encounter, Maso and Ulan were both in equal contention for the throne. This resulted, as still is the custom today, in a duel. The preparations were made, and the entire sect gathered to watch the two young men duke it out.¡±

    Edmar felt the vein on his scalp bulging, but kept his running mouth under check.

    ¡°After a fierce competition, and many twists and turns, the fight concluded. By the skin on his teeth, Ulan was victorious. He grasped his friend¡¯s trembling hand, pulled him up, and announced to all watching that Maso was immediately recruited as his second in command. Maso was eventually overtaken by his successor, but our bloodline Edmar, descending from Maso, always seems to take the same kind of position as advisor. Even when we migrated to the Wealth Clan in the great sect-split, when Damosh inscribed his soul.¡± His beaming smile would have been infectious, if Edmar had been a lot less educated, and a thousand times more impressionable. ¡°Destiny is a wondrous thing indeed! Aha, ah-¡±

    His laughter broke out into a series of coughs, as if sand had been smothered across the back of his throat. Idly, Edmar passed him a glass of water, but his mind was elsewhere.

    Twins, not friends, he repeated that one mantra over and over.

    That duel hadn¡¯t been a public event. Out of jealousy, out of insecurity that Maso would rise to God-Graced and overshadow him, Ulan had murdered his brother in the dead of night. Then, for some reason, the only logical explanation being guilt, he had hired his late brother¡¯s sons to serve as advisor. Or perhaps, he was simply using the remnants of the talent he had crushed for his own ends.

    And, for generations, Edmar¡¯s bloodline had been none the wiser. Only after looking into his own past through the aid of sources all across the world, from history books, the Trickery Clan, and other oracles, had Edmar been supplied with so much overwhelming evidence, he couldn¡¯t deny the truth.

    His bloodline¡¯s continued job title wasn¡¯t some funny coincidence, or legacy. It was a calculated enslavement.

    By being ignorant to it all, most likely willingly ignorant, Edmar¡¯s father had lost all of his son¡¯s respect. But something in his stony heart, despite his grievances, still, foolishly, held out hope.

    He was about to leave, to meet with a visitor, when something compelled his lips to move.

    ¡°Father?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Son?¡±

    ¡°Do you really believe all that?¡±

    There was silence. Edmar had posed this question before, but never so directly.

    His disappointment came quickly, but Edmar didn¡¯t expect it to hit so hard.

    ¡°Believe? What do you mean?¡±

    He turned to his old man, fingers twitching. ¡°Do you think that''s how it all played out?¡±

    ¡°Well . . .¡± he stifled a cough, splitting into his palm. ¡°History¡¯s history isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Edmar nodded, let his shoulder sink lower, and left the room.

    It only took Edmar a few minutes of fast marching to arrive at his desired location: the city vaults underneath Ruling District. It reminded him of the general layout of a set of sewers. Only, instead of being filled with the people¡¯s filth, his Mark begged for activation at the sheer collection of riches. Edmar had reached a point that even the colour of gold bored him, but today on all days, he felt excitement seep through his bones.

    Edmar activated his awaiting Mark at last, shifting the endless piles of Inklings, priceless trinkets, gems, and other assorted items of near endless worth. Slowly, in an amount not even Damosh should be able to sense, or at least be suspicious of, Edmar poured a few hundred extra tons of gold into his own private vault. Who it would have originally belonged to, he hadn¡¯t the slightest, but drastic times called for drastic measures. Even if that drastic time was the extent of Edmar¡¯s life.

    Finally, he continued his stroll towards their rendezvous spot. Within the casted shadow of a series of pillars, Edmar was face to face with his link to the Trade Clan. Someone masked by the shadow emitted by one pillar opposite to the one he himself leaned against.

    ¡°Do you have it?¡± Edmar spoke through the gloom, the encounter eerily feeling like he was speaking to himself.

    ¡°Of course.¡± A woman''s voice replied with a snap of the tongue. ¡°Do you have the final payment?¡±

    Edmar revealed a golden goblet inserted with gemstones and other intricate designs. There were other materials of course, in the material¡¯s alloy, all adding to its astronomical value. He¡¯d spent several evenings designing this from the ground up, and it was probably worth enough to feed a sect for six Passings.

    Almost lazily, he tossed it towards the shadowy figure. They grasped it, before sliding over a sack with a kick of the foot. Edmar threw the leather bag away instantly, holding aloft a vial filled with glowing liquid.

    It looked like distilled gold in itself, but this was worth much more to Edmar than any trivial Inklings. ¡°So this will prepare me for my advancement to Mercenary?¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± They said, sounding rather bored.

    If Edmar wasn¡¯t so preoccupied with his own affairs, he might have despaired for the woman. If there was any clan at risk of being destroyed any time soon, it was the Trade Sect. With the advent of individual clans establishing their own trade routes, the Trade Sect¡¯s once crucial role in the barbaric ages of the Mortal Realms was slowly being phased out. They¡¯d been reduced to covert operations like the one Edmar was currently engaged in now. Goods that were better kept hidden through them instead of the typical, constantly scrutinised markets.

    Elixirs like this weren¡¯t illegal, per se, but Edmar wouldn¡¯t appreciate all the questions that came with him boosting his own advancement to such an extent. Especially when he was taking some . . . creative liberties to how he handled First Rite¡¯s finances. But he needed all the money he could get, if facing down Damosh was ever going to become a possibility for him.

    ¡°What does it do exactly?¡± Edmar questioned sceptically. This wouldn¡¯t be the first time someone had attempted to poison him.

    ¡°It''s an advanced elixir. It establishes your Mark¡¯s dominance over your Vault, whilst making the Vault itself more susceptible to change. This should make sacrificing your Bank¡¯s might to become a Mercenary at Splintered Rank far easier.¡±

    Edmar nodded along, before downing the entire thing in one chug.

    The woman¡¯s silence concerned him. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You were supposed to consume it in spoonfuls every night for a Passing straight. But I suppose this should quicken the process, if your body can handle it.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Edmar kept his mouth tight. ¡°Pleasure doing business with you.¡±

    For a few metres, Edmar retained his regal march through the vaults, only crumbling to his knees once he was sure the Tradeswoman was far off.

    Inside his body, the resplendent fluid was raging a war. His Vault Mould seemed to be trembling, his Mark activating on its own as if drowning in power. Edmar¡¯s Mould was of the Standing Trooper variety, designed to keep him fighting for as long as possible. It prioritised making the most of every speck of his Mark¡¯s energy, but at that moment, quaking with its might, that seemed to be working against him.

    He dragged himself to a stand, limping from supporting pillar to pillar to keep himself upright.

    Rushing back into one of the Wealth Clan¡¯s empty chambers, he sank into bed, hoping that sleep would see him through the rest of the substance''s rage.

    If he survived this ordeal, he would be all the closer to turning Damosh¡¯s pretty face into bloody shreds. And for that, he would endure any hardship.

    Twins, not brothers. He recounted. Murder, not combat.

    <hr>

    Remus knew his plans were in jeopardy when Maris decided to put a wrench in them.

    They hadn¡¯t travelled far as out of Eclipse when a swell of water coated his entire body. He first shuffled around in alarm, suspecting Rainfall clansmen to have sneaked up on him, when a set of teeth chomped through the water. The image of Maris¡¯ liquid face soon followed. At the same time, Remus felt something tug at him. Like an invisible string, his Oath compelled him to listen to the God-Graced¡¯s every word.

    ¡°Maris.¡± He said, trying not to sound vexed. ¡°To what do I owe the privilege?¡±

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°In case you haven¡¯t been keeping track of time, today is my coronation.¡± Her voice was perfectly clear, resonating through every drop of water around Remus. ¡°I¡¯m moving all my forces to Hybrid to help smooth-over the process.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Remus frowned, his Oath twitching at such obvious disobedience. Nevertheless, he couldn¡¯t leave his curious mind unsated. ¡°Don¡¯t you have all the forces in Hybrid bending to your every whim now? Why not use them?¡±

    The Water Sect leader chuckled, like she was conversing with someone charmingly ignorant. ¡°Oh, you sweet summer child. Don¡¯t you know how chaotic coronations are? It''s the only day of the year where the city proper of Hybrid becomes just as barbaric as its outer territories.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t recall such a thing being widespread news at any crowning, in any Rebirth. Only the fact that there is a coronation seems to spread.¡± Remus put carefully, trying not to imply a God-Graced was lying. He didn¡¯t want to incite Maris¡¯ rage here. Besides, she was perfectly in the right, as per the conditions of their deal, to command him at a call. It wasn¡¯t like he had the free will to deny her, regardless of his own inhibitions, but one small fact pricked at Remus¡¯ self-restraint.

    On that jetty, looking for any opportunity to reach West Ember, Remus hadn¡¯t been in any sort of position to make Oaths. It wasn¡¯t like freedom of choice was a reality when he agreed to Maris¡¯ deal. His only real choice had been between acceptance and death. He¡¯d been desperate, and Maris, lawfully innocent or not, had abused that opportunity to chain him down.

    ¡°The conflict is contained in the central city, and the first task of every newly crowned King or Queen is to ensure that news of the ordeal is kept quiet. Only the participants of the clan, and the strongest out of us all scaling the Divine Ranks, are informed. And trust me, a little extra gold is more than enough to keep them silent. But take your new Queen¡¯s word for it: every coronation is less of a celebration than it is a fight for survival. And we will beat our enemies into rightful submission.¡±

    Remus deliberated on those words, tried to picture the pressures put on Maris, to widen his perspective on things, when two muffled voices snapped him to attention.

    Maris frowned. ¡°Your friends?¡±

    ¡°Looks like it.¡±

    Koa and Violet were dark blurs of distorted colour past the sphere of liquid enveloping him. They paused outside, minds probably racing in confusion, when the sphere expanded.

    The three of them had swiftly left Eclipse at the nearest opportunity, camped beneath the shadow of its gigantic cloud. They were all bloody and beaten, and had only recently recovered enough to consider parting ways, when Maris decided it was round about time they had a nice chat.

    A second later, the pair of them were floating to Remus¡¯ side. Maris quickly caught them up to speed once their initial shock faded.

    ¡°Conflict?¡± Violet, without the restraints of an Oath, could be as sceptical as she wanted. ¡°Who are you up against?¡±

    ¡°Just about every clansman who fancies themselves a half-decent ruler.¡±

    ¡°But what about Divine Ground?¡± Koa argued a point so obvious, Remus was damned he hadn¡¯t thought of it himself.

    ¡°Divine Ground is held by the power of whatever God-Graced or Godling is in charge of an area. That¡¯s why Hell¡¯s Floor is the only major city where Divine Ground isn¡¯t at least present in some areas. There¡¯s no leader to establish it.¡± Maris explained, tone slowly becoming hurried. ¡°There¡¯s no time to go into detail, but until I can assert power over Hybrid, we¡¯re in a short period of turmoil where anyone can do as they wish.¡±

    Out of the corner of his eye, Remus spotted Koa standing extraordinarily stiff. This must have been awkward for him, as a member of The Wild Sect. There would be nothing that would irritate Juniper more than knowing that Koa had been fraternising with the woman who was to take her throne. So, in the cleverest move, he spoke as little as possible. That one question had been daring enough.

    Maris eyed him uneasily. ¡°Look, you¡¯re not the only ones I have to transport. Remus, I know you¡¯re obligated to come with me, but I would gladly take your friends along if they''re willing to fight. Though, that depends entirely on what side your Wild Sect pal is fighting on.¡±

    Koa would have stumbled backwards, if not for the liquid holding him semi-tightly in place. His brows lifted. ¡°Juniper¡¯s out there fighting?¡±

    ¡°Of course she is!¡± Maris roared, the water around them gaining an uncomfortable temperature. ¡°If you fight for me, I offer you a one-time transport to any location you wish.¡± She turned to Remus. ¡°Obviously, you have to do as I ask, but I suppose I¡¯ll be willing to offer the same if you do particularly well. Your friends have ten seconds to decide, before I leave with just you.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Koa spluttered, and Violet craned back.

    It took her about two seconds to agree. ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡±

    Koa stuttered for an additional four, before yelping: ¡°fine! I¡¯ll go. But please, keep me far apart from The Wild Clan. I have enough bad blood with my family brewing as it is.¡±

    Maris didn¡¯t so much as nod, before that horrible sensation came over Remus again. His body felt like it was liquidising, and in a rush of moisture, the world flipped and inverted.

    It was like his body was being tightened. Condensed enough so it would squeeze through the pit in a basin. Following that analogy, Remus was blasted down what felt like a shoot, disordered images of various sea life shimmering before his very eyes, and, peculiarly, straight through his mind¡¯s eye.

    Remus resurfaced, all the last few days¡¯ recovery fading away like shredded paper tossed into the skies. He desperately tried to latch onto those crumpled pieces, but gods above, Maris¡¯ travel ¡ª whilst efficient ¡ª could not have been good for his health.

    The three of them reformed, believe it or not, inside a pond. Remus spluttered to the surface, nature''s equivalent of an ice bath chilling even the marrow within his bones. Violet immediately appeared on the ground nearby in a burst of magenta. Remus and Koa, not blessed with reality bending powers, waded through.

    Maris¡¯ face shimmered in the pond, illuminated brightly in the early morning light. The pond itself was humble, twenty yards or so, and Maris¡¯ reflected visage had no trouble taking up the entire space.

    ¡°You¡¯re east of the Hall of Thrones. The Wild Sect is attacking from our entrance, so you shouldn¡¯t run into them, but with how unpredictable warfare is, I can¡¯t make you any promises. It¡¯ll take me a few hours to impose dominance over the area, and reassert Divine Ground. Hold out until then.¡±

    With that, the face disseminated, leaving nothing in its wake but a few lingering ripples.

    Remus made the mistake of taking a second to catch his breath, when a primal growl made him jump.

    They were situated in a stretch of the ruins he hadn¡¯t visited before. What looked like an old library, likely thrashed and rebuilt an endless number of times in the savagery of Descent¡¯s past, now sat dormant. Half of its walls were reduced to pebbles, the books inside rotting, and so yellow, Remus wondered if the words themselves were still legible.

    The only odd thing about the scene was the family of bears camping out inside. By the time Remus noticed, they were on them.

    Koa sprouted fortifications while Violet teleported straight into the fray. Remus joined her, flying towards the nearest bear, and forging an obsidian gauntlet over his fist.

    It was a combination of the plasma finger he had invented before, and Tanguy¡¯s own attack. On the outside, it looked exactly as Tanguy¡¯s had when he beat Remus bloody in this very same city: a igneous gauntlet. As innocuous as such a thing could be. Remus made it look so deliberately, letting the second mechanic of the technique fall away from his focus.

    His coated fist crushed one bear¡¯s jaw, Violet controlled assorted debris from the environment to pierce through another, and a spray of fire burnt a third to a crisp.

    Or at least it should have.

    The should-have-been-crushed jaw mended itself in what looked like a reversal of time, rather than any healing Remus had ever seen. Droplets of beastly blood ceased to pour, and with an unnatural shaking motion, like a dog washing itself off, the stabbing pricks of wood and rock flew out of its fur. The third, to Remus¡¯ amounting horror, was merely charred, instead of accepting death as a pile of ash. Those meagre injuries too, were quickly healed.

    Three pairs of blood-thirsty eyes stared directly at him and Violet. Then, from out of a cluster of nearby shrubbery, two more supplied the pair of them looks precisely as vengeful.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Remus began to speak quietly, ¡°I¡¯m not an expert in healing or anything, but I¡¯ve never seen injuries mend like that.¡±

    Violet nodded, but didn¡¯t have time to exchange words as she tried, for the second time, to deal some real damage. She teleported around one bear over and over again, the growls of the predator a chilling declaration of war.

    His own fists blurring, Remus struck out with all the rampant Ambition coursing through his arms. He channelled the suffusing Infinity, empowering his gauntlet. The very same he was using to crush the skulls of these wild animals.

    The injuries were still healing, but less of them, and with an undeniable slowness. Well, they sealed themselves shut like zippers being pulled closed, but comparatively, their regeneration wasn¡¯t as impervious as it first appeared.

    They were making progress, and Koa was getting his hands dirty with his own preparations. Behind, a robust castle of intertwined trees grew in real time. Mud, rock, and all the materials nature had to offer moulded together. Their only concern was if some fire-focused sect arrived, but Remus had a little trick of his own he was eager to test out in case. Alas, something still was troubling him.

    These bears must have been controlled by someone. The possibility of these creatures being transformed clansmen occurred to him, but such a complete and drastic transformation didn¡¯t seem likely. Even clans with impressive alterations, far outclassing his meagre blue eyes, like the Arachnid Sect, were still visibly humanoid. Only high-level Mark usage, like that of a Mercenary with a flourishing Tapestry, may have been capable.

    Remus flew up, getting a bird¡¯s-eye-view of the battlefield. He was momentarily distracted by the pure pandemonium of it all. Mini biomes had formed where the Elemental Sects had set up their own temporary bases, from sandy vistas, forests where Remus expected to see frockling animals from a childrens¡¯ book, and glaciers.

    He stifled a shiver at that last frosty sight. News had spread of the promise Tushar had made to the entirety of his clan. Only the odd attacker so far had come for Remus, outdone by the Shadow Clan one to twenty. Nevertheless, he couldn¡¯t help the feeling they were planning something big, unleashing whatever it was when he least expected it. A shadow laid over the icy region, a rocky knoll formed from the Earth clan dominating the space. It was oddly reflective of the shadow cast over Remus¡¯ future.

    Shaking his head, Remus snapped back into focus.

    If these bears couldn¡¯t have been clansmen themselves, that meant they were remotely controlled. There was only one clan that came to mind, and flying a little further forwards, Remus¡¯ suspicions were confirmed. Like they were still living in Descent¡¯s barbaric past, a group of men and women, all draped in animal furs, gathered in a tiny campsite. Its location was well placed. Not too far from the battle, but inconspicuous enough to not draw attention.

    Remus¡¯ eyes settled on a group of mediating clansmen, but he saw through the innocent facade.

    He signalled to Violet and Koa, prepared to leave when his gauntlet became more and more difficult to control. He would have to let it loose within the next minute, the embedded power quaking inside. But he had one last safety measure to leave behind. Being careful to attribute only the most selective traits to his Ambition, Remus sprayed fire all over Koa¡¯s fortress.

    Violet glanced back from where her own tumultuous fight with the bears was in progress, a perplexed frown and raising of the eyebrows seizing her features.

    Remus and Koa had been spending much of their free time discussing how their abilities could coincide. So, whilst the sudden dash of blue to his amounting fortifications may startle the boy, he should catch on fast enough.

    Like Enrique had said, Remus¡¯ Ambition only manifested itself with the traits of fire because he subconsciously expected it to. He could just as easily remove its ability to blaze away organic matter. The minute difference between only burning flesh or plantage, not both together, was still beyond himself, but with enough practice, who knew what Remus could do? For now though, Remus made it so the fire was more visual that it was practical; it wouldn''t burn a thing, though it would stop other sources of heat from dealing out harm. Besides, with Koa inside, he couldn¡¯t really accomplish that former feat without barbequing his newest friend.

    For now, at least, it would prevent other fires from burning the place down. As well as discouraging any would-be attackers.

    With that sorted, Remus crash-landed into the Mammal Clan camp without so much as a blink of the eye.

    He landed adjacent to the line of mediating clansmen, held aloft his gauntlet that was humming with energy at this point, and let it run wild. He didn¡¯t have much Infinity to begin with, but he poured every last iota into this attack. The obsidian cracked, unleashing a ray of plasma that skewered through each of them.

    Guttural roars deafened the clamour of distant battle, and leaping back into the skies was all he could do to avoid the angry crowd of clansmen gathering below him. As the remaining shards of obsidian fell off his forearm in riddling cracks, Remus skirted a barrage of tossed stones, axes, polearms, and other miscellaneous objects.

    Remus rushed down, incinerating a flower bed as he did so. Immediately, a human hand was flung his way, morphing into a predator¡¯s claw within seconds. He grasped it. With his free hand, he focused explosive will to the ends of each available finger, striking every one into some poor sod¡¯s chest.

    They flew off.

    The camp was small, an operation of only five other fighters all snarling at him. Without any context, Remus would have thought he¡¯d sauntered into a patient room for rabies victims. Two pounced at him with wolf-like strides, scampering forwards on all-four.

    Remus had only been able to incapacitate four immediately with the element of surprise, and a willingness to quickly blaze through his resources. Now, forced on the back step, he prioritised recovery.

    A small slither of flame on each hand was precisely enough to let the others¡¯ know he meant business. Violet and Koa would arrive any time now, or at least Violet would, if the latter was too preoccupied with his part-time architect position.

    He sensed three Emblazed and two foot-Soldiers remaining in this group. The clan likely had other divisions scattered about the city proper, but he wouldn¡¯t give them the time to call for a distress signal.

    Everything¡¯s going fine, he told himself, jolting backwards in careful movements. My flames, and Koa¡¯s fortifications alone should be able to shield Maris from this direction. You just have to hold on for a little long-

    A burst of sand sent Remus hurtling.

    One spurt of flames blazed away the scattered dust, and he quickly caught himself. Up ahead, as the sandy winds cleared, one central image made Remus grimace.

    Forming out of sand itself, was the statuesque outlines of a woman. Long slender arms reached upwards towards the sun itself, particles upon particles of sand whirling just above it.

    Remus tried to rush forwards, to interrupt the Clanswoman of the Desert Sect, but he was too slow.

    He and the rest of the fur-clad Mammal Clan had all the time needed to put a protective palm before their faces, as a sandstorm slithered down from the skies.

 62. Bad Blood

    Koa had drained his Mark to the limit by the time he noticed the sand.

    It came in trickles at first. Leaking through the tiny slots in his wooden walls, designed to give Koa an insight on what exactly was going on outside. Now they were stuffed shut.

    Walking through the embers of azure fire was the oddest experience of his life. Remus had explained the general idea of this sort of protection, sure, but Koa¡¯s mind got jumpy whenever he took a step ¡ª like he was trodding across hot coals.

    Alas, the appearance of the grains gave his mind something to settle on for the time being. He manipulated the walls to shove them away instantly, at a speed he assumed to be enough to outpace the increasing sands.

    So he waited a few seconds. Then thirty. Then for a minute. He was tempted to go longer, his tension rising higher than ever, when his instincts roared.

    Launching to the side, Koa pushed himself against a wall as detritus and smoke exploded through the interior. He coughed, stumbled backwards until he slid to the floor, and watched wide-eyed as the scene cleared.

    In the centre of the room, what looked like the wooden equivalent of a cannon ball sat. Koa scrambled to catch his breath, used a ledge to pull himself up, and all the while stared at the gaping hole in his roof. His mind seemed to go blank. Like his brain had decided ¡®if reality is crumbling, I might as well too¡¯, and arranged an early retirement. Leaving an empty skull to gaze stupidly, mouth agape, at the fractured ceiling.

    It only kickstarted back into action when he registered the noise of whooshing air. In short, another projectile.

    Whoever was attacking clearly wasn¡¯t finished with him.

    It was at times like this that Remus¡¯ flight would have been the most useful tool in the world. With his ginger companion preoccupied, Koa improvised. He pushed against the wall, commanding his creation to part, and tried not to shiver as he stepped through a wall of harmless blue flame. That would never not be weird.

    His Mark wasn¡¯t as drained as he originally thought it was; enough to summon a bloated beanstalk to evade the scene, anyway. Koa slipped down it as the sound of another wooden boulder making contact slammed his eardrums. He felt his skull rattle, landed with a mix of apprehension and fear addling his thoughts, and clenched a pair of clammy fists.

    His wooden barricades were all the more impressive down here. Smoke funnelled out of the crest of the structure, the logistics of that coinciding with Remus¡¯ fires a topic he didn¡¯t dwell on.

    Koa dashed across the grass below, small patches of it charred where debris had been thrown. Sand suffused the atmosphere with a growing density, but something told him that was unrelated to the projectiles. At least, wood and sand manipulation of this magnitude varied too much in Koa¡¯s mind for their source to be one and the same.

    So something else then. If the most likely culprit for the dust storm ravaging the skies was the Sand Clan, he¡¯d have to rule that out when considering which sect was after the destruction of his fortress. And Koa didn¡¯t like what his mind was leaning towards.

    But Maris had planned against that, right? Was the last thought he had, before three great steaks shot across the sky.

    Three more orbs of wood shoot towards him. Koa¡¯s aggressor was seriously lacking in creative ingenuity.

    For a tense second, he stood and watched. Only after some chin-rubbing, and a calculating frown, did Koa realise the projectiles weren¡¯t after his woodland mansion. No, its target was much more specific than that.

    They were coming for him.

    That was the last hint Koa needed. He couldn¡¯t deny his clan''s presence any longer.

    At the end of Koa¡¯s outstretched fingers, tiny pricks of wood manifested. All at once, being careful to aim their path towards the three skyborne cannonballs, he swatted both palms forward.

    Each toothpick transformed as they flew, one for each digit. In their place, ten spears shot unceasingly upwards. They stabbed into each projectile, either splitting them off into tiny chunks, or sabotaging their trajectory.

    Instead of sitting down to observe the aftermath, Koa ran.

    Despite the energy overwhelming to his open senses, his creation at risk of being toppled minutes after its erection, and the imminent danger of it all, hope flared in Koa¡¯s gut. It was a fool¡¯s hope, and he knew he was stupid for latching onto it, but did so all the same.

    If I can just speak to them, maybe I can resolve this. Maybe I can make this all work.

    Koa reached another stretch of ruins. Lines of walls, stone foundations, pillars, and other structures stood without any visible expansion. Set up against them were the camps of the Tempest Clan, with the majority of their men and women preoccupied in the skies. Drifts of wind carrying clansmen filled the air. A few turned their heads at Koa¡¯s sudden appearance, but they appeared rather preoccupied with a larger threat.

    Blood spread from bodies impaled with great leaves that, strangely, appeared to shine in the sunlight. Putting a hand over his sensitive eyes, Koa realised the reason: they were half-metal. One side overgrown leaf, the other a strange innovation in The Wild Clan¡¯s weaponry, one Koa had been yet to see.

    The treacherous gold of Ichor flowed like water seeping through paper. Thuds resounded; the thuds of corpses littering the ground like the final buzzing of flies.

    Every time Koa blinked, the number of dead expanded. Vaguely, the whispered hint of something inexplicable, Koa thought he could spot a grey shape spinning blindingly fast.

    His mind raced. A thin layer of oak armour amassed over his body, but how reliable the material would be against whatever that lethal blur was, didn¡¯t invoke confidence in Koa. From the corners of the place, Wild Sect clansmen rushed for him.

    It was hard to gauge with how much energy was interchanging all around, but something like that of a Foot-Soldiers¡¯ aura radiated off each of them.

    Juniper appeared upfront, moving too quickly for Koa to have noticed previously. The grey blurs all flew towards her in unison, becoming stagnant inches before they would graze her skin ¡ª much less draw blood.

    ¡°What is this, Juniper?¡± Koa asked. The clansmen to his side now pointed their weapons to him, the threat of the Tempest Clan dead and soaking below. Koa was sick with the thought that clans were fighting each other simply for the opportunity to fight Maris for the throne. What a pointless thing to throw away your life for. They aimed their cutlasses his way, but none of them proceeded. Koa didn¡¯t have to speculate on whose call they were waiting upon.

    ¡°I should be asking the very same thing to you, dearest Koa.¡± She smiled disarmingly, but it didn¡¯t reach her eyes.

    ¡°Look, I know you don¡¯t see me in the greatest light right now.¡± Koa glanced at the point of a sword and had to stop himself from looking at another. His eyes kept twitching to the faces of those clansmen. Not aggressive, but their stoic looks weren''t exactly friendly either. ¡°But we made a deal. I¡¯ll face Ash fair and square when the arranged date arrives, but that¡¯s not yet. So I¡¯m going to ask us both to be reasonable here and go about our own business.¡±

    Koa inhaled sharply. He¡¯d heard of Remus¡¯ welcome to the Ambition Sect, when they¡¯d perceived him as an outsider looking for trouble. He supposed that must have been awfully like this conundrum, only Koa struggled to see an ending that was even remotely as happy as that. The current peace of the Ambition Sect. No, he was more likely to be outed as a deserter, or worse, before he brought his people to a new age of prosperity.

    And the worst part was, he couldn¡¯t fault Juniper. From her perspective, their unit with Elmore had failed, fumbled their second chance, Only then to end with a valuable member of the clan meeting a premature end. Someone who¡¯d possessed the potential to rise to sect leader. Now the only survivors from her sect had reduced themselves to arguing.

    Yet Koa couldn¡¯t rest easy when the Pet-Keeper was still out there.

    ¡°And I¡¯m sorry.¡± He felt obliged to add.

    Juniper frowned. Something indiscernible in her eyes told him she wanted to say more, but kept things brief, with: ¡°why are you here? If you¡¯re not with us, then who?¡±

    Koa stood rigidly. ¡°I¡¯m just passing through. I plan to train in Hybrid and got stuck in all this.¡±

    Technically, he wasn¡¯t lying, but Koa hated bending the truth so liberally.

    ¡°Really?¡± Juniper muttered emphatically. ¡°Last time we conversed, you were still in Hell¡¯s Floor. That wasn¡¯t long ago. Quite the achievement to have travelled so far. That isn¡¯t even addressing your elaborate fortifications. Looks awfully like you¡¯re trying to defend a certain someone.¡±

    Koa gulped, opened his mouth, when all heads flickered to an oncoming man.

    A screeching figure, hair hanging messily across his sunburnt face, activated a Mark that encompassed his entire body. Koa only took seconds to realise it was the Tapestry of a Mercenary Ranked. A fierce gale blasted through the clearing, sending bodies and rubble flying.

    A Wilderness clansman grasped onto Koa, trying to keep him in their midst as all present were swept into the air. Targeted winds appeared beneath their bodies, like invisible platforms of cloth shifting to maintain them. Several people anchored themselves with plants dug into the ground below, but an unlucky few were sent higher.

    Like balloons with an endless supply of helium, they probably would have flown off indefinitely, if Juniper hadn¡¯t intervened

    The God-Graced turned towards the newcomer, an entire canopy¡¯s worth of leaves appearing behind her. Koa noted that they were the same half-metal variety as before, only noticeably smaller.

    As she unleashed them all, memories returned back to Koa. In his youth, training amongst his generation of Wild Sect trainees, rumours about the exact details of Juniper¡¯s powers had engrossed them all for days on end. So efficient was The Wild Sect, that rarely did Juniper actually have to intervene, or at least not in events any of them would have been privy to.

    All God-Graced had a soul-inscription. It was the key to the penultimate stage¡¯s advancement, unlocking an entire second subject of power. Decades, if not centuries of introspection was often required to work out what exactly resonated with someone on such a spiritual level. As for what Juniper¡¯s was, it wasn¡¯t an ability the sect leader often flaunted off.

    Back then, Koa had been left in the dark. Presently, with a volley of leaves expanding at her will, turning the palms into deadly metal blades, Koa finally had the answer to that question.

    The spinning blades Grew, headed directly to the attacking Mercenary.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Immediately, the pressure keeping the rest of them afloat dwindled. Koa fought the urge to cover his ears, when the manic attacker screeched. With the air visibly throbbing with power, the Mercenary used up a large chunk of his energy, a defensive tempest erupting out of him.

    A tempest that lasted all of three seconds.

    Koa rushed out of the fray, pushing aside a startled Foot-Soldier in the process, and diving ahead.

    He didn¡¯t know what he was doing, but staying here certainly wasn¡¯t doing him any favours.

    It wasn¡¯t as if Koa was needed, anyway.

    Even with his back to the ordeal, he could still hear the clinking of metal with perfect clarity. The howls of a dying man soon followed, but Koa kept his eyes straight ahead. Straight ahead, as metal upon metal tore the Mercenary to shreds.

    <hr>

    Ash approached his sect leader only a minute after the man perished.

    He¡¯d been ordered to act as a sentinel. Watching passively as one of four. Their only job was to screech out if danger arrived, but, clearly, someone had been a little slow on the uptake.

    Now an entire squadron of Tempest Clansmen and their Splintered Rank laid dead. Unrecognisable, but most certainly dead. His boots squelched on the blood-soaked grass, and he stumbled rather awkwardly on a splattered stone floor more times than he¡¯d like to admit.

    Before, the position would have bored Ash to death. Standing idly as his peers enjoyed the brunt of the action. Looking back, his lens a sort of grim retrospection, it was almost laughable. Boredom wasn¡¯t a freedom his wandering mind would allow any more. No, he had spent most of his shift blocking out memories. Or at least attempting to.

    Ash¡¯s dark recollection had been so immersive, the clamour of noise from behind took several minutes to claw past the walls of his reverie.

    He ran as fast as he could, but whatever he¡¯d been expecting . . . it wasn¡¯t anything like the bloodbath settling beneath Juniper.

    It would have been good-natured to apologise for the delay, but Ash could only stammer. ¡°W-what happened here?¡±

    ¡°It''s pretty self-explanatory,¡± she said quietly. Her eyes scanned the brutal scene she¡¯d created with something akin to sadness. ¡°Your brother was here.¡±

    ¡°He was?¡±

    That came off a little louder than Ash had intended, but his scrambled mind didn¡¯t have room for things like courtesy and manners.

    ¡°Ran off just a minute ago, in fact.¡± She pointed over to a great silhouette on the horizon Ash had yet to notice. ¡°He erected that not long ago. It''s a rather nice piece of architecture, but right now, it¡¯s standing in our way.¡±

    Flashes of emerald on silver made Ash blink. They sped towards the blazing structure, and in all the time it took to draw a breath, they embedded themselves into the building. The sound of distant bombs went off, and great wooden hands sprouted from the weapons. They latched onto the building, crushing it to smithereens. Soon, even the hands themselves caught ablaze, but long after Juniper had stopped caring. All that was left was a distant pile of burning timbers, which, oddly, never did seem to wither.

    ¡°Go after Koa.¡± She commanded. ¡°He went that way. You''ll catch him if you¡¯re swift.¡±

    Ire dragged itself out of the pit of his mind, a vile creature all the more eager to bear its hideous face now that trouble was brewing. Ash¡¯s inhibitions dropped, he took a step in the direction Juniper had indicated, before sense screamed out at him. With a deep breath, he obliged it.

    ¡°What about our duel? Don¡¯t I have to wait?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly. If you defeat your brother now, knock some sense into him, that would be a perfectly viable shortcut. We can cancel the whole affair afterwards.¡±

    Like an iceberg clawing to the surface amid his sea of anger, reason forced him into action. Ash nodded, before running off.

    His Bank was coming along nicely, or as far as it reasonably could have considering the short time that had transpired. Infinity swept down to his legs, going off course from his Exuberant Patronage Mould. This would have been more difficult, had Ash''s Bank been anywhere near completion.

    For the time being, he raced ahead. The ruins of the woodland mansion drooped, the wrecked timbers almost reminiscent of a frown. A war of blue and purple light raged through a pack of trees off to the side, and Ash almost fumbled to a stop at the sparkling sight.

    So he really did join them, he thought sourly, returning to his run after only a second¡¯s apprehension.

    Clansmen of various sects brawled all around, ruins reaching a newfound level of wreckage that brought a pang to Ash¡¯s heart. Every coronation, they were chipped away at a little more. How much more of the structures had stood only a few decades ago? How much would stand in, say, a decade or so from now?

    Piece by piece, Rebirth by bloody Rebirth, they were destroying their past by repeating the same mistakes.

    It was this thought that tormented Ash¡¯s mind as he rose over an incline in the land.

    Wild energy snapped him to attention. They were at a more natural section of the city, shrubbery and trees dotted about the place.

    Ash ensured his Mark was fully deactivated, settled his Infinity so that no atmospheric turbulence would give his presence away, and strolled forwards as quietly as possible.

    His chest ached. His hands, for some reason far removed from exhaustion, were drenched with perspiration. He still, after all this time, couldn¡¯t fathom why his brother had deserted them in such a fashion. By a technicality, he may have been more of a victim in all of this than a criminal, but that didn¡¯t give Koa the right to make such a drastic decision. A selfish decision.

    Is this what Elmore would have wanted? What would his late cousin think?

    Even the mere thought of Elmore¡¯s name brought back a swell of memories. He tried to compose himself. He managed to drown out the onset of tears, but he knew his eyes would be red and stuffy nonetheless.

    There was only one obvious hiding spot for Koa in Ash¡¯s mind. His brother must have taken the same precaution as him in shutting his Mark out, but even the remnants of a Mark¡¯s power, like permanent constructions, were easy to spot.

    One tree hidden well enough amongst others, nondescript and unimpressive, was noticeably younger. Ash steeled himself, pushed back a fist, and unleashed all his power at once.

    If fighting his brother would make him stumble, he had to mentally detach the relation in his mind. He was acting in service of his clan ¡ª for Elmore ¡ª and that was all that mattered.

    The tree erupted into a thousand splinters with one pulse of his Mark. Koa stood trembling there, and for a moment taut with tension, they stared at each other.

    More than enough was exchanged with that one glance. Ash hesitated for one second too long, and his brother took the opportunity.

    A wooden fist flew towards a stupified Ash. At the last second, he launched himself out of the way.

    And just stood there.

    He exchanged looks with Koa again, his heart leaping into his throat. He choked on it for a second, unable to separate the image of his own flesh and blood from a potential enemy of the clan.

    Koa stood pensively, his lip a thin, tremulous line. His shifting eyes told of emotion equally as untempered as Ash¡¯s own, and, despite his best inclinations, and the logical lines-of-thought his mind was supplying, his heart bled with pity. Poisonous, ever confusing pity.

    Ash thought of their parents raising them, providing the both of them with everything they needed to exhibit greatness. He recalled the days they¡¯d spent whacking each other with toy sticks ¡ª infantile games taught by the clan to prepare them for later training.

    A wild, slithering tendril of vines cracked at Ash like a lasso. He caught it in one hand, thorns tearing through his leather gloves to draw blood.

    Why were they fighting? Even as he yanked the vine out of the ground, and tossed it metres away, the question replayed in Ash¡¯s mind. He knew the right response off by heart, better than the lines trailing down the back of his hand, but each replay of the answer only left him less satisfied.

    Walls of earth and birch wood shot up protectively in Koa¡¯s path. In his second burst of Infinity, Ash vaulted over them. He landed smoothly a foot away from his brother, who promptly tossed a messily summoned clump of wood, right at his face.

    This time, with Ash too perplexed and caught off guard to make a move, it struck home. Meagre pain flared up Ash¡¯s cheek, and with it, the fury that had possessed his every movement only minutes ago returned.

    He jolted ahead, grasping Koa by the throat. ¡°Come back to the clan.¡± He instructed, a little too aggressively for his own good. ¡°You need to come back.¡±

    ¡°But the Pet-Keep-¡±

    Ash tossed his brother into the nearest log. Before Koa could manipulate the wood it contained, he was on him again.

    ¡°The Pet-Keeper is a God-Graced equivalent!¡± The words poured like hot molten out of his mouth. Ash wasn¡¯t used to throwing his weight around like this; he never did. But in reality, he harboured more innate strength than even he realised at times. ¡°Your Emblazed friend isn¡¯t going to bring Elmore back from the dead, or help you kill that monster. He¡¯s a criminal. I don¡¯t care what great deeds he¡¯s accomplished-¡±

    Koa grappled his arms, desperately trying to push him off in a use of his own Infinity.

    ¡°-He¡¯s still an enemy of the clan. And Violet is an Unbounded. An Unbounded working with Nova!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s . . .¡± Koa spluttered through his restricted throat. ¡° . . . not working with him.¡±

    Ash tossed Koa onto a stretch of mud. The resounding crunch that followed couldn¡¯t have been good, but he doubted he¡¯d broken anything. He wasn¡¯t fighting quite that intensely. Not yet at least. But with the way Koa was acting, like an impulsive brat, it was increasingly difficult to restrain himself.

    With a broad, downward sweep of his foot, Ash planted a boot over his brother¡¯s chest. Even as hands grasped onto his calf, trying to shove him aside, it was no use. A secondary blast of Infinity might as well have made his leg solid stone. Koa could struggle as much as he¡¯d like, it made no difference, Ash¡¯s hold may as well have been the fist of a god.

    This was all rudimentary Infinity usage, going against the network of his Mould to simply infuse whatever part of his body required strengthening. It was almost amateurish, but more than enough to deal with his brother.

    Koa tried to say something, only to be impeded by his constricted chest. Besides, Ash wasn¡¯t listening. He needed to get his point across. Whatever it took, Ash was going to instil common sense into Koa. It was his duty as the older brother.

    ¡°Listen to me Koa.¡± Ash spoke through a snarl. ¡°Early or not, I¡¯ve bested you in a one-to-one showdown. Now come back to the clan. We can strike down the Pet-Keeper and the rest of those Unbounded vermin, while keeping in Juniper¡¯s good books. If not for me, if not for the sheer principle of it, do it for Elmore¡¯s memory. Stop this idiotic nonsense and come with-¡±

    All at once, the trees around Ash sprouted to life. Ash had to double-take, his eyes uncomprehending of the sudden reversal of roles. There were a dozen of them in total, each grim-faced and the spitting image of a haunted forest from a children¡¯s book. Wicked grins, hollowed indents in the wood itself, opened up to the empty darkness within.

    Twisted branches, six or so all at once, slapped into action. They swooshed into his sides with the might of a battering ram, and instantly, Ash squawked. All the air left his compressed lungs, and saps of strength departed his body like unhappy residents.

    Koa rolled out from under him, launching into a sprint. Ash spat, swept out unfiltered energy to push back the distortions of nature, but the advancing evergreens sauntered forwards. Their thick canopies soon veiled Koa¡¯s fleeing back.

    Gooseflesh washed down his arms and back. He wanted to scream out, and actually did as the urgency of the moment struck him.

    If he gets away now, with fuel still left in the tank, I won¡¯t have won the duel. We¡¯ll still have to fight.

    That was a more petrifying thought than anything else Ash had been forced to stomach thus far this coronation. After getting so close to putting an end to this charade, having to wait over two full Passings would be insufferable. This ended now. Not later, not soon, now.

    Donovan¡¯s gift hung on his fingers, blades of wood cleaving through the air at the ends of his knuckles. At the same time, he focused the remainder of his Infinity, every last drab, to follow the actual path of his Vault. Despite their incomplete state, it accelerated the process significantly, empowering his Mark.

    Ash focused his Mark to dismantle the structure of the hostile trees, at the same time as his summoned blades cleaved through everything in sight. There were more than Ash had originally estimated, but they, too, one after another, fell into bark.

    By the end, he doubted more than a minute had passed. Sweat leaked off him in great sheets, and every incessant breath dragged his shoulders up and down.

    But Koa was nowhere to be seen.

    Ash¡¯s brother had obviously been downplaying his actual endurance. He was probably using a substantial chunk of power to dash away even now.

    Ash nibbled at his fingernails, shook his head frantically, and screeched. A second later, he dashed ahead, ignoring the exhaustion crawling through every fibre of his body.

    It was a hopeless endeavour. Koa would be unreachable at this point, but he sprinted anyway.

    Damn it all. The rapid movement of his thighs felt useless below him. Damn it all.

 63. Scheming

    Violet spluttered sand out of her mouth, surfacing from a hill of the fine particles. Blinking through sensitive eyes, the image of sand dunes spreading out for as far as she could see made her feel as though she¡¯d awoken in an alien world.

    Everything had happened so quickly. Like she¡¯d read through one of the passages in Veida¡¯s journals a little too fast to understand. Now, Violet was left two-thirds immersed in a mound of sand, and altogether perturbed.

    She¡¯d teleported to Remus with the intention of dispatching the last of the Mammal Clan. It had been a weaker squadron than either of them could have hoped for in good faith. Violet had been expecting an easy clean-up job before the two of them rushed off to reunite with Koa.

    That plan had been foiled the moment Violet laid her eyes on the Sand Clanswoman. She could almost imagine her holding up a sheet of scribbled lines, Violet¡¯s mental predictions put to paper, and holding it over a candle wick.

    She was dressed in more layers of cloth than Violet cared to count, all muted tones of desert-centric shades. Jewellery adorned her too, in contrasting hues virtually explosive with their brightness.

    She and Remus had dashed for her in tandem, Violet¡¯s Mark scarcely given enough time to activate, as nothing but the faint, yellow-grey haze of sand clouded their vision. The solid tides washed over them, sweeping the pair upwards like flotsam.

    Now here she was. Finally, Violet teleported to the surface, flapping down her robes as best she could. Her palms chafed against the coarse grains, her stomach in a nauseous flux. Violet walked off the uneasy feeling, scouting out the area. She couldn''t see Remus anywhere, but wasn¡¯t too concerned for his safety.

    After everything Remus had come out of the other end of, somehow stronger, he could probably be banished to hell and still return with some new power to flaunt.

    Consumed by swells of magenta, it took Violet a surprising number of hops through space before she stumbled across somebody.

    The clanswoman strolled over a hill of sand that trailed her feet in worming tons. The body of an unfortunate clansman, his furs that of the Mammal Clan, near her feet. Whenever she wasn''t looking, he¡¯d pull himself through the terrain one hand after the other. Violet winced, imagining how grazed his forearms must be. She cringed more so at the way he would play dead, any time the robed woman would flicker her gaze back at him.

    It was obvious to any outside observer that she was fully aware of the man¡¯s antics. His ignorance would have been downright deplorable in any other instance, but Violet felt a tinge of pity. Their legs must have suffered grievous wounds, somewhere along that conflict. Either at the hands of the woman¡¯s sand, or perhaps Remus himself. That plasma attack of his had lit up the area for well over a mile.

    Trying not to focus on the line of gold smearing the maimed man¡¯s path, she angled her chin upwards, as a familiar face flew into the fray.

    Flew as in he ran. Remus would have been far too drained to risk any strenuous Mark usage so soon. If he was still maintaining the blaze on Koa¡¯s fortifications, that would necessitate an even greater need to hold back on the energy consumption. Especially when considering how much attention a man flying through the power of sapphire fire would have been.

    Violet couldn¡¯t be sure if the woman had noticed either of them. Piles of sand guarded them both, a sort of soft ravine in between her and Remus.

    She was tempted to appear by him in a blast of Chaotic power, but that would have been risky. The energy that stunt would emit could be all the indication this clanswoman needed to be revealed to both of their locales. And how strong was this woman anyway? Violet couldn¡¯t sense too much power emanating from her, but not just anybody with a Mark of the Sand deity would have been able to so drastically alter the environment.

    So she was stuck in a predicament. Violet did so much as risk a few gestures to Remus, who reciprocated them with his own boisterous movements.

    It wasn¡¯t anything elaborate, just acknowledging each other¡¯s existence. Violet wasn¡¯t given much more time to signal, however, as what looked like a concentrated storm swept around the clanswoman. A microcosm of the hurricane she had conjured upon arrival. Out of those fluttering particles, the vague shapes of heads, then arms and legs appeared.

    More clansmen arrived. One of the group, likely the highest positioned, next to the woman, dropped a knee. ¡°Warlord Saya. I have news from Javil.¡±

    ¡°Arriving soon?¡± She looked tempted to roll her eyes. ¡°Took him long enough.¡±

    Two pieces of information. Two proverbial bullets right into her gut. This woman, Saya, was a Warlord, and by the sounds of it, the Sand Clan¡¯s sect leader was arriving any minute now. If there was any reason to run at the nearest opportunity, this would be it. But fate had other plans, and things were escalating too fast for even her to react.

    Another seizure in the dancing sands, this time revealing Javil.

    The air continued to tremor in a lingering haze, and Violet blinked several times. After every snapping open of the eyes, she half-expected the man to fully appear.

    She waited and waited. Only a cloudy blur remained, however, a vague swirling pattern in the wind substituting for eyes.

    Their voice was fairly ordinary, for a God-Graced at least. Masculine with an underlying sense of threat.

    The great swerves of amber looked around the sandy vista. They shone brighter with approval. ¡°Good work.¡±

    The gathered clansmen and Warlord stood patiently, waiting for him to continue. Violet found herself leaning forward dangerously too. The seconds passed, tightening with anticipating tension, but nothing more was uttered.

    Not a man of many words then, huh?

    Violet was about to use this uneventful pause to risk sneaking past, when another presence arrived.

    A presence¡¯s whose energy, like the power equivalent of a moon joining the dinner table, she was all too familiar with.

    Juniper arrived out of seemingly nowhere, likely using some impossibly high level Wilderness technique Violet couldn¡¯t begin to understand. She met her eyes with Javil immediately. Violet compressed herself against the sand below, expecting a fight to break out. Past experience sent adrenaline pulsing through her body, but, strangely, Violet sensed no malice from anyone present. Nothing evident for each other, at least superficially.

    ¡°Quite the progress you¡¯ve made here.¡± Juniper smiled, seeing much farther with her God-Graced vision. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to pay you handsomely, Javil and Saya.¡±

    The storm that encompassed Javil¡¯s being centralised, dust molecules converging like a clay model. The man of dust nodded. ¡°Is it time?¡±

    ¡°That it is.¡± Juniper held the self-satisfied grin of a serial killer, which was rather fitting, seeing how she was one. Though, that didn¡¯t exactly make her unique. ¡°All the preparations have been made. Maris¡¯ eastern fortifications have been foiled, her men scattered all about the city proper, and no one can stop us.¡±

    Javil stood rigidly like a puppet with no strings. Not exactly admitting doubt, but not denying it either. ¡°Let¡¯s proceed.¡±

    A part of Violet couldn¡¯t help but think he truly had a way with words. The other was preoccupied with shoving down the notion she was way over her head.

    ¡°Summon your forces ¡ª mine are on their way any second now.¡±

    In that same fashion, sprinkling dust amassed into several squadrons of Sand Clansmen. Scimitars were immediately drawn from most of them, the others manipulating the dust all around to forge their own makeshift weaponry.

    From a hill off to the side, the first few of Juniper¡¯s troops entered. None of them looked pleased to be there, but certainly eager for a fight.

    ¡°We¡¯ll charge forwards immediately.¡± Juniper clearly had no qualms with taking the lead for the untalkative man. ¡°The other clans have long since fallen into their own conflicts. Let¡¯s leave them to it and seize the city for ourselves.¡±

    As more soldiers arrived, Violet still hadn¡¯t the slightest clue on how to advance. A three way brawl between a trio of God-Graced was not something Violet was keen to be caught in the middle of ¡ª her life wouldn¡¯t be ended as mere collateral damage.

    Remus was just as witless as her from the looks of it, occasionally shooting her one of his less pleasant looks. Violet was about to return the grimace, when something grasped her attention.

    Grey clouds stretched around the skies, and Violet scoffed. Rain slapped against the bridge of her nose, the heavens emptying themselves of all contents. She bit her lip, mildly annoyed, when she noticed the looks of everyone present.

    It was like they had all seen a ghost, or a rave of undead beings. Only when Violet backtracked did it hit her why they were all looking up so intensely.

    Rain.

    Her head jolted upwards, more moisture than she could fathom held aloft by one singular woman.

    Maris was in her fully flesh and blood form, skin the shade of sea clams almost illuminating the sky for miles all around. Her shark-like teeth, downright monstrous at this angle, looked ready to tear a chunk out of the earth.

    No words were exchanged. Not a single word to try and pacify things was attempted.

    At that moment, in the quickest exchange of energy in her life, Violet transported her and Remus away. Her Mark seared against her skin at such a reckless activation, but it was either that, or being killed senselessly in the crossfire. There was no other way around it.

    On the scale this brawl was going to take place on, they¡¯d have a good view of it anywhere she took them.

    <hr>

    Remus had believed his days of feeling useless were behind him.

    Or at least not so astronomically powerless. If not for Violet, he would have perished there. Vaporised by an atmosphere chocked full with enough Infinity and subject energy to fry his body. Along with every puny cell with it.

    On top of a random stretch of battlements he found himself, learning against a stretch of crenellated wall. Physically, he¡¯d recovered enough to fight at a passing level for a few more encounters, but it was pointless ¡ª there was nothing he could do to assist beings on such a level.

    He could hardly breathe after those ten minutes of hell as it was. And still, Remus hadn''t the faintest idea where Koa had gone off to, or if he was still even alive, for that matter.

    After realising Violet hadn¡¯t uttered a word, Remus forced himself back into reality. She leaned against the other side of the ancient castle wall, or whatever this structure had been, deservedly exhausted.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    He followed where her dropping eyes were focusing, and too found himself immersed in the havoc.

    Thousands of tons ¡ª approaching millions ¡ª of sand was met with an equal amount of pure liquid. An ocean and desert clashed together, combing into a gigantic pillar of . . . mush.

    It was on a scale that could hardly be quantified. Violet must have transported them a lengthy distance away, and for them to still be able to witness the conflict . . .

    Remus thought that was insane enough, but then, of course, a giant of oak and various other wood types appeared, in the spitting image of Chantal. Its feet were planted hundreds of metres below, autumn leaves and wilting branches of winter contrasting each other, as humongous hands swatted through the air.

    Each wave of the hand generated a mini tempest with enough force to devastate a small hamlet.

    Blades of oak grew out of the titan¡¯s hands, slashing through the vortex of slush like Juniper was trying to hone in on something. Discarded chunks, on a scale Remus quit trying to understand, flew towards the ground like molten comets.

    Countless other weapons turned the skies into a circus show of sharp edges and knife points. Half-metal leaves cleaved through the air; weapons consisting of either sandstone, organic material, or ice annihilated one another. It was like a fencing contest whose only entry requirement was being invisible. All the natural material in the nearby vicinity flew towards the trio. Meagre food for insatiable titans.

    Even from where Remus was standing, he identified water coursing out of the nearby plantlife. Entire trees uprooted themselves and flew to obey the call of Juniper¡¯s Mark, disobeying gravity with each passing second of acceleration. Even the sands that had carpeted the environs previously were sent lashing through the air.

    ¡°They¡¯re going to destroy the city at this rate.¡± Violet said to him at last, breaking their persisting silence. ¡°I know coronations often get messy, but they never could have gotten this bad. Right?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how something like this could easily be thrown under the rug.¡± Remus admitted, too transfixed by the raging battle to command his eyes elsewhere.

    This was it. The peak; the upper ceiling of this world¡¯s power. The kind that bordered on the very threshold of godhood.

    Remus felt his Mark activate, seemingly out of its own volition. He stepped towards the edge of the building, one foot on the jutting battlement wall, literal drool on the cusp of leaking out of his mouth.

    His stomach suddenly felt empty ¡ª his mind and body void too for that matter. Everything that made Remus Remus was now meaningless. A droplet in a cup that it was his life¡¯s mission, his purpose, to fill. To fill and fill and fill and fill and fill-

    ¡°Remus!¡± Violet grasped his nape, pulling him back.

    Remus felt his Mark deactivate. Endless bravado displaced by chagrin leaving him mortally ashamed. He looked from Violet¡¯s concerned face, to the battle shaking the fabric of reality out there, and felt the blood flow to his face. What had he been thinking?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He murmured. ¡°I don¡¯t know what got over me.¡±

    Violet nodded, but that concerned look didn¡¯t leave her face. ¡°Does your Mark usually do that? Draw energy on its own?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it was by itself.¡± Remus said coyly, slowly fixing his gaze back to the fight. ¡°It was more subconscious, I think. Seeing such power, right before my eyes . . . something inside me goes primal at the sight of it.¡±

    But Remus was sure, watching as chunks of the watery vortex solidified into great ice chunks, that the feral instincts in anyone would be triggered by this fight.

    Maris was attempting to disrupt Javil¡¯s airborne vista, catching chunks of sand in gigantic cubes of ice that fell hundreds of metres to come crashing down below. The Water God-Graced was outmatched here greatly. Maris would have to bring out all the stops to keep up with the two, and even then, she would need something else to seize victory. Some hidden wildcard that could thwart both Juniper and Javil¡¯s best efforts.

    Juniper appeared by her giant¡¯s shoulder, only visible to Remus as a pale dot within a luminous sea of emerald energy. Javil¡¯s form, Remus heavily suspected, was spread out thin throughout tiny detached patches of sand. Each piece Maris tore out of his mass was sure to deal some damage, but how much?

    A golem of dust splurged out of the slush remaining in the pillar, wrestling with a struggling Maris who had thus far remained hidden.

    Booming winds swept out of the two of them, but this golem was only a fraction of Javil. Maris, in her full form, flooded the creature with slithering moisture.

    Where that servant went flying, five more appeared. Splashes of water slapped against the quintet, which held for little more than a second, before too, succumbing.

    With the sect leader of the Water Clan distracted, Juniper seemed to teleport behind the woman. She didn''t literally, of course. Remus simply couldn¡¯t keep up with the speeds this all was taking place at; the speed only wielded by those at the upper pinnacle of power.

    With a sweep of the arm, Juniper swept out more of her spinning fronds. They reached Maris¡¯ exposed back with astonishing quickness, and Remus felt his stomach drop at reality defying speeds.

    The metal blades sprouted into killing machines, to be feared by anybody who cared even the slightest for their lives. They struck Maris, who erupted in an explosion of liquid.

    Remus blinked, and three more clones of the Water God-Graced smiled down at Juniper. The woman clad in green frowned with enough severity to blot out the sun, tossing out emergency blades too swiftly for Remus¡¯ eyes to pick up on. He didn¡¯t even see the pair¡¯s arms move.

    Half-a-dozen exchanges took place in another second, the two accelerating beyond what Remus could make out through brief glimpses. Energy swept out, flickering the hoods of any poor soul caught in the midst of it. Which pretty much meant everyone in Hybrid¡¯s inner city. Those who weren¡¯t already fleeing, or dead, that was.

    The skin on his face was tugged back in the summoned gust. Remus held on tightly to one battlement, but felt that too be dragged off, almost like his only handhold was disintegrating. Violet morphed her arm into its Unbounded counterpart, digging her claws into the ancient material. For all of twenty seconds, two God-Graced traded blows at point-black range.

    If they didn¡¯t stop soon, it wasn¡¯t just the city proper they¡¯d have to worry about. The whole of Hybrid could be jeopardised.

    With one final eruption of Infinity and scattered energy, Remus felt the pressure give off him. He looked upwards, the sight of Maris¡¯ boney teeth chomping into Juniper¡¯s forearm almost comical.

    Almost.

    Ichor oozed out in light amounts. It wasn¡¯t much, and if it wasn¡¯t for the liquid¡¯s ambient glow, Remus wouldn¡¯t have noticed it at all. He was sure more would flow if he pricked the end of a finger. Nevertheless, the sight of it ¡ª of drawn blood ¡ª meant only one thing: war.

    It was like liquid sunlight, any amount of that Ichor more than enough to create a budding Engorged. For even your own blood to be so powerfully concentrated, that but a drop if it could lead someone else on their own path to power . . . Remus¡¯ Ambition threatened to go rampant at the thought.

    Remus had to stop himself from stumbling backwards and off the ruin¡¯s roof, when he finally tore his eyes away from the two women. Off to the side it stood, like the enormous elephant in the room. Outshining every other issue to become the universe¡¯s most prominent. The upper echelon of proverbial, home-invading mammals.

    Juniper¡¯s giant hadn''t been standing idly as its master fought to reclaim the throne. No siree. It loomed over them all, like Mother Nature¡¯s dark counterpart. Only now reinforced with a coating of sandstone armour.

    The ideal union of both biomes, Maris¡¯ pool of water now flew before the terrifying construct. Right as the armoured titan drew a katana of twisting vines and sifting dirt, the Water God-Graced met the onslaught with equal measures.

    Maris disappeared into her own personal bubble-ocean, even forgoing her teeth for full discretion. The liquid morphed into a vague shape Remus couldn¡¯t identify. Excess water was drawn from the environment in gross amounts, even more manifested directly through the power of Water energy.

    Tails, fins, and an undeniable oval shape all combined into a ferocious form. A form that with a few equally oversized, calcareous molars, was somehow more unnerving than the titan.

    The shark almost challenged the wood giant for sheer mass, only outdone narrowly. Grey blurs within the world of blue took Remus a second to identify as actual sharks, within Maris¡¯ nightmare creation. Sharks within sharks.

    Now, Remus finally understood what Maris had inscribed onto her soul to make God-Graced.

    Juniper¡¯s blade fell, Javil¡¯s erosive sand quickly spreading across its edge, just to sweeten the blow.

    But Maris was faster.

    Spear-like teeth, reminding Remus eerily of stalactites, bit into the fickle material. Its wooden core, beneath all the dirt and vines, was shattered. The greek shark pulled the destroyed weapon out of the giant¡¯s grip, sending it flying below.

    Remus almost forgot about his own existence until Violet laid a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Think of all the collateral damage they¡¯re causing. Do you think that¡¯s why God-Graced don¡¯t cross swords often? To avoid costly repairs?¡±

    Scanning the skies to locate Juniper herself, Remus nearly scoffed. ¡°No. They have others to fight for them.¡±

    For minutes on end, the two behemoths roughed it out. Remus expected someone to grow fatigued, or for their Marks to flutter out, but nothing happened. Juniper¡¯s own appearance previously in the battle meant that the giant was controlled remotely. Not an extension of one¡¯s self like Maris¡¯ liquid form, or Javil¡¯s swirling sand. Yet, for the longest time, the woman evaded the spotlight.

    Sure enough, long after Remus had given up looking for her, Juniper herself reappeared. Violet had to point her out for him, for the God-Graced was nowhere near the conflict at all.

    Rather, the leader of The Wild sect was down below. What looked like four full units of her sect behind her.

    ¡°Imagine controlling something you forged with that much energy, from so far off, all while you collect your own back-up.¡± Violet shook her head, a hand to her brow. ¡°Such precise control.¡±

    ¡°And so, so much energy left sitting in the tank. How do you go about exhausting a God-Graced?¡°

    ¡°Sounds like a riddle.¡±

    Energy resonated from each gathered troop. Remus didn¡¯t recognise Koa down there, and though it was hard to see, a tiny pinch of relief overcame him. Not too much, for Koa¡¯s fate was still uncertain, but being dragged back to the Wild Sect screaming wouldn¡¯t have been an ideal situation for his friend to be dealing with.

    After an embarrassingly long time of speculating on what they were doing, Remus noticed an influx of energy emerging from Juniper¡¯s titan. The few visible wood fibres not covered by Javil¡¯s armour bulged, imbued with yet more sacrificial energy.

    Titanic hands slapped onto either side of Maris¡¯ shark, like some unspeakable sea creature grasping a lone boat. Only then, as cracks spread across its transparent surface, did Remus appreciate the tiny layer of ice sustaining the monster¡¯s rigid form.

    The sharks inside gnawed at nothing, unnatural fury binding them all to a common cause of isolated anger. More and more, Juniper¡¯s titan squeezed. Gauntlets of turgid sand expanded the wrath behind their grip, and he and Violet instinctually covered their ears.

    The ice shattered, with a central Maris appearing at the axis of the fluid. She extended her hands, broad, drastic movements channelling greater power as she held her creations¡¯ shape manually.

    The Wild Clansmen had hit their stride, their channelled power reaching a sort of crescendo. It was more of a testament to the clan¡¯s power than anything Remus had ever before seen.

    ¡°Maris won¡¯t die here, will she?¡± Remus felt wrong just uttering those words.

    ¡°Who''s to say?¡± Violet sounded glum. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll go that far. Possibly Maris being forced off the throne at worst, but the shame she¡¯ll have to bear if that happens . . . I don¡¯t think such a thing has ever occurred.¡±

    With a heavy heart, Remus gazed back at the tumultuous battle. Like had just ran a marathon, he felt his breath accelerate, the sweat pouring off him with no end in sight. If Maris died here, his protection ¡ª their protection ¡ª against Nova would cease to be. That was a selfish thought, Remus knew that full well, but he still felt it all the same.

    Yet no matter how much he hoped for her survival, things only grew grimmer. The fluid around Maris began to minimise, with the clutches of Juniper¡¯s titan drawing ever nearer. Her chance of victory decreased with every passing second, threads of missed opportunity sweeping by.

    Desperately, Maris was trying to seize those loosening cords, to deny fate its warrant for her demise, but her power was beginning to falter. Even the sharks had disappeared. Maybe death was too extreme, but if Maris teleported out of here to save her own hide, then that was it for her reign.

    Remus¡¯ depressed stupor was only stifled by something strange about Maris.

    It was difficult to see from here, but she didn¡¯t seem to stress. In fact, contrary to Remus'' own rampant panic, the woman was calm, composed, and . . . what was that? Confident?

    In his peripherals, Juniper flared with ire. Remus glanced at her, followed her grimace to its target, and forgot about Maris¡¯ current predicament all together.

    Because she hadn¡¯t been in danger at all.

    Remus hadn¡¯t been attentive enough to take notice, but the excess energy supplied from The Wild clansmen had greatly diminished.

    The fact they were all facing imminent danger may have had something to do with it. In one deadly bundle, the ratio of liquid that had disappeared from Maris¡¯s shark creation had been transferred over. With about twelve, very angry, very lethal sharks in tow. Trapped alongside The Wild clansmen, who looked as hapless as ever.

    Maris may have been able to turn things around after all.

 64. Forging Ahead

    Things weren¡¯t nearly as exciting after that. Well, to be completely fair, it was difficult to top keeping thirty plus clansmen hostage. Maris had truly outdone herself.

    Maris¡¯ voice spread to everyone present, reinforced by her power deliberately to reach everyone within Hybrid and its outer territories. ¡°Undergo an Oath with me to leave until I¡¯ve asserted power over Hybrid, and I¡¯ll spare your men and women.¡±

    Juniper¡¯s expression of gritted hatred was quickly hidden by her stoic mien. Javil, a hired contractor, and clearly with no personal ties to the fight, laid low. He likely didn¡¯t care whichever way the outcome of the brawl swayed. For him, this was more of an interesting predicament than anything. An upset at the office. Javil held no qualms with patiently awaiting his own time to ascend to the throne, content enough dealing with his own civil wars against the Earth Clan in Territory Eight.

    And, with no other sects willing to assist The Wild Clan, unable to be bribed with such short notice, there was nothing Juniper could do. Nothing sensible at least.

    The lives of her people or the throne. Despite Remus¡¯ disliking of the God-Graced, Juniper wasn¡¯t a monster. At least not in all aspects. However difficult, there was only one choice.

    ¡°I¡¯ll agree to your terms.¡± Those words were spoken with the same tone one may suit when ordering a man to his execution. Or one''s own. Nevertheless, it was enough for an Oath, and the bond was made.

    Remus was thrown onto his backside from the offshooting pressure, a vow of such power causing a small earthquake all around. Not enough to damage anything more significantly than it already was, but it spooked Remus nonetheless.

    Before he knew it, the mingling God-Graced had left the sky, a random road leading towards the Undercrossing was beneath Remus¡¯ feet, and it was as though the world had gone on hold.

    The remnants of a battle on a scale that shook Remus to his core expanded anywhere his eyes dared stray, refusing to return to normality no matter how many times he blinked. It nearly extinguished an inane kind of hope, yet one that persisted; that would preserve like the bravest candle. He knew it was stupid, but he half-expected to wake up from a dream, or something along those lines.

    Campsites were laid out virtually everywhere, not a single ruin uninhabited. Corpses were covered with sweeping sheets. Droplets of blood, hauntingly golden, trickled across the floor nearby, distressed faces leaning over them.

    The presence of the Vitality Sect was more than evident. It was Maris¡¯ first move as Queen, paying out a handsome sum for the clan to visit everyone indiscriminately. People shifted at the sight of each other, a few leaped into attack, like rabid dogs, only to realise their activated Marks were no use. Under the might of Divine Ground, your enemies could take a nap outside your doorstep, and there would be nothing you could do. Well, aside from moving them with your own might, that is, but that wasn¡¯t nearly enough force for the average Joe Schmo to continue the conflict.

    For many, their bodies had been so enhanced by advancement, they didn¡¯t need to manipulate Infinity, or call upon their Marks to deal real damage. In spite of this, everyone Remus passed all carried the same subdued attitude. Those were not the intoxicated expressions of men eager for a fight, much less this drastic a conflict, but the quiet, restless faces of tired people. All were content enough accepting the Vitality Sect¡¯s assistance with open arms, and leaving at the nearest opportunity.

    All in all, lending help to everyone was a clever move by Maris. If Remus¡¯ first impression of the Water God-Graced was being saved on the brink of death, he¡¯d probably have a higher opinion of her too. Now that he thought about it, that was how they met, in a way, so perhaps Remus just disliked her in general.

    After a quick check up from a Vitality Clansman, whose laidback demeanour was the antithesis of Saige, Remus and Violet walked around a series of quickly set-up infirmities. These were little more than clearings with some waterproof cloth hung up overhead, a series of beds for the grievously injured, and some simple furniture. The latter were either carried out of buildings or voluntarily crafted by able clansmen, in innocent, allowed Mark usage.

    Remus stopped his hurried march at the sight of Koa. It was raining pretty heavily at this point, like the heavens were trying to clear up all the Ichor spilled. Even so, he could recognise that now mud-splattered face anywhere.

    He took a seat by him, Violet on the other side. About two trillion questions were on the verge of flooding out of him, but Remus settled on the most immediate. ¡°What happened, are you okay?¡±

    Koa nodded. ¡°Yeah, sorry if I worried you. Things escalated a little quickly. Terrifyingly quick. Juniper destroyed our defences, and then I ran. Ran and ran until ¡ª until Ash found me.¡±

    Violet stood a little straighter. ¡°What? But what about your duel? Did you fight?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, we did.¡± His head dropped down, cheeks reddening. ¡°And he beat me so devastatingly, I doubt Juniper even still wants me in her clan.¡±

    Koa explained everything: from his brother¡¯s sudden attack, to how far he had to flee to arrive all the way here. The two of them sat listening, the susurrous rainfall soothing enough to calm Remus¡¯ growing concern.

    ¡°So now what?¡± Koa frowned. ¡°Is it even worth me going out to train? Ash is so far ahead of me in raw strength, in ability, in everything . . . he¡¯s the one mountain that¡¯s too daunting to climb. ¡±

    Remus stood up, the pessimism in Koa¡¯s words chafing against his heart strings. ¡°Of course it-¡±

    Cut off by the strangest sound he¡¯d ever heard, like an entire waterfall being suctioned down a chute, they all turned their heads forward.

    To where Maris, or at least a fraction of her, materialised upwards, drop by drop. Like the opposite of disintegrating.

    She picked up where he left off, with a placating smile. ¡°All mountains have their peak Koa, no matter how tall or broad they may seem.¡±

    Violet was the first to speak anything other than surprised gibberish. ¡°Your Majesty, are you hurt?¡±

    The use of that title had set Violet in Maris¡¯ good books for the rest of her life.

    ¡°Thank you for your concern.¡± She said, overly formal. ¡°I appreciate it immensely.¡±

    The cynical side of Remus was having a field day. She''s really leaning into the refined leader role, isn¡¯t she?

    ¡°But I¡¯m glad to say I¡¯m fine. Terribly exhausted, and I really will need to fall into a slumber for the next few days, but as good as I can be.¡± She smiled broadly, shark¡¯s teeth chomping down together in a sight that was more menacing than inviting. ¡°Thank you all for the assistance, however cut short you were by Juniper¡¯s arrival.¡±

    They all muttered quiet comments of it being no big deal. They were, in fact, lying. Aside from Maris¡¯ last second victory, things had gone about as badly as they could have. That was an exaggeration, of course, but in the moment, it didn¡¯t feel like it.

    ¡°My power¡¯s limited right now,¡± Maris admitted, ¡°but I¡¯m perfectly capable of transporting the three of you to any desired location. Though, please do remember this is only a small slither of me. Total transportation is a breeze for my whole form, but stretched out as far as I am reporting to everyone separately, there is only so far I can push. That¡¯s more true than ever, considering my true self is snoozing in my new chambers as we speak. Lavender sheets really are the best quirk of the position.¡±

    Mark usage in your sleep. Remus was reminded. A forever useful ability.

    Remus didn¡¯t have to think before opening his mouth. ¡°How close to the front lines can you send me?¡±

    Maris looked him up and down with narrowed eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that you, Remus, are about to do something illegal.¡± She put a hand before her mouth in mock surprise. ¡°Something like sneaking into the army before Foot-Soldier . . . the horror!¡±

    Doing his best not to smile, Remus waved a hand. ¡°I¡¯m sightseeing. Yeah, sightseeing. I just love the atmosphere of a good battlefield ¡ª can¡¯t get enough of them . . . not that I¡¯m getting anywhere near inside, that is. Just watching . . . counting the arrows as they pass by..¡±

    The God-Graced nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to send you to some nice views.¡± Her attention turned to Koa and Violet. ¡°The same for you too?¡±

    Violet agreed immediately. Koa wasn¡¯t as determined. ¡°Somewhere safe in Territory Seven would be helpful. Somewhere in walking distance of the Reptilian and Amphibian sects.¡± At her calculating gaze, Koa gesticulated fervently. ¡°Not to conspire against you, of course. Never in my wildest dreams.¡±

    ¡°Training, right?¡± Remus lended a hand. Koa really had to work on explaining himself in a less incriminating fashion.

    ¡°Indeed. Your help would be greatly appreciated.¡±

    Maris¡¯ form became more transparent, like she was a fading apparition. ¡°Alright, you¡¯ll all be on your way soon enough. Violet, Remus, I¡¯m sending you by a Speed Clan outpost. They can lead you the rest of the way, you¡¯ll just need a good enough lie or bribe.¡±

    ¡°I have been known for my creative ingenuity in the deception department.¡± Remus said slyly. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll think of something.¡±

    Less than five seconds had passed, and Maris¡¯ form had become even less substantial. Like a god had accidentally dropped a splash of water on the canvas of reality, and was doing their best to scrub it off.

    ¡°It appears to me like you won¡¯t be seeing your buddy for a while.¡± Maris¡¯ words sounded strained. ¡°You might not have long, but a farewell seems in order.¡±

    Koa looked up to them both, though he was only an inch or two shorter than the two of them at this point. ¡°Like Maris says,¡± he began delicately, ¡°I¡¯m going to be busy for a while. Maybe a long while. But thank you both. When this all blows over . . . ¡° His eyes darted off, as did his words.

    Remus put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°You have a higher chance of beating Ash than you think.¡± Remus said reassuringly. ¡°A lot can happen in two Passings. Just make the most of it.¡±

    Violet supplied him a steadfast smile. ¡°Ash isn¡¯t going to know what hit him.¡±

    What felt like an invisible hook implanted itself behind Remus¡¯ naval, and he knew it was time.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Koa blurted. ¡°The both of you. You could have left me out for dead, but you didn¡¯t. I might not be as optimistic as the two of you, but I¡¯ll work harder than Remus to make up for-¡±

    A wild laugh cut him off. First it was Violet, hands against her chest, about to topple over. Remus¡¯ lip quivered, a certain twinkle in his eyes. That was the extent of his resistance, before he too lost composure. Collapsing and booming into his knees.

    Koa gave them both the strangest glance, but not nearly as concerned as Maris¡¯ dissipating image.

    As that horrible sensation of melting to liquid came over Remus, through the cackling, through all the humour, he truly hoped the best for Koa. After his jumbled youth, it was the least the boy deserved.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    <hr>

    It turned out that with a big enough sum of money, any common sense within a Speed Clansman turned to mush.

    Hitching a ride had been about as easy as unveiling a pouch of Inklings. Their surroundings outside the carriage were nothing but a blur, but Violet felt no travel sickness. After conversation grew dull, she and Remus had retired to looking blankly at the carriage¡¯s interior. Simply thinking.

    Violet mulled the same thoughts over and over again. This was how her stubborn mind tended to work: the same unchanging topics afflicting her stream of thought. Usually, it was unceasing, the ideas remaining until Violet got around to doing something about them.

    It was like with Nova, or the mystery of her past. At the time, it wasn¡¯t just what preoccupied her psyche, it was Violet¡¯s world. Only after Violet had discovered the full extent of her past, or as close to full as what seemed possible at the time, did their presence cease.

    Now, indifferent about her mishmashed Identity, newer concerns had sprouted in the fields of Violet¡¯s brain.

    Like how exactly she was going to advance. After consuming Daisy, as much as Milap as she had dared, and countless other Unbounded fiends, she now struggled to place herself on the Divine Ranks. Raw power-wise, it was well within reason that she could possess the might of a Splintered Rank equivalent ¡ª but what use was that if she couldn¡¯t wield that power? It was like handing the highest quality blade the realms had ever seen, but to a random person, one with the vague idea they may want to take up fencing.

    The truth was ugly, but there was no time like the present to confront it: her Infinity manipulation, relative to her on an Unbounded scale, was poor.

    So that left only one solution ¡ª the crucial action Violet would have to take if she ever wanted some peace of mind, however temporary.

    Mastering her Infinity use. Her power could grow exponentially, if all went to plan, in a time span disgustingly fast. Faster than a lightning quick Remus. Who, as of this moment, was fast asleep.

    Violet¡¯s eyelids were fluttering, her thoughts sluggish, but that wasn¡¯t enough for her inquisitive mind. Noooo.

    So training it would be. Training as far as one could, without sending their vehicle tumbling off the road, that was.

    Think, she told her persisting brain, what do Unbounded do that you¡¯re not?

    Mortals channelled their Infinity through a Bank, then a Vault, then the fused constructs acquired at the Splintered Ranks and above. Blessed humans had a straightforward, intuitive system literally forged into their bodies, guiding them on how to channel their Infinity in the most effective means for them.

    For Unbounded, or half-Unbounded, things could never be that simple. Heavenly fiends were purely Infinity, and whilst Violet wasn¡¯t quite that concentrated with her human features, her amounts of the divine resource wouldn¡¯t suit a Vault. She had too much ¡ª was biologically made out of too much ¡ª for that to be a viable option.

    What to do, what to do? She mused, flicking her head away when it hit Violet that she¡¯d been staring daggers into the back of their escort¡¯s head for the past five minutes.

    Getting back on track, she focused on Unbounded. How did they manipulate their Infinity? They used the portion they channelled to enhance their attacks of course, like mortals, but that couldn¡¯t be it. Violet had been doing that very same thing thousands of times, and here she was, stumped.

    Something else. If not inwardly channelling Infinity, outwardly didn¡¯t sound too farfetched. The only time Violet ever really did that was when creating a Projection. Though that was with the Infinity that sustained her form, not the excess she typically used for enforcing herself. The kind that would flow through a normal clansman¡¯s bank, not comprise it.

    Intrigued, and feeling a little less groggy, Violet stood up straight. This may have been moronic to test out for the first time in a vulnerable carriage, but live and let learn. Violet focused on a small amount of her Infinity. Well, relatively small, but this was part of the issue. It was like her power was grains in a sandpit, and her hands were constantly shifting in size. Whenever she tried to scoop some out, it could be too much power, or less commonly, too little.

    Here though, things appeared to be going as well as she could hope them to, with her botched manipulation. The sensation of it leaving her body was unfamiliar, sort of like the reverse of reinforcing your actual self. Like breathing through your ears.

    Violet focused the energy to her palm, closed her eyes, and tried not to blow up the carriage and everybody with them. At least it wouldn¡¯t be a boring way to go out.

    Something tangible seemed to appear in her hands, faintly at first. Like it phasing in and out of existence. The more Violet thought about this, the more it became obvious: perhaps the back of moving vehicles wasn¡¯t the best place to test out dangerous new techniques. Besides the imminent danger of the unknown, her Infinity store was yet to fully recover from a gruelling day¡¯s work, and her fatigue made her sloppy.

    Too late to opt out now, the bold part of her proclaimed, demanding more Infinity to rush to her fingertips. Long ago, without her noticing, everything leading down from her elbows had adopted its pearly white Unbounded variant.

    She lowered her hands further out of view, and hoped that the clansman was too preoccupied with his driving to detect anything. Otherwise, the unusual fluctuations in the nearby Infinity may strike him as amiss. Violet could sense the minimal amounts he poured into powering their travel. If she was careful, and granted a tinge of luck, it could pass off as some turbulence in that outpour, or as simply part of it.

    Violet didn¡¯t quite understand what was happening, but whatever it was, the process was gruelling. And frustrating; terribly, horrifically frustrating in the most irritating way possible.

    But at the same time, hope flared in her chest. Mastering difficulty like this would make standard Infinity manipulation a walk in the park in comparison.

    Sweat oozed off her, she felt internally sore, and an uncomfortable level of heat was threatening to burn her fingertips off. She gritted her teeth, resisted for what felt like an eternity, but was likely less than a minute, before finally giving up.

    Something solid slipped out of her hands, thudding hard on the ground below.

    Not loud enough to stir their driver into suspicion, but enough to snap Remus into consciousness. He glanced groggily all around for a moment before, too, just as Violet was, settling on the strange article in between them.

    ¡°Did you drop something?¡± He asked innocuously, the grasp of sleep still muddling his thoughts.

    ¡°You could say so.¡±

    Violet grasped the object below, where it could be seen in the faint light built into the carriage. Likely a similar utility to Infirnite, only providing a less harsh brightness.

    The shape of it was simple, like the natural formation of a stone you might find as one of thousands holding up a hill. It was delicately sized, fitting perfectly in the centre of her palm, with a pewter shade, like bone-meal. It was surprisingly heavy for its size, like she was holding up a piece of unrefined iron, or some other ore all together.

    It didn''t take long for Remus to snap into full alertness. ¡°That looks awfully like . . . like-¡±

    ¡°Like Supreme Steel.¡±

    It was undeniable. With Supreme Steel being as rare as it was, it was odd that Violet could tell so absolutely what the resource was. The recognition was almost instinctual, which, thinking about it, made perfect sense.

    The higher Ranked Unbounded typically sported Supreme Steel in some fashion. In most cases Violet had seen, via armour. Milap, the Pet-Keeper, and old vague memories of Nova, had all adorned themselves in the impenetrable material. This was how they made use of their abundance of Infinity so effectively. And with the excess of Infinity Violet had found at her fingertips, it only made sense that she too would be in possession of such an ability.

    There were other advantages to this of course, ones Remus didn¡¯t shy away from addressing immediately.

    ¡°Greats gods,¡± he croaked, sounding desperate for a sip of water. ¡°Do you know how much Supreme Steel sells for?¡±

    Violet put a finger to her lips, indicating their escort with a swerve of the eyes. Remus immediately quietened down, but his excitement was undeniable. ¡°And, if we can break it down, or simply create enough of it ¡ª I know this is a selfish thought ¡ª we could mirror those Infinity chambers we saw the Shadow Clan use.¡±

    Everything was falling into place. ¡°I can use this to create armour, and maybe even weaponry, while at the same time mastering my Infinity manipulation. Then this could help you with completing your Boundless Bank.¡±

    She passed the tiny shard over to Remus. ¡°I know you still aren¡¯t certain on what Mould to adopt, but see if you can channel that as Infinity.¡±

    Remus closed his eyes, and did as she bid.

    If this was anything as dense and substantial as standard Supreme Steel, the likes of which had bound Remus and Koa down as chains, absorbing it would have been impossible. Or at least take a gruellingly long time. Time that wouldn¡¯t have been worth it in the long term. Yet, fortunately, with this being Violet¡¯s first attempt at creating the resource without quite knowing what she was doing, this sample wasn¡¯t nearly that impenetrable. If she wanted to create real armour that would uphold against a real attack, she still had a long way to go.

    Wisps of Infinity dispersed from the divine clump, and it was a testament to the relative density of the Infinity that it was visible at all. Remus frowned, his still humble Bank put under strain to take in the load, but after thirty seconds, his reopened eyes had a victorious gleam to them.

    His hands were empty.

    ¡°It works,¡± he stated the obvious, ¡°my Bank increased noticeably with just that.¡±

    Violet shot him a lopsided smile that challenged the very one Remus had but a moment ago. So she was rather perplexed when he began to glower.

    ¡°This is more useful than I can put into words, thank you. But now I don¡¯t think I can expand my Bank anymore ¡ª not until I settle on a Vault Mould to complete. I¡¯ll have to start properly taking into consideration how I construct the tunnels through me. Otherwise, I¡¯ll have to waste time changing them later.¡±

    It began to rain outside. A slight drizzle splattering against the window panes. It reminded Violet, oddly, of blood.

    ¡°So, what do you want to accomplish with your Bank?¡± Violet leaned forward. ¡°It might be worth talking things through, to see if it¡¯ll give you any ideas.¡±

    Remus scowled, and Violet knew full well he had likely tackled this topic hundreds of times over with Koa. Nevertheless, he obliged.

    ¡°Something to help with Flaming Gold would be helpful.¡± He spoke, staring out into the dark gloom beyond. In the near distance, flashes of lighting were followed by riotous thunder. ¡°Maintaining the ability could be the difference between winning a fight, or failing prematurely because of the pain. Yet nothing strikes me as something that will work.¡±

    ¡°You mean something that will tackle the pain completely?¡±

    He murmured assent. ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s no way to tell, of course, but I don¡¯t think any of these defensive Moulds will help me. They¡¯re too specific. Too oriented to only protect one or two areas.¡±

    Violet went over everything Remus had told her a few times over, and then once more. So he wanted something to nullify pain. There were Moulds specialised for exactly that, Moulds that targeted nerve receptors to majorly increase the endurance of fighters. But stopping the agony of a threat, wouldn¡¯t stop it from killing you. Theoretically, you could have no reaction to an axe stabbing into your shoulder, and still die of blood loss not long after.

    Desensitising yourself wasn¡¯t enough. Remus needed full-on protection to handle the pain of Flaming Gold.

    ¡°Remus,¡± she swept the ginger boy out of his muzzy reverie. ¡°Please recount to me exactly how Flaming Gold works. Every detail.¡±

    On a vague level, Violet understood the ability well enough to aid Remus¡¯ use of it on the battlefield. But the nuances were lost on her. Tiny details she would need to know if she wanted the full picture of Remus¡¯ dilemma.

    ¡°It''s simple, really. I just set my Ichor aflame through Ambition, and that empowers me in practically every aspect. Speed, strength; movement in general. The only outlier is endurance. That typically takes a hit whenever I rely on the ability¡¯s use.¡±

    ¡°You feel pain, right, when you use it too long?¡±

    ¡°Yes. It''s kinda hard to pin down what exactly is hurting though. It feels like my entire body is carrying the toll.¡±

    The rain persisted outside, and once more ¡ª perhaps it was her mind made delusional after so much battle ¡ª she was reminded of blood.

    ¡°Blood,¡± she repeated out-loud. ¡°If you''re pouring power through your circulatory system, no wonder everything is in agony after a few minutes.¡±

    Remus stood up a little straighter. ¡°So what are you saying?¡±

    ¡°What I¡¯m saying . . .¡± She said slowly, ideas forming, ¡°is that you need to protect your circulatory system, as well as abuse it. There must be balance.¡±

    ¡°But there are no Moulds for blood.¡± Remus was going to get wrinkles with how often he frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve looked.¡±

    ¡°Not hard enough, clearly.¡±

    ¡°So you know of some?¡±

    ¡°Heard of them.¡± Violet reasoned. ¡°When humanity was first searching for their Moulds, at a time where the Divine Ranks were unexplored territory, people played around with the concept of enhancing Ichor. Relatively subpar results were produced, and the experiment was abandoned.¡±

    ¡°How do you know all of this?¡±

    ¡°We researched Moulds often in my youth at the Chaos Clan.¡± Violet frowned, and she suddenly felt acutely aware of her crimson red eyes. ¡°Funny. Nova seems to have removed that from the curriculum proceeding his takeover.¡±

    With that, exhaustion too ran through Violet. There was only so much fatigue that rampant theorising and deafening lightning could keep at bay. Remus fell asleep a minute or so before she lost the strength to keep her eyelids open. They slammed like ethereal doors sealing away the universe, and in that temporary slumber, she found peace.

    For how long, Violet didn¡¯t dare think.

 65. Swamp Water

    Territory Seven hadn¡¯t changed a smidge since Koa had last visited.

    The ships of the Reptilian Clan still bobbled gently on the resting pools; the endless shades of dark green encompassed an overgrown marshland flooded with water; and the Amphibian Clan lived alongside their Reptilian siblings without fear.

    The only difference he could point out, quite ironically, was himself. He was alone. No family to watch his back, no simple form of training he could fall back on without arduous thought. In fact, the repealed mantra that he couldn¡¯t give up now was the only thing moving him forward.

    Koa entered the outskirts of the shipyard with both hands raised up. He had activated his Mark prior, to ensure the others wouldn¡¯t be shocked by his presence, but the innocent gesture was a good idea nonetheless.

    As far as godly alliances go, the Animalistic Accord was a peculiar one. Clans typically fell into one of two categories: those that summoned the creature of their subject, like the Mammal Clan, or those who transformed themselves to gain the traits of their animal group. For the latter, the Bird Sect led by the god Avel came to mind. It took Koa a moment to remember that the deity had abandoned the alliance for the Empyrean group. Koa didn¡¯t know the details, it simply wasn¡¯t his business, but the general gist was that Avel argued for freedom of movement for all creatures, while the alliance at large had vouched for avoiding Unbounded-heavy areas.

    So the Arachnid Clan probably would have made for the better example.

    Regardless, the point was that neither the Amphibian or Reptilian sects fit neatly into either box. In a metaphorical sense, they sat on the fence, unmoving.

    Koa spotted men with the heads of crocodiles strolling around, and women whose shoulders acted as the seats for geckos not far behind. Clansmen disappeared and reappeared like perfect sculptures built into the marshy environment, the power of camouflage aiding them. Salamanders wandered across flagstones and jetties, the decks of ships occupied by great tables, seated with many-a-clansmen.

    The scent of honeyed meats wafted through the air, smoke from cooking also clogging up the atmosphere.

    A few heads turned at Koa¡¯s arrival, but the townsmen didn¡¯t seem to spare him much thought. A group of half-submerged alligators sat in their sections in the swamp water below, eying him up curiously. Koa wondered if he looked like a favourable snack to those cold-blooded eyes. He solemnly hoped not.

    A few minutes later, he found himself guided to a ship noticeably more extravagant than the others. It was gilded with gold and other precious resources, the hull appearing reinforced in places by large planks of Supreme Steel.

    He sat down before Eliane, whose amber, reptilian eyes hadn¡¯t become any less terrifying in the time that had passed. They were inside, and the place rocked so little, if it wasn¡¯t for the windows at the back, it would have been very easy to forget they were in a water vessel at all.

    ¡°Training, hmm?¡± She put a hand under her chin, eyed him curiously, before strolling up towards the glass panes behind. She held her hands together against her back, staring intensely. ¡°I¡¯ll give you permission to sit and observe my trainees. I¡¯m not sure you¡¯ll find the grand revelation you¡¯re searching for, but perhaps you¡¯ll stumble across something that might be of use.¡±

    Koa had bowed gratefully back then, but here he found himself bored out of his mind. Nobody had said his training was going to be fun, but sitting on the sides of stagnant boats, eating the fat cut off fish the clansmen weren¡¯t willing to eat, wasn¡¯t exactly what he had in mind. Nevertheless, he sat and watched.

    The occasional bout between trainees would be held atop an old shipwreck, once a day or so if he was lucky. He scrutinised their every action, watched as the combatants threw everything they had at one another.

    What were they doing that he wasn''t? How did their subject power differ or relate to his? The endless questions threatened to fry his brains to mush, then an even thinner pulp, but Koa continued unceasingly.

    He watched, semi-idly, as one young looking boy jolted forwards atop the submerged ship. A scaled arm ending in claws fell past his elbow, and he raked out across the air. His opponent, a woman of equal age, fell back into the standard evasive routine any self-respecting clansman was familiar with.

    A stirring in the waters below caught Koa¡¯s attention. The man hadn¡¯t seemed to have noticed the faint bubbling yet, nor the approaching shadow beneath, for with a vicious grin, he kept the pressure on the girl.

    For a few seconds, where Koa almost lost hope that something actually interesting was going to happen, she remained on the backfoot. Parrying, dodging, or tossing herself out of the way of skimming attack after attack, when-

    Like a waterborne assassin, a ton of slimy flesh leapt out of the water. An alligator launched upwards, caught the man¡¯s leg between a set of rigid teeth, and tugged down with all its might.

    He scrambled, screeching bloody murder with impossible strength tugging him down. They plummeted, sank down deep beneath the surface, where their wails finally became muted. Slithers of gold, which Koa mistook for fractured sunlight, oozed through the water. Only when the nearby spectators helped to pull the boy out of there, did it become obvious he was bleeding. Their trouser leg was torn as he was dragged out, slitted flesh a gruesome sight.

    They would heal, Koa was sure, but the image of that bloody injury lingered firmly in Koa¡¯s mind. Or, more specifically, the power that had led to it.

    Nothing this extreme would ever be seen in the sparring matches his sect took part in. They were like playdates in comparison to this bloodshed. But that wasn¡¯t the only way it differed from The Wild Clan.

    Animal manipulation.

    Whereas his clan specialised in manipulating the environment, their skills were rooted in animal control. That didn¡¯t mean they couldn¡¯t crossover though, did it? Goosebumps sent his arms aquiver, but Koa didn¡¯t let himself get too excited. If animal control was easy for his sect, they would abuse that power all the time. First, he had to investigate.

    He dropped down to a stretch of jetties lining across the shipyard, walking slowly towards a group of lily pads. This one pond was remote, separated from the others, and swarming with more tadpoles than he cared to count. Sure enough, a family of frogs leaped about the place. If this pond was a miniature world, and the tadpoles the inhabitants, then the frogs were gods in their own right. Each jump had catastrophic effects, ripping water the equivalent of shifting entire biomes.

    Koa flared his Mark, and focused his power on one of the slimy amphibians. Be still, he commanded. With the frogs hopping so frantically, this would be the most obvious sign they were obeying him.

    He saw one hesitate, let his hopes grow, before it continued on its merry way. Koa threw his arms up in the air, and against his better inclinations, tried again.

    ¡°Stop.¡± Koa spoke aloud, feeling rather stupid. He just hoped no one was nearby. He could only imagine what a teenager screaming at a bunch of frogs would look like to an outsider¡¯s perspective. Even Koa himself was sure he was going mad.

    This time, he thought he managed to freeze the amphibian for all of one second. It was too brief a time to tell. He tried again several more times, only to produce yet more mixed, and unreliable results.

    He must have been doing something, at the very least. Else his Mark wouldn¡¯t have exhausted so much energy. But what exactly, Koa was left scratching his head.

    On the verge of calling it quits, and trying out some other endeavour, Koa focused on the hundreds of black dots he¡¯d been ignoring up until this point. If frogs wouldn¡¯t obey his will, perhaps their younger counterparts would.

    This was a tad more tricky. Not because of any greater resistance from them ¡ª in this case, Koa barely felt any at all ¡ª but because the movement of the tadpoles was hard to gauge as it was. There were so many of them, all identical, all intermingling. It wasn¡¯t simply a matter of getting them to obey him; he had to trigger them into a movement broad enough to be detectable.

    So Koa focused. He imagined one of them circling around the pond, like it was a racetrack. With another tug on his Mark. he set his sights on bringing about just that.

    It took him a couple tries. The first time, the movement was so vaguely according to his mental map that he was unsure if they were truly following the route. Each successive attempt proved the animals moving a tad faster. Finally, on his fifth attempt, sweat beading down his brow, it was done.

    One of the tadpoles circled the others like its life depended on it. A surge of satisfaction elicited a gleeful cheer from Koa. A cheer that was cut short when one fatal truth struck him.

    Controlling tiny animals, the literal size of peas, wasn¡¯t going to affect a thing when it came to battling Ash. What were they going to do? Flap around until Ash got bored and left?

    Joy turned to stark anger, and face scrunching, Koa forgot himself for a second. A nearby branch plunged into the water, lengthened by the power of his uncontrolled Mark. Koa cursed at his lack of self control, watching as frogs and their larval form alike fled.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    It was an accident. An immature lashing out that would have received a firm disciplining if he was still training under The Wild Sect. But it was also precisely what Koa needed to get thinking.

    Right then, technically, he had compelled the pond¡¯s inhabitants to move by affecting their environment. In a far easier way than manipulating them directly. What was the need in stretching his Mark¡¯s capabilities so thinly, when he could control the creatures of the wild this way?

    Koa found himself taking a stroll around the camp, deep in his deliberation. If he could find instances where he could put what he¡¯d learnt into practice, it would set him apart from standard practitioners from his clan. Yet, there were issues. The Wild Clan¡¯s abilities were already heavily reliant on their environment, and this trick even more so. At least he could create his own wood, or other organic matter when fighting regularly. Though that only went so far as to plantage, flesh and bone were far too separated to create out of thin air. If he wasn¡¯t anywhere near any wildlife, then it was purely bad luck; rendering the technique absolutely useless.

    But if I come prepared, or can affect where we fight . . .

    Possibilities upon possibilities. Koa only started paying attention to his environment again when his senses screamed at him.

    He could sense Infinity fluctuations. It was too free-flowing to be something innocent, like Supreme Steel, but too alarming to merely be a highly concentrated area. So, through the process of elimination, that left one thing.

    Unbounded were nearby.

    Koa tensed up, took a breath and settled himself, and began approaching the general direction the essence was emitting from. At the same time, he took in the environs.

    One part boring swamp, the rest teetering on regular forest. For some reason, Koa¡¯s heart was thumping in his chest. Which seemed quite impossible, as he could have sworn the organ was currently lodged inside his throat.

    In any normal situation, Koa would have nothing to be afraid of. As a matter of indisputable fact, he still didn¡¯t. Unbounded who roamed past the front lines were the equivalent of fleas in the Unbounded hierarchy. They could only naturally form from the comparatively lacklustre Infinity of the rest of Descent. But memories of Koa¡¯s last encounter made him hesitate. Koa imagined his brother pummeling him without so much as breaking a sweat.

    He shook his head, slapped his cheeks, and let the logical side of his brain take the reins. That portion of him, the far more analytical part, saw this as the perfect opportunity for a little experimenting.

    In an ability he rarely used, Koa sent Wilderness energy flooding through the ground. It gave him awareness of the surroundings. Less of a map than it was a second-hand knowledge. It scouted the area in what was, in essence, a budget version of Perpetual Sight.

    There were two bird nests in the nearby vicinity. One vacant, the other occupied by a sole blackbird. Neither of them seemed viable, so he kept looking. Nothing but trees, brooks, and shrubbery for the mile or so range had had access to.

    Apart from, only briefly sensed on the very edges of his perception, a bee¡¯s nest.

    Koa smiled, and that was when things started falling apart.

    With a thunderous roar of the chest, the Unbounded was upon him. Koa swivelled round, and what he saw hulking before him made him double-take. Like so many Unbounded, it was similar to one certain creature; in this instance, an ape.

    Only, it bore no skin. Great hands, comprised wholly of muscle fibres, clutched onto a tree each. They were uprooted out of the nearby dirt, sending great sweeps of the earth brushing over him in a misty tidal wave.

    They threatened to blind Koa, but he didn¡¯t mind. It was better than seeing its bare, naked flesh, and two eyes dangling over whatever counted as its face.

    From here, Koa could tell it was roughly a Foot-Soldier equivalent.

    If he had no reason to be concerned before, he most definitely did now.

    What is it with Unbounded? Koa reflected, recalling Violet¡¯s tale of the Tarlord that had attacked her and that Flame Sect Mercenary. Something odd was going on with the divine servants. At most, one would expect to find a Foot-Soldier equivalent out in the wild once a decade or so.

    Not on a daily basis.

    Probably an exaggeration, but the truth was nearly just as bad. The Unbounded were stirring. For what, Koa hadn¡¯t the foresight, or knowledge to know.

    For now, Koa put that horrifying revelation to the back of his mind, and ran. Ran with all the force in the world. For all its endless strength, the skinless ape was proportionally slow. Clumps of stone were tossed at Koa¡¯s back. He manoeuvred out of range, acquired a few bruises along the way, but didn¡¯t stop his pursuit.

    If he got there, his target, that was, he could kill two birds with one stone.

    He rushed through a network of boroughs, leaping across the treetops as the Unbounded followed on.

    ¡°Crush.¡± It spat, with breath sure to be rancid. Though Koa wasn¡¯t particularly inclined to get close enough to test that. ¡°Crush!¡±

    Bored of leaping across trees, Koa birthed a pathway of oak. The branches around converged, and Koa¡¯s only worry as he dashed along it was whether both his and the Unbounded¡¯s weight would be supported. If not, the only destination for him was a faceful of mud and swamp water.

    In due time, he dived down, dashed the rest of the way to his destination, and turned on his feet.

    Just in time to be punched right in the abdomen.

    Any closer, and the pressure would have crushed his internal organs. Koa sank to one knee reflexively, summoning floating projectiles of oak to stab into the enemy. They did little more than prick at the ape¡¯s uncovered musculature, but it was all the time Koa needed to focus on his real target.

    With a click of his finger, a trickle of honey slathered down onto the Unbounded¡¯s shoulder. Rather dumbly, the Unbounded paused, glancing at the flaxen liquid with incredible interest.

    Heaving, holding down vomit, Koa prepared his final move against the Unbounded.

    He backed off, flared his Mark with an impairing of all the Infinity on him, and watched for his puppet show of destruction to begin.

    Bees, buzzing in a chaotic orchestra, gathered around the ape. Attracted to the golden nectar.

    ¡°Bug.¡± The Creature grumbled, lashing a hand into the swarm. It repeated this over and over again, the word becoming pointless chatter to Koa¡¯s ears ¡ª a meaningless sound ¡ª and he soon channelled out the Unbounded all together.

    Instead, he levelled his focus on the bees. If he had managed it with tadpoles, how hard could it be to set these little guys into a flurry?

    One by one, they began to toss themselves at the brainless ape. Koa waited for a minute, brows furrowing, as more and more of the insects succumbed to his control. These seemed around the same range of difficulty to manipulate as the tadpoles had been. Nevertheless, sick of this process as he were, Koa pushed on with little more complaint than a focused growl here and there.

    He stopped seeing the bees as insects with lives of their own. No, he became a harsh dictator, the striped swarm acting as an army he ruled over with an iron fist.

    His power coursed through them, creating the strongest bugs the world had ever seen.

    That ghastly image, of a hundred honey bees sacrificing themselves against a skinless fiend, stayed with Koa even as the Unbounded toppled to the floor. It wasn¡¯t defeated. Not yet. Instead of keeling over and dispersing to its Infinity like a helpful little Unbounded, it began to howl with more vigour than ever before. Ferocious swipes of its limbs were narrowly avoided by his superbugs, and as the throng fled out of harm¡¯s way, Koa was given access to a sight even more grim.

    Red dots were scattered over the hairless ape. Discoloured blood oozed out of the tiny pricks, amassing at its feet with astonishing volume.

    Koa could sense the life of his insect warriors dwindle. It had almost slipped his mind, as the clamour of battle and thumping of blood rushed to his ears, that in carrying out his will, he had sentenced the swarm to its death.

    Their sacrificial blows meant their demise. And he¡¯d sentenced them to it. Only the slight, life-prolonging effects that came from his Mark being of the Wilderness god allowed them to persist.

    But Koa was no Life clansmen, and he was already fatigued.

    They began to drop. Dead bugs plunged into the pool of multitudinous blood, and Koa had no power left to save them. Not all of them, anyway.

    He set his sights on mending as much of their damaged, tiny bodies as he could. The brunt of his energy, meanwhile, a dosage that was pushing the capabilities of his Mark, was manifested as a creation only possible with his Bank.

    A discarded log hovered between them. One of the very same the Unbounded had thrown; likely with the intention of breaking his neck.

    Presently, like a craftsman had laboured hours over its every intricacy, a spiked battering ram floated aloft, resting atop a mixture of Koa¡¯s energy and Infinity. ¡®Spiked¡¯ probably would have given you the wrong impression. The wood was carved in such a way that well over a hundred chiselled projections jutted out, resembling a flying porcupine.

    Koa¡¯s arm shot forward, and mimicking the motion, the oversized weapon knifed into the Unbounded¡¯s stomach. Cleaving through sinewy flesh, and appearing out the other end. Koa¡¯s flinching eyes shut, but not in time enough to avoid his third grisly vision of the evening. A splatter of multicoloured fluid erupted outwards, and in one last, unintelligible cry, a ton of pure lean, contractile tissue slid down the carved log.

    There it remained, arms dangling to either side, before it stopped moving all together.

    The few bees that had latched onto life flew off as Koa deactivated his Mark. His lungs demanded air, but with every heavy inhalation, the sensation lingered.

    Infinity dissipated off the ape, washing over his skin in Descent¡¯s most ghastly shower. When an Unbounded died, a large percentage of its total Infinity was lost, making absorbing any that did flee into the atmosphere a rather disappointing endeavour. It was simply too heavily concentrated, or dispersed too swiftly, for your standard man to grab ahold of every last drop. Unless of course, you were somebody like Violet. In that case, absorbing the entirety of any slain Unbounded¡¯s Infinity posed no problem at all.

    That said, as Koa allowed his starving Bank to devour the traces he could grasp, and despite the misery of that encounter, he felt fulfilled for the first time in a long while.

    Purposeful.

    But this was only one piece of the jigsaw. A single section needed to complete the puzzle. It would help ¡ª most definitely ¡ª but if Koa really wanted to pose a threat to Ash, he still had a long way to go. But this, animal control, direct or indirect, was a start. A promising beginning.

    With a dreary sigh, and wiping a line of Unbounded blood off his face, Koa got to walking.

    It was time to start finding the other pieces.

 66. Two Sides of a Mirror

    By the time the carriage finally reached the outer reaches of the front lines, Remus was still scribbling down on a piece of parchment. He was almost out of ink, and sketching here, with constant turbulence from their travels, had led to him accidentally swiping a few lines here and there, but it was done.

    With a satisfactory exhale, like a king seeing his victorious army return from battle, Remus closed the book Violet had lended him. It had served as a reference well enough, despite how thin the yellowed paper felt between his fingertips.

    ¡°I¡¯m fortunate you¡¯re an ever-studious pupil.¡± He remarked, handing Violet back her anatomy handbook. ¡°Or else I¡¯d have to wait to complete this masterpiece.¡±

    Violet, an amused quirk to her lips, shoved the book back into her travel sack. Remus was sure about two dozen other books supplied from Veida were resting amongst it. Since their relationship had slowly repaired, Veida had begun taking her scholarly role a little more seriously. Tasking the poor girl with enough reading material that Violet¡¯s bag now made for a serviceable weapon when swung.

    ¡°Are you sure you copied it down properly?¡± Violet asked for the twentieth time, organising her things. ¡°You know what? Here.¡±

    She tore the page Remus had been labouring over violently out, handing it to him. It was the illustration of a man stretching his limbs, in the same vein you would see in all books of this kind. Instead of picturing how the organs comprised the body, this depiction focused on what kept it all together: Ichor.

    Or, more specifically, how it travelled around the body. Remus settled his eyes on the title once again: the circulatory system.

    What he based his Mould on, conceptually and now put to paper, was the placement of the veins, arteries, and capillaries. In their exact arrangements, he drew tubes to channel Infinity directly to where Flaming Gold would pass through. Counteracting the adverse effects of the technique, and directly enhancing it.

    Most people would say that relying so heavily on one ability would cripple yourself when it came to future advancement. In Remus¡¯ eyes, the technique served as a jack-of-all-trades. In loose terms, what he was attempting to do was enhancing an enhancing technique. It would allow him to fight explosively for however long he was able to keep pumping out Infinity.

    Which, contrary to the pain endurance he would otherwise have to rely on, was something Remus could draw out for prolonged periods of time.

    As the two laid their feet on a sandy stretch of land, their carriage becoming an increasingly lower hum in the distance, Remus was still staring at his illustration.

    ¡°Creating your own Mould is risky.¡± Violet said at his side, like he wasn¡¯t already aware of the dangers. ¡°Especially when people have failed exactly what you''re attempting now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve added tweaks.¡± Remus argued. ¡°My own artistic flare.¡±

    ¡°Such as?¡±

    ¡°Such as . . .¡± he pointed at tiny strokes of ink that jutted out of the larger. ¡°These. Connections to the rest of my body. They¡¯re small, so won¡¯t have much effect on their own, but all together-¡±

    ¡°Enhancement upon enhancements upon enhancements. I¡¯m not saying this doesn¡¯t have a greater chance of working, but do you know how complicated something this convoluted will be to pull off? You¡¯ll have to pay full attention whenever expanding towards your finished Vault. Else, you could screw up the finer details.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Remus squinted through the sandy air between them and what appeared to be a stretch of barricades. ¡°True art takes time.¡±

    Violet stifled a laugh. ¡°And your name for this ingenious Mould?¡±

    Remus stood and thought for all of three seconds ¡°Hmm. How about Full Body Blood Infusion.¡±

    He half expected Violet to burst into laughter. Instead, she put a hand to her chin. ¡°Not half bad. I don¡¯t expect it to become the new popular craze with how specialised to you it is, but maybe you could pass it onto the Ambition Sect. If it works, that is.¡±

    ¡°I should be able to tell within the first few Durations of Bank development whether it works or not.¡± He glowered. ¡°Probably. Hopefully.¡±

    For a while, they walked in silence. The sand below their feet was still moist from the night before, the greying skies above playing with the idea of drenching them all over again. The distant fortifications weren¡¯t so distant, and they were close enough to make out men and women standing guard. A line of people, all displeased with the weather as of late, also stood outside. Their expressions were grumpy, their disgruntled faces like that of a couple who have slowly come to hate each other over the years. Remus immediately paused, a guard placing a Progress Calibrator on a woman at the front of the line.

    Violet blanched. ¡°If we let them put that on me, this crowd will be drawing pitchforks faster than you can scream imposter.¡±

    As much as he could sympathise with Violet, Remus wasn¡¯t in an ideal situation either.

    ¡°They¡¯ll scan our Rank with that.¡± He tried not to let his rising temper show. After all, he was well aware they were too low on the Divine Ranks before coming here.

    He just hadn¡¯t thought anybody would care. The more the merrier, right? Especially when they were talking about joining the war effort, here.

    ¡°You should be able to sneak in, yes?¡± He asked. ¡°Teleporting, I mean.¡±

    ¡°I could.¡± Violet agreed, that pale complexion not leaving her. ¡°Probably even blend in with the other Unbounded, on the enemy lines.¡±

    Despite that good news, Remus still wasn¡¯t at ease. If we¡¯ve reached a dead end here . . . The thought haunted him. They had to succeed in getting in, they just had to. No ifs or buts about it.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see what they say.¡± He concluded. ¡°And if the worst comes to worst, I¡¯ll find some other means of entering.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t entirely confident in that himself, but he said it anyway. At the very least, he could be held accountable.

    Violet remained to watch, staying as far away from the Calibrators as possible. Remus entered the back of the line, more self-conscious than he had ever been. Did he give off the aura of an Emblazed? Nobody seemed to take much notice, but if the guards did . .

    He shut off whatever sense may be emanating off him. The people around Remus all looked ordinary, as far as clansmen went, with little to no bodily alterations. Opening up his senses, several men around had also shunned themselves off, but judging on their excited, carefree attitudes, that was more likely a personal choice than a deliberate act of disguise. A habit done by muscle memory. Their grins indicated nothing other than a buzzing excitement to help out their respective clans.

    The rest, without a doubt, were Foot-Soldiers.

    Remus half-expected to become a panicked, sweaty mess at any passing second. His fear, for some sadistic reason, accelerated things far faster than he was comfortable with. He found himself sitting on stool next to an inquisitive, balding man, with a hairline so far receded, it may as well have been non-existent.

    It reminded him hauntingly of Edmar, which wasn¡¯t the picture he really wanted in his head at a time like this. Or ever, for that matter.

    ¡°You know what to do, just put it on,¡± they said, even as he placed the Calibrator on Remus¡¯ arm himself. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be long, just a few seconds, and-¡± The frown Remus had been dreading arrived. ¡°Ah. Sorry kid. There¡¯s nothing wrong with being eager, but heading to the front lines now will get you nothing but killed.¡±

    After that quasi-polite refutal, Remus felt two powerful arms interlock with his. Before he could even begin to struggle, they tossed him out.

    He came crashing down not too far from Violet¡¯s feet, eating sand, and overall not feeling his best. He spat the grains out, stood up, and focused on his breathing.

    Otherwise, he was risking doing something very stupid. Likely, for example, turning everything within a ten mile radius into a hell put through a sapphire filter. He sat down on the ground below, not caring that it was wet, and did his best not to look like a sulking child.

    ¡°So, didn¡¯t go to plan, did it?¡± Violet said gently to him, tone apologetic.

    ¡°No.¡± Remus exhaled, the image of an hourglass reaching its final trickles another attempt from his mind to torture him. ¡°This one''s on me. If only I had thought things through a little better.¡±

    He heard her crouch by his side, but Remus remained staring off straight ahead. ¡°I can¡¯t be free of the blame either. I think we both underestimated how seriously the army took things like this. What do you wanna do?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not leaving,¡± Remus flared his Mark a tiny amount, feeling the reassuring desire quell his temper. ¡°That¡¯s for sure.¡±

    He got up, and began to walk. When Violet asked where to, he didn¡¯t have an answer for her. Wherever his feet led him, it would be better than sitting idly while the window of opportunity to see his grandfather closed.

    It almost felt as if all his progress would be made meaningless if Andreas passed before he got one last farewell. They had time, of course ¡ª entire Passings. But how many? It was too uncertain, too undefined.

    ¡°I once read somewhere that hundreds of Emblazed sneak into the front lines every Rebirth. If that¡¯s the case, I must truly be the biggest moron in the world.¡±

    ¡°And why is that?¡±

    ¡°Think,¡± he continued, not stopping for a second. ¡°If the guards are that thorough, there must be some other means, some other way of entering without anybody raising an eyebrow.¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Maybe this entry point is just more strict than the standard. There are probably about one hundred others across the front lines. Maybe they take a softer stance.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    There was nothing more to be said, so Remus kept silent. The grains at his feet reminded him of Saya, the Sand Clan Warlord. Other dark thoughts brewed alongside her and Edmar¡¯s face, and shivers sent his body awry. Remus couldn¡¯t help but see the worst of the universe at every turn. When would another batch of Shadow Clansmen with a vengeance kick come after him? Or the Frost Clan for that matter?

    He had scarcely seen any of their kind come after him. Which, reflecting on everything, was rather peculiar. Bizarre, even. With the promise Tushar had made, with his very position up for grabs, you would expect Remus to not be able to show his face in public without a brigade of Frost clansmen after him. Yet there had been nothing of the sort. Plenty of other people had attempted things along the same lines, usually with the goal of rendering him five feet under in mind, but none of Tushar¡¯s lackeys.

    Remus could spend all day, as it seemed in that moment, feeling sorry for himself. Going over everybody who wouldn¡¯t mind seeing him dead and dwelling over his losses.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Instead, he spent some period of time ¡ª he stopped paying attention to how long ¡ª focusing on the next step ahead of him. Not in some grand, theoretical sense, no. Remus was quite literally thinking only of the movement of his feet.

    Action was all he could do. However pitiful it felt in the moment. In time, snapping him out of his quiet brooding, Violet¡¯s intrigued voice shouted out in excitement.

    ¡°Over there!¡± She pointed at a ramshackle number of buildings. They were too far away to decipher details, but they weren¡¯t professional enough to be of the army¡¯s making.

    ¡°An outpost? Doesn¡¯t look like a military barrack.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Violet took the lead, marching off ahead, ¡°but we won¡¯t find out dawdling around here.¡±

    Remus followed behind, making out more of the strange place with every stride closer. The nearer he grew, the clearer the rundown state of the place became. The fence around was low, and mismatched. Like it had been replaced so many times, only fragments of the original material remained. The buildings slanted to either side, in such a way that Remus was sure he could probably construct better himself if given enough time. Roguish men leaned against the entrance, smoking, but the air about them wasn¡¯t entirely unwelcoming. More of one of indifference.

    A man with short stubble approached them. He sported a strange leather jacket a few sizes too big for him, so that it swayed around his calves. One of his eyebrows was slit, and Remus would have described him as the caricature of a shady individual, if it wasn¡¯t for their charismatic smile. It seemed at odds with the rest of him.

    It took Remus an embarrassingly long time to realise that beam was targeted directly at them.

    The man placed his arm over Remus'' shoulder with startling speed. ¡°Ah, my friend. You look like you¡¯re trying to get in there, ey?¡±

    He winked, pointing over to the front lines.

    Okay, so definitely shifty. Ignoring his gut feeling for the time being, he nodded. ¡°Yeah. Me and my friend here. Do you have a way in?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± His teeth were perfectly white, and verging on creepy. Remus was half-expecting the incisors to start glinting, as if they really were diamonds. ¡°This way, let me show you around.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait.¡± Violet pulled Remus away from the man¡¯s clutches. ¡°Let me just have a word for a second, okay?¡±

    The man simply stood there. His smile persisted, but some of the joy had clearly diminished.

    ¡°Preferably . . . in private?¡±

    They made no sign of compliance, but moved away with slow strides.

    Violet turned them around, their backs to the man. ¡°Are you sure about this? Are you not getting a bad aura from this guy?¡±

    ¡°This does scream trap . . .¡±

    ¡°Then why risk it?¡±

    ¡°What other choice is there?¡± Their whispers were slowly growing louder. The stranger probably would have had a harder time eavesdropping if they screamed until their lungs tore.

    ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t be surprised if you find yourself led into an ally with two dozen blades pointed at your throat.¡±

    When Remus swivelled back round, he found the man to still be grinning. He was beginning to wonder if he had some sort of medical issue, like his facial muscles were paralysed.

    Remus waved a hand. ¡°Lead the way.¡±

    ¡°With pleasure.¡±

    The two followed at his tail, scanning the strange settlement with furrowed eyebrows and deep frowns. Inside was somehow more derelict than Remus had tempered his expectations for. Rodents ran under piles of debris; bins of trash overflowed, ashy from signs of a fire; and people held themselves tightly. Arms crossed and pressing their backs against any available surface, like they were expecting to be betrayed sooner than later.

    Remus could relate. His guide was a little too persistent, a little too forceful, in everything he did. He walked with a spring in his step, his fierce smirk was uncannily wide and toothy, and he spoke as if it were his birthday all day, everyday. For all Remus knew, it may have been. Alas, there was something beneath the obvious facade. Like he had just received news of his entire village burning to a crisp, but was holding himself together for the sake of a greater cause.

    Unsettling. That was the only word for it.

    The scent of smoke wafted everywhere, thinly visibly atop the roofs of buildings. Stray dogs and cats ran about the place, most of them probably strays, for he saw no collars. He could go on about five hundred other miniscule features, but the main idea was that the place was dirty. Grim, filthy, but despite it all, serviceable.

    Remus heard fighting up ahead, and his heart almost hammered out of his chest.

    And this is the part where I regret everything, he gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and prepared for a scuffle.

    Only to find everyone around him relatively calm. Well, the variety of calm that was actually just a suppression of tension, but something told him the mood in this dumping ground was always like that.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± He nearly stumbled on his words.

    Their guide took a couple of seconds to notice Remus had stopped. ¡°Oh, you mean the fighting? That¡¯s the technicality, my friend.¡±

    ¡°And you only felt like dropping this on us now?¡±

    He waved his arms wildly, his smile disappearing so suddenly, that for the first time, Remus had to blink. His expression almost forced him to feel pity. They truly did look apologetic, like the man harboured some great sense of shame.

    ¡°Forgive me. I meant no harm, you must believe me.¡±

    ¡°Woo, it''s okay buddy.¡± Remus said gently. ¡°Just explain to us what this technicality is?¡±

    His eyes shifted from left to right, with a nervous tendency. ¡°The front lines have become more dangerous as of late. The Unbounded are . . . what¡¯s the phrase . . . going haywire.¡±

    With everything Remus and Violet knew, that didn¡¯t come as a surprise.

    ¡°So infiltrating the army has also become harder. Now, the team will only take in people who they know can look after themselves.¡±

    ¡°And you have to prove yourself in a series of bouts to get in?¡±

    They nodded fervently, their head at risk of popping off. ¡°Precisely!¡±

    ¡°Some fights.¡± Remus slowly considered, the three of them having reached a standstill. ¡°Could make for some quality training.¡±

    ¡°I think that would be bait enough to keep you preoccupied anywhere.¡± Violet sighed. ¡°Though I suppose there are worse ways to spend our time.¡±

    After a minute, they continued following at Makalo¡¯s heels, who had revealed his name in that childish, happy-go-lucky fashion that encapsulated his every action.

    They reached one central structure ¡ª this one far larger, and more extravagant than the others. It was circular in design, made primarily of wood, of which type Remus couldn''t tell, and reinforced in many places by workings of metal.

    This, if nothing else could fit the title, was the central hub of the outpost. Remus still didn¡¯t have a clue what to call this place. It was some kind of underground organisation, he suspected, specialising in sneaking Emblazed into humanity¡¯s army. But the exact mechanics of the place, like who ruled, were yet to be answered.

    Their guide, although polite enough in a quaint kind of way, didn¡¯t seem like the best source of answers. Remus made a mental note to ask around for specifics once their escort was done with them. He was simply moving too swiftly for there to be any pauses at all.

    ¡°Quickly,¡± Makalo pointed at the looming entrance with an eager smile. ¡°As a new arrival, you have to prove yourself in an initial match.¡±

    Remus went along with this in the quickest decision of his life. Violet, meanwhile, shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not interested in joining the front lines via this group. Do I have to participate?¡±

    He frowned, looking Violet up and down like she was rather stupid. At last, he shrugged. ¡°I suppose not.¡± He turned his head back to Remus, curve of the lips persistent as ever. ¡°Ahh, unfortunately I must depart now, my friend. I¡¯ll see you soon, when you emerge victorious!¡±

    He sped off, looking back, and waving fervently. Remus couldn''t help but match the smile, as childish as it was.

    The two walked down in relative silence, a passage leading deeper into the arena.

    After a time, Remus couldn¡¯t keep quiet any longer. ¡°What¡¯s the problem? You¡¯ve been looking glum ever since we got here.¡±

    Remus himself was just relieved they weren¡¯t stuck in the middle of nowhere. Now they finally had an opportunity to do something. To get closer to his sect, train with all the resources of the front lines, and access all the abundant Infinity he needed to complete his Mould, and for Violet to acquire mastery over her own Infinity.

    Clearly, she wasn''t as keen on the idea. ¡°This reeks of a trap. I know I won¡¯t be able to sway you, and we¡¯re in too deep to back out now, but keep vigilant.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I will.¡±

    When they reached a great oak door, Remus was asked for his name. The man scribbled down on a notepad, and for a time, he was left waiting in another chamber. It was sparse, and Remus suspected the stone area was originally an entirely different structure. Unrelated to whatever the hell he had gotten himself involved in.

    The only notable features of the dinky place was the dust on the floor, the slab-like seating that stretched around, and the door from which he had entered. Another, up ahead, granted him no sight of what was awaiting him outside.

    The noises alone, however, told him exactly what to expect. Grunts, the clashing of blades like a blacksmith at work, filled Remus with a queasy mix of excitement and dread. Only when examining the other occupants of the room, did he learn the feeling to be ubiquitous.

    Other men and women shifted on their grey seats. Untrusting glances were shot at him more times than he was bothered to count, and yet Remus couldn¡¯t blame them. Everyone here was a possible opponent. He could very well find himself up against any one of them. Maybe not today, but tomorrow, or any number of days after. Trying to discern any information off of them, through his own inquisitive looks, wasn¡¯t the successful endeavour he would have hoped.

    They all kept themselves secretive. Keeping their cards close at hand.

    ¡°Look at them, Remus.¡± Violet urged him. ¡°Really look. All of these people are desperate.¡±

    Remus understood what she meant. It wasn¡¯t just secrecy. A lot of these people ¡ª a majority, matter of fact ¡ª looked as though they were used to keeping themselves to themselves. A meek independence only acquired from having to sleep with one eye open.

    These people weren¡¯t here because they were impatient about joining the front lines. No, they had to be here. Either to earn some money for their poor families, their crumbling sects, or to get away from any hardships their normal lives posed.

    With that knowledge, Remus suddenly felt a lot less confident.

    Desperate people were dangerous. When your motivations surpassed simple ambition, verging on to very survival, the means to which you would go to claim victory knew no bounds. Remus, as well as anyone, knew this first hand. Desperation was a tool. Desperation was the thing that peered upon reality¡¯s fickle limits and scoffed.

    Desperation was power.

    But Remus was desperate too. And if he would have to abuse that quirk of his existence to his own ends, so be it.

    People came and went; time passed like ash filtering through his fingers. Remus flinched when, finally, after too long, a deep voice called, ¡°Remus.¡±

    He got up, shook himself up and down, and began towards the entrance.

    Violet placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Good luck. I¡¯ll see if there¡¯s any stands I can watch you from.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that.¡± He smiled. ¡°We¡¯ll be at the front lines toppling giants before either of us know it. I promise.¡±

    There was no more delay. Remus pushed open the great doors, greeted by a generic, and fairly standard amphitheatre. Sand stretched out below, hundreds of footsteps imprinted down.

    Rows of decorative weapons encircled the sides, right below the rising seats. Remus likely could have asked for a blade, if he so wished, but that wasn¡¯t his style.

    Oh, and there was rain. Because of course there was.

    Remus took a deep breath in, hoped for the best, and was struck by the universe with the worst.

    Opposite him, entering from an equidistant entrance, Makalo came to a stand. Arms crossed, and a smug smile of royal proportions on his lips.

    ¡°My, my,¡± they sneered, ¡°like stealing candy from a baby.¡±

    ¡°That would be highly inadvisable.¡±

    Despite Remus¡¯ ability to make quips, he felt sick to his stomach. Violet had tried to warn him so many times, and at each interval he¡¯d carried on regardless. He¡¯d been quite aware of the dangers, and, thinking back on things, Remus wouldn¡¯t have changed anything regardless. He had come to a point that amongst a bunch of Emblazed, he had good faith in his abilities.

    ¡°Really, they¡¯re always so easy to trick.¡± He looked Remus up and down, ignoring the shouting of an announcer. ¡°You¡¯re my ticket to getting to the front lines; to finally getting enough points.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a point system?¡±

    That probably wasn¡¯t the time to ask. Interested or not.

    ¡°You won¡¯t have to worry about that, my friend.¡± He adopted that false inflection. ¡°And you didn¡¯t even raise an eyebrow when I touched you, either.¡±

    They lifted an upturned hand, index finger extended. Remus made to move, when blue fire erupted outwards from Makalo, like a dragon¡¯s fury.

    Through his shock, over the blood rushing through him and the clamour of the crowd, Remus could still hear the man¡¯s booming laughter. Like venom pooled down his ear.

    At that moment, snaking streaks of azure rushing after him, Remus knew one thing for sure: he had been wrong to think the man an idiot.

 67. Master of None

    The only thought in Remus¡¯ mind, as a copycat of his own power washed over him, was that things were going to get very confusing.

    Whose fire was whose? Well, in the long run, it mattered little. A sphere of azure exploded out of him, acting as his own earthbound star. It served as a sort of protective shielding, filtering out the force and power from Makalo¡¯s attacks.

    What really concerned him was that off-hand comment. And you didn¡¯t even raise an eyebrow when I touched you, either. It was true. Remus really hadn¡¯t thought twice.

    Something wasn¡¯t adding up. The Ambition Clan wasn¡¯t exactly an overpopulated sect, and he had never seen the like of Makalo in his many days¡¯ stay there. Had Remus¡¯ power transferred to the man via touch?

    When a flashing blur punched into his chest with all the force of a freight train, Remus stopped deliberating. Either way, he was going to make short work of this second-rate imposter.

    Hit harder than he expected, spittle flung from Remus¡¯ mouth. He hopped back, clicked his fingers in one, two, three activations of Eruptive Will, and never stopped bounding backwards.

    A superimposed fist of flame flew into his fiery corona. It failed to trespass in any substantial way. A few more similar creations shot out from the Makalo, but they were clumsy. More show than substance.

    Now Remus was certain of the identity of this clansman. They were of the Inheritance Sect, whose only power was that in which they stole.

    Yet second-hand goods could only get you so far.

    He had the mastery over the abilities here. Nobody knew his own skillset better than Remus. Well, quite possibly Enrique, but no one living at least.

    Despite that comforting truth, questions swam in his mind. How much of his arsenal could Makalo really use? If it was intuitive, as it must have been, would the ancient techniques of the Ambition Sect be viable? Would he have access to them?

    He doubted it.

    Finding his advantage, Remus allowed Flaming Gold to course through him. His Bank wasn¡¯t yet adapted to the task, but he focused all the Infinity he had regardless on keeping the pain at bay.

    He doubted they¡¯d be fighting for that long.

    His limbs flew into Makalo like cracks of lightning, bone-crushing power behind each swing. Their body was sent crashing towards the arena walls, but Remus didn¡¯t relent. He flew after him, obsidian gauntlets appearing up his forearms.

    The man tried to mimic his levitation technique, managing it for all of two seconds.

    Not time enough to avoid a jaw-crushing connection.

    The sand was charred from Makalo¡¯s wild sprays of fire, arms now askew. Remus grasped the man by the hem of his tunic. When Makalo started trying to burn a hole into his sleeve, Remus used one last activation of Explosive Will to slap him against the ground. Just for good measure.

    The crowds were becoming, for lack of a better word, wild. Even the commenter had sprang mid-sentence into a wild screech.

    He held Makalo down, using enough force to keep him at bay.

    ¡°Settle down.¡± He told him. ¡°Surrender before I have to deal some real damage.¡±

    They spat blood at Remus¡¯ boot. ¡°Eat s-¡±

    Remus pushed down a tad harder. It quickly shut him up.

    Right before he had the opportunity to repeat himself, three blades found themselves chafing against Remus¡¯ skin. The fire disappeared, leaving Makalo¡¯s command like water down a plug hole. Remus blinked, and twenty more floating razors swiftly joined the others.

    ¡°What?¡± He half-croaked, half shrieked loud enough for those in the audience to hear.

    ¡°Get off me.¡± Makalo¡¯s voice was insidious. ¡°Or I¡¯ll butcher you right now.¡±

    Exhaling, Remus glanced at the material of the blades. They weren''t supreme steel ¡ª something more akin to bronze. The edges didn¡¯t look particularly sharp either, despite the fact one against Remus¡¯ nape had begun to draw Ichor.

    That golden trickle was the most the man was going to get.

    Exhaling, Remus raised both of his obsidian fists, and said, rather simply, ¡°No.¡±

    Plasma blasted over the blades, and jolting out of the way, Remus swallowed a scream as one grating sword drew blood. He retained a rigid position a second later, his skin becoming as imperious as steel.

    How Thick Skin was going to work, with part of his flesh already lacerated, Remus wasn¡¯t sure. He hoped it wouldn¡¯t be too large a complication.

    Steel upon steel rained down on him, but Remus didn¡¯t budge an inch. He was immersed in the eye of the storm, a maelstrom of glinting edges he refused to give in to. He focused on his breathing, fanning the inner embers of his ire, imagining a defeated Makalo at his feet.

    His skin held steadfast, and he let the man burn away at his own energy supply for minutes on end. But things could never be so simple. Thick Skin was as draining as any technique in his arsenal, and disputes weren''t won by sitting idly and letting your enemy hack away at you all day long. Remus waited for his opportunity, feeling slightly dazed, and took it.

    Somewhere along the lines, Flaming Gold had become too strenuous to balance out with his other abilities. He¡¯d silently quit the technique, before its use could warrant any major pains. Now, getting quite agitated with his welcome to this hidden society, he let it run its course.

    He launched through a gap in the haze of sharp ends, propelling his body as fast as it would obey to reach Makalo. His skin became vulnerable anew, scrapes and cuts tearing at him. His raucous Ambition was more than enough to silence those little upsets of pain.

    Remus¡¯ feet landed a foot away from his adversary, and he could only imagine what his enemy saw.

    Two pinpricks of blue, imbued with a depth of hatred, of regret, and of determination to see this all through, drowning in a fiery sea of azure.

    Five ticking time bombs were placed around each of his digits, another in the centre of his palm. They accumulated in the fastest jab of his life, Infinity and suffocating loads of untempered Ambition alongside it.

    Remus felt a tiny shift in the energy all around, as Makalo altered their subject of power for a third time running. Gone were the stoic, rigid waves of energy known to the Sword Sect. A new beast laid in its stead. The power of the Defense Clan flowed rampant through the air, and it occurred to Remus, as his fist turned Makalo¡¯s hasty shield into hasty molten, the nature of the man¡¯s abilities. The man could likely access the powers of the last few people he had touched.

    Too bad there wouldn¡¯t be time to see the rest of the man¡¯s tricks.

    Jack of all trades, master of none.

    His arm burst from the other side of the metal shield, and before armour could materialise on Makalo¡¯s exposed body, his hit struck home.

    Makalo was hurtled into the arena wall again, for the . . . Remus had stopped keeping count. At this rate, their body was going to be permanently imprinted upon the rocky material.

    Remus waited for two seconds, gathering his breath. Makalo didn¡¯t move.

    A man appeared at Remus'' side at the speed of light. Remus blinked, his split-second reaction one of alarm. One last trick from Makalo?

    Such concerns were quickly subsided, as Remus felt them raise his hand.

    ¡°And the winner is . . . Reemuss!¡± The announcer¡¯s voice, amplified by some energy manipulation to reach the rows, threatened to deafen him.

    Safe at last, Remus deactivated his Mark. The roars of the crowd felt surreal, a kind of confused vertigo overcoming him. Remus wasn¡¯t used to winning so simply. So efficiently. Where was the struggle until he blacked out that seemed to define his usual squabbles?

    Those thoughts were appeased when he set his eyes back onto Violet. She was smiling at him from the crowd, the raging charcoals of her eyes unmistakable anywhere.

    He returned the ferocious grin. In a sight far more gratifying than putting a two-faced Makalo into submission.

    Together, they were going to send the front lines quaking.

    <hr>

    Violet scampered across a hell on earth in her Unbounded form.

    Corpses of other species of her kind rotted away, flecks of Infinity dispersing where fearsome weapons stuck out of their dismembered bodies. A dazzlement of lights, sparks, shapes and incoherent sounds made reality seem like one gigantic acid trip.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    This was the reality of war.

    She slipped across a pool of Ichor, catching herself before she could stumble below. It was hard to be certain which state was the safest: Unbounded, or human Violet from the Chaos Clan.

    The former meant any passing clansmen might get the bright idea to crush her. The latter resulted in endless waves of Unbounded rushing for her skin. Neither one tickled her fancy.

    Violet had come here to learn the lay of the land, or a sense of the real danger that was awaiting them here. Trespassing into the front lines with a little teleportation had been surprisingly easy. Suspiciously so.

    Only when facing this atrocity, this hell of hells, did Violet stop being sceptical. Clearly, they had matters more concerning than detecting a strange surge of Chaos energy.

    And when Violet had opened up her own inner eye to the divine resources raging here, she understood. Understood why things with the Unbounded were going so crazy as of late.

    How this news hadn¡¯t reached the rest of Descent, or the wider masses, Violet had no clue.

    The only thing she was aware of was one fact. She needed to report to Remus immediately.

    She jolted through rift of purple after rift of purple, never ceasing in her advance. On and on she marched, never faltering. In human form, with her Mark aching with how much strain she¡¯d been forced to inflict upon it, finally, she exited that insane land.

    Violet walked the rest of the way back to the rundown outpost. She didn¡¯t bother to make use of her Mark, giving it some rest.

    Remus was meditating when she reached him. Legs crossed and concentrated solely on expanding his Bank. She felt bad to interrupt his training, and never normally would do so, but this was important.

    ¡°Remus,¡± she called. ¡°You''re going to want to hear this.¡±

    He got up, stretching. ¡°Everything go as planned?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Violet had discussed her plans of reaching the battlegrounds prior to leaving. ¡°But I saw things ¡ª sensed them, more specifically. I think I know why we keep encountering Unbounded far above the expected power outside of the front lines. Aside from any connection to Nova. I think the Unbounded are making a push to crush the front lines. To flood into the rest of the Mortal Realms. A greater push than ever before.¡±

    ¡°Why do you say that?¡± His face was the portrait of concern.

    ¡°The last four Right Bearers, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ve come here.¡±

    Remus looked at her, face unrevealing. But unrevealing like obscuring ice. Mystifying the truth for now, but that frosty rime was fickle. ¡°And you sensed them?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± She paused. ¡°Well, not exactly, though I did sense one: the Supreme Fiend. Supreme Rot has a very distinct sensation to it. I¡¯ve never encountered it, but that concentration of Infinity, and the decayed knolls I spotted through the smoke . . . I can¡¯t think of anything else it could be.¡±

    Supreme Being or Supreme Fiend; it made no difference. Whatever name you called that freak of nature, his name was enough to inspire fear into the coldest of hearts.

    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡± Remus eventually questioned, the disbelief clear in his tone. ¡°This close to humanity¡¯s lines?¡±

    ¡°I went pretty far.¡± Violet tried to convince him. ¡°Far, but not far enough. That golem should be nowhere near where it was. Alas, I have an eye for these things; I know what I saw.

    A challenge leaked into her voice, open for Remus to try and defy her. Violet had to get through to him. With the fate of Andreas as it was, she owed it to Remus to make him believe.

    ¡°Okay.¡± He raised his hands. ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡±

    Remus made to return to his meditation, but Violet stopped him. ¡°Wait. There¡¯s more ¡ª I saw- I saw someone from the Carpentry Sect.¡±

    Remus went silent. A deeper silence, one where a lack of words is louder than any utterance. He swivelled round, grasping her by the shoulder with surprising strength. ¡°You did? What did they look like? Who were they?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. They had ginger hair, as dark as yours, a little taller. And he was . . . throwing planks of wood around?¡±

    He scowled.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think that would be a common ability in the Carpentry Sect. The energy he gave off seemed like it would fit though. Restorative, but in an industrial kind of way. He gave off the aura of a Foot-Soldier.¡±

    ¡°Hewhat?¡± Remus blurted. ¡°No . . . it couldn¡¯t have been then.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? I can¡¯t name any other clans that would fit the criteria.¡±

    Remus began to pace, rubbing his chin. ¡°There hasn¡¯t been a Foot-Soldier with a Mark of Arcus in so long . . . if he managed it-¡±

    He cut himself off, adopting a tightness of the lips. He closed his eyes, and for a minute, Violet let him think.

    They had been so caught up in Violet¡¯s dilemmas for longer than she dared to recall, and for that, she felt nothing but remorse. Remus¡¯ own plate was full, and she would do everything in her power to help him lighten it. For everything Remus had done for her, it was the least he deserved.

    ¡°I made conversation with some of the people in the outpost ¡ª my competition.¡± Remus¡¯ mouth curved at that. ¡°I scored near full points against Makalo, but there¡¯ll be at least two more fights before I can qualify. If I want to leave with the next unit, I have one more match at the end of the Duration, and another the next.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like you need to get training.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. I want you to take me to the highest concentration of Infinity you can sense. I don¡¯t care how dangerous.¡±

    Violet feigned deep inner-thought and reflection. In reality, something had come to her mind immediately. Despite Remus¡¯ reckless demands, she wasn¡¯t keen to suggest it.

    ¡°There is one.¡± She admitted. ¡°But I don¡¯t think-¡±

    ¡°Take me there.¡± Remus demanded. ¡°You can hone your Infinity usage, and I can develop my Bank. It''s a win-win scenario.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know . . .¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon, don¡¯t be coy. I take responsibility if anything goes wrong, don''t sweat it.¡±

    ¡°You mean that?¡±

    Remus nodded. ¡°If I get decapitated by some raging Unbounded, it''s on me.¡±

    ¡°Alright then,¡± Violet opened up a swirl of magenta, ¡°just don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t delay a second, diving head-first through the gate in space.

    Shaking her head, Violet couldn¡¯t help but let out an amused sigh. He was either ignorant, stupid, too bold for his own good, or drunk on Ambition.

    Probably a mix of all four.

    Well, too late to go back now. Violet reflected, pulsing away from that clearing. Let¡¯s just hope the shock isn¡¯t too big.

    <hr>

    Remus manifested in a room trying to kill him.

    He had taken all of one step before collapsing to his knees, panting in a futile effort to breathe. The air was dense. Incredibly concentrated with enough abundant Infinity to supply all of humanity¡¯s army with Supreme Steel gear.

    It was difficult to tell if he was suffocating, or being crushed. It felt like a combination of the two. Remus was compelled to vomit, but his oesophagus felt too constricted to allow for it at the same time.

    It was in this tortuous limbo that agony was inflicted upon each portion of his body. Only after a few minutes of adjusting to the pain, did Remus realise they weren''t in a room at all. It was a cave.

    Remus vented out Infinity, consumed more, and repeated the process over and over again. It seemed to attune him to the overwhelming pressure, and only through laboriously repeating the methodical actions did he find sanctity.

    ¡°Where-¡± his throat tightened. Only after another few minutes of venting could he continue. ¡°Where are we?¡±

    Violet was in her Unbounded guise, standing ahead of his squirming form without so much as the slightest trouble. Remus¡¯ jealousy knew no bounds.

    ¡°The highest concentration of Infinity we may ever come across.¡± She answered. ¡°The homeplace of the Supreme Fiend: the Silver Cavities.¡±

    That information did nothing to settle his nerves. Remus felt that plunging density strike all over again. Drinking deep, drinking so much Infinity that he could visibly see his Bank increase. Through the discomfort, through that terrific pressure, he still managed a smile.

    This is what I need, he thought, any possibility of contracting Rot well out of his mind.

    Remus activated his Mark, let his rushing Ambition give the pain no grounds, and continued.

    Twenty minutes passed. Then half an hour. Then, maybe after an hour, maybe two, he found the strength to stand. His walk was still a sad sort of shamble, but it was enough to reach Violet.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± he huffed, not realising he was out of breath. ¡°Hard to believe I haven¡¯t been pulverised already.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you would have been.¡± Violet assured him, very matter-of-factly. ¡°We¡¯re on the very boundaries of the Silver Cavities. We¡¯ve barely dipped our toes into the full extent of this area.¡±

    Remus stopped thinking about venting Infinity in and out, it came as naturally as breathing now. Unless he focused a little too much, it was second nature. Whenever he did return his mind to what he was doing, it was like learning how to inhale all over again. So he soon stopped stressing over the matter all together; he didn¡¯t think, he reacted.

    ¡°It''s difficult to imagine.¡± He strolled around as much as he dared, balancing out the difficulty of the movement, with maintaining his absorption of the Infinity. ¡°That my great grand-father caught Rot deep within here.¡± He chuckled darkly, which in this cave¡¯s reaches, felt like his lungs were having a fit. ¡°If he knew I was down here . . . he¡¯d freak.¡±

    ¡°And if he found out you were treating it like a free training ground?¡±

    Remus'' smile became strained. ¡°Let¡¯s not go there.¡±

    For a while, Remus continued to meditate. He blocked out the outside world all together. All that mattered was him and the Infinity. The touch of creation in his meagre hands. After a time, he decided to test how far he could travel through the Cavities.

    Remus¡¯s attention was soon caught by what had been occupying Violet for the last hour. He strolled over to a sloping ledge, below which broad sheets sat. He recognised them to be of Supreme Steel immediately.

    ¡°You¡¯re progressing fast.¡± His eyes widened. ¡°How long did that take you?¡±

    ¡°Three hours.¡±

    Remus stared at her dumbly. ¡°What do you mean? Three hours in total, or three hours since I got here?¡±

    Had Violet explored this place before bringing him here? It was the only explanation, and Remus couldn¡¯t blame her. As an Unbounded, she inherently had much more resistance to this place, berserk with Infinity as it was. Yet her amused sneer spoke differently.

    ¡°Remus, how long do you think we¡¯ve been here?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Another wrestling with the Infinity all around forced him to pause. ¡°An hour?¡±

    ¡°Nearly four.¡±

    He stared at her dumbly. ¡°At least time isn¡¯t dragging on.¡± He eventually muttered. ¡°But come to think of it, I have no idea how powerful my next opponent could be. Emblazed of course, but where along Emblazed? It could be someone on the very brink of Foot-Soldier.¡±

    It was Violet¡¯s turn to glower. After Makalo¡¯s forced rictus, the two of them were working overtime to restore balance. ¡°What would be the point of coming here if they were?¡±

    ¡°I know. But better safe than sorry.¡±

    Remus was walking around frequently now, the pressure of Infinity easier to carry than ever. ¡°What I need is something to one-up them.¡± He looked slyly her way. ¡°Something like a weapon. I know its a big ask, especially with how preoccupied you are with your armour construction, but if we could work together to create a Supreme Steel weapon-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t bend around the bush. Sure. What kind of weapon are you thinking of?¡±

    Makalo¡¯s exaggerated humour blessed his face. ¡°Chains.¡±

 68. Flying Silver

    Remus was minding his own business, immersed in the depths of the Silver Cavities, when he felt the blade against his temple.

    Violet often left, her own interests in the strange behaviour of the Right-bearers inspiring constant vigilance in her. More often than not, she would come and go, returning occasionally to inform a training Remus of what was occurring outside. He, goal-oriented as always, scarcely left the coves more than what was needed.

    In the days that had passed, the upper reaches of the Silver Cavities were slowly becoming a non-issue for Remus. He practised physical training down there, and found despite the extra load, he could manage it. Remus ate there, drank there, slept and spent most of his waking hours in the dark gloom of the space.

    Bank-crafting was a more difficult process than he¡¯d anticipated. At first, he¡¯d almost been too terrified to expand the ivory tubes. What if he dealt irreversible damage to himself? Sabotaging his future advancement, right at the core, could undo all the tireless work he¡¯d put in. Washing away the innumerable hours, as easily as cleaning up blood with a towel. Of course, one could always destroy and rebuild when it came to their Mould, but Remus would rather avoid the hassle altogether.

    So, like an architect constructing his magnum opus, he took things slow. On the first day down there, he simply allowed himself to become accustomed to the Infinity that thrived in the Cavities. Since then, and only once Remus was sure he had perfect control of every minute detail of his expansion, did he settle down to seriously work on the internal network.

    In the beginning, the task demanded all of his focus. Multitasking between consulting his own terrible drawings, and the construction itself, was like juggling between many opponents in one battle.

    It gave him brain fog, and didn''t allow for a slip of thought. But like all abilities, and through the same monotonous repetition that a showman may master juggling, it was ingrained into his muscle memory.

    And when that happens, the bored mind finds ways to entertain itself. No matter how hard he tried, or with how much vigour he shut his eyes and shook his head, Remus found it nearly impossible to shun them out. It may have been because of his environment, but images of Andreas¡¯s Rot danced through his mind. The Warlord¡¯s bandaged arm. The conclusion of every fight which had rendered him a bloody pulp. These visions and more took their hold on Remus.

    And he let them.

    The fury, the chagrin, the drive to see his family again before it was too late ¡ª they all acted as the perfect fuel.

    Not once did idle boredom urge him to do something else. Never would he let anything but the absolutely necessary get between him and his training. Or, how he perceived it, of his future.

    Only a few days stood between Remus and his next bout. He bit his lip in a surge of consternation. He forced himself to imagine the strongest opponent possible in the circumstances. An Emblazed who only needed one speck of Infinity to call his Vault complete, with bulging muscles, rapid reflexes, and holding back absolutely nothing.

    That was what he prepared himself for. The image of that terrible nightmare compelled him relentlessly.

    So deep into his own thoughts was he, that Remus almost didn¡¯t feel the needle-like prick at the side of his head. His eyes snapped into focus, the light leaking into the Silver Cavities from the outside feeling like a stun grenade. Once he adjusted, he sensed the Unbounded not inches away from him.

    The Infinity they consisted of was nearly disguised by the storm of the resource that had engulfed him to no end. The power they radiated was thus hard to gauge, and something told him he didn¡¯t want to know anyway.

    ¡°Ohhhhhh . . .¡± A slithery voice said, sounding like a whisper, yet paradoxically, they spoke at a normal volume. ¡°Fun to watch. Man is fun to see do.¡±

    As fragmented as the words were, the thought of an Unbounded being able to speak as fluently as it did meant one thing: power. Relatively speaking. Some strength to their name Remus couldn¡¯t afford to underestimate.

    His survival instincts told him to rush off in a blaze of sapphire. Incinerating the fiend in the process, and achieving a speedy getaway.

    Suppressing the inclination to do so was like trying to force life back into the undead. Yet Remus did so. Any sudden moves, without proper knowledge of how powerful this Unbounded actually was, could result in his immediate, and unsightly demise.

    ¡°See, see, see! Man, see!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t too surprising that Unbounded were present here. This was the birthplace of the Supreme Fiend after all, and the tug of Infinity down there was enough to attract, and form, Unbounded of all power levels. Yet Remus got the unnerving feeling that this Unbounded, who he was beginning to suspect was a Peak Foot-Soldier, or weak Splintered equivalent, had been watching him this entire time.

    Their repetitive, terse speech, gave him two vital pieces of information. One, the way they talked, and the fact he could finally pinpoint the concentration of their Infinity, made him sure his speculation on their Rank was correct. It wasn¡¯t the best match-up, but Remus could work with a Splintered equivalent. He had fared okay in such encounters before, and with the newest trick up his sleeve, escape seemed all the more likely.

    His second revelation was that if this Unbounded was watching him, what would stop other Unbounded from doing the same? Likely, they already were. Nefarious eyes in the dark.

    It made the place all the more dangerous. But Remus needed victory more than he needed to look out for his own safety.

    Besides, testing out his new toys was mightily appealing.

    His Mark activated like the roar of an engine, and he felt the great talon slice through the air. Just narrowly missing him.

    He held himself aloft with a surge of flame, and, swishing around, took his first look at the adversary.

    His initial impression was that they looked like a homeless woman. Mixed with maybe something vaguely canine. Unkempt tousles of hair sagged against their hunched-back form, knife-like nails streaking into the air. They leaped forwards before he could inspect them any further.

    Remus flew aside, grasped something off the ground, and prepared to make good use of his full Bank.

    Down here, it was hard not to keep himself full to bursting with Infinity. He¡¯d made decent progress on his Vault, with it stretching like spiderwebs behind his abdomen. With a flare of Flaming Gold, he shot around the room.

    The sound of metal on metal rang out like sonorous clanging. The chains flew in his hands, and he poured as much Ambition and raw Infinity as he could channelling through them. They struck against the creature¡¯s talons, with their sharp ends always a tad too close to his neck for Remus¡¯ liking.

    Inside, his third prototype, and hopefully the last of the Supreme Steel Chains they¡¯d have to make, were hollow. By being designed so, all divine resources he flooded to fill up the space flourished.

    With a click of his will, the chains in Remus hands set alight.

    They highlighted the environment everywhere. Contours of rocks he¡¯d never seen, sparkling ores that weren¡¯t worth any miner¡¯s risk. And overlaying it all, a sleeting dust of purest Infinity, naturally occurring.

    Time seemed to slow. Remus admired the contrast of flickering silver on ambient sapphire, and couldn¡¯t help but find the disparity beautiful.

    Until the Unbounded screeched like a siren, plugging two oversized nails into the gaps inside his weapon.

    Their way of dealing with the pain was by screaming. Remus gritted his teeth in their wake, feeling himself pulled with shocking strength towards them.

    Ambition went into his limbs, and he tugged back in the most dangerous game of tug-of-war the world had ever seen. Only it was a match that was short lived.

    The fiend was flickered into a wall, crumpling in a tremulous motion. Like a dog left to survive out in the cold.

    Remus could run. He could claim his moment of victory, use one last blast of force to sweep the chains out of their clutches, and run into the relative safety of outside. He had trained vigorously after all. Why shouldn''t he evade the apparent danger?

    That didn¡¯t sit right with him. This was his and Violet¡¯s space to master themselves in, theirs, and if that thought was childish, so be it. Running away wouldn¡¯t solve anything. This vile thing would still be here, slathering over the thought of shoving mouthfuls of his intestines down their gullet. And if he wanted to give a cautionary lesson to any other Unbounded laying low nearby, this was the only opportunity he¡¯d get.

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    He wrenched his chains toward himself, but not to escape the Unbounded¡¯s grasp. He forced their now-flaming shape into arm¡¯s reach, concentrating abundant Ambition into a tiny speck between his knuckles. It was as small and compact as his current skill would allow, and twisting his entire body in an arc, jabbed into their face. Point blank.

    They were sent flying, gasping in a squirming series of assertive rasps. He sped forwards, by them in the blink of an eye. He reacted too slowly to avoid a desperate scrape of their claws from opening up his knees. Yet fast enough to shower them with fresh, obsidian fists.

    Emerald blood, reminding him of sewer water in more senses than just sight, splattered outwards.

    If they had been somewhat upset with Remus before, they were furious now. Using every last morsel of a Foot-Soldier''s strength to send golden streaks pouring off him.

    Pour his injuries did, sweat and Ichor making his eyes sting, but he blinked the liquids out.

    A desperate blast of plasma, his most powerful technique, and a sort of upgrade on the Eruptive Will ability, proved catastrophic this close up.

    A gap in the Unbounded¡¯s flesh let Remus see through to the other side. They were wrestling now, with Remus focusing all of his resources on defence. His body was swaying back and forth too much, like a boat about to plunge into unseen depths. It made it impossible to retain the rigidity of Thick Skin, and yet he drowned the tissue and outer flesh with protective Ambition regardless.

    He tasted blood in his mouth, but he focused on the task at hand as the Unbounded shrieked obscenities into his ear. Keep busy, keep busy, keep . . .

    It was the holy matra that kept him moving.

    In the depraved chaos of it all, some sadistic part of his mind laughed. This was the kind of bloody scramble he had been talking about at the anticlimax of Makalo¡¯s duel. Where his head panged, his body roared, and his Mark and Bank were equal degrees of abused.

    For a second, real and abominable fear brushed him. His resources weren¡¯t finite. His human vigour could only expend so much. Yet that seemed to make the moment all the more exhilarating.

    His hands blurring in one finishing motion, Remus hopped back. He took the moment to compose himself, and greet a returning Violet at the entrance.

    Her eyes turned from him, his blood-tattered clothes, to the Unbounded dangling from the cave ceiling. Enwrapped inside his hanging chains, their scraping claws were always a inch or two away from grazing Remus.

    As unintelligible screeches left the fiend''s torn lips, Violet didn¡¯t look even remotely surprised. ¡°Can¡¯t leave you anywhere, can I?¡±

    He sagged against the cavern wall. ¡°No. No you can¡¯t.¡±

    <hr>

    Anywhere Koa went, warfare followed.

    At least, presently, while he oversaw two skirmishing forces smashing themselves at each other, that statement rang true.

    The mountain ranges that enveloped Territory Eight like broad arms were forced to endure great blows from both sides. Containing the brunt of the conflict so that the neighbouring territories were free from the aftermath.

    Koa had heard tales of the civil wars that forever absorbed the two of them. Fate can be funnily repetitive at times. Once, in the beginning of Hybrid¡¯s creation, the two had agreed to rule the remaining territory together. They didn¡¯t last a century before the first in a long line of inter-clan scuffles broke out.

    From Koa¡¯s high point, not even he was free from the vibrations worming away from the conflict. As Earth Clansmen brought down earthquakes upon them all, rubble and dislodged land shook like solid waves. Strange creations protruded out of ancient, castle-like structures ¡ª fractured and mended a thousand times over since the dawn of time. Pillars jutted between crenellated walls and spires.

    This fight was taking place on the Earth Clan¡¯s Territory, on the northern side of the great ravine.

    Long ago, in an attempt to cease the endless wars, the Earth Clan had gathered all of their forces to split the territory in two. Relative peace had been achieved for a few fragile Passings. It wasn¡¯t long until the Sand Clan had constructed great bridges, leading away from their pyramid-bases, and over the abyss to bring the battle right to the enemy.

    Similar to what was occurring right now.

    For an hour, Koa simply sat and observed. Mounds of sand stuffed the buildings¡¯ interiors. Windows displayed nothing but sandy, choked insides. Multiple glass panes had burst open from the pressure, doors shot off their hinges, or just barely clung on.

    What had interested Koa was the manipulation of the environment. Of course, such was a fundamental part of The Wild Clan¡¯s arsenal, but he felt restricted. All he ever tended to do was warp trees, enlarge bushes, or make use of the other varieties of plantage available.

    That was all well and good, but compared with the complete transformation of the environment he was witnessing here . . .

    A chunk of passages sank deep into a sand dune.

    It utterly paled in comparison.

    Debris ricocheted in his direction. Koa barrelled out of the fray, and it took him a few moments to breathe again. He gulped, shuffling backwards for what he deemed a safe distance.

    How observation could be such a dangerous form of training was beyond him. He probably had a better chance of avoiding injury by knocking on Nova¡¯s door.

    When his heart stopped racing, he scrutinised the battle once more. Though this time, forewent focusing on the battle at large. He focused in, instead, on the movement of the ground.

    How was the land at his feet connected to The Wild?

    Easy enough: the earth supplied the foundation for all the constructs of nature to offshoot from. It served as the home for countless creatures. Roots, bugs, small animals. They all left their imprint on the ground.

    Koa¡¯s current position was atop a bed of mud, splattered onto the rocky stretches of the hill behind him.

    Next, he tried his hand at copying the actions of the Earth Clansmen. He guided his hand above the mud, trying to compel the brown goo into mimicking the direction he indicated.

    Nothing. A second and third attempt had all the success of trying to move the moon by staring at it long enough. Like how that great oval would stay fixed to its axis, the boggy ground bore no difference.

    Beginning to get frustrated, Koa found salvation in tackling a different approach.

    He directed his senses on the things he did have control over. Those stretching roots, squirming worms, and all the innumerable means through which nature manifested itself.

    The closest were higher up from where he was situated. Flowers, his internal eye gleamed. A careful climb up guided him towards a series of them. Orchids persisted despite the mountainous conditions, and Koa dropped from a borough a foot away from them.

    Third try didn¡¯t go as planned, so here¡¯s hoping for the fourth . . .

    It was unclear whether this would work or not. Sure, Koa possessed utter dominance over a thousand aspects of nature, but would their presence alone give him the leverage to do as others did in his stead?

    Often, Koa recalled dirt being affected as a secondary target to his techniques. Like when he had to quickly create defensive walls of oak. Was that the surroundings simply being affected by the movement of his abilities? Or was something more useful lying in wake?

    It was time to find out.

    He gesticulated elaborately, making it easier to channel this Mark¡¯s energy at the unfamiliar task. Though, this was unnecessary, for within the blink of an eye, the ground moved.

    Well, less moved then it did explode in his face.

    He spluttered, too disgusted to feel a great sense of achievement. Nevertheless, it worked.

    Now he could try bigger fish. He adjusted his mental target, isolating a stretch of dirt not too far off. Bugs called the place home, and other litterings of nature made it the perfect target for his aim.

    Delicately this time, so no wave of mud would be upheaved in a dire shower. He watched the patch move as he commanded it, fine-tuning his energy output so that he wasn¡¯t stretching himself thin, or overwhelming the landmass.

    This was progress at last. But what could he do with this?

    There were obvious uses: turning the ground at his enemy¡¯s feet against them, clearing a path through somewhere, and perhaps a new form of projectiles.

    Something else. It was just on the outer boundaries of Koa¡¯s awareness, so that he knew of its existence, though couldn¡¯t point out what it was. What was he missing?

    The questions were enough to drive anyone to hysteria.

    He thought of the intricacies of The Wild, and that seemed to appease some nagging part of him.

    How did nature use the land? Roots exploited the earth for its territory and nutrients. Animals and insects thrived in burrows and winding tunnels.

    Then it hit Koa. Movement. He could exploit the earth for traversal.

    For his final test, he needed a large area of land. Somewhere wide enough to be his personal sandbox. The question was where. The little dirt that coated the mountains was so fragmented. he couldn¡¯t rely on it.

    The battle below was still raging. Koa was only aware of it as a vague occurrence trying to deafen out his scrambling mind. Or perhaps that was the wrong way to think. His head shot back towards the raucous clash, and his daring impulses took control.

    He wasn¡¯t Remus, so didn¡¯t take bold risks without them first being calculated. He dived towards a comparatively empty stretch of the battlefield. This was it: his playground.

    By dive, what Koa actually meant was carefully sliding down the hillside. He reached the ground, a stretch of cracked marble flooring.

    Pillars were either cracked or toppled at each corner. He ran for cover behind the only one that wasn¡¯t tilting suspiciously. Then, a few cautious glances around reassuring him that nobody was there, Koa activated Chantal¡¯s Mark once more.

    He slipped through the earth, mimicking the actions of a worm as he commanded a path to form around him. This plot of insect-filled land was at the very outer reaches of the Earth Clan base, thriving with the creatures Koa was replicating right now.

    Through the dark of the underground, Koa would have been lost if not for his senses. Nature all around acted as the perfect guidance, like waypoints. A couple tight canopies were located to the south, a grassy field yet to be charred by the feuding parties indicated the west, and similar natural formations gave him perfect guidance.

    Above, thunderous footsteps of a battle still in action sent shudders deep into the ground. Koa ignored them outright, laughing in glee as much as he dared, without putting himself at risk of a mouthful of mud.

    Animal manipulation, and a traversal technique to rival that of Remus¡¯ flight and Violet''s steady chops through space.

    A long path was ahead of him, and Koa knew such for certain. Yet if he kept this up, he was sure of something else too.

    He could give his elder brother a run for his money.

 69. Regrets

    Veida sighed, unfamiliar landscapes spreading out ahead of her.

    An entourage of Flame Clansmen were at her back, those that made up her allocated half of the trainees. Since their bases were crushed from wrathful Unbounded, and Cyrus was forced off to the front lines to deal with the source of all their problems, she and Hadrian had been left in charge. They¡¯d split the trainees, and many of the other resources they now had to manage, as strictly in half as they could.

    Of course, the pair of them weren¡¯t unfamiliar with leadership duties. More times than Veida could count, Hadrian¡¯s status of second-in-command had compelled the both of them to oversee the sect in Cyrus¡¯ absence.

    But never for this long. Never when such daunting pressures threatened to crush them. Pressures like the four remaining Right-bearers.

    Veida almost paused right there. For the sake of not impeding her legion, she marched valiantly on, the dark thoughts never quite leaving her mind.

    Since that scandal with the raging Unbounded, they¡¯d departed the territory whilst reconstructions occurred. They¡¯d been taking refuge in the largest ruin they could rent in the city proper, though that hardly fitted them all either. Times had been tough, tough enough to compel them into a potentially disastrous decision. The location of which they were traversing towards now.

    It was all Enos¡¯s fault, she knew. The originator was the only Unbounded who possessed the might to cast down Divine Rights upon his subjects; even the history books spoke of it. Every century or so, they would appear. Abilities always varying, from unleashing poisonous gases, to bearing weapons of incredible power. Power of legend, that allegedly surpassed even that of Supreme Steel.

    In this current iteration, it was hard to pinpoint who was the strongest of the five. Nova¡¯s incomprehensible mastery over Infinity, or the Pet-Keeper¡¯s untouchable vitality.

    Over the literal dozens of Right-bearer generations she had read about, some dark inclination within Veida recognised a pattern. One that kept her up at night.

    They were getting stronger. Each new set of the Divine Rights had slowly but surely become more cumbersome to deal with. To the point that this current quintet had been yet to perish for several decades. The first, once discovered, had all been slaughtered within a Rebirth. A time where they were the ones fleeing from humanity.

    Oh, how the tables turn, the depressive thoughts poured.

    Thus far, they¡¯d only been able to kill the weakest link: Milap. The details surrounding his death, as known to the wider public, were mysterious. The Chaos Clan had reported the Splintered Ranked as dead. Their story was that he came roaring towards their base, and was quickly dispatched by the rest of their forces. That also explained why their entire base was a pile of ashes the morning after.

    It was all a cover-up, of course. Veida had heard all about that fierce conflict from Violet¡¯s own handwriting. Then, later, in person. The fact that she, Remus, Koa, Elmore and Donovan, had all managed to kill him was a miracle. She felt a burst of pride at the news Remus had dealt the killing blow, as hard as it was to believe.

    Yet things still looked dour. That was only one out of the five dead, after decades upon decades of their hellish terror. If they wanted to kill the rest of Enos¡¯s servants before the originator¡¯s plans progressed, they had to pick up the pace.

    Because that was what this all accumulated into at the end of the day: Enos¡¯s schemes. The originator must have been behind the current push at the front lines, and, perhaps, may have even commanded Nova into reducing the Chaos Clan into his puppets.

    Humanity as a whole had often put away their own discrepancies for the sake of a greater cause. This meant dealing with the Unbounded. When the raging fiends, power-drunk and imbedded with a collective saviour-complex, had first descended, sects had ceased their fighting. Or at least targeted the brunt of their attention to push the heavenly friends back. It was the only part of humanity¡¯s past that gave Veida hope. Hope for the entire course of their future.

    Now more than ever, they had to double-down on that tunnel-vision. If clans stopped all the in-fighting, focusing on the most immediate issue instead, things maybe wouldn¡¯t look quite so glum.

    Veida exhaled again. If there was any take away from all of this, it was that they weren¡¯t hopeless. Multiple sects had been rushing towards the front lines recently, and not just their Foot-Soldiers. In some instances, the entire populace of one clan. That was the kind of action they needed more of, and the kind of action Veida was taking right now.

    It sounded frivolous, but her meltdown with Violet was a constant dark cloud over her psyche. It brought her great shame, each second of her breakdown played in real time in her head. She¡¯d been so shortsighted . . . but Veida tried not to be too hard on herself. When you read nothing but the insidious acts of Unbounded for all your life, had held your very brother¡¯s bloody body after one of their stray attacks, an undying hatred for all of their kind was only natural.

    That prejudice sometimes bubbled to the surface when she thought of Violet even now. Yet one good apple in a sour batch didn¡¯t incline her to change her ways.

    Veida would love nothing more than to see Unbounded wiped from existence. Only her own experiences with Violet, and the fact she was sure the girl desired that annihilation perhaps more than her, made Veida more than happy to work alongside her.

    She swivelled round, viewing her troops as one full unit at her helm. ¡°Hault!¡± She shouted, their destination in walking distance. ¡°We¡¯re almost here.¡±

    Before she turned, she spotted Tanguy in the crowd. He held himself a little more self-consciously these days. Shoulders hanging low and expression conflicted. Nevertheless, Veida could still identify a rejuvenated loyalty in him. A desire to make amends.

    Her eyes dawdled on him perhaps a little too long.

    Once more, she faced the faint lines of the outer barricades. ¡°The front lines are upon us.¡±

    It was time to join the rest of the world in doing some good.

    <hr>

    ¡°Attack me.¡± Remus told Violet with absolute conviction, wielding his bloody chains in either hand.

    She looked at him, bemusement clear on her upturned lips. ¡°You¡¯re the boss.¡±

    The Silver Cavities were everywhere in washes of grey, and in terms of familiarity, like a second home to Remus. Well, only as far as he could walk without risking contracting Rot, or injury. Remus managed the initial chamber, and one third of a descending passage before it became too much. He suspected raising his resistance to that level of suffusing Infinity would be possible, based on the fact when he arrived at this chamber, he was close to vomiting guts.

    Now he could train, pushing his body to both its physical, and his Bank¡¯s limits. Doing the former presently was his final preparation for the second bout.

    Violet had a pile of pebbles at her feet, as well as a few scraps of leftover Supreme Steel. The second lot could deal some real damage to Remus, but Violet wouldn¡¯t throw with full intent to harm him ¡ª or so he hoped.

    The pain, then, would serve as motivation.

    Real, truly concentrated Supreme Steel made with a master¡¯s hand could leave injuries gods couldn¡¯t even heal. But standard Supreme Steel was rare enough on its own. Remus hoped he would never be on the receiving end of such terror.

    Violet raised her loaded hand.

    Remus instinctually dodged the first stone. He swerved to the right, the sound of rock shattering eliting a shiver.

    ¡°What?¡± Violet rightfully frowned. ¡°I thought you were using your chains.¡±

    ¡°I am. Little hard to focus when jagged rocks are flying towards you.¡±

    ¡°It will be even harder to focus in the midst of battle.¡±

    Remus shook his head, chiding himself. She¡¯s right.

    He raised the chains again. Two clumps of Supreme Steel flew towards him. Now that¡¯s just cruel.

    A flare of silver collided with the first, sending tremors up every other link. It disconcerted Remus, sabotaging his reaction time. A pang of pain struck his forearm, like malevolent fumes were consuming the entire limb.

    He cursed. Violet didn¡¯t laugh, or shout out some scoffing challenge. ¡°I¡¯m not enjoying this, you know.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to. Now stop the chatter.¡±

    Back into position. Remus inhaled, pictured himself as the only force between his clan and some evil intruder, and snapped into action.

    The shackles became whips, flying in his hands. They danced like protective snaps, successfully countering three projectiles. One slammed into his side, but he managed a gagged cry, ¡°keep going!¡±

    They kept coming, and soon his mind stopped thinking all together. Aching pains began to litter his body. Some part of him, in a dangerous split second while Violet picked up another clump to toss, warned him. He could be jeopardising himself for tomorrow. Another pleaded for nothing more than to continue.

    The downfall progressed in much the same fashion for an unspecified time. Down here, in the Silver Cavities, amid the ferocity of training, time was as volatile as water.

    Remus hit his stride, his body ceasing to be. Only the chains existed. Only his great weapon, blocking shot and pitiful shot; the world needing nothing more. It was a contentment of adrenaline and frantic movement. A existence of hot, riotous motion.

    It took him a prolonged moment to notice the attacks had stopped. His chains still jangled in the air, slumping to the floor at the same time as he. Perspiration poured down, the metallic links of Steel, however highly concentrated in Infinity, scathing hot.

    Remus dropped them, realising only the protection of his Ambition had shielded him from a pair of nasty burns.

    Violet stood, nothing on the ground by her feet but scattered pebbles. Her eyes looked to the smoke rising off the ends of his chains. ¡°If you keep that up, you probably won¡¯t need to use Tanish¡¯s might to set those things aflame.¡±

    Remus settled his breathing, leaving the links to cool off on the floor. He took a seat by Violet¡¯s side, a distant look already making his gaze glassy.

    ¡°Remus.¡± Violet frowned. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind? There¡¯s no need to make your mind ache as much as your body. You don¡¯t have to make up the difference.¡±

    He stifled a laugh. ¡°Tell that to my overthinking brain.¡±

    ¡°Come on . . . what¡¯s on your mind?¡±

    Remus scowled this time, but it was a scowl of confusion. ¡°So much that I can¡¯t pinpoint my thoughts.¡±

    ¡°Battle nerves?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡±

    ¡°Just get some sleep, alright?¡± She insisted, and the annoying part was Remus knew it to be rather good advice.

    Remus grumbled agreement, entered the tents they had set up, and stuffed himself under the covers. Adrift all of his raging thoughts, he took one final examination of his Bank, at all the intertwining tubes. It was like a map illustrated in pearly white, a chalk outline of a town that didn¡¯t exist. The town of his inward spirit.

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    It stretched to encompass his entire midsection now. Remarkable progress. The kind that only occurred to one in a thousand, and something that he should be jumping for joy over.

    And yet all he could focus on was the image of that bandaged hand. The speed of his Bank was dwarfed tenfold by the rate the Rot was sure to have conquered Andreas¡¯s body. The image of a trickling hourglass flickered back and forth between the accelerating disease. Back and forth, back and forth. With each new look at his great grandfather all the more vile. There was no skin, merely a calloused layer of ruinous tissue. Thick and leathery in the small portion of skin shown, in what slowly became a mummified body with each accelerating image.

    Back and forth, back and forth.

    The last grain plummeted. The last image of his great grandfather cursed his eyes, worse than any unholy visage Nova could force into his brain. The corpse was unrecognisable.

    For an hour, rage burned through Remus, and he became nothing more than a vessel for the emotion. He cursed the Supreme Fiend a hundred times over, slathering with hatred, his fight at dawn now seeming trivial.

    He had nothing to worry about. Whoever his opponent was, they were nothing more than a stone in his path.

    One Remus would crush with his bare hands.

    <hr>

    He didn¡¯t have many aches or pains, thankfully, when he sauntered into the waiting room. Remus¡¯ body had healed swiftly, and that wasn¡¯t all. His streak of luck continued when he was called up first to fight.

    Remus punched into his palm, didn¡¯t even look at the rest of the brooding people in the room, and let the unveiling doorway shower him with light. He breathed in deep, feeling the vexed looks pierce his back, feeling the sun¡¯s rays caress his body, and the way the morning wind rustled his hair.

    He was itching to fight, and wasn¡¯t disappointed. Remus hardly had time for some last minute stretching before his opponent arrived.

    Not too intimidating, from the first look. Pink cloth adorned a man¡¯s body, a mail coif sliding down to the back of their nape. What really caught Remus¡¯ interest, however, were the other articles with which the man equipped himself. A score of trinkets jangled across his body. Metal gadgets, too obscure for Remus to identify individually, but he could put a name to their whole.

    Instruments.

    The Music Clan? Remus felt his confidence drop a little. He wasn¡¯t familiar with the clan, despite them heralding from First Rite. The most he saw was a performer or two at an inn, acting the part of a bard and singing their hearts out.

    He spent too many seconds trying to work out why exactly one of them would be here. Like with the Mark of the Carpentry god, Arcus, the Music Clan was far from combat-oriented. Remus eyed the jingling of musical instruments, dark suspicion arising.

    ¡°In the right corner . . .¡± an announcer called, overly cheerful to a sickening degree. Like ripe fruit. ¡°Remus. A man of dubious origin I¡¯m sure not many of us are blindsighted to. Originating from the Carpentry Sect, but with the adopted power of Ambition deity Arcus blazing through him!¡±

    Oh, they don¡¯t know how literal that is.

    ¡°His first fight stirred up a storm! But how will he fare in his second bout? Is he just running on beginner¡¯s luck, or will he continue his streak of victory? Well, a worthy challenger approaches-!¡±

    The crowd jumped up in their seats. That many people gathered here, none of them looking like they were holding out hopes for the front lines, told Remus all he needed to know about the nature of this set-up. This was a business at heart ¡ª an underground fight club that promised would-be fighters the chance of sneaking into the front lines. All they had to do was stick it out for a few matches, probably landing on a fighter every once in a while who found a liking to the limelight.

    Anything Makalo had told him was purely a lie.

    Remus supposed being gladiator wouldn¡¯t be the worst job in all of Descent, though he didn¡¯t fancy fighting for no other purpose than providing entertainment, and shallow pay.

    The announcer tore apart his reverie. "Nishad, hailing from First Rite and the Music Clan, is a man who shocks and dazzles! The logistics of how one of his clan fights, however frivolous a question, may be a topic that befuddles you, dear viewers. Especially if you have never seen this show-stopping youth in action before. But I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that no such doubts can possibly be harboured, once you see the punch he packs! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the spectacle of the evening . . .¡± the rising sound of a drumroll rushed through the air. ¡°Remus. Versus. Nishad!¡±

    The trembling song of a cymbal announced the start of the fight. Remus didn¡¯t wait around.

    He flew into the air, looked down at his opponent, and watched. Maybe a boring move, true, but Remus was a pragmatic man. He had no idea what Nishad was capable of.

    Slowly, not showing the least bit of emotion on his stubbled face, Nishad groped a set of wind pipes. He blew into them with startling speed.

    Almost more startling than the invisible wall that slammed into Remus. The winds knifed him, turgid and unrelenting in their advance. Remus crashed into the sand pit below, a dust cloud shooting to suffuse the atmosphere. Flames whirled out of a wild flourish of the arm, clearing the air, and Remus gritted his teeth against the pressure.

    It was nothing worse than what the Silver Cavities could provide. He told himself that over and over, and the crushing force seemed to subside.

    Remus saw Nishad move towards another one of his toys. This time, he wasn¡¯t so slow to act.

    Flaming Gold burnt to life, and he flashed by the Music Clansman. Remus made to jab. Nishad grasped a strange iron pole. Both actions seemed to encapsulate the universe for all of one moment. One moment that taunted Remus¡¯ fickle attempt.

    Iron exploded, slamming into Remus'' chest and taking his breath with it. His movement to Thick Skin had been a tad too late. A nanosecond quicker, and he might have made it.

    His back was pressed into the arena wall, sick erupting from his mouth. He looked down to an iron beam pressing against him. One that was impossibly long, and one that had most certainly not been there a moment prior.

    Sickness and pain slackened his thoughts. Did they have some kind of speed-focused Vault? Either that, or Remus had acquired a sloth¡¯s urgency overnight.

    His hands turned boiling hot, and Remus melted his escape from the beam. The seething liquid bubbled in the sand, but Remus paid it no mind.

    There was no time to think. Deliberation would lead to hesitation and distraction. Two recipes for disaster; poisons that would only impede him. Action took priority.

    Flaming Gold still roared through him, like the blood of a dragon. Upturned hands behind blasted him ahead, a streak of flame trailing at his feet like the tail of a comet.

    The lashings of wind redoubled, pillars of iron flying his way. He flew between them all, but lightning-quick motions still allowed Nishad to draw his next tool of destruction.

    Birds flocked down in Remus'' path, appearing ahead of him as if pulled from the skies. He screamed, a volley of fireballs sizzling them all down to their feathers. Obsidian formed across his flesh, like a second skin, far surpassing the range of his obsidian fists. He made the layer as thin as possible. Any more, and he was at risk of overburdening himself and dropping like a stone.

    He was feet away from Nishad. He saw the terror stir in the man¡¯s face; thrived off it. Another blast of iron jabbed towards him. Remus hardened his obsidian fist, plasma quaking out of the gauntlet. The iron imploded, hitting the side wall. Remus had nothing to stop him. Nishad was his.

    At the last second, he implemented Eruptive Will into his fist. With nothing but anger alight in mind, he punched.

    Thin air, that is.

    The air exploded at the end of his jab, grains below rearranged. He rolled as he descended, somehow landing on his feet. Remus snarled, head flickering to a man on the other end of the arena.

    Nishad held aloft a new instrument, and it was obvious even from here that he was sweating bullets. Blood dripped down his brow, from where Remus'' blow had just barely grazed him.

    Remus saw all this in one split moment, still high on the momentum of landing. He used it to swivel into another flight, clutching on the chains that had thus laid in wait, encircling his torso.

    He drew them in mid-air, whipping them into either side. They dug into the arena walls, and Remus used his makeshift swing to accelerate. One tug was all it took to push them free again, dislodging brick in the process. Sending him shooting off like a catapult.

    As he barreled into Nishad, the Music Clansman had no time to react. This time, Remus winded him. In the same motion, he grasped the man¡¯s neck, holding on like the clansman was his last lifeline. There were no words exchanged. Remus simply waved his free hand across the man¡¯s tunic, turning the rosy shade a tar black, and setting a row of the instruments aflame.

    Nishad struggled, spinning in circles and wrestling for something. His fingers finally landed on one instrument, and he tugged a string.

    A great tempest hit Remus like a smack in the face. His hand slipped from Nishad¡¯s throat, and in a split-second stretch, he reached for the man¡¯s tunic. He was this close to destroying the rest of his arsenal, if he could just-

    Two more tugs of the string sent Remus hurtled back again, the cloth in his hands torn off with an audible rip.

    His chains struck the ground, anchoring him from being blown away like a leaf on the wind. But their hold in the sand was unreliable at best, and Nishad was already gone. Remus screamed inward and outwardly, considering how unlucky he must be to not destroy the one teleporting instrument on his enemy¡¯s person.

    A flaming storm blasted out of him, consuming a third of the arena in a second. He watched it expand from a dot in his palm to the enormous sphere, knowing full well it could be a waste of resources. He maintained it anyway, eyes landing on the fleeing clansman immediately.

    Their hands scrambled from instrument to instrument. Lashes of water turned to steam against Remus, sacrificial birds charging forward with the dull hope of reaching him. None of them did. The ground at his feet trembled, but he avoided any major protrusions jutting out of the shaken ground. Remus watched as other flimsy, one-trick attacks all failed to penetrate his walking sun.

    The fatigue crept up his body, sapping his might like greedy, infestive bugs invisible to the naked eye. He ignored it all the while, deadset on enclosing Nishads position.

    It wasn¡¯t like he planned on taking his time anyway.

    ¡°Surrender.¡± The voice resonated past the boundaries of his dome. It was the same last second chance he gave to all of his opponents who deserved, morally, at least that last escape. He solemnly hoped Nishad wouldn¡¯t take it.

    The man didn''t say a word, and Remus pounced. The chains flew out of his hold, encircling their waist. They were boiling from his fires, and Remus let them burn against Nishad, and all of his wretched instruments. He wasn¡¯t so cruel as to set the man on fire, but it was damn tempting.

    When Remus was happy that all of the tools were successfully charred, and the man¡¯s shrieks of agony upset his stomach too much, he instructed again: ¡°Surrender.¡±

    Then Nishad looked all around. From piercing Remus with wide eyes and a mouth ever-so slightly agape, to the raucous crowd. He even spared the announcer a trembling lip.

    ¡° . . . and the Music Clan exile has been put in quite the predicament! Will he accept Remus¡¯ mercy, or charge on to the bitter end?¡±

    Remus frowned. Exile?

    He looked down at Nishad with something approaching pity. He let his chains slacken ever so slightly. So they would still keep the man enclosed, but wouldn''t hurt him quite so badly.

    Besides, he had long since ceased his dome from hell ¡ª he could afford to stretch out his energy and Infinity a little longer.

    ¡°What does he mean exile?¡±

    Pure hatred was in his opponent¡¯s face, and he didn¡¯t hold it against him. ¡°My clan-¡± He spat on the floor. Remus didn¡¯t fail to notice there was blood in the mix. ¡°They think my use of their powers to be a monstrosity.¡±

    Ah. Now things made sense. Remus could see where the clan was coming from, with their legacy of pacifist assistance and general good intentions. But he knew better than anyone how much good a subversion of a non-combative Mark like this could do. Their profits had the potential to double, if not triple if they took the time to put down the pitchforks, and listen to what their kin had in mind.

    ¡°It''s all that damn Damosh¡¯s fault.¡± He shot Remus a last venomous look. The kind that seemed to touch his soul. ¡°And now I might not get into the front lines because of a bastard like you!¡±

    Then he screamed.

    Really screamed. The chains slipped out of Remus'' hands, both of them preoccupied with blocking his ears. The sound persisted anyway, an unreal pain blazing through his head, as a shrieking Nishad ran. Remus crumpled to his knees, his body afflicted with a tremble he just couldn¡¯t shake off. He saw the ruined tunic the man wore, charred jet now, and the grisly burns Remus had dealt to his body.

    There came a cataclysmic pop. Remus felt the Ichor ooze out of his ears, a prolonged ringing sound grasping all of his senses in a chokehold, demanding the attention. It was hard to look at the brightside here, but at least he couldn¡¯t hear those shrieks any longer.

    There wasn¡¯t much else good. Remus could feel the alertness being beaten out of him, consciousness slipping away faster than Nishad¡¯s cloth had.

    He was going to lose the fight at this rate. He was sure the commentator was yelping about precisely that, yet even the ringing had ceased. If this much damage had been dealt to Remus, he dreaded to think of if anyone in the crowd had suffered similar injuries.

    He screamed into the soundless void, exchanged a look with Nishad, and prepared to do something very brave, and very stupid.

    Or at least the latter.

    Eruptive Will surged in the soles of his feet, every other ability put to the wayside, paving the way for his last spectacle of the morning.

    His body shot forward. Remus was a surge through the silent world, pure energy incarnate.

    It was the fastest he¡¯d ever moved, the living, unstoppable embodiment of lightning in a bottle. This time, Nishad would have no mercy.

    His punch collided with their jaw. He imagined a great snapping, the noise of the universe being torn apart, and he would be the man to do it.

    Nishad would have been knocked unconscious by the initial contact, he was sure. The wall the man subsequently smashed into couldn¡¯t have helped, however.

    Remus shambled back towards the waiting room, only vaguely noting he¡¯d accidentally entered Nishad¡¯s entrance. The ringing in his ears returned, which he hoped was a good sign. He didn¡¯t worry too much though, as he took the first free spot amid a room of concerned strangers.

    Emblazed healing . . . will make short work . . . of . . .

    He allowed himself to fall asleep right then and there. Tripling the apprehensions of every upcoming fighter quite sufficiently.

 70. Blue on Blue

    ¡°So.¡± Violet addressed the gathered audience before her. ¡°How exactly do you manipulate Infinity?¡±

    Two dozen chained Unbounded all hissed in their confines.

    Tough crowd. She thought, eying up every one of her prisoners. It sometimes marvelled even her how varying the servants of Infinity could be.

    Some of them, as was the most common type, were vaguely reminiscent of certain animals. A discoloured toad, tongue longer than the chains that confined them, looked dumbly with large, googly eyes. That was probably the weakest of the bunch here, their vocabulary encompassing all of one word.

    ¡°Food.¡± It muttered for the fifty-third time. Violet had been keeping count.

    ¡°I know buddy.¡± Violet sighed sympathetically. ¡°I¡¯m hungry too. But we¡¯ve gotta hold out a little longer. In the meantime¡ª¡± she turned to face a horse with three heads, the same number of eyeballs implanted solely on the central face ¡°¡ªhow do you guys manipulate Infinity?¡±

    This was her twentieth time repeating the question, and she wasn¡¯t making any progress. The horse-like Unbounded was eerie beyond compare, skin covering the adjacent two faces without so much as an indent.

    ¡°Blood thirst! Thirst for Blood. Ichor!¡± It said the last word like it was some grand revelation.

    A vaguely humanoid bulk of slime was next. ¡°Infinity friend! Infinity friend cruel! Freedom chains! Freedom from chains!

    That amount of words was troubling. Mid-to-high Splintered Rank at least.

    Amassing this party had been about as fun as watching paint dry. Once Remus had recovered, he had helped Violet beat each of these Unbounded into submission one by one. She would plunge deep into the Silver Cavities herself, send off great blasts of Infinity like she had a death wish, and wait for the magic to happen.

    All for her own research, her own examination of Unbounded, and how they interacted with Infinity. Perhaps this was the insight she needed. The thing to accelerate her progress in becoming adept in making use of her own abundant Infinity.

    Of course, Veida¡¯s journals included virtually every intricacy of Unbounded she could possibly think of. From their sleeping habits, what environments were most ideal for them to form in, and a myriad of other rather pointless details. And, yes, how they manipulated Infinity. But Violet wanted answers from the source.

    She repeated the enquiry, this time to an Unbounded of gory crimson. Like a human body inside-out, in some perverse inversion.

    So far, she could divine nothing other than a plea for safety from the amassed Unbounded. It was getting increasingly frustrating, and Violet had been rather patient interviewing them one-by-one for the last hour.

    ¡°You . . .¡± a River-King breed croaked, the same variety Brison had killed in his run-through of the Earnest Trials. ¡°You like us.¡±

    Violet did her best not to look exasperated when she turned to the being. The image of a human-like, overgrown anglerfish speaking to her didn¡¯t help matters.

    ¡°Yes, I know, but how do you . . .¡± she trailed off.

    Violet slapped herself, which caused several Unbounded to look at her peculiarly. How had she not seen it before? The answer to all her woes lay deep inside her, the most obvious conclusion so apparent she had been blind to it.

    Slowly, in a great transformation, she sported her Unbounded form. Pearly white skin overlaid hers, her nails replaced by throat-slitting talons. She bore into the eyes of the River King yet again, speaking this time through foreign lips. ¡°Yes. Yes I am.¡±

    Memories stirred in Violet¡¯s mind. She recalled understanding the Unbounded tongue for brief moments. Tiny seconds of expanded awareness spinning out through her mind like an unveiling nexus. Like remembering a language she had forgotten.

    She tried to tap into that now. Unbounded were able to speak their own tongue, virtually fluently, as early as Foot-Soldier . If she could step over that language barrier, the possibilities . . .

    Remus spoke without thinking. That seemed to be the trick to it. Using her active mind, where the human tongue was hardwired into her brain, would cause nothing but those words to flow out of her. She abandoned her human counterpart for now, the monstrous side dominating for just this moment. This brief stretch of time where it was most needed.

    A string of sounds, sounds she didn¡¯t know how her tongue produced, exited her mouth like a series of scratches. The noise lingered on her vocal cords strangely, longer than normal words would, like her throat was savouring the foreignness of it.

    The Unbounded stirred at this, interest piqued, and Violet did her best not to let it distract her.

    ¡°How do you manipulate Infinity?¡± She asked them, her voice that of the Unbounded¡¯s now.

    They all flickered heads to one another, tugged against their chains, and all together caused a ruckus. Finally, the unsightly one, looking like a murder scene with all the gore, focused their gaze on her.

    ¡°Watch me.¡± Their own responding scratches hit Violet''s ears, and she did everything in her power not to think; not to focus too much on anything at all. Their means of communication really was quite strange. ¡°Observe how my Infinity passes through the body. But you¡¯ll let me free, correct? Friend Unbounded will let me free? If you watch?¡±

    Violet nodded. If she would have allowed thoughts to pass through her mind at that moment, she may have considered how grievous a lie that was. How disgustingly false. She wouldn¡¯t let any of these fiends free once they were within her reach. Not that she was reflecting on anything along those lines, right at that moment.

    All her attention was on the motion of Infinity, circulating through the Unbounded¡¯s strange, strange body. The vets in the Vitality Sect never had as much bother dealing with all the animals of the world. Trying to understand the anatomy of every Unbounded that roamed the earth was a hapless task.

    But, thank the heavens, Violet only had to try and understand one. A slightly more challenging task was seeing how it related to her own biology ¡ª her own relatively human body.

    At first, the inverted creature merely reinforced a part of their body. A rather pointless show, for this was the simplest action anyone could do with Infinity. They didn¡¯t seem to do anything that Violet herself wouldn¡¯t do when channelling.

    ¡°Something else,¡± she said, eliminating thought for all the time it took. ¡°Or no freedom.¡±

    Again, with vague desperation this time, the Unbounded began forging Supreme Steel. This at first irritated her too, but Violet took a few tiny tips to improve her own making of the impenetrable resource.

    ¡°Again. Something else.¡±

    This time, with the threat of never seeing sunshine hit their back ¡ª flesh? ¡ª again, they came up with one last desperate manoeuvre. At first, Violet had no clue idea what they were doing. The Infinity was moving out of their body again, but not to create Supreme Steel, or so much as a Projection.

    Instead, Violet realised, they were releasing their Infinity in a faintly detectable gas. This entire inspection process had been alarmingly difficult due to the other mountain of Infinity; that which suffused the cavern because of the entourage of twisted beings she had gathered. Plus, the mere presence of the Silver Cavities didn¡¯t help.

    Even so, she tried to focus on the gas as best she could. What were they doing? What was it she was failing to grasp?

    The creature continued to spread the mist, though there was a method behind the madness. She just knew it. The subtle dust trailed across the floor, reached her, and Violet suddenly felt . . . Watched. In a way that spread further, was more personal, than simply staring someone in the eye. This, instead, felt rather intrusive.

    ¡°Keep doing that until I say so.¡±

    She focused on what the Unbounded was doing, that pushing out of Infinity, and copied it. Almost at once, she discovered the key difference from creating Supreme Steel. When doing that, you pushed the Infinity out of your body at one centralised point. Rather, this time she let it emanate from the entire surface of her skin.

    The gas emerged from her, and she felt her senses be overwhelmed. The faint, natural cool of the cavern, the heat of the hoarded Unbounded, the crystal clear pattern of every pebble her mist trailed across. It was like waking up from a coma, or opening some sort of hidden sixth, seventh, or even eighth sense.

    Now Violet understood. If she mastered this strain of Infinity usage, it would give her unbelievable awareness in battle. No enemies would be able to sneak up on her; no projectiles could fly their trajectory towards Violet without her prior knowledge. She would be able to understand what her allies were doing in team fights, giving her a foresight and capacity to move in an optimised chemistry.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Violet uttered to the creature, raising a hand. It occurred to her that probably wasn¡¯t a very popular word in the Unbounded vocabulary. It came out of her like a pathetic scraw, like a dying bird who couldn¡¯t make much noise. For a species that devoted themself to be holy saviours, they didn¡¯t encourage their manners much.

    ¡°Freedom?¡± The walking corpse asked, a freakish rictus spreading across their meaty cheeks. Fibres of muscle stretched with their every movement, trickles of blood, for once actually red, trailing down. It was like they were designed to be as horrifying as possible.

    In the end, a sense of guilt made the food in Violet¡¯s stomach squirm. She couldn¡¯t bear to deny her promise to this creature, however pitiful they were.

    So she would hold up her side of the deal. Give the freedom they wanted: but a different kind of freedom.

    Violet put a hand out, and the Unbounded immediately screeched in protest. Even before Violet forced it to morph into her, it knew what she was doing.

    As the power coursed through her, satisfaction unlike anything else in the human experience sent shivers through her skin.

    A minute passed, and Violet turned to face the other Unbounded. ¡°So. Who''s next?¡±

    None of them looked eager.

    <hr>

    The girl in the mantle sat patiently in the waiting room. The leather cloak, two times her size, draped her from head to toe. It was almost comical, like they had emptied the first potato sack on some faraway farm, and had made a run for it. Nevertheless, it did its purpose of veiling her quite successfully, be it overkill or not. Besides, if stooping so low as stealing ever did become necessary, it was a petty price to pay. It wasn¡¯t like robbing a little thread would stir national outcry amongst the farmhands scattered across Descent. All that aside, there were no ends she wouldn''t endure to enact her revenge.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    A few sneers from the other contestants didn¡¯t go over her head. Neither did she let it get to her, however. They would see, soon enough.

    The minutes trickled by, like an icicle melting in the wake of a roaring flame. Only, when it came to time, it never was that fast. She was left waiting, incompetent fighter after incompetent fighter all throwing their hat in the ring.

    Even with the little attention she paid to the others, it was shockingly easy to tell who had won. The victorious would saunter on in with high shoulders, a vicious grin, and a smug air that was almost suffocating.

    As for the losers . . . they either held the worst posture she had ever seen, with drooping heads, or were doing their absolute best to act casual. To the extent she could register their loss with a glance.

    Inwardly, she preoccupied herself by observing her Vault. As a Foot-Soldier, the woman had no need to be here at all. At least not for the usual reasons. She could join the front lines any time, if she wished, and would have been obligated to if not for her current job as a guard. The prospect of earning a profit as a gladiator didn¡¯t particularly interest her either. The individual bouts may have paid well, but if she were ever so inclined as to pick either pit-fighter or soldier, and drop their current, much higher paying occupation, the steady, reliable contract of working on the front lines would be much more lucrative in the long run.

    Her mind was doing nothing but rambling now, and she knew it full well. Like a heavenly messenger intervening for her sake, a man finally called out her name to fight.

    Many men were startled by her female name. The women, a tad fewer in number, glanced at her disguise, and struck by the comfort of that faintest relation, gave her a few supportive gestures.

    She returned them a desultory wave. Then, her heart practically aflame with passion, the woman stepped through.

    This was going to be her first fight here, and, despite what she had promised the organisers of this fight club, her last. All it took were a few lies, a weaved dream of having desired nothing more than to fight in the pits since being a little girl, and voila, instant entry.

    A little nagging and careful timing, had told her exactly when he would be fighting: her target. Well, there was also beating up that poor, defenceless fighter she had spotted bumbling out of an inn after a string of losses. But all in all, the process had been rather simple. It seemed he was beginning to make a name for himself.

    The wind stirred through her hair, locks whooshing with each advancing stride. At last, a cloudy sky set above her, she threw off her cloak.

    It seemed to pause in the air for a second, the hubbub of an excitable crowd, and the roaring voice of a charismatic announcer all exaggerated. So was the grimace of the man awaiting her on the other side.

    Remus shuffled backwards, his back hitting the wall as the woman beamed.

    This was it. Her fellow clansmen had all been too slow to take up their leader¡¯s offer, and she would be the one to do it. It was like killing two birds with one stone. Resolving her vendetta, and securing her future.

    When her cloak¡¯s shadow left, finally putting her fully in view, the cheers turned to gasps of horror.

    Lumi¡¯s left arm was fully charred off. Burnt away, down to very nerves after Remus had sunk the Frost Clan¡¯s primary glacier back into the sea, from whence it came.

    In the same fashion, she would stamp out the embers of his Ambition. They would trade ash for ash.

    <hr>

    Remus halted.

    No . . . no. It was all his mind could repeat, as a layer of rime streaked across the entirety of the arena. A layer of flames formed beneath the soles of his shoes. In a defiant walk, he advanced towards her, throat constricting, and footprints forming in his wake.

    All he could look at was her destroyed limb. All he could reflect upon was that it was him who had done it. Remus hadn¡¯t known he was capable of such permanent damage, especially to someone an entire Rank above him. Maybe theoretically, but what he considered able to do in his mind was always faintly separated from reality. There was a tangible barrier there.

    That vacant space where Lumi¡¯s elbow ended was more than enough to fracture that delusion.

    Somehow, that wasn¡¯t nearly the worst part. The worst part was that Lumi being here, a revenge-hungry, goal-driven ghost from his past, could potentially screw up everything.

    Nishad had posed enough of a challenge for Remus as it was, and he had only been Emblazed. What were his chances against a Foot-Soldier, who had legitimate reason to despise his guts?

    He didn¡¯t want to know ¡ª didn¡¯t want to be here for that matter. Gods above, who had he done that to her?

    Remus had never intended to hurt anyone, he was just carrying out Maris¡¯ orders. He stiffened, each step like pushing through pure basalt. He hated-

    A line of crystal lances flew towards him. Remus casted his sphere of flame he had used against Nishad, hoping to put a quick end to this bout before the guilt made him vomit. They struck his flames, persisted longer than he was comfortable with, before finally dissolving to their water.

    ¡°If it means anything, I¡¯m sorry.¡± It sounded lame on his lips, but Remus truly was remorseful.

    Lumi didn¡¯t reply, now adorned in a layer of icy armour that adapted itself to her every movement. Flying icicles and other projectiles all fired into Remus¡¯ blazing protection, but all it took was a little Infinity to ensure they all faced the same fate as their predecessors.

    He drew chains in both hands, preparing for the worst. If possible, he wanted to end this without either of them irreversibly injured.

    If only she had been Splintered Rank, or Warlord when I maimed her. Then she would have been able to heal. That thought was moronic, of course. He knew so half-way through thinking about it. If Lumi had been either of those upper Ranks, Remus never would have been able to deal such a grievous wound. Not in his wildest dreams. At the time, Remus had been nearing peak Enkindled, barely a step up the ladder of the Divine Ranks. But still, an Enkindled being capable of inflicting so much damage was both awe-inspiring, and made Remus¡¯ insides churn.

    This wasn¡¯t why he had sought after power in the first place.

    He couldn¡¯t will himself to fight back offensively. The desire to swiftly subdue Lumi in a great fire had all but expired within Remus. He simply defended himself, as Lumi weaved the arena to fit her image.

    Everything was being covered with rime faster than he could fathom. Only now did Remus notice the semi-invisible barrier between him and the rows of onlookers. Likely an invention of the Matter Clan. Even those barely distinguishable walls acquired the frosty layer. Consequently, he was forced to fly up above, as the ground extended upwards. The ice was rising, killer-cold with visible steam arising off them.

    He poured as much Infinity and Ambition as he dared into his flaming oval. It was going against the natural course of his Bank, which had reached a third of its completion after endless hours labouring away in the Silver Cavities.

    The hairs on his nape stuck up as Lumi came on the offensive, her armour so highly concentrated, she had no qualms with rushing into his fiery abode. One Remus had hesitated even to make.

    Just as everywhere else, steam arose off her entire body. Yet the armour, in the little he could see of it through the mist, was repairing itself faster than damage could be dealt.

    Remus sidestepped their every blow, which was relatively easy here. He could manipulate which parts of the fire his Ambition was most strongly concentrated in. Which was kind of the equivalent of pressurising wherever she moved, slowing Lumi down.

    When she did manage a hit on Remus, it was so sudden, he¡¯d hardly processed what happened. His fires were dragged down with him, as his Mark currently served as its central axis. Falling, accelerated by a brutal kick, he didn¡¯t have time to change that.

    His chains flew upwards, like a desperate arm reaching for a cliff-edge. It found no hold.

    So he hit the ice, a crack splintering the slab-like glacier below. His flames acted quickly, and Remus got the distinct impression Lumi was letting the load around him melt easily.

    Water immersed Remus. For a split-second, the piercing cool paralysed him. He saw Lumi up ahead, her visage of pure hatred painted upon his very soul, as he realised the fluid was already re-solidifying. He commanded the flames above to blast down, now separated from him so as not to fall victim to the overwhelming cool.. It wormed through the frost, turquoise-on-turquoise, digging down like worms, intent on their master¡¯s escape.

    Within seconds, and another dangerous waste of his already low Infinity stores, his freedom was near guaranteed. Remus slipped his freed fingers around his chains, and yanked as hard as he could. It barely moved more than an inch. Again and again, he tried to tug his weapon free, and again and again, he failed miserably. Lumi clearly did not want him to have it. The ice anchoring it would not relent.

    Time was running out, so in a split-second decision, Remus prioritised himself. I promise to come back for you, he vowed, in a tone that was a little too romantic for an inanimate object.

    He flew up, high in the air, brushing dissolving ice off one shoulder; finally free from the frosty depths. Now he was starting to get annoyed. No doubt empathetic, but annoyed.

    If Lumi lost this, she would have countless other opportunities to behead him later. Remus only had this one shot to enter the front lines in a timely fashion, and as much as he hated to admit it, Andreas could die in however long another string of bouts would take. That wasn''t a risk he could afford.

    So he dived at Lumi. Her eyebrows rose at his sudden change of demeanour, before becoming furrowed again. A second before he crashed into her.

    They skidded across the ice, Flaming Gold dragging Remus forward. He planted Eruptive Will into both palms, and thrusted. Lumi was shoved back, the icewall behind her becoming a pair of open palms. It was a clumsy last line of defence. Especially clumsy considering they were fully solid. She quickly surged her energies to soften the landing.

    The catching hands didn¡¯t dissolve quickly enough to avoid all damage, however, as a nasty nosebleed leaked Ichor down Lumi¡¯s face.

    Remus flew up to her, avoided a sweeping kick, and felt his midsection grasped. By a hand that was definitely too big to be human. Twisting against the arm so cold, it burnt worse than fire, Remus set eyes with a golem, an icy construct intent on capturing him. Lumi must have created it in advance, while he was distracted. Ready to throttle him at a moment¡¯s notice.

    It hurtled Remus into another of the golems not two metres away. This one caught him too, yet pain spiked through Remus, as if he had cannoned into pure concrete.

    The two took turns passing him between them. Ambition stifled the pain like so much adrenaline, though Remus always forced himself to endure a tinge of the real toll. Otherwise, he would never be able to tell how much real damage was being dealt to him. Agony had its uses.

    And at this moment, it was more than he was willing to put into words.

    Plasma blasted out of him, annihilating both of Lumi¡¯s constructs in the blink of an eye. He flew up, reached the top of the arena, and did his best to compose himself. Looking down at his body, the damage was worse than he¡¯d thought. Ichor stained his clothes in a sticky layer, and the legs of his trousers were torn. It had gotten to the point he may as well have relabeled them shorts.

    Lumi was nowhere to be seen. The entire arena was filled with mist, the consequence of two maniacs tossing fire and ice at each other non-stop. It was a world of unknowns, and with this much Ichor leaking out of him, Remus didn¡¯t have time for guessing games.

    Where is she? He thought with a huff, blasting streaks of flame like searchlights. He was like a lighthouse beaming off, but instead of guiding castaway boats, he was trying to guide himself through this suffocating hell.

    A shard of ice missed his head by a foot.

    Remus took a breath, sending as many additional fireballs drifting off as he dared into the cloud. He heard nothing in return. It was oddly silent. As if his ears hadn¡¯t fully recovered, or the crowds had simply vanished.

    This swarm of grey was his purgatory. Lumi would be likely to succeed with one of her shots any second now, the flames he needed to stay airborne sticking out like sore thumbs. Remus scurried out of the path of another ice chunk, realising his indefatigable energy wouldn¡¯t last forever.

    His damn heart wouldn¡¯t stop hammering. Remus was going to fall into cardiac arrest at this rate.

    Two more ice blocks. He evaded the first, and was too slow to dodge its successor. So Remus was forced to release another breath of fire. The whole mass was fractured, half of it instantly vaporising. The rest, like some god had sent a streak of energy to destroy an asteroid, scattered into smaller pieces.

    One hit Remus'' elbow, and quite frankly, he squealed like a child.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got you!¡± He sensed a presence rush towards him.

    Lumi appeared out of nowhere. Remus immediately attempted to flee, flew up higher, and banged his head against the rafters of the arena.

    Wait a second, I don¡¯t remember any ceiling-

    A creation of the Matter Clan, no doubt. That same transparent material, even less visible than glass, probably placed here to prevent flying clansmen like him from leaving the grounds like a migrating bird.

    Well just great. Lovely.

    He turned around, rubbed the top of his head, and tried not to look completely stupid.

    Lumi, fully armoured, with enough artillery to serve an army, looked the full part of a blood-thirsty revenger, her own lifeforce staining her cheek.

    ¡°You want to escape, do you?¡±

    ¡°Well yes.¡± Remus croaked, not failing to notice how shaky his hands were becoming. Sooner or later, he¡¯d fall. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you could arrange me one.¡±

    Remus felt the winds around grow more chaotic. He¡¯d passed it off as the energy they¡¯d been dealing throughout the bout, but he was beginning to suspect something else.

    Someone was coming. Someone far surpassing the power you¡¯d expect to find at a dingy settlement like this. And Remus couldn¡¯t shake the feeling they were coming after him.

    Lumi¡¯s rictus was flat-out disturbing. ¡°Don''t worry. We have an escort arranged just for you!¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t hold out hope that anything good could come out of this.

 71. Frost World

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t make for a good prisoner.¡± Remus pleaded. ¡°Trust me, no-one¡¯s been able to keep me locked inside a cell for any longer than a few days. So how about we skip over all that malarkey, and get to the part where I miraculously escape?¡±

    There was one piece of good news, despite the berserk Frost Clanswoman ahead, despite his energy and Infinity supplies that wouldn¡¯t last for another minute, and despite his litany of open cuts. It was the fact that the God-Graced Tushar, while he could sense his energy, wasn¡¯t coming to Remus.

    He was bringing Remus to him.

    ¡°How does defeat taste?¡± Lumi grasped his attention, enveloped in a bundle of clouds that were disguising this ordeal just nicely.

    Unless they had a Mark with amplified sight or something, no-one in the crowds would be able to see what was happening inside. Which meant the Frost Clan could kidnap him without a hitch.

    ¡°Like piss.¡± Remus scowled. He took another look at Lumi¡¯s arsenal. Two dozen lances, at least a hundred arrows, a group of swords that were passing the time by duelling each other, and enough projectiles to cover the world over. If he did so much as move an inch, they would all come crashing towards him.

    Suffice to say, moving wasn¡¯t an option. Not if he liked his head on his neck, that was.

    Encompassing them both, like millions of tiny spiders were weaving a net around them string by string, an orb was visibly forming around him and Lumi.

    And Remus could do nothing to stop it. Slowly, with exaggerated slowness, like a great illness were ailing him, he took in the scene. A mix of chagrin, reined-in ire, and everything else explosive within him threatened to boil over.

    Teaming up with Maris and angering the Frost Clan had all been to escape Nova. Who he had originally angered on a pathway to get away from Damosh. Who Remus had only upset in the first place because Edmar was crushing their sect with that very same King¡¯s taxes.

    All he could do was run, from bigger fish to bigger fish. But they weren¡¯t progressively getting tougher, Remus¡¯ enemies were just gradually increasing in number. He¡¯d been picking fights he couldn¡¯t handle from the start.

    Now it looked like it was time to start paying the consequences.

    The orb was fully formed, finally cracking around them. Remus had one second to register the water flooding towards him.

    He was fully immersed within a second. With no way to fight back, no chance, he deactivated his Mark, let his Bank rest, and focused everything on recovery. He let the water carry his body to a slab of ice in the sea, a vibrant blue, and didn¡¯t resist as the chains of the same material encircled his wrists.

    He couldn¡¯t breathe. He held his breath, settling his eyes on the image of Lumi¡¯s distorted face through the liquid. The same repeating sound coursed through the ocean a few times, muffled and unintelligible.

    ¡°Remus . . .¡± he thought he made out, tensions rising. ¡°Remus, I¡¯m here.¡±

    Her voice sprang into clarity, and so did his vision. He inhaled a smidge, expecting to be able to breathe, and almost drowned. Summoned fire freed the fluid from his nostrils in one scary instant.

    ¡°Oh Remus, you didn¡¯t think I would let you breathe, did you?¡± Remus could have understood the motives of revenge, yet this woman was straight-up sadistic. ¡°I¡¯m just adding clarity to your final moments. Water control is difficult for us of the Frost Clan ¡ª I¡¯m sure your master Maris had no issues ¡ª though I thought I should spare the effort to let you see this.¡±

    Remus frowned, more than he already was from the threat of a slow, agonising death. Drowning could not have been a pleasant way to go. What exaggerated his glower, however, was that he identified exactly where they were ¡ª as well as the pieces of detritus floating around.

    They were at the sunk glacier.

    ¡°Just where you took from me,¡± Lumi indicated her charred stub in place of an arm, ¡°I¡¯ll take from you.¡±

    She leaned forwards, so as to be only an inch away from Remus. ¡°Everything.¡±

    Then she simply watched. Her arsenal still sat there, waiting for their master¡¯s command, the slightest nudge of the mind, but she never gave it. Remus realised, after perhaps a minute of holding his breath, that she was going to let him die the natural way. To sleep with the fishes.

    He looked around, movements Lumi probably wrote off as the last lunacies of a dying man. Tushar, or any one else for that matter, were nowhere to be seen.

    So he bit the bullet. He activated his Mark, every drop of Infinity in his system poured into one last exertion. Every morsel of energy, both Mark-based and physical, all of that rampant Ambition accelerated by the reaper¡¯s scythe that was hanging over him.

    Remus saw it now. Like one last horrid apparition to haunt him. Reality¡¯s sick joke of a send-off; a farewell card. But Remus would scrunch it up, shove the contents into his mouth, and chew on it like a lunatic. All while staring at the ancient eye of the cosmos, all whilst rebelling against every speck of logic that kept the universe whole.

    Flames burst out of him. Sickening white in places, a multicoloured jumble in others. He let the temperature rise, his chains instantly sublimating ¡ª it was so quick he didn¡¯t even see it dissolve into water first.

    Fiercer fires broke out, engrossing the first in their shroud. They were stoked by the risk of death, by the absence of oxygen in his bloodstream. Yet in its place, Flaming Gold took on a rejuvenating quality, egging his every action on. Each stride of his energy seemed to Remus like a great flourish, a fabulous mockery of reason suffused by raw, intoxicating emotion.

    He soon realised he was evaporating the water faster than new liquid could take its place. All around, with igneous stone hurtling through his vortex, a sphere where no liquid could enter sustained itself with his energy; his unmasked power.

    Remus carried that eruption like a heavy load on his back. Up and up he rose, Lumi¡¯s screams masked by the crackling of his nightmare world. Of his new technique, his screaming mind found the sense to name: Eruptive Gold.

    They broke the surface, and never before had Remus inhaled quite so vigorously. His energy was tapped. The physical, divine, and mental. All he had to his name were a set of ruined clothes, and the tiniest drabs of power needed to control that of which he had already unleashed.

    But he needed to get back.

    He opened his spiritual senses, the kind of thing Koa always had the knack for but never him. Remus focused on Tushar¡¯s power, sensed the movement within it, represented by energetic swirls of motion.

    It was a far cry from Maris¡¯ power of mobility, which allowed her to move anywhere she damn pleased. It would be enough though, to bring him back. If only he could manipulate it ¡ª which, seeing how he had no authority over the Frost god Jokull, was impossible.

    Yet there was someone nearby who could. Someone who would probably do anything to avoid death at the hands of a clumsy Emblazed.

    Remus focused on Lumi¡¯s energy, distinctly less . . . potent than the lingering remnants of Tushar¡¯s. He honed in on it, mentally-speaking, and swam through his sea of fires. He reached her, and his jaw dropped for all the wrong reasons.

    Lumi was fighting a war, expending all her divine resources into restoring her armour. It was lost to Remus¡¯ circus of colour just as quickly. In the many instances where her skin was exposed, he saw that it was burnt; leathery. Most would heal, though a few looked pretty severe.

    That sight there, of his warring fires basking Lumi like her hatred for him put into physical form, made Remus sick to his stomach. He¡¯d done enough damage, and yet forces bigger than himself forced him into this corner. This sick string of cruelties. Remus¡¯ power could do this to an innocent bystander in the deranged play of his life, and yet Remus was helpless, utterly helpless, against any of his real foes. Even as physically harmed as he was, it put his guts into knots to see the real, unfiltered consequences of his actions. Sick. It made him sick.

    Though not nearly as sick as what he was about to do next. ¡°Take me back.¡±

    She gurgled something. Likely a profanity. ¡°Die!¡±

    ¡°Take me back,¡± Remus swallowed a stone in his throat, ¡°or you die.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re-¡± Lumi cried out in agony. ¡°You¡¯re lying! You''ll run out of energy eventually.¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Or maybe I have enough power left in the tank to fry all your armour at once. How many seconds do you think you could last in this hellstorm with no protection?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re bluffing!¡± Her words were confident, but Lumi¡¯s voice certainly was not.

    Remus kept silent for a moment.

    ¡°Am I?¡±

    Lumi looked at him, eyes wide, teeth gritted. She reminded Remus of a scared puppy, one equipped with the foreknowledge that it was about to be put down. That probably wasn¡¯t the best analogy, because Remus felt about as righteous in that moment as someone who kicked newborn dogs for a living.

    She shot him with a stubborn look, all the more icy and intruding from the pain. Tempered by the torture. ¡°Fine.¡± One syllable, and yet Lumi pronounced it like it was some unintelligible sound. ¡°Fine!¡±

    Remus was sceptical, and with each passing second, the radius of Eruptive Gold was minimising. He tried to slow it down as best he could, and simply hoped Lumi wouldn¡¯t notice.

    She didn¡¯t seem to, thankfully, but Remus kept vigilant even as the oval formed around them. He let his fires fade away to make room for the construct, but always kept just enough present to stay threatening.

    ¡°No funny business, alright?¡±

    Lumi didn¡¯t say a word, which didn¡¯t inspire confidence. Nevertheless, he could tell they were being transported somewhere. If it was the right place, was yet to be seen.

    The oval shattered. The instant Remus stumbled out, and recognised the arena, he let the fire fade.

    He fell to the floor, cool to the touch, and thought about how strange this all must appear for the crowds. Great fogs obscuring their fighters, only for both contestants to disappear off the face of the earth. Then they both reappeared, collapsing in simultaneous motions of purest exhaustion. All in all, it couldn¡¯t have been a good match to watch. Nor had it been one to partake in.

    Remus fumbled to a stand, collapsing three more times before managing it. It was like reconstructing his body from the ground up, using each muscle and joint in turn to support himself, like a carefully built house of cards.

    The crowds were a vague buzz in his ear. Remus found himself, with the last whispers of thought in his mind, hoping that Lumi had fared okay through all the damage he¡¯d inflicted.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    It was almost euphoric as he took a stand, but his bloody smile faltered. Something felt wrong. Off.

    Remus looked down at his feet. His sandals had been destroyed during the fight, his feet a sight too ghastly to describe. What really troubled him, however, was what lay even lower below. Ice.

    By the time Remus registered it, it was already too late. The frosty sheet melted, his ensnared chains somewhere amongst them.

    The tides devoured him. He was lost in that frantic movement, every pitiful struggle inhibited by his absolute fatigue. Not even the irritation could replace what missing strength left vacant, the desperation at the thought he was going to lose the bout, lose his chance at entering the front lines, a torture of its own.

    All he could remember later was that coolness. That icy, piercing coolness. The image of Lumi¡¯s expression, perfectly matching both qualities of the agonising liquid, persisted even as the depths dragged him under anew.

    Remus had failed. Yelps that were little more than sombre partings of the lips escaped him, as darkness washed all away.

    <hr>

    Travelling to the Water Sect, to seek knowledge from the likes of Maris, was a grim prospect all on its own. That fact was only perpetuated by the route Koa had to take to get there.

    Right through the everlasting darkness of Territory Two, the Insect and Arachnid Sect hive.

    The place was troubling to describe. Thick cobwebs up above, and other organic matter weaved by bugs, blocked out the sun at nearly every turn. The ground was oddly moist, squelching with every step Koa took. Trees spread out everywhere, insectile string spreading off each, so Koa¡¯s clothing was already bundled by it.

    He tore the silk off in occasional fits of rage. This place did not sit right with him. Enough that even he, who prided himself on always being the most level-headed in the room, couldn¡¯t help but cringe or squirm at every turn.

    The place was best encapsulated by the word repulsive. The morass that never ceased at his feet likely disguised thousands of eggs deep within. He imagined clansmen watching him, two beady eyes staring out through the gloom. Koa shook his head, but the apparitions never left.

    It reminded him, oddly, of the bottom of a well. A ginormous well punched into gods¡¯ knew what. It would explain the moist mantle that was the floor, and all the critters ringing in his ears.

    Bored, or a sort of boredom subdued by a wary mind, Koa approached the bugs in question. There was no surprise to see the tree they inhabited was nearly completely covered. Activating his Mark ¡ª one of the only few proper light sources down here ¡ª he tried his hand at controlling the creatures yet again.

    It came easily this time, the precise movements of Wilderness energy becoming increasingly ingrained into his muscle memory. For several minutes, Koa immersed himself in the task, getting the bugs to do gradually more elaborate things. He was starting to enjoy the challenge in the labour, if anything could be truly enjoyable down here, when something in his peripherals caught his eye.

    Koa took one full look at it, and promptly screamed.

    He covered his mouth with both palms instantly, blinking three times at the image. Like the slow processing of a photograph; a device the Matter and Sight clans were still developing. The corpses of two clansmen laid wide-eyed, entangled by a thick mess of cobwebs. They were pale, mouths-agape in less shock-horror than startled surprise.

    Someone, or something, had killed the pair of them too fast for either to react. And whatever it was, it had to be somewhere nearby. Koa shivered, approached the bodies, and slid down the eyes of both men. It was hardly a worthy service; not a true farewell, but it was the best he could do on the spot.

    Koa stood there for a few seconds, settling his frantic heartbeat. It wasn¡¯t seeing the dead that set him into a frenzy, it wasn¡¯t anything like that. It was the thought that they had been prepared, he couldn¡¯t help but think, like food. Ready to be feasted on. The only question was by what?

    He walked on, hoping that the gods were feeling merciful enough to spare him from the sight of another rotting body. They weren¡¯t the tourist attractions Koa was keen to stumble across on his journeys.

    The woods marched on for an eternity, the place feeling to Koa like some enclosed pocket universe. A place where there was no morning sun; no glimpse of starlight to seal off the night. There were only all the critters of the world, calling out through the endless murk like some alien symphony.

    He twisted through that endless realm like an intruder, a being from far, far away. The place changed little as he trekked on, the occasional inky shape twisting in the night. His eyes would always flicker to those dark impossibilities, cloudy for a split second before disappearing completely. It made him doubt his own mind.

    When all alone, with everything invisible in night¡¯s forever forest, that wasn¡¯t a very nice thing to be confronted with. All he had was his mind; he couldn¡¯t let that last frontier fall.

    Koa abruptly halted. Footsteps, interwoven with the occasional word. Two people, he suspected; alive this time. He slipped behind a tree, demanded every speck of his body to become silent, and listened in.

    ¡°-the dead.¡± One voice crept into clarity. ¡°Bring em¡¯ back.¡±

    The other grunted in response. Koa, curiosity winning over wise fear, peered over to get a closer look. He swallowed back a shriek.

    Arachnid clansmen had a habit of appearing as vile as possible. Koa was no arachnophobe, but these people pulled something primal from the depths of his being. Their eight tendrils dangled unnaturally alongside their mortal arms, one of the duo afflicted with a score of bulbous eyes along their forehead and upper cheeks.

    Fangs jutted out of their mouths when they did so much as mutter a word. Which wasn¡¯t often, seeing how fixated they were on their task. Whatever it was. From watching alone, it didn¡¯t seem much more than a bunch of marching. An activity this duo obviously held humongous passion for.

    They were almost out of sight when they abruptly stopped. One of them slapped themselves across the face, which must have been agonising with that many eyes. ¡°Ohh no . . .¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The other asked, voice a far cry from the deep baritone of the other. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me-¡±

    They nodded. ¡°There¡¯s not enough to . . .¡± He paused, as if forcing down vomit. ¡°To feed.¡±

    The other one walked away for a second, hanging their head. Then suddenly, with all the explosive abruptness of an atomic bomb, they stomped their foot. ¡°Damn it! We¡¯ll have to leave another batch ready for the others.¡±

    ¡°What if no-one comes through?¡±

    ¡°Someone will ¡ª they must do.¡± He grasped the bridge of his nose between two fingers, and Koa was starting to wonder what all those other, hairier arms were for.

    The two started performing the strangest dance ever performed this side of the Mortal Realms. Their tendrils acted in tandem, and Koa found himself transfixed by the rushing movements. They were crafting away at spindly strings, the name variety Koa had seen covering this entire place.

    Soon, within a few seconds of the intricate flourish, the two immersed themselves into a sort of cocoon. Inside, they vanished. Blending in like a chameleon did to their surroundings. Koa could still see the silk of course, but that was like seeing grass in the middle of summer.

    That sight gave the darker corners of his mind all sorts of fuel to play with. What if any cobwebs we pass are concealing people just as these were, all waiting to snatch us up and-

    The dead group Koa had stumbled upon flashed in his mind.

    -feed.

    Koa didn¡¯t dare move for a short while. Doing so felt to him at that moment like the equivalent of throwing his life away. Like addressing a death wish to the grim reaper himself in neat handwriting.

    Only when he could muster up enough confidence did he turn aside, striding towards a completely different direction. All he cared about now was leaving this territory. Hell, he¡¯d willingly walk through the Shifting to get to the Water Sect if it meant avoiding this freakish place. This was all too much for merely training.

    He tripped against the roots of trees, and choked down a cry everytime he waltzed into a spiderweb. On and on he marched, waiting to get out, hoping to get out any second now.

    This was the route he¡¯d entered from, right? He was definitely going the right way, he was sure at one moment, so why was he so doubtful the next? He could only think in questions. Questions pouring into other questions with no heed for rhyme or reason.

    Wherever he was going, it must have been a direction away from these cannibal clansmen. There was no possibility that even if he wanted to, that Koa could sleep here. If that meant he had to walk through Territory Two for days straight, with nothing but sips from his waterskin to keep him going, then so be it.

    Koa almost thought he would make it, a few hours later, eyelids beginning to droop, when he sensed it. A shift in the energy of the surrounding region that would alert even the maggots in their burrows.

    Koa staggered backwards, back hitting a protruding boulder. He would have screamed at the strings that coated the thing, if he didn¡¯t have bigger fish to fry. Fish that were far too big for his already over-cumbersome plate.

    A beacon of purple sent the wind whirling for miles, and Koa felt the locks on his brow flicker up. He didn¡¯t need to be a master of energy reading, as proficient as he was, to sense the Chaos emanating off it.

    Koa had risked walking through Hybrid. His line of thinking at the time was that while Juniper wasn¡¯t very happy with him at the moment, the God-Graced was a reasonable woman. She¡¯d let him stroll off wherever he wished, as long as he wasn''t fraternising with the enemy, or getting up to something else equally mischievous. Whether she would count seeking guidance from Maris as the former was yet to be seen. But what slapped Koa in the face was a deadly realisation: that he had been looking at things from the completely wrong angle.

    It shouldn¡¯t have been his own God-Graced he was worrying about. It should have been Nova. An Unbounded of equal power who had a much bigger bone to pick with him.

    Koa looked from left to right, his heart thumping; any attempts to settle his breathing like trying to freeze the sea over. When that failed, he swivelled round one hundred and eighty degrees in a mad panic.

    At all times, he kept the deepest focus he could conjure on the movement of Nova¡¯s energy. Koa¡¯s Mark was deactivated, and had been so for hours on end. To sense any lingering remnants of his energy output would be a fearsome challenge, though if there was anyone up to it . . .

    Koa knew he had to act quickly. He just hadn''t the slightest idea what it was he should be doing.

    Scrambling around like a maniac, Koa could think of nothing more foul than risking death at the hands of the very same man who had orchestrated both his cousin, and close friend¡¯s demise. He began looking at random objects in his vicinity. The last desperate moves of a man soon to die, but one thing caught Koa¡¯s attention.

    The cobwebs.

    No. His mind warned. That¡¯s stupid. Dead stupid.

    He could hear Nova at this point. Broad advancing sweeps. Barely, but it forced Koa¡¯s body into overdrive: the very limits of fight or flight mode.

    It might be dead stupid, he conceded, but I¡¯ll be dead myself if I laze around here another second!

    Koa dived for the webbing, sinking into the insectile silk like it was an old, rickety bed. Here came the dangerous part. There were different levels to activating your Mark, different degrees of power. He tapped into it ever so slightly, like opening a door by a crack. Chantal¡¯s power seeped through him, but so barely it was hardly tangible. He focused on the tiny spiders all around, forcing down the initial disgust he held for the hundreds of them.

    Then, when everything seemed on the cusp of falling apart, he commanded them. With the barebones strength emanating from his Mark, Koa couldn¡¯t be sure if or when this would work. Nova would no doubt be able to recognise the tiny strands of energy he was putting out into the world, he just hoped it wouldn¡¯t be anytime soon.

    The spiders, after a terrifying pause, began to climb over the silk encasing him. His skin crawled just looking at them, knowing that hundreds of the tiny arachnids were close enough to graze his skin. Thankfully, Nova¡¯s imminent appearance to crush his skull was more than enough motivation to kickstart him into grim focus. The webs were mended before his eyes, strands connected; severed ends weaved together.

    The notion to imbue Infinity was risky, but unlike a Mark¡¯s energy, all Infinity was the same. As long as he didn¡¯t use too much, it wouldn¡¯t be a large enough fluctuation in the atmosphere for Nova to think twice about it. Fortunately, what Koa was attempting right here fit perfectly into his Bank¡¯s purpose. Crafting a web was an involved, intricate process, and pouring his Infinity though the Delicate Touch Mould was like passing water through guided pipes.

    Right when Nova arrived, his work was complete. The webs didn¡¯t look any different to Koa, except for the fact they were more full.

    Nova was in his human form, thankfully. Otherwise Koa might have actually retched instead of verging on it. The leonine man was tall, muscles bulging through the tight-fitted shirt of black he wore. His arms were covered in bandages, the kind used in training, though Koa could easily imagine them goldened by blood ¡ª just not the man¡¯s own.

    His signature manbun was forgone in favour of letting his blond locks down. They drooped over his back, reaching his hips before each hair perfectly ended there. Koa observed all this in one split second, before the man looked exactly where he was.

    For but a second. The Unbounded¡¯s gaze drifted, and he slowly circled round, taking in the scene. Right when hope flared in Koa, the Chaos Unbounded spoke.

    ¡°Koa.¡± He called, voice melodious ¡°Koaaaaa.¡±

    The Unbounded smiled. Like a cold-blooded killer eying up their next victim. ¡°I sensed Wilderness energy emanating here. I managed to watch your little escapades with the Reptilian Sect through Perpetual Sight, and yet you seemed to be having so much fun talking with frogs that I didn¡¯t want to disturb you.¡±

    Koa shut his eyes closed, tight. How many opportunities had he given Nova to kill him? All whilst being none the wiser.

    ¡°I kept following your trail, but as you must understand, I¡¯ve been forced to undergo a stretch of reconstruction, as of late. I lost sight of you. A spot of ignorance on my part that I must admit.¡±

    He continued strolling around, looking at different trees, and poking his head through various bushes.

    ¡°When I sensed your Mark blasting off down here, I assume for training or the like, I almost got giddy with excitement. Finally, I could get a little revenge. I sense no protection from Maris on you, wherever you may be. You¡¯re the one pawn in all of this that isn¡¯t currently off-limits. So you should understand my frustration at the prospect of losing you.¡±

    Nova flared into Unbounded form. Eerily like Violet¡¯s fiend counterpart, in a hulking, hunched-back freak of grey-white. It was like Nova couldn¡¯t decide if he wanted to become one of those paladin-esque Unbounded, or the variety that became true, city-stomping monsters.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be making that same mistake again.¡±

 72. Louder Than Words

    Infirmaries never differed much. Whether that was a comfort or not, Violet couldn¡¯t decide.

    Remus had fallen victim to a brief bout of hyperthermia. He would break out into shivers every other minute, and yet he was too exhausted to use his own flames to warm him. Instead, Violet and the medics who definitely weren''t trained, prepared candles around the place. Which might have become a fire-hazard, had the tent been any smaller.

    At least Remus got to recover with an array of fragrances at hand.

    He was conscious no doubt, but fell into log bouts of sleeping for hours at a time. Violet sat by his side, catching up on some reading material from Veida. Currently, she was informing herself on all the harm the fifth Right-bearer, Belindo, had caused. The great winged reptile had levelled hamlets, been the root cause of more than one natural disaster with his element manipulation, and was hardly none to mutter a word. He seemed to be the sort of being that annihilated everything in sight first, and spoke later.

    She was presently reading over a passage detailing the exact powers his Divine Right bestowed. Everything from levelling mountains, stirring tsunamis, and breathing fire when not inciting tornadoes. Compared to Milap, he seemed far more dangerous. That was until she recalled everything that had sprang from the late Unbounded¡¯s abilities. From the takeover of her clan, to inserting Nova into a position of vast political power. And it seemed to Violet that Belindo only appeared every few Passings. Which wasn¡¯t too odd for a Right-Bearer ninety-nine percent of the time, but considering this grand push the remaining four were making, posed interesting possibilities. Was it that his Right, so destructive as it was, required a proportional amount of rest? Possibility, but where-

    It was only then that she noticed Remus was awake. In fact, despite the deep eyebags, he¡¯d clearly recovered enough power to activate his Mark.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± She asked. After their bout, Violet had searched out Lumi, teleporting her as far away as possible from the outpost. She didn¡¯t offer up much resistance, seeing how drained she was from Remus¡¯ fight ¡ª however that went. Half the match had been obscured by fog. Violet had even seen a few spectators grumbling to themselves and walking out.

    The sight of Lumi¡¯s charred body almost made Violet feel bad. Especially when she sent the Frost assassin to a field in the middle of nowhere. Nevertheless, it wouldn¡¯t do either of them any good to leave her in nearby range. Lumi had come far too close to killing Remus the first time around. With even more fuel to facilitate her thirst for revenge, Remus might not get so lucky a second time.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, thank you.¡± Remus assured her, though his hoarse voice and blanched complexion didn¡¯t convince her. ¡°I¡¯m using Flaming Gold to warm myself up. Hopefully, it will hasten the recovery.¡±

    Violet got the distinct impression he wanted to say more. Like a curse, or a word of complaint was constantly dancing atop his tongue. He never said anything though.

    ¡°Be careful. You don¡¯t want to overuse the ability and hurt yourself.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. Leave it to me, I can use the ability pretty well now. Plus, recovery is a lot less demanding than-¡±

    ¡°Than pushing yourself past your bodily limit in the midst of battle?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he grunted. ¡°That.¡±

    It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky overhead, though not much of it got through the tent¡¯s cloth. Finally, when silence became overbearing, Violet addressed Remus. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind?¡±

    He scoffed, before clamping his mouth shut.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°Clearly not-¡±

    ¡°Please.¡± He exhaled. ¡°I don¡¯t want to wallow in self-pity. Isn¡¯t it obvious anyway what¡¯s on my mind?¡±

    Violet went blank. This clearly must have shown on her face, for Remus sprang into explanation.

    ¡°I lost the bout. We¡¯re not heading to the front lines anytime soon. We¡¯re stuck here.¡±

    It was Violet¡¯s turn to go as quiet as stone. ¡°Are you sure-?¡±

    ¡°Certain.¡± Remus said stiffly. ¡°This is a tournament, remember? The last few winners win the prize of escort into the front lines, and fraudulent soldier identification. I didn¡¯t get to the end of my line of bouts. I didn¡¯t win that chance; didn¡¯t earn it.¡±

    ¡°You would have won, if not for Lumi entering with the sole intent of screwing you over.¡±

    Remus was doing a very good job of keeping himself together. The only hint that something was deeply wrong, was the tremulous way he held his fists.

    ¡°Like the Judges will care about that. I didn¡¯t win, so we don''t go. Full stop.¡± He sighed. ¡°Not until whenever the next official bouts start.¡±

    The silence, an encompassing evil with an undying love for ruining the mood, reared its ugly face once more. They both stared defeatedly at the walls of the tent.

    ¡°When you recover, we can train in the Silver Cavities again.¡± Violet spoke up. ¡°I think you¡¯re ready to go deeper.¡±

    ¡°Yay.¡± Remus said, one word stuffed full of sarcasm. Yet, in a kind of paradox, Violet could sense the excitement bubbling underneath. Giving Remus another opportunity to train was like dangling a carrot before a pig. Despite his momentary illness, and the crushing defeat, Violet knew he would be down in those caves yet again, ready to give it another shot.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± He said through gritted teeth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I slowed us down. I''ll do better next time. I promise.¡±

    ¡°Remus.¡± Violet dragged out his name. ¡°You have nothing to be sorry for. I had you following after me for durations on end. It''s only right I do the same for you ¡ª plus, it isn¡¯t like I¡¯m not benefitting from being here. Training is going rather well.¡±

    It was true. Violet had now learnt how to forge all kinds of armour pieces from Supreme Steel. From gauntlets, to vambraces, and the ever difficult chestplate. The tricky part was how she was going to craft the armour in the midst of battle, ready on her. Then Violet would also have to hold a secondhand knowledge on armour so intricate, that repairing the separate pieces would come as easy as breathing. Otherwise, she would become so distracted in battle, that it wouldn¡¯t even be worth it.

    Remus nodded at her response. Then the silence became a different kind. The welcomed variety; warm and fuzzy and not at all triggering existential crises. Of course, this too was short lived.

    The Infirmary flap was opened so aggressively, Violet half expected it to bang.

    A man pushed his head through. Violet could tell he was of wiry build from the upper body that poked out. ¡°Come on. It''s time to leave.¡±

    Violet didn¡¯t often get angry, but more so wrestled with other emotions; those of the apprehensive variety. What that said about her, she wasn¡¯t entirely sure, though if there was anything for certain, rushing a patient through recovery was nonsense.

    ¡°He¡¯s recovering. I know you may have other patients arriving, but if that¡¯s the case you really should invest in more healthcare-¡±

    They raised an eyebrow. ¡°Listen lady, I don¡¯t know what your deal is, but-¡±

    ¡°Let the poor man rest for the gods¡¯ sake!¡±

    Remus raised a placating hand. ¡°It''s alright Violet. Thank you. I¡¯m well enough to leave this place, at any rate.¡±

    True to his word, Remus got out of his makeshift bed, and made for the exit. When he was teetering on the entrance, the stranger placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡°I think you¡¯ve got the wrong idea. I haven¡¯t come here because of anything to do with other patients coming.¡±

    Remus narrowed his eyes. ¡°You haven¡¯t? Have you come to kill me then? Or to collect long overdue taxes?¡±

    They blinked. ¡°Why would I?¡±

    ¡°No reason.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°I¡¯m taking you to the operation team. They¡¯re having their first meeting now, so come on.¡±

    Remus looked affronted. ¡°Operation team?¡±

    The blood rushed to the stranger¡¯s face, the kind of expression pulled when talking to a colossal idiot. ¡°You scored high enough in the tournament for the last spot, or did you get amnesia from that last fight? Go if you want, I can¡¯t be bothered anymore!¡±

    With that, they stormed off, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf.

    Remus and Violet simply stared at each other. This time, the silence was one imbued with astonishment. A quiet awe.

    It remained so until Remus dived out of bed, miraculously recovering. ¡°You can still sneak through to the front lines right?¡±

    Violet opened her mouth, wanting more than anything to say something along the lines of hey, you have to recover! She let that inclination die like a blown out candle. Remus would only go barreling ahead, saying something quippy like I¡¯ll walk it off.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°Yes I can, though I¡¯m going to plant a few Projections on you to make sure everything¡¯s good.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Remus agreed instantly, turning to the tent¡¯s flap. Violet barely had time to conjure two tiny pods, and place them into his pocket, before Remus was gone with the wind.

    Apparently, there was no better medicine than motivation.

    <hr>

    It took Remus a few minutes until he located the meeting place.

    He was forced to ask around, receiving more than a few dirty looks from the various clansmen as he did so. Alas, the people were just as clueless as he was on the matter. Clearly, the organisers of this operation kept the whereabouts hidden, with only the winning team given directions.

    Shame that Remus had triggered a blood-feud with the only man capable of telling him those directions. Or at least, judging by the ruddy, blood-rushed face the man had rushed off with, it felt that extreme.

    After the most panicked twenty minutes of his life, Remus finally stumbled upon one very large, formal looking tent. This one, a sickly yellow in colour, eclipsed the infirmary in practically every factor he could think of. It was three times as big, had permanent clippings nailing it into the ground, and he could see broad shadows moving within.

    Remus approached the flap, took in a deep breath in case he had found the wrong place, and entered.

    Imagine Remus¡¯ surprise when he sauntered into that very same tent, looked up, and saw that wiry man¡¯s fuming face.

    ¡°Look who decided to join us,¡± he growled, standing up from a cushioned floor. The words went through one of Remus¡¯ ears, and out the other, his focus directed on taking in the scene.

    There were five other people in the tent, each seated on a cushion each. Remus saw an empty spot in the corner, mumbled an apology, and took the seat. The man ahead of him may have been a tad more important than he first cared to notice.

    ¡°As I was saying before we were rudely interrupted,¡± the man¡¯s eyes looked everywhere but at Remus, ¡°I¡¯m going to be your main escort. We¡¯re taking an underground route straight under the front lines, and I won¡¯t be surprised if we run into our fair share of Unbounded. The contrary would surprise me, in fact.¡±

    He said nothing, as if waiting for backlash, or somebody to ask a question. Neither occurred, the gathered crowd clearly as eager as Remus to get going. It was during this short pause that Remus noticed another empty seat. He got the feeling the occupant for that spot was currently sprawled on the ground in the middle of nowhere.

    ¡°If any of you are in doubt of my power, or the protection I can provide, know this: I¡¯m a Warlord of the Defense Clan.¡±

    That caused Remus to blink. The man certainly didn¡¯t appear all that powerful, and his scrawny build, Remus couldn¡¯t help but think, wouldn¡¯t fare too well against a large bird.

    ¡°I could get in some real trouble if anyone from my sect caught word of what I¡¯m doing here, so for now, you guys can call me . . .¡± His eyes became distant. ¡°Kyle.¡±

    If there were a list of names that sounded fake, Kyle would probably place pretty high.

    ¡°Before we leave,¡± Kyle unveiled a cigar, and began smoking, ¡°I think we should all list off our abilities, and a little about ourselves. That way, we can work in tandem if conflict should arise on our way.¡± He blew smoke over them all, and Remus tried not to look too uncomfortable.

    No one did so much as stir. Clearly a tough crowd.

    ¡°What a talkative bunch.¡± Irritation began to bleed into Kyle¡¯s tone, but another draw from his cigarette seemed to quell his emotions. It must have been a flimsy cure for some anger management problems. Each to their own, Remus supposed. ¡°I¡¯ll begin then.¡± The man spread out an arm, and they all watched curiously as silvery metal spread up the limb. ¡°I''m damn near invincible. I can also create shields, summon wards, and increase the endurance of anyone in a few mile range. The less people, the more effective.¡±

    He turned to a woman on his side. ¡°We¡¯ll go clockwise. Lassie, carry us on.¡±

    The woman had a pretty ordinary appearance, as far as Remus could see, with the only visible alteration of her body her eyes. The pupils were golden, and star-shaped. So Remus wasn¡¯t caught off guard when she announced her sect.

    ¡°I¡¯m Capella, of the Star Clan. I can summon stars and use them like explosions.¡±

    ¡°Is that all?¡± Kyle asked.

    She shrugged, eyes glassy from boredom, and kind-of alien. ¡°I can read constellations to predict fate. But it''s unreliable.¡±

    The lips twitched of another woman, adjacent to Capella. Her hawkish features and tucked-away wings gave away her birthplace instantly. ¡°What did you read last night? Anything interesting?¡±

    Capella didn¡¯t say a word.

    Before it could get anymore awkward, the other woman sprang into her own introduction. ¡°I¡¯m Aquila, and it should be obvious I¡¯m from the Bird Clan. The techniques are self-explanatory.¡±

    A bald man was next, harsh-featured and looking like he constantly held a mouthful of gravel. ¡°The name¡¯s Pearce. I¡¯m from the Earth Sect. I can manipulate and move rock and stone, which may come in handy when we reach the tunnelway. That¡¯s about it.¡±

    Remus kept his mouth shut for three seconds, until he realised all eyes were on him. ¡°I have the Mark of the Ambition Clan,¡± he worded carefully, after swallowing. ¡°I can create blue flames, have high endurance, and can attack explosively.¡±

    If he didn¡¯t tell them how literally he meant that last part, though did set a finger on fire for show.

    ¡°Quite ironic then, your case of hypothermia.¡± Kyle beamed wickedly.

    ¡°I suppose it is.¡±

    Remus was too preoccupied with staring daggers into the Warlord to pay full attention to the last two. Another woman was from the Matter Clan, and startled Remus when she announced she was married to Kyle.

    Inter-sect marriages weren¡¯t a crime or anything. Alas, they hardly ever occurred, to the extent it was a sort of unspoken taboo. Many clans even went so far as instructing their clansmen to only marry the other families within the sect. Else, there wasn''t a guaranteed chance that the child would choose to inherit their god¡¯s Mark. A loss of a potential clansman left a sour taste in the sect leader¡¯s mouth.

    There was also the fact that opposing sects had a habit of slaughtering one another.

    This would also explain why Kyle held no qualms with using his status as a soldier at the front lines to disguise his money-making schemes. While others would believe he spent his time fighting valiantly for the clan, and he may have actually done so every now and again to keep up appearances, he was actually preoccupied here. Running his gladiator ring to earn an ungodly amount, and enjoying a relationship the Defence Clan may not approve.

    All whilst using the promise of sneaking wannabe-soldiers into the front lines, to coax potential gladiators over here. There were probably a dozen other set-ups along the front lines exactly like this, probably working for some hidden boss at the top of the monopoly.

    The last clansman was a quiet fellow from the Gravity Clan, who said the bare minimum and spent most of his time brooding.

    ¡°I¡¯ve created you all fake IDs,¡± Rashana ¡ª Kyle''s wife ¡ª explained, handing them all small books, barely five pages long. Remus looked through, and his eyes widened at how real the booklets appeared.

    That consensus was reciprocated by the others. Suffice to say, Rashana was quite pleased with herself. ¡°I copied them exactly from the small number of real IDs I¡¯ve been able to inspect. They¡¯ll serve you well enough.¡±

    ¡°If we all survive to see their usage.¡± Kyle said brightly.

    ¡°Also,¡± Rashana tugged on their attention once again. ¡°I have wares used on the front lines if any tickle your fancy. We have-¡±

    ¡°Come on love, you can cajole the group into giving up their every last coin later. Chop-chop, before we risk others finding-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll buy a Calibrator.¡± Remus held up the small amount of Inklings he had on hand. Violet and Remus had exchanged all their currency back into First Rite¡¯s coin, after setting their sights on the front lines. All kinds of money were used on that long frontier, but Inklings were a fairly safe bet to have on your person.

    Remus saw the dust-white band in Rashana¡¯s collection. He¡¯d been meaning to purchase one since first witnessing its capabilities in Hadrian¡¯s hand. With it, he could pinpoint areas to improve on, track his progress, and reach new heights in his training.

    She snatched the bag he offered, and shook it. As if she could tell its worth simply from the jingles it gave off, she handed Remus the device. He placed it on himself.

    ¡°Give it a while to get to know you, or so to speak. And take good care of it. What you¡¯re holding right there is the peak of modern technology.¡±

    ¡°Well then,¡± Kyle launched to his feet, took one last puff from his cigar, and crushed it. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving before we have an auction going!¡±

    The group got up one at a time, Aquila sneakily handing Rashana a money pouch as they left.

    For about half an hour, they simply marched around the outpost, covered by the shade of some nearby dunes so as not to bring attention to themselves. No one bothered saying anything, and Remus wasn¡¯t eager to get all buddy-buddy either. Once they entered the front lines, he doubted if they¡¯d ever see each other again.

    Finally, when the sun began to set in the distance, an intertwining of warm shades dispersing upon the horizon, they came to a stop. Kyle turned around.

    ¡°Just to preface, before the real danger starts, I think you should all be aware of the hazards we face as we trek over to the warzone. We¡¯re going to have to cover smaller areas of the Silver Cavities. Nowhere too deep, or even really directly passing through, but you will feel the pressure in certain locales. I, nor anybody else in this arrangement we have going on, are responsible for your safety. That includes if the caves come crashing down, if one of you gets eaten by an Unbounded, or if the like happens. You all take responsibility for yourselves. Even if the worst is to occur.¡± He crossed his arms. ¡°You understand?¡±

    They all agreed. It wasn¡¯t a question of if they would ¡ª you had to have understood the dangers by now if you made it this far.

    Kyle said farewell to his wife, who would stay behind and make sure nobody followed them. If the secret path to the army got exposed, well, this entire operation would be jeopardised. And that meant a lot of lost money for the pair of them. It was her job to ensure that didn''t happen, and if it did . . .

    Remus supposed a few statues of helpless, screaming eavesdroppers wouldn¡¯t be out of her capabilities to create. The Matter Clan weren¡¯t ones to fight, but they certainly could, if the need arose.

    ¡°This is the cave?¡± Pearce frowned at the rather thin crack leading through the rock face. ¡°Looks like a tight fit.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll widen up further in. Anyway, if it''s such a big deal, why not use your mystical rock powers you keep talking about to widen up the path? Ey, how about that?¡±

    With no cigar in sight, Kyle was beginning to get a little rowdy.

    ¡°Okay, then,¡± Pearce said simply. He moved one step forwards, activated a flashing Mark depicting his god holding up a mountain range. The cave entrance promptly widened like the jaws of a predator, the ground trembling as he did so.

    They began setting up formation. ¡°I¡¯ll take up the rear,¡± Remus insisted, ¡°you guys go on ahead, I have to sort out . . .¡± his mind raced. ¡°My laces.¡±

    He was met with more than one befuddled look. Nevertheless, he was allowed to linger behind as the group sauntered inside the cavern. When he was sure they were out of hearing range, he spoke to nowhere in particular. ¡°You can come out now.¡±

    Violet walked into view. ¡°Doing your laces, really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know; I had to think on the fly. Anyhow, I don¡¯t have long. Do you think you can ward off any Unbounded from attacking us?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± She replied. ¡°But I don¡¯t know for how long, and I can¡¯t promise absolute protection. It should help a little though.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Remus looked into the open mouth of death, activated his Mark, and went on ahead.

    ¡°I¡¯ll follow on behind you.¡±

    Those were the last words Remus heard, before stumbling deep into the earth.

 73. Deep Under

    The cave was fairly ordinary, as far as homes for murderous fiends go.

    Sandstone bordered the group at either side. They marched onwards single-file, with Kyle making up the front of the company. Pearce was close behind, making their passage significantly easier with his constant widening of the tunnels. Then came Capella, her stars shooting off into different branching routes, providing an ethereal lighting that would warn them of any oncoming dangers. They could also promptly explode in the faces of any Unbounded that did decide to show.

    The middle of the line consisted of Aquila, whose Mark wasn¡¯t really suited for the subterranean, and an angsty young man from the Gravity Sect called Lamont. He would assist Pearce in keeping the cavern stable if the place did come falling down, and Aquila . . . Aquila provided comic relief.

    ¡°You cosy back there?¡± She shot her beaked face over to Remus, who made up the very back of the party. Tiny balls of flames floated around him, illuminating their rear in case anything sneaked up on them.

    If anything was, Violet, who was a dozen metres behind, would quickly dispatch them. Though that was besides the point.

    All in all, they made for a pretty useful team. Remus felt assured, with a Warlord at their helm and a small team of capable Emblazed at hand, that everything would go okay, if not perfectly.

    Through the bends and cracks of the cavern they ventured. Remus noticed that the further they went on, the more man-made their route appeared. It was a mixture of various natural coves and chiselled tunnels packed tightly together.

    Their route was pretty self-explanatory, so Violet should have no trouble following close behind. Remus had her two Projections located inside a small, force-absorbent box in his cloak. That way, he wouldn¡¯t accidentally command her over here prematurely.

    Everything was going swimmingly, until Kyle came to an abrupt halt.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Capella frowned, her eyes oddly luminous in their alteration. ¡°I don¡¯t see anything dangerous up ahead.¡±

    Remus predicted the issue before Kyle confirmed it. ¡°I just thought I should let you know,¡± he took a long drag of his cigarette, the smoke of which was no less annoying down here, ¡°that this next section is a little contaminated by the Silver Cavities. You won''t contract Rot or anything ¡ª the Supreme Fiend hasn¡¯t been runnin¡¯ amuck down here for a good while ¡ª but you¡¯ll feel some pressure. Just try to breathe, alright, and everything will be sunshine and rainbows.¡±

    Remus thought he overhead Lamont grumbling. Something like that¡¯ll be a challenge, with you smoking out the place, though he couldn¡¯t be sure.

    As they entered, the front of the group affixed with cautious, tight lips, Remus felt his heartbeat spike. They all visibly flinched at the crossing, save for Kyle, whose Warlord status meant it would take a lot more to faze him. Remus expected the same tension at the invisible border, and braced himself over the crossing.

    He felt . . . absolutely nothing whatsoever. He opened the eyes he¡¯d held tight, though really couldn¡¯t see what all the fuss about. A short walk didn¡¯t leave him disturbed either.

    The others all held varying degrees of grimaces.

    That¡¯s what three Durations of no sunlight, and living in the Silver Cavities gets you.

    As the hour dragged by, Kyle guided them in-and-out of stretches of the Cavities. None of them were anymore intense than the first, so each time, Remus found himself mildly disappointed to find no bodily resistance. The others quickly grew accustomed to the density of the Infinity.

    So another hour droned on.

    Remus¡¯ stomach was beginning to rumble, his feet ached, and the prospect of a drink had never been so appealing. Despite this, he insisted on only taking light sips from his waterskin. There was no sense in chugging it all at one, if he would then have to endure another eight hours with no water to grace his lips.

    No one bothered to make light conversation, but Aquila did call out the question they were all wondering. ¡°How much longer?¡±

    Kyle had long since ashed his third cigarette, which seemed to complete the small pack he possessed. Now he had no vice to sate his anger with. Remus cringed. Aquila could not have chosen a worse time to ask that question.

    ¡°Sounds like someone amongst us is getting a little impatient.¡± Kyle spoke like he was gritting his teeth against a cigar that wasn¡¯t there. He really was going to mess up his lungs one day. ¡°I think you¡¯ll be happy to know we¡¯re over halfway there. We¡¯ll come up a little further than the army camps, but nowhere near a battlefield, so don¡¯t-¡±

    A splurge of purple light stupefied them all. But no-one more than Remus. Had he accidently broken one of the orbs? That would have been a foolish mistake, and he¡¯d made his fair share of those.

    Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. ¡°Now what on earth-¡±

    Violet materialised ahead of them, face pale. ¡°Run!¡±

    They had all of one second¡¯s warning, before the cry of some Unbounded approached.

    ¡°Now hold on a minute,¡± their escort held out a hand. ¡°Who the hell-¡± Recognition sparked in his eyes. ¡°You were the girl with Remus in the infirmary!¡± He shot Remus an ugly leer. ¡°What, did you think you¡¯d be lonely without your girlfriend to accompany us? Well too bad! Only winners of the tournament can come here, and that¡¯s the end of it.¡±

    Before Remus could retort, the place shook around them. Pearce extended all limbs like a starfish, grunting. ¡°Something¡¯s trying to get through!¡±

    The vibrations riddling the passage barely faltered. In fact, cracks were beginning to spread through the cave roof. Voices rose in a panic, but none louder than Lamont¡¯s painful screech, as he did everything in his power to stop their early burial.

    Remus felt the shoulders of his shirt whoosh upwards, a new inverted gravity tugging him ever-so slightly.

    Hands broke out of the earth before any of them could really process what was happening. They were pale white, a distinctly Unbounded shade, with their arms like unwinding threads. Thread-like in the fact they never ceased extending. Remus¡¯s knee was grasped. Unfiltered Ambition made freeing himself easy, yet new hands reached where others failed.

    The others faced more difficulty, save for Pearce and Lamont, who were presently the only force on their side between life and death. Kyle had summoned shields that now fully enveloped the pair in a messy clutter. Those Unbounded hands tried to tug the defences free, only to be completely swarmed by the other available fighters.

    Erupting stars the size of a hand, streaks of blue flame, and lashing talons all left grey, monstrous blood exploding out of the Unbounded¡¯s flailing limbs. Yet still, the cavern they resided in shook more than a crashing wave.

    ¡°I¡¯ll pour your blood. I¡¯ll drink on your Ichor-¡±

    The voice like that of an imp ruined Remus¡¯ day. What made it worse was how fluently the fiend spoke. If he had thought the Unbounded from the Cavities had spoken scarily well, this was another matter altogether.

    It got to the point where the world became a frantic blur. It took all of Remus¡¯ balance and composure to keep himself upright. The others had similar problems, though Kyle had now fully adopted his defensive gleam of metal across his entire body. He must have weighed tons, leaving imprints in the ground he stood on.

    ¡°Everybody shut up!¡± He roared over the raucous din, slinging spittle with every syllable. ¡°Shut up!¡±

    If he expected that to return everything back to blissful normality, Kyle was dead wrong.

    Remus spotted hands scraping underneath the leader¡¯s fortifications, circumventing the not-so impenetrable defences. They dug their way with startling speed to grab ahold of Pearce¡¯s legs, shields be damned. The man shrieked, an entire assembly of hands covering every patch of his skin. Jagged rocks cut against the beastly flesh, drawing an ungodly amount of blood, but achieving little more.

    He was being dragged away. With a speed like a spring rushing back. Remus met eyes with Violet, and the both of them rushed after him.

    The others were on their tail, fleeing from the scene. Remus even spotted Aquila flying through the spacious expanse they were barreling into. They had to stop themselves on the brink of something impossibly unlucky.

    A passage worming through the Silver Cavities, only deeper than ever before. Everyone but Remus, Violet, and the Warlord Kyle collapsed at the brink.

    Remus felt the pressure this time, like the air was goo, and he had to push with every motion to get past. With bated breath, he saw a struggling Pearce be dragged around the corner, out of sight.

    ¡°How in the hell can you two move here? What, did you take a vacation in the Silver Cavities once?¡±

    ¡°Something like that.¡± Violet answered boldly, though Remus didn''t dare speak.

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    Flaming Gold was turning his Ichor an even brighter gold, and he pushed the flames to temperatures he¡¯d never before risked within himself. They would have been stark white if outside, he knew. His Bank drank deep of the Infinity all around, and he used that as direct fuel.

    Even with all that, the most he could do was jog after Pearce.

    How many Unbounded are there? Or is it just one awfully powerful fiend? Neither reality was favourable. At any rate, saving Pearce, preventing an innocent soul from perishing earlier than needed, was the only thing he should be focusing on.

    Violet had teleported ahead of the pair of them, and Remus couldn¡¯t help but think how poorly this environment suited a Warlord from the Defence Clan. Kyle would struggle to live up to that title, closed-in and barely able to do more to protect his companions. All as they were slowly but surely split apart.

    That was the Silver Cavities for you ¡ª a thriving deathtrap simply waiting to ensnare anybody unfortunate enough to get near. Or, if they were being truthful, foolish enough. Not even Warlords were completely safe down here.

    ¡°Kid,¡± Kyle called. ¡°Can you fend for yourself? I can¡¯t leave the rest of them to be butchered by the others, and,¡± it took everything he had to admit this next bit, ¡°you look like someone who can defend himself.¡±

    ¡°Go on!¡± Remus yelped behind, grunting as the air only grew more dense.

    He kept a flame in one hand, as he turned a sharp corner. When he saw what it illuminated, he wished he hadn¡¯t.

    Violet was watching helplessly as Pearce laid limply upon what looked like lichen. Only, it glowed strangely, and Remus half-expected it to bare teeth and eyes like some grotesque mutation of nature. The Earth Clansman was immersed in it, the Unbounded¡¯s hands still grappling around from various holes in the earth around.

    Remus took one look at Pearce¡¯s Rot-infested body, took a step forward to pull him away, only to flinch. The man was already dead. His eyes were open, but unseeing, and his body utterly stiff. Then there was the Rot itself. If Remus got too close, he would share the same fate as his great grandfather.

    That was to say, considering the circumstances, he would die alone hours before anyone could save them ¡ª if anyone would realise anything was wrong.

    He grasped onto the chains at his waist, and whipped them out like a lasso. They encircled a swarm of the Unbounded¡¯s arms, and without any hesitation, he pulled. Setting the chains on fire would potentially destroy the grappled limbs, wasting the opportunity. So Remus instead focused Infinity inwardly through Flaming Gold. Then, taking a step forward, he tugged with all of his god-given might.

    It took him a second to realise he was screaming, though that was a fickle outcry compared to the Unbounded¡¯s screeches. His muscles felt like they were on fire, that he would lose his hold with any coming second. He placated that thought by putting his body into overdrive, using every speck of Infinity he could consume as fuel.

    It occurred to him he was draining the space of Infinity faster than he could make use of it. When that happened, Remus fed his Bank instead. Focusing on the growth of his Mould, the gentle intricacies he would need to pay full attention to, seemed to dissociate his mind from the moment.

    Remus¡¯ feet began moving forward, but all he saw were those winding, white tubes. The pain in his arms, shoulders, and back become secondary sensations. Blurred by adrenaline, Ambition, and the growth of his Bank.

    Soon, it was as if the Unbounded wasn¡¯t there at all, and Remus was engaged in an entirely different activity. His body was something else entirely, unrelated to his distracted mind and that winding network, that seemed far more substantial than flesh and bone.

    His screams were reduced to one, long-winded note. Like he was scraping his fingernails over an endless chalkboard.

    Remus could only imagine, in retrospect, what Violet and the others were thinking as they came rushing forward.

    <hr>

    Violet was still paralysed by shock when Remus hauled the main body of the Unbounded over with one last heave.

    The wall of rock behind came tumbling down, and the group was forced to cough out dust.

    ¡°How are you all here?¡± Violet spluttered to the group, whose lifeless expressions were as rigid as hers. ¡°I thought you couldn¡¯t handle the Silver Cavities?¡±

    ¡°I could say the name to you,¡± Kyle came lumbering over, now fully clad in a fearsome set of heavy armour. The visor was open, and even as he spoke to Violet, his eyes wandered to Pearce¡¯s corpse. Then to the Unbounded grappling with Remus. ¡°I used the protective aura I was talking about earlier on the others, but stop talking!¡±

    He launched onto the revealed Unbounded on the ground, who Violet had trouble describing. It was vaguely humanoid, like many powerful Unbounded, and she would guess it was upper Splintered Rank. It was nearly fully mummified by its dangling hands, and on the patches that weren¡¯t fully concealed, laid enough faces to make up a small town. They all had expressions of witless agony, which Violet found pretty understandable, considering what happened next.

    They all pounced on the hapless creature at once. Its skin erupted in bursts of stars, Kyle pounded on the creature with all the devastating force of a Warlord, talons created a criss-cross pattern across the being, and Violet summoned shards of Supreme Steel to stab into the fiend. Even Lamont pressed all his gravitational force into pushing the creature into the ground, eliciting multiple gruesome pops that sounded awfully like broken bones. Honestly, it may have been a little overkill. Remus was on the floor to the side, disoriented, though did launch himself up to contribute a few explosive fists.

    As the fiend died in a fit of gore, something occurred to Violet. She had fought against this breed of Unbounded before, only that version had been substantially weaker. It may have been in the Chaos Clan manor. Yes, she remembered now, when it had opened up the eyes in its palms and-

    Her blood ran cold. ¡°Everyone,¡± she screamed, ¡°duck!¡±

    In one last wave of power, like the suicidal sting of a bee, the palms of the Unbounded opened up. Lasers shot out everywhere, unearthing rock; causing this chamber to tremble very much like the previous.

    It was like they were all ants in the heart of a furnace. Destined to sizzle away for being foolish enough to stumble in here.

    Violet acted as fast as she could. Magenta erupted out of her, and she whisked the group away. Her heart was racing as the darkness of a tunnel they¡¯d entered previously shunned out the world. Amongst the outraged murmurs, Remus set his finger alight.

    Kyle¡¯s face had never been so red. ¡°What-¡±

    ¡°I teleported us out of there.¡± She assured the group. Or the little she could make out of them, anyway. That was strange, why was it so dark? ¡°The Unbounded¡¯s dead. That was its last attempt to take us down with it. I can sense it dispersing not too far from here.¡±

    Remus finally expanded his flame. It revealed Aquila laying on the floor, wincing as both of her wings were lacerated. Golden blood pooled across the rocky ground. Kyle was quick to kneel at her side, focusing his Mark''s energy on her with deadly attention.

    ¡°Can you heal her?¡± Lamont enquired, his lone wolf demeanour perishing. He ripped the sleeve of his tunic, using it as makeshift bandages. Aquila simply laid on the floor, groaning quietly.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a healer,¡± Kyle sounded genuinely panicked, which seemed to have a contagious effect over the entire group. ¡°I¡¯m suppose to prevent people from getting hurt, damn it!¡±

    He cradled his head between both hands. ¡°Gods, I¡¯ve spent too long away from the battlefield. I¡¯m too rusty. Too rusty for moronic escort missions like this anyway.¡±

    Violet saw red. ¡°How about you stop feeling sorry for yourself, and care for the patient who''s literally bleeding out in front of you?¡±

    He looked at her, teeth gritted, before the angry facade fell away. ¡°You''re right . . .¡±

    For a minute, they all stood in awkward silence. Once Aquila regained some strength, was bandaged up, and strengthened by Remus¡¯ willpower, the Warlord mustered up all the protective effects they could.

    Only when they began to march towards their surfacing point, which wasn¡¯t too far away now, did they realise something was wrong.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Capella?¡± Kyle asked. When no-one answered, he asked again, louder this time. ¡°Where is she?¡±

    Remus, face grave and with hesitant slowness, increased the size of his flames. The entire passage was illuminated.

    Including Capella¡¯s lifeless body.

    ¡°No, no.¡± Kyle ran over, and put his head to her chest. When that obviously failed, he resorted to placing two fingers on her throat. He tried again, for the longest minute of Violet''s life. ¡°She¡¯s not breathing. I don¡¯t hear a heartbeat.¡±

    Violet opened her mouth, but didn¡¯t know what to say. She simply stared at Capella¡¯s body, sensing another, the Unbounded¡¯s, dissolving down to its final ashes in the other chamber.

    <hr>

    Koa settled into his tent, failing yet again to rest his racing heartbeat. For hours, it had been hammering in his chest, threatening to burst out if he didn¡¯t settle the damn organ soon.

    Ever since his close encounter with Nova, who had left after searching for thirty minutes, his body refused to calm down. He was going to take years off his lifespan at this rate.

    What made it worse were the noises from outside. Any crack of a leaf could be a footstep. Any one of the countless critters could have been a clansman disguising the sounds of their approach. His mind thought of darker things, images distinctly monstrous, and he dared not recount them.

    His intentions to walk straight out of the territory were sidelined, the exhaustion too great to ignore. One night of sleep, he had promised himself, and he would walk nonstop until he was free.

    Which wasn¡¯t working out very well, considering how Koa¡¯s body refused to leave the realm of the conscious.

    As sleep wouldn¡¯t take him, Koa acted as his own guard. Listening out for danger and mulling everything over in his head. He couldn¡¯t piece together what was happening here. Why were the Arachnid Clan carrying dead corpses off, like bugs caught in a web, and where to? Someplace where, as the clansman had put it, they would feed?

    Koa was pretty sure it would become worldwide news if an entire clan had suddenly become cannibals, though he couldn¡¯t be certain if much news was travelling out of this territory. What were the Insect Clan doing anyway? He was yet to see a single one of them, which was odd, as both clans had been known to cooperate. Kind of like the antithesis of the Earth and Sand Clans.

    They were supposed to be on friendly terms, though Koa got the distinct feeling any strong friendship could be ruined when cannibalism came into the mix.

    The image of Nova¡¯s droning speech made Koa shiver, even under his covers. A desperate part of him wanted to beg for Maris¡¯ protection. He threw away that idea because of the numerous issues with it, though one thing was becoming certain.

    He would need at least the help of a God-Graced to keep the Unbounded from gutting him like a lamb to the slaughter. The only viable chance of getting that was by proving his worth to Juniper again.

    He had deserted the sect after all. This was Koa¡¯s own fault for sinking so deep in such dangerous waters, regardless of his intentions. To swim back to the surface, his only chance was by besting Ash.

    Which, currently trapped in a deathtrap as he was, seemed to Koa like the least of his problems.

    His eyes finally began to flutter when something snapped him wide awake. He felt movement, as if he was seated in the back of one of the Speed Clan¡¯s carriages. Shadow passed through the material of his tent.

    Slowly, his heart risking palpitations with how loud it was becoming, he moved over to the tent¡¯s flap. He whisked it open.

    Outside, he saw . . . spiders. Thousands of them, large and small, of varying breeds, all carrying along his tent.

    Koa forced himself not to vomit, as a dark inclination dawned on him.

    They were dragging him away. His first guess would be to wherever their masters¡¯ went to ¡®feast¡¯.

 74. Caught in the Web

    Koa did nothing for a few turbulent seconds, watching as the sea of eight-legged demons swept him away. It was dark out, a full moon beaming out in drifts of silver up above. It illuminated the arachnids with horrifying clarity, and, he worried, him too.

    Head flickering back and forth, Koa failed to spot anyone. Yet, as the disguising silk from before had shown him, what the naked eye saw here mattered little. For all he knew, an entire camouflaged army could be lying in wake. Waiting for his slightest move to unleash a hundred nocked arrows.

    At that thought, Koa chided himself. Stoking the flames of his fear was doing him no favours. He focused instead on any vantage points from which he could leap out of the tent. The trees were out of reach, and they were moving too fast for him to manipulate any of them closer in time. Where that attempt failed, Koa focused on the spider colony instead. Flashing his Mark to life, he tried to dominate their wills. Guiding the spiders to cease their transport.

    But they would not listen. He sensed another rush of energy controlling the creatures completely, only their subject of power was far more closely related to controlling the pests than Koa¡¯s was. Arachnid Sect energy, he identified by its slithery, silk-like quality.

    With both plans of action foiled, Koa was at a loss. The last option was a little risky, but no more hazardous than remaining here would be. Probably to be used as seasoning in someone''s stew.

    Koa was about to jump, when he noticed who else was travelling with him.

    Behind, entangled in their own webbing, were countless men and women. Moving along as if they were nothing more than a train¡¯s cargo. All, beyond a shadow of a doubt, dead. Koa shut his eyes tight, feeling like the world was shattering right before him. He wasn¡¯t on Descent anymore. This was a purgatory, a place of eternal night where the wicked be damned. Clearly, Koa and the score of corpses behind him had all been wrongly caught up in this mess. Everything was backwards. They shouldn¡¯t be the ones being punished ¡ª whoever was pulling the strings behind all this were the truly sick and evil ones.

    Allowing himself to relax, as best he could anyway, he crouched to leap off. There was a sizeable chance he¡¯d hurt himself; the spiders were moving surprisingly fast, as if their food had been laced with steroids. Koa was willing to bite the bullet, when a sight somehow more ghastly than anything he¡¯d yet seen confronted him.

    Up ahead, finally coming into view, was what he presumed was their destination.

    Koa may as well have seen the grim reaper¡¯s scythe, for he saw no alternative to how this was all going to play out.

    They had been travelling at a downwards slope, and like a hill emerging into view, a castle lay ahead. Yet it was so immersed in string, Koa couldn¡¯t tell if it was entirely made out of the material. There may have been an actual building of brick and stone hidden beneath, but he doubted it. The place was gigantic, comparable to the Chaos Clan manor in size. At the very crest, above even the battlements in their own expansive webbing, settled a trio of spiders, larger than anything nature alone could have possibly created. Koa recognised them as Unbounded instantly, which was an epiphany that posed more questions than it answered.

    A large balcony spread across the entire length of the castle, near the upper-middle. It was there that Koa could make out a person. An Arachnid Clansman, most definitely, which kind-of reduced their chances of a friendly meeting.

    They were barreling along to the open mouth of a portcullis. His spider kidnappers seemed invigorated at the sight of the opening, moving along with more vigour than ever before. Koa wasn¡¯t so keen.

    With no incentive left to dawdle, Koa activated his Mark and leapt. Spruce armour covered across his body, absorbing most of the impact. Though not suffering nearly as much force as the squashed arachnids that cushioned his fall. Gunk covered him, though Koa paid it no mind, springing up the canopy-thick sides adjacent to their path. He commanded one tree to bend unnaturally. He rushed up it, ascending treetop after treetop in a tunnel-visioned rush.

    A few of the more airborne breeds were at his back. One wooden fist to their heads quickly reduced them to a sticky mush.

    He solemnly hoped that this new route he was taking wouldn¡¯t lead to his downfall. Or that it would at least lead out of Territory Two relatively quickly. It was strange though, the Infinity suffusing the atmosphere was so dense here. He couldn¡¯t pinpoint why.

    Whatever it meant, Koa used it to his advantage. His body became a furnace, burning away resources that he would quickly shovel back in to keep the flame alight.

    It didn¡¯t take long to notice that he was being followed. By multiple people, he sensed, and not all of them were human.

    Koa flipped around onto a branch, sending a wall of projectiles, from spears to jagged leaves, all to confront the group at his back.

    During that instance, he saw the real extent of the group after him. The trio of Unbounded tarantulas, the size of a carriage each, were what caught his attention first. They shot out string to ensnare him. Koa unveiled the weapon Donovan had gifted him at the speed of light, the organic weaponry in its smallest size as a dagger. He expected to cut the string into twain, but was caught off guard, and off balance, when it made a metallic clanging sound. The kind indicative of Supreme Steel.

    The string, instead of cut, was knocked aside. As Koa fell, he glimpsed the other attacker he hadn¡¯t cared to notice before. They were one of the Arachnid clansmen he had previously spotted, a woman, he realised, who didn¡¯t sport the friendliest of expressions.

    She dived downwards after him, cold indifference in her eyes. Koa recaptured his footing, moving elaborately from borough to borough, relying on wild momentum alone not to slip.

    When scorpions started raining from the skies, Koa was sure his day couldn¡¯t possibly get any worse.

    He was tackled by a tailed shadow, his back slamming full force into the log of a tree. The entire structure shook, fallen leaves following him as he fell all the way down to the muddy bottom. Koa had approximately one second to dive out of the way, something else falling after him. And it was a good thing he did, or else the scorpion-looking man would have impaled him through the stomach.

    Koa launched upwards, extended his dagger into a spear, and clashed it against the new arrival¡¯s whipping tail.

    The man really was quite a sight. They had no visible weapon, fighting solely with their tail and the stinger at its end. A chitin exoskeleton enveloped their body, an orange, maroon red. Eight arms rushed out of their sides, but they were put to shame by the great pincers that grappled towards Koa, like the clapping hands of a crab.

    They exchanged a series of rapid blows so fast, Koa only survived by instinct.

    He was on the backfoot, the force of a Foot-Soldier bearing down on him with no sympathy. Koa could hear the others behind advancing, but couldn¡¯t make any attempt to flee, or direct the brawl elsewhere. Any bold moves would mean those pincers, or that poisonous tail, reaching him. Infinity was flowing towards both attachments, he could tell, via a strange Vault. One he suspected was only used by other clansmen willing to alter their body to such extremities.

    The man was smiling, piling on the pressure with enough force to shatter a mountain. Each swing sent trembles that shook the bones in Koa¡¯s forearms.

    The first of the spiders landed behind him. A burst of silk caught his side, tearing through his clothes and drawing Koa¡¯s blood.

    With a screech, he summoned a makeshift spear in his other hand, using the full extent of his Delicate Touch Mould to craft the finest weapon he could in a few seconds time-frame.

    He spun, constantly. Koa had never trained to duel wield, and maybe the brink of death wasn¡¯t a very auspicious chance to begin training, but there was no time like the present.

    Spider tendrils, pincers, and one very nasty tail, each tried to pierce his flesh. As if Koa were some sweet fruit they were trying to pulp the nectar out of. His whizzing hands flew faster than he knew capable, joints and muscle fibres screaming.

    Slowly but surely, more and more of the two¡¯s blows struck him. Each strike caused him to seize up, leading to more and more impacts, more sections on his ruined body for the pain to rage.

    The last two spiders dived down. He knew the Arachnid Clanwoman must have been watching from someplace not too far off, ready to join should things get dicey.

    Alas, they wouldn¡¯t. Koa was outnumbered, outpowered, and outwitted. He was screaming, the staff he had crafted crushed to splinters as he stabbed it into the freshly arriving spider¡¯s eye. It must have pierced into their brain, for that creature at least, ceased to move.

    The scorpion man stopped messing around. He dived to Koa. A fist to Koa¡¯s nose elicited more blood than seemed reasonable. What was worse though, were the eight grappling hands that lobbed him to the ground. Hard.

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    He felt like a ship was crashing down on him. Koa couldn¡¯t breathe, the pressure on his chest was too great. He was being compressed. Minimised like some scrap in a junkyard. Then Koa felt something, something that somehow sent his mind spiralling to new levels of hysteria.

    He felt their tail stab into his thigh. Poison was rushing into his bloodstream.

    Koa focused on the ground, using up every resource in his body. The dirt below exploded, forming a crater metres wide. The clansman was tossed off him, groaning as his back was launched into the opposite end of the pit.

    Already, as he rested along the dirt, Koa was hallucinating. A splurge of colours overlaid everything, incoherent memories spinning along the thread of his consciousness. Koa hoped he was only sedated, and that whatever the scorpion had the chance to emit into him wasn¡¯t lethal.

    Either way, the part of him that hadn¡¯t yet succumbed to the toxin thought, they¡¯ll kill me anyway.

    Up above, he saw the Arachnid clanswoman walk into view, upside down from where he lay sprawled. His clothes were moist from his own Ichor. His mind had ceased to think coherently, and suddenly opening and closing his eyes was the most intriguing activity in the cosmos.

    ¡°Draven.¡± She scowled. ¡°He told us to bring him alive.¡±

    Draven growled, patting the dirt off his palms and spitting the ground at Koa¡¯s feet. ¡°Little rut got on my nerves.¡±

    ¡°Looks like he hurt you,¡± the end of her lips twitched.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t leave a scratch.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Really? What about that crack across your-¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡±

    With that, Draven sauntered over, and Koa vaguely heard, above the ringing in his ears, the scuttling of the spiders left alive.

    ¡°Pity.¡±

    Koa thought he saw sadness in the woman¡¯s eyes, as she encircled him with a rapidly craft web. He couldn¡¯t be certain however, especially with how addled his mind was.

    Whoever was so determined to see him live wouldn''t be very happy if he bled out to death. That wasn¡¯t Koa¡¯s intention, nor would he himself be content with that outcome. Alas, with whatever was rushing through him, and how much Ichor he was losing, it would be a miracle if the people gave Koa the care he needed to survive.

    With that, Koa finally acquired some sleep for the night, but he glowered at the cost.

    <hr>

    ¡°Right this way Sir, right this way. Thank you for signing up for the military, your sacrifice will be mightily appreciated.¡±

    Remus was ushered past the desk. The Scholar Clanswoman on shift today at the entrance had taken one look at the surviving group¡¯s IDs, and rushed them through one by one. Violet had promised to meet up with him on the other side, sneaking in through her Mark and her Unbounded form.

    Of course, many people had Marks capable of taking them over, even without extravagant disguises. Aquila, for example, could simply fly far overhead the barricades and dive into the nearest camp. There was one major problem with that approach that dismayed many clansmen: they wouldn¡¯t be paid, or be able to pass through military camps. Not without being hurled over the second they were found with no identification, anyway.

    Violet didn¡¯t seem to care for the money, and neither was she inclined to actually fight in a proper military squadron. She didn¡¯t have the monetary incentive Remus had, and could amply fulfil her mission of training with the Infinity here without bothering a soul.

    He, on the other hand, was solely after getting filthy rich. The training too, of course, but a man can have priorities.

    It was a surreal feeling, seeing that long stretch of camps and bunkers as he passed the barricades. It wasn¡¯t unlikely that Andreas had played a hand in the creation of the fortifications. That thought put a wistful smile on his lips.

    I¡¯ll be with you soon, Grandad.

    That soon sprang memories of the rest of his family, which only made his chest all the more tight. He stifled that discomfort, focusing on the present concerns he had to attend to.

    Kyle had left shortly after guiding them over to where the newbie soldiers gathered. His temper had suddenly expired, like the ruined ash that remains after the exhaustion of a great fire. Nobody questioned Violet when she said she had to go somewhere, nor did they seem particularly interested.

    Now an injured Aquila, Lamont, and . . . that was it. Only the three of them were here. The air beside them suddenly felt vacant, full of scattered dust in place of flesh and bone. Remus tore his eyes away, muttered a subdued farewell, and they all strolled to where a disheartened Kyle had pointed out.

    The crowd of gathered Foot-Soldiers wasn¡¯t the most comfortable of places. Not because it was hot and humid under the desert sun, though it was sweltering, but because of the aura they each emitted. Confident smiles, bold stances, and overall ease made Remus feel like a sheep amongst wolves. He was getting a severe case of deja vu. He would be hard pressed to beat any one of them in hand-to-hand combat. Remus imagined a group of two or more would have little trouble pulling him apart bone by bone.

    Those thoughts never left him, though did quieten down in the face of a sweeping new arrival.

    If the aura of the others had left Remus unnerved, the man standing arms crossed ahead of the group was a different beast entirely.

    Swords floated at his back, pommels protruding over built shoulders like armies cresting mountains. His arms bulged exactly as fiercely, the kind that popped skulls open as easily as bottles. Whiskers of facial hair, the same variety of grey as the unkempt nest on his head, told of a man who was rather sick and tired. Of what, Remus couldn¡¯t be sure, though the same jaded look pierced through his gaze.

    ¡°You¡¯ll all be designated to different squadrons, based on factors like comparability, and what parts of the battlefield the generals think you''ll excel at.¡± He spoke without introduction, nor excitement. ¡°For now, follow me to the central barracks.¡±

    Remus had heard tales from before, back when Unbounded were a threat on the horizon, and not the worldwide catastrophe they were today. Back then, sects fought through their alliances, attacking other sects in hopes of crushing them completely. That goal, of your clan¡¯s god controlling every speck of Infinity, was almost forgotten nowadays. You could only divide your attention so many ways until everything was destroyed.

    So, for now, wiping ¡®Unbounded scum¡¯ from the earth was the primary objective. And that meant fighting through this new system. A system where would-be enemies draw blades together. Maybe to stab each other in the back later, or maybe not.

    Hey, Remus thought, a common enemy could be what we need to put an end to this war.

    That was flawed, optimistic thinking, Remus knew. If humanity stopped fighting, their gods would have no incentive to keep them alive.

    Any one of those beings could just as easily cast Descent into flames, were they not bound by a litany of Oaths and constitutions.

    Existence, as they knew, it was war. One flaming battle broken up into tiny fragments of conflict. Humanity¡¯s fight against the Unbounded was but one of those fragments. A fragment Remus was going to become well acquainted with, before he ever was to leave the front lines again.

    He followed the man towards a large building, a bland mishmash of shapes no one had bothered to put any decorative thought into. Their escort elicited more than one awesome gasp, and staring into the man¡¯s back, Remus could easily tell this figure was a Warlord. Of the Sword Clan, he suspected, which wasn¡¯t a very hard guess. Held by the energy of a Mark the man didn¡¯t bother to deactivate, or whatever divine structure they had formed at Splintered Rank, was an assembly of sharp weapons. Ranging from a kitchen knife to a machete.

    There wasn''t a speck of Ichor on any of them, and each looked as if they had been sharpened by a waterstone only minutes prior. They hurt the eyes to gaze too hard at, reflecting the sunlight as good as any crystal mirror.

    Remus was a little in awe himself. The Sword Clan was one of the Three Pillars of the army, who were said to make up nearly a third of the front lines by themselves. The Sword, Archery, and Martial Arts Clan. The latter seemed to Remus like an incredibly valuable group to train with, though he doubted such an opportunity would ever arise.

    The Warlord turned on his heels, after they reached the entrance to the building. This section was rectangular, didn''t appear painted, and looked to Remus like it was made out of adobe.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re all hungry.¡± The Warlord said, though it didn''t sound like he particularly cared. ¡°Go in. Someone else will sort you into squadrons later.¡±

    With that, he walked off, probably to make use of his apathetic prowess elsewhere. Remus followed the group into the building, not entirely sure what to expect.

    Inside was a pretty bland room ¡ª that was evidently a theme of the place¡¯s design, and perhaps the entirety of the front lines. Clansmen mulled about through the antechamber, passing through a myriad of connected areas specialised for gods¡¯ knew what.

    Remus was about to make his way to what appeared to be a canteen, when he sensed someone behind him. Call him jumpy, but after Passings of skirting assassins, one became a little cautious. Overly cautious, quite possibly, though Remus found the instincts to do more good than they did bad. His feet jolted back, his body bracing in preparation for the withheld power of Tanish¡¯s Mark to come flooding through.

    He wasn¡¯t fast enough. Whoever was here, either a bounty-hunter from the Frost Clan, or another Shadow clansman, they were way out of Remus¡¯ league. Their speed alone told him that, and the great strength with which they hoisted him into the air was the only other indication he needed. Indication that he was about to face an untimely demise.

    His Mark was teetering on guttering into action when he recognised the assaliant¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Remus!¡± Hadrian boomed merrily. ¡°You¡¯re a sight for sore eyes.¡±

    ¡°Hadrian?¡± Remus craned his neck to see the Flame Sect Mercenary, confronted by a boisterous grin. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°I should be the one asking you that. What, last time we met, you were only Engorged? I¡¯ve heard from Veida that since you departed the Flame Sect you¡¯ve made it all the way to Embazed. To think you¡¯re now a Foot-Soldier . . . that must be a world record or something.¡±

    Remus scratched the back of his head sheepishly. ¡°Yeah, about that ¡ª I¡¯m still only Emblazed. I kind-of, may have, snuck in.¡±

    The large man blinked. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t say I approve, but if you don¡¯t tell anyone, I certainly won¡¯t. Come with me.¡± He flickered a hand over to the canteen. ¡°We can catch up over a warm meal.¡±

    Remus nodded, letting the burly Mercenary lead the way. ¡°Certainly.¡±

    The entire interaction was so fast, Remus was still reeling when he saw him at a table. One of many that stretched through the food court wall-to-wall.

    Tanguy.

 75. Familiar Faces

    When Remus was finished filling his tray with overflowing dishes, it was almost a challenge to carry it over to their table.

    Noodles, eggs, honeyed meats, fish, and all the vegetables and fruits he could stomach. It was like the Flame Sect¡¯s supper all over again, only with a variety that dazzled the mind. Call him greedy, but traversing through a deadly cavern built up quite the appetite. Remus downed an entire pitcher of water, before finally turning to a rigid Tanguy. A beaming Hadrian looked back and forth between the pair of them, refusing to acknowledge the tension in the room.

    Remus took another sip. He was beginning to suspect he was a nervous drinker. He coughed into a fist. ¡°So-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Tanguy said abruptly, like he had finally unearthed an ancient tomb, one he¡¯d been dragging through the caverns of his soul for days. ¡°Going out to fight you in First Rite was foolish of me.¡±

    His expression was blank, though Tanguy had since lost the stoic quality Remus had become accustomed to. Nor were the flames of his rage there. Something was in those eyes, though, something almost intangible. Remus couldn¡¯t pin it down, though he got the feeling it wasn¡¯t malicious.

    ¡°It''s fine.¡± He replied simply, though still wasn''t prepared to fully open-up to Tanguy. He¡¯d have to see how far this all went. If he truly was turning over a new leaf.

    Hadrian smiled a tad more brightly at that.

    ¡°What are you two doing here, anyway?¡± Remus asked between mouthfuls of peanut-butter covered fruit, an exotic kind he¡¯d never seen before.

    ¡°You may have heard from Veida¡¯s letters to Violet that things have gotten bad for us, as of late. Our bases are in ruins from Unbounded attacks ¡ª and we¡¯re not the only ones. The Unbounded are making waves to crush the bases of any clans they see fit.¡± Hadrian didn¡¯t sigh, didn¡¯t carry the wistful tone of a man recounting a recent tragedy. The reality of their clan was something he was used to. Like how a doctor becomes jaded to the sight of blood.

    Remus couldn¡¯t decide if that made it less sad, or more so.

    He suddenly grinned. ¡°So we brought the clan to the front lines! It didn¡¯t take much convincing out of the generals; I suppose in their eyes, the more the merrier. Despite how many Emblazed we¡¯ve brought.¡±

    That made sense. The generals must have been aware of how many people snuck into the front lines. They had to keep up appearances at the main entrance, turning away Emblazed, but if you were to get in via discreet means, or had a valid reason for the early arrival, that was another matter entirely.

    It was something they could overlook; throw under the rug, and maintain their clean reputation.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Violet?¡± Hadrian asked, looking around like he expected her to show up any time now.

    ¡°It''s complicated.¡± Remus explained. ¡°She¡¯s technically strong enough to enter, but certain qualities of hers make it hard to navigate through here without-¡±

    He tried not to make it too obvious he was staring at Tanguy out of the corner of his eye.

    ¡°Without people getting the wrong idea.¡±

    Hadrian nodded carefully, tossing a dumpling into his mouth and quickly changing the topic. ¡°Veida¡¯s here with us. Virtually the entire clan is.¡±

    For a while, they continued to talk over idle matters. The plates became less and less full, and Remus found his tray to be surprisingly light as he disposed of their cutlery.

    ¡°You know what, Remus?¡± Hadrian snapped him out of deep thought. ¡°I¡¯m serving as a pseudo-squadron leader here. I could have a word with my superiors, and could arrange for you to be placed in my squadron if you like. Our fighting styles are very similar anyway, are they not?¡±

    Remus flickered a finger aflame for show. ¡°That sounds like a great idea.¡± His smile remained, but became subtly strained. ¡°I¡¯ll have to talk with my clan first, I think they¡¯re here somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± Hadrian reminded Remus of Andreas so much. It was like someone was using his heart-strings to play musical notes. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be very proud of you.¡±

    Despite his cheery demeanour, Remus felt like he was forgetting about something. Everything had gone smoothly, his Progress Calibrator should be finished gathering data on him by now, and Violet would probably be preoccupied scouting the lay of the land.

    So what was it? There was one piece he was forgetting. Someone who should be here.

    Like turning a lightbulb on, it clicked. Aziel.

    Aziel said he would be heading out to the front lines. So many familiar faces were gathered here, at the war front.

    Hadrian, Tanguy, him and Aziel, all fighting side-by-side in one squad, infernos walking into any battle with the sole intent of blazing a path to victory.

    There wasn¡¯t any prospect that could please him more.

    <hr>

    Koa woke up with a start. Once again he was moving, sticky webs clinging to his face, as he blinked sleep out of his eyes.

    Immediately, not failing to notice he was being taken somewhere, Koa fumbled around for his dagger. The webbing around him was strangely durable, more rope-like than the spindly creation of some spider. Of a normal spider, anyhow, but he had been yet to meet any standard arachnids since stepping foot into this hell. A grave mistake he was still paying for even now.

    He had to be delicate, so not as to alert the Arachnid Clanswoman who was dragging him away. Nevertheless, sacrificing subtly for practicality, Koa almost yelped with joy as he finally fingered the blade. He gritted his teeth, swallowing a cry of pain as his finger slitted against the jagged side. He felt blood there, and without fixating on the injury for a second longer, set himself to cutting a way out.

    It was like trying to slice through steel with a butter knife. For a minute straight, that harsh sound of metal-on-metal became his world. Koa felt his heart beat faster with every failed swipe, the door of freedom seeming to him like it was getting further away. Now but a vague rectangle in a dark abyss, the key nowhere in sight.

    If that was the case, Koa would brute force his way through.

    Infinity poured into his blade, energy emerging from his Mark extending the weapon at the same time. It grew to dangerous lengths, and Koa risked poking his eye out as the equivalent of a katana became heavy in his grip.

    He got so far as shattering one tiny strand of web. It was nothing, like finally getting a doorknob that refused to turn to rattle a little. Yet the progress reinvigorated Koa. His freedom suddenly didn¡¯t seem so distant. Instead of a sealed away door, the only thing in his way was a mine that had collapsed inwards. He bore the pickaxe needed to pick his way through, and no matter how long it would take, he could get to the other side.

    Another strand relented. Like a broken cord on a guitar. The discordant sound of which was its own kind of music to Koa, even if only heard in his drugged mind.

    He could stick a hand out of the gap he had made now. Koa felt the cool night breeze flutter past his digits, which, at that moment, was as comforting as any fireplace.

    Everything went into disarray when he stopped moving. The string around him suddenly slackened, suddenly not so restrictive. Yet it wasn¡¯t to facilitate his rescue. It was to cement his capture.

    Bundles of string ensnared his hands together, his dagger protruding between them like the horn of a unicorn.

    A strong grip pulled him to the ground, and Koa was forced to shrink the blade, or risk injury. It chafed against his chin nonetheless. His eyes settled on the sight of the Ichor muddying the dirt below, not able or willing to look into the eyes of his captor.

    He was pulled to his feet. Too dazed, and probably poisoned to retreat, he could do little to stop them. Only when they pulled Donovan¡¯s weapon away from Koa, did a wave of fury seemed to re-energise him. Acting as his own anti-toxin.

    ¡°Give it back.¡± His voice came out as a growl, one he didn¡¯t recognise as his own.

    The woman ignored him, slipping the dagger underneath the fabric of her belt. She pulled him along like cattle. That sounded to Koa like a description a little too literal. That''s what he was here ¡ª food; sustenance.

    Regrets pulsed through his body, faster than his own blood. He was going to die, to be eaten dead or alive without ever repairing his relationship with Ash. With his entire clan, for that matter. He would die as a deserter, a cautionary tale for any excitable young clansman looking to make a few bold choices.

    His burial would be without a body. Awfully like, he couldn¡¯t help but think, Elmore.

    Koa probably missed his cousin¡¯s funeral, blindsighted by grand, larger than life affairs he had had no business getting involved with. And where had it gotten him?

    They were at the portcullis now, slipping under its open gates. Down the jaws of death they went, dancing along its throat before Koa would reach the deep abyss waiting beyond. They reached an antechamber, then a stretch of passages, and then, Koa finally registered, when he found the will to raise his head, a kind of courtyard.

    The entire castle was made out of web. There was no structure of brick laying underneath, as Koa had first suspected. Only string, the kind reinforced by Supreme Steel that had encased him only minutes prior. It would have been impressive, if not for the sicky feeling Koa got that he was in some kind of nest. Trapped there, caught like a passing fly and ready to be eaten.

    That feeling was only amplified by what he saw next.

    Dominating all of a gigantic web, laid the biggest tarantula Koa had ever seen. No, he realised, it was an Unbounded. Similar to the three that were doing their best to cave his skull in earlier. He hoped they weren¡¯t related, otherwise, he may have started a blood feud with the most unsettling creature possible. Honestly, out of all the animals, arachnids and insects of the world you could enlarge, spiders posed an argument to be the worst possible choice.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    It was the size of a small house, at least, in width, with a grotesque number of beady eyes staring ceaselessly at him. Koa¡¯s eyes were drawn up above, making any excuse to look away. What he saw there was no better.

    At the entangled image of a body, Koa initially found himself benumbed. He was used to the sight of the dead by now, though something seemed off. The way this woman was clad ¡ª an Arachnid clanswoman, no doubt ¡ª was a show of pure wealth. Like someone whose wardrobe consisted of gold, silver and more gold.

    Squinting past the glittering jewels, Koa¡¯s attention was drawn to the crown that crested their head. The leader of the Arachnid Clan, dead and hung up to display. Koa¡¯s mind whirled, ratting in his skull as if someone had sucker punched him. Though he supposed surprise packed a greater force than any fist could.

    The sorrow in his escort suddenly made sense. A dead sect leader; clansmen, who, save for one bloodthirsty scorpion-man, were anything but enthusiastic in their work; Unbounded running amuck; and their neighbours, the Insect Clan who they once on friendly terms with, nowhere in sight.

    It all accumulated in one conclusion. He hadn¡¯t worked out all the details, but Koa was sure he had a vague idea of what was going on. Slowly, he turned around.

    The visage of the Pet-Keeper beamed at him.

    Koa made to leap forth, primed to tear the skin off the Unbounded¡¯s face. Sudden webs held him back, the poison still in his system stirring like a punch to the gut.

    ¡°Always were a feisty one, weren¡¯t you Koa?¡±

    He screamed incoherently, imagining every unspeakable action he could inflict on the Pet-Keeper.

    ¡°I remember when you dealt that egregious blow on me,¡± the Pet-Keeper walked forwards, until he was face-face with a screeching Koa. ¡°How you caught me off guard, how you cut my arm off.¡±

    He extended it fully to Koa. Who, if not for his bounds, would have done his best to tear the limb off.

    ¡°All healed, see?¡± He smiled. It broke like fractured ice before Koa could register it. ¡°But do you know what won¡¯t heal?¡±

    Koa spat molten lava. ¡°Your precious Daisy. We took her to the grave, and I¡¯ll cast you there too.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± The Pet-Keeper¡¯s face flushed red. Like igneous rock blocking out a volcano, seconds before it erupts. ¡°But that¡¯s not the only death that night, was it? You kindly disposed of that idiot Milap for me, and in return-¡±

    The Unbounded got so close, Koa could feel his wretched breath on his face. ¡°I slaughtered Elmore and Donovan. You saw them as brothers, correct? Lifelong companions?¡± He grinned, though there was no mirth behind it. Only rage; ever gratifying fury. ¡°I killed them.¡±

    Koa screamed, lashing against his binds again. But the Pet-Keeper shifted out of reach. For a minute, he exhausted himself until his throat was too sore to screech another note, his muscles burning too fiercely to move. So Koa spoke. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± His gaze was like the view down a nocked arrow¡¯s path, the Pet-Keeper his only target. He indicated the gruesome spider at his sound. ¡°Is that your new pet?¡±

    ¡°Angel is no pet. No more than you are an asset to your family, anyhoo.¡±

    Koa rasped again, though hardly any noise came out.

    ¡°Her and I thought we could do with a new place to stay. Or, at that time, I did, after what you awful people did to our home.¡± He crouched down, eye-to-eye with Koa. ¡°Really, how can you live with yourself? Destroying an innocent Unbounded¡¯s house, and killing scores of them in the process, simply because they''re Unbounded. And you didn¡¯t even manage to save any of them: not Dovovan, no Akuji, not even your own cousin.¡±

    He opened his mouth, ready to yelp obscenities, when something in the Pet-Keeper¡¯s eyes unsettled him.

    ¡°Look at you now, yelping at my feet like a dog. Who¡¯s the real monster here?¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t say anything. He stared daggers into the killer before him, and if that was all he could do ¡ª was the only form of pay-back he could deliver before the Right-bearer inevitably killed him ¡ª then at least he had done everything.

    ¡°Human sects really are quite weak,¡± the Unbounded continued, like they were good friends catching up over tea, ¡°take out their leader, and they all start following the strongest person in sight. Which just so happens to be me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the ones eating all the clansmen, aren¡¯t you?¡± Koa found the strength to speak. It was strained, but the Pet-Keeper seemed to hear him perfectly fine. ¡°And you call me a monster.¡±

    ¡°Well, a man needs to eat. If I count as one.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t.¡±

    He forced a laugh. ¡°Still, I can''t let myself starve. Besides, Angel here needs more food than I can get my hands on. Maybe force feeding the largest Unbounded I stumbled upon was a bad idea.¡± He stared at Koa in anticipation, as if waiting for the reaction to a joke. ¡°Who am I kidding? It was the best thing I¡¯ve done since killing your snotty-nosed cousin.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to kill me to feed your freakshow over there, what¡¯s the hold-up?¡± Koa may have been quickening his own death sentence, but genuine curiosity, a dazed mind, poison, and exhaustion all worked hand-in-hand to make terrible decisions. A pinch of spite made all the difference too.

    ¡°Killing you now?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why would I do that? To put you out of your suffering quicker? No. You¡¯re going to be keeping me company for a while, until I get bored of tormenting you, or Angel is in desperate need of a quick snack. Either way, you¡¯re my prisoner.¡±

    Koa felt himself be taken away again. The Pet-Keeper held out a hand. ¡°And, oh yes, one more thing.¡± His eyes turned to the Arachnid Clanswoman behind him. ¡°Pass me that weapon of his.¡±

    Like an idiot, Koa yelped as it clattered over to the Right-bearer¡¯s feet. He looked curiously at him. ¡°What?¡± He picked it up. ¡°Is this piece of chunk worth something to you?¡±

    The idea passed through his head to elongate the weapon, perhaps scoring an unexpected hit on the Unbounded. It was tricky though. He didn¡¯t know how many opportunities he would have to initiate a fight, and yet Koa was in no condition to get brawling. If he recovered, found a means to attack him . . . Koa would probably die anyway, but at least then he could put up a good fight.

    So when the Pet-Keeper admired his weapon with a wicked smile, Koa tried to rein in his anger.

    When he ordered a servant over to start a fire, he really had to control himself.

    A great bonfire appeared at his feet. The Pet-Keeper began juggling the weapon, tossing it up and down with the conviction of a budding circus performer. He made a show of almost dropping it, and each slip of the hand and subsequent catch made Koa flinch.

    His tension peaked for one excruciating minute.

    ¡°Is this some sort of game to you?¡±

    ¡°Game?¡± The Pet-Keeper flashed a distressed face. ¡°I just can¡¯t seem to grab ahold of-¡±

    It fell into the fires.

    ¡°Oh. Pity.¡± He looked at the blade in flames, then to Koa. ¡°You distracted me. Look at what you made me do!¡±

    Koa lowered his head, and took a deep breath. Then, very quietly, he whispered, ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you.¡±

    Cackles. Each like a blow to the chin. What was the bastard finding so funny?

    He suddenly stopped giggling, donning a stoic look so quickly, it gave Koa whiplash. ¡°Take him away. You know which cell.¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t struggle as they took him, there was no point. He simply watched the Pet-Keeper, an ample representation of everything he hated, of crushed dreams and painful memories.

    He closed his eyes. I¡¯ll kill him. He vowed. I¡¯ll kill him.

    <hr>

    Remus found him meditating in a spare room, connected to one of the training camps scattered about the place. Based on the Infinity fluctuations drifting through the air, Aziel was testing out his Vault. Perhaps attempting to adjust to the feeling of his completed tunnels? Or how the Infinity rushed through them?

    Either way, Remus was in no mood to disturb him. So he sat by the man, and joined him.

    For all his time at the Silver Cavities, his Mould was progressing nicely. Plus, Remus could already sense that the average Infinity concentration near the front lines was enormous compared to what he was used to. When he actually did get sent out to battle, miles on miles on end would be like a weakened version of the Silver Cavities. His growth would be exponential.

    Foot-Soldier wasn¡¯t the far off horizon he had once thought it to be. A childish giddiness made Remus grin at the thought. He couldn¡¯t imagine being so powerful, but was nearly upon it.

    He was whisked out of his reverie when Aziel yelped. ¡°Remus! What are you doing here?¡±

    Remus grinned. He decided to cut to the chase. ¡°Snuck in. I have family here I want to visit, wherever they are, and training to do. Also money to earn.¡±

    Aziel cackled delightedly. ¡°Yes, money.¡±

    ¡°How long have you been here?¡±

    ¡°Not long. A couple Passings I think?¡±

    Remus bit the inside of his mouth. That would mean Aziel was already assigned to his own squadron. Yet that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t convince him.

    ¡°Look, I came here to offer a proposal.¡±

    ¡°A proposal . . .¡± he mulled over the word, like he was savouring the taste of it. ¡°Quite the business man you¡¯ve become.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m forming a squadron with some old friends from the Flame Sect,¡± Remus wasn¡¯t quite sure yet whether he could include Tanguy in that description, but the young man seemed to have changed enough. ¡°Our powers overlap quite a bit, if you can imagine.¡±

    ¡°I can. So let me guess, you want me to join?¡±

    Remus nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s awfully enticing.¡± Aziel cracked a smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be quite the menacing sight on the battlefield.¡± There was a catch in his tone, waiting to emerge as abruptly as a Jack-in-the-box. ¡°Though I¡¯d hate to leave the boys in my current group . . . I think they¡¯d understand though.¡±

    ¡°Hadrian should be able to sort out all the technicalities.¡± Remus explained. Normally, soldiers didn¡¯t have the freedom to hop willy-nilly between whatever squadrons they fancied. Only because Remus was in close relations with someone pretty high up in the rankings, was he able to bend the rules a little.

    ¡°Alright.¡± Aziel hadn¡¯t stopped beaming. ¡°I¡¯m in.¡±

    Right that moment, they turned at the sound of footsteps. Violet was at the entrance.

    ¡°I was wondering when I¡¯d see you.¡± Remus walked over to her. ¡°How¡¯d you get in?¡±

    ¡°Most of these places don¡¯t bother checking ID.¡± Violet explained. Her eyes swerved to Aziel. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re building up your fanclub?¡±

    ¡°It''s a squad.¡± Remus corrected.

    They engaged in idle chatter for all of two minutes before Aziel spoke up.

    ¡°I know this might come off as a little overbearing, but you promised to explain everything to me. Violet using a Projection, the things you two would mutter about-¡±

    ¡°Oh right.¡± Violet cut him off. ¡°I¡¯m an Unbounded.¡±

    Aziel looked at her. And then kept looking.

    ¡°There¡¯s no punchline.¡±

    In a sudden transformation, Violet adopted her Unbounded form.

    Aziel, bless his soul, looked torn between screaming for help and crumpling into the corner. ¡°Well,¡± he eventually uttered, when Violet was back in her human form. "If there was any secret worth keeping, that would certainly be it.¡±

    The growing tension shattered. Soon the trio resumed talking comfortably, with Violet explaining everything in hushed tones. Remus felt a warmth in his heart as they laughed and chatted, one that his fires could never hope to match.

 76. Where It All Went Wrong

    Tanguy was torn between two conflicting attitudes.

    Part of him loathed Remus. Wanted to see the first enemy they stumbled across on the front lines smash his brains into mush. The other couldn¡¯t fathom how much of an idiot he was.

    Everyday, Hadrian would talk to him about old philosophies. Things like the cycle of revenge, karmatic ideals, morality ¡ª all things that sounded like gibberish at first, but were slowly starting to make sense. Every night, his mind would replay leaving the clan; that bold anger that had driven him to confront Remus; both of their bouts and the twisted feelings he¡¯d basked in afterwards.

    When he fell asleep, after hours of twisting and turning, his nightmares were much the same. Only in vivid detail, with sinister twists that put knots into his stomach.

    Instead of fighting Remus, his enemy would be some demonic apparition. Clawed, horned, and with a mouth leaking with Ichor. The blood wouldn¡¯t stop pouring, until, somehow, Tanguy was drowning in it. The demon would disappear, their fighting stage would vanish. Everything would cease to be.

    Save for that ocean of Ichor. His own personal realm of gold, but this was no treasure. The feeling of drowning would haunt him. And right before it became too overwhelming to bear, he would wake up in a flush. Or enter some other disturbed vision.

    Together with Hadrian, the Flame Clansmen at the back, Remus, and some newcomer called Aziel, they marched along. Violet was in company too, though was clearly doing her best to look as inconspicuous as possible. Veida was off having a field day with all the Unbounded samples she could get when thousands were being slaughtered per day. Tanguy sincerely hoped she would come across some world-shattering discovery soon, like the Unbounded¡¯s greatest weakness. That way, he wouldn¡¯t have to bear the burden of hearing about how the fiends were getting closer to their bases everyday.

    Somehow, he, Remus and Aziel all started walking apace.

    ¡°So this is Tanguy?¡± Aziel asked sceptically, completing the last shade in their contrasting hair trio. Black, ginger, and blond. Then Tanguy remembered that wasn¡¯t completely true. He was shaved down to the tiniest fibres on his head. The whispers of a buzzcut were the most you could see.

    ¡°Yep,¡± Remus replied, always so succinct about the whole matter.

    The pair felt like they were walking on eggshells whenever conversing, and based on the pursed line of his lips, Tanguy suspected Aziel felt much the same way.

    ¡°You probably haven¡¯t heard the best things about me.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Aziel''s lips softened a little. ¡°Though, you¡¯re not what I imagined when Remus first described you.¡±

    ¡°That was a long time ago.¡± Remus cringed. ¡°People change.¡±

    Tanguy thoroughly hoped so. He didn¡¯t know whether an apology was in order. He¡¯d done so before, and this seemed like the occasion to repeat it, if there was any. Alas, at the same time, saying such again was something akin to . . . shameful?

    Nevertheless, he felt inclined to speak. So Tanguy carefully worded himself. ¡°Again, I regret going out to attack you like that. It was-¡±

    ¡°No need to apologise.¡± Remus told him, with a look that seemed to trespass into the icy core of his soul. It''s in the past now, we can only focus on the future.¡±

    Aziel nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve all done things we regret . . . but Remus¡¯ right. We should take whatever lesson we can from them, and move forward.¡±

    Tanguy couldn¡¯t understand why his chest was growing so tight. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    They finally reached their destination ¡ª a large building run by the Scholar Sect, who Tanguy was certain were loaded, with how much business they had in the front lines alone. It was here that Hadrian would make the final arrangements for their new squadron.

    Remus seemed to wait with bated breath, never once taking his eyes off the building. Well, save for a quick swerve of their surroundings, like he was looking for someone, though appeared content with checking once.

    ¡°It¡¯ll all be accepted, right?¡± Violet asked.

    Tanguy knew there was something different about the girl, and got the horrible feeling he wasn¡¯t in on it. He couldn¡¯t pinpoint why, but he was sure plenty of the others knew exactly what it was. She appeared perfectly normal, save for the flaming embers in her eyes, though he supposed early alterations were a thing, if not uncommon.

    ¡°There¡¯s no reason for it not to be.¡± Aziel answered earnestly, stepping up and down on the balls of his feet. ¡°Though this all sounds almost too good to be true.¡±

    Tanguy could understand that excitement, even empathise with it. If not for the embarrassment that clouded his enjoyment. Working alongside a team with abilities exactly like his, blue-on-red fire, with Violet as a wildcard thrown into the mix, could make them a recogniseable threat on the battlefield. Something to be proud to be a part of.

    He was told to leave the past in the past, but how could he? When those very same mistakes paved his future path. He could redirect where he was headed, obviously. Make tiny changes everyday to set himself on the right course. Yet it didn¡¯t seem like enough. Tanguy didn¡¯t want to be defined by one bout of furious anger, and yet couldn¡¯t seem to ever shake those shackles off him.

    He tried not to dawdle on those dark thoughts too much; how he felt like he¡¯d jeopardised everything. When Hadrian returned with an infectious beam on his face, he could almost forget about his woes.

    ¡°We¡¯re accepted!¡± The bear of a man laughed, the red locks of his hair swishing in the wind.

    They all cheered in a clamorous uproar, and Tanguy felt himself be dragged away to gods¡¯ knew where. Only when he found himself seated in a pub, did Tanguy begin to relax. He smiled, though it didn¡¯t feel completely genuine. He smiled because they smiled, and thought of things completely irrelevant as he downed the first drink handed his way.

    Platters of food began to overflood the table, and the party engorged themselves in an evening Tanguy couldn''t help but found blissful. Blindsighted sporadically by visions of the past or not.

    Remus was laughing merrily, so Tanguy felt bad to disturb him. ¡°Remus, I know you said not to dwell on it, but I can¡¯t. What can I do to make it up to you?¡±

    ¡°Tanguy-¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t take no for an answer. I¡¯m serious. I won¡¯t feel better until I know I¡¯ve done everything in my power to make amends.¡±

    The words rolled out of him like an unexpected spot of lightning. Yet it was somewhat cathartic, like he was letting go of a few strands of hate. Bundles still clutched to his proverbial fingers, of course, but it was a lesser weight.

    Remus exhaled. ¡°Honestly, you¡¯re fine. I don¡¯t begrudge you. Though, if there¡¯s anything you can do-¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I want you to work your very best. I want you to contribute everything you have and more to make our squadron the best it can be. We''re going to become a force to be reckoned with, I know it. You¡¯re part of how we¡¯re going to accomplish that. So I expect only the best from you.¡±

    Tanguy was suddenly suspicious that Remus had activated his Mark. He was aware that passive motivation by being near an Ambition Clansmen was one of Tanish¡¯s bestowed powers. It would probably explain why in all of Remus¡¯ fights, his allies and opponents always seemed so amped-up.

    Maybe it could also explain some of the riotous emotions in Tanguy himself, during their fight.

    Though Tanguy sensed no energy emanating from the man. It was his words that had inspired him, and his words alone.

    ¡°I can do that.¡± Tanguy said, after a brief pause. ¡°I promise.¡±

    Remus smiled. ¡°Good.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t long until Hadrian had eaten his fill, with more empty plates clattered around the Mercenary than Tanguy was willing to count. ¡°So.¡± He finally spoke, after swallowing one last mouthful. ¡°What are you guys interested in doing with this squad?¡±

    ¡°Kill Unbounded.¡± A trainee spoke up. A clamour of laughs followed shortly after.

    ¡°Yes, yes.¡± Hadrian smiled. ¡°There¡¯ll be plenty of time for that ¡ª but what else? I¡¯m talkin¡¯ specifics.¡±

    ¡°Money.¡± Remus replied. ¡°A lot of money.¡±

    More chuckles, though followed this time by many sympathetic murmurs.

    ¡°Not a bad goal, if a little materialistic. If money¡¯s our aim, we¡¯ll have to look out for commissioned tasks. Then complete as many as possible.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll spread our notoriety too.¡±

    ¡°We could buy better equipment.¡±

    ¡°Then people might look out to us specifically for higher-paying jobs.¡±

    More and more trainees shared their agreement. Already, a few eager clansmen had left to accept as many jobs from the notice board as possible. Hadrian took a seat closer to Tanguy and Remus, with something like fondness brightening up his eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to be doing everything in my power to help you two advance.¡± He shot a head over his shoulder. ¡°That goes for the rest of you below Foot-Soldier. We¡¯re going to try and allocate as many resources as possible to supplement your growth. Though if we want to get enough supplies for all of us, you¡¯ll have to work hard. Very, very hard.¡±

    Tanguy felt his heart race, his fists tighten. Tiny wisps of flame warmed his fingers. ¡°Of course, Sir. If the Front Line hasn¡¯t heard of us yet, they definitely will soon.¡±

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got some ideas.¡± Remus spoke up. ¡°Ways I¡¯ve been training that might be helpful to the others.¡±

    Hadrian raised both eyebrows. ¡°Really? What kind of ideas?¡±

    ¡°When I was in the Shadow Clan¡¯s cube-¡±

    Tanguy shot Remus an odd look. What was this fumbling idiot doing inside one of the most confidential places on Decent? They would kill him if they knew he was spilling secrets about the inside. Then again, knowing the ginger fool, they probably had other reasons to go after his guts.

    ¡°-they had these kind of training chambers made out of Supreme Steel, and, this is a little ghastly, but decaying Unbounded.¡±

    Hadrian didn¡¯t look like he liked the sound of this, though he didn¡¯t interrupt him.

    ¡°I was trying to find a similar environment to train in. That¡¯s when I discovered the early portions of the Silver Cavities. I was only there for a few Durations in total, and-¡±

    ¡°It''s risky. Too risky.¡± The Mercenary cut him off. ¡°I¡¯m amazed you''re unscathed from the experience. Were you not attacked by Unbounded?¡±

    ¡°Yes, though I managed to fend them off. I know there are risks, but I was able to complete over a third of my Bank in little over a Passing.¡± When no-one said anything, he continued, ¡°I¡¯m not saying it''s safe, or plausible for everyone, but I felt like it was worth sharing. There are probably some spots deep into the front lines that are a tad safer, and have similar effects. We could stake them out. Violet has certain abilities that could assist too.¡±

    Before Tanguy could fully digest that, Hadrian spoke. ¡°I¡¯m definitely not sending a full squadron to the Silver Cavities. Not everyone has the benefits of your Mark Remus, remember that. They can¡¯t withstand impossibly harsh routes of training and walk it off after a night¡¯s sleep. I¡¯ll consider what you recommended about recreating the same conditions. So that¡¯s how the Shadow Clan train . . .¡±

    Remus looked like he was only now realising what Hadrian had told him. Like he hadn¡¯t before considered that throwing yourself into the equivalent of piranha-infested water wasn¡¯t viable for everybody.

    ¡°Well,¡± Hadrian eventually continued. ¡°You two best be off. We have commissions to complete.¡±

    His beam was infectious. Tanguy felt something roar in his heart, or perhaps someplace deeper than that. Someplace like his soul.

    Remus had started a fire in him, and Tanguy just had to fuel it.

    <hr>

    As far as prisons go, the optimist in Koa thought it could have been a lot worse. Then again, that optimist was shot dead by a raging army of pessimists a few seconds later. Now his mind was dominated by cynical thoughts. The kind Koa half-suspected weren¡¯t too far detached from that of a man, who never seems to leave the corner of a bar. Holding his beer as a clutch like Koa was his Bank.

    With nothing to do, and the imminent threat of death getting a little stale, like expired liquor, Koa had nothing much to do. So he fell back on the one activity trainees could always rely on: training.

    It was very similar to mediating, when you channelled your Infinity, crafting a Bank into a Vault bit by bit. Outside thoughts became vague sensations, acknowledged but always ignored. The crux of the universe was your Mould, and its fulfilment your only priority.

    Naturally, it was a lot more pleasant than basking in despair. So Koa threw himself into it. Engaging over and over in inhaling and exhaling Infinity. Each wave of the divine resource cleansed him of feelings; of emotion. It wasn¡¯t that he was joyful, he simply was. There was no emotion, no tangents of the mind.

    Just him, his Bank, and the void.

    So when he heard something approaching, his first instinct was to ignore it. He continued to exploit the Infinity around him. Little pieces of himself that had somehow become separated. It was like Koa was becoming whole. The entire thing was frankly soothing, and the abundance of Infinity would have made this a perfect place to train under other circumstances.

    The footsteps continued. That was definitely what the noise was, he could now fully identify. Footsteps getting louder.

    His eyelids snapped open, the image of his web cell as comforting as an ice bucket. One upturned over his head, with an outpour that never ceased.

    Koa hardly paid attention to his surroundings. Save for meal times, which were three times a day, and consisted of basic foods that would keep him weak, but not dead. The rest of the time he shut out the world, and focused on his Mould.

    Outside, through the tiny slits in the web somehow everywhere, the veil of night obscured everything. Each time too small to fit even his hand through. He heard the chirping of insects, which Koa may have taken comfort in as an abundant sound in the Wild. If not for the fact they could be manipulated at any second to flay him alive.

    Someone was out there. His breath failed him, and Koa found it impossible to inhale with composure. Or at all.

    Had the Pet-Keeper changed his mind? Did he send an executor to finish the job? He could just as easily arrive himself, Koa knew full well, though he would have laughed in his final moments if the universe was to be so cruel.

    The door of his prison wasn¡¯t a door at all. It was an area where the webbing was a little less dense. Formed of Supreme Steel not as concentrated. Koa was beginning to suspect this place was so effective to train in because of that exact webbing, when a figure slithered through.

    He recognised the Arachnid Clanswoman instantly, or at least he thought he did. She looked . . . different. There was nothing he could pinpoint, but perhaps she was younger? A younger family member, such as a sister maybe?

    At any rate, she passed through the weakened silk like it wasn¡¯t there at all. Like a ghost flaunting its ability to phase through walls.

    Koa didn¡¯t scramble back. Didn¡¯t yelp, or cry out, or do anything of the sort, despite the sweat dripping off him like he was soon to die of heat stroke. He simply stared at her, worried uttering the simplest word would hasten his demise. The aura of her wasn¡¯t too different from his own at least. High Emblazed or weak Foot-Soldier at a stretch. If she was to attack him, weakened and disarmed as Koa was, he could put up a fight.

    ¡°Relax.¡± She raised her hand. Or the spidery tendril in the place of it, anyway. ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt you.¡±

    ¡°But-!¡±

    ¡°Lower your tone!¡± She hushed, and Koa found it pretty hypocritical she was talking so loud herself. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to be here. If they find out that I am . . .¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll kill us both?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°I¡¯m Octavia, that woman who beat you up before was my mother.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t a very nice way to put it, Koa couldn''t help but think. Then again, their conflict had been pretty one-sided.

    ¡°What are you doing here then?¡± They talked in whispers, though Koa was still sceptical.

    ¡°You get the gist of what¡¯s going on here?¡±

    ¡°That the Pet-Keeper¡¯s killed your sect leader, and taken over? That there are mutant spider Unbounded parading about the place while you have to collect the dead for . . . did he call her Angel?¡±

    ¡°All correct. Strange name I know.¡±

    ¡°You should have seen what he called his last little pet before we finished it off.¡±

    That brought back a swell of painful memories. Though Octavia looked astonished. ¡°So that¡¯s why he¡¯s so eager to kill you? You murdered his last leashed freak?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much. And helped burn down his childhood home.¡±

    Koa wasn¡¯t eager or willing to go into too much detail. It would take too much explaining, and would require him to drop a few world-shattering revelations about Unbounded that may throw Octavia off. Then there was the prospect she was lying, and Koa¡¯s death was closer than he thought.

    ¡°If he hates you so much, and it¡¯ll give him so much delight in seeing you suffer, I want to steal that joy from him. Everybody is against the Pet-Keeper you know, but we have to play along or,¡± she put her fingers into quote signs, ¡°face the consequences. Even my mother loathes him.¡±

    Koa recalled the sorrow he had divined in the woman¡¯s eyes at the end of their bout. ¡°What can we do?¡± He raised his head, refusing to give in to despair. ¡°Is this place on constant watch?¡±

    ¡°There are Unbounded around, though they¡¯re stupid. Some are Projections, but my Vault is specialised for Disguise. Thief¡¯s Witness. I can get through without them noticing.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re certain? If you¡¯re wrong-¡±

    ¡°If I¡¯m wrong, we¡¯d already be dead.¡±

    Koa exhaled. Either he remained here, refused help from this woman, and tried to find an escape himself, through his own means, or he trusted her not to get them both killed. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Both options were risky, so, after a few seconds¡¯ deliberation, he bit the bullet.

    ¡°Okay. What are some times I can sneak out relatively safely?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be easier to sneak out at night, but I¡¯ve been watching. There are regular checks from blackmailed Arachnid Clansmen. They¡¯ve been told to report if you go missing, or have their family killed.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. So it should be smooth sailing from here.¡±

    She walked over to his ¡®bed¡¯. He used that word loosely, the pallet of silk hardly counting as one. ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea.¡± She told him, and before Koa could ask any follow-up questions, she began weaving something.

    It was a doll. A doll created to perfectly match his body, and Koa found it eerie how one-to-one the mannequin was. It was the kind of mummified construct he would expect to find inside a pyramid. Octavia quickly threw it under his covers, which were, in a shocking revelation, made out of webbing.

    ¡°That¡¯ll be more than enough to keep the sentinels happy.¡± Koa hoped Ocatvia was as right as she was confident, alas, those things didn¡¯t tend to balance out. ¡°Oh yeah, one more thing-¡±

    She threw Koa against the side of the prison. Being semi-metallic as it was, she might as well have pushed him into concrete.

    He spun, Mark blazing. But no brighter than his fury. ¡°A bit early for a betrayal, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    She uppercut him at lightning speed. ¡°Oh, no. I pleaded for the position to be your torturer. That¡¯s why I can get here without raising too many eyebrows. I need a reason for visiting you. It''s a good cover-up, though that does mean I¡¯ll have to beat you up to keep appearances.¡±

    ¡°So no hard feelings?¡± Koa scoffed.

    Based on the way she smiled, Ocatvia failed to pick-up on his sarcasm. ¡°I knew you¡¯d understand.¡±

    A few minutes later, when Koa was sore all over, they sneaked out of the prison, covered under the obscuring veil of her webs. Apparently that technique even worked against other arachnids, for Octavia looked relatively calm, even as they passed by guards. If they could see them, they made no attempt to show it, yawning with exaggerated gestures that almost made Koa laugh.

    ¡°So what¡¯s the Pet-Keeper¡¯s big plan?¡± Koa finally asked, when they were out of earshot. ¡°I assume he has bigger schemes in mind than staying cosy up in your castle.¡±

    ¡°I think he wants to take over other territories. We were just unfortunate to be the first he arrived at.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask for help from other clans? Or send a messenger to the city proper? I don¡¯t think Maris will be very happy with an Unbounded trying to take over her throne.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s cut off all our means of communication.¡± Octavia sounded like she was holding back a sigh with every other word. ¡°Any outsiders are used as cattle to feed himself or his Unbounded, and the only beings powerful enough to use Perpetual Sight are dead, or incapacitated.¡±

    ¡°What about the Insect Clan¡¯s leader, wouldn¡¯t they-¡±

    ¡°You would think they would lend a hand, wouldn¡¯t you? But nothing. It''s safe to assume the Pet-Keeper has done something to stop them. Whatever it is, I doubt it¡¯ll be pretty.¡±

    ¡°We should go there,¡± Koa said resolutely, realising they were walking around aimlessly. ¡°If we can relieve pressure off the clan, maybe they''ll help us. But I also need somewhere to train. I¡¯m not strong enough yet to go up against the Pet-Keeper or his stronger minions ¡ª I probably won¡¯t be for several Rebirths. Though, if I can squeeze in an advancement to Foot-Soldier, there¡¯s a chance I can get through this alive.¡±

    ¡°There are some spots near the Insect Clan we could visit. Spots dense with Infinity. If you wanna visit the Insect Clan now, we could take a stop-¡±

    Koa sensed the beams of Infinity she was talking about, and marched straight towards them. Ocatvia yelped sternly for him to wait, but Koa had made up his mind.

    Territory Two, a nightmare made real ¡ª this was his crucible. Through the pressure, he would temper himself, or break like weak iron. Through the furnace of adversity, he would either rise up to the challenge, or burn to a crisp.

    And then there was still his duel with Ash.

    Koa kicked an innocent rock, cursed under his breath, and continued ever onwards

 77. Prodigal Son

    Remus had never had so much fun as flying through the air, eliminating enraged bat after bat with fierce swerves of blue.

    The swarm they were clearing out infested a stretch of the battlefield not too far away from their camps. Ugly, brutish Unbounded with taloned wings eager to be painted the gold of Ichor. This was a pretty standard commission, taking down a relatively weak cluster of Unbounded, though one in irritating numbers.

    Smoke filtered through the air, swathes of sandy grey blasted open by fireball after fireball. The screeching Unbounded, a little larger than the size of a palm each, either dropped to the corpse-littered floor below, or were already dissipating.

    Remus identified a large group fleeing upwards, relying on the universal instinct to flee. He would not let them.

    Up and up he rose, an orb of azure blasting out of him like a contained bomb. A score of fiends were sizzled to a crisp instantly. Taking a moment to breathe, he peered down at the rest of the battlefield.

    Violet was a purple blur, causing destruction wherever she appeared. Clumps of earth would disfigure, like a screen glitching, before reappearing as mounds of disintegrating Unbounded.

    A seabed of fire coated everything, and Remus knew people would recognise their squadron¡¯s work here, by the charred stretch of ground left behind. Within that red ocean, Flame Clansmen pardaded about the place, sizzling any of the fiends that dared stray too close, or sending off flaming projectiles to pierce the air above.

    Hadrian was a walking titan overseeing their operation, and Remus meant that literally. Violet had before described to him the towering mass of fire he had become, when the Tarlords attacked the pair of them so long ago. Now Remus could confirm ¡ª it was an awe-inspiring sight. Lava streamed like decorative strips through the building-sized creation, and the man seemed to be having all the fun in the world.

    When dealing with so many Godlings and God-Graced, Remus sometimes forgot how powerful a Splintered Rank alone could be. Hadrian likely could have taken this job solo and still produced similar results.

    He wondered if he too one day would be able to employ a similar ability. Yet even that was a far cry from the horrors of war he had witnessed Maris and Juniper create. Everything was relative.

    Remus spotted Tanguy in the heat of the battle, moving faster than he knew the man capable. He was back-to-back with Aziel, and Remus couldn¡¯t help but smile at the thought they were competing for who could deliver more Unbounded to the grave.

    The fight ended when the manufacturer of this swarm ¡ª Unbounded terminology would never not be weird ¡ª finally reared their face. They were the size of a comet, each great flutter of their bat-wings possessing destructive force. Remus didn¡¯t have time to estimate their Rank-equivalence, when Hadrian crushed them between two oversized hands.

    They concentrated to an ultrastellar white, and the Unbounded was burned down to their Infinity in the most efficient takedown Remus had ever witnessed.

    All Unbounded cleared, Remus flew down to the others, gathering in the middle of the black wasteland they had left behind. Clansmen were either sprawled out on the floor, recovering as fast as possible, or stretching idly. He used the momentum of his descent to stumble over to Tanguy, Aziel, and Violet. Hadrian was at their back, composing himself after that monstrous display of power.

    He grinned affably at them all. ¡°Pay day.¡±

    After this was all wrapped up, Remus would be able to send his second check straight to the Carpentry Clan. The Scholar Sect handled all of that technical jargon, making the process surprisingly easy. It had only been two Durations so far of diligent work, and he had already amassed them a small fortune.

    He wasn¡¯t sure how they would react with Remus of all people sinking all the Inklings he could into their bank accounts. Then, when he wasn¡¯t busy either training or fulfilling commissions for extra cash, Remus spread the good word for anybody looking for something to be repaired or built.

    As for actually visiting his family, Remus couldn¡¯t locate them for the life of him. He was starting to fear Violet had been wrong with her account of spotting Damion. The front lines encompassed the entire world in one vigorous stretch, and for all Remus knew, they were on the complete opposite side.

    Remus tried to not let it get to him however, content with simply supporting his family from afar for now. He would have to see Andreas soon, however. You could never take your chances with an ailment as severe as his.

    Dinner wasn¡¯t for a few more hours. With nothing better to do, and everybody preeoccupied with their own tasks, Remus set himself to his favourite, and only hobby: training like an absolute lunatic.

    He settled down in a discreet spot away from the camps, underneath a protrusion of rock. No Unbounded were likely to come this close, and Remus would be relatively undisturbed well past dinner time.

    He closed his eyes, channeled Infinity for a few minutes, before the sound of someone approaching snapped his eyes open.

    ¡°So the prodigal son returns.¡±

    Remus blinked. Then blinked again. When he was certain this was reality, he trembled to a stand.

    ¡°Daimon.¡± He croaked. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you.¡±

    ¡°I could say the same.¡±

    Remus advanced closer, opening his hands for a hug. He dropped them at one cold look from his brother.

    ¡°Where were you?¡±

    For the most part, Damion looked the same from their last meeting. He still shared the same shade of dark ginger in his locks, still shot a foot or so taller than Remus, though the distance was shrinking. Everything was exactly as he remembered, save for, say, five percent. Yet that five percent changed everything.

    He stood up straighter. Damion had always had good posture, yet he held himself with a new level of self-respect. Like he had been met with the crushing weight of responsibility, and had risen to the challenge. There wasn¡¯t a smile. A stoic line of the lips that barely counted as a scowl, but couldn¡¯t have been anything else. His arms were crossed, representing a barrier between the two.

    Remus took a step closer, only to be stopped by a hand raised by Damion.

    ¡°You forced Edmar¡¯s anger on our clan. Acquired a Droplet through illicit means. You broke out of prison and fled with a wanted fugitive, then became one yourself, getting involved with affairs beyond you.¡±

    ¡°I had to Damion. Look, I can expl-¡±

    ¡°No.¡± That one word felt to Remus like a punch to the gut. ¡°Andreas ¡ª your great grandfather ¡ª has been dying, and you¡¯ve been busy with gods¡¯ know what.¡± He didn¡¯t raise his voice, maintaining that analytical tone that was so infuriatingly reasonable. He almost wished Daimon would shout at him instead. Even used violence; anything would have been better than this.

    ¡°You¡¯re not even Foot-Soldier. You snuck in here?¡±

    ¡°It was for the clan.¡±

    ¡°Was it?¡±

    Remus¡¯ hopes may have become true, for aggression leaked into Damion¡¯s tone. ¡°Was any of this for the clan, Remus?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course. Why el-¡±

    He felt a finger point into his chest, ¡°you really have to ask yourself that Remus: did you leave to get power, to please some frustration within you, or did you really do this all for us? For your family. I can¡¯t tell.¡±

    ¡°I needed power to help. Yes, obviously getting so strong has been nice . . .¡± Remus trailed off. Everything sounded so flimsy, even on his own lips, even to his own ears.

    Damion sighed. ¡°You have helped us, Remus. Telling the Ambition Clan to get construction done by us was the biggest job we¡¯ve landed in years. I assume you¡¯re also sending the clan most of your profits as a soldier now. You¡¯ve done good, a lot more that I don¡¯t know about, I''m sure, but does it level out the bad?¡±

    The fact Remus had no answer to that told them both everything they needed to know.

    Damion sighed. ¡°C¡¯mon. The others will be eager to see you.¡±

    It turned out the Carpentry Clan weren¡¯t positioned too far away from where his squadron was based. It was at most a twenty minute walk, five if Remus flew. Though, he wasn''t sure how his brother would react to that, so for now went ahead on foot.

    The site was a lot more advanced than any Remus had seen, which made sense, considering this was the Carpentry Sect they were talking about. Instead of tents, that Remus really was tired of the sight of, the image of wooden huts was a breath of fresh air. He recognised the clansmen mulling about, carrying crates, building supplies, or various tools piling up. They hadn¡¯t noticed him yet, though Remus strongly suspected their reactions wouldn¡¯t be as relaxed, relatively speaking, as Damion¡¯s had been.

    Remus had left as a scrawny, brooding young man with a short temper and even shorter stature. Now he here he was, a Rebirth or so later, after both a power and growth spurt. Then there were the blue eyes, free of whites. He liked the simple alteration, and wondered what his family would make of it.

    At the forefront of his mind was Andreas. He almost feared to see the man. It wasn¡¯t that he was lacking in excitement ¡ª far from it ¡ª but how would he cope with seeing his body immersed by Rot? To know his lifeline was shrinking like a fuse set to flame. Or would he be grey and battered, like how Remus and their squadron left their battlefield charred? It was a losing battle, Remus¡¯ mind knew full well. It was his soul that had trouble digesting it.

    ¡°Hey, what Rank are you?¡± Remus asked carefully.

    ¡°Foot-Soldier.¡± Damion replied, without a break.

    Remus stopped moving in the centre of the base. His brother kept walking for a few seconds, before turning to face him.

    ¡°But barely anyone in our clan has been able to get past Emblazed since . . . since Andreas.¡±

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    It was the curse of being a sect that didn¡¯t lend itself to combat. To get the resources and training needed to advance further past Emblazed, you had to expose yourself to danger. The only feasible way to acquire Infinity was common sense: going to an Infinity rich area and basking the essence there. But there were a thousand caveats to that. Where there was Infinity, there was danger. Danger like Unbounded or enemy clansmen competing for the resource. It was the kind of danger you had no right to be facing unless you could defend yourself.

    Being able to build a pretty house wouldn¡¯t really help you much when face-to-face with the most hideous servant Infinity had to offer. Yet Damion had somehow done the impossible.

    ¡°What?¡± He smiled. ¡°You thought you were the only one defying reality?¡±

    A memory tugged at Remus from the outer bounds of his memory. The words Violet had told him, when describing who she had thought to be Damion. Remus had since discarded that sighting as her being mistaken, but more importantly, he always glossed over the most important facet of that account. It was how Damion had been fighting.

    ¡°Andreas taught me a few tricks while you were gone.¡± His smile vanished, leaving a ghost of it behind. ¡°Back when his condition wasn¡¯t so . . .¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Let¡¯s carry on. Mom and dad will want to see you.¡±

    By now, more than one person had spotted Remus. Their expressions were near unreadable. A bizarre admixture of surprise, disguised rage, joy, a pinch of intrigue, and too many emotions to count.

    He waved to them, smiling gawkily, before following Damion into the largest hut of all. This one didn¡¯t appear as ramshackle as the others, though even with those, that term could only be used loosely. For a temporary set-up, the clan had outdone themselves. The building was more of a cabin, he now realised, and he admired the fine work of polished poles as he entered into the antechamber.

    Aiden and Briella saw him first. They rushed over to him, and Remus froze at the sight of their faces. Memories flooded back. Aiden¡¯s stiff stoicism. Briella¡¯s unconditional, motherly love. Recalling both, to see them here now, mere feet away, in the flesh . . . what would they think? How would they react to their own son running away, for what appeared to be selfish desires? They may try to discipline him, complain how he was selfish; how he hadn¡¯t been thinking straight. That they were ashamed of him.

    Instead, they did something very different.

    In tandem, they cried out his name, tugging him into a tight hug. Remus¡¯ eyes widened, feeling the warmth of their shoulders pressing against his. A warmth he hadn¡¯t felt for so long.

    ¡°You had us so worried for you.¡± He heard Briella choke up, and the sound of it made his own throat restrict.

    ¡°Next time you want to do something stupid, talk to us about it first, alright?¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah.¡± Remus muffled, the trio pulling away only a few moments later.

    Briella opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted by a booming voice, one emerging from an adjacent chamber.

    ¡°Is that my joint favourite great grandson I hear?¡±

    Remus virtually scrambled into the chamber, his eyes stunned once he set them on Saige. The bespectacled woman looked just as startled as he was, if not more. ¡°Remus!¡±

    ¡°Hey Saige-!¡± Remus cut himself off, and he felt like crying at the sight of Andreas, cosy in his hospital bed. He couldn¡¯t tell whether it was out of delight or sorrow.

    He was covered from head to toe in bandages. Save for his neck and above. His face that had never before been so wrinkled bore into his, the embodiment of wistful happiness.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been on quite the journey, haven¡¯t you?¡± Andreas chucked. Saige urged him to not get so excited, but the words were lost on the elderly man.

    ¡°It''s been the busiest year of my life.¡±

    So busy in fact, Remus almost couldn¡¯t believe it had only been a year. It put into perspective all the progress he had made, each trial and tribulation. He looked back on it all with a mix of early nostalgia and pride, and yet another minority in his mind almost laughed at how insane it all was. His birthday was coming up too. Seventeen earlier than he cared to fathom.

    It occurred to him then that he didn''t know the birthdays of Koa or Violet. Strange, but it had never surfaced in conversation. It was something to reflect on later, at least.

    ¡°The blue eyes suit you.¡± Andreas whisked him out of the short reverie. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell us how you got them?¡±

    ¡°And everything else you¡¯ve been so preoccupied with.¡± Damion snickered.

    Remus took a heavy breath. It was a long story. He told them such, but they insisted he told them every last detail of his exploits.

    ¡°There are some parts I can¡¯t tell you right now, nothing bad, don¡¯t worry. Well, relatively.¡± Eyebrows were raised, but Remus continued nevertheless. ¡°It went a little something like this . . .¡±

    <hr>

    Remus spent the night at the Carpentry Clan base, a quick message to Hadrian informing the man of his short absence. There was a spare bed in one of the nearby huts, a stone¡¯s throw away from where his blood relatives stayed.

    Yet, as Remus twisted and turned in his covers, he was restless. After perhaps two hours of this, he decided to take a late night stroll instead. It was dark out, with the stars above glistening like jewels embedded into an endless bedrock.

    Everything had gone as well as it could have. Damion had quickly come around at his story, which, while he had to censor some parts to protect Violet¡¯s identity, Remus tried to explain things in vague terminology. They got the gist at least.

    His parents were just happy to have him back, and multiple carpenters had come up to him, asking about his various adventures. Word had spread like wildfire about the unbelievable things Remus¡¯ last year had consisted of. Some of the youngest of the sect looked at him like some kind of fairy tale hero put to life.

    But he felt off. It was this feeling, this strangeness that refused him sleep. As he walked under the dark blue abyss of night, he tried to come to terms with the foreign emotion. No words of reassurance would make the dark cloud budge.

    Only when he noticed that there was light coming from his family¡¯s chambers, did Remus muster up the courage to enter.

    Most people were asleep, it appeared. It took him by surprise to see that Andreas¡¯ chamber was lit. He took a deep breath, compelled by his peculiar state of mind, and entered.

    It was one surprise after another, for Remus feared Saige may have accidentally left a few candles burning before leaving. Saige was gone at this time of course, nearby, but likely asleep in her own chambers. Andreas, much to Remus¡¯ relief, sat up straight in his bed. Very much so awake.

    He wasn¡¯t sure what the man had been doing. Reading a book by candlelight? No, there was no reading material anywhere in sight.

    His great Grandfather¡¯s head was perched up, like he had been deep in thought. It became clear the man had simply been thinking away the night hours, perhaps kept awake by his own demons. That was a strange thought, thinking of what issues a man as powerful as Andreas may have. There was one very big, very clear one of course. As for what else . . . Remus was left wondering.

    ¡°Can¡¯t sleep either?¡± He asked, eventually noticing his grandson.

    ¡°No.¡± Remus smirked. What had been plaguing his mind suddenly became crystal clear to Remus. It was the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, grandad.¡±

    Andreas looked aghast. As if he had just witnessed Remus punch an elderly woman before roundhouse kicking a puppy. ¡°Whatever could you be sorry for?¡±

    ¡°For not being here when you needed me most. For leaving to gain power from another sect. I feel like . . .¡± It was difficult to articulate his emotions. They made perfect sense in his mind, like the logic system of an alien world, but fitted imperfectly when put under the lens of this one.

    ¡°Remus, my boy . . . you have done nothing but make me proud.¡± He grasped Remus¡¯ wrist, and he could feel the power within his grandfather. The strength had been weakened, but the wisdom; the legacy of so many years . . . it could never be lost. ¡°Do you understand what a help you and your brother have been? Hmm, do you?¡±

    ¡°Damion is the one who-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not giving yourself the credit you deserve!¡± Andreas looked angry ¡ª no, furious. ¡°Your brother may have been the one to prove our sect still has the power to make good soldiers. But you Remus, don¡¯t you see how the youngest of us look at you? How we all look at you?¡±

    Remus wanted to scoff. ¡°They still see me as Death-Marked. No, actually, it''s worse now. They think I¡¯m a deserter-¡±

    ¡°They look at you like you¡¯re a god walking amongst us! You inspire them, Remus. Hell, you inspire me! The length you went to acquire power, to try and support your clan any way possible, even when the universe pinned everything against you . . . I couldn¡¯t have done it myself. It''s the stuff of legends. I¡¯m so, so proud of you.¡±

    Remus swallowed. The praise made him feel warm, and attacked those dark emotions. Though they didn¡¯t quite kill them.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t done enough. I don¡¯t want to lose all of you. I don¡¯t want our sect to be crushed in this damn war.¡±

    ¡°Remus.¡± Andreas softened his tone, like selecting a new mode of attack. ¡°One person can¡¯t save an entire sect. You¡¯re not responsible for the entire sect. You¡¯ve done more than you know already.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Remus did scoff this time. ¡°Bring down Edmar¡¯s wrath? Bring shame to the family name through crime after crime? Could do nothing as people died for my sake?¡±

    His great grandfather said nothing, as if a wound somehow greater than the Rot had been inflicted upon his heart. ¡°Remus. I know I don¡¯t know every detail, but you¡¯re a good lad. I don¡¯t know who you¡¯ve lost along the way, but I¡¯m sure they''d be proud of you.¡±

    ¡°And if they''re not?¡±

    Andreas placed a bandaged arm on Remus'' shoulder. ¡°Take every step forward with their desires and dreams in your heart. Make them proud with how you spend the rest of your days, and the legacy you leave behind. But, I¡¯m terribly sorry my boy, I must say you¡¯re the most moronic young man I¡¯ve ever had the pleasure to know.¡±

    Remus agreed with the words, but had never expected Andreas to be so blunt. It was almost like he was going back on everything he¡¯d said. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°How can you so stubbornly refuse to see the impact you¡¯ve made? On the people you¡¯ve met, but even more indirectly, your clan.¡±

    ¡°If you mean two paychecks and one well-paying job-¡±

    ¡°Mark my words Remus.¡± Andreas smirked. ¡°You and your brother¡¯s efforts have led this clan into a new age of prosperity. All day, I¡¯ve been seeing the kids playing soldier, the jaded teens who fancy a try at Damion¡¯s training style. Even the mothers and fathers, implanted with a desire for their children to follow in your two¡¯s footsteps. You¡¯ve started a trend, Remus. A hope to walk through a path I long since thought forgotten, left to the dark after I trekked down it myself. Imagine in the coming years, where each Rebirth will result in dozens of our kind heading to the front lines.¡±

    He stopped, and Remus didn¡¯t utter another word. Part of him wanted to deny his every reassurance, each word of praise too good to be true. But what if it was?

    ¡°I get what you¡¯re saying, but it''s Damion who deserves all the acclaim. He started the spark that¡¯ll kickstart the revolution you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t deny Damion¡¯s contribution, and he worked very hard to reach Foot-Soldier. Maybe harder than I ever did. But I won¡¯t sit here and let you undersell yourself. Your brother may have set the groundwork, but you, Remus, planted the seeds of ambition into us all. If a Death-Marked of a non-combat oriented sect can rise to Foot-Soldier ¡ª oh, don¡¯t give me that look, you¡¯re bound to hit it within a few Passings ¡ª what excuse do they have?¡±

    All of Remus'' uneasy feelings dissolved. Like demonic claws, slowly lightning their grip off him. He took in a breath, let his shoulders drop, and a body he hadn¡¯t realised to be so tense finally relaxed.

    ¡°Thank you, grandad. I¡¯m only just beginning, and I¡¯ve made a lot of mistakes. But I¡¯ll make you proud. If I¡¯m to become an example for everybody, I¡¯ll become the best mentor possible. I¡¯ll put my all into everything.¡±

    Andreas simply smiled, only for the bittersweet moment to be undercut by an abrupt yawn. Like a bear awakening from hibernation a little too early.

    ¡°Well,¡± he stretched. ¡°I suppose it''s best if we rest and recover. You¡¯ll need a lot of energy to answer all the questions of your new fanclub tomorrow.¡±

    Remus laughed. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±

    The Warlord blinked. ¡°I¡¯m being serious Remus. They¡¯ll probably be after autographs.¡±

    He stared at Andreas. He was waiting for the punchline, and felt like quite the fool when he inevitably did burst out in cackles. ¡°I¡¯m joking of course. But I wouldn¡¯t be surprised . . .¡±

    ¡°I hope not. Goodnight, grandad.¡±

    ¡°Goodnight, son.¡±

    With that, Remus left. His mind was too overwhelmed with thoughts to rest just yet, so he sat in the grass outside his chambers. It was wet, though Remus didn¡¯t mind ¡ª he could have been five thousand miles away.

    The stars above were so distant. So unimaginably far. It was with that same awe that Remus regarded how far he had left to go. Yet, paradoxically, so much had transpired since he was a humble, angsty Death-Marked with anger management issues.

    A warm feeling, one he didn¡¯t quite understand, persisted behind his chest. Remus basked in that feeling, as rain began to fall from clouds he couldn¡¯t see. Up in the sky, he stared, and for hours, it stared back at him.

 78. Catastrophe

    When Violet had finally adjusted to her new routine, a simple life of fulfilling commissions and eating her fill, existence decided to throw her a curveball.

    At first, Violet wasn¡¯t suspicious. Hadrian had called them all to gather in the central auditorium of their nearest barracks. The scepticism didn¡¯t start to arise until after she saw who else had cared to join them ¡ª and it wouldn¡¯t be an understatement to say fifty other squadrons.

    Immediately, within a second of entering, her attention was drawn to the three figures standing proudly at the helm of the procession. The Pillars of Descent¡¯s army: the Archery, Martial Arts, and Swordsman God-Graced.

    The Sword and Martial sect leaders were clearly twins. Boisterous expressions, and the same general looks and airs enveloped the pair. It looked to Violet as if they were doing their best not to burst out into laughter, like they were part of a hilarious inside joke only the pair of them were in on. Long messy fringes nearly covered their eyes, light brown in colour. Regardless, it did little to disguise how young the brothers appeared, like they had simply ceased to age upon reaching their twenties.

    For that to have been possible, both men must have reached a high Rank extraordinarily fast. The ageing process progressively slackened with each new Rank attained, and seemed to cease all together at the advent of God-Graced. This resulted in one key enquiry among every scientist scattered across Descent: what would occur if a child was to ascend to the upper reaches of the Divine Ranks? Would they simply stop growing all-together, forever embodying their youthful form? Whatever the case, no matter how many elixirs or magic pills you could afford, or stuff into yourself, there was one key ingredient needed to ascend the heights of power. One you couldn¡¯t ignore, or work around, or find loopholes to exploit.

    Time. The body needed time to stabilise between each new summit reached. Remus was pushing things as it was, but even he would need to slow down once it came to the higher Ranks. It simply wasn¡¯t feasible for the body to handle so many jumps in power, without at least a short time interval in between. Rest and recovery was sometimes more important than the training itself.

    At least in a fully human being. As an Unbounded, Violet may have been able to leap from Rank to Rank, as long as there was enough Infinity. But even her human side couldn¡¯t ignore basic safety. It could suffer from some dangerous consequences, if she didn''t take it easy. Organs, cells, flesh and blood couldn¡¯t handle frequent, vast leaps in power. In the same way a plant would wilt if over-watered. There could be too much of a good thing.

    The Archery God-Graced was a limber woman. Her hair was dyed half silver, the rest left to what Violet presumed was her natural hue of blonde. Not unlike the twins, she herself appeared quite young, as far as God-Graced went. Early thirties perhaps, but Violet suspected her actual age far proceeded the youthful front. Most God-Graced or Godlings reached the monumental Rank between the ages of fifty and one-hundred. If people did bother to keep track of the youngest clansmen to have ever ascended to God-Graced, Violet didn¡¯t suppose she would want to know the title-bearer.

    The woman uttered something to one of the twins, who couldn¡¯t quite seem to compose himself. Violet hoped this was some trivial matter, and the man wasn¡¯t a nervous laugher. Otherwise, they really were in way over their heads. What could elicit nerves from a God-Graced?

    Everyone quietened down, as he sauntered slowly to a lectern. Violet never had heard an introduction so blunt. ¡°My brother Gilmat, and Eshika, alongside myself, have called this committee for a dire reason.¡±

    Violet half-suspected Griffin, who she overheard the name of, to be building up to some dramatic punchline. Only the terse lines comprising his grimace told her otherwise.

    Seeing them right here before her, the three great Pillars that supported and upheld the military, preventing Unbounded from pillaging the main cities of the Mortal Realms, Violet found herself . . . underwhelmed. More impressive than anything they had to show, was the simple fact both brothers had grown to be leaders of different clans. Of course, inter-clan marriages were more common in the Three Pillars than arguably any other clan. Most of their children came into this world with three inactive Marks, getting to choose whichever of the paths they most desired. With hardly any pressure to conform to one god¡¯s power or the other, they had more freedom from the offset than most people could fathom.

    It took Violet perhaps thirty seconds to realise that in the absence of any spoken word, her mind had sunk neck-deep into that reverie. It was like an executioner was being forced to announce his own sentence. So in order to delay that swishing axe, Griffin hesitated with each uttered syllable.

    ¡°Get on with it,¡± Violet read Eshika¡¯s whispering lips.

    ¡°Multiple Right-bearers have appeared concerningly close to our bases,¡± he spoke so quickly, it was like the words had become lodged in his throat, now finally pouring out at the resolution of the blockage. ¡°Belindo, the Supreme Fiend, and the third entity. Whom, to this day, we remain ignorant of the exact detail of. The Pet-Keeper has also been scarily active, as of late.¡±

    Violet¡¯s head flickered to Remus, and the rest of their squadron. They shared the same reaction as everyone else in the room. Take any painting depicting some horrific tragedy, and examine the fine details of their expressions. That is what they bore; replicated a hundredfold across the room.

    Before every riotous outcry, there is a split second of silence. A fleeting moment when the breath catches in your throat, and the world seems to freeze over. In an ice age lasting little more than that second. The rush of adrenaline when a vase tilts over a desk, or you witness some ignorant fool about to make the worst decision of their life.

    Before the resulting implosion of noise could break out, Gilmat spoke. His voice resonated across every inch of the chamber, as crystal-clear as the drawing of a sword.

    ¡°To put simply,¡± all prior hints of humour ceased to be, ¡°we are calling for an emergency operation. Together, we''ll push back the Right-bearers and their minions. Then, we¡¯ll eradicate them. So terrifically that Enos will see no purpose in conjuring another generation for us to beatdown.¡±

    Finally, the pressure in the room reached a breaking point. Like a volcano erupting, the pandemonium of noise that proceeded was enough to deafen a newborn.

    People objected. Entire squadrons stormed out of the auditorium. Others cried out in boisterous agreement, ready and willing to sacrifice anything to defend their clans and put an end to the Right-bearing cycle.

    Hadrian¡¯s squad ¡ª Violet¡¯s squad ¡ª practically froze rigid. Her eyes wandered to Remus, and in his own gaze, she found nothing but grim resolution.

    Whatever it took, he was going to get revenge for Andreas. He was going to kill any Right-bearers that got in his way. He was going to kill the Supreme Fiend. And, at that moment, Violet believed it.

    Eshika stomped her foot so aggressively, the wooden panels below snapped. ¡°Did we excuse you to leave?¡±

    Those words could have given anybody in the departing crowd a heart attack. With great shame, and bowed heads, they shambled back into the room.

    ¡°There¡¯s going to be a council larger than this. Very, very soon. Nearly every God-Graced concerned with the war effort will be there. I expect they''ll begin their arrival within the hour.¡±

    Heads flickered around the room, as hundreds of people searched their inner sense for any oncoming waves of energy. There was none, as far as Violet¡¯s own instincts told her.

    ¡°As for what this will mean for you,¡± Griffin regained his confidence. ¡°It isn¡¯t lightly that I say this: the vast majority of you, standing before me here, are going to be away from your clans, and even the modest comfort of the barracks here. As you can infer from the stakes we¡¯re facing, this won¡¯t be a short operation, but one lasting Passings or more. We simply cannot let the front lines fall.¡±

    His next words made Violet¡¯s heart dip. ¡°As we speak, they¡¯re getting closer.¡±

    As so there was silence.

    Until a wave of energy hit them in the face. That of Warlords, God-Graced and Godlings. They had begun to arrive.

    Violet felt her mind fester in its own thoughts, dissociating from reality. In the meantime, her husk of a body followed the crowds to an even larger gathering spot. An open amphitheatre, not too dissimilar to the arena Remus fought in. Only on a much larger scale.

    She had known first hand, perhaps better than anyone, that the Unbounded were making drastic moves. Yet now everything felt so real; so comparatively visceral to the accepted fact that things were getting pretty bad. Gone was the separation of reality from the troubling foreknowledge kept in the depths of her stomach.

    Now a foreboding era had fallen upon them: a tumultuous time where Unbounded triggered quakes so fierce, they trembled even the deepest roots of humanity.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Well,¡± Hadrian exhaled a sigh they had all been carrying. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting this when I woke up this morning.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯d have to be pretty damn cynical to expect something like this.¡±

    ¡°Or observant.¡± Violet countered Remus. ¡°The Unbounded have given us enough warning that something this severe was bound to happen. I just wasn¡¯t expecting it so soon.¡±

    ¡°Nothing bad waits for your approval to happen.¡± Hadrian lamented, as they located a free row of seats. He stood standing as everyone sat down. They all stared at him, waiting for whatever it was on his mind.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be patronising, but a good chunk of you are merely Emblazed. I¡¯ll understand if you don¡¯t feel comfortable with partaking in something that will easily kill swaths of Foot-Soldiers. If you would like to leave, please make yourself heard now.¡±

    When nobody moved a muscle, Violet was startled to see anger heat up the Mercenary¡¯s face. ¡°You have to understand. You must know the real extent of the danger you¡¯re getting yourself into. You¡¯re going to be up against the likes of Right-bearers. There¡¯s an undeniable chance that you''ll die minutes, if not seconds, into the battle. My gods, there could not be a worse time to be an Emblazed in the military.¡±

    Violet panned her eyes across the group. She waited patiently for one to finally relent, and accept this operation was bigger than them. Despite their ashen expressions, they remained resolute. Every single one of them.

    ¡°I want you all to promise me that you won¡¯t regret this choice, no matter what happens. Even if you perish as collateral within seconds. Promise me.¡±

    Everyone assented, with Tanguy never looking scarier as he did.

    ¡°You¡¯re all very foolish,¡± Hadrian smirked wistfully. ¡°And very brave.¡±

    Aziel beamed rakishly. ¡°Hey, to join this squadron in the first place, we must have been.¡±

    Merry laughter, painfully bittersweet, broke out all around. Their attentions were snagged as everyone recognised one arriving figure instantly: Cyrus.

    He entered from the highest tier of the amphitheatre, obviously reserved for sect leaders. Thorns enveloped his fist as he sat down, crawling around the ancient stone of the reserved seating, as if it had a mind of its own. He waved over to them, features strained from burn-out. They all gestured a greeting back, but it was hard to focus, as more powerful beings poured in.

    Violet had never seen so many sect leaders gathered in one space, and for good reason. Under any other circumstances, they¡¯ll likely jolt for each other¡¯s throats.

    She recognised a scattering of people instantly. Eliane from the Reptilian Clan; the geriatric leader of the Vitality sect, Elosie. Both were chatting politely with one another like old friends. Elsewhere, doing their best not to look each other in the eye, Maris and Juniper adorned equally regal fronts. Javil was seated in between the pair, and if it wasn¡¯t for the fact he was a whirling sandstorm, he probably would have looked awkward beyond compare.

    Even Brison had made the effort to arrive, detached from the rest of society as the Ambition Clan normally was.

    Violet¡¯s mind had never had so much fun, picking out leader after leader. A man made entirely of cloud signalled the leader of the titular sect. If Maris was avoiding Juniper¡¯s gaze to save herself a string of dirty looks, Tushar was repaying her tenfold. If not for his Rank, Violet probably would have mistaken the man as being deathly ill. His skin was paler than ivory.

    There was Damosh, of course, appearing as cordial as ever. His eyes were distant, however, as if he had already written this off as a worthless gathering ¡ª the mind departing before the body.

    She didn¡¯t pay him any extra attention. Instead, Violet found herself engrossed, examining the countless other leaders she had been yet to meet. A full plethora, dozens upon dozens. There was someone clad fully in metal skin and heavy armour; a rakish young man with an earnest smile and lightning yellow hair that sparked every so often; a blind-folded woman with about sixty or more blue eyes, clearly overcompensating; and . . .

    And . . . her heart stopped. Nova. There he was, perfectly blending in, between a manic gang of Anarchy leaders, those ready to throttle each other like unopened bottles at any tentative second. She recognised the crazed duo of the Fury and Greed leaders ¡ª Hilda and Gulliver ¡ª though was too overwhelmed at the sight of her father to notice.

    ¡°Now that¡¯s some gall.¡± Remus rasped under his breath.

    ¡°How could he?¡± Violet¡¯s breath came out like hot magma. ¡°Masquerading even here . . .¡±

    He hadn¡¯t noticed them. Violet very much hoped that would remain the case.

    Remus laughed cynically. ¡°Looks like they¡¯re all gathered here: the people who hate us most.¡±

    Violet spotted a shroud of darkness, like a strip of twilight moulded into the shape of man.

    ¡°Nova, Damosh, Tushar and the Old One . . .¡± Remus leaned back a little in his seat, and Violet felt compelled to join him.

    If any in that list cared to notice the pair of them, things could have gotten messy. Thankfully, Violet was assured by the fact a council meeting was probably reason enough to leave the two alone, for now at least. Some things in life came above settling petty squabbles with Emblazed.

    She wondered how this was all going to play out. A hundred sect leaders yelling over each other didn¡¯t sound productive. Would the representatives of each alliance speak on behalf of the group? What was stopping some giant fight from breaking out? Perhaps a temporary Divine Ground had been established, but that alone didn¡¯t settle Violet¡¯s nerves.

    Her questions were answered when the Three Pillars entered the centre of the field below. Either she had been too absorbed in thought to notice their arrival, or they had come startlingly quick. Surprisingly, the place went silent.

    ¡°Thank you all for attending.¡± Energy made Eshika¡¯s voice resonate across the entire space. ¡°It is not lightly that the three of us arranged this mass meeting, but I do believe there is good reason. When I say this, know I speak with complete and utter conviction: if we do not intervene soon, the front lines could fall. Or, perhaps more accurately, they will.¡±

    There was a general muttering all about. Violet realised there must have been some sort of audible suppression. Otherwise, the monstrous response would have blown the eardrums out of some of the weaker clansmen. Several God-Graced shook their heads, appearing though Perpetual Sight, if not in the flesh.

    ¡°The reaction to this won¡¯t be good.¡± Hadrian¡¯s face was grim. ¡°They¡¯ll say it¡¯s fearmongering.¡±

    Eshika spoke a little louder. ¡°While this may be startling news, I urge you to listen to me.¡±

    The aggressive muttering rose like a turbulent tide, threatening to cast the Archery leader aside.

    ¡°There must be some temporary Divine Ground set up, right.¡± Violet reiterated. ¡°Otherwise, this place would fall into havoc faster than a sinking ship.¡±

    Remus grimaced. ¡°I hope there is.¡±

    Things were getting pretty ugly, pretty fast.

    ¡°Please, I implore you all to direct your Perpetual Sight, if at your disposal, to a small stretch past the front lines stationed here.¡±

    The leaders frowned, but obeyed the woman. For a tense second, Violet awaited their reactions. It was a mixed bag.

    ¡°You will notice some peculiar fluctuations in Infinity. Hone in on them.¡±

    Faces scrunched in concentration. Then eyes widened. The image of so many powerful beings staring at each, dumbfounded, may have been comical, if it didn¡¯t spell their demise.

    ¡°See the plains devastated by Rot, less than miles away from our barracks. Hear the pattering feet of Unbounded in the droves, advancing as we speak. Observe the splintering ravines cast down by Belindo, the summoned tempests even now obliterating both your supplies and clansmen.¡±

    The muttering ended abruptly, but the unreal silence in its wake was no more appealing.

    ¡°We are facing a time of unprecedented danger. For the safety of your people, and Descent at large, you must internalise that.¡±

    God-Graced and Godlings alike could be hard to convince at the best of times, but after rattling on for so long, each word dripping with passion, Eshika was finally getting through to them. Violet at least was shaken to her very core, and she wasn¡¯t even privy to what the others were observing. She could hardly imagine.

    ¡°So what is it, exactly, that I¡¯m asking for?¡± Eshika asked rhetorically. At her side still, the remaining twin Pillars stood, their lips stiff. ¡°As of late, the front lines have opened their arms wide, allowing entire clans to stay here. Again, we make that invitation clear. But what needs to be made even more overt is the need for a long, extensive push-back operation. We need the helping hand of every available sect to make that happen. Their ever powerful leaders included.¡±

    Violet felt a speech coming along, and was not disappointed.

    ¡°Enos and the Unbounded at large have toyed with humanity too long. What will our gods say at the next, upcoming Day of Descension? Will they shake their heads at humanity¡¯s weakness, needing to be mothered over like a cradled child? Or will they return at the end of a victorious conflict, proud to have forged such capable tools in the furnace of reality?¡±

    Violet wasn¡¯t a fan of that wording. If even humanity itself saw them themselves as mere tools, what hope was there?

    Alas, nobody, not even the sect leaders, seemed to share Violet¡¯s inhibitions. There was a clamorous uproar, only quietening down as Eshika made to continue.

    ¡°Do you know how many generations of Right-bearers we have successfully killed?¡±

    It was a question that genuinely intrigued Violet. It hadn¡¯t been clarified in any of Veida¡¯s designated works for her to read.

    ¡°Fifteen generations. Fifteen times we have prevailed over Enos¡¯ favoured fiends. What is stopping a sixteenth? A sixteenth, and what, together, we¡¯ll make the final. If our forefathers were capable, we are. Anything to the contrary would put shame on their memory.¡±

    As good a motivational speaker as Eshika was, she was conveniently omitting one crucial fact. The Right-bearers, they grew progressively stronger with each new iteration. That would probably spoil the riotous, indefatigable energy pervading through the stands, so Violet kept her mouth shut.

    ¡°That isn¡¯t to say it will be easy. There will be costs, and sacrifices, and everything that comes with doing the impossibly challenging. But we will defy the odds. We will send a message to the Unbounded that they¡¯ll never forget!¡±

    Whatever noise suppression had been implemented before ceased. Violet fought the urge to cover her ears, as endless cheering deafened out the outside world.

 79. Forces of Nature

    Things got complicated after that.

    The last chance to visit the barracks was strange. Remus stared around at every room like it was his first time being there. It was like venturing through some parallel world he had never been privy to. He took one last opportunity to work on his Bank with Tanguy, in the rooms allocated for the task.

    The pair of them made light conversation as they sauntered over to what would be their last meal before leaving.

    ¡°How long do you think we¡¯ll be out there?¡± He asked, supposing Tanguy would have a better idea than him.

    ¡°Who knows,¡± he sounded tired, though not out of a lack of sleep. ¡°Passings at least, but let¡¯s hope for less.¡±

    Since overcoming their initial awkward stumbles, Remus and Tanguy had gotten pretty relaxed around each other. It was enough that Remus could begin to ask questions of a more personal nature.

    ¡°So what Mould are you going for?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s tricky.¡± Tanguy replied coyly, placing a great slathering of yoghourt onto his tray. ¡°There''s this one that enhances the hands. A few actually. One of them should make the fires I unleash a hundred times more ferocious.¡±

    Remus couldn''t tell if that was an overstatement. And if it weren¡¯t, frankly, he didn¡¯t want to know.

    After stacking his tray with more ambition than ever seen before, like an extra mountain of food would make up for his absence from this place, Remus joined the rest of their squad on the same table as usual. Even Veida was there.

    After brief greetings, they all gorged themselves on their respective scatterings of food. It was during this polite silence, that Remus noticed how overcrowded the space had become. Evidently, Eshika¡¯s heart-racing speech had motivated numerous clans into accepting the proposal of moving over here fully. He eyed them all rather intrusively, before landing on the image of a confused Damion peering around like a lost puppy.

    Aziel swallowed. ¡°Is it just me . . .¡±

    ¡°Or am I seeing double.¡± Tanguy finished for him.

    Remus frowned at the pair of them before they broke out into laughter, and waved over to his brother.

    Upon his arrival, Hadrian¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Remus, you never told me you were a twin.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Remus only scowled deeper. ¡°We don¡¯t look that alike.¡±

    Damion cocked an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He sat down in the middle of the crowd, where the group parted, between Remus and Veida. ¡°This is your squad, Remus?¡± His eyes passed over them. ¡°I must say, I¡¯m impressed. Pleasure to meet you all.¡±

    ¡°So only his looks match Remus.¡± Violet assessed, rubbing her chin in mock curiosity. Or Remus sincerely hoped she was joking. ¡°He¡¯s far more polite.¡±

    ¡°Hey-¡± Remus cut himself off, turning to a Damion who was grinning a little too widely. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you too.¡±

    Violet spluttered into her palm. Remus wasn¡¯t doing a very good job of proving himself to be a cordial, refined gentleman.

    ¡°The clan¡¯s relocating nearer to the barracks. The Pillars are slowly locating the sects who have moved out here closer to the front lines, to make up space for the new arrivals, and prepare for battle. Luckily enough, the closest barracks for us were here. Though, I have to say, setting this all up the day before we depart is cutting it pretty close. ¡±

    ¡°This entire operation is cutting it a little close,¡± Veida moved the spoon around in her soup, ¡°I don¡¯t know what the Pillars were thinking, giving us a few days¡¯ notice for something this big.¡±

    ¡°Desperate times call for desperate measures,¡± Hadrian recited, sighing.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll all be fine. This looks like quite the capable squadron to me.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t sure whether to admire Damion¡¯s affable air, or to bark out in disgust. The young man was latching onto all the brownie points he could get, and apparently Remus was the only one who could tell. The rest of the squad however, had already taken a deep liking to Damion ¡ª you tell from the way they regarded him. Nevertheless, it was nice to spend time with his brother. Remus hardly got the chance anymore.

    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll get sent to the same location, once the fighting starts.¡±

    Damion shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s possible. Depends how they distribute the squads.¡±

    ¡°What group are you with, anyway?¡±

    ¡°I do maintenance on our defences with the rest of the Carpentry Clan, and work with the Matter and Renewal Clans on the side. Nice guys.¡±

    Remus nodded, before looking down at his wrist. He¡¯d almost completely forgotten about the Calibrator, settled on invisibility as it was, and gathering data on him all this time. With everything that had happened recently, it had taken a direct mention of the Matter Clan to jog his memory.

    Using his shiny new tool now would probably seem rude, so Remus only tapped it to life in the company of Violet and Damion, during the brief free time they had left until bed.

    ¡°If this proves useful, I¡¯ll see about buying one for everyone in the squad.¡±

    ¡°Look at you, made of money.¡±

    Remus shot a leer at his brother''s annoyingly amused face. ¡°If it''s worth it, I¡¯ll have to save up. The royalties for this operation better be good.¡±

    They all watched raptly as Remus flickered through the various details of the Progress Calibrator. It was extraordinary. It listed his Rank ¡ª low-high Emblazed ¡ª his age and heartbeat, type of Mark, featured a digital model of his entire body, as well as how progressed into his Mould development he was. A respectable sixty-three percent complete. Flickering to another screen presented metrics on his diet, and another swipe led to a sprawling slide of what diseases he was susceptible too. He gave it one look, shivered, and promptly moved to one screen that particularly caught his interest.

    It listed different variables directly related to his training. He could enter a date to anything he wanted to achieve regarding his advancement, from something as simple as getting into better shape through physical training, to a broad timeline of when and how he could best tackle reaching God-Graced.

    Without another thought, he created a timeline on how to reach Foot-Soldier as fast as possible. Warnings flickered in a neon red that made his eyes water. Remus acknowledged the dangers of such fast advancement, proceeding without hesitation.

    If he was going to fight in this battle, he would have to get serious. To help sway the tide in humanity¡¯s favour, up against Unbounded as powerful as Enos, Emblazed wasn''t going to cut it. To be the role model Remus¡¯ clan so desperately needed, to usher in a new age of greatness, the path to power was the only one he could tread.

    Part of Remus, the tiny, miniscule fragment not so infatuated with his advancement, found the thing downright eerie. What he was holding at that very moment was so above and beyond any other technology on Descent, it was like it came from a different world. He tried to imagine a distant future where technology like this became the norm, but couldn¡¯t. It was like he was holding a little piece of destiny.

    Damion whistled at the amount of daily Infinity intake the device recommended. ¡°That¡¯s insane, and probably a little dangerous, but I¡¯m sure those variables mean nothing to you.¡±

    ¡°If there¡¯s anywhere I can do it, a battle as drastic as the one we¡¯re barreling headfirst into sounds like just the place.¡±

    ¡°Indeed it does.¡± Violet eyed the calibrator with narrowed eyes. Like a miner staring at a gold-filled cave they didn¡¯t have the licence to enter. Remus suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Being Unbounded as she was, there was a very high chance the calibrator would try to kill Violet, if she so much as touched the thing.

    Then there was the unspoken tension between Violet and Damion. Remus was largely sure it had deteriorated by now, but it made him wonder: did he resent her for running off with his brother? For rushing away from their home together, on a year long wild-goose-chase? Damion was privy to most of what had occurred, if not for some of the more sensitive details. Perhaps the idea that he brother was conspiring with a criminal was what unnerved Damion so. But even that had ceased to hold any ground. Violet had been cleared as a criminal in most places, certainly. Or, for most major cities, one sect leader¡¯s rebellious daughter was the least of their concern.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    It had only been a couple hours since they had met, after all, so Remus cut the pair some slack.

    It was beginning to get late. The candlelight within the barracks could be seen illuminating through the gloom now, and Remus joined Damion in a stretch and yawn.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll best be going.¡±

    Remus got up too, ¡°I¡¯ll join you. It¡¯s only right I say one last goodbye to Andreas,  before the trouble really gets brewing.¡±

    Violet joined them too, who Remus was admittedly surprised to see accept his offer. He had merely suggested it to keep up good manners, and worried if his family would get the wrong idea. What did Damion think?

    He saw the sides of his brother''s lips twitch.

    Remus told himself firmly that he and Violet were just friends. Just . . . friends. He wasn¡¯t even sure how something like that would work, with her being half-Unbounded. He shook his head, forced the topic to the back of his mind, imprisoned and under high surveillance, and focused on how he was going to say goodbye to Andreas. For what he feared would be, maybe, one of the last times.

    Then the dark thoughts began to flourish. The Right-bearers. He was curious as to where they were at that very moment. Wreaking mass destruction, he knew, but that knowledge didn¡¯t help in the slightest. Somehow more unnerving was the matter of where the Pet-Keeper was occupying himself. The fact he wasn¡¯t acting in accordance with the rest of the gang, with even Nova appearing more and more in his Unbounded form near the front lines, was anything but a comfort to Remus.

    Belindo. Nova. The Pet-Keeper. The Supreme Fiend. The mastermind behind it all, Enos.

    To send a message to the Unbounded that they would never forget, they would have to kill them all.

    <hr>

    Belindo couldn¡¯t recall life before becoming the monstrosity of nature that Enos had turned him into.

    Two great wings beat at his sides, longer in size than some buildings. He manipulated the air around subtly, feeling it caress across his reptilian skin. He exhaled ash out of two gaping nostrils, nose dived lower towards the plain of dead grass, and found his mind drifting elsewhere.

    His Divine Right stuck out like a proverbial sore thumb when compared to his peers. Unlike the others, his was nearly always active, keeping his draconic form alive, but in varying expenditures of power. The strain of all of this was immense. His sleeping patterns were as tumultuous as the sea itself. For entire Durations at a time, he would drift into the deepest slumber ¡ª for Passings, even, whenever the need arose.

    However, that also meant he could stay awake and alert, without fear of sleep deprivation, for astonishingly long times. This being one of them.

    And he wouldn¡¯t sleep until the front lines, humanity¡¯s last frontier, resembled a bloody pulp. A glistening streak of Ichor, decorated with all the detritus he could amass.

    Hunger made his mind tunnel-visioned. Belindo¡¯s brain had taken such a toll from the excess power, that he could hardly recall the mortal tongue. Or parts of his own, scratchy Unbounded language, either.

    Belindo had hardly any use for either, regardless. Why speak when his talons accomplished all that was needed?

    Drool seeped out of his mouth in ghastly dollops. His ancient eyes, orbs of pinpointed wisdom, followed their descent.

    To a camp of mindless clansmen below.

    His stomach heaved at the sight, and with a series of snapping flickers of the wings, he zoomed down. To sate his undying hunger, Belindo was willing to unleash the full litany of the elements.

    The tempests swirled into a cyclone, whips of moisture slapping against anybody and anything. The ground below splintered open, riddling with fissures like it was a beast of its own, opening its jaws.

    Warmth turned into heat in Belindo¡¯s mouth, steam wafting out between teeth the size of large rocks. It concentrated into one flickering prick of energy.

    A roar that could have shook nations heralded the annihilation to come. A stream of fire lasered out, bathing the feeble souls below.

    Belindo¡¯s heart sang as he crashed into the ground.

    This was what he was born for.

    <hr>

    A field of grey spread out from the Supreme Fiend like the ruinous disease it was.

    No thoughts ran through his addled mind, only instinct. Primal impulsions that compelled his every action in the pursuit of not survival, but growth.

    Wherever his Rot spread, so did he.

    Through that connection, he sensed oh so many dying. Visages of natural corruption: ashen plains, fleeting heartbeats, the final words of dying men.

    Sensations upon sensations. He felt it all constantly. An infinite stream of information it was beyond him to put an end to.

    Notions, ideas, feelings of his own unattached to the instinctual ¡ª so rare were they, like miracle flotsam salvaged from a hellish sea. On and on he trudged, because it was all he could do; all there was to do.

    His feet flattened the earth below like pillars of Supreme Steel. He occasionally caught sight of his golem-like self, in the reflections of puddles, or the oozing blood of the soon to be dead. He couldn¡¯t comprehend himself.

    A sheening titan of Supreme material, but he knew himself to be better than that. To be more. To the fiend, even Supreme Steel was something to be bent and broken; like a baby¡¯s bones. No, he as the Unbounded in question was sustained from something greater. Or, if one must be forced to identify the glimmering, silver metal as his own, his artificial flesh and blood, he was of an unfounded concentration. At least for a world as weak as Descent. There was a very good chance he was the strongest source of the resource that ever had, or ever would, grace the world.

    For Passings, he had stumbled mindlessly through the Silver Cavities. He had possessed everything he¡¯d ever wanted: endless amounts of Infinity to his name, leagues of Unbounded that would fall to the knee at his every beckon, and an entire underground kingdom from which to rule over.

    Yet he was purposeless.

    Yes of course, in this brief bout of introspective clarity, he recognised the innate purpose that united all Unbounded. Mother Infinity¡¯s call: to make the gods pay for their negligence.

    Endless seas of black. A ravenous deep of fractured planets and stars on the brink of puffing out, like blown out candles. Those visions danced before the fiend¡¯s inner eye, the wax of logic that served as the base for all the cosmos reduced to a battered pulp.

    The gods called them monsters. Their fickles toys of humanity followed their creators blindly, spouting the same self-obsessed nonsense.

    His thoughts slackend like a rope put under too much pressure, but the Supreme Fiend barreled through.

    That divine revenge was one mission. The problem came from the fact it was too far; too distant to be tangible. Like trying to see the peak of a mountain when you have hardly ascended further than its base.

    He longed for something immediate, and that prayer was met by a vision from Enos. The Unbounded were going to end humanity at long last, and the Supreme Fiend, alongside his Divine Right brethren, played a central role in it.

    Even now, he was advancing towards them. Within days if not hours, the front lines would have no choice but to suffer the full wrath of-

    Empty.

    No thoughts ran through the vacant mind. His skull may as well have been hollow. For a few minutes, the Supreme Fiend shambled around, perplexed on what exactly he was doing here. What could have possibly made him venture so far from the Silver Cavities? Then he sensed it ¡ª or them.

    Humans. Large collections of them not too far from here.

    Primaeval instincts kicked into overdrive. A lust for blood made all other things null.

    Like a child catching sight of a sweet store, the Supreme Fiend charged.

    <hr>

    Nova smiled quietly to himself, in the headquarters of the temporary new base of the Chaos Clan.

    Finally, after so much frustration, having to endure days on end where the blood of his human form did nothing but boil, it was time for sweet, sweet revenge.

    Having half-expected a catastrophe as bad as the fall of the Chaos base, Nova had secured a rundown mansion and the plot of land immediately by it. It was located near the edges of the Ravaged Lands. A recipe for disaster, if any were true.

    Nowhere in this barbaric city was safe from falling to collateral damage. Years of wear and tear had made the building liable to falling apart at any second, and that was excluding the pre-existing damages. A caved in roof, eroded rafters, and windows with no glass.

    Only an abundance of Chaotic energy frankensteined it all altogether. While other clansmen had of course moved into the building, Nova was doing a vast amount of the heavy lifting, when it came to keeping them all safe.

    When he wasn¡¯t there, out transported to the front lines to obey Enos¡¯ call, he heard of the strain put on the rest of the clan. The Marked, half-mortal Unbounded. Now, on the verge of leaving long term, a part of him worried whether the building would come tumbling down. That minority soon joined the rest of his psyche in caring little. It would only be their own faults.

    Enos. A name so simple, only two syllables, yet carrying such a punch.

    Enos, the originator. Enos, the decimator of gods and humanity alike. Enos, the Unbounded who had unleashed generation after generation of Right-bearers, and slaughtered millions of mortals in the process. Enos, who had gifted Nova his wondrous Right so long ago.

    And Enos, the man who had killed the Chaos god, Teivel, forcibly bonding with the corpse to become the god-killer he was to this day. Enos, who had orchestrated Nova¡¯s rise to power in preparation for the end. Enos, the celestial emperor who had created the perfect lifeform: a being in equal degrees human and Unbounded.

    In a way, the Divine Rights were merely a prototype for that Unbounded¡¯s magnum opus: an Unbounded with a Mark. At first merely the powerful equivalent of one, and now, imprinted upon Nova¡¯s very flesh as evidence, the real thing.

    They had taken humanity¡¯s one viable tool against them. Now it was theirs; and nothing could hope to stop them.

    In Enos¡¯ song of destruction, Nova may have merely been an instrument. But he still had a part to play, and there could be no greater honour.

    Through a Mark-assisted swirl of magenta, Nova left that crumbling building for what would be the last time.

    The front lines were calling.

 80. Like Flies

    Koa inhaled sharply, winded by a tendril to the abdomen.

    ¡°Some help here!¡± He shouted, collapsing two trees on the gigantic tarantula and diving out of the fray.

    The oversized Unbounded had followed him and Octavia a flat-out ridiculous distance.

    Two webs from the clanswoman stuck the writhing creature to the floor. For all of five seconds.

    ¡°Do we just kill it?¡± Koa¡¯s heart thudded in his ears, as another round of webs kept the beast at bay.

    ¡°And make the last drastic chase meaningless?¡±

    Octavia sounded furious, which was perfectly understandable. The Unbounded was one of the three closest to Angel and the Pet-Keeper. It had caught them sneaking around after a string of days successfully tip-toeing about the territory. If they killed it, it''s not like the Pet-Keeper wouldn¡¯t notice. That could trigger a domino fall leading to the pair of them getting killed via pretty grisly means.

    ¡°Intruder! Perish, perish!¡±

    ¡°Oh shut up.¡± Koa enunciated both words nice and slowly. Then he turned his attention back to Octavia. ¡°Wait, it just occurred to me: this fiend could probably speak fluently in the Unbounded tongue. Its mortal communication needs some work, but if he can report back to the Pet-Keeper about all this . . .¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re doomed.¡± She put it bluntly. ¡°That settles it.¡±

    Koa grimaced, watching as a shower of web launched into the defenceless creature. In various concentrations of Infinity too weak to call Supreme Steel, she bludgeoned the Unbounded to death. Koa, as disturbed as he was, summoned a pillar of oak, chiselling it quickly before tossing the projectile directly into the Unbounded.

    It proved to be the finishing blow. Something that was becoming akin to a trademark of his, as of late.

    ¡°Show off.¡± Octavia mumbled, as they both turned to their destination: the Insect Clan base.

    Unlike the web fortress of the Arachnid Clan, the Insect base was more complex in design. Take a few hives or nests, enlarge them to the size of skyscrapers, and enmesh them all in one disturbing amalgamation. That was what Koa was seeing.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡± Koa insisted, turning to a wall of honeycomb.

    ¡°Koa, don¡¯t run off,¡± Octavia  chided, sprinting to overtake him. ¡°Who knows what could be in there, just waiting to kill us? We have to take precautions.¡±

    Seeing how time wasn¡¯t on their side, they settled on advancing slowly. It would take time, sure, but any other tricky schemes would take even longer. Long enough that the Pet-keeper would no doubt notice their absence.

    Koa¡¯s initial concerns were whether any clansmen would come crawling. The idea of a clansman altered to exhibit the traits of a bee, was no more appealing then the Arachnid clansmen. Now, he soon found himself faced with a wholly different problem.

    It wasn¡¯t long, strolling through a diluted orange corridor, that Koa noticed the web. It appeared in subtle strands at first. Enough to be overlooked as something as naturally occurring as dust, but that was quickly disproven another metre inward. The entire place was covered all over, like the spindly strings were lasers, and Koa was a thief trying to manoeuvre past. If that was the case, it would be the most high-tech security system Descent had ever seen.

    He felt like a bee himself, traversing through a hive over a hundred times larger than he could ever hope to be. Regardless of how much meat he put on his bones.

    Though, following that analogy, he wouldn¡¯t be the only intruder ¡ª or thing out of place, at least. The Arachnid Sect had been here. The strings were the most telling sign in the world. Arachnid clansmen threatened, coerced, or otherwise manipulated by the Pet-Keeper had been here, and hadn¡¯t made the slightest effort to hide it.

    The strands that immersed the place made it a constant fight to push forward. Koa¡¯s vision was always veiled by that snowy white barrier.

    He heard Octavia shriek, before spitting some of the fluff out. ¡°It¡¯s getting everywhere!¡±

    After much struggle, Koa reached a winding tunnel more out of luck than any honest sense of coordination. It was like a series of burrows, but more suited for colossal worms than moles.

    Unlike the beehive section, this was as dark as pitch. At least the former had a sort of sickly yellow luminance, to brighten up the place. In here, Koa¡¯s sight was about as reliable as two broken hands.

    Koa took a breath, trying not to succumb to the deep-rooted, human instinct to run at the sight of darkness. Walking into a place completely naive of what was to come would always be worse than walking into danger knowingly. At least then, you could cover the burial costs.

    He activated his Mark, placing a palm to the wall. Luckily for him, this place was crawling with insects. Within seconds, the connection to nature, of earthy roots and scattering bugs, brought him guidance.

    ¡°Follow me.¡± He turned to Octavia. ¡°I know the way.¡±

    ¡°The way where?¡±

    She sounded comforted by his confidence, albeit sceptical.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Good or bad, we¡¯re heading in deeper, at any rate.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡±

    For a time, they traversed the place, the path forward no more obvious than navigating a maze. Words were rare and few in between. The dull thud of their own footsteps became monotonous, like a subterranean rain. Pitter-patter . . . pitter-patter . . .

    ¡°Pitter-patter.¡± Octavia was at her wits¡¯ end. ¡°I¡¯m going to pull my hair out and shove it down my ears if we don¡¯t get there quickly.¡±

    Koa wasn¡¯t even sure what counted as Octavia¡¯s ears after her drastic alteration, though he didn¡¯t dare ask. The places his mind immediately went were no more obvious: did she have human hair? His wandering mind felt compelled to check, once daylight immersed them once more. Then he wasn¡¯t entirely sure if that was something he wanted to know.

    Koa shivered. I can¡¯t imagine changing yourself so radically.

    Another bend in their passage.

    They were close now, he knew, to a larger chamber he sensed virtually every passage emerging into. With everywhere branching into it, there was no way it wasn¡¯t important. If they were going to find out what the hell was going on here, this seemed like their best shot.

    ¡°Did you know anyone from your clan that was sent down here?¡± Koa swiped another web aside.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know . . . squads are being allocated with various tasks all the time. It''s ridiculous; I stopped paying attention at one point.¡±

    ¡°Whatever the case, for there to be this many threads woven about the place, this was no small oper-¡±

    Koa went stiff. Octavia bumped into him, yelping.

    ¡°Hey, why¡¯d you-¡±

    In the glow of his Mark, and despite the fickleness of such a feeble light, Koa saw the bars perfectly fine. The metal bars of a cell.

    ¡°Gods.¡± Was all the pair of them could say, before grasping the confining material. It was only then, upon touch, that Koa realised these were extremely dense webs. Webs with a far higher concentration of Supreme Steel than anything Octavia alone could hope to create. How they managed to shape the poles so perfectly was beyond Koa, but he supposed that when you could weave sprawling castles, this was next to nothing.

    What concerned him more was the cowering man within. They didn¡¯t have any extreme alterations, but he could tell they were part of the Insect Clan. Then one horrible epiphany befell Koa.

    He forced composure. Through dry lips, and a hasty voice, he asked: ¡°where are the rest of you?¡±

    They were emaciated. A bag of bones was not an unbefitting description. Koa¡¯s stomach churned just looking at it: the way starvation had wreaked havoc upon his poor body.

    Nothing remained of the man¡¯s hair but a few wisps. Their eyes were so deeply set into their face, like staring through far-off, broken windows. His posture was that of a hunchback, belonging to a geriatric man far beyond the years of this poor fellow. By locking him up, the Pet-Keeper had quite literally robbed the man of his youth.

    Closer inspection only merited worse findings.

    The prisoner¡¯s skin mimicked patchwork. It was pale, varying in complexion around the body in irregular blotches of colour, looking like it was being stretched a little too thin. Almost as if it was the covering for some unfinished doll in a toy factory. Their teeth were yellow, which Koa assumed to be chipped. With the lack of food, that struck him as paradoxical. It was nothing that couldn¡¯t be healed with a modest Rank and the right supplies, but how on earth had it gotten so bad in the-

    ¡°They¡¯re being beaten.¡± Octavia looked sick to her stomach. ¡°I wonder, if their throats are so parched, can they even-¡±

    The man opened his mouth, only to cough out dust. He tried again. This time, with a little water from Octavia, he could speak properly. ¡°The others . . .¡±

    He pointed a crooked figure, purple and possibly broken, out of the bars. It pointed to the side. Koa looked there, forcing himself not to squint away the terrors of the world. Slowly, he  walked back down where they had tread, noticing what he hadn¡¯t cared to before.

    More cells. More prisons. What felt to him, in that moment where his heart dropped, and the universe froze over, like a line of imprisoned Insect Clansmen that would never end. How they could have possibly missed this, was beyond Koa.

    ¡°Do you have a blade, or something sharp?¡± Koa asked Octavia, in a voice that was a little too pitiful. His ego took a sacrificial hit, but the Arachnid Clanswomen scrambled on her person fruitlessly.

    Neither of them possessed anything sharp. When you were able to fight solely through your Mark, many clansmen forewent the precaution of a blade on-hand. Koa usually liked to keep one just in case. Yet, seeing how his own blade had been burnt to a crisp, and the Pet-Keeper had hoarded every weapon in this hellish territory, they were left stumped.

    With no other bright ideas, and equipped with the knowledge that summoning a wooden blade at a moment¡¯s whim would do the bars no harm, Koa picked up a rock. He lifted the largest, most jagged variety he could find. Then, with a sort of desperate, helpless air about him, he did his absolute best to saw away at the material.

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    Octavia egged him on, but it was no good. Stone would never beat Supreme Steel, or Supreme Web; not in a million years.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come back for you.¡± Koa gritted his teeth. ¡°Count on it.¡±

    The prisoner nodded, but didn¡¯t look too optimistic.

    They continued grudgingly towards the chamber Koa had sensed previously. The entire time, Koa grumbled to himself. Eliciting more than one strange look from Octavia. ¡°The Pet-Keeper¡¯s going to pay for this. He made it personal when he decided to lay a hand on my family, but this is on another scale all together. I¡¯m going to kill that sick fiend, mark my words.¡±

    Octavia let him brood. Which he was thankful for, venting out all his pent-up emotion in a few weary moments. It was like a palate cleanser, leaving him just sober enough to appreciate the full horror of what came next.

    The passage widened into what could only be described as a banquet hall. It was enormous, like they were inside the belly of a giant. Considering the number of silver plates scattered about the place, it housed enough food to feed one too. The air was chill, and Koa imagined himself at the base of a great mountain, basking in the dank cool of a pond at its base.

    If he hadn¡¯t known any better, Koa would have presumed the place to be ancient. Harkening back to times older than the Old One himself.

    The tables were coated in web. Shocker. Koa wiped away a thick layer of the stuff, that stuffy smell constricting his throat and nostrils. Cutlery, metal plates, and other silverware looking like it hadn¡¯t been touched in aeons, were all neatly placed. Yet there was no-one to eat here ¡ª not even the whisper of a ghost.

    Despite the old-fashioned feel of the place, Koa knew better. It wasn¡¯t time that had brought upon the spindly coating, and whoever were the culprits had kept themselves busy.

    Displayed in the same fashion as the dead Arachnid Clansmen, a sickly man dressed in ornate robes hung suspended. Supreme String pressed against their skin at multiple points, drawing blood, the less deadly bundles keeping him aloft. Koa had no words, though did have the reason to reach out with his inward senses.

    The power that hit him . . . was hard to define. It was suppressed, like a substance diluted in water. There was an undeniably high quality to the man¡¯s power, no matter how low the amounts were, though all that was foiled by a pitiful aura.

    ¡°The energy he¡¯s emitting,¡± Koa spoke hurriedly, ¡°do you know-¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the Insect Clan leader, Beckett. God-Graced.¡±

    If Koa was already sick to his stomach, this was enough to bring up everything he¡¯d ever eaten. For someone that powerful to have their strength so greatly diminished . . . had his inspection not been so thorough, Koa could have mistaken the man for a Foot-Soldier.

    A quick examination proved Beckett was still breathing, but nothing they did roused him. Koa examined his injuries. His fears imprinted upon reality, seeing just how concentrated the Supreme Webbing was.

    It wasn¡¯t enough to injure a god, but a low-God-Graced? Well within the realms of possibility. Koa knew with a heavy heart that if Beckett ever were to escape, red slits would maim his face for life. With how often Koa saw clansmen wielding the divine resource, he had almost forgotten the damage a truly refined piece could deal. In the right hands, some weapons of Infinity could kill gods.

    It put things into perspective, planting the seeds for something dangerous. Something he could wield that would be a worthy successor to Donovan¡¯s precious gift.

    First, however, were his immediate concerns. ¡°There¡¯s no way this place isn¡¯t monitored. We can¡¯t stay here long.¡±

    ¡°But we can¡¯t just leave him here!¡±

    The blood rushed to Koa¡¯s face. ¡°We can¡¯t take him away either!¡± He dropped his head. ¡°Sorry. We¡¯ll . . . wake him up for now. Maybe there is some help to be done here. Pass me some water, I''ll clean his wounds.¡±

    Octavia was taken aback, but obliged. Koa was no medical professional, aside from the basic first aid training provided by his clan. Nevertheless, he did his best to remove the string from the skin. Great beads of golden Ichor oozed out with each piece removed, and slowly, ever so gradually, the water Koa applied made their eyes flicker.

    Beckett¡¯s expression was a sight to behold. Something like a reanimated mummy arising out of their tomb. As if sunlight had pierced their retinas for the first time in centuries, their eyes widened to the point of dilating.

    ¡°Curse that fiend.¡± He spat out blood. Contrary to his aggressive tone, there was no anger, or even a depth to Beckett¡¯s voice. They offered him a long draw of water, but the voice remained light. ¡°Who-¡± He fought down a wave of pain. ¡°Apologies, but who are you two?¡±

    ¡°Enemies of the Pet-Keeper.¡±

    Beckett shrugged, and only then, looking at his tiny shoulders, did Koa realise how starved the sect leader was.

    ¡°If they discover us, we¡¯ll all be killed.¡±

    Beckett laughed at Koa¡¯s words, or released a cackling cough instead. ¡°I¡¯m nearing my death anyway. The Pet-Keeper is just extending the torture a little longer.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to die.¡± Octavia said sternly. Neither of them attempted to disprove her.

    ¡°We can smuggle in food.¡± Koa continued. ¡°Keep you and your clansmen going.¡±

    ¡°My clansmen? Where are my clansmen anyway?¡±

    None of them said a thing. He didn¡¯t ask again.

    ¡°We¡¯ll . . .¡± Koa shut his mouth.

    It would have been the most relieving thing in the world to say that he and Octavia would keep their clan fed and looked after. To lie, and put the ruined God-Graced at ease. But Koa was hardly getting enough food to eat himself. Even with scavenging across the territory every night, butchering the little wildlife they would come across. It would be hard just trying to keep Beckett alive, much less the rest of them.

    He tried to imagine how long it would take for them all to . . . how long they would all survive. Images of their bony bodies, glorified skeletons in tight bags of skin, dancing in his mind¡¯s sadistic eye. If he put that clan to the back of his mind, and believe Koa, it wasn¡¯t easy to disregard an entire series of people like that, the prospect of Beckett wasn¡¯t a too optimistic one either. Say they fed him. Say they kept him nourished, and quenched, and barely clinging on to the fickle rope of life. How long would it take the Pet-Keeper to realise his starving prisoner wasn¡¯t starving?

    One thing was clear. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time.¡±

    ¡°Think, how are we going to put the Pet-Keeper where he deserves: six foot under?¡±

    ¡°We could have an army upon us here. My men are fierce fighters. The best generation Hybrid have ever seen. But they¡¯re ruined.¡±

    ¡°There has to be a way to make use of you all.¡± Octavia was close to screaming. Koa fully understood that frustration.

    Weak fighters are still fighters. Koa tried to convince himself, that nagging voice in his head, that voice of doubt, never quite shutting up.

    ¡°If we can¡¯t start with food, then weapons.¡± Koa took a hold of the Supreme Webbing, being careful not to cut his fingers. ¡°This stuff can veil us, and hurt God-Graced. And guess who around us is a God-Graced equivalent?¡±

    It didn¡¯t take them long to read his intentions.

    <hr>

    ¡°I¡¯ve been in some fancy carriages in my lifetime ¡ª some of the Speed Clan¡¯s best ¡ª but nothing compares to this.¡±

    Hadrian led their squad to the odd-looking platform. Yet another invention of the Matter Clan, only this time partnering up with the Gravity Sect to work out the mechanics. It was five metres wide, a tight fit for their entire squadron, but they had enough breathing room.

    Soon, it would be ascending up high above, via some technical set-up. Remus didn¡¯t possess the precise knowledge needed to understand how exactly it worked. Regardless, the gist was simple: pouring as much power and Infinity into the ginormous engine, to act as fuel. Then, over the course of a few hours, they would travel deep into the battlefield.

    Past the barracks lining the front lines. Past the sea of Unbounded approaching ever closer. And even past where the first patches of Rot had allegedly been spotted.

    They were going to attack deep into the warring abyss. Multiple squadrons like them had all  been allocated with the same task: invading enemy lines as far as they could. There, in the heart of the advancing onslaught, they would divert the Unbounded¡¯s attention, slowing down their progress. Hopefully, alongside five other squads, successfully fulfilling the potentially day-long journey without a hitch.

    It hurt his ego to admit, but their squadron was probably the weakest link out of them all. Remus suspected the only motive behind their allowed dispatch was the sheer energy output of flame-oriented clans. Not overall power, per se, but the total outpour from a Mark when weaving fire. It would potentially make their trip far shorter than the other teams.

    The weakest squad arriving first. Remus wasn¡¯t naive enough to miss the dangers lurking there, however intrigued he was by the prospect of seeing the contraption in use.

    ¡°Get into positions.¡± Hadrian ordered. Remus found a spot between Aziel and Violet. They were all pushing their hands out, palms together, in front of a funnel. On the count of three, they all began pouring every wick of flame they had into the machine. Everybody save for Violet, who instead simply released unrefined, Chaotic energy.

    Actually rising off the ground was a strange experience. For a few minutes, Remus was disappointed to notice absolutely nothing occurring. At this rate, releasing weak fire without the rapid, draining movement of battle, meant they could probably continue the outpour for hours straight. While Remus was admittedly intrigued at the prospect of discovering how long he could go on for, it would probably be the most boring time of his life.

    Others vocalised his thoughts, and Hadrian¡¯s guiding words were his saviour. ¡°Trust the process. The beginning''s the slowest bit, or so I¡¯ve heard. The engines need to be almost completely fueled before-¡±

    There was a great gearing sound. Remus looked off to the side, waiting patiently for something life-changing to occur. Like the sun exploding, Damosh kneeling at his feet, or something equally as bizarre. It was nothing quite so exciting.

    They lifted up, inch by inch, then foot by foot.

    ¡°How high are we going up?¡± Remus asked. They were ascending directly above, not moving any noticeable distance any other way.

    ¡°Oh . .  not too high, I suspect.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Aziel replied, near his own shower of azure. ¡°Very informative.¡±

    An uproar of laughter soothed Remus¡¯ nerves. He hardly noticed as they inevitably reached their maximum altitude ¡ª high enough to circumvent the tallest of hills. In the same finishing motion, they drifted forwards. North, he knew, to the sea bordering the world¡¯s pangea.

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± Remus turned to Aziel, deciding that something even as drab as small talk would be worth the time killed.

    Aziel grinned, like a king viewing a glorious empire at a mountain peak. ¡°I¡¯ve never been so excited. It''s strange.¡±

    Sure, Remus could perfectly understand a little anticipating joy at the prospect of something challenging, something others may turn their nose up at. For him, that was training at levels affected with a tinge of insanity. For others, it was a diet they enjoyed immensely, but would be nothing short of torture for the average person. For Aziel it was . . . barreling head-first into a war-zone that was well beyond what they could handle.

    Yeah, even Remus had his limits. ¡°Excited?¡±

    ¡°Look,¡± Aziel looked away coyly. ¡°I know what you said about ambition getting the better of you. Especially the type of Ambition our clan is known for.¡±

    Remus said nothing. He let Aziel speak for himself. Sometimes what people really wanted was for you to shut up and listen. To let them work out whatever it was that was troubling them for themselves.

    ¡°But we¡¯re finally doing some good against the Right-bearers, and the entire world is on our side.¡±

    ¡°They are.¡±

    ¡°If we can cast away this generation of Right-bearers, and maybe Right-bearers as a whole . . . it¡¯ll feel like . . . like I¡¯ve finally made amends. I know Hansley¡¯s death wasn¡¯t my fault ¡ª I know that. Still, all vendettas aside: I think a world without the likes of the Pet-Keeper is a better one.¡±

    That tugged on Remus¡¯ heartstrings. ¡°Of course. And we¡¯ll help to create it.¡±

    The next few hours passed as quickly as watching paint dry. Which was to say, not fast in the slightest.

    Releasing fire. Small talk with Aziel and Violet. So on and so on until the brilliant blue of late morning made way for the honey-yellow of the afternoon.

    The squad as a collective ceased to talk at one point. All that mattered was getting back to the comfort of grass beneath their feet, and not hundreds of metres above the earth. Though, looking down occasionally, Remus supposed he was safer up here than in the maelstrom raging below.

    A maelstrom of blood, Rot, and Ichor burnt before it had the chance to dry. Hundreds, if not thousands of disfigured bodies tumbled across a created morass below.

    In the first few hours, they spotted the occasional group of clansmen. Flying past on their own respective platforms. They waved to them earnestly, at the relieving sight of other human beings. Maybe under any other circumstances, they wouldn¡¯t be so friendly to very likely enemy clans, but the world potentially ending tended to loosen you up.

    That was the only redeeming factor Remus saw in the existence of the Right-bearers. They brought people together like nothing ever before.

    But there were no people now. Not this far out. Only enemies. Inversions of nature trampling across mother nature¡¯s gift like it was a children''s playground.

    ¡°There are so many of them.¡± Violet had only talked briefly on the journey so far, perhaps to ensure the very nature of her energy didn¡¯t sabotage anything, giving it the vigorous attention due. Though her expression in that moment, conveying a thousand words, more than made up for it.

    ¡°This must be weird for you.¡± Remus put it cryptically, in case anybody overhead.

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Violet conceded, her eyes seemingly glued to the riot below. ¡°I think I¡¯ll finally be able to put this all behind me when the Right-bearers are dead. And Enos.¡±

    ¡°And Enos.¡± Remus agreed, beginning to smirk.

    ¡°And whoever the Unbounded that took ahold of Teivel is. They must be out there; somewhere.¡±

    Remus was reminded of the one remaining mystery in their entangled, Unbounded conundrum. The truth behind what Violet¡¯s Mark was depicting. Beyond the splurge of black, and everything else in their way to discovering the truth. Whatever that final hurdle was, Remus felt that they, together, and everyone alongside them, would soon overcome it. For better, or for worse.

 81. Fight or Flight

    There¡¯s nothing to add a little spice to your life like a giant reptile crash landing ahead of you.

    It appeared as a dark shadow in the sky at first. How large was hard to say, seeing how half the sky was obscured, the sun included. Shadow befell them all, dark and insidious.

    Before Remus could force the sick down his throat, Hadrian screamed. A single word, and yet he shrieked it with such conviction, you would have thought it the final declaration of a king. ¡°Belindo!¡±

    Right as their platform became a floating circus of yelping clansmen, the Right-bearer came into view. Remus had seen some weird Unbounded in his time, but this behemoth took the cake.

    Its wingspan was more than enough to cover the length of two buildings. Looking more closely at the Supreme Steel making up their silver body, they could just as easily crush both buildings too. With a great flap of the wings, they descended closer to the ground, the amber wicks of their eyes like compressed suns.

    There was a tail too, barbed and flickering through the air like a living spear. Images of his chest being pierced at the end flickered through Remus'' mind.

    It was all happening so fast. He stumbled where he stood, the fire in his arms knocked off course and blasting the floor below. Remus exchanged a frenzied look with Violet, the rest of their squadron not faring much better under the pressure.

    With great talons, Belindo dived onto the edge of the platform. That, and the fact they had ceased to fuel their flying vehicle, meant one thing.

    The platform tilted.

    Remus grasped the chains around his waist, anchoring himself tightly to the floor with one rapid strike. He grabbed Violet¡¯s hand, saw others linking together with them, and knew the worst was yet to come.

    It wasn¡¯t as common a practice as in the Ambition Clan, but the Flame Clansmen were perfectly capable of flying via their own streaking limbs. Remus¡¯ main priority was Violet. It was more than likely that she could teleport to the ground below. Though Remus had to concede that down there, amongst fields of Rot and enough unruly Unbounded to fill a stadium, her chances of survival weren¡¯t much higher.

    To top it all off, Belindo was beginning to unhinge his jaw. Bathing them all in flame would be counterintuitive, but Remus was well aware that the fiend¡¯s capabilities expanded much further than that.

    An orb of water, like seeing a tidal wave form from a bird¡¯s-eye-view, amassed in their mouth. Remus heard frantic shifting all around, like people were making way for someone. There were even a few disgruntled murmurs that sounded too confused to be part of the otherwise perplexed din. Though it was a little hard to focus, when a mini-ocean was seconds away from drowning them all.

    He had to think fast. If that liquid smothered them all, flight via wild flames would be even more difficult. Impossible, even. They would struggle to summon a few sparks before flattening to the ground below.

    Then Remus realised they weren¡¯t sliding off. In fact, the floor was levelling out despite probably a hundred tons clinging to one side.

    A man was grunting: Hadrian. Hadrian, the absolute lunatic, had flown to the bottom of the platform and was holding them all up. He quite literally had their lives in the palm of his hands.

    Now it was time to repay the favour.

    Remus used his anchoring chains as a slingshot, propelling himself like a lightning bolt. Right into the monster¡¯s mouth.

    Violet, Aziel, and Tanguy all shrieked his name in alarm. He wanted to reassure them all, to promise them that one more insane stunt wouldn¡¯t hurt. The tongue beneath him was slippy, and he found himself performing a sort of crazed waltz to keep upright. In the corner of his eyes, he saw a series of fangs pointing out like inverted icicles ¡ª this was one dance floor he didn¡¯t want to slip on.

    He expected it to smell vile. Like rotting carcasses. Instead . . . he smelled wave-slapped sand; the salty scent of a beachside. A turbulent breeze struck him like he was actually there, near the Mortal Realm¡¯s great ocean. The water spun inches away from his face. It was faintly luminous, as if itself was the heart of the sea.

    Such pure, elemental power. Remus hesitated at the presence of it, gulped, and considered if this next part would be a good idea.

    After hours of pouring out energy, he was exhausted. Nevertheless, he committed himself.

    With a great sweep of the arms, he charged Eruptive Gold in the chamber of the beast.

    The water immersed him in the same moment. The world shook, with Belindo¡¯s fitful face performing every frantic movement it could to fling him away. No doubt, the rest of their squad were throwing everything they had at the Unbounded¡¯s outside, while Remus destroyed his innards.

    He was reminded of his tousle with Lumi, and that alone got his heart thumping. He relived that moment where he truly believed he was going to drown to death. Where the pressure in his throat became too much, where Lumi¡¯s cuffs chafed against his chilly flesh like the head of a scythe.

    It made him scream. Remus roared in challenge, his war cry somehow matching that of Belindo¡¯s. Hot, frothing hatred split out of him. His Mark felt like it was going to tear, his skin a fickle container for so much power.

    The water, unlike below the Frost Clan¡¯s shattered Glacier, didn¡¯t turn to steam at his fire¡¯s fatal touch. Instead, both opposing forces met in the middle and seemed to congeal. Remus didn¡¯t relent, and Belindo was just as stubborn in his ways. Neither of them were willing to back down.

    A material was forming. Slowly, clump by amounting clump. Remus could have recognised the tar-coloured rock anywhere: obsidian. At the accumulation of so much pressure, the barrier lodged in Belindo¡¯s throat.

    Fire and water both ceased at once. Remus dropped to a knee, doing his best to keep his eyes from flickering as the draining effects of Eruptive Gold left him sapped. Slithers of lava had left his body too in the exchange, though it was a far-cry from anything the Flame Clan could pull off. He stared through blurred vision at the steaming boulder forcing the lizard¡¯s mouth agape. Then at the charred state of the surrounding mouth. Ash coated everything, and a few of the teeth looked fractured.

    The little strength Remus was reserving to keep his footing failed. He slipped, grasped weakly at saliva-coated tongue, and glanced with wide eyes below.

    Evidently, Belindo hadn¡¯t been sitting idly as they wrestled. As fatigued as his mind was, Remus could make out a slanted view of Hadrian still hoisting aloft their platform. It appeared to be lowering now, heading down towards a ravine inserted into the war torn ground below.

    The platform itself was busted beyond comparison. The Mercenary only had one incentive for keeping ahold of it: to ensure that none of his allotted men or women died. Clearly, not all of them were flight capable.

    Remus found himself flailing a moment later. The air whistled in his ears, and the sleeves of his appeal flapped in a noise far too tranquil to fit the mood.

    Remus had to admit, there had been so many occasions he¡¯d thought himself on the edge of death, only to somehow push through at the last second. Yet here, falling from hundreds of metres above, with one of the Right-bearers directly behind, things weren¡¯t looking too salvageable. Part of him didn¡¯t know whether it was better to laugh or cry. How, ironic. I¡¯m seeing what Joshua saw in his last moments. I wonder what he was thinking.

    He closed his eyes, knew with a sombre certainty he had no power left to invoke, and let gravity take its course.

    His eyes flew open when impact came far sooner than expected.

    ¡°Gods Remus.¡± Aziel¡¯s own eyes had never been so wide. Though he suspected his own bewilderment put them on equal footing. ¡°You warded off a God-Graced equivalent! All on your own.¡±

    ¡°Now I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything you can do to surprise me.¡± Tanguy admitted, a sly smile playing on his lips.

    Remus looked between his saviours, the air at their feet, and finally their propelling blasts, keeping the three of them alive. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but seeing their grinning faces, Hadrian and the rest of the squad unharmed, and the fleeing image of Belindo . . . he was surprised his body was clinging onto enough energy to produce tears.

    ¡°Thank you guys.¡± His eyelids closed for what he hoped would be the last time in a while. ¡°Is anyone hurt?¡± Remus hadn¡¯t seen any injured in his brief scan of the platform, but he couldn¡¯t be sure. If any of them had gotten-

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    ¡°Nope.¡± Aziel put him at ease. ¡°You have nothing to worry about.¡±

    Letting himself be dragged below, Remus had never been so glad to touch solid ground. Or at least to be near it, for he was still being dragged along.

    Applause and cheers were abundant. Even as he sipped at the waterskin they passed him, and did his best not to pass out, his ego was stroked. ¡°Thank you all. We did this ¡ª we survived together. I¡¯m proud of us all.¡±

    Veida sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was possible to literally leap into the jaws of death, but I should have known you were the one to do it. Bravo.¡±

    After a few minutes, Remus gained enough sense to see what was really happening. They were enclosed between both sides of the ravine Remus had spotted earlier. Both frontiers of grey would have felt claustrophobic, if it weren¡¯t for the fact they were the only things hiding them away from thousands of Unbounded.

    The platform was placed lopsided across from them, buzzing with noise every few seconds. That concerned Remus, but nobody else seemed to mind, so he threw it under the rug.

    He walked over to Hadrian, who looked more exhausted than him. Which, to be fair, was perfectly understandable.

    ¡°You did amazing back there.¡± He grinned at the burly man, who was most definitely on the verge of teetering to sleep. The only thing stopping him was the need to check the place was safe, which Remus found even more admirable.

    ¡°I must admit,¡± Hadrian said, ¡°I didn¡¯t think that was you when I saw you. That was incredible.¡±

    ¡°Says you. Deadlifting five hundred tons like that.¡±

    That got him to laugh. Finally relaxing enough, he fell asleep.

    Then it hit Remus. He strolled around the ravine, Violet, as always, the first to notice anything was wrong.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°Well, for starters, we¡¯re trapped.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not trapped!¡± She insisted. ¡°We can definitely leave whenever, and-¡±

    They looked over in tandem to where a hunch-backed form growled. It disappeared seconds later, likely to join dozens of its kind.

    ¡°Okay, yeah, we¡¯re trapped.¡±

    Violet¡¯s voice seemed to travel to everyone present. Heads drooped, the skies darkened in grey twirls, and it looked to Remus like prime time for a little thunder.

    ¡°Someone will come for us, right?¡± One of the younger trainees asked. ¡°They have to, right?¡±

    With Hadrian fast asleep, Remus somehow found himself with all eyes on him. ¡°They¡¯ll look for us.¡±

    ¡°And they¡¯ll find us?¡±

    Remus couldn¡¯t meet their eyes. He finally understood why Hadrian had been so serious when it came to Emblazed towing along.

    ¡°What if Belindo comes back?¡±

    ¡°I-¡±

    ¡°Are we going to die here?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll starve, won¡¯t we?¡±

    Remus flickered helplessly from face to face, before Violet came to his rescue.

    She was standing upon a clump of rubble, and said, very firmly: ¡°No-one¡¯s going to die. No-one¡¯s going to starve, or be eaten by Belindo, or ask any more stupid questions. You¡¯re all certified soldiers that chose to be here, not children ¡ª you should start to act like it. We¡¯re going to survive. We¡¯re going to live to see the fall of the Right-bearers and Enos, whether you like it or not.¡±

    She took the words right out of Remus¡¯ mouth, though perhaps he might have said it a little more nicely.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to have to scout out for food.¡± Tanguy said wisely. ¡°And we should probably get someone to keep watch.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Aziel nodded. ¡°It would be nice to know in advance whenever a hundred ton, superpowered, winged reptile is about to arrive.¡±

    Hadrian boomed with laughter, alarming them all. Remus was expecting his recovery to at least take a few hours, if not days.

    Well, he supposed, if I can endure an encounter with Belindo and recover so quickly, what¡¯s stopping a marginally stronger Mercenary?

    ¡°Ohhh, what a pickle we¡¯ve gotten ourselves in.¡±

    Veida, who had been nursing over Hadrian, looked to Violet. ¡°Do you still have Pippin?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I haven¡¯t seen him in a while.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes.¡± Veida realised something. ¡°It¡¯ll take him a while to catch up with us. As clunky as those platforms are, they are fast. When the bird comes, and if the other squadrons haven¡¯t already arrived, we¡¯ll have to warn them.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve sent the equivalent of a five-star course his way.¡± Hadrian giggled, as if he was inebriated. Remus was starting to doubt if he really had recovered.

    Veida guided him aside to somewhere to rest. The rest of them stood in silence, as though quietly brooding was the new craze. They soon dedicated themselves to clearing out the area, which Remus did quietly, doing his best to fight away the existential dread.

    Remus was gathering sheets of metal that had ricocheted off in the collision, when Violet tapped him on the shoulder.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°Do you sense that?¡± She asked, a sense of urgency bleeding from into her voice.

    Remus opened up his senses, but didn¡¯t notice anything out of the ordinary. ¡°Sense what?¡±

    ¡°It''s hard to notice with the parade of Unbounded so close at hand, but I swear-¡± Violet sighed, cutting herself off. ¡°No, nevermind. I¡¯m just paranoid.¡±

    Remus frowned, but had more pressing matters to attend to. After informing the others of what he was planning, Remus leaped upwards. His flames carried him through the air in a sapphire river, iridescent in parts as he risked a peek over their enclosure.

    There, over the obscuring lip of the ravine, he saw it. And it forced his mouth agape.

    He¡¯d seen with his own eyes how overcrowded the Unbounded could be during the journey here. But now, equipped with a grim knowledge that the rest of his squadron was protected by only nature itself, and how fickle that barrier really was, it set his heart thumping.

    None of the fiends appeared to be very powerful on their own, perhaps Foot-Soldier equivalents on average. But they gathered in tribes, and, like tribesmen, the chief was always a step or two higher in the Divine Ranks. Stronger, beefier, and with forms all the more grotesque for it.

    Remus didn¡¯t want to dawdle, but he couldn¡¯t help himself.

    He saw a caterpillar-like fiend, with metallic legs jutting out of its body in grisly curves. It was like the Unbounded had slithered through a village, only to be impaled by an angry resident at every doorstep it passed. Remus forced down his last meal, looking at the score of gooey figures that walked where it crawled, each vaguely humanoid splurges of purple.

    They were gathered around a collection of stones, and the sight reminded Remus of demons frolicking through a house they themselves had destroyed. Other groups with a similar hierarchical structure could be seen in their own tight-knit packs, anywhere the eye strayed. It was like Remus was looking at the early barbaric stages of humanity, where prehistoric clansmen wandered through the wild, and killed anything that moved.

    Skeletal nightmares, bloody creations of gore that more resembled corpses than living creatures, and beings of pure mist Remus wasn¡¯t quite sure how he¡¯d kill. Then he sensed it.

    His eyes darted to a blast of purple in the distance. Remus blinked the fastest he ever had in his life, and it was gone.

    Flight faltering, Remus took a deep breath. Could he trust what he¡¯d just seen? Violet had mentioned sensing something, but if it was her father, she had never confirmed.

    Remus flew back into camp, or more accurately, their crash-landing site. A cleaned-up crash landing site, he would add, but he supposed it was hard to make the former sound good. He was still tired from his journey into Belindo¡¯s digestive tracts, so collapsed at a spot near Violet immediately.

    The trainees asked him desperately over and over again. What did you see, what did you see?

    Remus answered none of them. He locked eyes with Violet, who dragged him to the most discreet corner of the place as fast as possible. Veida joined too, and neither Violet nor Remus had the heart to turn her away. Besides, she probably knew more about Unbounded than the two of them combined.

    ¡°You saw him?¡±

    ¡°That,¡± he huffed, ¡°or somebody playing around with fireworks really likes the colour purple.¡±

    Violet strolled around, rubbing her chin, and didn¡¯t look up from the ground until Veida spoke.

    Veida scowled, deepening her fresh wrinkles. ¡°I had my suspicions, though I suppose something in me didn¡¯t want to admit it.¡±

    ¡°Like we didn¡¯t have enough on our plates . . .¡±

    Remus said nothing, still recovering on the floor and doing his best not to stress himself out. Any more strain on his psyche, and there was a good chance he really would snap.

    ¡°Belindo and Nova on the same day.¡± He pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°There are only so many odds you can defy until you get unlucky ¡ª and I don¡¯t really feel like pressing my luck right now.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think Nova takes into account your feelings when he decides to attack,¡± Violet replied, ¡°and I know my father better than anyone. Or at least I thought I did.¡±

    The tension was palpable, and Remus hoped dearly that none of the younger trainees overheard Veida¡¯s next words. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think someone let the cat out of the bag when it came to humanity¡¯s plans to attack, and how. It could explain why we¡¯ve spotted two Right-bearers so far, with a third not far off in the form of the Supreme Fiend. This is a more rapid, and powerful defence than should have been possible.¡±

    ¡°Not if there was an Unbounded eavesdropping on our plans. An Unbounded like Nova. And guess who attended the war meetings?¡±

    ¡°Nova this, Nova that.¡± Remus gritted his teeth. ¡°If we can¡¯t kill him, a God-Graced has got to, and soon. Whatever the case, the truth behind that monster won¡¯t be a secret much longer, one way or another. The pressure Maris and Juniper must be feeling to speak-up has to be unbelievable.¡±

    ¡°Unbelievable or not, this has all gone too far.¡± Violet closed her eyes. Remus looked at the worry lines of her face, and was suddenly overcome by a panging pity. In the heat of their great debate, he had forgotten how her own Unbounded identity would be revealed, when Nova¡¯s schemes inevitably came to light.

    He grasped her hand without thinking. Remus was about to pull away in a flush of embarrassment, when she squeezed him still.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be alright.¡± He felt inclined to say, ignoring Veida¡¯s creeping smile. ¡°We¡¯ll kill him.¡±

    Violet nodded, closing her eyes and leaning against him in a drowsy movement. ¡°We¡¯ll kill him.¡±

 82. In the Limelight

    Saying no to being the squadron¡¯s scout is hard, especially when the only one capable of blending in with the Unbounded is you. Of which there were thousands.

    Violet was wandering rather aimlessly in Unbounded form when she saw it: the plain of Rot. She paused at the outer stretches of the disease-ridden patch. It was pearly white in colour, and a slightly darker hue than regular, solid supreme steel. Like churned bonemeal.

    It reminded Violet of snow. She had almost lost track of the seasons with how rapid the last year had been, but it occurred to her now, upon that eerie sight, that winter was well under way.

    Perhaps if she were a few years younger, and the world wasn¡¯t currently in the midst of a divine plight, then Violet could have spent this year¡¯s end doing something trivial. Like building a snowman, or making angels in the snow.

    That reality was far off, however. Instead, Violet was occupied with tip-toeing across the edges of the infected area, opening up her senses to the Supreme Fiend¡¯s disease. It was an energy unlike anything she had seen before. It was like the aura was a swarm of angry bees ¡ª no, scratch that, hornets. Enraged hornets. Enraged hornets on steroids.

    It felt viscerally violent in an unexplainable way. Like the humming energy was intent on killing her. Or at least ravaging her body until she, like Andreas, would need a dedicated team of doctors to keep her alive.

    She remained standing at that edge. The tricky impulse to step forwards kept her bouncing on the balls of her feet, staring at the killer plain that could be her graveyard.

    Venturing deeper here and venturing deeper into the Silver Cavities were two very different things. Down there, the Infinity wasn¡¯t actively trying to kill her, at least not with recogniseable intent. Rot, on the other hand, possessed a sort of lethal aptitude. As if it were conscious; imbued with the spirit of a killer and equipped with all the tools to make it one.

    But just because something could go wrong, didn¡¯t mean it necessarily would. Especially with how attuned to Infinity Violet was as an Unbounded. Fully draped into her fiend form, perfected to be at one with Infinity, she could afford to take a few risks.

    Did Rot affect Unbounded? Based on the way a few of the larger beings were slithering through the space, not in the same way. To fiends, was this nothing more than a highly concentrated area? Like the deepest regions at the heart of the Cavities . . .

    Violet paused for a few more apprehensive seconds. Then, before her logical mind could talk her out of it, Violet took the longest stride of her life into the wasteland.

    When she didn¡¯t implode, and the aggressive air around didn¡¯t tear her apart, Violet risked a few more haphazard steps. The little sense she detected in the Rot was like the hivemind of a consciousness. Little more intelligent than that of a small hunting animal, or large insect. Though it was wise enough to detect her Unbounded state.

    Her human elements clearly confused the Rot. So Violet hurried off ahead, before the energy could get a good grasp on her.

    She was loping on all fours towards what had initiated her coming here: another platform. Several, in fact.

    The others had begun to arrive a few hours after her squadron. All appeared to be going well, and for a few minutes there, it actually looked like somebody would save them. Then there was a sound like a glass house shattering, and Violet, likewise with the rest of her squad, felt that fickle optimism be crushed. There could, despite all those discrepancies, however, be people that had survived.

    Survived the collison. Survived a flying Belindo who Violet suspected had retreated from their defence, back towards the other squads. And, maybe it wasn¡¯t possible, but survived the hordes of hungering Unbounded here. Her own team had only managed the latter thanks to the defensive arms of mother nature. A ravine quite literally was their last line of defence.

    As for the other squadrons? She couldn¡¯t see how anybody below Warlord could last any longer than a few hours in those crowds. Not without the perfect disguise she was fortunate to have at her disposal. Maybe if they were with an amy, but a couple teams sent into the middle of nowhere hardly equated that.

    The full might of the military. It wouldn¡¯t be far-fetched to think that was precisely what they needed. Though Violet couldn¡¯t say she was keeping her fingers crossed.

    She became used to the threat of Rot soon enough, or the lack thereof. It was difficult to pass through, of course, but so was a rocky mountain trail. Following the scent of smoke, she reached a vantage point where she could see it ¡ª decaying away in the middle-distance.

    Violet didn¡¯t have to squint to see the clump of grey metal. Whereas her own damaged vehicle sparked, this one was set fully aflame. The dancing streaks interweaved with the drifts of smoke, an alluring pattern of ash on crimson that looked otherworldly on its metal backdrop. Like a steel planet cursed to drift away in a sea of red.

    Only a few yards ahead, and she saw them. People.

    ¡°Retreat!¡± A fully clad man waved his arm ahead of himself. Violet followed where he was shooting his wide-eyed expression, only to be greeted by a squadron in worse shape than her own.

    It was anarchy. They stumbled around like children let outside, or a group of men falling out of a pub, still fully enveloped by the effects of their stupor. They poked spears out at another group: encroaching Unbounded.

    She eyed their eerie bodies. Boneless, a dark, morphing grey in shade that was more repulsing than she could put into words. The clansmen¡¯s blades pierced through the flesh. Or did they? Violet looked again, this time watching as the flesh gaped open where flung weapons passed through. Their bodies having literally contorted to avoid any damage.

    The men and women screeched. Stress marks made a criss-cross pattern of their faces. Violet tried to sense what sect they were all of, though found their abilities to vary massively.

    There was a man who caught her attention, fully clad in a strange exoskeleton, like he had another set of basalt bones overlapping his body. The ground at his feet was consumed by a black, snaking tar-like substance. In some ways, it seemed to be a Rot of his own. What separated him from the others was the absence of any blade. No dagger, sword, or halberd ¡ª not even a bow and arrow.

    In a saunter so casual it didn¡¯t appear to match the rest of the scene, he approached one of the fiends. He stretched out a hand, the Unbounded failing to evade the touch. One soft scrape of a finger was all it took.

    The fiend immediately collapsed. That dark ooze, more physical than Donovan¡¯s shadow, and yet in unequal degrees unreal, bared its full wrath on the Unbounded.

    With one frenzy, where there was once grey, became a heap of jet.

    Violet identified him as a member of the Death Clan. After that sickening display, she didn¡¯t need any more confirmation. When she finally tore her gaze off his macabre advance, Violet checked the others. They weren¡¯t faring too well, to say the least.

    One poor fellow had been lost in the onslaught, all in the brief time she had looked away. Ichor kept his body afloat in an amassing river. One she didn¡¯t want to know how many lost souls had contributed to.

    Clanging metal and shrieking Unbounded. Both acted in tandem to perform the ballad that kept the fight alive.

    Violet sidestepped a limp body, ducked an arrow, and pushed aside more Unbounded before she could draw a breath. Her eyes must have been glued to the burning platform off ahead, for no matter how much danger she narrowly avoided by a hair¡¯s breadth, she would always return to its sight.

    Hey. She heard, like the far off, obscured call of a drowning man.

    Blood flew through the air in a golden streak.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    Violet swivelled on her feet. Behind her, a woman wearing a bloody helmet yelped out again. Crystal clear this time. ¡°Hey, you!¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you moron! Are you with the first to arrive?¡±

    Violet was about to call out in alarm, as another Unbounded crawled up behind the woman. Before she could even open her lips, something flew into the Unbounded¡¯s head. The clump of metal was bathed in a burst of gore. Violet inhaled sharply, before the flying magnet returned to their grasp.

    Magnetism Clan. Violet noted.

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re all safe in a ravine past that Rot.¡±

    ¡°All of you?¡± She bit her lip. ¡°I¡¯ll be damned, you guys are lucky as all hell.¡±

    ¡°I wish I could say the same for you.¡± Violet took in one more glance of their surroundings. Now that they¡¯d moved in deeper, Violet could make out another wall of fog. Smoke. If she squinted, multiple others of the floating platforms could be seen. None of them were in prime condition.

    A great centipede of an Unbounded, likely the same one Violet had compared to a caterpillar earlier, dragged its bulbous body over to them. For having just met this woman, she and her acted in tandem.

    Two magnets flew into the Unbounded on either side, while Violet, having long since abandoned her fiend form, forewent her claws in favour of teleporting rapidly. Her eyes received nothing but the blasting light of Chaotic energy for a few seconds. Rapid seconds where her fists showered down with blows.

    The creature erupted. Green ooze coated both them and the floor, and Violet was just thankful none had gotten into her mouth.

    ¡°How many of you are there?¡± Violet asked, the power of a Splintered Rank emanating from the woman. If there was anyone most likely to be the squad leader here, however disorganised they all were, it was her. ¡°Are all the other squadrons out here fighting with you?¡±

    ¡°Seems that way.¡± She smiled grimly. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re gonna die here ¡ª and there goes humanity¡¯s last line of defence. The rest of the front lines won¡¯t survive much longer after this.¡±

    Violet mumbled under her breath. Not if I have anything to say about it.

    ¡°My Mark¡¯s powers include transportation. Can you gather everyone together?¡±

    For the umpteenth time, the magnet returned, only preceded by the sound of squashed flesh. ¡°And risk everyone getting killed in one fell swoop? I¡¯m not sure pal.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like they¡¯ll survive much longer regardless.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not very good at first impressions, are you?¡± The woman smiled.

    Violet continued. ¡°If all squadrons get safely to the ravine, there¡¯s a chance we¡¯ll really survive this.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    When the Magnet Clanswoman ceased to listen to her, Violet decided to take things into her own hands. She disappeared in a flash of magenta, and reappeared by another clansman. One spraying lightning at a worm-like Unbounded. Another flash of purple, another clansmen.

    Violet jumped through space with reckless abandon. Each jolt brought another clansman into her entourage, like adding extra weight to the same lift over and over again.

    Less than a minute had passed, and every other squad member who was alive and breathing were reunited. One last leap through space, and Violet would make it-

    Her Mark guttered out. Which was about as sudden as if the sun descended from the sky.

    Voices rose around her. A crazed mix of surprise, frenzy, and a few interjectory curses thrown in for good measure.

    Violet ignored it all. All that mattered was getting her Mark to work one more time. Then, everybody would be safe. Then nobody would die, and any losses wouldn¡¯t be her doing. Then, she wouldn¡¯t be at fault for dragging fifty or so people to their deaths. Crowded together like lambs to the slaughter.

    But her Mark refused to work.

    ¡°Where-¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Gods a-¡±

    Those voices and more made concentrating very difficult.

    ¡°Shut up!¡± She screeched. ¡°I¡¯m getting us out of here. I¡¯m-¡±

    She screamed in frustration. Okay, maybe Violet wasn¡¯t acting very calm and collected herself. The Unbounded, at first startled by their mass disappearance, had appeared to catch onto what had happened. Now they approached, gathered in one complete force, and they didn''t look very happy. Like Violet was looking at an assembly of drunkards, all of which were very displeased with a beer barrel being stripped away from them.

    ¡°You fool!¡± The Magnet Clanswoman spat. ¡°What have you done? You¡¯re gonna kill us all.¡±

    Violet ignored the complaints, which was about as easy as trying to stop a flood with her hands. She reached out with her Chaotic energy which . . . wouldn¡¯t obey her call. Again and again, as if she was grasping at thin air, Violet found her Mark inert. Providing not the slightest sign of response.

    The Unbounded were a tide, seconds away from consuming her, but that wasn¡¯t nearly the worst part. What really disturbed her was that the fate of every other squadron was riding on a haphazard decision of her doing ¡ª no-one else¡¯s.

    This was her fault. Violet¡¯s life would climax with dragging tens of soldiers with her to the afterlife. And a valiant last stand wasn¡¯t an option either. She wasn¡¯t so drained as to be unable to use her Mark; it was like it resisted her. Or couldn¡¯t hear her pleas in the first place.

    Just like when she had been assisting Remus in his stand against Joshua. As if some exterior force was forcing her Mark into quiet submission.

    The fiends were in close proximity. Close enough for some of the more far-ranged clansmen to ward them off, firing out scattering projectiles.

    In the panic, Violet caught sight of her arm. Immediately, she covered the taloned end with her other hand. It was no use: the Magnet clanswoman had already seen her.

    ¡°What was . . .¡± her confusion paved the way for fury.

    ¡°No, no . . .¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re one of them!¡± She looked Violet up and down. Or Violet¡¯s rapidly appearing Unbounded form. ¡°Doppelganger scum!¡±

    Magnets flew off the woman faster than Violet could react. The force of a Vanguard slammed into her. Compressing her chest, making the breath in Violet¡¯s lungs leave like disobedient workers. It hurt to breathe, hurt to think. Hurt to do anything other than stare at the blaze of purple approaching in the distance.

    The beacon of light disappeared as soon as it arrived. In its place, Violet saw a dark, almost majestic silhouette. It was as if the heavens had divided to allow one heavenly protector to descend. The winds seemed to stir, rippling across her Unbounded flesh and even causing the relentless Vanguard before her to take pause.

    The shadow flew down, coursing through the air like a knife through flesh. The fiends around all ceased their advance. They gazed up at the new arrival like zealots to their god, and it was then that Violet realised one crucial thing.

    This was no saviour; it was a demon.

    Light pierced the dark shroud, and Violet saw what was coming in agonising detail. Her stomach contorted around itself, her guts ready to materialise at her feet any coming second.

    Belindo¡¯s great wings whipped out with enough momentum to crush mountains. It looked down at their party with a mischievous glint in his eye. Like, to him, this was all the equivalent of a boy playing with toys. The world was his playroom, and there was no game Belindo preferred more than crushing them all to pulp.

    Violet looked up to the man seated above, her ashen cheeks somehow finding a way to blanchen no matter how monstrous she was.

    Nova, fully clad in his battle armour. He wielded a lance in one hand, scales of Supreme Steel the signature colour of their clan making up his body. It reminded her of Milap.

    The only thing comforting about that notion was recalling the morpher¡¯s end.

    Everything sped up to real time so fast, Violet was left fighting to catch her breath.

    The Unbounded pointed his spear down towards them. No, her. It was time for the leader to address his misbehaving daughter.

    Or would he? Nova was in fiend form at that moment. The human, seemingly innocuous leader of the Chaos Clan wouldn¡¯t show his face to the wider world, atop the back of one of their sworn enemies.

    But here, no longer masquerading, but as the real, first Right-bearer, Nova could do as he pleased.

    And if that meant sending a lance cleaving though his daughter¡¯s chest, then so be it.

    Nova had been manipulating her Mark, using his total control over Chaotic energy to sabotage her at every turn. It had nearly cost them their escape back at the Shadow Clan, and now it was threatening to spell her doom here. Using Chaos to reveal her Unbounded form had been dirty. But two could play at that game.

    Right then, right there, Violet realised how she could reveal the true face behind her father¡¯s mask. How she could finally expose Nova''s two-faced stint to the world.

    Though, for now, Violet had to take things one step at a time. Which most urgently meant one thing.

    Diving to the side.

    Her Mark was still of no use, and Violet couldn¡¯t just warp out of reality to avoid the blow. It scathed against her side, eliciting a tide of Ichor when she failed to fully dodge.

    The ground combusted where the weapon dragged itself forward, shrieking clansmen hurtling themselves away at the last moment. She prayed none of them got injured, or worse. She had enough baggage to deal with on the daily as it was. A few extra dead souls on her conscience would do Violet no good.

    She had to free herself of Nova¡¯s grasp, and fast. Otherwise, the consequences could be catastrophic.

    The sea of Unbounded crashed into the clansmen, their inexorable advance delayed no longer. Magnets flew, weapons sparked, and Violet watched with a mix of dread and envy as functioning Marks glowed to life at their owners¡¯ call.

    Blood would spill. That alone was certain, if she didn¡¯t get her damn Mark to work.

    This was her divine property. She had the advantage here to get it working. That was true regardless of whatever stunt Nova had pulled to chain her power so infuriatingly.  Sprinting off on all fours into the Unbounded hoard, doing her best to keep the pressure off her allies, Violet kept focusing on her Mark with an obsessive fixation.

    She tried to pinpoint how the energy around it behaved. Because it had to be there. If not, Violet would be suffering from something far more serious than Nova getting on her nerves. He could only stop the flow of her power from functioning, not strip her of its strength entirely. Like placing a firm hand under a tap instead of turning off the waterworks.

    Closing her eyes, she focused hard on her internal senses. Power left her Mark in fickle strands, then . . . then left her entirely. Being pinpointed away in a twine-like strand.

    Reaching Nova.

    A clear solution occurred to her then: move out of his range. But for obvious reasons, that wasn¡¯t a choice.

    Belindo and Nova could easily crush everyone here. Then there was Violet¡¯s revealed identity. If the message was going to come out, she would have to make people believe her side of the story. She wasn¡¯t a doppelganger. Okay, in some aspects, she was, but calling Violet just a doppelganger was as bad an oversimplification as calling bread yeast.

    There was one vital issue at the centre of all this. Like gangs leaching off a linchpin. The entangled truth surrounding Violet, Nova, and the secret atrocities of the Chaos Clan would be an impossibly tough pill for the wider public to swallow. At least not as easy as it would be to label Violet a very proficient spy, rub their hands, and call it a day.

    There was one insane plan already cooking in the fried nexus of her mind. Though with that came her second problem: it would take Passings to accomplish, if not longer. Perhaps there would be ways in which she could quicken the process to a few Passings. But within the next few minutes, as the battle became a bloodbath, Violet probably had seconds.

    She strained her Mark to a burning point. Her skin roared in pain, like it was under constant strain from a friction burn. Wisps of Chaotic energy fizzled away in little lashings of lightning.

    Violet heard a shriek off to the side. Her head turned away from the erupting magenta exploding out of her body, and settled on-

    A Foot-Soldier was immersed by a wall of Unbounded. His head was askew, neck snapped. Half-opened eyelids bore into Violet as though the hand of death itself was wrung around her neck.

    Those eyes. Those lifeless eyes looked into Violet with the faintest recognition. This is your fault. The trampled corpse spoke. I¡¯m dead because of you.

    Something in her snapped.

    Nova either ceased paying attention to Violet, or her anger finally broke through his bonds. Supreme Steel flashed over her body, uncoloured to reserve energy for more of the resource to be created. The excess floated around her like the chained islands of Eclipse. Jagged clumps eager to pierce through her father¡¯s supple skin.

    She launched up in a burst of power. Violet¡¯s Mark was drained from wrestling with Nova, and creating so much armour out of thin air had taken its toll.

    Space ceased to have meaning. Violet reappeared atop Belindo¡¯s snout. She sensed faintly, over the overwhelming rush of her own untempered power, the presence of multiple God-Graced arriving from the horizon. She ignored it entirely, stamping the bladed end of her boot into the reptilian mass.

    Amber blood gushed. It looked too unsightly to match the beautiful gold of Ichor, but Violet didn¡¯t finch as it splattered against her thigh. Belindo rasped, the equivalent of a steam engine combusting, to Violet¡¯s ears.

    Hooking herself to Belindo through the piercing boot, Violet stared up at Nova.

    His Unbounded form always had been hideous. Like hers in so many ways ¡ª pearly white skin, taloned flesh, with a bald, wrinkled scalp. The teeth in his mouth were like those of an alligator. She imagined them ensnaring her, slapping her frail form across the floor over and over again. Beating out every last spark of life.

    Nova grinned with those very same fangs. ¡°My own daughter drawing her blade against me.¡± There was a flash on his forehead. The symbol of his Divine Right, an upturned palm, blazed to life before disappearing yet again. ¡°Feeling ambitious, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    He spoke quietly enough for no-one but him, her, and perhaps Belindo¡¯s groggy mind to overhear.

    Violet sent all the Supreme Steel floating to dive for Nova. So rapid an action caught Nova off guard, and Violet¡¯s heart soared at the possibility she could land a real hit. The organ never stopped flying, her heart stuck in her throat, as every one of her projectiles faded to dust.

    ¡°What is this?¡± Nova barked, the blood suddenly rushing to his face. ¡°I¡¯m doing you a favour! See how they all look upon you now that your true form is revealed! You don¡¯t belong with mortal scum.¡±

    ¡°I am half-mortal!¡± Violet croaked back, not liking how her own voice sounded.

    ¡°That¡¯s different! You shouldn¡¯t wear your mortal counterpart with pride. Doesn¡¯t it disgust you? Like wearing the wrong set of clothes for ever and ever? This is the burden we must bear to spark real change! We wear the wool of the sheep we must butcher!¡±

    Nova¡¯s arms flew up, like he was at the end of some crescendo. Violet¡¯s boot was blasted back, a layer of metal forming across all of Belindo¡¯s slithery mass. At the same, as she fought to maintain balance, Violet felt the armour on her body dissipate. Like the metallic suit had been a bundle of ash barely kept together.

    And now, in a reversal of roles, Belindo was clad from head-to-talon with a monstrous sheen of Supreme Steel. He may as well have stolen the suit from Violet¡¯s dead body.

    But she wasn¡¯t going to dilly-dally while Nova finally bit the bullet, and decided to kill his own daughter. Or double-daughter, seeing how both their Unbounded and mortal forms alike were biologically related.

    Finally back with the reins over her own power, Violet immersed herself in a swell of magenta before Nova could do a damn thing about it. She heard one sound, uttered from his lips and cut off, before Violet abandoned her father for good. Never again would she give him the time of day.

    While Nova was distracted, Violet had a slim window of opportunity to flash over to the split crowd below. This time, she couldn¡¯t afford to make any mistakes.

    To save everyone, Violet would have to act quickly.

 83. Cat and Mouse

    Koa had been staring at the entrance to his cell for what felt like years on end.

    In reality, he had only been sitting there cross-legged for little longer than an hour. But that was an hour too long. Just where is she? He growled, staring daggers into the web imprisoning him still. Yet no matter how ugly his snarl was, the twine would never relent.

    When his eyes began to go sore from all the glaring, and pacing around in circles proved no more interesting, Koa crept to the edge of his prison.

    His fingers grazed against the spindly barrier. Supreme Silk. For all his time weaving the stuff into his ticket out of this place, Koa was still powerless to get past with only his bare hands.

    Maybe if he used up all the power in his Mark . . . he chided himself at that thought, merely for being as foolish as it was. Nevertheless, it still tempted him to no end.

    Footsteps. A war of relief and terror caused Koa¡¯s body to seize up, his hands getting clammy from sweat.

    They were so close. He had no time to react, and little more to think. Was this Octavia? Had she finally arrived after some kind of delay?

    That wasn¡¯t like her. Koa inhaled as the sound suddenly stopped. He looked at the entranceway, expecting weaved web to part any second now. To part and reveal either a very late guest, or his executioner.

    ¡°Octavia?¡± He called out carefully, when the moment dragged on a little too long. ¡°Octavia, if that¡¯s you, you really have to work on your time manage-¡±

    There was the sound of a thousand knots tearing at once, then a flash of silver as blinding as anything. Koa dived out of the way, felt something skim against his tunic, and grasped at the web wall to protect himself.

    He couldn¡¯t afford the second needed to glance down, but he felt no pain beneath the torn leather. If that was because he had avoided it, or if the wound had gone numb, was yet to be seen.

    In the corner of his eye, the glimmering blade taunted Koa, embedded into the wall. It was a stretch of pure Supreme Steel, too makeshift to call a proper spear. The figure entering the room hadn¡¯t intended to produce a clean weapon; only to kill him as swiftly as possible.

    Koa¡¯s eyes dawdled on the metal a little too long. That level of metal concentration could potentially maim God-Graced, and it had been targeted at him. Koa¡¯s mind only computed how strong his attacker must be, when that man entered.

    The Pet-Keeper didn¡¯t waste his breath talking. They met eyes for all of a nanosecond, before Koa¡¯s Mark practically activated itself.

    Wood and earth erupted before him ¡ª or at least it should have. Then Koa recalled the web surrounding every inch of the cell¡¯s expanse. No material was getting through there. The entrance then, he decided, was the only option. It was just a pity that was being blocked by  his cousin¡¯s killer.

    Koa shrieked like a child touching hot coals. He immediately cringed at the outburst, but here, against a God-Graced equivalent, he would be crushed as easily as a bug.

    The Pet-Keeper cackled, blurring forwards a second later.

    A knee exploded into Koa¡¯s chest. Something inside of him bursted open, thick tides of blood pouring from Koa¡¯s mouth like a broken tap. He tried to breathe in to no avail, feeling his back press against the web of their cell.

    It was a dead end. Koa summoned oak armour to amass all over his body, hoping it would absorb the brunt of any oncoming attacks. But for what? One blow from the Unbounded had left him gasping for air, and coughing out Ichor. Scratch that, it would be a miracle if his lungs hadn¡¯t exploded.

    The Pet-Keeper flashed forward again. The speed was unreadable, and it was all Koa could do to keep his eyes open as they blasted forward.

    His Mark unleashed all of his bottled up power like a volcano. A wall of foliage, wood, and whatever else he could grasp out of Mother Nature¡¯s tool kit, materialised as fast as he could will it.

    The Pet-Keeper crashed over to the other side. A storm of shrapnel consumed the place, hundreds of jagged ends dancing like flies through the air. Nothing could graze the Right-bearer¡¯s skin, but Koa¡¯s wasn¡¯t so imperious. He wouldn''t have much left to peel off his bloody corpse, the way things were progressing.

    Something launched into him, and Koa flew back.

    He was still hurling past the destroyed barrier of his cell, exposed to the dark gloom of outside. And for the life of him, Koa still couldn¡¯t breathe. Accelerating faster than the maximum velocity of the Speed Clan with their carriages probably wasn¡¯t helping with that.

    Koa expected to land, but never did. He watched the logs of trees he passed blur into oblivion, the little lighting around his prison like a gem in the gloom of an endless cavern.

    After what felt like an entirety, and when Koa thought the lack of oxygen was finally going to kill him, his trajectory lowered.

    His view turned from trees to the night sky. But not even the sight of so many beautiful stars could give his breathless lungs release.

    Koa crashed into the mud below, the vibrating thump cascading through his entire body. The dirt he¡¯d torn through turned to mud sheeting his ragged clothes. After a few bloody splutters, Koa got teary with relief.

    He could breathe. He was out of that horrid cell, away from that horrid man, and could brea-

    His breath threatened to escape him again, the silhouette of the Pet-Keeper a dark angel descending from the sky. He was fully shrouded in darkness, little more to Koa¡¯s eyes than a shifting shape. That was until the symbol on his brow illuminated the night, and spelled Koa¡¯s death like a dark omen.

    That image. That image of a thumping heart, the red of untainted, mortal blood. If the Pet-Keeper in base form had done this to Koa, rendering his body a mess of ruptured flesh and internal bleeding, then what could Koa possibly do against that? Against a Pet-Keeper at such power, power used masterfully when slaughtering his two mentors.

    Koa launched into the earth at his feet. He had rarely used his traversal technique since its inception, though rushing away from a geonicdal maniac seemed as opportune a time as any. Rushing through the earth, bleeding out buckets, Koa knew his destination. It was now or never. Plans had to be pushed forward, or Koa would die with all of his efforts having been in vain.

    All he could think about was whether or not Octavia was dead. The thought mauled at his heartstrings.

    Now, don¡¯t get Koa wrong. This was the same woman who had brutally beaten up Koa night after night, and had gone after that specific job herself in the first place ¡ª all covered up by that ever annoying word of necessity.

    But the thought of Octavia dying . . . another tally being added to the Pet-Keeper¡¯s death toll, never being able to annoy her with their witty back and forth, or to hear that sarcastic tone one more time.

    He could think of nothing worse.

    Koa needed reinforcements. And if there was anyplace an uprising was likely to take place at, it was the Insect Clan.

    Without another thought, the presence of the Pet-Keeper advancing closer behind, Koa dove into the ground. The earth split all around, paving the way for his body to worm its way through the earth.

    His Mark blazed a neon green, as bright as the fires from a roaring engine. The roots, endless arrays of bugs, and everything else infesting the ground of Territory Two resonated with the Wilderness ¡ª and thus, his Mark. To Koa, this was like swimming through an ocean, though one with a particular pressure about it.

    He reached out with his internal senses. Koa was moving swiftly towards a certain canopy he knew to be just on the verge of the Insect base, and while speed was on his side, it made it increasingly difficult to keep track of the Right-bearer. He did however, after a few seconds of blissful ignorance, note the bundle of Infinity washing off the approaching fiend.

    Marks always stuck out in Koa¡¯s senses like a sore thumb, but never before had he thought to pay particular attention to a Divine Right. Superficially, as far as he could tell, it was a near perfect replica to a Mark. Similar size, similar sense of emanating energy; similar everything.

    Nealy. It was only when Koa took extra notice that the more alarming aspects of the Right struck him. There was a certain quality to it far removed from anything particularly godly. No, instead of that steadfast warmth from humanity¡¯s forebearers ¡ª as comforting as beings from oblivion could be, anyway ¡ª something far more Unbounded in origin was in its place. It reminded Koa of how eerie the surroundings became when Violet unleashed her full Chaotic power. But instead of reverting to normal after a time, this was a permanent scar on the universe. Like a wound in the skin of the cosmos that time alone couldn¡¯t heal.

    It was a stain Koa was eager to wipe clean.

    Though he had bigger problems at that moment, as great tremors in the earth warned him. Of what, whether it be a natural disaster, oncoming Unbounded, or another danger entirely, he couldn¡¯t be sure. Yet something was coming alright.

    He had enough time to summon a few shrewd barriers when they fell upon him: spiders. Koa probably should have guessed that. In the complete dark of that cramped, shifting space, with only his inward senses offering sight, he had about one second to examine the scattering forms.

    They were bundles of Infinity to his senses. Reaffirming what Koa had already confirmed: that they were fully Unbounded.

    Out of all the animals Unbounded could have made a one-to-one copy of. Spiders.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    All the other Unbounded akin to a certain creature, out of the selection Koa had come across, anyway, were merely like the animal they embodied. Usually with some horrific distortion to set them apart, such as being bigger, more humanoid, with a grotesque design or the like.

    These were just tarantulas. Okay, scratch that, very angry, genocidal tarantulas. Maybe their manic temperament was what distinguished them.

    Koa¡¯s screams were muffled when a group of them covered his face. He shook his head frantically, flinging them off, and didn¡¯t dare to check how large the cluster was. Clearly, getting beaten up by an Arachnid clanswoman everyday wasn¡¯t enough to kill the arachnophobia in him. Being trapped in a web-ridden district, and witnessing the Pet-Keeper¡¯s new fiend, Angel, had also failed to relieve him of the phobia

    Now Koa had to share the space of a claustrophobic tunnel with two hundred other arachnid citizens. If this didn¡¯t give him nightmares of the eight-legged critters, maybe the beings up above toying with him would have to finally call it quits.

    Further, further. Koa pushed through the dirt ahead like his life depended on it. Because, most likely, it did.

    The fissures grew more intense, requiring more and more energy to push through. The taste of mud stuck in his mouth, the hair of the Unbounded tickled unnervingly against his skin, and for all his efforts, the Pet-Keeper was closer than ever.

    But so was the Insect Clan.

    Schemes and hopeless ploys had drained him of the energy to do anything other than sit down, and extend his bank. At long last, all of those hours of hard work would finally pay off. He hoped.

    An army was lying in wake, and it was almost time to call them to arms. That happy thought was almost enough to purge Koa off all the disgust, pain, and tireless grit of the moment.

    Then the ground exploded at his feet, and Koa knew he really was in trouble.

    Please, he pleaded, the spiders on his face pressing against him, the earth continuing to compress. He was almost near the blade he needed, if he could just get to it, and then to the cloak-

    Again, like Koa had barged into a den of landmines, the dirt exploded in his face. Only it was a bigger eruption this time, like a whole field was being unearthed, and not just him. The brighter, distinguishable darkness of night seemed a thousand more bright than the burrows.

    Even more clear, however, was the Right-bearer.

    Koa saw him so vividly now. He saw the plainness of the creature for what it was: a deception. His brain hair, dark eyes, and somewhat angular face shape passed him off as standard man anywhere. Without his prior knowledge, Koa could have seen that face in a market, or passing by in a busy street, or in any number of scenarios.

    Only now could Koa see what laid beyond the front, as clear as day. A self-obsessed killer. He¡¯d known that for aeons, of course, but in the gloom of that misty night, Koa really saw it. He saw it in the dark glint of their eyes. The sinister, self-assured gait with which they carried themself. But most of all, he saw it in the uncanny grin that spread on the man¡¯s face.

    ¡°Running when your cousin fought and died.¡± They laughed coldly. ¡°Which one is less commendable?¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t listen. He was too busy looking desperately at the devastated landscape. It should have been there; had to be. The tools he was going to use to turn this whole ordeal around. He¡¯d buried the both of them here. Alas, like a giant jumping in a children¡¯s sandpit, the fiend had rearranged the place.

    It was lost. Koa felt the realisation settle into his bones, sinking into the marrow beneath, like oil to old cogs. It set a fire inside of him, a wick of primal fear clinging onto life with a desperate hold. This small window of opportunity, where the Right-bearer delayed flat-out killing him, was Koa¡¯s last fighting chance to survive.

    Not a good chance. But one out of a hundred was better than none at all. If getting to the Insect Clan alive unarmed was impossible, then maybe doing so with a few tools to his name would only be hopeless. After all, at this rate, that was the most he could ask for. If he could locate the damn things.

    The Pet-Keeper dived forwards, and adrenaline drowned out every other hormone in Koa¡¯s body. Afterwards, he couldn¡¯t even fully recall what had happened; what Koa had done in that moment to propel himself over the edge.

    His Mark went into overdrive. Projectiles flew out of him; insects and the small creatures that had somehow survived in this hellhole answered his call; and the already split earth divided into uncounterable clusters. Koa didn¡¯t even scream. Adrenaline made his heart threaten to rupture and silenced all emotion.

    It was a blur. He darted from spot to spot, dancing amid a wall of incoming projectiles like there was fire under his feet. Supreme Steel clusters materialised around the Pet-Keeper, making for Koa like bats vaulting through the night.

    They cleaved through any half-hearted defence he could put up like it was all butter. The glinting edges came closer, sparkling, as if a diamond had shattered overheard. Koa was getting away. He was masterfully dodging every last attack when-

    He tripped on something below ¡ª a stick, or pole, or the like ¡ª and Koa screamed. He felt Ichor trickle down the bridge of his nose, meeting the outpour already congealing around his lip.

    It was like Koa¡¯s world had been split apart. Quite literally. He could hardly see, nothing revealed from his right eye no matter how hard he blinked. Was the blood blocking his vision? That wasn¡¯t it. Even as Koa rushed away, stumbling every third step, he knew with a grim finality that things were much worse than that.

    The blood wouldn¡¯t stop. Koa¡¯s palms were painted gold, a gut-wrenching image he could only see through one eye. The other rendered a bloody pulp squashed in his socket.

    Koa screamed, shrieked, and proceeded to rasp more noises than he knew his throat to be capable of. With his sight jeopardised, and focusing on his functioning eye too despairing, Koa extended out his internal senses.

    He noticed people up ahead, residents of the Insect Clan. That was enough to dilute all the pain, but that wasn¡¯t the only thing Koa noticed. On the ground, where the Pet-Keeper had maimed him, laid a strong concentration of Infinity.

    Even with his sight as hindered as it was, Koa still saw the object perfectly: Supreme Silk.

    He grasped the halberd, and forced the cloak over his shoulders. It was a soft layer as the mantle fell over him, but when an outpour of blood was carrying away his body heat, he would take whatever he could get his hands on.

    Another row of Supreme projectiles flew ahead. Koa swung the pole in a flat-out clumsy motion. They were sent scattering, but the Pet-Keeper refused to relent.

    ¡°Having trouble seeing?¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t utter another word, instead launching himself onto the nearest tree. There was a thick canopy there, and trotting across, Koa hoped to use the height to his advantage. At least it couldn¡¯t have been any more dangerous than the erupting ground had been.

    There appeared to be a forest here, or at least a large stretch of great oaks he could manoeuvre across. They moved at his Mark¡¯s command, tilting to become footholds, bursting into platforms, and then swinging back to block the Right-bearer¡¯s path.

    The flurry of Supreme Steel had ceased, and so had the pain in Koa¡¯s face. At first, it was like somebody had torn his brain in half. Crushing his skull like a clam to lay waste to the pearl inside.

    He still had to focus on other means of sight to make sense of what was happening. Energy in place of his eyes; fluttering drifts of Infinity to see clearer than any pupil could.

    Like a fire, so blinding to his internal senses, the seized base of the Insect Clan was upon him. But so was the Pet-Keeper.

    Arms encircled his torso like a wrestler about to break Koa¡¯s back. He grunted at the powerful hold, feeling the organs in his tightening chest threaten to burst. He sapped his Mark of every last iota of power. Like he had against the Scorpion Clansman, and Octavia¡¯s mother. Like he had when dealing his greatest blow to the Pet-Keeper to date, all the way back at the Chaos Clan.

    He couldn¡¯t hurt the fiend with their Right active, of course. But he was so close. The Insect base, as strange as the widening hives were to look at, was right there!

    Koa imagined what would happen to Octavia if he died now. Doubtless, the Pet-Keeper was already aware of her treachery. It was the match that set his anger aflame.

    Blood was spurting between his teeth again, but Koa found the strength to will nature itself  against the Pet-Keeper.

    Roots shot out of the earth like the grasping hands of the dead, twisting around the Unbounded¡¯s legs. All bugs in a one mile radius flooded closer, a few mammals in their midst. They covered the Pet-Keeper¡¯s flesh, who set himself to frantic shakes. When the trees sprouted faces and walked closer, and Koa had commanded the bugs to force their way into the Pet-Keeper¡¯s ears, he was finally let free.

    The Right-bearer spat in disgust. Koa was dumped to the floor as the fiend swatted himself relentlessly. Bugs died in the masses with every motion, but Koa couldn¡¯t spare a tinge of sympathy.

    He was in the ground again, making a beeline to the army of prisoners. Koa clutched his halberd like a lifeline. The Supreme Silk was weaved out of the most concentrated of the web Octavia could find. As a result, it had the potential to scar God-Graced.

    Maybe. Koa couldn¡¯t be sure. True Supreme Steel was a rare thing nowadays, the stuff that could hurt gods. Really hurt them. The Silver Throne was probably the only collection of Steel that potent left in the world ¡ª which wasn¡¯t surprising. Koa didn¡¯t suppose that the gods would be too pleased with something so strong, that could slay their own kind, in the hands of mortals.

    It was these thoughts that persisted in Koa¡¯s mind as he surfaced inside the beehive. Honeycomb surrounded him, and Koa invaded deeper into that yellow maze.

    He retraced his steps to the inmates, stopping occasionally to retch up blood.

    Koa would heal, excluding his eye, but in this condition, things weren¡¯t looking too good. He couldn¡¯t afford to push much further. He knew that. But still, Koa dragged himself from bend to bend of the twisting tunnel, now in the cavernous space.

    It was so quiet, Koa could have heard a pin drop. His footsteps, slow in his troubled gait, were only interrupted by the sound of coughing, as his sole eye settled on that familiar hall.

    ¡°He¡¯s coming,¡± he spluttered, to over a dozen turned heads. ¡°He¡¯s coming.¡±

    There was a metallic sort of creaking sound, and a cell door Koa hadn¡¯t noticed before opened. It was with a sad smile that Koa locked eyes with Beckett.

    Now that he had some much needed weight to him, Koa could see the coveted leader in the man. Sandy hair, high stature, and a comfortable air ¡ª the kind adopted by those used to power. The rest of the prisoners all looked to Koa with a kind of awe. He didn¡¯t want to know what they saw when they gazed at him.

    Yet when Koa looked at them, he felt nothing but pride. Fed and red-faced, reinvigorated with the wonder of youth. All because of the fruits of Octavia and Koa¡¯s labour.

    It was almost funny just how efficiently you could hunt, when your Mark led the prey straight to you; if not a little gory. Durations of nights filled with nothing but that and supply-making had led to this private army. The wildcard the Pet-Keeper could never expect.

    ¡°Koa, your eye-¡±

    He raised a hand. ¡°There¡¯s no time. I¡¯m lucky . . .¡± he slid down against a wall, gritting his teeth. ¡° . . . that I¡¯m here in the first place. Again, we don¡¯t have time. Are you all fit to fight?¡±

    Beckett looked at him grimly, then to his men. It was only now that Koa realised that the cells had been completely refurbished. A few chairs here and there, and other smuggled objects. Well, it only made sense that they had a little more energy, with their bellies full and a goal to work towards.

    Besides, the only sentinels who looked over them were also Arachnid clansmen. Who wanted nothing more than to see the Pet-Keeper put in his place. Suffice to say, it hadn¡¯t taken much to convince them to keep quiet. Or to smuggle in a few commodities.

    ¡°Boys, arm yourselves.¡± Beckett ordered. ¡°It¡¯s about time we faced this fiend.¡±

    Halberds, the same kind as the one Koa leaned on for support now, all thudded into the ground. The noise was asking to be noticed, and would have given Koa a heart attack, were it not for the fact the Pet-Keeper was already upon them. They had minutes at most.

    The men began to chant, and Koa felt his heart set alight. The warmth spread through the rest of his body in a chain reaction, fighting back against the cold of so much blood loss.

    Wherever Octavia was, Koa was going to find her, and get revenge for his family in the process.

    It was time for the Pet-Keeper to get what he deserved.

 84. In the Meantime

    Two Durations had passed since Violet¡¯s identity had been revealed to the world ¡ª two Durations where Remus and five other squadrons had fought tooth and nail to survive.

    And they were all out of food.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± He asked Veida urgently, opening the top of a crate. His blood ran cold at the sight of its empty contents.

    ¡°That¡¯s all that survived the crash.¡± Veida said sadly. ¡°We¡¯re fortunate we had that much.¡±

    Each platform had been prepared with cargo full of emergency rations. Some had been destroyed in the fight with Belindo, and the following crisis. The majority had been lucky to survive. Nevertheless, with well over a hundred hungry mouths to feed, it hadn¡¯t lasted.

    ¡°All of it? Really gone?¡± Remus repeated more times than a deranged parrot. For all their history, Remus had to admit, Veida was being very patient with him.

    ¡°Yes Remus. All of it.¡±

    ¡°Do the others know?¡± He asked in hushed tones.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t gotten around to it. I was hoping you would be better at breaking the news.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± She prodded him with a finger. ¡°You. You¡¯re respected around here. Ever since you leaped into Belindo¡¯s mouth, it¡¯s like you''re the best thing since sliced bread.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how well they¡¯ll think of me after this . . .¡±

    ¡°If you really don¡¯t want to then, I can-¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Veida looked over to where a crowd was already amassing. ¡°Then you better do it quickly. Something tells me leaving them hanging won¡¯t do anything to calm their tempers.¡±

    Remus had at least five other follow-up questions, but the woman was right. He got up to the top of the crates, feeling how hollow they felt under his feet. Nothing inside. His heart began to pound at the thought of them all dying from starvation. Dropping off one by one.

    Another group of people all relying on him. How Remus got himself into all of these leadership roles, he¡¯d never know.

    He harrumphed into a fist. How to address them? Ladies and gentlemen was too formal. Guys? No, that was even worse, but for the opposing reason: too casual.

    No introductions then.

    ¡°What I stand on now has been our lifeline for all of two terrible Durations. I know how hard you all worked to retrieve these from the heart of the battlefield. I salute you for it. You¡¯re the reason we¡¯ve survived to this point.¡±

    All those faces. Looking at him. Remus recognised Tanguy and Aziel among them, near the back. The worry lines of their lips blended in with the crowd, like they were as easy to overlook as pieces of the ground nearby. Maybe if they hadn¡¯t fit the quota for a disagreeable crowd so well, Remus would have recognised them earlier. But as it stood, Remus felt his throat constricting at the sight of so many awaiting clansmen.

    ¡°But any lifeline becomes a liability when relied upon for too long-¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s our morning meal?¡± One voice rose. Remus'' eyes flew through the crowd, but he couldn¡¯t identify the source.

    ¡°We¡¯re very low on supplies. We need to find a new food source, and quickly. If anyone here is gifted with any Mark that may help in that regard, please speak up now.¡±

    There was an abundance of murmuring, but no-one stood forth.

    If only we had someone from the Feast Clan. Remus lamented, trying not to let the emotions show on his face. Then we wouldn¡¯t have this problem.

    On large scale operations, at least one Feast clansman was brought along. One alone could produce enough food to fuel a small village within a day. A particularly strenuous day, but a day nevertheless.

    Alas, this wasn¡¯t meant to be a long operation. Simply a few squadrons sent to delay the Unbounded further up the front lines, before reinforcements dealt the real damage. As a result, not a soul had thought to hire a cook. The clan was expensive to hire out, after all. They were small, which made their rise to power so impressive. But now more than ever, a resource like that could have made a real difference.

    ¡°When are our God-Graced getting here?¡±

    That caught Remus off-guard, like a blow to the chin. Reinforcements. They should have arrived here days, if not entire Durations ago.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be here soon. They promised.¡±

    Every few days, a God-Graced would arrive through some usage of Perpetual Sight, bringing with them reassurances that help would arrive any day now. Very soon in fact.

    But they never did. Soon was too vague a metric to ever put faith in, especially when spoken from the lips of a God-Graced. Remus knew stones he would entrust more belief into, before going anywhere near the power titans of this world.

    More disgruntled utterings. The people here were too polite to flat-out scream in his face, though Remus could still read the room with perfect clarity. And every single person here, save for perhaps his close friends, hated his guts.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ask again. Does anyone have any abilities that could help us? Perhaps a few of you could even combine abilities to do so. Through, if at all possible, increasing rain, fertilising the soil, or manipulating the flora directly. ¡±

    It was a long-shot. After a minute or so, Remus could finally breathe a little easier when several sceptical people raised their hands to volunteer.

    Veida tapped him on the shoulder, who Remus hadn¡¯t even noticed coming over. ¡°Leave this bit to me.¡± She whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll see what we can salvage.¡±

    Remus nodded. He flew off the stand, taking the deepest sigh of his life the second he was out of range. Nothing could be harder than dealing with so many people ¡ª but there was one person he didn¡¯t mind seeing.

    He landed not far from the rest of the assembly, where a green tent was erected. He walked loudly for the final few steps, to give her a little forewarning, before calling out through the flap. ¡°Violet?¡±

    Her head turned to face Remus. He felt his stomach warm as she flashed him a wicked smile. The feeling confused him, so Remus promptly took a seat and got down to business.

    ¡°Everything going as planned?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Violet nodded. ¡°How did the others take the news?¡±

    Remus was a little startled that she already knew of the food shortage, but supposed Veida must have told her. ¡°Not great. But not awful, I guess.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t tapped into his internal senses completely, but Remus could still feel the abundance of Infinity sifting through the room. Since returning from battle, Violet had hardly done anything other than work on her infinity manipulation. Pieces of armour rested on her body as they spoke, the plain uncoloured material unreal; a metal not of this world.

    Since the beginning, he¡¯d known of Violet¡¯s new scheme against Nova. The first night back had been so heated, Remus could have cut the tension with a knife. Violet¡¯s Unbounded side being exposed by Nova had obviously inspired fear in many of the clansmen. To their uninformed view, the idea of having to live and sleep in the same proximity as an Unbounded wasn¡¯t a pleasant one. Like having to stomach a monster residing under your bed.

    Only having saved as many of them from the jaws of death as she had placated the group. But not completely. Violet was allowed to live among them, but even that had taken hours of heated negotiations. Ultimately, the decision was stripped away from Hadrian by the other squad leaders, but they agreed to let her stay. At a distance. As much as the ravine would allow.

    Violet didn¡¯t seem fazed, at least externally. Instead, she had told Remus, Hadrian, and a few very select people her new plan. To expose Nova to the world like he had her. That sounded all well and good to Remus, before he had been fully equipped with the details of what she yearned to do.

    ¡°Look.¡± Remus sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not one to doubt you, but is there enough time?¡±

    ¡°I might not achieve it fully, but even a partial activation could be enough.¡±

    Remus relaxed a little. ¡°I couldn¡¯t bear not being able to use my Mark for so long. But to think you could stand toe-to-toe with Nova ¡ª just how powerful are you? No-way you¡¯re still capped at Foot-Soldier equivalent.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    That brightened her face. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know. I asked Veida how strong she thinks I am, but even she was at a loss. Whatever the case, all I need to do is rival the Pet-Keeper in one instance. Less than a second will be enough. One second and he¡¯s mine.¡±

    ¡°Scary.¡± Remus shivered. ¡°Just when I think I¡¯m on the verge of getting stronger than you.¡±

    Violet laughed. Remus liked it when she did that. ¡°It took my entire life to get to this point, and you¡¯ve done so much in what, a Rebirth?¡±

    Remus laughed too, washing aside the praise. ¡°I guess so.¡±

    They were both silent for a second. Remus stared into Violet¡¯s soft features, for a small eternity. What did he say? Everything was complicated enough as it was, and now Remus had to deal with this weird feeling that made his chest tight and stomach hurt.

    ¡°Is everything okay?¡± He wasn¡¯t sure why he said that, but it seemed right.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± She replied, so dryly, it must have been automatic. ¡°Thanks for asking.¡±

    ¡°No really. What Nova did is hard to throw under the rug. Surely you¡¯re a little-¡±

    ¡°Sad? Embarrassed? Outraged?¡±

    Remus blinked. ¡°Well, yeah. You don¡¯t have to be all stoic with me.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m obviously annoyed. But ¡ª I don¡¯t know ¡ª there¡¯s no time for getting all depressed about it, is there?¡±

    ¡°What about when we get out of here?¡± Remus hoped his face didn¡¯t betray how optimistic that question was. Survival was never a certainty. ¡°When the rest of the world finds out, and we have to confront them?¡±

    It felt horrible to bring Violet¡¯s attention to these issues, and Remus only did so out of absolute necessity. There wasn¡¯t a doubt in Remus¡¯ mind: God-Graced would already be debating on how to handle Violet, now that Nova had outed her as a doppelganger. Which, whilst not completely wrong, was only one tenth of the colossal truth.

    ¡°I wonder what story Nova will go with.¡± Violet mused. ¡°Will he say I was an imposter this entire time, or was killed off recently? Only for me to return as an Unbounded.¡±

    ¡°But would that even work?¡±

    Normal doppelganger Unbounded were a lot different than the variety Violet was, and the rest of the infested Chaos Clan. For starters, they couldn¡¯t just copy anyone they saw. It wasn¡¯t that doppelganger Unbounded were amazing at transforming ¡ª they just looked so uncannily like humans, that, with good enough linguistic skills, they could blend in. But as an entirely new identity. Fabricating something so complicated was an arduous process, and making it believable was arguably the hardest part.

    Unbounded appearance was a spectrum. The more powerful you got, the more you regressed into one of two categories: embracing the pure raw power of a beastly form, or the functionality of a more humanoid body.

    If Belindo was on the far right, leaning heavily towards the beastly side of things, doppelgangers were the extreme opposite. Abandoning all Unbounded sensibilities to become one-to-one mortals.

    The Pet-Keeper, for example, could have very easily pulled off a doppelganger stunt. He may have previously, now that Remus thought on it, explaining why for a long stretch of time, hardly a peep had been heard out of him. Back then, however, this current Right-bearer generation hadn¡¯t been nearly as prominent. The prospect of the Pet-Keeper attempting the same thing today was laughable.

    All this considered, how Nova was going to write-off everything Violet had ever done as a simple doppelganger, was a tricky matter indeed. It was the tip of the iceberg, threatening to expose the rest of the icy lie, when put under the slightest strain.

    ¡°The last thing Nova wants is for the world to know about what he¡¯s done to the Chaos Clan. My own intention to expose exactly that aside, he¡¯ll have to manoeuvre around this carefully.¡±

    ¡°He must know you¡¯ve told a few God-Graced about the truth, or at least considered the possibility.¡± Remus frowned. ¡°How¡¯s he going to get around that one?¡±

    ¡°Maybe he hasn¡¯t. Maybe that prospect doesn¡¯t worry him at all.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it. Would be a real flaw in this scheme of his.¡±

    One serious expression from Violet, and Remus had to reevaluate that.

    ¡°Trust me on this. I know my father better than anyone. Nova¡¯s the kind of man who is so confident, as to be hubristic. He probably thinks the truth is just too unpleasant, or bizarre, for any self-respecting God-Graced to believe.¡±

    Remus leaned back across a comfortable stretch of tent, exhaling. ¡°Out of all the things we could have gotten involved in, it¡¯s politics and political manoeuvring.¡±

    Violet leaned back with him, so that they were face-to-face. ¡°Hey, it could be worse.¡±

    ¡°Could it really?¡±

    Violet was silent. After a moment, a rapid burst of laughter practically erupted out of the pair of them. It went on a little too long, to the point where Remus felt weak.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know where I¡¯d be without you.¡± He admitted, locking eyes with her.

    She paused, perhaps to consider what way he meant that, before nodding. ¡°Me neither.¡±

    Not another word was spoken, not another syllable escaped his lips. Remus didn¡¯t understand his own intentions, but the moment felt too fragile. Too fragile to risk another muttered sound.

    What he would give to be here forever. For this second to stretch out, and make the entire Celestial War seem like one grain in a very large hourglass. Insignificant and inconsequential.

    No more battles, or needless bloodshed, or damnable gods and Unbounded. Just uninterrupted tranquillity. Escape from everything apart from what really mattered.

    He didn¡¯t know what was going through Violet¡¯s head as they stared at one another. Whatever the case, Remus¡¯ own mind was dragging him into a swell of places he wasn¡¯t familiar with. Depths of the soul he wasn¡¯t quite sure he wanted exploring. Or even had the time to.

    ¡°Juniper and Maris.¡± He fractured the moment like a pane of glass. It felt akin to a jewel breaking. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll reveal the truth?¡±

    ¡°I have a feeling they won¡¯t unless absolutely necessary. It''s all on my shoulders now, and I plan on taking action.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Remus held his lips. What she was planning to attempt was so dangerous, it was beyond reason. There was a very good chance it wouldn¡¯t work out as planned.

    But if it did. It could be the crucial blow necessary to take Nova down. And there was no greater time to pull it off than now, when the entire world was out for the Right-bearers¡¯ blood. The mere fact they were still alive, that they had come this far without God-Graced or Unbounded alike killing the pair of them, told Remus they had a fighting chance.

    None of them delved into that unspoken topic. The fact that Nova and Belindo could return at any second.

    A few of the Sight, Trickery, and other related clansmen had all teamed up together. Visual deceptions were hiding the ravine well enough for at least the hordes of weak Unbounded not to pester them. Stronger beings could easily see through the veil, but for now, they had some stalling time.

    Remus just hoped it would be enough.

    <hr>

    Damosh looked upon his right-hand man with a forced smile. Edmar was kneeling before him, answering his King¡¯s call to enter the chamber. Here was the peak of the tower, the throne room Damosh saw more of these days than the sun itself. It was as ornate as ever, and through multicoloured panes of glass, forged with some decorative mosaics of his predecessors, Damosh looked lazily down on the denizens of First Rite.

    Finally, his eyes returned to the kneeling subject. ¡°Congratulations.¡±

    Edmar blinked. ¡°Might I ask what for, my liege?¡±

    Damosh cocked an eyebrow. ¡°Why, your recent advancement to Mercenary. Faster than I could have expected, of course. What, did you think I paid so little attention as to not notice?¡±

    Based on the look on Edmar¡¯s face, yes. He had expected that. Or, if Damosh wasn¡¯t reading into this too much, had been hoping for it. That begged one nagging question: why? It wasn¡¯t like Edmar to keep things hidden. Or at least that was the reputation of the man Damosh had developed in his head. Had he been wrong?

    He eyed his servant a little more closely.

    ¡°How perceptive you are, my King. Forgive me if it seemed like I was trying to be secretive ¡ª I simply thought it was nothing of concern.¡±

    Hmm. Humility? Yes, Damosh settled on his answer, that explains it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so modest, Edmar! Nothing pleases me more than knowing my sect is reaffirming its power. We¡¯ll rule as kings forever.¡±

    Something shifted on Edmar¡¯s face, but it was too quick for Damosh to fully notice.

    ¡°Truth be told,¡± Damosh admitted, ¡°that isn¡¯t the only reason I¡¯ve called you here. This battle has been raging for Durations now ¡ª what will the other God-Graced think if a literal king doesn''t intervene?¡±

    There were also the amassing, angry crowds in the Labour and Leisure Districts, furious at his lack of intervention. So far, Damosh hadn¡¯t put a single Inkling towards assisting with the war effort. He had other personal matters to attend to. Though he supposed in this one instance, remaining silent on the topic wasn¡¯t going to cut it.

    ¡°What we need is something big. Something spectacular to really boost my repu- public morale.¡± He corrected himself.

    ¡°What do you have in mind, sir?¡± Edmar asked. He was doing that silly little habit of his where he stared daggers into the carpet at his feet, but never raised his head to Damosh himself.

    ¡°I want to kill one of the Right-bearers.¡±

    That made Edmar raise his head. Damosh didn¡¯t hide his delight at the man¡¯s absurd look.

    After composing himself, the man managed words. ¡°Should I prepare your leave for the battlefield sir?¡±

    ¡°Oh, heavens, not yet!¡± Damosh slapped both arms of his chair. ¡°No, no. We have to wait for the perfect moment. Why bother with Passing-long campaigns when one moment of glory is enough?¡±

    It was the perfect plan. Right when one of the Right-bearers was greatly wounded, all Damosh had to do was show up for one blazing second of victory.

    Edmar clearly read his intentions. If he wanted to say something, he didn¡¯t show it, jaw remaining firmly shut.

    ¡°Why indeed.¡± He eventually muttered, though there was no passion behind it. Not that it mattered ¡ª Damosh didn¡¯t need passion. Passion was for the artists and strungout musicians. What Damosh needed was practicality.

    ¡°We need to keep a close eye on how the battle is progressing. When were the Right-bearers last seen?¡±

    Edmar¡¯s job title included being Damosh¡¯s main informant. That meant most of the Mercenary¡¯s time was spent networking with others, and generally keeping himself aware of things. It saved Damosh a lot of time, but at what cost?

    ¡°There was a large-scale attack on a number of squadrons, heading deeper into the enemy line. They were supposed to divert the Unbounded, relieving some pressure off the front. Then Belindo and the Fifth Right-bearer arrived. The God-Graced have been scrambling to recover, and not much has been heard of the Right-bearers since.¡±

    ¡°Nothing on the Supreme Fiend or the Pet-Keeper?¡±

    ¡°Not much. The former is still spreading his disease, traversing the warzones mindlessly. The Pet-Keeper remains as elusive as ever.¡±

    Damosh leaned back on his throne, feeling quite satisfied with himself. ¡°And so we wait.¡±

    Edmar spoke darkly under his breath. ¡°Yes. Yes we do.¡±

 85. Division

    A Duration and a half.

    That¡¯s how long they survived before the veils came crashing down, revealing their location to all.

    Violet almost hadn¡¯t noticed. Busy as she was with creating suit of armour after suit of armour. A mound of Supreme Steel sat outside the reaches of her tent now. Most were specialised for her size, obviously, but that didn¡¯t stop a long line of clansmen from assembling before it. All eager to be equipped with probably the most powerful suits they would ever lay their eyes on.

    Funny how quickly the crowd forgot about their discrepancies. Strange how much could change now that they stood to benefit.

    Violet sighed, though only internally. She made sure to disguise her real emotions under a stoic line of the lips. It wasn¡¯t exactly a bad habit, but something told Violet being brought up by swarms of copycat Unbounded probably had something to do with it. It was hard to always be authentic when your family had been stripped away of anything remotely true. Still, the mercurial moods of the clansmen rubbed her the wrong way.

    I shouldn¡¯t hold it against them.

    It was all well and good to say those words, but putting them into practice was another matter entirely. Violet swallowed her frustration, settling herself with the thought they would be stronger this way.

    As the coming days were soon to show, they would need every advantage they could get.

    Violet first noticed something was amiss as she sauntered towards Veida. Lately, she hardly spoke a word to anyone but Remus ¡ª however strange their interactions were. Her training was like another existence of its own, unattached to her previous self. Where refining her Infinity mastery was everything, and taking the time to converse and talk idly seemed like a waste.

    Only Remus was able to bring her back to reality most days, but the series of tight lines that was Veida¡¯s face had much the same effect.

    ¡°Veida, what¡¯s-¡±

    Violet cut herself off at what she saw above.

    It wasn¡¯t Belindo, or Nova, or any other Right-bearer looking to sour their day. But it was Unbounded alright; about two thousand pouring into their ravine. Like a flood of monstrous flesh looking to drown out the inside of a canyon. Violet estimated that they had a minute at most, before things got ugly.

    ¡°But the protections . . .¡±

    ¡°Not working, clearly.¡± Veida rushed forward to where an alarmed gathering was already forming.

    Remus, together with Tanguy, Aziel and Hadrian were all doing their best to calm the crowd. Though clansmen scrambled regardless, waving their arms around as if they were already surrendering to the first of the enemies.

    Hadrian locked eyes with his wife. A grim acknowledgement passed between the pair of them.

    ¡°Prepare the others for a fight.¡± Was all Veida could say. The couple flew into the air, lashes of flame trailing behind them like twin comets.

    The other squad leaders were either trying to calm their men, or were already diving into the fray. Violet caught sight of the Magnetic Clanswoman, with whom she shared the mutual, unspoken agreement to avoid each other at all costs. Getting off on the wrong foot was hardly cutting it. After Violet had almost killed all other squadrons in one of her more shameful moments, they flat-out despised one another.

    At the end of the day, however, they were on the same fighting side. Violet leaned forward in a crouch, prepared to manipulate the space between them like it was nothing, only to pause.

    Unbounded had reached the base of the ravine by now, grappling with the more composed of their men and women. She wanted more than anything to leap into the fray, to help them.

    But her Mark. She couldn¡¯t afford to use it, or her plan would be wasted. Those durations of keeping her Mark in reserve for nothing. That ability could only be achieved through patience, and not even a fight as severe as this would change that.

    So Infinity manipulation it would have to be.

    It was early in the day, luckily, so Violet wasn¡¯t completely drained. But fighting without her Mark would be a fearsome challenge indeed. Like fighting with one hand behind her back. Or, maybe, this was just the sort of training she needed. To test just how successful these last Passings of diligent training had been.

    Armour appeared over her body in an instant, an act so ingrained through the art of repetition, it was muscle memory. As a swarm of Infinity hardened around Violet, she rushed into the first of the Unbounded.

    She didn¡¯t even have time to observe their horrid forms, before the first body erupted against her. Colliding into artificial thorns like a flesh balloon. Three more appeared in its stead, each a dangly hunchback fitted with overly long necks. Their skin was purple, as if perpetually bruised, and Violet felt her stomach churn the more details she picked up on.

    Heads were swung like the fists of arms, butting against Violet¡¯s armour with dull thuds. Not a dent was made, though Violet processed each impact as a warning: not even Supreme Steel could hold out forever.

    She felt so horribly, so helplessly slow. Without her Mark, there was no treating reality like a guidebook that could be ignored. If she wanted to get to an Unbounded, she actually had to move over to them. Which made her past self seem like a speed-demon in comparison.

    Three Unbounded became five, and then five became twenty. On and on they multiplied, until the ravine became a swaying sea of blood, guts, and humid air.

    Marks fizzled around in activation, blushing into a multitude of colours. It was a rainbow, but no gold was to be found at the end of this one: only bones.

    Violet punched one pile of ooze aside, which tumbled back, consuming the fiend behind in a slime prison. A kick here, leap there, and Violet made it all the way to the ravine wall.

    The Unbounded didn¡¯t stop coming. A rush of Infinity carved a shield directly above, impeding the path of a horned behemoth. Dangling reaches of hair akin to rattling snakes swept down at every angle, keen to nip away at her. Violet fought the urge to shred them with a wave of Chaotic energy, and released a burst of Infinity in its stead.

    It had the same result, but Violet was exhausted. She kept huffing, her lungs demanding ever more oxygen. Relying on Chaos to transport her for so long had put quite the strain on her cardio.

    A blast of warmth sent her neck snapping to the right. Ignoring the roaring pain by her nape, Violet watched wide-eyed as half the Unbounded attackers were slathered with flame.

    Unbounded after Unbounded were burnt to a crisp, the source of the molten downpour Hadrian and Veida. There was a splash of blue in the deadly admixture, and Violet looked up to the image of Remus and Aziel¡¯s dangling feet. The rest of their squad were flying with them, using the same technique to keep airborne and rain fire on their enemies.

    The sight made the pressure in Violet¡¯s chest a little easier. But she was too still lost as to what to do next.

    Infinity was far more limited, and therefore precious, than a Mark¡¯s energy. Violet may have possessed around ten times more than the average person, but that was like adding extra coal to a fireplace. Sure, it would keep the fire alive longer, but nothing in all this wide universe would stop the flame from dwindling eventually.

    Even her magnitude of Infinity wouldn¡¯t last to see through five-thousand Unbounded. Or how many of the accursed creatures there were down here. They livened up the place as much as a moshpit would at a funeral party.

    Down here, Violet would perish.

    Magnets flew through the air, popping heads with violent coordination. Other squad leaders didn¡¯t dare to slack off either. Bears of unnatural sizes charged ahead in sloths, a living wall of fur crushing the adversary at a Mammal leader¡¯s call. Violet just hoped the burly-looking man wasn¡¯t aware of what had happened to their clan, the last time Violet and Remus had run into them.

    A woman in a long crimson gown strutted though the enemy lines, every Unbounded within five feet crumpling in agony, as the might of the Suffering Sect took hold. Violet almost felt bad, if not benumbed to their pain, as the creatures spasmed for dear life.

    The Vanguard from the Victory Clan was surrounded by the largest group of clansmen. Everyone who entered his range raised their heads a little higher. Looked a little more confident. Indifferent to the fiend onslaught as they barreled into the Unbounded.

    They weren¡¯t made invincible, of course, but the passive support provided . . . compared to all those leaders, Violet, scrambling onto the last dregs of her Infinity, was made practically useless.

    She looked up at the lip of the ravine. A few more Unbounded jolted down every few seconds, but for the most part, things had cleared. Violet could afford to crest that peak without risking death.

    If only she were able to use her Mark. Then she could have maybe made a difference. But as things stood, equipped with the knowledge that exposing Nova would be far more useful than anything she could do here, Violet focused on nothing but surviving.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Supreme Steel erupted out of her hands, the rest channelled to her armour. If the latter broke, she really was in danger. But not as much as if she stayed here.

    Violet flew upwards, leaping up as high as her natural body could. She considered transforming into her Unbounded counterpart, but didn¡¯t in case a clansman thought to cleave her by mistake. Higher and higher she scaled. Projectiles and scattered debris missed her by a hair, but Violet jutted her strands of Infinity into the wall.

    Pebbles fell where she climbed, lost in the turmoil below the higher and higher she reached. Relief at nearing the top made her clumsy, and Violet¡¯s handhold crumpled against her fingertips.

    Metres above, Violet fought for dear life, grasping at the wall in the oddest gesticulations of her life. Finally, when the cries of the battle seemed louder than ever, and she couldn¡¯t risk another second¡¯s indecision, Violet morphed only her hands into their monstrous variety.

    Her talons stabbed into the ravine-side with such force that fissures spread, the tremors as disturbed as her racing heartbeat. Up and up, she dragged herself, momentum alone carrying her to the peak. There, once she was sure there were no Unbounded in sight, Violet laid recumbent, gasping for air.

    When she could muster the energy, Violet peered over the side. The frenzy of blood, Ichor, and rampant energy made Violet nauseous just looking at it. It was a hodgepodge of swirling colour that made her brain ache.

    With her physical self exhausted, Violet opened her internal eye to the world. If the mess going on below was enough to disorient her, this next encounter threatened to fry her brain.

    Vast concentrations of Infinity were approaching. Stained with that vile strand of the resource indicative of the Right-bearers. Violet¡¯s heart threatened to race again, her lungs crying out for more air than she could ever hope to provide.

    Don¡¯t panic, she thought, if you can¡¯t help down there right now, at least be of some assistance here.

    She spread her awareness to the limits, where the cracking of wind, humid air, and a hovering mass of energy all screamed one word to her: Belindo.

    But there was another. Not too far away, and unmistakable. Nova.

    That titan of chaotic energy wasn¡¯t headed directly for them, but the thought of two Right-bearers approaching was terrifying nevertheless. Their disordered squads had little hope escaping the onslaught already upon them, let alone two Unbounded of impossible power. If the two had come for seconds so early on, who was to say their squad would fair as well as they did the first time around?

    A possibility birthed in her mind ¡ª so sudden and riding on impulses, it could spell their doom. But this could be it: their opportunity to put to rest another Right-bearer. Or at least strip away the power from a man who had it in abundance.

    Some of the Flame Clansmen were up to the ravine mouth now, pouring magma in a few of the more isolated regions. One blast of turquoise, and Remus appeared. Violet called out his name, the sound nearly deafened in the pandemonium.

    Before he could get a word in edgewise, the words shot out of her. ¡°Belindo and Nova are coming. I¡¯m going to stop the latter. Please don¡¯t try to stop me.¡±

    ¡°What? You can¡¯t just-¡± He cut himself off, a monstrous roar echoing form below. ¡°Be careful.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡±

    For a second, they just looked at each other. Violet had to return to Remus. The thought of anything else made her feel sick. ¡°You have to win back here. No matter who comes. No matter how long it takes for reinforcements to come, or if you¡¯re the last man standing, you have to survive.¡±

    Remus nodded, every fibre in his body working in tandem, as he levelled his gaze back onto the battlefield below. No matter how bad things got, Violet could take comfort in that firm stance of his. The azure tint to his eyes that told her Remus would move the earth before giving up.

    Violet turned, barrelled past the edges of the battle, and just like that, she was gone.

    <hr>

    Remus flew over to Tanguy, grasping the man¡¯s airborne shoulder to stop himself. He asked slowly, through bated breath, ¡°might be a bad time to bring this up, but remember when we hated each others¡¯ guts?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°When we fought, you used this magma rain ability. Do you have enough energy to pull that off again?¡±

    He paused. ¡°I may, but where? I don¡¯t want to catch any of our men in the process. It¡¯s hard to control the range.¡±

    That was a good point. Hadrian and Veida may have possessed the mastery needed to be more precise. Though occupied as they were now, supporting the rest of the squad leaders to force the bulk of the enemies into a bottleneck, they couldn¡¯t be of much help

    Remus pointed to where a bundle of Unbounded sprinted past their leaders¡¯ best efforts. ¡°See there? If we can eliminate pressure off the squad leaders by rounding up these stragglers, we¡¯ll have a fighting chance when the Right-bearers arrive.¡±

    A flicker of hope sparked in Tanguy¡¯s dark eyes. A little contradictory, considering his next words. ¡°You noticed them too? God above, I thought I was going insane.¡±

    ¡°You prepare the technique, and I¡¯ll make sure none of the lava reaches our men.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t completely confident in a race against liquid fire, but there was no time for hesitation in the heat of battle.

    Everything was so exhausting. In real time, perhaps ten minutes had passed, but Remus felt like he could¡¯ve had grandkids in that time. That line of thought ¡ª for some absurd reason ¡ª made him think of Violet. The prospect of her rushing off head-first to face Nova . . . he should be with her, facing that monster together.

    But looking down, he knew he couldn¡¯t. Looking past the explosion of colour, of the raucous uproar of a hundred Marks being activated at once, fear-stricken faces bore into his soul. A few of their small army were already dead. How many, Remus hadn¡¯t a clue. Their bodies trampled in the river of blood amassing below.

    He couldn¡¯t afford to risk increasing their number, least of all by being indecisive.

    Remus fired a few fireballs into the fray, reserving his energy for when Tanguy was ready.

    And in less than a minute, he was. A swarm of lava twirled like dragons around the man, a blaze of concentrated power that turned the heads of Unbounded and mortals alike. Even from here, Remus could see the perspiration leaking from his skin. Something told him the toll of this ability on Tanguy was equivalent to him exhausting all his resources on Flaming Gold.

    It was equally impressive, if not terribly blinding to his eyes. Within a second of putting up a hand for cover, the flood began.

    Remus had to act quickly. Fat dollops of the liquid steamed as they swept downwards. Remus pulsed out a wave of fire, catching the deadly projectiles that trod too far, like the helping hand of a blue giant. He heard hisses from below; none of them sounded human enough for him to panic.

    Despite the very real stakes of the moment, it was like a game. Remus flickered amid the lethal downpour like a man trying to outrun a stormcloud. Blue fire bathed his body, and Remus soon found himself deliberately coursing right into the lava excess. It wiped them away clean, and Remus could almost forget about the atrocity taking place below.

    All credit to him, Tanguy was holding his own. The technique was one of the most draining in a Fire clansman¡¯s arsenal, gobbling up all the energy Ashbel¡¯s granted Mark had to offer. It was a banquet Tanguy could only dish out for so long, but he was making a great effort out of it.

    Tearing his eyes away from the man¡¯s gritted teeth and winced expression, Remus felt his blood run cold. The lava was pouring out more chaotically now; well past the range it had originally been.

    ¡°Tanguy!¡± He shrieked, but the man couldn¡¯t hear him. Nothing but the bubbling of his technique would reach his troubled eardrums.

    Without thinking, Remus dived below the blast, lying recumbent with a flaming palm below to propel him.

    A layer of fire rushed out of him. Flat and oval-like. The sea of sizzling orange fell into his blue shielding, and Remus pushed his Mark to the limit to compensate.

    Remus squeezed his eyelids tight, protecting his retinas from the flurry of intermingling colours.

    It was like two miscoloured stars were erupting in the same space. Bidding for the area with all of their celestial might.

    Like a bulb cracking open, Remus watched as Tanguy let go of the ability. His body dropped, oddly limp, like a ragdoll towards the bed of writhing fiends below. Remus flew over as fast as he could, his Mark burning now against his flesh.

    In his haste, he more barged into Tanguy than caught him. Tanguy wasn¡¯t especially heavy, but Remus had to strain to carry him away.

    ¡°Tanguy,¡± he patted the unconscious man¡¯s cheek repeatedly. ¡°Tanguy, I need you to wake up for me. Wake up!¡±

    Tanguy said something nonsensical, before slumping his head back in Remus¡¯ grasp. So he¡¯s not dead, Remus exhaled in relief. Like last time, the ability had done a number on him, but he wasn¡¯t out yet.

    It wasn¡¯t like Remus was bursting with energy either. He flew to the mouth of the ravine, placed Tanguy down onto a stretch of ground carefully, and slumped at his side.

    Maybe taking a breather in the middle of a fight was a little audacious, but after what he and Tanguy had just pulled off, Remus cut himself some slack. Remus peered over the ravine-edge when he could breathe easy again, more than satisfied at the fruits of their labour.

    The last few Unbounded that had reached past the defensive line of the sect leaders were being rounded up. The rest were butchered, puddles of lava quickly solidifying into molten throughout the area¡¯s deeper regions. The surviving clansmen, a little dazed at the fact they were alive, sprinted to join their leaders.

    As for the sect leaders themselves, they were more than carrying their own weight. It was hard to see through the haze of techniques and gore, but Remus could breathe a little easier. They were dominating. Soon, the horde would have nothing to mark their existence, other than the remains of their crumpled bodies.

    And even those, once this all blew over, would be burnt down to dust. Remus would make sure of it.

    ¡°Look Tanguy,¡± he said, more to himself than to the snoring mass at his side. ¡°We did it. We beat those demons.¡±

    Tanguy¡¯s response was a disgruntled groan. Remus couldn¡¯t think of a more fitting response.

    He was about to rush back to join his victorious comrades, when something snagged at his internal senses.

    His mind immediately went to Belindo. Damn it! With that one manoeuvre, Remus and Tanguy had virtually incapacitated themselves. Joining scores of winning clansmen was a far cry from standing toe-to-toe with Belindo. Unlike the lucky fluke of last time, it would be a miracle if their stranded group survived, even if just a handful of their most powerful.

    Then there was the very real possibility of another batch of wild Unbounded arriving, outnumbering them before even that. Neither outcome made Remus jump for joy.

    He would have loved to leave Tanguy alone to get his beauty sleep, after that stunning performance, but now wasn¡¯t the time. ¡°Tanguy.¡± He shook the man. ¡°Tanguy, wake-¡±

    Remus paused.

    Tanguy shook himself into consciousness. He jolted rigidly, like a man waking up to find his house crumbling down. ¡°Whu- What is-¡±

    Remus held out a hand. Tanguy shot him a perplexed look, but Remus wouldn¡¯t mistake that aura anywhere.

    Not after spending Durations in the Silver Cavities. That dense, suffocating load of Infinity, as though the air itself was out to strangle him. Yet now it was closer ¡ª coming to them.

    ¡°It¡¯s not Belindo coming.¡± Remus swallowed. ¡°It¡¯s the Supreme Fiend.¡±

 86. Bullseye

    Violet never stopped running.

    Nova. No longer was he going to get away with everything. Milap¡¯s death had just been a warning to her father. The starter to the main dish that would be his own untimely demise.

    Those thoughts, and those thoughts alone, were all that propelled Violet as she dragged herself mile by mile closer. She may have overestimated how close the Right-bearer had been. Nevertheless, Violet promised herself at the end of each mile, of each draining leg of her journey, that this stretch would bear the target she was searching for.

    And at the disappointing end of each, she knew herself an idiot.

    Soon, even her internal grasp on her father faltered. She reached out in a desperate flurry again and again, but her senses had lost track of the strain of Chaotic energy.

    Violet collapsed onto the ground below. She rarely cried, but here, soaking in mud within the middle of Unbounded terrain, with nowhere to go, and no hope to latch onto, she wouldn¡¯t blame herself if she did. She sat and recovered, adopted her Unbounded form, and the little fiends that did pass her knew better than to approach.

    Her mind raced. Thoughts sped through her brain in a race of sensations. Feelings, ugly and unpleasant, collided and morphed. On and on the moment dragged out the misery, her mind a downwards slope of dark thoughts and darker inclinations.

    She could run. Where, she didn''t know. Away from all of Descent. Away from the gods, the Unbounded, even humanity. In some ways, they were just as bad. All of it could be cast to hell, for all she cared.

    But that wasn¡¯t entirely true, was it? No, not everything was awful, she supposed. A statement she could only admit after taking out all the spite, the hatred; the exhaustion. Everything the universe wanted her to be, to feel.

    She thought of Hadrian, Veida, Koa, Aziel, and Tanguy. Each of them, and too many others to name, had gifted Violet more joy than she could ever express, but more than that, they had brought her warmth in the cold cavern of life. Then there was Remus.

    Remus. Something about him was different from the others. Besides being ginger. Of course, she and Remus had spent more time together than she had with any of the others. But it went deeper than that.

    You didn¡¯t journey half-way across the world together without building an inseparable bond. Though what kind of bond was it? Friendship? Allies? Something else altogether?

    Were any friends as close as she and Remus were? Did friends fight for each other''s lives on the daily, keep the other safe when they were sleeping? Did friends share their smallest rations with the other when they were just as, if not more famished? Perhaps a slim few would. But out of that handful, how many of them talked so intimately ¡ª so openly ¡ª about everything?

    Remus knew everything about Violet. Everything. Her deepest, darkest, most shameful secrets. And of him, she was sure, she knew the same. With him, however, it didn¡¯t feel like spilling secrets. They were just talking. The prospect of hiding anything from him seemed silly. What reason was there to keep him in the dark? What reason did Violet need to pull the curtains over whatever was on her mind?

    There was none. Remus wanted nothing but the best for Violet. For that, Violet would be eternally grateful.

    But . . . was friendship all they could have? Could Violet risk more, risk making things all the more complicated? Could Unbounded, or half-Unbounded beings, or whatever the hell she was, even be with humans?

    Would that be right? For her to take this poor girl¡¯s body, to bear her namesake as if it had been hers the entire time, and then enjoy something as simple as intimacy? Intimacy the real Violet, the original, would never be able to experience?

    She didn¡¯t know; couldn¡¯t know the answers to any of those questions.

    But even if Violet hadn¡¯t a clue on what course of life she was on, the next step was clear: get back to Remus.

    She got up, rubbed herself down, and stopped feeling sorry for herself.

    Nova.

    Her father was all she could allow herself to think of. Everything would be so much simpler if he was out of the picture. She was the only one who could do it. Walking circles in the comfort of her mind was about as productive as playing in dirt. Violet was the only one who could stop him, and a duty like that would be quite the responsibility to fail.

    Walking, walking, walking. On and on she traversed, steps becoming metres, metres becoming slogging miles.

    And still no sign of her father. But Violet would not relent. Her senses were stretched out like reaching hands, constantly searching for any sign of the Right-bearers.

    For the longest time, there had been nothing. Now however, she sensed . . . she sensed . . . what did she sense?

    Not a Right-bearer. Nor even an Unbounded. Violet had almost figured on what the oncoming presence was when she appeared.

    It came as an arrow at first. One falling far past the crest of its fall. Violet had enough time to spot the golden glint of its arrowhead, before it stabbed into the earth below.

    The air slapped back, a strong breeze knocking back the hood of Violet¡¯s cloak. She had enough time to adopt human form, and human form alone, before the arrow underwent its own transformation. The newcomer sensing her with an Unbounded aura wouldn¡¯t have made for a good introduction, but then again, maybe Violet didn¡¯t have to compensate for her own weirdness.

    Because a God-Graced emerging from an arrow¡¯s target was weird enough as it was.

    Eshika. Half silver, half blonde locks swept in the air from the storm she herself had created. Yet, as the woman got up to a stand, the area settled. She looked to Violet, hands on her silver bow protectively. She opened her mouth, but Violet was quicker.

    ¡°Where were you?¡± She screamed, more audacity in her tone than she knew good for her. ¡°The squadrons you sent have been clinging onto life for Durations, and what did you do? Nothing!¡±

    Eshika closed her eyes tightly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. We were busy-¡±

    ¡°Busy. Busy? People are starving. People are dead!¡±

    ¡°We tried to get to you, we did.¡± Eshika said softly. ¡°But the Right-bearers-¡±

    ¡°Have been attacking us!¡± Violet inhaled sharply, trying to not lose herself. ¡°We ¡ª they may not have much time left. Please. Please send someone.¡±

    They stared at one another. Who knew so much could be said with so little.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. There should be some support arriving soon. I was on my way there right now, but I noticed them.¡±

    Violet blinked. ¡°Noticed who?¡±

    Eshika looked at Violet like something was very wrong with her. ¡°Don¡¯t you sense it?¡±

    Now Violet felt very anxious indeed. In the heat of her anger, the status of her internal senses had completely left her mind.

    And it was screaming at her.

    Violet stumbled back. ¡°But I sensed him travelling miles away from here!¡±

    ¡°As did I.¡± She scowled. ¡°Someone¡¯s transporting them.¡±

    Violet had a very good idea of who that could be, but she wasn¡¯t about to tell Eshika that. Revealing the truth about Nova to just about anyone wouldn¡¯t be any less sudden than setting off a bomb.

    As if on cue, there came a monstrous screech from the skies, roaring down with enough force that Violet flinched.

    There, diving down for them was no-else but Belindo. Violet had never seen the fiend before in so much detail, but now, closer than ever, she realised the one hundred ton reptile wasn¡¯t going to stop. It was intent on crushing them both, like squashing two birds under the might of one stone.

    Eshika acted faster than her. One second Violet was standing like an idiot, looking up at the grim reaper¡¯s lofted scythe, and the very next, her back roared with pain.

    The Archery God-Graced held her against the ground, metres away from where mud erupted.

    Violet could teleport them out of there. She could abandon her reckless plan, her ace in the hole against Nova, and the two of them would be safe. But where would that get her? Nowhere better, she knew. Ultimately, even if they did get away, the Right-bearers would still have the upper hand. Besides, Eshika wanted to be here as much as Violet had, before swallowing the bitter pill of reality.

    She would just have to stick it out. Even if that did mean rising before a Right-bearer powerful enough to destroy a village in minutes. With her Mark at the ready or not.

    Eshika was up and running. She aimed an empty bow towards Belindo, a volley of levitating arrows instead appearing in the air above. They pulled back as she did, as if compelled by invisible strings.

    There was the noise of a rope being cut, and the arrows flew upwards. They slammed in an earth shield yards away from the bulk of Belindo¡¯s body, dirt shifting down from the natural shielding. More of these islands floated around, appearing out of nothing other than Belindo¡¯s pure power.

    His Divine Right was in full force, cocooning his body from all angles. Well, almost all. Eshika gritted her teeth, arrows materialising around her before she could even draw her bow again. They seemed to have a will of their own, flying intricate dances towards their targets. The chinks in Belindo¡¯s absurd armour.

    Rivers had sprouted to pour down the intricate landmasses, another factor of Belindo¡¯s seasonal mastery. These froze over, protective walls of ice like an impenetrable skin.

    Though how impenetrable was yet to be seen. Eshika¡¯s arrows sped forward at the speed of light. Some stabbed into the floating rime; others were lost in the body of the floating islands. Neither drew blood, reduced to specks in the bulky brown of the space.

    A few, however, reached the Unbounded¡¯s body. Violet felt her heart jolt in her chest. They could do this. Maybe everything wasn¡¯t hopeless. Maybe-

    The arrows ricocheted off, deflected like they were nothing. The next moment, like the universe itself was mocking her, a strip of sunlight struck down on the spot the arrow had failed to cut. She saw it glimmer.

    Supreme Steel. Of course. Its scaled body was of Supreme Steel ¡ª a unique kind of skin.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Violet and Eshika shared much the same reaction. They stood dumbly, mouths agape, after arrow after arrow fell to the ground like dying angels.

    ¡°Your Mark.¡± Her head shot to Violet in a hurry. ¡°You¡¯re not using it. Why?¡±

    Violet quickly explained, in as simple terms as she could. Obviously, the world was still ignorant to Nova¡¯s truth. Many details had to be edited, or removed completely. Still, Eshika got the gist, and that was enough. It came as something of a relief that not everyone knew of her Unbounded status yet.

    ¡°I have other ways to fight.¡± Violet said, her voice a soft mutter. ¡°The news was going to reach you all soon, but I guess there¡¯s no point in keeping secrets now. Just don¡¯t panic, okay?¡±

    Belindo let out a guttural roar. Eshika turned to the source with a soft frown. ¡°What? What are you talking about?¡±

    Slowly, so as not to risk an arrowhead reaching her throat, Violet adorned her Unbounded form. It began with the elongated claws of her hands, then the pale white of her skin, like fading snow. Then, finally, the burning embers of her eyes deepened, mirror images to the amber-turned-red of Belindo¡¯s pupils.

    Revealing everything about Nova and the Chaos Clan, on top of being half-Unbounded herself, would be too big a bombshell to drop out of nowhere. So, for now, Violet stuck to the latter.

    Surprisingly, and in much good news to Violet¡¯s continued ability to breathe, Eshika didn''t immediately shoot her in the throat. Instead, she went stiff. Violet stepped forward in case they fainted, and only then did the woman clutch her bow.

    ¡°It¡¯s still me!¡± Violet shouted, reverting to human form. ¡°See?¡± She reverted back and forth a few times, only stopping when it made her nauseous. ¡°Still me.¡±

    Eshika breathed in very deeply. Something must have clicked in her head that doppelgangers didn¡¯t act like this. Or had transformational abilities at all.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡±

    Before Violet could reply, a stream of heat blasted through the air. With one thought, Supreme Steel armour coated her body. Violet jolted in front of the lethal onslaught, absorbing all of Belindo¡¯s fiery wrath.

    Once it faded, Violet was no worse for wear. But her charred appeal made one thing very clear: it was time to fight back now.

    ¡°Everything will make sense in due time.¡± Violet extended her Infinity, an invisible sphere of the stuff amassing around her. ¡°We have to kill every last Right-bearer. No matter what means we have to take.¡±

    Eshika stepped up at her side. ¡°A nobler goal I couldn''t dream of.¡±

    Violet smiled. ¡°Just be prepared. If anything weird happens, just roll with it.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    Violet hoped there was more confidence in the God-Graced than that response implied. She would need it dearly.

    ¡°Keep Belindo distracted.¡±

    Eshika grinned wryly. ¡°I think I can manage that.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and take these.¡± Violet flexed her internal power, a quiver of arrows materialising. The strongest Supreme Steel she could craft. ¡°They¡¯ll get through that thick hide of his.¡±

    Eshika grasped them like her birthday had come early. She inspected them for all of three seconds, no doubt having wielded such arrows before. Violet could understand her perplexion, however. Being handed weapons so powerful from a Foot-Soldier must have been a very bizarre experience indeed.

    Then she blasted off ¡ª literally. Just as Violet had transformed into an Unbounded, she underwent her own transition into an arrow. A singular shot, covering the space between them and Belindo faster than Violet could fathom.

    Eshika, almost lost to Violet¡¯s vision in a sea of arrows, returned to human form. Her feet planted onto one of the many islands weaving around the Right-bearer, the entire structure riddled with fissures from where her feet landed.

    As all that occurred, Violet spread her Infinity far and wide. It worked hand-in-hand with her inward senses, searching for one thing in particular: other Unbounded.

    Where there were Unbounded, Violet saw unwilling servants. Creatures she would normally control with the Chaotic energy of her Mark ¡ª weakening their minds so that they were hers for the taking.

    But doing the same now, applying the power of her Infinity instead. Would it be possible? Instead of consuming their physical forms, she could consume their consciousness; their free will. Dominate the Infinity they were weaved out of so that she could control them.

    It would be far less effective than using her Mark alone, or utilising a combination of both methods. But for the time being, until she crushed her Unbounded father for every pitiful thing he had ever done, for taking the role of a kind, real man, it would suffice.

    She wasn¡¯t asking for much. All she needed was an Unbounded that could fly. Violet furrowed her eyebrows.

    Sure, Unbounded that could traverse across clouds weren¡¯t as common as the land-dwelling variety. Nevertheless, Violet knew this deep into the front lines, locating one would only be a matter of time. She didn¡¯t have much, but with a couple second¡¯s exertion . . .

    The creature flew down before her, and what a startling sight it was. Like someone had skinned a bull and strapped wings to it while the blood was still dripping down. Dragging an Unbounded to you was as easy as screaming at a serial killer convention, and waiting for someone to come find you. This was where the true challenge came into play.

    As Eshika and the Right-bearer fought tooth and claw, Violet summoned a whirlpool of Infinity to twirl around her. Then, before the fiend quite knew what was happening, she hijacked its brain.

    Like a bird of prey, it swooped away at first. But the inevitable can only be delayed. With inexorable precision, she bonded her Infinity to that of the Unbounded, like creating a Projection out of a being that already existed. Though Violet supposed the creature was more in a momentary trance, than being a completely docile minion.

    She jolted onto its crimson back, one leg after the other, and set her sights on the sky. One final blast of Infinity, like Violet was tugging the lead on a camel, and they were off.

    Higher and higher they ascended. Shaky at first, and Violet had to stop a few times to make sure she wouldn¡¯t come crashing to the ground. But with time and patience, they hit a crescendo. The air became a sea she could wade, though perhaps not looking as glamorous as Remus as she did so.

    That made her smile to herself. Look Remus, I can do it too!

    Up above, Eshika was a blurring torrent. The isles surrounding Belindo, as if the God-Graced were recreating the city of Eclipse, were slowly being shot down one by one. The Right-bearer didn¡¯t take to this kindly. Violet was just a second slow enough to avoid barging head-first into a river of flame. It had appeared so fast, though, criss-crossing with the splashes of nautical moisture, and helping to paint an intricate pattern across the sky.

    It was beautiful. In a lethal, very much dangerous sort of way.

    If we didn¡¯t receive back up when trapped in a ravine for Durations, surely somebody has got to come to this.

    Eshika was a very capable woman ¡ª Violet would never in her wildest dreams deny that. But Belindo, a Right-bearer so terrible, and matching her easily in Rank, should have been a threat dealt with by numerous God-Graced. Not one, and not assisted only by whatever Rank equivalence Violet would be at this point, for she really had no idea.

    Someone was bound to notice the explosive amount of power emanating from the battleground. If Violet and Eshika could just stall, maybe land a serious hit or two on the fiend, then everything would be perfect. All they had to do was scramble for time until an entire squadron of vexed God-Graced and godlings came to their rescue.

    Right?

    Violet spun, twirled, and looped through the many natural defences of Belindo, her body in absolute focus if not her mind. Shards of earth and rock, sent hurling by Eshika¡¯s deadly arrows, and summoned from the destructive creation of Belindo¡¯s Right, came together like a complex puzzle piece. Slotting together, until, far too late for Violet to backtrack out of there, they were sealed in.

    Sunlight gave one last desperate, piercing reach before being fully shunned out. Violet could only see in the forced dim of the artificial cavern by the flickering fires. They reflected off the dancing curves of the water flow, with enough light to blind Violet the other way ¡ª bursting the eyes of your sockets.

    Her hold on the Infinity fumbled, and several times, all in quick succession, she had to scramble to reassert it. Her Unbounded vehicle was threatening to escape her grasp. Though that was one failure she could absolutely not allow.

    Falling down here would be falling into her grave.

    Golden arrows flew by her harmlessly, angelic torches of Eshika¡¯s creation. They were guiding her, Violet realised, and the Archery God-Graced had picked up on exactly where she wanted to go. To the main man himself: Belindo.

    When Violet was in range, the sheer scale of the reptilian mass struck her with full severity. It took up a third of the created shell like a chick in an egg. Only a chick intent on the annihilation of all mankind.

    ¡°Controlling one of mine?¡± There was a great snapping open, like a sun breaking outwards to sever entire galaxies. Violet winced at both the words, and the stunning light; the former felt so heavy, so ponderous.

    Violet tried to blink away the image seared onto her eyes, but the lingering light persisted. Nothing else was visible, but at that moment, crashing into the nearest wall seemed to be of only secondary concern. The symbol was that of all the elements Belindo had thrown at them, hands reaching out of fire, water, earth, and wind respectively to clasp hands at the centre.

    The Right-bearer¡¯s Right. Glowing on Belindo¡¯s eye, wider than buildings.

    ¡°Fifth Divine Right: Elements.¡± Violet recalled, her breath catching in her throat, now that her eyes were cleared, and looking ahead, she could see with perfect clarity.

    Belindo¡¯s open eye focused on hers. But it was so big. Bigger than it had been mere seconds ago, and that was a fact. The power of his Right was syphoning into him, embodying what all elements did and were at their core: change.

    Changing through growth. Belindo¡¯s body bulged against the sides of the airborne cavern, shattering cave walls like they were pastry. Glorious sun sifted through, but Violet couldn¡¯t take her eyes off the behemoth before her.

    It had tripled in size, easily.

    ¡°What child?¡± A hoarse voice, too old to be natural, croaked a laugh. ¡°Scared?¡±

    ¡°Not scared.¡± Violet put on a brave face. ¡°I¡¯m just wondering . . . if you could be this big all of the time, why settle for less?¡±

    Striking up a conversation could very easily be a mistake. Violet didn¡¯t know if Belindo was sadistically cruel like the Pet-Keeper, relentless in his goals like Nova, or a mindless wanderer like the Supreme Fiend. Hell, even Milap had been open to talk, though only when he was chasing, or otherwise tormenting you. Would he be as talkative as some of the others, or more akin to the stoic source of Rot? Only uttering a word at most before letting the bestial instincts kick in.

    Could he even be described as a reptile, or having a sex at all? Both of those were human attributes, and if there was anything Belindo was not, it was human.

    Belindo was slow to respond, like each phrase of the mortal tongue had to be fished out of the depths of his memory. How long had it been since the Unbounded had bothered to talk to anyone? Belindo was known for killing as quick as a flash, and that was it. There was no room for conversing in a predator¡¯s life.

    ¡°You give off a strange aura.¡± Belindo sounded like an old man rubbing his chin. There was no vast beard, but that wasn¡¯t required for Violet to see the dark intelligence behind. Hidden beneath a mien of blood-thirsty rampage. And Violet knew the coldest killers were always the smartest. ¡°Mortal, I know, but what mortal weaves Infinity like puppet strings to control Unbounded?¡±

    ¡°This one.¡±

    ¡°Yes . . . I can see that.¡±

    Violet had to get closer. She would have to lower the Unbounded¡¯s guard first though.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes. Why don¡¯t I wear this form constantly? My Right is a tad different to the others. It sustains me.¡±

    She considered that. Like a beating heart pumping blood around the body. No wonder Belindo was so monstrous. No Unbounded could normally be this large; this fearsome, even when only a third of the size. But it was like a lifeline now to Belindo, a clutch he had been grasping for decades a little too tightly.

    ¡°Would you die without it?¡± She leaned ever closer forward, playing it off as a show of intrigue. ¡°Is that why you rest for Rebirths upon Rebirths, so as not to overexert yourself?¡±

    ¡°You know more than what meets the eye. Aye, there are varying degrees to my power.¡±

    There was an air of scepticism to the Unbounded. The only thing stopping Belindo from killing her right this second was a sense of intrigue. Violet confused him, even after, what, centuries of life? It was exactly what she intended to play off of.

    ¡°So this is your strongest form?¡± The cavern had completely broken apart at this point. Eshika was distracted by firing at Belindo¡¯s body. In several places, she finally drew blood. But it was in such low quantities that Belindo clearly wasn¡¯t fazed.

    ¡°You ask a lot of questions.¡± He huffed, with growing impatience.

    ¡°You want to know about me, though, don¡¯t you? Why I appear so strange to your every sense.¡±

    No reply. But no sudden scrape of the claws either.

    Violet got as close as she could comfortably get. The body heat of Belindo was akin to staying overnight in a Flame Sect training camp. Then waking up at noon the next day, the sweltering sun bearing down on you.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you in on a little secret.¡±

    Violet adopted her Unbounded form in the fastest transformation of her life, a pillar of Supreme Steel flying out of her taloned palm and stabbing into Belindo¡¯s eye.

    ¡°I¡¯m not mortal.¡±

 87. He Comes

    There was a squelching sound like the world¡¯s biggest grape being squashed, and then Violet ran.

    Belindo let out a guttural screech, raspy and overflowing with hatred. All intention to converse in the common tongue was abandoned, as Violet fled to make her escape.

    Her bull Unbounded was surprisingly fast when pressured. Violet supposed there was no greater motivator than Belindo¡¯s fiery snout at your heels, but nevertheless, they were cutting it close.

    The reptilian mass himself was too close for comfort. He made to eat them both whole, jaw clamping open and closed like the snapping of mechanical equipment going bust. A volley of Supreme arrows flew towards Belindo¡¯s other eye, but the giant had learnt his lesson.

    A taloned limb swept forward, taller than the highest oaks rising out of a forest, and saved Belindo¡¯s other eye. Violet risked one last glance at the gory smudge that was his damaged side, as impaling arrows made Belindo scream.

    His foreleg was bleeding heavily. Far more damage than Violet could have hoped her created arrows capable of. The Steel wasn¡¯t of a calibre to permanently maim Belindo, unfortunately, but it would take time to heal.

    As Eshika appeared like a lightning bolt right before Belindo, the Right-bearer finally snapped. He would not continue to fight like this. Only on his terms.

    His wings became flapping whips as the air slackened, like a rope put under too much pressure. Violet only had enough sense to clutch onto her flying Unbounded, before the tempest struck. One second there was no air pressure at all, and the next, it felt like her skin was being flayed off.

    Her Unbounded¡¯s pitiful wings failed to combat the summoned storm, all the other elements previously under Belindo¡¯s control abandoned. All of his focus, his afflicted rage, was focused on hurling them away, on empowering the breeze to become the ultimate killing device.

    They were falling, falling. The sky above was a mess of destroyed dirt, flickered away into crumbling sections. Violet was dazzled by dying fires being exhausted, rain smacking against her cheeks from the falling pillars of water, and every aspect of Belindo¡¯s rampage being undone.

    One rogue gust swept her Unbounded away from her, and then Violet really did know she was screwed. She could only look down now. The ground, a flat canvas a light yellow, was rushing closer. Ever closer, until the prospect of using her only means of escape occurred to her: Violet¡¯s Mark.

    But that would really mean the end of her grand scheme against Nova. Yet at the same time, she couldn¡¯t see any other way out of this. It was either being damned to her death here, or escaping. Perhaps to receive another end at the hands of someone else later, maybe even Nova, but she could afford to get past this stumble.

    The weight of the cost was something that made her have second thoughts in the face of certain death. But Violet wasn¡¯t a complete idiot. There would be another way to defeat her father. Even if she had to fall back on her Mark now, she could-

    Eshika grasped her. A flying Eshika, rushing through the air with the grace of an arrow. After a moment of bewilderment, with much blinking and head shaking, Violet laughed. Laughed until her guts threatened to spill out of her mouth and Belindo grew more and more distant.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Violet managed to form words when she slowed down. There was a rush of energy that made the hairs on the back of her nape shoot up. ¡°Are reinforcements finally coming?¡±

    ¡°Seem to be.¡± Something made Eshika¡¯s shaky smile fade. Violet had no clue what, couldn¡¯t pinpoint it for the life of her.

    Then she looked around at exactly the type of reinforcements she was referring to.

    Down on the ground, like the ashes of dead candles sparking back to grim life, dark entities blossomed.

    Shadows.

    <hr>

    Remus and Tanguy were sprinting for their lives when the world turned black and white.

    Things hadn¡¯t gone to plan. The squads had become separated, a few had even turned to infighting, and Remus couldn¡¯t see the bright side of things, no matter how hard he tried. The ravine was all but abandoned; reduced to a grave no-one had bothered to shovel over.

    Tanguy, Aziel, and Remus were all working together to clear out the area while Hadrian and Veida tried to gather the rest of their squad. Remus had no idea how successful they were, and for the time being, set himself to grilling Unbounded.

    ¡°Fifty-five.¡± He shouted out, after obliterating the face of one insectile fiend.

    Tanguy seared a group of three. ¡°Forty four!¡±

    Remus could hear Aziel¡¯s smile. ¡°Guys, I really don¡¯t think making a point system out of-¡± an eruption of blue blinded them all. ¡°Sixty!¡±

    Laughter consumed them all; the shallow kind. Remus wanted to keep a positive attitude above all else, but memories of their men falling into hysteria at the mention of the Supreme Fiend wouldn¡¯t leave his head. Now they were stranded here, in the middle of nowhere, walking aimlessly while a Right-bearer may or may not decide to show their face.

    He shot down a dozen grey masses in quick succession, venting his worry about another concern. Violet had sprinted off to confront Nova, a Right-bearer and God-Graced equivalent, and he had let her. Okay, maybe he couldn¡¯t possibly have talked her out of it ¡ª if Remus had to name any bad qualities of Violet, her stubbornness came to mind ¡ª but letting her go alone? With no help? What had he been thinking?

    Remus wanted to screech out. To drop to the ground and punch his fists raw against the rock until everything somehow became okay. If anymore of their squadron died, or gods forbid Violet . . . there was a very high chance he wouldn¡¯t be able to handle it.

    ¡°Hey, guys?¡± Aziel came to a stop. ¡°Do you notice that?¡±

    ¡°Notice what?¡± Tanguy frowned. Then, at once, he and Remus opened their internal senses. Then the words stopped.

    When the shadows appeared across the landscape, it took Remus about one second to put two and two together.

    Had he been any faster, he would have ran. Should have.

    The nearest shadow grasped his shoulder. It wasn¡¯t terribly strong, and Remus could have very easily shook him off, but he didn¡¯t dare risk it. For this was the Old One ¡ª or at least a copy of him. Either way, with tensions as high as they were, Remus wasn¡¯t about to escalate things. Not without first attempting to talk things out.

    ¡°Your liege.¡± Remus¡¯ lips went dry. Was that the right thing to say? ¡°What a welcomed surprise to see you here.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t falling anyone. Neither Aziel nor Tanguy would have the proper context to appreciate the gravity of the moment, but nevertheless, he saw them grimacing in the corner of his eye. When no one said a word, Remus had a very painful pill to swallow: they were leaving this for him to handle. No, that was far too crude an assessment. There was nothing they could do.

    ¡°Remus.¡± The shadow spoke, awfully like the Projection sent to the Ambition Clan so long ago. ¡°Out of interest, and nothing more, answer me this: why shouldn¡¯t I slit your throat right now?¡±

    Remus gulped, his Adam''s apple bulging as if he were highlighting a target for the apparition. How could he respond? The Old One had always been stubborn. You didn¡¯t convince him; you posed an argument for him to debunk.

    With his very life on the line, Remus knew he had to keep things simple. ¡°We¡¯re on the same side, fighting for the same cause. You want to kill as many Unbounded as possible too. To exterminate the Right-bearers.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. The only way Remus was going to get through to the Old One was through logic. Intelligent reasoning based solely on the facts.

    ¡°There are many fighters with the same ambitions. What separates them from you?¡±

    Remus was sweating bullets. All around, the Old One¡¯s shadow constructs lingered everywhere. How far was their range? Miles? How many miles? A number that Remus didn''t need the precise details of to know how impressive the stunt was.

    The Old One could easily challenge his deity for Shadow godhood. To begin to embody his subject area so much, that even the god who had originally gifted him his Mark would have to kneel. But the Old One wouldn¡¯t. He was too dedicated to his god to duel him to the death.

    So, for now, he verged on godhood, and no more. The height of power the Mortal Realms could offer, and the upper-echelon of God-Graced, or the sister Rank of Godling. Damosh and Juniper were mid-tier examples of their respective Ranks in comparison. And they were some of the strongest beings on the planet.

    What word had the man inscribed onto his soul at God-Graced? It must have been something very complementary to Shadow, for Remus saw no techniques the man used unrelated to his encroaching darkness.

    Darkness. Remus recalled reading something about that not long ago, whenever he went on long streaks of research to supplement his training.

    ¡°Your soul.¡± Remus ignored the question. ¡°Darkness, isn¡¯t it? That¡¯s what you inscribed.¡±

    The Old One raised his head, in a movement too subtle to be called a nod, but was essentially the same thing.

    ¡°I heard you can see into people, if they¡¯re willing, or are too weak to resist. That you can see into the darkness within. Well,¡± Remus raised his hands, ¡°why not see me for yourself? In full. You decide if I¡¯m worthy of living.¡±

    Now his friends had to speak up. ¡°Remus,¡± Aziel interjected, ¡°no-one has to die.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. And what better way is there to prove it?¡±

    Tanguy looked at him gingerly, but said nought.

    He turned his focus back on the apparition. ¡°Read me. I¡¯m an open book.¡±

    The Old One considered him. Then, a movement drowning with conviction, he tapped Remus¡¯ forehead. He only used two fingers, similar to the movement Donovan had used to conceal them, way back.

    That was an annoying ability of the Shadow Clan. Remus hadn¡¯t faced any assassins in Passings, but he still had a nervous habit of scanning the floor for tiny, dark, circular shadows ¡ª the only telltale sign that a disguised Shadow hitman was in range.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    But unlike when Donavon had used the ability, Remus didn¡¯t feel himself become invisible. It was the polar opposite. Like he was more physical, more at one with the world around him. Remus blinked, the subtle chill of a crisp autumn morning rushing gooseflesh across his arm.

    He turned to greet his shadow. It was eerie, and anyone sane would have probably turned tail and ran at the sight. But much to the contrary, Remus felt himself drawn to the inky mass. It was like looking towards a mirror, but instead of at it, to settle on stationary glass, his eyes seemed to go through. Seeing beyond.

    Remus tore his eyes away, an embarrassing sound escaping his throat. Thinking of your past, recalling it, that was one thing. But memories were like photographs. They faded with time, acquired a little damage here and there, wilting away sometimes as quickly as the smallest flower. You could remember them as much as you wanted, and many would no doubt preserve. But never could you be sure that they were perfect. To say with absolute conviction that they were flawless, one-to-one copies of the real event.

    Memories, however, if not persisting wholly in the mind, left their mark on people. You were moulded by them, changed even if in the most insignificant ways. Where they rotted to dust in the forgetful chasms of the mind, your memories etched the soul. Forever.

    That was what Remus saw now. One glance, and a thousand old scars were burst back open. Remus was raw, his darkest secrets, inhibitions, deepest desires all laid out on the table for all to see.

    He saw himself as a seven year old. Obnoxious, young, and so ignorant, it made him sick. Oh, you sweet summer child. He thought, with a painful ache in his heart. Remus saw himself in his early teens, watching a thousand tiny moments string past one another, as over a decade of bottled-up hatred bubbled up, in a deadly concoction ¡ª threatening to explode. But for so many painful days, nothing changed; his eruption of emotions never quite hitting that breaking point.

    He tried to close his eyes, to block out the flood of memories. His forced trip down memory lane. But one glance was all it took.

    Remus saw himself at Edmar''s feet. The worst state he could imagine being in, other than dead. The images continued to fly by, one after the other, an endless stream that only got faster.

    It was like he was living the past over, only in a thousandth of the time.

    Days bled into a full Duration as he studied in his family¡¯s library. A dark night spent laughing along with Tal to fight off the terror. Falling from the cliff as a newly advanced Engorged, just happy to be alive. Travelling with Violet.

    The Trials of the Earnest. Losing his finger.

    The jumps between memories were becoming faster; more dramatic. Riding on a momentum that, not under any circumstances, would relent. No matter what Remus had to say about it.

    Reaching Enkindled, melting the Frost Clan¡¯s glacier. Training like a madman with Enrique.

    Remus felt like he was in a court of law, with the Old One serving as judge, jury, and executioner. What he would say about opposing the Frost Clan like that, for his own gain, he didn¡¯t know.

    Reclaiming the Ambition Clan as an Emblazed. Assisting Maris with consolidating the throne. Fighting for his very life in the arena to earn a spot in the front lines.

    Everything became too much. Remus couldn¡¯t breathe, couldn¡¯t make a sound, when everything paused. The memory of battling Lumi was still around him, like an ice sculpture. As still as the blood in the heart of a dead man.

    What was that? He heard the Old One ask, and if Remus wasn¡¯t mistaken, actual intrigue bled into his voice.

    ¡°What was what?¡± Remus replied. Whether his real lips croaked those words, he couldn¡¯t be sure. It was hard to tell, so lost in this dreamscape.

    Time began to unwind around Remus. He was floating at the central axis of a broken clock, time spilling around him this way and that in a turbulent sea. He became a spectator to his own life, and it was the worst play he could think of.

    It was night. Remus looked up from wet ground beneath his feet to a manor he recognised instantly. Suddenly he knew where he was; knew what the Old One was so interested in.

    The attack on the Chaos Clan base. Like he was being hooked forward, the events of that night whooshed past him.

    Don¡¯t show me. He pleaded, but only to his mind. I can¡¯t see it again; I mustn''t.

    His brief fight with Milap outside the manor. Violet rushing through the twisting mansion with an army of Unbounded coming for her neck. Meeting with Akuji.

    This one part played in real time, so the Old One appeared to be considering it wholly. Their discussion was liquid gold to someone like the Old One, someone who had previously believed Violet to be lying.

    Yet Remus could pay that no attention. He looked to Donovan, standing stoically in the corner as the others discussed all, and then to Elmore. Ever amiable Elmore. Even after losing his own finger to the man, he couldn¡¯t hate him. It would be easier if he could.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make me watch them die again. Don¡¯t make me.¡±

    The moment bounced to another, the Old One musing over all that had been revealed. Akuji¡¯s death heralded the arrival of Nova, and Remus felt the overwhelming urge to squint his eyes shut, to squeeze his fists tight, and close out the world. But by this point, he was anchorless. No mortal flesh coated his soul. He was a detached entity, totally and utterly immersed in the revealing power of one of the strongest God-Graced Descent had to offer.

    But not only that. Remus was staring into the pits of his soul, and it winked back.

    Donovan dying in the same vein as Akuji. Popping skulls and bursted heads spinning in Remus¡¯s mind, as Elmore being torn apart too joined the dance of misery.

    Time diluted, forwarding and reversing as if the Old One was intent on extending Remus¡¯ torture. The memories waltzed around in intricate dances taking place somewhere in-between time.

    It was all too much. Remus was intent on simply ceasing to think; to erect a mental dam on the flood harassing his mind. But then one more instance came into perfect clarity. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of the past, the Old One brought back to life one crucial instance. Lowering the limelight of this torturous ball of mistakes onto Milap.

    More accurately, Remus and Violet working hand in hand to kill the Right-bearer.

    The vacant ballroom of his mind came to a close, and like glass shattering all around him, reality returned.

    As if that out-of-body experience wasn¡¯t nauseating enough, reality in turn offered its own bout of sensory overload. Remus was lying on the ground, droplets of water he recognised as rain slapping his fevered cheeks.

    He was breathing so intensely. Like some rogue spirit had possessed his vacant body, taking it for a sprint. Remus pulled himself upright, staring at the Old One with as much spite as he could muster. In the corner of his peripheral, he saw that his shadow had vanished.

    ¡°Admittedly,¡± the Old One began, with apparent hesitance, ¡°that does change things.¡±

    Tanguy and Aziel moved to assist him up, but Remus was too stubborn, and perhaps a bit too self-absorbed in that moment to care. He pushed himself up, took one last breath, before exploding.

    ¡°Was that really necessary?¡±

    ¡°Killing Milap . . . someone like you.¡± The Old One looked up at the grey sky above, as if there was something very wrong with whatever being controlled this universe. ¡°Had I not seen it myself-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not-!¡± Remus cut himself off, that last saving grace of sense potentially the difference between life and death. Impudence would not be accepted. ¡°Tell me: what was the need to replay the events of that night so many times before me?¡±

    ¡°You specifically requested me to delve into your soul, did you not?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Remus conceded, ¡°but-¡±

    ¡°But what? You never gave any guidelines on what I could and could not access.¡±

    Remus wanted to say more, but the need to keep blood flowing to his heart won over any other rash emotion. ¡°So what now?¡±

    The Old One stood there, considering him for a moment. Anger and pain bled into a mess of fear, and it hit Remus all at once that this could be it: he could die. No-one dead or alive on this earth could say anything about it. Tanguy and Aziel were too loyal for their own good ¡ª they would come to his aid if the sect leader pulled any moves, but what could a ragtag trio of army troops hope to do, against a man that was a global superpower in himself?

    They would get themselves killed trying to usher his certain corpse out of here. Reality was finally going to show reason. Remus¡¯ bleeding luck was going to drizzle out, and it was a miracle he had held out so long in the first place. Any second from now, the Old One was going to snap into a decision and splatter Remus¡¯ lifeforce-

    ¡°Go.¡± The Old One swivelled round.

    Remus¡¯s entire body jolted in one colossal flinch. Had he not been so surprised by the Old One¡¯s words, he would have flustered.

    ¡°You and your companion perplex me still, and it brings me great grief to know an imp like you actually contributed to society. But I can see your worth.¡± The Old One¡¯s neck snapped behind his shoulder, or at least this apparition of him did. ¡°Do not disappoint me.¡±

    Like that, the shadow fizzled out. Likely to reappear at some other locale where he could grumble about Remus in peace.

    The dozens of other apparitions all sauntered around the place, but they kept their distance.

    A wide-eyed Remus looked from Tanguy to Aziel. For a second that felt longer than any hour in his short life, only the sound of rainfall flooded the atmosphere.

    ¡°What now?¡± Tanguy eventually asked.

    Remus blinked a few times, as if still waking up from a daze. ¡°We move. Come on boys, we can¡¯t be of much help sauntering around here.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Aziel held out a warding arm. ¡°Do you two see that, the direction all those shadows are headed?¡±

    Remus gazed over to the monochrome army, all marching in their own semi-physical way with an undeniable cohesion. They definitely had a set destination in mind. In fact, many of them were beginning to pour out in a straight-up sprint.

    But to where? Remus followed the direction of their movement, and for the third time in the last ten minutes, felt overwhelmed in every sense of the word. The presence of the Old One hid their scent, like a pleasant layer of fondant over a fermented cake. But now that Remus had the opportunity to inspect a little more closely, that insidious force assaulted his senses.

    The Supreme Fiend.

    If he looked long and hard, using all of his extended vision refined over multiple courses of advancement, he could see it. A solitary soldier in a land of white ruin; a shattered landscape of his own making. Supreme Rot formed an ashy line in the distance, several locales in-between ravaged with equal severity.

    Remus inhaled hard. ¡°The Old One¡¯s here to put an end to him.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s more relief than I can ask for.¡± Aziel exhaled deeply. ¡°Pity we can¡¯t dispose of him ourselves, but I suppose we should leave it to the professionals.¡±

    Tanguy looked like he had just seen a ghost. Which, in a way, he just had, in Remus¡¯ shadow. ¡°If the Old One wasn¡¯t here, how long do you suppose we¡¯d have survived, before he came shambling?¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve imagined my own demise enough for one day. Let¡¯s just be grateful. Quickly now, we have to locate the other squad members before any harm can be done to them.¡±

    There was the very real possibility several of them were already dead, but Remus didn¡¯t quite feel like addressing that. Neither did the others, based on their stiff expressions.

    Aziel crouched, cupping hands over his eyes like they formed fleshy binoculars. ¡°I can see it all.¡±

    That caught Remus¡¯ attention, hook, line and sinker. Fighting so often at Aziel¡¯s side, he sometimes forgot the man was a whole tier above him. While Tanguy and Remus could vaguely glimpse the Supreme Being, Aziel was gifted with a much clearer view.

    Remus forewent their more urgent concerns in the name of curiosity. ¡°What do you see?¡±

    ¡°The line of the Shadow soldiers are starting to reach him. There¡¯s a lot of them actually. Looks like the Old One is spreading himself thin throughout the whole battlefield.¡±

    ¡°Does he have enough strength left to take the Right-bearer down?¡± Tanguy enquired.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Aziel said, as if it was funny. ¡°There are hundreds of them there. Seems to be centralising his power around here.¡±

    Aziel whooped. ¡°We¡¯re winning. The shadows keep falling to the Rot, but more and more just keep coming.¡±

    Despite their discrepancies, Remus had to admit, that was an awfully smart plan from the Old One. Circumventing the Fiend¡¯s main advantage, and successfully outnumbering him in tandem.

    Maybe this would be a swift end after all. The being who had infected Andreas with Rot deserved little more.

    ¡°Alright. Another Right-bearer down. We should get a move on.¡±

    ¡°Hold on.¡± Aziel spluttered.

    Remus didn¡¯t like the tone of those words.

    Tanguy didn¡¯t either. ¡°What do you see?¡±

    ¡°I see . . .¡± Aziel gulped. ¡°The Fiend is doing . . . something.¡±

    ¡°How insightful.¡± Remus sighed. ¡°Look, are we going to dilly-dally, or what?¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening ¡ª I couldn¡¯t tell you for the life of me. But it''s not good. We should . . . we should run.¡±

    Remus barely had time to process those words when the Supreme Being screamed.

    Like a sandstorm drifting in through a sudden wind, a wave of Infinity washed over them all. It hit Remus like a brick wall, and it was all he could do as the onslaught never did cease.

    Perhaps the Old One wasn¡¯t as effective as he had first thought.

 88. Empty Promise

    Damion took a deep breath, resting a little deeper into his chair. His back sank into the cushiony material, feeling akin to settling into a hot bath at the end of a long day. Soothing his aches and pains, only none of them were physical.

    It truly was a nice armchair. As much as he had taken a liking to the seat ¡ª one he himself had made ¡ª Damion knew soon, it would have to be sold. Along with the rest of the furniture he had amassed. Crafted by the power of his own Mark and hand, over the course of a few gruelling, inactive days.

    And he hated it.

    While a colossal conflict was being waged, Damion was one of the unlucky few, or maybe fortunate few, depending on how you looked at it, who Andreas had called to stay put. Remaining in their sect¡¯s military base and helping to run the business side of things. Because business was business, and not even the most important fight in the last century could remedy that.

    Damion had no choice but to stay put here, trying not to let the frustration overwhelm him. He trusted in his abilities to keep a level head, but this was really testing him. For a time, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and did his best to relax the little bit he could, while the world fell apart.

    Remus. Like a spark threatening to set his entire brain into fireworks, his brother¡¯s name brought up a tide of emotions all on its own. Remus, Remus, Remus. The most confusing person in the world.

    What did he think of his turbulent little brother? The words insufferable and impossible came to mind in a flash. He was accustomed to the pair of those feelings, and knew them comfortably. But then, as if the shore of his mind hadn¡¯t been battered enough, other things occurred to him. Strange things. Pride, joy.

    Damion wasn''t sure what to think. He was proud of Remus. Of course he was, he loved his brother.

    Yet gods above, he sure knew how to get on Damion¡¯s nerves. If nothing else was bothering him, it was the fact that right now, as he stood here about as useful as a hole in a bucket, Remus was battling in that fight out of his own jurisdiction. While Damion was caught up here . . . that alone infuriated him. However close Remus may be to Foot-Soldier, Damion was still an entire Divine Rank above him ¡ª shouldn¡¯t he be there too? Helping to crush the Right-bearers once and for all.

    Damion stared up at the ceiling. Leaving the front lines had its benefits of course. Everyone in the clan treated him like a messiah now ¡ª for finally breaking past Emblazed at such a young age, after decades of sect mediocrity. But that was nothing in comparison to how they looked at Remus.

    Remus, who had left their clan as a Death-Marked criminal, and was well on his way to earning himself the title of deserter. Only to return almost a Rebirth later with unfounded strength behind those blue streaks of his.

    Everyone soon forgot all about his abandonment once the money came rolling in. Once he and Damion had proved to the Carpentry Clan that everything was not lost; that they could get stronger; could survive outside Damosh¡¯s iron fist. But Damion wasn¡¯t one to forget. Nor to forgive so easily.

    Now there were talks of a long-term alliance with the Ambition Clan. To help smooth things over during the awkward time proceeding Andreas¡¯ death, and however long it would take them to find another leader. None of that would have been possible if Remus hadn¡¯t built such strong ties with the Ambition Clan, and Damion was eternally grateful . . . but . . .

    It all rubbed Damion the wrong way. He couldn¡¯t quite sweep everything under the rug, but at the same time, even a blind man would see all the good Remus had done for their clan. That would be impossible to deny. So, despite the maelstrom of mixed feelings threatening to pull him asunder, Damion would keep his mouth shut.

    Oh well, he composed himself with a thought. Any longer brooding, and the bulging vein in his brow would have burst. I do need to value this time with Andreas.

    That was the best part of all of this: getting to savour whatever time he had left with his great grandad.

    Damion made his way to the door, only to almost be sent flying when it slammed open.

    He would have shouted at the top of his lungs, had the perpetrator of the door-slamming been anyone other than an eight year old.

    Levi hopped up and down on his feet, as if there were some music playing that only he could hear. As one of the youngest of their clan, other than the literal babies, Damion didn''t tend to take much notice of the boy. It didn¡¯t help either that he was an active member of Remus¡¯ unofficial fanclub. Being Remus¡¯ brother, Levi looked at Damion like he was some legendary figure brought back from the grave to grace them all. There was only so much endless adoration one could take, before it turned sickly sweet.

    Although today, Levi did seem a little more excited than usual. Which, given his usual happy-go-lucky demeanour, was the equivalent of the boy devouring two tons of sugar before getting here.

    ¡°Levi, be careful,¡± Damion peered down at him, sounding awfully like the adults he had loathed so much during his own childhood. ¡°You¡¯re going to get someone hurt at this rate.¡±

    Levi took no notice of his words. Instead, he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. ¡°Damion, Damion! Have you heard, have you heard the news?¡±

    ¡°What news?¡±

    ¡°Remus!¡±

    Damion released a sigh that didn¡¯t extend past his mind. Oh, here we go again. Time to hear about the time Remus made fireworks for everyone, and how cool it was. Again.

    ¡°What about Remus? Did you remember some trick he showed you or something?¡±

    Levi shook his head with enough force to snap it off his neck. ¡°It''s all anyones talking about: Remus killed a Right-bearer!¡±

    Silence. Aside from Levi¡¯s boisterous movements, no noise entered or left the space.

    Aside of course, from Damion¡¯s abundant laughter. ¡°Oh, and Damosh just donated me one million Inklings. Be careful about what you hear, kid. You can¡¯t believe everything.¡±

    Apparently this was such an affront, that all the overflowing energy within Levi channelled into outrageous fury. ¡°Tis¡¯ the truth!¡±

    ¡°Yeah right-¡±

    ¡°No, really!¡± Like pulling a rabbit out of a tophat, a strip of paper appeared in the boy¡¯s hand, from out of nowhere.

    Damion''s heart sank at the sight of it. Printed paper ¡ª a strip of newspaper by the looks of it. An invention of the Sight, Scholar, and Matter Clan. Typically, it was just text, but with the advent of photographs . . .

    Remus¡¯ face stared up at him. It was next to a blob of black, one somehow darker than the rest of the monochrome image by a tenfold. It was in the outline of a man, but empty. A shadow. His eyes were inclined towards the headline of the piece.

    A CANDLE¡¯S SHADOW: EX-DEATH-MARKED KILLS MILAP. ALL IS REVEALED IN SHOCKING MEETING WITH THE OLD ONE!

    The more Damion read, the more the tide of bottled-up emotions threatened to overflow. It was the most bizarre thing he had ever seen. But if the scholar Clan was willing to print this with the limited ink they had, and to make it centre stage on the opening page, then its validity wasn¡¯t in the question.

    His brother was global news, and for some reason, that disgusted him.

    ¡°What is this?¡± Damion muttered, still holding out hope it was all an elaborate joke. Though the logical side of him couldn¡¯t see how it could be.

    ¡°Read on!¡± Levi cackled delightedly. ¡°Isn¡¯t it amazing! One of us carpenters being the first to kill a Right-Bearer!¡±

    Damion¡¯s eyes flew down the columns of text. One heading stuck out to him:

    THE FRAUD OF NOVA! THEY WALK AMONG US!

    With his memory jogged, Damion seemed to recall Remus avoiding many details when recounting his tale. Particularly when it came to Violet, and her clan. Pushing through the thick barrier of apprehension, Damion read on.

    With the true fate of Milap at the hands of the Ambition clansman Remus revealed, we¡¯re sure our readers are as dumbfounded as us! The Old One is yet to comment, engaged with the Supreme Fiend in the middle of the front lines, for the second day running. Thus far, our reporters haven¡¯t had the chance to question the fighting God-Graced for confirmation on any of this. All the information we have gathered is from one lone Sight Clansman, travelling nearby at the time of the exchange between debated criminal or hero Remus, and the legendary leader of the Shadow Clan.

    One paragraph in, and Damion¡¯s blood was already boiling. Something about the way they referred to him as an Ambition clansman first and foremost, with no mention of his Carpentry roots, sickened Damion. Surely they could spare so much as a passing mention. But why should they? Why should they include a sect as pointless, as insignificant, and otherwise unremarkable as the Carpentry Clan? Damion was drowning in cynicism, but if the world was going to try so hard to silence them, he might as well revel in it.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    This leaves us with a multitude of questions, and a litany of rumours sure to shock and horrify even the most iron of stomachs. Most intriguing is this: why would Nova lie? What really happened that night in the Chaos Clan base that is so bad, so atrocious, that Nova must do everything in his power to hide it?

    During this period, there are two notable deaths other than the befuddling fate of Milap. Scouring the Wild Clan records reveals that Elmore, a valued member of the sect, was sent on a mission to investigate the Chaos Clan alongside his cousins Koa, and Ash. Tagging along, with a history in spy-work and espionage, was Donovan of the Shadow Clan. You may be shocked to discover that neither of them survived the night. The odds of this being a coincidence are astronomically low. The surviving parties continue to elude questioning. Koa has not been seen in Durations, his older brother Koa is under the strict control of Juniper to keep his cousin¡¯s death confidential, and as for Violet . . .

    Damion felt the need to breathe heavily despite the fact his last training session was hours ago. Just who had Remus gotten himself so involved with?

    Violet, a deserter of the Chaos Clan and wanted in the Ravaged Lands under her father¡¯s word, is reported to be in the front lines, continuing to travel with Remus. Remus, who, as has recently come to light, shouldn¡¯t be in the front lines at all!

    That alarmed him. Sure, soldiers sneaked into the front lines all the time, but it was never made public. Now everyone on Descent who bothered to pick up a newspaper was equipped with that knowledge: that Damion¡¯s brother had done just that. Not something that could easily be overlooked by those running the barracks.

    Controversies aside, you may first look at this young girl and see nothing more than a rebellious daughter. But know this dear reader! ¡ª Violet is anything but simple. Rumours are running rampant all throughout the front lines that Violet is, in fact, a doppleganger! Eye witnesses who have escaped the turmoil of battle after receiving dire injuries report it first hand. Of course, there is little evidence other than hearsay, but it does make one wonder.

    Damion tore his eyes away from the article, and fought an internal war not to shred the sheet then and there. He got the impression innocent little Levi would probably burst into tears at the prospect.

    ¡°Thanks for showing this to me.¡± Damion said carefully. He slid the sheet into a pocket, before remembering himself. ¡°Oh, can I have this?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Levi couldn¡¯t stop smiling if he tried. ¡°We have tons of copies!¡±

    Oh, of course they do. Damion smiled politely.

    Only when Levi left the room with a spring in his step did Damion release the deepest groan of his life. He slumped back into that chair, trying to settle his frantic heartbeat. He could have ran a marathon, and it wouldn¡¯t have been this bad.

    Those feelings of uncertainty returned with gusto. His brother killed a Right-bearer . . . it warmed his racing heart and made him sweat buckets for Remus at the same time. Just what had he gotten himself into? Becoming worldwide noise before even reaching Foot-Soldier.

    Damion leaped out of his seat. He had to speak with Andreas about this. Surely the man had heard the news? Damion was half-surprised that a meeting hadn¡¯t already been called.

    Would his grandfather approve of Remus¡¯ deeds? Did he approve? The scariest part was that Andreas didn¡¯t know himself.

    Before Damion could process what he was doing, his legs dragged him through the Carpentry Sect military base. There were the usual groups around: the resident builders, the small squads Damion was beginning to train. The violent twist on their Mark Andreas had spearheaded was proving to be quite the hit.

    News had gotten around quickly.

    The reaction was a strange admixture. Silent tension consumed the older, perhaps wiser members of the clan, while the youngest ¡ª Levi included ¡ª paraded around as if it were the best day of their lives.

    Which group Andreas would fit into, or perhaps something completely different, was still uncertain. Would Andreas¡¯s youth at heart make him excited about the achievement, or would the years on his broad back cause more concern than anything?

    There was only one way to find out. He would have to consult his parents about this soon, who would be no doubt terrified. But something told Damion to seek Andreas as fast as possible.

    Damion opened the door to his office perhaps a little too aggressively. There was no need to be hypocritical after berating Levi for that very thing.

    ¡°Grandad, have you seen-¡±

    Silence.

    Damion peered into the room. The disturbing creak of the door felt invasive, akin to a thrown pebble clanging against the base of a well. It felt that intrusive too, like he was somewhere where he shouldn¡¯t be. Or, more accurately, something or someone should have been here, that wasn¡¯t. Some missing piece of the jigsaw vital to the entire scene: Andreas.

    Scurrying around the room, Damion found no salvation. Not even Saige was here. Saige! To her, missing a day of work would be outrageous; the equivalent of a mortal sin. Was this her day off? Did she even have days off?

    A dark possibility made Damion¡¯s overworked heart jump into his throat. Was she just not needed here anymore?

    Possibilities upon possibilities, and none of them pleasant.

    Damion peered back down onto the newspaper scrunched up in his fist. He unwrapped it as fast as his hands allowed him to, eyes devouring the words.

    Supreme Fiend.

    His grandfather had promised to hold out as long as possible. But Damion supposed even men as pure of heart as Andreas had to lie every now and then

    You fool. Damion scrunched the sheet back into a sad bundle, rushed off in search of his parents, and bit his lip, the tide of moisture arising in his eyes ceaseless.

    <hr>

    ¡°And you''re certain about this?¡± Gilmat asked carefully, awfully imposing for a man of such boyish demeanour. Perhaps it was the litany of blades that hovered at his back, or the aura of the Sword God-Graced, or maybe even just the tone of the conversation. Either way, Andreas felt more than a tinge of sincere concern emanating from the man.

    Which was a shame, considering what he had no choice but to do now.

    ¡°The fiend is weakened after its struggle with the Old One. Even a Warlord like me has a chance of killing it now.¡±

    Griffin looked so alike his twin brother, hovering on his own cushioning power, that Andreas actually feared he was seeing double. ¡°Yes, but that Warlord is sure to be infected with an awful case of Supreme Rot. Perhaps the worst the world has, or will ever see.¡±

    The trio of them were right beside the peak of a mountain top, hovering upon thin air with nothing to support them but the reach of their own extensive power. Flying for most Marks is a great logical stretch.

    Andreas was floating on a surface his Carpentry Mark had crafted out of wind and the cold. Griffin, the Martial Arts God-Graced, had such mastery over his Mark, that his body literally weighed less than air. Meanwhile, Milap was standing upon blades crafted out of the nearby breeze.

    All of these on their own would have been extreme stretches of subject power, even for God-Graced or Warlords like themselves. Only through their combined powers working in tandem, were they able to defy reality without too much hassle. Though how long they would last up here was debatable, to say the least.

    There was an advanced Infinity technique that could allow for flight of course, but none of them were willing to burn through their reserves at a time like this.

    It called for a quick discussion. Exactly what Andreas needed. He was here to convince them of his point, and that was it. Not even a council comprised of all the gods of the universe could change his mind now.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have to unravel these bandages for you to know what lies beneath. Look: I may not live for another Rebirth, or Passing, or even see to the end of this Duration.¡±

    Copycat faces grimaced at him.

    ¡°This is my choice. My clan is in safe hands.¡±

    Gilmat, bless his soul, actually looked close to weeping. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t fight; you¡¯re ill, and ¡ª gods forbid I say it ¡ª old.¡±

    ¡°Those reasons are exactly why I should be doing this. Why I have to. Who would you rather throw away their life? Young, strong, capable men like yourselves, yet to savour every joy, every heartbreak, every tiny, beautiful nuance of life. Or content old men like me, satisfied in the fact they have drunk deep of the lustre of life, and only wish to give back in one small way?¡±

    ¡°This is far from small!¡± Gilmat was slowly but surely losing his professional front. How someone like him had landed himself as the face of Descent¡¯s military was a mystery. Andreas was sure he secretly loathed all the publicity

    Griffin held up a hand. ¡°Wait, Brother. He has the right to make this choice. We have no say in this, and even if we did, look at him. Does Andreas sound like a man you can convince?¡±

    Gilmat looked far from satisfied. His pupils kept flickering to Andreas out of the corner of his eye, like he was watching a cat walking in front of a carriage, but could do nothing to stop it. Andreas found this highly amusing.

    ¡°Thank you for understanding.¡±

    From their vantage point, Andreas could see the clash between the Old One and the Supreme Fiend still unfolding. Hundreds of Shadow men and weapons threw themselves at the golem. They all made it so far before dispersing at one fatal distance: an aura of Infinity likely more deadly than the deepest, most obscure reaches of the Silver Cavities.

    Some of the strongest of the Old One¡¯s apparitions could get through, but like marionettes with their strings snipped off, they fell victim to the Right-bearer. A few pounds of their metallic fists, and that was the end of it.

    But those constructs took too much energy from the Old One. He was draining the Supreme Fiend of his resources, most definitely, and day-by-day, minute by furious minute, the fiend was being pushed to the brink. But so was the Old One.

    Who would break first?

    The twins gazed down at the battle alongside Andreas, similar lines of thought apparent on their jaded eyes. This despair, this cavity of the heart where strength and assurance should reside. This was what Andreas was fighting.

    I can break through that barrier. Andreas thought resolutely. The thought reinvigorated him, made the pain of the last year have a purpose. His body ached all over from so much exertion, perhaps its way of telling him this was a terrible, terrible idea. But he could overlook that.

    What he couldn¡¯t overlook was the ache in his heart.

    The faces of his family flashed in his mind. Every member of his clan that had ever lived in his lifetime. Every. Single. One. Saying goodbye to them all was the toughest decision of his life.

    Harder still than any brilliant war stunt; any stunning defeat of an enemy in his long military career.

    His granddaughter Briella, and the father of his great grandkids, Aiden. Remus, Damion. The shining beacons in the darkest time of the Carpentry Sect¡¯s history. And the two men that made him prouder than anyone in the world.

    Andreas coughed into his sleeve, not wanting to breakdown in front of such capable gentlemen.

    ¡°My gratitude to the pair of you is endless. I wish you both the best of luck. I know our military will be left in quite capable hands.¡±

    When Gilmat actually grew teary-eyed at last,  Andreas turned to the battlefield.

    ¡°Time to show-off a little: one last time. I just hope you gentlemen won¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡±

    Saws,  hammers, axes, pestles and more all flashed into being around him. Enough tools to supply every carpenter on earth assembled there, awaiting their master¡¯s call.

    Ready for the inevitable, Damion leaped.

 89. Bad Fortune

    When Eshika had called for reinforcements, Violet wasn¡¯t quite sure what she was expecting. Though twenty or so God-Graced, all flying about the place at the speed of light, wasn¡¯t at all what she had in mind.

    Neither were the shadows of the Old One.

    Violet gulped, tore her eyes away from the twilit army, and prayed none of them bothered to come her way. She kept her aura drawn inwards, revealing not a smidge of her power. Eshika seemed to notice her aversion to the entities immediately.

    ¡°You two have history?¡±

    The answer was obvious. ¡°Indeed. Let¡¯s avoid getting too close.¡±

    Eshika nodded, but as not a single shadow expressed any interest in her, Violet¡¯s attention was drawn to their expected support

    A sky full of God-Graced.

    They descended from a uniformed line above, each materialising as if from thin air. The sheer power, the sheer scale was unlike anything Violet had experienced before. Even at the scheduled meeting with all the civilised God-Graced of the world, they had all been restrained from using their real power out of obligation. Likely due to another civic Oath formed gods¡¯ knew how long ago.

    Only now, with the unprecedented threat of Belindo finally being in reach of extermination, could so many powerful individuals level their full power at the Right-bearer.

    A litany of attacks all sprang onto an exhausted Belindo, the most eye-catching of which was actually quite simple: an iron net, imprisoning the pounding lizard, and sizzling with constant waves of electricity. The Metal and Lightning God-Graced were unfamiliar to her, but Violet struggled to name another unison of powers that was nearly as impressive. Perhaps Javil and Juniper in the past, forming that absurd titan of theirs, but it was a close call.

    Out of the frantic bunch, Violet first recognised Cyrus. He waved down to them in that jovial manner of his, though his face furrowed in focus at one look at Belindo. The Right-bearer may have lacked the numbers advantage, but he would never go down without a fight.

    In several instances, the fiend¡¯s jaws seized open, as if ready to spout fire. Every time, Violet would give a sympathetic wince. And every time, serving as the guardian angel of this operation, Cyrus would take full control over the reptile¡¯s blazing mastery. Either redirecting the flames back at the overgrown pest, or dispersing it to ash.

    A man of cloud coated Belindo¡¯s wings with the cushiony material, which somehow seemed to weigh the beast down. A rainbow emerged over the Unbounded¡¯s eyes with a blinding brilliance. It dazzled the eyes and mind, akin to an alarm attached to the fiend¡¯s skull. Aside from blocking his view, and perhaps burning his eyes to mush, it served as an excellent means of ticking the Unbounded off. His head shook from side to side, only to be whipped back into place time and time again by a myriad of projectiles. Ranging from splatters of acid, strange orbs of energy Violet could put no description to, and waves of killer breeze.

    Then there was the Old One. Violet had overheard that the bulk of his power was distributed to tackling the Supreme Fiend elsewhere, but nevertheless, the presence of his dark servants provided the God-Graced with some much needed breathing room. Tossing away their inconsequential bodies to keep what little leeway Belindo had to attack useless.

    Amongst it all was a beam of concentrated power. Violet focused on it with her internal senses, more intrigued than anything, only to be bombarded by an explosion of intermingling power. Whilst none of these directly harmed the Unbounded, they all played their part at keeping him at a dire disadvantage.

    An aura of Fatigue made every great swat of his wings the heaviest burden; an incarnadine twirl spelled nothing but endless Suffering for the Unbounded; and sickly boils slowly but surely sprouted on his scaled flesh.

    Other God-Graced took a more direct role in bringing about the God-Graced¡¯s end. Different sectors of the animal kingdom had potentially hundreds of minions biting, pecking, and scratching away at Belindo¡¯s flesh. A layer of skin that was quickly becoming patchwork, peeling off in unsightly messes of gore.

    It bled and bled. Violet had to fight not to look away, and only did so when she was sure Belindo was well and truly dead. It was only a matter of time now. But she couldn¡¯t wrap her mind around it ¡ª why was he resisting so adamantly? What was the need to keep pressing on and on, if it did nothing but extend your own torture?

    If anyone deserved such a fate, it was a Right-bearer the likes of Belindo. Though such agony . . .

    ¡°He¡¯s going to die.¡± It took saying it out loud to believe it, but there was nothing better than the sight above Violet to convince her of that reality.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Eshika stood constantly at Violet¡¯s side, though did lend as many arrows as she could spare to shooting down the fiend. ¡°This will be a tremendous victory for us. If we hadn¡¯t been able to weaken him, Belindo may have gotten away.¡± She offered Violet a hand. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°The honour is mine.¡± Violet tried to act as humbly as possible, but the joy flooding through her . . . it made her so giddy, like a school child. She shoved her flushed face away, though Eshika smirked fondly at her.

    When that man arrived, Violet didn¡¯t even notice. Belindo was as good as butcher¡¯s meat, and Violet was starting to suspect that if not for the magnitude of power being hurled at him, the Right-bearer would have fallen to the ground a decent while ago.

    Out of the corner of her eye, demanding her attention as much as a pompous child, was a pillar of gold. Riches, jewels, and expenses unlike anything seen in the Labour Distract of First Rite all followed behind the silhouette of a . . . Violet thought it was a man, but as it descended closer, the being that graced them all was far too ugly for that description.

    It was Damosh, no doubt. Hideous green skin, a ducktail cut so oiled, it looked greasy, and a vibrant, flapping robe the God-Graced must have designed to be as noisy as possible. He beamed, putting in great effort to showcase his pearly whites.

    Flying over on his stream of Wealth, more than one God-Graced turned their attention away from Belindo, to the second most hideous being here.

    Belindo roared, and if the reptile¡¯s final expression in life was to be one of disgust at Damosh, then perhaps even the worst of us could have redeeming qualities.

    ¡°Late to the party, isn¡¯t he?¡± Eshika muttered, her eyebrows furrowed critically.

    ¡°Showing up now, when there¡¯s no threat.¡± Violet scoffed. ¡°From Belindo at least. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the other God-Graced try to take him out, while they still have the chance.¡±

    Violet had meant it in jest, but Eshika frowned. ¡°This is dangerous for Damosh. Quite out of the ordinary for him too. He normally clutches onto his precious Divine Ground like a lifeline. I¡¯m serious when I say this: Damosh¡¯ extended presence here is certain to draw the attention of someone up for a fight, sooner or later. Plus, he isn¡¯t one to normally participate in fights like this ¡ª he¡¯s cautious like that.¡±

    ¡°So why is he here?¡±

    That seemed to be the question on everyone¡¯s minds. The assault on Belindo continued, but a few of the less necessary God-Graced flew over to the King.

    Damosh waved at them with cordial politeness, like they were all gathering at a banquet table and not in the middle of a raging battlefield.

    A woman who constantly shifted in colour at times, and was fully transparent at others, flew closest to him. Damosh muttered one word Violet was too far away to hear, waved his hand aside politely, and proceeded to continue about his business ¡ª whatever it was ¡ª like that settled things.

    Violet didn¡¯t take long to put two and two together, but nevertheless, the fact Damosh was getting closer to Belindo befuddled her. Just what was he doing?

    He came so close before the tremendous fiend, looked Belindo square in his one remaining eye, and then . . . simply stopped. He hovered there, on a stationary mound of gold, too close for comfort.

    Belindo no longer had the energy to roar, to attack, to do anything other than continue flying. Gravity killing Belindo would perhaps be the greatest irony of all.

    The iron chain around him grew closer, still sparking with a deadly voltage. This was it: the death blow. They were going to cage Belindo like the wild animal he was, leaving him to die at the hands of so much electricity.

    The Lightning and Metal God-Graced clamped hands tightly, muscles bulging in both arms. Violet could barely see them, though did catch the peculiar detail of the latter¡¯s hair, his spiking up and down his back, like an iron vein in itself. They exchanged a few words with an air of finality about them, raised their hands at the same time, when-

    What happened next, Violet could only understand in retrospect.

    A flash of blinding yellow exploded, but it was of a tint too metallic to be lightning. It was so quick. Violet would process one detail, only to be bombarded by three more. The chain erupted, expanding away instead of enclosing Belindo. A tide of gold was pushing their great links back, coating onto Belindo¡¯s scales like they were giving him a paint job. As if encrusted Ichor, it was weighing Belindo down by an unimaginable mass. One not even his great wings, when punctured, beaten, bloody and bruised, could withstand.

    There was one last gem tossed at Belindo¡¯s face, a gigantic ruby with crushing might. So refined with Infinity, wisps of the godly power drafted off the ore. It fell upon the reptile¡¯s head, elicited a world-splitting crack, and then Belindo finally, inexorably, fell.

    Time seemed to pause. The image of a triumphant Damosh, towering over the deceased titan of the skies, would have been the perfect image for any budding artist to slather down onto their canvas.

    Yet, whilst art is supposed to inspire emotion, all Violet felt was vacant. No, angry actually. Outraged that a thieving-fraud like Damosh could steal this moment from them.

    The blood rushed into her ears, deafening to her own eardrums. Her fingers twitched, everything around her suddenly seemed ridiculous, and Violet felt her own anger reciprocated twentyfold by the titan of power all around her.

    But Damosh had left as quickly as he¡¯d arrived.

    It went without saying that a sour taste was left into every God-Graced¡¯s mouth. Belindo¡¯s body was already dispersing into Infinity, leaving behind bones that were a poor man¡¯s spoil of war.

    It was all very anticlimactic, or at least Violet couldn¡¯t help but think so. It wasn¡¯t until her gums started aching that she realised just how tightly her teeth were gritted.

    ¡°Snooping in here at the last moment.¡± Eshika¡¯s eyes were wide, but not out of fear. No, on the contrary, they frightened Violet. Opened and crazed, as if trying to devour the world with a single look, in one last revenge. ¡°Stealing all the glory for himself.¡±

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°You think that¡¯s why he did this?¡±

    Eshika¡¯s neck snapped to face Violet. ¡°Why else? His only intention has always been to do exactly that: to reaffirm his own power while we all praise and serve his every need.¡±

    ¡°I take it that hatred for Damosh is a widespread thing then?¡±

    Ignoring the instinctual dislike of competition innate to anyone in a position of power, everyone within First Rite, who had to put up with the King, would certainly take a disliking to Damosh. However true it may be that First Rite was the most densely populated city on Descent, it was also one of the strangest. Many sects only erected posts there as an additional base in one of the few areas of Divine Ground out there, for any safe haven was a vital one. Even if Damosh¡¯s taxes tended to annoy, to say the least.

    But the sects that were wholly dependent on First Rite, comprised almost entirely of gods making up the Talents of the Realm alliance, fostered a new kind of hatred all together. Alliances hardly held any weight nowadays, with betrayals springing up left, right and centre. Though none were more closely bonded than the Talents of the Realm, and that bond was born out of pain.

    A common pain, one forged under the iron fist of Damosh.

    Violet couldn¡¯t fully fathom the suffering clansmen like Remus experienced under Damaoh¡¯s crushing taxes, but the anger present on the faces of every other God-Graced ¡ª many of them hardly having any presence in First Rite at all ¡ª spoke of a hatred towards the man Violet was beginning to suspect was universal.

    ¡°His head would have been taken long ago, if he wasn¡¯t so wrapped up in that tower of his, like a mother bird to a nest.¡± Eshika scoffed. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time he¡¯s pulled a stunt like this, doing everything in his means to steal all the glory for himself. It¡¯s an image thing. To prove he has the right to be in the position he¡¯s in.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t everyone know he¡¯s a fraud?¡±

    ¡°But it''s not that simple. Did Damosh kill Belindo just now?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but-¡±

    ¡°So he did. Did Damosh just become one of the few people alive to have killed a Right-bearer?¡±

    ¡°Again, yes, but-¡±

    ¡°Not buts about it. Regardless of whether or not Belindo had been beaten to a pulp by us all, long before Damosh even turned up, he still landed the finishing blow. He still technically killed him. Context means nothing. Now Damosh is going to spread the news around, embellish every last detail, and the ignorant people with no knowledge of what happened today, and with no way of hearing from a reliable source, will see Damosh as an even more unstoppable force.¡±

    That made Violet pause. In all her time in First Rite, why had no-one rebelled against Damosh? Well, Divine Ground was one thing, but it went deeper than that. In the brief intervals where Damosh or any of his clansmen were outside the reach of the city, why did no-one make a move to kill him?

    They had perfect reason to. Damosh was a tyarnt, self-obsessed, and had a hold on the power structure of First Rite so tight, that no one could ever hope to ascend to the throne through the political route: contributing most to the city. But who decided who contributed the most, when ordering the clans? Violet hoped some outside, neutral figure with no ulterior motives or ties to First Rite, yet harboured great doubts that such a thing existed.

    Hatred of Damosh, Violet had discovered, was global. But something else was too. Fear of the man.

    How many tales of Damosh¡¯s alleged ¡®heroic youth¡¯ had Violet heard, even as a girl who was much too preoccupied to take notice of old legends? Hundreds. Most regarding some great stunt where he saved some poor, defenceless civilians from a generic, raging Unbounded. She had known since the start that most of those folk tales were heavily embellished of course, but still, after overhearing so many, slowly being brainwashed, what was the image of Damosh in her head?

    Well, before having seen the man for herself in person . . . Violet recalled the expectation of an invincible, larger than life figure, one who defied reality by being a god walking amongst men.

    The man who had just departed the scene with his tail between his legs, however, was most certainly not a god. He was a man, and a very powerful one at that, but he was far from a god.

    Alas, for the average citizen living in First Rite, whose only sight of Damosh would be the occasional announcement . . . what did they think? Violet had reality to burst her bubble, but what reality check would the millions of denizens making up First Rite have? Dependent on the city for their very livelihoods?

    An unkillable god. Who in their right mind would oppose that?

    Remus, that went without saying, but he was a wildcard. That was part of why Violet admired him so much. No threat, no matter how large or daunting, would hold him down. But could the same be said for the rest of the desperate, hungry people who knew nothing but drudgery and fear? No, it couldn¡¯t.

    Now what Damosh had been doing here was made crystal clear. No one would challenge a man who could slay a Right-bearer. Or at least not the average, middle-aged Emblazed of a sect that hardly specialised in combat.

    The weight of all of that, realised in probably the span of a few seconds, left Violet speechless. Who knew one Godling could be so despicable?

    The dust had cleared. God-Graced were beginning to depart, and Violet could tell Eshika was itching to leave too. The feeling was mutual. Truly, as Violet realised one of the wandering shadows was staring directly at her, there was no desire in Violet greater than the one to depart.

    And she would have to be quick about it too, for it was approaching closer.

    <hr>

    Koa didn¡¯t have a thought in his mind as the Insect Clan slammed into the Pet-Keeper¡¯s forces. Or at least that was the case until he caught sight of the Right-bearer ¡ª then Koa couldn¡¯t think of anything but the blood pumping through his ears.

    And how scared he was, now that Octavia was nowhere to be seen.

    Time seemed to jump between the awe-inspiring stand of the Insect Clan, to now. Koa blinked, as if the last five minutes had been a trance, and tried to keep a hold on his stomach.

    There were achranoid Unbounded, of course, numbers of the eight-legged fiends reaching the hundreds. It was like night itself was moving in one multifaceted curtain, almost indiscernible in the relative dark of night. But with his one functional eye, Koa could just about focus on them ¡ª and the abhorrent amount of blood they spewed.

    Rejuvenating the Insect Clan was without a doubt, the best decision Koa had ever made. They flew through the Unbounded, bursting rodent after rodent in their fight for survival.

    Pity they were destroying the Insect base in the process. Already, the honeycomb of the bee¡¯s nest was stained so many shades of red, Koa dreaded to think of what would become of the honey.

    Beckett blasted forward through the fray, despite all the damage inflicted upon his very own province. He laughed, spun around, and tore Unounded in two with pincer-like claws. He kept close to the focus of Koa¡¯s hatred: the Pet-Keeper. Circling around and around so that he would eventually be face to face with the evasive fiend.

    The sight of the Right-bearer, while annoying, yes, inspired in Koa no confidence. Here was the being who had taken his family, friends, and his own eye away from him. Here was the being who had turned his most powerful weapon into ash, and then trampled across the remains. Here was every force in this world working against Koa put into one vessel, laden with life, and supplied a monstrous name and face.

    Going up to him again, to bite the bullet and accept the possibility that he might die without claiming vengeance. The thought chilled the marrow in Koa¡¯s bones.

    But who was he to send so many brave men into battle, and then cower out at the last moment? To lay paralysed out of fear, while Beckett looked into the face of death and laughed?

    Koa forced himself into the midst of battle. The real world, a reality more twisted than the nightmares of his mind, did nothing but fry Koa¡¯s senses and deepen his inhibitions. His inward senses, however . . .

    They spoke of a world thrumming with power.

    Infinity was everywhere. Like strands of cloth interwoven through space itself. Between the raindrops slapping across his face, ahead of the rattling wall of Unbounded, and even between his fingertips as he rushed through the dripping sheets of rainfall.

    Koa drank deep; deeper of the resource than he ever had in his life. The abundance here, with Unbounded everywhere, and clansmen sending more of the fiends dispersing into their Infinity with every passing second, it was almost suffocating. Koa felt ten times more alive for all that he inhaled. Each drop of water that splattered across his face was a more poignant sensation than anything Durations of captivity could have to offer.

    Energy returned to Koa, and he set his Mark alight in an emerald beacon. Immediately, pillars of oak spliced through the earth, catching Unbounded on their ends, their rapid deaths nothing short of a mercy. Bugs, somehow surviving in this crazed onslaught, flew over at Koa¡¯s heed. They were his eyes now. Warning him of danger. Warning him of . . .

    Koa swivelled round, face to face with the Pet-Keeper.

    His tousled hair stuck to his forehead in the rain, but aside from that, there was nothing new about the Pet-Keeper. Which was fitting. To Koa at least, the Pet-Keeper was irredeemable. There was no change to be made ¡ª except of course, his continued state of living, but Koa was determined to make short work of that.

    At his side, Beckett dived into a crouch. Wings extended out of his sides, insectile and reminiscent of a butterfly.

    ¡°I hope those aren¡¯t too fragile.¡±

    The man laughed. It was ill humour for a time like this, but there was a subtle strength to it that Koa latched onto with all he had.

    ¡°Koa.¡±

    Koa would have snapped his neck, if he turned to face the man any faster. No, not the man.

    The monster.

    Koa made to rush forwards. What could this maniac possibly have to say, to mutter from those repulsive lips of his? Nothing of any value, that was for sure. So Koa might as well rush over and slit his throat while he had the chance. At his side, learning forward with both pincers spread wide, Beckett looked eager to join him.

    The Infinity pulsed through Koa¡¯s body. For the past Passing, he had been on a strict diet of nothing but Infinity, Infinity, and more Infinity. He bathed in it, basked in the divine essence every minute he spent in this Unbounded-ridden hellhole.

    For all the pain it had cost him, his Vault, so close to completion it was agonising, had been repaid in dividends.

    If he could lay a blow on the Pet-Keeper before, he certainly could now. Especially with a God-Graced at his side.

    ¡°I know what you want Koa.¡±

    Wooden armour sprouted across his body.

    ¡°Okay, fight me then. Fight me, while Draven kills Octavia.¡±

    For a second, Koa didn''t understand what he was hearing. Then it clicked. Draven: the scorpion clansman.

    ¡°What, were you wondering where she was? Oh, instructing her to carry out a few pointless errands was more than enough to turn her away. She¡¯ll be heading back to your cell right about now, though I don''t suppose she¡¯ll be too happy with who she meets there.¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t want to fall victim to the tricks of the Pet-Keeper. But hearing those words alone was enough to derail any naive preconceptions of how this night was going to proceed. An educated choice or not, Koa found himself itching to leave. To go and make sure Octavia was okay.

    He knew full well that Octavia was quite capable of looking after herself. Hell, she had been looking after him for so long, it wasn¡¯t even funny. Yet Koa wasn¡¯t ignorant of how powerful Draven was either. Did he risk leaving this fight to assist her? Yet that would require the unthinkable. Abandoning the army he, no-one else, had brought and guided here.

    What kind of leader led his men to their own deaths? And for what? What kind was he?

    Koa scrunched his eyes shut. Even then, Octavia ¡¯s face wouldn¡¯t stop swimming in front of him.

    The army or Octavia.

    This was the Pet-Keeper¡¯s plan, to tear him apart at the last second. To give him an ultimatum he could never settle on a choice for. Not before the Right-bearer had time to cut him apart, anyway.

    But Koa wasn¡¯t alone. The Pet-Keeper would have been a genius to predict the reinforcements Koa and Octavia, together, had prepared. Thankfully, though, the army at his feet showed great signs of disconcerting the Right-bearer. Clearly, this hadn¡¯t been on his radar at all. And there it was: the flaw in the Pet-Keeper¡¯s schemes Koa would have to exploit.

    Beckett smiled at him. He was scarred all over, looked exhausted from all the turmoil the last few Passings had to offer. Regardless, Beckett was a God-Graced. A weakened God-Graced inhibited from fighting at his full power, but a God-Graced nevertheless.

    The Pet-Keeper wouldn¡¯t be able to breeze past him with a shrug of the shoulder. Regardless of whether the man was weakened or not, no God-Graced on this earth was a pushover.

    ¡°I¡¯ll hold this son of a gun down for us. You go find Octavia, and bring her back, you hear?¡±

    ¡°I hear.¡± Koa turned around, bolting in the first direction clear of the Pet-Keeper.

    Before he was out of range, the last thing Koa heard was a furious screech, a string of sound Koa could only interpret as a declaration of war.

    One way or the other, this feud was going to end tonight.

 90. Sacrifices

    Darkness.

    Remus drifted through a nothingness. It was comfy there, a vacant space where his body had no weight, no substance. Nothing that could identify him as real. He wasn''t doing anything; he didn¡¯t have to. Didn¡¯t have to do so much as lift a finger. Unanchored as he was, Remus doubted such intricate movement was even a possibility. Why would he need to move anyway? The subtlest twitch of his body would serve no purpose.

    Here, there wasn¡¯t any war to fight, no clans he had to save. No woes to despair over, and no need to overthink until his brain ached.

    He simply existed. Alone, Remus knew nothing but peace.

    Drifting . . . drifting . . . Remus didn¡¯t think often, but when he did, he noticed the error of his first impression. He wasn¡¯t the only resident of this space. Of course he wasn¡¯t. It suddenly became so painfully obvious that he was the guest here, intruding in this dark cavity.

    Through the gloom of his soul, that white light blazed. It imprinted upon the retinas of the mind in a glorious mosaic.

    Winding, twisting, entangling tubes. Yes, pearly white tubes. He had been an idiot not to notice their presence before.

    They clutched against his body, or the body of his mind, like grasping hands reaching for his neck. But Remus sensed no ill intent emanating from the vine-like structures. No, they wanted to bond with him. To become one whole of a puzzle that had become separated. Or were they already together?

    Was this all him then? What was this all?

    There seemed to be something beyond all of this, whatever this was. The crash of some asteroid, the roar of a frantic battle, or perhaps something else all together.

    More and more, Remus felt his mind rise out of the depths of solitude. The hollow contents of the resting brain suddenly became so active; so alive with ideas, dredges of thoughts, and an explosion of sensations, like paint being splattered against white walls.

    He recalled himself. Memories adrift through an ocean of Infinity, recollections of a carpenter they called Remus. No, not a carpenter, but a warrior. Wait, no! He was neither ¡ª or was he both?

    He was getting a headache. That pounding noise from outside was doing nothing to assist Remus either. In fact, it was getting louder, and more aggressive by the minute. Or had it always been there, and Remus was only now conscious enough to notice it?

    The questions had no ceasefire. Getting over the confusion of remembering everything all at once, felt as if his mind was tearing apart. A dance of crazed gore in the prison of his skull.

    Part of him was scared. A random echo of the past hit Remus, of being seven years old, clutching onto his brother¡¯s hand for support. He wanted that again now. But he was too old, much too old. He had responsibilities now, which seemed to Remus at that moment like the worst word of them all.

    With the memories, logic was restored. The events, scrambled at first in the worst jigsaw he could have asked for, returning to Remus in the oddest order. Yet these were his experiences, his impressions, and nobody knew them better.

    He was Remus. Warrior in name, but carpenter at heart. He was Remus, and this place, this delusion of the mind, this was Infinity.

    Remus had been basking in the resource following the Supreme Fiend¡¯s attack, but for how long? Still more questions. Though this time, the answers weren¡¯t going to magically find their way back to him.

    To forget himself while channelling Infinity ¡ª how was that even possible?

    Up above, loomed the vast structure of his Bank Mould that Remus had somehow visited, if only in spirit, like an ant cresting a mountain. It was remarkable, in a way. Like he was looking at himself exposed. Through the skin, perhaps even deeper than the superficial layers of his soul, this was Remus. Or at least the part that indented deeper into reality than any meagre flesh.

    He may die, but this power, be it via dispersing back into the cosmos where it belonged, to empower some other plucky clansman, would never truly perish. Even if the universe collapsed in upon itself, there would be Infinity.

    Remus¡¯ eyes flickered across the branches of his Mould, which towered up above him in a tree that put the legend of yggdrasil to shame. Remus was taken aback at the thought that he had built this.

    Though that wasn¡¯t nearly as surprising as what laid above.

    The outer perimeter of this place, of this absence in time and space, shook. As if waiting in reserve until just this moment, Remus felt something tugging him away.

    How Remus had gotten here in the first place was a mystery. No wonder it was pushing him out; he didn¡¯t suppose this was something any man was meant to see. No more than a stone is supposed to become aware of its own existence.

    The outside noise grew louder, developing into intelligible, recognisable voices. Deep, but not overly so, overflowing with concern. Was that Tanguy?

    Remus could have laughed in glee. Tanguy! He hadn¡¯t heard from the man in so long . . . or at least since he was last aware.

    How long have I been lost within myself? Remus thought. What kind of condition will my body be in when I get back?

    Louder and louder, like the rising crescendo of a dirge, the voices screamed out at Remus. It was deafening, painful to hear, but Remus couldn¡¯t blank it out, no matter how hard he tried. So instead, he fixated on the noise, used it as his anchor to return.

    Up and up he rose, the tendrils of Infinity encompassing him finally relenting.

    He became groggy, for nothing around him was making any sense. The previous, organised tubes became a blur to his senses, the Infinite tendrils that had held him down for so long nowhere to be seen. Yet it didn¡¯t feel as if Remus was going back to sleep. No, he was waking up, and he would finally be free of this place, his body aligning to the mind.

    There was a darkness in between that darkness, and the light that came after. Remus first noted the rigid feel of his body ¡ª of his real body ¡ª numb and consumed by pins and needles. His eyelids were so heavy, and it would have been oh-so easy to fall adrift into sleep again, if not for one little detail.

    The two men screaming in his face.

    ¡°Remus!¡± Aziel yelped, and that was the one last urging tug to snap Remus¡¯s eyes open.

    Tanguy and Aziel were crouched by him, their expressions masks of relief, but he saw through the cracks underneath. They had been fearing for him, terrified at whatever state the last few days had rendered him in.

    Remus made to speak, only to be confronted by the shallow desert of his throat. Before he knew it, Aziel placed a waterskin on his lips. He drank deep out of instinct, and it was at that moment of overwhelming relief that Remus noted the other conditions seizing his body.

    His stomach was an empty sack, crying out for food like the most impoverished of Labour District. The light all around was blinding to his eyes, but inwardly . . .

    Inwardly, his Bank had never looked so powerful. So immense. It wasn¡¯t completed yet, though it was so close. Remus estimated about a tenth was all that remained to forge.

    ¡°You must be hungry, alright,¡± Aziel muttered, as Tanguy passed over a small crate of rations. Remus chowed it down before even taking notice of what it was he was eating. Some kind of pre-cooked meat. ¡°And here I was thinking it was only bears that hibernate.¡±

    Remus only looked up once the entirety of the box was empty. ¡°Thank you.¡± He said, a little too shakily. ¡°Where- what happened?¡±

    ¡°We thought you would know better than us,¡± Tanguy admitted, breathing a little easier. ¡°Once the Supreme Fiend went berserk, waves of Infinity were sent flying for miles all around. At how close we were, it was like being trapped in a tornado.¡±

    ¡°We were separated.¡± Aziel cut to the chase. ¡°It took Aziel and I almost two days to find each other again.¡±

    Remus blinked, and now that his vision had adjusted, examined his two allies. Their clothes were tattered, with the arm of Tanguy¡¯s tunic torn off completely, revealing the muscular build underneath. But Remus focused more on the litany of bruises that purpled Tanguy¡¯s flesh. He hadn¡¯t noticed before, but there was a slit above Aziel¡¯s left eyebrow too, that was likely to scar. It rarely happened beyond early Ranks, but some injuries could slip through the cracks.

    If this was how these two had been left, when conscious and likely fighting for their lives . . .

    Remus looked at himself once more. He was bruised, exhausted, and had a few nasty cuts of his own. Though for everything his body must have been through when his mind was absent, he had come out of the other side without too much to complain about. Due to a great load of good fortune, no doubt.

    ¡°Are you two okay?¡± He suddenly became red in the face. That probably should have been the first thing Remus asked.

    ¡°Are we okay?¡± Aziel made it out to be the stupidest question in the world. ¡°What about you? How did you make it out? Once we saw you . . . we were worried that you were-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I think.¡± Remus pushed himself upright, and when no part of his body made a popping sound, sighed with relief. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened, I was unconscious.¡±

    Aziel and Tanguy exchanged a look. ¡°What, did you hit your head?¡±

    ¡°No. At least I don¡¯t think so.¡± Remus rubbed the back of his scalp. His palm returned blood free. ¡°I think I was channelling Infinity. I remember mental images of my Bank. It was so lifelike . . . I¡¯m not sure if it was real or not.¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    When no-one muttered a word, Remus looked at his friends head-on. They were staring at him, and some sinister part of Remus was reminded of crows. Crows looking at carrion. As though, if what Remus was saying was true, which he knew it must be, then in his place should be a corpse. Not a clansman who had benefited from the experience.

    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be possible.¡± Tanguy uttered. ¡°Even as far away as we were, there would have been traces of Rot in that storm. If you were to just channel that for three days, non-stop-¡±

    ¡°The Rot should have killed you.¡± Aziel finished.

    ¡°I feel fine.¡± Remus said, as firmly as he could. He didn¡¯t like the direction this was going. ¡°I spent nearly a full Passing in the Silver Cavities. Compared to that, this is next to nothing.¡±

    Tanguy took a seat on a stone nearby. In the pandemonium of it all, Remus had hardly taken the time to register their surroundings: a sandy vista, decorated by great protrusions of rock. Everywhere in ten miles of here was much the same.

    ¡°Only you would see a life-threatening storm closing in on you, and see it as an opportunity to train. Gods above.¡±

    ¡°Three days. And you were just working on your Mould the whole time?¡±

    Remus nodded. ¡°I¡¯m close to breaking into Foot-Soldier. I can feel it.¡±

    Tanguy looked at him with a certain glint to his eye that Remus couldn¡¯t define. After devouring another pack of rations, and downing another swig of the waterskin, it was time to get moving.

    Remus needed to get his Ichor flowing again, so paced around in circles while the three of them devised a plan. Everything felt so surreal, like he was experiencing every nuance of life again for the first time.

    The sand beneath his battered sandals, the heat of the sun threatening to blister his skin; the rise of the sun in the horizon glowing as a channel of multicoloured tinges. Everything was fascinating.

    ¡°How is the fight with the Supreme Fiend going, anyway?¡±

    ¡°How about you go see for yourself.¡± Aziel replied, without looking back from the map he was burning into the sand. ¡°The top of that dune over there has a good view.¡±

    Intrigued, Remus sauntered over. Upon reaching the crest of the mound, it was like having a blindfold removed.

    The army of shadows littered the scene like toy soldiers. They surrounded the central piece of the warzone, rendered completely white with Rot, with an unmoving giant slapping away tide after tide of the Old One¡¯s minions. Cracks had begun to sprout over his metallic body, fissures Remus would have loved nothing more but to see expand.

    But nothing had changed after three days.

    The Old One¡¯s numbers had no doubt dwindled, and while there were still great crowds of the twilight troopers, the difference was stark. One vital question lingered in Remus¡¯ mind, like a parasite he couldn¡¯t relinquish from his cranium. Who will hold out longer, the Old one or the Fiend?

    Remus felt his hands bulging into fists. If even the Old One failed, not only one of the most powerful beings yet to have ascended, but one of the only ones capable of circumventing the powers of Rot, then what hope was there?

    It was this that Remus mulled over, when something snagged his attention. There was another presence heading over there: tall, muscular, but too far away for Remus to assess any other details of.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Aziel called over, his preparations to leave finally arranged, ¡°what do you see over there?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Remus replied slowly. ¡°There¡¯s someone else coming to join the fight, I think.¡±

    Tanguy turned his head over. ¡°Someone else? Who?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t make them out from over here very well, but they''re strong, have a muscular build . . . they look old actually, I think they¡¯re bald.¡±

    ¡°What, is it a Warlord up there?¡± Aziel got closer. ¡°I don¡¯t think there are many geriatric God-Graced, apart from Eloise. Are they fighting the Fiend?¡±

    ¡°Wait a minute.¡± Remus paused.

    His eyes scanned the man one more time. Closer now, where he dived into the fray like a cannon from a pirate ship. Remus finally recognised the terrible detail screaming out at him: the carpenter¡¯s uniform that adorned his great grandad.

    What had Andreas done?

    <hr>

    Koa flew through the wilderness of Territory Two, faster than he could traverse through his own city of Hybrid.

    The gaping hole where his eye had once been mattered little. After spending so long here, learning where there was danger, and where there was less of it, Koa knew the optimum routes in and out of this mess better than the lines tracing down his palm.

    He dived in and out of the ground, swimming through mud like it was his own personal sea.

    In the span of perhaps five minutes, he had reached his prison. He jolted through the entrance, tore apart the remaining wreckage of the place with his Supreme halberd, and found nothing inside.

    Koa was scrambling at this point. He called out Octavia¡¯s name, heedless of who may overhear, until the lining of his throat hurt. No response came.

    He commanded all the bugs he could control in the vicinity to search for the poor girl. Where was she? Had the Pet-Keeper been tricking him? Was Koa really so gullible, to fall for a deception so obvious?

    Regardless, he couldn¡¯t quit.

    Koa swivelled on the spot, focused on the darkness around that seemed alive. Like a thousand watchful eyes, making up one monstrous whole, was watching him always. He took a deep breath to steady himself, expanded his diaphragm, and called out into the gloom: ¡°if someone¡¯s out there, anyone at all, show yourself, so we can settle this quickly!¡±

    No answer. Not even the whisper of a response.

    If the dozens of bugs all around hadn''t warned him, the pincer would have slit Koa¡¯s throat.

    He jolted out of the way, spun to the side, and drew up short from another pincer attack, just in time to block the pointed end with his halberd. Both weapons rattled against each other, and even with the toxic fluid leaking out of Draven¡¯s tail, his grimace was a poison of its own.

    ¡°Where is she?¡± Koa was close to spitting in the clansman¡¯s face.

    Draven didn¡¯t mutter a word, though inclined his head to the side. Koa didn¡¯t dare take his eye off the man, instead opening out his senses to focus on where he indicated.

    Immediately, a mass of Infinity harassed his senses. He didn¡¯t have to waste a second of thinking to recognise who it was, as well as the smaller presence at their side. Angel was in fierce combat with Octavia.

    Angel. How had Koa forgotten about Angel?

    ¡°I knew you would come,¡± Draven snagged back his attention. ¡°The Pet-Keeper said you would. Killing you will be the greatest gift he ever gives me.¡±

    Koa smiled, ignoring the pain roaring up his arms. ¡°What, do I annoy you?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t act tough,¡± a kick thudded into Koa¡¯s leg. It took all he had not to crumple into a heap. ¡°He might have taken your eye, but I specifically asked to finish you off.¡± Draven licked his lips. ¡°I wonder how you¡¯ll look blue in the face, and pumped full of poison.¡±

    ¡°Is that your best attempt to unnerve me?

    ¡°No.¡± Draven smiled. ¡°It was to distract you.¡±

    Koa made the foolish mistake of shooting his head over to Octavia. He didn¡¯t even get to see how far she was being dragged away, before Draven made his assault.

    Fists pummeled against his arms, pushing Koa a metre back. He staggered, had enough time to summon a wooden shield to block Draven¡¯s pincer, before ducking, swerving, and doing everything in his power to dodge the crazed man.

    Bugs scattered around him, fireflies illuminating the scene in a haunting amber. They would warn Koa of any danger, or he would at least detect any outside movement through them. He kept his right side away from Draven ¡ª even with the fireflies assistance, he didn¡¯t want the scorpion to take advantage of his blindspot.

    Koa blasted off the earth, barreling straight into Draven¡¯s chest. The clansman planted his tail into the mud below to anchor himself, swung around on the earthbound tendon, and used Koa¡¯s momentum to land messily on his feet.

    Within a second, they clashed again. Every moment of contact, each and every meeting of halberd on tail, or fist on chitin, elicited a thunderous noise. Draven¡¯s lips slowly transformed from a cocky smile, to a concentrated line. He fought with growing intensity, limbs flying out faster than Koa could hope to block.

    Like with their first encounter, Koa was on the backstep. Before Draven could do anything about it, Koa dived into the earth, bounding back up behind the man. Draven turned a tad too slowly, raising his tail in stark surprise. The axe of Koa¡¯s halberd swung into the exoskeleton of his stomach. Shards of chitin ricocheted off, exposing more raw, human¨Clooking flesh underneath.

    Koa smiled like an idiot at the sight. This was out he defeated Draven; he just had to break through that impossible armour of his, and-

    The tail flew towards Koa so quickly, there was no hope in dodging it. He slid to the side in the little time he had, reached out for the tail, and held the writhing construct tight. Draven screeched, and two pincers closed in on Koa faster than he could hope of letting go.

    In the fastest decision of his life, Koa focused hard on his Bank. It was still processing all the Infinity he had consumed prior, rushing through the pearly white tubes and extending them when it reached their ends. Koa thought of Octavia, of the Pet-Keeper getting away from him unavenged, and then everything suddenly became ten times easier.

    The Infinity flooded to his hands, but that was too general for his Delicate Touch Mould. If he wanted to optimise its power, he would have to be more specific. So his fingers, then. The little bone, muscle, and other tissue that comprised Koa¡¯s hands flourished. Now, he had to go deeper. Improve the littlest point of existence he could access.

    The very cells within his palms. His hands glowed a subtle white, supercharged with enough divine essence that he could crush boulders.

    He threw his halberd up above, got a firmer hold of Draven, and lifted the scorpion''s entire body in one dramatic movement. Koa leaned back at the waist, smashing Draven into a layer of wood he quickly created at the other side.

    The Infinity still rattling through his body, Koa vaulted up, grasped his blade, before submerging himself into the earth below.

    He was rushing away, even before the scattered landmarks of nature dotted around became apparent to him. He used these as his guide, but nothing directed him more than the plethora of power on offer further left.

    Koa sped towards it, burning all of his Infinity like fuel for the strangest vehicle Descent would ever see: himself. Octavia and Angel would be there, he just knew it. But how powerful was Angel? Octavia could take care of herself, beyond any reasonable doubt, yet still . . . Koa would rather be fighting alongside her. That way, he could make sure for himself that nothing-

    A hand grasped Koa¡¯s arm, pulling him out of the earth faster than he could fathom. Through  a dust cloud sent billowing out of the dirt, Koa was thrown aside. He blinked rapidly, the image of a tail sweeping through the fog the only thing alerting him into action.

    He swung rapidly with his halberd. Only by some saving grace did he divert the poisoned tip, but when met with a flurry of pincers, Koa wasn¡¯t so lucky. They ruptured through his fickle oak amour, chafing the skin beneath raw.

    Koa screeched in pain, grasped his side to stop the blood flow, and scrambled away from Draven.

    When Draven launched into view, Koa half-hoped the man would have some finishing words to utter, to gift Koa a few extra seconds to stall. Alas, they were far past talking.

    Koa clutched tightly onto his halberd, and that was when he heard the screams. In tandem, he and Draven looked over to the source of the monstrous cries.

    Now that the dust had cleared, he could see it clearly. Koa had travelled further than he had thought, and as ample reward, reality had graced him with the most relieving sight of his life.

    Octavia stood before Angel, the scale of whom Koa could only appreciate now, when they were up close and personal. Strands of Supreme Silk were weaved in between Octavia¡¯s outstretched tendrils, and in their metallic sheen, the sight of black, oozing blood was unmistakable.

    Angel shrieked again, and it was apparent why: one of her legs was severed completely off, the fuzzy tendril soaking in its own blood a metre away.

    While he still had the chance, Koa spun on his feet, concentrated a chunk of Infinity into one incoherent mass, and tossed it at Draven with all of his might.

    He didn¡¯t wait to see the man¡¯s reaction.

    ¡°Wait up Octavia, I¡¯m coming!¡±

    Koa had only uttered those words for a second, before Angel pounced on her.

 91. Itsy Bitsy

    Koa screamed at the top of his lungs. ¡°Octavia!¡±

    ¡°You bastard.¡± Draven roared. Koa didn¡¯t even turn around before the pincer shattered through his armour, and into his back.

    He was propelled forward, a mouth full of dirt his only reward for idleness. He blinked through the agony, tried to struggle to a stand, but the toxins were already flooding into his bloodstream.

    Draven dived onto him, grasped Koa by the chin, and forced his face upwards. To where, if his vision wasn¡¯t so damn blurry, he knew what he would see. Koa clamped his eye shut. He didn¡¯t want to risk catching a sight of what must be there. What he knew to be there.

    ¡°Look.¡± Draven demanded of him. ¡°Look at her!¡±

    Koa blinked again, a weird buzzing deafening to his own ears. How much poison had Draven flooded into him? Even his lips were paralysed, to the point that talking was a colossal struggle.

    ¡°Drop dead.¡± He managed to spit, every muscle fibre in his body tense with murderous desire. He wanted to compress Draven¡¯s skull until the ashes sifted through his fingers. He wanted to have one victory, one brilliant triumph over an enemy after such a long string of losses.

    ¡°Have it your way. If you won¡¯t look yourself; I¡¯ll make you.¡±

    Two of Draven¡¯s human digits widened up his eyelid. Slowly, but far faster than Koa was happy with, the vision grew clearer.

    Octavia was held aloft by two of Angel¡¯s vile tendrils. She was held to the height of trees, being crushed by unimaginable pressure.

    Koa couldn¡¯t breathe right, couldn¡¯t do anything but stare off into the distance like a useless idiot. He was going to perish here, going to die when too much of the venom finally raced into his heart, and for what?

    Elmore, dead. Donovan, dead. Octavia, dead. And, within minutes, he would join them. All while Draven, the Pet-Keeper, and even Nova, lived on.

    I¡¯m not going out like this. The words were the only thing in Koa¡¯s mind that were crystal clear. He could not, and would not let things end like this.

    Koa channelled Infinity through every nook and cranny of his body, hoping beyond hope that it would slow down the poison''s advance.

    Poisons. Toxins. Both were a part of nature, correct? They, to even the slimmest extent, could fit into his domain of power. How did nature tackle toxins? How did the wilderness defend itself against such insidious weapons?

    All he could focus on was human medicines. Antidotes that were a man-made invention; things he couldn''t possibly stand to benefit from unless an apothecary sprang up out of nowhere.

    The dread, the fear, the literal poison coursing through him. What would kill him first: the stress, or the venom? Koa supposed both had an even chance of putting him out of his misery.

    Koa looked up ahead, in a daze, only this time, he didn¡¯t see Octavia¡¯s final moments.

    The toxins must have been addling his mind, for he saw himself far younger. There he was, in the teaching facilities of Hybrid, while his brother was selected to train in First Rite, all alone, and miles away from his flesh and kin.

    It was a class on plant species, with a focus on their healing properties. While his teacher droned on about facts Koa had memorised years ago, Koa watched raptly as the memories meshed and slid into one another. Hundreds of lessons, Rebirths and Rebirths full of knowledge that was second nature to him now.

    Octavia shrieked out in agony, and Koa snapped back into the present.

    ¡°Enjoying the show?¡± He heard Draven ask, but even he was rendered distant by the poison. Koa only recognised the prickling tail sliding down his back, when it began to penetrate his flesh anew.

    Draven was going to finish him off for good. Ensuring Koa¡¯s last moments were ones of insufferable torment.

    The little activity left in his decaying mind screamed out. Endless hours of lessons, days and days spent looking at dusty scrolls until his eye hurt ¡ª they all accumulated into this one instance, where terror¡¯s hold on his mind was absolute.

    The adrenaline worked overtime to stitch the memories together. A thousand miraculous links formed in what little time he had, until the poison in his heart became too much. Koa¡¯s Mark blazed as bright as it could. He drank every last drab of Infinity still roaming in the atmosphere, the load rushing through his body only made faster for it. Plants erupted out of the ground at his feet, until, in the time it took to draw a breath, an entire flower bed was assembled.

    ¡°What, did you want to see something pretty before you died?¡±

    The flowers became a part of him, thorns pricking into his skin and surrendering their sweet nectar. His Mark did all the internal work, combining them all in one rapid transformation, chemical reactions happening faster and faster.

    Yet Draven¡¯s venom would never relent. It flew through him so easily, like every vein and artery was mapped out in perfect preparation. The veins bulged against Koa¡¯s skin, threatening to burst as collateral damage in the internal war. Only, Koa could never be sure of who would win: the toxins, or the antidote.

    He thought his vision was getting clearer; that strength was returning to his muscles. His other eye was beyond saving, but Koa saw Octavia more clearly than ever.

    She was injured ¡ª no doubts about that ¡ª but still up and fighting. If she was, what excuse did Koa have? He would rather suffer a thousand years of agony, before letting Draven get anywhere close to killing him.

    Something inside Koa reached a breaking point. Whether that was him or the poison, was yet to be determined.

    He flipped into a stand, the iris of his left eye a blazing, sickly green. In the absence of the other, emerald light poured out of the cavity. He couldn''t even tell if he was alive or not. To all Koa¡¯s knowledge, he was a rogue spectre, out to reap revenge on the man who had damned him to the afterlife.

    But if that was to be his purpose, then so be it.

    The Bank within Koa reached a crescendo of power. If there was anything good to say about the Unbounded-cesspool that Territory Two had become, it was the power it offered.

    No better place to train was there, than the pits of hell.

    Koa completed his Vault with one shaky intake of Infinity. His Delicate Touch Mould surged with more strength than he knew himself capable of. And it was with this strength ¡ª the power of a newborn Foot-Soldier ¡ª that he empowered the twenty inch thorn protruding out of his arm.

    With one swipe, the easiest connection Koa had made in his life, he severed Draven¡¯s tail.

    Blood erupted everywhere in an unstoppable stream. Koa ignored Draven¡¯s cries of desperate horror, and spared no pity in his overworked heart for the man, as hot tears flooded out of his face.

    He swiped again. This time, he would pierce the man¡¯s heart.

    Draven managed to get his pincers up just in time. The impact shattered both limbs, chitin scattering off the fickle defence in all directions.

    ¡°You¡¯re a monster.¡± The scorpion man spat. But there was no rage behind the voice, no anger Koa could easily identify. It wasn¡¯t an insult ¡ª it was an observation.

    As Koa ruptured through what little left there were of the pincers, crushing every puny cell in Draven¡¯s dying heart, he couldn¡¯t disagree.

    Koa collapsed by Draven¡¯s corpse. For all of a minute, he half-suspected it wouldn¡¯t be long until he joined him.

    Then he remembered himself. Octavia. He couldn¡¯t let himself die until he was absolutely certain she was okay.

    He trudged forward, body still buzzing with power, feeling sick from the overcrowded party that had become his bloodstream. He picked up his halberd which had fallen to the side in the chaos of the battle. It was noticeably lighter.

    Two more of Angel¡¯s tendrils had been severed in the time it had taken Koa to dispatch Draven. Octavia was making an excellent show of dodging the spider¡¯s wild swings. It had obviously lost its balance from the missing limbs, and perhaps some coordination after so much blood loss.

    Octavia clutched her arm, her human one, which hung somewhat limp. It was broken, Koa was sure. Any longer here on her own, and there was a very good chance that wouldn¡¯t be the worst injury she walked away with.

    Koa waited one more second. Took one more breath before the perfect opportunity revealed itself.

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    Two spindly arms reached out for Octavia, and Koa didn¡¯t hesitate. He flew out, empowered his halberd with more Infinity than was reasonable, and slashed to the side with his thorn.

    Koa heard the scream before he saw the blood.

    Five tendrils. That was how many of Angel¡¯s arms soaked the earth. But Koa wasn¡¯t finished, not by a long shot.

    He skidded ahead, ignored his body urging him to rest with every impulse it could throw at him, and launched before the Unbounded¡¯s colossal fangs. They hung open, eager to devour him.

    Only to receive a mouthful of oak.

    The tree blasted out of Koa, and into the fiend¡¯s body, mutilating the interior in one swift blow. Every last drop of Infinity clutching to Koa¡¯s Vault was sacrificed for it.

    The Unbounded staggered back, crashed into a mound of earth, and wheezed there for a few gory seconds, before motion left it all together.

    Then Koa let himself drop to his knees.

    Black spots danced in front of his left eye, as if a void was slowly growing to join the other. Koa closed his eyelids, did his best to ignore his body¡¯s discomfort, and for several moments, neither he, nor Octavia, said a word.

    After some time, Koa staggered upright, wove a long leaf out of thin air, and covered his right eye in a makeshift eye patch. He was starting to feel up to standing again when Octavia cried out.

    ¡°Your eye!¡±

    She vaulted into a hug. Koa pretended she wasn¡¯t hurting his bruised body, though the provided warmth did make up for it.

    ¡°I was bound to get injured at some point.¡± Koa said off-handedly. ¡°Everybody has some kind of battlescar. I just got it out of the way.¡±

    ¡°Your aura . . . Foot-soldier?¡±

    Koa looked down at his palm like it was the strangest thing in the world. Weird. ¡°I guess I am. Can you walk?¡±

    She nodded. Only her arm was injured; Koa hoped not broken. ¡°Can you? Your face is so pale.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t surprising. ¡°I can walk.¡±

    In the end, they resorted to carrying each other in an awkward shamble. The gravity of what Koa had just done only hit him on their way back, when the adrenaline, crazed state, and all the other conditions affecting him gradually tapered off.

    ¡°Did Draven really deserve that?¡± It was a stupid question, but Koa supposed it would be better to be brainless, rather than heartless.

    ¡°You put him out of his misery quickly.¡± How Octavia could sound so certain, after being so far off from the battle, Koa hadn¡¯t a clue. Nevertheless, he decided to believe her. ¡°That was merciful, after what he did.¡±

    ¡°Merciful.¡± Koa mulled the word over. He was about to ask how tearing off a major limb, before crushing Draven¡¯s heart, could possibly fit that description, but dropped the matter.

    ¡°We have to get back to our men.¡± He said instead. ¡°The Pet-Keeper will sense Angel¡¯s mountain of Infinity vanishing sooner or later. When he does, it¡¯ll either throw him off his own battle . . .¡±

    ¡° . . . or enrage him.¡±

    Koa inhaled sharply. ¡°Whatever happens, rest assured.¡± He gripped his halberd tightly. ¡°He dies tonight.¡±

    <hr>

    There was nothing more intrusive than your very soul being exposed to someone. Except of course, when you have to give them clearance to snoop through.

    The Old One grumbled to himself. Only after finally relinquishing the shadowy replica of Violet, did he stop pressing her so aggressively.

    ¡°It¡¯s all true then.¡± His silhouette mumbled. ¡°Stranger things have happened, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Have they?¡±

    No response. The Old One turned to the distance. Violet hoped he would finally disperse, but he merely stood there. Staring off stoically into the distance.

    ¡°What now then?¡± Violet would rather converse with just about anyone but the Old One, but what other option was there? She had to find out what was going to happen. The information of the Chaos Clan¡¯s reality being revealed to the world  . . . it could finally put an end to Nova¡¯s campaign, but what about her?

    Her life could never continue as normal, but there were different degrees of severity that could await her. What would Violet even do when Nova was finally undone? All her life had been dedicated to exposing, and in some ways, undoing his evils. At times, Violet had been so certain that his shadow would never leave her. That she would spend her entire life chasing ghosts.

    If the entire world raised arms against him, however, Nova¡¯s end was inevitable. It might not happen soon, or perhaps not even in Violet¡¯s lifetime, but it would happen. And that was enough for her.

    ¡°Maris and Juniper. An odd couple to inform of this all.¡±

    ¡°Will they face any consequences for staying quiet?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s enough people out there who have the power to punish them.¡±  The Old One admitted. ¡°What the people don¡¯t know can¡¯t harm them, anyhoo.¡±

    That was the kind of thinking that had caused nearly all the problems in Violet¡¯s life, but this time, it seemed the right attitude to have.

    ¡°The newspapers are already spreading rumours.¡± The Old One scowled. ¡°I¡¯d hate to confirm their theories, or agree to their interview requests.¡± He sighed, like pleasing someone was the greatest burden he could carry. ¡°I suppose the situation necessitates it.¡±

    ¡°What about me?¡±

    ¡°What about you?¡± The apparition turned to her. ¡°Well, I trust you¡¯ll be let off lightly, considering your help in subduing two Right-bearers. As for what the people will think of you, I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t make that choice for them.¡±

    Violet felt like sighing too. ¡°As long as there aren¡¯t any legal repercussions.¡±

    ¡°It''s up to the individual cities to decide what to do with you. I hope you have a few favours to call upon.¡±

    Violet turned to face him, to ask how Eclipse would regard her, only to find the air vacant.

    Just like that, the Old One vanished.

    Violet just stood there dumbly. She looked from where the Old One had been but a moment ago, to where the final ashes of Belindo had dispersed into the littlest dust.

    Most of the God-Graced had departed by now. Only Eshika and Cyrus lingered. She appreciated their concerned expressions, but insisted that all would be fine.

    ¡°Where are you two headed now?¡±

    ¡°Wherever there¡¯s trouble.¡± Cyrus joked. ¡°You''re always needed somewhere.¡±

    In tandem, both Cyrus and Eshika looked into the far distance. They were sensing something. Something too far away for Violet¡¯s lesser power to detect, but she could gauge the scale of the threat easily enough. Their expressions hid nothing.

    ¡°Another blast of energy.¡± Cyrus mumbled. ¡°From Territory Two.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not the first reading we¡¯ve had from that place. Something¡¯s happening. God-Graced levels of power.¡±

    They stared at one another. ¡°Do you think . . .?¡±

    Violet could tell they were about to move at the speed of light, so quickly rushed in front of them. ¡°Wait, wait! Wherever you¡¯re going, take me with you ¡ª please.¡±

    Cyrus opened his mouth, as if to shut her down, when Eshika cut him off. ¡°Sure. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s safe for you to be out in the open while people receive the news for the first time. If they aren¡¯t given time to digest it, things could get violent.¡±

    Once again, the fire God-Graced looked dumbfounded. Before he could enquire on what the pair of them could possibly be talking about, Eshika blasted off. She rushed up into the skies with the speed of an arrowhead, clutching Violet tightly, as if she weighed nothing at all.

    <hr>

    Andreas stood before the Supreme Being. The fiend had only started to notice him, shambaling over in slow, deliberate steps. Steps that would awake sleeping giants, and invade even the remotest corners of this world with their thunderous lustre.

    Slowly, ever so slowly, Andreas undid the bandages wrapped around his arms. The white cloth dropped to the earth, joining a bundle of the material he had already undone. They had served their purpose. Besides, not even their fickle material could hope to protect him against what came next.

    Finally, he locked eyes with the Right-bearer.

    Seeing him so close, perhaps five metres away, at home in his trailing wasteland of ashy white, Andreas focused hard on his breathing. It suddenly became quite impossible to keep his lungs in order, for reasons completely unrelated to his condition.

    The Supreme Being was a sight to behold. Ugly, true, with his rocky form misshapen after a beating from the Old One spanning days. Fissures spread through his titanic form, as if tracing the lines of a jigsaw puzzle that comprised him. Andreas knew it was his responsibility, the final weight left on his ageing shoulders, to undo that puzzle. To crush every last piece until nothing remained but ash.

    Ash that would put the mounds of the stuff surrounding them to shame.

    The Unbounded was a walking set of armour, really. Andreas couldn¡¯t believe there was anything more to the fiend. The mind that rattled in his cranium would be no more intelligent than that of a feral animal. He killed, he hunted, he spread his disease like any good vector would. But beyond that, beyond the innate, primal instincts to kill and survive, there was nothing.

    Perhaps there had been before. Aeons ago, when Enos had first gifted whatever Unbounded the Old One had once been with his Divine Right. Whatever it was that lived in the depths of the Silver Cavities, and ruled king.

    The Supreme Fiend was as much a victim to Rot as Andreas was. More so, even. His mind had been destroyed by Rot, leaving no sign of developed intelligence behind.

    Andreas shivered. That was what scared him the most. Losing his mind ¡ª the last frontier of himself ¡ª to this vile, putrid disease. To become one with the creature he hated the most.

    This death, at least, would be of his own choice.

    Andreas looked down at his revealed body, the silvery flesh of twisting grey concealed only by his carpenter¡¯s uniform. Reinforced with gold here and there, to value itself as Andreas¡¯ most pricey possession. So many times, he had come close to selling it.

    Now, with his clan in safe hands, Andreas would wear it to the tomb.

    He marched towards the Supreme Fiend, quickening his gait, and it followed suit.

    Memories played tricks on his eyes. He didn¡¯t see a devastated reach of badlands, but the sprawling, dark interior of a dank cavern.

    Where there should have been empty space at his side, their vacancy was filled by the ghosts of his past. The squad of weak Warlords, in way over their heads, rushed into the Cavities. There to do the dirty work that posed too much of a risk to the likes of God-Graced and Godlings.

    One by one, their rushing bodies, joining Andreas in his sudden sprint, fell apart. Behind him, hauntings of their dead selves, consumed by Rot, and sprawled out at unnatural angels, littered the ground at his back.

    He saw himself joining them. knew that he would.

    Andreas cast all the thoughts to the back of his mind. He ignored the terrible pains of a body tortured by Rot, for damn near a full Rebirth. He shouldn¡¯t be able to move. The energy rioting through his body, Infinity intertwining with the divine power of his patron god Arcus, was the only thing propelling his dead flesh onwards.

    But he wouldn¡¯t have long. Andreas had to make short work of the Supreme Fiend, ensure he would never hurt another living soul, and rid the world of one more of Enos¡¯ curses.

    Fists collided, metal on abused flesh, and the battle commenced.

 92. At the Sidelines

    Andreas was sent flying back, but so was the Unbounded.

    He dug his feet into the dead earth, not allowing himself the luxury to fall. His Boundless Mark, his fusion achieved when ascending to Vanguard so long ago, had never been put under so much pressure. Supporting his own body was draining as all hell, but Andreas would grit his teeth and suffer anything, if it meant the destruction of this demon.

    He leaped forward, a litany of tools appearing at his side. Saws dipped in so much Infinity they were verging on full Supreme Steel, clashed against the fiend. Most clattered off, though, remarkably, a few managed to stab into the fissures the Old One had already established. Remotely, Andreas sent the tools sawing away, as if controlled by invisible hands.

    The Supreme Being roared. Infinity splashed off the Unbounded in another of his killer waves, hitting Andreas like a brick wall. He gritted his teeth, withstood the pressure, the pain, and recalled the faces of his family. That lightened any burden.

    He streaked forward in a blur of Infinity. Fists pummelling against the fiend¡¯s chest, shrapnel snapping off his deadly body. Wisps of Rot spread off, diffusing into the atmosphere. Andreas ignored it, assaulting the fiend with more intensity. Saws joined the others, hammers hacked away at the metallic body like he was chiselling a statue, and all the while the poison entered his body.

    A metallic fist hammered into his chest. Andreas convulsed, too slow to put his arms up to block two subsequent blows.

    The third knocked him astray. Blasted back metres, Andreas fell to his knees. His vision danced, the world span around him, and the nausea became overwhelming. He spat out blood. As he leaped back to his feet, Andreas didn¡¯t mistake the teeth swimming in the golden puddle. He didn¡¯t waste the energy needed to heal them.

    Andreas turned back to the fiend. His eyes flew upwards, following the trailing shadow to where, dominating the sky in one dark mass, the being descended from the arc of his jump.

    Shoving down the instinct to dive away, Andreas transformed his arms into twin machetes. Infinity turned his legs into pistons with how much power they exerted.

    He met the Unbounded mid-air, sliced an X in a flashing flourish, and pressed his weight against the fiend. It rasped, tried to get on top of him, but Andreas stabbed into two winding ravines in his torso.

    The fiend was toppled, collapsing to the ground in a blast of Rot-filled Infinity, and scattered dust. Andreas summoned a dozen carving knives at the sole of his foot, trampling on the Unbounded in vicious attacks.

    More and more Rot sifted off the Unbounded. Andreas made no attempt to protect himself from the lethal fluid, feeling it respond to the mass already making a quaint home out of his flesh and blood.

    The pain. The Rot invaded through every exposed pore of his skin, driving his body into a panicked frenzy. Fight or flight didn¡¯t cut it. His muscles braced so much they contorted against his ruined skin. The energy needed to move his body became more and more. An excess that could burn through his reserves so easily if he let it.

    Seeing the opportunity, the Supreme Fiend didn¡¯t hesitate. He twisted at an angle, snapping the machete blades still in his body in two. Both arms locked onto Andreas¡¯ sides, threatening to crush his ribs with how tight they were.

    Andreas was helpless as his body was rolled underneath. He blinked, took a rapid intake of breath, all in time to see the fiend¡¯s fists poised to crush his skull.

    <hr>

    Remus was running towards his grandfather before his mind even registered what he was doing. Aziel and Tanguy called out, to try and stop him. But there was no stopping him.

    He could cover a lot of land very quickly when flying. The blue sparks blasted out of his palms, defying not only gravity in his rampage, but the wind trying to knock him back, and all sense of reason in this world.

    Yet the distance was stark. Only the vantage point being as auspicious as it had been, allowed Remus to see his great grandfather easily. And once his eyes had locked onto the man, nothing would tear them away from him.

    I¡¯m coming! His mind was screaming. Just hold on, I¡¯m coming!

    <hr>

    Dazed.

    The first impact left Andreas with a roaring headache. The second didn¡¯t land.

    A plank of wood materialised over Andreas¡¯ face, absorbing the impact of the blow. Out of every corner of his skin, razors stabbed out. Razors meant to craft a beautiful art piece out of oak, but for this one instance, they served a whole different purpose.

    He grasped the Old One with both hands in a bear-hug, ready to drag the fiend to death with him.

    The Rot around his arms was intense now. He had lost all feeling in both limbs, and Andreas wondered if any Ichor flowed through them at this point. All that bound the two limbs to Andreas was his own Infinity, the power of Arcus, and the sheer grit to hold on.

    The Supreme Fiend shook wildly in his grip. The razors chafed against his metal flesh, grinding entire flakes of the stuff off.

    Andreas breathed deep of the excess of Infinity. The fiend¡¯s head slammed into his shoulder. Again and again, flesh rendered white from Rot was purpled.

    Finally, when he knew holding on any longer would only quicken his own end, Andreas dived away. He breathed in deeply, looked back at the Unbounded with spiteful eyes, and saw a thing of ruin.

    Infinity and Rot alike drifted off the mass, like water flooding out of cracks in an aquarium. If the landscape enveloping them prior had been bad, this was something else all together. One touch of the Rot infested earth, and someone not accustomed with the disease would drop dead in a second.

    Andreas¡¯ body was adjusted to the illness by now. They practically co-rented his form. Yet even he had his limits.

    Quickly. He coughed into his forearm. Get this over with quickly.

    The fiend hunched downwards, grasped a batch of earth, and threw it forward. Andreas knocked it aside effortlessly, half-wondering if this was some last desperate plea for life. Then the second boulder came. And the fourth. And the third.

    He was slowing him down. Switching up his strategy to the defensive; waiting for Andreas to keel over and die himself?

    Andreas couldn¡¯t allow that. With one blast of Infinity, he leaped upwards, high, then higher, until his ravaged skin brushed clouds. The moisture splashed against him, and with the apex of his flight reached, Andreas fell back down.

    He was clearing the difference in a matter of seconds. A few boulders were hurled his way, but Andreas either blocked their course with a plank at the last second, or simply avoided them all together.

    Near the ground, something seemed to become lodged in his throat. That hacking cough refused to leave him. He harrumped into his fist, not surprised at the sight of Ichor that he found there.

    The Rot would be crushing Andreas¡¯ internal organs by now. Only careful living, Saige¡¯s excellent treatment, and a good amount of luck had stopped its advance. Now, with the amount of Rot vying to kill him off doubled, his remaining lifespan would be counted in minutes.

    Andreas landed unceremoniously, a pang of pain stabbing into his knee. A thousand lights suddenly swam before his eyes, dazzling as much as they were obtrusive. He looked to the ground, only to see the same patch of earth stained with his own vomit, a few seconds later.

    He buckled down to one knee. The Supreme Fiend was so close, and here he was, verging on death.

    Andreas squinted his eyes to push away the pain. But there was no escaping the agony. He was lost in it, and it was going to consume him.

    His body was so heavy. Dead flesh weighing down a feeble skeleton, each inch of movement demanding so much energy it would kill him.

    Eyes closed, heart hardly beating, everything within Andreas knew he would die in failure.

    Each step crystal clear, the Right-bearer approached. If the Unbounded simply sprinted to Andreas, victory for the metallic titan was as good as assured. So why the slow gait? Then it hit Andreas ¡ª the Unbounded was gloating.

    Andreas doubted if such a creature was even capable of laughter, but he knew with solemn certainty that if the Unbounded could, it would be cackling. The earth and skies alike would tremble in the face of such overwhelming mirth.

    The thought was like a spark, his anger akin to an oil rig. The resulting reaction was like a gallon of pure adrenaline shot into Andreas¡¯ bloodstream.

    The pain faded, as if it had never been there in the first place. His body was weightless, numbed, ravaged by disease and losing its spark of life by the minute. But Andreas could still feel that explosive energy rush through him.

    Life force. It had blazed through him from the earliest memories of his childhood, empowering his boisterous antics with feral amounts of energy. Even now, even to his deathbed, Andreas was tethered to that impossible zeal. It became so obvious, in that instance of clarity, of what was really the gods¡¯ greatest gift to humanity. Not Marks, Banks, or even something so overlooked as a single drop of Ichor.

    Life. Ever fickle life.

    Andreas clashed with the fiend head-on. Their limbs collided, metal glinted, and reality expanded. The bizarre mess of life, for this brief window where Andreas danced on the edge of death, on existence itself, untangled. Questions that had pestered the Warlord all his life ceased to matter.

    He had no regrets. Andreas grasped the Supreme Fiend¡¯s head with two hands, and squeezed.

    Hollow eyes, more like absences in the Unbounded¡¯s face than actual organs, stared up at Andreas. The Warlord suddenly became acutely aware of his own heartbeat. It thudded against his eardrums, like the Music Clan had set up a gig on the edge of his earlobe.

    Metal sifted to flakes in his grip. Then to grains. Andreas had never seen an Unbounded¡¯s face in so much detail ¡ª typically, they were dead and soaking the ground at his feet long before the opportunity arose.

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    But poised as he was, like he was ready to plant a kiss on the Unbounded¡¯s lips, Andreas saw the full magnitude of the monster before him.

    Its jaw clamped open and close, like mechanical parts malfunctioning. Andreas was starting to suspect the Unbounded had truly lost it, when steel lips parted.

    ¡°Strong.¡±

    Andreas stared blankly at the Unbounded. His crushing fingers were beginning to slip, but he couldn¡¯t move them much either, as if rigor mortis was kicking in early.

    After a pause, Andreas boomed aloud. Not in anger, or in fear, or even out of spite. Andreas laughed louder than he ever had, in all his century and some, walking on this earth. Strong.

    Power recognised power. Even when that power was stuffed into a hideous, towering chunk of metal, Andreas supposed that held true.

    ¡°You¡¯re a tough nut yourself.¡± He muttered through gritted teeth. ¡°Though nevertheless,¡± Andreas felt two monstrous hands claw uselessly at his face. ¡°I don¡¯t crack easily either.¡±

    <hr>

    Remus managed to fly so far before he had to pause. Otherwise, the tide of vomit rising in his throat was ready to make a spontaneous appearance.

    Don¡¯t die. He thought, eyes locked onto his grandfather still. Despite the inescapable reality before him, despite the certainty of what was to come, Remus couldn¡¯t bear to think past the reality of this fight.

    Seeing Andreas coated silver with illness was bad enough. Seeing his corpse painted a darker shade would ruin any shred of sanity he had left.

    Too many lives had been lost already. So why was Andreas throwing away his so readily?

    Remus flew too close to the ground, scrambled to his feet after choking on a mouthful of smoke, and rose into a shambling run. Blasts of fire propelled him further and further onwards.

    He didn¡¯t even notice when he crossed the barrier into hell. Into the Rot infested wasteland his great grandfather must have been a king to survive.

    Remus felt it chafing against his flesh, prickling his pores as the disease searched for any route to seep in through. In response, Remus¡¯ own Infinity splurged outwards. Besides, after so long in the Silver Cavities, Remus could survive a little Rot.

    If the same could be said once he pressed further into the battlefield was yet to be seen. Regardless, his own welfare was of little concern to Remus at that moment. A man as great as Andreas deserved to live far more than him. If Remus could only save his great grandfather one extra day, he would gladly pay the cost. Even if that meant throwing away any number of days of his own.

    Andreas and the Supreme Fiend were closer than ever. Remus saw them struggle to no end, any sort of civilised combat abandoned for a tussling wrestle. Despite the declining condition of Andreas, Remus took one look at the Unbounded, and his heart leaped. It was like the Right-bearer had been turned into sand.

    His body, the highest quality source of Supreme Steel in the world, save for perhaps the Steel Thone that Maris sat upon now, was breaking apart. There had been one too many fissures, one too many strikes in unlikely locations. Even if fighting were to cease immediately, any chance of a full recovery would be miraculous at best.

    But the giant wasn¡¯t the only one breaking apart.

    Every inch of Andrea¡¯s flesh was a sickening silver. In a way that churned Remus¡¯ stomach to think of it, he and the Unbounded he faced were one and the same. Two grey titans drowning in so much Infinity clashing fists, the disease that had defined the pair of them finally taking its toll.

    The density of the Infinity tightened around Remus like he was in a chokehold. No amount of time in the SIlver Cavities could have prepared him for the full magnitude of this. His muscles squirmed, his skin itched all over, as abused as a door that Rot was barging on over and over. So much Infinity flew through his internals, any amount of the resource laced with lethal illness.

    Remus activated Flaming Gold, pouring white hot flames through himself.

    He could see the tubes of his Mould so clearly now, even if only in mind. They layered over Remus¡¯ circulatory system ¡ª residing in the same area as the azure fires.

    Effectively, Remus was burning away any trace of the Rot.

    You will not succumb.

    Remus ran faster than he ever had before. He cared not at all for the levels of disease in the air, the vast worlds of power between him and the two titans. The subtle aches and pains as a result of Flaming Gold¡¯s use didn¡¯t even daunt him. Besides, with the advent of his Full Body Blood Infusion Mould, one especially designed for this exact issue, the agony of the ability¡¯s use was a far cry from what it had once been.

    Besides, he couldn''t see how things could get any more painful than they already were.

    The powers of a Warlord and God-Graced equivalent shook the earth. This close up, Remus couldn¡¯t decide if it was harder to push through the excess Infinity, or the maelstrom that Andreas and the fiend formed the eye of.

    His body was working hard enough as it was. Just not to be crushed by the Infinity all around, Remus¡¯ Bank had to intake as much essence as possible, as fast as possible. That meant exerting mountain-loads of the power at the same time.

    Here, at the heart of the battlefield, Remus came face-to-face with levels of Rot that dismayed the Old One and scared away God-Graced. To survive, his flames blasted out of his body in equal degrees to the raging, internal power of Flaming Gold. Inside and out, he was a shining beacon of power; fully draped by the immersing robe of his fire.

    The Infinity he was distributing was the finishing touch to complete the image. A miniature storm of his own blasted out of him, eliciting terrible sounds when they mingled with the wind.

    If anyone saw Remus at that moment, all they would have seen was a blight of white fire, bleeding out through a hurricane that followed his every step. Gone was the carpenter who bled at the touch of a saw.

    The Rot was utterly shredded by either his eternal flames, or otherwise discarded by the furious blast of criss-crossing wind. As if the air was strewn with tiny blades of Infinity, slicing at any disease that dared stray too close to Remus.

    The illness that entered through the Infinity he inhaled or otherwise, met a similar fate: incinerated by the furious touch of Flaming Gold.

    Remus was steps away from the Supreme Fiend, finally getting into the flow of things, when it all became too much.

    Andreas took one final stride towards the Supreme Fiend, positively dripping with Ichor from head to toe. Only a shadow of the Unbounded was all that remained ¡ª a third of the size of the golem it had once been. Battered down, like one statue shattering to reveal another smaller sculpture underneath.

    Empty eyes stared out into the Unbounded. The bottom of Remus¡¯ stomach fell away. The man was done; empty. Not many people who had walked the shores of Descent had given so much to this world as he: the gift of joy, the gift of a laugh in the most trying of times.

    Now there was nothing left to give.

    Remus fought the urge to cry out, clutching onto the chains at his waist. It was a testament to the quality of their Supreme Steel that they hadn¡¯t melted away. In one swift motion, underlaid by a sound like the snapping of a whip, he drew them both.

    With them, Remus would beat the Supreme Fiend senseless. Despite the tears flooding out of his eyes, his terribly runny nose, and the tightness of his stomach, there was no time to grieve. Not until this world was cleansed of vermin like the Unbounded before him.

    Remus was about to leap into heedless action, when it happened.

    In the corner of his eye, Andreas began to topple over. His feet fell back, as if Rot had taken away even the strength to stand. But what they couldn¡¯t take away, what they could never . . . Andreas smiled.

    The sound of his body hitting the floor was the worst thing Remus could recall hearing. Worse than the screams of all the people he had seen dying. Worse still than the sobs of the truly helpless ¡ª noises he would hear whenever forced to traverse through the lowest slums in all of Labour District. Worse than hearing Damosh cackle in delight after something was going particularly well.

    What happened next, Remus couldn¡¯t recall. Only after consulting a second-hand account of the scene, was he able to see past the blur of emotion.

    Flames spread down his chains, lighting up each link until they all shared the same blinding light.

    He inhaled through his nose sharply. It was the most visceral act of his life; one second of picture perfect clarity in a sea of chaos. And then, like some dark servant, Remus fell upon the Supreme Fiend.

    His chains were like pythons, with flames in the shape of slithering snakes amassing over each. They attacked with all the patience of a thirsting man pleading for water. Andreas had served the Unbounded¡¯s life to Remus on a silver platter, and, as if he was engorging himself on the finest meal, Remus would savour every last crumb.

    His chains pounded against the Unbounded over and over, like a war drum being beat repeatedly. The metal was of a strong make, but still, fragments of the links were already flying off into the distance.

    Remus'' body screamed. He screamed, as the Infinity inside his tubes flew dangerously fast. The pain of Flaming Gold¡¯s use was weaker than ever, more of a pressure now than anything, but it pressed against him nevertheless. His Ichor was more fire than blood, his eyes were shining beacons of blue, and his physical strength was close to tapped.

    Momentum, grit, and undying fury were his three allies, the forces working behind his every motion.

    He identified the cracks in the Supreme Fiend¡¯s body ¡ª the chinks in his armour, if you will ¡ª that Andreas had left behind in him. All of those bruises from training with Violet suddenly became worth it, the fissures easier to smash to pieces than any stone or pebble tossed at him.

    The Right-bearer screeched out in pain, rage, or whatever nonsensical emotion took place in that deluded brain of his. Remus didn¡¯t care. Even as his chains destroyed themselves against his metallic flesh, he housed no pity in his heart for the creature.

    The Rot became harder and harder to push away. It spread through his chains, approaching his fingers. He could sense its advance, like some parasite doing everything in its power to trespass into the domain of his body. His fingernails as their preferred mode of entry.

    Remus¡¯ arms ached from the stress of the attack, fatigued muscles bulging. One last riotous shot of the arms, and what little reminded of his great chains snapped apart; their last links flying in all directions.

    The Supreme Fiend¡¯s death was at hand. He could almost taste the bitterness of his ashes, feel the final blast of Infinity that would surely burst out of the dying creature. Regardless, Remus could already sense the consequences of his negligence settling in. He shouldn¡¯t have let so much Rot invade into his fingers.

    He couldn¡¯t afford to worry about any long term effects just yet. Remus bounced up and ahead, ready to put the riotous levels of Infinity pulsing through his Bank to good use.

    Bundles of Eruptive Will developed into the tips of each of his fingers. He could hear a tiny, breeze-like sound elicited from each concentrated ball of energy. It was more than he had ever risked packing into one technique. It rattled the bones in his hands, causing the entirety of both limbs to tremor.

    The Supreme Fiend was dissipating faster than ever. Remus didn¡¯t see a titan of power any longer. Ahead of him, all that Remus saw was a bog-standard Unbounded, and not even a particularly threatening one at that. It was pathetic, really.

    But looks could deceive. The Rot was as deadly as ever. Even as Remus beat down at the Unbounded with blast after blast of eruptive will.

    Each impact damaged Remus just as much as the fiend. His fingers were crooked, purple bundles. They twisted at unnatural angles, the bones within them fried to mush. The pain would have been enough to paralyse, but a system overflowing with Ambition could more than numb the pain.

    It took Remus a second to realise one strange fact: his bruised, broken digits had returned. Pink, tender skin, like that of a newborn baby covered his hands, which had been born anew in the span of a second. His index finger was still missing ¡ª being lost so early on into his advancement, that would never heal ¡ª but the rest? Perfectly fine.

    Or, they would have been, if Remus didn¡¯t insist on smashing them onto the Unbounded over and over again. Implosion after implosion abused everything past his elbows, even his forearms bruised and battered. Yet, again and again, for perhaps the third time or more, a new, fresh pair of hands sprouted.

    He was oh-so terribly tired. Something in the back of his mind that wasn''t totally alight with idiotic rage recognised that growing new hands was a Foot-Soldier ability. About the maximum extent of their healing factor at that Rank.

    Remus felt nothing more than a surge of energy at the advancement. Emotionally, he was already too preoccupied to make way for fickle things like ¡®excitement¡¯ or ¡®joy¡¯.

    Some relief was involved. He was able to breathe a little easier, the possibility of the Rot being beaten out of his system very much a positive one.

    Alas, as Remus had just found out, growing new limbs on the fly was quite the exhausting process. On the verge of dropping to the ground in the same fashion as his late grandfather, Remus swung one final punch to the Unbounded¡¯s face.

    The impact sent dust scattering, winds hurling outwards, and the second Right-bearer to finally, inexorably, topple over.

    He lay opposite to where Andreas fell, and to where Remus collapsed to his knees in between.

    For about five seconds, it was all Remus could do to breathe desperately. His hold on every technique had long since slipped, with pain and fatigue popping up in their place.

    Everything either hurt, was numb, or was stuck in some weird middle-ground that riddled his body with painful, prickling sensations. Whatever the case, the Supreme Fiend would disperse any second now, leaving behind a maelstrom of Infinity and Rot that would surely shred Remus to pieces.

    It was then that some blurring object grasped him, pulling him out of the fray before things got any messier than they already were. Remus was quite content, disoriented as he was, to cease thinking all together.

    Remus rested his head against a strong shoulder, allowing unconsciousness to pull him under.

 93. An Eye for an Eye

    Eloise looked at the boy in Gilmat¡¯s capable hands. Each slow, gradual rise of his chest was a blessing in itself.

    ¡°Dear me,¡± she began, pushing a few grey locks aside to rub the sleep out of her eyes, ¡°and you mean to tell me he fought the fiend?¡±

    There was no need to disclose his full name. There was only one Unbounded who they could be referring to, and he was dead regardless. That, thus far, was the only good to come out of the gloomy evening.

    Glimat remained quiet for a moment before continuing. ¡°Yes, I believe so. The reports are ridiculous, and I was sure my eyes deceived me, but after so many people confirmed the same thing, I¡¯m inclined to believe I¡¯m sound of mind; that the boy I carried out of that hell really did do something so . . .¡± His head suddenly shot up. ¡°Did you hear the rumours concerning Milap?¡±

    ¡°I did indeed.¡± Eloise nodded, her wrinkled features grave. ¡°If Remus truly did put to an end two Right-bearers, there is something mightily wrong with this world ¡ª or perhaps strange is the better word. Very strange indeed.¡±

    Gently, she waved her hands before the injured boy. There was little to no Rot in his system, surprisingly. Eloise mumbled some comment about fire, too distracted with Remus¡¯ hands to be fully present, before turning both appendages palm-side up. The pink skin was raw, so tender that the little lines that drifted down were almost invisible. More akin to creases in a sheet than the deep, rock-like engravings that were so common for those of his occupation. Then again, Eloise supposed calling Remus a carpenter was like referring to Juniper as a very adept gardener. Technically right, but right in all the wrong ways.

    ¡°One of his fingers is missing.¡± She frowned. ¡°Must have been a past injury.¡±

    ¡°Will he heal okay?¡± Gilmat said, sounding genuinely concerned for the boy. ¡°Is a full recovery possible?¡±

    ¡°Luckily for us, Remus is still mid-way through advancing. His body should stabilise by itself. But as I always preach, it¡¯s better to be safe than sorry . . .¡±

    The power of Valarie, the Vitality god, flooded out of Eloise. Glimat was a twitchy man, and one prone to flinching, still bearing the survivalist instincts so essential for the troubled youth he once was. Any sort of power, Mark-based or just pure Infinity, was enough to send him into high gear.

    But even he, when graced by the soothing warmth of the healing aura, felt himself relax.

    The sparkling light enveloped Remus like a warm blanket, before seeming to fade all together. Yet, somehow, Gilmat could still feel it. Whatever Elosie had done to Remus would linger for a good while longer. Long enough, Gilmat hoped, to see the boy back to good health.

    Valarie smirked at his concerned expression. ¡°Someone¡¯s gotten attached, so it seems. Quite admirable to rush into the fray like that, and pull Remus to safety.¡±

    Gilmat shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s an idiot, for sure. A damn fool. But to fight for your family like that, against such stark odds ¡ª that¡¯s something I have to respect. If it was Griffin who had just been killed, I know I would have done something equally insane.¡±

    The woman smiled softly. But it was bitter in parts, a ghost of the traumas they had yet time to grieve. Once more, she glanced at Remus¡¯ hands.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen someone regenerate so many appendages so fast. I don¡¯t think there¡¯ll be many contenders for that record soon.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t try to beat him, at any rate. I hate to lower the mood when it¡¯s already at bedrock, but has Andreas-¡±

    ¡°I saw to it that his body was safely removed myself.¡± Eloise couldn¡¯t find it in her to crack another joke. ¡°He didn¡¯t make it. In fact, it was a miracle Andreas survived for so long in the first place. He scoffed in the face of death.¡±

    ¡°It was an honourable way to . . .¡± Gilmat spoke around the sudden lodge in his throat. ¡°To go out. I¡¯m sure it was an exit he¡¯d be proud of.¡±

    They were quiet for a time. Words seemed to serve little purpose. Silence was ample enough.

    Glimat soon departed, carrying Remus to the infirmary. Meanwhile, Eloise spread her power across the battlefield.

    She flew over it, quite absorbed in the task, when she noted two dots in her peripheral. Even to her ageing eyes, they were easy to spot.

    And they were yelping like their lives depended on it.

    The splashing outpour of her power flooded over the lands, healing everything it touched. Rejuvenation was at the heart of her power, the talent Eloise had been cultivating over years, years, and more years. If there were even the possibility of something being healable, her wise hands could make that a certainty.

    Whatever was bothering the two men, it couldn¡¯t have been physical injuries. Her universal balm would have appeased them soon enough, if it had been so. Whatever it was, they waved at her with enough force to fling the arms out of their sockets. Then Eloise really would have her hands full trying to minimise the damage.

    It wasn¡¯t like she was busy, and the two lads really did look worked up. Eloise sighed, cursed her moral compass, and flew over to them.

    There were two ways to achieve flight: either twisting your area of mastery to somehow include the ability, or learning a very specific kind of Infinity manipulation that oftentimes required decades of practice. It wasn¡¯t something you could simply brute force.

    Regardless, Eloise landed next to the two boys via the latter method. No matter how creative you were, somehow connecting Vitality to flight would make for a weak link.

    That aside, Elosie examined the duo before her. They were alike in age to Remus, clearly, with similar heights juxtaposed by locks of black and blonde hair respectively. Their eyes were so wide, their fists so tight with anxiety, that Eloise didn¡¯t even utter a word to either of them before flickering an arm. That same warmth spread over the pair of them in a more plentiful offering.

    It took a second, but the boys composed themselves enough to start talking.

    ¡°Remus,¡± the blonde one bursted out. ¡°Is he-¡±

    ¡°The boy is alive. He¡¯ll be stronger than ever when he awakes. Made it to Foot-Soldier.¡±

    The relief on their faces was infectious. This was what Eloise worked so hard for. There was nothing like seeing the dread bleed out of someone; for bone-crushing anxiety to depart a worried soul.

    ¡°Gods above.¡± The blacked-haired man dropped to his knees, free to collapse with the burden off his shoulders. ¡°We both felt the death of the Supreme Fiend, but everything happened so quickly. We couldn¡¯t be sure if . . . if he¡¯d-¡±

    ¡°If he¡¯d make it out.¡± The blonde-haired man spoke softly, snapping to his good sense. ¡°Thank you for your help, Eloise, we¡¯re indebted to you.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s in the infirmary, if you¡¯d like to be there when he wakes up. He¡¯ll be more fatigued than anything, but it would still be nice if you . . .¡±

    Eloise trailed off. She didn¡¯t like getting distracted. Distraction was something you laughed at, when pointing a source of red light near a cat. Distraction wasn¡¯t something suitable for a God-Graced of her prestige, and especially not in the middle of a battlefield with so many wounded.

    Yet distracted she was. And the men ¡ª or boys ¡ª seemed to notice it immediately.

    ¡°What?¡± The blonde one asked, before going red in the face. ¡°Beg my pardon, but what is it you sense?

    Perhaps Elosie had to work on her poker face. ¡°A beacon of power. Familiar power.¡±

    The same man crept closer, hanging onto every word. ¡°What power?¡±

    ¡°The Pet-Keeper.¡± She said quietly, not quite believing it herself. ¡°They¡¯ve found him.¡±

    ¡°Take me there.¡± He blurted out, his face deepening to another flushing shade. ¡°I beg your pardon again, madam, and I know this was the exact type of thinking that got my friend hurt, but this is personal. If that fiend is there . . . I have to be.¡±

    ¡°Aziel!¡± The other interjected. ¡°Behave yourself.¡±

    Eloise hadn¡¯t thought it possible, but once again, the red hue of Aziel¡¯s features brightened. It was like he was expanding from the inside out.

    Eloise wasn¡¯t an advocate for carrying young men into warzones, but he was a fully registered soldier. It was his decision; be it stupid, and very likely suicidal. Besides, Eloise had full intentions of travelling to the location of the power outburst anyway. It would do her some good to have some back-up.

    ¡°If you¡¯re prepared to face any consequences that may crop up-¡±

    ¡°I am, madam.¡±

    She turned her head to the black-haired man. She could read the indecision on his twitching lips.

    ¡°Do you wish to come?¡±

    ¡°I would.¡± He muttered. ¡°But I don¡¯t like the idea of Remus waking up alone. Well, without a familiar face at least. I might not be the best choice in that regard, given our history, but it¡¯s the only option. I doubt I could be much help as it is. I have a long way to go before I catch up with you and Remus.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be there in no time.¡± Aziel patted his shoulder. ¡°Look Tanguy, I understand. It would be selfish of me to expect you to come with me. This is my fight, not yours.¡±

    He stopped, hesitated to say something, before opening his mouth. ¡°If I don¡¯t make it back, if I¡¯m not as lucky as Remus-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I mean it, Tanguy. If I get hurt, it was a pleasure knowing you. I know you¡¯ll achieve amazing things one day. I just wonder ¡ª do you know it yourself?¡±

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    With that, Aziel grasped Eloise¡¯s hand tightly. He found it surprisingly firm.

    They flew off to gods¡¯ knew where, leaving a contemplating Tanguy to pick up the pieces in their wake.

    <hr>

    ¡°People are coming.¡±

    It was easy for Koa to tell, drained and hurt as he was, sauntering back to regroup with Beckett¡¯s army. Octavia was at his side, constantly on the verge of falling asleep. Her head half-resting on his shoulder as they wandered back, which was nice, but Koa struggled to enjoy the moment, considering what his senses were informing him of.

    God-Graced level entities were cropping up everywhere in his senses. Well, okay, that was a gross exaggeration. Still, Koa had no trouble, even as disoriented as he was, detecting a couple of them not too far off.  The troubling part was the fact he couldn¡¯t discern whether they were human, or Unbounded. Friend, or foe.

    ¡°Whose . . . coming?¡± Octavia mumbled, only conscious the little amount needed to shamble forwards.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Koa mumbled, not wanting to worry her. ¡°They¡¯re powerful though. Maybe Beckett finally managed to get out a distress signal. Either that, or . . .¡±

    ¡°Or what?¡±

    Koa swallowed. ¡°Or we¡¯ll be needed quickly.¡±

    Despite his aches and pains, and every excuse in the world to stay put, Koa marched on. It didn¡¯t take long until the roaring tides of the battle washed over his ears. He could hear war cries, vast amounts of grunting, and monstrous hisses so indicative of the Unbounded.

    By the time they had reached the site, Octavia had stirred awake. She blinked repeatedly at the frenzied mess all around.

    The hodgepodge of insectile homes had morphed into one bizarre mess. Where once stood well defined segments for each type of insect, Koa now found himself lost in a graveyard of scattered fires.

    He held onto his halberd a little more tightly, but found little to no Unbounded jumping out at    him. In fact, it seemed that the Insect clansmen all around were rounding up the last of the fiends. The conflict was coming to a close, and it appeared to be an overwhelming victory for an army Koa had scrambled last-minute to produce.

    Slowly, Koa approached a trio of clansmen. They were staring fixedly at the distance. Something quite intriguing indeed must have been occurring. Nothing bad, Koa hoped. The prospect that all the real fighting was over now, and he could just collapse into a deep slumber, enjoying the fruits of his labour and letting his body stabilise after such sudden advancement, was the most appealing one of his life.

    ¡°Gentleman.¡± He said slowly. Koa hated how hoarse his voice sounded. ¡°Draven and Angel have been dealt with. Please tell  ¡ª what have I missed?¡±

    The men stared at him, mouths agape. Either they were beyond impressed at what Koa had just achieved, or Koa looked appalling. Koa didn¡¯t suppose he wanted to know which it was.

    ¡°Reinforcements have arrived.¡± One of them spluttered. ¡°Beckett held off the Pet-Keeper, but he¡¯s injured. Not badly, mind, but some other God-Graced arrived to finish the Right-bearer off.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Octavia enquired.

    ¡°Eshika, the Archery God-Graced. Juniper and Cyrus. Jesitn, the Gravity God-Graced.¡±

    Koa made a low whistle. ¡°Quite the assembly.¡±

    One of the other men looked at Koa with a terrible frown. ¡°Pardon me Sir, but you don¡¯t look too good. Some of the lads who are medical trained are giving first aid not too far from here. It would be no trouble to guide you two there.¡±

    After spending so many hours in the quiet chill of the night, Koa wouldn''t be surprised if even the marrow in his bones was frozen over. Nevertheless, that didn¡¯t stop the warmth from spreading through his heart at the man¡¯s words. And to be called Sir. Never in his life would Koa get used to that.

    ¡°You¡¯re awfully kind.¡± He said, as brightly as he could. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not out of commission yet. I¡¯ve had a second wind of sorts.¡±

    Something glinted in the trio¡¯s eyes. ¡°You mean your advancement, Sir?

    So they had noticed. Koa did his best not to smile too widely. Tried.

    ¡°Something like that. Thanks for noticing.¡±

    Koa glossed over the fact his legs were at constant risk of dropping under his feet. He couldn''t bear to ruin the awe-filled way they observed him.

    That was it. Totally. It had nothing to do with his increasingly inflated ego.

    ¡°Octavia.¡± Koa turned to the clanswoman at his side. He felt the blood rush his cheeks. ¡°I have to keep fighting, it¡¯s my responsibility after leading these men with me. I know you¡¯ll want to come with me, but-¡±

    ¡°I am going with you.¡±

    Koa grasped her shoulders lightly. ¡°You can¡¯t. I¡¯m going to use my cloak to sneak over there. Two people will be nearly impossible to disguise. You¡¯re medically trained, right?¡±

    ¡°I am, but I can help you! Having someone from the Arachnid Clan with experience with the webbing will be invaluable. You need me.¡±

    Koa took a deep breath. What he really needed was to deal with this elegantly. ¡°I¡¯m willing to rush into a brawl with a bunch of God-Graced, but that doesn''t make it a good idea. At least not for people like you.¡±

    She spluttered. ¡±People like me? What¡¯s that supposed to-¡±

    ¡°I mean people that I care about. Look, there are a lot of brave men in the infirmary that could use your help. That need your help. You¡¯ll do more good out there than dealing with my own personal, selfish vendetta.¡±

    Octavia looked like she wanted to say more. It was a mighty struggle to hide his relief when she sighed, however. ¡°Alright. Alright. But be careful.¡±

    She gave his hand one last squeeze. Pulling away felt like a punch to the gut, but Koa did so anyway.

    ¡°Good work boys,¡± Koa addressed the small squadron one last time. ¡°You did your clan proud.¡±

    Koa enveloped himself fully in the cloak, drawing in the robe closer. Immediately, its disguising effects settled in. He felt like he was no longer one with reality ¡ª rather an outsider looking in.

    Without another word, he barreled off. He couldn''t even bring himself to look back; one look from Octavia, and he wouldn¡¯t be able to go on.

    The base had become a cesspool of rotting carcasses, Unbounded bodies dissolving into Infinity. It was a reverse snowfall, oddly beautiful in the brittle dark of a night soon to bleed into daylight. That was how long they had been fighting for.

    It was time to draw things to an end. Properly this time.

    Koa didn¡¯t have to dash much more until he saw it. And for once, it was the Pet-Keeper at the major disadvantage.

    His eyes had to adjust as a pool of flame curled around the ground, swallowing debris like some beast of the elements. The Pet-Keeper hopped from spot to spot among the hellfire, a puppet to Cyrus¡¯ cruel game.

    Boundaries of arrows surrounded the mass of fire, which reached out in a shifting mass prone to change. Others targeted the Right-bearer directly, following him around as if it was the world¡¯s will that the Pet-Keeper would be shot.

    Arrowheads chinked against his skin like it was some kind of armour, more likely to bruise than they were to penetrate. The Unbounded at the centre of it all roared in rage, slapping away any of the projectiles that flew too close. Whereupon they would turn, floating in the air and unbroken, only to throw their jagged ends at him again.

    It was a cruel cycle, but not one Koa found much pity for.

    He sneaked closer, always keeping a watchful eye on when the Pet-Keeper came into view. And each time, Koa had to grit his teeth at the sight of his invincible body. The Divine Right of Immunity was as impenetrable as ever. The God-Graced would have made a great effort of tiring the power of Enos¡¯ gift, but it was still in full activation. The Pet-Keeper was clinging onto the ability like it was in his final lifeline. Which, in many aspects, it likely was.

    A Pet-Keeper exposed to the full brunt of this group¡¯s assault had a better chance of fleeing the planet than surviving.

    Koa was creeping as close as he could, and that was when the hooded man arrived.

    Jesitn was as infamous as any other God-Graced or Godling this side of the world. His grey cloak covered him always, and it was something of a joke that, just like his patron god Septimus, never in his days had he so much as touched the ground. Choosing always to defy gravity, just like how he defied the odds, with how well his sect was flourishing.

    In Koa¡¯s lifetime, there had been more leaders of the Gravity Clan than years he¡¯d been alive. It was the most cutthroat sect that wasn¡¯t outright barbaric, yet to reach the depravity of the Anarchy Syndicate. How Jestin had led for up to two Rebirths now, without even a knife sticking out of his back, was enough to make Koa believe in miracles again.

    Which they were in desperate need of. Koa took a deep breath, and promptly discarded that thought. They were winning! There was no need to scare himself out of action. Victory was theirs: he just had to seize it.

    Justin raises his hands, and the effect on the Pet-Keeper was immediate.

    His steps were slowed, his head inclined towards his chest, fixed with a grimace that spoke only of discomfort. The arrows, the fire, the sporadic attacks from anyone else near enough to land a hit, it all was too fast for a pressed Pet-Keeper to avoid.

    The fiend¡¯s body was bombarded, obscuring his form behind a pillar of flame. It wasn¡¯t enough, however, for Koa to miss out on one key detail: the Unbounded¡¯s eyes.

    They were furious. Sharp angles crafted out of pain and misery. Like a rabid dog¡¯s.

    The Pet-Keeper knew what Koa had done to Angel, and he would kill him for it. No hesitation.

    Koa¡¯s advance slackened at that realisation. He focused on the Unbounded on the brink of death, bound to be butchered to pierces the second his Right failed him. What need was there for Koa to involve himself? Where was the heavenly sign that told him it should be him who landed the killing blow?

    Thoughts. So many they made Koa¡¯s head hurt, and all appearing within the span of a second. Was revenge really necessary? A sharp, aggressive side of him instantly barked back in assent. Of course it was.

    Logic had its own response. He had said it himself. This was a selfish act. To get revenge for himself, to risk his own life where it wasn¡¯t needed, and when he could help the world in countless other ways, if he would just give it a break and recover . . .

    Koa mulled it all over. Right when he was drawing to a conclusion, it appeared.

    A purple rift.

    The Pet-Keeper turned to face the tear in space, hunger in his eyes. Koa took about one second to put two and two together, and he knew he had no choice. He could not let this low-life slip out of their hold again, not after all that he¡¯s sacrificed. All that everyone here had sacrificed.

    He rushed closer, taking no heed of his own safety. Instincts alone, as well as some masterful use of his internal senses, rewarded Koa with a safe passage to the Pet-Keeper.

    The Unbounded was unleashing all of his remaining power in one wild spree. It was life or death. Hoarding his remaining strength for later served him no good. It was do or die, and he knew it.

    Closer, closer. Koa halted abruptly as a wall of fire erupted before him. He stood rigidly, waiting, waiting. Any second now, the fire would flicker aside for one moment, and he would  seize the opportunity. Any second . . .

    Koa inhaled. He felt the perspiration leak down his forehead. A thousand minute details of the scene flickered into stark focus. His foot shifted, he inhaled again, he-

    The flame curved to the side, and Koa didn¡¯t dare hesitate. He swung the halberd with all his might.

    Its course was so perfect, as to be uncanny. By the time he got the chance to exhale, he was looking at a completely different scene.

    The halberd stuck out of the Pet-Keeper¡¯s back. A light flashed on his forehead, the image of a beating, bloody heart materialising.

    His right had worn off.

    The fiend realised this at the same time as everyone else, but no one quite matched his reaction. He screamed, pure terror shattering his regal exterior. The Unbounded had never quite matched Nova in terms of stoicism, but this outcry was something else all together. Like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

    Everybody closed in on the Unbounded, and Koa was met by yet another surprise: the new arrivals.

    Eloise flashed into being from out of nowhere, Aziel slamming fist-first onto the ground. Despite their lack of interaction, Koa half-thought the boy was staring directly at him. Well, with his eyes that wide, and his mouth hanging so open, he must have been looking awfully impressive. He was about to flash him a wry, show-off smile, when a more reasonable part of Koa noted that Aziel wasn¡¯t looking at him at all.

    It took Koa a low blow to his ego, and a glance to his side, to see the last person he expected here: Violet.

    And she was quaking with power.

 94. Undone

    Violet unleashed the Mark she had been keeping dormant for so long, purple power rushing across her body.

    There were two known ways to achieve a Tapestry. There was the usual, long-winded means of ascending to Mercenary Ranked, moulding the Tapety as your choice of Divine Fusion at Splintered Rank. Seeing how Violet still had a long way to go until she reached that Divine Rank, and with her own advancement all muddled up as a half-Unbounded, she resorted to the second means.

    All it required was patience. Not using your Mark for an extended period of time, letting your power brew as you left yourself exposed. Of course, using this method would only permit the user with a temporary Tapestry, that would soon fade in a matter of hours. It only worked for those just tipping their toes into Splintered Rank, or just below it. Otherwise, your Divine Fusion would already be in progress, and your internals would be far too complicated for such a technique to bloom.

    Violet met all the requirements for that kind of Tapestry . . . except time. For the Tapestry to bestow real power, you had to be patient: upwards of half a Rebirth.

    But all Violet needed was a few seconds of heightened power. Enough strength to wrestle with Nova in his one moment of weakness.

    Mauve light flourished across her body, with Violet becoming akin to a walking, talking beacon. Never in her life had she embodied her namesake so literally. Looking beyond the light, she could see her Mark expanded, its depiction stretching to cover her entire body in more clarity than ever.

    Something occurred to her at that moment. Violet had never undergone all of this work to reveal what laid beneath her ink-covered Mark, but if activating her tapestry could reveal it . . .

    Previously, Violet had only been aware of two figures standing upon a hill of corpses: Unbounded corpses, or human. It had never been clear which. The devastating scene covered her in even more detail now. Butchery was the main focus of the piece, but the two men at the centre grasped her attention more than ever. They still stood upon her forearm, as they did before, or how at least she recalled one of them being. She had always identified the Chaos god Teivel, with the little details of him that hadn¡¯t been disguised. The latter man, she couldn¡¯t remember noticing. He¡¯d either blended in with the bloodbath all around, or had been disguised by the obscuring black.

    Now that it had been removed . . .

    She saw another Unbounded there, no doubt. An Unbounded reaching into the chest of Teivel, and killing him.

    The Chaos god, dead. The other Unbounded, an eerie blur of white that could be no-one else but Enos, holding his ruptured heart in his hands. Printed on Enos¡¯ forehead, like a blast from the past, was the oval Milap was consumed by whether he . . . whenever he fused with someone.

    Violet felt sick. Enos had killed her god, or the real Violet¡¯s god and . . . and what?  Morphed with his dying body to gain absolute control over Chaos? How long ago had this been? Had Teviel ever granted her this Mark, or was it Enos? How could this take place, and a single god notice?

    The questions were spiralling out of control. Violet shut off her mind. This was more proof she could show the world, to prove the evil behind the current Chaos Clan.

    But first of all, she had to make use of her Tapestry. Anything else would be a colossal waste.

    The Pet-Keeper was rushing towards the purple rift, and Violet knew exactly who was behind it. Nova would be deep in there somewhere ¡ª she just had to pull him out.

    Violet teleported over to the purple rift, space losing every speck of meaning. Deep magenta lightning flashed everywhere she moved in a flickering trail, like cracks in reality. She reached the deep purple abyss, outright ignoring the scrambling Unbounded charging behind her. The other God-Graced would take good care of him.

    This was it. Violet probably had a minute left at most. The high of the power was unlike anything she¡¯d ever experienced, every drop of Ichor in her body boiling over with thunderous might. The Infinity that sustained so much of her form danced in a wild frenzy, every action in perfect coordination as she levelled absolute focus at the other side of the rift.

    Like a fisherman reeling in his latest catch, Violet caught hold of Nova¡¯s location. Then, holding nothing back, she pulled him acoss.

    If the power exuding from Violet had been detrimental to the environment before, this next move would safely eradicate any and all greenery that dared to crop up for the next three decades.

    The power erupted out of Violet with volcanic speed, venomous in its ferocity. Nothing was safe. Not the Pet-Keeper, not any bystander who dared tread too close, and not even herself. Least of all, Nova. He out of everyone would receive the shortest end of the stick.

    Mud flew up at her feet, a pit rapidly forming where she stood. The Chaotic energy flooding out of Violet took on a life of its own. It distorted all it touched: gentle winds became upset hurricanes, random objects grew to be misplaced; the environment itself was jumbled up in half a dozen ways. Violet took no heed of any of it.

    Nova was her absolute focus. Everything else lost all weight, all significance. He was struggling against Violet¡¯s power now, wherever he was, and Violet would not let him win. Death sounded like a better option.

    She saw his outline now. A dark shadow, creeping closer and closer into view from the other side of the purple rift.

    Violet stomped one foot defiantly into the earth, gritting her teeth so tightly, she feared they would crack with the pressure. The sensation of over-exerting a Mark, to the point it burned, returned, only with a new kind of wrath all together. It was bad enough when her Mark was only the size of her forearm. Now? Violet felt like she had been slathered with oil, before having a match thrown at her.

    Again, Violet focused on Nova, even the pain of the heat not enough to distract her.

    She could hear the Pet-Keeper rasping in agony, but paid the dying right-bearer no mind. Nova¡¯s face emerged through the portal, skin contorting, features straining.

    Her father was in human form. His once neat man bun had become undone in the turmoil of their wrestle. Blood rushed to his overexerted face, like he could tell what was about to happen, and would do everything in his power to stop it.

    Violet could feel all the eyes focused on her, their attention shifting constantly between the Pet-Keeper¡¯s well deserved beatdown, and the beacon of purple light dragging Nova into the fray.

    She was trembling. Any second now, and the impossible force Violet was exerting really would fade.

    In one last blast of power, where half a dozen God-Graced were all keeping an eye on what she was doing, Violet undid Nova¡¯s disguise.

    And he transformed before their eyes.

    Gone was the broad, leonine man fit to be a king. All that remained instead was an Unbounded, and a terrible one at that, in all his pearly white glory.

    Violet heard the gasps of surprise, could imagine the litany of shaking heads, and savoured it all. But she couldn¡¯t relax yet. Nova snapped into focus, a series of curses escaping his throat as he centralised more power than ever in one concentrated outburst.

    That was when her Tapestry ran out.

    Blasted back, Violet faced major backlash, and not just from her father. The aftermath of an induced Mark made Violet question if the tapestry had really been worth it. It was like every cell in her body was rebelling against her, intent on causing Violet as much anguish as possible.

    She laid on the floor, disoriented, when two gentle hands held her shoulders. She looked up to face a very elderly woman. Grey hairs sifted down her, like coursing rivers on mountains. Violet blinked a few times, saw her vision clear, and recognised the Vitality God-Graced.

    Violet blinked again, for good measure.¡±Eloise-?¡±

    ¡°Relax.¡± She urged her. ¡°A Tapestry like that can be quite taxing on the body. Especially after the show you just put on for us.¡±

    Violet did as she was bid, inclining her head to see the aftermath of the battle. Something caught in her throat when she saw the Pet-Keeper making a beeline for the purple rift. A rift Violet had failed to close.

    In her bid to expose Nova, she had become blind to the most urgent issues. Now the Pet-Keeper was going to escape their grasp again.

    The assembled God-Graced did their best, but the Pet-Keeper showcased new heights of agility. Eshika¡¯s arrows chased at his back, always one foot behind. Cyrus¡¯s flames charred the Pet-Keeper, sure, but did nothing to slow the man down. Lava streams made a better effort of blocking his path, but it was too little, too late.

    Jestin pressed down all the world¡¯s weight on the Pet-Keeper¡¯s shoulders. The Unbounded screamed, his skeleton compressed and his bones crushed. There was little Eloise could do, but her healing powers did much to comfort the wounded scattered across the battlefield.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    The Pet-Keeper was hunched-over, burnt until his skin turned ash black, and was bleeding out of every orifice. Yet still, he limbered on, driving one foot ahead of the other. He was only feet away from the rift, and Violet watched helplessly as he made to jump through it.

    Violet tried to activate her Mark, but all that earned her was a wave of pain and a swift scolding from Eloise.

    He was going to make it through. It was the most certain thing in the universe. Until it wasn¡¯t.

    Aziel barreled into the Pet-Keeper¡¯s way. It was suicidal, a death wish to step into the path of a bloodlusted God-Graced equivalent, one who would do anything to survive. But he did it anyway, white fire sending smoke billowing off his fists.

    Two explosive punches jabbed into the fiend. They caught him off guard more than anything, but that was all the God-Graced needed.

    Eshika, Jestin, and Cyrus all fell onto the Unbounded at once. Violet blinked, and it was over.

    The rift was gone, and so was Nova, but Violet didn¡¯t allow herself to feel disappointed. The Pet-Keeper was finally dead; she had just exposed Nova¡¯s truth to the world. Indisputable evidence. Besides, Nova¡¯s foresight was far too advanced for him to fall victim to something like this. Even attempting to lend one last helping hand to the Pet-Keeper was risky behaviour for her father.

    Her eyes turned to the Pet-Keeper¡¯s body ¡ª or what was left of it.

    A pile of blood was all that remained, too vile for Violet to stare at too long, even for her iron stomach. Another second maybe passed, before her eyelids grew a tad too heavy.

    Violet closed her eyes, and didn¡¯t open them for a good while longer.

    <hr>

    Hours had passed since the Pet-Keeper¡¯s death. Most God-Graced had departed, others had arrived in their place, and the fight was well and truly over.

    Yet still, even in the infirmary, immersed in more blankets than he could ever possibly need, Koa couldn¡¯t sleep. He looked up at his coin at last, when laughing at Beckett¡¯s booming yawns grew old.

    One day. He twirled the coin between two fingers, both sides recuperating the same thing. In a matter of hours, he would be facing his brother.

    For some reason, that prospect didn¡¯t frighten Koa. In fact, he didn¡¯t feel much of anything at all.

    Hours came and went, twisting and turning in his bed. Sleep became a distant pipe dream, his mind far too preoccupied replaying the day¡¯s events over, and over, and over, and-

    Koa audibly groaned. A sleepless night was exactly what his exhausted body didn¡¯t need. He slammed his head against his pillow more times than he could count, stuffing his face in it.

    I¡¯m a Foot-Solider. Again, Koa felt nothing at the phrase. Not surprise, not denial, not even joy. Okay, maybe a cocky kind of smugness. But not the amount you would expect.

    Perhaps it was the fatigue, leaving no room for anymore excitement. Or perhaps the last few Passings had already taken so much out of Koa ¡ª there was nothing left for him to give.

    Koa had gotten so bored, he started tracking his internal senses. He was mostly curious about the kind of aura a God-Graced like Beckett would give off, wounded or not, and fast asleep.

    The answer was a subdued kind of power, but Koa was more interested in something else.

    The other aura he felt.

    Of course, he and the Insect Clan leader weren¡¯t the only ones here. However, the rest of the patients were Foot-Soldiers at most. Nowhere near the daunting power of Beckett, who faced no trouble fighting toe-to-toe with the Pet-Keeper, while back-up was arriving. Relatively speaking.

    This other presence, on the other hand, was around Warlord. Koa focused on the foreign power, sensing a kind of intrusive quality to the energy. It undulated around the room, and Koa soon suspected that it was designed for him to notice.

    He pushed the covers off of him, seeing how he was getting no sleep anyway, and tiptoed quietly out of the room. He followed the energy, clutching onto his coin so tight that it dug into his skin. That little pain was a constant reminder of what was to come. He had to be ready.

    Was he walking straight into a trap, vulnerable, and maybe more exposed than ever? Quite possibly. Was Koa going to let that stop him? No. Maybe listening to his drained mind for guidance wasn¡¯t a very good idea, but it beat spending another minute in that uncomfortable bed.

    Koa turned a corner, into a stretch of trees, and was starting to get second thoughts when he saw her: the ghost.

    Or at least, with the radiant, blue glow her Mark was giving off, the woman before him seemed ghostly enough.

    Her hair was a blonde-white, long and falling past her shoulders in a straight curtain. Her skin was pale, contributing to the undead look, but in an attractive way. She was a little taller than Koa, but older, albeit with a youthful hint to her appearance. And her eyes . . .

    At least a score of the hovering eyeballs, all a different, neon hue, orbited her head.

    Koa knew instantly then who he was talking to. A Sight Sect Warlord. That alone, and his recent predicament, should have been enough for Koa to put two and two together.

    Instead, drained out of his mind, Koa stared blankly at the woman. She reminded him, very vaguely, of Octavia. His heart panged at the thought; maybe it was a result of all the chaos of the last day, but he was seriously starting to get attachment issues. He wanted more than anything to see her, but knew the women were placed in their own infirmities. It wasn¡¯t likely that he¡¯d see her until after his duel.

    It took Koa a while to realise how long it had been, and still, not a single word had been spoken.

    He cleared his throat. ¡°Hello? I¡¯m-¡±

    ¡°Koa.¡± She learned a little closer to him, like a predator homing in on their next victim. Or at least that was the impression Koa got. She was pretty, yes, but so were several breeds of poisonous flowers. ¡°I know you quite well. I¡¯ve been watching you.¡±

    Koa blinked. He wasn¡¯t quite sure how to feel about that. ¡°You have?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Quite certainly. Ah, but excuse my manners. I¡¯m Petronia, from the Sight Clan.

    I gathered that. Koa harrumphed once more. ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Petronia. Is anything of concern?¡±

    She said the next words with such sorrow, with such soul-crushing sadness, that Koa felt his own throat constrict. ¡°Your eye.¡± She placed a hand on his cheek, cool to the touch. ¡°Why, you¡¯re so young. It¡¯s a pity.¡±

    Koa tried not to blush, or breath too quickly, or otherwise do anything out of the ordinary. ¡°Well, there¡¯s no use complaining about it, is there? I¡¯m just grateful to be alive.¡±

    ¡°You helped to kill the Pet-Keeper.¡± Petronia rambled on. ¡°It was your axe throw that broke through his Divine Right. A very good throw indeed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he would have suffered the same fate, had I been there or not. It was pretty much over for the man when a gang of God-Graced came knocking.¡±

    ¡°Tragic and modest.¡± Koa couldn¡¯t decide whether it was admiration or pity in those eyes of hers. Either way, he found himself staring at them regardless.

    Koa mentally slapped himself. No Koa, think of Octavia, think of . . .

    ¡°I have taken it upon myself to remedy this injustice, the only way I know how.¡±

    He nocked an eyebrow. ¡°Which is . . .?¡±

    ¡°How would you like your own set of hovering eyes?¡± Petronia offered warmly. ¡°Two or three won¡¯t be much for my Mark to grant. They¡¯ll bond with your energy too, eventually, and they¡¯ll really become your own. Controlling them may take some time to learn, but for killing a Right-bearer, it¡¯s the least we can do.¡±

    Koa mulled over the words.

    ¡°You can choose their colour, too, if you like. I think the emerald green of your energy will be a nice fit.¡±

    Koa laughed. ¡°You don¡¯t have to convince me. That¡¯s a very generous offer, you and your clan have my thanks.¡±

    She smiled. Again, Koa forced himself to think of Octavia, which only caused his heart to throb even more.

    Out of thin air, three green eyeballs zapped into existence. They regarded him strangely, but Koa was sure the only awareness behind them was that of Petronia.

    ¡°They¡¯re in my control right now. Reach out with your energy. Try to assert dominance. I loosen my own hold on them gradually.

    Koa wasn¡¯t quite sure of what way to tackle this. The closest thing he could relate it to was controlling the minds of small insects, or animals, which, when dealing with the airborne organs, seemed a close enough relation.

    It was a slow process, but after perhaps five minutes, Koa achieved limited control of the eyes. They wandered around on their own often, the sight of their socketless nerves not a pleasant one. Regardless, they remained in his proximity.

    ¡°Looking through them all at once would be sensory overload. Even adept clansmen from my own sect have to reign in the number of eyes they use at a time. Channel energy to any of the eyes when you wish to use them.¡±

    Koa, the sage, intelligent young man he was, proceeded to activate all eyes at once. It was strange, like simply directing power to another part of himself. Yet that wasn¡¯t nearly as strange as the sound that escaped his throat.

    ¡°Overwhelmed?¡±

    Koa kept his energy only focused on one eye. He sighed with relief. ¡°I should have taken your advice.¡±

    They were silent, for a while, until Petronia spoke up. ¡°I spot a frown forming on those lips. Is the gift not to your liking?¡±

    ¡°No, no.¡± Koa blurted out. ¡°Nothing like that. It¡¯s perfect; more than I could ever ask for. It¡¯s just . . .¡± He sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t want to dump all my problems on you, but I have a duel coming up. Sooner than you can imagine.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± understanding flooded into Petronia¡¯s eyes ¡ª which Koa was totally not staring at. ¡°Nerves?¡±

    ¡°A lot is riding on my success. And winning, if I even get that far, poses its own set of problems.¡±

    ¡°Sounds complicated.¡±

    That was a fairer assessment of the situation than any. ¡°Yes, I suppose it is.¡±

    Petronia stepped back from Koa. ¡°Whatever the case, if you can help take down a Right-bearer, I¡¯m sure whoever it is your duelling will have their work cut out for them. A little belief in yourself is all you need.¡±

    The words warmed Koa¡¯s soul, but waiting around any longer wasn¡¯t an option. He would at least need the bare minimum sleep to be functional tomorrow. What use would all this training and sacrifice be if he collapsed out of exhaustion?

    ¡°I better get some shut-eye.¡±

    ¡°That seems appropriate.¡± Energy began to swirl around her, as if Petronia was knee-deep in seawater.

    Koa waved one last farewell, and she was gone.

    Koa remembered stumbling back into his bed, pulling his covers over him, and shutting out the world. Finally, in the greatest mercy of his life, sleep took him.

 95. We Meet Again

    When Remus awoke, it was a miracle he was in one piece. In fact, aside from a little weakness, he felt perfectly fine.

    Funny what some God-Graced level healing and an advancement could do for you.

    He hadn¡¯t expected to survive the fight in the first place. Anger was the most potent drug of all, and mixed with the Ambition literally swimming in his blood, it was a recipe for disaster.

    Remus blinked until his eyes adjusted to the fresh flood of light, seeping in through a side of the tent blown askew. The weariness didn¡¯t fully vanish, but instead swept away into an obscure corner of his mind. On impulse, Remus looked around cautiously. His awakening had felt anything but natural. Something must have woken him up, but looking around at the bare contents of the infirmary tent, no clues were revealed as to what.

    That was until, in the most comforting sight of his life, Violet walked into view.

    ¡°You¡¯re an idiot.¡± She said firmly, towering over him, arms crossed. There was no hatred in her voice, only concern. Either way, Remus supposed both would be merited. He couldn¡¯t even find the will to snap back with some witty comment. Instead, he sighed.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± He tried to smile. ¡°Couldn¡¯t have been more of a mess than what I put myself in, right?¡±

    When Violet didn¡¯t laugh, Remus decided to stay quiet.

    She explained everything. How the Pet-Keeper was dead, how Belindo was dead, how all the Right-bearers but Nova were well and truly gone. How, even despite Nova¡¯s slippery escape, she had revealed his identity to the world. And, in doing so, had cemented her own.

    Violet tossed a newspaper onto Remus'' lap. His eyes scanned the lines, before spotting himself in combat with the Supreme Being in a disturbing image. Was this him? The Remus he saw . . . they were furious. The fire, the abundant Infinity, the deep blue of his eyes through the beacon of light.

    He tapped his own cheek. ¡°My eyes-¡±

    ¡°Permanently blue.¡± Violet confirmed. ¡°Alterations tend to mature at Foot-Soldier.¡±

    ¡°My chains. I hate to ask, but are they-¡±

    ¡°Destroyed. Beaten to dust in your rampage.¡±

    Remus swallowed. He faced the paper again. A little further down was another image, befitting another headliner story.

    His stomach tightened at the image. Which, battered and bruised as he was, was not a pleasant addition to the cocktail of agonies. It was of Violet, her vibrant Tapestry flashing brighter than a lighthouse, the picture of Nova exposed in his raw form.

    Remus¡¯ eyes settled on the title. The breath in his throat left him.

    UNBOUNDED VS UNBOUNDED: MONSTERS TURN AGAINST ONE ANOTHER.

    ¡°That¡¯s despicable.¡± He did a low growl, holding tight onto the edge of his bed. ¡°Violet, ignore all of this. If there¡¯s anyone to be called monstrous, I have a list nearly two-thousand people long before it gets anywhere near you.¡±

    ¡°I know, you don¡¯t have to assure me.¡± She looked down at Remus, placing a hand on his brow.

    After so many beatings, touch was enough to make Remus flinch. Though, for some reason, Violet seemed to circumvent his impulses. It took the most precise Ichor control of his life to stop himself from blushing.

    ¡°You¡¯re warm.¡± She frowned. ¡°Are you feeling okay?¡±

    ¡°Better now that you¡¯re here.¡±

    Violet smiled at that. A warm smile, one that made the room they stood in a little brighter. Remus¡¯ stomach performed a few cartwheels at the sight.

    Strange feelings, unfamiliar feelings, carried a raucous orchestra through Remus¡¯ mind. He tried to shove them down. To keep a level-head, to not let himself be consumed by the sea of emotions, of the pain and loss, and everything else setting his heart into a frenzy.

    It was like Remus was being pulled in every direction, all at once. The mental equivalent of being strapped into some ancient torture device, resisting and resisting until eventually . . .

    He would snap.

    Andreas¡¯ face suddenly flashed before his eyes. Remus took the most unsteady breath of his life, fighting, waging war against his body to stop the waterworks before they started. He couldn¡¯t cry before Violet. The thought repulsed him. After everything she had been through, everything everyone had been through, he just couldn¡¯t.

    Remus had almost jeopardised the entire war effort because of a personal vendetta ¡ª if his brawl with the Supreme Fiend went any other way, if he were to have died, who was to say what disasters would have arrived? All because of him.

    Violet somehow found her way around his tense fingers, forcing them against her own. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Remus half-choked, half-laughed. Was he that bad at suppressing his emotions? ¡°You have nothing to be sorry for.¡±

    There was a pause. Why were the words so hard to find? He moved his lips, tried to evoke sound, but nothing. There was the fear he would burst out sobbing if he spoke too much, but it went deeper than that.

    The image of Andreas ran laps around his psyche. His heart, his ever deceiving heart. It wanted something. What did it want? Part of him didn¡¯t want to find out; was too scared too.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose anyone else.¡± He eventually spoke, in a slow murmur. ¡°Not Koa, not my family, not the remains of our squadron. But the thought of losing you.¡± He tilted his head higher. ¡°That¡¯s worse than anything.¡±

    Some emotion arose on Violet¡¯s face. Those raging red embers looked into Remus, past the flesh of his eyes and mind, searching deeper, into his soul.

    ¡°Violet, I think I-¡± Remus bit his tongue. ¡°What I mean to say is that-¡±

    ¡°Remus.¡±

    He stopped himself. ¡°I care a lot about you.¡±

    ¡°I do too . . . but things are complicated.¡±

    That was like a shot of venom injected into his veins. It danced around with whatever medicines were raving in his bloodstream, revelling in the havoc of it all. Remus winced.

    ¡°I know they are. Look, we¡¯ll both be vaulting back into the closest battlefield at the nearest opportunity, and we both know it. This recovery time is like a vacation to us, and hell, you look like you haven''t the slightest scratch on you.¡±

    Violet laughed. Remus didn¡¯t miss the undertones of sadness, however. ¡°I¡¯m just terribly exhausted, that¡¯s all. Some of us have to be careful not to be too badly hurt ¡ª the gods don¡¯t grant inexhaustible health to all of us.¡±

    Remus ignored another pang from his raging headache. Now that he was fully conscious, the pain was springing into full effect. Becoming numb from his Ambition would have been nice, and Remus might have even been tempted to use some, had the skin around his Mark not been burnt so grotesquely. Until it healed, Remus didn¡¯t dare risk what kind of torment would arise, if he did so much as provoke his Mark.

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel inexhaustible.¡± Remus leaned his head back. No part of the cushion was any more comfortable. ¡°You¡¯re so strange to me.¡±

    Violet cocked an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m strange? Says the guy who leaped into Belidno¡¯s jaws head-first.¡±

    Remus laughed. Something around his chest didn¡¯t like that, and he quickly quietened down. ¡°It¡¯s like you''re not real. You¡¯re too good to be true.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here.¡± She placed a hand near him. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do if something happened to you Violet. Hell, I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to do now that Andreas is-¡±

    Remus cut himself off. Pain, torment. That was all memory offered him. A little melodramatic, true, but Remus didn¡¯t feel like he could survive another flashback of that fight. It was far too much for him to be dealing with, especially in this condition. Especially with the subject of all his affection inches away.

    When Remus composed himself, Violet¡¯s hand in his kept him steady

    ¡°Remus . . . you¡¯re shaking.¡±

    Remus said nothing. Again, his eyes threatened to erupt with moisture; he could not allow them to.

    There was something he had to get off his chest. ¡°Violet, I don¡¯t know how to say this.¡±

    ¡°Take your time.¡± Her hand tightened.

    Time. Remus closed his eyes, took a deep breath. In that moment, right before he threatened to ruin everything, Remus took one, two, three deep breaths. He could have been the oldest being in the world, or the youngest. Nothing really mattered at this point. It was the stupidest thought process, the word risk holding no meaning ¡ª none at all. If this all went miserably? What would be the problem? In that short-term, punch-drunk mindset, Remus was too numb to face the consequences of anything.

    Even Andreas¡¯ death was yet to fully hit home. Everything was a dream, and more tired than he had ever been in his life, Remus bit the bullet.

    ¡°I care about you more than anyone.¡± Remus murmured, heedless of the outcome. ¡°More than words can express.¡±

    ¡°I care a lot about you too.¡± Violet didn¡¯t let go of his hand, but her grip weakened.

    ¡°No, not like that. More than that.¡±

    Violet blinked. ¡°What are you trying to say?¡±

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    Dazed, vision swimming in places, Remus saw the confused look in Violet¡¯s eyes so clearly. Clearer than any fleeting sight, amid the turmoil of wavy lines and undefined edges.

    ¡°I think you know.¡±

    There was a pause, as if Violet was living through five generations all at once, five lifetimes passing to make her eyes so dazed. Remus focused on them. Her hold on his hand was weaker than ever, and for some reason, the thought of her pulling away was the worst possibility he could fathom. Worse than if an earthquake was to suddenly occur and bury them all.

    ¡°Remus, you¡¯re confused. The pain, the loss of your grandfather, it''s making you feel things.¡±

    That felt worse than any blow Remus had ever endured. ¡°It''s not that. I¡¯ve known before any of this happened, back in the trenches when we were waiting for back-up. I realised then what you were to me.¡±

    Their fingers were barely touching now.

    ¡°Remus . . . you mean so much to me, but we can¡¯t. I¡¯m Unbounded.¡±

    ¡°Only partly. And so what? That doesn¡¯t make a difference to me.¡±

    She looked away from him. It was almost a slap in the face when Violet withdrew her hand. ¡°It makes all the difference, Remus. Regardless of my own feelings, it wouldn¡¯t be right for me to take this girl¡¯s body, and then date around. What would have Violet wanted ¡ª the real Violet?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re Violet now.¡± Remus had never spoken so hastily. ¡°You can make this choice for yourself ¡ª you can be happy.¡±

    ¡°And my reputation.¡± She disregarded his words. ¡°The people will love you for killing two Right-bearers, once the shock of all this wears off. But me? I don¡¯t think other people will ever look at me like I¡¯m normal. They¡¯ll tolerate me for helping with the war effort, but nothing more. I can¡¯t drag you down with me. I love you too much for that.¡±

    The words caught in Remus¡¯ throat. Everything Violet said was like a punch into the chest, the beatdown never ending. ¡°I don¡¯t care what people think. They¡¯ll come around, and if not? Who cares? Why should we sacrifice our happiness to suit them?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t let you deface yourself. You don¡¯t deserve that after everything you¡¯ve been through. I wouldn¡¯t be able to live with myself. You¡¯ve already done so much for me, more than I could ever repay.¡±

    Remus gritted his teeth until his gums hurt. It was the only thing he could do at this point to keep himself in order. If he broke down now, the shame he¡¯d have to carry . . . it would kill him.

    ¡°Violet, I-¡±

    ¡°Remus, I think you need some time to recover. I¡¯m doing this for you, alright? You¡¯ll see things more clearly when you¡¯ve had some time to grieve, some time to get better.¡±

    What could he say? What could Remus possibly say that could mend this mess of a situation ¡ª that wouldn¡¯t make him sound like an emotional child?

    There was nothing. Violet¡¯s footsteps out of the room were their own cracks in reality ¡ª in the reality Remus had been an idiot to believe possible.

    His stomach hurt so badly, as if razor-edged butterflies were flying inside, jutting against the lining of his guts.

    Remus lay there, in that hospital bed, and lost himself. When the time came for sleep to take hold, he was all too grateful for it.

    <hr>

    Ash was waiting in the chamber, his palms so clammy, the sweat clung his skin to Donovan¡¯s gifted knuckles.

    He stared at the weapons now, doing his best not to think about what was to come. Or to look at the woman facing him.

    ¡°Nervous?¡± Juniper asked, with a wry smile.

    ¡°No.¡±Ash lied. Showing weakness before Juniper was the last thing he wanted to do, even at the cost of his own sanity. ¡°I¡¯m bored.¡±

    ¡°Bored?¡± Juniper laughed. ¡°A likely story.¡±

    Ash realised his leg had been shuddering. He bit the inside of his mouth, and stomped the limb to a stop.

    The elephant in the room breathed down Ash¡¯s neck. It sent gooseflesh flushing down him, undoing any false pretence of bravery he could muster. The news, they had both heard it clear as day. Speaking it into existence seemed to make it more real, as foolish as that was, so Ash set himself to ignoring it altogether.

    At least in conversation. In mind? The prospect that Koa had helped to kill the Pet-Keeper sent him spiralling. Half of him wrote off the news as false instantly. The part of him that dared to believe, on the other hand, was making him sick with fear.

    Koa. Killing a Right-bearer. Those two put together didn¡¯t compute.

    ¡°I was under the impression that you were confident for this bout, Ash. You disarmed your brother so easily in your last fight, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Ash swallowed. The sensation that there was a frog in his throat didn¡¯t fade; not in the slightest. ¡°Yes. Yes I did.¡±

    ¡°It sounds to me as if you¡¯re reassuring yourself, rather than confirming my statement. Is that the case?¡±

    Juniper was doing a very excellent job of getting on Ash¡¯s nerves. Had this been anyone else but his God-Graced, Ash would have snapped back with a very colourful remark of his own. Silence would have been no less rude, so Koa settled on a low grunt. That was about as disrespectful as he could afford to get.

    ¡°Well Ash, whatever the case, you can¡¯t really lose this fight, can you?¡±

    Ash raised his head from out of his knees. Something told him Juniper didn¡¯t mean that as an expression of her faith in him. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well, this is your brother we¡¯re talking about, isn¡¯t it? If you win, you get the glory of triumph, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯d be disheartened¡±

    ¡°Why would I be?¡± Ash had to stop himself from growling.

    ¡°No matter how much you two may disagree, you¡¯re brothers. After everything you¡¯ve been through together . . . don¡¯t you feel that his leaving the clan would be a loss?¡±

    Ash was about to lash back with a rapier reply. Then it occurred to him ¡ª Juniper had never held any real intention to expel Koa from the clan. Especially now that the Pet-Keeper was dead, rendering Koa¡¯s sole motivation for leaving in the first place obsolete.

    Was this her way of making them realise how much they cared for each other? Like life was some fairy tale where everyone lived happily ever after, frolicking in fields for all eternity?

    That, more than anything in Ash¡¯s confusing hodgepodge of a life, rubbed him the wrong way. It chafed at his already waning temper.

    If Juniper was going to treat them like adorable toys to play with, then Ash would reject the game entirely. He would flip the playing board on its head.

    ¡°Nevermind.¡± Ash said a tad more resolutely. ¡°I¡¯m going to destroy Koa.¡±

    Juniper raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°Helping to kill the Pet-Keeper . . .¡± He forced a laugh. ¡±As if the half a dozen God-Graced present shouldn¡¯t take the credit.¡±

    The more Ash spoke, the more confident he felt. ¡°In fact, what do I have to fear? I¡¯m verging on Foot-Soldier, and Koa reaching Emblazed was the greatest fortune he¡¯s ever received. A miracle, really. It¡¯s not a competition.¡±

    Juniper looked at him funny, but Ash was sure that was just a means to hide her surprise. Regardless, this fight was going to be a walk in the park.

    At least, that was what Ash told himself, as he sauntered towards the door. One inch of stone was all that separated him, and the boy he was about to crush.

    With one hand, Ash sweeped the boundary open.

    ¡°Good luck.¡± Juniper gave one last call.

    Ash scoffed. ¡°Like I¡¯ll need it.¡±

    He took one, two, three steps, and already, he saw him.

    Ash paused. The cocky smile slipped from his lips.

    Koa stared at Ash through four eyes, one of them not even located in his socket. An eyepatch covered half his face, the other eye glowed with a faint emerald, and three others of the organs hovered around. They all emitted the same neon green glow, encasing Koa in the signature shade of the Wild.

    A cloak of web surrounded the boy, shimmering in transparent places, like it wasn¡¯t there. His hand held tight onto a halberd, one Ash had read much about. The weapon that landed the final blow to undo the Pet-Keeper¡¯s Divine Right.

    Suddenly Ash couldn¡¯t find it in him to trash talk.

    He slammed his knuckles together, strolled forwards, and forced down any resistance he felt. Some part of him heard a Wild clansman announce the start of the duel, but Ash could have been five million lightyears away.

    Insects spread across the battlefield. Ash didn¡¯t miss the buzzing crickets'' presence, or the bees that swarmed the place. Sweeping out Infinity from his Bank, he ignored the creatures. If this was how his brother planned on beating him, a bug exhibit was a lousy effort.

    There was no time to dilly-dally. Ash launched forward, feet creeping ahead at the speed of light. Oak roots shot out of the earth, dividing the rigid stone that made up their fighting platform.

    Twisting branches charged for Koa like grasping hands. Ash¡¯s heart roared with delight as Koa stood idly, five branches closing in on his pathetic form. His floating eyes had disappeared, but otherwise, he was exactly the same as he¡¯d always been.

    Young, foolish, and doomed to fall miserably short when it came to their brotherly rivalry.

    Koa had been foolish enough to lose an eye in his childish absence, and Ash felt no pity in his heart for the injury. No matter what his constricting throat had to say about it, Ash couldn¡¯t care less.

    Ash blinked, expecting to see Koa bruised and bloody, only to find his hostile branches cleaving through empty air.

    The next time he blinked, his face was met with a roundhouse punch.

    Ash was blasted back, his path through the air trailing with Ichor. His feet found ground, as ruined as their platform already was, and Ash skidded to a stop. It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe through his nose, and something told Ash the outpour of blood leaking out of his nostrils probably had something to do with it.

    He hardly had the sense of mind to protect himself from the follow-up attack.

    The aura his brother was giving off ¡ª there was no doubt about it ¡ª it was Foot-Soldier level.

    Now, Ash refused to hold back anything. The stone platform beneath their feet was sacrificed, crumbled to pebbles in favour of a booming stretch of oak. The forest materialised in little more than two seconds, requiring nothing else than a blast of his Mark. This was the real battleground of two Wilderness clansmen; here, Ash would be able to push himself to the-

    Something blurred in his vision, and Ash felt his back slam into the tree behind him. He had hardly processed that blow before half a dozen projectiles joined the fray. All hitting him with perfect accuracy.

    The world was spinning. Ash fought not to be sick, fought to spit the blood out of his mouth, and to keep fighting, but the advancing shadow of Koa . . .

    Entangled by the very same branches he had dragged into existence, Ash blasted out wave after wave of his energy.

    The attacks were only half-formed, mostly slams of Infinity and unrefined power. Nevertheless, it was the equivalent of Ash erupting ten tons of dynamite. Not a drab of power was wasted, every last speck on his person committed to awful, lethal chaos.

    Through the multitudinous sea, the ebbing storm of his own power, Koa couldn¡¯t see a damn thing. Not the branches, not his brother ¡ª even Ash¡¯s own body was obscured by the emerald light.

    Koa¡¯s eyes would be vaporised, he was sure. The flying pests finally put to an end. So what if Koa had lost one of his eyes? That didn¡¯t grant him the right to such an advantage. Perhaps one floating organ from the Sight Sect should be allowed, but three?

    It was a Sight Sect plot to add fuel to the fire, to exacerbate the hot tensions already rising in the Wild Clan. Ash didn¡¯t know why, or how, but was sure of it. Why else would they bestow Koa with such a tool, one that would allow him to beat Ash in such a crude and unfair way. His mind settled on that last point, letting it fester in his anger; fuming over it. That was exactly right: It wasn¡¯t fair. One injury of Koa¡¯s own doing was not a reason to bend the rules. The attention Koa had received from Elmore, the instant admiration everyone gave the boy when they saw him, the glory of getting revenge, and stripping that chance away from Ash forever. All of it was unfair.

    Koa, Koa, Koa. All Koa. Never Ash. Never the older brother who was far too lazy to make use of himself, reduced to little more than one of Juniper¡¯s pawns after the death of his cousin. Traumatised, and doomed to be overtaken by his far more capable, likeable, and all-around superior younger brother.

    Ash never snapped out of that line of thinking. Not when a shadow leaped closer, suspiciously in the shape of an unharmed Koa. Not when the first punch winded all the air from out of his lungs. Not in the barrage that followed, when stars danced before his eyes and all the world titled askew.

    Not when he found himself lying on the bare ground, time slipping minutes forward with one blink of the eye. Not when he rolled around in a pool of his own Ichor ¡ª not physically close to dying, but the spark of hope in the back of his mind all but gone. Not when his future prospects burned to a crisp before his very eyes, as, above the ringing in his ears, Juniper declared the winner.

    It was then that Ash decided that slipping into sleep was better than anything the waking world had to offer. Yet not even then, at the end of it all, when Ash noted the name called out by his God-Graced, did he ever kill the spite rushing through his body.

    Ash cursed his brother¡¯s name ¡ª the victor¡¯s name ¡ª and drifted away.

 95.5. Chains

    The restraints holding Remus down probably should have been the first thing he noticed upon awakening. Maybe it was the roaring headache disorienting him, or everything that had happened recently, or maybe even his strange familiarity with being confined. Whatever the case, the first thing Remus noticed was his surroundings.

    He wasn¡¯t in the barracks, or anywhere near the front lines, for that matter. In fact, now that he took in the faces circling him, the thick crowds, the architecture so distinct it could only come from the Leisure District, Remus¡¯ reality crashed down on him.

    No matter how tired he was, how close his eyelids were to drooping fully down, or how much pain he was in, he still had enough sense to digest one vital fact.

    He was in danger. Oh, terrible, terrible danger. Perhaps the most danger of his life. And after the year Remus had just been through, that statement alone was enough to kill.

    Remus noticed the chains then, and suddenly the chafing manacles were the most acute sensation of his life. He didn¡¯t dare struggle against them. One tap into his spiritual senses, and the overwhelming power of the audience hit him like a punch to the nose.

    He took in a shaky breath, and at the same time, took in the surroundings in all their horror.

    Chained against a post, cresting a wooden platform at the centre of Leisure District, Remus could see the assembled crowd with more clarity than he could ever possibly need. No activation of his Mark was needed to send adrenaline coursing through the obstacle course of his internals ¡ª there were already gallons of the stuff calling his beaten body home.

    The man standing next to him radiated at least Warlord power. The epaulettes of his uniform, the self-assured look in his eyes, and even the steadfast aura emitted by his Mark . . . it all spelled out his Justice Clan background in clear, bold writing.

    The buzzing of the crowd did nothing to relax Remus¡¯ frantic nerves. He couldn¡¯t decipher the general emotion pervading the gathering. Was it anger, annoyance, pure confusion, or intrigue? If the people of his own city turned against him . . .

    No. Relax. Relax, before you burst a blood vessel. The words did the bare minimum to stop Remus from being sick, the tension in his stomach nauseating.

    The man opened his lips, crew-cut hair styled perfectly to his square face. ¡°We gather here today, fellow citizens of First Rite, and representatives of foreign cities-¡±

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    Remus did his best not to squirm. It was painfully clear what was occurring, but that can of worms only opened up other questions; about two million of them. If this matter was involving people outside of his comfy home of First Rite, ignoring any issues with Damosh, then why on earth was it getting so out of hand? What had Remus done?

    The newspapers danced before his eyes. His heart vaulted into his throat, one possible prospect tearing him from the inside out anew. If this had anything to do with his association with Violet, and she was in some sort of danger . . . if anything had happened to her . . .

    His stomach, throat, and chest all ached, hot lava flooding through them all. It threatened to burn him to shreds, to light his body aflame with greater power than he could ever hope to exude himself.

    ¡° . . . for the trial of Remus, reported member of both the Carpentry and Ambition Clans. Today addresses his allegations of endangering the war effort, placing the importance of his own personal vendetta over that of the wider world. Deserting his clan, cooperating with the Unbounded, the list goes on. Not to mention the many grievances clans have against the defendant, whether they can be considered in a court of law or not.¡±

    Remus rested his forehead against the ground ahead of him, the temptation to headbutt the platform repeatedly overwhelming. It was only squandered by the fact that while yes, it would be gratifying to give up his last strand of sanity, coming off as a lunatic probably wouldn¡¯t have helped his case. And, by the looks of it, Remus would have to fight for his life.

    The eyes of the crowd. It was the only thing he could focus on. The man that served as his judge, jury, and executioner only set his nerves into a frenzy, and so for his own good, and the good of the crowd not having to see him vomit, Remus set himself to staring at no-one in particular.

    That was, until he saw them.

    Two dots of gold in the hoards of people, somehow blending in, and lost to Remus if he did so much as blink.

    The man was clad in his signature robe of gold, one Remus would have paid anything to see torn apart, and covered with the man¡¯s blood. Gold clashing on gold.

    The man next to him was shorter in stature, in wealth, and in every attribute Remus could name. A lesser Damosh, but Remus knew Edmar with an uncomfortable familiarity.

    These two, he could stare at all day. He gazed at their smug faces, knew exactly what kind of strings they had to pull to arrange his downfall, and never did blink. Remus could have burnt bullet holes through their faces, had Damosh¡¯s glimmering white teeth not been nearly as blinding.

    There on the platform, somehow so terribly alone among a crowd of hundreds, Remus felt his entire world be undone.

    End of Arc 3: Clad in Iron

 96. Never Strikes Twice

    ARC 4: SHACKLED IN CHAINS

    Enos stretched out all four of Teviel¡¯s limbs, well adjusted to the body of the Chaos god, like strings pulling at a corpse.

    He was quite accustomed to the Chaos god¡¯s body by now. Having morphed with it so long ago, he sometimes forgot that the Ichor thumping through his heart, the hairs sticking up on his nape, and even the taste buds lining his tongue were all the possessions of another man. He floated carelessly through the infinite vacuum of space, a cold chill running gooseflesh up and down his secondhand limbs.

    Fractured planets. Burning worlds. He watched, a slight quirk to his ancient lips, at the disarray that so characterised this section of the cosmos. Dying stars threatened to blink out, like old giants going blind, and he felt their precious light immerse his body. Enos may be the only one left to appreciate it.

    The gods had done this, he knew. The thought threatened to cast his mind into dark places. He took a deep breath devoid of oxygen, breathing in only Infinity; the building blocks of reality.

    Everywhere he flew, it was all the same. Even after millennia, the Celestial War had left its mark on the universe. Ugly scars stained his vision, and Infinity¡¯s masterpiece had been shattered. Like children disobeying their benevolent parents, the gods had seen it fit to cast creation into chaos.

    Chaos. Enos suppressed a laugh. Now he had the gods¡¯ greatest tool to himself. The irony never failed to amuse.

    Enos closed his eyes, looking at a thousand places at once. There was so much to do. Plans to move into motion, deep desires he had to execute ¡ª most of all, justice to carry out.

    One sensation hit his senses like a freight train. Like a piece of string connected to his skull abruptly splitting. Enos¡¯ eyes snapped open, and he honed in on one spot. One tiny pinpointed section of Descent. There, with utter clarity, he saw it: a corpse. The mutilated, dispersing body of none other than the Pet-Keeper.

    Enos paused. Again, he inhaled, expanding lungs that didn¡¯t require the air they lacked.

    Like pawns in a chess game, Nova was his only remaining piece. How many generations of Right-bearers must he stir into the world, before they were finally strong enough to survive?

    Belindo, Milap, the Supreme Fiend, and now even his ace in the hole, a being who should have been unkillable, the Pet-Keeper. All dead. All dust to soon return to Infinity, to be spun again into the canvas of creation.

    Nova. That was all he had left. An embarrassed God-Graced forced into hiding.

    Enos should have been furious, but emotions were something he had absolute control over. His mind was like a machine; ticking away like clockwork to find the most efficient solution to any issue set before him. How best could he serve his grandmaster, his reason for existence, Infinity?

    How best could he carry out her will? How best could he vanquish the evils plaguing the universe, to be the vaccine to the disease of humanity, and their petty gods?

    His eyes settled onto the fiery visage once again. Planets sunk into black holes who knew how many lightyears away, and the fire the deities had started rampaged on inexorably.

    So much destruction. Enos couldn¡¯t fathom how beings of Infinity could be so uncivilised. And to think this was the first life brought into the universe.

    Slowly, as if moving a mountain range, Enos turned his head at an angle. Behind his shoulder, tens of thousands of Unbounded stretched out.

    A wall of living, writhing flesh. His minions approached at a steady speed, hovering through space, drops of multitudinous colour on an inky backdrop. As if someone had retched over charcoal. They varied greatly in species, all pushing the limits of how far a body can be distorted, and yet still sustain life. In Enos¡¯ eyes, at least, their beauty was unparalleled.

    Thousands, if not hundreds of fiends, and yet this was just a drop in the ocean, compared to the full ranks of the Unbounded. Try as they might, the gods would never be able to slaughter them all. Infinity would keep creating as many Unbounded as it would take. Like an immune system pumping out antibodies, the universe was desperately trying to cure itself of corrupt divinity.

    Enos was akin to an intergalactic general. Unbounded were attracted to the power he emanated, no matter how much he tried to veil himself. And when he actively called for them to gather? Enos would be a beacon to their senses, like mortal eyes forced to stare at the sun.

    He commanded them to a halt. All it took was one simple manipulation of Infinity, a signal engraved into life itself, and they froze. Thousands of eyes met his. Some would be too weak to see him from this distance. All they would feel was his raw, indomitable might, exuding strength.

    Strength was admired. Strength was really all it took to lead the simplest of peasants; the wisest of kings.

    Now, he waited.

    It may take the equivalent of hours in Descent time, before one of them arrived. Enos was playing it risky here, literally guiding the gods to him. It was a real possibility that multiple of them would gather together, and pounce.

    But even before the power of his Divine Rights had been returned to him, Enos had been a powerful Unbounded. Perhaps the strongest. He could escape from even three gods all scrambling for his head, though he would sustain some injuries in the process.

    That would need to be avoided. Even he would have to take some time to heal from those kinds of wounds, and there was always the risk of being permanently maimed. As much as from even the pits of his stomach, he hated the gods, their power wasn¡¯t to be taken lightly.

    But this was a ploy he was willing to take. He needed to do something drastic. Enos refused to take the murder of his newest generation of Right-bearers sitting down.

    More and more Unbounded joined the fray. If some nearby, roaming deity didn¡¯t recognise his presence now, then the only other possibility was that he was being schemed against.

    Enos didn¡¯t grant himself the weakness of growing anxious. Even if five or so gods jumped out at him, he would give them a good fight. In that instance, he could escape if he fought tactically, but his odds of slipping away in one piece were astronomically low. Scars littered Enos'' body from his more spontaneous youth. Back when he was much weaker, less aligned with the purpose Infinity had set for him, and was always spoiling for a fight.

    The god equivalent smiled. He hadn¡¯t attempted anything this rash since those bright-eyed days. The rush of adrenaline was almost nostalgic.

    Nevertheless, he''d never lost anything vital from an injury, and wasn¡¯t inclined to start now. He focused one hundred percent of his attention on the scene around him, forgoing anything else that could snag his focus. If something approached, he would be the first to know.

    Or at least, he had thought so.

    One blink cost him hundreds of Unbounded.

    Yellow erupted in his vision, his retinas spasming behind his overworked eyes. It had been so quick. What could have possibly-

    All thought left Enos, as he dodged what should have been a surefire blow. It was the quickest dodge he had ever made. Before he could even contemplate on who his attacker was, his body twisted in an intricate dance, defying time and space to avoid a flurry of blows. Never in Enos¡¯ life had his body moved so fast, and yet he was barely avoiding the rampant strikes.

    One second in, and Enos was already on the backfoot. His enemy was enveloped in a torch of amber, white light slipping out from them in streaks of lightning. Alexander, the Lightning god, immediately sprang to mind, but something told Enos this wasn¡¯t him.

    He¡¯d encountered that deity before, and while they were fast, this was something else all together.

    Armour sprouted on Eno¡¯s body in a flash, the quality of Supreme Steel exceeding the best on any of Descent¡¯s shores. He would need it, else the next flurry of blows might really pose a challenge.

    Every punch, kick, or whatever attacks were being thrown at him, sent his skeleton rattling. He needed to create distance.

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    Enos didn¡¯t bother to weave Infinity into weapons, he simply imbued it with the intent to kill.

    No Ichor had been shed, but that was soon to change. It was time to tap into Teviel¡¯s power. The full influence of Chaos rushed through Enos, and suddenly the two of them were dragged into the river of blood the dead Unbounded had created. Enos didn¡¯t feel any pity for their swift deaths. It would be the greatest honour of any fiend¡¯s life to die in his name.

    He tapped into the Infinity of the blood, all different shades, so it was as if they were falling through a liquid rainbow. He remoulded their bodies into weapons. Skeletons became halberds, knives, and anything with a sharp point. The blood that soaked them both became a tangle of rose thorns, pressing into even Enos'' skin, and any spare organs floating around erupted in a flash of gore.

    The disruption was all Enos needed to drag himself away. He commanded the surviving Unbounded to sacrifice their lives to slow down the nameless god, but he knew they would save him milliseconds at best.

    He returned to real time for a second, and the aftermath of their brief tousle played out. At the speed they were battling, perhaps one second, or two had passed, and even Enos was aghast at what they had accomplished. Though he was a little reluctant to call it that.

    Three nearby planets exploded, pieces of rock, entire countries large, blasting off in crumbles. The rest of his Unbounded forces perished in a flash of light, and smoke billowed off Enos'' skin. He had enough time to sweep the dust off his shoulder, take one look at the deity trying to tear him apart, before the battle began anew.

    There were many gods, some of them very distinct, but Enos had worked out very quickly who this was. Java, the Speed god, was the only deity who could travel this fast.

    Every muscle in Enos ached. Lactic acid bubbled in every fibre, and his mind roared in agony at having to think so fast. He could keep up with the Speed god for perhaps ten seconds at best. After that, he would be exhausted. Enos¡¯ fate in that outcome was not a pleasant one.

    Ten seconds. Enos took a deep breath, and charged to face Java.

    Ten seconds, and one more wretched god would be dead.

    The Speed God may have been fast, but Enos knew the known weaknesses of every god like the back of his hand. Java was nigh impossible to hit, but if you managed it, a weak God-Graced would be enough to knock his lights out forever.

    Enos just had to get close enough.

    He zapped forward, harnessing Teviel¡¯s power like the helping hand of an old friend ¡ª or perhaps a hostage that had developed Stockholm''s syndrome. Enos was face-to-face with Java, the god¡¯s fist blurring past his head, still heading towards his original location. Enos almost fumbled inside the hook, he was so excited. This was it, his chance to gut Java with one well-aimed blow. Enos watched Java¡¯s eyes widen in a fraction of a fraction of a second, so fast he doubted he even saw it, before the Speed God rushed away in his own flash of light. Nova¡¯s own prepared blow found no purchase, and Enos swallowed down a curse.

    A fist dug into Enos¡¯ stomach. Enos keeled over, a hole burnt into his armour, and charring his skin. Another flash of purple sent him to safety.

    Multiple times in quick succession he was forced to teleport away from similar encounters. Anger and fear radiated out of Java. Enos had come too close to dealing a serious blow, and now the Speed Deity wasn¡¯t holding anything back. Aggression was the tool with which he would chisel Enos¡¯ gravestone.

    Eight seconds.

    Enos teleported them both into an asteroid field. The remains of the lifeless planets the pair of them had shattered in their wake. Enos felt compassion for the shattered worlds in his heart, but while Enos destroyed for the greater good, the gods destroyed for power. They were not even remotely the same.

    Enos hopped from asteroid to asteroid, each erupting with the speed and force upon which he landed on them. Java had been struck by one of the flaming rocks, surprised by their abrupt transportation, but mere rock was barely enough to startle a god.

    Soon the pair of them were darting off rock after rock, each trying to close in on the other.

    Six seconds.

    Enos felt the toll on his body expand. He would have been wise to write this off as too risky, and yet emotion had driven him to such an extreme decision. He screamed with breathless lungs, the sound too delayed to hear until he returned to real time.

    He focused hard on Java, tightening the Infinity around the god to slow him down. If it had any effect, Enos could hardly tell.

    Before Enos knew it, he was on the backstep from another fruitless wrestle. No matter how many punches or kicks either of them threw at the other, the most they could do was bruise.

    Enos was well aware the gods¡¯ powers overlapped often, but Java was more lightning-like than Alexander, the god carrying that title, could ever hope to be.

    Five seconds.

    In one moment of panic, Enos harnessed all of his raging emotion. He had to slow down the Speed God. Java was faster than him, but if he could just make up the difference . . .

    His control over Infinity was never something to scoff at. Enos refocused every iota of will he had on solidifying the Infinity around Java. The god would feel like he was running through sludge with weights on.

    This would half his remaining time, drawing his point of exhaustion closer, but Enos had to push harder.

    Two seconds.

    Enos teleported behind Java, forcing the power of Chaos into overdrive. Reality around them spasmed, trembling as every atom was rearranged in an organised chaos. What would give first, his power, or space itself, Enos could never be sure.

    He grasped out for Java¡¯s throat. He finally had the upper hand ¡ª the Speed god was teleported back into the same spot by Chaotic power every time he tried to flee. Yet all credit to him, the deity didn¡¯t relent. His eyes were wide, and looked like they never would close, as he jerked around in the little space he had.

    The more Java evaded Enos¡¯ reaching hands, the more exasperated Enos felt himself growing. His body felt like it would explode from the pressure any second now, and Java, somehow, seemed aware he only had to hold on a little longer. Like a man hanging from a cliff, he was gripping on for dear life.

    It was dawning on Enos that he really could die here. That not even he was immune to being scattered back into the Infinity that sustained him. He was only just reaching the bottom of his feelings on the topic when his hands found leverage.

    Enos¡¯ fingers twisted around Java¡¯s neck, and it was over.

    They returned to real time, the whiplash enough to make Enos retch, had he not been so preoccupied. The power they¡¯d unleashed rushed out, blasting out for miles and miles of empty space. Nothing could have survived the clash between two gods.

    If anything had remained of those fiery planets when Enos had first arrived, they¡¯d be lucky to have a few atoms remaining now; the rest scattered to who knew what reaches of the cosmos. Everything had been purged.

    If he didn¡¯t extend his senses past the hundred or so space-miles that encompassed them, Enos could have fooled himself into thinking that only he and Java existed. Java¡¯s snapped neck rested in Enos hands, but futilely, the god twitched in his hold.

    Currents of electricity whizzed up Enos¡¯ arms, burning his flesh as Java did everything in his power to escape certain death. It was strange. He was a blur in Enos¡¯ hold, but no amount of struggling could free Java from the hands of his executioner.

    Before Java could so much as screech for help, Enos embedded his fingers deep into the god¡¯s neck.

    Ichor dripped out of the holes he created, each Droplet so concentrated, they could generate armies of Enkindled. Some strange look stuck in Java¡¯s bulging eyes, yet still, neither of them bothered to exchange words.

    As Java perished in his arms, Enos wondered ¡ª what would the dying thoughts of a god be? Would it be of his clan? Concern for their safety, now that the source of their power had been flickered out? Or would the inner desires that ruined so many deities characterise even his final moments? Would Java be furious, as he slipped out of this life, that he had failed to lay claim to all the Infinity that existed? That was the ultimate goal, for his kind, was it not?

    The notion was ridiculous. How every god truly believed that they, and they alone, could take total reigns of the universe, was laughable. Not even Enos would dare ask for so much.

    The Celestial War would have no end unless somebody intervened. Infinity wasn¡¯t something that could be owned; only borrowed. Even Enos would have to surrender himself back to the universe one day, but not yet.

    His part in things was only just beginning.

    Without hesitating, and only when he was absolutely sure Java was dead, Enos used the remainder of his strength to warp himself out of there. In a way, he was lucky that it was Java who had come after him. A battle with any other deity wouldn¡¯t have been so quick. Even in those twenty or so seconds, an entire squadron of gods would be rushing to overwhelm Enos.

    Enos wasn¡¯t one to flee, but the death of a deity would not be taken lightly. Every god would be vying to be the one to end him. Great Infinity, they had already been. This would only add fuel to the fire. Revenge for Java would rally vast forces against him. Enos needed to recover. He hadn¡¯t been this badly shaken from a battle since . . . since . . .

    Memories of merging with Teviel¡¯s bloody corpse flooded his mind again. It was a staple of his daily thoughts, the rush of his first time killing a god indescribable.

    The same sensation flooded through Enos now, older and wiser as he was. He felt light, all his worries seemed insignificant, and for each problem he had been previously agonising over, a clear path forward presented itself. Now, he knew exactly what to do.

    Powerful as he was, Nova was the last piece of a failed plan. Clutching onto him with blind hope that he would succeed, even after this recent string of disasters, was akin to staying put in a burning house. Enos needed innovation. Even as he rushed thousands of lightyears away with every passing second, pushing his cardio to the limits, that much was certain.

    New beginnings. Neurological pathways came ablaze in his wild nexus of a mind, and a fresh plan presented itself to him, as if by divine intervention.

    It was time for the Final Generation.

    Nova focused his gaze on Descent. A planet protected by the power of nearly every deity, and perhaps the only world the gods would hesitate to crush into ash.

    Now, now. Enos thought, smiling wide in manic delirium, there must be one of you I can use.

    He reached out with his power, creeping down into Descent.

 97. Watchman

    Clambering his way up the highest flight of steps in nearly all of Eclipse, almost falling all the way backwards several times as he did so, Baldwin¡¯s mind wouldn¡¯t stop racing.

    The great steps were covered in dust, and were much too large for his tiny, twelve year old legs to step across. Bruises lined his shins with every false step, but ignoring the tears of pain forming in his eyes, Baldwin¡¯s smile was infectious.

    It was finally today. After so long, he would be apprenticed by the city¡¯s guards.

    All around the floating island-city of Eclipse, like a great net that kept everything in order, the hovering fortress laid. It served several purposes. First and foremost, it ensured that everyone who entered or left the city did so through the proper channels. Well, insofar as that was possible. But there was a secondary, more mundane reason that, to Baldwin at least, was the most exciting news in the world.

    It was the home of the city¡¯s guards. Where they worked, drank, slept, and spent what little leisure time they had sparring, getting infamously drunk, or on more boring occasions, playing cards.

    It was also where Remus, killer of two Right-bearers, was under house arrest.

    Well, the term ¡®house-arrest¡¯ wasn¡¯t quite right. Baldwin didn¡¯t know the exact details of what had happened during that trial, a Rebirth ago by this point, but Remus had been sentenced to working here. That was the extent of his knowledge on the subject, but the fact he was even here, regardless of the circumstances, was enough to make suffering this flight of stairs a worthy sacrifice.

    Almost there now. Baldwin thought to himself, after the sixth-hundredth step, breathing laboriously. Come on legs, you can hold on just a little longer. Long enough to see a living legend!

    There was the growing possibility that he would face-plant into the next layer of brick, if he didn¡¯t take a well deserved break. The skin of his legs was chafed, battered, and bleeding in places. It wasn¡¯t a mystery why nearly every guard in the squadron had some kind of flying technique. Of course, it was needed to travel around the airborne city as effectively as possible, but then there was also the tortuous journey Baldwin was taking. He didn''t want to know how many poor apprentices had failed their service due to broken legs, before even reaching the door of their trainers.

    Only when that great oak entranceway was within view, did Baldwin allow himself a moment¡¯s respite. He stroked a finger down the door, uncovering yet another layer of grime that made him choke. As much as Baldwin was keen to join the sentinels, he would have to wait until he acquired the flying abilities of his clan. The Moon Sect could levitate quite easily in moonlight, but newbie Emblazed like himself had to adjust to the ability. He could perhaps travel a few feet without dropping like a pin. Though the prospect of doing so, and falling through the gaping holes that separated the islands of Descent into open air, was about as appealing as walking up this staircase had been.

    Baldwin was perfectly content with sitting still there, and waiting patiently for the doorway to open. So when he leaned against it with his back, and found it unlocked, falling in as it opened, it was only with mild embarrassment that he got off the floor, patted himself down, and proceeded to march inwards as if that hadn''t just happened.

    ¡°Hello?¡± He called down a cobbled passage, his echoed voice reverberating all around.

    When no response came, Baldwin ventured deeper in.

    For all the guards¡¯ glory, the place was quite rustic. The stone passage junctioned off at the end, leading deeper into the gloom, with other halls breaking off with every tenth step he took. In between each snaking passage, darkness was discouraged, burnt away by candlelight.

    He didn¡¯t fail to notice the luminance with which their flames flickered: an unmistakable blue. The sight made Baldwin¡¯s heart soar. It was only a few of them, the rest remaining an offstandish red, but any sign of Remus was like meeting with a god.

    He called out a few more times. Yet again, no response came. At least, not a verbal one.

    The torches darkened, before flashing a different shade. Baldwin had to blink a few times, before noticing the colours of the torches had changed. After a perplexed second, where his brows were furrowed so tightly, they threatened to form a permanent unibrow, it clicked. The lights were guiding him. And only Remus had the power to make their colour change like that. Well, Baldwin wasn''t aware of any other Ambition Clansmen who were nearby, or who had any reason to be in the base of the citywatch. He didn¡¯t want to get too excited over nothing, but this seemed like pretty concrete evidence.

    The suspicion still spun around Baldwin¡¯s mind. Goosebumps sent his skin into a frenzy, and his heart beat faster by the second. He may have been getting ahead of himself, but what if? What if Remus himself was apprenticing him?

    It would be a first. Any trainee who had claimed to be under Remus¡¯ wing was quickly disproven. If he was so lucky, Baldwin would have a tough time proving it to the rest of the Moon Clan. Nobody would believe him.

    Since his trial, Remus had been a solitary man. Nobody saw him after his shift ended. Rumours had it he just stayed put in his quarters, speaking to nobody other than his fellow guards. He seemed intent on completing his mandatory service, keeping to himself, and then . . . doing whatever it was he planned on doing, once leaving the city.

    Finally, the torches led Baldwin to a dead end. Another door, identical to the wooden handiwork of every other entrance in this fortress, awaited him.

    Baldwin raised his hand, and, taking a deep breath, knocked.

    For a few seconds, only daunting silence, and then-

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    Baldwin jolted where he stood. This was it. This was the moment of truth. With a clammy palm, he grasped the doorknob, opened the door, and entered.

    It was dark. That was Baldwin¡¯s first impression, and served as a pretty ample description of the place. His eyes needed time to adjust, but he could tell immediately that the space was small. Like the interior of a quaint little hut. It was pretty barren too. All that fitted into the room was a twin-sized bed, a basin, some cupboards and draws, and then to his left-hand side, a simple desk and chair. Scattered papers sat there, and stacked on top was a pot of ink with a quill stuck in it.

    Standing in the centre of it all was a man with his back to him. He wasn¡¯t too tall, but neither especially short. The basic chainmail and wool of the guard¡¯s uniform rested on his body, glimmering in places, and looking up to his face . . .

    Overgrown ginger locks dangled unkempt on his head. Not to insult the man, but Baldwin couldn''t help but think he was in much need of a haircut. His eyes met his, cyan blue and bored-looking, and Baldwin suddenly felt as if the weight of entire planets was crashing down on him.

    Baldwin stared with awe at the gentle giant ahead of him. It was a mighty contrast from the pictures of Remus that had featured in the newspapers, a look of venom defining his features through a blaze of his own making.

    Remus turned away from Baldwin, walked over to his desk, and picked up a sheet of paper.

    ¡°Baldwin . . .¡± he read aloud. ¡°That is your name, correct?¡±

    Baldwin nodded fervently. His wildest dreams were coming true. He was going to work alongside a living myth, a living legend. His name might even be a footnote in some history book chronicling Remus¡¯ misadventures. He could think of no greater honour.

    ¡°Yes, Sir!¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t smirk at that, but his lips certainly twitched. ¡°Drop the Sir. Just call me Remus.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Remus, Sir.¡±

    He stared at Baldwin, a ghost of a grin on his face, but it never did form. ¡°Look, I¡¯m going to be honest with you. This is my last task I need to complete before I¡¯m free from my sentence. I was delaying it, because I don¡¯t like the idea of apprenticing-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do everything in my power to make it as smooth as possible, Remus Sir!¡±

    For a pause, Remus just stared at Baldwin. He wasn¡¯t too much taller, compared to how other adults towered over Baldwin, but he crouched down to face Baldwin regardless, head-on.

    ¡°Why do you all do that?¡± He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°Do what? Remus, Sir.¡± Baldwin quickly added.

    Remus'' eyes stared him down a little longer, and Baldwin couldn¡¯t imagine what those eyes had seen. After saying nothing, Remus stood up.

    ¡°I¡¯ll show you the ropes today, and tomorrow, we¡¯ll get some real work done.¡±

    Baldwin nodded fervently, never more excited in his life. ¡°I just have to say Sir, working alongside you is the greatest privilege of my-¡±

    ¡°Drop the Sir, please. And stop praising me. If I hear one more compliment, I might have to rethink this enterprise all together.¡±

    Given enough warning, Baldwin sealed his lips.

    ¡°Come then.¡± Remus made for the passages. ¡°We have places to be.¡±

    ¡°Are we heading to the top of the fortress? The part overseeing Eclipse? That¡¯s where you work, right?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± Remus answered. ¡°But that¡¯s not where we¡¯re going. We have to take you to the infirmary.¡±

    Baldwin paused in his tracks. ¡°The infirmary?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I heard the apprentices have trouble when going up the stairs sometimes, but I didn¡¯t expect it to be this bad.¡±

    Bemused, Baldwin glanced down. It was with perhaps a delayed realisation that he noted the waterfall of Ichor, staining his trousers gold. He may have barged into solid stone too tall for him, one too many times.

    The adrenaline of the exchange wore off, and a wave of agony made Baldwin squirm. Remus offered to carry him, but Baldwin refused, limping behind.

    Regardless, the muscles in his face hurt from beaming so hard. Nothing in his life had been more worth it

    <hr>

    It was with mixed feelings that Remus led Baldwin to the crenellations lining the top of the fort. It had taken a day for the nurse to deem Baldwin well enough to complete his first day of service, after his brawl with the stairs, though bandages enveloped both of his legs. The sight of bandaged limbs brought back bad memories swimming through Remus¡¯ mind, but he shook them away.

    The weather was rather plain that day: windy, with sunlight streaming down in moderate rays. There was something infectious about the pure, childish joy with which Baldwin considered everything. Like being here, a guard serving Eclipse, was a glorious position to aim for. Something to be proud of.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Remus only wished he could think the same way.

    ¡°The job might sound fun, but it¡¯s a lot of staring into space, and doing nothing.¡± He explained. ¡°Me and the guys find ways to entertain ourselves, but you should level your expectations.¡±

    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± Baldwin ran around on legs that had only just healed. ¡°Just being able to stand on these cobbles, to protect people . . . It¡¯s an honour.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Remus said, ever-so slowly. ¡°I suppose it is.¡±

    They spent much of that day strolling across the fort¡¯s top, overlooking the floating islands of Eclipse, and the great, rustless chains that connected them. The view was beautiful, as hard as Remus found that to admit, but he had become jaded to the sight. How many times can you admire the elegance of a rose, until even that loses its flare?

    Finally, when they had traversed the entire length of the fort, taking a few hours, at a leisurely, conversational pace, they returned to Remus¡¯ usual spot. It gave him a solid view of anyone entering Eclipse from the north-west. But beyond that, too many miles apart to see from even up here, would be Hybrid, and even further onward, his home of First Rite. His heart ached to return. Surely, when the details of his prolonged stay here were arranged, they must have kept that detail in mind. To ensure he would always be staring at his birthplace, but would never catch a glimpse.

    ¡°It¡¯s cruel.¡± He muttered.

    Baldwin perked up. ¡°What is?¡±

    Remus chided himself for dropping his guard. ¡°Never you mind.¡±

    But the damage had been done. Baldwin would have been bored out of his mind, after the initial excitement of being here had worn off. Like Remus had said, you can only stare at a beautiful visage for so long, until even the gradual movement of the clouds seems to run at a snail''s pace. Baldwin would have been waiting to drag Remus into a sea of questions, and he had just handed him the opportunity.

    ¡°What was it like? Not to pry, Sir, but were you scared at the trial?¡±

    If Baldwin was any older, Remus would have been tempted to launch the boy from the fortress¡¯ side. The question had come out of nowhere, and his use of formalities rubbed Remus the wrong way. But one can not blame the youth for their innocence.

    ¡°A little.¡± He answered truthfully. ¡°I knew Damosh and some other God-Graced had it out for me. To be honest, I was let off pretty leniently.¡±

    ¡°Because you killed the Supreme Fiend.¡±

    Remus swallowed. ¡°My great grandfather did all the work. He deserves the honour. But yes. And my part in ending Milap.¡±

    No sounds graced the scene but the gentle, ushering wind. The sun was beginning to set now, moving grudgingly downwards, and out of sight.

    Apparently five seconds was enough for Baldwin to regain his confidence. ¡°But why here, at Eclipse? Why would they sentence you to work here, and not at First Rite, or Hybrid?¡±

    So many questions. Oh well, Remus couldn¡¯t find an excuse to lie. ¡°They wanted me away from First Rite for a while. Partly as a punishment, and partly because me and Damosh . . . we¡¯re not very chummy. I wasn¡¯t sent to Hybrid because that¡¯s where . . . Violet was sent.¡±

    ¡°That girl? The Unbounded?¡±

    The connotations of that hit Remus¡¯ like a whip. But nothing explicitly critical had been said, so Remus let it slide.

    ¡°Yes. Her.¡±

    Baldwin seemed to consider this, and, after finally dropping the matter, posed another question; one equally as daunting as the rest. ¡°What are your plans for when your service is complete? Nobody sees you other than when you''re on guard duty. Are you planning something? Is that why you¡¯re always in your room?¡±

    Remus bit his tongue. ¡°I- I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do. I¡¯m unsure. I haven¡¯t really been planning anything.¡±

    ¡°You must be close to advancing to Vanguard by now ¡ª that¡¯s what you want to do next, right, at Splintered Rank? All the rumours say so.¡±

    Rumours. When exactly Remus had become the centre of public attention, he was left unawares. He thought after a year of solitude, the public would hop onto the next exciting trend, but no. Hundreds, probably thousands of eyes were all still locked firmly onto Remus. It was a heavy weight to carry.

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan, but this next step in advancement is proving tricky. I guess at these later stages of power, you can¡¯t brute force your way through.¡±

    That news didn¡¯t seem to dissuade young Baldwin in the slightest, who, hopping up and down on his feet, undoing his bandages in the process, continued his verbal bombardment. Remus couldn¡¯t help but feel like he was being chained down and interrogated.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll advance any day now! A year of work here must be more experience than you need. People are saying at this rate, you might advance from Enkindled to God-Graced faster than any-¡±

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough work for today.¡± Remus interjected. ¡°Come, let¡¯s head back to our quarters before the nurse scolds me for not looking after you. Apparently you¡¯re supposed to be taking it easy.¡±

    ¡°Some fresh air was all I needed to heal right up Sir! Don¡¯t you worry about me, Sir!¡±

    ¡°Remus.¡±

    Baldwin looked like he was trying to understand some outlandishly complex equation. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me . . .¡±

    Remus narrowed his eyes on the boy.

    ¡°. . . Remus.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Remus swept his hands clean in a job well done, despite having done precisely zero actual work today.

    He was about to turn around, and depart back to his chambers, when Remus noticed something. A group of figures rushing towards the gates surrounding Eclipse.

    For individuals who couldn¡¯t fly, there were two ways to enter Eclipse. The hard way was climbing up a spiral staircase, one that made the stairs leading to the guards¡¯ headquarters look like a walk in the park in comparison. The other was waiting for somebody to escort you. That role was allocated to a subdivision of the guards, and Remus couldn¡¯t decide if staring into space or lifting random people up and down was more monotonous. At least up here, he usually didn¡¯t have to bother with people.

    Except for times like this.

    ¡°They look distressed.¡± Remus pointed the group out. ¡°We should check everything¡¯s alright.¡±

    Baldwin nodded with gusto, as if he had been waiting all day for something interesting to occur. Aside from being amazed at Remus¡¯ very existence, of course.

    It was a short stroll over to the entrance. Like the rest of the fortress, it was a stretch of stone, but one that extended out further. Not many people would be arriving at this time, but Remus still caught sight of airborne clansmen descending down. A few other bored looking guards used their Marks to carry over new arrivals, like a mother bird leading her chicks. Even up the great, spiralling staircase, weary men and women, in much need of a good night¡¯s sleep, just about kept their drooping eyelids open, the purple underneath their eyes visible even in the subdued light of late afternoon. They exited a pillar the stairs inhabited, stretching all the way down to the earth, miles below.

    The group that had caught Remus¡¯ interest reached the platform, and Remus recognised the escort carrying them over. He only knew his fellow watchmen by name, but saw the divisions often enough to remember faces. This one was a middle-aged man, showing the earliest signs of greying hair, the enthralling light of the Sun and Day Clan immersing his body in a spectacular sheen. The light reached out and enveloped his crew, keeping them airborne. It reminded Remus of the pixie dust that featured in so many children¡¯s stories.

    Remus walked over to where four or so people landed clumsily behind the chaperone, Baldwin bouncing on his feet eagerly at his side. Remus could not help but fear the boy was going to tear open old scabs. It wouldn''t do for these arrivals¡¯ first impression of Eclipse to be Baldwin bursting every blood vessel in his lower body.

    ¡°Is everything okay?¡±

    The escort regarded Remus grimly. ¡°Trouble in First Rite. Apparently people are starting to flee the city.¡±

    Remus took perhaps a second too long to comprehend that. ¡°Fleeing First Rite? Why?¡±

    Before the grey-haired man could answer, one of the escorted men rushed over to Remus.

    He grabbed him by the shoulders, and bellowed, only inches away from Remus¡¯ face. ¡°Remus! You were right all along to hate Damosh, but we need your help back in First Rite. He¡¯s gone mad! We¡¯re all going to . . . everyone will be killed!¡±

    He proceeded to crumble where he stood, before dropping down, hands in his weeping face, into a puddle of tears.

    What startled Remus the most was that he recognised the man. And the others.

    All members of the Feast Sect.

    If Baldwin had been expecting excitement and adventure, he received misery and cold-hearted reality instead.

    Remus moved closer to address the other, more emotionally stable newcomers. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s like he said.¡± An elderly woman addressed him. ¡°The King¡¯s finally snapped. People have discovered that he¡¯s abusing his Divine Ground to kill any revolters, stopping them from even fighting back.¡±

    Remus inhaled sharply, trying to quell the quiet fire growing inside of him. He couldn¡¯t let it explode into an inferno. Not yet at least.

    ¡°He can¡¯t do that!¡± Baldwin yelped. Then, after a pause, the boy turned to Remus. ¡°Can he do that?¡±

    A hundred thoughts flooded through Remus¡¯ head. Could he?

    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s possible. It¡¯s not unbelievable that a loophole would be found within the divine pacts at some point.¡± Before the swell of emotion tightening his chest threatened to consume Remus, he turned again to the gathering. ¡°How bad is it getting?¡±

    If he was going to receive some horrible news, he might as well tear off the bandaid. Remus was done prolonging pain.

    ¡°He¡¯s starting to massacre his own people. It¡¯s . . . not been good.¡± Again, the elderly woman answered.

    ¡°Why has no God-Graced done anything about it?¡± Remus knew the answer before the question even fully slipped out of his lips. It just wasn¡¯t one he could accept.

    ¡°Everyone hates Damosh, but nobody wants to start another war.¡±

    The chaperone sighed. ¡°Most places are still recovering from the last Right-bearer generation. And then there¡¯s Nova, still kicking around somewhere. Pretty much everyone is focused entirely on taking him down, or are too busy entangled with their own affairs.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll let Damosh burn down his own city, and char himself to ash in the process.¡± The weeping man managed. ¡°We¡¯re just the collateral damage to his downfall.¡±

    Remus took a few moments to gather himself. Damosh¡¯s demented, grinning face stuck out in his vision, even as he forced his eyes shut. He wanted to scream out, to fly somewhere and unleash as much fire as he could . . . but neither of those options were very professional, or showed any maturity.

    He had to put up a stoic front, at least for how long it would take to get these newcomers to safety.

    ¡°Are you fine with getting them someplace to stay?¡± He asked the grey-haired man. Remus really should start to learn people¡¯s names.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got it sorted. Besides, you''re busy apprenticing.¡±

    Remus turned back to face Baldwin, as if having forgotten he was there. ¡°Yeah. Yes I am.¡±

    He put a hand on the young boy¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here, okay?¡±

    Baldwin looked like he was holding back fat dollops of tears. Remus couldn¡¯t blame him. He was feeling much the same way.

    ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡±

    Remus nodded, taking one final glance north-west ¡ª where, maybe hundreds of miles away, First Rite stood. ¡°No, it isn¡¯t.¡±

    <hr>

    Remus sauntered slowly back to his chambers. He took a seat at his desk, swept the scattered sheets off, and buried his head in his hands

    It was all he could do to fight off the stream of memories, like a worm digging its way through an apple that was his mind.

    The shame of that trial. Not being able to do anything, not a thing at all, as Damosh made a mockery of him and Violet on a public stage. How people still had respect for Remus at this point was a mystery.

    Suppressing that thought only served to make room for another mental intrusion: namely, Andreas¡¯ face.

    Remus could recall every detail of his great grandfather¡¯s death. The smile on his white lips, the limp way his colossal body fell, the comfortable finesse he somehow carried, even to death.

    It was the subtler details though. The feel of the wind against the fires of his body, the roar of the Supreme Fiend, and the pandemonium of rage making a circus of Remus¡¯ mind, the main acts rage, loathing, and the all-consuming desire to damn it all to hell.

    He muffled a scream into open palms.

    Everything after that was a blur. But he remembered his delirious exchange with Violet like it was only yesterday. The memory of what he had said . . . blood rushed to his cheeks, and it was all Remus could do to bury his head in his hands further.

    This wasn¡¯t how things were supposed to be. He had worked so hard. So terribly hard. And for what?

    Every night, the same nightmares plagued him, but now there was this ¡ª this spanner thrown into the works of his misery.

    Damosh. Everything came back to him.

    Dark thoughts lit the bonfire inside of Remus, but he put it out with but a thought. There was nothing he could do.

    He grasped onto the ends of his desk, so tightly he hands grew numb. When he removed his hands, dents were etched into the wood.

    One more day, he thought, to console himself, one more day, and I¡¯m out of here.

 98. Nothing Left

    ¡°Are you sure I can trust you with this?¡±

    ¡°You could trust me with your life!¡± Baldwin exclaimed emphatically. ¡°I¡¯m more than capable.¡±

    Remus exhaled in a motion that wasn¡¯t quite a sigh. Baldwin¡¯s apprenticeship would be ending today, as would Remus¡¯ service for Eclipse. Freedom was but one trivial task away: to let Baldwin battle it out with the weakest Unbounded he could find.

    He should have been ecstatic. After an entire year, he could finally do whatever it was that interested him. But why did he feel so indifferent?

    Remus glanced down at Baldwin¡¯s excitement, and couldn¡¯t help but offer a smile. While the kid was tough work, it was almost impossible not to share his joy. It was a nice feeling. Perhaps he would miss this? He wasn¡¯t quite sure.

    Either way, they would have to get it over with. There was no point in dilly-dallying.

    ¡°Well, if you say so.¡± Remus looked over to where a ring of blue fire confined the most pathetic-looking creature he had ever seen.

    In essence, it was a fish with legs. Just another of Infinity¡¯s absurd creations Remus would gain nothing from questioning. It had three bulging amber eyes, all looking in separate directions. The body of the fiend bulged like a balloon filled with too much helium, as if any second now, it would explode into a pile of blood and guts.

    It was hardly the equivalent of an Enkindled; truly the bottom of the barrel of Unbounded. Waddling around the enclosed space, it reminded Remus of a chicken. He almost feared that the creature would accidentally wander into his fires, and do Baldwin¡¯s job for him.

    With a subtle use of his Mark, Remus freed the walking fish from its infernal prison.

    Baldwin immediately hopped into position, holding a wooden sparring sword in both hands. Remus raised an eyebrow. He was curious at how the boy would use the abilities of his clan. The Moon and Night Sect wasn¡¯t one he encountered often. Would he even use his god¡¯s power? A few whacks of that blunt sword would bludgeon the Unbounded to death, but even that seemed a little barbaric. Even for a child as bloodthirsty as Baldwin made himself out to be. When Remus had first told him about this final trial, he couldn¡¯t believe how excited he¡¯d gotten. Apparently there was something indescribably exciting about killing a fiend, no matter how weak.

    It was still early afternoon, but that didn¡¯t stop Baldwin from enveloping his sword in an inky black. The weapon immediately transformed into an ebony blade so sharp, Remus couldn¡¯t help but imagine an invisible waterstone rubbing against it at all times.

    With one swift slash, and before the fish could even comprehend it was occurring, Baldwin sliced the fiend into two.

    Remus stopped and stared. That was it. The end of the apprenticeship, and, in an even tougher pill to swallow, the end of his sentence. He could hop up and fly away from the city right that second, and nobody could say a word.

    Well, okay, there would be a mountain of paperwork he¡¯d have to sign first, and leaving Baldwin here alone with a sharp object probably wasn¡¯t the best idea.

    He strolled over, patting Baldwin on the shoulder like a proud father. ¡°Good job buddy.¡±

    Baldwin beamed up at him as if all was right in the world. ¡°I did it!¡±

    Remus smiled. ¡°Yes you-¡±

    There was the sound of ripping water, and before Remus knew what he was doing, he grasped Baldwin, shoved him behind him, and turned around.

    Obsidian gauntlets materialised across his fists faster than he could think. Ahead of them both, a portal of spilling water appeared. Out of it, one very large, very dumb-looking Unbounded leapt into being. An exact copy of the Unbounded Baldwin had just chopped into two; small enough to have already dispersed back into its Infinity.

    The producer of the Unbounded had arrived. Remus wanted to slap himself, but with his hands plastered with igneous rock, doing so would have probably given him a concussion. Instead, before the oversized fish could lash out, Remus stretched out one of his hands.

    It ended as quickly as it had begun.

    The gauntlet shattered into pieces, a beam of plasma blasting out. Before he could even take note of the destruction, Remus grabbed Baldwin and flew back several metres, hovering in the air. The Unbounded was dead, alright, but he had destroyed a large chunk of the parapets in the process.

    Only when the smoke had cleared, and Remus was absolutely sure they were both safe, did he bring them both back to the ground.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Baldwin asked, between laborious breaths. His face was the portrait of fear.

    ¡°Unbounded can produce other Unbounded just like them.¡± Remus explained, needing a moment to compose himself. ¡°It¡¯s how they reproduce. They¡¯re connected to their offspring too. So when we killed that tiny fiend-¡±

    ¡°We caught the attention of the larger, stronger original.¡± Baldwin finished. ¡°Does that always happen when you kill Unbounded?¡±

    ¡°No. Not normally.¡± Remus blinked. ¡°It¡¯s like a one in five hundred chance. Most strong Unbounded have so many connections to their offspring, that they don¡¯t think twice at one of their weaker fiends disappearing. We just got unlucky. Take that as a lesson.¡±

    Remus strolled over to the smoking, crumbling wall of debris that stood where a few battlements had, only seconds previously. He sighed for real this time. How was he going to explain this? If this extended his service time . . .

    Of course, a guard arrived within a second.

    At least it was one he was on good terms with. Renee was of the Memory Clan ¡ª a middle-aged woman who took this position as her idea of ¡®retirement.¡¯

    ¡°What on Descent . . .?¡±

    ¡°My apologies.¡± Remus scrambled for the right words. ¡°I was taking my apprentice Baldwin through the final steps of his training, and ¡ª and things got out of hand.¡±

    She looked at him sternly, the way only a woman of many years, and of much wisdom, can. ¡°You¡¯re lucky it was me who came.¡±

    Across the side of her neck, Renee¡¯s Mark glowed a blinding white. It showcased her Goddess, Griselle, staring right at you, looking alien, and very much the godly being she was. Her brain, containing an encyclopaedic knowledge of the past, was illustrated in beautiful detail, above two eyes that Remus found it daunting to merely glance at.

    ¡°You¡¯re evil, making an old woman strain so much . . .¡±

    All around, like time itself was reversing, the destroyed scene slowly returned to normality. The scattered, destroyed brick was dragged slowly back together; smoke billowed back into the charred ground whence it came, and every other discrepancy was gradually resolved. All the while, the original, pristine state of the battlements was superimposed over, like a blueprint on how the place should look.

    After a minute, Renee swept her hands clean in a job well done. ¡°There. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯ll be taking a well deserved break.¡±

    Of course, Renee could only make it five steps before some other disaster snagged her attention. ¡°Are you seeing this?¡±

    ¡°Seeing what?¡± Remus asked, answering his own question with but a glance over the battlements.

    Just as there had been a mere Duration ago, more visitors were rushing into the city. Remus would have thought nothing of it, but after one glance at their uniforms . . .

    ¡°We have to stop them!¡±

    Renee gave him a look as if suggesting there was something seriously wrong with Remus. He couldn¡¯t muster the will to care. With a flare of his Mark, a turquoise flame enveloped him like a trusted outfit.

    He flew over to the newcomers, their gold attires sticking out like sore thumbs. Surely the Wealth Clan knew better than that? Had no one thought to put on a disguise, or even to suggest wearing one? Regardless, it mattered little ¡ª their overtness just made Remus¡¯ job easier.

    Like a comet smiting them both with divine power, Remus crashed into the pair of them. They were Foot-Soldiers at least. He could tell that easily, based on the advanced technique of floating on riches they were using to reach Eclipse. Their aura revealed such too.

    ¡°Ah, Sir, we were wondering if you had happened to see-¡± the Wealth clansman took one look at Remus¡¯ face, recognition flaring in his eyes. He had realised too late to be able to do anything.

    Remus didn¡¯t want to kill either of them. Aside from that being morally questionable, attacking anyone without warranted reason was a crime under his Oath as a guard ¡ª his set of obligations in exchange for circumventing the Divine Ground here. Even just attacking the pair of them out of the blue like this could be enough to extend his sentence. Nevertheless, that was a risk he was willing to take.

    Something about the Wealth Clan¡¯s presence here rang all sorts of alarm bells in his head.

    Setting the pair on fire would be too lethal, so Remus freed his hands of any flame, up to the forearm. The rest of his body remained immersed in the hellfire ¡ª the fear that sight would instil into the clansmen was not something he was willing to give up. Remus had the feeling these two weren¡¯t willing to answer questions truthfully, now that they knew full well who was asking. Regardless, Remus had enough warmth in his jaded heart to ask:

    ¡°What are you doing here, really? I know things aren¡¯t going too well in First Rite. I don¡¯t suppose right now is the best time to come visiting for leisure. Don¡¯t you have matters in your own city to attend to?¡±

    Gold was still swimming around the Wealth Clan duo. The pair of them looked fairly young, so Remus would feel at least a little bad for beating up Damohs¡¯s indoctrinated youth. But at the end of the day, he was giving them a chance. This far away, he could provide them protection from Damosh.

    Remus took a step closer, in what he hoped wasn¡¯t too alarming a movement. ¡°Damosh can¡¯t reach you from here. You¡¯re safe to act and think for yourselves. If you come with me, and promise to answer a few questions, we can all walk away without any trouble.¡±

    He kept the suggestion of violence explicit, but didn¡¯t want to sound like he wanted to hurt them. Part of him did, but Remus had at least enough self-awareness not to blame every Wealth clansman for what Damosh, and Damosh alone, had done. He disliked Edmar, of course, but while the man was a nasty piece of work, it was the King, at the end of the day, who was orchestrating all this madness.

    Take out the lynchpin, take out the entire operation all together. That was how Remus saw things.

    The pair didn¡¯t say anything for a moment, poised in a battle stance, and obviously expecting a fight. Remus couldn¡¯t deny that he was too.

    Finally, the more bold of the two opened their mouth. ¡°We¡¯re just passing through-¡±

    In less than the time it takes to draw a breath, the side of Remus¡¯ hand was already colliding with their temple. A bundle of Eruptive Will was imbued into the strike. Not enough to implode the young man¡¯s head, but carrying enough force to knock him out cold. Remus saw gold coins rushing at him, from the corner of his eye. He fueled the fires already surrounding him, turning the metal to molten.

    Then, all taking place within the span of a few seconds, Remus delivered a copycat blow to the remaining man. Both bodies dropped to the floor, only a moment¡¯s delay between them.

    Enough time for Renee, with Baldwin at her side, to arrive. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to stay at your apprentices'' side! And what the hell are you-¡±

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Check their memories.¡± Remus said firmly, ¡°tell me why they came here.¡±

    Renee looked like she wanted to argue, mumbled a few words of discontent, before curiosity got the better of her. She regarded the two unconscious men, and closed her eyes.

    A short pause later, they snapped back open. Her eyes were fully white, not a wick of black, or brown, or any shade you might expect to make up a pupil, present. A blank canvas for the past to paint upon.

    A frown appeared on Renee¡¯s lips.

    ¡°What?¡± Remus asked. ¡°What do you see?¡±

    Even Baldwin was utterly silent, never looking more interested in his life.

    ¡°They were given orders by some higher-ups in the Wealth Clan . . . I¡¯m trying to listen.¡±

    Out of all the clans scattered across Descent, Remus had to admit, the Memory Clan had the most fascinating array of abilities he had ever seen. They could reverse the effects of time, if not the time itself, in small quantities. They remembered every second of their lives with photographic accuracy, with that being either a blessing, or a curse. And perhaps most useful of all, they could peer into the memories of others. Remus assumed there were limits to all of these powers, and Renee had more access to techniques than Remus could fathom, but Renee was beyond useful to have around. Remus could see why they kept Memory Clansmen on the guards, as did the watchmen of many cities globally. Having someone who could dig into the truth of your enemies was mighty powerful.

    At last, Remus blinked, and the blue pupils returned to Renee¡¯s eyes. ¡°They were instructed to capture anyone who had fled from First Rite. Damosh wants to stop the news of his atrocities from spreading.¡±

    The memory of the Feast Clansmen from last Duration sprang into Remus¡¯ mind. Ignoring his disgust at the news, Remus almost wanted to laugh at Damosh.

    Trying to stop rumours from spreading was like trying to blot the sun out of the sky. Damosh really must have been out of his mind.

    ¡°We should report this.¡± Renee muttered to herself, looking a little out of it. ¡°I won¡¯t be surprised if the Wealth Clan are banned from entering.¡±

    ¡°Good riddance.¡± Remus wasn¡¯t quite sure how to address this next part. ¡°By the way . . . will I get into trouble for this?¡±

    Renee glared at Remus. She moved closer until she was only an inch away, jabbing Remus with a crooked finger. ¡°You were training Baldwin. That Unbounded approached, and from the racket you made, I came. We then saw the Wealth clansmen arrive, suspected something was fishy, and discovered their plans through mind reading them from a distance. Then we apprehended them, and had to use force when given no other option. That¡¯s the story we tell, okay?¡±

    Remus swallowed. ¡°Okay.¡±

    Renee stormed off, leaving Remus to deal with two unconscious bodies, and one very overwhelmed apprentice. Or perhaps Remus was the overwhelmed one, his mind was too disoriented to tell.

    After a time, Baldwin looked from the pile of bodies, to Remus'' weary face. ¡°Long day?¡±

    Remus murmured in agreement. ¡°Yes. Long day.¡±

    <hr>

    Back to that tiny chamber. Back to where he would spend his last night before freedom.

    Remus lay in his bed, staring up at the wall, letting the thoughts fly past his consciousness like clouds drifting in the sky. He didn¡¯t engage with any of them, but simply laid there; being. It was quite the meditative state.

    He was sad to see Baldwin go, but the boy had deserved it after following his training to a tee.

    Now, the unaddressed elephant in the room out for blood, there was only one question left to answer. What now?

    Freedom. It was an old taste on his tongue, and one Remus found it impossible to swallow. What was there to do?

    He could return to First Rite, but something told Remus he would be killed the second he walked through the entrance. Damosh had been quite jumpy lately, and Remus supposed he wasn¡¯t in the mood for familiar faces.

    The Carpentry Clan. It sickened Remus that he had hardly received word from his own family for what seemed to be millennia. They had sent letters, but they were becoming progressively fewer, and far between, as the year dragged on. He couldn¡¯t blame them, with how tumultuous a place First Rite was becoming. Perhaps Damosh had deemed letter writing proficient for the death penalty. It wouldn¡¯t surprise him.

    Last Remus had heard, they were still debating on who the next sect leader would be; Andreas¡¯ successor. During this year¡¯s Day of Descension, they had even gone so far as to consult the god Arcus, who proceeded to do the verbal equivalent of shrugging ¡ª decide it amongst yourselves.

    Remus longed to see them, but knew the matter was far more complex than simply knocking at their doorstep. He wondered though . . . how much danger was the Carpentry Clan in? If First Rite had really become the madhouse everybody had claimed it to be, he didn¡¯t like his clan¡¯s prospects.

    After a sigh, Remus forced himself off his bed, dragged himself to his desk, and placed down a blank piece of parchment. He sank his quill into the ink pot, took a deep breath, and his mind went blank. Just as empty as the daunting sheet before him. He focused on his breathing, trying to control himself, but yet was still at a loss for words.

    What was there to say?

    With a scowl, and after writing the formal means of address, Remus jotted down a few words.

    I¡¯m a free man tomorrow.

    He glared at the sentence, as if a detective staring down a criminal, waiting for them to snap under the pressure. Though this beginning seemed as good as any. He liked to keep things succinct.

    Remus had hoped that after cracking the introduction, the rest of the letter would flow out of him as easily as the ink from his quill. But no. Each word printed on page was like pushing a boulder up a cliff, the resistance unbelievable.

    After failing to pen a second tangible sentence, Remus sat his quill down, and stopped. Why was this so hard?

    He ruminated on that for a longer time than he¡¯d like to admit.

    It didn¡¯t feel right to send his family a letter. What kind of a person would he be, while his family was in a mortal crisis, too far to even reach, and the only helping hand he could offer was a letter?

    Remus felt his heart beating faster, his breath racing, as memory after memory of Damosh¡¯s tyranny spun around his mind. Those fleeing Feast clansmen, with Wealth Clan lackeys not far behind, like predators closing in on their prey. What if it was his family, his clan fleeing from danger?

    Damosh was turning his childhood home into a slaughterhouse.

    At that moment, Remus had no trouble finishing his letter. It seemed inconsequential now, in comparison to his larger problems.

    To Damion, Briella, Aiden, and everybody back home,

    I¡¯m a free man tomorrow. I¡¯ll see you soon.

    Much love, and stay safe,

    Remus

    In less than a minute, he had it neatly packaged up, and sent to the Scholar Sect¡¯s postal service. Though if they would still be delivering to First Rite for much longer, Remus had his doubts.

    He paced back and forth across his room, his mind fragmenting into a dozen different sides. All arguing in his mental court of law.

    A large part of Remus was trying very hard to stop himself from getting into even more trouble than he already was. The rest thought only of his family¡¯s danger, of everyone in First Rite.

    It mattered not that many of them had mistreated Remus for being Death-Marked ¡ª they were innocent people, for the most part, who didn¡¯t deserve this injustice.

    Again, the quarters of Remus¡¯ consciousness duked it out in a grand battle. Some of him wanted to do nothing but wallow in his despair; a large chunk hungered for justice; and another simply wished to return to the Ambition Clan¡¯s safety, and let history run its course.

    Yet Remus knew that for someone like him, there really was only one option.

    He made his decision.

    A knock at the door signalled the end of the mental court session, and Remus didn¡¯t have to speculate on who was behind the door.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    It felt odd to command his own commander like that: Kiran entered only a second later, the leader of the watchmen division of the guards.

    He was the stereotypical strongman, old, and balding. His big beefy arms were exposed, his chainmail armour that Remus doubted he ever took off stopping at his forearms. A coil of the same material was draped down his head. He looked at Remus with a warm smile.

    Kirain was a no-nonsense type of man, but had a heart to him that often pierced through the stern demeanour. Remus had enjoyed his service beneath the man, and couldn¡¯t have hoped for a better leader.

    Remus saluted. ¡°To what do I owe this honour?¡±

    Kirain laughed, before taking a seat on Remus'' bed. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so formal with me now, you know. Your service is almost over.¡±

    ¡°Technically I¡¯m not free until dawn, Sir.¡± Remus was starting to feel like Baldwin, insisting on so many formalities. ¡°I¡¯m not in any trouble, am I?¡±

    Kirian chuckled. ¡°Not unless you intend on getting in any. Which I think segways nicely into what I¡¯ve come here to ask you: what are your plans now, Remus? The entire world is wondering.¡±

    Remus tried not to let his smile waver. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know about that-¡±

    ¡°Well, whatever the case, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be something grand.¡±

    Something grand. Remus hoped he didn¡¯t look too anxious, his fingers tapping on his desk. Was he to tell Kirian his plans? It was risky: he couldn¡¯t be certain of the man¡¯s reaction. Regardless, Kirian wasn¡¯t the kind of person to try and stop him, if Remus really was resolute.

    ¡°Actually,¡± Remus began, and Kirian inclined his head.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of the trouble brewing in First Rite, and I¡¯m growing increasingly concerned for my family there. I have a lot of political influence now. I might be able to make a change.¡±

    Kirian considered that for a moment. ¡°That sounds like a polite way of saying you¡¯re starting a rebellion.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on.¡± Remus sighed. ¡°Someone has to do something! Damosh is killing people in the droves, and nobody is willing to do anything! I have the power to do something, so I must. It¡¯s my duty.¡±

    Remus thought this would spring into an argument, but Kirian¡¯s warm front didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I can¡¯t stop you Remus, and to be perfectly honest,¡± he leaned in conspiratorially, hand to his mouth, ¡°I one hundred percent agree with what you¡¯re saying. Damosh has had it coming for decades.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for understanding. It¡¯s not like I want to do this.¡± Remus couldn¡¯t tell if that was a lie. ¡°But I have to. My family and almost everyone I¡¯ve ever known could be in danger.¡±

    The commander nodded morosely, before turning to the door. Remus thought that was the end of it, until that gravelly voice beckoned him over.

    ¡°Come with me Remus, there¡¯s something I¡¯ve been meaning to show you. Now seems like an ample opportunity.¡±

    Sceptical, Remus did as he was bid.

    Kirian led him down a long corridor, twisting through a stretch of passages that Remus himself seldom visited. The notion of this being a trap occurred to him, but that didn''t seem likely. Kirian wasn¡¯t the trickster type.

    The silence became overwhelming, so Remus cleared his throat. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure, Sir, really. My trial was probably one of the worst things that ever happened to me, but you and your boys out here helped make it a whole lot better.¡±

    Remus couldn¡¯t see Kirian¡¯s face, but felt the warmth radiating off his smile to know it was there.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡±

    They stopped at another of the fort¡¯s bland oak doorways. This one, however, required a key. Kirian fiddled with a complex lock for a moment, the resounding noise of the clanging mechanisms telling Remus enough: this room was well guarded. Of course, someone could easily blast through that wood, but Remus suspected there were more protections he couldn¡¯t see with the naked eye. Inspecting it with his internal senses proved just that.

    Kirian entered a dark room, somehow colder than the rest of the riddling tunnels. Remus waited outside for a pause, unsure what was expected of him.

    ¡°You may enter.¡±

    If Remus was going to be killed in the dead of night, and have his organs sold on the black market, this was precisely the place he imagined that happening. Nevertheless, Kirian had never done him any harm, and thinking so harshly of the commander wasn¡¯t like Remus. He would have to be so gracious as to trust the fellow one more time.

    Remus entered a chamber, one that was the exact same size as any other room in the fortress ¡ª the designers of the place seemed to lack a kind of creative ingenuity. There was little lighting, but he could see the crates that filled the space well enough.

    It was a storage facility. Mainly for food, and equipment, Remus gathered, but Kirian approached one crate with precision. He was after something. After sliding the top of the crate off, and fingering through a sheet of cloth, he unveiled some kind of shining metal.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think that all God-Graced have a bone to pick with you Remus.¡± Kirian held out a long, glimmering metal chain. Remus recognised the Supreme Steel sheen within a second. ¡°Some wanted to reward you for efforts at subduing the Right-bearers. You used a chain before, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Remus nodded, not quite sure what to say. ¡°I did. It snapped into smithereens when I fought the Supreme Fiend.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised.¡± Kirian chuckled. ¡°Here, take it. It¡¯s made out of the remains of the Supreme Fiend you and your grandfather killed.¡±

    Remus'' fingers flinched at that.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you worry. No Rot remains to seep into your bones. It was checked and tested a dozen times over. All that¡¯s left in some of the purest, most refined Supreme Steel the world has ever seen. You¡¯ll have a hard time breaking these, and they¡¯ll serve as a perfect conduit for your power.¡±

    Remus grasped onto the chains, flowing Infinity through them. His power rushed through the metal as easily as if through his own arm.

    There was no precedent for it, but Remus bowed deeply at the waist. ¡°Thank you Kirian. I¡¯ll treasure this for life. It¡¯ll become a family heirloom.¡±

    Kirian simply grinned, the rictus contorting his face, like his ageing skin was cracking. ¡°I would have loved to give it to you earlier, but I was told specifically to wait until the end of your service. The Three Pillars played a large part in putting this all together. It was meant to be a kind of light at the end of the tunnel.¡±

    Remus couldn¡¯t think of any better way to put it.

    For the first time in a while, hope swelled in his chest. Maybe things could get better. He had more experience than ever, perhaps one of the strongest weapons in all of Descent, and a goal he¡¯d been fostering ever since the Wealth Clan first mistreated his family.

    Now, there was just work to do. Remus gripped the chain a little harder.

 99. Through His Dead Eyes

    Drishtee wasn¡¯t quite sure if he had died yet. Sooner or later, it was bound to happen.

    The light from his Mark had ceased to be. As if all Drishtee had ever known was light, and he was dragged into the deepest cove of some bottomless pit, all light vanquished in place of a definitive dark. The Speed Clan had been in shambles, he recalled, amidst the visions spinning through his mind. Once their Marks had shunned them from the source of their power ¡ª or perhaps that source had been put to rest entirely ¡ª one of Descent¡¯s most powerful clans had been reduced to the condition of a Death-Marked. Not even a Warlord can do much, without the power of their god sifting through them.

    For the most unreal two days he could imagine, Drishtee had witnessed the Speed Clan fall into hysterics. Infighting began, people fell into utter despair, and more times that Dishtree could count, he had witnessed sobbing clansmen falling to their knees, hands clamped together in prayer, as they called out for their god, Java.

    But then white light had blazed from their Marks anew, albeit deviating from their past crimson glow. It seemed as if their prayers had been answered.

    Then, the visions began. Like phantoms from the future, descending upon them like wolves to a feast; like an attack orchestrated by fate itself.

    Drishtee could hardly feel his body of flesh and blood, his consciousness only extending to the circus of light and explosions, rattling his brain inside his skull. He tried to fight, to shake his real head so hard that the prophecies would go away all together.

    But they would not.

    Exploding planets sent ash billowing through the cosmos. Light, divine and ubiquitous, washed over his mind¡¯s eye with enough force to fry it. Unbounded everywhere, a disease on the heavens, rampaged, grew, mutated, spread to every crevice, corner, and unchecked place the universe had to offer.

    They were everywhere. An infinite army fit for Infinity.

    Dishtree watched, a helpless spectator chained to his seat, as his focus turned to one lone planet. He recognised the solid, one-piece landmass without fail: Descent, birthplace of the gods, and home to their bravest warriors.

    And Unbounded surrounded the place. Anywhere he looked, in the droves, and so closely huddled together, he couldn¡¯t even see the coal black of drifting space. He saw this image through several frames, which something told him were different points in time. In each instance, the numbers of the Unbounded grew, drawing closer and closer to Descent¡¯s crust. The gods'' offensive was failing to draw them back.

    Dishtree imagined, whether he liked it or not, being a clansman at that time. Looking up to the sky, and like the smiling face of death peering down, seeing a wall of Unbounded, soon to topple everything you knew and love.

    The front lines as a distinguished Mark on a map was a laughable prospect. Everywhere would be the warfront then. Divine Ground would offer safety only in name.

    He imagined himself to be screaming, for Dishtree at least managed to feel his vocal cords straining in his throat, the connection to his real body, if a feeling of pain, a blessing nevertheless. Sometimes, he was scared he would never be back to normal life. Whenever the vision took hold, it was a gamble if he would live to see through it.

    Believe it or not, tearing back the wallpaper of reality, to peer at the future, was quite rough on the body.

    Another vision. It was like swimming through one headache, into another. It was difficult to compare different degrees of pain, but Dishtree hoped this next one wouldn¡¯t be as horrific.

    He saw First Rite, a city close to the heart of many a clansmen. He¡¯d done work in that city personally, carriage riding for even sect leaders, more times than he could count. He didn¡¯t live in any city, carrying a nomadic business sort of lifestyle, but if any city had a claim on his own heart, this would be it.

    Pity he would now have to see it burnt to the ground.

    Not literally, of course, but Dishtreee didn¡¯t think it made much of a difference. The outcome of the events unfolding before his eyes were much the same.

    A bloodbath in the streets, staining the avenues with the sickly sweet amber of Ichor. At every turn, Wealth Clansmen drenched in blood strolled around, like executioners accustomed to their job. Dishtree didn¡¯t know what was the scariest: the bloody truncheons they carried, alongside their tattered clothes, or the casual, bored grace they operated with. As if killing in the masses was a trivial thing; mundane beyond belief.

    Divine Ground was finally undone, and armies descended on First Rite. The city was flooded with bodies: flesh both dead and alive. Both bloodthirsty and fleeing for their lives.

    It was pandemonium, in the purest sense of the word. Light dazzled Dishtree¡¯s eyes, the world seemed to tremble as Mark after Mark unleashed their patron god¡¯s power. Buildings trembled, a man-made disaster shattering foundations and sending the work of the Carpentry Clan tumbling down.

    Above it all, a hysterical King looked around his fallen empire. Eyes wide, like pure opium was being flooded into his bloodstream.

    Dishtree¡¯s body seemed to spasm, and though he could hardly raise his eyelids, a woman¡¯s face bore down on him.

    Bright crimson eyes, like concentrated magma, stared into his. Light sizzled at the edges of Dishtree¡¯s peripherals, like another vision was crawling into the fray, intent on dragging him in.

    He fought to keep afloat. If he was to submerge into the future once more, he wasn¡¯t sure if he could make it.

    Dishtree wouldn¡¯t be the first from his clan to die at the hands of such power: power he was sure even God-Graced would be damned to handle. It would be a miracle if half their clan saw it to the end of the Rebirth ¡ª they were dropping like flies.

    The woman was speaking to him. Maybe shouting, judging off the desperation with which they were calling. But it was like trying to call out to someone countries away. Dishtree was too concerned with keeping his mind in one piece to focus.

    But all credit to her, the woman was stubborn. Or perhaps girl. She did appear to be fairly young. He thought he recognised her; perhaps from in the newspapers somewhere? Dishtree¡¯s brain lurched in the crumbling abode of his skull, and he swiftly redirected the mental effort of that thought to generally trying to stay alive.

    ¡°What do you see?¡± He finally heard.

    Dishtree tried to open his lips. It was the greatest trial of his life. Like each quiver of his mouth was the equivalent of pushing a boulder up a hill.

    ¡°First Rite. Destroyed. Armies in the streets. Unbounded surrounding all of-¡±

    A migraine stabbed into his brain matter. It was jarring, but something about recounting what he saw seemed to keep Dishtree grounded. The light at the edge of his vision was pushed back, the invisible rope pulling him deeper and deeper into future¡¯s consequence growing taunt.

    ¡°Unbounded surrounding all of Descent.¡± He finished. ¡°Bad things. Very bad.¡±

    Violet frowned, but how he suddenly knew this woman¡¯s name, Dishtree was left blindsided. She had definitely been in the papers, but his overworked mind was too busy tearing into a million pieces to recall why.

    She gripped onto his shoulders, as if trying to pull him back into the present moment. If it wasn¡¯t so god awful, Dishtree may have laughed. Something told him he wasn¡¯t getting back from this.

    Another vision swallowed him whole. Pain seized his body, like millions of body cells were terminating with every passing second of the future he was graced with. Or perhaps burdened by, was more accurate.

    It was less a focused scene and more a collection of frenzied moments, strewn together as if by string.

    Like frames immortalised in his aching brain, Dishtree watched every corner of Descent become flooded with Unbounded. Land and space alike, the entire universe was their domain now. Perhaps it always was.

    This seemed to be a common vision amongst the Speed Clansmen. Or whatever power was flowing through their Marks now. The newfounded oracular sight they bore was certainly not of Java, or any Speed god they had known, at least.

    Dishtree saw amongst the billowing smoke, the flying blood, and slicing silver, a central silhouette. A messiah-like figure, floating above the raging armies like they were untouchable. Like they were above anyone and anything.

    A villain in green. Their cloak covered their face, but something told Dishtree they were the puppetmaster of all of this. Man or woman, child or adult, he couldn¡¯t tell. Up in the sky, casting grand shadows that immersed everything in sight, were asteroids rushing down. Rocky giants of space dust and thick ice, ready to annihilate the ancient crust of Descent.

    ¡°An apocalypse.¡± Dishtree gritted his teeth, the hope he had for the future becoming more and more challenging to grab ahold of. ¡°Some kind of cloaked man. Leading . . .¡± white light consumed everything now, and even Dishtree¡¯s thoughts became distant notions. He was becoming increasingly more separated from everything, until there would be nothing left to signify he lived. ¡°A cloaked man leading our downfall.¡±

    The woman screamed out to Dishtree, and it was her words alone, he believed, that delayed the inevitable. His body tremored in sporadic fits, but even that became a distant sensation.

    Another vision immersed him in its icy depths. Dishtree was hardly conscious of what he saw, but like a man strapped down and forced to watch, he observed a scene unlike anything he¡¯d suffered thus far.

    Yet again, a cosmic visage consumed his attention. He¡¯d seen enough of space to leave an astrologer content for life, but it seemed for the little time Dishtree had left of his own, this would be his stage.

    Two central figures tousled it out in a duel that defied perception. One or two seconds transpired, and already, enough force had been produced to split the entirety of Descent into two. No wonder the gods put so many protections on the place. It was a miracle the planet had survived through the Celestial War, or any planet at all for that matter.

    Space was a floating graveyard.

    Only when the larger of the two figures ¡ª unmistakably an Unbounded, and a powerful one at that ¡ª had grasped the other in a handhold, was Dishtree given enough time to breathe, and more importantly, to recognise what this scene really was.

    The demise of his clan¡¯s god. Java, at the cusp of death, struggling like a bullied pup in the hands of Enos.

    At this sight alone, Dishtree¡¯s entire system threatened to shut down.

    ¡°Enos killed Java.¡± He spoke those words, hoping Violet, or anyone at all, was still listening. Dishtree may have been biased, but he couldn''t help but see this as the dawn of another dark age. The trumpet blow that heralded disastrous things to come.

    By the time Dishtree next blinked, Enos had vanished. He expected a squadron of gods to flood into the scene, quick as a flash. But a few seconds dragged on, startlingly long for deities, and still . . . nothing.

    Java''s body floated in a river of his own Ichor, and the heavens knew Dishtree was helpless to stop it. Dishtree wondered, what was it to die alone? At least he was in one of his clan¡¯s huts, with Violet at his side. If the girl was still there ¡ª he had a hunch these last few minutes would be his last, with her listening to his frenzied explanations, or not.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Finally, a white light appeared. It illuminated through the shallow dark of the scene, focused on Java¡¯s body. It seemed to neaten up his corpse, as if it was being prepared for burial. That was when the man appeared.

    Another god, one almost identical to Java. In fact, physically, Dishtree¡¯s disturbed mind could not name a single difference. But it was absolutely certain to him that this was another man. Their aura gave it away; it was distinct.

    Now that he cared to notice, Dishtree realised that he recognised that aura. It was the strange, unfounded energy that radiated off his own Mark. And all the Marks of the Speed Clan, after they had rekindled.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, brother.¡± An ancient voice spoke, as if stones one day decided to speak. ¡°I did you a disservice. But I will not leave your people godless.¡±

    Java¡¯s twin raised their hands, light pouring all across the scene. It was the same sneaking white that now tunnel-visioned him. Slowly closing and closing inwards, until there was nothing left.

    Dishtree thought, seconds away from joining his deity in the afterlife, that he had been wrong to call his clan the Speed Sect.

    They were of the Time god now.

    All thoughts perished in Dishtree¡¯s mind, the final imprints of his mind vanishing, like mud tracks undone by a rainy day. Gone, like they had never existed in the first place.

    ¡°What do you see?¡± Violet called out, but it was pissing in the wind. A deaf echo, pervading through the tomb of Drishtree¡¯s corpse. ¡°Where is Nova?¡± The sound reverberated throughout Dishtree¡¯s hollow skull. ¡°Where is Enos?¡±

    No matter how loudly Violet pleaded, she would receive no answer.

    <hr>

    Remus sat perched, a giant link of chain beneath his feet. This location was one of the highest points in all of Eclipse, and with sheets of rain slipping down from the sky, Remus could see almost the entirety of the city, drenched. Flying up here had been well worth the effort.

    His hair, and even his guard¡¯s uniform, were thoroughly soaked. The giant statues that connected the chains were fine works of masonry, standing hundreds of metres tall in a daunting sight. He admired them idly. Remus wondered who had created them, but his mind was absorbed by other matters entirely.

    How was he to rally a force large enough to topple Damosh? An invincible, God-Graced King. Remus felt the urge to laugh, to cackle out at the absurdity of it all, but suppressed it. This wasn¡¯t a laughing matter.

    As far as Remus was concerned, this was life or death.

    How many more people would Damosh get away with killing? The possibilities shook him to his core. The faster he acted, the more lives he could save.

    But he needed a starting point. He needed reliable men and women with the agency to get things done. Remus pondered on this for a few minutes more.

    Everything that came to mind was not something that could be done swiftly. Of course, he would gather the most people to his cause by visiting major cities, especially First Rite itself. Alas, Remus wasn¡¯t quite ready for that endeavour, and was well aware that currently, without a single man behind him, he didn¡¯t have a leg to stand on. The hardest part would be to get the initial few to join his course.

    He wasn¡¯t quite sure how to go about it. Rocking up to someone, and shouting, ¡°hey! Wanna join me on a crusade against a tyrannical King?¡±, didn¡¯t sound too appealing, even to himself. So he would need somebody already with trust in him. Someone with faith in his abilities.

    Like the devil whispering into his ear, he heard a tiny thought urge him: ask the watchmen. His initial reaction was to disregard the idea, scrunch it up, and toss it into the nearest incinerator. But was it really that bad of a notion? He had heard the guards trashing-talking Damosh with a passion, on countless occasions.

    But that had all been words. Not actions. Nothing physically done to invoke a change. Saying that you wanted to dethrone Damosh, and actually rallying together to put a stop to his slaughter, were two very different things indeed.

    Remus sighed. Aw, to hell with it. He thought. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?

    Remus inhaled, set his Mark ablaze, and shivered in the sudden rise in temperature. It was getting quite cool outside now, chilly even, and a small touch of internal fire was perfect to warm Remus up.

    He leaped off the giant chain, earning himself a wry smile at the memory of his own gifted present, and flew around the city.

    Remus could be a swift beast when he wanted to be. In battle, it was hard to coordinate his attacks and reactions at such a speed, but for simple traversal through an area as wide as this, it was proficient enough. Remus weaved and drifted through and past many of Eclipse¡¯s scattered islands, knowing his way through the city better than the back of his hand.

    He landed on the fortress lining the outskirts of Eclipse, launched himself down a deep stairway, and hoped he would catch the watchmen. He didn¡¯t have his key to the inner chambers anymore ¡ª Kirian had taken it once his duty had ended. Nevertheless, Remus found the door conveniently left open, a trickle of light bleeding out.

    Remus stopped at the doorway, and took a deep breath. Catching a bunch of trained professionals off-guard was not the best of ideas. He made loud footsteps to make his presence known, and opened the door.

    Ten or so guards all turned to him, intrigued expressions plastered on their faces. Remus composed himself, and before anyone could say another word, spoke: ¡°I have a proposal.¡±

    He explained, without leaving any detail untouched, precisely what he intended on doing. How he was going to take down Damosh if it killed him. He lingered for a long time on the extent of Damosh¡¯s misdoings, his violations of divine power. Every graphic detail of the mad King¡¯s campaign deepened the scowls on their faces; made the men shift a tad more uncomfortably.

    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m calling for your support. Relying on it, even.¡± Remus felt his confidence wan at their lack of enthusiasm. He pressed on anyway. ¡°I know I¡¯m asking for a lot, but if no-one does anything, who knows what will happen?¡±

    There was one pause, like all noise had been sucked out of the world, before anyone dared to utter a sound.

    ¡°Look Remus, none of us could agree with you more than we already do. Damosh needs to be killed, quite frankly, and I would take immense pleasure in being the one to do it.¡± It was Aelius speaking. Not too close of a friend to Remus, but they were friendly enough. Though clearly not to the extent that he would be willing to leave his post. ¡°But you¡¯re asking for too much.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡± Another man muttered, to much murmurous assent. ¡°We have families. Mouths to feed. I don¡¯t think the missus will be too happy if I abandon the kids to go on some heroic stint.¡±

    Remus muttered nothing in response. He waited briefly, to see if anyone would take him up on his offer.

    Nothing.

    He feigned a smile. Despite his annoyance, he couldn¡¯t blame the men. This far from First Rite; it wouldn¡¯t make sense for them to put so much effort in dealing with an issue that quite frankly, had next to nothing to do with them. Maybe their clans had outposts in First Rite, but it would be a small group at best. It was more than likely that such groups had already departed from the city, fleeing at the first opportunity.

    Remus said his most cordial farewell, and flew out of the building as fast as he could. He was more than just a little embarrassed, to be honest.

    Soaring higher and higher, Remus couldn¡¯t help but wonder: had this been stupid from the start? Was he latching onto matters that had nothing to do with him anymore? Clinging onto the past like an old man, cursed to forever relive their glory days.

    He shook his head, was about to fly a few laps to clear his mind, and give the blood some time to stop rushing to his cheeks, when a figure waved up at him. Remus blinked, the waving dot in his vision snapping into focus.

    The Feast Clansman. The man who had weeped upon arriving at Eclipse. Remus promptly flew down to him, descending like a bird of prey, only without the wings.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you.¡± Remus smiled. ¡°Mr-¡±

    ¡°Call me Barley.¡± The man insisted, matching Remus¡¯ grin. But it was hardly noticeable. More like a faint curve. An etching of dust the wind could drag away just as easily as it came. ¡°It¡¯s your final day, correct? Or yesterday was. You¡¯re leaving.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a question, but Remus answered it anyway. ¡°Indeed, I am.¡±

    ¡°I wanted to say goodbye, and thank you, Remus . . . but you appear so glum. What is the matter?¡±

    Remus sighed. Was he really that bad at hiding his emotions from his face? ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m just thinking of how to proceed.¡±

    ¡°Debating what to do about Damosh, eh?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, something like that. I had a plan to try and raise a- it¡¯s stupid. Foolish. But still . . . it pains me to see what a mess he¡¯s making of our home.¡±

    ¡°Raising an army?¡± Barley raised an eyebrow.

    Shoot. Remus hadn¡¯t intended to let that slip. No disease spread quicker than rumours. If word got out that he was contemplating something so bold, when Remus was still debating whether to actually go ahead with it . . . Remus would be putting himself into a corner. Oh well, he had already told an entire room about his plans. One more person wouldn¡¯t hurt.

    ¡°I tried to talk the guards into it.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t go well?¡±

    ¡°No. It didn¡¯t.¡±

    The wind billowed past, the air felt cold, dragging a lingering chill, and Remus felt just how dry his throat was. Why did everything have to be so complex? There was never a simple solution to anything, ever. Remus was trapped between a rock and a hard place, and the worst part was, he didn¡¯t even know what options he had. What could he do?

    ¡°That¡¯s a shame.¡± Barley swept him out of his reverie. ¡°You know . . . I¡¯ve been looking for some work since coming to Eclipse-¡±

    ¡°No. I can¡¯t ask you to do that. I¡¯m not even paying.¡±

    ¡°Well, money isn¡¯t a problem. I can produce my own food, but I feel so . . . helpless here. I have no purpose. This is something I can do, something to fight for-¡±

    ¡°Exploiting desperate people isn¡¯t my intention. Look, it just wouldn¡¯t sit right with me if-¡±

    Barley grasped his shoulder in a frankly aggressive motion. Remus had to stop himself from reacting. ¡°Look. This is what I want. You¡¯re not forcing me into anything. First Rite is my home too. I have a right to fight for it. I¡¯m going to whether you like it or not. It¡¯s not your decision to make. And besides, let¡¯s face it, you need the men. Who else did you expect to rally under this cause then the very men Damosh exploits?¡±

    Remus opened his mouth, but no words came out. He couldn¡¯t win here. Their argument was flawless. ¡°Okay. Okay. Barley, right? Congratulations on being the first man to join the cause.¡±

    They clasped hands. The resulting smack resounded all around, and Remus couldn¡¯t imagine a more satisfying sound.

    ¡°The other clansmen that came with me, they¡¯d love nothing more than to help out too. Besides, Eclipse doesn¡¯t seem to be the nicest to immigrants.¡±

    Remus raised an eyebrow at that, but it made sense. Most cities were structured around the central sects that inhabited them. Outsiders had trouble finding a place to stay, or merely somewhere to work. Remus didn¡¯t agree with it, but travellers were often seen as nuisances as a result.

    Due to being a guard, and his ¡®living legend¡¯ status, Remus had it easy in this regard. The only anguish he¡¯d faced in Eclipse had been from his own doing. The imagination was an ample torture device, if you didn¡¯t get a hold over it.

    ¡°Alright.¡± Remus felt his damaged ego slowly morph back whole. ¡°Yeah, maybe we can do this.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t a fan of how Barley seemed more confident about this than he did. That wasn¡¯t the infallible leader impression he wanted to give to his followers. Whatever the case, this was a better start than nothing. Remus followed Barley to a stretch of grey, cement buildings, walking across one of the actual bridges between islands. The ancient things didn¡¯t seem to get much use, each step unearthing dust from who knows how long ago, sweeping down like sand waterfalls into oblivion.

    ¡°This is where you live?¡± Remus looked at the lack of decor, the depressing monochrome of the place, and felt his heart go out for Barely. This reminded him very sharply of his time in prison.

    ¡°It¡¯s where they let you go if you haven''t found housing yet, or if you''re homeless, or . . . yeah it¡¯s a prison.¡± Barley admitted with a sigh. ¡°But it¡¯s more generous than some cities. I would have hated fleeing to somewhere like Hell¡¯s Floor.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡±

    Remus waited in the rain as the rest of the group he¡¯d witnessed entering Eclise gathered. He let Barley do the talking mostly, whose passionate enthusiasm for the rebellion almost made him tense. Again, Barley had so much faith in this operation. To him, this was like one last divine miracle. A chance to bring glory back to First Rite, to make the city of his birth a place that would treat the Talents of the Realm with due respect.

    As Barely had promised, each of the group looked to Remus with excitement. The sight made his heart skink. He was too far in now, he really had to go ahead with this. It was real, not just a vague, distant prospect in his mind that brought vicarious pleasure to him.

    They were going to dethrone Damosh.

    Remus inhaled. Who would replace him? He had no idea, he¡¯d never thought that far into the future. Some kind of voting system sounded appealing, but nothing like that had ever been attempted. Even since the Barbaric Ages, the ruler of places had been decided by who could throw the hardest punch, or had the most power to toss around. Even Hybrid¡¯s yearly cycle of monarchs was dysfunctional ¡ª it just made the bloodbaths for the throne a little more organised.

    Though, if Remus knew anything for certain, it was that the future was cloudy; unlike anything the world had ever known or seen before. Who knew what the possibilities were?

    Remus inhaled, looking into the eyes of everyone in his new squadron, one by one, taking ample time with each. He wasn¡¯t sure what he saw there, peering into the inner temple of the mind, but in any case, it was clear to him that above all else, he had to protect these people.

    Damosh had his work set out for him. He wouldn¡¯t let the deranged King put a scratch on any one of them. Remus vowed that on his very soul.

 100. Beneath the Stars

    ¡°So he¡¯s really dead?¡±

    If Violet had anything to say about Maris, it was that she was a very blunt Queen. She had about three hundred other, more vulgar things to say about her, but Violet didn¡¯t know how that information would fare in front of royalty. She kept her mouth shut.

    She stood at her master, Veida¡¯s side, pristine white walls encasing the three of them. This was their lab, one of the best in all of Hybrid, certainly the best Violet had ever seen, and very likely the best in the world. It was a gigantic enterprise, with different chambers for different experiments spreading out for a daunting distance. Scientists walked at a swift pace through every chamber, always busy, always having something or other to do, and there was a general buzz of chatter that pervaded every crevice of the place.

    Except for this room. Here, a barebones block with no more decoration than some cushioning to sit on, and a coffee table, silence reigned king. Whenever Violet felt intimidated, or overwhelmed, or otherwise pressed against a wall, she paid attention to the minutiae of her surroundings. This included the tiny little sounds that could always be heard. The rustling of plumbing, the gentle sway of wind or patting of rain droplets against an open window; the sound of distant voices from the rooms below.

    But in here, that kind of salvation was not to be found.

    The room was soundproofed, and served one purpose: hosting the exchange of confidential information. The kind of news that would shake up the world once it''s released out into the public. Yet, whenever something really outlandish occurred, it wasn¡¯t something you could fully keep secret. You could box it up, like chains of secrecy keeping hold firm a new suspect. But like water seeping out, like a man with a saw slowly breaking free of his confines, rumours would spread, and it would escape.

    Especially something as big as this.

    ¡°Java was killed. Yes, that is correct. By Enos.¡±

    Veida was equally as blunt, Violet had come to find. Though she supposed that wasn¡¯t the worst trait in the world. It served one to cut to the chase, wherever possible. Ripping off the bandaid often helped more than latching on.

    ¡°This is something indeed. How exciting!¡± Maris seemed to be taking this news like it was the best thing she had heard all day. In fact . . . was that a toothy grin forming on her face? ¡°It has been a while since a god was on the chopping block. Though I do wonder, what happened to the Speed Clan? I¡¯ve heard you two have encountered their condition, first hand.¡±

    Violet wanted to tell the stupid God-Graced that she was taking matters far too lightly. The world had just gone through one of the most tenuous times in recent history, and a god¡¯s murder was just the cherry on top of the cake of misery.

    Veida, however, and perhaps wisely, did the talking. ¡°They seem to have developed oracular abilities. But they¡¯re far more reliable than any oracles Descent has ever seen. Every single thing they¡¯ve uttered so far ¡ª the ability bringing them to the brink of death ¡ª has come true. They predicted Damosh¡¯s descent into madness Durations before his first killing. Maris, the other things they¡¯ve predicted may be distant, but if they¡¯re as true as their other visions . . . this is just the beginning. The future is dark.¡±

    Again, that bone-chilling silence. Like the marrow in Violet¡¯s bones had been filled with ice, glaciers pricking into her skin. She suddenly felt the urge to shiver.

    ¡°Well then.¡± Even Maris seemed taken aback. Perhaps her youthful disregard of everything thus far had been a front? Surely someone who had reached her level of power and influence was at least a little self-aware. ¡°That is serious. What of the Speed Clan, how are they faring?¡±

    ¡°Suffice to say, they¡¯re in chaos. For a time, they were stranded without power following Java¡¯s death. Imagine an entire sect Death-Marked.¡± Violet shoved down the connotations of that word. ¡°But then, for some reason, may the gods bless us with a clear explanation, their Marks relit, blazing again with a newfound power. The Time Clan may be a more appropriate name now. The power that flows through them, however lethal, is a different deity¡¯s.¡±

    Maris leaned forward. ¡°Who? How?¡±

    Violet and Veida locked eyes, exchanging so much without a word. ¡°You see,¡± Veida continued, ¡°for a long time now, Java was rumoured to have not only dominion over Speed, but over Time itself. Clocks and other related imagery are seen throughout many of the Speed Clan¡¯s Marks. But nothing came out of the theory, until now.¡±

    Memories flashed through Violet¡¯s mind of Dishtree¡¯s death, and although she felt like retching at the nearest opportunity, she pressed on. ¡°I managed to get one of the Speed Clansmen to converse with me, in his final moments. He seemed to be slipping in and out of visions, his mind going berserk, but he found the strength to recount to me what he saw. He mentioned, right on the cusp of death, seeing a god approaching Java¡¯s body. Then he muttered the word ¡®brother¡¯. Allegedly, the two deities looked identical.¡±

    Maris stroked her hairless chin, the water of her hands and face sliding into each other. ¡°And . . . ?¡±

    Veida picked up for her. ¡°We suspect that Java has a brother. A twin brother. That would explain why the god Java was confused with the power of Time. One brother of Speed, one of Time.¡±

    ¡°Quite the powerful blood . . .¡± Maris trailed off. ¡°Strange. I¡¯ve never heard of gods being ¡®related¡¯. They don¡¯t share blood like that, and neither are they born in that manner. They formed, I believe originally, from Infinity colliding into each other, and imbued with sentient will.¡±

    Violet had heard many stories of the gods¡¯ inception, but never in such a literal, scientific way. It was eerily similar to the creation of Unbounded. Two sides of the same coin.

    ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s due to how similar their areas of power are. After all, Time and Speed are one and the same, if you ruminate on it long enough.¡±

    Maris nodded along, staring at the wall. ¡°I need time to think on this. Do any other God-Graced know?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a hard secret to keep.¡± Veida answered. ¡°Nearly everyone was reliant on the Speed Clan¡¯s carriage system. People are at a loss. There are other ways to travel, of course, but they¡¯re nowhere near as efficient. A gap as big as that in the system is hard to miss. Though I doubt anyone knows as much as we do, Maris, but it won¡¯t be for long. Many clans are investigating matters. Once someone with the same vision as Dishtree recounts the truth, it¡¯ll be worldwide news. I¡¯d say we have the information maybe a few days early.¡±

    If this whole lab wasn¡¯t funded by Maris, and she wasn¡¯t the reigning Queen of Hybrid, despite overstaying her welcome, Violet and Veida would be more inclined to release this news publicly. But Maris, like most God-Graced, was tricky. She latched onto secrets with a firm grip. Any advantage to her would be taken, even for something as catastrophic as this.

    ¡°Your Majesty, we also have another topic of interest we believe you¡¯d want to hear.¡±

    Maris nodded. ¡°Go on?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve located Nova.¡±

    Even with her face mere ripples in the liquid of her face, Violet still saw Maris raise her eyebrows. Or the liquid equivalent.

    The last remaining Right-bearer. Practically every God-Graced was keen to have the fiend killed, and be done with it. The honour of being the one to vanquish this generation of Right-bearers, once and for all, would be something indeed.

    ¡°He¡¯s somewhere in the mazes of Great Oasis. Disturbing the trainees there and all around making a ruckus. He seems to be . . . not well, mentally.¡±

    ¡°As in?¡±

    ¡°As in, Enos seems to be controlling him, exaggerating his more eccentric, bloodlusted attributes.¡± Veida answered. ¡°He¡¯s a raging, bloodlusted killing machine.¡±

    Maris frowned. ¡°And this isn¡¯t public knowledge, why?¡±

    ¡°He spends much of his time in hiding. The place has been abandoned, with trainees prohibited from entering the stone labyrinth. It is common knowledge, really, but most people claim it''s a ridiculous rumour. People searched around the maze, multiple times, and they found no great Unbounded in hiding. No servant of Enos peeping around the corner. Nothing at all. As for why those dead bodies appeared . . . people are starting to suspect foul play amongst the training clansmen.¡±

    ¡°That they killed each other? Do you think it¡¯s a cover up for a fight gone too far?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. We¡¯ve been reading the Infinity fluctuations from that area using our lab¡¯s technology. It goes without saying that Violet has encountered Nova¡¯s aura directly, and she recounts that the power emanating from that place, and the power from her father, are one and the same. But people are catching on. I hear they¡¯re sending people from the Memory Clan to replay the events of the trainees¡¯ killings. Any day now, it will be public knowledge.¡±

    Violet inhaled. This was the part she was waiting for. Her body tensed, as she hoped that things would pan out smoothly.

    ¡°As we know you like to use information to your advantage, we wanted to consult you before confirming Nova¡¯s presence to the public ¡ª or as close to a confirmation as we can get. If you allowed us to make this public, we would very much appreciate it. Violet is intent on attacking Nova herself. That may sound rash, but she knows more of Nova¡¯s abilities than anyone alive. And now her power is equal to a peak Splintered Rank. One more powerful intake of Infinity, and she''ll be quite the Warlord.¡±

    Maris contemplated this all, before narrowing her eyes on Violet. ¡°So this will be one more intake of Infinity for you, to boost your power, and to tie up loose ends. Killing two birds with one stone.¡±

    Violet wasn¡¯t sure how to read her tone. ¡°I know it¡¯s a huge favour, but I¡¯m not asking to go alone. We¡¯ll gather a force of God-Graced, and I¡¯ll use my knowledge of my father to guide them.¡±

    Just when Violet was going to burst from anticipation, the most freakish grin Violet could imagine contorted Maris¡¯ face. ¡°And let¡¯s just say, hypothetically, I play along with this plan. You¡¯ll be doing everything in your power to land the killing blow, correct?¡±

    When Violet hesitated, Maris burst into laughter.

    ¡°Okay, okay, this sounds like fun. I consent to your plan. Just kill Nova under my name, as my servant. This will be great for our image.¡±

    Violet forced a smile, which was pretty easy, so ecstatic at the agreement as she was. But still, when Maris revealed her own self-centred intentions so plainly, it was hard not to wrinkle her nose at the woman. Then again, Violet had done just the same, mere moments before. Though the use of our pricked at her like a thorn. At least Violet hadn¡¯t had the audacity to pretend her desires were for the benefit of everyone here. Killing Nova was an entirely personal matter, regardless of if the entire world stood to gain from it.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Who would you like on this team, then?¡± Maris enquired, catching Violet off-guard. She had been too busy staring daggers into the woman.

    ¡°The Three Pillars, definitely. They were vital in slaying the rest of this Right-bearer generation. Eshika and I are on especially good terms. As for who else . . .¡±

    Memories of a certain someone came to mind, but Violet bit her tongue.

    Whoever she chose, it mattered little.

    After an aeon of getting away with atrocity after atrocity, wreaking havoc across Descent at every turn, her vile beast of a father was finally going to get what he deserved.

    Even a grave was too good for him.

    <hr>

    Remus sat by the fire, feeling the sparks fly up by his face, dangerously close, only to whisk away at the last moment. While it was an odd training exercise, the sparks obeyed his Mark''s call, turning into a stark neon blue, and illuminating through the dark of night, in fleeting drifts.

    The campfire only served to warm the group up ¡ª Barley and the rest of the small party could blink a meal into existence, being from the Feast Clan and all. There was no need to hang a piece of meat over a spit, it all came out of thin air, precooked to perfection.

    Remus chewed on a piece of meat, watching as the little remnants of sunlight that clutched to the skies dispersed. They were halfway to Hybrid already. With an endless supply of food to energise you, it was surprising how much land you could cover. Even with his lower body reinforced through round after round of advancement, the soles of Remus¡¯ feet ached. A testament to how quickly they were making ground.

    ¡°Compliments to the chef,¡± Remus smirked, dragging himself back into the present.

    ¡°That will be three hundred Inklings, plus a tip.¡± The older woman, Tess, interjected. ¡°You know, to the chef.¡±

    ¡°By the way,¡± Remus continued. ¡°I¡¯m surprised there aren¡¯t more Feast Clan restaurants out there. The amount of profit potential . . . though I suppose they have you prioritising war supplies, don¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, rations and the like.¡± Barley seemed to be holding back a frown. ¡°I¡¯ve always liked the idea of starting up a business, but when the whole world is going mad, even things like that become a little complicated.¡±

    Remus leaned back on his log, retrieved from a tree he¡¯d tugged from the ground only moments prior. He looked up to where a constellation bore down on him, like some celestial god winking. Never having been any good at recognising stars and their intricate patterns, he didn¡¯t try too hard to interpret what he was seeing. Nevertheless, peeking at the universe like this felt almost shameful. Like Remus was peering past the curtain of reality, seeing the clockwork that really made everything tick.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it strange, how up there, right now, the gods are fighting?¡± The words tip-toed their way out of his mouth before he could notice. ¡°Always in some kind of turmoil. They never have any peace. I don¡¯t pity them much, but at least we have brief respites like these. One thing we have over the gods is this: they can¡¯t enjoy a simple campfire.¡±

    There was a brief null in the conversation, and Remus immediately regretted saying a word. Recently, his thoughts were better left to himself; he was getting far too existential.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s feeling philosophical tonight, eh?¡± Clove, the second youngest in the group, next to Remus, spoke. His face was flushed, and Remus was pretty certain that wasn¡¯t water he was drinking so much of.

    ¡°I always get this way, late at night. It gets me thinking . . . we should come up with a name.¡±

    ¡°A name?¡± Clove repeated, sounding intrigued. ¡°Do we need one?¡±

    ¡°Well, it would help to have something recogniseable.¡± Considered Barley. ¡°What were you thinking?¡±

    Remus fidgeted. ¡°Something simple. And I like the idea of it being recogniseable. The kind of thing you can hear and know precisely what you¡¯re up against, or signing up for.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm. How about the Association of Organised Rebellion Against Damosh, Ruler of First Rite, and All Who Follow His Childish Whims?¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t quite know how to regard Clove. ¡°Something tells me that might just be a tad too convoluted. Think simpler. Five words or less.¡±

    ¡°We need something that unites our men. Something that all our squadrons can appreciate.¡± Remus always valued Barley¡¯s logical input. ¡°Something in common with anyone who will want to serve the cause.¡±

    Clove took another swig of that mysterious liquid, and burped. ¡°Hating Damosh?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think basing our image on hatred is too swell an idea.¡± Remus replied. ¡°Try more positive.¡±

    The group thought for a moment.

    ¡°Our biggest source of men is bound to be from the Talents of the Realm, correct?¡± Tess broke the silence. ¡°How about a play on words of that?¡±

    ¡°The Talents of . . . The talents . . .¡± Clove blinked drearily, his head slumping on Remus¡¯ shoulder.

    ¡°The future. The Talents of the Future!¡± Barley burst out. ¡°It fits, don¡¯t you think, captain?¡±

    Remus blinked. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a great idea, but really ¡ª captain?¡±

    The group erupted into laughter, all except Clove. He was collapsed on the floor, drooling from the mouth. Remus tried not to think too harshly on their force¡¯s future prospects.

    ¡°I like the name.¡± Tess said simply.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Remus felt a smile growing on his lips. ¡°It fits.¡±

    Remus tried to return to his meal, to forget the rest of his worldly concerns, for at least one night, but found it impossible. He had to know.

    ¡°How bad . . . just how bad is it?¡±

    There was no need to expand on what he meant.

    ¡°Every bit as bad as we¡¯ve explained thus far.¡± Tess¡¯ words hit like daggers into the soul, digging deeper, and deeper. ¡°I just hope we get to First Rite fast. I¡¯m scared for their safety. My family, I mean, and the rest of the Talents. This cause though.¡± The doom and gloom left her tone. ¡°It¡¯ll be something truly valuable to them. A haven.¡±

    Remus grumbled. ¡°I hope so. I just have this bitter taste in my mouth that won¡¯t go away. Like I¡¯m exploiting these innocent people. That I¡¯m leading them to their deaths. I can¡¯t stand it one bit.¡± The others moved in closer, and knowing they were going to try and console him, Remus held out hand. ¡°Don¡¯t try to reassure me. I know, I know, we¡¯re the force of good here. . . I just can¡¯t stomach how joining a rebellion like this is the only choice for some people. It¡¯s this, or death.¡±

    Remus was evidently a barrel of laughs tonight. Even Clove has woken up from his drunken stupor, and despite himself, didn¡¯t dare utter a word.

    ¡°Using Divine Ground to entrap, torture, and kill everybody.¡± Remus huffed. ¡°It¡¯s grotesque. Damosh is corrupting the gift of Divine power. He mocks the grace of the gods.¡±

    Barley leapt out of his seat. ¡°That¡¯s it! That¡¯s our motto! Damosh is dishonouring the gods themselves. People will rally behind that!¡±

    ¡°Motto?¡± Remus was thrown off his verbal crusade. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m not the greatest orator out there. If I have to deliver a speech to the people, I¡¯m not too certain on how it would fare.¡±

    ¡°Whatever the case, we¡¯ll get at least somebody with a decent speech in them, after we gather our troops. We just have to get the ball rolling. People will be rallying to join the Talents of the Future in the droves. I swear by it.¡±

    Barley¡¯s kind words were like the final notes of a lullaby. Remus yawned, stretched, back, and with a crescent moon glaring down at him, fell into a deep slumber.

    It was comforting to know that at least someone believed in him.

    <hr>

    Remus opened his eyes, and knew in a moment that he was dreaming.

    The air was alive with noise. As if the wind itself was screaming, the ears of his dream-self on the verge of bursting with blood. He blinked, for some reason needing to adjust to the light around, and felt his throat constrict.

    He was knee-deep in mud, sinking deeper with every passing second. With a hoarse shout, Remus twisted and struggled, his body contorting to form impossible shapes, as he tried everything, absolutely everything, in his power to escape.

    Like quicksand, the goo would not relent its hold.

    With all the strength of the chains that had confined him during that disaster of a trial, he was ensnared.

    Quicker and quicker, his subconscious was picking up on minute details. The sand all around, the vague, inky silhouettes dotted all across the landscape. Despite this not being his real body, Remus¡¯ dream form did an excellent job at replicating his real fear.

    Remus¡¯ heart rate accelerated, his blood threatening to splatter open every vein and artery with how fast it was gushing through him. Exploding out of fear wasn¡¯t technically possible, but in a lucid episode like this, who was to say what could happen? Remus wouldn¡¯t be surprised if his subconscious meticulously selected the ideal mixture of real and fiction to best traumatise him.

    His breaths were laborious things, coming and going so fast, any nurse would have pinned him down as hyperventilating. Recognition was the most terrifying thing of all.

    Eyes drawn to one image in the middle-distance, still in crystal clarity, Remus¡¯s worst fears were realised

    The Supreme Fiend and his great grandfather, Andreas, duking it out. With all the ferocity of two bulls partaking in a bar fight.

    Remus screamed out, spasming in the pit that now dragged him down to his torso. He shook, he wretched his body from side to side, he tried to force his eyes shut, but found them snapping open out of some cruel volition.

    He needed to escape. He needed to get away from this nightmare, before-

    If you could retch in dreams, he was damn near it.

    Remus watched, helpless, as his grandfather¡¯s body toppled down to the ground. Dust blew out, a sheet of sand reaching all the way to blind his eyes. But it was no good ¡ª Remus had already seen it. It burnt a hole into his retinas, akin to the Andreas shaped hole in his heart.

    He woke up, still screaming, but didn¡¯t realise it until Clove rushed over.

    ¡°Hey man, are you okay?¡±

    Remus tried to catch his breath, shooting upright, but failed. ¡°Yes, I- it was a nightmare. I¡¯m . . .¡± he inhaled a much needed breath. ¡°Fine.¡±

    It was dark out still, morning but a speck on the horizon. Dreary but concerned faces turned to face him. Remus wanted to slap himself ¡ª he¡¯d thought those kinds of nightmares had ended Durations ago, now he had to burden his teammates with his nightly terrors too. Fantastic.

    Barley drew close, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. ¡°Remus, are you sure-¡±

    ¡°I appreciate your concern, Barley but I¡¯m fine.¡± Remus snapped testily. ¡°It was a nightmare, nothing more. I¡¯m sorry for waking you all up. We¡¯ll start a little later tomorrow to compensate.¡±

    Tess eyed him warily, but left him alone. Barley should have followed her suit. ¡°Remus, I know I might be intruding here, but it¡¯s not good to bottle up your emotions. I might be making a stretch here, but you¡¯re having trouble advancing, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t see how that was at all relevant. He wanted to snap back and say so, but being rude wasn¡¯t going to help matters. Barley was genuinely trying to assist him; Remus just wished he wouldn¡¯t.

    The part that irritated him the most, was, strangely, the fact that the man was right. For some reason, the boundary between Foot-Soldier and Vanguard dwarfed any other advancement he¡¯d made so far. That was to be expected, of course, but it didn¡¯t feel like Remus was making progress. It felt like he had run into a wall, and was continually slamming his head against it.

    ¡°Some people say that intense emotions can interfere with the delicacy needed for Splintered Rank. Whatever of the divine constructs you decide to make requires intense concentration. The fusion process is difficult indeed.¡±

    ¡°Barley, trust me, I¡¯m-¡±

    ¡°Listen to me Remus.¡± Barley said firmly. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to undermine your power, or point out a problem that isn¡¯t there. This is just something that I think needs addressing. I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve overstepped, but please consider what I¡¯ve had to say. This may be the only roadblock between you and Splintered Rank.¡±

    Remus blinked a few times, staring up at the skies with undisguised tension. The black canvas contained nothing. An emptiness. He wondered where all the stars had gone.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He eventually said. ¡°I¡¯ll take it into consideration.¡±

    No more words were spoken.

    Falling back to sleep that night was a troubling ordeal, alright.

 101. Puppetmaster

    Nova¡¯s brain was splitting in half.

    Pathetic. The voice boomed in his head, each syllable a shockwave to the system. And I really thought you were my most adept pawn?

    Nova twisted and turned, the labyrinth around him showing no end. For days, he must have been walking in circles, the training arenas of Great Oasis his chosen place of solitude.

    Now, he was starting to liken it to more of a prison.

    I could kill you, you know? Nova¡¯s own brain seemed to scream at him. Suddenly, like strings pulling up his hand for him, five monstrous claws plunged into his chest. His Unbounded form was fully suited now ¡ª there was no point in hiding anymore, his rodent of a daughter had done an ample job of exposing his true form to the world.

    Nova''s own hand rebelled against him. It dug through flesh, gripped around his heart, and refused to let go. He felt every rush of monstrous blood circulate through his body, no traces of Ichor in his more divine form.

    With your own hand, with your own strength, I could end you. I could wash you away in an explosion of gore with one touch of my power.

    Who are you? He asked, hating how squeamish his voice sounded. Something told Nova he already knew the answer to that question, but he refused to believe it.

    Oh . . . I think you know, don¡¯t you, my little mouse?

    Nova screeched, his body barging into wall after wall. As the detritus flaked over his shoulders, Nova really did have a chip on his soldier.

    Finally, he freed his hand from his chest, dropped to his knees, and could do nothing but breathe as the blood poured out.

    I have . . . no idea . . . who you are!

    But that¡¯s not true. Not true at all. Come now-

    Gaining a life of its own, Nova¡¯s hand grasped his throat with lethal conviction. Think, Nova, really think for me. You obviously weren''t thinking when you threw our plans into the fire!

    Nova retched blood, but refused to believe what he was hearing. His master would never do this. The Originator, the Unbounded that would bring their species to fruition, who granted him his Divine Right, would never abandon him like this.

    Or would he? With his claws to his neck, and staring at his reflection through a shimmering puddle of his own blood, Nova¡¯s belief system started to crack.

    If this is about my identity getting out, I assure you . . . that rat of a daughter of mine will pay duly. I would topple armies in your-

    Agony seized Nova¡¯s body.

    You would what in my name? What was that?

    Some spark in Nova died. He didn¡¯t say a word.

    Nova, the last of the Right-bearers, the King of Unbounded, the wolf in sheep¡¯s clothing. The tiger in cotton. Look at you now. Kneeling to nobody, dripping in your own lifeforce.

    Enos. Tears sprang in Nova¡¯s eyes. His own master had betrayed him ¡ª no, he had failed Enos. This was his responsibility.

    Please. He grovelled at the ground, imagining Eno¡¯s feet looming before him. What can I do? What can I do to make it up to you, my liege?

    Normally, Nova would have felt nothing but the most visceral disgust to have to lower himself like this, in front of anyone. But Enos was an exception. If there was any omnipotent being in this universe, Enos would be the closest thing to it. Maybe you could have made a case for Infinity itself, but Enos was Infinity. The resource¡¯s greatest masterpiece.

    Nova was a disgrace by comparison. Enos was the highest order, the upper pinnacle of existence. And if someone like that couldn¡¯t bear to look at him, then what good was Nova?

    You¡¯re unfixable.

    Nova heard the words for what they were: a death sentence.

    But . . .

    He raised his head, tears leaking out of blurry eyes and blood dripping down his chin.

    I do have one last purpose for you. You are a sore on this world, but maybe you¡¯re not utterly irredeemable. You had served me well Nova, but you burnt that all down. Now that I think of it, perhaps leaving you here to die in agony might be much more favourable.

    No! Nova¡¯s brain felt split into a hundred different parts, but they all unanimously agreed: they couldn''t give up just yet. If there was even a touch of salvation yet to be acquired, Nova would split the Earth in order to retrieve it.

    After that last war, things have been a little shaky. I like Chaos, however. If humanity were able to take a moment to breathe, I think I would find nothing more disgusting. We need to keep things going. Don¡¯t let them clutch on to even a moment¡¯s respite.

    These next words resonated in Nova¡¯s head, like the whisperings of Infinity itself.

    I want you to relay a little message for me. Nothing big, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll agree.

    Some kind of telepathic link with Enos transmitted Nova a message. He heard it, blinked, opened his mouth to speak, closed it, swallowed. He did several more actions just like these, his body trying to compensate for the bucket-load of emotions it couldn¡¯t possibly express in one gesture.

    The words seared through his psyche. Entire sections of brain matter sizzling away under the weight of creation.

    It was an invitation to brawl, engraved not by words, but by universal impressions of Infinity. It was not something to be decoded; it was life itself compelling you with perfect clarity.

    Send this message to every God-Graced in the Anarchy Syndicate. Enos roared, his voice rising, like his words formed a dam against a flood of laughter. Let¡¯s see just how messy this battle gets, shall we?

    Nova bowed his head, feeling the weight of an executioner''s axe press against his nape. No matter how powerful Nova was, he was never going to survive such an encounter. It was Enos¡¯ next words that made this absolute truth sting all the more painfully.

    If you survive, each word was interceded with explosions of cackling mirth, I¡¯ll let you off the hook. Fish you out of the proverbial meat grinder. But whatever the case, you should be thanking me!

    His body pressed into the ground, Nova felt as the will of Enos contorted his body. There he lay, bowing.

    ¡°T-thank you.¡± He huffed, suddenly very out of breath. ¡°I cannot thank you enough.¡±

    Nova hadn¡¯t spoken verbally this entire exchange, save for that one utterance. He figured, from an outsider¡¯s perspective, the image would have been most absurd.

    Suddenly, like all the colour from the world had been bled out, save for a certain shade of violet, nothing but a deep mauve filled Nova¡¯s vision. As a parent would treat a misbehaving child, Enos had activated Nova¡¯s Chaotic power for him. Nova blinked, found himself in a destroyed building, the desolate sands of a desert stretching out, and immediately recognised where he was.

    Hell¡¯s Floor ¡ª the charred remnants of the Chaos Clan¡¯s previous mansion; a grave on the earth. Nova paced around in a brief circle, taking the scene in, and trying to keep his guts from spilling out of the hole in his chest. He didn¡¯t dare request for Enos to heal him in preparation for the upcoming brawl. Nova knew full well the insidious nature of the fiend. Enos would pass an injured puppy in the street and shout at the thing for not being able to walk.

    At one time, Nova would have shared the same attitude, the same dog-eat-dog indifference to the cruel nature of reality. Now, however, on the receiving end of that misfortune, Nova found it very hard to stomach.

    Absent-mindedly, Nova took a step forward. And someone was intent on making it the last he ever took.

    All he saw was a stream of grey, and the aftermath of an explosion. Gas expanded in the remains of the mansion, obscuring his surroundings all around. Sawdust from the above layers of the building, the few upper sections that hadn¡¯t yet caved in, rained down on his shoulders, and despite how fast he could normally call on his Mark, Nova found his space-bending powers failing him. Travelling across the world to another city tended to do a number on your energy reserves.

    And Enos knew it.

    The smoke around him seemed to take on a life of its own. Like a misty poltergeist was drifting around the scene, enclosing in on him as a predator does to its prey.

    It entered through his mouth, the wounds spurting Ichor out of his gaping stomach, through his eyes and the holes of his nostrils. There, laying waste to his innards, the fog seemed intent on tearing him apart, from the inside out. Nova barely had enough sense of mind left to recognise this as a technique of the Rage Clan. A very adept one, no doubt conjured into life by none other than the lunatic God-Graced herself, Hilda.

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    Under any other circumstances, a challenge from her would have been laughable. But Enos had drained him of everything. He couldn¡¯t win here. Nova thought he would at least get to die valiantly, in a bloody storm of mass destruction. But no, he was to be executed by a madwoman who wouldn¡¯t even make the history books.

    As the gas seeped into every cell of his alien body, all Nova felt was hate.

    Thunderously, with the knowledge that absolutely everything was going according to plan, Enos laughed; the devil whispering into his ear.

    It is quite futile, child.

    White light exploded in and out of Nova, leaking out from his eyes like water from a facet.

    The will of Enos blasted out of him, taking his body whole.

    It was time for Nova to take the backseat.

    <hr>

    Violet was scrambling.

    ¡°We should have known he would have changed locations sooner or later.¡± It was awfully enticing to slap herself. ¡°If we weren¡¯t so lucky that I could teleport us in range, that would have been our opportunity gone.¡±

    Veida frowned, the two of them barreling forwards, faster than rain falls out of the sky. They were both exhausted, but more so Violet. Travelling that far in one wharp usually meant taking the rest of the day easy, or two days. But no ¡ª she had been immediately forced to sprint as fast as possible towards her father. That crazed, idiot of an Unbounded.

    Blasts of chaotic energy, and drifts of Infinity formed a cyclone for miles all around, and Violet found it just as suffocating as any sandstorm. The pressure of the air itself dragged her back, each step forcing her muscles to tighten as she pushed through.

    At this rate, she would be exhausted before even reaching her father.

    But, as luck would have it, Violet was sure they were close. The streaks of energy making an abstract art piece out of the sky, like buckets of paint thrown on a canvas, couldn¡¯t have been too far away now.

    As much as she hated giving into the ravenous, Unbounded side of her, Violet feasted on the Infinity all around. Her body instantly put it to use as energy. Violet at least had an infinite power supply to keep her going ¡ª Veida was relying solely on her own personal power, and as much Infinity as she could circulate through herself. That was the difference between an Unbounded suffusing themselves with Infinity, and a mortal clutching onto the same divine essence. Where Veida perhaps had the space of a cup to fill with Infinity, using her Boundless Chamber conceived at Warden, Violet had a chalice. In fact, in that analogy, her body was the chalice. Her every cell worked in perfect coordination to consume, to devour the world one wisp of Infinity at a time.

    Nevertheless, Veida somehow pushed through long enough to see the battle close up. At any moment, Violet was acutely aware that one stay attack from a God-Graced could reduce her to a pile of oil, but the sight before her stopped Violet in her tracks.

    Suffering and Disease were just two vile flavours in the chaotic mix, and Violet felt the pain flood through her body in one breath. The patches of grass were dead, grey, and surely not going to sprout a flower in the next hundred years. The air hummed with a certain violence, the sound of bones rattling pricking at Violet¡¯s skin. She felt like her entire body had sprained, though the source of the agony was impossible to pin down.

    She endured this, raised her head, and wasn¡¯t too surprised to see a screaming woman smash into the ground. Smoke enveloped their body, an armour of gas flooding out of her.

    Violet took about one second to recognise her as leader of the Fury Clan, Hilda. With one frantic jolt, she leaped back into the action.

    The earth where she had landed was shifted, forming an unnatural hill. Violet wondered how much of the terrain of Descent was how nature willed it or, or was simply the collateral damage of feuding mortals. It was an intriguing thought, but not intriguing enough to distract her from her key objective: survival.

    ¡°Where are Eshika, and the others?¡± Violet didn¡¯t bother to keep her voice low, shouting over the roar of the wind. She suspected that the God-Graced duking it out had hardly noticed her. Nevertheless, she was acutely aware of just how dangerous her position here was. Whether or not the beacons of power here intended to kill her or not, they could just as easily do so, like how lesser beings would squash an ant.

    Perhaps in their rush to arrive at the scene in time, she and Veida had forsaken their own safety.

    ¡°I suspect they arrived before us.¡± Veida grimaced, exaggerating the few wrinkles she had acquired from old age. ¡°We¡¯re just reaching the outskirts of the battle, but if you open up your internal senses . . .¡±

    Violet knew that doing so would feel like bathing in the light of five stars, but did so anyway. She winced, felt the spiritual equivalent of being blinded, and pushed on. It was hard, nigh impossible to distinguish the strands of energy ¡ª let alone identify their sources. Violet did her best, brushing amongst the different varieties of power like a kid in a sweet shop. She felt the corrosive crimson of the Suffering Clan, the misty choke-hold of the Fury Sect, the glimmering sparkle of the Envy Clan.

    Then, digging deeper, like a mirror image reflecting back at her, there laid Chaos.

    Violet took a deep breath, like she had just risen out of murky water.

    Nova stomped into view, grasping Hilda by the neck. She was foaming at the mouth, her eyes swerving from side to side as if she was taking the glory of the moment in. There was a certain aura to her that was not her own, as if invisible thorns were digging into her body. The effects of the Suffering Clan were relentless.

    Violet gulped. She had known the possibility of sect leaders dying here, had been counting on it in Nova¡¯s case . . . but the sight before her was far too strange.

    Mist swept out of Hilda, forming clumps of concentrated steam. A set of orbs hovered around her body, smashing into Nova¡¯s chest like they were solid boulders.

    They struck into his chest and back, both orbs dissolving back into smoke as, evidently, no damage was done. Nothing worth noting, anyway.

    Violet looked into Nova¡¯s eyes, only to find a simmering white in their place. Not the simmering embers that mirrored her own, when he was in this Unbounded form, but someone else entirely. Enos¡¯ will.

    Hilda swatted at Nova¡¯s bulging arms to no avail, her neck looking like it was going to cast the scene in Ichor with how hard the Unbounded must have been squeezing it. Violet felt the urge to jolt into the fray, but there were too many God-Graced about. One-on-one, Violet would have to fight for her life against Nova, but she was certain she had a real shot against the fiend. With virtually the full power of the Anarchy Syndicate being thrown around though, things were far more complicated.

    It was supposed to be the job of Eshika, Maris, and some other God-Graced to deal with the rest of the Syndicate, providing Violet with the breathing room to face her father alone. Where they were, perhaps dealing with the rest of the warring sect leaders not too far from here, she couldn¡¯t tell you.

    Suddenly, right when Hilda finally seemed to accept her ill-handed fate, ecstasy widening her eyes ¡ª Violet would never understand what went through the mind of that crazed woman ¡ª Violet saw Nova¡¯s fingers twitch.

    She too began to feel sleepy, the ground at her feet, despite all the layers of weeds and scattered blood, looking like a perfect resting spot. Only Veida literally slapping her, and herself pushing Infinity through her body as fast as she could, kept Violet awake.

    The passive effects of so many God-Graced was doing a number on her body. Suffering, Disease, and now Fatigue were a horrid concoction.

    But the brunt of the attacks were centred on Nova. Anyone else being affected, like the Suffering Clan bearing down on Hilda, was just a side-act of the main show.

    Boils littered Nova¡¯s skin, terrible illness covering his dishevelled form from head to toe. He swayed slightly where he stood, almost to the point where it was imperceivable. But Violet could tell he was tiring out.

    Then, for whatever reason, that white streak left his eyes.

    As the will of Enos left his body, apparently leaving a wounded Nova to fend for himself, Violet fully comprehended what a dog-eat-dog world this was.

    Nova blinked, regaining full consciousness. Within that split second, he took in the moment, and reacted amply.

    Hilda¡¯s head erupted with one eardrum-popping slap.

    One clap of the hands was all it took, and a headless God-Graced dropped to the ground.

    Violet too blinked, and found herself transported. The stench of chaotic energy filled the air.

    She spun around, examined the new scene, and tried to identify where Nova had transported her. It seemed as if everyone had been moved. Thank the gods she hadn¡¯t been sent right into the centre of battle; Violet would have been lucky to survive the first ten seconds. She appeared to be in the middle of a crater, where the fight had once taken place, but had since moved on from. It seemed like the perfect place to take a breather, and try to reconcile with what she had just seen. For approximately five seconds, that was.

    In the scariest instance of her life, Violet flinched as hand touched her shoulder.

    Had she not noticed it was Eshika so quickly, she very well may have sucker-punched the silver haired woman.

    ¡°Eshika!¡± Violet squealed, and immediately hated herself for it. She cleared her throat, trying to take on a formal tone. ¡°I mean, Eshika. I¡¯m glad I found you, how are things?¡±

    Eshika smiled, but it was like one happy passage in a book of despair. ¡°The fight is getting bloody, but there¡¯s no way Nova¡¯s getting out of this.¡± She leered seriously into the distance, where a sonic boom resounded. ¡°I heard you want first dibs on your father?¡±

    ¡°If it wouldn¡¯t be any trouble . . .¡±

    ¡°Right. I¡¯m gonna scout out the area and regroup our men. We¡¯ll take care of the other members of the Anarchy Syndicate. That leaves Nova to you. I trust you¡¯ll put an end to that fiend, but if things get out of hand, we¡¯ll deal with it. Just don¡¯t die, if you can help it.¡±

    Without another word, Eshika leaped into the air, transforming into a shot arrow.

    Violet took the deepest breath of her life, wiped the sweat off her brow, and called on her Unbounded form. Her shoulders hunched over as if she had horrible posture, her body immersed with a pearly white coverage. Her eyes blazed brighter than ever, the pinricks of ember that had once hinted at her fiendish side a fiery inferno.

    Arrows rained down from above, seemingly at random. Though Violet found that despite her initial flinching, the barrage would never quite reach her. Tilting away if she did so much as stretch a hand out. Wondrous it was: such delicate control over your abilities. Violet wished to reach that level of combat one day.

    Like a wild animal let out of its pen, Violet cannoned ahead on all fours. Visages fit for a dark lord¡¯s nightmares turned into blurs of colour and motion as she pressed on, forgoing her bodily sight to read the world for what it really was: twisting drifts of energy. Her internal senses appeared to Violet like one thread leading to her father.

    The path of a poisoned dart, swooshing through the air to put to rest a villain.

    Eshika¡¯s arrows, she realised, were forming a funnel-like path around her. At all angles, the weapons formed a peculiar shielding. Through the little she could make out of the scene, the jagged edges were doing a magnificent job at protecting her. Violet smiled a monstrous grin at the God-Graced¡¯s blessing.

    Then her eyes settled on her target, and Violet found a frown sitting in its place.

    Blood leaked across Nova¡¯s skin, staining it a murky grey. Violet was moving at an impossible speed, the momentum of the arrowheads washing off on her, but in that one instance, when sheer hate stared at sheer hate, Violet had never felt a moment drag by so slowly.

    Then time continued as if it had never stopped. Violet crashed into Nova¡¯s chest. Her father was sent flying, the colony of arrows at Violet¡¯s aid making a dart board out of his barrel-like upper body.

    Violet hung both claws above her head, and in the most satisfying sight of her life, saw Nova actually looked taken aback at the image of her. Scared, as some would put it.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you.¡± She put simply. There was no ferocity behind it. Violet spoke in the same monotone someone would use to say they were taking out the trash, or making a cup of tea.

    After all of these years, after so much emotional turmoil, nights where she would twist and turn in bed waiting for answers, not able to confide in the ones who should have protected her the most, Violet was going to end it all.

    His blood on her hands, and she would write his obituary with it.

    Violet¡¯s claws dived for her father¡¯s heart.

 102. Tethered

    Remus approached the outskirts of Hybrid with the rest of his men, his legs sore, and the opportunity to drink from a well never being more appealing.

    Of course, he had multiple clansmen from the Feast Clan at his back, ready to make anything at his beckon or call. Though, strangely, while they could make any other kind of beverage, the ability to produce simple water seemed to elude them. Perhaps that would cross over too much with Maris¡¯ domain of power.

    Remus didn¡¯t drink alcohol if he could help it, and going up in Rank usually meant you became more and more resistant to its effects. Sobriety was the curse of the most powerful. That¡¯s why Clove seemed to drink five barrels of beer a day ¡ª his stomach was a capacious thing, and nothing really got to him if he didn¡¯t drink a hundred litres of the stuff. Remus couldn¡¯t imagine what it would take to make a God-Graced drunk.

    After washing his face, and guzzling down as much water as he could, Remus passed the bucket to Barley. The man lowered the rope attached to it, drawing up another draw of water from the depths of the well. In this fashion, they all took turns replenishing themselves.

    Smiling, Remus leaned against the stone of the well, letting the warm afternoon sun seep into his aching bones. It might have been for a few mindless minutes that he sat there, trying to recover a little energy before they made their last advance into Hybrid. It was then, blinking at the sight he had been ignoring for the past moment, that he actually took notice of what was before him.

    A Speed Sect outpost.

    ¡°Hey.¡± He nudged Barley, who was relaxing at his side. ¡°Over there, you see?¡±

    Barley narrowed his eyes. ¡°The carriages?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s weird how we haven¡¯t seen any of them out here? I remember when I used to travel as a fugitive, I would see carriages so often that it was infuriating. I used to hate not being able to use them. Now though . . . to have travelled so far, and only spotting one now is awfully strange.¡±

    ¡°Maybe the sect fell on hard times after the war?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. I thought it was weird no-one was arriving to Eclipse by carriage anymore, but had never cared to look into it.¡± Remus leapt to his feet. ¡°Now¡¯s my chance.¡±

    Together with Barley, Tess, and a still hungover Clove, Remus strolled over, only noticing the workers when he got close enough to the entrance.

    Men were milling around, carrying planks of wood, chatting, or working together to dismantle what used to be open buildings, where the carriages must have been kept.

    Immediately, like the scent of death infesting his nostrils, Remus realised something was off. He paused, turning to face a flicker of white he saw in the corner of his eye.

    There, in a sight that made his stomach do somersaults, death bore its ugly face.

    Gurneys covered the floor, every single mat occupied by a Speed clansman. They all looked worse for wear, squinting in the harsh afternoon sunlight, their bodies more emaciated than desert fruit.

    When they did open their eyes, Remus caught sight of a swirling white in place of any coloured iris. The same colour he contributed to Infinity itself. Voices murmured out in pain, begging for release from something, but Remus for the life of him couldn¡¯t find out what.

    ¡°What in the hell-¡± Tess cut herself off. Remus had never seen the woman¡¯s eyes go so wide.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening here?¡± Clove stumbled in behind them, and Remus had to stop him from stepping on one of the patient¡¯s bodies. ¡°Oi, what are you-?¡±

    Clove¡¯s eyes landed on the gathering. His throat swallowing couldn¡¯t have been a more visceral sight, every twitch of skin and muscle worthy of a painting. ¡°Good gods.¡±

    A few workers were looking Remus¡¯ way now, and they didn¡¯t look pleased. Clearly, their presence was drawing attention, and it wasn¡¯t exactly welcomed. ¡°We¡¯re making ourselves known.¡± Remus said quickly. ¡°Experience tells me that isn¡¯t the best thing to do outside of Divine Ground. We should ask what¡¯s going on here, or just hurry up and-¡±

    A hand squeezed Remus¡¯ forearm. Instinctually, he pulled away, or attempted to do so. But then the white light flooded his vision, and Remus found himself amply disoriented.

    Remus wasn¡¯t sure what happened next. Afterwards, when recounting what on earth he had seen, the closest phenomenon he could name was an out-of-body experience. It was very similar to when Nova had forced him to witness unspeakable horrors, back before Maris¡¯ protection made it more difficult for Violet¡¯s father to make a move on them.

    Like an eyeball hovering in space, Remus couldn¡¯t blink. What he did see, however, was displayed in crystal clear clarity. Like always, he tried to activate his Mark, but found any connection that remained to his physical self a fickle thing.

    It was less a fleshed-out vision, and more like a series of images. All a landscape right of the belly of hell.

    Golden light flooded out everywhere the eye could see. The sandstorm immersed one central figure in the far distance, but Remus could make out little more than their silhouette. A sound like a bell ringing resounded around the place, over and over and over again. Remus tried to listen in closer, thought he recognised the noise to be laughter, before the scene was swept away from him.

    Hundreds of still frames flooded his vision, at least ten flickering past before he could even process what was happening. Armies of Unbounded, armies of clansmen. Scenes of raging battle, scenes of spilled Ichor, scenes beyond comprehension.

    Remus felt like he was pinned to the corner of a boxing ring, absorbing an endless flurry of blows. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to escape, but the visions kept coming.

    One last image stuck out, the sucker-punch to conclude the string of blows, and bring the match to a dramatic finale.

    He saw himself at the head of an army, First Rite expanding around him. Corpses covered the floor, Unbounded and human alike. The flagstone that made up First Rite¡¯s bustling streets was nowhere to be seen. Grey was a rarity among a river of gold.

    There he stood, some version of him, in the middle of this sea of blood. He was a sight for sore eyes, cheeks purpled, eyes black and bulging, and his own stream of Ichor spilling through his teeth. Nevertheless, he smiled. A grim smile that seemed to challenge the absurdity of the moment.

    As if he had well and truly gone mad. Remus stared into his own determined eyes, through the windows of the soul. He saw nothing there but insanity.

    Remus pulled away from the hand, danced on his feet for a few steps after hurtling backwards, before narrowly coming to a standstill. The wind on his skin signalled to him that this was reality. Remus got his breathing under control, trying not to blush as his companions looked at him. It was the same way you would regard someone in serious need of medical inspection.

    ¡°Such destruction.¡± A voice below muttered.

    All eyes turned to the man who had grasped Remus. He spoke through a parched throat, and glassy eyes. A few strands of hair dangled off his head. Remus hated himself for the thought, but it was like a dead body was speaking.

    Remus crouched down by the man, speaking softly. ¡°What happened here?¡±

    The question was completely disregarded. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen someone with a future as tumultuous as yours. I don¡¯t know whether to pity or fear you.¡±

    Remus swallowed. Okay, that wasn¡¯t the best first exchange he¡¯d ever had. Neither was being forced to cruise through a hell of fragmented scenes, with no rhyme or reason behind their composition.

    ¡°Tell me, what¡¯s your name? What¡¯s going on? I want to help if I can.¡±

    The man looked at him. He seemed to see past his skin, and Remus suddenly felt very exposed.

    ¡°Such suffering. Such pain . . . you would do well to prepare yourself.¡±

    The man closed his eyes. Remus opened his mouth to speak, but noticed the gradual rise and sinking of their chest. They were fast asleep.

    Remus looked up just in time to see a woman storm into view. Her arms were crossed, her eyebrows knitted, and her build muscular enough to startle Remus. ¡°What are you doing by the patients?¡± She shouted, each word charged with twenty different emotions. ¡°Do you even have the slightest idea how important keeping them alive is?¡±

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m sure there has been some kind of misunderstanding. What¡¯s happening here?¡±

    She looked at Remus like his brain cells had been fried and cooked into an omelette. ¡°Oh please, you must . . .¡± her eyes trailed sceptically across their full group, each looking more clueless than the last. ¡°Gods, you seriously don¡¯t know?¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Remus shook his head.

    ¡°Have you been living under a rock?¡± The woman couldn¡¯t have been more exasperated. Nevertheless, the tension seemed to reach a breaking point within her. Her shoulders sagged, and Remus felt months of exhaustion wash away.

    She told them everything. Remus listened to the news of Java¡¯s death, and the clansmen¡¯s condition, and all the while, tried to calm himself.

    Enos was making moves. That news alone, regardless of whatever the being was actually doing, was enough to send every bone in his body quaking.

    When the woman was done, even Clove looked like he wanted to ask for more news, but Remus didn¡¯t think he could bear it. ¡°We understand. I apologise for any inconvenience caused.¡±

    ¡°Did you see a vision?¡± She suddenly asked. ¡°I saw him grabbing your hand, what did you see?¡±

    Remus thought back to the vistas of suffering. To his own demented grin as he smiled, a butcherer standing upon his own livestock. It took everything he had not to shiver at the recollection.

    She stepped closer to him, getting too close for comfort. ¡°What did you see?¡± Desperation leaked into her voice now, which seemed too fragile. Like she was on the verge of breaking down.

    ¡°Bad things.¡± He couldn¡¯t look her in the eye. ¡°Bad things in my future.¡±

    This didn¡¯t console her, per se, but she no longer sounded on the verge of tears. ¡°The predictions, so far . . . they seem to be true. You would be wise to remain vigilant. You might also consider yourself lucky . . . most people only have visions recounted to them. Being pulled in to experience the prophecy first-hand is a rare thing.¡±

    Remus nodded, not quite sure what to make of anything that had happened.

    The group walked in silence to the outskirts of Hybrid. An entrance to the Undercrossing loomed open ahead of them, but it was late out. Setting up camp, and delaying their entering until they were all amply rested, seemed to be the best option.

    It was then, staring into the blue embers of their fire, that the full gravitas of the visions struck Remus. He thought of his own bloody face and shivered.

    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s true?¡±

    Tess looked over to him. ¡°What is?¡±

    ¡°What she said. You know, about the visions all coming to fruition.¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°I doubt it. There are multiple oracles out there, and none of them have a one hundred percent success rate. I wouldn¡¯t think about it too much.¡±

    Even in the little light provided by the fire, Remus had no trouble seeing Barley¡¯s frown form. ¡°I¡¯m not one to intrude, but what was it you saw, anyway? I¡¯ll understand if it¡¯s personal, but it sounded serious.¡±

    There was one awkward pause. One tiny passage in time where everyone recalled what the white-eyed man had said. Such suffering. Such pain.

    ¡°I saw . . .¡± Remus found it hard to put into words. ¡°I saw the world going ballistic. I saw a gold storm, then . . .¡±

    ¡°Then?¡±

    ¡°Then, the beginning of another war. I saw myself fighting through First Rite, gore splattered everywhere. I looked downright psychotic.¡±

    Nobody spoke another word. The hum of cicadas was a constant buzz in the back of his ear, and Remus found it a comforting point to force his focus on.

    It was much preferable over the shock of his teammates, who probably questioned their leader¡¯s capacity to, well, lead.

    ¡°Damn.¡± Clove finally found the courage to shatter the silence.

    Remus took this as his cue to continue. ¡°It just has me thinking: if my destiny really is predetermined, what¡¯s the point in doing anything? Nothing I do will affect the outcome, will it? When put into perspective . . . well, it just makes any efforts I do make rather futile.¡±

    Now they looked really troubled.

    Remus shook his hands fervently. ¡°No, don¡¯t take that the wrong way. I can¡¯t prove the visions were true, and we¡¯re not stopping. It¡¯s just alarming. We knew what we were getting into, challenging Damosh. We just have to prepare ourselves for things to get bad. Very bad.¡±

    If any of them were looking for a motivating leader, they wouldn¡¯t find it in Remus. Gods above, even Remus had to fight demons to get out of bed sometimes. ¡°Let¡¯s be careful. I know things are going to get violent, but we should be wise about how many lives we take to put Damosh to justice. Any number would be a worthy sacrifice for such a tyrant, but I have enough blood on my hands.¡±

    Tess looked appalled.. ¡°Obviously we have to protect the people who fight for us. What do you take us for? Bloodthirsty monsters?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking over-ambitious fools.¡± Barley piped in.

    The irony was not lost on Remus, and he chuckled alongside the rest of them.

    The hours soon passed by, and Remus found himself enjoying a bowl of stew, stars starting to appear up above. The universe winking at him; perhaps in mockery.

    ¡°So what¡¯s the plan now?¡± Tess asked, having finished her own bowl. ¡°Are you and Maris still on good terms?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s still yet to be seen.¡± Remus looked off towards the Undercrossing, trying not to feel too nervous. Strange, he didn¡¯t recall ever being more paranoid ¡ª even when more assassins than he knew alive had tracked his every move. ¡°I wasn¡¯t allowed to contact her while under house arrest. They were afraid she was going to use some legal loophole to get me out of trouble or something.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on in Hybrid, anyway?¡± Barley frowned. ¡°If they delay the next coronation any longer . . .¡±

    ¡°Have you heard the rumours?¡± Clove muttered from behind a bottle. ¡°Fighting. Maybe Maris has gotten too attached to her throne.¡±

    Remus hadn¡¯t cared to pay much attention to court politics while dealing with his legal debacle, but that was strange. He sometimes forgot how short the reign of a God-Graced truly was in Hybrid. One Rebirth couldn¡¯t have been more cut-throat. The amount of times legislation must have changed . . .

    ¡°It seems almost pointless having a shared system like this, if each ruler hardly has time to get to grips with their newfound power, before it¡¯s stripped away from them. I know it''s to avoid the city ending up like Hell¡¯s Floor, but with the amount of infighting we have to deal with regardless, it¡¯s a slippery slope.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s the next monarch, anyway?¡± Barley asked.

    Remus imagined a mental map of Hybrid. After the arboreal kingdom of Territory Five, and the frothing seas of Territory Four . . . ah yes, it came to him, the rocky mountains of Territory Three. Home of the Mammal Clan.

    A memory of blasting a group of Mammal Clansmen with a plasma beam made Remus shiver. That may have been the cruellest he¡¯d ever been. Then Remus remembered sinking the glaciers of the Frost Clan, and quickly stopped his mind from recalling any other atrocities. Remus realised just how light his service really had been.

    ¡°The Mammal Sect.¡± Remus frowned. ¡°Who¡¯s their leader again?¡±

    The others shrugged. ¡°I hear they¡¯re going to have a dogfight to decide who takes to the throne.¡± Barley interjected. ¡°Clubbing each other¡¯s skulls in, by the sounds of it.¡±

    Remus smiled, but couldn¡¯t help feeling troubled. If Maris¡¯ tenure had passed as queen, it made no sense for her to continue to be the reigning monarch. Whatever the case, something fishy was going on with Hybrid politics.

    Slowly, the others retired to their hammocks or sleeping bags, leaving Remus all alone. His eyelids were drooping, and sleep couldn''t have been more appealing, but a thought pricked at the back of his mind. He had to contact them.

    Them meant a lot of people. Namely, his family, first and foremost, but also Koa.

    Koa. As much as Remus had been preoccupied the last few months, he hated not having messaged the boy enough. After such a traumatic experience in Territory Two ¡ª one he had only heard whispers of ¡ª he¡¯d neglected sending Koa so much as a letter. And to think this was one of Remus'' closest friends. Pah, it said a lot about his social life.

    He¡¯d intended on meeting Koa after first consulting Maris, but that was before Remus had realised how perturbed the situation at the city proper likely was. He didn¡¯t want to dive headfirst into a civil war, and be forced by Oath to Maris to support her campaign. He wasn¡¯t quite sure how much hold on him that Oath still had, and he wasn¡¯t exactly ecstatic to find out. It had seemed to only be a temporary agreement at the time, but now? Remus wasn¡¯t so sure. Maris could be tricky when she wanted to be, and could just as easily pull him into another binding agreement.

    Remus opened the sack he carried. It was surprisingly empty, with rations not being a necessity. Inside, at the very bottom, was a bottle of ink, a quill, and creased parchment.

    First things first, Remus penned another heartfelt message to his family. He wanted to constantly remind them of his safety, of course, but something bigger troubled him. Nowadays, everything seemed to irk Remus to some extent, but this was one of the heavy outliers that played on his mind, like his psyche was an amusement park. Damion was still yet to reply to his last letter. Remus had been travelling, that was true, but even during the days leading up to his departure, he hadn¡¯t heard a word. Damion was busy as all hell back at the sect, and it might take him Durations sometimes to respond to any messages. But Remus had been sure a reply to his brother leaving custody would at least elicit a speedy reply. Remus had believed that was as sure as the sun rising the next day.

    If even something that significant couldn¡¯t wrestle Damion¡¯s attention, perhaps matters were worse for the Carpentry Clan than Remus had first feared.

    Now Remus felt like he could rely on neither: according to his visions, enough Unbounded would soon gather to blot out the sun, and his brother¡¯s attention being wrestled away seemed to be an improbability; one it would be selfish of him to hope for. Yet he did regardless.

    Though there were some glimmers of hope. Once he settled in Hybrid, Remus could request at the local postal for his letters to be redirected here. Perhaps a response had simply been stuck in transit, or was sitting in Eclipse, waiting to be resent. Hybrid was a large place, with a larger number of people within it. It was a sensible estimate that Remus would have to spend a long time here, just to spread his message to all who would hear it. Then there was no telling how long an ordeal with Maris might take to resolve. Maybe at some point during his extended stay, he would receive some confirmation of his family¡¯s wellbeing.

    Knowing Maris, she would surely have something to take up his time. Remus didn¡¯t bother the headache trying to speculate on what.

    Remus merely penned a few lines asking on his sect¡¯s safety. With that letter complete, he slid it into an envelope, swatted his quill back into the ink, and began writing to Koa.

    I don¡¯t know if this will reach you in time, but I¡¯m coming to visit. I hope things are going well. I¡¯m sorry for not writing sooner.

    He knew it was short, but didn¡¯t know what else to say. It had been so long . . . Remus wondered what the remnants with his friendship with Koa would look like. He hoped there was something salvageable there.

    Remus hurried through the night¡¯s gloom, reaching a box just outside of the Undercrossing¡¯s entrance. He slid the two letters inside, hoping they¡¯d be sent off in a swift manner.

    Stumbling back to bed, Remus had some trouble falling asleep.

 103. Cut Threads

    Ash paced back and forth across the sparring chamber, occasionally leering back towards the northern entranceway.

    Come on. He thought, the phrase repeating in his mind like clockwork, or a psychotic parrot. Come on, Koa, come on. What¡¯s taking you so damn long?

    This was the same sparring chamber he had originally fought against his brother in, over a year ago. The same one where he had been publicly humiliated. The thought brought a sour taste to his mouth, and Ash held no qualms with spitting on the ground at his feet.

    Finally, the door opened.

    Koa stormed in, a bored look in his one remaining eye. He didn¡¯t seem too angry at being beckoned back to the sparring chamber, but Ash saw past his brother¡¯s composed front. In actuality, Ash was driving his brother insane.

    ¡°Brother.¡± Koa said the word without affection. It was empty of meaning. ¡°I understand that the outcome of our original duel upset you,¡± he looked around, as if worried that woman would storm into view. Again, Ash felt a sickness stir in the pit of his stomach. How could his own blood marry himself away to someone like her? ¡°This however, is simply ludicrous. You do know the definition of insanity, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Ash came to a standstill, his feet pressing hard into the ground. With the newfound power of a Foot-Solider, a Rank he had climbed to within Durations of that initial fight, a crack formed in the stone. If Koa was impressed, or thought his brother was acting like a child, he didn¡¯t show it. It was like Koa had lost half of his personality, when he lost half of his sight.

    ¡°I again call on the Fallen Leaf section of our sect¡¯s ancient code.¡± Ash looked away from his brother¡¯s face, like just looking at it disgusted him. ¡°I¡¯m perfectly in my right to call anyone in this clan to a duel.¡±

    There were more details, such as this only being applicable to those of the same Rank. Ash had never experienced more motivation in his life, when he had originally learnt of the legislation. Every day, he would wake up and train, train deep into the night, until twilight¡¯s claws were upon him, and until he would finally faint. Then, whenever he could stir consciousness back into his body, the cycle would begin anew. Again and again and again and again and . . . all until Ash finally broke past the boundary into Foot-Soldier.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure when our wise, and scholarly ancestors penned those laws, this¡ª¡± Koa pointed vaguely all around ¡°¡ªwasn¡¯t what they had in mind.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s to discern the meaning of madmen, from the barbaric ages?¡±

    ¡°So you admit laws made so long ago cannot be logical, especially if they originate from the barbaric times?¡± Koa took a step forward, like he was finally getting a foothold in this argument. ¡°This is the tenth time this Duration you¡¯ve called me here.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d better hope I make it the last then.¡± Ash punched his knuckles together, Donovan¡¯s gift resting on his fingers. He imagined them crushing Koa¡¯s jaw. The image made him smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting Juniper to rewrite the laws, you know.¡± Koa too drew his web halberd, no longer concealing his irritation. He leered at Ash the same way you would stare at a stain on the carpet. ¡°She doesn¡¯t approve of you wasting so much of my time. Some of us actually try to contribute to the clan we¡¯re a part of.¡±

    Ash widened a toothy grin. This was it, his brother was getting angry. He wouldn''t hold back. Ash always got the impression during their bouts that even while still beating him, Koa was careful about it. He was always holding back. The sincere fool couldn¡¯t stomach attacking his only brother. Now that false facade of brotherly comradery would finally fall.

    Ash took one stride forward, every muscle in his body seeming to tense in preparation for a fight. His lips kept trembling, like he couldn''t decide if he was above or below trash-talking. Ash leaned forward at the waist, ready to sprint forward, ready to render his brother a bloody-

    ¡°Koa!¡±

    The pair of them froze. Ash couldn¡¯t decide what was greater: his own exasperation, or the fear in Koa¡¯s eyes.

    Within a second, Octavia flounced into view. She walked up to Koa, her arachnid form enough to make Ash grimace. She locked eyes with Ash, and neither hid their resentment.

    Octavia turned her attention to her husband, pinching his cheek with two fingers. ¡°I lose sight of you for one minute, and you¡¯re already in another duel with this lunatic?¡±

    ¡°Octavia, regardless of what changes Juniper plans on making, it is my legal obligation to-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what the law says if the law is stupid! We already know the outcome here.¡±

    Koa smiled, warmth seeming to ease the tension out of his body. How he could completely relax in the company of a freak like her, Ash would never know.

    ¡°You¡¯re interrupting.¡± Ash spoke to the woman, regardless of how much it pained him to look at her. ¡°Unless you¡¯d like to duel me too?¡±

    Octavia took a step forward. If it wasn¡¯t for Koa putting his hand on her shoulder, she might have actually taken him up on the offer. Octavia was a Foot-Soldier too, after all. ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me.¡±

    ¡°Octavia, let me handle this. It¡¯ll only take a minute.¡±

    Ash laughed. ¡°Okay, brother. Let¡¯s see how well that confidence translates into action, shall we?¡±

    Octavia huffed, crossing her arms. ¡°You¡¯re all bark, no bite.¡±

    Emerald energy began to swirl around Ash. Infinity swept through every single tube that made up his Standing Trooper Mould. It was designed to keep him up and fighting for as long as possible. Exhaustion was virtually impossible. Nevertheless, he wouldn¡¯t need the endurance. He didn¡¯t intend on making this last long.

    Tree branches snapped out the ground at Koa¡¯s feet, and Ash dived forward.

    This time. He vowed. Things will be different.

    <hr>

    Things, two minutes of fighting proved, were not different.

    Ash was sent flying to the floor, his body rolling up and down until he came slamming into the wall. It felt like his brother had forcibly rearranged his spine. He sat there, blinking out tears of rage and pain, until he could see clearly again.

    Koa and Octavia were talking, but like it mattered. The world was a distorted pudge of noise and sensations, Ash¡¯s vision blurrier than looking through condensation on a window.

    He blinked, things getting a little clearer, and recoiled at what he saw.

    His brother, reaching out a hand. ¡°Come on brother.¡± He spoke like a father used to his child¡¯s misbehaviour. ¡°Let¡¯s get you sorted out.¡±

    Ash had been right about feeling something different about Koa this time around. He hadn¡¯t held back. Now there was more blood than skin on Ash¡¯s face, and with every little motion, his body ached.

    He spat venom. ¡°I don¡¯t want your help. God help anyone that does.¡± Ash¡¯s throat was sore, so the words sounded like scar tissue stitched into the shape of syllables.

    Ash dragged himself up to his legs, and stumbled back down. He put his weight on one crouched leg, wobbling as he tried to move into a stand.

    ¡°Here.¡± Koa walked over, apparently unfazed by what he had just said. ¡°I really think you should accept help for once and stop all this-¡±

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    A wooden wall sprouted between Koa and Ash. It took all of Ash¡¯s energy to form, but neatly divided the arena into two. Ash could hear his brother¡¯s muffled voice on the other end, but ignored it outright. Ichor spilled at his feet, and he hobbled away, glaring at the guards on either side as if just daring them to try and stop him. Part of Ash was spoiling for another fight, ignoring the fact that, in this condition, a stone¡¯s throw could probably knock him out cold.

    He kept walking, walking, ignoring the raised eyebrows and pursed lips every passer-by shot his way. Ash was tempted to growl at the ones who baulked for too long, compelled out of pure spite.

    His skull throbbed, but not solely because his brother had barged him in the head one too many times. That played a part too, but so did the ferris wheel of questions looping over and over in his mind. He thought of Elmore, but more specifically, his cousin¡¯s ruined legacy.

    I was supposed to secure the future of the clan. Now even Koa is stronger than me. Now our sect is in shambles.

    They couldn¡¯t secure the throne for any longer than a Rebirth, when some monarchs stretched their service out for years. Doing so by battling against swarms of other sects, fighting for what should have been their rightful turn on the throne. Now, if they didn¡¯t grow stronger soon, it would be at least another six, dreadfully long years until a Wild Sect monarch would be called King or Queen again. They had failed, like so many other clans, to snoop the crown away from Maris when her tenure came to an end. Juniper didn¡¯t even seem to want to try any longer.

    Ash had no idea how he hadn¡¯t seen it before. Everywhere he looked, at every passing face, at every empty chamber he passed, or in the leaves of each and every tree the Wild Clan held around their base, he saw it: weakness.

    A younger Ash would have seen nothing but comfort and security. When you¡¯re young like that, it¡¯s like nothing can break your little world. The glassy existence you pave for yourself. But living in a glass house isn¡¯t safe for anybody.

    Elmore¡¯s death had sent that delusion shattering. Ash had still been chasing after the fragments when this feud with his brother began. When Juniper had orchestrated that first bout, in an attempt to make them see eye-to-eye.

    Kind of hard to do that when one of them was blind.

    Now this. One year, and Koa had gotten nowhere.

    His heart wouldn¡¯t stop racing. Every cell in his body was swimming in dread. The Wild Clan was going to fall into anarchy if he didn¡¯t stop it. Ash didn¡¯t know why, but something told him that fact was absolute. If only he could put a face to it. That probing presence in the back of his mind.

    Ash blinked, and everything vanished. At first, he was sure he had fainted. This was just some weird interphase where his consciousness hadn¡¯t quite slipped away from him.

    Then he blinked again, and nothing changed.

    The blackness expanded around him, whole and complete. There wasn¡¯t a smidge of colour anywhere the eye could see. It wasn¡¯t as if the place around him had been splashed with a dark shade of black, it was the absence of colour altogether.

    It wasn¡¯t dark, however. As contradictory as that seemed, Ash could look down and see the Ichor still glistening on his fists. It was just his surroundings that appeared to be hollowed out of everything.

    ¡°Where am I?¡± He tried to turn in a complete circle, only to stumble once more. The surface he fell on wasn¡¯t distinguishable from the black all around. In fact, it was hard to describe. Not too soft, not too hard. Like he was sitting on a force of pure energy, no matter to it.

    ¡°That is the question, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Ash was ashamed to admit he flinched at the noise. But you try to stay vigilant, stained in your own blood and transported into the middle of nowhere. Quite literally.

    What is this? That was one question Ash was unsure if he would ever get the answer to.

    ¡°This is but one corner of your mind, Ash.¡± When Ash pulled a horrified expression, the incorporeal presence barked in laughter. This was more like a jester screaming down his eardrums, than a devil whispering into his ear. ¡°The part you try to suppress. Your darkest tendencies brought to the forefront.¡±

    Ash hurriedly dragged himself back from what he suspected was the source of the noise. When his back seemed to hit an invisible wall, praying to Chantal, the goddess of the Wilderness, seemed like an appropriate course of action. Not even the gods seemed to know if there was an afterlife, but Ash was willing to place his bets.

    ¡°Why are you running? What, do you think I would hurt you?¡±

    Ash didn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°Ah, the silent treatment?¡± The presence sighed. ¡°Okay then, looks like I¡¯ll have to make my appearance.¡±

    The swish of air from a guillotine falling would have been a more appealing sound than those words. Ash took a deep breath, sent whatever power he could rushing through his Mark, and let the viridescent glow add colour to the abyss.

    One look at the being, and Ash¡¯s breathing rate was impossibly quick. Enough adrenaline to kill him wasn¡¯t enough, it was like his body was trying to inhale every speck of oxygen to have ever existed.

    The being was impossibly tall, and lanky. Its head was owl-like, beady eyes that somehow gave the impression of wisdom instead of stupidity staring into Ash¡¯s soul. The closer the being came, the more Ash felt the impulse to scream, scramble, and do half a dozen things that wouldn¡¯t present him as the brave foot-soldier he envisioned himself to be. Now that self-perception was wearing thin.

    What if Koa was right? What if Ash really was going insane?

    The being snickered, its head tilting to the side, revealing its strange, curved shape as well as owlish appearance. Like an axehead. As for its body . . . Ash had to squint. It blended in perfectly with the darkness all around. As if this being too was part of it ¡ª just another cavity in space.

    ¡°Are you Unbounded?¡± The question sounded stupid to even Ash, but this creature felt so beyond anything he¡¯d ever faced. Ethereal in every sense of the word. Like it transcended Infinity itself, a curse cast down from another plane of existence.

    Something told Ash that he should have recognised the entity by now, but he couldn¡¯t put his finger on it for the life of him. He was a little too delirious for thinking, and it was sapping all his energy just to keep pumping out power from his Mark. If it would have any effect somewhere like this, Ash hadn¡¯t the slightest. Still, he always felt a little safer with its steadfast power flowing through him.

    ¡°Oh I think you know what I am, somewhere in that mind of yours. I¡¯m not exactly a new arrival.¡±

    Ash swallowed. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±

    The owl¡¯s face curved, each tooth exaggerated in a rictus that could chill the bones of the most stone-faced. ¡°Do you really think you became so power-hungry out of your one volition? After your brother defeated you, you really were quite the pitiful thing. But emotion! So much emotion to work upon. Like a pile of oil for me to stoke the flames of vengeance upon.¡±

    That sounded like the response he would expect out of a smithy, after handing them a large chunk of ore to beat into shape. Like Ash was a malleable thing, to be hit and swung into some grand design.

    But it was the contents of what they were saying that really made Ash break into a sweat. It made sense now: Ash hadn¡¯t felt like himself ever since that duel. That was a logical conclusion, of course. He would have no doubt changed after such a massive string of losses. But now, if he looked past his anger at Elmore¡¯s death, his anger at Koa seemed to belong to someone else. Like it had been injected into him.

    His mind was split into fragments. Many of which don''t even belong to him.

    He turned back to the being, the Shadow-Man, or so he looked like. A mix of rage and fear made Ash ball his hands into fists, to leer at the creature with open opposition.

    Laughter, like a mountain shaking, made Ash a little less resolute.

    ¡°You wish to fight?¡± They carried a mocking tone, like Ash was a mouse confronting a tiger. ¡°You wish-¡±

    Unfiltered power rushed through Ash. He ignored the aches and pains weighing him down, and leaped into a punch. He wasn¡¯t sure how many of his techniques would work here, so send wilderness energy billowing through his body. His limbs acted like branches accepting the grace of rainwater; the touch of sunlight. His body was a conduit for the power.

    And still, his first mistake was blinking.

    When Ash next opened his eyes, he was rolling across the ground, muffling his screams, and grasping at an arm that definitely shouldn¡¯t have been at the angle it was. Broken, no doubt about it.

    ¡°Why must you suffer? I offer you power, I give you power, and you spit in my face!¡±

    Each word was like a sonic boom, slamming into Ash¡¯s body. He didn¡¯t try to get up, didn¡¯t try to do anything. There was no escape here. His Standing Trooper Mould was still drawing out power in thin remnants, but it wasn¡¯t enough. It made no difference if his Mark was drained or not. The outcome of this encounter seemed already decided.

    ¡°I can heal you, I can make you stronger than any previous Right-bearer.¡±

    Ash couldn¡¯t speak, feeling like invisible spikes were pressing into his skull, each trying to invade his brain and claim it as its own. Like an anti-vaccine, infecting his mind, drowning it with dark intent.

    ¡°Stop resisting, hush.¡± He took on the tone of a lullaby. ¡°Rest . . . rest. When you wake up, this will all seem like a bad dream. Nothing more. Your weakness, the ruinous state of this earth, the backwards way you mortals look at us Unbounded.¡±

    Ash¡¯s eyelids drooped, the tears slipping out into the abyss.

    ¡°We are the cure. Now, rise, my paladin. Rise.¡±

    White light seeped through everything, through Ash¡¯s closed eyes and into every crevice of his sheltered psyche. The great absence was filled, blazing brighter than the sun ever could.

    And Ash lost himself.

 104. Stain on the Earth

    Nova gurgled the blood in his mouth, spat it out, and bared his teeth at Violet. How he had allowed her to live on so long without punishment, he had no clue.

    The power of his Divine Right, Mastery, flooded around the surrounding atmosphere. He could feel it, each and every particle fluttering through the air. Each minute atom under his perfect control. With but a thought, he sent a wall of Infinity crashing into Violet, smashing her away. Simultaneously, He forced Infinity into the gaps of his body, like stone filling a statue¡¯s cracks.

    That was the perks of the first and last Divine Right of this generation: Nova had control over Infinity fit for a god. While the average mortal or Unbounded, even at God-Graced, had to grasp at Infinity like hands slipping through water, Nova could control every wave and tide with pinpoint accuracy.

    It amused him, at lighter times, to think of himself as a child playing with building blocks. Only he was playing with the building blocks of reality. Of good and evil.

    He flew up, commanding the Infinity to allow him to take flight. He watched, with a frown, as Violet blasted away, droplets of Ichor trailing her path through the air.

    One pulse of his Mark, and the might of the Chaos god rushed through him.

    Nova teleported to where her course through the air led, like predicting the fall of an arrow. He grasped her by the nape mid-air, brought his arm up with grim violence, and shoved her down to the earth.

    While he would have liked to see his daughter splatter hundreds of feet below, Nova wasn¡¯t surprised when she imploded in her own magenta aura.

    In an abrupt kick to his head, Nova spluttered, droplets and Ichor trailing a dislodged tooth as it coursed through the air. He roared, locked his sights on where Violet had reappeared, and slashed outwards. Both claws crossed over each other.

    The pair of them fell into a tousle, falling through the air. Constantly teleporting in blasts of purple, only to reappear yet again. It was a dog fight. Neither side managed to land any real killer blows, but cuts and bruises discoloured the pale skin of both Unbounded forms.

    The ground was fast approaching. Nova concentrated as much Infinity as he could in his right arm, his bones rattling inside. He could feel the remnants of Enos'' presence clinging onto him. He centralised that power, the Infinity included, and punched down.

    He hit the air above violet, releasing every speck of withheld power.

    The sound of a bomb going off reverberated around the scene. Incinerating, fiery light blasted out, the radius alone seeming to cover the surrounding mile. The birds above suddenly stopped chirping, any remaining greenery, or small animals, were pulverised, and the ground visibly shook.

    Nova dropped to the bottom of his crater in a crouch. Steam rose off the ground, and, noting how strangely silent the scene was, Nova turned a full circle. Nova could have transported his manor here, and fit the scattered remains of his clansmen inside with room to spare.

    Pity what had happened to them after the news broke out. Once the newspapers had heard that the rest of the clan were dopplegangers, they¡¯d disbanded. Obviously, it hadn¡¯t been anything nearly as formal as that ¡ª just a dozen Unbounded running for their lives. They were hunted out in the droves.

    Nova wiped the steam off his shoulder, forming a visible shield of Infinity around him. It was like glass, shimmering in the light if looked at from a certain angle. One of Violet¡¯s attacks might get through, but she would be dramatically slowed down.

    Armour spawned on his body, the atoms of Infinity concentrating to form the most defensive form Nova could imagine. A mountain could fall on him and Nova would shrug it off. The heavy armour was a dark black, fit with multiple weapons swirling around him. He suspected that the Infinity condensing upon his flesh was equal to that of the Silver Throne. He was a walking goldmine, a living proclamation to the world that the Unbounded had a greater hold on Infinity than the gods, or their pets of humanity, could ever hope to achieve.

    Nova focused on his breathing. He needed to anchor himself in the present moment, not the internal war taking place inside of him.

    Enos. Abandoning him. Putting Nova on the chopping board. Leaving him as a lamb to the slaughter.

    The fact wouldn¡¯t compute.

    What was the point of his existence, if he failed the one that had imparted him with so much power in the first place? As Nova¡¯s temperature seemed to boil, the particles of Infinity around vibrated with growing intensity.

    If he was going to die, he would serve the Unbounded cause until his last breath. And if that meant dragging as many mortals as he could to the afterlife, then so be it.

    He would burn the entirety of the Ravaged Lands to the ground; he could think of no better fit for his funeral pyre.

    Nova frowned as the time seemed to drag on. Each second in a fight was the equivalent of minutes. What was his daughter plotting? Inside of such an ludicrously strong suit of armour, and his supercharged shielding, he couldn''t be safer. Still, Nova heeded caution.

    The other God-Graced seemed to be leaving Violet to deal with Nova by herself. Why they would allow such a foolish choice to take place, he had no idea. Well, at least he had time to gather his bearings.

    Nova blinked, and a dozen Violets appeared before him. Perfect copies of his daughter, all encircling him.

    They surrounded the Infinity encasing Nova, eyes as lifeless as dolls. Nova funnelled power into his dome, observing the group as they bombarded the shield with a barrage of punches.Violet and whatever these clones were seemed to be teleporting every split second, smashing the Infinity shield at every angle, every second, every moment.

    Cracks in his shielding appeared, but Nova kept refilling them with wisps of Infinity, like cement into holes. He wondered, who would exhaust first? It would be a pathetic way to win a fight, letting his daughter exhaust herself, but it would be a painful death for her.

    Nova smiled. Why bother for honour at this point anyway? He had already been left in the dust by the only person whose respect mattered. It had been a clever tactic to make so many Projections of herself, but it was also stupid to wear her power so thin. A few more minutes of this, and if no God-Graced intervened-

    One of the Violets exploded. They launched into the protective layer, letting the Infinity that comprised them erupt. The layer snapped. Nova flinched, a disgusting show of weakness, and swiftly strained himself to patch the area up.

    She can¡¯t sacrifice all her Infinity like that. Plus, one of these girls must be her. It¡¯s too risky to have too many explosions so close.

    When the rest of the duplicates proceeded to do the same exact thing, all in perfect synchronicity, Nova thought the universe must be having a joke.

    His shielding was jeopardised at every angle, and it would be a waste of Infinity to restore it. Instead, Nova concentrated the divine essence into his armour. Before he could teleport away, the ground at his feet burst upwards, like a mole reaching out of its tunnelling. Violet ¡ª the real version now ¡ª slashed out with claws trembling with Infinity.

    She was fully clad in her own amour, and Nova may have been a proud father in some deranged kind of way, the ability to craft protection notoriously difficult, if not for the fact she had just stabbed him in the sternum.

    He warped out of the way that instance, but it was too slow; Violet was dragged with him.

    They were falling through the air again, Violet connected to Nova still through her embedded claws. They dug deeper with each passing second, and Nova coughed out blood.

    Nova teleported five more times in rapid succession. Yet her grasp on him wouldn¡¯t relent. Nova fought the urge to scream out in frustration. Instead, breathing in as deeply as he could through torn lungs, he concentrated on the Infinity scattered all around. His Divine Right resonated with him deeper than ever, its symbol glowing a pasty white on his forehead.

    All around, the Infinity suffusing the air began to curve and ebb, circling the both of them as the centre of a storm. Nova felt through his connection to Infinity every Unbounded lurking in a few miles range. He locked in on them, forcing their shallow forms to disperse back into divine essence. Fuel to the fire.

    The hailstorm took on a visible appearance, a sandy white powder where the Infinity grew truly concentrated. He commanded each to become spiked, like a rainstorm, each droplet moulded with the shape and force of a dagger.

    It was hard for even him to sustain such intricate mastery over Infinity. Dozens of the drop-sized blades were bound to land on his armour, perhaps even his skin, too. But it was a price Nova was willing to pay.

    Trapped in the eye of the storm, there would be nowhere for his daughter to escape. Nova couldn¡¯t tell how high up either of them were anymore, trapped amidst the clouded scene. They were sent whipping through the air, neither of them risking another blast of purple in fear of reappearing in a bundle of sharp ends.

    Nova could teleport out of range of the storm, and fortunately for him, Violet wouldn¡¯t be able to place a safe bet on how far that would be. She would either undershoot, and materialise with ten stab wounds, or overshoot, and end up hundreds of miles away from the battlefront, requiring days to recover from the tiresome expense of travel. It was Nova¡¯s crucial advantage, leveraged by his extended awareness of Infinity.

    But neither seemed intent on leaving until the other was dead.

    Around the pair of them, becoming accustomed to the storm now, Nova crafted a dozen weapons. Halberds, spears, longswords, and anything that looked like it could impale. Violet ignored them all, still swiping away at him with her free hand, and trying to shred his intestines with the other. With the pandemonium going on all around, it was almost unsuccessful enough for Nova to ignore outright. He had sent spots of Infinity to block his pain receptors, knowing the agony would be too distracting to deal with.

    ¡°You made a good attempt.¡± For some reason, Nova felt melancholic when face-to-face with the death of his daughter. Perhaps using that term to describe her made him too sentimental. No . . . he realised. This was more akin to watching a failed experiment burn before your eyes. ¡°You could have been one of our strongest fighters, you know?¡± Nova stuffed Infinity to fill the gaps in his internals, just enough so that his words didn¡¯t sound gargled. Blood leaked out of his mouth as he spoke, regardless. ¡°You were the first clone we made, and look at you now!¡±

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    Violet twisted the claw in his chest. Nova winced. ¡°You had the potential to surpass even me in power. Such anger in your eyes! Imagine what you could do if you leveraged that against the real villains-¡±

    Violet¡¯s fist pressed through his entire torso, pulling through to the other side in a splash of gore. Nova laid resting on her arm, held up by the hole in his stomach.

    There was no time to dilly-dally any longer. Nova removed the Infinity blockers on his pain receptors, letting the hurt and anguish wash over his body. He had always found pain to be the perfect motivator. He let it foster into rage, into the urge to annihilate everyone and everything.

    He would start by exterminating this worm of a child.

    With but a thought, an electrical signal of his neurons, the hovering weapons he had summoned swung into his daughter.

    Violet didn¡¯t last a second.

    He doubted she even had a second to think, a second to resist, before the blades dug into her. Spikes pressed through her flesh, a sword fully cleaved into her abdomen, and the hailstorm all around seemed to turn its full attention on her. Lashing away at her body like she was a helpless ragdoll, her insides were turned into outsides.

    Nova made to escape her claws, expecting her arm to be limp. Instead, its hold on Nova, strangely, wouldn¡¯t relent. Nova took another look at her, having seen people die in much less severe conditions. Instead, Violet leered into his eyes, the kind of venomous hatred he had identified earlier bubbling fully to the surface, and overflowing.

    When her entire body began glowing white, Nova only needed a split second to realise what was happening. But it wasn¡¯t enough to teleport away.

    Violet¡¯s body exploded. Only this hadn¡¯t been Violet at all ¡ª just another lousy Projection. A remarkably strong one.

    Her arm still embedded into his body, the pair of them trapped in a storm of dancing edges, Nova felt his insides char, erupting from the inside out.

    <hr>

    Violet hadn¡¯t expected that to work so well.

    She watched, at Maris¡¯ side, as Nova¡¯s body was sent hurtling towards the ground. His storm of twirling Infinity was a foggy mass, hundreds of feet above the crater he had punched into the earth, minutes ago. Violet tried to control her breathing: never in her life had she been forced to pick up on so many details in such a short time span. The speed Nova fought at was unparalleled.

    ¡°Impressive.¡± Maris allowed, watching up at the fight from their vantage point. They were hidden from view, a team of illusionist clansmen from various sects protecting them.

    Violet didn¡¯t say a word. This next part demanded every speck of her attention.

    She had only done this once before, and only for a brief second. Disrupting Nova¡¯s connection with his Chaotic power was already a challenge, but in her current state, Violet wasn¡¯t too confident in her abilities.

    All of those Projections had drained her of much Infinity. It was effective cannon fodder, true, but what of the cost? There was a reason why Unbounded didn¡¯t just send swarms of exploding Projections to deal with their enemies ¡ª not normally, anyway. It was awfully draining, no doubt, but the Infinity cost was nothing to scoff at. Violet would be permanently weaker until she found another store of Infinity to feast upon.

    The only reason she had been willing to pull such a drastic tactic in the first place, was because defeating Nova would grant her a God-Graced¡¯s worth of Infinity. Some of that power would be lost in the transfer, obviously, but Violet had a real shot at skipping straight to Warlord Rank. The prospect was daunting, but beyond exciting ¡ª at that level, she would be able to train her Infinity to such mastery that flight would be a natural next step. It was arguably the hardest pure-Infinity technique one could hope to cultivate, without the ridiculous advantage Nova had with his Divine Right.

    And Nova was severely weakened. Enos had definitely done a number on him, and though he had managed to recover, Violet was proud to say she hadn¡¯t slacked on her end. Nova really was on his last legs.

    But he would know that better than anyone. All Violet had to do now was stop him from escaping. Easier said than done.

    She watched intently as he spun through the air, feeling his connection to the greater subject of Chaos. To what had once been Teivel¡¯s power, but now was sourced from Enos. She had to ruin that link, to leave the God-Graced to his own devices.

    Nova sent a pulse of energy billowing from his Mark, but Violet honed in on it. She sent it dissipating through the air before it could form into a rift to escape.

    When nothing happened, and Nova was still falling, Violet¡¯s heart sang. Yes!

    Her brow was covered with sweat, but she had to keep going.

    Again, Nova tried to form a getaway. And again, Violet denied him it. There would be no easy exit.

    He was close to the ground now. Violet had memories of Joshua flooding through her mind, but didn¡¯t let it shake her. Surely Nova would accept his fate any second now. There was a chance he¡¯d be able to survive the impact, but being in fighting shape after such a collision would be an impossibility.

    Again, with ceaseless effort, Violet brought both arms into the air. He screamed so loud, each word was a sonic wave of noise, blasting over the scene. The grass at Violet¡¯s feet was blown backwards, as were several strands of her hair.

    It wasn¡¯t enough to ruin her focus, and with gritted teeth, again, Nova¡¯s attempts bore no fruit. Power dissipated into the surroundings, forming into nothing. Wasted energy swallowed back up by the world.

    Violet could hardly believe her eyes. This was actually working.

    Nova was ten feet from splattering against the earth. She could blink, and he¡¯d be dead.

    However, when Violet did open her eyes, the sight she was met with was far more befuddling.

    Nova seemed to halt mid-air, inches away from the ground. Every muscle in his body was strained, his Divine Right glowing on his forehead like a star rising out of a dark abyss. His right fist shook, and even as blood made a pool below him, he held himself. His fist was held tightly, and encasing his body like an invisible giant, was an exact replica, only a hundred times bigger, and weaved from Infinity. Nova had literally caught himself mid-air through some ludicrous twist of divine essence.

    Violet cursed. She had been hoping that he¡¯d be too exhausted to rely on pure Infinity manipulation, but clearly, that wasn¡¯t the case.

    Violet made to run forwards, past the boundary disguising them, but Maris held out a hand. ¡°Think logically, and be careful. The other God-Graced are still preoccupied, but if I think he¡¯s too much for you, I¡¯ll pull you out of there and finish him myself.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Violet wanted to say more, but held her tongue. Being interrupted for even a second could be the difference between Nova getting away, and her finally getting revenge.

    In one blast of purple light, Violet appeared before Nova.

    They locked eyes for one second. Violet didn¡¯t know what to make of the glassy stare he gave her. Whether it was completely absent of emotion, his mind made hollow by Enos'' ravagement, or bursting with suppressed feelings, Violet couldn¡¯t tell.

    Without another word, the two slammed into each other.

    At the beginning, the pair attempted to use their Marks for complex attacks, or to weave Infinity in advantageous ways. Soon though, the exhaustion of their tribulations saw that power wearing thin. This was a classic hand-to-hand brawl. Nothing special or ostentatious about it.

    Violet weaved and punched like a boxer, trying to enter a flow state. She couldn¡¯t overthink this fight, stripped down to the most basic fundamentals of combat. The kind she had drilled into Remus when they had left First Rite so long ago. That memory made her wince.

    She swept her foot under Nova, and her father tumbled over. She punched down, right as he rolled out of the way, and launched back to his feet. With a manic look, breath out of control and appearing more feral than ever, he opened his mouth.

    ¡°I see now that I was wrong.¡±

    Violet anticipated Nova¡¯s next blow. He dived into her, weighing enough to crush her entire body if he so wished. Violet abused that weight to send him flying in the opposite direction.

    It only took him a moment to regain his footing. ¡°I was a fool to think you could belong with us Unbounded. I see now the error of my ways: trying to combine humanity with Unbounded is like trying to make a rock bleed. It¡¯s like thinking good is the same as evil.¡±

    A flurry of blows so fast, Violet could hardly process what happened, took place. Thank the gods for her lightning quick instincts.

    ¡°But now look at you.¡± Nova seemed to be gaining more confidence as he spoke, even though his panting breath. ¡°Not fit to belong with Unbounded, not fit to belong with humanity. You don¡¯t belong anywhere on this earth. In this universe, for that matter.¡±

    Nova moved shockingly fast. He grabbed Violet by the neck, slamming her into the earth like she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes.

    ¡°So what¡¯s left for you now? Whatever side you join, half of your flesh will rebel against you. Whatever tree you plant will prove fruitless. The soil¡¯s spoiled.¡±

    Violet couldn¡¯t move. She struggled, but Nova kept holding her down, as if a mountain was upon her. His words hit her, their intentions invading into her deepest insecurities. For some reason, despite her declining ability to breathe, the only thing she could think of was that original Violet. The human girl who would have led a normal life, if not for the Unbounded interception of her reality. Violet didn¡¯t identify with that human origin, but neither did she with the Unbounded side. She had no memory of it. But the only memories she did have seemed borrowed: was she Violet? Was she Unbounded? Was she both, or neither, or something else entirely? Was that fusion of Unbounded and mortal the birth of a new person?

    Violet managed to wack at Nova enough to get him to relent his hold. It was only for a second, but that was all she needed.

    She kicked him in the chest, and half-tumbling, rolled ten feet away. There, she stood still, catching her breath, and staring down her father as he did much the same.

    ¡°What do you have to fight for?¡± Nova asked. The question felt to Violet like a slap to the face. ¡°I have spite to cling onto, but you? I wonder . . . what is it that keeps you fighting in a world that has no place for you?¡±

    His words were like poison. Violet had to stop listening, else he might actually convince her of something moronic.

    I have something to fight for, right?

    It was too late. He had already invaded her psyche, these questions like parasites worming through her mind.

    What did she want? She had been so intent on getting revenge, that everything after that seemed cloudy. For a second of hopelessness, Violet looked up at Nova. When she saw him, dishevelled, draped in so much blood it had dried to form a crusty layer, and with that wild look in his eyes, something seemed to hit her. Of course she had something to fight for: stopping evil beings like this from inflicting harm on the world.

    The gods may have done wrong, and so may have humanity. But hitting each other with sticks and throwing rocks like cavemen wasn¡¯t the answer. You didn¡¯t end violence with more violence. Not on such a grand scale anyway. Murder and justice were two very different things.

    Violet stood up a little taller. ¡°I¡¯m Unbounded. I¡¯m human. I¡¯m both at once and none of those things at the same time. I¡¯m a walking, talking paradox, perhaps the world¡¯s greatest contradiction. But that is enough. As crazed as my existence is, I¡¯ll never degrade myself to senseless destruction.¡±

    In a second wind, Violet reactivated her Mark. She cut through space, violet light spilling over the scene for miles all around, like a heavenly beacon.

    She reappeared with her claws in Nova¡¯s neck. Violet thought he tried to speak around the protrusions, but you can only abuse vocal cords so much before they lose their use.

    Life finally seemed to slip out of Nova¡¯s gaze. Violet allowed a sigh of relief.

    She paused, taking the moment in. Using her internal senses, she could feel the team God-Graced approaching. But there was another kind of power she couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on . . . one that was right behind her. Violet turned on her feet, to what should have been Nova¡¯s rotting carcass.

    Something seemed to stop the God-Graced¡¯s advance, wherever they were. When white light began to seep out of Nova¡¯s eyes, Violet wasn¡¯t so confident they would arrive in time.

 105. Devil in the Details

    Travelling through the Undercrossing was always an exhausting endeavour. Especially when Remus had to hold back from using his flames to quicken the process. Something told him that bursting off ahead, while maybe initially impressing the trio, wouldn¡¯t have the best long-term effect on team morale.

    Together with Clove, Barley, and of course Tess, the group had managed to trek forward at a remarkably swift pace. For a party of four traversing on foot, and carrying cumbersome supplies, they made astonishingly good time. At the dawn of their third day labouring their way through the vast tunnelling, the blessing of natural light graced Remus¡¯ sapphire eyes once more.

    ¡°Okay guys, we should be within walking distance of the Insect and Arachnid Clans. Last I heard of Koa, he was helping out with the rebuilding of both bases, after the bout with the Pet-Keeper. Any questions?¡±

    ¡°Should we be scared?¡± Clove asked, and despite the man being at least in his mid-twenties, and afflicted with a terrible drinking habit ¡ª perhaps an addiction ¡ª Remus felt the same kind of parental care for Clove as he did with someone as young as Baldwin.

    Baldwin. Remus smiled at the memory of the bright-eyed preteen. He solemnly hoped the boy was finding success in whatever new task he was embarking on.

    ¡°Scared?¡± Remus couldn¡¯t hide the quirk of his lips. ¡°Why would you be scared?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard he¡¯s an absolute dog of a Foot-Solider, in the best way possible, of course. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard of how he dealt with that Scorpian-man. Creepy stuff.¡±

    Remus hadn¡¯t, actually. Whatever the case, he was sure the more gruesome details were exaggerated. He looked at his hand, noting the missing index finger, and thought back to the young, withdrawn boy who would always hide behind his cousin''s back. Now that he had lost someone as close to him as Andreas, Remus was starting to think he understood a little of what Koa had gone through. He took a breath to expel any excess emotions, before turning back to Clove.

    ¡°He¡¯s a laid back guy, mostly keeps to himself. Though, I must ask, where have you heard of him?¡±

    ¡°You, Violet, and Koa are each well known throughout the Mortal Realms.¡± Barely chimed in. ¡°Gosh, you might have missed it, while locked up and serving your sentence, but for a while, and a damn long while at that, it was all anyone would talk about.¡±

    Remus struggled to settle his feelings about that. It was too bizarre: to think that the three of them made up the main components of some modern mythos, while hardly too impressive if you only looked at their Ranks. Remus was nothing more than a peak Foot-Solider at best; maybe the chains that pressed against his back put him up a little, if taken into account. Violet¡¯s power was always hard to quantify, and she could have absolutely grown in power since their last disaster of a meeting. But still, as far as Remus knew, a peak Splintered Rank would put her on the ropes. As to why everyone was treating them like gods amongst men, he found it impossible to fathom, let alone internalise the celebrity status they¡¯d reached.

    Though maybe that was why they were so well-known in the first place. Three pseudo-Foot-Soldiers, or whatever Violet was, had no right to be throwing hands with Right-Bearers, let alone holding their own against them. Without a doubt, Violet¡¯s status as an Unbounded was definitely a cause of such interest. Likely the main cause.

    They had a lot to live up to. Hey, the most optimistic portion of Remus whispered, the side that was harder to spot than a God-Graced who wasn¡¯t power-hungry, if we defied the impossible before, we can do it again. We can do this.

    And if they could persuade any of Koa¡¯s men to join them . . . while stories of Koa¡¯s encounter with Draven were yet to reach Remus, the brave soldiers who fought under him and the leader of the Insect Clan, Beckett, sure had. He wanted to shake the hands of each of those brave men personally. And if they were so swayed as to enlist in his rebellion? Even better.

    Ulterior motives aside, Remus was just happy to see his old friend again.

    ¡°What should we expect?¡± Tess asked, after a few minutes¡¯ silence.

    ¡°Well, it''s been a year, I¡¯m sure most of the place is already rebuilt by now.¡± Remus answered. ¡°Koa can manipulate wood almost better than anyone I know back at the Carpentry Clan. He¡¯s brilliant like that.¡±

    In retrospect, Remus would slap himself for such words, and not due to the blaspheming of his family¡¯s masterwork. As the group crested a line of knolls that formed a natural incline, leading out from one of the Undercrossing¡¯s branching exits, Remus felt his jaw drop.

    A wasteland.

    Where Remus had come to expect great oak trees, spindly networks of gigantic spiderwebs, and the signature eeriness that endlessly characterised Territory Two, he found the reality to fall short. If his memory was a great snowy precipice, the razed, empty land that sat before him was the equivalent of a pebble resting at its base.

    ¡°I thought you said they had been rebuilding . . . ¡° Clove stared out at the surroundings, the uncertain look in his eye telling Remus that he saw no difference between this, and the chaotic scenes of Hell¡¯s Floor.

    ¡°They had . . .¡± He shook his head, as if hoping the sight would disappear, like a mirage one might see deep into a desert. When it only doubled-down as the indisputable reality, Remus burst upwards, setting his palms alight. ¡°You guys wait here, I¡¯m going to take a look ahead, scout things out.¡±

    They all silently obeyed, but Remus felt bad for leaving them behind like this. He had to swallow down that feeling, and it was bitter tasting. Koa had been rebuilding here. He knew that to be as true as any other arbitrary fact of life. So for things to be looking this bad right from the outset . . . something strong enough to get in the way of Koa might have been behind this.

    It was paranoid thinking, no getting around that. But being cautious seemed to be the best decision here.

    Everywhere the eye could see, the grassy ground that once acted as nature¡¯s carpet was replaced by mounds of upheaved dirt. Remus could look around all he wanted, but everywhere, no matter how far he flew, was all the same. Empty dirt. No trees, no flowers, not even any webs. He had only covered the first few miles of the place, but for so much land to be so absolutely annihilated, changed beyond recognition, was ludicrous.

    The only culprit Remus could find was the occasional, gigantic piece of rock. The orb-shaped protrusions were unlike anything Remus had ever seen. Different to any rock you would naturally find walking around, and with his spiritual senses, they screamed at him with some strange kind of energy. It was hard to describe, but Remus could definitely tell you he didn¡¯t like it.

    He flew to his feet, body tight from stress, and wiped a finger down the ashy sediment. It returned greyish black, the layer of the mysterious material fading away with the wind.

    Remus couldn¡¯t keep his thoughts to himself. ¡°Just what happened here?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± A presence from behind snagged his attention. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to wrap my head around.¡±

    Smiling warmly at him, only feet away and in the flesh, was Koa.

    <hr>

    The next thing Remus knew, his old friend had led him and the rest of the company into a petite stretch of housing. It looked as if the damage had mainly targeted the remains of the Insect Clan. The deeper in you walked, approaching the gauzy castle the Arachnid Clan inhabited, the more ¡®normal¡¯ things became, so to speak.

    In fact, the sight of the castle was a sight that Remus believed he would always be awed by. He had never been in this Territory before, but they must have expanded on the place since the Pet-Keeper came barging into Territory Two. The exterior was weaved through silk that radiated power equivalent to highly concentrated Infinity; not on the level of his chains, but some Supreme Steel quality stuff. Vast windows had been crafted not out of glass, but some other transparent type of webbing, distinct against the walls. Balconies stretched out, with Arachnid Clansmen conversing upon them. Judging by their weary expressions, it looked to be important.

    The quaint buildings they found themselves within were also made of web.

    ¡°My wife, Ocatvia, made all this.¡± Koa smirked at his partner sweetly, all of them seated together at a table. ¡°She has quite the eye for architecture.¡±

    If Remus had been drinking anything, he would have spat it out. ¡°Your what?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I suppose I haven¡¯t told you, have I?¡± Moving a hand near his array of floating eyeballs, the sight of which made Clove turn green, Koa addressed the Arachnid clanswoman. ¡°This is my wife, Octavia. We married shortly after the encounter with the Pet-Keeper. I know, it¡¯s early, but it¡¯s part of the culture in the Arachnid Clan to join together quickly. Besides, ¡° he interlaced his fingers with her, ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m not smitten.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m . . . happy for you.¡± Remus eventually found the words. ¡°Very happy. You deserve this man.¡±

    Octavia and Koa smiled warmly at each other, the image alone the portrait of romance. It was enough to make Remus¡¯ heart melt. Though beneath that compassionate exterior, he could sense something darker underneath. Like a cake injected with poison.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be blunt. . . but what happened here?¡± Remus finally ripped off the bandaid. There was no walking around the enormous elephant in the room. ¡°I know you had the desire to rebuild this place, but that rock I saw, while flying over here . . . did that cause this damage?¡±

    Koa¡¯s beaming smile faded to dust, as quickly as it came. ¡°Not the meteorite itself, but the person who sent it down.¡±

    Meteorite? Sent down?

    Barley found his words before Remus could. ¡°Wait a minute . . . you¡¯re talking about asteroids? Asteroids came crashing down here, and what do you mean someone sent it down?¡±

    Koa steepled his fingers, brows furrowing. ¡°It¡¯s a complicated story, though I suppose I should start from, well, the start.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°After that whole Right-Bearer business was dealt with, I spent some time recovering with Octavia. A very generous clanswoman from the Sight Sect, Petronia, gifted me these.¡±

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    All around Koa, his independent eyeballs whizzed through the air, doing loops, somersaults, and various other optic acrobatics. That must have been a one-man industry, Koa acting as its sole trailblazer.

    ¡°I never had the chance to say Koa, but I¡¯m truly sorry for what happened to your eye.¡± It was one of the biggest shames in the world. ¡°It¡¯s not comparable, but when I lost my finger, it was hard to accept. Even as strong as I am now, I¡¯ll never get it back naturally.¡±

    That was one of the great ironies of the Divine Ranks. Once you advanced to Warlord or higher, you could suffer the most disgusting injuries imaginable, and walk out of the infirmary without the smallest scratch. Whereas, if you were to gain that same wound at a lower Rank, you would never be able to fully recover, no matter how powerful you became. A Warlord who had lost all his fingers at a lower Rank, would easily be able to grow another arm if it were served off. Only for it to return fingerless as ever. Aside from some extremely skilled healers from a select pool of clans, that applied to everyone.

    Well, God-Graced could change their forms, and there were very few things the authority of a god could not achieve. Though, if you ever ascended to such powerful heights, Remus supposed mortal injuries would be the least of your concern.

    ¡°It''s fine, truly. Like I¡¯ve told Octavia before, no-one can climb the Divine Ranks without gaining a scar or two in the process. Besides, the eye is one of the most complicated organs in the body. Even Splintered Ranks are hard-pressed to heal them.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s got an expansive selection now anyway.¡± Octavia linked arms with her husband. ¡°Do you think if the Sight Sect gave the same treatment to everyone who lost an eye, that people would be waiting in line to get their eyeballs ripped out?¡±

    Laughter erupted from everyone present. The tension was effectively sliced away, and a warmth that reminded Remus of a crispy fireplace washed over him.

    ¡°So, as I was saying,¡± Koa continued. ¡°Most of Territory Two seemed to be put on pause as everyone was recovering from their injuries. I spent a few Durations simply getting used to my new eyes, and trying to work-out what¡¯s next for me. After Elmore¡¯s death, I was so focused on getting justice for him in a way that felt right to me . . . when I actually accomplished that, it was hard to process. You always expect everything to be so different after you reach a certain goal; when you scale a tall precipice. It felt nice of course, but when you overcome that grand mountain, you¡¯re left asking: what¡¯s next?¡±

    Tess sipped at her tea. ¡°And what was your answer to that?¡±

    ¡°Well, a few things. I got to know Octavia better, and without the looming threat of death hanging over me, I found that my feelings held strong. But I always felt some responsibility for the men of my and Beckett¡¯s army. So many people lost their lives. Sons, brothers, fathers. I felt obligated to their families. So I began rebuilding. My Boundless Vault, a Delicate Touch Mould¡ª¡± Octavia smirked at that, but Remus wasn¡¯t entirely sure why ¡°¡ªallowed me to create structures with skill I didn''t know I possessed. Things were going so well.¡±

    ¡°So well until what?¡±

    ¡°His sorry excuse for a brother.¡± Octavia put it plainly.

    ¡°You mean Ash?¡±

    Koa nodded gravely. ¡°That¡¯s another problem. Gods, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s gotten into that boy. At every opportunity he¡¯ll exploit an old rite in my Clan¡¯s legislation, forcing me into a duel. Travelling between Territories so often could not be more of a headache.¡±

    ¡°But why would he do that?¡± Clove drank from his cup, mighty sober considering its contents.

    ¡°Some vendetta.¡± Koa didn¡¯t come across so much as enraged, but more like a disappointed parent. Something akin to parental love bled through the surface-level annoyance. ¡°He needs help. I think Juniper put too much pressure on him, and we¡¯ve always had this sibling rivalry going on. Ever since I killed the Pet-Keeper before he could, beat him in our first duel, and especially now that people are speaking like I¡¯m going to be the next sect leader,¡± he shook his head, ¡°he reached his breaking point.¡±

    ¡°People are saying that?¡± Remus didn¡¯t mean to leap out of his seat, but pride seemed to command him. He slapped a hand on Koa¡¯s shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s amazing!¡±

    He flushed. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to get ahead of myself, but thanks. I¡¯ve gained enough authority to oversee a new union between the Arachnid and Insect Clans. People have to stay together in these tough times, y¡¯know? That old Celestial War we fought, each sect out for themselves . . . that battle¡¯s long gone. All we can focus on now is stopping the Unbounded before they kill us all.¡±

    Those words resonated with each and every one of them. Remus had almost forgotten that the Gods were fighting amongst themselves for power. It all seemed so silly now. Maybe this Unbounded catastrophe would be the one thing that made the Gods put their differences aside.

    A man could dream.

    ¡°So, about those meteorites, what happened?¡±

    ¡°Some . . . man? Unbounded?¡± Octavia frowned, deep in thought as she stared up at the ceiling. ¡°This figure appeared. He sent those asteroids tumbling down from space. I keep urging Koa to report it to some stronger authority, some God-Graced who could help us out. But because of that rat of a brother of his-¡±

    ¡°Octavia,¡± Koa placed a hand on top of hers. ¡°My brother isn¡¯t a house rodent, he¡¯s just lost. He¡¯ll snap out of it eventually.¡±

    She pouted. ¡°Because of Ash, we¡¯ve only been able to report to Juniper so far.¡±

    Remus tapped at the table. Juniper was a wicked woman indeed, and in that moment, Remus had vivid flashbacks of her attempts to take over the Ambition Sect during its darkest hour. Whatever his relationship with Juniper, Remus wouldn¡¯t hold that against Koa. He was a good man. He didn¡¯t deserve to have all his hard work blow up in his face, despite some of  his clan''s more sinister actions.

    ¡°Did you see who did it?¡± Barley muttered, on the edge of his chair. ¡°Can you describe him?¡±

    Koa sighed. ¡°He was sitting on one of the meteorites as it came crashing down. He wore . . . he wore this large green cloak that covered him entirely. Under his hood . . . it was just darkness. I wish I had more to go off of.¡±

    The description didn¡¯t ring a bell, but Remus made sure to keep a mental note. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind. I¡¯m making up for my year of absence by trekking across near the entirety of Descent. If I see anything, I¡¯ll be sure to write a letter.¡±

    ¡°But who would have such power . . .¡± Tess scrutinised the cup she held, as if it was the worst thing in the world. ¡°Sending something down from space isn¡¯t a normal power.¡±

    Everyone remained silent. No-one dared to speak the most obvious conclusion. To even acknowledge it as a possibility was terrifying.

    It was very possible they had a new Right-bearer on their hands. The next generation. So quickly after dealing with the last of Enos¡¯ main men, Remus liked to write that off as impossible. Nova was still alive, was he not? Had Enos abandoned the sole survivor of his generation to start anew, or was there something Remus wasn¡¯t privy to going on? That what if in the back of his head would not stop nagging at him.

    The last generation had sparked a world war. What would the next, stronger generation cause?

    The afternoon grew sleepy, and as the sun departed for the night, so did Remus¡¯ companions. That left Remus, Koa, and Octavia all alone at the late hour, drinking some liquor Koa had found hidden away, in the back of a cupboard.

    ¡°So what about you Remus?¡± Koa asked politely. ¡°I¡¯ve talked so much about myself tonight, but I haven¡¯t heard from you or Violet in what feels like decades.¡±

    Remus paused, cup tilted to his lips.

    ¡°Remus?¡± Koa repeated, ¡°Everything okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Remus put his drink down, fighting the urge to sigh. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen Violet much either. I kind of messed things up between us.¡±

    Octavia raised an eyebrow. ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°While I was recovering from my fight with the Supreme Fiend, and reconciling with Andreas¡¯ death, my great grandfather, I said a few things I shouldn¡¯t have. Things I don¡¯t even know if I truly meant. I wasn¡¯t in a good headspace at the time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure whatever you said, things can be repaired.¡± Remus appreciated the fact Koa didn¡¯t ask for details.

    Octavia looked at Remus blankly for the longest pause of his life, before finally speaking. ¡°Did you tell her you loved her?¡±

    Remus swallowed a little too quickly, the alcohol burning the back of his throat like sandpaper. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re blushing, so I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡± Octavia smirked.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Koa took a second to digest that. ¡°I never knew things between you two were like that.¡±

    Remus shook his head. Gods, he wanted to fade into the air and disappear. ¡°I didn¡¯t either. I was in a really weird state at the time. Injured, recently advanced, grieving ¡ª I don¡¯t know what got into me.¡±

    ¡°What about now?¡± Octavia clearly did not have the same cautionary approach as her husband. Each question cut to the point, like a knife twisting in Remus¡¯ heart. ¡°Do you love her?¡±

    ¡°Octavia-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll drive him insane if he doesn¡¯t sort this situation out, and to do that, he needs to know what he wants. So tell me,¡± she leaned in alarmingly close, the scent of wine heavy on her breath. ¡°Do you love her?¡±

    Remus instantly devised half-a-dozen ways to dodge that question, but Octavia had a point. This emotional turmoil wouldn¡¯t cease unless he acquired some kind of closure. Sitting on the fence and waiting for things to play out would only bring Remus more pain in the long-run.

    The only problem was, he had no idea. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know.¡± He answered honestly. ¡°I have so much to think about, I don¡¯t really have time to scrutinise my feelings, to try and find meaning from them. Gods, I¡¯m supposed to be spearheading a rebellion, not reconciling with my teenage heartbreak.¡±

    Koa did a double-take. ¡°What was that? You¡¯re spearheading a rebellion?¡±

    Oh gods above, Remus had let the cat out of the bag. He had intended to introduce the topic in a reasonable, professional manner, but he supposed they were going to know anyway. But the way they discovered it could not have been any less abrupt.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be honest with you Koa, that¡¯s why I came all the way over here. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard of the trouble in First Rite. Damosh is going berserk.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes.¡± Koa put his drink down, donning a much more serious tone. ¡°It takes time for news to reach us in a place as remote as this, but the snippets of news we¡¯ve received are nothing short of disgusting.¡±

    Remus nodded. ¡°I¡¯m assembling an attack force to put him down.¡±

    Octavia appeared as if Remus had just slapped her in the face. ¡°Remus, that man is a God-Graced! I know you¡¯ve faced some powerful opponents before, but that was always with help.¡±

    ¡°I acknowledge that. That¡¯s why I¡¯m gathering assistance. Once I get enough people on my side, it isn¡¯t unlikely that a few God-Graced will join our cause. Damosh has never been popular amongst the most powerful of this world, and certainly not after the manic episodes he¡¯s been on lately.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re relying on chance.¡± Octavia would not cease her verbal onslaught. ¡°What, are you asking my husband to leave us when we need his abilities the most?

    Koa remained silent, as if knowing that interrupting his wife would only get him into trouble later on.

    ¡°Of course not.¡± Remus was starting to sweat. ¡°I apologise if I came across in a bad light. I was simply wondering whether any of the men who fought alongside you and Beckett would be interested in fighting at my side too. But I also came here to visit an old friend, Koa. I¡¯m sorry for not coming earlier.¡±

    Gods above, this was all going horribly wrong. If it seemed like Remus was only here to use Koa, no wonder the man had suddenly gone silent; his wife coming for Remus¡¯ soul.

    ¡°My apologies once again if I¡¯ve overstepped-¡±

    The entire building shook, the web foundations rattling beneath Remus¡¯ feet.

    ¡°What was that?¡± He blurted a second later, the entire room tilting towards the side, as if being swallowed up by the earth below

    All three of them activated their marks in an explosion of power.

    Koa rushed towards the nearest window, his one true eye widening. ¡°He¡¯s . . . he¡¯s back. The villain in green.¡±

    Remus rushed over alongside Octavia, all disputes momentarily forgotten as a larger threat joined the fray. Looking up through that transparent webbing, Remus couldn¡¯t believe what he was seeing.

    A swarm of asteroids, all rushing down for their exact whereabouts.

 106. Astral Influence

    Ash¡¯s brain felt like it was exploding in his skull.

    This is just a taste of the power I can grant you, child. The shadow-man spoke to him. It may take you time to get used to this level of authority, but it will be ample enough to crush your brother.

    Every thought that travelled through Ash¡¯s mind was overlaid with a hazy migraine. He couldn¡¯t identify what thoughts were his own, what thoughts were that of the shadow-man, and what were being implanted inside of him.

    Regardless, at that moment, he had but one goal in mind.

    The first attack on Territory Two had merely been to experiment with his new powers.

    Now? It was time for the real bloodbath to begin.

    ¡°Final Divine Right,¡± Ash muttered beneath his breath. ¡°Astral Influence.¡±

    Under his green hood, a symbol blazed on his forehead. He couldn¡¯t see it himself, but through the dark of night, the symbol of a star was projected ahead of him.

    Visions of deep space flooded through his mind. Distant galaxies, star systems that no mortal man should have been privy to. He was looking out too generally, exhausting his finite strength. He needed depth, not broadness. Something closer, something he could drag down-

    An asteroid belt, with a few stray pieces floating away from the rest of the colony, became the focus of his inner eye.

    Bingo, one word of his own floated to the surface of his consciousness, alone above the sea of the shadow-man¡¯s influence like flotsam.

    When he opened his eyes again, Ash was seated upon an asteroid, immersed in an inky blur of ebony. He instinctively held his breath, only to find the need for oxygen a gone thing.

    You won¡¯t ever suffocate out here, boy. The shadow-man cackled. Unless you get on my nerves, that is.

    Ash did his best to ignore the ebbing presence, but that was like trying to ignore gravity acting on you. Try all you want, it wouldn¡¯t change a damn thing. Though up here, that analogy didn¡¯t quite work.

    Soon, they were entering the atmosphere, air resistance like a thousand invisible hands, trying to push Ash back and far, far away. The rock around him ignited, blazing with a brilliant luminance as he came rushing for Territory Two.

    There it sat sadly below, like a broken toy. Great patches of the territory were completely incinerated, leaving in their wake long stretches of land that resembled burnt flesh more than they did natural orchards.

    Ash would render the entire place like that, before he took his leave.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a group of people rushing out of a series of webbed buildings. The ground at their feet was riddled with fissures where the first of his meteorites had caused some initial damage, after colliding elsewhere. There, amongst them, Koa and that repulsive wife of his stuck out like a sore thumb. But who were those people besides them? Looking closer, Ash recognised one of the men instantly.

    Well, if it isn¡¯t your lucky day. Taking out two birds with one oversized, intergalactic stone.

    The shadow man wasn¡¯t typically one for humour, or at least he hadn¡¯t assessed as much, but even Ash took delight at this opportunity.

    Remus had wrestled Koa away from Ash, setting him on the course that would eventually lead his brother to getting first dibs on the Pet-Keeper. Ash should have been the one to avenge his fallen cousin, not that pitiful, crippled man who stared up at him now.

    Ash descended closer to the group, hoping dearly that his victims would carry those fear-stricken expressions to the grave.

    <hr>

    Violet shrieked.

    Her father¡¯s body was worn like a flesh suit, the invading light of Enos streaking out of his bulging mass, as if it was about to erupt in an explosion of blood and guts.

    ¡°Another lamb to the slaughter.¡± A different voice poured out of her father¡¯s lips, one that certainly did not belong to him.

    But it did belong to Enos.

    Violet wasn¡¯t sure if she should run. Even Enos wouldn¡¯t be able to inhabit her father¡¯s ruined body for long, the loose flesh and bone only minutes away from being a fully-fledged corpse. Left as dead tissue, where the flesh of an Unbounded and mortal man had once been binded.

    If Enos used that fading form ¡ª sacrificed it as a bomb, letting his power just pour out and annihilate everything for miles and miles ¡ª Violet would be hard-pressed to do anything about it.

    She had no strength left. Her Mark was dead of power, her body drained of all mortal strength, and the Infinity in her system mere flecks at best. Opening up a rift for a speedy escape was as possible in that moment as dragging the sun out of the sky.

    ¡°You draw from my power, Violet.¡±

    His words were like claws scraping across tender skin.

    ¡°Teviel¡¯s flesh, bonded with my mine . . . it disgust me to where the body of a god, but it does have its perks. When I granted Milap the ability to morph creatures into one, that was just a facet of my power, but it was my power nonetheless. Do you know what that means, Violet?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer. She could sense reinforcements surging forth. She just had to hold out a little while longer. Any second now.

    ¡°I created you. You¡¯re a curious prospect, I must admit. I never thought a servant of mine, one so overlooked as you, would one day ascend to such power. ¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not your servant.¡± Violet blurted hotly. ¡°Die.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, Violet, as you wish . . .¡±

    One of Nova¡¯s arms erupted. Multicoloured blood gushed to the side, and Violet wanted to gag at the knowledge a body could hold so much liquid.

    Enos looked up at the sky with her father''s head. ¡°Ah, more of my attention is needed elsewhere. I¡¯ll let you live for now Violet, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll come around and join the right side of this war eventually. With this, you¡¯ll possess enough Infinity to push to Warlord equivalent. Do not disappoint me.¡±

    One by one, Violet could do nothing but watch as each of her father¡¯s limbs exploded. His body spasmed, and though Violet had imagined Nova¡¯s demise a thousand times over, this sight was too ghastly for even her to find any satisfaction in it.

    Eshika landed at her side, eyes wide in shock. Veida appeared too, flying over at a slower speed, a tail of flame propelling her travel. Likewise, a whirlpool of water up above informed Violet that Maris must have been watching from afar. The sensation of being spied on from dozens of invisible eyes revealed that Maris wasn¡¯t the only God-Graced using Perpetual Sight to examine the scene.

    All presence of Enos had ceased to be.

    Nova¡¯s body dispersed to its final Infinity, and as more power than Violet could fathom flooded into her own, the whole world watched on.

    <hr>

    Remus had mixed feelings about allowing the Feast Clansmen at his back to join the fight, but once they came rushing out of their beds, he didn¡¯t really have a choice in the matter. If they couldn¡¯t fight traditionally, he wasn¡¯t sure what help they would serve besides acting as an easy target for their new arrival, but whatever the case, there was one thing Remus was certain about.

    He wouldn¡¯t let anyone place a finger on them.

    ¡°Koa, Octavia!¡± He shouted out, ¡°I¡¯m going to deal with that gigantic asteroid he¡¯s riding down here. I trust you guys to deal with the rest.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a question, or even a request. Excluding the meteorite the cloaked figure was seated upon, the rest of the asteroids were noticeably small in size. Nevertheless, they¡¯d deal some real damage if they reached the earth in one whole. Yet Remus had seen Koa fight, and even before his new advancement, he¡¯d possessed the skill to easily shatter these rocky projectiles. As for Octavia, Remus hadn¡¯t witnessed what kind of power she had to her name, but one sense of the aura she emanated was enough to placate his concerns.

    Utilising Eruptive Will, Remus implanted bundles of spinning power into the soles of his feet. At the same time, he set his Ichor aflame, circulating as much Ambition as possible to his lower body. Then, he jumped.

    The ground cracked at his feet.

    As fast as lightning, Remus was up in the air, Supreme Steel chains at the ready. Perhaps one second had elapsed. One second, and Remus had transformed himself into a killing machine.

    Twirling mid-air, links of Remus¡¯ chain connected with smaller pieces of rock all around. Too small to be asteroids themselves, they were nothing more than the spacial debris this newcomer had brought down with him. He collected it into one whole, and, with little more than a dangerous spark of power, set the entire thing aflame.

    The unnatural beacon simmered marvellously.

    Before even taking his second breath since bouncing off the ground, Remus spun again. Facing the opponent, arm veins bulging, he threw the colossal, flaming wreck he had amassed.

    By the time Remus finally took that breath, his makeshift boulder and the cloaked figure had collided.

    Rock blasted off in various directions. A sedimentary rain hailed down, and only by blasting through with a wall of turquoise flame, was Remus able to avoid it.

    Remus rushed through that fire, and barely breaking a sweat, locked eyes with the darkness under that man¡¯s hood. They were mere feet away. Remus knew it was asking for trouble, but he couldn¡¯t help but grin. Even after a year, he wasn¡¯t out of the game yet. I¡¯ve still got it.

    Reaching out so fast, he heard his joints snap, Remus was determined to crush the invader¡¯s throat. He made the mistake of blinking.

    The next thing Remus knew, the asteroid was vacant. His fist closed over empty air, and before he knew it, the man had vanished. Driving his feet deep into the meteor, Remus cursed. That bastard¡¯s fast!

    Power still thrumming through his body, he centralised that might into one fist. Eruptive Will made his next punch devastating.

    The asteroid exploded into smithereens, as if Remus had struck with enough force to disintegrate the thing back into dust.

    Flying in place, Remus took a second to admire his surroundings.

    Wooden spears, deceptively strong, split any rock they came into contact with. All remains that fell to the earth were effectively caught by a net that covered the surrounding area. Koa and Octavia¡¯s work. Remus didn¡¯t see his other companions, however. He hoped that was a good sign, and not something to be concerned about.

    No more asteroids filled the sky. A surge of triumph flooded through Remus, but the fight had only just started.

    He turned, and wasn¡¯t at all surprised to see a green cloak there, rustling in the maelstrom.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    No response.

    Instead, as was to be expected, they resorted to violence. Things could never be so simple as a civil conversation.

    Remus dodged, weaved, ducked, and did all but dance, as a wild flurry was sent his way. Such speed was impressive, and it took all of his attention to keep up. If his focus were to do so much as slip for one moment, he¡¯d pay dearly.

    Eying an opening, Remus blasted forward. His hands landed on the figure¡¯s shoulders.

    He was carrying him through the air, their surroundings becoming as blur as Remus accelerated. He became only more and more sure that their attacker was a man. Broad shoulders pressed through the material of his clothing, and if Remus looked closely, he could see under the hood. It was like darkness was intentionally obscuring their identity. The only clear detail was the shining beacon of a star, in the form of purple light, where their forehead would have been if Remus could have seen clearly.

    A Divine Right. Remus could have been sick, but even for his enemies, projectile vomit in the face was a fate no soul deserved.

    But after seeing that . . . he would have to kill him.

    None of Enos'' minions could be allowed to live. If that Unbounded had stirred a new generation only a Rebirth after the eradication of his last, and, to his knowledge, while Nova was still in the ring, trouble was brewing. Remus would just have to hunt them down all over again.

    Maybe he was growing more jaded with age, but Remus felt no desire to let this play out any longer. He was done dragging out fights, done flinching at the thought of killing.

    This was just another Unbounded, not a man, not even a person. Remus had no mercy left no offer.

    Radiating the power of a supernova, Remus unleashed Eruptive Gold.

    Only on a handful of occasions did Remus pull out this technique. It was awfully destructive  ¡ª part of the reason why he hadn¡¯t used it even once during his guarding service. Anything within a five metre range had no chance of surviving. All of his bodily Ambition, Infinity, power, will, and spite.

    It brewed into one splendid cocktail of pure obliteration.

    Remus put all of his darkest thoughts into that attack. The death of Andreas, Violet¡¯s scathing rejection, Edmar humiliating him in front of the Labour District over and over again. Each and every one of those terrible memories all acted as the firewood for his ire.

    He was screaming. His vocal cords hurt, the tissue of his throat feeling as if it were going to split and bleed. He held on tight onto the Right-Bearer, his hand shaking with rage. He heard the sound of a yelp, one that wasn¡¯t his own, and felt their shoulder crunch under his hold.

    Another dead Right-bearer. He wanted to bark with laughter. Weren¡¯t Enos¡¯ servants supposed to grow in power with each generation? Aside from those showy asteroids, this fiend was nothing worth writing home about. Maybe they had pushed Enos to his limit with the slaughtering of his last squad. Remus fell deeper into his delirium, his grin flat-out manic. With this, Enos would be on his last legs.

    The Right-bearer should have been dead, until he wasn¡¯t.

    . . . what?

    Remus¡¯ ability faded. He cut it off earlier than intended, but the strangest sensation he¡¯d felt in a year befell him.

    Space. Deep space.

    Gravity faded into nothingness, and Remus was floating adrift in a deep black sea, his homeworld nowhere in sight.

    His eyes flickered around in a mad panic, before finally landing on that cloaked figure once more. Only, by now, their cloak was completely incinerated. Seeing what was underneath, Remus put a hand to his mouth.

    Was that who he thought it was? No, no. No no no no.

    ¡°You¡¯re in my domain now,¡± Ash smirked, cuts scattering his face, his pupils lost in a sea of white. ¡°Try and take a breath for me.¡±

    Remus immediately recalled why even the most powerful God-Graced had been yet to search for any other inhabitable planets. The problem of oxygen didn¡¯t suggest any obvious solutions. And if the most powerful beings in this world couldn¡¯t survive the harsh reality of space, what chance did he have?

    He looked down towards Earth, frost already forming over his skin. Nobody told him space would be so cold. It was all his Foot-Soldier body could do, to defy the hundreds of ways this environment should be killing him.

    ¡°Unfortunately, my brother down there seems to be in a bit of a panic. I¡¯ll have to put him out of his misery.¡±

    Ash turned his back to Remus. Remus gritted his teeth, refusing death, and flung his chain over towards the Wild Clansman. In no universe would he allow himself to die like this. He might become the first human to die in space, at least that he knew of, and despite the fact there were far less interesting ways to die, the prospect terrified him to his core.

    Only seconds had passed, and already it felt like the marrow in his bones had been frozen solid.

    Koa¡¯s brother simply moved out of the way, the movement so quick, it took all of Remus¡¯ sharpened senses to keep up. Remus opened his mouth, spoke the words ¡®shouldn¡¯t you be an Emblazed? Maybe a Foot-Soldier?¡¯ only to cut himself off at the following silence. There was no noise in space.

    There shouldn¡¯t have been. You shouldn¡¯t have been able to breathe.

    Yet Ash did both of those things like it was nothing.

    ¡°Farewell Remus.¡± A rift appeared next to Ash, who flew into it. ¡°Pity you won¡¯t be able to see what¡¯s coming next. Big things . . .¡± Ash suddenly frowned, as if unsure of himself. ¡°Big things are coming?¡±

    He said it like it was a question, and, appearing utterly bemused, Ash looked around at the surrounding scene as if seeing it for the first time. Then, as quickly as it had happened, the man shook his head, before departing.

    No matter how loud Remus screamed, he couldn¡¯t hear himself as the rift closed.

    <hr>

    By the time the orb of golden light had vanished, Koa was at a loss for words.

    ¡°What just . . .?¡± Octavia asked at his side, the right words seeming to elude her too.

    Whatever was going on, they had to keep alert. He was about to say as much to his wife, when a wave of warning screeched out at his side.

    He dived out of the way, ever grateful for the bugs he kept on guard at all times. They acted as his sixth sense, indicating to Koa whenever trouble was afoot.

    Such as times like these.

    The enemy was moving so quickly, they were a blur even to his Foot-Soldier senses. Koa planted his feet into the ground, readied his battle stance, and sent his mobile eyes chasing after the opponent.

    Despite how easy it would be to give in to the budding fear deep in his chest, for Remus¡¯ sake, Koa had to keep calm. Remus had saved him on multiple occasions before. Now that he finally had some real strength to his name, it was time to repay the favour.

    If it came to it, he¡¯d beat Remus'' location out of this man.

    He punched the air before him, great tendrils of moss, rock, and oak forming giant arms. They dug out of the ground, and mimicking Koa¡¯s movement, smashed towards where he had last espied the man to be.

    They striked into empty ground, achieving little more than upsetting a colony of ants, and sending a dust storm whirling around them.

    All he had done was blind himself.

    Back-to-back with his wife, Koa had no choice but to double-down. All his flying eyes could see was murky dust. Holding his hands up, another set of giant limbs sprouted somewhere in the storm.

    Koa committed himself to wacking away.

    ¡°I hope you know what you¡¯re doing.¡± He heard his wife say, over the pandemonium.

    ¡°Watch a master at work.¡±

    Only the sound of his slamming fists, reminiscent of bombs imploding, could be overhead. Koa poured all of the Infinity he had on hand through his Delicate Touch Mould, a conduit of power all pouring into his summoned fists.

    The place was already razed to the ground after those meteorites. As long as his companions were safe, Koa held no qualms with unleashing destruction. A minute had passed, and his ginger friend was still yet to return.

    Koa couldn¡¯t imagine Remus dying so suddenly. The situations that man had escaped were ludicrous. It simply wouldn¡¯t compute for him to die at a random skirmish such as this.

    Then again, Koa had felt the same way about Elmore and Donovan, before the two of them had been slaughtered right before his eyes.

    Koa snapped back to attention, relenting his onslaught.

    Dust passed over the scene.

    Through that man-made fog, a single silhouette approached. Every step they took reverberated at what sounded like a hundred decibels. A single line of sweat trailed down Koa¡¯s brow.

    ¡°This is going to annoy you,¡± if their footsteps had been loud, their words were thunderous.

    The voice was familiar. Familiar enough to make Koa shift uncomfortably. It couldn¡¯t be-

    ¡°Is that-¡±

    The dust settled, leaving only one man, one boy, plain in view.

    Cuts scattered across Ash¡¯s face, and a purple star shone brightly on his forehead. The sight was as bizarre as anything, and Koa¡¯s guts seemed to be feuding amongst themselves.

    His pupils were nowhere to be seen. Just two voids of white where their families¡¯ dark blue would have been.

    Ash smashed his fists together, cracks forming at his feet. ¡°How about another bout? Brother dearest.¡±

    <hr>

    By no means was Remus going to let himself go out like this. He swallowed down the initial panic, forced his screaming organs, his raging adrenaline and cortisol, all into submission.

    Eruptive Gold had drained so much of his power. He felt exposed. Like his very skin had been cleaved off, as if his soul was on show for anyone to view and scrutinise. It infuriated him.

    Flaming Gold. He had to focus on that ability, to set his Ichor streaming with power.

    Faster and faster, he sent his blood circulating. He could feel his heart beating, feel the organ working for dear life as he pushed his body to extremes. His veins bulged, liquid fire burning him from the inside out.

    All ice immediately evaporated, steam billowing out into nothingness. His entire form was on fire, his lungs trembling with pain.

    Oxygen. He had always taken it for granted. It was always water, food or shelter that he would be scrambling for. The irony was a pain of its own: for the thing that would ultimately take his life to be a lack of oxygen, went against everything he had ever feared.

    All of the Ambition racing through his body reached a breaking point. It was a crescendo of power, but despite the fact his very bones were shaking with strength, tears formed in the crevices of Remus'' eyes. They instantly froze, made into odd decorations that rested against the bridge of his nose.

    He had so many regrets. He had never settled his feelings about Violet. He had led those Feast Clansmen to their deaths. He had only visited Koa when he needed something. Their connection was never a friendship in the truest sense of the world; he didn¡¯t have the right to call it that. At its heart, their bond was a glorified business transaction.

    Andreas. The ice crystals had already melted by now, the tears evaporating before they could even reach the end of his face.

    I¡¯m sorry grandad. He fought the urge to break down. With every passing second, space was dragging him further and further away from his earthly home. I¡¯m sorry for rushing away from the clan. I¡¯m sorry for defying my fate. I¡¯m sorry for calling down Edmar¡¯s wrath on the family. I¡¯m-

    Remus¡¯ hands were scrunched into fists. He was trembling.

    He had to get home. There was too much hanging on the thread of his life for that cord to be snipped now.

    The strength left within him ¡ª it might not be enough. Remus would have one chance. His life had never seemed like such a fragile thing.

    Screaming a noiseless scream, Remus became a living star. His entire body was set on fire, the turquoise light bright enough to be seen on entirely different planets. Lifeless, destroyed, ruined planets.

    This Celestial War had never seemed so pointless.

    Remus blasted forward. With every dreg of power left rattling through him, Remus made for the earth with speed rivalling any of Ash¡¯s asteroids.

    Just what had gotten into that boy? Koa¡¯s brother or not, Remus was going to knock some sense into them, if it was the death of him.

    <hr>

    When Ash broke Koa¡¯s forearm, Koa was only starting to come to terms with what exactly was going on.

    Every attack Koa had thrown at his brother seemed flimsy. Like he was an Enkindled all over again, unable to ascend the Ranks no matter how hard he tried. The black sheep of the family.

    And now, like a lamb to the slaughter, Ash was crushing his arm with power far exceeding that of a Foot-soldier.

    Koa was kneeling in the middle of a sea of debris. The remains of giant oak weapons, walls of stone, the summonings of Koa¡¯s Mark that had all been done away with one by one. Dismantled, destroyed, and left to rot at his feet.

    Koa watched, as droplets of his blood stained them.

    His arm, crookedly pointing at an angle wild enough to make him sick, was grasped by Ash in one strong grip. Meanwhile, the boy swatted at his brother with blows powerful enough to disfigure his face.

    Lying unconscious at their side, not even Octavia¡¯s webs had been a match for his brother.

    But this wasn¡¯t Ash. Not properly, anyway. The brother Koa had known had strayed onto the wrong path, yes, but this? This was something else altogether. Possession, coercion, some dark manipulation. Something was to explain this.

    How on earth had his brother acquired a Divine Right?

    ¡°Enos is doing this to you.¡± It finally clicked.

    Ash stopped, letting Koa breath rapidly at his feet. He couldn¡¯t catch his breath, couldn¡¯t get his wits about him. Gods above, none of this was making any sense . . .

    For a second, the faintest second, Ash¡¯s pupils seemed to return. Colour flickered into being, and in that moment, Koa had never seen a being so confused, so utterly bewildered, as his brother.

    Then, before he could decide what to make of what he¡¯d seen, Ash picked him up by the hair. ¡°What did you say?¡±

    Ash gurgled out blood before speaking. His lips were split, his eye was purpled and gummed shut. ¡°Enos is controlling you Ash. This isn¡¯t you. You¡¯re annoying as all hell, true, but you¡¯re not a monster. You¡¯re my brother.¡±

    Again, a second of hesitation.

    And a second made all the difference.

    Rushing down, like a god lending him a helping hand, a corona of fire encased a descending Remus.

    There was a sound akin to a nuke going off, and, before that shining light could fade out of Koa¡¯s eyes, he fell unconscious.

 107. Do or Die

    Remus hadn¡¯t felt so angry since his showdown with the Supreme Fiend.

    The power radiated from him with enough force to incinerate anything he laid his hands on. Unfortunately for Ash, that would be him.

    His hands glowing pure white, he grasped the man once more, and this time, Remus didn¡¯t intend on letting go.

    Together they went tumbling for miles, rolling across the ground, mud splattering in the air, ears popping and skin chafing. After what felt like a minute of pure, mad scrambling, Remus¡¯ feet found ground, and, still holding on tight to Ash, he threw the boy ahead of him.

    The last of his strength was focused into his arms, every muscle fibre pushed to its limit as he threw with the intent to kill. Koa¡¯s brother or not, Remus had seen what had happened when Koa hesitated. He couldn¡¯t make the same mistake.

    Ash smashed into the ground metres away, a crater forming with him as its centre. Wind blasted off, and before Remus could see what was left of his opponent, he fell to his knees in a coughing fit.

    Gods above, this fight had only been five minutes at most, and nearly all of Remus¡¯ reserves were gone. But luckily for him, Ash couldn¡¯t be in much better shape either.

    One thing was for certain: Ash was a far weaker Right-bearer than any Remus had previously encountered. Remus was alarmingly strong for his Rank, but Ash couldn¡¯t have been too high up the Divine Ranks for Remus to be so easily subduing him. Enhanced by Enos or not.

    When Remus noticed he was leaving a trail of Ichor in his wake, he had to reconsider how easy this fight had really been.

    After stumbling to a stop, Remus looked down at Ash.

    If Remus¡¯ Ichor was overflowing, Ash¡¯s body had more gold outside than in.

    Remus pinpointed all of his remaining power into his finger. A wick of blue fire danced there, swirling and swirling until it seared a fiery white. He pointed it towards Ash¡¯s forehead, fully believing that, with any passing second, he would take the young boy¡¯s life.

    Life: It could be the most fickle thing of all. Ash¡¯s existence erased with but one release of power. One flare of his Mark.

    One more time, Remus looked into Ash¡¯s eyes.

    His stomach twisted as colour returned to them. He blinked, and that expression of confusion . . . Remus bit his lip in frustration. This didn¡¯t feel right. This was a child.

    No. This is just another one of Enos'' servants now. It¡¯s unfortunate, but you can¡¯t let someone like this out into the world. Remus took a deep breath. This would be so much easier if his leg would just stop shaking.

    ¡°What is-¡± Ash¡¯s words, sounding alarmingly like the lackadaisical self Remus knew him to be, were swiftly cut off. Remus blinked, and a darkness seemed to leak into Ash¡¯s eyes.

    Lips parted, and a voice that did not belong to Ash spoke.

    ¡°Shoot the boy.¡±

    Remus stumbled back.

    ¡°What Remus, were you intending to do something else with an attack at the ready? Don¡¯t try to tell me you summoned that blow just for fun.¡±

    ¡°Who are you? Are you-¡±

    ¡°Enos? The Orginiator? Bah, what difference does it make? You have a job to do whatever the case. Shoot. The. Boy.¡±

    Remus blinked. He scratched his side. He looked away. He did everything but acknowledge the reality confronting him.

    Step by step, he backed away.

    ¡°Ash isn¡¯t going to get any weaker, you¡¯re aware of that?¡± Enos¡¯ voice was so piercing, each word like a knife pressed against Remus¡¯ skin. ¡°He will only continue to acquire more of my power. You may be strong enough to best him now, but in the future?¡±

    Enos barked in laughter. Praise Infinity, what was it with all of Remus¡¯ enemies suffering from insanity? Maybe that was a trait innate to the Unbounded. As natural to them as destruction was to the gods.

    ¡°This boy will become strong enough to topple nations.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re bluffing.¡±

    Enos smiled, using Ash¡¯s face like it was a mask of flesh. ¡°Make your choice.¡±

    Remus'' hands shook one time too many. He cursed under his breath, lowered his finger, and let the power nesting there disperse. Seconds before he sprinted back to the others, failing miserably to block out the outside world.

    <hr>

    The scene at the table held a much different tone, the second time around.

    As soon as Remus had found Koa, Octavia, and the Feast Clansmen, who were wise enough to hide away from the battle at the nearest opportunity, Octavia led them into the spiderweb castle. Koa was unconscious the entire time, and as soon as they arrived at the entrance of the base, two Arachnid clansmen had pulled Koa onto a gurney, and rushed out of sight.

    Now they sat by his hospital bed, stale coffee the only thing keeping Remus awake. There were a few awkward minutes where Remus could imagine about five hundred places he¡¯d rather be, as he did his best to recount the madness he¡¯d just experienced. He didn¡¯t even have time to appreciate the impossible architecture of the place. The fact that only silk thread was keeping the tens of floors from crashing down upon them, was one fact too many for his boggled mind.

    ¡°So Enos has control over my brother.¡±

    Remus jolted at the words. ¡°How long have you been awake?¡±

    Koa sounded groggy, and understandably so. ¡°Long enough to hear what happened. Space? Really?¡±

    ¡°Space.¡± Remus confirmed. ¡°I really thought I was going to . . .¡± Remus took another sip of his caffeine, the chemical fighting an internal war to keep him awake. ¡° . . . die there.¡±

    There was an uneasy silence.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you made the right choice or not.¡± Koa¡¯s words were like ghosts, and Remus was sure they would haunt him for a long time. ¡°And that¡¯s what scares me.¡±

    ¡°Can we save him?¡± Octavia asked.

    ¡°This seems like uncharted territory.¡± Barley looked at the ground at his feet. ¡°Gods, we should report this.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re sending messengers as we speak to every major city. Aside from First Rite of course, but I¡¯m sure a few God-Graced would have already sensed the battle.¡±

    ¡°We need to kill Enos.¡± Remus gritted his teeth. ¡°But if that¡¯s an obstacle even the gods are struggling with, I don¡¯t have the faintest idea how it can be done.¡±

    At that moment, there was a knock at the door of their room.

    A clansmen neither Koa nor Octavia seemed to recognise stood gawkily at the door, holding an envelope tightly in both hands. ¡°Apologies for interrupting. I was instructed to give you this as soon as possible, Master Koa.¡±

    Koa received the letter with suspicion. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    The girl was gone as fast as she had arrived.

    Watching him open the envelope, Remus could tell it was a page from a newspaper. The memory of certain articles made Remus'' palms sweat.

    ¡°Remus.¡± Koa swallowed, and Remus did not like the look on his face. Not one bit. ¡°You want to see this.¡±

    Like a man dragged to his execution, Remus walked over to Koa. The first thing his eyes landed on was Violet¡¯s name. His heart twisted in his chest.

    ¡°What?¡± He put the newspaper down, immediately setting himself to pacing around the room. All that caffeine he had downed hit him all at once. ¡°What the hell? What the hell?¡±

    Clove stared at him with obvious intrigue.

    ¡°It¡¯s Violet. She¡¯s killed Nova.¡±

    No wonder Enos was willing to pull a move as wild as giving a teenage, human boy a Divine Right. Remus should have been happy for Violet, overjoyed, but he couldn¡¯t process the news. During that Rebirth, committed to menial tasks in Eclipse . . . Violet had become like a myth to Remus. A figment of his imagination he¡¯d occasionally obsess over, but who, ultimately, had no hold on his reality. After all, he didn¡¯t think that their lives would ever intertwine again. She was as real to him as anything his mind conjured.

    ¡°Apparently she¡¯s been working under Maris, with Veida, as part of her criminal service. Looks like they finally made a breakthrough.¡±

    Octavia looked at Remus strangely. Her question ran laps around Remus¡¯ head. His thoughts were like kids playing in the burning playground of his mind.

    Do you love her?

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Gods, he needed to sleep.

    ¡°Remus.¡± Koa¡¯s voice caught his attention. ¡°If I agree to join your rebellion, will you promise to help save my brother?¡±

    The hairs on the back of Remus¡¯ neck stood up. Had he heard him correctly? ¡°I couldn¡¯t possibly ask you to do that.¡±

    ¡°Are you insane?¡± Octavia interjected. ¡°I know you¡¯ve just had a bad fight, but did Ash hit your head?¡±

    ¡°Octavia, please. Everyone won¡¯t care that the newest Right-bearer is my brother. They¡¯ll only care that Enos has another servant; a new pawn to play with. A servant they¡¯ll kill if given the chance. My brother may have lost his way, but he doesn¡¯t deserve to die.¡±

    Remus recalled the nasty direction his own train of thought had been chugging along to during that fight with Ash. His guilt was evidence enough that the words were true.

    ¡°Who''s to say we can even bring him back, Koa? You¡¯re injured, and Ash could fly back here to attack any time. You need to stay here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay for the rest of the Duration, enough time to report to any God-Graced that come here looking for answers. Besides, my injuries are cuts and bruises at best. I¡¯ll recover within the next day or two. In the meantime, Remus can gather troops from Beckett¡¯s army. They¡¯ve been pretty bored as of late.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to feel about this.¡± Remus mumbled. In theory, this should have been spectacular news, but something didn¡¯t sit right with Remus. ¡°I know I originally came here looking for your help, but after what¡¯s happened, after I¡¯ve had some time to think, I¡¯m not so sure anymore. I don¡¯t want our friendship to be purely transactional. I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve made it seem that way, as of late. We¡¯ll be focused on returning order to First Rite, and I couldn¡¯t sleep at night knowing I was keeping you away from dealing with your own kin. I know more than anyone the importance of family.¡±

    Koa smiled warmly, but Remus could only focus on the litany of cuts scattered across his face.

    ¡°For once Koa, I¡¯d have to agree with your friend.¡± Octavia sighed. ¡°But I know by that look on your face that you¡¯re being insistent. If you¡¯re going, I¡¯m going too.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Koa immediately countered. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t make my decisions for me.¡± Octavia scowled. ¡°What do you want me to do? Sit here placidly after all that¡¯s happened today, while my husband travels across the globe? No.¡± Octavia shot Remus with an icy glare. ¡°I¡¯m joining.¡±

    Remus looked to and fro, between Koa and Octavia¡¯s awaiting expressions. Had either of them listened to a thing he¡¯d just said? ¡°Guys, I don¡¯t know about this.¡±

    ¡°Remus. If we join, do you promise to do everything in your power to save my brother?¡± Koa¡¯s words suddenly gained a lick of authority. ¡°In exchange, I, Koa, honourable ambassador of the Wild goddess Chantal, vow to do everything in my power in exchange, to help your fight against the tyrant Damosh.¡±

    The covers of Koa¡¯s bed trembled, the wooden material of its legs beginning to shake uncontrollably. It only took Remus a single breath to realise what was happening. He was making an Oath. Remus hadn¡¯t done such a thing since his first meeting with Maris. Indecision bled into his heart.

    As the walls of their room began to shake, Octavia, Barley, Clove, and Tess all looked on to Remus, their faces aghast.

    Making an Oath was no small endeavour. If they both did this, there was no going back. The pair of them would have to go ahead with their campaign to save Ash and take down Damosh, even if they were to perish in the process. It was do or die.

    But what other choice was there? It wasn¡¯t like Remus would back down now. No-one around them seemed to object. He looked to Octavia, who, after a second¡¯s indecision, nodded hesitantly. He had her consent.

    ¡°I, Remus of the Carpentry and Ambition Clan, honourable ambassador of Tanish and Arcus, agree to all conditions.¡±

    Some invisible presence pulled behind Remus¡¯ naval, and his entire body flinched. There, he thought he could feel the confines of the Oath, like a chain tied around his very spirit. If he focused . . . the last Oath he had made with Maris sat there like an old friend. Memories of the conditions he¡¯d been tied down with floated across his mind. He had agreed to assist Maris against the Frost Clan, and reveal all he knew about Nova.

    But no, it was more complicated than that. He had vowed to fulfil any request Maris asked of him. Surely that had been a one-time, done-deal?

    Remus frowned. If that was the case . . . why was the Oath still binding his spirit? He put the matter aside for the time being.

    Koa leaned up out of his hospital bed, and with that smile of bravery somehow still on his lips, shook hands with Remus.

    Octavia scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re both mad.¡±

    Koa shared his smile with her. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.¡±

    Remus stood by a window, looking out into the gloom. It was so late out, so dark in a way words struggled to define, that he couldn¡¯t even see his own reflection.

    Clove came to his side, the others all busy with their own conversations. He appeared more sober than he had ever been. ¡°What are you thinking about?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking . . . ¡° Remus thought he could see a series of barracks through that impossible dark, if he tried hard enough. ¡°That I¡¯ve got to give quite the speech tomorrow.¡±

    <hr>

    Remus could not have asked for a better audience than Beckett¡¯s army.

    ¡°We will watch by the sidelines no longer!¡±

    A clamorous cheer threatened to deafen anyone in the immediate vicinity.

    ¡°We will not stand idle as Damosh slaughters our families!¡±

    Remus was sure the very foundations of the building must have been shaking. He surged power into his Mark, causing the deep blue of his eyes to brighten, so as to be the most powerful light source in the room.

    He had purposely kept only a few torches lit for that very purpose. Now, his eyes, and his eyes alone, would be the sole object of attention. The few hundred or so men gathered there all looked on with awe.

    Remus had always struggled with public speaking. But this? This was more fun than he had experienced in aeons. Finally, purpose reinvigorated every cell in Remus¡¯ body, the very Oath binding his soul seeming to approve. Well, one of the two, anyway.

    ¡°Damosh¡¯s days as King are numbered!¡±

    The loudest cheer yet.

    Remus allowed silence to envelope the room, catching his breath as his chest visibly rose and fell with each inhale and exhale. Affronting a normal tone, he bowed. ¡°I would greatly appreciate it, if you considered joining the Talents of the Future.¡±

    He left the room in chaos.

    Backstage, Koa handed him a cup of water. The Feast Clansmen were practically bursting with excitement. ¡°That was amazing!¡±

    Koa raised an eyebrow. ¡°When I told you to have a talk with my boys, I wasn¡¯t expecting that. They sound ready for war.¡±

    A frenzy of excited screams only punctuated Koa¡¯s comment.

    Remus laughed, feeling as light as a feather. ¡°You don¡¯t approve?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I certainly do. I won''t be surprised if your numbers increase by a few hundred. I might even add a limit on how many can join. We can¡¯t leave Territory Two undefended.¡±

    The fact that was even a possibility only brightened up Remus¡¯ day. He had been twisting and turning in bed all last night, wondering if that Oath had been one idiotic mistake too many. But this was just the thing he needed, to prove to himself that things could work out.

    ¡°That speech really did a number on me. I¡¯ll be outside getting some fresh air if anyone needs me.¡±

    They all nodded, and as Remus left the massive hall through the back-exit, Barley patted his shoulder for a job well done.

    Outside was an odd contrast to the equivalent of a rock concert that was happening inside. Remus¡¯ hands were still clammy from his initial nerves, but thank the gods, events could not have played out any more to his advantage.

    It had been a few days since the attack. Koa had recovered within a day, and, by some miracle, no-one had been permanently injured or killed. Thanks to quick-thinking, the Arachnid Sect had evacuated the area as soon as they had sensed Ash¡¯s approaching power, and seen the incoming meteorites.

    They would be departing any day now. Koa and Octavia simply had some affairs to deal with back at the Insect and Arachnid Clans, but things seemed to be operating as smoothly as they could be, after the disaster that last year had been.

    It was beginning to rain. Remus perched himself on a rock that protruded out of the ground, appreciating the moment of triumph as best he could. He had learned to appreciate all spells of weather. Even the rain. A little heat from his Mark was enough to get rid of any uncomfortable cold, and the gentle paint-brush sound appeased the most unruly sides of him.

    He closed his eyes, and focused.

    He knew the theory behind advancing to Vanguard with as much detail as any of his regular techniques. It was the one path for reaching Splintered Rank that didn¡¯t involve sacrificing either your Boundless Vault, or your Mark. And after working so tirelessly to cultivate either, Remus wasn¡¯t going to give one of them up so easily.

    A Boundless Mark. The divine construct he longed for so deeply. Only a few things in this world sounded more appealing. Damosh¡¯s head, the prosperity of the Carpentry and Ambition Clans. Violet. He shook his head with enough force to make that last thought go away.

    His current Mark now, depicting Tanish in a showdown against the Fire god, Ashbel, would be coloured the shade of Infinity itself.

    He smiled at the thought, the prospect igniting a fire in his heart that warmed him despite the incessant downpour. Then Remus scowled, upon recalling the difficulty such a task posed.

    Barley''s gentle nudge still bothered him. Was the old man right? Were his emotions the problem?

    As much as he was inclined to deny the likelihood of something so simple being the root cause . . . perhaps Barley was onto something. The last year had been round after round of emotional turmoil. Even now, he wasn¡¯t completely over it. He still wept at night, as much as he tried to muffle the sounds with his pillow, at the memory of his late grandfather. Not every night, but often enough that it was a regular occurrence.

    If only he had been faster to arrive at the scene, or stronger. If only a thousand tiny little things had gone differently, he would have been able to save the man. Remus wanted to scream with frustration. Now he was finally on the precipice of marching up the Divine Ranks again, to acquire the additional strength he so desperately needed back then, and it was memories, of all things, that was inhibiting his ascent.

    The rainfall no longer seemed so calming.

    Remus took a deep breath, returning focus once more to his Vault and Mark. With the attention of a monk, he let everything else that made up this world slip away. There was no water slapping him in the face, the breeze screaming all around silenced, and even the constant sensation of his own body fell apart.

    Just him, his thin wisp of awareness, and two heavensent constructs.

    Taking one year to ascend to a Rank as high as Splintered was not strange in the slightest. If not for Remus¡¯ impossible track record, there would have been no reason for him to be so enraged, so irked beyond reasonable sense. But he had defied the odds countless times before, done things he should never have been able to do. Scaled summits that made him feel sick just imagining the peak.

    No. He would not settle for above average, or even greatness.

    The man who would kill Damosh would have to be something else altogether. An anomaly unlike anything the world had seen.

    Emotion. He felt it ebbing within him, sinking into his focus like corrosive fangs.

    His attention on his Mark was slipping.

    One deep breath, two deep breaths.

    His anger dispersed like grains of sand, swept away by the wind.

    Without a single thought in his head, Remus began to command his Mark and Vault. At first, there was no noticeable change. But Remus would not let despair reach him. Both constructs felt different to his awareness: alert.

    Slowly, the distance so small, it was hard to gauge if he was simply imagining it, Mark and Vault alike crept closer to each other.

    As if there was no more auspicious moment than now to interrupt him, the equivalent of a brick wall collided with Remus¡¯ senses.

    Remus¡¯ eyes snapped open, and Mark flaring into being, blue fire encased his form.

    His body had never felt more primed for a fight. And an ugly one at that.

    ¡°Is that any way to regard an old friend?¡±

    Remus blinked. Then he blinked again, just for good measure. That binding on his soul tightened, and the origin of the rainwater sticking his ginger locks together became apparent.

    Maris.

    ¡°Long time no see.¡± She bared her shark teeth at him eagerly.

 108. The Hand That Feeds You

    Remus had originally hoped that they would have time to talk, or for him to catch his breath, or, well, any time at all really.

    So when Maris transported him in a flood of water, before he even had the chance to open his mouth, it was a little disconcerting.

    When he next opened his eyes, Remus found himself in a cube, marbled room. All around him, looking far more bewildered, were the Talents of the Future. Even the men of Beckett¡¯s army that had recently signed up.

    Oh boy, Remus gritted his teeth. This was going to be a difficult situation to navigate.

    There was an uproar of worried voices immediately, and Remus¡¯ senses were sharp enough to feel the thirty or so Marks flaring into being. Remus flew into the air as fast as he could, and, raising his voice, tried to enforce order.

    ¡°Everyone stay calm!¡± His words had no effect. ¡°We are in no immediate danger!¡±

    . . . unless Maris had developed a taste for genocidal murder since they¡¯d last met. In which case . . . Remus tried to keep optimistic.

    ¡°The Water God-Graced, Maris, transported us here. We are on good terms. Please all listen to whatever explanation she has for . . .¡± Remus struggled to find the right words. ¡°Escorting us here.¡±

    Remus dropped elegantly to the floor, deactivated his Mark, hoping the others would follow suit, and stood right before the leader of the Water Sect.

    This had better be good.

    The interior was clearly a meeting room of some kind. For someone with as much influence as Maris, she likely had a dozen or so places exactly like this. It wasn¡¯t a space designed to instil fear into its inhabitants, but Remus was overwhelmed by claustrophobia nevertheless. The fact that troubled Remus most wasn¡¯t her dragging him here. It was the fact she had the knowledge, and the desire to take his rebellion alongside him. Did that mean she approved of his plans? The support of a God-Graced would be a colossal advantage.

    He knelt. Remus felt the perspiration leak down his nape. He probably should have taken a knee far earlier. Maris acted like they were best chums, but their relationship was strictly transactional, far more than Remus'' friendship with Koa had ever been.

    The binding across his soul was evidence enough for that.

    ¡°Remus!¡± She bared her fangs at him with fanatic glee. ¡°How I¡¯ve missed you!¡±

    Her head snapped to somewhere in the crowd. ¡°And Koa! I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve had the honour?¡±

    Why was she being so friendly? None of this sat right with Remus. Had they really become that close? Was burning to shreds one clan enough for Maris to put you in her good books for life?

    Remus shivered. His attack on the Frost Clan still gave him nightmares. Like a dog chained down, he had been coerced into that horrible deed. Remus had blood on his hands, no doubt about that, but at the time, he¡¯d lacked any choice in the matter. It was either die at the hands of Nova, or play into Maris¡¯ politics. With so much riding on him, there was no other choice.

    For a second, Remus found himself thinking that she must have still been protecting him now. Then recollection hit him in the face: Violet had killed Nova.

    Violet.

    Before he knew it, Remus¡¯ eyes landed on two women in the corner. His mouth went dry when he realised who. Veida and-

    ¡°Excuse me, your majesty,¡± Koa approached Remus¡¯ side, taking a knee too. Courtesy came so easy to the man. The perks of your sect leader once being Queen. ¡°But I must ask, on behalf of everyone present: what brings us here?¡±

    Wise. Koa had worded that just nicely enough to get his question plainly across, but not in a way that antagonised the God-Graced. And trust him, Remus had done enough of that to know it was never a good idea. Would that stop him from doing so again in the future?

    He preferred not to answer that.

    ¡°Ah, but we¡¯ve only just gotten together.¡± Maris pouted. ¡°I know you¡¯ve all had quite the shock. Why don¡¯t we discuss this over a banquet?¡±

    That was enough to quieten down the hoards of unruly men. Food was the great uniter. Remus held back a sigh. Despite himself, he was awfully hungry . . .

    <hr>

    Even after a full stomach, things grew no less awkward.

    Three vast tables filled another similarly cubed room, with Maris seated at her own private table up front. Remus tried to hide behind the chicken bone he was devouring, but between every other tentative bite, he was sure that he and Violet were locking eyes. She was seated by Veida, the two of them almost symbiotically merged, with how close their bond seemed. Both at the same embellished table as Maris herself.

    Koa was seated opposite Remus, clearly paying the situation no mind. He seemed quite content to bicker with his wife, and eat his bodyweight in whatever the servants carried over to their part of the table.

    ¡°Koa. What do you know about Oaths?¡±

    The question escaped Remus¡¯ lips before he could really decide if it was a good idea to ask.

    The man laughed, swirling the spoon in his soup. ¡°What, you''re having second thoughts?¡±

    ¡°No, no, not about our Oath.¡±

    ¡°Stop playing with your food,¡± Octavia swatted at her husband¡¯s wrist. ¡°Wait.¡± Her neck should have snapped with how fast it turned to Remus. ¡°What? Do you have a habit of making Oaths with anyone you walk past?¡±

    Remus cleared his throat. Gods, the past really had a way of coming back to bite him.

    ¡°What if I said I was in a bit of a pinch last year? One bad enough that I made an Oath with the woman who¡¯s serving us?¡±

    ¡°And why would you do such an idiotic thing?¡±

    One thing that Remus liked about Octavia was that she was always upfront with him. She didn¡¯t bend around the bush. If she thought Remus was a fool, she would tell him about it. Elaborately.

    ¡°I had to save my own ass.¡± Remus continued. ¡°I kind of have a tendency of getting myself in deadly situations, if you haven¡¯t cared to notice.¡±

    ¡°Remus.¡± The way Koa said his name was long and severe. ¡°What exactly do you mean you made an Oath with a God-Graced?¡±

    ¡°Remember that business with Maris not long ago, when we were fighting for her right to the throne during the coronation?¡± He saw the recognition flicker in Koa¡¯s eyes. ¡°I wasn¡¯t exactly doing that out of the kindness of my heart. Didn¡¯t you know about the Oath?¡±

    ¡°You never cared to mention it.¡± Koa seemed to have completely forgotten about his food. His tight-lipped expression was reflected in the soup bowl. ¡°I thought you were just too pressured by a God-Graced to say no, or you wanted to build connections, or you simply needed some powerful protection.¡±

    ¡°All partly true. I originally befriended her, if that¡¯s the right way to refer to it, as a way to travel to an island far off the coast of the world¡¯s pangea. That was where I recovered the ancient techniques of the Ambition Clan. I was going to find another way there originally, but that was when Nova decided he was going to give me some mind-splitting trauma. I needed to agree to the Oath, or me and Violet were going to be killed very slowly, and very painfully.¡±

    Octavia was cutting a piece of bread with a butter knife, every facet of the way she held herself radiating disapproval. ¡°So now you¡¯re chained down like Maris¡¯ faithful pet.¡±

    ¡°The Oath.¡± Koa¡¯s fists tightened. ¡°What was the Oath Remus?¡±

    ¡°I-¡± Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, ¡°I agreed to-¡±

    Suddenly, light coursed through the room. Remus craned his neck to look up, and a rushing streak of water illuminated the space, near the ceiling. It was enchanting. Ethereal colours added a glowing ambiance to the scene, and Remus didn¡¯t fail to notice the variety of sea life swimming mindlessly amongst the floating currents. It was like gazing at the sky on a beautiful night, constellations and colours that shouldn¡¯t have been possible showering your eyes with a celestial radiance.

    While Remus was still appreciating the abrupt decoration, Maris materialised at his side. His heart skipped a beat. If she had overhead, was he in trouble? He hadn¡¯t said anything explicitly bad, but-

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re enjoying yourself Remus.¡± Her predator teeth, the only material thing about her, widened at the others in a bony smile. ¡°And all of the other guests too, of course.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so about why you brought us all here-¡±

    ¡°When we get to it.¡± She interrupted curtly. ¡°I thought I would give you some time to catch up with your old friends. It would only be right.¡±

    Remus gulped, doing everything in his power not to glance at Violet. He instantly failed. If there was a way he could have slapped himself in that moment, without appearing deranged or infinitely disrespectful, he would have done so.

    ¡°Once you¡¯ve had a chance to speak, I¡¯ll announce the broader reason why we¡¯re gathered here.¡±

    Remus looked over to Koa, something in his eyes screaming: help me.

    Accordingly, Koa rose. ¡°Excuse me, your Majesty, but I would also appreciate a moment to catch up with my old companions. So much has transpired since our last meeting, as I¡¯m sure you''re aware.¡±

    Remus looked at Koa again, in some kind of non-verbal communication the pair of them had just mastered. I could kiss you right now.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Regardless of whether the man had received the message, Koa looked at him oddly.

    ¡°Oh yes, absolutely!¡± Maris would not stop grinning. Remus imagined how satisfying it would be to smash that rictus of hers into calcified fragments. One tugging sensation behind his navel, and Remus knew his Oath did not approve of that. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll entertain the guests with a little lightshow. Go have your fun!¡±

    If there was a way you could make holding down your dinner a fun and exciting activity, Remus was yet to find it. He regretted eating so much.

    Remus and Koa took their first tentative steps towards Violet. One entire Rebirth¡¯s worth of worries and stresses purged Remus¡¯ mind of anything but panic.

    Koa placed his palm on Remus¡¯ shoulder. Another look, and a soft curve of the lips that read simply: relax.

    Remus took a deep breath. He was a grown man. Seventeen years old, and he couldn¡¯t even approach an old flame without feeling sick to his stomach. He was better than this.

    Old flame. That would suggest they had been together, in the romantic sense of the phrase, but things had never even progressed that far. An old friend. Remus was simply speaking to an old friend.

    He erased his brain of thought, and walked over to her.

    Koa, bless his heart for eternity, took charge. ¡°Violet, Veida.¡± That familiar warmness, like everyone Koa spoke to was one of his best friends, consumed his tone. ¡°How pleasant it is to see you both again.¡±

    Before Remus could think to make his own greeting, Veida leaped into a hug. She was surprisingly strong, but then Remus remembered that this woman was Splintered Ranked: Warden. She could easily crush his bones down to their marrow if she so chose.

    ¡°It¡¯s . . . nice . . . to see you too . . . Veida.¡±

    She finally pulled away, and Remus felt his chest decompress. ¡°It¡¯s been so long! I¡¯m so sorry about your sentence Remus. Everyone has been on your side about the ruling, it was wholly unfair.¡±

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t say I¡¯m completely free of fault. I¡¯ve gotten on the wrong side of too many people ¡ª it was bound to catch up with me at some point.¡±

    ¡°Oh well.¡± She took a step back away from him. ¡°I hope guard duty treated you well. You look a little older; more mature.¡±

    Remus thought ¡®more jaded¡¯ was more true than anything. He was advanced enough for his ageing process to have decelerated to extremes. If he were to ever gain wrinkles, it would be due to stress.  ¡°And you look like you haven¡¯t aged a day.¡±

    While Veida laughed as if there was nothing wrong with the current situation, blissfully ignorant, Koa addressed Violet. What a brave man he was.

    After a year, Violet hadn¡¯t changed one bit. Remus could almost fool himself into believing that only a day has passed since their last meeting. Her fiery embers for eyes, the way her dark hazel hair was styled into two braids at the side, and then a falling curtain everywhere else. He noticed all of this in one second. The only detail that was different was the white lab coat she adorned.

    ¡°Violet, I heard of your defeating of Nova. A mighty feat indeed.¡± Koa extended that same warmness to her.

    ¡°Thank you. It was a hard fight, I think I was a little out of it at the time. It¡¯s all a bit of a blur. Enos showed up, and then there was this whole business with the Speed Sect-¡±

    ¡°Speed Sect?¡± All of Remus¡¯ caution was thrown out of the window; curiosity was the new presence in his mind barging around, and it was making a riot. ¡°I visited them on my way here. A clansman gave me a vision, but I wasn¡¯t able to make sense of anything that happened. Java¡¯s death . . . so that really went down?¡±

    Veida and Violet nodded solemnly. Koa didn¡¯t appear surprised ¡ª for the news to have even reached his secluded Territory, it must have truly gone global.

    ¡°How has your service here treated you?¡± Koa continued, trying to return the conversation to a lighter tone.

    All credit to Koa, he was excellent at carrying the conversation.

    ¡°I fear I got the better end of the stick. Veida has been wonderful to work under. I felt a little lost after my service was over, but I¡¯m sticking around. There seems to be some unfinished business we have to settle, but we¡¯ll come to that later.¡±

    When her attention finally turned to Remus, it took all his monk-like focus to keep a straight-face. He should have had the courtesy to at least say hello, or some kind of greeting, before blurting out about all that Enos and Java business. ¡°I felt so bad when they sent you to Eclipse on guard duty. That sounded horrible.¡±

    ¡°It was actually quite nice.¡± Remus was surprised how easily the words came, and even more surprised when he realised he wasn¡¯t exactly lying. Sure, he¡¯d suffered his fair share of bad nights, and it had been hard. But the flickers of light that shone through, those few good moments, laughing along with his fellow watchmen, training Baldwin, late nights having more fun than was reasonable . . . those instances had been few and far between, but their impression on Remus was significant. ¡°It was decent training, and gave me time to reflect. I¡¯m glad you enjoyed your time too. And about Nova ¡ª I see that you¡¯ve still got that fight in you. ¡±

    She beamed. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t sure what to make of this. Nothing had gone wrong exactly, and any sense of impending awkwardness was kept far at bay. But it was like they were stepping on eggshells, constantly walking around the elephant in the room. Was not addressing what had happened really the best way to go about things? He didn¡¯t mean that with scepticism, Remus was genuinely curious. No closure? No open discussions?

    No. Perhaps Remus had been overcomplicating this. Violet had been right. After the death of Andreas, his first time experiencing someone so close to him dying, he¡¯d suffered from an emotional outburst. Nothing more, nothing less. They were old enough to move on from this like regular, mature adults.

    Remus¡¯ smile came a little easier. All tension lifted off his shoulders, and for the first time, properly, Remus felt like he was simply catching up with an old friend.

    He opened his mouth, vapid platitudes dancing on his tongue, when Koa¡¯s tone turned dark.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be overly blunt, but I have to know: is this about my brother?¡±

    Veida quirked an eyebrow. ¡°Your brother? You mean Ash? Why would this be about him?¡±

    Violet appeared equally as perplexed. ¡°Maris and Veida decided to call this meeting because we sensed your battle. There is some pretty advanced technology here. The energy readings we gathered were nothing short of a fully-fledged Right-bearer, at least a weak one. And that is a threat that must be squashed. Though I fail to see how this has anything to do with Ash.¡±

    If not for the absolute control Remus had developed over every muscle fibre in his body, something as subtle as a quiver of the lips may have betrayed the truth. But, as important as this was, it wasn¡¯t his place to reveal it. He glanced over to Koa, the man, who, in that moment, seemed to have all eyes on him.

    ¡°That Right-bearer you¡¯re referring to ¡ª that¡¯s my brother. And no one is going to lay a hand on him.¡±

    Silence. Two corpses might have had a more lively conversation.

    ¡°What exactly is going on here, Koa?¡± Veida asked, peering down at him, severe. ¡°If you¡¯re saying that Ash is under the control of Enos-¡±

    ¡°He is. But he deserves saving.¡±

    Violet donned the tone of a concerned mother, explaining something very simple to their child. ¡°Koa, once Enos has his hold on someone-¡±

    ¡°It might not be possible for their free will to be reclaimed.¡± Veida finished. ¡°And we can¡¯t risk him roaming free to lay destruction on Descent. The world is in a shaky place right now.¡±

    Koa crossed his arms, remaining silent. He didn¡¯t readily expose any emotion: not a lick of anger; not the subtlest touch of sadness. The soft sound of Remus¡¯ breath seemed to fill the room, as the moment stretched on for eternity.

    ¡°No-one kills my brother.¡± Koa¡¯s eye-contact with Veida never faltered. ¡°If worse comes to worst . . . I¡¯ll bring him to rest myself.¡±

    ¡°And if he grows too powerful for you to do that?¡± Veida¡¯s cheerful tone was nowhere to be seen. ¡°I know you barely made it out alive from your fight.¡±

    Again, Koa didn¡¯t waver for a second. ¡°Then I¡¯ll just have to grow stronger.¡±

    So that was the reason behind all this. Maris had taken notice of their fight against the latest Right-bearer ¡ª that should have been obvious from the get-go. Now Remus could see the wider picture, and the ways things were playing out did not spell out a bright future.

    Remus held his cup tightly. His curled fingers panged with pain, but holding his drink as tightly as he could seemed to anchor him in the moment. This conviction from Koa was unlike anything he¡¯d seen from the man. He spoke with unbreakable certainty. Memories of the future the Speed Clansman had showed him swam in his mind, fishes in a pool of confusion.

    When Remus noticed the tiny droplets levitating above his drink, he felt his guts twist.

    Maris¡¯s face appeared out of the cup, and Remus wasn¡¯t ashamed to admit he dropped it the second he spotted the God-Graced. As Maris materialised out of the newly puddled floor, Remus glanced backwards.

    The nautical lightshow had ceased to be.

    Maris meant business.

    ¡°Eavesdropping on your guests isn¡¯t very courtly, your Majesty.¡± More fiery words danced the cusp of Koa¡¯s lips, but he didn¡¯t dare utter them.

    ¡°Your brother, a Right-bearer. Fascinating . . .¡±

    If Maris wasn¡¯t so absorbed by the revelation, she may have pulverised Koa on the spot for that impudence. Then Remus had to remind himself that Maris was not nearly that bad. Compared to the cutthroat nature of some of the other God-Graced that called Descent home, she was a reasonable, although sometimes eccentric, woman.

    Or there was always the possibility he was being too optimistic. That would be a change for once.

    Remus turned to her. Koa wasn¡¯t stupid. He wasn¡¯t about to start a feud with a God-Graced, one Remus had just revealed he was still indebted to by divine vow. But every alarm bell, sixth sense, and gut feeling he had were clashing clambells in tandem. They needed to get to the bottom of this, and fast. ¡°Okay Maris, now that we¡¯ve given you some very valuable information, I think it¡¯s in order that you return the favour. So tell us: why did you gather us all here?¡±

    ¡°Hold on a minute.¡± Koa readdressed Veida, all the wind taken out of his sails. ¡°Who is the current monarch again?¡±

    Koa¡¯s words went though one of Remus'' ears, and out the other, as Maris spoke. ¡°Ah, Remus, I suppose I do owe you an explanation-¡±

    ¡°Maris of course.¡± Veida frowned at Koa. ¡°Who else?¡±

    Koa¡¯s eyes widened, his jaw clenched.

    ¡°You see Remus, ah, well, this is a little embarrassing, you see.¡± Maris was acting awfully offstandish.

    ¡°It¡¯s been one year since Maris¡¯s coronation.¡± Two conversations ran circles around Remus, their destinations the same, but neither quite reaching it. ¡°Over one year, in fact. That means-¡±

    There was a colossal bang outside. The roof above tremored, dancing from side to side until it looked as if the chandelier was about to collapse any second now, spilling a sea of shattered crystals on the banqueters below.

    Remus blasted off to the nearest window, not caring to consider how rude it would be to activate his Mark. He brushed the curtain that covered two great glass mosaics aside, and what it revealed through those coloured panes, even if it was blurred, made the hairs on his back stand up.

    Despite not having seen the woman in over a year, Remus spotted Eliane without fail. Grey hair fell down her shoulders, hawkish, amber eyes seeming to stare up at Remus, even as he peered down from floors up high in Maris¡¯ castle.

    Even harder not to notice, were the hoards of Reptilian Clansmen at her back. And they didn¡¯t appear very happy.

    No wonder he could activate his Mark: with no one true monarch in power as Maris attempted to overstay her welcome, her authority had dwindled as Eliane dared to challenge it. Now anyone in the City Proper could do the same.

    Remus spun. By now, everyone present was at the window¡¯s side. The cat was out of the bag.

    ¡°So this is why you actually dragged us all here. To fight your battles for you.¡±

    Remus walked towards the nearest door in sight, not even sure if it was an exit. If they had to storm through every hall here before escaping, Remus would. He had learnt his lesson last time: Remus wouldn¡¯t let himself be coerced, controlled, or otherwise used for another¡¯s gain again.

    ¡°Remus, I¡¯d advise that you think about this very carefully.¡± Maris approached slowly, ¡°think of the power you could gain with a God-Graced to aid you. You¡¯ll have the monarch of Hybrid on your side! I could rally thousands of soldiers to join your cause, and help topple Damosh once and for all!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t plan to take down one tyrant with the aid of another. I¡¯m doing things cleanly, and I am not a tool to be used.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Maris frowned melodramatically. ¡°So that¡¯s how it is?¡±

    Remus looked over to the men and women gathered around the room.

    He feared for their safety.

    No doubt about it, things were about to get messy.

 109. What Friends Are For

    ¡°Remus, all I¡¯m asking for is a little support against Eliane. I know you¡¯re on friendly terms with her, but oh well. One simple request, and in exchange, your rebellion could become unstoppable.¡±

    Remus took a step back. The more and more this conversation dragged on, the more acutely aware he became of the Oath binding his soul. He felt the twin stars of his two Oaths residing there. Koa¡¯s housed a warmth that felt right to Remus in a way words failed to grasp, but Maris¡¯ . . .

    It was more than a thorn in his side. Gods above, this might be the one obstacle in his path he couldn¡¯t avoid. The price he had to pay for so many close encounters, too many dealings with the strongest of this world.

    Despite himself, Remus had to try and find a way out of this mess. ¡°Look Maris, I do not want to be on bad terms with you. If you simply allowed us to leave without trouble, I could repay the favour soon enough ¡ª if we succeed in what we set out to do, the Talents of the Future will hold an astronomical amount of political influence. Influence that might help you more long-term than whatever this mess of a situation is.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too late for that, Remus, I¡¯m in a corner.¡± Veida and Violet looked up to Maris, expressions aghast. Had they not known? Remus found it hard to believe that they hadn¡¯t ever spotted the army knocking at their doors, but their bewildered expressions said otherwise. ¡°My forces are being overwhelmed, and I need your support. If I can¡¯t get it consensually, then so be it.¡±

    Remus quickened his breath. Without him even noticing, his body had taken a battle stance. He turned his face to address the hundred or so members of his rebellion. ¡°This is a democracy. I do not think fighting against Eliane is a good idea, but by the sounds of it, the alternative won¡¯t be pretty. Raise your hand if you wish to support Maris in her wishes.¡±

    Some murmuring. After about thirty seconds of disgruntled discussion, only a handful lifted their hands up.

    ¡°Maris, this is not right.¡± Remus could not wrap his head around how Veida was only just finding out about this. ¡°You told me you made an agreement with the Reptilian Sect to keep the throne in their stead. You told us that they were too busy dealing with damages from the Right-bearers that they couldn¡¯t possibly rule.¡±

    Maris looked over to Veida. Her watery face held no features but two blank circles for eyes, even her shark teeth nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°We won¡¯t support this.¡± Violet¡¯s leer was hideous. ¡°I stayed here to research, not to support your power-hungry schemes! Gods, why are the God-Graced just as bad as the Unbounded?¡±

    Violet teleported to Remus'' side. ¡°You¡¯ve received your verdict. None of us are going to help your mad ploy for the throne.¡±

    Maris said nought, her aquatic form turning slowly to take in the entire room. With no exceptions, she had the undivided attention of everyone present. Maris¡¯ jubilant exterior was a fraudulent thing of the past.

    You could describe water as many things. Placid lakes were the idyllic symbol for peace and prosperity, the natural embodiment of calm. Remus had always thought of Maris as having the unpredictability of a coursing river. You could never quite tell how deep, or how cold those icy depths were ¡ª a fitting metaphor for Maris¡¯ fluctuating temperament. But now? Maris reminded Remus of a sea at storm, crashing waves threatening to strip the lives of any sailors who dared stray too close.

    Then, finally, as Maris lifted a finger, Remus finally understood what that expression on her face was.

    Boredom.

    Remus¡¯ body lifted up into the air of its own accord, following the path of Maris'' raised finger. He tried to twist, bend, or otherwise fight against the invincible shackles. But it was as if he himself was subconsciously cooperating with Maris.

    ¡°Now, kneel.¡±

    Remus¡¯ body slammed into the ground in a crouch, and, try as he might to disobey Maris¡¯ orders, his Oath was writhing in pain.

    He had never quite understood how Oaths worked. He knew they could be broken, but doing so usually involved destroying your soul in the process, rupturing your very foundation as a person, until you were left a walking shadow.

    Nevertheless, Remus fought. The will of a God-Graced crashed down upon Remus, and, as he flared his Mark into a fiery frenzy, he gathered enough control to screech: ¡°everyone, get away!¡±

    Violet and Koa leapt before Remus¡¯ body.

    ¡°I told you- gah!¡± Maris compelled Remus into prostrating where he sat, slamming his forehead against the marble flooring. ¡°To get out of here!¡±

    Maris could control him, but she couldn¡¯t control the others. If they were to make a speedy getaway, Maris¡¯ entire plan would be undermined. Even Maris might not be able to stop them, if Violet was quick-witted, sensible, and complying enough to do as he wished.

    Instead, in stupid levels of defiance ¡ª though Remus could hardly talk ¡ª Koa and Violet alike flared their Marks in unison.

    Simultaneously, Maris¡¯ own power erupted out of her. At the edges of the room, seawater swirled around, up above and to the sides. The liquid foamed into visages of fury, and with how perilously that water was sliding, bubbling and crashing against itself in self¨Ccontained waves, Remus was certain Maris hadn¡¯t held back when forming the technique. It contained the absolute power of a God-Graced, and served as a simple message to everyone in the room: they were in Maris¡¯ hands, and they would play by her rules.

    Any coming second, and Maris could choose to kill nearly everyone present in one fell swoop. And by the looks of it, there wasn¡¯t much Remus could do to stop her. Even if he did have control over his body.

    Which Remus certainly did not.

    He could fight against Maris¡¯ authority, but being able to fight and winning were two completely different things. Even if he were to exhaust himself with his most powerful technique, Flaming Gold, it would likely do little more than distract Maris for a few seconds at best.

    ¡°So that¡¯s your plan, huh?¡± Remus could just about hear Koa over the ringing in his ears. ¡°To kill everyone here? Then you¡¯ll have no one to protect yourself. And just because you can control Remus, doesn¡¯t mean that we¡¯ll oblige either.¡±

    Remus looked on to his two friends with pride. Everything hurt as he tried to defy the whims of a God-Graced, a tugging sensation behind his naval feeling as if his intestines were on the verge of spilling out. There surely must have been a safe way to break an Oath, perhaps if he had the assistance of another God-Graced-

    An idea flourished in Remus¡¯ mind, the grey matter of his brain suddenly the most fertile soil for bright ideas there was. But there was the immediate threat of Maris to deal with first, and something told him she wouldn''t let him go so easily.

    ¡°So we¡¯re at a stalemate.¡± Violet crossed her arms definitely. ¡°You can¡¯t kill us, and we won¡¯t work with you. So what is it Maris? I know there¡¯s some good in you beneath that desperation ¡ª I¡¯ve worked with you long enough to know that better than anyone.¡±

    Veida nodded. ¡°Think Maris. I don¡¯t mean to be patronising, but what is another decade¡¯s wait when you''re an immortal God-Graced? As long as you don¡¯t get yourself killed, the Silver Throne is yours again soon enough. Use that time to build back up your forces, and put a stop to Enos¡¯ schemes!¡±

    ¡°The world might not even be around in a decade! I¡¯m sorry Veida, but I do not trust any other Territories to lead Hybrid in these uncertain times. We need stability in one figurehead, not this nonsense in switching from incompetent leader to incompetent leader.¡±

    ¡°Those are flimsy justifications and you know it!¡± Veida gritted her teeth. ¡°How about we all deactivate our powers and have a civil discussion?¡±

    Again, Maris ceased to speak. For a second, perspiration leaking down Remus, he almost believed that the Water Sect leader was finally coming to her senses.

    Then her gaze lowered down upon him once more.

    ¡°Kill any resistors. You¡¯re going to force your rebellion into taking action. If you have to cause a bloodbath before they finally get the message then so be it.¡±

    Without any intention, Remus¡¯ body set alight. His feet dragged him towards the many occupants of his rebellion: Koa, Beckett¡¯s army, and the Feast Clansmen. Every impulse in Remus pleaded against Maris¡¯ entrancement, but his Oath was simply too binding.

    Hands that didn¡¯t seem to belong to Remus any longer drew forth his great chain, and it was all Remus could do to grit his teeth in protest.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry guys. This is all my fault. Get away while you still can.¡±

    As he fought a spiritual war against his soul¡¯s binding, a very real one was about to commence.

    <hr>

    Violet was not going to let Maris do this to Remus. After one entire Rebirth working under the God-Graced, diligently serving her every beck and call, to think that only now, Violet was seeing her true colours. She had forgotten that Unbounded weren¡¯t the only beings that could mask their true intent.

    With a flex of her will, and a little Infinity Manipulation, Supreme Steel armour mounted on Violet¡¯s body. For the space it took to blink, for that was all the time she could afford to spare, she noted how easy that had felt. A simple flex of Violet¡¯s will, and she was fully kitted out. Just how strong was she after intaking all of that Infinity from Nova? Could she call herself a Warlord equivalent at this point?

    It was time to find out.

    Violet hated to do this to Remus after all he had been through, but if she would have to knock him out to dispel the boy from Maris¡¯s grasp, then so be it.

    A wall of turquoise flame enveloped half of the room. Violet watched as the heat reached a peak, turning a lethal white that resplused her every survival instinct.

    She swallowed down that dose of fear, and pressed forward.

    Licks of flame swept across her armour as she closed in on the boy, and Violet found that it held well against the impossible heat. Despite all of Remus'' wild stories, he was still only a peak Foot-Soldier after all. If the litany of tests Veida had conducted on Violet to gauge her power were all correct, then every variable indicated that this would be a walk in the park.

    Remus didn¡¯t stick around. Out of nowhere, he reappeared at Violet¡¯s side through a barrier of smoke, fist at the ready and imbued with an impressive amount of Ambition ¡ª the divine energy of his god¡¯s domain of power.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Violet knew all of Remus¡¯ techniques well after their endless time spent together, and while this wasn¡¯t how she had imagined their reunion, she would use that against him. To gain the upper hand, Violet would have to apply everything at her disposal. Remus knew pretty much every attack Violet could throw out there. Possessed by the will of a God-Graced to maximise his fighting potential, this bout wouldn¡¯t be pretty.

    In a familiar flash of purple, as comforting to Violet as a rising sunshine, she avoided the blow with ease. The two locked eyes for a split second, Remus¡¯ lip quivering in pain as he fought desperately for control over his own body. But Maris¡¯ hold was unavoidable.

    One breath, and the flurry of blows began.

    Dozens of punches, kicks, and other sporadic movements imbued with Eruptive Will all headed Remus¡¯ way. She flickered in space, constantly teleporting only one or two inches away to avoid the onslaught. At the same time, her own blows exploded forth, and she didn¡¯t hold back.

    Remus could take a beating.

    Wind billowed off from where their fists occasionally met, fire and purple chaotic energy bleeding over the scene.

    Spikes of wood and rock erupted out of the earth, their ends sharp enough to rival any sword you might spot in an armoury. Speaking of amour, a suit appeared all over Koa¡¯s body, but the equipment the man adorned now was a far cry from his past wooden plating. Now? It was as if everything that came to mind when you thought of the word ¡®nature¡¯ had been integrated into its design. Mossy rock sharpened to perfection served as the base, strips of wood at various locales acting as ample reinforcement. A great fur cape fell down his back for excess decoration, and the bony skull of some kind of predator, likely a bear, acted as Koa¡¯s crown.

    And of course, his floating eyeballs paced warily around the room, making for an eerie, but magnificent last touch.

    Koa had been busy with dealing with business at Territory Two over the last Rebirth, but Violet didn¡¯t let his defeat at the hands of Ash fool her: the man had not neglected his training for a second.

    She wondered, would he alone be able to go toe-to-toe with Remus? Violet was sure Koa had a few more tricks up his sleeve, ready to deploy at any moment. But so many of Remus¡¯ attacks were fire-based. Not exactly an ideal opponent, when Koa was so entrenched in the Wilderness domain of power.

    Nevertheless, if the man was yet to be a peak Foot-Soldier, he wasn¡¯t far off it.

    Together, Remus¡¯ defeat was as good as certain. Violet¡¯s plan was to knock the boy unconscious, drag him as far away as possible, and hope that Eliane would be able to do something about his damn Oath.

    Remus was a force that couldn¡¯t be contained, a trailblazer in the art of destruction you would be mad to try and chain down. There was no way in hell that Remus would ever willingly bow down to anyone again. Maris was attempting the impossible, and Violet and Koa would be the ones to show her.

    But only perhaps half a minute of action had transpired, and already, Violet was concerned for the wellbeing of the soldiers. They were Foot-Soldiers, and could look after themselves, but it was infinitely harder to wage combat when you had to take into account dozens of other people.

    Flame blasted out in a beacon as Veida activated her Mark in full force. Suddenly, approximately half of the vast chamber, including Remus, Violet, and Koa, were all encased in a swirling wall of red hot fire. It was as if Veida could read her mind ¡ª she had effectively removed anyone else from the equation.

    Maris shrieked in rage, already dousing out the fires in a sudden blast of waterfalls. But whether it be Veida¡¯s incessant fire, or that wall of gushing liquid, or even the resulting smog when the two combined, the trio¡¯s makeshift battlefield was kept in place.

    From below Remus, a fist of stone erupted out of the earth. The marble floor was tarnished, and as Koa controlled his stone limb from afar, his own hand snapped shut.

    Stones fingers closed on Remus.

    For all of one second.

    Rocky shrapnel blasted out, steam rising off of Remus¡¯ fists. Screaming, he whipped his chains around at the speed of light, smashing a hundred thorny leaves out of the air, reinforced by Koa¡¯s Infinity to be as hard as bedrock.

    He would have avoided virtually all of them, if not for Violet opening up a few well placed rifts.

    Leaves from halfway across the arena flew into inch-sized portals, reappearing a hair¡¯s width away from Remus. Now there was parrying Koa¡¯s swarm.

    One leaf stabbed into the side of Remus¡¯ neck, spurting out a stream of golden Ichor. Remus suddenly stood as rigid as concrete. His pose was so statuesque, it was almost comical. But Violet knew Thick Skin was another of the ancient Techniques he¡¯d fetched off West Ember island. When they had been travelling so often together, Remus would tell Violet everything, including very detailed accounts of what he¡¯d learned under Enrique.

    She hated to use that trust against Remus, but this was for his own safety.

    As the rest of Koa¡¯s surviving leaves reached Remus, they were deflected off his skin. That was why the man was the only one out of the three to not wear armour. Well, if you discounted his layer of flame. His skin could become near damn impenetrable.

    But he had to stand perfectly still to maintain that condition. Now that was just asking to be exploited.

    Before Remus could tell what was happening, she opened up another rift of purple beneath him. He descended into the magenta light, and for a split second, Violet saw his pained grimace through the cloak of searing white. He must have had a burning headache from fighting off Maris¡¯ authority, but in no world would a Foot-Soldier win that kind of fight.

    He fell out of a portal positioned above Violet, perfectly primed to receive the nastiest sucker punch she could hand out. Koa leapt into the fray too, eager to get a piece of the action.

    A flurry of fists smashed into Remus at a point-blank range, and this time, there was no way he could stand still enough to withstand the onslaught.

    His body was flown across the room, another splurge of Ichor painting the charred floor.

    Remus landed on his feet, so used to punch-downs that he didn¡¯t falter for a moment, and lashed out with his chains at Violet. His plan was clearly to take her out first, leaving Koa at a major disadvantage with his weakness to flame. It seemed to be the man¡¯s Achilies¡¯ heel.

    Good. Violet wanted to see just how strong Remus had gotten.

    Violet refocused on the Infinity pulsing through the air in invisible currents. She took hold of the grains, and without bothering to make a coherent shape, she split the Infinity into two masses.

    They slapped into Remus, as if squashing him between two great hands.

    She could have sworn she heard bones being crushed.

    Remus was a terrible sight. His face was completely drenched in Ichor, part of his upper body appearing to have caved in on itself, and his expression was utter misery.

    That¡¯s what happened when you took a direct attack from a Warlord equivalent.

    Remus lashed back with a serpent of flame. It was an animated construct, weaving through the air and snapping at Violet.

    The flames washed over her armour once more, but as its initial turquoise intensified into a progressively brighter white, Violet felt the plating begin to melt.

    Chains flew over her arms, and, pulling her forward, Violet was carried through the air to meet Remus. His feet dug into her chest, sending her body hurtling into the marble flooring.

    A wave of pain washed over Violet, carving a body-shaped crater into Maris¡¯ marble floor. She hoped the God-Graced didn¡¯t mind a little redecoration.

    Remus wasn¡¯t done. He leapt down upon Violet, Eruptive Will imbued into two fists which he held together, like a caveman bludgeoning another''s head in. It was the exact barbaric style of fighting you could only develop after becoming a little too jaded to combat.

    Violet teleported out of the way, just in time for Koa to appear behind Remus.

    Like a prick of a cactus enlarged until it took on the size of a rapier, Koa didn¡¯t hesitate to impale an unsuspecting Remus.

    For the third time, another explosion of Ichor shot out of Remus¡¯ body. He retched out a mix of blood and bile, and his eyes could not have gone any wider.

    Anybody else would be too brutalised to fight on, let alone stay conscious. But Remus wasn¡¯t anyone else.

    His fires seared again, a potent blast of fury and pain. Remus¡¯ hands grasped onto the pincer cleaving through his abdomen, buckling at the waist as he pulled the weapon out.

    It was awash with blood, and, in the same swift motion, Remus threw the prick back at Koa.

    It grazed the boy¡¯s armour, who should have been a contortionist with how well he bent to the side. But Koa was not seriously injured.

    Remus, on the other hand, looked like an illustration that a training doctor might be shown: an expansive example of various bodily injuries. He shouldn¡¯t have been able to stand with the pool of Ichor that was accumulating at his shaking feet. But one quirk of the Ambition Clan was an affinity for resisting death, for heroic final stands right on the cusp of defeat.

    Remus only grew stronger the more injured he became, but he must have been nearing his breaking point.

    Out of the corner of her eye, Violet spotted Koa¡¯s frown. He looked ashamed of himself, unable to reconcile what needed to be done, with the fact this was one of his closest friends. A.sickly twisting feeling upsetted Violet¡¯s stomach as she laid eyes on Remus too, but another chill washed over her.

    Remus emanated a certain aura she hadn¡¯t felt from him before. At least not this close up. Perhaps it was because of Maris pulling the strings, or the fact he was being beaten bloody by his own friends, and there was nothing Remus could do about it, or maybe it was an entire array of other agonies plaguing him.

    Whatever the case, he meant business.

    Around Remus, four great masses of blue flame flared into being. They expanded in size until each was enough to burn down a shed, but despite their size, Remus controlled all four seamlessly. The speed alone was startling.

    Twice in quick succession, Violet was forced to teleport out of the way. Koa was nowhere to be seen, possibly hidden behind one of the blazing masses.

    Then they began to move even faster. Violet didn¡¯t even have time to react when the first of the quartet slammed in her with an incinerating wrath. An evil, infernal heat washed over her body, and despite how much Infinity she was pouring into her armour, the heat was coming too close for comfort.

    One second Violet was about to teleport herself out of the flames, and the next, it felt as if her entire body had been discarded into the heart of a supernova.

    Her armour was finally destroyed in several places, tender flesh revealed underneath. Violet fell through a purple rift, reappeared far away from Remus, and only just processed the fact he had made his flames explode, when two more of those orbs bared down upon her. Like horned demons, they would see her flesh carved and diced.

    In some kind of poetic unison, the two orbs imploded.

    Violet face-slammed into the marble at her feet, a terrible hiss escaping her teeth.

    When she came to her senses, the absolute agony taking every ounce of her concentration to ignore, she spotted Koa rushing over as fast as he could. His horrified face . . . how bad was her condition? Good Gods, it was like he was watching a live operation take place right in front of him. Surely-

    Her left arm sat a metre away, floating in a pile of her own blood. It was hard to distinguish amongst Remus¡¯ Ichor, but her own lifeforce contained a sort of greyish tint, by virtue of her Unbounded lineage.

    The final explosion smashed into Violet with the force of a freight train. Above the ringing in her ears, and her new best friend Pain who wouldn¡¯t stop blabbering on, she heard Koa cry out in dismay.

    True, Violet had never expected to be pushed this badly. The days when Remus was a lowly Engorged training with her in the woods outside of First Rite were long gone.

    But Remus wasn¡¯t the only one to have grown in power since their first fateful encounter.

    With but a flare of her will, Violet wove the remaining Infinity inhabiting the room into one complete limb. She got to her feet, stretched out her newly acquired arm in circular motions, like that of a boxer, before grasping Remus¡¯ fist.

    His body was dripping with perspiration, but even that was hard to spot beneath the shower of blood.

    The man¡¯s last attack had been so flimsy. Violet held his shaking hand, raising an eyebrow. The sound of Remus desperately attempting to catch his breath resounded around the room, as Koa stood still. It was clear the fight was over.

    ¡°Good going Remus, good going.¡± Violet wanted to say more, but giving Maris any other time to intervene would simply be illogical.

    Channelling as much power as she could into her Mark, Violet immersed every inhabitant in that room with her notorious purple light.

    Everyone save for Maris, of course. She just hoped the sect leader would have fun cleaning up after them.

    Violet closed her eyes, every vein in her body bulging as she transported more people than she ever had at once.

 110. Good Riddance

    There¡¯s nothing like being beaten bloody by your two best friends, especially, when, considering the circumstances, Remus should have been thanking them.

    Remus had recognised the moment when Violet had decided to teleport them out of there. Maris never would have allowed their escape, of course, but at the final instance, he¡¯d released the last of his pent-up rage and power in Flaming Gold. It had distracted the women just long enough for Violet¡¯s portals to do the trick. His technique, thankfully, hadn¡¯t been in use long enough for it to take full effect. Remus already had enough weighing on his consciousness ¡ª dozens of his chargrilled rebels would only exacerbate that mental burden. Considering how exhausted he felt, he probably didn¡¯t have the energy to fully use the technique, but whatever eruption of power he¡¯d unleashed had done the tick.

    Now, the three of them leaned against each other in a sweaty bundle, multiple squadrons of Reptilian clansmen encircling the trio. The way they looked at them, so weary . . . Gods above, they really were in quite the state.

    Koa was the first of them to rise to his feet. He seemed fatigued, but not nearly as exhausted as he and Violet appeared. Once he knew they were safe, Remus was going to allow sleep to whisk him away. Hopefully by the time he awoke, he¡¯d be recovered enough to help them out somehow.

    As he was now, Remus had given up everything he could offer. He was well and truly spent.

    Violet rose to join Koa''s side, raising both hands placatingly. ¡°We¡¯re here in peace! All we request is some medical attention for our friend Remus here, and a meeting with your Sect Leader Eliane. Maris is on her last legs, and Veida and I have insider information that can help you win this feud! But first, we need some assistance!¡±

    Grim faces stared blankly at her. Something told Remus there was no protocol in place for how to deal with injured clansmen falling out of the sky. Speaking of which-

    All around, members of Beckett¡¯s army rose to a shaky stand. Amongst their ranks, Veida sprinted to the forefront. Behind her, were Barley, Clove, and a most distressed looking Tess.

    ¡°Remus! Gods,¡± she glared accusingly at Violet and Koa, ¡°what on earth did you do to this poor boy?¡±

    ¡°It was the only way we could bring him out of there. Now he¡¯s too damaged for Maris to control.¡±

    ¡°And maybe too damaged to live! A little overkill, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Remus tried to raise a hand, but found that lifting any limb resulted in losing more blood. ¡°Guys, I¡¯ll be fine, r-r-really-¡±

    ¡°He can hardly talk!¡± Tess¡¯ attention turned away from a guilty-faced Violet and Koa. Instead, she enacted her rage on the dozens of Reptilian clansmen scratching their heads. ¡°Well, you heard the girl, fetch us some help already!¡±

    ¡°Really guys, if I¡¯m just bandaged up, there¡¯ll be nothing to-¡± Remus spluttered out a mouthful of Ichor.

    Meanwhile, a woman slowly approached from behind. Dozens of heads turned, and as she finally came close enough for Remus to get a good look at her, his heart skipped a beat. Those narrow, slitted eyes would always be her most striking feature, but her grey shock of hair was more unruly than usual. Remus was looking at a war-ready version of the Reptilian sect leader, and Eliane looked pissed.

    ¡°Veida, Violet.¡± She began without preamble. ¡°To my understanding, you have been conspiring with the mad usurper, Maris. After our past relationship built on trust, I¡¯m quite upset that you would take it upon yourselves to betray me. I¡¯ll give you a chance to explain yourselves. But know this: you¡¯re fortunate I have the self-control not to strike you down where you stand.¡±

    Veida seemed taken aback. She placed a hand to her chest, as if hurt. ¡°Violet and I had nothing to do with Maris¡¯ ploy for power. In fact, we weren¡¯t even aware of it until less than an hour ago. There are about one hundred witnesses behind me to vouch for that. All we wish is to be able to leave this place in peace.¡±

    Remus was content to do nothing but listen along and try not to bleed out too quickly, when another burst of pain shot through his body. Every cell within him began to spasm, answering to Maris¡¯ authority, which was somehow commanding him even from this distance.

    Slowly, despite all his efforts to fight it off, Remus found himself crawling through the mud.

    He shouldn¡¯t even be conscious with so many grievous injuries, let alone after a use of Flaming Gold, albeit a momentary one. It was a testament to the extent of Maris¡¯ power.

    Immediately, Violet and Koa leapt down, each pinning down one of his arms.

    ¡°What¡¯s happened to him?¡± Eliane asked, her tone becoming less severe. Her eyebrows flew up. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me-¡±

    ¡°He has an old Oath with Maris that the woman is exploiting. We had to fight until he got into this bloody state before we could drag him out of there. We were wondering if you knew how to undo an Oath?¡±

    ¡°I can challenge it.¡± All of Eliane¡¯s brutality vanished. Remus hoped, amid the incessant pain raging war on his body, that she actually cared for him. ¡°If he continues fighting against the Oath as he is, eventually, the binding will break. But he¡¯ll suffer greatly in the process. He¡¯d be left a broken shell of himself. If he lives after such an ordeal, that is.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t have that.¡± Violet blurted out. ¡°No way.¡±

    ¡°I can rival her Oath, try to remove her authority myself.¡± Eliane seemed to be considering her options. A medic had arrived by now, and, bless her poor soul, was doing her best to put bandages on Remus¡¯ jolting body. Remus had begun to foam at the mouth, and if no-one knew any better, it would look as if he had a terrible case of rabies.

    This is no way for a leader to be seen. I¡¯ve become a mockery in front of my own rebellion. Again and again, Remus feared his heroic veneer would continue to crack. If someone like Maris, who was on her last legs, had done so much to him, imagine what a God-Graced like Damosh could inflict, with an endless array of resources. It was a terrifying line of thought, only made worse with the overwhelming need to retch that seized Remus.

    Eliane glanced warily from Remus to Koa and Violet. ¡°You promise you¡¯re on our side?¡±

    Koa nodded. ¡°Of course. In this life, I like to think I¡¯ll always take the side of justice.¡±

    Barley approached Eliane. ¡°If it can help to sway your help, there are three of us from the Feast Clan. We can ensure all of your warriors are fed before but the battle with Maris begins.¡±

    Knowing Maris, she was probably losing whatever last grasp of sanity she had been grasping onto. It was only a matter of time before she would internalise the impossible odds stacked against her. Her washed-up forces were the Queen¡¯s last hope for sovereignty.

    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll have to be quick about this, but I¡¯ll wrestle with Maris¡¯ authority. This might drain the both of us, but worse comes to worst, my forces will easily overwhelm the remnants of hers. I don¡¯t think having control over Remus will change the outcome of this battle, ultimately, but I cannot allow Maris to possess any wildcards¡±

    Remus thought the process would alleviate his agonies. Instead? It was like his soul was serving at the battleground for two God-Graced. Because, on a spiritual level, it truly was.

    Eliane crouched down onto her knees, grasping on bundles of grass in either hand to anchor herself. The ground beneath and around Remus began to rumble, and though his own body ceased to spasm, as he no longer had to fight against Maris¡¯ will, he thought he could feel a new presence: that of Eliane¡¯s authority.

    She began to screech. The sound and the sensation of two invisible forces clashing behind Remus¡¯ chest took up all of his focus.

    Clansmen and women all around began to flee the scene, fissures spreading through the earth, originating from where Eliane towered over Remus.

    Remus distantly felt Violet lace her fingers with his. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay Remus. Keep tight. I¡¯m sorry we did this to you, I should have thought of something else. Some better solution. Gods-¡±

    He wanted more than anything to reassure Violet that she had done everything she could, but he couldn¡¯t even move his lips.

    Every other second, Remus tightened under the sway of Maris¡¯ renewed command, only for Eliane to snap away that connection at the origin.

    Remus was reminded of the sounds of distant explosions that he would always encounter when traversing Hell¡¯s Floor. How uncanny. Soon, every city on Descent would become just as ruinous.

    His blinking eyes set themselves on the central castle of the city proper. The very same building they were supposed to have been guests to. It had become very apparent that Maris did not abide by guest rights.

    Water was flooding through every single window. Shards of glass were swept up by the currents, carried away by a monstrous stream imbued with Maris¡¯ will.

    Remus¡¯ ears felt as if they would bleed with the woman¡¯s next words.

    ¡°If I can¡¯t have him under my control, you all shall die!.¡±

    Something inside of Remus finally seemed to snap. The pain, at least the kind that was coming from the internal conflict, finally faded.

    Inspecting the lone binding on his soul confirmed that very thing: Eliane had broken the Oath.

    Koa picked up Remus in his arms, peering up to Maris¡¯ destruction of the Hall of Thrones. Every wall of the castle was crashing down, thousands up thousands of stone bricks flying out into smithereens. Amongst those flooding waters, Water Clansmen were being dragged away, mouths open wide as all sorts of waterborne shrapnel ripped them to bloody shreds. Maris was completely disregarding her clan¡¯s own safety. More and more of her own troops dissolved into water as a means of safety, but the damage had already been dealt.

    ¡°Koa.¡± Remus croaked. ¡°Don¡¯t leave our people to die.¡±

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Remus felt another tug from behind his naval. In jolt of utter terror, he worried Eliane had failed, that Maris had somehow regained control over him. But no. It was his Oath with Koa that was shaking within Remus, resonating with his words.

    By the way Koa was looking at him, Remus was sure the boy was feeling the exact same thing. That obligation to ensure the Talents of the Future were protected; that they thrived; and above all else, that they succeeded in their mission.

    There was an unspoken realisation between the two of them. Assisting the new Queen of Hybrid to ascend to the throne would give them the leverage to hire members from the entirety of Hybrid, perhaps even with Her Majesty¡¯s endorsement.

    Koa jumped to the fray, and screeching until micro-tears formed in the tissue of his lungs, rose both arms.

    A great wall of oak erupted out of the earth, mud shooting up with it. Grains of the stuff flew into Remus¡¯ eyes, but that didn¡¯t matter. With groggy amazement, he watched in awe as Koa¡¯s wall protected them all from the tsunami. It covered Remus¡¯ vision as far as he could see, perhaps enveloping the castle from every single angle.

    But such a feat was too much for a Foot-Soldier. Gods, this was above the work of any standard clansmen of his Rank ¡ª Remus found himself too stunned for words.

    And, with that impossible creation, Koa face-planted.

    At the same time, Remus had to fight to stay conscious. He just had to make sure everyone was safe, just had to make sure-

    Violet adorned her Unbounded form, hosting up both Remus and Koa onto her shoulders. The girl was strong, and for the first time, Remus fully comprehended the aura she emanated. There was no mistaking it, she was a Warlord equivalent in the flesh.

    Damn, will I ever catch up?

    ¡°Alright Eliane, it looks like Maris is the only threat left. Whatever Water clansmen she still has control over are in chaos.¡± It was disconcerting to hear Violet¡¯s voice coming out of such a monstrous body. ¡°Anyone who wants to stay and fight can remain as they are! If you wish to leave with us, gather over, and be quick about it!¡±

    A surprising number of Beckett¡¯s army draw forth their swords in earnest, as if Foot-Soldiers and Emblazed were capable of making any difference in a feud between God-Graced.

    Most of the men retained their common sense, and, when about sixty or so Talents of the Future gathered by Remus¡¯ side, Violet, in an extraordinary feat of stamina, warped them the hell out of there.

    They reappeared a safe distance away, though by this point, Remus had allowed sleep to take him. By the time he awoke, the miracle of rest accelerating his healing rate enough that he could function without extreme pain, he noted the mountain range they now inhabited. To as best as he could judge, he¡¯d been out cold for thirty minutes or so. Despite how little time that was, especially for him to fully recover, many tents had already cropped up.

    He was about to get up, to see what was happening, when a hand pushed him back down. It was Violet. ¡°Whoa there, hold your horses. You need rest. Don¡¯t worry, no-one¡¯s been hurt.¡±

    Remus exhaled with relief. ¡°You have no idea how good that is to hear.¡±

    There was a great rumbling, only a few miles away, by the sounds of it. Remus¡¯ eyes skirted to the side, and lo and behold, the Water and Reptilian Sect leaders were in for the fight of their lives. If this was going to get as messy as the last coronation, their entertainment for tonight was sorted.

    ¡°I know it¡¯s hard to sleep with that going on. Watch on for now, but when Maris finally has reality thrown in her face, promise to get some sleep for once.¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t feel like he deserved to rest. The Talents of the Future were mulling around, drinking and conversing about the absolute fiasco that had transpired. If tonight was to set the tone for how their rebellion would proceed, they would have quite the collection of tales to tell their grandkids. Yet Remus was stricken with the terrible fear that he had lost all of their respect. He should try to keep a stoic mask on and regain their trust, not cuddle up into bed after being beaten worse than some torture victims.

    But he wasn¡¯t about to tell Violet that. Especially with how concerned she appeared for him. The compromise was a noncommittal grunt.

    ¡°Promise. I already feel bad for having to do all of that to you.¡±

    At the memory of being impaled, Remus flinched. ¡°Okay, okay, I promise I¡¯ll¡± ¡ª another distant explosion¡ª ¡°get some much needed rest.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Violet said, and, before Remus could process the action, kissed him on the forehead.

    She fled before he could splutter a response.

    The fight between Maris and Eliane raged on. The entire inner city of Hybrid was experiencing a massive flood. Remus could imagine how high the casualty number would be, and it left an unsavoury feeling in the pit of his stomach. If not for Violet¡¯s Chaos Mark, they would have only added to that figure.

    Reptilian clansmen clung onto summoned crocodiles, splashing through the waterlogged streets, where Maris threw a tantrum at its centre. There, a man Remus didn¡¯t recognise placed two hands together, every vein in his body bulging.

    A dark green essence splurged through the water, and by the looks of it, the stuff was lethal. Poison.

    So this was the leader of the Amphibian Clan, the other sect that dominated Territory Two. They had quite the eccentric look to them: the classic mad scientist. Their unkempt hair was a shock of rainbow, each lock of the stuff positioned to mimic an explosion. Their hands were webbed, like that of a frog, and their skin caused Remus to gag. It was slimy, and Remus desperately wanted to tell the man he needed a wash. It should have been a national emergency to provide that man a bath.

    The toxins infested the waters until Hybrid wasn¡¯t only flooded, but flooded with poisonous water. Through the now-murky liquid, Remus spotted Water Clansmen returning to solid form, clutching onto their necks after having presumably swallowed some of the stuff. It was a grisly way to die.

    It was like Remus was looking down at an aquarium. Frogs, alligators, the aforementioned crocodiles, and every Reptile or Amphibian the gods had ever cared to create all slithered, leaped, or otherwise traversed through the ruinous city.

    Everyone who wasn¡¯t involved in the combat had appeared to flee before things got too messy. Remus spotted several powerful presences in the air above, simply watching on as the two fought. He wondered if any other sect leaders were going to try and swoop in at the last moment to take the Silver Throne for themselves, but the destruction around served as enough of a deterrent.

    Maris had adopted the form of a water giant. Her shark teeth were large enough to bite a skyscraper in two. As the poison began to reach her towering form, she screamed, and, flexing the water equivalent of muscles, splurted the toxins forcibly out.

    Acid rain began to pour down. Remus had to pull his wool covers up a little more, as some even reached their location.

    Eliane was nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°Where is she?¡±

    ¡°Like many reptiles, Eliane possesses the ability to camouflage.¡± Remus jumped where he sat. He hadn¡¯t even noticed Koa recovering in a bed of his own. It looked like his wooden barricades had already been destroyed; Remus thought he spotted pieces of it acting as flotsam.

    ¡°Gods man, you have to stop scaring me like that.¡±

    Koa held back a laugh. ¡°What, do you have nightmares of bedridden men now?¡±

    ¡°Very funny. How are you doing? That dam you built was mightily impressive.¡±

    Koa waved a hand to the side dismissively. ¡°It held for about thirty seconds before the floods grew too much for it. I doubt Maris even noticed.¡±

    ¡°It gave us enough time to escape, and that¡¯s all that matters.¡±

    Remus could feel Koa looking at him funnily. ¡°So about what just happened between you and Violet-¡±

    ¡°Shut it.¡±

    Another building collapsed under Maris¡¯ wrath. Suddenly, her giant-sized head lurched to the side, a crater of air forming in the side of her colossal face. There, Eliane finally reappeared.

    And her new look was chilling to the bone.

    The woman had always resembled a reptile solely by merit of her slitted eyes. Now, her pastel green scales, her winding tail that spiralled over itself, and the two bulbous eyeballs that expanded out of her face made her the largest charmellion that had ever graced Descent.

    Maris screamed, a pillar of liquid gushing out of her punctured face. Eliane disappeared again, and by the time Remus blinked, he spotted the woman¡¯s new location.

    She floated at the centre of Maris¡¯ ginormous face, the Water Sect leader left cock-eyed trying to stare at her.

    Without any hesitation, Eliane unleashed a furious barrage of punches. Maris¡¯ entire form recklessly swayed this way and that, reducing even more Hybrid architecture into rubble in the process.

    ¡°Praise Infinity, Eliane is ballsy for that manoeuvre.¡± Koa commented. He would make for a great sports commentator.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Under the sea, the pressure near the bottom is supposed to be lethal. God-Graced are scared of swimming too deeply, even if they sort out the problem of oxygen. Even so close to the pinnacle of godhood, the speck of humanity within God-Graced prevents a complete disregard for nature. You can¡¯t travel into deep space without fear of suffocating, and the same is true for the oceans. Only, in that case, the pressure is what kills first.¡±

    ¡°And Maris of course knows that . . .¡±

    For the first time, Remus felt an ebbing doubt. Eliane would win this encounter, right?

    Yet there was not telling what Maris would be willing to do. Her clan had been slaughtered, the castle she used to rule over and the immediate vicinity flattened until you wouldn¡¯t recognise it, even if given a thousand years to try. In other words . . . she had nothing to lose.

    Remus knew exactly what that felt like. And it could make someone very, very dangerous.

    Eliane¡¯s expression soured, and as alien as it was in her reptilian form, Remus could recognise that universal emotion that was sparking within her. The sensation that united the Unbounded, the gods, humanity, and every mortal creature that roamed Descent: fear.

    Suddenly, Eliane was knocked to the side, blood dispersing from her nose. An entire combo of blows awaited her, each equally as violent. But Eliane endured it all, not relenting her own chaotic attack. But immersed in Maris¡¯ water giant as she was, the Water Sect leader could attack Eliane at any angle, at any moment. And she seemed to be doing so all at the same time.

    Right when Remus couldn¡¯t decide on who he thought was going to win, Maris¡¯ water giant exploded.

    And of all that floating liquid smacked down on the city proper. A tsunami crashed down and up, heading towards Remus so quickly, he worried for a second they would be caught up in its wave.

    There was another flash of purple. The last thing Remus saw of their impromptu base was a devastating wave, advancing to crush them all, like they were merely another wall of the city to be broken.

    Their new locale was only subtly different. A slightly higher mountain than last time. All of their camps and equipment had been teleported alongside them.

    ¡°Violet . . . just how strong have you gotten?¡±

    Violet didn¡¯t answer, collapsing to her knees and failing miserably to catch her breath. ¡°Gods that was awful. How many times have I carried all of you know? I don¡¯t think I can pull that of a-¡±

    Remus had to look away as she was sick.

    His attention returned to a slightly more distant view of the fight.

    The Amphibian Sect leader from earlier stood over Maris, who was now reduced to a puddle. Eliane had once again vanished. The pair of them stood on an isolated boulder protruding out of the flood. The Silver Throne was the only piece of the castle to have survived. Endlessly, Maris would begin to reform into a more manageable form, only to be punched back down into a watery mess all over again.

    The rainbow haired man was a force of nature. He had taken on the form of an anthropomorphic frog, which, whilst sounding awfully funny, turned out to be absolutely terrifying in reality. With each fist he threw, another kind of poison leached into Maris¡¯ form. Over and over, the Water God-Graced was forced to eject those toxins from her system, which made getting into a combat-ready state harder and harder.

    Then Eliane reappeared again, and gone was her camouflage. There was a killer instinct in her eyes.

    Remus had never seen anything more brutal than two God-Graced absolutely annihilating another.

    In tandem, both Eliane and her rainbow-haired companion smashed down on a helpless Maris.

    Over and over and over.

    Until there was nothing left.

 111. Weary Souls

    Eliane sat perched upon a blood-soaked Silver Throne, and by its mere presence, more Infinity than she could ever need flew into her. Little by little, the divine essence dedicated itself to stitching back together her wounded body. She had to lean against a staff with both hands to keep upright even when seated ¡ª her thousands of new subjects mustn''t see her weak.

    The Throne was an island in a sea of destruction. The castle it had once inhabited, the Hall of Thrones, the endless corridors, the surrounding buildings that had been there for millenia: all gone. Nothing but dust in the wind.

    The Throne, an object of priceless Infinity, was the only thing that had survived the fight. The feud for the right to rule.

    Where Eliane now awaited a crown to be placed on top of her weary head, a view of an ornate chamber would have once stood. Now, there were no walls to stop the wind from sweeping past her skin. She was soaked in Ichor.

    Maris¡¯ body laid at her feet. She was in human form now. It turned out that her watery state was only a temporary alteration. After maybe ten minutes of trampling down on her, Christopher and Eliane had drained so much from Maris that the woman couldn''t even sustain that facade.

    Her physical flesh gave up far more quickly.

    ¡°She was pretty.¡± Eliane muttered, regarding the corpse at her feet. ¡°A shame she had to die. I think we could have been friends in another life.¡±

    Christopher sagged against the back of the throne behind her, catching his breath as he waited for his injuries to heal. ¡°That¡¯s what you take away from this? Gods, I didn¡¯t agree to rule Hybrid alongside a crazed Queen, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re going to become! We just killed the last-¡±

    Both of them fell silent as Maris¡¯ body began to rustle.

    Eliane felt her heart jolt in her chest. Maris¡¯ body was spasming with the littlest twitch of movement, but she was undeniably alive.

    When the Water Sect leader lifted a finger soaking with golden Ichor, her voice was only a faint croak of a whisper. ¡°Eliane . . . you rotten, despicable bi-¡±

    The Silver Throne smashed into Maris. Her blood splattered everywhere; including on Christopher¡¯s cheek.

    He stared, aghast, for all of one second. By the time you ascended to God-Graced, most individuals were so jaded to violence, that the sight of a corpse was no more upsetting than rain on what should have been a sunny day. What really shocked the Amphibian Clan leader was the way Maris died.

    There was no recovering from an injury dealt by such powerful Supreme Steel. Even professionals from the Vitality Sect were hard-pressed to mend such wounds, and Eliane had used the most concentrated source of Supreme Steel in the world to crush Maris.

    ¡°So I think it¡¯s a safe bet that she isn''t getting up.¡± Christopher shook his head. ¡°You stained the throne! Gods, we¡¯re going to have to get this washed-¡±

    ¡°Let it paint the throne red.¡± Eliane interjected. ¡°It will act as a reminder to what happens to those who dare get in our way again.¡±

    Christopher said nought, his way of expressing approval. Despite his genial indifference, Eliane stared at the man from the corner of her eye. Without Christopher¡¯s help, this fight may have gone a lot differently. Down a path that Eliane could never allow to see the light of day: her own untimely demise. It was only by the acquisition of his assistance that she felt confident to lead this final crusade against Maris. In return, the two agreed to be the first co-monarchs of Hybrid¡¯s history. But did that mean that Eliane necessarily trusted the man?

    Gods no. If her moral compass was any weaker, she would sneak poison into his food at the nearest opportunity. Though, then again, he was probably immune to any toxins she could get her hands on.

    Eliane disliked the idea of ruling alongside Christopher. For one thing, there was the technicality of the King and Queen title. That suggested a relationship ¡ª the prospect of which Eliane found mildly disturbing.

    But Eliane was a reasonable woman. Pah! Every God-Graced who had gone mad in the last century had likely told themselves that very same thing in earnest, but truly, Eliane would never allow herself to become as corrupted as Maris, Juniper, or even Damosh. When her time on the throne was over, she would gladly give it up.

    Yet would Christopher do the same thing?

    Eliane hoped that her self-awareness would prevent her from growing too power-hungry, but she had just annihilated a clan as powerful as the Water Sect in her conquest. She had to ruminate on that for an uncomfortable time.

    ¡°Christopher?¡±

    The man turned to her. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°If either of us go mad, even if it''s a small warming sign, we should tell the other.¡±

    Christopher initially scowled at that. Then his eyes returned the reddish pulp on the floor that used to be Maris. ¡°Yes.¡± He agreed. ¡°I would not like to receive her fate . . .¡±

    <hr>

    Zachary flinched, his entire body tossed aside like trash to be discarded.

    He received a mouthful of mud, a thumping pain seizing the side of his body, and several broken shards of his mask stabbing into his cheek. He looked up warily to the men towering over him. It was utterly pathetic, but in his desperation to get away, Zachary pulled himself backwards through the morass. His entire outfit would be drenched in dirt and animal waste.

    ¡°Look at you, grovelling around in the mud like a pig.¡± One of the men spat at him. ¡°You thought you could hide your little secret all this time?¡±

    ¡°He must take us for idiots, boys. What, are we idiots?¡± One bald man asked.

    The last of the three patted a heavy-looking truncheon into the palm of his hand. ¡°I suppose it was quite stupid to let this pest live.¡±

    Sneers were sliding into place on each of their lips. Zachary used the opportunity to try and slip away. There was an eruption of pain, the gravelly sound of bone breaking, and then his left leg refused to move.

    The limb would be as dead as the rest of him, if he didn¡¯t get the hell out of there.

    ¡°How about you try to predict the future of this outcome, eh, Zachary?¡± Ichor dripped from the man¡¯s weapon.

    Zachary¡¯s heart jackhammered in his chest, but the prospect of it ceasing to beat altogether terrified him. He almost couldn¡¯t hear the man¡¯s words over the incessant thumping. The heart was an instrument, and the song it played was nothing short of a dirge.

    The manor of the Trickery Clan was suddenly illuminated by a crackle of lightning. The only sect Zachary had known all his life, the building he had spent countless hours working within.

    All a lie. The prophecies he predicted, the deals he made with hapless strangers, the grand promises of his own oracular powers.

    His executioner dangled him up by one arm, pulling down the cloth of his tunic.

    A colourless painting on his abdomen. There, at last, his Death-Mark was exposed for all the world to see.

    And in that moment, on the brink of a horrid death, the world was a very small thing to Zachary. Just him, these three men who longed for nothing more than to clobber him into a thick paste, and the long, uncaring night.

    ¡°What deceased god plagued you?¡± One of the men muttered. Zachary was too busy contemplating his own mortality to take notice of which. ¡°Ah, the late Rento. God of isolation.¡±

    After pouring over an endless array of history books, Zachary was very familiar with that name. The Isolation god had been killed early into the Celestial War, his withdrawn nature leading the deity into hiding. With no allies formed, no fighting spirit, and an ambush planned against him involving twenty or so gods . . . it was said not even a drop of his divine blood survived that fight.

    The remains of Zachary¡¯s mask clung to his face by blood and puss alone. It was a typical theatre mask, the tearful counterpart to a laughing face. It seemed very fitting for the sombre night.

    Despite what a disaster Rento¡¯s touch had made of his life, he too seemed like a fitting god, even to Zachary. Zachary himself was isolated in a sea of people. His loneliness was a crippling contradiction to the walking lie of his life. All his years amongst the Trickery Clan, he¡¯d never been able to fit in with his peers. They had loving families, for one thing. Doting mothers and strict fathers that never hesitated to shower their children with unconditional love. Zachary¡¯s parents loved him in a way, he had to admit, enough to allow him to hide his Death-Marked curse. But that was the extent of the warmth they extended to him. They acted less like relatives than acquaintances. He felt like a stranger to his own kin. Something they put up with, but they could never hide their resentment.

    Were Zachary to have been born into any other clan, disguising his fate never would have worked. Oracular powers, though, were something one could falsify, and though the weight of his guilt threatened to crush even his will to live, Zachary pressed on. He survived by fabrications, deceit, and false visions of the future that never saw the light of day.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    And on-one in his clan ever found out. His life was hard, but as long as he survived, Zachary sustained himself by the hope of a better future. But just like the visions he imparted upon his customers, Zachary was grasping onto a lie.

    His real future? The way things were progressing, there was only one outcome: six feet under. Not even granted the small mercy of a coffin.

    ¡°We at the Trickery Clan may not be the cleanest of sects, Zachary, but we are far from scam artists. You have brought shame upon your family. They¡¯re good people, Zachary. How on earth did they conceive a rodent like you?¡±

    The three men conversed for a moment. Then, with the solemn gravitas of an executioner, the man raised his truncheon.

    Zachary closed his eyes, and waited to die.

    He was left waiting.

    There was an eruption of vermillion light. Zachary suddenly was rejuvenated with the will to live.

    Because whoever had ever killed the three men of the Trickery Clan, would probably be able to provide Zachary with a much more painful death.

    Their bodies dropped to the ground, followed by their weapons only a moment later.

    A booming voice blasted through the clearing. Zachary scooped up the truncheon, edged backwards, and with grim determination, prepared to defend himself against an even deadlier foe.

    ¡°I thought that a clan named after trickery would be perfectly content with your behaviour.¡± That green light only intensified. ¡°What a shame they didn¡¯t appreciate your inventiveness. That¡¯s where I can come in.¡±

    Before Zachary could process what was happening, he found himself walking close to the source of the light. His leg had miraculously healed, but he was too entranced to notice.

    ¡°Yes, there we are. Come to me boy for a better life. Come to me . . . my noble paladin.¡±

    <hr>

    Faris never wanted to go down like this.

    The daunting scope of a minor court stretched out ahead of him. Faces stared out from rows starting at the very front of the chamber, and ending all the way back, where he had to squint to see. All waiting to see his downfall. Lustful at the thought of it.

    A chandelier up above provided enough light that he couldn¡¯t hide himself in the dark. Anywhere he looked, more faces scrutinised him. There would be no escape. No haven to be found amid his wrongful sentence. With his predicted rulings, emerging as a free man from prison was an impossible prospect. All Faris would be known for, all his legacy would amount to, was a life of crime.

    Curse the justice system of Heaven¡¯s Pinnacle. He never thought for a moment that living in the most civilised city on the planet would have its downsides. Now his privilege was coming back to bite him.

    Look at them all. A venomous hatred took hold of his brain. You¡¯re all monsters.

    Beyond all this grandeur, this veneer of law and justice, Faris could see the truth. Ethics were a flimsy excuse for people to live out their barbaric desires: to see a man executed. Laws too: a facade people hid behind, all so they could feel justified in letting an innocent man be slaughtered.

    Wolves. Everyone here were predators drooling at the mouth for the next kill. It made him sick.

    And Faris had simply been present at the scene of the crime. That was why, under the rule of joint enterprise, his entire life was being flushed out.

    It shouldn¡¯t have gone like this. He simply wished to work alongside his sect, the Matter Clan, in bringing about a new age of brilliant technology. Since he was a little boy, that had been his most pure desire. Seeing innovations like photographs had filled him with nothing but inspiration. Faris hadn¡¯t wanted anything to do with the coup.

    Faris thought he could see his dreams burning right before his eyes. His soul heard the finality of a match being lit, the intangible accumulation of his hopes and aspirations being used as kindling. His soul heard it burn, and dancing before his eyes, it seemed to taunt him.

    The chains that held him down, the same variety that were used in that Ambition Clansmen¡¯s trial, prevented his Mark from seeing any use. Otherwise, Faris was mightily tempted to call down the ceiling upon them all.

    Now that would be a way to die. Not left to rot in a cage for decades upon decades. Nothing to fill his days but squabbling inmates and the desperate sadness of solitary confinement.

    He was only a Foot-Soldier, due to serve his military enrollment that very year. He could handle himself. If it weren¡¯t for these chains . . . how much damage could he cause before someone finally put a bud in his life?

    It was a dangerous line of thinking. The kind that, at any other point in Faris¡¯ life, he would have been mortified to have. But today was different. Something was different. He wasn¡¯t sure what it was, or why it was, but it was like his own inner filters, his self-censorship, had all ceased to be. He was constantly on edge, and while that made perfect sense considering the situation, something didn¡¯t sit right with him.

    What kind of a man was he becoming?

    ¡°Faris of the Matter Clan.¡± A tall ambassador from the Justice Sect stared down at him imposingly, her hands planted on the podium before her. ¡°The jury has come to their decision. For conspiring with a coup to break the union of our twin cities, in a despicable ploy to tear Great Oasis and Heaven¡¯s Pinnacle apart, you have been determined to be . . .¡±

    This was utterly ridiculous. Being present while a few of his peers started a riot didn¡¯t exactly constitute, in Faris¡¯ opinion at least, a criminal sentence.

    The jury, however, didn¡¯t seem to agree.

    ¡°Guilty.¡±

    Faris hung his head in . . . not shame exactly. What was that feeling? That cocktail of emotion waiting to erupt to the surface? Suddenly, visions of tearing the judge to bloody shreds bombarded Faris, and he couldn¡¯t deny the vast satisfaction they provided him. Sure, he hadn¡¯t done anything as his friends killed more and more clansmen, making a pile of their corpses right between the two cities. The rendezvous point where the representatives of both Heaven¡¯s Pinnacle and Great Oasis often came to meet.

    The place was symbolic of generations of peace and prosperity.

    What? Was Faris wrong for finding a little disturbed joy in watching that symbol be bastardised? Was he morally suspect for not lifting a finger, as the death toll only grew?

    To that, Faris could only shrug. There was something infinitely entrancing about a flaming train crash, something about watching everything fall into chaos. Order turned into disorder.

    ¡°Considering the circumstances, Mr Faris, and particularly the fact witnesses spotted you laughing as your friends tortured innocents in that square, I think only one outcome can come from this trial.¡±

    By Faris¡¯ next breath, the Justice Clanswoman had disappeared from her stand. Faris looked up to where she was only inches away from his face.

    ¡°I can see into your guilty conscience, Mr Faris, or lack thereof, and what I see there is evidence enough. An execution is the only salvation I can offer you.¡±

    This was what they had all been waiting for. Faris couldn¡¯t help but cackle out madly as the rows of people stood up, cheering. Here it came, their moment of intoxication. The high they so longed for.

    Finally, they would get to see some blood.

    The woman drew out two matching daggers. A personalised set, by the looks of it. Faris knew his Ichor wouldn¡¯ be the first to stain that gleaming metal.

    Judge, jury, and executioner. That was what the Justice Clan was. This court system was merely for show. They held the real power. Faris was no more corrupt than them.

    Faris did nothing as she lowered her daggers; could only cringe as the tips pierced his chest.

    He didn¡¯t notice it, at first. A hand tapping at his shoulder.

    Did you want power?

    Time seemed to decelerate, pinpricks of pain erupting out of Faris¡¯ belly. Soon, entire avalanches of agony would befall him.

    Power. I could give you the strength to scatter this place, and everyone in it, to the littlest ashes. All you have to do is ask. You¡¯ll be one of us: one of my paladins.

    Faris¡¯ eyes widened. A stream of blood was spurting out of his chest now, pouring into the woman¡¯s eye, but she didn¡¯t appear to care.

    There are certain decisions in life that seem to change the entire course of your destiny. Routes that bend, curve, and ride through the maze of fate, sending you spiralling into an entirely new, unexpected direction.

    This was one of those moments.

    Yes, he thought amidst the pain. Yes, yes I do. I want your strength.

    There was a sound, like that of an angel falling from heaven, followed by a great bubbling of blazing emerald. A magical energy that dwarfed any power he¡¯d felt before.

    And Faris was going to drown himself in it. He raised both hands, allowing all of his lord¡¯s power to fester inside his body.

    He wondered whose screams he¡¯d hear first.

    <hr>

    Margaret couldn¡¯t stop the river of tears from cascading down her cheeks.

    ¡°You¡¯ve lost too many people in this needless war.¡± The cloaked man held out a hand, imploring Margaret to take it. ¡°I can feel your pain. Your agony sings to me. Let me cure you. Let me give you the might to protect those you care about. You won¡¯t ever have to feel this way again.¡±

    In the middle of her living quarters, this stranger was offering Maragaret the chance she was too scared to dream for. An escape from the perils of the Celestial War. Through an open window, she could eye a wild tempest of a rainstorm wreaking havoc on the Labour District of First Rite. He must have come through from there, but she couldn¡¯t imagine how he¡¯d have fitted.

    With a gloved hand, the mysterious man wiped a tear from her eye. ¡°There, there now. It¡¯s all going to be alright. You never have to lose anyone ever again. I¡¯ll make sure of that.¡±

    Margaret, despite her better sensibilities, rested her head against this stranger''s shoulder. He held her in his hands, as she bawled against the green of his cloak. He was only young, his jet black hair far from well groomed. But the aura he emanated . . . Margaret felt like she was in the hands of the oldest person in the universe.

    All of her children, all three of them, had travelled to the front lines. None of them had returned. All reduced to statistics for a war that didn¡¯t seem to be progressing. A war that had lost sight of its original objective.

    ¡°Gods and mortals . . . ¡° she spoke silently. ¡°We were the bad guys all along, weren¡¯t we?¡±

    It was like Margaret could hear the smile forming on his lips.

    ¡°You¡¯re starting to understand now, aren¡¯t you? Your children''s deaths were in vain, but that doesn¡¯t mean their memories have to be wasted. Become one of my paladins, be graced by the glory of nature¡¯s Unbounded, and I promise you, Margaret, you will never have to cry at the loss of a loved one again.¡±

    He held her hands, inching close to her face. There was nothing romantic about it ¡ª besides, he was far too young for Margaret¡¯s tastes ¡ª but Margaret felt drawn to this man.

    ¡°Will you join the cause?¡±

    A green light enveloped her mess of a room. Margaret felt as if the correct answer ¡ª the only answer ¡ª had been handed to her. ¡°Of course.¡±

 112. Ensnared

    Damion read over Remus¡¯ letter over and over again, until the words seemed permanently etched onto the back of his retinas. After his tenth reread, he glanced over nervously towards a door leading into an adjacent chamber. It was the largest room the Caprently Sect had to offer, even after their recent expansion following their newfound alliance with Remus¡¯ Ambition Clan.

    There, the entirety of the Carpentry Sect awaited their new sect leader, waiting to be inspired by words of confidence.

    Words Damion wasn¡¯t sure he could provide.

    Sect leader.

    A title like that being forced upon Damion, when he was hardly a Foot-Soldier. Even now, days after receiving the news, he shook his head in disbelief. Yet he was the strongest Ranked individual in the entire clan, and while many of the boys he¡¯d been training were beginning to near his level, the leadership position had fallen into his lap.

    His mother and father were always there to support him, Aiden and Briella making up the best parents in the world. But this was new territory even for them. He had to navigate all of this by himself.

    One more time, for good measure, he read over his brother¡¯s messy handwriting. Part of Damion lamented the fact he was yet to respond to any of Remus¡¯ letters. It wasn¡¯t as if he didn¡¯t wish to ¡ª it seemed to Damion like the most relaxing pastime imaginable. Yet he was so swamped with work that he could hardly find the time, especially with the pandemonium that had enveloped First Rite.

    Most days, Damion thought it was a miracle any of their clan was still alive.

    The windows of the sect had been bordered up, all candles put out so that Damion could only see by the faint glowing of his Mark. It made it seem like nobody at the Carpentry Clan was home. That meant, Damion hoped, that none of Damosh¡¯s lackeys would come running in. There would be more obvious victims to rush to first.

    But once all of those targets had been dealt with, searching would begin. Damosh wasn¡¯t in his right mind, likely never had been, but he would devise any excuse to execute someone. In his eyes, all of First Rite was conspiring against him.

    Which, if things were to continue as they were, he wasn¡¯t totally wrong about.

    Mutiny on the streets. A deranged King deadset against his own people, and, if the recent news was right, a mysterious cloaked figure, ushering people into some kind of cult; destruction following him everywhere.

    Rumours said that last figure was the newest Right-bearer. Enos¡¯ final generation. It was worldwide news by now. He hadn¡¯t exactly been keeping himself secret, but his behaviour had been utterly at odds with how every other Right-bearer acted. How Unbounded acted.

    Instead of simply killing every mortal he came across ¡ª though they did much of that ¡ª they were enlisting people. Some kind of pro-Unbounded force was being formed, and Damion didn¡¯t like that one bit. It didn¡¯t help that First Rite seemed to be some kind of hotspot for collecting members.

    With a deep breath, Damion swallowed down his pride, and passed through the door.

    Expectant eyes stared at him, even as he walked over to a dais. Gathered in this room, a couple hundred clansmen, was his entire sect gathered in one place.

    Andreas could not have left larger shoes to fill.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to cut to the chase.¡± Damion wasn¡¯t going to be the kind of ruler that wasted time with pleasantries and platitudes. ¡°We need to leave. Now.¡±

    Immediately, a wave of voices slapped Damion. In the crowd, he found his mother and father listening intently. He pretended that they were the only ones in the room, speaking solely to them.

    ¡°One problem with that: Divine Ground.¡± Damosh had already made it clear that he would chase anyone who dared to leave the city to the ends of the Earth. But there was the issue of leaving in the first place. ¡°We¡¯re hardly a combat-oriented sect, and those of you that have trained under me are hardly a large percentage. Even if we could fight, Damosh¡¯s manipulation of Divine Ground would ensure we never could. So where does that leave us?¡±

    Damion answered his own question before anyone else could. ¡°We sneak out.¡±

    Voices cut through the air, an endless swarm of panicked questions, weary inquiries, and other quarrels all overwhelming Damion. He looked at the crowd suspiciously. He was a very paranoid individual, hence why he could easily imagine a Wealth Clansmen listening in. A spy. But looking over the faces of his sect, all Damion saw were people he cared about. People he would have to protect, even if it would be the death of him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve sent letters to the Ambition Sect. It seems like Damosh hasn¡¯t been able to tap into our mail system yet. The Scholar Clan will fight until their last breath, until they let their services be corrupted. They¡¯ve agreed to help us escape.¡±

    A voice slipped through the cacophony of voices. Damion found its origin, and immediately recognised Levi. Even after a year, he was still a young boy.

    And still Remus¡¯ most adoring fan.

    ¡°Does that your brother is going to come to save us? I heard he was forming a rebellion against Damosh.¡±

    A unanimous cheer.

    ¡°I can¡¯t speak on Remus¡¯ behalf, and I have as much insight regarding those rumours as you all do. I don¡¯t entirely know what my brother is doing.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t a complete lie. Remus had mentioned it briefly in letters, but he kept the details vague. Probably because he knew Damion wouldn¡¯t approve. But after growing up with the boy so long, Damion had become a little desensitised to his brother¡¯s bad habit of constantly putting himself in mortal danger. At this point, a crusade against the king wouldn''t be out of the question for Remus. In fact, now that Damion took a moment to reflect on it . .  wasn¡¯t this the original intention Remus had, when departing from First Rite all those years ago? To end Damosh¡¯s tyranny?

    Damion supposed this was simply par for the course.

    ¡°The Ambition Clan will be providing the transport,¡± he continued. ¡°And we¡¯ll be leaving under the guise of business errands. Some trivial technicaltes, something that sounds complicated enough to be believable to the Wealth Clan. But, obviously, Damosh isn¡¯t going to buy that an entire clan suddenly is required for a business excursion. That is why-¡±

    He pulled back a curtain behind him. It showed a map of a series of tunnels, nondescript enough that you wouldn''t recognise what it was depicting at first sight.

    ¡°This is the route through the sewers some of us will be taking to leave. More likely than not, they¡¯ll be Wealth clansmen on post, but we¡¯ll be deep enough under the earth to be out of range of Divine Ground. I¡¯ve tested this route myself to confirm that fact.¡±

    Everyone fell silent, listening intently to every word he had to say. So this is what it felt like to have an entire sect relying on you.

    How had Andreas maintained his position for so many decades? Gods, how had the man been able to rise to Warlord Rank? It should have been impossible for their sect. But if that man could do it, with his blood flowing through Damion, he could grow in power too. He¡¯d have to become strong enough that he could look upon this entire room, filled to the brim with people, and with honest faith in his heart, be able to say that he¡¯ll protect them.

    But right now, he couldn¡¯t. ¡°Anyone who takes this route will be escorted by a few Ambition Clansmen and our combat-trained squadrons. I promise that we¡¯ll do the utmost to protect you, but I cannot understate the great risk involved.¡±

    Damion took a deep breath. ¡°It¡¯s a risky plan, but it¡¯s all we¡¯ve got. If enough of you agree to proceed, I¡¯ll start putting plans into motion. We could be out of here as soon as next Duration.¡±

    And, with that, Damion left without another word. He tried to channel out the millions of questions, praise, and jibes being flung his way.

    He sure hoped this ruling thing would get easier.

    <hr>

    Edmar stood passively in the corner of Damosh¡¯s throne room. He brought the third elixir of the day to his lips, savouring every last drop. Edmar felt bundles of power flow into every crevice of his body, instilling it with new rejuvenated strength, power, and Infinity. It was quite a pleasant experience.

    Especially with his view of Damosh. The man was clutching at his head, legs up to his chest, as he sat like a distressed child, on his golden throne. He rocked back and forth neurotically.

    If only the world could see their king now. How far the mighty Damosh had fallen.

    ¡°E-Edmar,¡± he spluttered. A purple liquid streaked down his cheek. ¡°My medicine. I need my medicine!¡±

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    A current of coins circulated around Damosh, poised to clobber Edmar if he did so much as disobey his King. Without raising an eyebrow at the threat, Edmar walked nonchalantly towards a tray on a small table. He picked it up, stirred the contents of his concoction together, before preparing to serve the King.

    There was a pitcher of his ¡®medicine¡¯, containing an entire Duration¡¯s worth of the mad king¡¯s cure. Instead of waiting for Edmar to pour out a serving into reasonably sized cups, Damosh grasped the pitcher, pouring the entire thing down his throat.

    By the time he was done, a look of euphoria possessed the Wealth Sect leader. The pitcher slipped from suddenly lazy fingers, smashing against the floor below. Edmar didn¡¯t bother picking up the pieces.

    ¡°Kill them all . . .¡± Damosh said, eyelids flickering closed. ¡°They all want to take my gold . . . they all want what they can¡¯t have.¡±

    Edmar remained where he stood, knowing the king wouldn¡¯t fall asleep yet. When he had first given Damosh the medication, he¡¯d been stricken with anxiety for the rest of the day, throwing chairs around the room, and killing anyone who approached with so much as an unbecoming frown. Servants were still trying to wash the Ichor out of the floorboards after that incident, even now.

    In reality, Edmar had been feeding Damosh poison for Passings now. But this wasn¡¯t a toxin of the body ¡ª no, no, no. This was a toxin of the mind.

    He began by simply slipping a few droplets into the man¡¯s drink, or cooking it into his food when the chefs weren¡¯t looking. It was just enough that Damosh would feel himself slipping, but still retain enough sanity to know there was a problem. Then Edmar began serving his King with a medicine to his ailments. Which was, in reality, a full dose of the stuff.

    Had Damosh retained any logic at all, it should have been so obvious that his right-hand man was behind this all. But his mind had decayed away under the influence of his daily serving of venom.

    Damosh suddenly awoke, teeth chattering as if he was deathly cold. For the next ten minutes, Edmar remained silent as the man repeated utter nonsense to himself.

    Then, the king finally said something of interest. ¡°Who could have let out my secret of Divine Ground Edmar? Who!¡± He shook back and forth on his throne frantically. ¡°Everyone hates me! Everyone wants to tear me limb from limb! But I won¡¯t let them!¡±

    To be perfectly honest, Edmar had never expected things to work out as well as they had. He thought that Damosh would simply become too incompetent to rule, so that a gang of God-Graced would kill him without trial.

    It wasn¡¯t a personal revenge, or the kind that Edmar most desired. But after his entire family had been slaves for hundreds of years, ever since Maso had been betrayed by his own brother, perhaps it was time for the downfall of the Wealth Clan.

    But this reality was nothing Edmar could have ever anticipated. First Rite was becoming just as bad as Hell¡¯s Floor, perhaps even worse. At least in that city, you could fight back against the pandemonium. Here, with Damosh¡¯s ironclad hold over Divine Ground, thousands were already dead, without even the free-will to defend themselves.

    Edmar was almost frightened of the monster he¡¯d created.

    ¡°You¡¯re the only one I can trust, Edmar. I think I¡¯m going-¡± he reached for another sip of medicine. ¡°Insane. If I die from this somehow-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t plague yourself with such terrible thoughts, my liege.¡± Edmar refilled the pitcher with more of the purple medicine. ¡°You still have a long and prosperous life ahead of you. Once we stamp the reeds out of First Rite, things will return to how they should be.¡±

    Damosh appeared consoled by Edmar¡¯s words, his eyes swooping down again as sleep befell him. The last thing he said before snoozing off made the hairs on Edmar¡¯s neck stand up: ¡°If I die . . . you¡¯ll be my successor.¡±

    Edmar had known this to be likely, ever since Damosh¡¯s demise became a growing possibility. With how many elixirs he had been downing, day in day out, using the finances of the Wealth Sect to fund his shortcut to power, Warlord wasn¡¯t far off. That would make Edmar the strongest in the clan, save for Damosh himself.

    King of First Rite. He took a moment to process that possibility. His bloodline of slaves would be transformed into royalty. It would be the greatest rags to riches story history had ever seen.

    Edmar exited the chambers, too deep in thought to take notice of the winding passages he took, into the heart of the Wealth Clan¡¯s tower. One side effect he¡¯d noticed from bingeing on elixirs was that he was starting to crave the stuff. Perhaps he was becoming addicted.

    It seemed like a small cost for power.

    After opening three locked doors, moving through an unlit passage he knew the way through by touch alone, and finally fumbling in the dark with one last lock, Edmar entered his most private room.

    It was no larger than a carriage, or a storage cupboard. The latter was a fitting description, with crates upon crates of poison and elixirs stacked to the ceiling. With a flare of his Mark, he summoned a golden wrench, prying open the nearest crate.

    From there, he retrieved a bottle of flowing, pink liquid. Popping off the cork, he downed the thing in three seconds flat. Sloppily, he wiped away the last drops, before letting out a sigh of relief. He¡¯d been getting the shivers. Two days without his fix seemed like the most he could bear ¡ª any longer, and Edmar feared he may become just as manic as Damosh. He went to grasp a second bottle, for good measure, of course, before something caused him to jump.

    A shadowy figure was leaning against the door. The only exit out of this very small, claustrophobic room. As Edmar¡¯s eyes adjusted, he saw a cloaked man resting lazily, regarding him with interest. Was that a smile he saw on those lips?

    ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± They said abruptly. ¡°Am I interrupting?¡±

    Edmar screamed. He extended both hands, and with all the power of his Mark, unleashed a whirlpool of summoned gold at the man. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure what happened next.

    His attack vanished, his gold nowhere to be seen, and with this intruder completely unscathed.

    The man was definitely smiling. Then Edmar recognised him.

    ¡°You?¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Ash raised an eyebrow. ¡°You know me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you around.¡± With the threat identified, at least, Edmar could breathe a little easier. Yet he was still feeling twitchy. Perhaps another sip of an elixir was in order . . .

    ¡°I¡¯ll get to the point, Edmar. I think you know I didn¡¯t come here for a quick tea and chat.¡± Ash pushed off against the door, and despite being a head shorter than Edmar, gave off an aura that did not match his age. There were no pupils in those eyes of his. He carried himself differently. Of course, Edmar had only caught glimpses of the boy occasionally, as he did his rounds across the city, and that had been years ago at this point. But Edmar had an excellent memory.

    He looked familiar enough to be recognised, but everything about Ash had been utterly altered. Down to the most minute details.

    ¡°So why did you come here?¡± Edmar asked. ¡°The aura I¡¯m getting off you,¡± his eyes widened as the pieces slid into place. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re the Unbounded that¡¯s been recruiting people?¡±

    Ash shrugged in resignation. Gods, the way this man could do the sublest action, and somehow convey murderous intent: it made even Edmar¡¯s palms clammy. Ash wanted Edmar to know he could kill him at any time. It was a constant game of intimidation. ¡°You¡¯re quick to catch on, aren¡¯t you? You know, I could use someone as sharp as you.¡±

    Edmar took a step back. Even in the face of danger, he couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°So that¡¯s what this is about? You want to recruit me? Sorry kid,¡± another tempest of gold coins spawned around Edmar, ready to be unleashed at any passing whim. ¡°You¡¯re starting to get on my nerves.¡±

    Why on earth Edmar had allowed a child to string him along so long, he had no clue. One more dead body on his conscience wouldn¡¯t mean a thing.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were so willing to die, Edmar. Shame. Enos has shown me the strings of your fate. You¡¯d really throw away your future kingship?¡±

    Edmar froze in place. ¡°What did you say?.¡±

    Ash cocked his head. ¡°Interested now?¡±

    After a moment¡¯s consideration, Edmar called back his golden attack. He didn¡¯t dismiss it, however. If at any moment, the urge to crush Ash returned, he could send this whole room tumbling down. It would likely destroy all of his poisons and elixirs, but with the entire vault of the Wealth Clan at his fingertips, the worst consequence would be a few withdrawal symptoms. He¡¯d only have to suffer for a couple days, before another bundle would be sent, via the black markets of the Trade Sect.

    ¡°So what¡¯s in it for me?¡± Edmar enquired. ¡°What, I become a lifeless drudge, existing only to serve you?¡±

    Ash placed a hand to his heart, as if Edmar¡¯s words had deeply hurt him. ¡°Is that what you think of me? All I¡¯m offering you Edmar is power! Power that will mean your ascent to the throne is virtually ensured. You¡¯d become one of my favourite paladins. You¡¯d receive more strength than any of my other men and women.¡±

    ¡°And in exchange?¡±

    ¡°. . . once you ascend to the throne, you agree to help the Paladins, any way you can.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s the goal of this little organisation of yours? The destruction of humanity, the death of the gods?

    Ash¡¯s silence was answer enough.

    Edmar¡¯s mind was reeling from this whole situation, and with the rush of adrenaline from an elixir added into the mix, he couldn¡¯t trust his own judgement. Not without a grain of salt, anyway. But if what Ash was promising was true, and if he really was in dealings with Enos, then there was no doubt about it.

    Edmar would become King.

    He could already feel Ash¡¯s influence pricking at his mind. Like pincers pressing into the grey matter of his brain. It was a sensation that planted seeds of caution within him. But even now, he could resist it. Perhaps it was the fact he was nearing Warlord, but maybe, just maybe, Edmar would be able to ignore the pull of Ash¡¯s influence. It was a risk., and he was entering Enos¡¯ domain by playing into his hand, but there was a very real chance he would be able to reject his status as one of Ash¡¯s ¡ª what was it again? ¡ª Paladins? When the time came, he could exploit Ash for his strength, and desert him during his last hour.

    It wasn¡¯t like the Paladins ever had a chance of fulfilling their desires. It was a fool¡¯s errand.

    Edmar gave one last weary glance towards Ash, part of him wondering if that was really a good idea. Maybe it was the thrill of becoming monarch, or the adrenaline pulsing through his bloodstream, or maybe even the fear that things might turn out wrong. Maybe it was all of those reasons and more, but whatever the case, Edmar extended out his arm.

    ¡°You have yourself a deal.¡± He donned his most affable smile.

    When Ash took his hand, Edmar steadied himself. A potent energy flooded through his body from their hold, and the world turned green.

 113. Sight For Sore Eyes

    Aziel admired Passings upon Passings of his hard work. The fruit of his labour made up several rows of rickety bookshelves. It was like visibly seeing an entire year¡¯s worth of sacrifice. Blood and tears put into physical form.

    He¡¯d taken every precaution to ensure no damage would come to the tombs he¡¯d accumulated. Thousands of yellowed, ageing pages were gathered here, and if any harm were to be done to them, Aziel would go mad with frustration. Each book contained invaluable records of techniques, all used at some point by Ambition Clansmen.

    Each god¡¯s subject of power had the potential to be manipulated in thousands upon thousands of techniques. However, most clans typically stuck with the most convenient, efficient handful. Aziel always thought that was a bit of a shame, but alas, in the heat of battle, your memory didn¡¯t lend itself to recalling hundreds of different abilities.

    After the utter disaster of the Pet-Keeper¡¯s attack, however, Aziel knew that the Ambition Clan would need all the power it could get its hands on. If anything like that were to ever occur again, more innocents may suffer the same fate as his mother.

    In her memory, he would do all he could to prevent such an outcome.

    One of the safety measures to protect the library was fire-resistance. With the help of Koa, whom he¡¯d paid handsomely in exchange for his service, Aziel had hand-writen each volume personally, utilising papyrus paper and leather that Koa had summoned himself. Apparently, Koa had used a similar technique when constructing a castle, during the battle of Maris¡¯ coronation. By Aziel showcasing his own blue Ambition flames, and the pair sparking up a standard-old fire with a flint and steel, Koa had developed a material resistant to both. Apparently the organic code for such a creation was terribly exhausting to make, so Koa had spent an entire day alongside Aziel, eating sugar and caffeine and pumping out page after page.

    But that wasn¡¯t Aziel¡¯s only protection. Far from it. Charms had been placed around the boundaries of the library. It was based on an ancient technique Aziel had only discovered as a result of his research. A ring of Tanish¡¯s energy encircled the building. If anyone passed the imperceptible line, Aziel would feel the intent of their own ambition. If they approached with dark desires, wishing to bring harm to the place, or misuse the valuable information inside, Aziel would be the first to know.

    This was just one example of how creative you could be with your techniques. Aziel was in the process of enveloping the entire Ambition Clan base with the very same wards, only on a larger scale.

    Was he paranoid? Were some books really worth this much protection? In Aziel¡¯ eyes, in the current world they lived in, you could never be too safe.

    Especially with how powerful some of his discoveries had been. He was practically jumping on the balls of his feet with excitement, ready to share his findings the very second he was finished testing them out.

    That was the real value of the library: it would bring a new age of power to their clan, at a time where it was sorely needed. Trekking through old ruins, searching libraries dotted all across the world, and speaking to some of the oldest beings on Descent had all come to this.

    Aziel finched, as someone crossed his boundary. He was prepared to rev his Mark into action, as he sensed the desires of the approaching man. But then he paused. The wishes that he felt . . . their intent was to meet with someone, to share news. Aziel allowed himself a sigh of relief, cursed his anxiety-ridden self, and stormed out of the building.

    He couldn¡¯t help but grin at the man he saw, waiting outside.

    ¡°Tanguy!¡± He offered the man a bright smile. Aziel launched into the manliest bear hug the world had ever seen, before taking a step back with boisterous laughter. ¡°Good to see you old friend. What brings you here?¡±

    Tanguy had grown out some facial hair since Aziel had last seen him. Yet he still rocked the traditional buzzcut of his clan, making the growing whiskers of his chin appear more like a lack of personal grooming, rather than a fashion statement. He must have been too busy travelling.

    ¡°I have business matters to discuss with you, old friend, but it would be rude of me to jump into that straight away. I brought some food with me ¡ª why don¡¯t we share a meal?¡±

    Aziel¡¯s stomach rumbled in response.

    Less than five minutes later, the pair of them were seated in the Ambition Clan¡¯s public canteens.

    ¡°I hoped the Shifting treated you well,¡± Aziel said, between bites of beef and apple sauce, ¡°many a traveller get lost in there for Durations. Or never return.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not my first rodeo through this place. I¡¯ve been all around Hybrid the last Rebirth. Political matters, mostly. I¡¯m representing the Flame Sect, trying to get back our footing after the base in Territory One was marred beyond recognition.¡±

    Aziel stopped eating. ¡°I hate how everything seems to be getting destroyed nowadays.¡± He took a tentative nibble, his appetite suddenly vanishing. ¡°Maybe I was too naive to notice before, but it''s like the whole world we live in is hanging by a thread. Was it always this bad?¡±

    ¡°Likely.¡± Tanguy didn¡¯t seem up for eating anymore either. ¡°But things are definitely getting worse. I don¡¯t know, maybe I¡¯m too pessimistic.¡±

    The two finished their meal in heavy silence.

    Tanguy took a stand. ¡°Come for a walk with me. I suppose I can¡¯t delay the real reason I came here any longer.¡±

    The pair walked circles around Aziel¡¯s boundary ¡ª or at least, as much as he¡¯d laid out. It was a complicated technique, and it would be many moons before he finished the defences.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get to the point Aziel, the Flame Sect is in need of friends. Everyone is eager to pick the bones of the Flame Sect like ravens to a corpse. Do you think Brison would be up for an alliance?¡±

    Aziel stopped in his tracks. ¡°You¡¯d have to call an audience with him. But . . . ¡°

    ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame, but I don¡¯t think we¡¯re in any position to make such dealings. The Elemental Pact and Animalistic Accord, like any earthly alliance, are wary of one group growing too powerful. Our union with the Carpentry Clan was unprecedented, and while we¡¯re on decent terms with all sects of Hybrid, many people are still up in arms about the whole thing. I doubt Brison would dare push his luck any further.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. I knew as much before coming here.¡± Tanguy gazed into the lazy afternoon sky, his expression grave. ¡°I suppose most alliances don¡¯t mean much nowadays. Look at what happened between Juniper and Maris last year, both part of the Elemental Pact. It¡¯s more like the ability to pick and choose when your friend or foe, rather than a mutual friendship.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be too cynical, Tanguy. Those are just the major godly alliances. Minor partnerships, like ours with the Carpentry Clan, are the real deal.¡±

    ¡°I suppose when you have someone like Remus in your midst, to unite both groups, things are a lot simpler.¡± Tanguy¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Is that-?¡±

    Cresting a hill, illuminated by a blazing sunset, the hazy image of a hundred or so people nearing the Ambition Clan sent gooseflesh running down Aziel. His heart jumped into his throat, but after a second¡¯s panic, all his fear ran dry.

    ¡°Speak of the devil-¡±

    ¡°And he shall appear before you.¡±

    Remus grinned toothily.

    Aziel wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to think, as Remus sauntered towards him, about one hundred or so nondescript clansmen followed at his heed. Before he could place names on any people he recognised, Remus launched into a hug.

    ¡°Good to see you, my man.¡± Remus wouldn''t stop smiling, offering Tanguy his embrace too. To think that only years ago, the two had been beating each other bloody. Now Tanguy couldn¡¯t have looked more pleased to greet their new arrival.

    ¡°I would have messaged.¡± Remus stretched lightly, a drop of sweat sweeping down his brow after a long walk. ¡°But apparently the Scholar Sect isn¡¯t a fan of travelling through the Shifting.¡±

    Finally, Aziel had the chance to recognise the others. Violet, and Veida. He didn¡¯t have the slightest clue who the rest of the clansmen were, but they appeared amiable enough. Each of them gazed around at the sect in wonder, like children in a sweetshop.

    ¡°How long did it take to get here?¡± Aziel asked.

    ¡°He somehow tracked this place down in a matter of days.¡± Veida approached, sounding awfully impressed.

    ¡°It¡¯s easier when you trace the energy of the Ambition Clan via Tanish¡¯s Mark. The first time I was searching this place down . . .¡± Remus scowled, ¡°not so pretty.¡±

    ¡°Remus,¡± Tanguy glanced warily at the dozens of clansmen. ¡°Who are all of these people?¡±

    ¡°Oh, these?¡± Remus mimed ignorance, as if he hadn¡¯t noticed the group tagging along. Yet Aziel had known him enough to spot the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips. ¡°This is just my rebellion.¡±

    Aziel and Tanguy let their mouths hang wide.

    Violet appeared out of nowhere, whacking Remus on the shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t act so high and mighty with your big reveals.¡±

    ¡°Ow! That hurt.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Remus couldn¡¯t have looked happier to have been hit. Aziel could not get a feel of what was going on between these two. But they seemed joyful, and that was all that really mattered.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get straight to it: I¡¯m going to take down Damosh if it¡¯s the last thing I do. I came here because I¡¯m currently gathering forces. Maybe a little selfish of me, but it¡¯s for a good cause. Besides,¡± Remus spoke in dark tones, ¡°I haven¡¯t heard back from Damion in Passings. I¡¯m starting to fear the worst.¡±

    Aziel and Tanguy glanced at each other.

    ¡°Remus, when was the last you heard of your brother?¡± Aziel asked.

    Remus shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s hard to keep track, but ever since Damosh went berserk ¡ªwhat, three Passings ago? ¡ª I haven¡¯t heard the slightest thing.¡±

    ¡°Gods, you don¡¯t know?¡±

    Remus'' face dropped. ¡°Don¡¯t know what?¡±

    ¡°Come with us. We should meet with Brison and discuss what¡¯s transpired. All shall be revealed then.¡±

    After a second¡¯s hesitation, memories of his last dinner with Maris, he called his men over, and followed on.

    Closing in on them from all angles, the mountainous terrain around the Ambition Clan hadn¡¯t changed a smidge, barely out of range of the Shifting. It was as if the rocky surroundings were embracing the base with a warm hug, like benevolent behemoths of nature. He didn¡¯t know how well they¡¯d hold against a real attack, but it was comforting to know they had some kind of barricade.

    Even if it hadn¡¯t made a hair of difference against the Pet-Keeper, or the Wild Clan. Remus retreated his attention away from those darker alleys of his mind.

    Remus¡¯ eyes caught onto the Gallery, where the finger from the deceased giant Unbounded, Styrmir, was in its final resting place. How much had changed since first stepping foot here, instantly greeted with a personal rendezvous with Tanish.

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    But he wasn¡¯t running away anymore. This time, Remus would face his enemies head-on. And Damosh had better be scared ¡ª for there was nothing in this world that would delay Remus¡¯ arrival.

    Violet picked up her pace, moving beside him. The scent of warm food pervaded through the air, and Remus had to stop himself from drooling.

    ¡°Hungy, are you?¡± She smirked.

    ¡°I¡¯m a growing boy, let a man eat.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re hardly a boy anymore, don¡¯t throw me that excuse.¡± She looked back at the clansmen at their tails. ¡°Though your men certainly look hungry. Those guys have Feast Clansmen at hand every second of the day, and they somehow never get full.¡±

    Remus was about to state that they deserved an appetite, after walking miles upon miles each and every day, only to notice their awe-inspired gazes. They were regarding the Ambition Clan around them, from the recently erected buildings, to the snowy pinnacles of the mountainside, all as some kind of mythical landmark. The stuff of legend.

    For this was the place where Remus, Death-Marked of the Carpentry Clan, had first ascended to power.

    ¡°What do you think about our legendary status?¡± Remus said quietly.

    ¡°It¡¯s strange, I¡¯ll give you that. But I prefer it to getting called a monster.¡±

    Remus paused. ¡°It must have been hard for you. I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t there these last twelve Passings. Though I¡¯m not sure if I could have provided the best moral support, considering the state I was in.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t stress it. Some things we have to deal with by ourselves. I¡¯m at peace.¡±

    A few minutes of peaceful walking led them to Brison, sat on his throne, and conversing with an Ambition Clansman. One who it took Remus only a second to recognise: Edmund. Memories flashed through Remus¡¯ mind, and with vivid detail, he recalled saving the man from the Wild Sect, upon his return to a seized Ambition Clan.

    Likewise with Brison, he carried himself regally. After the death of Edmund¡¯s sister, Sibyl, Remus hadn¡¯t been able to look Edmund in the eye, man to man, friend to friend. But now the whole world had been showered with loss, grief, and the terrible pain of losing someone close to you. Such was a ubiquitous pain. It no longer felt like a touchy subject ¡ª more akin to a rite of passage of life.

    Edmund and Brison were amid a heated discussion. Remus came to a stop, not wanting to interrupt, nor wishing to eavesdrop. The latter proved particularly difficult to avoid, with how loud the two were speaking.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my liege, but we need to send our forces very soon. At dawn, by the latest. Our alliance with the Caprenty Clan relies on it.¡±

    Remus threw away any intention to preserve their privacy. The Carpentry Clan? Was Damion in danger?

    ¡°Dangerous. Far too dangerous.¡± Brison shook his head, his physique as massive as always, as veins bulged in his meaty neck. There were indents made by fingerprints in the stone arm of his chair. Brison squeezed tight on that exact spot. ¡°When I agreed to this mission, I didn¡¯t realise how great the risk would be. Damosh is not a force to be reckoned with, if we fail, he could send a great force of Wealth Clansmen to enslave us!¡±

    ¡°Again, excuse my bluntness, Brison, but I think you have become paranoid. Damosh does not have the resources to send out such an attack; he¡¯s hardly keeping a hold on his city as it is.¡±

    At last, Remus harrumphed into a fist. It may have come across as a little rude, but not nearly as impolite as allowing this private meeting to continue in his presence. ¡°Excuse me for interrupting, Brison. I have just arrived, and I bring news, and a proposal. Though it sounds to me as if there is another matter I must address?¡±

    Brison¡¯s neck snapped to Remus. His eyes widened at the sight of the boy. ¡°Remus! You¡¯ve arrived just in time. And I can see you brought quite the display of manpower with you . . .¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to see you too, my liege. Don¡¯t fear, these men are all with me. You said something concerning the Carpentry Sect? Excuse me if I¡¯m overstepping, but I have not heard from them in some time. Is everything okay back there?¡±

    Remus eyed Tanguy and Aziel from the corner of his eyes. The way they were looking at each other, it was as if they were asking: does he really not know?

    ¡°I detest being the bearer of bad news Remus, but things do not seem to be going well for our sister sect. They have requested a number of Ambition Clansmen to travel to First Rite, to help escort them out of there unnoticed, through the city''s sewers. Their Sect Leader, Damion, made it sound imperative, but I¡¯m concerned with the technicalities of such a mission. I do not wish to bring down Edmar¡¯s wrath on-¡±

    Remus had stopped listening at the mention of his brother¡¯s name. More importantly, the title associated with it. ¡°Hold your horses . . . my brother is sect leader?¡±

    Brison raised both eyebrows. ¡°You weren¡¯ aware?¡±

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t taken the time to respond to my letters . . .¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the most highly-ranked in the clan overall, a close relative to the past sect leader, and quite competent with the combat-style Andreas specialised in. It seemed like an obvious choice.¡±

    When put like that, it did seem obvious. But Damion as sect leader. He was happy for his brother, glad to know it was someone who he could trust spearheading their clan. But it seemed so utterly at odds with reality. Like a running gag, or inside joke rather than something concrete; something real.

    Though it wasn¡¯t like Remus could take the position, not that he particularly wanted it. He still liked to consider himself a proud member of the Caprenty Clan, but the Mark glowing on shoulder and trailing down his arm spoke otherwise. No, this was the only way.

    Regardless, it rubbed Remus the wrong way to think that Brison was hesitating to assist his clan, in a time of great peril. Wasn¡¯t the entire point of their alliance to assist each other? The Carpentry Clan had rebuilt the Ambition base from the ground up, and while they had been rewarded handsomely for their efforts, it ticked Remus off to see that Brison was hesitating to repay the favour.

    ¡°I¡¯ll personally see that the Carpentry Clan gains the help they need. It would strengthen our alliance if you sent a team out, but I can use my own men if needs be.¡±

    It was somewhat passive aggressive, and Remus hated to come across as rude to Brison. But something was definitely off about the man. Where was the stoic, reliable, quiet beast of a man he once knew?

    Finally, Brison seemed to realise the error of his ways. Blood rushed to his cheeks, and he quickly looked away. ¡°Forgive me Remus. I¡¯ll make it my most urgent objective to see that your people receive the help they need. I have not been holding up my weight as part of this alliance, and for that, I am sorry.¡±

    And with that, Remus could breathe a little easier. ¡°Thank you. I would have written to announce my arrival, but with the Speed Clan no longer able to send letters, and the Scholar Sect not exactly keen to traverse through the Shifting, the best I could do was send a messenger bird. I suppose it didn¡¯t arrive in time.¡±

    For some reason, the blood drained from Edmund¡¯s face. Was it something Remus had said? Brison remained silent for the most uncomfortable few seconds of Remus¡¯ life.

    ¡°What kind of bird?¡± Brison asked.

    ¡°A sparrow.¡± Violet walked closer. ¡°It¡¯s the messenger bird Veida and I use to message one another when apart. Why do you ask?¡±

    Was that tension that Remus could smell, brewing in the air?

    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, lassy,¡± Brison avoided her eyes. ¡°I instructed my archers to shoot down anything that came from the outside. You can never be too safe.¡±

    The wind roared in Remus¡¯ ears. The grass at his feet brushed against the leather of his shoes, and the entire world seemed to take in a shaky breath.

    If reality was made out of glass, Violet sure as hell shattered it. ¡°You what?¡±

    ¡°Look Violet, it¡¯s nothing personal. You¡¯re aware of the times we live in. A little caution is necessary.¡±

    ¡°A little caution?¡± Veida put Violet¡¯s ire to shame. ¡°What do you think a bird was going to do?¡±

    ¡°Scout out our location in the Shifting! Report back to any number of would-be attackers!¡± Brison slammed his fist against the arm of his chair. ¡°I will not allow a repeat of the Wild takeover of our clan.¡±

    Remus was about to ask how a bird could ¡®report back¡¯, when Violet exploded.

    ¡°For the leader of the Ambition Sect, you¡¯ve grown cowardly in your old age.¡± Violet was playing with fire, and she knew it. ¡°You¡¯re losing your hold on reality.¡±

    Edmund gulped, Tanguy and Aziel grimaced, and even Remus had to tense.

    Brison stomped a foot, a blast of sand, wind, and rocky shrapnel reverberating all around. Remus had to dig hit feet into the ground so as not to be propelled backwards.

    ¡°I will not be spoken to this way!¡±

    Remus grabbed Violet¡¯s arm, half-whispering, half-shouting. ¡°This is a Warlord we¡¯re dealing with. Brison is a good man, he¡¯s just been going through a rough patch. Like we all are.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a Warlord too Remus.¡± She pulled her arm away, the motion making Remus¡¯ heart sting. ¡°Don¡¯t doubt my capabilities.¡±

    For a second, Violet and Brison were engaged in a western-style staredown. Aziel, Tanguy, Koa, Octavia, even Veida ¡ª each of them shifted slightly where they stood, watching out for the breakout of a brawl.

    Damn it, damn it, damn it.

    Remus could not afford to start a feud against Brison. It would upset everything he¡¯d put into motion. His men didn¡¯t deserve to be dragged into unnecessary battles either. Besides, his brother needed help, and by the sounds of it, desperately.

    He walked in front of Violet. ¡°Please Violet. We can¡¯t be doing this.¡±

    She didn¡¯t look away. ¡°He killed Pippin.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s just scared Violet. Like we all are. Brison is a good person. He welcomed us into the Ambition Sect like family.¡±

    The air trembled with power, with both Brison and Violet ready to open the floodgates with but a flare of their Marks. The question was: who would shoot first?¡±

    Still, Violet said nothing.

    ¡°Violet, don¡¯t make me get on my knees and beg. If not for Brison, do this for me.¡±

    That seemed to get through to her. The tension physically faded from the air as Violet dispelled any techniques she had been prepared to unleash. The look she shot Remus was venomous. ¡°You owe me.¡±

    With that, Violet teleported off. A second later, Veida followed in her footsteps. Koa and Octavia took the moment to disperse the rest of the rebellion. Quite frankly, they had seen enough.

    For a second, nobody uttered a word. Remus glanced from the empty space where Violet had once been, to the wary visage of Brison. He had never become too close to Pippin, but he appreciated the messenger bird for all it had done for them. Yet, for Violet, the sparrow had meant infinitely more to her. Pippin served as an escape for Violet: an ability to confide in someone who understood her Unbounded dilemma, back when it was still a global secret. Without the ability to report to Veida, things would have been a far harder struggle. For that haven to be destroyed, in a way, represented the end of all that. Now stood by Remus was a version of Violet that was free to be scrutinised by anyone, and everybody that inhabited Descent, with so much as access to the news. Her existence alone was a frequently debated topic in the newspapers. Many saw her better off as dead, and didn¡¯t hesitate to be vocal with that view.

    No wonder it had hit her so hard.

    Tanguy and Aziel went as rigid as stone. The rebellion alongside them paused in their tracks, perhaps worried they had another battle with a sect leader on their hands.

    ¡°It seems like we¡¯ve had a little misunderstanding.¡± Remus cleared his throat. Things were more complicated than that, but to hell with it. He knew Brison ¡ª he was a good man at heart, he had to be. ¡°I hope we can continue this discourse in a civil manner.¡±

    Brison took a deep breath. ¡°Yes, yes. But her words I fear ring true Remus. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll become as deranged as Damosh if I don¡¯t get a hold of myself. What has happened to me?¡±

    Nobody answered. Watching Brison hold his head in his hands, it was like seeing one of his idols fall from grace.

    ¡°You¡¯re not like Damosh. You¡¯re nothing like that scoundrel.¡± Remus took a few steps towards Brison. Edmund and a few guards tensed, but made no move to stop him. ¡°My rebellion here, the Talents of the Future, we¡¯re going to put a stop to the turmoil in First Rite if it¡¯s the last thing we do.¡±

    Brison lifted his head. ¡°By what means?¡±

    ¡°By whatever means it takes.¡±

    The Warlord tapped the arm of his chair.

    ¡°Tell me Remus, why did you come here? Really?¡±

    Remus clenched a fist, conviction bleeding into each syllable that escaped his mouth. ¡°I want to gather forces, Brison. These are dangerous times. I don¡¯t require your assistance, I¡¯ll be striking down First Rite alone, if that¡¯s what it takes to prevent the city from becoming a bastion of corruption. But your help, or any clansmen that see eye-to-eye with me in this matter, would be welcomed with open arms.¡±

    Aziel walked up gingerly. ¡°If I may, your liege, I do believe Remus will soon attract quite the large attack force. It wouldn¡¯t be too great a risk to allow our men to join.¡±

    Brison considered all this. A great hammer leant against his legs, almost identical to the variety he¡¯d used against the Pet-Keeper during that initial skirmish. Remus had to wonder: was that the encounter the first falling domino in what would be Brison¡¯s undoing? Now his fingers brushed against its handle, as if he was searching for reassurance.

    ¡°Show me . . .¡± Brison said slowly. ¡°Show me that you can make a difference. That you''re more bite than bark.¡±

    Remus cocked an eyebrow. ¡°How exactly?¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow, fifty of your best troops will face off against fifty of mine. I suspect that Violet will be fighting, so to level the battlefield, I¡¯ll be participating too. Two Warlords should even things out, leaving the Emblazed and Foot-Soldiers to fight fairly.¡±

    Edmund¡¯s face blanched, and Remus felt the contents of his stomach performing all sorts of intricate dances. Brison fighting against Violet. This would be her chance to see if she really could stand toe-to-toe to a Warlord.

    Violet had taken down far greater foes in the past, but that was always with the assistance of those around her. On her own, just how strong was Violet really? Remus¡¯ body squirmed, as if in memory of the beating she¡¯d inflicted upon him.

    ¡°A friendly match? Simple competition? Nothing more?¡± Remus sounded redundant, but he had to make sure.

    Brison pursed his lips before answering. ¡°As friendly as a bloodbath can be. As long as no-one dies, or is seriously hurt, I will not intervene with how our soldiers decide to fight.¡±

    His audience with the Warlord promptly ended. Perspiration forming currents down his body, Remus glanced over to Tanguy and Aziel.

    The look he gave them was the equivalent of screaming for help, but there was nothing they could do.

 114. Smackdown

    Aziel paced back and forth in front of Remus, the way he was biting down on his finger not exactly reassuring. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry Remus. Brison, he means well, I promise. Times are just wearing down on him. He¡¯s always had this complex about not being able to advance to God-Graced. And now, after his sect was taken over, and how, without you, he was helpless to stop it ¡ª not to mention the rest of the war against the Right-bearers ¡ª he¡¯s become a nervous wreck.¡±

    Tanguy, Remus, Koa, and Octavia were seated in Aziel¡¯s chambers. The rest of his men were enjoying themselves in some cabins Brison had allowed them to occupy. Little did his men know they¡¯d be fighting their benefactor soon enough.

    Alongside Koa and Octavia, some Ambition guards had taken the initiative of ushering away his men after Violet¡¯s outburst. Now Remus found himself boundlessly indebted to them. As they said, ignorance was bliss. He needed to devise some kind of indiscriminate selection process to pick who would be fighting. A series of friendly bouts was the best he could think of, but that would risk draining their energy before the fight even began. Or maybe it would place them in the right frame of mind? He wasn¡¯t sure, his own mind too scrambled to think clearly.

    ¡°There¡¯s something you should know, Remus.¡± Aziel cut through his reverie.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°The past year, I¡¯ve been collecting techniques. I now have a library of any ability you could ever dream of using Ambition to create. There¡¯s one ability in specific I¡¯ve taught to our clan, and it could very well determine the outcome of this battle.¡±

    Remus was on the edge of his seat. ¡°Yes? What is it?¡±

    Koa turned grave. ¡°You don¡¯t mean-¡±

    ¡°Yes. United in Strife.¡±

    Remus stared blankly at them both. The ability didn¡¯t ring a bell. It could be a technique strong enough to topple gods and build civilisations, and he wouldn''t have the slightest clue. ¡°How does it work?¡±

    ¡°The idea of the technique is to resonate with the Ambition of those around you. Your desires, collectively, propel one another.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°It means that members of the Ambition Clan can significantly increase their power when fighting in a group. The phrase ¡®power in numbers¡¯ taken literally. Which is great and all, but I may have made the shortsighted decision to teach it to the entire clan. When facing against fifty or so Ambition clansmen, all working together, power resonating like an orchestra with them as the instruments, you¡¯ll have your work cut out for you.¡±

    Koa brought a palm to his cheek. ¡°When I helped Aziel build this library, I thought something like that would be dangerous in the wrong hands. I could never have foreseen this though, not in a million years.¡±

    Remus opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. In any other circumstance, he would have been over the moon at discovering such an ability; delighted. By the sounds of it, it was truly something formidable. The ace in the hole the Ambition Clan so desperately needed to defend themselves. Hell, it would even help out the rescue mission of the Carpentry Sect. Something he had neglected to learn the date of, or any other details, for that matter. The fact irked at Remus, but had more pressing affairs to attend to.

    The downside of the ability felt too crushing to ignore: his men were going to be utterly overwhelmed. ¡°Is there some kind of downside? Does it drain more resources?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s so powerful about the technique. I haven¡¯t found a weakness yet.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°Great.¡± Octavia crossed all of her spindly limbs. ¡°So how much stronger will our opponents be?¡±

    Aziel fidgeted. ¡°With fifty or so clansmen, I¡¯m thinking . . . maybe double their original power?¡±

    Tanguy stood stoically, looking out of a nearby window. They were all gathered in the guest chambers of the clan, and despite the exquisite work of the Carpentry Sect to erect these buildings so quickly, the interior was drab.

    After a dragging silence, Aziel came to a decision. ¡°Come with me. I¡¯m going to show you all the library. We¡¯re going to need every advantage we can get. And for you, Remus,¡± he shot him a sharp look, ¡°I have something specific in mind. Something that might make you powerful enough to challenge weak Splintered Ranks all by yourself.¡±

    Remus blinked. He wondered what the strongest foe he could handle was, but didn¡¯t wish to die to find out.

    Aziel led the way, and the Ambition Sect was a world split in twain. Half of the residents seemed perfectly content, whistling as they went about their days. His rebellion mingled with the locals, and Remus even espied three of his men singing merrily, their cheeks flushed, frothy alcohol splashing at their feet. He couldn¡¯t muster the will to get angry at them. Let them be happy. He didn¡¯t want to pop their bubble before the news got out.

    Remus had once heard that a picture was worth a thousand words. His thoughts mirrored that sentiment, examining the looks on the rest of the people gathered there. Amongst them were the guards that had been present when Brison announced the duel. Edmund stood outside the bar Remus had spotted his men departing from, eyebags so bad his skin was permanently tainted purple.

    He nodded at Remus, expression grave. Remus had to wonder . . . would they be facing against each other?

    Aziel finally stopped outside a rickety looking building, one that immediately juxtaposed the spartan, but distinctly new structures that dominated the rest of the space.

    ¡°This building survived the fight against the Pet-Keeper.¡± Aziel explained. ¡°I thought it would be fitting for the contents of this place. This is the oldest building we have ¡ª other than the Gallery ¡ª and now it houses our oldest secrets. A match made in heaven.¡± He opened a mahogany door, dust billowing off. ¡°Now I¡¯m going to expose them for you.¡±

    Remus entered, following along a few steps behind. Immediately, he could tell by his spiritual senses alone that this place was heavily guarded. Aziel had left no stone unturned when protecting this place.

    Something stirred in Remus. He put a hand on Aziel¡¯s shoulder, as the rest of the group took in the expansive interior. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask. How have you been coping . . . you know, without Hansley?¡±

    He felt the muscle of Aziel¡¯s shoulder tense. ¡°I think about her everyday.¡± His voice was only a whisper. ¡±Without fail. It¡¯ll probably be the same for the rest of my life.¡±

    ¡°It feels like I can¡¯t go ten minutes without seeing Andreas'' face.¡± Remus hadn¡¯t admitted that before. But he knew Aziel would understand. ¡°It¡¯s gotten a little easier. It¡¯s still hard though.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m an orphan now. I never really knew my dad before he died from his war injuries.¡± The walls around the two fell away. Nothing else existed. Just Remus and Aziel, drifting through the abyss. ¡°Everyone tells me I look just like him. I¡¯ve got his looks and my mother¡¯s kindness, apparently.¡±

    ¡°They live on with you. All of the people we lost, we carry their wishes, their passions, their hope for a better future. Nobody¡¯s ever truly lost.¡±

    Aziel nodded. ¡°That¡¯s beautiful. I¡¯m sorry about your great grandfather. The sacrifice he made . . . he helped lead us towards that better future you speak of. I don¡¯t care if it takes a thousand years to get there, to finally achieve peace amidst all this war, all this fighting between gods, mortals, and monsters. If we just carry the flame of hope forward, one day we can put an end to all of this.¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t know what to say in response to that. Aziel had caught up with the rest of their group before he could think of anything. ¡°Alright guys, it can be overwhelming when you first step foot in here, I know, so let me explain some things . . .¡±

    The place was only the size of a large living room, but not a square inch of space had been wasted. Remus couldn¡¯t find a centimetre of wall not used, all hidden behind row after row of bookshelves. Each corner had its own moving ladder that reached six feet up. None of the shelves were completely full, but it was awfully impressive.

    ¡°Did you write all of this? By hand?¡± The Scholar Sect had developed a printing press, but that invention was new enough to only be accessible by the richest of society. ¡°There¡¯s no way you could have done this all within a year.¡±

    ¡°Some of the books were prewritten, and most are just notes bound together. A significant portion however, was written by me, alongside a few trusted clansmen.¡±

    ¡°Impressive nevertheless.¡± That was the first compliment Remus had heard escaping Octavia¡¯s lips. Aziel had earned it.

    Remus¡¯ imagination ran wild, his eyes roving over the literary buffet. He wanted to become a hermit, and dedicate the next few Passings to quiet, solitudinous reading. With such a thorough understanding of his domain of power, Remus could push Tanish¡¯s Mark to the very limit of its capabilities. If he couldn¡¯t ascend to Splintered Rank anytime soon, this struck him as the next best thing. But Remus¡¯ mind didn¡¯t stop there: what if the entire Ambition Clan became just as well-read? They would become the equivalent of a warrior race, equipped with a plethora of techniques at their fingertips, while most clans only dedicated themselves to a select few.

    ¡°I never want to leave this place.¡±

    Aziel cackled in delight. ¡°I thought you¡¯d say as much. You can read all you want when we win this fight, but first of all, it¡¯s about time I show you that little surprise I mentioned.¡±

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Intrigued, Remus followed close behind. ¡°Think of this as a reward, or gift from the clan for all you¡¯ve done for us. I know you won¡¯t take it under any other circumstance, so I¡¯m forcing it upon you.¡±

    Remus looked blankly at a red curtain. The contours of something poked against the thin material, leaving Remus to speculate endlessly on what it could be. Two flat surfaces, angled upwards, pressed through the curtain below eye-level.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    Aziel pulled at a rope to the side, before stretching both arms out like a budding salesman. ¡°Ta-da! What do you think?¡±

    Audible gasps followed Remus¡¯ own.

    Again, he found himself at a loss for words. ¡°It¡¯s . . . It¡¯s-¡±

    It was a suit of armour. But that was like calling Damosh a bad guy. It got the message across, but lost the depth that really mattered.

    Remus recognised the material of the armour in one breath. Infirnite. A resource he hadn¡¯t laid hands on in so long. It seemed perfectly crafted to match his measurements, with the reddish crystal glimmering no matter the angle he looked at it from, or despite the lack of light. Horn-like protrusions stuck out on the surfaces he now recognised as shoulder plates. The armour was paradoxical in how weightless it appeared, being more akin to light armour than the heavier equipment often put on sale by smithies. And yet it could most definitely take a punch, and a few mean ones at that.

    ¡°It¡¯s an alloy of Infirnite and some other more malleable materials. I want to make these standard commission for all our clansmen, but you can be one of our test-subjects.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be honoured. Thank you Aziel. Thank you, thank you, thank you.¡±

    Just as Remus suspected, the alloy was far more flexible than standard Infirnite. He could comfortably perform his most elaborate of moves without a hitch. Then, utilising the Infirnite¡¯s innate power, all of his fire-based attacks would be supercharged.

    Remus was keen to test it out.

    ¡°I¡¯ll never be able to repay you for this.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to; you already have.¡± Aziel left no room for argument. ¡°But give Damosh the worst beating of his life, and consider us even. And, more immediately, knock some sense into Brison.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll be my job.¡±

    Everyone jumped at Violet¡¯s sudden appearance, Veida in tow.

    Remus shivered. ¡°Gods, you have to stop jumping up on us like that.¡±

    ¡°Nope. I like seeing you squirm.¡±

    Beyond any speck of doubt, Aziel was the most perturbed of all them. ¡°How did you get past my wards so easily? They should be strong enough to give even Splintered Ranks tr-¡± He stopped himself. ¡°Gods, you really are strong enough to go toe-to-toe with Brison, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Violet made a gesture that was a little too withdrawn to call a nod, as if she wasn¡¯t entirely sure. ¡°I should be able to keep him preoccupied at least. Now then, we need a plan. But I think it¡¯s our rebellion¡¯s right to know what''s up. We¡¯re sending them into battle here, the least we can do is give them a head¡¯s up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Remus looked to his armour for comfort, trying to reassure himself that he¡¯d be strong enough to win. ¡°It¡¯s selfish of me to keep it a secret. But how do we decide who fights?¡±

    ¡°We can see who volunteers, or ask for the Foot-Soldiers to step forth. How many Foot-Soldiers make up your force?¡±

    ¡°About a third? Most of that from Beckett¡¯s army.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s humbling to think we¡¯re on par with them, not to sound self-absorbed.¡± Koa muttered. ¡°It¡¯s hard to not get your ego blown out of proportion after all we¡¯ve been through. We need to remember how strong we really are. We can¡¯t let hubris be our downfall. We¡¯ll be able to handle more opponents than most, but too many Foot-Soldiers, and any one of us will be quickly overwhelmed. Let¡¯s take inventory. Excuse my bluntness, but what Rank are you all?¡±

    ¡°Foot-Soldier.¡± Remus said first. Enquiring about someone¡¯s Rank wasn¡¯t exactly rude, but it was a touchy subject for some. Nobody present seemed bothered, however.

    ¡°Foot-Soldier.¡± Aziel smiled.

    ¡°Warlord Equivalent.¡± Violet only hesitated for a second.

    ¡°Foot-Soldier.¡± Koa and Octavia announced in unison.

    ¡°Peak Emblazed.¡± Tanguy said quietly. ¡°I¡¯ve been neglecting my training after delving so deep into politics. The amount of times I¡¯ve wanted to burn any paperwork handed to me . . . ¡° he sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be of much use in this encounter, my apologies.¡±

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Remus swatted his shoulder gently. ¡°How do you feel about acting as a general, guiding us through the fight? You have a good head on your shoulders. You can keep calm, even if things get heated. And I don¡¯t just mean that as a pun.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you got to that conclusion knowing my history, but I appreciate the sentiment.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to force all of you into fighting.¡± Remus felt compelled to say. ¡°Most of you aren¡¯t officially in my rebellion. If you want to walk away from this mess, I won¡¯t hold grudges.¡±

    ¡°At this point, I might as well officially enlist.¡± Violet responded first. ¡°We have the same motivations: stop the Right-bearers, stop Damosh. And there is no way in hell I¡¯m going to miss out on punching Brison after what he did.¡±

    ¡°Once Eliane endorses the Talents of the Future, your numbers will reach the thousands.¡± Veida reasoned. ¡°I should write to my husband to see what he makes of all this, but I¡¯m sure Hadrian will be leaping at this opportunity too. I¡¯m in.¡±

    Remus¡¯ mouth hung wide as Aziel joined in.

    ¡°Virtually everyone in the Ambition Clan is eager to join their saviour. Might as well cut the middleman and get first dibs.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a messiah.¡± Remus said, not able to conceal the grin forming on his lips. ¡°But I won¡¯t refuse help when it¡¯s needed.¡±

    Tanguy stood quietly in the corner. ¡°It¡¯s very tempting Remus. I¡¯ll see how this progresses. I can¡¯t promise you anything, but depending on how much the Flame Sect wishes to join your cause, it might become inevitable that I enlist. But for now, all I can promise is my assistance, while our paths are still crossed.¡±

    ¡°Thank you all.¡± Remus clapped loudly. ¡°Now then! I¡¯m going to rally our men, tell them what''s happening. The Foot-Soldiers won¡¯t have much choice but to fight ¡ª this is what they signed up for, after all ¡ª but we¡¯ll have to examine our pool of Emblazed. Maybe some veterans of Beckett¡¯s army will have some bright ideas about what kind of fighting formations we should take.¡±

    ¡°When I¡¯m not busy with Brison, I can teleport our men around, but we might not have time for that to work. At the very least, I could warp them out of harm¡¯s way if they¡¯re being overwhelmed.¡±

    Violet would have her hands full trying to manage both of those at once, but if anyone could handle it, it would be her.

    Twenty minutes later, and Remus¡¯ men were all gathered in the tavern they had passed prior. Aziel was friends with the barmen, so anyone who wasn¡¯t part of the rebellion was escorted out of there.

    Remus stood upon the nearest table, conscious of its wobbly leg. Speaking from his diaphragm, he watched the faces of his men fall as he informed them of the news. Gritted teeth soon followed, and his rebellion hollered in a united warcry.

    ¡°Any Foot-Soldiers here gather outside! I¡¯d also like to speak with the highest ranking member we have from Beckett¡¯s army, military-wise.¡±

    Thirty or so men filed outside. Another seventy remained inside the bar, leaving Remus astonished that so many people could even fit inside. The bar was a spacious place, with no walls between the separate rooms, and a group of his men occupying the stairs to provide extra space. Nevertheless, they made an excellent attempt at filling the place completely.

    Out of the back, a middle-aged man approached Remus. His hair was fully grey, the faint whiskers of a possible beard nestled on his chin. Along his green uniform, a number of medals trailed down his chest.

    ¡°Colonel Mason, at your service.¡± The man had immaculate posture. His aura was that of an accomplished Foot-Soldier, one who had seen plenty of battles, and even more bloodshed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to act like I¡¯m more knowledgeable in how to lead our men. So what do you suggest? My friend Violet here can teleport our men around, if need be, but she¡¯ll have her hands full dealing with Brison.¡±

    ¡°She can deal with the Warlord?¡±

    Violet nodded, arms crossed, as if asking to be challenged on that point.

    ¡°Well, I saw how you dispatched Nova in the news. I¡¯ll trust your word.¡± Mason looked Remus up and down. ¡°Nice suit by the way. Infirnite?¡±

    The blood rushed to Remus¡¯ cheeks. The suit of armour was so comfortable, he hadn¡¯t noticed he was still wearing it. The thing would be formidable in battle, but outside? Bless Aziel¡¯s hard work, but it looked a little ridiculous.

    ¡°Yes. Thank you. It should make me even stronger when we begin to fight.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. So fifty men against fifty of the Ambition lot?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Alright then. I¡¯ll pick the cream of the crop of the Emblazed, and form our men into defensive and attack squadrons. By the sounds of it, we¡¯ll need more emphasis on the defence. If we can eliminate Brison, a Warlord on our side will be the advantage we need to overcome . . . what was that technique you mentioned?¡±

    ¡°United in strife.¡±

    ¡°Yes. That.¡±

    The man spoke like this was all perfectly reasonable, but Remus suspected he had an excellent poker face. The fact their plan relied on the defeat of Brison was telling enough. That was a longshot, but it sounded to Remus like the only way they could win this thing.

    The next few hours were dedicated to picking out men, one by one, forming squadrons, and scheming out nothing less than the riskiest battle plan imaginable.

    They had three squads. Four, if you counted Remus and his closest companions as one, though they would be acting roge with their own abilities. One of their few advantages here would be the variety of abilities at their disposal. Aside from their main force of Insect clansmen, Remus had Chaos, Flame, Ambition, Arachnid, and the Wild all at his disposal. The Feast Clan had the task of feeding their warriors before the fight, but weren¡¯t officially a part of their fifty-large attack force.

    There would be two defensive teams of twelve each, allowing Violet to keep Brison occupied without any disturbance. With seven of them acting independently ¡ª Remus, Aziel, Tanguy, Koa, Octavia, Violet and Veida ¡ª causing chaos across the battlefield, that left nineteen spaces left for their attack force. They would be dealing with the bulk of their enemies, with their rogue members and defensive squadrons assisting if they drew too close.

    Tanguy and Mason would keep their forces in check, maintaining position as much was possible as the commanding voices of reason. Though Mason was technically part of their melee squad.

    Each of the rogue members had their own unique missions. Koa would try to create walls of oak to divide their enemies and close off sections of the battlefield, though he warned Remus creating so much fire-resistant oak would drain him within minutes. Violet of course, was taking on Brison, but would teleport their men around if the opportunity arose. Aziel would cause confusion amongst his own ranks, blending in with the Ambition clansmen, and doing his best to disrupt United in Strife by sparking distrust and infighting. Veida, as a Warden, would defend any holes that opened in their formation, easily their second strongest member.

    And Remus? Remus was to cause as much destruction as possible. More likely than not, he would be the prime target of their opposition. If he fell, team morale would come crashing down harder than any one of Ash¡¯s meteorites.

    Remus watched his men spar with a thin line of a mouth, trying not to fidget.

    It was almost time. All he could do now was hope for the best.

    Patience was apparently a virtue, but Remus¡¯ was running thin.

 115. A Drop of Blood

    Remus led at the front of the party, the grim silence a tangible web binding his men together. The sound of booted feet smacking against stone reverberated about the place. It was a noise Remus imagined you might hear from an undead army ¡ª residents of hell treading forever forward; their infernal punishment.

    But this hell was very real. A gigantic stone platform, spanning the size of a large courtyard, stretched out before them. The etched stone was crumbling at the corners, revealing an ancient age. Centuries of blood had been spilled here.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting a bad vibe from this place . . .¡± Aziel said quietly, as if not wanting to be heard.

    Remus shivered, but for reasons other than the biting cold. ¡°You can say that again. It¡¯s like I can feel others present with us. The ghosts of the fallen.¡±

    They had arrived early. Earlier than was expected, evidently, as their opponents for today were nowhere to be seen. An ambush maybe? Remus shooed away such a thought. Brison¡¯s mind wasn¡¯t what it once was, but even he was above such a cheap trick.

    Koa clasped a hand onto Remus¡¯ shoulder. ¡°Stop being so macabre. Nobody¡¯s going to die today.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t be certain about that.¡± Remus said quietly, the squads arriving behind them out of earshot. ¡°It¡¯s unlikely, but no fight or sparring match is truly ¡®safe¡¯. There¡¯s always the possibility of something going wrong. And with so many people fighting today, that chance is even higher.¡±

    The curtaining fog overlaying the scene didn¡¯t help much either. If that smog worsened, they wouldn¡¯t be able to see to the end of the platform. Hopefully once a few fires were sparked, that issue would be amended.

    ¡°Our men knew what they were getting into Remus.¡± Violet and Veida stood to the side, the Flame Warden already scouting out their battlefield. She soon realised the unchanging flatland wouldn¡¯t allow for any tactical uses of the environment, so looked away with a disappointed frown.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s just a thin line between my duty to keep them safe, and acknowledging I can¡¯t be wholly responsible for their wellbeing. It¡¯s not like I can defend each of them individually.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. So don''t worry about it. I hate how glum you¡¯ve been looking lately.¡±

    She pierced Remus with a concerned glare. It was like being stabbed with a knife made out of feathers.

    It made him feel a strange type of way, so he forced his eyes to look elsewhere. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect any of this to be stress free Violet. When I know my family is safe, when this world stops being so broken, maybe I¡¯ll start smiling more.¡±

    At her silence, he knew he¡¯d overstepped.

    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m just nervous Violet. That¡¯s all.¡±

    Remus couldn''t help but blush. While he was shivering over simply partaking in this fight, she had the impossible task of taking on Brison. In terms of power, Remus and her were worlds apart. The chagrin was enough to choke on.

    It was almost like nothing had changed. Her, an Emblazed equivalent, and him as an Engorged, fleeing the city of First Rite together

    Before she could respond, Tanguy called out. ¡°There, I see somebody!¡±

    Sure enough, squinting through the fog, a dark impression lingered against the shifting mist. A broad set of shoulders preceded Brison¡¯s stoic mask, both hands wielding his signature hammer. Remus could envision it dripping with Ichor. A bad omen of the future, perhaps.

    ¡°Where are the others?¡± Octavia asked, and Remus was left scratching his head.

    Mason and Tanguy spared no time at all gathering their men into their positions. Without realising it, Remus found himself tensed in a fighting stance. He focused on his breath, flickers of power brewing from his Mark. At the first sign of movement, he would set that bonfire free.

    And yet, when Brison¡¯s shadowy hand fiddled with something out of sight, Remus found himself planted in place. Intrigue got the better of him, but in his defence, no-one else had taken the initiative to move either.

    Finally, still half-disguised by his cloak of fine mist, the Warlord revealed a horn. Remus had seen drunks sipping from similar objects in the past, but this was something else altogether.

    In the slowest action of the world, Brison raised it to his lips.

    Remus¡¯s hands flew to his ears, and yet any attempt to shield his hearing from the piercing boom proved futile. A warcry resounded on the coattails of the shattering noise, composed of tens on tens of separate screams.

    Now Remus knew where the rest of Brison¡¯s men were. Not far behind. He also discovered that he was wrong: clearly, he had grossly misjudged the Warlord¡¯s character. Brison was not above a surprise attack.

    Remus found his own shrieking scream joining the cacophony of voices, both sides taking up the chant.

    He clapped both hands together, fire bursting out of his body in the time it took to draw one breath. With a foot, he stomped down, cracking the stone below. Flames streaked off where he made contact, trailing along the indents that separated the stone into equidistant squares.

    The fire began as a few short lines, before rising together, rising and rising, all feeding into one wave of boiling heat and death. Reaching its zenith, it rose into a towering monstrosity, a hellfire that would sizzle flesh and melt bone.

    By the time it had smacked into the enemy forces, clearing away the clouding fog in the process, lines of light still danced in Remus¡¯ closed eyes.

    The fog had been nothing but a lucky coincidence for Brison, but Remus would allow the man no advantage. The smog had evaporated, leaving a moist feeling to the air, and the scent of a new smoke invading Remus¡¯ nostrils. Much more to his liking.

    The actual attack had done nothing but scare their opponents, taking the spring out of their step. But it left them disoriented enough for Remus¡¯ attack force to pounce.

    Ambition clansmen raced ahead of him, charging into the fray with berserker-like death-wishes, and an insatiable hunger for blood. Intricate dances of azure light shimmied through the air, only to be met by a wall of projectiles. Koa¡¯s wooden darts, the pincers of bees, and the stabbing ends of wasps, all dripping with some insectile venom. Just a preview of what the Insect Clan had to offer

    Remus closed his eyes, entering a meditative state. His breath was the only thing in the world, as the movement of his body, the roar of the outside, and the immediate danger all washed away. He focused hard on his spiritual senses, using the heat of enemy Marks, the pulsation of nearby techniques, and the divine rage of those around him to act as his guide. He wove through fires, parried attacks from Ambition clansmen he had once called brethren, and didn¡¯t hesitate for a second.

    He was listening in for something. He wouldn¡¯t be able to feel it with his bodily senses, and it may have been impossible to pick up on as an outsider, but if he could just feel the technique in use-

    There it was. More potent than his flaming Ichor. United in Strife.

    It felt to Remus like an invisible ribbon, no bigger than a thread. Linking each and every one of Brison¡¯s men. Power travelled along that silk passage, zapping from one person to the next, with Brison, the big bad, at its epicentre.

    The power seemed to pick up speed, barely perceptible to Remus¡¯ senses, and that was it: the power accumulating. Together they were stronger.

    And Remus had taught them all of Enrique¡¯s techniques. He could sense his own Flaming Gold blood mirrored by ever one of the Ambition Clansmen.

    But none of them had his Full Body Blood Infusion Mould. They wouldn¡¯t be able to hold it for nearly as long.

    With his eyes still closed, Remus ducked, weaved, and shifted to the side as three clansmen charged into him. He was in the midst of enemy territory now, but he had one clear objective in mind: Brison.

    The Warlord was in the thick of it, right bang in the middle of the attacking squad. If their plan was to work, he would have to push him deeper into their own lines, to where Violet and the defensive squadrons could keep him occupied. He sensed Violet¡¯s teleportative powers in play, remoulding and rearranging the battlefield to her liking.

    All Remus would have to do is keep Brison occupied, letting his guard drop for a fraction of a second. Enough time for him to be warped right where they wanted him; where Violet would knock the daylight out of the Warlord.

    The trio around Remus didn¡¯t hesitate. Snapping his eyes open, doing his best to keep his senses locked onto that intangible thread, Remus summoned three serpents of flame. They erupted out of his sides and chest, a serpent rushing forth to barge into each of his oncomers.

    A bundle of Eruptive Will was placed into each of their fiery fangs. Upon impact, the explosions were extraordinary.

    Yet Remus¡¯ satisfaction was kept at bay. While the clansmen appeared startled, and Ichor was dripping from one of their noses, they hadn¡¯t been pushed back any more than an inch.

    Smoking, and eyes of blue mirroring his own, the three jumped on him.

    Remus weaved aside from one explosive fist, his own technique of Eruptive Will used against him. The other two used the opportunity to barge into his side.

    Gauntlets of obsidian grasped his forearm and leg, dragging him to the ground. His thoughts scrambled for a moment as pain blossomed at the back of his skull, the whisperings of a concussion muttering in his ear.

    Their hold didn¡¯t relent, but Remus didn¡¯t either. Fire erupted along the limbs they were clutching onto, turning from baby blue, to a fiery azure, before evolving into a blinding beacon of white. And then, the impossible searing colour of plasma.

    That was enough to char both of their hands at once. While they squirmed in pain, Remus used the chance to supercharge each of his fingers with Eruptive Will. Then, feet digging into the stone below to anchor himself, he stabbed each of his fingers into both chests. All in one explosive motion.

    Both were sent blasting off gods¡¯ knew where. Likely being swiftly carried away from the battlefield. They had a team of medics on hand at all times, doing their best to ensure no-one was too badly hurt.

    Remus desperately wanted to catch his breath, but spun on his feet at the memory of the third and remaining clansmen.

    Two streaks of fire was enough to slow down their charge. Then Remus sprang into his own.

    Screaming, his arms encircled around this stranger¡¯s chest, he sprinted with every morsel of energy in him. Without pausing, without hesitating to take so much as a breath, or a moment¡¯s recovery, he ran with the clansman in tow. Ran and ran, past the swarming Ambition clansmen leering at him; past the fight that was now birthing above up, comprised of winged clansmen, and men using flame to propel themselves; before, Ambition bubbling in the lactic acid building up in both of his legs, he tossed the body.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Right into Brison.

    Apparently Brison didn¡¯t neglect to train his back, or maybe it was the force with which Remus tossed the poor lad. Whatever the case, the second they collided, the clansmen he had dragged dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

    This was it. He had the Warlord¡¯s attention. And it was time to give him quite the show.

    Roaring until his ears rang, Remus clenched both fists. Bursting out of the stone at Brison¡¯s feet, four shadows of flame sparked to life. They were humanoid in shape, like shadows doused in gasoline and thrown a flaming match.

    The group levelled their featureless faces at Brison, who regarded each with interest.

    ¡°Do you think you¡¯ve gotten me into a pinch, Remus?¡± He raised his hammer, runes on the weapon starting to glow as they resonated with his Mark. ¡°I commend your efforts.¡±

    Before another word could be spoken, Brison leapt into a spin. He and his hammer became a whirling blur, brushing through all four of Remus¡¯ apparitions. Each was lost to the wind. Yet Brison wasn¡¯t finished. He carried his one-man tornado closer, the hammer moving too fast to dodge.

    Remus'' heart leaped into his throat. The man was too fast ¡ª no way in hell was he going to dodge this.

    So he didn¡¯t.

    Remus stood his ground, and met the attack head-on with a venomous look.

    Brison let out a mad cackle, ending his whirlwind spin with his hammer coming crashing down on Remus face.

    Remus felt the weight of several mountains falling on top of him, as if they were commanding his body to submit. To be pulped into a bloody mixture. Instead, he held his ground. But Enrique¡¯s technique of Thick Skin could only sustain so much.

    His ears popped, and a searing headache ravaged his mind, setting his train of thought ablaze and toppling off track. But despite the tempest of wind, of momentum and force doing its utmost best to push him back, he barely gave away a millimetre.

    Brison paused, and so did several skirmishing clansmen around them. All letting their jaws drop at Remus¡¯ impossible defiance.

    A trail of Ichor oozed down his forehead, followed by another, and another.

    But they were just droplets.

    The Warlord looked down to his hands, both ensnared by Remus¡¯ chain before he had even noticed their appearance.

    With as much energy from his Mark as he could stuff into both arms, he tugged the chain backwards.

    Brison¡¯s hammer was sent flying out of his grasp, spinning arcs through the air before crashing down metres away. It smashed in the stone floor, sending a dust cloud of rock and debris billowing through the air.

    The Warlord made to retrieve the article, before the first highlights of magenta enveloped his form.

    ¡°No.¡± He started. ¡°No, no, no!¡±

    And just like that, Violet had him in her hands.

    Remus was exhausted, his Mark hotter than the sun and his limbs begging for sweet release. But he could not relent. Remus flew lightning-fast to where Brison¡¯s hammer lay. The man would not have a weapon on hand to defend himself, when Violet came for him with her full wrath.

    Remus summoned a ring of fire to ward off any attacks, and circled his chain around the handle of the great weapon. Then, once again planting his feet into the stone, he mustered up all of his strength, relenting his flaming wards.

    Ten clansmen were approaching, the thread of United in Strife more powerful than ever. This would be the equivalent of facing down a highly trained squad all on his own.

    His vocal cords could not have been more sore, but he hissed nevertheless. He swung his chain around, four men acting as the head of the group advancing forwards.

    He smashed Brison¡¯s hammer into each of them. One by one, the sound of bone fracturing and muscle bruising resounded through the air.

    So much for avoiding serious injuries.

    ¡°Surrender.¡± Remus said darkly, not recognising the sound of his own voice. His throat was chafed from so much shouting, but the words came across as downright malevolent. ¡°I found no joy in beating my own clansmen.¡±

    ¡°You bastard!¡± One of the men he had struck screeched, rising to a shaky stand. ¡°You can¡¯t take all of us.¡±

    Remus raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh, wanna try?¡±

    All ten of them screeched in unison. Good gods, was he facing an entire attacking force on his own? Who else would Brison have been leading but the brunt of his army?

    Remus was getting tired of playing king of the hill, swatting down clansmen from his highground of uprooted dirt and stone. He retrieved Brison¡¯s hammer from his chain, and instead wielded one weapon in each hand. The hammer was awfully heavy, as if it was to tear Remus¡¯ arm off if he held on for too long. That was probably why even Brison, one of the most muscular men Remus had ever met, especially for his old age, used both hands when fighting with such a formidable weapon.

    Remus would play by his own rules. He used the chain to whip at the approaching enemies, and smashed his hammer into the few clansmen who came too close for comfort.

    This was getting awfully brutal for what should have been a friendly bout. As Remus flattened the nose of one clansman who strayed too close, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a little bad.

    Especially when he realised it was Edmund.

    The man dropped to the ground, not bothering to get back up. Remus couldn¡¯t tell if that was hatred or awe in those eyes of his. Remus was cloaked in flame, wielding a weapon forged out of a deceased Right-bearer made from Supreme Steel, and, in the other hand, had stolen the very hammer their sect leader called his most trusted weapon.

    But he wouldn¡¯t be able to keep this up much longer.

    Remus almost swung into a man that materialised at his side from nowhere, before realising it was Aziel.

    ¡°Praise Infinity, Remus, what the hell . . .?¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Remus spoke between pants, still whipping his chains through the air. The space around them was swarmed by lethal metallic chinks. ¡°Are we winning?¡±

    Aziel extended both hands out, daggers of concentrated flame stabbing up and down out of the ground, an undulating layer that made it far more difficult for Brison¡¯s men to advance.

    ¡°We¡¯re winning. Brison and Violet are fighting so quickly. I can¡¯t see their movements, but they seem to be in a stalemate.¡±

    Remus narrowed his eyes, barely making out two blurs of motion blasting against one another. One was streaked by a fiery purple. Then, before he could take another look, a wall of oak erupted, separating him. Koa¡¯s doing.

    There was a lull in the conversation, as Remus sent one more crafty clansman rolling against the ground. His arms were really starting to ache. Through the flames, he could see every vein protruding from his skin, carrying the fiery syrup of his blood.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been handling a fifth of his men all by yourself!¡± Aziel wouldn¡¯t stop grinning, and neither would his barrage of techniques cease. ¡°It¡¯s just a matter of-¡±

    Aziel stopped speaking. Remus thought he was simply focused on the task at hand, and yet, after an uncomfortable silence, the man didn¡¯t speak up. He looked over, only to see his companion knocked out cold. A boulder of obsidian had smashed against his temple. Remus almost retched at the sight of so much Ichor.

    One of the medical teams overseeing this match, indicated by their tabarbs to identify them, lifted up Aziel with both hands before disappearing. Remus gritted his teeth. Shock and fatigue were a deadly cocktail, the two main ingredients in the recipe for his defeat.

    Five clansmen swooped in, their fists glowing. And, flickering between them, barely perceived by his spiritual senses, was United in Strife.

    Remus¡¯ breaths were shaky, his legs affected by a slight tremor that wouldn¡¯t stop, no matter how hard he tensed.

    Maybe he shouldn¡¯t have been so reckless. Koa¡¯s words of warning echoed ironically in his mind. We can¡¯t let hubris be our downfall. We¡¯ll be able to handle more opponents than most, but too many Foot-Soldiers, and any one of us will be quickly overwhelmed.

    Three glowing fists, streaking with blue, drowned Remus¡¯ world with a blazing light. He couldn¡¯t still his body fast enough, and before Thick Skin could take hold, a fierce barrage sent his body flying.

    The air was a haze of destruction: an abstract pattern of cerulean fire, flying clansmen, and the distant impression of brick red fire. Tanguy or Veida¡¯s doing, by the looks of it.

    Remus tried to land on his feet, but there were too many clansmen beneath him. With bared teeth, they grasped onto each of his limbs, blows raining down like fiery bullets. More punches than he could count battered away at his skin, pushing his Thick Skin ability to its limit. It was the equivalent of bearing down on a suit of armour, waiting for the metallic layer to relent.

    And it didn¡¯t take long for his skin to give in.

    Blood splurged out in a stream of gold, his skin purple and bruised in every region you could think of. A medic was probably already rushing forth to get him out there, to provide some safety.

    His Infirnite armour could only take so much. It was cracked all over, pieces of crystal and alloyed metal collapsing to the ground, only to be fractured more by the stomping of clansmen.

    Remus focused on his spiritual senses, his physical sensations too much to bear. There it was again.

    The thread of United in Strife.

    It was at its zenith, shooting power between every soldier in an intricate net of transmission. Their ire towards Remus only seemed to accentuate that dormant power. Despite the clansmen that had fallen at Remus¡¯ hands being snipped away from that invisible nexus, the technique felt no weaker to Remus.

    The group cheered, cackled and screamed as their beatdown continued, Aziel¡¯s beautiful gift of armour reduced to crystal dust. Remus tasted the Ichor streaming from his mouth, the coppery sensation enough to make him gag.

    Was this it? He had caused enough trouble for Brison¡¯s team that they were in a good position to win, but he couldn¡¯t accept defeat yet. Not until he was absolutely certain their victory was assured.

    Remus honed in on that thread, ignoring even the wounds brutalising his body as he tried to reach out for it. His Mark was steaming, the surrounding tissue burnt and smoking. There, visible to only his absolute focus, a thread rose out of his own Mark, like one of Octavia¡¯s webs shooting outwards. It clawed through the air, stretching like a hand reaching for purchase against a rocky summit, trying to avoid a lethal descent at all costs.

    The thrown fists, the kicked feet, both refused to cease, an avalanche of pain crashing into Remus ad nauseam. He screamed again, set to lose his voice for days, but he had more immediate concerns to worry about than missing out on campfire songs.

    Closer. The string from his Mark wavered, trembling in the air as if about to break. The volume of his voice only grew, blaring out loud enough to reach all four corners of the battlefield.

    There it was, only a hair¡¯s width away from the rest of the entangled strands. Nobody had noticed. This could work, this could-

    All the clansmen surrounding Remus shifted out of the way in one synchronised movement. Making way for the apparition ready to crash down on him.

    The flame serpent put any of the snakes Remus had weaved to shame. Its fangs alone were large enough to bite through the entrance of a building, and that form of fire and hate could only have one target for lunch: yours truly.

    Remus¡¯ Mark answered to his peril, and the agony that seized his beaten body. His strength increased in proportion to his suffering; how intimately he danced with death, and this was the closest he had gotten in some time.

    His thread made contact with the greater whole, and the power of United in Strife was all his.

    Remus launched to his feet, rejuvenated by a second wind, and found the clansmen picking up his discarded weapons. With no consideration for how monstrous he must look, armour ruined and only fused to his skin through burns and dried Ichor, he flew in their midst.

    One poor boy, a year or two younger than Remus, screeched at the sight of him. Then, with grim determination, they held Brison¡¯s weapon closely.

    A mistake he would pay the price for.

    Remus opened his hand wide, a river of fiery snakes streaking forth. They all bit into the boy at once, who put up a hasty shield of flame at the last second. It was far too weak. Remus¡¯ serpents only slowed for a second as they ate through the flimsy layer. The boy¡¯s skin was next.

    He dropped to the ground, swarmed by the reptiles until no part of him was left visible. Remus wasted no time at all, clutching onto the hammer which had seen many better days. The handle had been burnt until Remus only had a charred stick to hold onto, and cracks were digging through the hammer head.

    Leaching off the power of United in Strife, combined with his Flaming Gold technique, and the shards of Infinite that stabbed into his skin, Remus had never felt stronger. Brison¡¯s hammer was a light thing, and in one fluid movement, Remus spun. He imbued the weapon with enough Ambition to drown a newborn, and in the weapon¡¯s centre, planted the largest bundle of Eruptive Will he thought possible.

    The serpent was one blink away from crashing into him. The moving pillar closed the distance, fitted with wisps of white fire, so potent, they streaked off like lightning in jagged glares of light.

    This creation must have been the combined power of several clansmen, all willing to drain their resources to clear him off the board. Remus smiled, noticing how loose the teeth in his mouth felt. How troublesome.

    He spun the hammer through dexterous fingers, and in one inhale, tossed Brison¡¯s masterpiece. His whole body was in the movement, each muscle fibre acting as one explosive force.

    If he was to go down, he would show the Ambition Clan just how serious his rebellion really was.

 116. Settle the Score

    What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? The question had boggled the wisest minds of Descent for centuries. It was one of the great paradoxes that could never be answered.

    Until now. And Remus would be the one to do it.

    This fight had gone far out of hand. What should have been a simple sparring match had turned into an all-or-nothing bloodbath. The medics made sure that no-one was killed, but even they could only do so much. Remus just hoped he was impressing the Ambition clansmen enough for them to overlook the cardinal sins he was committing against them.

    The hammer rotated through the air in a beautiful arc, cleaving through in a dull rattle. It surged through the head of the great serpent, blasting with the full force of a god slapping down a misbehaving servant.

    Remus expected the hammer to finally melt, or to be knocked to the side as he made a hasty getaway from the apparition. Instead?

    It cut the snake in two. Right down the middle it continued to spin, down the length of three carriages end-to-end. The body was sliced in half, and, putting both hands to his ears in advance, Remus remotely activated the ability he had left inside the weapon.

    Eruptive Will triggered, and the hammer blasted outwards with the force of an atom bomb.  The detonation was followed by a surge of red, white and every shade of the incineration spectrum.

    Remus held his ground as the firestorm washed over him, burning his own clothing that should have been flame-resistant. His shoulder and chest were exposed, steaming red, and exposed for any oncoming attackers.

    Instinct triggering, Remus donned a protective guard, but once the storm cleared . . .

    All he saw around him were unconscious clansmen. Remus blinked, noticed that Koa¡¯s oak walls were absorbing the rest of the flames, and dropped to his feet. He couldn''t catch his breath, and even deactivating his Mark, the artwork of Tanish still stung.

    Medics rushed around, carrying away smoking bodies, but he brushed off any of their attempts to whisk him away. He was safe for now. He just needed to recover.

    The stone was marred a charcoal black, with even Koa¡¯s fire-resistant boundaries tainted with the same chalky streak.

    It was hard to process what exactly had just transpired. He knew, but it didn¡¯t make much sense. Remus had taken down one of Brison¡¯s attack squads all on his own. Maybe more, it was hard to tell.

    Remus stumbled over to where Brison¡¯s hammer laid steaming, surprisingly still in good shape. Without another thought, he took a makeshift seat upon it, holding his head in his hands.

    In this bastion of destruction, with nothing to do but listen to the sounds of battle continuing outside the walls, and far too tired to participate in the rest of the battle himself, Remus fell into a deep meditation.

    Now, about fusing my Vault and Mark together . . .

    As screams of war washed over him, Remus was determined to get this right.

    <hr>

    Violet had no idea how the rest of this confrontation was progressing. All that mattered was dealing out a beating, one that the man towering over her would never forget.

    One that would make Pippin¡¯s death mean something.

    With his hammer nowhere to be seen, Brison hadn¡¯t hesitated to throw up both fists. Fully adorning her Unbounded form, which was now equal to Nova¡¯s nightmarish body in size and physical prowess, she wasn¡¯t afraid to wrestle back.

    No one dared intervene with their fight ¡ª no that they could get close enough, anyway. Their defensive squads only had to deal with one of Brison¡¯s melee battalions. The other had been closed in long ago, left alone to deal with Remus. Violet didn¡¯t know how he was faring, but every so often, she would spot a blast of white coming from that quarter, one that made even her shiver.

    He seemed to be handling himself just fine.

    Violet warped to the side, mere inches away from where a blow from Brison would have flattened her head. As payback, she embedded a fist into his sternum.

    She had carried so much force behind that swing, but Brison merely grunted.

    She leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding Brison¡¯s slapping hand, flames twirling between each closed finger. The stone at their feet was incinerated within seconds, blasting through the air in a granite shower.

    She had to admit, she hadn¡¯t expected Brison to hold his own as well as he was. His geriatric exterior was quite deceiving.

    There was a blur of movement, but neither side''s blows landed. Violet bopped up and down on her feet. She would just have to be faster.

    Brison¡¯s fists were fully enveloped with flickering flame, pinpricks of white acting as the eyes of two twin dragons. They took on their own animated life, sneering, biting on thin air, spinning their heads as if wishing to be free from Brison, to attack all on their own.

    Violet warped out of the way of one biting fist, and with a thin layer of Chaos protecting her palms, blocked each of his other blows. The smack of each connection reverberated around, the only sound Violet could hear over the thumping of her heart, and the quiet brutality of combat.

    Faster. Faster!

    She upped the ante, forcing her legs to move quicker, her mind to anticipate Brison¡¯s attacks with more accuracy. Brison matched her speed, face a constant scowl, the dragons crawling up his arms seeming to grow larger, more angry.

    Scales sprouted on Brison¡¯s upper arm, his facial features distorting to grow more alien ¡ª no, more draconian.

    Violet swallowed down the fear that was bubbling in her chest. She gritted her teeth. Her reflexes had always been lightning quick, but that wasn¡¯t good enough anymore. Her every movement was reinforced by Chaos, defying physical space to see her blows connecting quicker, to ensure her dodges were fast enough to outmanoeuvre anything Brison could throw at her.

    Steam blew out of the man¡¯s nostrils. Long whiskers sprouted out of a nose that was broadening into a snout. He seemed to grow three heads taller over Violet.

    He showed no difficulty with keeping up with her.

    Where was this technique when the Pet-Keeper had come calling? This was ridiculous.

    Speed wasn¡¯t enough, by the looks of it. Even as Violet¡¯s body sprang from elaborate attack to swift battle stances, her mind was plotting away. She would need to use her Mark to its fullest potential. Brison, even after leading his clan for decades, was still training new techniques, testing out new abilities.

    By obsessing over her Unbounded side, Violet had neglected to train her god-given power to its fullest.

    It was time to see how far she could really push Teviel¡¯s strength.

    She focused on the squared battlefield they were fighting on, her body on autopilot as it resisted Brison¡¯s onslaught. The man had sprouted a tail by now, and under his robes, revealed his own set of Infirnite armour.

    Apparently Aziel hadn¡¯t cared to mention he¡¯d given Brison all of his research, including his own set of Infirnite armour. Or maybe he hadn¡¯t known? Aziel would have needed the sect leader¡¯s permission to dedicate so much time to the library, and so many resources. It only made sense that Brison would be very aware of all that he had discovered. With Aziel¡¯s knowledge or not, he could have created his own armour with ease. And how else would he have gained this new ability, what this new form was?

    That transformative technique, however, was something else altogether. Technically, any Mark could potentially create bodily alterations, but most of the time, it wasn¡¯t an obvious ability to draw from your subject of power. That was why only a few clans had major, permanent changes.

    Brison didn¡¯t seem to care, however. This was only a temporary form, and, by the looks of it, perhaps his ace in the hole.

    It was possible Remus could use this ability too, but would he really want to become so monstrous? Did she want him to become so monstrous?

    Violet put the matter aside, surging Chaotic energy through the stone at her feet. Their own quarter of the battlefield suddenly split off from the greater whole, spinning in mad circles. Violet didn¡¯t hesitate, anticipating the rush of dizziness, but it did plenty to disorient Brison.

    But Violet wasn¡¯t done. Disfiguring the terrain around them, clumps of rock shot out of the ground, glowing a faint purple as they spun through the air in a storm of rock.

    From all angles, Brison defended himself against the barrage of hurtled stone. He constantly spun around on his feet, and had to manage all of this as Violet pressed in to attack. She teleported to and fro, constantly running closer to Brison, but warping between locales so he could never predict the angle she would strike from.

    Violet had to suppress her smile. She was finally making progress.

    Brison was overwhelmed. Rock shattered against his exposed form, Violet managed her own plethora of blows, all aimed at his vital regions, and the constant spinning never gave him the chance to catch his breath.

    Everything was going so well. Then wings sprouted from Brison¡¯s back.

    He shot into the air, taking a few facefuls of stone as he pushed upwards.

    His wingspan was the length of two men. Only through flapping his wings over and over again was Brison able to keep airborne, his body constantly ebbing up and down. This demonic form sent shivers down Violet¡¯s spine, which was a little ironic, considering the white abomination she was.

    Horns reached out of Brison¡¯s forehead, talons forming bloody spikes at the end of his fingers. The twin dragons that had immersed his fists previously coalesced into two swords. The first was a brutal orange in colour, like the final sunset before a sun erupted. The other was the traditional blue of his clan, streaks of white, fiery lightning cackling outwards. He wielded both with ease, and rushed down to face Violet head-on.

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    What was this? Was this the full power of a Warlord?

    When compared to this . . . could Violet really call herself one?

    Brison closed in for the kill, but Violet manifested a wall of concentrated Infinity between them both. The man smashed his way through, hands reaching out for her at the speed of light.

    It was a miracle she teleported out of the way in time.

    Speed and her Mark alone clearly weren¡¯t enough. To defeat Brison, Violet would need every tool in her arsenal working in unison. Nothing could be neglected.

    Her Infinity, her Mark, her human stamina. Her Unbounded and human side working together. Merging into one.

    Violet was a hungry void, devouring all of the Infinity in the immediate vicinity. She would be depleting the clansmen elsewhere of their own divine essence, but it would be worth it, if it meant her victory here.

    Armour sprouted on Violet, a sheening mass of Supreme Steel that widely outclassed even Brison¡¯s Infirnite exterior. In one hand, a glaive materialised, glittering in the light in a silvery contrast to the sea of azure. In her other, a mighty battleaxe took shape, easily the size of Violet¡¯s head.

    She locked eyes with Brison, one thing becoming very clear: no sane man would rationalise killing a bird so easily. But something about this demonic, dragon-like form, so reminiscent of Belindo . . . it was slightly off the aura she was familiar with, the one emitted by the Ambition god and his followers. Then, if not him, who was supplying Brison with-

    The man lurched backwards, his belly bloating as something seemed to travel up it, along his oesophagus, to finally boil in his mouth. Then, between fangs so sharp, Brison must have filed away at them with razors, Violet flinched at the sight of fire brewing between them.

    With a roar, it lasered outwards. It was easy to dodge, but anywhere the heat reached was scorched completely black. Violet wondered if her armour would protect her from such an attack.

    She wasn¡¯t keen to test that.

    The breath of fire didn¡¯t relent. Brison flew through the air in dazzling loops, incinerating Violet¡¯s floating rocks and closing the distance.

    Violet screamed, rushing forward. She focused on the Infinity flowing within Brison, trying to strip him of the essence. But she lacked her father¡¯s Divine Right of Mastery. Her Infinity manipulation was excellent, but clearly, wasn¡¯t enough.

    Brison only hesitated for a moment. Violet closed in, battleaxe primed for a throw that would knock the daylights out of him. She was denied her chance, the man¡¯s neck distending as he made a perfect circle mid-air. The white hot flames were carried with him, and all at once, the last of Violet¡¯s rocky projectiles was reduced to dust.

    Violet rushed beneath him, waving her weapons up towards his dangling feet. Brison was always just inches out of reach. Violet didn¡¯t stop herself from screaming in frustration.

    Flying was perfectly possible for Unbounded. It was the most advanced manipulation of Infinity out there. Her father could navigate the skies with ease, and here, now more than ever, she wished she could replicate that ability.

    But then it dawned on her. Violet hadn¡¯t even attempted to fly since consuming Nova¡¯s Infinity. The technique was simple enough to understand: weaving a layer of Infinity beneath you, like your own personal magic carpet, but too thin to see visibly. It took insane feats of concentration, especially for her first time trying it out. It was risky to use when Brison¡¯s onslaught was relentless.

    Even now, he was taking full advantage of his domination over the air, raking down with claws at Violet, keeping her at bay, and occasionally catching her armour with a nasty scratch. It was a clumsy dance she had no choice but to partake in.

    She needed to level the field. Violet had talked a big talk: it would be utterly humiliating if she didn¡¯t back it up with action. Not to mention that there was something else here: something desperately wrong with Brison that needed sorting out.

    She saw it now, clear as day. Bulging across the scales that had spawned across his back. His Boundless Mark achieved at Vanguard was no longer the pearly white of Infinity. Instead, like he was diseased with some terrible ailment, the illustration was a toxic black. The image was of Tanish, sitting crossed-legged, as Ursula, the god of disease and mortal illness, did her absolute best to poison him. Her visage was portrayed mid-scream, a hand covered in boils as she extended it towards the rakish Ambition God. But despite her best attempts, Tanish remained unaffected, a cocky smile breaking apart his ascetic mien.

    It struck Violet as terribly ironic. This was different from being a Right-bearer: Enos had somehow affected Brison¡¯s mind, not to mention distorting his domain of power. To the extent that he was now capable of this disturbed form. No wonder he had been acting so out of character, and why a supposedly ¡®friendly¡¯ sparring match was the bloodiest Violet had ever seen.

    Was he one of Ash¡¯s men? The ones he was gathering? What were they called again . . . Paladins?

    Violet pushed the sickening thoughts well out of her mind. She would require monk-like concentration to win this fight. Especially now she knew a fraction of what she was up against.

    Dodging Brison¡¯s attacks had become almost reflexive now, so Violet allowed her body to do its thing, the rest of her attention falling deeper and deeper into the Infinity around her. There. She could feel it now, obeying her commands, brushing up against her skin, like the subtle scrape of a feather. She launched to the side, teleported away from an outburst of fire, and all the while, the Infinity continued to compound.

    She felt so incredibly light. It began to lift her up, acting like the pixie dust she had read in children¡¯s stories. Defying gravity, Violet¡¯s flight was a messy thing, but regardless, she almost squealed in excitement.

    I¡¯m doing it. Even in this hellhole, her face ached from smiling so hard. I¡¯m really flying!

    Brison dived straight towards her. Clearly, the man was very possessive over the skies: they were his territory. Well, no longer.

    It took a few turbulent seconds, affording her chestplate a line of dragon fire, but Violet was a fast learner. Soon enough, she was spinning through the air, performing all sorts of intricate moves, and laughing maniacally all the while.

    ¡°You annoy me.¡± Brison had always had a deep voice, but it was like hearing the earth speaking.

    Violet didn¡¯t respond. She wasn¡¯t here to talk.

    She flew straight for Brison. Forming a barely visible whirlpool around her, she continued to suction in the Infinity all around, acting as a sponge that absorbed any speck of the stuff that came her way. Her armour received the brunt of it: strengthening, rattling with power as she barreled straight into Brison¡¯s chest, weapons at the ready.

    His flames seared her, but the Supreme Steel protection proved ample enough. Together, they blurred into the ground below, forming an impact crater, three times their size.

    Brison screeched as he was pressed down into the earth, his wails only becoming louder when Violet¡¯s arms flew, torrents of purple light emanating from each strike.

    Never in her life had Violet been so fast. This was it, the maximum speed of a Warlord. She couldn''t even see her arms, her body moving a smidge too quickly for her mind to keep up. But she saw the blood alright: the streaks of bubbling Ichor, immediately evaporating against Brison¡¯s immersed body. It reminded Violet of how Remus often basked himself in fire mid-combat. Yet no matter how much Brison raised the temperature, the colour abandoning all shade of blue to become a ghostly white, her armour held true.

    Until one lucky swipe.

    Talons stabbed into the metal of Violet¡¯s helmet. She felt the pointed ends brush against her skin, drawing Ichor. Fire soon followed, caustiering the wound before Brison shoved his claws deeper into her flesh. Violet gagged, one of the talons cutting through her cheek, and into her mouth.

    Violet felt the urge to bite his damn finger off, but almost retched at the thought. Instead, she jerked her head to the side, freeing herself of the talons. But in her agony, she couldn¡¯t avoid a blow to the stomach. One that blasted her feet away.

    She skidded across the ground below, metal clanking, and leaving a trail of blood away from a rising Brison. Violet rushed Infinity into her cheek, fusing the ruined flesh back together. All the while, she kept her eyes on Brison, who launched again into the air, his wingspan shooting out like banners at a carnival.

    Violet didn¡¯t miss her chance. From out of two purple rifts, spikes of Supreme Steel shot outwards. Brison couldn¡¯t react fast enough, before the projectiles skewered through his wings.

    The man crashed back to the ground, somehow managing to land on his feet. Violet controlled the spikes remotely, commanding them to twist like drills deeper and deeper into Brison¡¯s wings.

    Pain overwhelmed the man, his face trapped in a permanent grimace. Violet controlled his ascent through the air like a puppet on strings, sending him scrambling through unpredictable routes. All the while, she repaid him plenty for that last attack, expertly avoiding what little fire he could muster and jabbing into his chest. Over and over and over, until the sky rained gold.

    ¡°Answer me.¡± She allowed her father¡¯s severity to bleed into her tone. ¡°What has Enos done to you?¡±

    She relented her assault for all of two seconds. Enough time so the man could respond. He merely raised his bloody head with a smirk. ¡°I serve no master other than Infinity. Enos is simply the conduit connecting us together.¡±

    Violet backhanded him. It wasn¡¯t meant to deal any real damage, just hurt the man, but when Brison looked back at Violet it was with a bloody nose.

    ¡°Leave this man alone Enos! He¡¯s done nothing wrong.¡±

    Brison¡¯s expression seemed to stray towards confusion. But only for a moment. ¡°Simple child. I¡¯m a Paladin. One of the warriors that will put all of this right again. Everyone has become so confused about what they¡¯re even fighting for anymore. What¡¯s right, and what¡¯s wrong. It¡¯s not a question of ethics, girl, it''s a matter of truth and lies.¡±

    Violet paused. She kept the man stuck in place, nowhere to go. All he could do was answer her questions. As physically helpless as he was, Brison had an edge over her mentally, and it infuriated Violet. He knew she was hooked onto every word, and seemed to revel in the fact.

    ¡°The gods have started to unite under a common enemy of the Unbounded, but they seem to have forgotten why they¡¯re here in the first place. Tell me, if I showed you a universe full of burning, broken, sinking planets, and asked you who the real demons were . . . what conclusion would you draw then? What is the eradication of one planet, when thousands have been killed in the name of your false divinity?¡±

    Violet said nothing for a very long moment. ¡°That¡¯s not you speaking, Brison.¡± Her voice turned softer, regained its girlish quality as she adopted her human form. ¡°Remember who you are. The man I know, that we all treasure, would recoil at those words.¡±

    For a moment, there were no sounds at all. The wind itself seemed to go quiet, the roar of the battlefield as loud as dust falling. Brison tilted his head, and for this point in time and space, there was only Violet and Brison, cloaked in silence.

    Violet didn¡¯t know who she saw behind those eyes.

    Finally, Brison smacked his lips. ¡°Then you don¡¯t know me very well at all.¡±

    Out of nowhere, a fist of flame materialised in the air. Easily the size of a whale, it smashed into Violet¡¯s side, point blank. All the sounds of the world returned in one terrible flash of pain and betrayal. The worst part was that worming feeling in the pit of her stomach, like venom left there to sit and fester. The one glass-shattering reality she couldn¡¯t suppress.That some of the man¡¯s words made sense to her.

    Her hold on the Infinity sustaining her flight suddenly slipped away. She was falling, slipping through wind and fire, the weight of her armour only serving to send her crashing down faster.

    And crash down she did.

    She imagined herself splattering like a bug against the earth below, but it wasn¡¯t quite like that. The crack of bones rang through her skull, a shard of dislodged rock slashing open her cheek once more.

    Brison¡¯s foot crashed into the back of her armour. One blow alone was never enough to shatter her suit. But then came the second blow, and the third, and, before she could teleport away in a pulse of magenta, the fourth.

    Ichor spilled from her lips, as Violet stumbled drunkenly metres away. She reached a hand out, connecting back with the Infinity of her spikes, wanting nothing more than to tear those wings apart.

    But Brison had the idea first.

    The set of blades from earlier came flying through the air, spinning at Brison¡¯s sides. He lowered his head, only grunting as Ichor spurted from his sides.

    The wings fell to the ground. There, they began to rot at some accelerated speed, returning to ash faster than Violet could blink.

    Brison spun the swords, before jumping into a battle stance with a roar. He was soaked in blood from head-to-toe, but the man looked more primed to fight than ever. As if the injuries only served to reinvigorate him with a renewed sense of urgency.

    Violet tried to call the Infinity back to her again, but failed miserably, the essence like water slipping through her open hands.

    ¡°Looks like we¡¯re at a crossroads, Violet. Both of us trapped on the ground again.¡±

    Her chaotic power continued to make the platform spin, but it did nothing but exacerbate how sick Violet was feeling. She let it come to a grinding stop.

    ¡°Your fate ends here. The next few minutes should be long enough for you to reflect on what I¡¯ve said. Maybe, in another life, you might pick the right side of this war.¡±

    Then Brison leaped into another attack, a spinning whirlwind of flame and claws.

 117. Crusade

    Koa¡¯s Mark couldn¡¯t take much more. He had effectively separated the battlefield into three different sections. Remus and Violet each had their own private sector, with the rest of the battle taking place in one final, larger enclosure. Under constant bombardment from fire, forceful attacks, and the battering of angry clansmen, it took all of his focus to keep the walls up. Any second now, and they could all come crashing down. Spilling out the absolute destruction that both Remus and Violet were dishing out.

    Then there was the troubling sensation he was getting from Brison. Koa had spent enough time in his brother''s vicinity to identify the power emanating from him, like a marring streak of colour to his spiritual senses.

    Somehow, Enos had his hand in this.

    It would explain why this battle had reached such extremes. In the corner of his eye, Koa didn¡¯t fail to notice the long row of medical camps that were being erected. By their side, at least a dozen occupied gurneys stretched out. Nurses were rushing to and fro, waving to grab attention, their pleas to end this bloodshed falling on deaf ears. He spotted Koa amongst their number, looking like he could sleep through the next hundred years.

    Koa focused on keeping himself alive, and his walls standing. This was supposed to be a safe match, but the rising number of casualties told another story. He was adorned in his armour, adopting the appearance of a primal berserker. Together with his eyes, Koa had hoped to look intimidating enough to ward off any would-be attackers. But nope ¡ª twice now he¡¯d sent Ambition clansmen to the infirmary. Bees buzzed through the air around him, though they didn¡¯t stray very far: once the first adventurous bumblebee had been sizzled by a rogue blast of fire, the rest quickly learnt their lesson. They were supposed to act as his sentinels, warning Koa if anyone tried to backstab him while he kept his focus on the walls. Great in theory, but in practice, they hadn¡¯t stopped screaming since Brison first appeared through that mist.

    Until now.

    Raising an eyebrow, Koa looked away from his fortifications to take in the battle anew. Everyone had dropped their weapons. It was as if, all at once, both sides had realised how far things had progressed. How easily their barbaric instincts had taken ahold of them. Was this humanity stripped of all its lavishment? Creatures drawn to senseless violence?

    The Ambition of Tanish didn¡¯t help. It was like a very loud, very opinionated voice at the back of every Ambition clansman¡¯s head. Urging them on to fight with all they had, heedless of the consequences.

    Now that voice had gone quiet. Leaving the rest of the mind to scream out in terror, disgusted at its own actions.

    Veida didn¡¯t miss her opportunity.

    ¡°Everybody!¡± She projected her voice to its limit, thirty or so heads flickering to her, all at once. The pick of the litter ¡ª these were the strongest Foot-Soldiers the Ambition Sect and the Talents of the Future had to offer. The fact they had survived so long was testament enough for that. ¡°Something is wrong. I believe Brison is under the manipulation of Enos!¡±

    Confused murmurs, like a wave of uncertainty, spread away from the woman. Nobody responded, eyeing Veida warily as if sizing her up, waiting to see if this was some kind of trick. One man sauntered ahead of the Ambition Clansmen, his face, chainmail armour, and twin axes positively dripping with Ichor.

    ¡°I call your bluff!¡± He screeched, and, puffing his chest out, launched into a charge.

    Veida shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll make you an example then.¡±

    Without another word, a searing blast of fire rushed out of her palm.

    The man responded with his own blast of blue, but it was hopeless. A Foot-Soldier was completely overwhelmed by the power of a Warden. Even when Remus fought against those stronger than him, he had assistance.

    The man dropped to the ground, and Koa had to stop a squeak from escaping his throat. The clansman was charred from head-to-toe, and in one grand movement, dust billowed away from where his body fell.

    ¡°I do not wish to fight!¡± Veida shouted at the top of her lungs. ¡°Stop this nonsense. We have a common enemy too great to waste time bickering amongst ourselves. Your sect leader needs you, now more than ever!¡±

    That seemed to stop the Ambition Clan¡¯s grumbles.

    Hope flared in Koa¡¯s heart. Something had gone horribly wrong, but at least they wouldn¡¯t have to continue butting heads against each other. Veida was right, in this trying time, humanity now more than ever needed to set aside their-

    Koa¡¯s heart leaped into his throat. He staggered backwards, not processing what he was seeing.

    Brison was flying in the air, but he wasn¡¯t using his flames. No, the man had wings. Wings! And claws, and talons, and whiskers that reached inches away from his face, and-

    God damn. God damn. He''s a demon!

    Or a dragon. Koa couldn¡¯t decide which. But that wasn¡¯t even the worst part.

    Two blades of fire were wielded in both of his hands. They were semi-solid, like plasma, each with highlights of gold, from Ichor. As well as a certain grey blood, like that of an Unbounded.

    When Koa looked over to the other blade, he didn¡¯t have to wonder whose blood it was.

    Violet was fully pierced through the chest, blood gushing from her open mouth, only to congeal on her cheeks. The girl was barely breathing.

    Brison roared, upending his head to the sky. ¡°Behold! This stain has finally been cleansed!¡±

    Koa wasn¡¯t sure what the desired effect of that was. If it was to impress them, not even Brison¡¯s own men looked pleased. Their jaws hung wide, their faces a caricature of dread.

    ¡°The Paladins rise!¡± His voice continued to boom. Veida had ceased her own call to arms, at a loss for words. ¡°Join my ranks, see the weakness of our enemies. What good have our gods done for us? Why do we fight for Tanish? He has contributed nothing to this universe but destruction.¡±

    Gasps. Koa felt himself joining the men gathered around as they peered up into the sky, as if they were all hoping for a godly smiting.

    No such retribution came.

    ¡°Think on my words!¡± It broke Koa¡¯s heart to think Brison had been reduced to a mouthpiece for Enos. ¡°I offer the only solution.¡±

    Silence.

    Brison raised an eyebrow. ¡°Not a very excited bunch, eh?¡± His eyes roved across the battlefield, or what was left of it. ¡°Any challengers?¡±

    Nobody raised their voice. Koa felt his heart racing, his palms growing clammy and something in his chest disagreeing with all this. Yet despite himself, he couldn¡¯t get his legs to move. Nearly all of them were only Foot-Soldiers. If a Warlord like Violet had failed to subdue this new version of Brison, then what hope did they have?

    Veida accepted her fate. Fire cloaked her fists as she strode forward, a net of floating magma materialising in the air.

    A lamb to the slaughter. Koa couldn''t get that image out of his head, and hated himself for it.

    A smile rose eagerly on Brison¡¯s lips. ¡°That¡¯s right . . . I should have known. None of you are Paladin quality. I¡¯ll do Enos the favour of cleansing you my-¡±

    The sound of a forest toppling down stripped the limelight away from Brison. Even he and Veida couldn¡¯t help but look back for the source of the noise.

    The wall separating Remus had come crashing down. Koa hadn¡¯t even noticed any efforts to takedown his wall. Had he sent the entire thing crashing down in one blow?

    Through the dust, a sort of smog had formed. But through this fog, it wasn¡¯t Brison that came into the fray.

    The ground shook with each step as they approached. Vibrations tremored through Koa¡¯s body, seeming to make his very skull rattle. There were flashes through the smoke, revealing stray images of a lone warrior. An arm here, a leg there, thunder booming through the sky at each glare of light.

    When lightning struck, a peculiar shade of azure, it smacked down onto one central spot. As if Tanish had finally arrived to punish them for Brison¡¯s insolence, only to mistake his target.

    The sky cleared, the fog dispersed, and Remus stood proudly.

    Lightning and flame crackled around Remus in his own personal storm. It weaved around him, as if the man was disaster incarnate, the sinister counterpart to mother nature. His chain and the remains of Brison¡¯s hammer were clenched tightly in each hand. So that was where the man¡¯s weapon had gone; it appeared to have found a new owner.

    ¡°What do we have here?¡± Brison turned his attention away from Veida, as if forgetting she existed. ¡°Remus. My master really does despise you. Quite a visceral strand of hatred. It would please him immensely if I plucked that hammer away from your dead fingers.¡±

    Remus should have been exhausted. He should have been cooped up in one of the infirmary¡¯s tents, thoroughly spent after taking down a full attack squad. But despite the Ichor staining his flesh, and the ruined state of Aziel¡¯s armour, Koa couldn''t spot a single scratch on his body.

    And when his senses got a hold on the man, he realised why.

    Veida wasn¡¯t the only Splintered Rank amongst them.

    <hr>

    Advancing to Vanguard was strange.

    Remus had expected something colossal. Like the sky tearing into two, as the earth was divided into a million pieces.

    Reality was a lot more underwhelming. His Mark and Vault finally seemed to stop fighting with each other. Remus detached himself from both Divine relics. He let go of the years of suffering, the life of ridicule he¡¯d been forced to endure as a Death-Marked, during and before the Trials of the Earnest. His Full Body Blood Infusion Mould that he had agonised over, was even harder to say goodbye to. So many days of slamming his head against the wall, trying Mould after Mould until realising he would have to develop his own. Then sketching out, and tirelessly following the design through gradual increments of Infinity.

    This wasn¡¯t truly goodbye to either, and Remus knew that. Still, it felt like letting go of both. Maybe that was why this had taken him so long in the first place. It was almost as if he had to acknowledge the past was gone: those days travelling with Violet had been some of the toughest of his life, but he found himself missing them more and more. They were back travelling together now, but he missed his grandfather. He missed his only concern being Damosh and Nova, and not the absolute terror of this new phase of Unbounded attack. An assault where any one of his companions may be manipulated by their dark influence.

    Maybe Barley was right. Maybe it was emotions getting in his way, and impeding his advancement. But with the Talents of the Future at his back, reunited with his closest friends, and his eyes tunnel-visioned onto one goal once more, Remus finally had some peace of mind. It was strange, a contrast to the terror all around, to the certainty that something about this battle had gone very, very awry. But regardless of external circumstances, Remus felt like an anchor during a storm.

    He thrived best in the chaos of this world, cutting through like a holy dagger where strife and ruin besieged the people of Descent.

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    Remus opened his eyes, breathing slow and steady. He clenched and unclenched his fists, realising ¡ª despite the Ichor and shards of Infirnite plastered to his skin ¡ª that not a single cut grazed his body. He didn¡¯t even seem to have any scar tissue. If you stripped him of the debris and the blood, there was no sign on Remus¡¯ body to suggest he¡¯d ever participated in battle.

    Remus wondered how far the miraculous healing of advancement could go. What if a man on his deathbed emerged into a new Rank of power? It would be pretty auspicious timing. He had to wonder, could this avert death?

    Hopefully, he would never have to find out.

    He took a moment to hop around on his feet. His body felt the same as always: no heavier, and he didn¡¯t feel stronger. Though that wasn¡¯t exactly something you could gauge without testing. His Boundless Mark, however, shimmered through the late evening blue.

    The tubes of his Full Body Blood Infusion Mould now all connected to his Mark, extending off in an intricate maze he knew all too well. Remus drew in a slither of Infinity, most of the essence already drained for miles all around. It was now consumed by the Mark itself, instead of into what had once been his Boundless Vault.

    The Three Splintered Ranks came to mind. All with their own unique heavenly construct.

    Wardens, equipped with a Boundless Chamber created by sacrificing their Mark. The walking, talking shields of humanity¡¯s army. They were proficient in manipulating Infinity, able to withstand blow after blow due to their immaculate defence. Their Chambers dwarfed any Bank or Vault, stretching through nearly the entire body, and storing enough Infinity to rival some Unbounded. Nothing to scoff at. The trade-off was a less than stellar manipulation of their god¡¯s subject of power: having to draw it in directly through their Ichor, without a Mark¡¯s assistance. Unfortunately for any Death-Marked wishing to mimic the technique, this was only possible due to one¡¯s Ichor becoming truly potent at these higher Ranks.

    Mercenaries, with their great Tapestries, forged into being through letting their Mark consume the power of their newly created Vault. They weaved in and out of the battlefield, their destructive power taking down dangerous targets, but their poor defence leaving them prone to injury. Remus couldn¡¯t fathom how this subset of people had to heart to wave goodbye to the Mould they had just created. Yet part of him saw the appeal. Hadrian and other mercenaries saw their Marks expand to double, or sometimes triple the size. Tapestries granted them absolute control over their domain of power, truly able to push a god¡¯s concept to the very boundaries. Though having one¡¯s Vault be reduced to a pea-sized dot again was not a light trade-off.

    And finally, Remus¡¯ Rank of choice, Vanguard. It was the perfect middleground. Whilst not reaching the heights of a Mercenary¡¯s brute strength, or the longevity of a Warden, it provided the best of both worlds. These made up most of the Splintered Ranks in the army, their construct of choice, now illuminating Remus¡¯ reborn skin, was the Boundless Mark.

    Thoughts of how he would go about reaching Warlord crossed Remus¡¯ mind, but he shook his head. He had other matters to attend to. Namely, discovering what exactly was going on.

    No way was this nothing more than a simple bout to test out Remus¡¯ rebellion. Something was up.

    Despite the danger, Remus couldn''t help but grin. Here was the perfect opportunity to test out the might of a newly advanced Vanguard.

    His Infinity Manipulation and mastery over Tanish¡¯s power should have both received boosts from the advancement. Cracking his neck, Remus decided to try out the latter first.

    Blue fire immersed his body, so quick, it seemed to precede his mind¡¯s instructions. How could he do something different? For so long, it felt to Remus like he had been relying on the same old repertoire of abilities. He couldn¡¯t be content with complacency.

    His raised the temperature, the colour following suit as it roared in a fiery white. Next, Remus thinned the flames. It was like drawing them into slim blades, but he allowed the eruptive power of Ambition to stay intact. Ambition didn¡¯t like to maintain a solid form. It was free flowing, like fire, but surely there were other shapes his Ambition could inhabit?

    His queries were answered when lightning shot out of his body.

    Remus lost control over the new technique, too busy grasping both sides of his head in awe.

    Lightning.

    It was much harder to maintain than fire, the form far more destructive. This was Ambition in its most raw, unchecked state: unable to be contained. To his spiritual senses, it felt to Remus like Eruptive Will, that same kind of explosive might now crackling around his body. Like with his fires, a little testing proved that he could cause the energy to erupt remotely. Not that the lightning lasted particularly long, anyway. Compared to his fires, they were out in the blink of an eye.

    Remus tried to calm himself, the tide of excitement overflowing from his racing heart. Any second now, and he was worried the organ might burst with joy. If there was any way to die from happiness, this would be it.

    He looked up absently to Koa¡¯s fortifications. He had to wonder, just how strong was that oak wall anyway? He hated to undermine all of Koa¡¯s hardwork, but by the sounds of it, he was needed back in the midst of battle.

    Remus concentrated all of his lightning to one fist. At the same time, he imbued each finger with a giant, whirling ball of Eruptive Will. Finally, he coated his arm with searing white fire, and, all in one breath, smashed the oak frontier.

    He hadn¡¯t expected it to work quite so well.

    The wall went tumbling down, a maelstrom of sawdust billowing through the air as Remus blinked away the dust. Only when it cleared, a few seconds later, was he able to get a good view on the situation.

    What immediately hit him as strange was the peculiar fact no-one was fighting. Ambition clansmen and members of his rebellion alike simply stared at him, eyes wider than the hole he had blasted through. But why-

    A strange noise escaped Remus¡¯ throat when he saw it.

    Violet¡¯s life hanging on by a thread.

    It took Remus a second to realise it was Brison who he was looking at. But the demonic features, the fiery blades impaling Violet¡¯s body, the splurge of oozing black that had taken control over his Mark. It stank of Enos¡¯ doing.

    Brison seemed to say something, but the words went over Remus¡¯ head.There was no-time to dilly-dally. Remus learnt back, as if about to leap, charging lightning through his legs. His Ichor was on fire, his breath felt hot in his mouth, and Eruptive Will was implanted into every muscle in his lower body. He didn¡¯t even feel the weight of his hammer and chain.

    Then he flew.

    Remus exploded into Brison¡¯s face, swinging his hammer with the might of a sumo wrestler. He saw Brison¡¯s neck deform, bending dangerously to the side. Mid-air, he kicked away the man¡¯s right hand, sending the sword piercing Violent flying off to the side.

    Flying over to her, imbuing his flames with trickles of lightning to quicken his speed, he grabbed Violet¡¯s body, and rushed to the ground. There, without thinking, he reached out into the fires of the ethereal blade. He poured all of his own Ambition into the sword, subduing Brison¡¯s own authority over the weapon. Brison was too far away, and too surprised to wrestle back, and the weapon instantly dispersed.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± It was the most generic thing to say, but Remus didn¡¯t have much time on his hands. Blood was flowing through the cut in her chest, at speeds that made Remus¡¯ stomach turn.

    Violet gritted her teeth, a mix of relief and frustration flooding through her. ¡°I-I¡¯ll be fine. Give me a few minutes, and I¡¯ll be back there fighting.¡±

    Remus flinched as motion blurred past his eyes. Lightning danced on the top of his knuckles, but it was only Veida. ¡°Remus, I¡¯ll congratulate you on your advancement later. As harsh as it is, Violet will be able to recover on her own. All she needs is some time to-¡± the sound of a mountain coming to life cut the woman off. ¡°Time to channel some Infinity. But we need to deal with Brison. That tainted Mark of his seems to have increased his strength, but two Splintered Ranks should be enough to subdue the man.¡±

    Brison was screeching death threats, but Remus paid the crazed comments no mind. ¡°So what¡¯s the deal here? We¡¯re killing him?¡±

    ¡°Not if we can help it. But if it comes to that-¡±

    There was no time.

    Brison returned to a shaky stand. Gripped tightly was the hammer Remus had thrown at his head. The weapon had endured so much. In some kind of fit, Brison burned the thing to ashes, summoning an orb of fire between his hands brighter than the sun.

    ¡°Interesting technique you¡¯ve got there Remus.¡± The Warlord¡¯s body suddenly shone with light, thunderous streaks of electricity blazing off him. ¡°I was never too creative with our sect¡¯s powers. Perhaps I should take some pointers from you.¡±

    Remus wasted no time. Before another word could escape the goliath¡¯s mouth, he was only an inch away. The lightning from both of their bodies met together, charging the atmosphere with a murderous buzz and supplying enough power to light a small city.

    So Remus wasn¡¯t the first Ambition clansmen to discover the flashy technique. He tried not to feel disappointed. Or maybe Brison really had gotten a hold on the ability that quickly.

    Both of them were locked into a stalemate. Remus felt the pressure of Brison¡¯s will press down against him, trying to fry his body like meat on an open fire. Yet Maris had prepared him well. After grappling with the mind of a God-Graced, Brison was light pickings.

    He took a step forward, pushing the man back.

    Brison looked like he wanted to say something. To spit a whole book¡¯s worth of curses, hexes, and threats his way. He didn¡¯t waste any effort, but Remus allowed himself a smile.

    He wouldn¡¯t show fear in front of anyone who served Enos. Regardless of if they had been a former friend.

    Finally, when forced to step back again, Brison swiped his second blade in front of Remus ¡ª the white and red blade, a strange hybrid of fire and solid Ambition.

    It flared to nearly three time¡¯s the size, the point pressing against Remus¡¯ chest. A slither of blood trailed down his stomach, evaporating before it could even reach his knees.

    Remus focused on the Ambition that made up the mystical weapon. Mind over matter, he was going to undo Brison¡¯s second blade, just as he had the first. But this time, Brison put up a much better fight.

    The blade shook in the air, the veins in Brison¡¯s arm welling up, as if Ichor was about to burst out.

    Then the man lurched backwards. A sudden torpedo of flame had flared behind Brison¡¯s back. Veida was pressing him with her own attack. Remus felt hope flare in his chest; the end was near.

    From out of Brison¡¯s mouth, a pillar of fire poured into Remus¡¯ face. His skin was seared, his eyes blinded by an infinite white for two terrible seconds. He suddenly felt very small. All of his Ranks of advancement seemed to wash away, and it was like he was seven years old again. Helpless, and by all metrics of success, utterly worthless. If Brison had destroyed his eyes-

    But no. He blinked, able to see again, his own eruption of flame holding back Brison¡¯s onslaught. The man had turned to the side, his sword facing towards Remus, and his other hand sending a stream of heat towards Veida.

    How funny. Gone were all of their fancy techniques. When the going got tough, it seemed like everyone returned to the most surface-level abilities. Maybe they provided a level of comfort.

    No way in hell was Brison going to be able to divide his attention between two Splintered Ranks. Remus focused all of his willpower onto Brison¡¯s blade, and swore he could hear the man¡¯s teeth grinding together as the upper point of the blade began to disperse. The rest of the weapon soon followed, and inching ever closer-

    Blood poured from Brison¡¯s mouth, and all of his fire abruptly dispersed. His blade was fractured into dazzling light, before disappearing altogether, and out of his chest, a rapier stabbed through.

    Violet was holding the handle.

    Brison¡¯s head turned all around, and, muttering something incoherent, he slipped to the floor.

    With a sigh, Remus allowed his own techniques to disappear. He kept his Mark active however, hunching down to examine Brison¡¯s body.

    A pool of blood was quickly amounting. Remus went numb at the memory of who this man had once been.

    Gone was all of Enos¡¯ influence. No, looking down, Remus saw nothing but an elderly man on the cusp of death.

    ¡°Medics!¡± He screamed. ¡°Medics!¡±

    Nobody moved an inch. Even Edmund, a man utterly loyal to his sect leader, looked as if all the muscle in his body had been replaced by stone.

    ¡°What are you doing!¡± Remus was shouting at this point. He let Ambition bleed into his voice. It had never sounded louder, each word demanding attention. ¡°Your sect leader is dying! Medics!¡±

    That seemed to do the trick. Four men quickly hurried to Brison¡¯s side. Veida too went to assist them, though didn¡¯t appear too pleased.

    Remus expected to be out of breath. His body, newly reforged from his advancement, felt ready to fight for hours longer, but mentally, Remus couldn¡¯t have felt more drained. It would likely take hours before he mentally adjusted to the Rank, for his body and mind to work in tandem again.

    ¡°Violet.¡± He said, after getting a hold of himself. ¡°Thank you for that. I think reaching Vanguard made me underestimate Brison¡¯s strength. If it wasn¡¯t for you-¡±

    Violet leaped into a hug. Remus led his sentence drop, enveloping his arms around her. ¡°I¡¯m thanking you, dummy.¡±

    Remus¡¯s cheeks flushed, but shame tightened his throat. ¡°All I did was leave you to bleed out while I fought Brison.¡±

    ¡°You freed me from his blade. We¡¯re both safe now, that¡¯s all that matters.¡± Violet pushed her head off his shoulder, locking eyes with Remus.

    Was he supposed to do something? Part of Remus suddenly hoped she would kiss his cheek again. The rest of his brain made sure to pummel that part of him to smithereens. They continued to hold each other, like both were waiting for the other to pull away. It was about to get very uncomfortable, before Remus suddenly remembered how absolutely filthy he was.

    ¡°I should get washed.¡± Remus picked apart the pieces of Infirnite that had embedded into his skin. It looked like the tissue had fused back together against the loose crystal. The thought made Remus shiver.

    ¡°I should probably rest too.¡± Violet looked more shaken than ever. Remus wanted to hold her again, to tell her that everything was going to be alright, but controlled himself.

    As he made his way to the nearest bathing chamber, his eyes wandered over to Brison.

    Veida was observing his tainted Mark. She looked utterly dumbfounded, tracing a finger against the blackened skin. Apparently there were new nightmares in this world, terrible things that could alarm somebody as experienced as Veida.

    Remus walked far away, trying not to shiver, the thought of a hot spring carrying him forward.

    He really did stink.

 118. Eyes on the Prize

    Remus followed at Aziel¡¯s back, the man¡¯s torched hand illuminating the bandage wrapped around his head, and the strange markings along the tunnel walls. This network of tunnelling led away from the Gallery, and, according to Aziel, hadn¡¯t seen any use in years.

    ¡°How¡¯s your head feeling?¡± Remus asked. It had been two days since the incident, and suffice to say, there hadn¡¯t been much in terms of conversation. Everybody seemed in collective grieving for a man who wasn¡¯t even dead.

    ¡°All good. I told the medics I don¡¯t need the wrapping, but they insisted. Apparently that clansman got me pretty darn good.¡±

    Aziel wasn¡¯t the only casualty. Vitality Clansman hailing all the way from the city proper had been called for assistance. Remus couldn¡¯t help but wince at the thought some of the more nasty injuries had been dealt by his hand. And here he was, skin as tender as a newborn. The perks of recent advancement.

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to get my legs moving, but what exactly do you wanna show me?¡± After practically living in Aziel¡¯s library since the battle, this was the most Remus had moved in days. Other than testing out a few of the library¡¯s techniques, most of which he was still getting the hang of, he rarely saw the need to venture outside that shrine of knowledge.

    ¡°Mentally prepare yourself.¡± Remus would have laughed, if not for the man¡¯s grave tone. ¡°I wasn¡¯t there at the battle Remus, to see . . . to see what he had become. The first time I came down here, I couldn¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t believe what?¡± A worrying thought suddenly took root in Remus¡¯ mind. Branches of dread now entangled him in a chokehold. ¡°You don¡¯t mean-¡±

    They stopped as the passage opened out into a larger chamber. A junction shot off to the east, a cool wind sifting through. Along that breeze, a voice dripping with venom carried.

    ¡°Release me at once!¡±

    The demand preceded a jumble of noise. The stomping of feet, more furious yelps, and the metallic chink of chains Remus knew all too well. Remus felt his own weapon¡¯s weight on his back now, awfully inclined to draw those steel links. By the sounds of it, things were pretty ugly.

    Remus wasn¡¯t an idiot. He¡¯d recognised the man¡¯s voice immediately. He found himself slowing down, hesitant to confront the truth. Aziel shared his untoward frown.

    ¡°After you.¡± He said darkly, pausing outside of one wider opening.

    Remus nodded, bracing as he entered.

    ¡°Fight it Brison!¡± Veida shouted, her voice rebounding off the cavernous walls. They must have been deep into the mountains that surrounded the base. ¡°I know you¡¯re there. Fight it!¡±

    To emphasise her point, Veida set both of her fists alight. The flame reflected off the polished stone of the cave, all seeming to illuminate one central spot.

    Brison was chained up in the centre of the airy cavern, manacles enclosed over every limb, locking him in place. He wore no shirt, the full extent of his fabulous musculature on show. And, emerging into view whenever he struggled with the confines, was his Mark.

    ¡°He¡¯s tainted . . . ¡° The words escaped Aziel.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re calling the condition. That ashy look his Mark¡¯s taken on. Awfully strange, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Remus couldn¡¯t help but agree. With his spiritual senses, the Mark emanated the energy one might expect from the likes of a Right-bearer. But it was different. Instead of giving power through a Divine Right, like Milap¡¯s Fusion, or Nova¡¯s Mastery over Infinity, this felt like a sinister extension of pre-existing strength. As if Tanish had an evil counterpart, some moustache twirling caricature that now fed power through Brison in place of the Ambition god.

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to question the gods about this. On the Day of Descension. If Enos has a way of corrupting their power, I can¡¯t see how they¡¯d stand for it.¡±

    ¡°True, but I doubt they can do anything about it.¡± Aziel lamented. ¡°All the gods do is provide power. Like a funnel, I imagine. The gods establish the link, and then Enos intervenes, adding his own baleful touch. It¡¯s unlikely that they have the intricacy needed to try and suppress his taint. As its source, all they can do is turn their power on and off, and I doubt any of our gods are eager to lessen their manpower.¡±

    Remus gritted his teeth. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me we have no way of getting Brison back to normalcy?¡±

    Aziel¡¯s silence told him enough.

    ¡°I¡¯ll burn this city to the ground! My fires will weave the land into a hellscape ¡ª just a sneak preview to what¡¯s awaiting you all! You scum will be punished. Infinity is inevitable!¡±

    ¡°Another round of medicine is inevitable, if you keep talking like that.¡±

    Brison visibly recoiled, dragging himself as far back as his chains would allow. Now that Remus focused on the man¡¯s face, he realised what a strange picture it painted. His jowls sagged in a telltale sign of old age, and the grey of his hair foretold a warrior who was long past his heyday. But then his eyes ¡ª a flicker of red blazed there. That demon form was still at his fingertips. Just out of reach. And Remus suspected Brison¡¯s confines were responsible. He shivered at the memory of his own trial, and the inhibiting power of the manacles that had prevented his escape.

    He rubbed at his wrists habitually, never wanting to feel that powerless ever again.

    Brison must have been wrestling with a similar feeling, an ear-splitting scream escaping his throat for a moment as the man pushed forward. He made a good effort, but not enough. Physical strength alone would never be enough to undo the chains.

    Veida sighed, planting a hand in the pocket of her coat. Then she unveiled a tiny ampoule, a syringe following soon after.

    Something in Brison¡¯s demeanour changed. He continued to twitch against his confines, but Remus didn¡¯t get the impression he was trying to escape. Veida proceeded to enter a transparent liquid into the syringe, squirting out a tiny drop. Then, she approached the man¡¯s arm.

    ¡°I will not be silenced. You cannot contain destiny, woman!¡±

    Veida ignored him, only acquiring a slight frown at the words. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Brison. I¡¯m sorry this has been done to you. We¡¯ll try and work out how to get you back. I promise.¡±

    After a minute of resistance, where Brison flailed his arms around like a maniac, Veida was finally able to hold him in place, and locate a vein. As the sedative flooded into Brison¡¯s bloodstream, his eyes instantly grew baggy. Remus counted three seconds in his head, and the man was out cold.

    Nobody muttered a word.

    Veida walked slowly out of the tunnel, only briefly murmuring a farewell to them both as she turned a corner. Her frown was trembling, her hand tapping her side in a nervous tic. Then she departed from view altogether.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to see our sect leader like that, Remus, after all you¡¯ve done to protect our clan. I just thought you had the right to see reality, with your own eyes.¡±

    ¡°How many people know?¡±

    The two walked apace, not really caring where they wandered off to. After what Remus had just witnessed, he found his body unable to sit still.

    ¡°A few. I¡¯ll be making an announcement later. There¡¯s talk of a new sect leader, but that¡¯s the worst case scenario. Unless we¡¯ve exhausted all available options, Brison is still our leader in my eyes, and officially. We¡¯re still debating whether to release this information globally. The world has a right to know about Brison¡¯s affliction. But what about us, our safety? It may be paranoid thinking, but if other clans knew we had no sect leader for protection, what would stop them from taking us over, just like the Wild Clan did? We¡¯re in no state to defend ourselves.

    ¡°Still, I have to wonder . . . what¡¯s more important, Remus? Our protection, or the world hearing vital knowledge about the power of the Paladins.¡±

    Daylight broke through the gloom of the twisting caves, and by the time they had emerged, Remus still didn¡¯t have an answer. ¡°For once Aziel, I don¡¯t know. But if others like Brison start to appear, with his condition, then the Paladins might not be a threat to take lightly.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Aziel muttered, taking no solace in his words. ¡°No indeed.¡±

    Remus bid his friend farewell, wishing he could provide Aziel more comfort. He was itching to get back to the library, to train new abilities and flesh out his arsenal. Becoming a one trick pony would benefit no-one. Yet at the same time, this had been the first time he¡¯d been out of the library in days. The sunlight would be good for him, and Remus did recall an apparent letter, addressed to him directly from the castle.

    He¡¯d been procrastinating actually reading through its contents. His excuse was being too immersed into his training, but that wasn¡¯t exactly true, was it?

    Fear. Remus was scared about what the contents of that letter would be. What if Eliane wanted something in return for breaking Maris¡¯ Oath? Then Remus would be right back where he started: chained down under the bidding of some loathsome God-Graced. That was cynical thinking, and he knew it. Eliane had never wronged him, and out of all God-Graced Remus had met in his life, she seemed like one of the most inoffensive. Most likely, it was probably a simple thank you message, to show they were on good terms, and out of formality.

    Remus shooed away the thought. There was another matter that needed attending to. Damion¡¯s escape mission. In no way, shape or form had Remus intentionally been neglecting helping his brother out. Every time he thought of his family in dire peril, counting down the days until one of Damosh¡¯ men finally snapped and added them to the death tally, drawing closer and closer to a bloody, agonising, and brutal end-

    Remus forced himself to take a deep breath. Whenever he thought of that, his thoughts would spiral. And yet Enos¡¯ warping of Brison¡¯s mind had seen the Ambition Clan¡¯s rescue mission delayed by another Duration. As if the universe would comply with the postponed schedule and ensure his clan wouldn¡¯t die until later. What a joke.

    If they didn¡¯t quicken up their pace, Remus was considering executing a ploy all on his own. This was a separate affair to his rebellion, so it felt wrong to draw his men in for a personal matter. He would have to fashion his own squad of a much lesser number, so they wouldn''t attract attention on account of numbers alone.

    If it came to that. Remus couldn¡¯t wait much longer, but the mission shouldn¡¯t be delayed again. A little pressing of the clan¡¯s higherups would ensure that.

    Maybe Remus had more problems than he realised. A third issue sprang into being through a physical reminder, when a group of clansmen ran into view. Less of an issue, actually, than it was a peculiar circumstance.

    ¡°Remus!¡±

    There were six men confronting him. There was no need for it, but sweat began to cling against Remus¡¯ neck. He was more than able to defend himself, and these men weren¡¯t here to jump him in some broad daylight robbery, or as revenge for their bout. Remus was sure a few clansmen harboured some resentment for what had transpired during the competitive match, but strangely, it had only seemed to perpetuate his popularity amongst the sect.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    No, he was sweating bullets out of discomfort, not fear.

    ¡°What do we have to do to convince you! We all want to join your rebellion. You told us to wait for Brison to get in a right state of mind, but we know his real condition is being hidden from us! The man isn¡¯t going to get better, is he?¡±

    ¡°Look now, I wouldn¡¯t go so far to say-¡±

    ¡°We Ambition clansmen belong on the battlefield. It¡¯s who we are. It¡¯s what we stand for. Let us fight for you!¡±

    ¡°Your clan needs protecting.¡±

    ¡°The world needs protecting!¡±

    It was all different people speaking, but each of the men shared the same vision. Remus had to admit, he respected their grit.

    Suddenly opening that letter from Eliane sounded a whole lot more appealing. ¡°Give me a few days to discuss things with the rest of the clan. I want you to join. But considering the circumstances, I can¡¯t do that in good faith.¡±

    It took a few more circling conversations for the men to finally get the message. They wandered off in a huff.

    And they wonder why I never leave the library.

    Remus found his legs carrying him towards his actual chambers. It was a spacious room the Ambition Clan had been gracious enough to supply him upon arrival. Alas, Remus saw little more use out of the place than diving into its bed, at the end of long days spent nose-deep in books. On the days he didn¡¯t fall asleep reading, anyway.

    When Violet appeared at Remus¡¯ side, it took all his self-control not to jolt. ¡°Stop. That.¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡± She turned in front of him. ¡°Where are you headed? You¡¯ve been cooped up in that room for so long. I get lonely, y¡¯know?¡±

    Remus gave her a puzzled look. ¡°I assume you know about Brison.¡±

    The mood switched instantly. Like mentioning your recently deceased third cousin at a dinner party. Violet rubbed at her arm sheepishly, looking away. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s tragic. Do you think-¡± she cut herself off. ¡°Gods, I hate how dark my thoughts get sometimes.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Violet hesitated. ¡°What if Enos can corrupt anyone like that? What if we end up like Brison? All of us. Everybody we care about.¡±

    Remus stopped in his tracks. He looked over to Violet, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. He detested how afraid she sounded. Rarely did he hear her sound so scared. ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself. We don¡¯t even know the requirements for Enos to control you yet. Maybe you have to choose to become one of his Paladins. Let your mental guard drop just enough for his dark corruption to swoop in.¡±

    ¡°Brison doesn''t sound to me like the kind of person to willingly join that cause. I speak like I was on personal terms with the man, but you know what I mean?¡±

    ¡°I do. It¡¯s strange. But at the same time . . . Enos draws the worst elements out of us all. You have to wonder how persuasive he can really be. That paranoia we saw from Brison, before Enos fully cracked the shell of his mind. That was very, very real.¡±

    ¡°We need to be ready.¡± Violet surmised. ¡°Can we confidently say we¡¯ll turn his offer down if he ever grants it to us? The darkest desires of us all, our worst fears, most anxious phobias. They could be our downfall.¡±

    Remus imagined himself as a Death-Marked in an alternate universe. A version of him who never found that book in the library, speaking of the Trials of the Earnest. A version who had never deemed himself capable of change, or a version who was sharp-minded enough to realise that stealing from the city vaults was far too insane a prospect.

    Without knowing all he did now, could he truly say, with absolute certainty, that he would have refused Enos¡¯ offer then? An offer that promised to end all of his suffering: his days spent helpless, as Damosh¡¯s hold crushed the labour District. As day by day, the mad King pressed tighter and tighter.

    He felt bile building up in his throat at the confession, but no, Remus could not.

    By the look on Violet¡¯s face, she was having similar thoughts.

    ¡°That letter.¡± Remus changed the subject. ¡°I should go check that letter.¡±

    <hr>

    Ash inhaled the fumes of the destruction below. He had never smoked before, but supposed the buzz he was getting was similar enough. It was a nice feeling, a certain high of suffocating destruction.

    The Speed Clan was burnt to the ground. They had salted the soil, set fire to the houses, dismembered the bodies, and made a mockery of their dead. All in a day¡¯s work.

    A phoenix butchered while it was still rising out of the ashes. Java¡¯s twin brother was being awfully bothersome. Why let prophecies spoil the future that awaited humanity? It was set in stone regardless. No, Ash had seen that issue crushed like a nat between his fingers.

    The Paladins had outperformed themselves.

    He hovered on a floating rock, high above his gathered forces. Down below, past the sweeping clouds and rising fog, hundreds were gathered. Thousands? He had stopped keeping count.

    All fitted with Enos¡¯ newest masterpiece. Enhanced. Across their bodies, the tainted Marks flickered, like ink rising out of a page of human tissue. A ghostly black flame seemed to emanate from each, a tangible whisper of death. A promise of the havoc they could unleash.

    Ash admired his work, letting the army storm through the remains of the Speed Clan, making great bonfires out of their carriages. Then he frowned. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure why. Everything was going according to plan, the only plan in reality that mattered. The plan of Infinity. And yet something was wrong. Off in a way that was only foretold by the way sweat was beginning to slip down his brow, or how tight his chest was suddenly feeling.

    He grinded his teeth. An awful habit that had followed him from childhood.

    Childhood.

    The word danced in his mind, followed by what felt like cracking light. It was like there was a cage around his brain that had suddenly broken into a thousand fragments. Daggers of truth stabbed into his mind all at once.

    He was in the Wild Sect, glimpses of faces flying past his vision. He was sleeping, receiving a vision from Chantal, sharing a meal with his family, and quite a lot of sleeping . . .

    This was somebody¡¯s childhood. It seemed awfully familiar, until Ash recgonised himself amongst the images. Ash felt his own logic working against itself. Who, who! Who is this? Who am I?

    Then it was over. Ash huffed, clutching at his face and desperately trying to catch his breath. After spending a moment to recompose himself, he commanded the piece of space-stone to hover downwards.

    Three individuals looked towards Ash, expectant. Zachary, Faris and Margaret all had their arms crossed, looking away from a great world map that filled the surface of an oak table. Ash eyed it closely, part of him always a sucker for good cartography.

    Descent was strange compared to the worlds Enos had showed him. Then again, some of those planets were bizarre in their own right: bubbling blisters of lava, sweeping vistas of gas with no solid land in sight, and burning worlds that had not survived the Celestial War. Extremities excluded, most worlds however seemed to have continents, separated by their seas. But such division would only delay battle ¡ª no, Descent was the perfect geographical battlefield. By the gods¡¯ divine influence, it had been moulded with one sole purpose in mind: bloodshed.The pangea occupied Descent¡¯s one unbroken ocean, stretching for most of the map¡¯s weathered extent.

    There were tokens placed on various locales. Ash noted the Flame Sect, Ambition Clan, and stretching away from the main landmass . . . ah, there they lay: an archipelago of sorts.

    Most of the islands of Descent were very close together. Very small too, like weak creatures huddling together for warmth. The pangea looked similar to a gigantic fish, how a child might draw one. It looked like it was approaching the archipelago to devour it whole.The infantile thought pleased some strange part of Ash, a part of him that seemed at odds with the rest. He shook his head, another glare of light covering his vision.

    There was that boy again. This time, he was travelling inside a carriage, accompanied by another boy, and a slightly older figure barely on the border of manhood. Before he could recognise their faces, reality returned like a slap in the face.

    The three Paladins looked blankly at him.

    Ash pulled himself together. ¡°Study this map closely. Where the red tokens lie, are clans on the cusp of destruction. If we pick up where the last Right-bearer generation left off, well . . .¡± Ash smiled. ¡°Let¡¯s just say this map will be looking much more empty.¡±

    Before they could interrupt him with any asinine questions, Ash slammed down a golden token. Right on top of the archipelago. The three jolted back.

    ¡°But here. Here is where our next target lies.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, my Liege.¡± Zachary raised his voice.

    ¡°You are not excused.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be far more logical to attack First Rite? The city is already in shambles. Ours for the taking.¡±

    Margaret and Faris leaped to the side, a bang ringing out.

    The second the man had finished speaking, his face collided with the table. Zachary¡¯s bloody nose trailed down the map, staining it gold as he slid to the floor. There he laid crumpled. Hands to his face, a child¡¯s fear widening his eyes.

    ¡°That¡¯s for interrupting me. I wouldn¡¯t test my patience again.¡± Ash turned his attention back to the map. ¡°As for your suggestion, I¡¯m appalled you would doubt my intelligence. My hand is already in that city¡¯s fate, but the place will crash and burn soon enough. Why waste effort where it''s not needed?¡±

    Zachary rose shakily, glancing at Ash like he feared he might swat him again. He murmured an apology, not able to meet Ash¡¯s eyes. Pathetic.

    ¡°The Material Congruity, is, in essence, a minor alliance of clans, but nothing as formal as that. They fled the main pangea of Descent late into the barbaric ages, their sects massacred almost to extinction. You may not have heard of them, but a sect known as the Bone Clan rose great skeletal ships out of the sea, using them to cross to the archipelago.

    ¡°I doubt they have progressed much since that time. Maybe they¡¯ve invented the wheel, or finally discovered that rubbing two sticks together makes fire. Whatever the case, do you know what I see here?¡±

    After a few tense seconds, only Faris mustered the courage to reply. ¡°An easy target?¡±

    ¡°Yes. But not for killing. For recruits. I¡¯m afraid most of the mortals on the pangea have been thoroughly indoctrinated by their gods. I¡¯m honestly surprised we managed to recruit as many as we did. Many are fearful of the truth. But this archipelago, far away from the rest of humanity, their gods too ashamed to visit them on the Day of Descension . . . I wonder, could we double our forces? I¡¯m sure a little brute force will be enough to persuade them.¡±

    Zachary had finally managed to stop the running facet of his nose. ¡°And if they refuse?¡±

    Ash¡¯s eyes gleamed with dark malevolence. ¡°I¡¯m sure they wouldn¡¯t favour the alternative.¡±

    Ash closed his eyes, the image of dozens of ships on a hidden bay confronting him. The great oaken vessels bobbled against the crashing waves like obedient ducks, their sails whipping in the wind with the promise of adventure. Ready to set sail. A little skullduggery had never seemed so promising. Soon, very soon, the Material Congruity would be his.

    Then there was another vision. One that finally seemed to rupture his mind too far. Vertigo turned his body to jelly, and suddenly Ash had to grasp onto the table for support.

    Then he remembered. Remembered everything.

    ¡°Oh gods. Oh gods!¡± He looked to Faris, Margaret, and Zachary all in turn, each of them slowly backing away from him. ¡°You have to help me, you have to help!¡±

    Zachary appeared ready to turn tail and run. Only mad curiosity slowed his getaway.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want this! Not any of it. I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m so, so sorry!¡±

    All around now, the Paladins regarded Ash with interest. They didn¡¯t understand. They couldn¡¯t possibly understand.

    He was hyperventilating. He couldn¡¯t catch his breath. Couldn¡¯t grab reality and weave it into a better form. One where he could redeem himself, cleanse the world of his cardinal sins. Free his mind of its invisible prison. One he had escaped for but a moment.

    ¡°Please. Whatever happens, please forgive me . . .¡±

    Ash¡¯s eyes rolled up into the back of his head, his feet slipping away from him.

    When he came to, only an instance later, but a world apart, a barrel of a man was holding him upright. Ash remembered offering him his place amongst the Paladins, a surge of wicked delight having flooded through him at the newest asset. At the time, he thought the servant would provide excellent manpower.

    Now he couldn¡¯t look at the man with anything other than disgust.

    A moment later, and they laid on the ground in a splatter, his still beating heart clenched tightly in Ash¡¯s hand. Ichor coated Ash¡¯s entire face, and he tried to ignore the taste of it in his mouth.

    ¡°We¡¯ll never, ever talk about this.¡± He squeezed the beating organ until it burst, a fresh coat of blood completely covering the pale skin of his face. Not an inch was visible beneath the sickly layer. ¡°Is that clear?¡±

    Nobody uttered a word.

    Finally, he was left alone, soaking in the bloodbath, his followers far too terrified to approach him with so much as a barge pole.

    That presence, Enos, spoke to him again.

    You know who I am Ash, but don¡¯t let that trouble you. That title you called me, the shadow man. Don¡¯t make me laugh. Forget the past, forget everything. I make you whole. Remember how weak you were without me.

    For one last time, Ash peered down at the map. The tokens had been knocked aside, the page damp with Ichor. A mix of Zachary and his latest victim, by the looks of it. But he had to say, there was some twisted artistic expression in the sight.

    Soon enough, he¡¯d make this world bleed red too.

 119. What Happens in the Dark

    Remus and the Ambition Clan were taking their damn sweet time.

    Over the past few days, Damion had acquired an encyclopaedic knowledge on why sewers were the most disgusting, stomach-turning, eye-watering places to ever exist. Even worse when you were left in those twisted tunnels in hiding, speaking through only hushes and whispers, for Durations at a time. Not even Damosh¡¯s throne room could be this abhorrent. At least if they were cooped up in there, maybe hiding in his holiness¡¯ tea cupboard or something, their only concern would be channelling out the man¡¯s insane rambles.

    Here? Each step forward was a visceral barrage on every one of his senses.

    A stream of waste followed them always, as did the lingering scent of an entire city¡¯s waste. Damion tried to avert his eyes from the discoloured broth that trailed the dark tunnels. There were two platforms in each passage of the sewer, the liquid underneath separating both. The only way to cross was one bold jump. A jump Damion would rather start a bar fight with the biggest guy he knew than attempt.

    Critters scurried across the curved walls. Moss provided the only decoration as Damion slowly advanced, a tiny pinprick of light from Edmund¡¯s sole lit finger illuminating the way forward. At least he had some company: a full squadron of combat trained Carpentry clansmen. The rest of the number was made up by brave volunteers, hoping beyond hope that they could escape the city with their lives intact.

    And, as he had mentioned, Edmund. You had to love him.

    ¡°So reinforcements are really coming?¡± Damion asked slowly, wondering if the man hadn¡¯t understood the question the first five hundred times he¡¯d asked.

    ¡°Like I¡¯ve said Damion. They¡¯re coming.¡± Edmund was pleasant enough, having arrived at the Carpentry Clan three days ago with the promise of escape. And a full force of Ambition clansmen who were yet to arrive.

    Damion held back all of the sarcastic comments that were dancing on his tongue. He could tell the man wasn¡¯t particularly pleased with the situation either, and Damion couldn¡¯t exactly blame one person for an entire clan¡¯s belatedness. Apparently things were pretty tough back at the Ambition Sect too.

    This was all very reasonable and all, but being reasonable when his nostrils were under constant assault was very difficult indeed.

    Nobody really talked much. Far too risky. When they did, it was barely whispers. Which was a very good thing too, otherwise, the hovering eyeball may have noticed them first.

    The group froze, and, before the rotating orb could face them, quietly slipped behind a turn in the junction.

    Another thing about sewers that dramatically decreased Damion¡¯s opinion of them: they were crawling with security. Well, at least this sewer was.

    So this was how the Sight Sect were being used: instead of enforcing the peace, their abilities now ensured that every possible escape route away from Damosh¡¯s madness was covered. Not that it would stop Damion. Nor had the other twenty eyeballs he¡¯d immersed in wooden cages, blocking their line of sight.

    It would surprise Damion if any Sight clansmen truly poured their heart and soul into guarding these tunnels. As long as no damage came to the eyes, they wouldn¡¯t be informed of any suspicious behaviour, and wouldn¡¯t notice anything unless they were actively choosing to observe what the constructs were seeing. Which Damion heavily doubted they were. Death threats and the like had kept the Sight Clan in Damosh¡¯s hold, but the King was pushing his luck.

    Despite the reasoning behind it, this amount of security did seem overkill. He had to wonder, could Damosh be holding something valuable down here?

    Nothing but the last shreds of his dignity. Damion mused, constructing a box of oak that erupted out of the walls and encased the eye.

    ¡°All clear.¡± He whispered. The eyeballs didn¡¯t seem to pick up on sound, but he wasn¡¯t willing to risk it.

    All together, as fast as they could without making a ruckus, the party tiptoed past.

    Up above, probably enjoying themselves far more than Damion and his number, the rest of the Carpentry Clan were slowly departing in batches, all miraculously receiving work that required extensive excursions out of First Rite. What luck!

    In reality, they were all taking the nearest route to the Ambition Clan.

    Ever since taking on the role of sect leader, Damion had felt a crushing responsibility to look after every one of his clan; his family. He had always felt that way of course, but the weight of responsibility was a potent catalyst. Now he was in a leadership position, and he couldn¡¯t afford to save them. If even one casualty came from this mission, Damion didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d be able to live with himself.

    He hated how powerless he felt. He hated how he had no way to protect the half of his clan not with him. He hated how he couldn¡¯t control when or where the Ambition Clan¡¯s assistance would arrive, or in what form. And he hated these sewers!

    If not for the thousands of reasons telling him not to, Damion would have kicked the nearest wall. He was starting to see why Remus had gone to the lengths he had. Why he had risked the things he did.

    This was hell.

    And his list of complaints was not nearly complete. Down here, with no sun, moon, or dazzling stars to indicate the time of day, there was no indication for their internal clock of when to sleep, or when to rise. Not that they could safely afford to rest all together. Only half of the party rested at a time, while the rest guarded them. It was functional, but the fatigue was catching up to Damion.

    ¡°Remember, we have to ration out the food.¡± His appetite was diminished from the sewer stink. Regardless, he still had to eat. You would be surprised how many calories you could burn, trekking through the underground tunnelling of the city.

    ¡°It¡¯ll last.¡± Edmund promised. That was another one of his reassurances Damion was starting to question the legitimacy of. When it came to it, pretty white lies and hope wouldn¡¯t keep their bellies full.

    Damion was about to say some slick comment, only to pause in place. Edmund walked into his back. ¡°Gosh, why did you-¡±

    Damion put a hand over the man¡¯s mouth,  hoping the rest of the party would catch on.

    It was barely visible from the scant light of Edmund¡¯s finger. But at the end of the passage, unmistakably, was a Wealth clansman. Their bejewelled uniform reflected Emund¡¯s ghostly flame. Their back was to them, but before the man could turn around, bearing his own torch in one hand, Edmund smartly extinguished the wick. It draped them in darkness, the orangery light of the guard¡¯s own lamp failing to flood through the entire passage.

    They had talked about reinforcements from the Wealth Clan being present down here, but Damion had to admit, now that he was confronting it in real life, he wasn¡¯t sure how to act. Discussing a potential danger from the comfort of your own home, cup of tea in hand, was one thing. Coming face-to-face with that same danger was something no amount of forethought could prepare you for.

    Before Damion could whisper out orders, Edmund¡¯s hands flew into some silent gesture.

    The Wealth clansman cursed, the light of his torch extinguished.

    Damion¡¯s mind raced. He found it impossible to grasp what exactly was occurring. Calm down, he instructed himself, remembering who he was. He wasn¡¯t in a position to let panic paralyse him. It wasn¡¯t his own hide he had to account for.

    What happens when you have no idea what to do? You fall back on your training. All of those days, sweating in the sun with Andreas barking commands down at him. He had hated it at the time, only seeing it as a necessary stepping stone towards acquiring the power their clan needed. Now Damion couldn¡¯t be more grateful for his grandfather¡¯s final gift to him. Lessons taught through sweat, blood, and suffering.

    His body dived into a battle stance, and saws erupted out of Damion¡¯s knuckles-

    The light returned. It took Damion a second to clock what colour it was: blue.

    Edmund stood over the unconscious guard¡¯s body, kicking the Wealth clansman to the side. A few of their company began to cheer, but Edmund put a finger to his lips. They had to remain silent.

    That was awfully anticlimactic. Damion smiled alongside the rest of the clan, a certain pressure deflating from his body. Yet, at the same time, he was supposed to be the leader here, not Edmund. Here he was, standing tall with the title of sect leader, distinguished amongst his own number. And he had almost lost his cool at the first hint of danger. He was a popular sect leader to be sure, but an insecure part of him had to wonder . . . What if he¡¯d only been chosen for this position out of nepotism?

    He shook his head. Now was no time to be having an identity crisis.

    When they had continued on down another empty tunnel, Damion finally deemed it safe enough to talk again. ¡°We must be getting close.¡±

    Edmund raised an eyebrow. ¡°How do you know?¡±

    ¡°If we haven¡¯t seen any clansmen ¡ª only those eyeballs ¡ª prior to this point, then that must mean something. I¡¯d bet my left kidney we¡¯re near an exit.¡±

    Edmund nodded. ¡°Sound logic.¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    And still no back-up. Damion was really testing his self-control now. After all they had done for the Ambition Clan, rebuilding their base after the Pet-Keeper came trampling, they couldn¡¯t even keep up their side of the alliance. Maybe this was why none of the godly unions held any weight. At the end of the day, your own priorities came before that of your peers.

    After a few minutes, Damion deemed the place safe. ¡°Alright guys, group B can get some rest. Group A, we¡¯ll eat some rations and keep watch. Group A can eat and switch posts afterwards.¡±

    Nobody argued. Damion had found that the promise of food was a good reconciliation when the advent of sleep was denied. He sat in place, munching on nuts, and chugging down brackish water, when it happened.

    In the curve of the passageway, a flood of gold appeared. Tons of coins, jewels, and other priceless possessions could be spotted, all filling the entry of the junction. Damion leapt to his feet, floating hammers materialising in the air at his back. He wasn¡¯t about to flinch in the face of danger again. With a flare of his Mark, Arcus¡¯ power flooded through the chamber. Several layers of wood blocked the sea of wealth. He wasn¡¯t sure how long it would hold, but he grinned in triumph.

    ¡°Everybody!¡± He didn¡¯t bother to keep quiet. ¡°Stay calm and run after me.¡±

    Nobody argued. They were halfway down the hall when a second sight tested Damion¡¯s faith in the universe.

    A second surge of gold.

    Damion summoned another wall of oak, but his heart wasn¡¯t in it.

    Keep calm. Keep calm damn it! Sometimes your own advice was the hardest to follow.

    They were at a junction. There were passages splitting off to the north, east, and west. Surprise to surprise, at each passage, the same crashing sea of gold could be seen.

    In other words, they were being pressed in.

    Damion had thick oak barriers covering each exit, and was already in the process of forming a solid platform across the sewage, allowing for easier movement. The party all gathered in a circle, staring out suspiciously at each route. The walls were holding, but there was only one question on each of their minds: where would they be attacked from first?

    Edmund had fires lighting up all three expanses now. It wasn¡¯t as if they had to keep a low profile anymore.

    ¡°Whatever happens, my clansmen, hear me!¡± Damion imbued his words with more confidence than he had. ¡°This is what we¡¯ve been trained for! Andreas¡¯ combat skills were taught to me, and from me to you! Our old sect leader is alive in each and every one of us. Do not let his will die!¡±

    The group screamed back, but he could tell they were forcing it. Just as he was.

    All heads turned as a dent was made in the western wall. Damion wrestled with the force trying to burst through his barrier for a solid five seconds, but it wasn¡¯t enough.

    The coins came surging through, clinking and chinking against every surface in sight. The other two walls held as his clansmen added their wills to his, implanting reality with the unbreakable promise that both walls would not break.

    Reality didn¡¯t listen, both of them visibly trembling, despite their united efforts.

    Amongst the stuffed western tunnel, bodies climbed out of the golden pile. Wealth clansmen leered at them, fully emerging into view. More riches floated in the air around them.

    Despite the dire situation, Damion had trained his men well. Even as all three walls came crashing down, Wealth clansmen pouring through in a furious hoard, they each suited their most adept battle stances.

    Any carpentry tool you could name now levitated in the air. Mallets, saws, chiesles, drills, cutting knives and sharpened axes. They all gleamed in Edmund¡¯s azure light. At once, they flew into the opposition.

    Gold against steel. The air was a whirlwind of flashing metal and sharp edges. Within seconds, more cuts than Damion could count appeared on his skin. He growled in pain, his eyes counting ten Wealth clansmen comprising the attack force against them.

    They outnumbered their attackers. Damion and his peers could survive this.

    The coins scattered across the tunnels began to flow over the advancing guards. It coalesced against their standard Wealth clansmen uniforms, forming golden sets of armour that only grew more impressive as the seconds went by.

    Every moment that passed, the Wealth clansmen were strengthening themselves. Damion met eyes with Edmund. No words passed between them, but in that split second, they seemed to be thinking the same thing.

    Damion purged all thoughts from his brain, charging into the fray with a blood curdling scream. He sprang into the closest of the clansman, catching them off guard with his abrasiveness. Floating tools hammered into their armour, a craft knife flying under the cover of the man¡¯s helmet and slitting his forehead.

    First blood. Well, if you discounted the twenty cuts down Damion. But at that moment, it felt like he was only just getting started.

    Razors erupted out of Damion¡¯s exposed forearms. He battered the clansmen with both, breaking through the armour and gushing forth a different kind of gold with every impact. The Ichor splattered onto Damion¡¯s face, mixing with his own, and in his mad rage, Damion didn¡¯t stop until the man below him was a crumpling mess of gore.

    He was seeing red. While he looked at his bloody hands in horror, Edmund flew past, carrying another clansman in tow. They crashed into the ceiling of the sewer, set fully alight. Only when the guard stopped screaming, and Damion saw the bent metal fused into his seared skin, did he know they were dead.

    Damion didn¡¯t see the corpse toppling back to the floor, and, based on the sound of breaking wood, presumably finding its final resting place in the sewage below. He was rushing to the next enemy.

    Two Carpentry clansmen struggled at the mouth of the northern side of the intersection. They faced a guard each, both of whom wielded mighty truncheons with giant jewels set into the head. A ruby, and a sapphire.

    Damion, motivated by rage and rage alone, leapt in between them. In one sweeping gesture, he sent great wooden pillars bursting out of the ground, carrying the guards to the ceiling. The birch pressed into their sternums, crushing the breastplates of their armour and winding the duo.

    His arsenal of carpentry tools made target practice of their bodies next. Both clansmen summoned coins to protect themselves, but too little, too late. One of the guards perished soon after, and Damion turned his attention to the remaining guard, who had a similar fate awaiting him.

    To Damion¡¯s amazement, he found the patch of ceiling empty. A punch broke the muscle in his left cheek, flying him into the wall where a blast of coinage kept him pinned there.

    ¡°How do you like being pressed into a corner, eh?¡± The man had an eyepatch, failing to cover the trailing line of a scar that ran through his right eye. Out of his other hand, another surge of riches occupied two carpentry clansmen rushing to assist Damion. ¡°I¡¯ll make you watch as we kill your men and women, one by one. Then we¡¯ll carry you out into First Rite, and make a spectacle of your death. It¡¯ll send a message of how we like to treat twisted rodents like you vermin!¡±

    Damion screamed. It was the equivalent of a three year old throwing a temper tantrum. Only if that same three year old were strong enough to topple buildings.

    Every inch of Damion¡¯s body erupted in spikes. He drove through the coins, reinforcing his body with all of the pent-up Infinity he¡¯d been accumulating. Some clansmen liked to expend their Infinity in a slow drag throughout battle, perhaps occasionally launching out with a more handsome expenditure when the need arose. Damion? He was the equivalent of a pinchpenny, who, once a year, would splurge out on a lavish buy.

    His Vault was full to bursting with Infinity. Such was to the benefit of his Radical Exposure Mould, designed for this exact purpose: storing up Infinity ready for one fatal outburst.

    And fatal it was.

    He blasted through the coins as if only through a fierce wind, stretching his hands to embrace the clansman¡¯s body. He felt them squirm, shrieking shrilly before they finally stopped moving, hanging upon his metallic thorns in a limp bundle.

    Three men now dead, and by his hands. Damion couldn¡¯t recall having killed before. He felt strangely jaded. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, his mind trying to dissociate from the present moment, from the blood that was beginning to dry all across his body. Whatever the case, it seemed like the most suitable reaction for the moment. He had to keep his head in the game. This was no time to contemplate the morality of his actions. Not when more clansmen wanted him and those he loved dead.

    In some dark sense of the word, this was justice.

    Damion¡¯s eyes roved across the battlefield. The Carpentry clansmen seemed to be winning, the bodies of deceased guards littering the floor. He didn¡¯t see any of his own number deceased yet, though wasn¡¯t sure if he was mentally prepared for such a sight.

    Edmund was a force to be reckoned with, laying down clansmen at the eastern tunnel without remorse. Obsidian armour rested on his body, each of his blows forming great dents into the shielding of his enemies. The gold at his feet had melted into a shining layer. When he finished, First Rite¡¯s sewers would be completely refurbished with the metallic sheen.

    Before Damion could join the man, four shapes surged into view.

    A knee to the jaw knocked Damion aside, his head barging against the curved walling behind. He commanded a hammer to intercept the next man that came charging at him. No use. They knocked the object aside with their braced forearm, a plethora of spiked jewels all stabbing into Damion''s own thorny exterior.

    But it was an awfully exhausting form to maintain. As four guards bombarded him with coins, goblets, vases, and other priceless treasures, he found the sharp ends withdrawing back into his skin. He was left, once again, raw and vulnerable. Any one of those projectiles could have fed a struggling family in the Labour District. But nope: it would see no other purpose than battering Damion bloody.

    He couldn¡¯t see. His senses were overwhelmed, as the storm of attacks never ceased for a moment. His nose was broken and leaning to the side, the cuts and bruises on his body fought with one another for territory, and great gleaming light was the only thing his blinking eyes could make out.

    My clansmen, my clansmen. The thought persisted in his mind, chilling him to the bone. I can¡¯t see. I can¡¯t see if they¡¯re safe . . .

    He couldn¡¯t die without at least knowing they were okay. Damion would never be able to rest in peace without that closure. His jaw rebounded off the stone floor for what must have been the fifth time, and it was while feeling how loose the teeth in his mouth felt, that it dawned on Damion that death may not be some distant notion after all.

    Strange. Dying had always seemed like something that happened to people other than him.

    For one, brief, merciful second, the onslaught stopped. His ears were ringing, but Damion thought he could hear his clansmen continuing to fight. Good. If I have to die, at least let them survive. Let them get away.

    A guard wrenched his head back, holding him roughly by the shoulder.

    ¡°This is the sect leader.¡± A gristly voice spoke. ¡°Andreas¡¯ successor.¡±

    ¡°Get his name out of your dirty mouth.¡± The words struggled around his bloody teeth, Damion¡¯s voice nothing short of a growl.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Damion could hear the snarl forming on their face. ¡°Tch.¡±

    Fast as a bullet, the guard tugged his arm backwards. It felt like Damion was being torn apart.

    Damion swallowed back his cries and tears. He mustn''t die with dishonour.

    When he looked, it only confirmed what the raging pain told him: his right arm was broken. A Foot-Soldier body was more than capable of healing it, but something told Damion these clansmen weren¡¯t about to give him that chance.

    The guard spat at his feet. ¡°Now for the other.¡±

    Damion gritted his teeth, revving his Mark into action. He had one last burst of power left in him. If he could just save his clansmen a little more time, than maybe-

    From the mouth of the northern tunnel, blue light blasted outwards. Coins were sent scattering, and Damion followed one Inkling as it rattled over to his feet. It was streaming.

    Even the Wealth clansmen paused. All eyes turned to their new arrivals, and Damion wasn¡¯t afraid to admit he started to cry.

    Better late than never, their backup had finally arrived.

 120. Always Comes to Light

    Damion wasn¡¯t sure what he was looking at. Despite the numb arm dangling at his side, even the agony ravaging his body was only a quieter presence to the perplexion that now befell him.

    The entity had leapt out of the flaming azure light. No Remus, no Aziel ¡ª no-one he could recognise from the Ambition Clan.

    They were humanoid in shape, though Damion had to wonder if this was really the help they¡¯d requested. They were definitely an Unbounded, their entire body the colour of charcoal black. Like a person made out of black crystal. Rivulets of purple coursed through the curved body, like that of a woman. Out of the blank canvas of their face, beady magenta eyes flared.

    Did the creature just . . . wink at him?

    The aura they emanated was so frustratingly familiar. Where had he seen that energy? He swore he was about to place his finger on it, when the construct launched into action. Damion instinctively put up a guard, as was customary when an Unbounded sprang in your direction.

    When the stone being began to tackle the Wealth clansmen, Damion slowly let his hand drop.

    He watched in awe, as one by one, the Wealth clansmen guards dropped to the ground. He could barely process what he was seeing. Purple rifts opened all across the chamber, and pouring out of them full-force, were the people he had been waiting so damn long to see.

    Aziel, Remus, and ten or so Ambition clansmen landed in the room.

    Damion struggled to a stand, wiping the tears of pain and relief out of his eyes. He was about to wail out a greeting, when something noticed in his spiritual senses made him stop in his tracks.

    His brother. A Vanguard.

    He stared at Remus. At the lightning crackling around his body, at the obsidian gauntlets that enveloped both of his fists, at the inferno of flame waiting to rush out of him at any second¡¯s notice, swirling around the links of chain pressed to his torso. He started at his plucky younger brother, the child who would rush to his side after a bad nightmare, who Damion would make fun of to no end, during their youth. He stared at the same young boy who had barely understood the world they inhabited.

    Where was his baby brother now?

    Damion was about to rush over to join him, only to remember himself. The wellbeing of his clansmen made his stomach turn. If even one of them was missing-

    But there was nothing to fear. Some of his men were pretty badly beaten, a few looked at their bloody hands, hyperventilating, but Damion would have to bring no corpses home. There would be no missing sons, daughters, or parents today.

    Just what was this Unbounded? There was only one fiend Damion knew in this whole world that fought for humanity. Yet no matter how hard he tried to wrap his head around it, this was not Violet. Then it clicked.

    Not Violet, no ¡ª this was one of her Projections.

    Remus flew over to him, dragging Damion¡¯s one functional arm over his shoulder.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need carrying.¡± Damion muttered.

    ¡°Your arm¡¯s broken.¡±

    ¡°Oh really? Wow, I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±

    Regardless of the situation, there was always room for a little brotherly back-and-forth.

    ¡°Be quiet, dimwit. Any movement will be agonising for you with an arm busted up like that.¡±

    Damion remained quiet for a moment, as men around began to clear up the scene. ¡°You¡¯re a Vanguard. When did that happen?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t really been keeping track of time. A couple Durations ago? I¡¯m sorry we took so long. Things have been real nasty back at the Ambition Clan.¡±

    As Remus recounted all that had transpired, Damion listened intently. Paladins, Damosh going insane, Enos running amuck. How many existential threats could they face at once? Surely it would come to a breaking point. The world could only suffer so much.

    ¡°You''re sect leader. When did that happen?¡±

    ¡°Few Passings ago,¡± Damion¡¯s lips quirked into a smile. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve both been busy.¡±

    There was no complaining about that, but Damion found himself glancing back to Violet¡¯s Projection. If he wasn¡¯t mistaken, the arriving Ambition clansmen hadn¡¯t even had a chance to fight, before the fiend had taken down the remaining guards. It was an agile thing, leaping from foe to foe and never faltering for a second.

    ¡°Violet¡¯s Projections sure are something.¡±

    The sound of boots smacking against concrete deafened Damion¡¯s ears, as the company hurried towards a distant light. A smoking hole the Ambition Clan had seared into the earth, to enter the sewers.

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t sure whether you¡¯d notice. If you think my advancement¡¯s impressive, you should see how strong she¡¯s gotten. A fully-fledged Warlord equivalent now. We¡¯re playing around with the notion of Violet separating her power through Projections, to reach multiple places at once. That fiend is what we call Refuge. It¡¯s the protective side of Violet¡¯s personality magnified. Now that our rebellion has most of Hyrbrid¡¯s support, we thought she could travel as a messenger to other cities, alongside a few of our men. I don¡¯t know how kindly they¡¯ll take to being greeted by an Unbounded, but as I said, we¡¯re still working out the kinks.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Damion wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d heard correctly. ¡°Did you say your rebellion has most of Hybrid¡¯s support?¡±

    Remus nodded. ¡°Eliane sent a letter. She supports the cause, apparently, after we helped against Maris. Long, long story.¡± Remus looked around warily. ¡°I love the small talk Damion, but I think this conversation will be a lot more enjoyable without the threat of imminent death. We have some carriages ready for our escape outside of the city walls. Let¡¯s get going, and we can speak about all this in a little more detail. ¡±

    Damion assented. After all he¡¯d been through, all he really desired was to nap his pains away.

    The world was a little too crazy for him at the moment.

    <hr>

    In the corner of Damosh¡¯s tower, the mad King leaned over the edge of his seat, rocking back and forth. Edmar didn¡¯t think the man had blinked once in the last five minutes, staring raptly at the image that was projected onto the quartz wall of his throne room.

    It showed Damion, Remus, and the rest of their forces fleeing through some man-made exit they¡¯d smashed through. There, on the other side, far too quickly to call any guards to intercede, they dived into a stretch of carriages. Carriages that had been previously hidden behind a natural barrier of fronds and branches.

    They were looking from the perspective of a Sight clansman''s eyeball. Damosh had access to the divine ability of Perpetual Sight, as all Godlings and God-Graced did. Yet many of Damosh¡¯s closest advisors had discouraged his use of the ability. After seeing their King grow so paranoid, he¡¯d done nothing but observe the outside world for days on end, tucked away inside the broom cupboard.

    Yet the Sight Clan¡¯s eyeballs seemed just as bad for Damosh¡¯ declining psyche. What the man really needed, in Edmar¡¯s opinion, was putting down.

    Not yet. Edmar popped the cork off an elixir, taking a long sip of the liquid.

    ¡°Kill them!¡± Damosh screeched, throwing things around the room. Edmar sidestepped a pitched clock. ¡°Kill them all! Make them pay!¡±

    Damosh leapt to his feet, crouched upon the throne¡¯s cushioning in the perfect impression of a gremlin. He pointed one trembling finger towards Edmar. ¡°You have to go and kill them, Edmar. There will be no escape!¡±

    Edmar opened his mouth to decline the man, perhaps offer some words of consolation, and get on with his day. What was one less clan, when hundreds of men and women were fleeing the city on a daily basis? Then he paused. Taking another sip of his elixir, this one a bubbling pink in colour, he let himself think.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    It looked like Remus had jumped in power again. Edmar didn¡¯t make a habit of it, but he¡¯d been keeping track of Remus¡¯ endeavours, over the last two Rebirths. It was hard not to. It made Edmar¡¯s stomach turn to think of how many headlines the ginger boy had made.

    When a Death-Marked was making such an impact, you knew the world was turning upside down.

    But Edmar was powerful himself now. Especially with that. The mess of black that now resided where his Mark had once been. An imprint from Ash.

    Tainted. That was what he was.

    He felt Enos¡¯ will probe into his mind every hour, but each time, he would meditate back on the tragedy of his family, on the absolute revenge he had to carry out. That pain allowed him to endure Enos¡¯ dark attempts to win him over. He would bend the Unbounded¡¯s will to serve his own desires. Edmar would be nobody¡¯s slave, no matter the cost.

    He was using the fiend for the power he provided. He had the upper hand in this dynamic. The thought of being reduced to one of Ash¡¯s Paladins was sickening. It seemed the Tainted were far stronger than when compared to their standard form. How much stronger, it was impossible to tell, but Edmar had to get as powerful as possible, as fast as possible. No matter the risk or cost involved.

    His family had waited long enough. Edmar was starting to get impatient.

    He looked over to the image of Remus boarding a carriage one more time. Now was the perfect chance to test just how strong he really was. After so many elixirs, and the enhancing of his power through Enos¡¯ dark influence, there was no telling what he could do. What his family¡¯s blood was really capable of, once the chains of slavery were removed.

    He was keen to find out. But also keen to crush Remus. A pest left behind from his past, who had grown far out of control. An infestation.

    Like Damosh, Remus needed putting down like the dog he was. And Edmar needed to see the extent of his own strength. The choice was obvious now: following Damosh¡¯s command would be killing two birds with one stone.

    Edmar activated his Mark, feeling its malevolent power flow through him. Power from Damosh, accompanied by the dark touch of Enos.

    As the Wealth Godling, Damosh served as the source of every Wealth clansmen¡¯s power. He was the living embodiment of the word he had inscribed onto his soul when advancing to God-Graced: Wealth. What separated God-Graced and Godlings was one small technicality.  God-Graced only used their inscribed power as a way to extend their versatility in battle. Godlings became gods amongst men, gifting their Marks in the same fashion as the deities, creating their own clans. If Edmar was to kill Damosh, the power that filled Edmar would no longer have a source. It would effectively leave him Death-Marked. The thought brought a certain sickness.

    If not for the possibility of taking over the Wealth subject of power by challenging the man¡¯s authority, plotting regicide would have been a foolish endeavour.

    Soon, the words Wealth would be inscribed onto Edmar¡¯s soul, the rightful bloodline.

    But first, he had some loose ties to attend to.

    <hr>

    When Damion woke up, pain enveloped his arm. ¡°Ow!¡±

    He was surprised to find it in a cast. How they had managed to put that on him, without his noticing it, Damion hadn¡¯t a clue. Every hump in the road beneath their carriage sent another wave of jolting agony across the limb.

    ¡°Bumpy part of the road. Sorry about that.¡± Remus smiled at him. The pair were seated in the back of a carriage, the whole road filled with their escaping party.

    There was nothing to pass the time but talking, so talk they did. The frequency of their letters had only diminished as Damosh¡¯s tyranny dragged on. As a result, the two spent a long time filling in the blanks. Completing the missing entries in each of their stories.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to speak to you Remus. I know it¡¯s selfish of me when you¡¯re so busy saving the world all the time, but I miss having you around. I wish our only means of contact wasn¡¯t the letters we send.¡±

    Damion felt guilty for the words. Here his brother was, constantly putting his neck on the line for their family, for the world, and he was asking for more time with him. Without Remus, Damion very well may have had no time at all. Praise Infinity, Remus had just saved him only minutes ago.

    But Remus took no offence. ¡°I feel the same way. I used to be such a brat; I never got to apologise for all the stupid things I did, only making things worse when I tried to help us. It turned out well in the end, but I¡¯ll always feel guilty for putting you, mom and dad, and the rest of the clan through so much stress. Fighting with the taxman, stealing my Droplet, ending up in prison and inadvertently raising our clan¡¯s fees. Even now, I can¡¯t imagine how much emotional turmoil I put you all through. Getting put on house arrest, making national news for the wrong reasons . . . ¡°

    ¡°I¡¯m grateful for all you¡¯ve done for us Remus. I¡¯m sure everyone in the Carpentry Clan feels the same way. In fact, no,¡± he put his one working arm on Remus¡¯ shoulder. ¡°As sect leader, I know we¡¯re all indebted to you. I¡¯ll admit, I did think you were out of your mind at first, but everything you did . . . I see how necessary it was. With how the world¡¯s turning out, it''s almost like you foresaw the disaster that was awaiting us. You just had the urgency to act on it.¡±

    Damion¡¯s heart throbbed. The conversation had quickly wandered into the most vulnerable of directions, and only through circling back round to small talk did Damion have a chance to recover.

    Not for long, however. ¡°I feel this sense of obligation to save everyone from this war, Damion. I always have. The Celestial War, I mean. I¡¯ve never told anyone this, it always sounded too juvenile. But I hate this. I hate all this fighting. In that way, I¡¯m just like Enos. We¡¯re both just trying to bring an end to this madness. We don¡¯t see eye-to-eye, and I can never agree with a being like that, but the gods aren¡¯t exactly moral characters either. I just can¡¯t think of a solution to the puzzle of this war. All I can do is fight the one battle I know can be won: returning peace to First Rite. Even that is a long shot, but I hope, if I keep fighting for what my gut tells me is right . . .¡±

    ¡°That we¡¯ll all find peace one day.¡± Damion finished for him.

    Remus smiled sheepishly. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s far fetched, but the least I can do is protect the people that matter to me.¡±

    Damion was moved by the words. ¡°I feel the same way as Sect Leader. Back in that battle, I kept comparing myself to Edmund. There he was, taking down guard after guard, keeping his cool, and I was seized by fear. Even one of Violet¡¯s Projections defended our people better than me. I sometimes feel like a fraud.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not a fraud. You¡¯re not. You¡¯re perfect for this position Damion. Our people chose you.¡±

    ¡°What if they chose wrong? What if they had a lapse in judgement? How do you lead so many people in your rebellion, and not feel like an imposter?¡±

    Remus stared out of the carriage window for a long time. Their surroundings blurred past, the carriage surprisingly swift, for the lack of a Speed clansman''s power. A clan wiped of the face of the earth.

    ¡°I think our idols are never as great as we think they are. Nobody¡¯s perfect Damion. I used to look up to Andreas like a god. Then the world showed me just how mortal he really was. If the gods, supposedly perfect beings, are so flawed, then I don¡¯t think perfection really exists. To be alive is to be imperfect.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Mr philosopher, but what does that have to do with anything?¡±

    ¡°What I¡¯m trying to say, Damion, is that there¡¯s no such thing as an ideal leader. But people only need an ideal to follow, Damion, not an ideal person. Does that make sense? When people fight for me, they¡¯re not really fighting for me. They¡¯re fighting for what the Talents of the Future represents. Freedom. Safety. Peace and justice. You¡¯re not supposed to be this impossible standard, you¡¯re supposed to be the guide towards that standard. That¡¯s what life is really about, I suppose. We¡¯re cursed to chase perfection, but it¡¯ll always be out of our reach. And we have to learn to be content with that.¡±

    Damion said nought for one long, long second. ¡°You really didn¡¯t have much to do during your guard duty, did you? Have any other spiritual revelations from your time there?¡±

    Remus barked in laughter. ¡°The point is man, you¡¯re doing just fine. You just have to break into the position like a new pair of shoes. It¡¯ll be a perfect fit soon enough.¡±

    ¡°I thought you just said perfection doesn¡¯t exist.¡± Damion spoke through a curve of the lips.

    Remus swatted his leg. For a playful tap, it hurt.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Remus blurted. ¡°Still getting used to how strong I am now.¡±

    Damion closed his eyes, focusing on his breath as the pain washed away. ¡°No problem . . . Gods, you sure are strong now, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just hope I¡¯m strong enough Damion.¡± Remus stared down at his clasped hands. Were they shaking? ¡°Let¡¯s just hope I¡¯m strong enough . . . ¡±

    Not two minutes had passed, and Remus broke the silence. ¡°It was a dark time, during my service. The darkest of my life. Things were weird between Violet and I, Andreas had just died, and it felt like despite all my best efforts, Descent was still on the cusp of collapse. It was painful.¡±

    ¡°You never mentioned anything in your letters.¡° Damion said quietly. The subject felt so fragile, Damion was afraid just speaking too loud would break something. What, he wasn¡¯t exactly sure. ¡°You could have spoken to me. I¡¯m never too busy for you. For my family.¡±

    ¡°It took me a while to find hope again. I¡¯ve learned recently that pain is just a catalyst for change. Whether that change is good or bad, is up to us. I just hope I¡¯m moving in the right direction. Time will tell.¡±

    Late afternoon sun, the syrupy, liquid gold variety, flooded into the carriage. The two of them basked in that light for a second, relaxing for this brief interval in time. An instance free of strife, free of bloodshed, free of the chaos of a universe bred for war.

    ¡°I love you man.¡± Damion murmured, eyes closed.

    ¡°I love you too bro. I love you too.¡±

    Two more seconds.

    If the universe were to have given him two more seconds, Damion would have fallen fast asleep.

    But Damion¡¯s entire body recoiled, as the dent was made in the carriage roof. He eyes rushed upwards.

    The imprint of feet.

    The horses pulling them forward neighed, swerving off the path before their driver veered them back on course. They had only narrowly avoided smashing against the side of a forest.

    ¡°W-What¡¯s happening?¡± Damion hated how slow his brain became under pressure.

    When golden coins began to fly past the carriage windows, the question was answered for him.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been followed.¡± Something in Remus¡¯ voice changed, as he sat up in his seat. ¡°We¡¯ve been followed!¡±

 121. Gatecrash

    Remus smashed through the carriage window with one flaming fist. ¡°Get on top of the carriage!¡±

    Damion followed his instructions, smashing his own window and swinging himself onto the carriage roof. Side-by-side, brothers fighting as one, they confronted a face Remus had never wanted to see again.

    ¡°Sorry to gatecrash the family gathering.¡± Edmar¡¯s face was blank, one of his hands extended out to the side. There, golden light projected outwards, glowing with all the force of a supernova. Golden Inklings circulated all around them, sparkling in the late evening light.

    ¡°Edmar.¡± Remus ignored how tightly he was clenching his fists. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing here?¡±

    A floating sea of golden coins immersed all their carriages, forcing them to slow down. At this rate, they would be stranded with one ultra powerful Wealth clansman to deal with.

    But the numbers favoured them.

    ¡°You¡¯re outnumbered and outgunned here Edmar, what do you think you¡¯ll achieve?¡± Remus asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell us you''re still a dog to that clown Damosh?¡± Damion held back no punches, Mark already flaring into power. Carpentry tools spun through the air. For a man with a broken arm, he seemed awfully keen to start a fight.

    ¡°I thought I would see how far the mighty Carpentry Clan has fallen.¡± Damion¡¯s words seemed to have rubbed Edmar the wrong way. Now the ex-taxman was returning the favour. ¡°Andreas dies, and this is your new sect leader? Your first fight with that title, and you¡¯re the only one of your men injured. Why don¡¯t you tell the kids in your clan about a new job opening? I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll rule with much more conviction.¡±

    Damion took a step back, as if the words had physically slapped him. ¡°Call back your attack.¡±

    ¡°Scary.¡± Edmar sweeped his leg out in a warning strike, forcing them to keep their distance. Remus was about to dive into the man when he noticed something.

    That stink. The energy that was emanating off him. Remus felt his heart drop into his stomach.

    ¡°Damion!¡± Remus couldn¡¯t have shouted louder. ¡°He¡¯s Tainted!¡±

    His brother¡¯s face flickered to face him. ¡°What-?¡±

    A fist made of coins smashed his brother off the carriage.

    Ichor streaked down Damion¡¯s face as he clinged onto the carriage side. Momentum alone was carrying the vehicle forward, the horses having long since fled. The turning wheels came to a grating halt on the ground below.

    Now they were trapped. Trapped with one of Damosh''s strongest clansmen. One whose powers had been amplified by Enos. The carriages up ahead only made it a metre or so more, until they too came to a lagging pause.

    Carpentry and Ambition clansmen were already crashing out of carriage doors to come to their assistance. There was no way Edmar could win this fight. But then Remus roved his spiritual senses over the man.

    His Rank. What was his Rank?

    Enos¡¯ touch already mystified his true power, but something about Edmar felt off, almost dirty. The power didn¡¯t feel natural, and not just in the corrupted sense.

    Edmar threw off his waistcoat. It was too weighed down by jewels to be carried by the wind, slapping against Damion as he dragged himself to a shaky stand on the wet earth below. But on the Wealth clansman¡¯s body, strapped to his bare skin by crossing bandoliers, were dozens upon dozens of elixirs. Edmar reached down, grasped three between his fingers in an awkward hold, and downed each.

    Remus was too startled to do anything.

    The man groaned, each of his veins bulging against his skin. Edmar had an impressive physique, as much as Remus hated to admit it. He was more muscular than Remus, but if Damosh¡¯s right hand man was willing to buy his way to power through elixirs, what would stop him from drowning his body in steroids?

    This was madness. Remus had listened long enough.

    The sight of Edmar¡¯s Tainted Mark was the last straw. Along his abdomen, the blackish artwork slithered around his skin, as if alive with a malicious will. Remus couldn¡¯t even identify what the Mark was supposed to be depicting. Hopefully it was Damosh¡¯s face, so Remus could beat the both of them at once.

    It was Remus¡¯ turn to throw a cloak off his body, revealing a new and improved set of Infirnite armour. Lightning crackled across his body, the sky above opening up and beginning to pour it down. Remus wasn¡¯t sure if that was his doing. He had no powers over nature, but it was like the world itself was resonating with his power.

    Curtains of rain slapped against his shoulders. His hands landed on his chains as Edmar came rushing forward, suddenly adorning a suit of golden armour.

    Remus whipped his chains through the electric air, Infinity flooding through each link, propelling their speed to match Edmar¡¯s.

    The Wealth clansman flew between the attack as easily as if they were sparring with blunt wooden swords. Jewelled gauntlets smashed into Remus¡¯ face.

    Remus dug a foot into the carriage roof, smashing through. The two of them went toppling into the vehicle''s interior in a huddle of limbs. Remus¡¯ eyes were watery from his bloody nose, but he saw the flames immersing his body with perfect clarity.

    He was going to melt that armour right off Edmar¡¯s body. Remus grasped Edmar by the neck, the man mimicking the movement. Remus concentrated Ambition into the tips of his fingers, plasma forming over each of his fingernails as he pressed through Edmar¡¯s neck guard and into flesh.

    Edmar¡¯s chokehold never relented. Remus was starting to feel starved for air, but blood had begun to drip down Edmar¡¯s throat. He would end this right here, right now, before things got out of hand.

    Then the carriage was thrown through the air.

    Remus hadn¡¯t seen what happened. One moment, he was on the cusp of tearing Edmar¡¯s throat into bloody shreds, and the next, they were spinning in the sky. The pair of them lost each other¡¯s hold on the other. They were sent smashing against the walls, like balls being rattled inside of a can.

    Thick Skin came to Remus¡¯ aid, absorbing the damage as he tried to remain as still as possible, allowing gravity and momentum to swat his body around. Edmar was a blur, but his extravagant set of armour was absorbing most of the impact.

    Finally, Remus grew tired. Eruptive Will concentrated into one fist. He punched the nearest wall, smashing through the wooden barrier and flying out into the open air.

    He watched the flaming carriage fall to the ground, hurtling towards a golden mound of coins. Hovering on his flaming palms, Remus saw what had happened. The Inklings formed together to create a gigantic, metallic fist, one that must have sent their vehicle flying. Edmar has saved himself from having his throat severed.

    Remus¡¯ eyes caught motion to the side. Edmar stood on a hovering carpet of congregated jewels. All around them, other Ambition clansmen propelled themselves into the air through flaming hands. Exactly in the same fashion as Remus.

    Edmund came into view. A second later, and Damion rose up on a floating plank of wood. It was visibly shaking. Methods of light were normally roundabout. God-Graced could push the boundaries of their power into creative directions, making flight much easier. But until you grew that strong, a lot of clans had rather subpar methods of flight.

    And Damion¡¯s trembling plank did not look reliable at all. If Damion fell and broke his other arm, Remus was going to kill him.

    ¡°We take down this bastard together Remus!¡±

    Those words seemed to scrub away any lingering doubt. This idiot. He thought, grin widening. ¡°Together as brothers?¡±

    ¡°Together as brothers!¡±

    The sound of a building exploding resounded all around, as the carriage finally impacted. Coins and wooden shrapnel whisked through the air.

    Remus ignored the sound, rushing into the fray when three black voids opened up. Remus came to a staggering halt mid-air.

    Immediately, Damion was swept to the side, encased by the murky blackness. More and more Ambition clansmen joined him, as if magnetically yanked closer. Remus felt that same pressure acting on him, but was able to resist its effects by tensing his every muscle. The remaining Carpentry clansmen down below could only watch up in horror. Out of them, only Damion had been willing to try such a risky mode of flight.

    And he had paid the price for it.

    Edmar¡¯s voice boomed through the air. ¡°As you know Remus, my clan was born out of the Greed Sect, overseen by the god Aisha. It¡¯s a loose connection, but even I can draw from that pool of power, if I stretch the Wealth domain to its limits.¡±

    Remus recognised the void-like ability. Back when he and Violet had been caught up in a feud between a Fury, and Greed God-Graced. In that despicable pit of Hell¡¯s Floor. He was getting Deja Vu just looking at the consuming rifts.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    But to draw so abstractly from one¡¯s subject of power . . . that sounded to Remus like a Mercenary¡¯s level of Mark manipulation. But Damosh was taking hits and brushing them off like he was a Warden.

    That could only mean one thing ¡ª he was a Warlord. A Rank with all the individual strengths of the Splintered Ranks, only with none of the weaknesses.

    Everyone but Remus had been anchored by the voids. Remus wasn¡¯t sure who to aim for, when the black rifts began to rush out of sight.

    ¡°What have you done with them?¡± He screeched, hands clammier than ever despite the fire gushing out of them.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, they won¡¯t be hurt.¡± Edmar smiled. Remus wanted to punch those pretty teeth loose. ¡°This is a fight between you and I, Remus. No interference. After all, isn¡¯t this what you always wanted? A fair match against me?¡±

    Remus screamed, whipping his chains, forming serpents of lightning through the air as he did. ¡°I¡¯m going to break every bone in your body.¡±

    Edmar leaned inwards. ¡°Try me.¡±

    There was the sound of a bullet going off, and Remus launched into Edmar¡¯s chest. The pair of them went flying through the air, a corona of golden coins flying past as Remus pressed forward.

    Edmar¡¯s armour had recovered from the fire, and Remus¡¯ punch only served to dent it. His chains reached out for Edmar¡¯s wrists, trying to lock him down. The man only tugged on the links, bringing Remus closer. Edmar fought dirty, but Remus was not expecting the headbutt.

    Stars danced in Remus¡¯ eyes. His voice rose until it was nothing but a shrill hiss, electric waves of Ambition emanating from his body and trailing down the chains. The lightning erupted around Edmar like a halo. The man only stuck his tongue out, as if challenging the pain to disturb him, bringing Remus closer for a second headbutt. Then a third, fourth, and finally, a fifth and sixth.

    Golden blood oozed down Remus¡¯ brow. With one mighty sweep, he commanded an electric wave to sear Edmar¡¯s body, implanting each branch of lightning with Eruptive Will. Explosions bombarded the man, blasting his smoking body backwards.

    Fire streaked behind Remus, propelling him forward to sweep both legs into the man¡¯s solar plexus. The golden armour cracked at the chestplate. There, from the gap in the armour, a stream of riches gushed outwards, smashing into Remus. He staggered in the air, summoning a wall of searing white fire to incinerate the barrage.

    Remus had probably burnt a bank¡¯s worth of money in that one exchange.

    Flying through the smoky remains, heart jackhammering in his chest, Remus¡¯ blue eyes roved around, searching through the steam. There.

    A man¡¯s silhouette in the centre of the smog, coins circling around him.

    Remus dived into the figure. His potent flames enveloped them whole in a delicious sight.

    Yet, when the fog cleared, Remus had to double take.

    Nothing but a pile of burning coins floated through the air.

    Remus hadn¡¯t reacted fast enough. He turned as another golden fist, the same size as the giant appendage that had destroyed their carriage, blasted him away.

    By the time he reoriented himself, Remus couldn¡¯t breathe. What he was seeing, it was beyond anything that Edmar should have been capable of.

    Easily the height of a castle, a colossal mound of riches formed a face and two outreaching arms. A huge black void seemed embedded in the creature¡¯s centre, its force of attraction far greater than the previous rifts Edmar had used to imprison his companions.

    And this time, Remus faced far more difficulty in defying its tug.

    After struggling through two breaths, his strength failed him, and Remus¡¯s body was forcibly dragged forward. The animated pile of riches seemed to boom out in sinister laughter. Or maybe that was Edmar himself, watching this all take place from somewhere afar.

    Remus was going to snug the laughter right out of his throat.

    A sea of coins washed over his body as he was dragged inside the creature. The Inklings were sharpened until each jagged end slit Remus'' body. His Infirnite armour withstood the swarm of sharp points, but it was like his face was being swarmed by five thousand paper cuts.

    Use Eruptive Gold. His mind commanded in an impulse of panic. It was tempting to be sure, but if Edmar had enough energy reserves to use a technique this grand, right at the opening of their battle, using his own ace-in-the-hole now would be far too early.

    Still, Remus wasn¡¯t going to sit around while Edmar butchered him. An orb of sizzling fire immersed him in a metre range. Everything that entered was swiftly burnt to a crisp, reduced to fleeting atoms.

    He would burn through a mountain of gold, if the need arose.

    But no matter how hard he tried to move, Edmar¡¯s void locked him in place. Was this Edmar¡¯s plan? To use brute force against him? His fires against Edmar¡¯s gold. Whoever ran out of steam first would perish.

    Remus¡¯ mind scrambled for a solution. Clearly, Edmar thought he had enough juice left in the tank to wait Remus out. The memory of his bandoliers surfaced. All of those elixirs . . . Edmar could refresh himself if his reserves ever ran low. How many of those flasks had Remus seen? Twenty?

    If he downed each flask, slowly throughout the fight, he would never tire. In fact, as fatigue set in, and Remus began to slow, Edmar would only grow stronger!

    Remus snarled in absolute furry, pouring more fire out of his body. He was playing into Edmar¡¯s hands, and he knew it.

    Right as he was scrambling for a way out of this mess, Remus felt something. In his spiritual senses, threads slithered like pythons. All coming closer to him.

    United in Strife.

    Down below, captured by Edmar as they were, his peers still called out for him. Remus connected the thread of his soul to the others, each of them joining together to form an intangible bundle. If the Ambition Clan couldn¡¯t fight with him, they could fight through him.

    Their power resonating as one. Their Marks singing the same mournful tune.

    The dirge that would play at Edmar¡¯s funeral.

    Remus tensed every muscle in his body. His veins bulged against the inside of his Infirnite armour, blood poured through the litany of cuts that had torn his face apart, and his entire body seemed to spasm.

    If Edmar wanted Remus to stay put, he would comply. He wasn¡¯t going anywhere. As the flames of his Ambition coalesced into one impossible form, Remus vowed to stay right here.

    It began as a body, the white fires stretching out to form a humongous cylinder. Arms followed, streaks of fire crackling with lighting making up two limbs. As Remus¡¯ master-creation only expanded in size, he burnt away at Edmar¡¯s own coin monstrosity. A head, moulded into the shape of a wolf, was the final addition.

    Remus floated in the figure¡¯s centre, the puppetmaster of a fiery abomination. He thrashed his arms around, the apparition mimicking the motions and burning away at Edmar¡¯s creation. His own fiery marionette, linked to his will by invisible strings.

    It was hard to see through the hellfire, but if Remus concentrated through his spiritual senses, he was sure he could see the void. There, he turned up the heat of his fires. A splatter of plasma soon formed, and wrestling with Edmar¡¯s will, he felt a change in the energy around him. The rift locking him in place seemed to struggle against him in one final squirm of air pressure, before fading all together.

    But as Remus had promised, he remained in place. The living heart of his wolfish beast of flame and plasma, and most importantly, Ambition.

    Remus swatted the air around him, the fire giant pounding its chest like a gorilla. Hundreds of thousands of Inklings all reduced to ash.

    Pushing himself, Remus only let himself breath when the entire form was composed of steaming plasma. Finally, as the cavern of riches relented, and daylight pierced through the reddish-black barrier, he saw Edmar once more.

    The goliath of gold was still intact. Seriously damaged, with several gaping holes where Remus had seared through, but able to stand. It wasn¡¯t alive of course, and neither was the plasma Remus was controlling. Yet as Edmar commanded more coins to fill in his beast, popping the cork off an elixir, and downing it, Remus had to imagine what the surviving Carpentry clansmen would see from afar.

    Two behemoths. Two titans of power that could wipe out villages with one angry outburst. Fighting against each other in the ultimate showdown.

    His Ichor alight, and powers elevated by Infirnite and United in Strife, Remus felt unstoppable. It was a crazy high, but a dangerous one too. It seemed so easy to forget that he was mortal. He was outclassed, but maybe, just maybe, all of the techniques and conditions that were elevating his powers would be enough to close the distance.

    Remus was starting to wonder if this was how gods felt.

    He stretched backwards, concentrating hot plasma into the beast¡¯s throat. Its entire body recoiled backwards, as a projectile of flaming matter, the same size as the carriage Edmar had previously destroyed, was spat outwards.

    Edmar didn¡¯t hesitate. He commanded his titian to smack the projectile with two palms. The thunderclap resounded for miles all around, and even Remus had to flinch at the raucous noise. Both appendages dispersed into their gold, only to hastily reform, as Edmar poured more riches into his creation.

    They weren¡¯t making any progress. Remus wasn¡¯t sure how long he could keep this up for. It was difficult to test out the limits of his stamina as a Vanguard. Better late than never, he supposed.

    But regardless, he would need to destroy the titan beyond compare, with one or two blows. Fast enough so that Edmar wouldn¡¯t be able to heal his beast in time.

    Remus would have to wait for the right opening.

    Before he knew what was going on, the ground rumbled as both giants sprinted towards one another. The ground below was unearthed, mud splattering to the side, and a dust cloud forming in the atmosphere.

    Two fists ¡ª one of flaming plasma, one worth enough to fill a treasure vault ¡ª collided in mid-air. Both of their constructs¡¯ arms shook at the impact. Before Remus could blink, five similar blows took place, each one more devastating than the last.

    Remus could hardly believe it, as he realised Edmar had him on the back foot. A tower¡¯s worth of plasma almost collapsed to the ground at one shaky step. If his giant fell, Remus would be responsible for starting a nationwide forest fire.

    Edmar. He could attack Edmar directly. Unlike Remus, he hovered on a golden vase outside of his titan, instead of controlling it internally. He was guzzling down yet another elixir, as their goliaths exchanged blows. But Remus saw no way to get to him without the man noticing.

    The Wealth clansman closed his eyes for a moment, pitching his empty flask and putting two fingers to the bridge of his nose. Was he having a headache? His golden giant swayed on his feet for a second, as Edmar quickly composed himself.

    What was that?

    Remus¡¯ wolfish giant clasped two hands together, reaching both over his head and smashing down like a barbarian. A hill¡¯s worth of Inklings fell away from the metallic beast at the impact. But still, it was never enough.

    Another flex of Edmar¡¯s will saw the hole patched up.

    How the Wealth Clan hasn''t already caused hyperinflation, I¡¯ll never know.

    Remus took a deep breath. He thought of all the people relying on him. His brother and sect leader, left useless against Edmar¡¯s onslaught. Edmund, strong Ambition clansmen, and combat trained men and women from the Carpentry Sect, all imprisoned. Discarded as an afterthought to the main attraction of their showdown. There was no telling what Edmar would do to them if Remus failed here. Death was almost a certainty.

    But more was riding on this than their lives. The fate of the world fell upon the shoulders of the Talents of the Future. And as egotistical it sounded, Remus truly believed the survival of Descent rested in his rebellion¡¯s hands. They couldn¡¯t be thwarted here.

    Remus gritted his teeth, surged a fresh flood of power though his titan of Ambition, and rushed towards Edmar¡¯s golden monolith.

    He would make it buckle at the knee.

 122. Eat Your Heart Out

    Edmar was starting to get annoyed now.

    Fists of plasma were hammering away at his goliath, each punch sending rivers of gold streaming through the air. It was a sunny afternoon, the light reflecting off the coins to blind Edmar, stationed as he was on a hovering vase.

    This battle was progressing far too quickly to a draw, for Edmar¡¯s liking. He had intended to takedown Remus, report back to Damosh, and return back to his personal chambers all in time for supper. At this rate, until Remus tired out, neither side was making any progress.

    Edmar¡¯s fingers latched around the cork of another elixir, without him noticing. It was habitual now, and he had to stop himself from taking another sip. The logical move would be to draw his power out; to play the long game. Using all of his potions now would only-

    Edmar paused. What was he doing? Was he really strategising against someone, who, only two years ago, had been starved for power? Death-Marked through and through. If Remus was posing a challenge . . . his breakfast crawled its way back up Edmar¡¯s throat.

    He crushed the elixir. Shards of glass dug into his hand.

    This was downright embarrassing. Remus needed to be dead and buried, left without even a grave to denote his pitiful life. Edmar had to ensure no body would be sent back to his family, that, once he became King, he would wipe every trace of his existence away from all records.

    His existence would be erased. A few generations from now, the name Remus would evoke nothing but dust.

    A sharp pain stabbed into Edmar¡¯s skull. There, probing his mind, was the source of his Tainted Mark¡¯s excess power.

    Enos.

    Why do you resist, my Paladin? I simply wish to grant you more power Edmar, more strength to help you topple cities with ease. If you had even a slither more of what I could grant you . . . well, you wouldn¡¯t have your back against the wall, when up against an Ex-Death-Marked. You could be so much more!

    As Edmar wrestled against the invading will, a terrible heat swarmed his body. Enos was pulling his strings, pressing Edmar¡¯s buttons and exploiting his insecurities. Well Edmar refused to give in that easily.

    I¡¯m not resisting my Lord . . . yes, power, grant your humble servant all you can offer up. I am but a cup for you to fill.

    Trying to hide his true intentions from Enos was like squeezing his brain in a chokehold. It was tortuous, his will an invisible barrier between the Unbounded, and the sanctum of his mind. But he fought, and all the while, Enos complied.

    Edmar bit down on his lip, drawing Ichor. His body was spasming. What was happening? Had Enos noticed his betrayal? In his panic, Edmar could hardly control his gold titan ¡ª the apparition swaying on two colossal feet.

    His skin hardened, his bones rattled until his entire skeleton shook in a mad trance, and his nails fell away in a shower of blood. Edmar tried to blink as his body tightened up, but his eyelids felt heavy; paradoxically, too heavy too close. Not out of fatigue ¡ª no, viscerally, and quite literally heavy.

    When he finally did manage to blink, his vision clearing the blood leaking out of his eyes, Edmar was remade.

    His body was metal. Golden, silver, with priceless jewels set all over his skin. Edmar had always been able to turn metallic, but never quite like this. Never had it felt so solid, so quietly powerful, so permanent.

    His insides too. It was hard to tell, but probing a finger to the inside of his cheek, there was no moist tissue. Only hardened gold. Some kind of alloy, something that was nigh impossible to break.

    All the strength of the most unbreakable diamond, but with the appearance of the smoothest gold. Enos couldn¡¯t have sounded more pleased with himself. This is your final form Edmar. You will never be defeated again.

    Edmar roared. What was this? He was starting to hyperventilate, but he felt no sweat pouring down his body, no heart jackhammering in his chest. It was like the organ had been replaced by a lifeless lump of coal.

    How would Damosh regard him, when he returned looking like this?

    Don¡¯t panic. Edmar forced the words into his aching head. He tore the clouds of distraction away from the sky of his mind, leaving the lone blue sky of focus in their place. Reject any feeling of weakness. Accept this strength. Swallow your terror and use it as fuel. Kill that boy.

    Edmar screamed, the sound echoing inside the metallic cavern of his belly, rebounding against itself until the sound was piercingly loud. He launched off the vase he had been perched on, sending it crashing to the ground below.

    He took a seat upon the head of his goliath, raising both hands over his head. The creature echoed his warcry, standing up straighter as Edmar poured more and more resources into the beast. Rapidly, it began to grow. Its legs were terrible foundations, inflating to carry the weight of a giant that doubled in size. Horns extended next to Edmar, emerging out of the giant¡¯s brow in pincers of gold. Edmar didn¡¯t stop, a sea of power churning around him, all devoured by his eager servant.

    By the time his eruption of power ceased, it had tripled in size. He looked down at Remus¡¯ own beast of plasma through the passing clouds above, their moisture slapping against Edmar¡¯s golden face. The wolfish creation bore up at Edmar in horror, hardly reaching up to the titan¡¯s knees.

    Then, far from finished, Edmar leaped down off his titan.

    All noise was stolen from the world as Edmar made his descent. The wind brushed against Edmar¡¯s metallic skin, more of a distant impression than something immediate. As if it was felt by another person. He reached terminal velocity swiftly, the gravity acting on his colossal weight ensuring his fall would be a swift one.

    And before Remus would be able to realise what was happening, Edmar entered the plasma beast.

    <hr>

    Remus had endured nightmares more pleasant than this.

    The golden statue, taking the place of a flesh and blood Edmar, invaded his plasma sea. Remus wasn''t completely resistant to heat either, at least not as thoroughly as, say, a Flame clansman. His fires were the flame of his Ambition, his lightning taking the same principle. This plasma, too, was an extension of that, hot as a sun, he would imagine. That was the only reason he was resistant.

    Yet Edmar didn¡¯t seem phased by the impossible heat. He swam through the haze of Ambition at a remarkable speed, rushing for Remus¡¯ neck.

    The man had changed. Just like Brison had. A monster had been brought out of him, summoned by Enos and put into the flesh. Or metal.

    As their titans wrestled, Remus attempted desperately to control the flaming wolf remotely. Edmar was keen on brawling with him head-on.

    The golden man acted as a cannonball, smashing into Remus¡¯ chest. He was buffeted backwards, on the cusp of falling out of his creation.

    Remus reached for his chains. Simultaneously, he created orbs of obsidian to float around, enveloping links around each. They would ensure he was locked in place. Edmar was able to control his giant from afar, but Remus¡¯ mind was boggled trying to play puppetmaster and defend his own body too.

    It was like trying to split his brain in half, each part fighting different battles, on different scales.

    Edmar wouldn¡¯t give him the chance to adjust.

    The living statue blasted through the plasma like a pinball, redirecting the man every other second in an unpredictable frenzy. Remus ducked and weaved to avoid him, suddenly regretting locking himself in place. He had just made it easier for Edmar to bludgeon him.

    With an additional flare of his Mark, Remus concentrated his Ambition into an obsidian shield, and a razor sharp blade, easily the size of a tree branch.

    His senses screamed at him as Edmar blurred forward.

    Remus got his shield up just in time, a colossal dent pressing through the rocky material. By the time Remus swiped back with his blade, the Wealth clansman was already gone.

    It was like Remus was deep underwater, under constant threat of a hostile shark. One bloodlusted until all they saw was red.

    He didn¡¯t see Edmar at all for several seconds.

    Another impact absorbed by the shield. It began to crumble, and Remus could only sustain its form through another surge of Ambition.

    Outside, Remus¡¯ titan was helpless. It became harder and harder to avoid Edmar as their battleground became ruptured with holes. Remus swerved out of the way of a golden fist one moment, tried to rebuild his giant of plasma the next, before finding himself under attack by Edmar¡¯s hurtled form.

    There was no winning this. All heroics, all of those platitudes he had told himself to raise his spirits: none of them meant anything.

    It became too much. Golden, bejewelled fingers large enough to crush a shed stabbed through his goliath, digits enveloping around Remus. He spun in an arc, obsidian sword cleaving through from the thumb to the pinky.

    Remus realised too late: he¡¯d fallen into Edmar¡¯s trap.

    He couldn¡¯t reorient himself fast enough. Edmar crushed against his side, and Remus muffled a cry as several of his ribs were crushed.

    Before Edmar could attack again, Remus expanded his shield into a protective sphere that covered him completely. He was blinding himself to the broader fight of their titans, and Edmar had a field day crashing against his barrier over and over again.

    Remus focused Ichor, Infinity, and Ambition all to his ribs. He couldn¡¯t fight above the pain. He needed the chance to heal, and he was throwing every resource on hand to see himself repaired.

    Already, he could feel the bone mending back together. Fusing inside of him with the miraculous healing of a Vanguard.

    Suddenly, Remus lurched to the side. In fact, focusing on his spiritual senses, he could see the entire plasma giant toppling backwards.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He had neglected the two brawling giants long enough. Now he would pay dearly for it.

    His protective shielding. If it survived, it was likely to absorb the brunt of the floor. All he had to do was keep it intact.

    But Edmar¡¯s onslaught was ceaseless. Did the man never tire? The sphere¡¯s shape was punctured, bumped, and otherwise disfigured by the litany of blows.

    Flaming Gold came to mind. If Remus used it now, there was no telling what would happen. He could exhaust himself for nothing. Then another idea came to mind.

    Remus blasted out of the obsidian covering, snarling as Edmar came into view. He imagined those invisible strands connecting him and his giant, similar to the thread of United in Strife. He forced the bestial titan to dig its clawed feet into the ground.

    The entire world seemed to groan as they were pushed backwards, Edmar¡¯s golden powerhouse pushing with all its monstrous might.

    Remus allowed his real body to endure punch after punch from Edmar. It was like being pummeled by a concrete monster over and over. Muscle purpled and bruised, and Edmar seemed dead-set on rearranging Remus¡¯ skeleton.

    He endured it all, for five seconds, giving total focus to his smoking behemoth. He commanded it to loop both arms around the other giant¡¯s armpits, having to leap from the ground to reach. Next, legs crossed against the giant¡¯s back, and the two embraced in an involuntary hug.

    For one reality-warping moment, reality spasmed.

    Plasma holding onto pure gold, Remus clicked his finger as another kick from Edmar threatened to knock his lights out for good.

    And in doing so, Remus activated Eruptive Will.

    Then his entire giant exploded.

    At the last possible instance, Remus blistered the skin of his Mark as he summoned another sphere of obsidian in what felt like a nanosecond. If he had been any later, death wasn''t out of the question.

    There was the sound of two mountainsides smashing against one another, before collapsing. It was like Remus was back in that carriage, beaten against the walls like a ragdoll being thrown around by a mean-spirited child.

    Even inside, he could feel the motion of falling. He channelled a burst of energy to expand the shielding, hoping to bury himself deep enough to survive the impact.

    Remus closed his eyes, braced his entire body, and hoped for the best.

    He jolted, lurched into the wall one more time, and had to wipe a stream of Ichor leaking down his nose. Finally, after seeming to roll around for an uncomfortable time, the stone prison came to a shaky pause.

    With his free hand, Eruptive Will imbued into the fist, Remus smashed his way out. He was choking on the thick smog that had enveloped the area. The first two steps were far too wobbly for his liking. Remus quickly drew his obsidian blade, using it as a walking stick.

    He didn¡¯t have time to survey the damage, but he did not feel good at all. It hurt to move ¡ª to breathe ¡ª and he spent an uncomfortable amount of time in a coughing fit. Only when he shooed away the surrounding soot infesting the atmosphere, was he able to observe the remains of the battlefield.

    Mounds of gold, all glaring in Remus¡¯ eyes until he had to squint, were set alight, scattered across what looked to be a gigantic crater. Off to the side, on the lip of the depression, he saw a treeline set on fire. Some of it shimmied in the ethereal blue of his Ambition, but the resulting explosion had started natural fires too. A haunting red beyond his capability to control. Remus couldn¡¯t do anything about the latter, but he withdrew any blue wisps in the immediate vicinity.

    He had to pause for a second, sagging against the broadsword; desperately attempting to compose himself. That one use of Eruptive Will had stretched the ability to its limits. Now he wasn¡¯t sure how much more power he could draw from the Mark.

    Yet Remus wasn¡¯t completely out of gas yet. Apparently Vanguards, enhanced as he was by all of his abilities, could keep fighting for a long, long time.

    Remus suddenly cursed. His clansmen, his brother! If he had accidentally injured them in that explosion-

    He was only able to breathe again when he saw the threads of United in Strife were all intact. They were still empowering Remus now. Despite feeling like a walking corpse, Remus had to smile at that. He wasn¡¯t alone. They were fighting with him, encouraging him to stay alive.

    Remus was able to stand up a little straighter, and though he still needed the blade to help him walk, he found his courage returning.

    His eyes roved around for any sign of Edmar. All he could hear was the subtle crackling of the fires, the metallic scent of burnt metal attacking his nostrils. Finally, after resisting the moon¡¯s arrival for hours, a belated night sky replaced the last drifts of sunlight. Within minutes, Remus was fully immersed in darkness.

    Even the fires encasing the area had seemed to settle to a low burn.

    Time continued to trickle past, and yet Edmar proved as elusive as ever. Remus¡¯ mind showed him endless images of that metallic form he now bore. It radiated a dark energy, the same demonic sensation he was graced with in the presence of Brison.

    A secondary form, a permanent alteration, provided by a Tainted Mark. Remus had to wonder, if Enos were to somehow coerce Remus into his army, what kind of power might be unlocked within him?

    He shivered at the thought. It was better to fight demons than to become one.

    Maybe three minutes had passed when Remus was starting to contemplate on whether Edmar had been destroyed. Without Remus¡¯ resistance to Ambition, the blow would have devastated the Wealth clansman, even with his reforged body. Remus could have been walking through the man¡¯s ashes, and be none the wiser.

    Then he saw him, and all hope of that lucky outcome was snuffed out.

    Cracks ran down Edmar¡¯s golden body, and though the small streaks of the same colour were hard to make out in the gloom, Remus recognised them for what they were: Ichor. So the man could still bleed. Gaping holes where jewels had been set were now glaringly empty. Edmar was dented in a myriad of places, deforming the man until he was a little too gangly, a little too wide.

    Remus held out his obsidian sword in a defensive stance. A wave of coins spun around Edmar¡¯s fist.

    ¡°Some trick you pulled there, Remus.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s face it.¡± Remus tried to blink out the Ichor running into his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m the strongest foe you¡¯ve ever faced. You¡¯ve never been pushed this far before, have you?¡± Remus pointed the tip of his blade towards Edmar. ¡°And that infuriates you.¡±

    For once, Edmar kept his mouth shut. Evidently, he was done with words.

    So let our actions speak for us.

    At once, the two dived forward.

    The sword felt heavy in Remus¡¯ hand, but he managed to swipe away a hoard of gold Inklings. He rolled aside just in time to avoid another golden barrage, but the movements were sloppy. As Edmar pressed in for the kill, Remus had to keep reminding himself to stay moving. He needed to muster energy he didn¡¯t have, ignoring his body''s cries for rest until it relented.

    He managed to summon just enough power from his Mark to set his free hand alight. Lightning was far too draining, and he didn¡¯t want to risk the millisecond it would take to draw the chains from around his waist.

    Exhausted beyond compare, Remus would have to fall back on his basic training. Part of his guard duty required him to be trained in all traditional weapons. Swords, axes, and other handheld-blades weren¡¯t usually Remus'' forte, and swiping around his chains didn¡¯t require much expertise. Sure, Violet had gone over proper form with him briefly during their stint through the grasslands between First Rite and Hybrid, but mind-numbing drills under the careful eye of superiors had seen Remus¡¯ swordsmanship skyrocket. The guards at Eclipse had been serious about their traditions, and now Remus couldn''t thank them enough.

    He feigned, waited until Edmar left himself open, and struck out with his fist. He didn¡¯t dare waste any energy with fancy techniques. Simple fire and manpower, however, saw Edmar thrown to the floor.

    Remus pounced.

    He dug his leg against the beaten platinum of Edmar¡¯s chest, holding his sword against his neck. There, the man struggled for an embarrassingly long time. After wrestling with the clansman for what felt like hours, Remus finally managed to tie his chains around Edmar¡¯s hands. The other end of the links he hastily buried under a rock, right before Edmar could yank himself free.

    Remus took a second to regather his strength, before aiming the sword tip at Edmar¡¯s throat.

    ¡°Free my friends.¡± Remus said quietly. It hurt to speak.

    Edmar spat. ¡°Why should I?¡±

    Remus kicked the man, denting his shoulder plate. His squeal resounded through the wasteland for miles. ¡°You want me to remind you what the situation is? I should kill you where you lie.¡±

    Truth be told, Remus was very tempted to. He would have, if not for the fact he was conscious of his diminishing energy reserves. Remus wasn¡¯t sure if he had the strength left to finish Edmar off. He was hoping to keep him put long enough for somebody to come along, to provide assistance, but wasn¡¯t entirely sure who he expected to arrive.

    When Edmar remained silent, Remus transferred the flame from his left hand to cover his sword. Recycling the energy saved him from having to abuse his Mark further.

    ¡°Enos did me the favour of turning you into a nice ornament. When my flame finally melts through your neck, I wonder, where in the Carpentry Sect should I place you?¡±

    Edmar screamed, struggling against his confines. Remus pressed his feet into the ground, forming deep imprints in the ground below. The outer gold of Edmar¡¯s throat began to melt, a blinding contrast to the dark veil of night.

    If Edmar wasn¡¯t going to comply, there was no way Remus was going to risk having his clansmen killed. He realised now that no help was coming. So he would do his best to see the clansmen dead. Besides, if worse came to worst, and he had to flee, Edmar was in no position to come chasing.

    He had maybe dug through a couple centimetres into the metal, drawing the first droplets of blood, when they appeared.

    Five black rifts.

    They each dragged Remus in separate directions, but there was one thing in common between them. Each was forcing Remus away from Edmar.

    Remus did his best to wrestle against the compulsion, twitching in place. In the meantime, Edmar transformed his arms. Metal spikes replaced Edmar''s arms, thin and elegant weapons. They were slim enough to slip away from his chains.

    Edmar rose to his feet, stretching in place.

    He opened his smug mouth, as if to say some snide comment right before slipping away.

    Remus wouldn¡¯t let him.

    In a final blast of power that would see his Mark guttering out, Remus moved just enough to raise his obsidian sword. White, simmering light devoured the entire weapon, and with one final thrust, it sliced through the air.

    And pierced through Edmar¡¯s chest.

    Edmar put his hands to the bleeding cavity, his lips widening in silent horror. Golden Ichor stained his fingers, emerging from a fountain in his upper body that gushed the golden liquid out in a relentless stream. Two of the rifts locking Remus in place abruptly closed, only three remaining. But Remus was spent. It took all his willpower just to stay conscious. There was no way he would be able to fight his way free.

    The Wealth clansman wobbled on his feet, a tide emerging from the recesses of his mouth, to overflow through diamond teeth. His hands clutched the blade, and, seeming to deem it too dangerous to pull the weapon out here, began to turn tail and run.

    A stream of Ichor followed him, but Remus was helpless to follow it.

    For three minutes, Remus could do nought as the trio of rifts refused to disappear. Edmar had slipped right out of his fingers. All of those years of accumulating power, and for what? Edmar would always be ahead of him. With an endless mountain of elixirs at hand, and Enos eager to empower the man indefinitely, he could progress just as fast as Remus, if not quicker, without any of the effort. The blood, sweat and tears that made Remus who he was was replaced by pharmaceutical, artificial enhancement. How could he compete?

    His thoughts only grew darker as the seconds dragged by. The reverie of misery only subsided when some familiar faces crept into view.

    ¡°Remus!¡± Damion called.

    Behind him, Edmund, and the rest of their combined Ambition and Carpentry forces, all looked to Remus with relief.

    Finally, the rifts disappeared. But Remus could take no solace in that fact. Edmar must have been too out of range to keep the ability active. He had gotten away.

    ¡°Edmar, we have to-¡± Remus¡¯ legs buckled underneath him. He took a second to centre himself, getting back to his feet with the aid of Damion. ¡°We have to catch up to him. Have to stop him before he-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in no position to fight.¡± Damion said sternly. His severe tone left no room for debate. ¡°You defended us all, and we¡¯re grateful for that, but we can¡¯t go rushing back into danger after barely getting out of it.¡±

    Tal¡¯s face suddenly appeared before Remus¡¯ eyes. That defenceless old man. If it wasn¡¯t for him, if it wasn¡¯t for Remus getting imprisoned, he might still be alive. The least Tal deserved was to be revenged. And Remus couldn¡¯t even do that.

    ¡°You don¡¯t u-understand.¡± Remus slurred on his words. ¡°He¡¯s almost dead. He might bleed to death if we stop him from getting back to safety. If he survives, he¡¯ll only come back stronger. You haven¡¯t seen what I¡¯ve seen. He¡¯s a . . . he¡¯s a monster. ¡±

    But Damion wouldn¡¯t relent. It was like speaking to a brick wall.

    Remus found his eyelids too heavy to open now, but he recognised Edmund¡¯s voice. ¡°He¡¯s right, Remus. You need to rest. Edmar may be able to get more powerful, but so can you. Next time we face him in battle, you won¡¯t be alone. He¡¯s a goner.¡±

    Despite his internal war to stay awake, Remus¡¯ body finally forced him to sleep.

 123. Dreamscape

    Ash opened his eyes to . . . nothing.

    He was floating in what felt to Ash like pure nothingness. The absence of space. Somewhere away from Descent, somewhere outside of the boundaries of the universe, where the laws of physics didn¡¯t apply. This was a place that couldn¡¯t be governed, where logic and scientific thinking were useless at unravelling its mysteries.

    No, not a place. More like the lack of one. Emptiness.

    ¡°Where am I?¡± He called out. His voice seemed to echo despite the lack of any solid objects.

    Ash had ventured into deep space on several occasions at this point, the final Divine Right of Astral Influence always protecting him. He had seen more of the galaxy than any other human, alive or dead. So he knew for certain that this wasn¡¯t space. There were no stars, no planets sinking into the abyss, nothing to indicate that this was the grand battlefield of the gods.

    ¡°Who goes there?¡± Ash boomed out again, swivelling behind as he sensed the presence.

    There, a patch of darkness within the darkness, as contrasting as white was to black, he recognised his master.

    Out of the smoky dark, a gauntleted hand stretched out. Between the spindly fingers, a writhing yellow energy sparked.

    ¡°What you see before you is the last lifeforce of Java¡¯s twin. His name continues to elude me. But that¡¯s how I like it. Let history itself forget him.¡±

    It was hard to tear his eyes away from the floating arm, the rest of Enos nowhere in sight. When Ash managed to do so, he was disappointed to find that no other details had emerged from this empty void.

    ¡°Where are we, master?¡±

    ¡°A place between places. An aspect of my soul.¡±

    Ash wanted to ask more, but pressing Enos for answers was not conducive to good health. He had the feeling they should hurry along. ¡°What is it that you wish to show me, my Liege?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have much time before the last traces of the Time god disappear. Sending that twin to the grave to join his brother was troublesome, but it seems my efforts have been rewarded.¡±

    Two gods dead. The first in what must have been centuries. Twins slain, and both by Enos'' hand. Joining Teviel in the list of gods Enos had destroyed. Ash felt an ebbing flame inside of him at the thought, warming his insides. He desired to be so powerful, so absolute and inevitable. This was what working with Enos promised. The strength to eat worlds, the authority needed to make deities kneel at his feet and tremble.

    To give up such power, for so little; Ash could think of no kinder being in this universe than his master.

    ¡°Let me show you,¡± Enos hardly displayed emotion, but he spoke through an excited whisper.  ¡°Let me show you the future the Paladins will weave.¡±

    Enos¡¯ spiked hand opened wide, golden ribbons of power streaming through the room. Ash squinted against the abrasive light, but after his eyes adjusted, couldn¡¯t help but gawk.

    The space had transformed. At first glance, they were levitating mid-air, clouds the texture of cotton-candy drifting past. It seemed an early morning, sunlight piercing down to highlight the floating city of Eclipse not far below.

    And it was a scene of ruin.

    The great statues that supported the chains connecting each island were fully alight. Funeral pyres. It was the first thought that came to Ash¡¯s mind, each of the stone monoliths dripping with blood. The golden Ichor reflected the sunlight, until a halo of death covered the city from every angle.

    Ash watched, wide-eyed, as some of the smaller floating islands began to creak. The deathrattle resounded for miles, until, like the first piece of a house of cards falling, it collapsed.

    The mound of earth was crumbling long before it struck the earth, thousands of feet below. From the inside of a stone pyramid, men and women carrying their youngest upon their shoulders fled for their lives. But there were no escape routes. The only exit from the island was through the skies, all bridges and links burnt away. Ash recognised the fleeing clansmen as belonging to the Moon Sect. It was far too early to draw from their nightly powers, which only blossomed to their full potential beneath the gloom of their namesake. Yet despite these setbacks, they leaped into the air, summoning clumps of moonstone to fly far, far away.

    Not many did.

    Tons of stone smashed into the remnants of the Moon Clan, their own home becoming their own destruction. While Ash was fully absorbed in their demise, several other islands had fallen away too.

    Statues came toppling down, hundreds of clansmen fleeing as high as their abilities would take them. All of Eclipse looked down at their burning city, like bees fleeing from a flaming hive.

    The Unbounded attack was the cherry on top.

    There were hundreds of the flying fiends, all being ridden by Paladins. Each of the soldiers were fitted out with the evolving power that a Tainted Mark provided, saddled upon creatures that had once been kept at bay. Now, Ash could only imagine what a graveyard the front lines had become. The Unbounded had finally broken through in full force.

    As the Tainted flew into the mob of clansmen, ready to butcher the remaining population of Eclipse, the scene changed.

    It took Ash a second to identify what city the soaring towers belonged to. Two cities, in fact. Great Oasis and Heaven¡¯s Pinnacle. Home to the Lawful and Empyrean Alliances, respectively.

    This was one part of the world Ash knew little about. Great Oasis was by far the most technologically advanced city Ash had ever seen. In large part due to the domination of the Matter Clan. Carriages and wagons were commonplace, transporting the people around both cities in a fully-fledged transport system. Far more sophisticated than the simple outposts that First Rite and other major cities provided, where carriage-riders would sell their services. Even more impressive were the railroads that curved through Great Oasis, providing easy transport to and around its neighbouring city. The first of its kind, a train, that worked on an engine. Not to mention the electric light sources they used, the strange glass orbs protruding out of street corners and glowing at night. So many revolutionary inventions were being made here.

    Would have been made.

    Ash could have gone on to admire the city in more detail, including the concrete maze where Nova had hidden away during his final days.

    Instead, he inspected the raging fire not far away. A city cast in hellfire: Heaven¡¯s Pinnacle.

    The towers of Heaven¡¯s Pinnacle were like the spears of giants, stabbing into a vibrant jungle. Their glass, domed roofs reflected the red that now consumed the trees, making the entire city a headache to even glance at. A thick smog veiled much of the carnage, but Ash watched intently at the silhouette of a building swaying on its foundations. It was hard to judge from this distance, but it must have been easily the size of Damosh¡¯s tower, or the great arboreal tree that was the Wild Sect¡¯s ancestral home in Hybrid. Slithering out of windows, shrieking upon mounds of corpses, were some of the most gnarly-looking fiends Ash had ever encountered. Between them, ignored by the Unbounded, were the Paladins.

    They were the image of anarchy, all peering up to one central figure in the sky, raising their weapons in a glorious warcry.

    Ash gasped as he saw himself, hands outstretched in front of the sun, a corporate god looking warmly upon his devotees. Pride swelled up in Ash¡¯s chest, and it took all of his self control not to cry out in delight.

    This was it. The person he was supposed to be. The harbinger of a new age, a phoenix who would burn with the world, and rebuild it in the image Infinity had always intended.

    And he would never be weak again.

    The environment changed once more, this time to a perspective that granted him a horizon of both Hybrid and First Rite. All of their ornate traditions, codes of law, institutions and political arrangements. Never before had their insignificance been so clear. He looked up to the razed, beaten wasteland each had been reduced to, at the craters that embedded themselves into the earth at every mile. He could no longer tell the difference between here and the Anarchy Syndicate¡¯s Ravaged Lands.

    Hell¡¯s Floor had expanded to cover the entirety of Descent.

    A sudden moisture trickled down Ash¡¯s cheeks. His eyes were fountains of joy. Out of a dark mist, that gauntleted hand wiped away the tears. ¡°All of this will come to fruition. Infinity will prevail.¡±

    ¡°So this is going to happen?¡± Ash asked, desperation bleeding into his voice. ¡°This is destiny?¡±

    The scene began to fade.

    ¡°What I show you, my dear servant, is but one possible thread of fate. One outcome.¡± That empty darkness had returned, and out of that all-encompassing void, two beady eyes pierced into Ash. ¡°It is our duty to Infinity to see that it transpires. Our work now matters more than ever. Is that clear Ash? I cannot understate how important the next few Rebirths will be.¡±

    Ash finally composed himself. Goosebumps ran up and down his arms. ¡°Quite clear, my Liege. Quite clear.¡±

    Space seemed to fly around him. A stabbing pain pierced his brain, and when Ash next opened his eyes, he was met by a vista of blazing colour. He took a second to compose himself, a few slow breaths enough evidence that he was back in the real world. Not that plane of dreams and possibilities that Enos had invited him to.

    Behind him, a wall of longboats sat anchored at the shoreline of a beach. Their crews, all Tainted with Enos¡¯ touch, were busy pulling away the sails, tying the ropery, and otherwise trying to make themselves look busy.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    They had reached the first island of the archipelago. A nameless land for a forgotten people.

    ¡°Search the island.¡± Ash called. ¡°If you see even one of the Material Congruity, one person at all, report back here. Keep them captive. We can kill them later if they refuse to comply.¡± He took a long sip from a canteen of water. ¡°First to find somebody receives extra rations.¡±

    That was all the incentive his people needed, if any. Every last one of the Paladins he had handpicked were fully devoted to the cause.

    Ash watched as his people rushed past the initial treeline, wading through all sorts of greenery to enact his bidding.

    Leadership. People heeding his every beckon and call . . .

    There was no greater feeling.

    <hr>

    It was a few hours later when somebody came knocking at Ash¡¯s cabin. ¡°Come in,¡± he called out, after a pause.

    Faris entered the captain¡¯s quarters, face blank and servile. Just as Ash liked him. Ash took no time to notice the man he held at spearpoint. A strange fellow, adorned in necklaces of odd trinkets: sharp rocks, vibrant feathers, and what looked to be pointed shards of bone. His sun-beaten face was creased in several places, and the man wore an odd kilt, one that appeared to be made out of straw.

    There was an uneasy silence, as Ash stared down at this stranger.

    ¡°I found this man trying to hide behind some ferns, to the south-west of the island.¡± Faris swatted the man¡¯s back. ¡°I asked him where the rest of his people were. Hasn¡¯t spoken a single word. Not even when I beat him.¡±

    Ah yes, Ash could see the line of purple bruises across his collarbone and neck.

    Without a word, Ash rose out of his chair, walked past his desk, and came face-to-face with the stranger. They were unlike anyone Ash had ever met before. He was starting to wonder if the mortal tongue would have even survived in these furthest reaches of the world, fully isolated from society since the Barbaric Ages.

    With not the faintest movement, Ash allowed his power to flood through the room.

    There was no discernable change. Not to the naked eye at least. And Ash most certainly didn¡¯t cause the man any harm. His aura seemingly expanded, like his shadow given a will and mind of its own. Twisting, winding, and otherwise enveloping the entire room with an uncomfortable chill.

    The Adam''s apple of Faris¡¯ throat visibly bulged. Faris may have gulped, but all credit to this stranger brought before Ash, they didn¡¯t show the slightest reaction.

    Only when Faris began to sway on his feet did Ash call back his aura. He didn¡¯t want his clansmen collapsing on him. ¡°Tell me stranger, what is your name?¡±

    The man seemed to consider him for one long breath. ¡°Theodore.¡±

    The word was like a prisoner escaping from the deepest catacombs of some decrepit dungeon. Ash didn¡¯t suppose he was going to get much out of the man, and some dark instinct told him to kill them on the spot. But another feeling was itching at him.

    A grudging respect.

    ¡°Loyal to your people, Theodore?¡±

    Nothing.

    ¡°Do they not teach children to respect their superiors, where you come from? I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve felt the power I possess. I could kill you where you stand.¡±

    Theodore¡¯s features didn¡¯t change a smidge. They painted a cold mask of indifference. Faris brought the sharp end of his spear to the man¡¯s skin. A single drop of Ichor fell to the ground below.

    ¡°Do the gods visit you around these parts? The Day of Descension was rather rushed this year, I must admit, with everything that has been happening . . . but I suppose you wouldn¡¯t know anything about that, would you?¡±

    With one finger, Ash pushed Faris¡¯ spear away from Theodore. It fell to the ground with a rattle. ¡°We don¡¯t have to be enemies, my good man. Your deities have done you dirty. You have no reason to stand with them. Join my men, the Paladins, and we¡¯ll escort you and your people away from this lousy backwater. Descent is on the brink of the final chapter of the Celestial War, and I offer you the chance to help write it.¡±

    Ash extended his hand. Dancing on the very tips of his fingers, black wisps flickered alluringly. One touch of Theodore, a mere moment¡¯s drop of the man¡¯s mental guard, and he¡¯d join the tainted.

    ¡°What do you say?¡±

    Absolute silence reigned supreme. Ash could hear the quiet, steady beating of his own heart. He listened to the sweet music of his certainty. The knowledge that Theodore could not possibly turn him down.

    Any moment now, and all of the archipelago would bend their knee to him.

    Then something changed in Theodore¡¯s eyes.

    He looked over to Ash¡¯s offered hand. The limb was burning with the dark lifeforce of Enos, the sounds of a crackling campfire resounding all around. The way the man stared at the limb, the slight wrinkling of his nose . . . it was like he was staring at something diseased. As if Ash¡¯s arm and hand were dead and rotting.

    Theodore spat at Ash¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare speak ill of Kolbeinn!¡±

    Theodore¡¯s voice was a thin, seething rasp. Ash was still being swept up by a wave of disgust when the name struck him. Kolbeinn.

    ¡°One of your gods, I presume.¡± He reasoned, trying to stop his lips from twitching into a sneer.  ¡°I see you are loyal. There is nothing more disappointing than true dedication to a dead cause.¡±

    Faris blared his Tainted Mark is a blast of power. At once, his body melted into pure water, then back into solid flesh, before a cloud of gas swept into Theodore. Patches of air in the fog made up the details of a face, somehow recognisable as Faris¡¯s screeching visage.

    Bone erupted out of Theordore¡¯s forearms, natural spears shooting from his skeleton, out of his skin, and into the air to sever at Faris. The cloud-person was shredded into a fine mist, and Theodore¡¯s body continued to contort. Horns of calcified material stabbed out of his brow, his straw shirt picked through with more protrusions of bone.

    Faris condensed into a pool of liquid on the ground. Theodore outclassed the man tremendously in speed, overwhelming the puddle at his feet before Theodore could even hope of reforming. Droplets splattered against the walls of the cabin as Theodore swatted away at the liquid form.

    ¡°Stop!¡±

    Ash bled as much authority as he could into his voice, speaking like a true king. Theodore hesitated. It granted the breathing room Faris required to recollect himself, returning to his solid flesh form in the corner of the chamber, where he bled out profusely. He pushed himself against the wall, eyes wide and glued to his attacker. All sense of reason was abandoned, as Faris¡¯ mind entered the great debate at the core of all animal thought. Fight or flight.

    Ash placed a hand on Theodore¡¯s shoulder, holding him in place. The gesture granted Faris just enough time to disperse back into fog, sweeping under the tiny gap beneath the cabin door.

    Such a waste. Faris¡¯ Tainted Mark had one of the most versatile abilities Ash had ever witnessed, and it had fallen into the hands of a bumbling fool.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to grant you one more chance to amend your utter disrespect.¡± Ash tightened his hold on Theodore¡¯s shoulder until it popped. ¡°I¡¯ll have to excuse your behaviour thus far. I can¡¯t expect savages like you to understand the proper etiquette of-¡±

    A pincer of bone pierced through Ash¡¯s hand.

    ¡°I won¡¯t let the poison of your words reach anyone else!¡± Theodore bared his teeth like a wild predator. ¡°You die with me, here and now!¡±

    There couldn¡¯t have been a more conspicuous time for Ash to smell the smoke.

    ¡°What have you-¡± He grimaced against the pain, his brain flipping in his skull. There was no time. Someone had sabotaged the ship. As the humidity only continued to increase, Ash only grew more certain of it. Their entire fleet could be aflame in the next minute.

    Still pinned to Theordore by the hand, Ash hissed, sweeping his arm. Theodore was carried by the movement, slamming into the right wall of the cabin. The entire ship rocked with the impact, pieces of wood falling away from the lining of the boat.

    Ash felt Enos probing deeper into his mind. Felt the Unbounded¡¯s influence creeping into his words. His voice emerged as a coarse, grating rasp. ¡°I¡¯m going make you watch as I enslave all of your clan, all of the archipelago, one by one!¡±

    An eruption of power blasted out of Ash, His Tainted Mark revving into action. One moment, the pair of them were primed to fight, a smoking cabin ensnaring them. The next, the planks of the ship had simply dismantled, flying in all directions as Ash sank into the water below.

    The world was drained of noise. Ash looked up, metres deep underwater and holding his breath, at the underside of a thick black paste. The layer of oil was burning brightly, a kaleidoscope of colour and harsh angles blinding Ash for a moment.

    The shore was filled with submerged Paladins, charred logs, and strange-looking men and women that Enos¡¯ influence didn¡¯t quite reach. Closer inspection proved Ash¡¯s earlier hypothesis correct: Theodore had company. It had been a trap all along, with Theodore, who Ash now recognised as the Bone Sect¡¯s leader, masquerading as a mute barbarian the entire time.

    Theodore was upon him within seconds. Despite the flaming ceiling of the frothing waters, little light penetrated into the murky depths. The illuminating star of Astral Influence glowed through the murk, highlighting Theodore¡¯s savage sneer in sharp relief. The man spun through the water as elegantly as a fish, a living drill zooming towards Ash.

    Ash¡¯s Divine Right over celestial affairs was of limited use here. It was almost like the Bone Clan had anticipated Ash¡¯s assault. This was one environment where he couldn¡¯t just rely on Enos¡¯ favour.

    But the power of the Wilderness goddess, Chantal, raged through him still. Ash had never possessed exceptional authority over water, the Wild domain of power barely breaching into that over-occupied domain. Tainted by Enos¡¯ touch, however, he found the undulating waters responding with much more enthusiasm to his call.

    The water pressure increased tenfold around Theodore, slowing down his flashy advance. A punch, reinforced by all the Infinity you could ever need, saw the Bone Clan leader shatter.

    Theodore crossed two spiked forearms in a quick guard, all of the bone fracturing at the contact. Ash was yet to discern the man¡¯s Rank, but regardless, now wasn¡¯t the time to hold back.

    He grasped Theodore by the throat, flying up towards the ooze of oil that the Bone Clan had so generously donated. The pair of them blasted through the murk, rose through a fiery nebula, and Ash never ceased his flight upwards.

    Physical space seemed to skip forward. Before he knew it, Ash was floating in the upper stratosphere of Descent, the battleground of the gods, space, looming overhead in a stark void. Ash had keen eyes, and even from these outer reaches of the planet, he could see the conflict raging below.

    The Bone Clan may have possessed the element of surprise, but petty tricks would never level the playing field. His Paladins were in another league.

    Several of the ships had survived the hungry fire, and a full-scale sea battle was well under way. Batches of clansmen fought on the decks of the remaining boats, Tainted and Bone alike. A surrounding mile of flotsam provided surfaces for the rest of the conflict, and men desperately clung to barrels. Faris had reformed to take on the shape of an angry storm. Yet, most terrifying, were the ships of bone rapidly approaching. Emerging out of the distant mists that encompassed the archipelago.

    The architecture of nightmares, the skeleton ships cut through the steaming waters, their elegant grace telling of a master shipwright. Ash recalled the tale of the bony vessels: the very same that had been summoned by the ancestors of the Bone Clan. Back when they had set sail from the mainland of Descent alongside the rest of the Material alliance, desperate to escape from the world¡¯s thoughtless bloodshed.

    One had to wonder, who were the real barbarians here? The thought made Ash smile wickedly.

    Ash could have looked at the beautiful view forever, but Theodore wasn¡¯t going to give up and die without his intervention. Or would he?

    The chillness that characterised these higher reaches had doused both of their flames. Yet a new threat saw Theodore¡¯s undoing. Ice had rapidly formed over the man¡¯s body, visibly spreading across his limbs, reaching now for his eyelids and preventing them from fully closing.

    ¡°You¡¯ll never win.¡± Theodore rasped. His eyes were bloodshot, perhaps a sign death had arrived, keen to collect his toll.

    Ash could have laughed at the words. It was like watching children in a playground, trying to act tough. While some beings had the decency to perish with honour and dignity, in his final moments, Theodore missed even the mark of pity.

    ¡°I already have, Theordore.¡±

    In one sudden turn, Ash tossed Theodore down, blasting the man back towards the surface of Descent, where he quickly picked up speed. The straw material of his clothing took on a new flame, as the man became smaller and smaller to Ash¡¯s vision. A human comet taking flight.

    ¡°I already have.¡±

 124. Bloody Waters

    Eshika had seen many things as the leader of the Archery Clan.

    Descent was a nasty place, but the Front Lines were enough to give demons nightmares. Eshika had been present when Supreme Rot had ravaged the bodies of many a Warlord. Beings seemingly larger than life brought down to their knees, and soon after, their graves. She had watched streams of blood stretch for miles, mountains made entirely of corpses outsizing natural landmarks. The sight of a full legion of fiends, crawling forth from the horizon, still gave her shivers on the truly terrible days of the conflict. Those most testing times, when you were forced to fight from the crack of dawn, into the thinnest whispers of day, and the sanctum of sleep was always a certainty.

    A word could only be repeated so many times until it lost its meaning, and yet, despite the millions who had given their lives to the human cause, Eshika never forgot the individual sacrifice beyond each of those dead.

    Nobody had ever told her that leading humanity¡¯s armies would be easy. It was a job that required you to stomach the darkest depravities of life, and keep pushing forward when you saw no reason to.

    Something in Eshika had always kept her going, a flicker of hope. An earthly warmth that promised her all this suffering meant something. It would be worth it in the end.

    But this . . . this brought all of her worldviews into question. That internal warmth wavered.

    One foot standing on a hovering arrow, the Archery God-Graced observed the vast archipelago that expanded below her. The generals of the Three Pillars were all gathered together, watching down on the tapestry of destruction being weaved by the Paladins.

    The brothers stood on floating blades, unable to disguise their discontent. Gilmat, God-Graced of Swordsmanship, bit tightly into his lip. A drop of Ichor slithered down his chin.

    Griffin''s beefy arms were crossed, and though his expression was hidden behind a long fringe of hair, his demeanour was not a vote of confidence. Eshika never failed to pick up on his nervous twitches.

    ¡°Before the Speed and Time Clan was fully massacred by these ill-named Paladins, I had the honour of conversing amongst their people.¡± Eshika began, her voice an unsteady presence amid the incessant implosions from below. ¡°I was granted access to several prophecies; grim visions of future realities I could only hope weren¡¯t real.¡±

    Neither brother spoke up. Similar in appearance, similar in their silence.

    ¡°But now, as I look down upon this archipelago, the forgotten isles facing what I fear may be its final battle, I realise the significance of what I saw. Everything they showed me, every last detail . . . it¡¯s all coming true.¡±

    Eshika found herself joining in their silence, focused entirely on the sea below.

    It had begun on the island of the Bone Clan, the giant spine of some impossibly large beast trailing the entire landmass. Within this bone, what must have been a great hall was chiselled into the skeleton¡¯s colossal interior, all marrow hollowed out to house hundreds of clansmen. Now, Paladins with the touch of Enos invaded those personal chambers, laughing and sneering as they plundered for whatever ancient treasures resided inside.

    The surrounding water was immersed by a murky, flaming layer of oil. Ichor darkened the waters that winded and turned between the other isles of the archipelago. It was as if a serpent of flame and blood was attacking the islands, trapping them in a chokehold and squeezing tight.

    The Material Congruity were engaging in battle with outsiders, for the first time in known history since they had first fled to the Forgotten Isles. Eshika had heard of a warm welcome before, but this siege of fire and anguish was beyond burning.

    Arrows and spiked javelins whistled through the air, streaks of a flickering green slathered across each. The men and women who wielded these weapons were distinct from the bone clansmen, though their appeal was equally alien. Plumes of feathers expanded from their backs, the multicoloured coronas striking Eshika as not exactly great for hiding. The bones of small animals had been turned into crowns that sat upon their heads, and lines of lime-green dye ran up and down their limbs. Eshika couldn¡¯t help but feel a grudging respect for their archery skill. They were rivalling the prowess of even some of her recruits.

    Their island was by far the tallest of the archipelago, more of a mountain now that she thought about it. Demonic-looking Paladins, many of them fitted out with crooked wings, flew up to meet their attackers. Each received a barrage of projectiles for their insolence.

    Immediately, those unfortunate enough to fall victim to a sharp end went completely still. Like the strings cut out from a marionette, their bodies went limp, descending to the turbulent waters below. Despite some of their wings, none of the shot Paladins could fly, an induced paralysis preventing them from even scrambling for help.

    Skulls smashed against the side of the bluff, splashing bodies sent seawater splattering metres high, but it was the eerie silence of it all that most unnerved Eshika. Throats too frozen to scream.

    She doubted those Paladins were killed, however. Enos¡¯ had been sure to make his forces quite robust. Regardless, the Venom Clan were not to be tampered with.

    It was difficult to watch, but Eshika took the entire scene in. The Archery God-Graced had read the report about the various clans that made up the Material Congruity, so was able to easily recognise the Silk Clan.

    Stretching from isle to isle, ribbons connected the entire archipelago. The threads, varying in colour from a dusty yellow to a lively red, hung from precipice to precipice. Like circus acrobats traversing across tightropes, Cloth clansmen sped across the treacherous paths. Paladins soon saw such ribbons set on fire, or cut to shreds, or otherwise reduced to ash, but the Cloth clansmen never lost their fighting spirit. They leapt from ribbon to ribbon, or weaved more of the material like the spindles of the Arachnid Sect. Always slipping from out of the clutches of the Paladins, they soon saw the entire archipelago decorated. It would have been a fitting place to hold the Day of Descension . . .  if not for the man currently committing genocide.

    Like a star descending from the sky, the cloaked man shined.

    His green cloak was beaten and severed in multiple places. The smaller purple of his Divine Right cut through the luminance that enveloped his body, and through the many gaps torn into their robe, the flaming black of a Tainted Mark couldn¡¯t be more visible.

    ¡°This is our enemy then.¡± Griffin spoke gravely. ¡°A mere boy.¡±

    ¡°Ash.¡± Eshika confirmed. ¡°I couldn¡¯t believe one so young could be spearheading such a large force, but here it is before me. The irrefutable truth.¡±

    Gilmat wiped a waterstone over a smaller blade, over and over again. The man¡¯s equivalent of biting his nails. ¡°This is how Enos uses our youth. Beacons of a more hopeful future, blighted into harbingers of darkness.¡±

    Arriving to the island in their own fleet of battleships right this moment, were the united forces of the Three Pillars. There were thousands of them, exported straight from the front lines to this overlooked corner of Descent. To divert the attention of so many valuable clansmen away from the main threat of the Unbounded, trying to break into the mainland of the Mortal Realms, was a risky endeavour. A diversion of so many men hadn¡¯t happened in centuries. It was a testament to how real the threat of Enos, and his so-called ¡®Paladins¡¯, truly was.

    A volley of flying arrows and swords surrounded the arriving forces. Eshika and Gilmat¡¯s doing, the combined power of two God-Graced would ensure the Three Pillars were successful in this rescue mission. But what was there to save?

    Being retrieved out of the water as they spoke, was a body completely charred. Fumes wafted away from the unconscious man, a Warlord who should have been deceased. Only the occasional twitch of his lips or eyes proved to Eshika that the Bone Sect Leader, Theodore, was alive.

    There was fortune in the misfortune. Eshika had noted the aura of power the Paladins were emanating as they sailed to the Forgotten Isles. The Paladins stank with Enos¡¯ influence. She had managed to rally enough forces to intervene, fast enough that they¡¯d arrived before the Material Congruity was completely slaughtered, but too slow to prevent the damage they¡¯d already inflicted.

    Now all they could do was prevent the slaughter of an entire alliance.

    ¡°This is what they fled from, so long ago.¡± Griffin realised. ¡°The barbarism they tried to escape . . . it¡¯s right here.¡±

    The entire Archipelago was consumed by the flames of war. Once the Three Pillars had divided into smaller groups, each heading to separate islands, Eshika and Gilmat could finally breathe. Their protective blades and arrows surrounding each squadron trembled in the air, before rushing out to face the nearest Paladins they could locate. Like a swarm of metallic wasps, hungry for Paladin blood.

    ¡°Thank the gods we weren¡¯t too late.¡± Gilmat muttered. ¡°Our forces should be enough to put a stop to . . . ¡°

    The man trailed off. Eshika glanced over to what had made him pause, a colossal shadow draping over her.

    Dominating the skies, a field of asteroids came zooming down. Ash¡¯s guiding hand led them towards the islands, each colossal rock of space dust primed to smash one of the Material Congruity¡¯s bases. If they were all to strike, the entire geography of the Forgotten Isles would be forever changed ¡ª thousands of lives taken in the process.

    Eshika instantly transformed, her silver hair vanishing as her body minimised, a golden arrow whooshing through the air in her place. She didn¡¯t slacken to pay attention to what the brothers were doing. Even for a God-Graced¡¯s impossible reflexes, they didn¡¯t have long to act. One second¡¯s hesitation would only increase the death toll.

    Eshika¡¯s spirit could manifest as a volley of arrows, in addition to complete mastery over the airborne weapons. However, the more projectiles her spirit inhabited, the more spread thin she became. One arrow would definitely be enough to destroy one of Ash¡¯s asteroids. There were currently six smoking up the atmosphere. She could rely on Gilmat and Griffin, but as the best long-distance fighter here, Eshika had to pull her weight.

    Her one arrow split into three. She channelled Infinity through the thin bodies of wood, the sensation the same as if she was pushing power through her standard form of flesh and bone.

    The projectiles were as strong and swift as lightning, a yellow crackling steak trailing behind Eshika. A mere half-second after the asteroids had first entered the skies, the Three Pillars saw them annihilated.

    Griffin had smashed one meteor with a rapid punch, whilst Gilmat had sliced and diced the remaining two. Nothing but smoke remained in the air, as the Three Pillars of humanity¡¯s army stared out for Ash¡¯s previous location. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    There was nothing.

    A diversion. Ash had known he could never face three God-Graced all on his own. At his current power, Eshika could sense he was only approaching peak Warlord, or perhaps an extremely weak God-Graced. The entire attack had been a ploy to save his own hide.

    ¡°He slipped away!¡± Eshika screamed, outraged.

    ¡°Enos¡¯ stench.¡± Griffin said, sniffing the air. ¡°It lingers around his last whereabouts. Enos must have pulled him to safety.¡±

    Despite their master deserting them, the Paladins hadn¡¯t lost their fighting spirit. A united force of clansmen from the Material Congruity and the Three Pillars had already formed, pushing the invaders back towards the shorelines. Sparks were flying, a cacophony of screams pervaded through the air, and dead bodies sank into the hidden depths of Descent¡¯s oceans.

    With the arrival of three God-Graced, the Paladins didn¡¯t hold out much longer. Eshika let her rage manifest in her techniques, imbuing them with a carnal ferocity. Through the frantic pool of spite and loathing her brain seemed to be soaking in, one thought accentuated her anguish. This attack on the Forgotten Isles had proven her worst fear.

    Nowhere in the Mortal Realms was safe from the stakes of the Celestial War.

    It brought the wishes of the gods behind the Three Pillars into question. Eginhard the Ascended, deity of Swordsmanship, Gunther, god over Martial Arts, and her own goddess, Gwendolene. All three of them had once been mortal. Bows, swords, and martial arts were each human creations. When the time came for the three war heroes to ascend, they had all agreed on one priority: the safety of humanity.

    What three clans the deities had heralded from mattered not. Their living symbol of unity was what was important; what was remembered: tangible proof that humanity could look past their superficial allegiances, and be united in their existential struggle.

    They had never cared about claiming authority over Infinity for themselves. That¡¯s why children from the Three Pillars always had the choice of what sect to join. That¡¯s why the Three Pillars were the most stable alliance in all of Descent¡¯s history, free of scheming and power-hungry ploys. And that¡¯s why Eshika held such pride in the fighting force at the very frontier of humanity¡¯s fight for survival.

    Yet safety was a fallacy. In a world crafted by the gods for bloodshed, moulded with Infinity to be their perfect battleground, to think you were ever truly safe was ludicrous.

    Eshika focused her spiritual senses. Due to her affinity over archery, she was able to easily recognise different effects she could attribute to her arrows. If she so wished, she could imbue her projectiles with the worst kind of toxins: concoctions that cause the body¡¯s nervous system to shut down, or the flesh to melt and boil over your bones.

    The Venom Clan¡¯s toxins, however, caught her eye. Their subject of power would allow them to create the most deadly of poisons. Together with her arrows, the combined power of venom and archery would be unstoppable.

    For a moment, Eshika began to hope that some good would come out of this situation. Perhaps a new union that would unite the Material Congruity with the rest of the world for the first time in aeons.

    Then one of the islands blew up.

    Steam wafted from one colossal pit where an isle had sat, mere seconds ago. The pillar of thick grey fog was like an arm reaching out for the heavens, tangential waves of white encircling the mass. Eshika¡¯s spiritual senses were screaming out at her, her eyes widening as a whirlpool splashed and swirled over the dead island.

    There, seeming to stand on top of a churning mass of water, was Ash. But Ash only in name. His cloak had vanished, his tunic nowhere to be seen, but where a muscular torso and upper body should have met Eshika¡¯s gaze . . .

    Filling the outlines of Ash¡¯s musculature was a dark void. Yet less a void than it was a snapshot of space, the ethereal purples and blues of distant galaxies swirling within the man. It was as if Ash encompassed a shred of the universe, the celestial makeup reaching up to his mouth, leaving his brooding blue eyes, and flickering black hair untouched. On his forehead, having changed locations, the purple emblem of his Divine Right glowed faintly.

    His Tainted form, and Astral Influence working in tandem. Pushing Ash to a new degree of power.

    There was no need for the Three Pillars to communicate ¡ª as one, Griffin, Gilmat, and Eshika pounced.

    They surrounded Ash on top of the water platform, individual powers blazing. A volley of arrows surrounded Ash, projectiles stretching across the entire archipelago. Twin blades were poised against his neck, keen to draw first blood. Gilmat¡¯s fist enlarged, becoming a bulging red mass of muscle and sinew ready to flatten Enos¡¯ puppet.

    Alas, the trio was stopped in their tracks.

    Kneeling ahead of Ash, seemingly unable to move, were the sect leaders of the Material Congruity.

    Ash smiled, the void of planets and stars widening above his chin in a crude mockery of a sneer. ¡°Why the hesitation? You¡¯ve got me.¡±

    Eshika¡¯s walls of arrows were twitching in the air, ready to impale the boy from a trillion directions. She couldn¡¯t. It made the Ichor ruining through her veins boil into steam, but she just couldn¡¯t.

    Closest to her was the charred body of one particular clansman. Theodore.

    How he could even remain conscious in that state was beyond Eshika, but the Warlord huffed and puffed, his ashened lungs desperate for any molecule of oxygen. The other leaders of the Material Congruity were in no better shape.

    The Cloth Sect leader had a normal body of muscle and bone, only for silk threads to reach out in place of arms and legs. His face was seemingly mummified, wide, petrified eyes staring out of a cast of ageing bandages. Manacled wrists led to a burning strand of rope, s lick of fire gradually creeping forth, ready to devastate the sect leader with the same treatment as Theodore.

    A woman with verdant hair seemed to be trapped by invisible confines, struggling in place with her teeth bared. It was disturbingly like watching a wild animal infected with rabies. Ultimately, her fighting proved fruitless. Eshika could sense the stench of Enos surrounding her, as Ash seemed to hold the woman in place by will alone.

    Last, but by far the most gruesome sight, was a spiked woman of crystal. Her glimmering form was fractured all over, rivers of Ichor bursting out. The glowing liquid had the added effect of illuminating the Warlord in a tortuous halo, and even with the infallibility of her God-Graced eyes, Eshika couldn¡¯t bring herself to look at the woman¡¯s glaring edges.

    Four leaders of the Material Congruity, chained up like dogs. Ash was threatening to kill them all with one streak of power. If the three of them so much as moved, the Forgotten Isles would be without their leaders.

    ¡°Think very carefully about this Ash.¡± Griffin commanded the boy. They had all read up on the child''s file, prior to this encounter. The image on his profile, the one Eshika¡¯s researchers had shown her, was a far-cry from the ugly shape Enos had bent and twisted him into.

    Another innocent child caught in the crossfire.

    Sweat wetted Gilmat¡¯s cheek. There was the chance that they could slay Ash on the spot. To kill the boy before he blinked. But that was a chance. And if Eshika knew anything, it was that gambling with lives was never a good idea.

    ¡°What are you after Ash?¡± Eshika asked. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    Ash spat at her feet. ¡°For you to leave! You have no business here. This land is beyond your petty laws. Your sense of right and wrong means less here than the ground we fight on.¡±

    The sect leaders could do little to communicate. The way they were eying the three of them however . . . it chilled the marrow in Eshika¡¯s bones.

    Ash paced up and down in front of his hostages, gesticulating madly, hands becoming a blur. ¡°This is how the rest of Descent sees you: as freaks!¡± There was more Unbounded than boy in the way he spoke. The words were like monsters of their own, worming their way out of Ash¡¯s mouth, slimy with spite. ¡°When did they ever offer you friendship? They knew the hardship you faced, they knew you had fled out of terror. Yet only now, when I extend my arm out to you, do they finally seem to give a damn about your existence. Wake up!¡±

    Before Eshika could scream at the boy for his foolishness, two terrible things happened at once.

    For one, that rope connected to the Cloth Sect leader began to burn with a greater ferocity, a lit match falling from Ash¡¯s fingers. Next, clumps of rock materialised around the group, zapping links of dark energy between them. Infinity flooded through the atmosphere, slapping Eshika in the face and sweeping back the silver and blonde locks of her hair, as if they were suddenly immersed by a furious gale.

    ¡°Leave.¡± Ash¡¯s voice suddenly sounded distant, like was speaking from far above. ¡°Or else I¡¯ll drag my little companions up into space. I wonder, which of them will last the longest? I don¡¯t know what will kill them first: the cold, or the oxygen deprivation.¡±

    Ash¡¯s threat was bold, but it was not a lie.

    With shaking arms, Eshika raised two balled fists. A bow appeared in her grip, its metallic sheen reflected in the high sunlight. With nothing more than a thought, she could place an arrow upon its string, draw the thread backwards, and pierce Ash right between the eyes.

    She imagined Ash¡¯s brain exploding in his skull. She replayed the image over and over again, a film reel jammed. The prospect was appealing, and yet Eshika was forced to double take at its violent depravity. It was as if simply being in close proximity with a servant of Enos casted dark clouds over her thoughts.

    One impulse, however ¡ª one attack ¡ª and this terrorist would be out of their hair. Forever.

    If only things could be so easy. In doing so, Eshika would cost them the lives of four Warlords. The Material Congruity would be left without a figurehead. Leaving their people easy for the taking. Coerced into serving Ash, or if the boy didn¡¯t survive the arrow, Enos. With the Paladins¡¯ assault devastating the clansmen of this archipelago, these hurt and lost people would have to bend the knee to someone.Otherwise, a nation as fragile as that would simply be butchered in the chaos of the Celestial War.

    Wishful thinking supposed that they would rally behind the Three Pillars. Logic warned of just how persuasive Ash could be. Dead or alive, the man¡¯s words would live on. And he was right, god damn it. The people of the pangea had done nothing to support the Forgotten Isles. The residents of the islands were left to fend for themselves. But in a world of war and betrayal, perhaps that had been the better option. Simply one that didn¡¯t stand to serve them now.

    With tears of frustration welling in her eyes, Eshika allowed the bow to disperse. Fragments of light danced through the air, and all traces of the weapon were gone.

    ¡°Eshika.¡± Gilmat blurted. ¡°You don¡¯t seriously plan on agreeing with this man¡¯s ter-¡±

    ¡°We have no-!¡± Eshika cut off her own childish outburst. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry. But we have no option. We¡¯ll have to lose this battle. But the war . . .¡± Eshika shot her most icy glare at Ash. ¡°Certainly isn''t over.¡±

    Griffin opened his mouth, as if about to protest, before promptly clamping it shut.

    The Cloth Sect leader trembled frantically, the flames now inching closer and closer to his threadbare limbs. Ash did nothing but stand back and watch, and for a terrible interval of time, Eshika feared the worst.

    That Ash was going to kill them regardless of their decision.

    Finally, like the final word of a god, Ash snapped his fingers.

    The fire disappeared, and so did the four Warlords. Ash gone with them.

    The heavy sun overhead disappeared, rumbling storm clouds creeping over. Eshika was too numb to feel the coolness wash over her shoulders, as a mild drizzle poured down.

    None of the Pillars spoke a word. The sloshing of turbulent waves smacked against burning shorelines, and Eshika knew it was time to withdraw their force. There was no option now but to comply: the entire Archipelago was at risk of falling under Enos¡¯ rule if they lost the islanders'' trust by allowing their leaders to be killed. Of course, it would be easier than ever for Ash to beat them down into submission without them present, but the most they could do now was plan for the future.

    Twenty minutes later, the three of them were flying away from the Forgotten Isles with their soldiers sailing below. Silence was a tangible dark cloud enveloping each of them. To speak was to acknowledge their devastating defeat, but Eshika couldn¡¯t deny reality.

    ¡°There¡¯s somebody we need to see.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Gilmat questioned. Hope was a tangible presence, binding his words together. ¡°Can somebody help us?¡±

    The wind swept through the locks of her hair, hiding her disgruntled expression. ¡°The only person who can help us.¡±

    Eshika wanted nothing to do with that woman, but she was left with no choice.

    ¡°Juniper.¡±

 125. What Must Be Done

    Koa carried the pail with one arm, sloshing water falling on his boots as he carried the bucket all the way back to camp. Other than the monotonous thumping of his feet, the swaying of the oak pail, and the sleepy chirping of birds, Koa¡¯s only company was himself. Just how he liked it.

    A setting sun glared over two hills, piercing through the leaves to reflect in Koa¡¯s gathered water. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to look at his own crest-fallen expression, shimmering in the liquid, instead setting his many eyes directly on the treeline ahead.

    Everyone in the Wilderness Sect had always told Koa how similar he and his brother looked. Now the thought made Koa want to gag.

    He didn¡¯t blink, didn¡¯t dare to look anywhere else but forward. Past the woods ahead was one base of the Talents of the Future. The largest by far, and in constant need of extra supplies. Eliane¡¯s approval of the movement had seen thousands of clansmen from Hybrid flocking to join them. Yet any members hailing from the Water Clan currently had their hands full in another division. They were a touchy sect to deal with. Half of them despised Remus for helping lead Maris to her demise ¡ª the rest commended Remus for doing them a favour. Clearly, the mad Queen¡¯s personality had been grating for some.

    The Feast Clan saw that their men never starved; getting enough to drink was their problem.

    With the threat of the Paladins being suspiciously silent as of late, there was little to do but train and send missionaries to the rest of Descent. That meant that Koa was assigned with water duty. With his Mark more powerful than ever, there was no doubt in his mind that a more efficient way of completing the task existed. Trekking back and forth from the base to the nearest river, day by day, Duration by Duration, was not necessary.

    Alas, Koa needed the time to think.

    There it was again. The perpetual thorn in Koa¡¯s side; the bud of doubt planted deep and waiting to sprout. Unearthing all of his fears, all of insecurities as it blossomed.

    Ash¡¯s face floated before Koa¡¯s eyes. Koa shook his head, expelling the apparition.

    Koa placed his pail against the stump of a tree, took a deep breath, and sought a seat beneath a shadowy canopy. He focused on his breath, mediating for a second, drawing his mind away from the darker shores of his consciousness.

    He felt the woman¡¯s presence immediately.

    Koa¡¯s brow furrowed. Even a moment''s respite evaded him. Opening his eyes without a trace of panic, Koa¡¯s voice was a low whisper. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s time, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Through a rift of whirling leaves, weaved in a verdant green, Juniper stared down at Koa. Perpetual Sight was a mighty ability indeed. Just beyond her, the background slightly blurred, Koa could make out the wooden interior of their arboreal home in Territory Five. As regal as the towering tree was, Koa knew the chagrin Juniper had been forced to overcome when first returning to the base.

    As chaotic as ruling Hybrid was, kissing goodbye to a throne radiating Infinity was a difficult matter indeed.

    ¡°What a peculiar path you¡¯ve taken in life, Koa.¡± Juniper began without preamble. Perhaps all the formalities that had come with being monarch had chafed against Juniper. Now the ex-Queen cut straight to the point. ¡°Marrying into another sect, joining a rebellion against Damosh . . . what an interesting character you are.¡±

    Koa wasn¡¯t sure whether to be offended or prideful. ¡°I hope none of my choices have offended you, your Majesty.¡±

    Koa was about to crouch down onto a knee when Juniper held out a hand. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not Queen anymore Koa; let¡¯s not play pretend. Besides, what you decide to do with your life is none of my business. Except, of course, if you were to bring shame onto the clan name.¡± Juniper paused for a second. A second that saw Koa sweating bullets. ¡°Yet I am glad to report, unlike a certain brother of yours, your doing has only brought valour and honour to the Wilderness Sect.¡±

    Here it was. The knife plunged into his heart, handle-deep. Koa tried not to make the fact he was gritting his teeth too obvious. ¡°About Ash-¡±

    ¡°I suppose we both know the reason I¡¯ve come here, then. Let¡¯s not bend around the bush ¡ª Enos has your kin in a chokehold.¡±

    Koa¡¯s balled fists began to shake. Why did she have to word it so crudely? Koa was forced to swallow as a tide of emotions threatened to erupt in his throat. Crying in front of a sect leader, as if she didn¡¯t have bigger problems, was no way to act. But no matter how hard he tried to put on a stoic mask, he found it slipping.

    Tears welled in the corner of his facial eye. ¡°First those Unbounded take Elmore away from me, and Donovan. Now they want to do the same to my only brother ¡ª no, worse. They¡¯re turning him into a monster.¡±

    Juniper said nought for a long second. Koa was grateful for the pause, using it to compose himself.

    ¡°What has he done now?¡± Koa slowly raised his face, blinking out the remnants of tears. ¡°What atrocity must he have committed that¡¯s bad enough that you¡¯re finally forced to intervene?¡±

    Juniper¡¯s poker face was formidable. Koa couldn¡¯t read what she was thinking, what she could possibly want Koa to do. Just imagining the possibilities  . . . he had to admit it scared him.

    ¡°Are you familiar with an archipelago known as the Forgotten Isles? They¡¯re somewhat obscure, but you must have seen them if you¡¯ve ever perused through some world maps.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t say that the name rings a bell, but I may have seen the islands you¡¯ve mentioned. You don¡¯t mean to say that there are people there, do you?¡±

    There was such a thing as ripping the bandaid off, but what Juniper proceeded to say next could only be described as pouring acid into an open wound.

    ¡°Not just people, but an alliance. An alliance whose leaders have been taken hostage by Ash. Leaders who are likely to fall prey to Enos¡¯ fell coercion any day now. Bringing an entire nation under Ash¡¯s control.¡±

    Koa¡¯s jaw dropped and didn¡¯t cease until it crashed to the floor.

    He paced around one tall tree, unable to remain still. He wished he could hide in the shadows of the canopy, to become as insignificant as one of the ants that were crawling across the mud. Why was his life, the life of Koa of the Wilderness Sect, seemingly so integral to the fate of humanity? All Koa¡¯s life, he had longed to be important. To be as powerful as his brother, or cousin. Only now that he had a taste of true strength, did he realise how meaningless it all was. Was somebody¡¯s worth as a person determined by their Rank? By how well they could tear and shred enemy flesh? By how much unadulterated violence they could stomach?

    What kind of a society was that?

    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± Koa¡¯s voice tremored. ¡°If he¡¯s powerful enough to take down an entire society of people, what can I hope to do? I¡¯m only a Foot-Soldier, remember? I may have been able to best Ash a thousand times over, mere Passings ago, but the brother I once knew . . . he¡¯s no longer with us.¡±

    Koa flinched as Juniper¡¯s pale hand reached towards him. Perhaps he should have kept his tongue in check. Juniper may have insisted on an informal air, but she was still his sect leader ¨C still a God-Graced. She could destroy Koa in all kinds of vile ways.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong Koa. The Three Pillars visited me, asking for advice and assistance on how to best subdue Ash. I told them I knew somebody perfect for the job.¡±

    Koa bared his teeth like a feral dog. ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill Ash, if that¡¯s what you''re asking. I don¡¯t care if he¡¯s lost forever, I won¡¯t give Enos the satisfaction of watching me murder my own kin.¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t realise how heavily he was breathing. He was seconds away from hyperventilating; it was all too much.

    He had to get out of here. If Juniper asked him to kill his brother, Koa didn¡¯t possess the power to disobey. His eyes roved anxiously across the ensnaring woods that entrapped them, searching desperately for a means to escape. Juniper was only present here through Perpetual Sight, and not with her fully powered flesh and blood body. Perhaps, with all the luck in the world, and if Koa purged all of his energy, all of his Infinity, in one explosive instance, he would be able to sneak a-

    ¡°I¡¯m glad we¡¯re on the same page.¡±

    Koa¡¯s eyes stopped shifting, glued now to Juniper¡¯s hard stare.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to save Ash, Koa. You¡¯re the only man alive close enough to the boy to rescue him from Enos¡¯ influence. To remind him of who he once was.¡±

    ¡°But he¡¯s Tainted.¡± Koa retaliated, not letting the spark of hope settle in his heart. ¡°Enos has branded him twice, for the gods¡¯ sake. First, through one of the most powerful Divine Rights the world has ever seen, and now, through his Tainted Mark. He must possess some sort of monstrous form. All of the Paladins do; even Edmar!¡±

    Juniper¡¯s uneasy silence proved his suspicions.

    ¡°I love that boy, maybe the only person alive who still does, but I can¡¯t perform miracles.¡± Koa¡¯s voice rose, his functioning eye feeling wet again. ¡°I can¡¯t talk him out of Enos¡¯ branding. It doesn¡¯t work that way. Brison only has a Tainted Mark, and he¡¯s been surrounded by familiar faces for Durations. His entire clan at his side! And still, we¡¯re hardly making any progress. His old self may surface for a moment every once in a while, but the echo of something isn¡¯t the thing itself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not suggesting for a moment that it will be easy, Koa. And your tone is certainly beginning to rub me the wrong way.¡± Juniper drew closer than ever. Koa could feel the heat of her hand pressing against his cheek. ¡°You¡¯ll have to beat him to near death. We can¡¯t risk restraining him, he¡¯s too powerful for that. Those few minutes between life and death will be your window of opportunity. That¡¯s your shot to talk him back to his past self. If you can¡¯t, I¡¯m sorry, but we¡¯ll have to kill him.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Koa felt an ebbing heat crawling up his throat, a rapier reply edging out of his mouth. Then he swallowed, with a croak that even he found pathetic. ¡°There¡¯s no other way, is there?¡±

    Juniper simply shook her head.

    They took a minute for the emotions swelling in the air to disperse. Only then did Koa sigh. ¡°This is all assuming I¡¯m even strong enough to bring him to near death.¡± He swivelled on his feet, placing a palm to his weary brow. ¡°Last time we fought, Ash annihilated me, and that was back when he was far weaker. What hope do I have of winning this time?¡±

    ¡°Unless you¡¯d rather feel sorry for yourself, there¡¯s only one option.¡±

    Koa understood instantly. ¡°To grow stronger.¡±

    Juniper nodded, a spark of fiery approval in her eyes. ¡°To grow stronger.¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°And you¡¯re sure about this? Absolutely certain?¡± Remus asked, for what must have been the hundredth time. ¡°You can ask me to stop whenever.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t be more sure.¡±

    Remus and Koa stood at opposite ends of a field marked into the ground. This was one of many sparring areas scattered across their main camp, and without either of them announcing anything, a crowd had already gathered. A sea of faces stared at Koa, their excited murmurs reverberating across the entire grounds. A wave of voices seemed to slap him in the face, jolting Koa fully awake.

    As if the adrenaline coursing through his veins wasn¡¯t enough to keep him alert. His entire biology was in a fight or flight sequence. Perfect.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hold back Remus. I need to be pushed to my limits to master control over my Vault and Mark.¡± Only then would Koa be able to ascend to Splintered Rank.

    He needed to be a protector. The shield of this world against the insidious crimes of his brother, and, the real villain behind all this, the puppetmaster of Enos. He needed to be able to endure the horrors of the Celestial War that others could not.

    He had to become a Warden. Whatever it took.

    Remus reached for his chains. Koa clutched his silk halberd until his hand turned red.

    Whatever he did, Koa couldn¡¯t seem to stop his teeth from chattering.

    A line of blue flames separated the pair of them, their summoner, Aziel, situated at the side of the field, in front of the spectators. Whenever he called back the fires, they would pounce.

    This whole scene gave off the atmosphere of a dank fighting club, as if Remus and Koa were two drunkards brawling it out. Koa felt a warm presence as plates of wood crawled up his shoulders and arms. Mossy stone interweaved between the plates, and the skull of some unknown predator sat on Koa¡¯s head. A sprawling cape swept behind him, finishing his primal armour.

    Lightning streaked up and down Remus¡¯ own Infirnite paddings. His chains, carved out of the corpse of the Supreme Being, were illuminated from the inside by a neon blue and gold. Merely looking at the kaleidoscopic streaks of light was enough to make Koa squint his many eyes.

    Remus¡¯ own azure flames engrossed his body. Two sharp eyes, glowing a terrifying turquoise, were all he could make out of the Vanguard¡¯s face.

    Koa felt so small; so insignificant.

    The next second was stretched out to an eternity. In seemingly slow-motion, Aziel called out, raised an arm, and the fires dividing them both began to shimmer.

    This one instance in time, as unimportant as Koa in the grand scheme of things, was his own personal hell. The stripping back of reality. Already, he could sense the mountains of power between him and Remus. This was the difference he would have to cover in impossible time, if he ever hoped to stand a chance against Ash. Ash, who, after Koa had finally overtaken him in power, he had neglected to pay much mind to. Ash, who, now that he really thought about it, had always cared for Koa, even when his own desires got in the way.

    Ash, his brother.

    I saw him unravelling. Koa whispered. I saw him begin to break down, fighting me over and over again, and I did nothing. I let it happen.

    All at once, the fiery barrier dispersed. Remus didn¡¯t hesitate, a swept metal chain sweeping through the humid air, inches away from piercing Koa¡¯s face.

    It stroked my ego to see him struggle against me, over and over again. I could never admit it before, but that was why I really played along. I could have refused to fight him! Nobody cares about some ancient code of our sect. Nobody would have done anything if I ignored it.

    Koa pressed all of his weight into the earth below, a formed creator dragging him down as Remus flew past. Pincers of oak and birch emerged out of Koa, spider-like tendrils rapidly expanding outwards to cover the whole field.

    I wasn¡¯t a good brother. What kind of person doesn¡¯t help his own family when they¡¯re in need?

    Remus was a cannonball blasting through the skies. He clutched his legs in a crouch as he rolled in the air, stretching outwards only when above the very centre of the field. Koa didn¡¯t even have time to blink, let alone draw a breath, when Remus¡¯ hand seemed to quadruple in size.

    It continued to grow, until a hundredfold larger.

    The paw of some colossal beast, a creature of blazing plasma, searing flame, and crackling lightning slapped down across the entire field. Remus¡¯ entire body swept down with the movement.

    Immediately, protections built around each sparring area flickered into being. Great invisible walls encompassed the pair of them, the eager faces of onlookers pressed against the barely tangible barriers.

    This is how powerful you have to become.

    A firestorm seared the atmosphere, scorching every last one of Koa¡¯s wooden tendrils. Koa focused both Infinity and his Mark''s power into creating a protective wall of oak. He had to hold back back the swarm of biting blue, his voice an agonised scream through a rasping throat.

    Patches of his skin were charred black, his armour melting into paste against his skin. Moisture wetted his eyes, his gums hurt from how hard his teeth were biting down, and the skin around his Mark was going to blister.

    You need to step up and help your brother. He needs you now more than ever.

    Suddenly, Koa was swept up by a storm of memories. He saw him and Ash as small children, long before they were separated. They were playing with crude toys, sprinting through vast fields, and giggling as they wrestled boisterously.

    He felt a sudden searing heartache, a homesickness for a long ago past.

    It was time for Koa to truly put himself on the line for his family. He would have to train to the death.

    He allowed his focus to slip away from the wooden barrier, which instantly erupted into ashes without his power sifting through. If Koa was a magician, this next trick would be the equivalent of pulling a bunny out of an empty hat, or appearing to slice somebody in two.

    For this to work, his Vault and Mark would have to work in conjunction. He had told Remus explicitly to continue fighting, even when Koa appeared to be on the verge of death. Only when Koa screeched out for the man to stop, or made some sort of signal, or was damaged to the point where he couldn¡¯t communicate, would his companion cease to attack.

    Those moments were special, Koa had found, when the chill touch of the grim reaper¡¯s scythe was pressed against your neck. Those were the moments where your body was pushed to reach new heights, when your very biology had to simply do better.

    Do or die. The great divider of the weak and the strong.

    Infinity swept through Koa¡¯s Delicate Touch Mould like hot magma. His Mark glowed with all the illumination of a watchtower beacon. Every vein in his body bulged against his skin as hot currents of Ichor ran laps around the marathon of his body.

    Koa screamed as fire poured over his unprotected flesh, first-degree burns making patchwork patterns out of his skin. A new wave of power pressed against the boundaries of the field, and, if Ash wasn¡¯t mistaken in his haze of desperation and wild hope, they were trembling. They would have to see about strengthening those boundaries.

    All around Koa, a city was rising out of the hellfire.

    Dust seeped down each rickety wall, crenelations stabbing high above to the roofless-crest of the arena.

    Koa scattered his eyes all across the field, each floating organ ensnared by a new stretch of walls. Now he had his sights set on every crevice of the labyrinth, the material of which didn¡¯t waver in the face of Remus'' impossible flames. Even as hungry licks of heat climbed up the fortification, it held steady.

    The man should have thought twice before teaching him how to make fire-resistant walls.

    Koa collapsed to his feet, heaving against the floor of the newly formed room. He was inside an inconspicuous antechamber at the centre of the network. Vaulted doorways led in various directions, winding in maddening patterns for the entire space of the arena.

    For a few tumultuous seconds, Koa struggled to process half a dozen scattered viewpoints. His sight blackened in multiple perspectives, and the sound of his heavy breathing resounded across the quaint chamber.

    It was the equivalent of the dam he had constructed prior. That had drained Koa to his last shreds of power, rendering him unconscious. But this time, this time, he couldn¡¯t afford to give in.

    No doubt about it, Remus was going to destroy Koa. If he didn¡¯t hold back as Koa had made him promise, then there was no way Koa could win. Such was simply one of the many facts of the universe: grass was wet after a long rain, the sun was highest at noon, and snow melted in fire. In much the same fashion, a Foot-Soldier could never hope to win against a Splintered Ranked.

    Memories flickered in the back of Koa¡¯s mind like an old film reel. Remus leaping into the mouth of Belindo, Remus screaming bloody murder as he duked it out with the dying Supreme Fiend.

    Some people can make up the difference between Ranks through sheer grit, and some exceptional abilities . . . Koa acknowledged, beginning to dash away from Remus¡¯ location. But I don¡¯t have the advantages Remus does. If I can¡¯t win, the least I can do is give him the fight of his life!

    Remus was located at the centre of the wooden labyrinth, wall after wall of oak separating the two of them. Already, the man was smashing through the walls, a blur of lightning disintegrating Koa¡¯s rogue eyeballs.

    They would regenerate soon enough ¡ª unlike typical organs that would require a high Rank to heal, the remote eyes were the equivalent of summoned techniques. But Koa didn¡¯t have time to waste.

    With complete mastery over the arboreal fortress, Koa commanded vaulted doorways to widen in each of the walls. He leapt from barren hall to barren hall, the ozone smell of lightning, and the smoky burn of flames invading his nostrils. He was operating in a mad scramble, changing course every second moment as Remus reoriented himself, sniffing out Koa¡¯s abundant use of his Mark with his spiritual senses. Like a fox closing in on a family of bunnies.

    Several times, Koa slipped. On too many occasions to count, he smashed against a wall before it could fully open, grazing his flesh all over.

    He swiped the sleeve of his tunic upwards, sprinting into another scarce hallway. A simple timer ticked away on his Progress Calibrator. Remus had been in recent talks with the Matter Clan, trying to organise a complimentary Calibrator for every member of the Talents of the Future. Only members of the rebellion situated in Gold¡¯s Bane, their largest base, had been granted access to the marvellous devices. If they could arrange for them to become standard equipment for their rebellion, however, it would be much easier for all members to grow stronger.

    Koa took one glance at the timer built into his Calibrator, and was appalled.

    Twenty seconds.

    It had felt like a year had passed since their battle commenced, and yet Koa had been drained to the brink in one third of a minute.

    Remus was truly something else.

    By the twenty-first second, the wall in front of Koa was blasted into splinters.

    Koa did his best to avoid Remus¡¯ rampage, backing away in one instinctual shriek of movement. Too slow.

    By the time the snaking streaks of lightning struck into his flesh, Koa smiled through the pain.

    Twenty two seconds. That was the time to beat.

 126. Means to Me

    Remus jogged leisurely around the bordered perimeter of Gold¡¯s Bane, his jaws hurting from how hard he was smiling.

    Gold¡¯s Bane was what the Talents of the Future called their largest and most bustling base. Nearly one hundred and fifty thousand people strong, the headquarters housed the equivalent of an army ¡ª simply one bounded not by blood, but a high code of honour.

    The honour of justice. The place had acquired its nickname with one simple goal in mind: to be a thorn in Damosh¡¯s side.

    The place was the brainchild of the Carpentry Sect, being styled off the three districts of First Rite, and split into thirds. The first portion was miles long in itself: fields after fields of fighting arenas, each with varying terrain, certain magical quirks to keep battles interesting, and a resident champion posted at each fighting ring. With the necessity of training as much as humanly possible before the siege of Remus'' birthplace, an intricate procedure had been put in place. The sparring system was simple: when a clansman enlisted in their rebellion, they would be assigned to one of the fighting arenas. This would be detailed on their Progress Calibrator. There was mandatory sparring each and every day, with at least two compulsory fights: one at dusk, and one at dawn. Unless, of course, the individual was incapacitated, which tended to happen a lot, with such a rigorous training regiment implemented.

    A list of your wins and losses would be recorded by the Progress Calibrator, and the highest scoring clansmen at each field was appointed ¡®champion¡¯. The title possessed no real purpose other than incentive and glory, but the champions were held with high respect around the outpost, gaining notoriety and regarded with reverence. This was all balanced and made fair, by ensuring each field only contained clansmen at the same Rank.

    As for clansmen from non-combat oriented sects, they had their own competitive system set up, just out of range from the fields. It was a point system, with each clan¡¯s powers being pushed to the limit, evaluated at the end of each day for their effectiveness. The top three of these clans were crowned their own champions. Though, Remus had to admit, keeping track of how many loaves of bread the Feast Clan had made, or the number of battle tactics devised by the Wisdom Clan, was a loss less exciting than seeing two battle-ready clansmen duke it out.

    It was proving to be a tremendously successful operation. Blowing even Remus¡¯ high expectations out of the water. Already, all thirty champions from the combat side of things had arranged a tournament. One that, as Remus did his daily run across Gold¡¯s Bane, was well underway.

    In one arena with floating platforms, controlled by a mechanism provided by the Matter Clan ¡ª the biggest backer of the Talents of the Future ¡ª a man adorned in pale white robes sang merrily. He had bushy eyebrows that suddenly knotted in concentration, a hand to his chest as he recited a verse of poetry.

    The words had a magical effect, causing the platform that another clansman was standing upon to turn upside down. A man from the Sports Clan anticipated the attack, immediately calling upon an impossible grip strength to hold onto the platform''s ledge. He leapt from platform to platform with masterful dexterity, slipping away from each right as the Poetry clansmen sent them tumbling downwards.

    A solid-looking ball swept through the air, bouncing from floating island to island before blasting into the cloaked man¡¯s abdomen.

    Remus winced in sympathy for the man.

    Sprinting ahead, similar displays of superhuman power sent energy billowing through the air, each thrown projectile, or narrowly avoided attack, bringing a deep warmth from the recesses of Remus¡¯ chest.

    Life at Gold¡¯s Bane was busy indeed. Especially seeing how Remus was acting leader.

    After his morning run, and following his first bout with Koa of the day, Remus was open for anyone¡¯s attention. Each day brought a whole new plethora of new problems, or ideas that Remus was required to evaluate. Meetings amongst the leaders of the clan seemed to arrive more often than rain itself, and while their tents were warm and dry, he found them equally bothersome. Today, he couldn¡¯t escape a blabbering Mason, who would talk of nothing but battle tactics and the logistics of their army, for hours.

    Remus nodded, much of the man¡¯s terminology going over his head. He approved all of the general¡¯s plans and battle arrangements. It wasn¡¯t that Remus was neglecting his duty. He simply trusted that Mason''s decades of experience over him, and battle-savvy mind, knew exactly what they was doing.

    It felt good to trust in people again. You become quite withdrawn when working the same job, in the same small location, day after the day, with little departure. Those long Passings at Eclipse had only facilitated Remus, allowing him to sink deeper into self pity; into self-inflicted isolation.

    It was an odd juxtaposition. Now all Remus knew was people and more people. All trusting in his crazed hopes and dreams, in his willingness to guide them along a path that others would not dare take.

    Whilst routines made productivity a breeze once you fell into them, they had the unfortunate consequence of shortening days to what felt like moments.

    After Mason finally left to carry out their reached agreement ¡ª Remus nodding very sagely at his words like he knew exactly what the man was talking about ¡ª the time came for his second bout with Koa. The man had lasted a whopping thirty seconds this time! That might sound disrespectful, but really, a Foot-Soldier withstanding a Splintered Rank for more than ten seconds was nothing short of a miracle. Especially when their Marks were so badly opposed.

    Then came a meeting, followed by Remus taking care of some wandering Unbounded, followed by a second meeting, followed by ¡ª Oh! Mason needed something again! Then that was followed by some altercation Remus needed to settle, followed by-

    By the time he finished his third and final bout of the day with Koa, the man always insisting on training with Remus whenever he could spare a moment, Remus lacked the energy to do so much as walk back to his cabin. He collapsed promptly on a nice patch of grass. In his fatigued daze, he could interpret no difference between the grassy carpet and a nice linen blanket.

    He was about to drift asleep right there, trusting in his rebellion to keep his exposed body safe, when a warm presence at his side made Remus jolt up. Several flowers were unearthed as he did so, the beautiful scenery tarnished.

    ¡°Violet, I swear to everything good and holy, if you scare me one more time-¡±

    She giggled lightly, swatting him on the shoulder. Remus hated how easily he blushed.

    ¡°I need to keep you on your toes.¡±

    Remus yawned, trying not to overthink the exchange. Nothing in this universe, not even the motivations of Unbounded, or the endless mysteries of Infinity, confused him more than this girl right here.

    For a time, Remus allowed small talk to drag his sleepiness away with each trivial topic. Only when he saw a disgruntled expression on Violet¡¯s face did he sense something was amiss.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± She muttered coyly, glancing away from him.

    ¡°I can tell when something¡¯s on your mind. What is it? You can speak to me if you need to.¡±

    Violet settled her eyes straight back on Remus, her severeness making his throat constrict.

    ¡°You must have heard about . . . about the Archipelago.¡±

    Remus¡¯ heart sank. Since Juniper informed Koa Durations ago, they had all been made aware of Ash¡¯s exploits in the Forgotten Isles. It had spurred Koa¡¯s undying thirst to train until he couldn¡¯t move, putting Remus, a servant of the literal Ambition god, to shame.

    But something told Remus Violet wasn¡¯t talking about that.

    ¡°What?¡± Remus sat up straight. ¡°Has something happened?¡±

    Violet merely looked at him with a sad glint to her eyes, and that told him everything he needed to know.

    Remus squeezed his fists. No wonder Koa had been so furious during their bouts today, some of his tactics far more aggressive than usual.

    ¡°So Enos now has an entire nation, an entire archipelago under his rule. I don¡¯t even want to know how many men make up his numbers.¡±

    ¡°Three hundred thousand.¡± Violet didn¡¯t heed Remus¡¯ words. ¡°Double our forces. Well, at least in this outpost.¡±

    ¡°Double.¡± All of the reports Mason had given Remus about the Paladins backed the figure up.

    Remus stood up straighter, Violet still lying in the grass at his side. Through the emerging moonlight, and the few lit candles scattered across Gold¡¯s Bane, the final rounds of the champion¡¯s tournament were illuminated into sharp focus. As Remus watched those men and women sweat and struggle, blades clashing and the stomping of feet reverberating across the camp, a dark cloud thundered over his thoughts.

    ¡°Tell me Violet.¡± He tapped his knee nervously. ¡°Am I sending these men to their deaths?¡±

    Violet¡¯s silence was less than reassuring. She put a hand on his arm, drawing closer. ¡°They chose to fight for you, Remus.¡±

    ¡°So it doesn¡¯t matter if they die for me?¡± Remus barked back. He sighed, letting his chest drop. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That was rude of me.¡± He said quietly, but she didn¡¯t seem to take offence.

    ¡°Remus, this is war. People die. People risk their lives for what they believe in, and whatever we do, no matter how well we fight, or plan, or strategise together, we cannot avoid casualties. We all know that.¡± Her face inched uncomfortably close to Remus¡¯, her ember eyes swollen with the quiet flames of her conviction. ¡°Your job isn¡¯t to protect everyone from getting hurt. That¡¯s par for the course. Your job is to make sure that their sacrifices aren¡¯t in vain.¡±

    ¡°So if we fail-¡±

    ¡°Then we fail! But the fact that we stood up against injustice, that we tried to make a difference, that some people in this world at least care ¡ª isn¡¯t that, oh, I don¡¯t know, kind-of beautiful?¡±

    A chill breeze wafted through the lawn at their feet. Crickets chirped in distant foliage. All clouds vanished from the sky above, and Remus felt goosebumps running up and down his arms. ¡°You mean . . . that there¡¯s beauty in the tragedy?¡±

    ¡°Beauty in the tragedy.¡±

    Remus tried to mull that over. Violet was so strange. She either spoke in only simple, stripped back language, or struck him with some poignant perspective. One that he would ruminate on for Durations later.

    ¡°That isn¡¯t to say we¡¯re going to throw away our lives for the hell of it. We¡¯re going to fight, goddammit! And we¡¯re gonna win if it kills me.¡± Violet¡¯s tone abruptly softened. ¡°But if we fail . . . that doesn¡¯t mean this was all for nothing. Don¡¯t you dare think that. There¡¯ll be infinite meaning behind every life lost on our final battlefield. ¡±

    Remus sensed that Violet was reassuring not just him with those words, but herself too. He appreciated the sentiment regardless.

    ¡°You always put me at ease.¡± He admitted. ¡°Thank you . . . ¡° the words were reluctant to leave his mouth, dragging their heels at the exit. ¡°. . . for sticking with me.¡±

    That warmth in Remus'' chest crackled. The quiet fire he had so desperately attempted to extinguish. So many days in his tiny chambers in Eclipse, praying that the winds of reason and logic would see those emotional fires stamped out. Now here Violet was, holding his hand, staying so close to him, feeding those flames with false hopes and delusions. It was like the woman was trying to torture him.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Violet corrected him, putting a hand to his chin, wiping away a streak of dirt. ¡°You don¡¯t know how dark it gets when your home is a place filled with strange faces, and stranger fears fill your head. If it wasn¡¯t for you accompanying me, when I ran from First Rite, ran from that terror, I don¡¯t think I would have lasted. I don¡¯t know what kind of fate would have awaited me. What kind of cruel creature hardship would have moulded me into. I might have become a monster.¡±

    ¡°Hey, hey.¡± Remus grasped both of her hands in his. There were tears streaking down Violet¡¯s pretty face, and Remus considered each droplet a mortal enemy. ¡°You¡¯re a good person Violet. Innately good. You would have found your way regardless of whether I was there to annoy you or not. Honestly, I¡¯m surprised you weren¡¯t driven insane by how long it took me to get the hang of all those fighting drills.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    She giggled at that, the sound rising the fire inside of Remus to a crescendo.

    Slowly, as if waiting to see his response, Violet drew Remus in closer.

    Remus¡¯ face suddenly became very hot; his palms more water than skin for how sweaty they were. One thousand thoughts entered his mind, before fading altogether. Like a sky full of balloons randomly exploding. A transition from chaotic activity, to the absolute bliss of complete and utter presence. The universe around them fell away, like Remus and Violet were floating in absent space; alone and together.

    He held Violet in his arms. He looked into her eyes, only an inch away, and felt her hot breath against his skin. Against his lips. If he was just a few centimetres closer, they would-

    Violet was holding his hand remarkably tight. Perhaps she had forgotten there was still a Rank¡¯s worth of power between them, for Remus grimaced as his finger bones creaked.

    ¡°I found something, Remus. Something I¡¯ve been meaning to speak to you about.¡±

    The confession caught him completely off guard. ¡°Huh? What?¡±

    ¡°One of my Projections was hunting out in the Anarchy Syndicate. I know it¡¯s a long shot for us to receive any supporters in that desolate wasteland, but we need all the people we can get, right? Or maybe that wasn¡¯t the reason I went there at all . . .¡± Her eyes glanced towards the moon behind Remus¡¯ head, but she didn¡¯t pull away.

    ¡°Did you find something?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°In the ruins of the Chaos Clan¡¯s base.¡±

    Where that fire of passion once reigned king in Remus¡¯ stomach, a sudden emptiness hallowed him out, depriving him of all feeling but cold fear. He matched Violet¡¯s tight hold, interlocking their fingers in an unbreakable clutch. So many questions he wanted to ask, but didn¡¯t dare interrupt the woman.

    ¡°That place is so strange Remus, I wish you had seen it. Then I wouldn¡¯t have to struggle so much trying to describe it. A chaotic taint lingers there, like an afterimage of the half-fiends, half-mortals that once inhabited those ancient halls and chambers. Some of the lower rooms survived the fire. Charred out, and certainly not without their damages, but still usable. The arrangement flickers around, changing constantly, so no-one was able to safely navigate those catacombs . . . until my wandering Projection arrived, imbued with some of my Mark¡¯s Chaotic power.¡±

    ¡°What was down there?¡±

    ¡°A . . . a diary.¡± She choked. ¡°A diary left by Violet. By the original Violet.¡±

    Remus opened his mouth to reply, but it was as if a stone was lodged into his throat. All he could do was splutter nonsensically.

    Tears were running down Violet¡¯s eyes. Too many for Remus to try and wipe her face clear, though he did so anyway.

    ¡°I thought I had moved past this.¡± She admitted, voice little above a hoarse whisper. ¡°I¡¯m too scared to read it. To read about the life of the little girl, the life girl whose life I stole.¡±

    Her voice quavered, and Violet choked with every second word.

    Remus held her tear-stricken face with two hands, staring deep in the fires of her eyes. Never in his life would he speak with such conviction again. ¡°You didn¡¯t steal anything Violet. You¡¯re not the actions that have been done to you. You''re not. You didn¡¯t choose for Enos to kill Teivel and fuse with him; you didn¡¯t ask Nova and Milap to force Akuji into duplicating all those bodies; you never asked to be made one with that girl and carry her memories. But what you did choose was to help conquer the last generation of Right bearers. What you did choose was to stand for peace and justice; to fight for what you believed in, even when the odds were so astronomically stacked against you. What you did choose was to be the girl I-¡±

    Remus felt the word slip away from him. ¡°What I mean to say is, whatever you read in that journal ¡ª whatever it is that you discover ¡ª it doesn¡¯t change a thing. You¡¯re still you. Not that Unbounded, not that girl, but you! Violet. And, to me, at least, that¡¯s amazing.¡±

    Only when Remus finished speaking did he realise that she was bawling more than ever. He looked at her, utterly bemused, and learned away slightly. Did I . . . did I say something wrong?

    Then, as fast as an ambush, Violet forced Remus into a hug. He felt his back crack, and aching pains flared all across his body. Remus spluttered, but didn¡¯t complain as Violet buried her head into his shoulder.

    There, the two of them remained for several minutes. Him simply holding her, neither uttering a single word. The labours of the day returned to Remus, not helped by the utterly perplexing woman in his arms.

    Violet kissed his cheek, thanked him hastily, before sprinting off. Remus blinked, saw her dashing away for a mere second, before a beam of purple light flooded out.

    And just like that, she was gone.

    <hr>

    Fireworks splintered the skies above Remus like a pane of broken glass. The winning champions were obviously celebrating with great vigour, and though Remus was keen to find out who had emerged victorious, he was truly exhausted. He trudged slowly back towards his own personal camp, set up out of sight, and out of mind, away from the rest of Gold¡¯s Bane. He liked it that way: it kept his work and personal life separate. A personal life that consisted of little more than passing out in his bed.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand . . .¡± he mumbled to himself. ¡°I can never-¡±

    His spiritual senses screamed out at him. Without hesitation, he unveiled the chains tied against his waist, leaping to face the opposite direction.

    Somebody was here.

    It was dark out, but Gold¡¯s Bane had overnight security. A constantly changing rota of sentinels. Not to mention the bajillion defensive, illusionary, and oracular abilities placed on the site, that should have either prevented, or at least forewarned them of an upcoming attack.

    Yet there was definitely someone here, someone looking for him. Remus tried to close in on the spiritual scent he was picking up on, struggling to gauge whether they were human or Unbounded.

    Remus summoned fires to illuminate his surroundings. His eyes roved through the darkness frantically, but didn¡¯t see hide nor hair of the intruder.

    Right when his mind had cooked up a thousand possible explanations for what was unfolding, each one more terrifying than the last, a sound like music notes playing seemed to . . . speak to him.

    ¡°She loves you, you know.¡±

    Remus jumped five feet into the air. His body deflated with relief when his eyes landed on the Projection.

    It was like a walking pink fire, wisps of heat swirling away from the creature. Like all of Violet¡¯s new Projections, the Unbounded was vaguely humanoid. White abysses set into the face served as eyes, and despite there not being any evident mouth in their diamond-shaped face, the Projection¡¯s head tilted to the side, as if waiting for Remus to respond. Their feminine body didn¡¯t have legs, instead curving into a flickering point, like the end tail of a ghost.

    It wasn¡¯t one of the Projections he recognised, but something about their warm presence put Remus at ease.

    Only when Remus was certain he was safe, did he process the message.

    If there had been any water in Remus¡¯ mouth, he would have spluttered it out. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Violet loves you, Remus.¡±

    Each word had a musical quality to it. Remus half-expected to spot an acapella band tucked away in the bushes.

    Remus waited for the Projection to say more, but they never did. As if those words alone explained everything.

    ¡°But you¡¯re a Projection . . .¡± he tried to reason. ¡°How could you know . . . and why . . . who are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Blessing. Other Projections personify Violet¡¯s brutality, or protective nature. But me? I¡¯m her heart.¡±

    Remus tried to digest that. ¡°Her heart?¡±

    The Projection nodded. Two arm-like tendrils clapped excitedly. ¡°See, you¡¯re getting it already!¡±

    Remus tried to make sense of the Projection¡¯s previous declaration. A declaration that saw his fire of passion reignited, mirroring the presence that now stood before him. But he couldn¡¯t risk to hope that easily.

    ¡°Then why doesn¡¯t she tell me that herself? Why did she turn me down when I asked her before? Doesn¡¯t Violet know you''re here?¡±

    The questions fell out of his mouth on their own accord.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve come to speak to you about, but we don¡¯t have long.¡± Blessing put a long stick of a finger to her lips, winking playfully. ¡°Violet has a lot of Projections on hand now. She can¡¯t keep track of them all at once, so she won¡¯t notice if I visit you for a few minutes.¡±

    They drew closer now, and Remus felt all of his inhibitions dropping. This was definitely Violet¡¯s Projection. He experienced that same comfort he had felt with her only moments ago, holding her close, smelling the perfumed scent of her hair.

    ¡°Violet . . . she doesn¡¯t think it¡¯s right of her to be with you. To date around with a body that isn¡¯t hers, with a life she stole.¡±

    Remus felt his teeth chattering. ¡°I thought she was past this. I thought she had finally accepted herself. Why can¡¯t she see what I see?¡±

    ¡°Healing takes a long time, Remus. You can¡¯t expect it to be a linear process. That poor girl. I can feel the pain she feels, the damage done to her aching heart. Finding that book reopened all kinds of past traumas for her.¡±

    He was pacing around the place, suddenly too agitated to sit still. Remus bit his thumb nail until it drew blood, watching the golden droplet slip down his fingers to reach the grass below.

    ¡°She was going to kiss me, wasn¡¯t she?¡± He crouched down to his knees, voice tightening to a sad whimper. ¡°Damn it, why didn¡¯t I kiss her when I had the chance?¡±

    The Projection said nothing. After thirty seconds of silence, Remus noticed they were still there.

    ¡°There''s more, isn¡¯t there?¡±

    Blessing continued.¡°When an Unbounded reaches Warlord equivalence, they begin to . . . hear voices. In their head. Voices drowning them out with the Unbounded doctrine of justice. Violet¡¯s human side is helping to suppress the instincts, and she¡¯s only a newbie Warlord; she won¡¯t be hearing much yet. But once the girl climbs the final Divine Ranks, or their fiend equivalent . . . she¡¯s scared that those voices will only grow in number. And perusation. ¡±

    ¡°She can resist, I know she can.¡±

    ¡°But she doesn¡¯t.¡±

    Remus clutched bundles of grass in each hand, as if trying to anchor himself to the earth. Like that would stop his thoughts from spiralling away from him.

    Gods above, if only he¡¯d known earlier how badly Violet was struggling. Maybe he could have helped. He was so absorbed in his own suffering, his own misery, that he neglected to think of the pain felt by the ones he loved the most. The one he loved the most.

    ¡°I must go, Remus. Violet will be mortified if she knows I¡¯ve visited you.¡±

    Remus was a little horrified himself. When Remus and Violet had planned to use Projections as messengers, they had never foreseen the Unbounded becoming quite so independent. Remus wasn¡¯t so sure if he could trust them. Maybe Blessing was only saying all this as part of an intricate plan, intended to backstab Violet. To become the most powerful Unbounded from that branch of fiend. He didn¡¯t need to be told how silly that thought was.

    Without a sound, not even the faintest rustle of a flower to indicate its passing, Blessing vanished.

    Remus stumbled over to a nearby stone, dropping to an uncomfortable seat. All that bodily exhaustion had vanished in face of Blessing¡¯s confession, and now Remus¡¯ own heart wouldn¡¯t start thumping in his chest.

    It was cruel. To be denied his love time after time, for that spark of passion to be extinguished and forcefully relit again. . . and again . . . and again. Remus could fight from dusk till dawn, endure beatings until he was more blood and bruise than flesh and bone. But this . . . he couldn¡¯t take much more of it. His physical self could heal, but the heart was a fragile thing.

    His head began to droop against his shoulder. Remus would have fallen asleep, allowed a brief respite from his worldly troubles, from the tightness that choked his stomach, when it happened.

    Remus¡¯ spiritual senses cried bloody murder.

    He sighed involuntarily. That damn tournament got out of hand, huh?

    Just what he needed ¡ª another nauseating task to break him down. To leave even his bones hollowed out of their marrow. Maybe fate had deemed him unworthy of rest tonight. Unworthy of anything.

    In retrospect, a fight getting out of hand was nothing to complain about. Remus would have chosen that any day, over the living nightmare that awaited him.

    ¡°Alright I¡¯m coming, I¡¯m coming.¡± He muttered, stretching his neck to the side until it cracked.

    Then Remus spasmed, jolting to his feet as the skies overhead seemed to open up. If the skies could be described as a body, a mortal wound had been inflicted upon it. Like the skies were raining Ichor, a solid beam of brilliant golden light poured outward.

    His eyes scanned rapidly for whatever had created the technique. Their defences! Their wards of protection! Remus sensed the atmosphere becoming static around him, as dozens of protective abilities were broken apart. The spiritual equivalent of a psychopath chopping into a door with an axe.

    And, as much as Remus didn¡¯t want to know who was invading his home of Gold¡¯s Bane, it was impossible to miss them.

    Like a dark star that had descended from above, the metallic body of the man shared the same thunderous shade as the light that immersed him. Gone were any traces of cracks or scratches, their bejewelled flesh worth enough to decorate a throne room.

    At his side, a child of light led astray, was a deep abyss of a man. A space within space, swirling planets and ancient galaxies contained within his strange new form. Where a spectacular light basked everything else in sight, the presence was notable for its unrelenting pitch.

    There was no mistaking either of them. Nowhere in Descent, or in the entire universe, for that matter, would you find two beings quite like them.

    Edmar and Ash.

    The golden light parted beneath their hovering bodies. Out of that branching path, a flood of flesh and weaponry flooded out. Remus heard their growls resounding through the hair, a warsong foretelling the spilling of much blood, and the razing of lands to nothing but a fine ash.

    An army of Paladins had arrived.

    Without a word, Remus raised his chains with a solemn conviction. His thoughts turned to Violet. Strangely, he felt no fear. Electric streaks of light bursting away from him, Remus, for the first time in a while, knew exactly what he was fighting for. Something more immediate than simply thirsting for vengeance.

    I can¡¯t die.

    From the darkness above, a bolt of lightning struck Remus, streaking in accordance with his revving Mark.

    ¡°I can¡¯t die,¡± he stomped the ground in defiance. The hill he crested seemed to buckle in the wake of a Vanguard¡¯s power.

    Until Violet knows just how much she¡¯s loved!

 127. Over the Hill

    Stupid, stupid, stupid!

    Violet sprinted past the silk entrance of her tent, red in the face, and very much trying to eradicate all memory of the evening. She fell into a seat by her bedside ¡ª a quaint reading desk she occupied late in the night, whenever Violet faced trouble sleeping ¡ª and promptly buried her face into her arms.

    She was so cruel. Why did she have to insist on leading Remus on, only to refute his feelings each time they submerged to the surface? What kind of twisted person did that? His validation, easy promises of reassurances, and gentle gestures were all gifts offered without expected return, and yet she couldn¡¯t help but feel like she was using him.

    Violet exhaled, her entire body sagging with the movement. That flame in her chest, that quiet fire she tried to stamp out, raged more fiercely than ever.

    She loved Remus. As much as she tried to suppress the emotions, there was something so damn alluring about the rakish young man. The way he held her when she was upset, how angelic his voice sounded when she couldn¡¯t see reason, and how his fierce blue eyes could see right through her tough exterior. Those wards and barriers she had put up so long ago, ancient coping mechanisms developed when her own flesh and blood were corrupted right under her nose. All of them were useless against the keenness of his eyes, each layer torn away like the thinnest sheets of paper.

    Remus saw what Violet was most terrified of: her pure, authentic self, warts and all. Who she was when the arbitrary labels of Unbounded and human were forgotten and discarded.

    And, somehow, the man still regarded Violet as if she was beautiful.

    Violet felt almost bombarded, as if the universe were pointing out thousands of reasons why they should be together. Their fates were interlinked: Violet helped with Remus¡¯ every trial and tribulation, and the man returned the favour tenfold. Remus tried to suppress it, but Violet could sense the warmth of her own fire echoed in him: two halves of one fragmented whole. It would make logical sense if they got together, and Violet¡¯s heart ached for it.

    But those voices in her head. The book she now clutched with shaking hands. The diary of a young girl named Violet. Those were two very good reasons to stay in her lane.

    Not exactly sure what she was planning on doing, Violet drew the chair back from the desk. A deafening creak grated against her eardrums. It was a foreboding sound, the warning cry from the room cautioning her to stay far, far away from the contents of those terrible pages.

    Violet sat down shakily, and opened the dusty tomb. She blew against its surface, removing a layer of grey, and . . . simply froze. Her every muscle and impulse felt petrified. Where bone and skin had comprised her form only moments ago, she found nothing but cold, unmoving stone.

    She couldn¡¯t do this.

    Violet winced, sighed again, and moved to put the book away. She had a small wooden box she could hide the diary inside, never having to look at it again. Violet¡¯s fingers had barely grazed its oak surface, when, for some reason, his words sang in her mind.

    You didn¡¯t steal anything Violet. You¡¯re not the actions that have been done to you. You''re not.

    Violet balled her fists. How could she . . . how could she possibly believe that?

    But Remus¡¯ words didn¡¯t cease. Whatever you read in that journal, it doesn¡¯t change a thing. You¡¯re still you. Not that Unbounded, not that girl, but you! Violet.

    Slowly, so slow, it was like she was trying not to notice what she was doing, Violet put the box away. The stone of her statue body cracked, and Violet¡¯s living hands pulled the diary closer.

    And, to me, at least . . .

    The cover was a doorway to another world, and Violet opened it.

    . . . that¡¯s amazing

    All that fear, all of that nauseating panic: simply gone. Violet dissociated from her past, from her very identity. All the universe went null, until nothing existed but her awareness in this confined space in time. No expectations, no overwhelming shame. Only a few lines of ink written down on a page.

    If I¡¯m ever going to overcome my past. Violet gulped. I¡¯m going to have to confront it.

    Violet swallowed her pride, and read the first line.

    Nothing in this world can be more frustrating than living in a family of clowns.

    She paused. Not quite the heartfelt opening she had expected. Her eyes roved down the rest of the yellowed page.

    Unbounded this, finances that ¡ª not once has my father cared to ask how I feel about all this, about if I want to fight for the gods¡¯ damned Celestial War. Why the hell should I care about the business of a few glorified sky people? Why should I care for a cause I¡¯m forced to partake in? A battle where I don¡¯t possess the agency to pick up a blade, and make the conscious decision to fight myself, isn¡¯t a battle that should be waged at all. And yet all of humanity is up-in-arms about a conflict that doesn¡¯t even concern them! Maybe that¡¯s the irony of this all. Humanity believes that we¡¯re fighting for ourselves, that there¡¯s a light at the end of the tunnel if we continue to push forward, but who will be there to reap the rewards of our sacrifice? Gods. We¡¯re their pawns with no stake in this existential fight, and yet we have no choice but to dance to their deranged tune. It¡¯s enough to drive a girl mad.

    Violet blinked, reread the page, and blinked again.

    She hadn¡¯t expected the human Violet to be quite so . . . sophisticated. The girl could barely have been a teenager when she was taken away, subject to Nova¡¯s dark machinations, and yet she wrote with the rage and passion indicative of Descent¡¯s most sage scholars. Perhaps she worded things a little more bluntly than some academics would have, but Violet found her respect for the girl expanding with each sentence.

    Before she knew it, Violet flipped to the next page.

    This is all so frustrating! We need change, but change is the furthest thing out of our reach. There¡¯s no changing this grim reality, and, as the days continue to pass by, the more I realise how truthful that fell realisation is.

    I feel so alone.

    Violet heard the voice of that younger girl as she scanned past the words, like a musical chord played in conjunction with her own heartstrings. A more melancholic melody, Violet did not know.

    I love my family so dearly, but none of them seem to understand. Can nobody see the madness of this Divine War? Or perhaps everybody is acutely aware of our terrible circumstances, but simply too terrified to point them out. Lest our predicament be made any more real.

    For the next twenty minutes, Violet skimmed through the dozens of pages. She wasn¡¯t sure what she expected to find. Most of the entries were the daily writings of a standard young girl, an angsty outburst featured here and there for good measure. Violet could have easily overlooked them as the childish ramblings of a teenager, one just getting to grips with the more nasty parts of the world. But the way she wrote, so eloquently, meant that Violet couldn¡¯t dismiss her, or herself, so easily.

    Her eyes, as if of their own accord, settled on one final passage.

    If only there was a way to end all of this. To escape this reality of bloodshed and mindless fighting. The war games of petty gods with pettier motivations.

    If only. A world of peace . . . none of my other girlish dreams have ever sounded more far-fetched.

    ¡°Peace.¡± Violet repeated quietly in the gloom.

    What had she thought she was going to find? Opening this book had been a prospect of dire proportions to Violet, the emotional equivalent of uncovering a tomb full of vengeful spirits. The ghosts from her past she still found herself chasing. Or running away from.

    The reality was hard to pin down. Not quite underwhelming, but not the heartbreaking epiphanies she had been expecting either.

    Simply the thoughts of a girl. A very peculiar girl, but a girl nevertheless.

    A girl with attitude. A girl who seemed to quietly despise her family at times, loving them unceasingly all the while. At her core, a girl who desired nothing more in this world than peace.

    Now that was a sentiment Violet could get behind.

    Violet felt strangely numb, as though purged of all thoughts and feelings. Her eyelids sagged, and Violet was right on course to slip into bed when-

    A hurricane blasted against her tent.

    Violet grasped her bed¡¯s headboard, the slanted cushioning of her tent now flickering back and forth, as if people were pulling and pushing against the silk material from outside. The tent was supported by wooden foundations and some mild scaffolding, hooked to a concrete base. It should have been able to withstand the harshest of weathers. It was the most robust a tent could possibly be. She would place her money on that fact.

    Violet had grown a love for the pop-up shelters after many a-night spent under their coverage. Perhaps that was simply Stockholm syndrome, but whatever the mechanism behind it, Violet had insisted on her home in Gold¡¯s Bane being one. This was in lieu of the barracks: identical structures members from the Carpentry Clan were constantly erecting out of thin air.

    She had never felt truly at home in the Chaos Clan¡¯s mansion, not since she began to suspect the worst. She appreciated the warmth and safety a standard building was certain to provide, but feeling ¡®at home¡¯ was another matter altogether.

    Those days travelling with Remus between their epic exploits. Hunkered up in tents that barely kept at bay wind or rain, cooking over sparked fires, and speaking of the dangers that may await them yet. Oddly, that was what made her feel most at home. Not a place or destination, but the feeling she was heading towards something, with people at her back she could trust. This tent provided a little of that feeling.

    Remus hadn¡¯t been too keen on the idea at first, arguing that she deserved something more modern. Apparently, such a distinguished member of their rebellion ¡ª Violet thought the term infamous was a little more accurate ¡ª should be seen residing somewhere more befitting of her status. After some debate, Violet had almost given up hope on her little shred of comfort. It was one of Remus¡¯ more considerate gestures when he had surprised her with the space she occupied now: irrefutably still a tent, but fitted with supports that made it as stable as any building. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    In theory.

    In practice? Violet had to hold onto an iron beam in the centre of the room, her legs swept backwards by a fierce gale.

    What on the gods¡¯ green earth was going on outside?

    Violet dropped to the ground as the pressure relented. Simultaneously, a blinding gold light flared. The dizziness and grating light combined in a terrible cocktail of sensory overload, and Violet dropped to her knees. When the dancing stars in her eyes finally disappeared, she jolted upwards, gaze meeting the last person she expected. Or Projection.

    ¡°Blessing?¡± She spluttered. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    Violet had to admit, conversing with any of her Projections was always a disconcerting experience. It was like being interrogated by a fragment of your soul. One who¡¯s idiosyncrasies were exaggerated to an insane degree. Looking at oneself in the mirror was challenging at the best of times, and now Violet had to reconcile with nearly a dozen Projections, each an individual shard of that shattered mirror. All reflecting different aspects. Some good, some bad, and some downright ugly.

    As if she didn¡¯t have enough trouble already understanding herself.

    The bundle of fire stepped aside at the tent¡¯s open flap, waving merrily to Violet, and making room for their next guest.

    Apparently Violet was hosting a houseparty. Just one she wasn¡¯t notified of herself . . .

    Refuge¡¯s stone body contrasted against the remnants of light that still flickered in Violet¡¯s eyes. Rivulets of purple were veins running through her stone body, like streams of amethyst cutting through a sculpture of carved rock.

    Blessing and Refuge. Violet¡¯s heart, and her protective side, manifested as fully independent Unbounded. They had been especially useful for escorting missionaries to distant parts of Descent, rallying new forces to join the Talents of the Future. Of course, there was the downside of Violet having to split her own power, her store of bodily Infinity, in order to create the Projections. Two Projections likely wouldn¡¯t have been too costly, but appearing now behind Refuge . . .

    The next two figures were far less humanoid than her first two Projections.

    Ferocity gave Violet a headache just looking at her. The Unbounded was a moving strobe light, like a sun squashed into a hunched back form, and dimmed just enough not to vaporise your eyes. It creeped around on all fours, and was one of her Projections that spoke very little. Usually, only a warcry when charging into battle. It unnerved Violet, and she was forced to wonder how reliably she could control such a feral creature. For now at least, Ferocity, Violet¡¯s anger and pent-up rage manifested into bodily form, carried out her bidding with only a doggish resistance.

    Stepping into view, or perhaps crawling was the better description, was a bundle of chalky white limbs. Mystique manoeuvred around like a tarantula, scrambling from place to place and able to climb even the steepest of surfaces without trouble. Located at the centre of each palm was an amber eye.

    Violet had faced a similar Unbounded with Remus over a Rebirth ago, venturing through a cave system leading into the front lines. It made Violet¡¯s stomach churn to see the monster echoed in herself, or at least in the product of herself. What did that say about her?

    ¡°Alright.¡± Violet rubbed herself down, becoming increasingly concerned about the very vocal screams she was overhearing. ¡°Is that all of you?¡±

    Ferocity stood panting in a dark corner of the room, ensuring it would never lack light again. Mystique crawled strangely along the supporting ceiling of the tent, hissing quietly like a disturbed cat. Refuge stood with her arms crossed, and Blessing was doing a little dance, bouncing on the balls of her feet like an excited puppy.

    Then another figure appeared at the tent¡¯s flap. A spear of concentrated Infinity materialised in Violet¡¯s grip, a blast of lightning outside providing the perfect ambiance for a fight to break out. But when she saw who was at the doorway, she let the weapon drop.

    The metal resounded against the stone foundations that lay beneath the silk carpeting. Violet put two hands to her mouth, doing her best not to tremble.

    A little girl stood at the doorway. With her long hazel hair, not yet tied at the side into braids, and two burning coals for eyes. Her lips were a thin line; utterly expressionless.

    The other Projections made way for the young apparition, who was the shortest of them all, barely reaching up to Violet¡¯s own waist.

    The girl clutched onto a teddy-bear with one hand. The bear¡¯s head was sagging at the side, ripped and torn to reveal its cotton flesh, now sinking slowly to the ground below.

    Violet let out a shriek. She couldn¡¯t help it.

    The ghosts of her past had come calling. And now, the writer of that diary, the real Violet, whose body she was merely inhabiting, wanted vengeance. Violet had worked up a great debt by impersonating her all these years, and now the real mortal had come to collect the toll. The real Violet, who had never deserved to die.

    Violet had always scoffed at the idea that there might be an afterlife. There had never been enough evidence to convince her.

    But this ghost, this phantom of the night. It was all the proof in the world compiled in one flesh and blood body.

    Violet¡¯s Mark revved into action. She wasn¡¯t sure what she was about to do, maybe tear apart the tent and run until her legs couldn¡¯t carry her any further, when all five Projections screamed out in tandem.

    ¡°She¡¯s one of us!¡±

    Violet paused. She laid her eyes on the mirror image of herself ¡ª albeit a far younger self ¡ª and it was like all the logic of the world returned at once. Combined into one slapping force that swept her across the face.

    How silly could she be? The real Violet was dead! Not here coming to greet her, barely looking like she¡¯d aged a day. Violet had searched every last nook and cranny of the Chaos Clan manor: the bodies of the true members were reduced to ashes. Besides, the entity wasn¡¯t nearly transparent enough to pass as a ghost. Neither did she suspect it was some kind of blood-sucking ghoul.

    Violet¡¯s own body was of a genetic clone, produced by the Life Mark of Warlord Akuji. There wasn¡¯t any ¡®debt¡¯ to be paid. Besides, if the real Violet were to ever rise from the dead as a revenge-hungry spirit, which she thought highly unlikely, Violet had already put Nova to rest. Enos was proving much more trickly to dispel, but seeing how even the gods were having trouble dealing with that devil, Violet cut herself some slack.

    So that left only one possibility, reciprocated by the rest of her Unbounded Council.

    This was another Projection.

    The creature reached out a hand, beckoning Violet to shake it. ¡°I¡¯m Repose. Your aspirations stuffed into skin and bone. I have come with some unfortunate news: we are all going to die in agony. Probably.¡±

    Out of all the forms a monster could possess, from a sinewy mess of tissue and bone, to undulating insects of goo, Violet found this child before her the most terrifying appearance of all.

    My deepest aspirations. Violet thought, pulling herself together for the tenth time that night. What a state she was in. Could that mean . . . her eyes turned back to the memoir on her beside.

    Contained in those pages were the wishes of a little girl. The longing that Violet now inherited. Or perhaps one she had always carried, but could never quite vocalise.

    The ultimate dream for world peace.

    Repose¡¯s words finally landed. ¡°Wait? Die?¡±

    The humanoid Unbounded nodded. Violet squirmed. Not even the fiends who were God-Graced equivalents, the few of which Violet had faced in battle, had so closely resembled a real person. A consequence of her Projections having a perfect model to work off of, apparently.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid some of your old enemies are here, and, unless social etiquette has changed without my noticing, they do not appear friendly. Is setting fire to everything in sight a polite greeting in your culture?¡±

    The shrill noise of howling screams only became louder. Closer. Violet expanded her spiritual senses, every muscle bracing at what she saw.

    The Paladins. Edmar.

    They were more than outnumbered. They were outgunned, outmanoeuvred, and about to face absolute slaughter. Their rebellion had exhausted themselves by training since the crack of dawn, and that gods-forsaken tournament held by the champions ¡ª the fools had beaten themselves bloody!

    How long had the Paladins been waiting? How long had the whereabouts of Gold¡¯s Bane been exposed? Violet dreaded to think . . .

    ¡°Why are you all here?¡± Violet lent forward, her body bulging for a second as pearly white scales spread across her skin. Fiendish talons shot out of her fingertips. ¡°We should be out there, fighting!¡±

    Violet sprinted towards the tent¡¯s flap, only for multiple sets of hands to hold her in place.

    ¡°Don¡¯t leave now, silly!¡± Blessing said, her voice like the ringing of bells.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Violet barked. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare try and stop me while people are out there dying!¡±

    Refuge¡¯s ebony body stood imposingly in Violet¡¯s way. No matter how Violet angled herself,  the Projection wouldn¡¯t move an inch. ¡°Think now, master, is this really the pinnacle of your strategising? Dashing straight into battle, guns blazing?¡±

    ¡°Well, genius.¡± Violet gritted her teeth, which were now long and pointy. ¡°What do you suggest?

    All at once, a bony smile spread across the lips of each of her Projections.

    Freaky. Violet shivered. Which, considering how she must have looked, was pretty hypocritical.

    Then it hit Violet. She took a step back. ¡°That technique . . . no, no.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Refuge bellowed deeply, her belly the heart of a fireplace. ¡°It¡¯s our only option.¡±

    Repose nodded, pressing the teddy tightly to her chest. ¡°You know what we have to do Violet. There¡¯s only one way we can make up for the difference in numbers.¡±

    ¡°Creating all of you almost drained me down a few Ranks.¡± Violet reasoned. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to spread myself anymore thin. It would leave me vulnerable for the killing.¡±

    ¡°Not if you use the hiding place, sillybilly.¡± Blessing intervened. ¡°Nobody would be able to find you in that bunker. It''s. Our. Little. Secret! You just have to retain enough of your Chaotic power to change locations. Simple.¡±

    Violet paused. Clever. Very clever. Violet was almost annoyed she hadn¡¯t thought of it herself. Yet, in a way, she had. What were these Projections, after all, if not extensions of herself?

    ¡°Alright.¡± Violet sighed. Sometimes, she felt like the entire world burdened her shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±

    Violet closed her eyes, and then, as if she were a sheet of paper, tore herself into a thousand pieces.

    She felt the power drain away from her. Years of gathering Infinity lost in seconds. It was surreal, to feel as weak as the most lowly Engorged once more. It made all the strength she had accumulated all the more significant. She was exposed in a way that was more than skin-deep. If anyone attacked her tent now, one well-placed blow would be enough to send her entire form scattering. Violet hated the feeling, like a gust of wind would send her scattering.

    This is only a temporary measure. She reminded herself. The rebellion is in danger . . . Remus is in danger. It¡¯s all on my shoulders to make sure that neither breaks. I can¡¯t let him die after doing that to him!

    Ferocity shook like a wet dog, tail wagging as the Projection dashed to a mat on the floor. Dragging it away, a trapdoor was exposed. A simple way of hiding the vacant room that awaited her beneath, but hidden well enough nonetheless.

    Blessing opened the door for Violet, who suddenly felt so terribly tired. Tiny weights must have been dangling from her eyelids, for she couldn¡¯t for the life of her keep them up.

    As Violet crumpled into that dark expanse, a legion birthing out of her, she could only hope it would be enough.

    A bright purple light illuminated the tent.

 128. What Do You Fight For?

    The taste of Koa¡¯s own sweat was not a pleasant one.

    It was mixed with the earthy bitterness of dirt, and just a hint of the familiar coppery sensation one was forced to grow accustomed to, over many bouts with Remus. Each occasion usually leaving him with a mouthful of Ichor. Now that was a man who didn¡¯t hold back.

    A sad croak of laughter escaped Koa¡¯s throat. Who knew that the blood of our deities was so foul? Eating a god would be disgusting!

    It was an absurd thought, but lying in the mud of their fighting arenas, watching the sky split in half, there wasn''t a sane bone left in Koa¡¯s body.

    Koa had felt particularly energetic that evening. What the heck, he had thought, enlisting as a wildcard in the final bout of the champions¡¯ tournament. Even after fighting with Remus, and failing miserably on three separate occasions, it still hadn¡¯t seemed like enough. What¡¯s a few more fights on a fine night like this?

    Everything, apparently. It might be the very thing that cost him his life. Actions always seemed so insignificant in the moment. The time of your downfall would arrive, as innocuous as a butterfly landing on your skin, and you were blind to your own undoing. To the poison that insect was secretly injecting into your flesh.

    His brother was a lot of things, but Koa had never thought that Ash was particularly smart. But waiting for Koa to exhaust himself ¡ª for all of Gold¡¯s Bane to train so intensely that they couldn¡¯t pick themselves up off the floor ¡ª now that was an ingenious battle tactic.

    Why use men to drain your enemies of their vigour, when they could just as easily do it themselves?

    Three fights against Remus. Thwarted by that living beast of fire and Ambition at each instance. Every time, Koa had kept himself fighting by remembering what it was all for: to stand up to his brother once more as an equal, and return some sense into the scrambled can of worms that was his brain.

    Now it hurt to stand up.

    Koa finally dragged himself onto two shaky feet, breathing heavily. His arm had a nasty cut from his last fight that had yet to be bandaged, leaving the limb hanging almost limply at his side. Koa didn¡¯t even entertain the prospect of activating his Mark. The skin around the divine artwork was sore and blistered. Tapping into the store of Chantal¡¯s might would only welcome in a world of pain: one he was adamant on shunning out.

    Rotting here didn¡¯t seem like the best course of action. Something glimmered in the corner of Koa¡¯s eye, and he glanced up to where a white light flickered. The boundaries of the arenas. They wouldn¡¯t last against the volley of spiritual blows the Paladins were sure to be dishing out, but they would spare him a few precious seconds. Minutes, if the gods smiled upon him.

    Chantal, Ashbel, Neo, Septimus . . . Koa silently prayed to each deity he knew, the list surprisingly long.

    . . . Dwyn, Mazin, Magnolia . . .

    If only they could hear him. If only some sympathetic god would lend a proverbial hand, and sweep him out of this mess.

    Koa was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to pluck every last hair out of his scalp.

    He threw his aching arms into the air like a toddler throwing a tantrum, hot tears streaming down his face.

    It had all been going so well! For the first time in his life, Koa had found people who accepted him for him. A family that offered warmth and sincerity, with nothing expected in return but his own friendship and love. A far cry from the cold shoulder his brethren at the Wilderness Clan had always shown him. Exclusion for his weakness. Perhaps if his aptitude for scaling the Divine Ranks had emerged sooner, his so-called family would have taken to treating him better. Expectations were lofty things, and Koa was tired of carrying them.

    He¡¯d been able to scale the Divine Ranks after Rebirths of struggle, and with stunning success! He was a Foot-Soldier, a man at war, fighting for what he believed in, and surrounded by peers who dwarfed even the power of some elders back at the Wilderness Clan.

    He had a wife, for gods¡¯ sake. Octavia somehow cared enough about him to offer her hand in marriage. To vow to stay at his side until death did them part.

    Which, by the looks of it, may have been coming far more swiftly than Koa could have anticipated.

    Koa¡¯s life was a puzzle, and right when all the pieces were starting to fit together ¡ª power, friendship, love ¡ª Enos had smashed the set to the smallest splinters. Now the jigsaw was far more complicated. The pieces wouldn¡¯t connect, no matter how hard he jammed them together. Sections that he had overlooked as solved now proved more troublesome than ever, and he couldn¡¯t see the wider picture of what he was even trying to make.

    He had hardly been sixteen for more than a Duration! He acted like a grown man, carried himself with the regal grace of a sage wise beyond his years, but he was just a boy. A boy! He didn¡¯t know who he really was, who he was supposed to be. Did anyone?

    The birthday had seemed so insignificant compared to the dangers they were all facing, so Koa hadn¡¯t bothered to mention it. His rationale was needing to train, not celebrate. But that wasn¡¯t the entire truth, was it?

    He was scared. Scared to confront the reality he was still a mere boy, in way over his head.

    They were children. All of them. Many of the men that fought for Gold¡¯s Bane were adolescents, and neither Violet nor Remus were yet to reach past the landmark age of eighteen. It was so easy to overlook how inexperienced they were. If not for the position Koa had found himself in, would he act as maturely? He wasn¡¯t sure why, but he doubted it. If not for Enos and his Right-bearers upsetting the foundations of this world, Koa would just be another adolescent. One with no expectations placed on him but to train, as he spared his youth away in one of the Wild Clan¡¯s training barracks. A boring life, but far simpler.

    There would have been adults to take care of disasters like these. But now the terrors that faced the world were too much for even their parents to face alone. Fate had forced them all to grow up ahead of schedule.

    Can you do nothing but whine? He reprimanded himself. Koa raised a hand and slapped it across his cheek. You don¡¯t have the privilege to feel sorry for yourself. You might be young, but so is Ash! He¡¯s in there, somewhere, if Juniper¡¯s word is to be believed. Lost in the prison of his own body. Koa swallowed. It was hard to accept; infinitely easier to think that his brother was gone forever, than alive and suffering. Knowing that he still existed, captured in a fargone crevice of a mind that was no longer his, made Koa¡¯s stomach churn..

    The sound of sweeping air guided Koa¡¯s one eye upwards. He was too exhausted to summon his remote organs from the Sight Clan into the fray. Yet, even with only one eye at his disposal, not even a man who was half-blind could have missed it.

    There, reflecting against the lens of his eye in a shower of multicoloured light, was the universe mocking him.

    A meteorite burned up above, as if a second sun was competing with its daylight brother. The murk of night would be kept at bay this one evening, so it seemed.

    They would die not in darkness, but hellfire.

    Koa felt hot tears of frustration welling against the bridge of his nose. It was the largest asteroid he had ever witnessed Ash summoning. A great plume of dust and smoke upset the air around the descending stone, a terrible halo illuminating Gold¡¯s Bane in a ring of death and despair.

    ¡°We have to stop it!¡± A voice shrieked out. Koa wasn¡¯t afraid to admit he jolted.

    ¡°Who goes there?¡± He found himself screaming to be heard over the asteroid¡¯s roaring approach.

    Emerging into view was a motley crew of clansmen, all equally exhausted from their own training. Through his spiritual senses, Koa identified them as heralding from the Tempest, Gravity, and Sun clans respectively ¡ª the energy that seamed from their active Marks was telltale enough.

    Koa was about to comment on how auspiciously well-suited the group seemed for dealing with the literal, overhanging threat. Then he figured the trio must have been handpicked to defend Gold¡¯s Bane from Ash¡¯s celestial beatdowns. While Mason could never be seen resting, with the mountain-high piles of paperwork and planning he dealt with daily, Koa couldn¡¯t thank the general enough. His foresight and tactical planning might be the very thing that saved them from utter destruction.

    ¡°Apologies, master Koa,¡± the eldest of the group, a man hailing from the Sun Clan, lifted both hands towards the air. ¡°We should have arrived sooner.¡±

    The three fell into formation. Despite the utter stress they all must have been facing, little older than Koa was himself, they acted with a masterful grace. The descending orb was suddenly enveloped with a brilliant light, merging with the already present flames until the asteroid was fully encased in fire. A crouching Gravity clanswoman was pressed into the grass and dirt of the field, exerting all the force she could against Ash¡¯s ultimate projectile ¨C the reactive forces of which shook the bones in her fragile body. There was no way one measly person would be able to reverse the gravity of a thousand tons of stone, but Koa hoped it would slow the asteroid enough for them to knock it out of the sky.

    Lastly, Koa felt his silk cloak rustle in the air, as a desperate tempest seemed to pick up out of nowhere. The compounding force was centred wholly on the meteorite blotting out the canvas of night. With bated breath, Koa waited for his own strength to return, watching raptly to see if it would work. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Koa had to squint to see through the aggressive air pressure. Alas, it wasn¡¯t enough. Even with the combined force of their efforts, perspiration dripping down their weary brows, the trio was failing miserably. An invincible force pressed against the meteor: reversed gravity, searing light, and an animated gale all beating at its rocky curve. And, still, it was not enough.

    With the solemn knowledge that they were all going to die if he didn¡¯t stop that thing from colliding with the heart of Gold¡¯s Bane, Koa called upon his Mark once more. The flesh around his divine artwork, of Chantal protecting a thicket of ruined trees against a horde of Unbounded, burnt as if coals were being pressed into his skin. Koa ignored the pain, surging Infinity through his body like the opioid of raging power it was.

    He was screaming, each second he continued to use his power an absolute agony. It felt like hot pincers were pressing in-between his organs. Koa¡¯s internals churned within him, beaten and exhausted after being pushed to the limit four times over this day alone.

    Overtraining was hard for a Foot-Solider to achieve, with how generally quick their bodies mended themselves back together. Yet Koa achieved just that, shooting rods of oak blasting out of his back and into the underbelly of the asteroid.

    They flew upwards like any arrow shot by Eshika herself, lost into the whirling vortex of shadow, wind, and blinding light that consumed the atmosphere. For a second, he feared the technique wouldn¡¯t even pass through the whirling mess of techniques. Alas, Koa felt ¨C through his connection to the wood ¨C the volley pressing into the celestial stone.

    The Gravity clanswoman gazed up, mouth wide. ¡°We¡¯ve failed . . .¡±

    The asteroid continued to press downwards, the deep rumbling of a country shaking reverberating all around. Nothing had changed.

    ¡°When that hits, all of Gold¡¯s Bane will be swept up by a wave of debris and destruction. A tsunami of Ichor and mud will drown out the land for miles.Gods above, how could he have broken through our defences like that, how could-?¡±

    Koa¡¯s body spasmed. He clutched onto himself, dropping to his legs and not acting fast enough to cover his ears.

    The detonation was deafening.

    His eyes were still ringing as the wave of dust hit them.

    It worked. He smiled grimly, face suddenly covered by windswept grime. He¡¯d summoned branches to grow out of the wooden pincers, breaking into the infrastructure of the asteroid and tearing it apart from within.

    Boulders of stone rained down from the sky, and it was by fortune alone that Koa wasn¡¯t crushed to a pulp. But compared to the certain demise Ash¡¯s meteorite would have ensured, at least taking his chances against the raining stones was a winnable gamble.

    Koa dug his fingers deep into the dirt, his body like a ragdoll caught up in the propelling tempest.

    The air was a haze of jagged rock and deafening noise. For what must have been an entire minute ¡ª an astronomical amount of time in a battle ¡ª Koa could do nothing but hope for the best, as they were pelted down at.

    He seemed to slip out of consciousness for a moment. When he returned, each of his senses were slightly off: there was a ringing to his ears; his nose was clogged with dust, stones, and Ichor; and his mouth was sickly metallic in taste. His skin had become numb to the hundreds of pebbles that were digging into him.

    It was a weakness beyond measure, but Koa rested for a few solid minutes. There, lodged between a literal rock and a hard place, Koa almost slept soundly as his body collected the sleep it demanded. By the time two strong sets of arms carried him out from under the crushing stones, Koa was only barely conscious enough to register the corpses.

    The trio hadn¡¯t been so lucky.

    A wave of sickness forced Koa back into the moment. The idea of sleeping anywhere in this hellhole suddenly became a ludicrous notion, so much proved by a mere glance at the crushed skulls of the three men that had tried to save his life.

    They had succeeded, though definitely not in the way they¡¯d intended.

    Lives lost trying to protect him, and now Koa couldn¡¯t even stand up on his own.

    They barely looked older than me . . .

    It was a testament to how out of it Koa was, that he was yet to recognise the pair that had come to his rescue. Remus and Aziel.

    ¡°Are you okay man?¡± Aziel asked. The look on his face told Koa he already knew the answer. If Koa looked nearly as beaten-up as he felt, then there would be dead corpses prettier than him.

    ¡°Doing just lovely.¡± Koa slurred the words, slipping in and out of consciousness.

    ¡°Ash will be getting cocky after pulling off a move like that. Cocky, but exhausted. We need to take him down.¡± Remus said. ¡°Now¡¯s our chance to strike while he recovers.¡±

    ¡°Look at the state of him!¡± Aziel yelped. Koa had never heard the man speak to Remus with such a tone. A passionate fire scorched each syllable. Under any other circumstance, Koa would have told the man to relax. There was no need to fight over him, or his well-being. Yet, as it stood, he was a limp body bleeding out of nearly every orifice, and decorated in a neat sheen of dust. He would be doing himself no favours by complaining: there was no glory in fighting foolishly.

    ¡°We can¡¯t win this Remus.¡±

    Remus paused, swallowed, and paused again. ¡°We can¡¯t give up that easily.¡±

    ¡°Koa¡¯s going to die if we don¡¯t get him some aid soon! We were already outnumbered, drained of our strength after a long day of sparring. And now Ash has thrashed our forces with just the opening barrage of his surprise attack. We need to retreat!¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯d be playing into Ash and Edmar¡¯s hands!¡±

    ¡°Better that than dead!¡±

    Koa cleared his throat. ¡°Guys-¡±

    ¡°Remus, we all know I¡¯m forever in your debt for what you¡¯ve done for the Ambition Clan, but even a follower of Tanish needs to know when to call it quits. Stop being so goddamn selfish and look around you!¡±

    It began as a soft chinking sound. Koa frowned. He forced his drooping eyelids open, not sure what to expect from this world of turmoil and chaos, and gaped.

    The sky rained gold.

    The hurricane of coins dominated the air. Koa imagined them all as prisoners inside of some giant gambling machine, Inkings smacking here, there, and everywhere as Edmar waited to see if he¡¯d hit the jackpot. There could only be one prize he was after. The complete crippling of the Talents of the Future.

    All of that hard work, those days spent training, the goddamn champion system. And for what?

    Forgive Koa for being cynical. Having your body punished four times in one day was rough, easily conjuring enough pain to wash away any speck of optimism left.

    Unable to walk himself, Remus and Aziel carried Koa under the cover of some scattered shrapnel. There, they remained for sometime, the argument broken up as the battering of metal negated the need for words. In a way, Ash had protected them by sending down his latest asteroid: it provided plenty of protection. Koa feared for the poor souls who weren¡¯t lucky enough to find shelter.

    Remus stared up to the sky of deadly projectiles, each breath visibly raising and lowering his chest. He looked over to Koa, then clicked his fingers in front of Koa¡¯s face a few times.

    ¡°Stay awake Koa, you need to stay awake. We can¡¯t risk you passing out in a condition like that. I¡¯m- so sorry.¡±

    Were those tears Koa saw slipping from the man¡¯s eyes?

    ¡°Mason has drilled our soldiers with procedures to follow if something like this ever occurred. They¡¯ll follow the protocols, Remus.¡± Aziel didn¡¯t sound very confident himself. ¡° I¡¯m . . .¡±

    Aziel sighed. The man was trying to disguise the fact, but the dark shadows beneath his eyes spoke only of fatigue. Somebody in the group had to be the voice of hope, but the role wasn''t quite right for any of them. Like a piece of clothing that¡¯s measurements were slightly off. Perhaps something that would have once fit any one of them, but now outgrown.

    ¡°We have to take care of ourselves, Remus. I can only trust in our rebellion to do the same.¡±

    Remus could have been on a different planet, his eyes not seeing what was right before him. ¡°Dead . . .¡± he muttered. ¡°Because of me. I feared this would happen. Everybody tried to reassure me, but now it¡¯s happened. I¡¯ve done impossible things, but I can¡¯t bring the dead back to life. I can¡¯t visit the families of those we¡¯ve lost, and tell them their sons and daughters died for me. For my pipe dreams. I¡¯m a coward.¡±

    Aziel shot his friend a sympathetic look, but said nothing more as they both hoisted Koa over their shoulders. In the face of tragedy, words of comfort seemed like things of folly.

    Only once they were clear of the rocky detritus, could they spot the fiends stalking the land. They had hardly walked a couple metres when Koa felt his carriers abruptly halt.

    There were hundreds of them.

    Each of them took on a different form, but there were more talons, more sets of sharpened teeth, in all of them combined then Belindo had ever possessed. Some crawled around erratically, while others took flight, flapping their scrawny wings and cawing like carrion birds.

    Remus¡¯ face was a mask of pure pain. A man tired to the bone. Koa hadn¡¯t thought it possible: a warrior who had endured all the sick jokes reality had thrown at him, year after year, now forced to buckle at the proverbial knee.

    Maybe you really could draw blood from a stone. All it took was persistence.

    Koa, however, understood. ¡°It¡¯s Violet!¡±

    It took him a second to recognise the scent of her Chaotic energy, but there could only be one power teleporting the army of fiends all across the burning plain. The girl herself was nowhere in sight, but great gods of the sky! Koa thought that maybe she was controlling all the beasts, his fatigued mind snapping alert out of sheer curiosity. She had demonstrated the ability to mind-control Unbounded weaker than herself, when busting him and Remus out of the Shadow Clan¡¯s fortress. But there was no way she would have been able to manipulate so many beasts at once. Could she?

    Before Koa could ask that aloud, a wave of exhaustion washed over him again. The moment of interest had been like a sudden tremor in otherwise calm waters, and now it was all he could do not to fall asleep. He suspected he had mere minutes left conscious at best.

    ¡°Projections!¡± Aziel shouted, his delight infectious. ¡°That girl. That brilliant woman! This gives us some breathing room to organise a retreat. We need to send off a flare, and quickly.¡±

    Aziel marched ahead, ready to get the hell out of there, only to give pause when he noticed how strange Remus was acting. Koa grumbled under his breath, wondering what all the fuss was about. What was so interesting to look at, that Remus was keeping them exposed in the screaming heart of the fight?

    Koa was about to nudge Remus forward. Then a wave of adrenaline swept away his fatigue a second time running. Except, this time, it wasn¡¯t curiosity that subdued his weariness.

    No, it was the feeling of his heart leaping into his chest.

    Three corpses lay nested in blood-stricken mud. Exposed bones protruded out of wonky limbs at weird angles. An air of death suffocated Koa¡¯s nostrils, making him feel sick, though perhaps that was just the normal response to a sight so grisly.

    His watery eye roved over to where two wagons laid, smashed against a boulder. Bundles of foodstuffs were scattered against the ground. One bounced across the sleek, rain-beaten pathway, sliding down to a stop at Remus¡¯ feet. The man took one look at the tied bundle of rations, soaked through until the bread and meat inside was inedible, and then slowly raised his eyes back towards the bodies. Three bodies.

    Koa recognised the bodies of the Feast Clansmen, and Remus¡¯ wails of despair soon followed.

 129. Bleed It Dry

    Clove. Barley. Tess.

    All three of them laid dead and rotting at Remus¡¯ feet.

    His legs shook. If Remus hadn¡¯t been carrying Koa on his shoulders, he would have collapsed to the ground and joined them.

    A scream grew wings and took flight out of his throat. It was the equivalent of jumping up and down, dancing and singing directions leading right to them, like the self-sabotaging jester he was. Alas, Remus was too numb, too pulled out of his immediate surroundings, to care. Part of him hated himself for it. His failure to keep himself together could spell the demise of more people he held dear. But he needed to mourn, and his feelings didn¡¯t care that the Paladins could swoop in after them any second. All those roiling emotions could focus on, all he could focus on, were the three empty shells of people growing cold below him.

    Clove might have been a drunk. But he was a loveable drunk. The kind of person you could tell your deepest secrets to in good faith, for it was almost certain he wouldn¡¯t recall them by the following morning. Now a deep cut split his jaw in two. Remus didn¡¯t even want to know who or what had killed him. He just wanted to tear them apart, limb from limb.

    Barley. A soul too pure for this world, so it seemed. His body was split in twain, his face caught in a tableau of torturous agony, and a stream of Ichor emerged out of his mouth. Remus cringed, remembering how close he had been to denying the man entry into the rebellion. Back when the Talents of the Future was still in its inception. An idea. Nothing more. A stupid, infantile idea, yet to develop into the bloodbath that now ensnared them.

    Remus lit the first spark that day, and now the woods were burning all around him.

    That exchange had been the pivotal moment that saw Remus taking his vision of rebellion seriously. He had to wonder, what if he had made the other choice? Perhaps, if he had let go of his delusions of grandeur, then he wouldn¡¯t be looking down at three corpses right now. They would be alive and well, refugees taken in by Eclipse.

    It would have been a tough life, but under Remus¡¯ care, how had they benefitted?

    Nova, Damosh, and Enos. The villains that Remus despised. Yet, as the years went on, as Remus fell deeper and deeper into his own desires for power and radical change, his hands became as stained as theirs. Strip away the labels of good and evil, and all you had left was a pile of dead bodies.

    The blood of innocent people dripped from his fingers.

    If not for her long locks of greying hair, Remus wouldn¡¯t have been able to recognise Tess. His heart tore itself apart all over again, at but a glance at her desiccated body.

    Remus'' face was moist with tears. With a shaky arm, he wiped them away.

    How sick must the Paladins be, to kill an old woman?

    The thought undid all of his arm¡¯s hard work, his aching cheeks more tear-stricken than ever.

    Aziel audibly swallowed, before placing a hand on Remus¡¯ shoulder. ¡°Remus-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± He flinched at the touch. ¡±I¡¯m sorry. But don¡¯t say anything. If I bring myself to think about it too hard, I¡¯ll end up leaping straight into Ash¡¯s and Edmar¡¯s hands. I¡¯ll die in a fit of rage before I can save our men.¡± He winced, a terrible pain shooting through him. It was hard to distinguish the emotional from the physical. ¡°Violet is perfectly capable of buying our men time to flee while we¡¯re gone. Mason¡¯s tent is not far from here. Let¡¯s . . . let¡¯s head over there.¡±

    Koa was limp in Remus¡¯ arms, as the pair of them hoisted him higher over their shoulders. Remus had to stop himself from taking one last look at the trio. He gave a silent prayer, urging Tanish to guide their spirits well, in whatever came after this. Clementine, the deity of Feasts, had lost good people today. They would be sorely missed.

    Remus rushed ahead.

    You should be fighting. A vocal part of him screamed out. Men die for you while you rush to save your own hide. You''re a coward. You¡¯re despicable.

    Remus stopped several times, itching to activate his Mark at each instance and run into the fray. He was powerful now. Powerful enough to kill at least a hundred Paladins in a fit of rage, blood, and hot tears. He would die in the process, undoubtedly, but for some terrible reason, he found the thought comforting. The void called for him.

    He could die a martyr.

    But that would also mean dying a coward.

    Mason. He had to reach Mason, organise their troops, and abandon Gold¡¯s Bane. They had spent so much on this outpost, but it was better to lose it here than to die, kicking and screaming.

    Remus had to keep reminding himself that he was here, alive and breathing. His body felt distant, as if he was merely an outsider observing his surroundings. Maybe not even that. Everything was a foreign blur, his mind desperately trying to block out the current moment, to dissociate from the harrowing sounds of his army being butchered. Even now, the cutthroat noise of flesh being cleaved from bone made his arms shake in sympathy. None of it felt real. How could it? Just hours ago, Violet had been reassuring him that this was all for a good cause, that he was doing the right thing. Now the irony of her words wouldn¡¯t stop ringing in his mind. Like accidentally smashing into the side of a church bell, an echo of ignorance rebounding back and forth inside of his skull. Taunting Remus until madness befell him.

    He put a hand to his mouth, swallowed back down his sick, and marched on.

    Mason¡¯s tower oversaw Gold¡¯s Bane. It was a simple structure, made up of one large shooting expanse that housed narrow walls, and a rickety ladder. Up those rungs, Mason could be found on any typical day, lost amid his many dusty books. For a man of war, he was quite the bookworm. Theories on battle strategy, journals from great war tacticians, and exchanges between the different stations of their rebellion were all stacked in a disorganised mess. Last Remus had visited, the walls were covered in maps. So many maps. Maps of First Rite; maps of each of the city¡¯s Districts in intricate detail; maps of the sewers below; and maps encompassing all of Descent¡¯s supercontinent. He even had charts detailing the loyalties of each clan in the city, and how likely they were to turn on Damosh and his Wealth Clan, given the chance. That was one board Remus had liked to look at, whenever feeling particularly low.

    Three figures were the only obstacle between Remus and the lone hill where Mason¡¯s tower stood.

    Paladins.

    Remus caught one whiff of Enos¡¯ scent, and something primal was activated inside of him.

    He shot forward. Lightning marked the grass in a straight line behind Remus as he crashed into the first of his assailants. There was the sound of metal whooshing through the air as he blasted ahead, a sensation Remus only faintly registered. He hardly recognised the blood splattering across his cheek either.

    Though he did notice the man¡¯s head falling to his feet.

    As for the remaining two Paladins . . . if only their fate had been as merciful.

    Fires surged out of Remus, raising the cold air around them by a thousand degrees. By the time he bothered to look backwards, all that remained were two charred husks.

    Aziel had no trouble carrying Koa aloft in one arm, being the stocky young man he was, but he paused at the corpses. The man was no stranger to death, but Remus couldn¡¯t remember the last time Aziel had seen him kill so ruthlessly.

    Remus couldn¡¯t look into his friend''s eyes. There was no time for stopping. He tried to focus on his breathing, but nothing would settle him, his entire body fidgety with the compulsion to move.

    Three people killed without a thought. Remus didn¡¯t feel any different. What had he expected? For the score to suddenly be setted? Three Paladins in return for his three dead friends.

    What did it matter? They weren¡¯t coming back.

    It meant nothing. Nothing but more bodies to litter the earth.

    Remus often talked about his luck running out, about whatever fiasco he¡¯d found himself in being one too many. Yet he would always slip away at the last moment. Something miraculous would happen. He would suddenly realise that surmounting the next Rank was within reach, or that he knew just the ploy that could amend things, or one of his ever-trustful companions would come rushing to his aid.

    But luck wasn¡¯t one who bargained at a loss. No, Remus had been working up a debt all of his life, and fortune had been waiting, biding its time, seeking out the perfect moment to pull the rug out from under him. Luck was nothing if not patient. Now it was finally calling in its debt. Remus had nothing left to offer, so now? He would be stripped of everything.

    Remus shook his head. No matter how dark his thoughts got, no matter how close the hands of despair drew, he had to keep going. It was just getting harder and harder each time. Like an old friend he was forced to cut off, the desire to give up brushed up against his skin. Remus bit his tongue, the pain jolting him back to the present.

    His eyes settled back on Mason¡¯s tower. A set of plain windows showed him nothing but a wall. It was pinned full of the man¡¯s crabby handwriting, which, as far as Remus was concerned, was illegible. With writing like that, no one but Mason himself would be able to understand what the man wrote ¡ª not even the wisest interpreters of the Scholar Sect.

    He took a half-second to examine the room a little more closely. Nothing that Remus could lay a finger on was wrong. The chair and table that Mason could sometimes be seen eating from remained in the same exact spot. The piles of paperwork hadn¡¯t moved a smidge either. Everything was exactly as Mason always left it.

    So why were his spiritual senses, gut feelings, and every good instinct Remus possessed all screaming out in alarm?

    Remus crouched down, leaned forwards, and called on Tanish to provide all of the Ambition he could offer. It was a potent presence, supercharging his muscle fibres, replacing the marrow of his bones, and reaffirming his will with steel.

    He shot out like a rocket, reaching the door of Mason¡¯s base in the tenth of a second. Gravity possessed no hold on him, and Remus sprinted up the side of the cobbled walls. He was a living bolt of energy, hair brushed back by the raging wind.

    Mason¡¯s window shattered at the first impact of his flaming fist.

    Five people Remus didn¡¯t recognise filled the chamber. And none of them were Mason.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    He took another half-second to ensure the general was nowhere in sight. Good. Now he didn¡¯t need to hold back.

    A maelstrom of flame enveloped the interior, incinerating the hundreds of pages stuffed into the room. And, just like that, thousands of hours of hard work were burnt to a crisp, not even their ashes left to signpost Mason¡¯s ceaseless labour. Remus felt a stab of guilt for dishing out such devastation, but Mason¡¯s research would mean nothing if the Talents were defeated here. The battle-general would have the plans memorised to a tee. He could write them down again, but they couldn¡¯t bring soldiers back from the dead. Being swift was all that mattered, regardless of the collateral damage.

    The hand of a molten giant crushed the room, and Remus flew past the dying clansmen. Their techniques fizzled out before they could fully materialise, lost within the shadow of his behemoth.

    He knocked a door off its hinges, used another streak of lightning to cross the only other room in the tower, and stopped in his tracks.

    Gods. Gods no.

    A fight had clearly taken place here. Evidence of such could be seen everywhere.

    It was a meeting room, or had once been. A chamber that Mason sometimes requested to meet Remus in, whenever he wanted to discuss something more sensitive, with a little extra privacy. The space was sparsely decorated, the furniture hardly more elaborate than a simple table, and some cushioned chairs. They had been knocked against the floor, legs snapped and surfaces beaten and dented.

    The walls were charred with a sooty black. It was none of Remus¡¯ doing. His flames flickered quietly behind, as if equally paralysed with fear.

    A window facing away from the front of the tower was shattered. Whoever had been here was gone, though everything pointed at the damages being recent. Remus had to stop himself from slipping after Mason¡¯s attackers, certain they were someplace nearby. With his keen senses, Remus would easily be able to pick up on their trail. And if that path were to go cold? Regardless, Remus would stop at nothing to find the perpetrators.

    For there was no way in hell he could ever forgive them. For what they had done to Mason.

    Limp in a pool of his own golden blood, there was no doubt about it. Remus took one glance at the man¡¯s glassy eyes, and his heart too fractured to feel anything, his very soul knew him to be dead.

    Pincers stabbed out of Mason¡¯s knuckles, the last of his Mark¡¯s power still active in his body. But it was nothing more than muscle memory, no different to a muscle spasm, shortly after the heart stops beating. The insectile weapons withdrew slowly into Mason¡¯s fists. Then the power of the Insect god left his body forever.

    Remus dropped to his legs, the weight of the loss crushing him.

    He placed his hands on the man¡¯s chest. No heartbeat: he had been foolish to hope.

    Our general is dead. It was a harrowing realisation. Remus had the highest post in the rebellion of course, but he had entrusted Mason to deal with all of the technical affairs of what was, essentially, running a loose army. This wasn¡¯t just a major blow to their morale ¡ª and the loss of a dear friend ¡ª it was a major blow to the very infrastructure of the Talents.

    Without Mason here to enact their emergency plans, Remus was left to pick up the pieces. He felt far from qualified, but now wasn¡¯t the time to bask in insecurity.

    It was pathetic. There was no other word for it. A leader who relied on other people to lead his people. Suddenly all those words of wisdom Remus had entrusted Damion didn¡¯t seem so wise.

    Remus stopped trying to find any vital signs from Mason¡¯s corpse. However, when his fingers withdrew, they grazed against something solid in the process. Something metallic.

    His mind suddenly empty of thought, Remus held up a coin.

    Writing was imprinted upon the Inkling. Instead of Damosh¡¯s face, Remus found a sight somehow more uglier staring back at him.

    Edmar. His robotic gleam was perfectly captured in the artwork, delicate writing etched under his stoic face. Remus rubbed against the imprint, wondering how adept Edmar¡¯s abilities must be now, for him to include details so fine.

    1-0. How about we settle the score?

    Remus wasn¡¯t sure who Edmar thought had won their last fight. Remus¡¯s instinctual response was himself. He had left Edmar bloody, his body of metal brutalised like twisted steel in a scrapyard. But from another perspective . . . Edmar had escaped, had he not?

    Just that moment, Aziel arrived. His silence was uncomfortably long.

    Remus showed the man the coin without a word, not caring to puncture the veil of silence with any clumsy words. Then he squeezed the Inkling tight, the metal pressing painfully into his skin.

    Slowly, Remus rose to his feet. ¡°Change of plan Aziel.¡± He said quietly, barely above a whisper. ¡°I¡¯m going to send off an emergency flare. I know Mason stores it here somewhere.¡±

    There, as if Edmar had purposely placed the thing in view, was a small gun. It seemed to taunt him. Go on, the strange metal invention rasped. Fire me. Inform your entire rebellion that their leader is a fraud.

    The flare was yet another invention from the Matter Clan. At this rate, the sect would become the most powerful Descent had ever seen. Maybe not in terms of their combative prowess, but in the coming decades, they would completely transform how all of the Mortal Realms operated. It reaffirmed to Remus that he was doing the right thing, at least in theory, if not practise, to have their support.

    Any flame Remus created himself would only be lost in the chaos, and the hundreds of techniques flying through the skies ensured that any man-made signals would be overlooked, or missed entirely. The flare would shoot out a blindingly bright light: a gigantic cross signalling their rebellion to retreat. They had been shown the symbol enough times to recognise it, and unlike a Mark-based technique, the icon would remain in the air for quite some time.

    Remus unveiled his chains. In the blink of an eye, he was already tying them back on his waist, the roof over their heads sliding to the side. With a creaking groan, the curved ceiling of Mason¡¯s tower fell to the ground.

    The links of Supreme Steel wafted steam.

    Remus hopped onto the burnt wall top. His balance held true. ¡°I¡¯ll keep Edmar and Ash preoccupied. If enough of our men survive . . .¡± He wasn¡¯t sure what.

    He held the flare towards the heavens, and pressed the trigger. Instantly, the emblem of their failure adorned the sky. Remus remained there for a time, perched on the walltop, feeling like there was more to be said. The words were stubborn, nestled deep in his throat. Or maybe they weren¡¯t there at all.

    Aziel said nothing for a long time. It was urgent, but for that one moment, holding each other''s eyes, everything was communicated between them.

    Remus launched himself into the sky, with all the excitement of a man walking to the gallows.

    Only when he was proficiently far away from his rebellion, did he draw on the full power of his Unbounded Mark. Plasma began to crawl forth from his flesh, great droplets of the burning stuff raining below him.

    He had barely summoned the midsection of his fiendish construct when Edmar slipped into view.

    ¡°Using the same technique again! Why, it seems to me like you¡¯ve become quite the one trick pony.¡±

    Remus immediately recoiled at the words. A sly comment like that, coming out of those golden lips, was almost alien. Edmar wasn¡¯t one to joke around. That could only mean one thing: the man was radiating confidence. And for good reason.

    From his vantage point, Remus could now overlook the entirety of Gold¡¯s Bane. Or what was left of it.

    Smoke disguised much of the land, but even through those mists, the utter insanity was clear to see. Corpses littered the fighting arenas, making places that should have contained only friendly spars burial grounds. Fissures sliced into the land, splintering it. From out of those depths, Unbounded sprung into action. These were no servants of Violet¡¯s. With a bestial tendency they gnawed at the air, blood-shot eyes speaking of nothing but a carnal desire for violence.

    Remus spotted multiple Paladins riding the fiends: the wolf-like variety Remus had faced numerous times in the past. Yet now, they appeared larger. Nothing that a mortal should have sway over.

    Domesticating Unbounded was ludicrous. Like trying to get friendly with the devil, and inviting him over for tea. Yet the Paladins had accomplished just that. Violet could control Unbounded mentally, destroying their psychological defences. But this felt more to Remus like compliance than subservience.

    What was this? For the first time in all of Descent¡¯s history . . . mortals and Unbounded alike worked together.

    ¡°I¡¯ve always thought you were a weakling, Remus. You hear me? A disgusting, snivelling weakling.¡±

    Remus said nothing, allowing his wolfish behemoth to take form. He saw Edmar now, far above, a wall of coins slowly taking shape into something more detailed, like an artisan sculpting stone. That was how he had managed to send those coins raining down. It had been difficult to see over the blinding light announcing the Paladin¡¯s arrival. A sea of trinkets lying dormant in the air.

    ¡°But during our first fight, I have to admit, you surprised me. A Death-Marked bringing me to my limits! Ludicrous. Truly ludicrous.¡±

    Perspiration made Remus¡¯ hands clammy. How many more elixirs had the man downed since their last encounter? Remus himself was perhaps marginally stronger compared to then, but true organic growth took time. In their last bout, Remus had scarcely managed to hold his own. If he couldn¡¯t defeat Edmar here, he could at least buy his rebellion some time. Though that didn¡¯t exactly bring his damaged ego any reassurance.

    But where was Ash? Remus¡¯ eyes betrayed his intentions, flickering all over the place.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about him. This fight is solely about you and I, Remus. A chance to put our grudges to rest.¡±

    Remus thought back to the coin that had been lodged into Mason¡¯s chest. His hands shook with the urge to crush Edmar¡¯s throat, but he focused on what had been inscribed into the metal. 1-0.

    ¡°Who won our last fight?¡±

    The courtesy of conversation was the last thing Edmar deserved, but every second longer Remus could draw this out, was another moment for the Talents to escape. Besides, the question genuinely intrigued him.

    Edmar forced a laugh. ¡°Is that all you have to say? If we ignore the first time we brawled in your slums, then our last encounter was our first true bout. Seeing how you were left trapped, and I escaped, I think the victor is obvious.¡±

    ¡°I left that coin to strike a nerve. Settling the score? We¡¯re not even on the same playing field. I just wanted to see that flicker of false hope in you. For you to think that you¡¯d come even remotely close to winning our last encounter. That you, perhaps, have a chance of emerging victorious this time.¡± Edmar edged in closer. ¡°Just like everything else you have Remus, I¡¯m going to strip that hope away.¡±

    Remus shivered. He quickly steeled himself.

    ¡°You won¡¯t slip past this time.¡± Remus bared his teeth. ¡°When I¡¯m done with you, there won¡¯t be any ashes left, nothing to send back to the Wealth Clan. The only imprint you¡¯ll have in the history books is the fact I killed you.¡±

    Remus¡¯ giant was fully formed. He was acutely aware that Edmar was allowing Remus to draw this out. Perhaps Edmar felt some sick joy in watching Remus sweat.

    Ash. Where in the gods¡¯ names was Ash?

    Remus glanced backwards. The head of his titan copied the movement, a loud snap reverberating all around.

    More asteroids blitzed through the sky, though they seemed to be aimed towards the outskirts of Gold¡¯s Bane.

    ¡°Where is he?¡± Remus rasped, the lives of his rebellion seeming more fragile than glass. ¡°Why are you working alongside the Paladins? Alongside Enos!¡±

    ¡°Power, Remus. Power. I¡¯m sure you can understand the desire to grow strong. Why, wasn''t it that same ambition that caused us to cross paths in the first place?¡±

    ¡°More power than your elixirs can provide? But why? What do you want?¡±

    Edmar said nothing for a moment. His own golden behemoth was completed. It was a terrifying creation, a construct of rage and metal that made his last titan look like a child¡¯s play toy.

    Three heads looked down at Remus, regal horns of gold and silver offshotting from their brows. Remus suddenly felt very far away. In hell, perhaps, about to be sentenced for his life. His sins, good deeds, and dark desires all weighed up. Nothing would be left uncovered. And when they decided on their verdict? Justice would be delivered.

    ¡°What do I want?¡± Edmar repeated, as if struggling to comprehend the question. He muttered the words under his breath a few times, like he was trying to discern their meaning.

    Right that moment, a volley of Inklings swatted into Remus. His titan was immediately overwhelmed, punctured in hundreds of places. One Inkling grazed past his cheek, instantly drawing Ichor.

    ¡°To kill a certain man.¡± Edmar scowled. ¡°To reclaim what is rightfully mine.¡±

    Remus paused. He felt like an important piece in explaining all of this had fallen into his lap. He was far too fatigued to place everything together at that moment, however.

    Look after my people as best you can. Remus prayed to Tanish, one of the only gods who had been yet to fail him. They don¡¯t deserve to die yet. Let the errors of my actions fall onto my shoulders.

    Remus¡¯ beast of flame took one firm step forward, and he prepared to lay down his life.

 130. Be Brave

    Octavia knew he was out there.

    The woman stood kneeling in the kitchen of a small cabin, erected on the borders of Gold¡¯s Bane. On a flat stretch of land outside of their rebellion¡¯s base, the Carpentry Clan had created a small outpost for victims of war. It was inhabited by asylum seekers, fleeing from cities and other settlements as the Paladins began to strike globally. Small hamlets, villages, and anyplace that lacked organised defences had swiftly been crushed. It was either to join Enos and his sick cause, or be flattened in the wake of his devastation. And if you refused both options, well, the Talents of the Future could only provide so much help.

    Many of these kinds of people in fighting shape had joined the rebellion directly, bolstering their body of soldiers. The people who resided here were either too ill to fight, too young, or faced unfortunate circumstances that demanded their attention elsewhere. An example were the children Octavia now held tightly in her arms, pressed close to her chest as she scanned around with her spiritual senses. Their mother was out there. Fighting for the safety of her seven children, as the worst case scenario played out before them. The woman hadn¡¯t been able to fight previously, for the need of looking after her kin, but with Ash knocking at their door, that was all thrown out of the window. Leaving your seven children alone here to hide wasn¡¯t the greatest circumstance to be in, but times were tough, and most people were left with little option but to do the hard things. No matter how cruel.

    The Talents had originally kept the refugees here in good faith. The rebellion had placed so many wards of protection upon Gold¡¯s Bane. Visual illusions, techniques of invisibility, abilities that should have eradicated even the scent of the place from anyone who wasn¡¯t approved. Now, somehow, Octavia had to wonder if these people would have been better off fleeing elsewhere.

    The stench of the Unbounded was unmistakable. Octavia wrinkled her nose at the smell of it. Worse than rotten flesh.

    ¡°Where¡¯s mommy?¡± The small thing in her arms asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry sweetheart, it¡¯s all going to be alright.¡± Octavia lullaby-whispered. ¡°Mommy is fighting out there, you see? She¡¯ll be alright, don¡¯t worry.¡±

    Six other children, all huddled behind and around Octavia, shifted nervously, glancing at her from the corners of their eyes. The eldest of them, a girl eleven years of age, visibly trembled. Perhaps she was wise enough to see how shallow Octavia¡¯s promises were.

    The sound of the sky tearing itself into little pieces shook the building¡¯s foundations. The poor souls squirmed. Octavia clutched them a little tighter, staring daggers into the front door of the cabin.

    It rattled.

    It¡¯s just the chaos of everything outside, that¡¯s all. Octavia reasoned. If not for herself, she had to keep a level-head for the tiny lives that now relied on her. Where on Descent is Veida?

    As soon as the fighting had broken out, Veida and Octavia had been hit with the same idea. The rebellion, as amateur as many of them were, was made up of combat-trained men and women. They had been preparing for battle day in, day out, for Passings now. But the ability to defend oneself was not a universal privilege. Being able to fight, to protect you and your loved ones, was a blessing far too many took for granted.

    The refugees, the ones that were too young, ill, or misfortuned to pick up a sword, needed help more than anyone else right now. Veida and Octavia had successfully led many of the refugees down a discreet passage away from Gold¡¯s Bane, and the dark cloud that had befallen it. Many licks of flame and sprawling patterns of web should have provided enough coverage to give them a fighting chance at making it. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was the most they could hope to provide on such short notice.

    There weren''t many people left to save. Yet, alas, their time had run too thin.

    That man was out there. The broken shard of darkness and spite, the one that so despised her husband.

    Ash.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to hide from me, Octavia.¡±

    She flinched at the cut-throat sound of his voice. The children who weren¡¯t already crying erupted into waterworks. Octavia put a finger to her lips, shushing them. It was a small cruelty to deny their shrieks ¡ª their fear ¡ª when it was all they had left. Octavia dimmed her Mark to prevent it from being picked up by Ash¡¯s own spiritual senses.

    She bit down on her lip until it bled. How pathetic. She could do nothing for these children but pray.

    Octavia was a capable woman: she prided herself on that fact. But the man who was her brother-in-law, who Koa once spoke so highly of, was not the same figure that stalked them now. Juniper had somehow convinced Koa that his brother was still in there somewhere. She had heard stories of Ash from her husband on several occasions, recounting how the boy had acted before the confusion, loathing, and searing hatred had all consumed him.

    And back before Enos had dug his teeth into Ash¡¯s malleable brain.

    By all accounts, Ash had been lazy, despicable, and an absolute brat in every definition of the word.

    Yet terrorising the truly helpless . . . Octavia could not imagine the Ash she had heard so much about stooping that low.

    The demon in waiting, outside their cabins at that very moment, was not Ash. It was a vessel of Enos. A vessel of the strongest Unbounded to ever tyrannise Descent.

    Octavia was capable alright. But she was a Foot-Soldier. Who knew what Rank of power Ash could now rival? The floodgates had opened. She had seen his new cosmic form from afar when the fiend had first arrived at Gold¡¯s Bane.

    And to tell you the truth? It made the hairs at the back of her neck stand up.

    ¡°When I first heard that you had taken my brother¡¯s hand in marriage, I¡¯ll tell you the truth: I don¡¯t think anything on this earth has made me more disgusted.¡±

    An explosion in the middle-distance elicited a jolt from all seven children. Octavia put a hand on the youngest''s mouth, who had completely lost it. They continued to scream and shake against her hold, even as Octavia¡¯s fingers muffled the sound of it.

    Like a hammer smacking against an anvil over and over again, Octavia''s ears perked at the sound of footsteps.

    Too close!

    If Octavia fought against Ash, and if she lost . . . she didn¡¯t want to consider that reality. But it was becoming more real with every passing second. With each trudge closer to her cabin¡¯s door that fiend made.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you the truth, Octavia. I want to hurt that man. I want to see him cry and twist in my hold as I tear away everything he holds dear, right from his trembling fingers.¡±

    Another explosion.

    ¡°Why must you all resist, really?¡± Ash¡¯s voice boomed to the rooftops. ¡°I know you¡¯ve realised how futile the Celestial War is. How meaningless the gods¡¯ petty disputes really are. You¡¯re not stupid, so you must understand that.¡±

    Octavia wanted nothing more than for Ash to shut his trap.

    ¡°We were plucked out of the womb of creation for greed! For selfishness. The Unbounded do nothing but free us from the chains that shackle us. The chains of godhood that humanity insists on wearing. Think about it ¨C once the gods are destroyed, we¡¯ll finally be free! Free to live as we see fit.¡±

    The interior was completely silent now. Octavia could hear the movement of air in and out of her lungs, feel the expanse of the building seeming to close in on her. Those walls felt as petrified as she did. They waited anxiously for Ash to blast them into shrapnel. All of the Carpentry Clan¡¯s tireless work, blown into pieces, as if by nothing more than a stray gust of wind.

    ¡°I want the best for humanity, I¡¯m not the bad guy here! Your whole sense of morality is upside down!¡± Mania leaked into the boy¡¯s quivering voice. ¡°The gods want you to stab, and shred, and rip each other apart for their petty wars! Violence for an empty means. The Paladins kill with a cause, with a passion! It¡¯s an art; there¡¯s a purpose to it.¡±

    Octavia couldn¡¯t stop shaking. To have to hide repulsed her. She was a woman of action, of fiery doing. Her eyes locked with each of the young boys and girls in turn. They had barely lived. Such a miserable existence. The bud of the flower snubbed before it could ever bloom.

    Was this the best she could do for these children? To sit quietly and die first, so they could latch onto a few measly, extra seconds of life? She should have been ashamed of herself. That was not how the Arachnid Clan had raised her. They were warriors! The eight arms that extended out of her back made Octavia look like a monster built for war. Yet she acted like the meekest bug.

    Koa may have called her pretty, or beautiful, or any number of banalites, but Octavia knew what she was. And she was proud of it, god damn it! Children from other clans would take one glance at her and burst into tears. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    But these seven children huddling next to Octavia now, clinging onto her with their little fingers, had something far scarier out there to be fearful of.

    To see someone as strange and as frightening as Octavia for the first time, and to immediately trust them with your safety: it was not something to be overlooked. These children were so brave.

    There was no getting around it. Veida was not coming to save them. She was likely overwhelmed herself, leading another batch of refugees far away from where any Paladins could hurt them.

    There was a decision to be made. The cost of a life, evaluated in as little as a second.

    She made up her mind.

    Octavia grasped the shoulders gently of the eldest daughter, moving slowly so as not to alarm her.

    ¡°There¡¯s a back door leading away from here. Your mother hid the key underneath the mat. Do you think-¡± hesitation was a stone lodged into Octavia¡¯s throat, making her choke. Gods, she was asking so much of a child, but what other option was there? The Arachnid Clan were a tough lot, and their teachings had not failed Octavia yet.

    Sometimes in life, there were no good options. But that didn¡¯t mean you threw out the towel. It meant you gritted your teeth and carried on, enduring the hardship. It was the Arachnid Clan way.

    The loudest bang yet. Even Octavia winced at the ear-splitting noise. There wasn¡¯t any time.

    ¡°Do you know the way out of here?¡±

    The girl hesitated for a second. Then she nodded.

    ¡°Can I trust you to lead your siblings that way?¡±

    Her eyes widened. She was scared. Fear was like a bucket of paint splattered over the girl. You could see it in the way she didn¡¯t quite meet Octavia¡¯s eyes when speaking o her. In the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot, dancing the signature waltz of anxiety.

    Octavia crouched down, ruffling a hand through the child¡¯s hair. ¡°I know you¡¯re scared. Want to know a secret?¡±

    Octavia leaned in closer, cupping her mouth. ¡°I¡¯m scared too.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re making me do this Octavia! You made me kill these people!¡±

    The children squirmed.

    ¡°Shush, shush. It¡¯ll be alright.¡± Octavia turned back to the eldest daughter. It was a terrible thing to expect so much of her. She really was despicable. ¡°People who aren¡¯t scared are foolish. Stupid. Fear is good. Fear is what has kept humanity alive so long. But I want you to use that adrenaline. I want you to be brave for your mommy and me, and run as fast as you can. Don¡¯t stop running until you reach the rest of your people who lived here. There¡¯s a woman not far away. A very strong woman like your mother, called Veida. She¡¯ll take you someplace safe. I promise. Okay?¡±

    For the first time, the girl met Octavia¡¯s gaze head-on. ¡°What about you?¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Octavia forced a smile, as if nothing in the world could hurt her. ¡°I¡¯m going to be brave too.¡±

    Footsteps. Closer than ever.

    ¡°Go. Go!¡± She flicked her hands, turning to the rest of the children. ¡°Everything¡¯s going to be okay! Follow your sister! Go!¡±

    The children fled. Octavia watched them pass with a sad smile. Then, after maybe twenty seconds, she did something incredibly stupid.

    She activated her Mark to its full power.

    Like blazing a spotlight on herself, Octavia made it easy for Ash.

    Come. Octavia shot out wisps of thread, anchoring herself to the walls she knew would be undone any second now. I¡¯m right here Ash. I¡¯m right here!

    The right wall of the building was encased in white light.

    Octavia¡¯s body was sent flying to the ground. The bone of her cheek smashed against the leg of the table, tearing it off in the process. She hardly had time to look up before he was there, looming over her.

    Ash¡¯s jet black hair fell messily down to his shoulders, not having been cut for Passings. It was just one small sign of his possession, but the real giveaway was the flickering canvas of space covering his skin. Octavia took one look at the artwork of orbiting planets, distant blinking stars, and interstellar business, and had never felt more tiny.

    From out of the palm of her hand, a line of Supreme Steel silk zipped outwards. Ash didn¡¯t bother to parry the attack, simply taking one lazy step to the side.

    Was she always this slow, or was Ash insanely fast?

    Octavia felt her back pressing into the cabin¡¯s wall, wincing at the sudden chill touch of Ash¡¯s fingers, as they grappled against her throat.

    ¡°I wish Koa was here to see this.¡± He whispered, a manic mirth to his words. Her windpipe was completely restricted, and despite Octavia¡¯s attempts to swat uselessly at Ash¡¯s hold, it was no use.

    She could only think of the children. It had barely been a minute, and she was already on the verge of death. How much time could she hope to give them?

    ¡°Look at me.¡±

    If they died, if she couldn¡¯t buy them enough time, and Ash found them mid-escape-

    ¡°Look at me!¡±

    Octavia locked eyes with Ash. Hatred was a tangible thread anchoring them to each other. There was no sound other than their breathing, and the distant crackling of flame. If Octavia didn¡¯t think too hard, the mild prickling could be as innocuous as a lit hearth. Simply someone lighting their fireplace, and not a funeral pyre the size of a hamlet. She could always pretend that everything was going to be okay. To delude herself, so that the last few moments before her world was swallowed up by darkness wouldn''t be quite so unpleasant.

    But doing so would make her a coward. She had to face reality.

    ¡°Today is the day that I reveal what the Talents of the Future really are.¡± Ash said quietly. ¡°Nothing more than the eccentric fantasies of a man who doesn¡¯t know his place in this world. Edmar and I have some common goals, you see. I despise Koa, and he despises Remus! A match made in heaven, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Ash¡¯s eyes kept twitching to the side, his lips quivering like he wasn¡¯t quite sure if he believed the words he was saying. Octavia could hardly focus on anything but the bruises forming across her compressed throat, the asphyxiation dragging the life out of her. But she could see the uncertainty in the creases of Ash¡¯s face. Like the mask of Enos was growing thin in places, the small boy underneath showing through.

    His hold against Octavia loosened, but only slightly. ¡°With you dead, he¡¯ll finally know what a putrid failure he is. I land on top! Elmore always favoured him ¨C thought that I was good for nothing ¨C and I grew lazy! I allowed Koa to outdo me, but never again. He¡¯ll take one look the corpse of the ugly thing he called his wife, and he¡¯ll know-¡±

    His words were cut off by a dozen strings of Supreme Steel flinging into Ash at once. Ash may have been faster than Octavia, but the element of surprise was a hefty advantage. Ichor splattered across the room and Octavia commanded the strings to pull Ash back. Back, back, back! She slumped to the floor, hands on her sore throat, gasping for air, and worried for a second that she still couldn¡¯t breathe. When her lungs expanded with a newfound fullness, she wept from relief.

    Golden blood. Always to be overlooked at the scene of a fight, and probably not something she should be taking notice of, especially after narrowly escaping death. But it revealed much.

    As much as Enos had distorted him, bent his mind into a hideous new shape, ravaged his spirit, Ash was still mortal. Irrefutably human.

    At that moment, Octavia felt all her pent-up resentment for the man slip away. She was no longer afraid of the poor thing before her, for she realised the essential truth.

    He was just another victim in all this.

    But that didn¡¯t excuse his actions either.

    Octavia centred all of the atmospheric Infinity in the room and on her person, channelling each particle of divine essence into empowering her metallic strings. Fresh rivers of golden lifeforce flooded out of the man, who howled and writhed against the confines.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know you Ash.¡± She croaked, the words a thin rasp through her abused throat. ¡°But I know what you¡¯re not! You¡¯re not a monster, you¡¯re not a fiend like Enos is trying to make you believe. And whilst I have no reason to believe it, I feel it in my heart that you¡¯re not a bad person. You¡¯re a boy. A little scared boy!¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Ash jerked harshly to the side, undoing one of her strands. The rest wouldn¡¯t hold much longer, and it was taking all of Octavia¡¯s concentration just to maintain them. She didn¡¯t have long, but in whatever time she did have left, Octavia had a few things to say.

    ¡°Enos has coerced you, don¡¯t you see it? I know the authentic you falters at the blood dripping from your hands; at the awful things you¡¯ve found yourself capable of.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know . . .¡± There was a squelch, and two more strings snapped, as Ash twisted at an angle. ¡°Anything.¡±

    ¡°I know what¡¯s plainly apparent!¡± Octavia¡¯s trachea protested against the screaming, but he wasn¡¯t listening. ¡°I want you to know Ash, after you finally snap back to your senses . . . that I forgive you.¡±

    For half a second, Ash ceased to struggle. His face softened, his tensed muscles relaxed, and for the faintest instance, the darkness of his new form began to withdraw.

    ¡°Do you . . . ¡° his voice lost all of its ferocity, and he tilted his head at an angle. ¡°Really mean that?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I forgive you Ash for what you¡¯re about to do. I hate you for it, but I forgive you.¡±

    Ash paused again, the pale pallor of his face returning. Octavia watched, amazed, as the cosmic canvas crept away from his nape, down to his exposed chest, and-

    The final strands of her webbing were undone. Octavia blinked, and Koa¡¯s demonic form had returned in full.

    Before she could blink again, two of her tendrils were missing.

    She screamed out, bloody stumps all that were left of her legs.

    A wall of stone flew into her. Or, more accurately, she was thrown against it. The dislodged  material crushed the bones of Octavia¡¯s spine, and it was with a gurgle of noise that she was sent blasting through the house opposite.

    Ash was upon her, carrying her through the air, grabbing her by the throat as they smashed through wall after wall after wall. Octavia¡¯s body absorbed it all, and, like she had known from the beginning, it dawned on Octavia that she was going to die.

    You were right, Koa. She suddenly thought, her face a bloody mess of scrunched up features. I saw him. Ash. he¡¯s in there. It was only for a second, but you can bring him back.

    Octavia vaguely recognised the fact she was buried under a pile of rubble. At the brink of her own demise, her spiritual senses had never felt more acute. She dimly felt Ash some distance away, looking at the blood that now draped him, and screaming bloody murder.

    Bring him back, my love. Octavia felt her senses now becoming null, as if the earth was pulling itself out of her reach. If you bring him back, maybe ¨C just maybe ¨C I¡¯ll have helped to save one more child.

 131. Bankrupt

    Koa¡¯s eyes snapped open.

    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡±

    Tanguy jolted in his stool. The boy looked over to Koa, relief sagging his shoulders. ¡°Gods, for a moment there, I thought you weren¡¯t going to wake up. Are . . . are you okay?¡±

    Koa sat up in what looked to be a hospital bed, snugged tightly into the corner of a medical tent. As to where he was, nothing in the room betrayed any obvious clues. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I am. Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°The look on your face when you woke up. It was like there was a bad taste in your mouth. Though, considering the circumstances, I think we can say the same for all of us.¡±

    Koa rubbed his eyes, a banging headache attacking his senses. His limbs felt heavy as he tried to move out of the bed sheets. Tanguy quickly came over to assist him. ¡°Easy now. Don¡¯t move so suddenly ¨C not until we know what state you¡¯re in. For the gods¡¯ sakes, you¡¯ve been out for nearly three days.¡±

    ¡°Three days?¡± Koa blurted. The details of that harrowing night returned in a flash. Not heeding Tanguy¡¯s warning, he suddenly swept out of bed. ¡°What happened? Is the rebellion-¡±

    The blood rushed to Koa¡¯s head, and he almost slipped on his feet.

    ¡°Easy tiger.¡± Tanguy helped him back to his bedside, handing him a waterskin filled to the brim.

    Koa took a few long draws from the satchel, trying to quell the growing bud of panic that was firmly implanted in his mind. With each new detail of the Paladins¡¯ assault he recalled, a growing portrait of devastation was being painted. The seed of panic was now a garden; vines ensnaring every other unrelated thought, until Koa could think of nought but the misfortune that had befell them.

    ¡°Where are the others, are they alive? Where are Ash and Edmar? Did we lose?¡±

    With each additional question, Tanguy¡¯s frown only became deeper. ¡°One thing at a time.¡± He started with a sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s get the worst news out of the way. We lost. We lost terribly.¡±

    A pause. ¡°I had thought as much.¡±

    ¡°In the havoc of that dark night, our forces were scattered. Most fled to safety, and it¡¯ll be a long while before we track them all down. Then again, after this, I¡¯m not sure how many will want to return to our ranks.¡±

    ¡°Octavia, is she okay?¡±

    ¡°She left with Veida, I believe. They were escorting some refugees out of their settlement. I haven¡¯t seen her, but your wife is a strong woman. I¡¯m sure she made it out.¡±

    Koa dreaded to think otherwise.

    ¡°Is . . . ¡° He wasn¡¯t sure how to word this, or if it was an appropriate thing to even ask. Koa was self-aware. He knew how others thought of him, how their friendliness became surface level whenever he insisted that Ash could still be saved. To them, it was pitiful that he dared suggest anything of the sort; that even for a minute, he entertained the notion that there were ways to end the boy¡¯s torment, other than death.

    ¡°Was Ash killed?¡±

    ¡°No. But by the gods, I wish-¡±

    At one look at Koa¡¯s leer, Tanguy cut himself off. ¡°Sorry. That was callous of me. He departed after a terrible blow had been dealt to Gold¡¯s Bane. He was apparently covered in blood and screaming, running for the hills. Not even flying away. Just sprinting and shrieking at the top of his lungs.¡±

    ¡°Screaming? As in a battle cry?¡±

    ¡°As in the way a child shouts, when they think they¡¯ve seen a monster under their bed. Primal fear. Horror.¡±

    An unspoken question loomed over both of their heads.

    What in all of Descent could frighten someone like Ash?

    In his new form, Ash was the kind of person you ran away screaming from.

    A clamorous bang overhead, like the beating of two clambels, drew Koa¡¯s attention upwards. ¡°What was that?¡±

    Tanguy lifted up the flap of their tent. ¡°Come outside. I think it¡¯ll be easier for you to understand if you see it with your own eyes.¡±

    Raising an eyebrow, Koa followed at Tanguy¡¯s heels, the overt brightness of day like a knife through the cornea.

    Koa could only gape foolishly at the awesome spectacle.

    Two titans clashed for dominance in the sky. Rivulets of Inklings, and Tyrants ¨C the strange, crystal currency of Eclipse and the Ravaged Lands ¨C formed shimmering rivers that coursed beneath the clouds. They all led back to the same central figure, perched on the chest of one mighty, golden construct. Koa had to squint to see him, but Edmar¡¯s statuesque body was like a gem sighted on the horizon.

    ¡°He¡¯s still here?¡±

    Opposing the golden man was First Rite¡¯s figurative golden boy. Remus floated in the centre of his plasma giant, his body a slither of heat barely distinct within the sun-hot light. Tiny orbs of obsidian ejected out of his flaming behemoth, detonating upon contact with Edmar¡¯s swarming coinage, and exploding holes into the streaks of wealth.

    The two monoliths of power sent gales sweeping across an empty plain that ensnared them. Now that Koa bothered to look around, he recognised how familiar their surroundings were, and how utterly alien at the same time. His mind automatically filled in the blanks to where his subconscious expected to see buildings standing, clansmen sparring, and other festivities transpiring. It all washed away, as easily as a layer of paint yet to dry.

    Gold¡¯s Bane had been razed to the ground. In fact, everywhere for miles all around had been reduced to a wilting wasteland.

    ¡°If I heard you correctly Tanguy,¡± Koa said slowly. ¡°Then I¡¯ve been asleep for three days.¡±

    ¡°Two nights and two days exactly. Our third night will be upon us soon.¡±

    ¡°So you mean to tell me that Remus has been in a stalemate against Edmar all that time? Does the boy not ever sleep?¡±

    Tanguy looked as hard-pressed as he was to accept the reality. ¡°He¡¯s been tunnel-visioned on keeping Edmar preoccupied, long enough for the Rebellion to escape. It¡¯s probably not what Remus would have wanted, but I decided to stay. Both to look after you, and make sure he¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t think he can go on much longer than this.¡±

    ¡°That giant of his? He¡¯s kept that technique sustained all this time?¡±

    ¡°Not entirely. Eventually they¡¯ll both wear each other out, and resort to simpler modes of combat. It doesn''t get any dirtier than a simple bare-knuckled fight. But soon, they¡¯ll start right up again, when they can muster the energy. That cycle has repeated half a dozen times already, and while I¡¯ve been tempted to intervene, that would leave you exposed. I suspect there¡¯s a few colonies of Paladins hiding out here, waiting for their general to finish combat. They¡¯d just love the opportunity to please Ash by killing his unconscious brother.¡±

    That answer unsettled Koa, but Tanguy wasn¡¯t finished.

    ¡°Though I guess the real reason I haven¡¯t jumped in, apart from being a coward, is that this fight is way out of my league. Guys like them,¡± Tanguy shook his head. ¡°I used to always think of myself as this big macho guy, but we¡¯re not cut from the same thread. People like Remus and Edmar, they just don¡¯t quit.¡±

    Despite how much his pride didn¡¯t want to admit it, that same sentiment was echoed in Koa. Simply observing the atrocity of Remus fighting at his full power was a practice in humility.

    ¡°Do we know the locations of anyone?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Violet is recovering after splitting herself into a thousand parts.¡± Tanguy muttered those words another time under his breath, hunching down and not moving his eyes off the fight. ¡°Now that I think about it, Projections really are weird. As for Aziel and Veida, they¡¯re reporting to our other outposts. Somebody has to inform them of the devastation that occurred here. I just hope it doesn¡¯t crush their spirits too much.¡±

    Koa wanted to ask more, but there wasn¡¯t much else to find out. At the core of it all, the Talents had suffered a tremendous defeat. That¡¯s all there was to it. A hard pill to swallow, but more enquiries wouldn¡¯t make it any easier.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m all better. Now we have no more excuses to stand by and watch as Remus puts his neck out for us.¡±

    I can¡¯t imagine what he¡¯s feeling right now. Koa tangentially reached out for the faintest glimmers of power his Mark emitted. After he was fairly sure he could fight without erupting in pain, he activated his Mark completely. I know he feels responsible. That¡¯s why he keeps fighting. He thinks that ¨C in some small way ¨C this¡¯ll make up for it.

    ¡°Perhaps I have been delaying the inevitable.¡± Koa sensed the echo of his own activation in Tanguy, flames searing across his companion¡¯s arms. ¡°Let¡¯s do this, nice and-¡±

    Koa felt as if the light of a thousand suns was being projected into his many eyes, all at once. He winced, stumbled back, and by the time he could see again, couldn¡¯t believe the sight that graced him.

    Hundreds of thousands, likely millions of Inklings, Tyrants, and some other strange currencies Koa wasn¡¯t completely familiar with, all vanished in a literal flash. Edmar, alongside his three-headed giant of gold, gone with it. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    An emptiness now characterised Gold¡¯s Bane. Empty sky, empty land.

    And a man falling to the earth.

    The pair of them raced over in a burst of power. The second Remus came within arm¡¯s reach, they gasped him.

    For a second, none of them could do anything but breathe.

    Remus could have been a hundred years Koa¡¯s senior, and Koa would have easily believed it. Thin skin was pulled taunt across his face. His eyes were rheumy with a kind of desperately sad affliction. Like an old man looking back on his glory days, hoping to salvage some comfort as the years went on. Yet there was no sanctum to be found in the past or present, and nothing was reflected in Remus¡¯ eyes but the path of destruction he had led.

    ¡°Toying.¡± He whispered.

    Koa and Tanguy shared a glance.

    ¡°Remus, let¡¯s get you to bed, okay? It¡¯s my turn to look after you now.¡± Koa did his best to put on one of those motherly expressions Octavia would adorn, whenever at the aid of the sick or needy. ¡°We can have you and Violet recovering in the same infirmary. The Vitality Sect will do everything in their power to put you back in tip-top fighting shape.¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t protest as they dragged him into a sitting position, but he didn¡¯t exactly comply either. He merely laid there, like a ragdoll. ¡°He was toying with me. That whole time . . .¡±

    The man didn¡¯t seem to blink. Even as Tanguy and Koa silently made a makeshift gurney to carry him on, he merely looked up to the cloudless sky. His eyes were glossy, and no matter how hard Koa tried, he couldn¡¯t imagine what the man was thinking.

    ¡°Tanguy.¡± Koa whispered, as they began the long road towards the next outcrop of civilization. A nearby hamlet between First Rite and their current locale had been transformed into a medical camp. ¡°I think . . . I think Remus is pretty messed up.¡±

    It was the understatement of the century.

    Tanguy merely nodded. The Fire clansman didn¡¯t dare look away from Remus, as if checking to make sure the fragile flickers of life remaining in his body didn¡¯t puff out.

    ¡°Stop.¡± Remus said abruptly.

    When they didn¡¯t oblige, he said it louder. ¡°Stop!¡±

    Koa shared another weary glance with Tanguy. Maybe it was because Koa had so many, but he was finding it surprisingly easy to communicate with his eyes alone.

    Before they could put him down, Remus rolled off the gurney. He crashed to the ground unceremoniously, limping to a shaky stand.

    He pointed a wobbly finger at Tanguy. ¡°You.¡± He slurred, as if drunk. ¡°Fire-man.¡±

    Tanguy pointed at himself and nodded. Koa might have laughed at the pantomime, if he wasn¡¯t so concerned that one of his best friends was intellectually impaired. Koa had slept for three days after exerting himself non-stop for one. Remus, being the overachiever he was by nature, had been fighting with Edmar that entire time, and the gods¡¯ knew that Remus gave everything he had in a fight. Once the man finally did catch some shut-eye, he might not wake up until the next Rebirth. Hyperbolically speaking or not, they mustn¡¯t allow Remus to brush aside the recovery time he needed.

    ¡°Can¡¯t rest yet. Not until we . . . make graves.¡±

    Koa paused. In tandem, he and Tanguy roved their eyes over the barren wasteland of dust and sand. How many bodies would they find here?

    ¡°Remus.¡± Tanguy said slowly. ¡°It¡¯s a nice thought, but remember what¡¯s at stake here. We don¡¯t know when the Paladins could return, to swoop in and finish off the leader of the Talents. You. If that happened, the Rebellion really would be over.¡±

    Remus shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t try to salvage what¡¯s already broken.¡± He was suddenly absorbed in a hacking cough. ¡°These men and women fought because they believed I knew what I was doing. They-¡± he bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around himself. After shivering for a second, Remus raised his head. ¡°At least deserve a proper farewell.¡±

    Koa spoke vehemently. ¡°And they¡¯ll get one. We can regather our forces, and once the dust has settled, send a grave unit to collect the bodies. It¡¯s safer that way. You need to be more selfish! This all falls apart if you die here.¡±

    ¡°Selfish?¡± Remus suddenly jolted to alertness. ¡°All I¡¯ve been my entire life is . . . is selfish. Funeral. Today. That¡¯s an-¡± his eyes regained that dreamy quality. ¡°Order.¡±

    Remus passed out, his head banging across the edge of the gurney.

    Tanguy slapped himself in the face. With a sigh, he regarded the unconscious man, with a wistful glimmer in his eye. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s stupidly dangerous to hang around here any longer. But if that¡¯s what the boss wants.¡± Koa shrugged. ¡°Who am I to argue?¡±

    Night was finally settling. The pallid light of a full moon leaked from the sky, and it was with a methodical silence that Koa and Tanguy set about their dark business. Their goal was to finish searching before the breaking of dawn. Of course, neither light nor dark would provide any surefire safety, and Unbounded tended to be much more active in the night-time hours. Now that Koa thought about it, this place should have been crawling with fiends.

    ¡°Their fight.¡± He blurted.

    Tanguy shot him a glance. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Their fight ¨C Remus against Edmar. It scared off the Unbounded around for miles. Now that it¡¯s over, they¡¯ll be returning soon. Like maggots. When they find hundreds of abandoned corpses . . .¡±

    Tanguy shivered. ¡°No wonder he was so adamant. There can¡¯t be a more undignified way to treat the dead, than to let them be eaten.¡±

    Koa looked down at the gurney. They always moved it within eyesight as they travelled from section to section of the battlefield. Already, they had a few piles of dead bodies. There was no time for individual graves. The best they¡¯d be able to provide was one giant funeral pyre. The stink of rotten flesh would haunt the place for decades after they were done, but then again, this stretch of wasteland wouldn¡¯t recover for at least a century anyway.

    Growing up in the Wilderness Clan, Koa had always been surrounded by nature in all its forms. But these badlands they had scorched into the earth ¨C it was like one ugly scar that Chantal herself would retch at. Koa wondered if his goddess would ever forgive him for playing his part in the catastrophe. His sect was supposed to protect nature, not tarnish it.

    The first few carcasses were enough to make Koa gag. After that, he must have adjusted to the sight and smell, for neither he nor Tanguy dared to complain as they piled up the dead.

    He was reminded of Elmore, and Donovan. What he wouldn¡¯t give to speak to them one last time.

    I don¡¯t know what to do, Elmore. Nothing¡¯s going right. Ash ¨C how do I help Ash?

    Part of Koa listened out to the howling of the wind between the distant canyons, hoping to recognise his cousin¡¯s deep monotone amongst the breeze. He heard nothing but sand slipping past.

    ¡°There¡¯s a settlement not far from here: the one I mentioned earlier, with all the refugees.¡± Tanguy scattered away Koa¡¯s reverie.  ¡°Would you mind heading over there?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Keep an eye on him for me.¡±

    With that, Koa jogged over the short distance. Even when he was a long past the outskirts of Gold¡¯s Bane, he couldn¡¯t stop smelling the rot of meat. No matter how many times he blinked, those mountains of limp bodies remained in focus. He called away his many eyes, hoping that would help, but the image was locked firmly in his mind.

    You would think that after seeing a corpse so many times, you would become jaded to it. Maybe in the moment, but then the memories would arrive. The images would stay inside your head, long into the night. Like an impression carved into the bone of your skull.

    It didn¡¯t get any easier.

    Koa halted as the charred infrastructure of what had once been a row of buildings emerged into view. Even those planks of supportive wood were on the verge of collapse, the walls hallowed out as piles of detritus stuffed the streets. Koa felt his heartbeat increasing as he edged closer and closer to the settlement.

    Situated here had been the weakest people in proximity to Gold''s Bane. People who were truly helpless in the world of brutal violence that was Descent, destined to be cut down like lambs to the slaughter if nobody intervened. Koa could stomach seeing the bodies of warriors, but wasn¡¯t sure how he¡¯d hold up coming across innocent fathers, mothers, and children. It was easy to forget about those roles when somebody looked the part of a fighter. Suited in armour, Mark glaring in potent power. Without any of that, all that was left of a person was who they were to other people. It was the loss of that which hurt the most.

    He searched well for a few minutes, but much to his relief, most of the refugees appeared to have escaped.

    Octavia and Veida led these people to safety. We¡¯re forever in their debt.

    Koa continued onwards. It was about time he headed back to Tanguy. They would need to start lighting up the bodies soon. He wasn¡¯t exactly excited at such a grim prospect, but their fighters deserved a noble departure from this world. Maybe their spirits would meet a better fate. He prayed that they rested easy.

    In a not so distant alternate reality, Koa would have walked away. If not for the myriad of eyeballs that floated behind him ¨C if the Pet-Keeper had never robbed him of not just his closest friends, but his half his sight ¨C then it would have been so easy to miss. Part of him wished he hadn¡¯t seen it.

    An arm. Sticking out from a boulder.

    Every cell in his body seemed to go still. Every action slowing to a snail¡¯s pace, he craned his neck to the side.

    A furred arm laid limp in a pool of Ichor. His mind stopped thinking, but step by step, his legs carried him closer to the site of the incident. Now that he knew what to look out for, that gloomy scent of power was everywhere. Ash had been here.

    Koa must have stood there for a minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.

    The body was still there.

    He moved closer to the pile of rubble. It was nothing special, simply another razed building. The entire settlement appeared to have been struck by a landslide. But natural disasters didn¡¯t hold a vendetta against Koa: his brother did.

    Stone by stone, he began removing the rock. He didn¡¯t allow himself to think, for thinking would make everything all the more real. Ignorance was bliss, but with how puffy his eyes were starting to go, Koa wasn¡¯t sure he could stay ignorant for long.

    A black body was exposed beneath the waste, crooked tendrils either sliced off or crushed. The blood was cold to the touch. She had been laying here for a while. All alone. Something told Koa that nobody had been there to comfort her through the final moments.

    There was no point denying it. From the moment Koa had first seen that arm protruding out, he¡¯d know the truth. That it was his wife whose Ichor muddied the earth.

    ¡°Octavia.¡± He spoke the word like it was the most precious sound in all the human vocal range. Barely above a whisper.

    Koa wrapped his arms around what was left of her body, not caring that he was soaking his shirt through. On one of her more humanoid arms, the ones with fingers ¨C distinct from her stubby, spindly tendrils ¨C Koa¡¯s eyes ran towards a wedding band.

    The ring was cracked. The jewel that Koa had placed inside was nowhere to be seen.

    In the culture of the Arachnid Clan, the husband didn¡¯t wear a wedding ring ¨C only the wife. The memories came flowing back, and Koa recalled how he had stressed for days, deciding how he was going to make it. His Delicate Touch Mould was especially adept at crafting fine details, but something that demanded such precedence made him sweat bullets. He had eventually settled on a simple design, cursing his overthinking.

    It was crafted out of the wood of an elmore tree, the material crystalised inside of that same tree¡¯s sap. If his cousin was still here, he would have asked him to be the best man at the wedding. This was a crude alternative, but anything that made him feel closer to Elmore was comforting.

    The crystal had been a purple jewel. He wasn¡¯t quite sure what exact kind it was, only that he¡¯d bargained for it on the markets of Hybrid, picking the prettiest one he could find.

    Slowly, he slipped the ring off Octavia¡¯s finger, placing it on his own. It was almost cruel how well it fit.

    Koa opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and repeated the cycle a dozen more times. The boulder lodged into his throat wouldn¡¯t budge.

    Without a word, not bothering to wash the tears off his cheeks, Koa picked up his wife¡¯s body. Carrying her, he trudged back towards the remains of Gold¡¯s Bane.

    Tanguy had taken it upon himself to start the fires early. Koa locked his eyes on them, as the bodies of a thousand brave warriors returned to Infinity.

    There was one more to join them.

 132. Weight of The World

    Remus almost wished he hadn¡¯t woken up.

    He sat up in bed, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and squinted against the glaring light of a nearby window. Upon brief inspection, he discovered himself to be occupying what resembled an army barrack. Rows of beds, identical to his own, were placed down the rectangular expanse. Each of them housed a different patient, a plethora of bandages, medical equipment, and doting doctors filling the space in-between.

    Koa¡¯s words returned to him, though only vaguely. Something about a medical camp. Remus must have been taken there, his three-day fiasco with Edmar rendering him utterly incapacitated. For the first real time, Remus had brushed against the very boundaries of his power as a Vanguard. A humbling experience, to say the least. He had regarded his first fight with Edmar as an intense experience, but that didn¡¯t hold a candle to what had taken place over the last few nights.

    Physically, Remus felt only numb. Which was to say, he didn¡¯t feel much of anything at all. He was tired ¨C more fatigued than he¡¯d ever imagined possible ¨C but alive and well. In one piece, and, for the most part, recovered. He wished he could say the same for everyone else.

    A few of the more alert patients shifted in their covers. Once they caught a glimpse of Remus, a frenzy of whispers swarmed the room. The patient closest to Remus had several layers of wrapping circling around his brow. Judging by the damp gold that was bleeding through the material, he was due a replacement. That man leaned closer towards him, and, to his surprise, Remus recognised his worn facial features.

    He didn¡¯t know them by name, and their clan eluded memory. But Remus had most definitely seen him strolling around Gold¡¯s Bane. Now that he thought about it, he reconsigned every one of the figures that shared the space with him. They were all warriors of Gold¡¯s Bane.

    A place that no longer existed.

    ¡°They say I¡¯m going to lose a leg.¡± The man said, matter-of-factly. ¡°It¡¯ll be a miracle if I can ever fight again.¡±

    He uttered nothing more, staring at Remus. Despite how cool the room should have been, with several of the windows lifted open, Remus suddenly felt very hot.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± The man repeated. His eyes seemed to glaze over, as he lowered his head back to the pillow. ¡°While you were sleeping, I was thinking of what to say when you woke up. At first I was furious at you. I wanted to make you feel bad. I wanted you to hurt. Maybe if you felt guilty for what had happened, I could feel a little better about it myself.¡± He rolled to the side, facing away from Remus. ¡°Now? You son of a gun, with an expression as glum as that, even I feel bad for you.¡±

    The words hung in the air. Remus was abruptly aware of a dozen eyes locked on him, like arrows knocked by well trained archers.

    He could almost hear the rustling of a bowstring, and their comments soon followed. A volley of ferocity.

    ¡°We thought we could trust you.¡±

    ¡°The nurses from the Vitality Sect ¨C they told me ¨C they told me I might not make it.¡±

    The utterances all seemed to coalesce in one ugly form. Remus could feel an invisible beast digging its talons deep into his back, taking shape as his own personal tormenter. Feeding off the spite, the blame, the absolute hopelessness.

    ¡°Please . . . please help me.¡±

    ¡°You lying bastard! We trusted you, we-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to die, Remus. Tell me I¡¯m not going to die.¡±

    ¡°We trusted you, we . . .¡±

    The last voice broke off into a series of whimpers.

    Remus felt a colossal weight pressing him down. That invisible demon feasted on the people¡¯s words; revelled in their despair like a king to a banquet. Remus must have been going mad, for he swore he could hear demonic, mirthful laughter spiralling out of control, filling every nook and cranny of his head. It hurt to think. He couldn¡¯t spend a second longer in this room ¨C it felt like being suffocated as the place was slowly filled with smoke.

    ¡°Please.¡± He mumbled, clasping hands over his ears. ¡°Stop, just stop.¡±

    A clanswoman flung herself to the plank floor with a rattling crash. She grabbed ahold of Remus¡¯ bedside, pulling herself closer as Vitality clansmen all around desperately tried to get ahold of the situation. Through the dishevelled locks of her long hair, a manic, sad little smile curved the woman¡¯s lips. ¡°You¡¯ll help us, won¡¯t you Remus? You¡¯ll make it all better? You have a plan ¨C you must!¡±

    His unreal tormenter held him in a headlock, stronger than ever. Nobody else could see it. Why couldn¡¯t they see it ¨C the horned thing choking him to within arm¡¯s reach of death? He wanted to scream out for help, but found it impossible to say anything at all.

    Look at what you¡¯ve done. The dark presence whispered. These people suffered for you. They suffer for you still. For you! And you can¡¯t even bring yourself to say anything.

    Remus realised he was hyperventilating. With all the strength he could muster, he vowed to drag himself away. Away from the deranged woman, away from the Vitality clansman sprinting up and down the crowded hall. He crashed to the ground, pulled himself to a stand on shaky feet, and limped out of the chamber.

    A doctor said something to him, but the words went over Remus¡¯ head. Up above, his eyes were drawn to a sign that revealed the occupants of the ward: the most traumatised of the battle¡¯s survivors. That explained his rude awakening.

    Remus shuffled out the room, placed a hand on a nearby wall for support, and fought with all his strength to steady his breathing. It was like trying to whip an animal into submission, but after a time, that invisible presence seemed to disappear. Remus stood up a little straighter, blinked a few times until his eyes cleared, and took in the surroundings.

    It was another rectangular hall, seeming to connect the various wards of the hospital. The place was somehow even busier than the chamber he had just left. Everywhere the eye could see, a dawning realisation was becoming all the more clear: the Vitality Sect had never been under such stress. Some carried injured clansmen to specialised departments. A few fatigued doctors shambled out of the building to catch their due of sleep, as new, weary-eyed doctors came in to replace them.

    Remus almost jumped when something touched his shoulder. Part of him seemed to still be in battle, anticipating attack.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake!¡± A woman suddenly said.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m-¡± Remus blinked. Then it hit him.

    The clanswoman before him. With her ageing, bespectacled face, her motherly mien, and a keen eye for injury ¨C it was Saige.

    ¡°It¡¯s been so long!¡± She blurted, bursting into a hug.

    As she attempted to crush his spine, Remus was taken aback, all the memories returning like a slap in the face. Days spent in constant pain by the hands of Edmar were made a little easier by Saige¡¯s presence. He suddenly recalled the bitter medicine she would force him to down, the boring days spent shut inside the Carpentry Clan as he festered in rage and hatred. Rebirths had passed since then, and here he was again. Beaten bloody by that same damn tax-collector.

    For all the care he had provided to Andreas during his final days, Remus would always be indebted to her.

    ¡°We really have to stop meeting like this.¡± Remus found the mirth to joke. It seemed almost rude to be jovial in such a gloomy environment. As contrasting as shooting light into an abyss of shadow.

    ¡°Remus, I¡¯m so sorry about all this.¡± Remus could tell Saige meant every word. How could he stay angry at her?

    ¡°By the time you got here, most of the wards were full. Placing you amongst people not in their right minds probably wasn¡¯t the best idea. Who knows what might have happened if you didn¡¯t get out of there sooner. On behalf of all of the Vitality Sect, forgive our negligence.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it Saige.¡± All that temporary joy at seeing her again had already worn off. Now that suffocating feeling was returning ¨C brooding shadow gathering into the invisible demon once more. ¡°When we get down to it, all of this is really just my fault.¡±

    ¡°Remus-¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°How can it not be?¡± Remus¡¯ voice was strangely calm. They were dealing with the brutal facts here, the fat of emotion cut from the bone. ¡°We can¡¯t blame those people for being angry, after what I did to them.¡±

    Saige said nothing for a long time. She looked at Remus like one might stare pitifully at an injured deer, knowing nothing can be done to save them. ¡°Why don¡¯t I lead you to some of your friends Remus? They¡¯ve been asking non-stop about you since you first arrived here. It would do you some good to speak with people who care about you. I know it¡¯s hard to believe, Remus, but you can¡¯t blame yourself for everything that happened.¡±

    ¡°If I hadn¡¯t started that rebellion Saige, tell me ¨C would we be standing in this hospital right now? Would the Vitality Sect be working until their last breath to support an army that has been scattered?¡±

    She paused. ¡°After all the impossible things you¡¯ve been through, Remus, you still have a lot to learn. I know you¡¯re hurt, but wallowing in self-pity isn¡¯t going to help anyone.¡±

    Something in Remus¡¯ chest tightened. That invisible entity squirmed. Self-pity? Did she not see the same devastation that he saw? The bodies up in flames for all the world to see? Remus suddenly wanted to retort with the most rude thing he could think of. Then he immediately felt guilty for how childish he was being. When had he reverted back into a hateful little boy?

    ¡°There have been talks about revolting against Damosh for decades, Remus. Don¡¯t think that it was only your leadership that spurred these people to sacrifice their lives and health. You are not the messiah of the world Remus. You are not a child of prophecy, or a curse unleashed upon Descent by the fickle will of creation.¡±

    Her words were blows to the stomach. Where was this coming from? And why did everything she say hurt him so much? Saige stabbed a knife through a weak-spot he hadn¡¯t known himself to possess.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let yourself believe for a second that all of this fighting, all of this bloodshed, has come about because a seventeen year old boy holds a vendetta. You may have played a role in what has happened ¨C fine. But let¡¯s say you weren¡¯t here. Do you think the world would do nothing, like sitting ducks, as Damosh continued to terrorise Descent¡¯s greatest city? If you weren¡¯t here, someone else would have rallied the forces that fill this hospital now.¡±

    Remus couldn¡¯t think of a reply. Saige¡¯s words were still replaying in his mind as she began relaying directions to where his companions were recuperating.

    They had their own hut, apparently. A little temporary headquarters as they assessed and debated what the next step was. Remus wondered how they could be so blind.

    Wasn¡¯t it obvious? There was no next step. There was nothing more to be done.

    After pestering him for a while, and running some basic check-ups, Saige permitted Remus to do as he wished. He made a beeline for the nearest exit, desperate for a breath of fresh air and to be free from the stink of chlorine.

    Outside, the view was nothing if not scenic. Grasslands were a familiar carpet beneath his feet, and Remus espied green hills in the middle-distance, their craggy reaches forming a protective barrier around the quaint outpost. In a kind of lingering moisture, a faint mist hung to the place. The ghostly veil reminded Remus distinctly of graveyards, and he could imagine dozens of tombstones erected into the earth here. He made a mental note to make that vision a reality. The ashes of his soldiers floated in the breeze, carried far away to the furthest reaches of Descent. There were no bodies to bury, but it was the least he could do to commemorate their sacrifice.

    Facing the wind, cloak flapping behind him, was Koa.

    He recognised Remus from the sound of his footfalls alone, not bothering to turn around. ¡°A sad few days for the Talents of the Future.¡±

    Remus murmured his assent. He was too red-faced to say anything else. Awkwardly, he walked over to the man¡¯s side. It was early in the day, and the sun was rising in the distance. The gentle heat swept across Remus¡¯ features, the sun kissing his brow.

    ¡°Tell me Remus.¡± Koa said abruptly, staring off into the distance. ¡°Do you believe in an afterlife?¡±

    He took a second to think. ¡°I . . . don¡¯t know. It¡¯s a comforting thought to be sure, but I¡¯m a practical man, Koa. Things that can¡¯t be explained, that don¡¯t immediately affect me ¨C I just tend not to think about them.¡± He sighed. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s my undoing.¡±

    There must have been a shore of some kind nearby, for the shriek of seagulls resounded through the air. They were far from the ocean, so perhaps a lake or the like was attracting the birds. Remus tried to let the world slip away, meditating on the sound.

    ¡°I never believed in it myself. Always thought it was just a way for people not to be so sad when their loved ones passed. A reprieve, of sorts.¡± Koa refused to turn around, though Remus could easily see him fidgeting with one of his fingers.

    The ring glinted in the morning light, its cracked contours completely illuminated. Only at that moment did Remus realise he had never seen Koa wearing a wedding band. Not until now, at least.

    ¡°Yet lately, I¡¯m left with no choice but to hope for that sanctuary myself. Endings are hard to accept sometimes. They¡¯re uncaring, brutal things, endings. They¡¯ll arrive whenever they wish, not caring to take notice of the moment surrounding them. Things could be good ¨C things could be perfect ¨C and they¡¯ll swoop in like an axe to a stem.¡±

    He turned around now. For some reason, the sight of Koa crying almost made Remus stumble back.

    ¡°I found her body while you were unconscious. She died alone under a pile of stone, protecting some children from . . . from my brother.¡±

    And suddenly, that demon on Remus¡¯ back returned with full force, talons twisting deep into his soul. His chest and throat were constricted, and Remus spluttered moronically before finally getting the words out.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    Why could he only offer empty platitudes at times like these?

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Koa huffed, puffy eyes venomous. ¡°Who to be angry at. You led the rebellion, and for that reason alone, a chunk of me might hate you more than Edmar does. I would have moved mountains for that woman; still would.¡±

    Koa¡¯s hands balled into fists. They were shaking.

    ¡°Everyone I¡¯ve ever cared about suffers and I¡¯m forced to accept it!¡± He suddenly erupted, swatting at his thigh over and over again. ¡°Elmore and Donovan died for me and Ash. But now my brother, even he¡¯s slipping away. And the worst part is ¨C I don¡¯t know ¡ª gods, I don¡¯t know if I can ever bring myself to forgive him. What was the point in any of this? Why does everybody have to die in the name of some vague war?¡±

    ¡°And you.¡± Remus was helpless as Koa levelled a finger at his chest. ¡°Always so self-obsessed. Either drowning in your misery or lost in your ambition. When will you stop being such a self-absorbed prick and think about the people around you!¡±

    Remus couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. ¡°I would do anything to see those people brought back from the dead Koa. Anything. How dare you suggest otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Would you really, Remus? Would you really? Or would you see the blood of three more armies drown out this earth, if that¡¯s what it takes to realise your goals? You might mourn their loss for a day or two, but then you¡¯ll gather more cannon fodder. Move on to the next sacrifice.¡± Koa was barely a hair away, and Remus could hear the man¡¯s heart beating, feel his hot breath slap against his face. ¡°You''re just as bad as the Unbounded. You¡¯d do anything to achieve what you want, and it makes me sick.¡±

    Remus pushed Koa back violently. His words were a trembling, dangerous whisper. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who lost people yesterday Koa. I¡¯m grieving too. These people always meant something to me. Not once did I think of them as some kind of pawn to play with at my-¡±

    ¡°My wife is dust in the wind Remus!¡± Koa grasped Remus by the hem of his tunic. ¡°She died for your cause. Do you hear me? Died for you! I¡¯ll never get to . . . to wake up to her smile again.¡±

    Koa was shaking now, the tears dropping onto Remus¡¯ shirt. ¡°That¡¯s the difference between you and me Remus: I lost the last person in my life I truly loved ¨C the only resemblance to a family I had left ¨C and you? You lost a few soldiers!¡±

    A wave of heat immersed Remus'' body, and for one terrible second, he lost control of himself. Koa was pressing against him, and, without thinking, Remus wrenched him to the ground. ¡°Don¡¯t you weigh your suffering over mine! I¡¯m hurting too, Koa ¨C don¡¯t paint me as some kind of heartless sociopath!¡±

    The Foot-Soldier smashed against the ground at his feet, hard. The heat of the moment passed, and Remus immediately realised his mistake.

    Koa launched himself back into a stand, wiping a streak of blood away from his nose. He glanced at the drying Ichor left on his thumb. As if it was all the evidence he would ever need to prove he was right about Remus. About what he had become.

    ¡°I hate you.¡±

    Remus was crying too now. The air became a prison of screams and shrieks, as the two men threw themselves against one another. They didn¡¯t even bother to activate their Marks, or channel Infinity, or do anything of the sort. It was just fist-fighting.

    All of their pent-up emotion bottled over, and feelings of resentment they couldn¡¯t express in words were imbued into each strike. Hatred was conjured up, and hatred not exclusive to each other, but it didn¡¯t matter ¨C all of it came pouring out. Remus thought of Edmar and Damosh as he threw and took each hit, about every damn villain or hero that played their part in the greatest tirade of existence: the Celestial War. Something told him that a similar occurrence was happening in Koa¡¯s mind. The gods knew he had his own demons to wrestle with.

    A minute passed, but neither of them deigned to stop.

    They were too far away from camp for anyone to break up the fight, if they even possessed the power to. There was no energy from their Marks to indicate their quiet violence, nobody in proximity who could hear their screeching, nobody who could make the pain go away. Isolated from the world he was shackled to, Remus allowed his better inhibitions to break down.

    Remus didn¡¯t know how long their scuffle actually lasted. All he could recall was how hoarse his throat felt, how puffy his red eyes became. Crying and screaming. That¡¯s all there was to it.

    After a time, the two men suddenly stopped. Remus took a moment to collect himself, taking in the mess that had developed around them. They were covered in Ichor, dripping with the stuff.

    Koa swayed on his feet. The two of them simply stared at one another. There was a moment of indecision, when they finally saw the monsters they had become, and then the emotion was drained out of the world. They had nothing left to give.

    All of Koa¡¯s rage suddenly slipped away from him, and he crumpled in Remus¡¯ arms. ¡°Octavia died! She¡¯s never coming back! She¡¯s dead, she¡¯s dead, she¡¯s. . .¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Remus croaked hoarsely, comforting his dear friend. ¡°I know.¡±

    Koa buried his face into Remus'' shoulder. Remus sighed, and as the clouds splurged open in mourning, he spotted a familiar silhouette, murky amidst the downfall. Violet perched silently on a boulder nearby. She regarded his bloody form sadly, not moving a muscle.

    They locked eyes, and with the sobbing of a broken man echoing in their ears, said nothing.

 133. Megalomaniac

    Blood soaked the streets of First Rite.

    Edmar marched down the alleyways of the winding city, a sprawling cloak of deep maroon disguising his appearance. It rustled in the chill of a gusty morning, and Edmar could see the thin vapour of his breath cling to the frozen air. It sailed upwards, far above the raucous screams and shrieks, before finally dispersing out of sight.

    Try as it might, the cold couldn¡¯t quite penetrate Edmar¡¯s golden fingers. Enos¡¯ gifted form had taken some getting used to, sure, but passive insulation was a handy feature. If not for the cracks denting his metallic skin ¨C the leftovers of a messy ordeal with Remus ¨C traversing the underbelly of First Rite¡¯s dying corpse could have been almost comfortable. The air brushed against the cuts, lowering his body temperature just enough to be an irritant.

    Regardless, the memory brought a smile blossoming on Edmar¡¯s covered face. He could have killed Remus. He¡¯d been only seconds away from tearing the boy limb from limb. Yet leaving him alive was certainly the greater punishment; a more wicked degree of cruelty. Waking up amongst a dead and routed army: Edmar had to suppress a chuckle at the thought. Remus¡¯ mind would splinter under the guilt.

    These days, Edmar didn¡¯t tend to leave the palace chambers unless absolutely necessary. His drugging of Damosh was near completion, and the tension in the city had come to a breaking point. You didn¡¯t need to feel the dread hanging over the looming towers, you could see it in each drop of Ichor paving the roads golden.

    This was, largely, the fault of Divine Ground. One loophole in the mechanism behind that holy protection, meant that the Wealth Clan possessed immense freedom. Freedom they used to cut down and slaughter anyone who deviated from their laws. Or, in how this actually played out, anyone who was accused of going against them. Laws Damosh had amended to be as vague as possible. Effectively, Damosh and his lackeys had the ability to attack anyone, anywhere, at any time ¨C real crime committed or not ¨C and be safe from others doing the same. Self-defence was the only silver lining to this terrible storm. The gods¡¯ had been anxious to add that detail to the pact when writing their ancient codes millenia ago, ignorant still of how the entire thing would be manipulated. Alas, there wasn¡¯t much you could do, after a gang of guards landed the first strike. The system had been rigged against the denizens of First Rite since the very beginning.

    Resistance was impossible. For a full attack on the capital to be unleashed, the Divine Ground under all of their feet would have to be undone. An authority Damosh had possessed since the very beginning of his reign: longer than most people¡¯s parents had been alive. In other words, the sky was more likely to turn purple, than for a siege to ever take place. With the non-real threat of Gold¡¯s Bane stepped on like a bug intruding on their path, Edmar knew the downfall of the city wouldn¡¯t come from the outside, but from within.

    Edmar sighed. All too often, he had to wonder whether his plans were too effective. While his revenge had been completed, any hope for ruling the city as King was long gone.

    First Rite was a casket waiting to be buried. A monarch of skeletons was not a monarch at all. Edmar would find no glory in ruling over a scrapyard.

    Regardless of the hundreds of gallons of blood he¡¯d spilled, and the minor collateral damage of devastating Descent¡¯s capital, Edmar had done it. He had finally reaped revenge from the tender flesh of fate. The last descendant of Maso, his forefather¡¯s betrayer, had been reduced into a shambling, ignorant fool. Edmar¡¯s own lineage may have been slaves to Maso and his offspring for the longest time, but Damosh was now a slave to something much worse: himself.

    Edmar doubted he would even have to worry about killing the man. Sooner or later, the ruined tyrant would stumble into his own grave. That somehow made the victory ever the more sweet. In his wake, Damosh would leave behind a city gutted to the bone. The denizens of the great capital, having endured an age of biting terror, would soon fall upon each other like ravenous dogs.

    And First Rite, in any civilised sense, would cease to be.

    Once his thoughts grew bored of dwelling on his triumph, Edmar found himself feeling void. All he had focused on his entire life, since discovering the truth of his family¡¯s history, was undermining Damosh. Now he had done just that, and, with the help of Enos, acquired unfathomable power in the process.

    All of those elixirs had been in preparation to kill Damosh in combat, if the need ever arose. Now, with each passing day, the mad king was drawing a proverbial blade closer to his own neck. Madness was a poison of its own, and soon enough, it would cause the Godling¡¯s heart to beat for the final time.

    Edmar paused in the shadowy alcove of a doorway.

    Not many people could tempt Edmar into meeting them outside of the Wealth tower. So it was a very special occasion indeed when he waited for that . . . entity to arrive.

    He heard the lock of the door become undone. Taking this as invitation to enter, Edmar readied himself. Caution when dealing with the likes of that man was always needed: there was no telling how quickly a servant of Enos could change his mind ¨C how fast friendship could blur into fury. Edmar would be no better off than Damosh if he threw away his victory here. So, with everything at stake in mind, Edmar entered.

    The room was draped in darkness. Any hope of finding respite from the chill breeze soon perished, and in its stead, only gnawing cold followed Edmar inside. Judging by the clogging smell of dust, the place was in a total state of disrepair. For reasons beyond Edmar, Ash had decided that an abandoned building, of all places, was fit for their rendezvous.

    Slowly, Edmar¡¯s eyes adjusted to the cloying dark. Two faintly glowing eyes illuminated the place ever so slightly, and the brooding form of Ash stood with his arms crossed.

    ¡°You¡¯re late.¡±

    He scoffed. ¡°I arrive whenever I damn feel like it.¡± Edmar raised an eyebrow. ¡°And what was that appalling performance ¨C you fleeing from Gold¡¯s Bane like a madman? We didn¡¯t plan that!¡±

    Ash flinched, as if he¡¯d struck a nerve. For a long second, he didn¡¯t reply, instead blinking like an idiot who didn¡¯t recognise their surroundings. Before Edmar could insult him again, the boy steeled himself. His posture improved, and all childish mannerisms dispersed as Ash gained the air of a man. Something else too ¨C something distinctly monstrous, and utterly alien.

    ¡°Look Ash, I don¡¯t need you anymore ¨C I never did.¡± Edmar spat. ¡°You promised me the throne, but look around us! I¡¯d rather rule over a sandpit than this cesspool. It¡¯s a wonder we even deign to call First Rite a city any long-¡±

    ¡°Kill him.¡±

    Edmar was taken aback.

    ¡°Why do you hesitate? Kill Damosh.¡±

    Edmar didn¡¯t sweat anymore, but he wiped his hands together anyway.

    ¡°Look, Ash, there really would be no point, you see. Soon enough, he¡¯ll bring on his own-¡±

    A mock smile brightened Ash¡¯s face. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re scared, Edmar. You talk a big game about not desiring the throne, but that¡¯s not really true is it? Your resolve has faltered. Face it, you¡¯re a coward.¡±

    The fiend took a few steps closer. In that tight chamber, Ash¡¯s immense presence was suffocating.

    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me, or yourself Edmar. Only one motivation compelled you so utterly, so absolutely, that you committed your life seeking to fulfil it: to butcher the last slave-master that imprisoned your bloodline. Do not pretend that desire doesn¡¯t remain there still. Try as you might to pretend it doesn''t exist, I can see it deep inside you. The need to feel that Godling¡¯s Ichor slip between your fingers.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Despite his metallic body, Edmar shuddered. ¡°How do you-¡±

    ¡°The song of fate reveals all, my Paladin. Really now, let¡¯s speak candidly. Would you have downed so many elixirs, enough to risk dying of overdose, if you knew Damosh would simply kill himself?That he would strip the fruits of your labour of their juice? There is only one outcome that can satisfy: it should be you who does it. It should be personal ¨C your hand twisting the knife deeper into his heart.¡±

    Edmar raised an eyebrow. He was steaming, fists balled tightly, but intrigue got the better of him. ¡°Why? Why do you care so much?¡±

    ¡°With the threat of Gold¡¯s Bane neutralised, Enos and I see a clear future ahead of us. A bright sunrise for all of our beautiful Paladins.¡± Ash looked longingly at a nearby wall, seemingly far, far away from the room his body occupied. ¡°The last energy of the Time god provided Enos all the insight he needed to claim Descent as his own. Soon, every city, every man-made invention that stands on this burning planet, will be wiped off the earth. In their place, we will erect a utopia, free of the plagues that are godly whims.¡±

    He lifted both hands theatrically. ¡°But First Rite! What better mockery of the gods is there, than to turn their birthplace into the capital of the Paladins? The only city left standing as we set the world on fire. And you! You can sit on its throne not as King ¨C but as Emperor. Just say the word, and all of this planet could be yours for the taking.¡±

    Edmar moved backwards to protest, before pausing. He disregarded the big-talk about world domination ¨C any fanatic cult or organisation thought they were going to rule the universe one day. Big deal. But First Rite was practically sitting there for the taking. Assuming the whole place didn¡¯t collapse under the weight of itself in the next few days, it wasn¡¯t a question of if the Paladins could claim the city ¨C only a matter of when.

    ¡°There''ll be nothing left to rule.¡± Edmar put it carefully, feeling as Enos probed against his mental defences. A mind was all a man had, and he was not willing to give it up. ¡°The city will fall by its own undoing.¡±

    ¡°The city as it stands will fall. The human city.¡± A fiery excitement illuminated Ash¡¯s speech, granting it an electrifying quality. ¡°A new Kingdom of the Paladins awaits us. I¡¯ve seen it ¨C a great change is coming to First Rite. That, I can assure you.¡±

    Slowly, Edmar worked out the logistics of this, very comfortable with making Ash wait for a response. If Edmar were to become emperor of the Paladins . . . that would leave Ash as their ¨C what, surrogate god? No, that wasn¡¯t quite right. The term left a sour taste in Edmar¡¯s mouth, and he couldn¡¯t deny his loathing for the divine beings. After all, it was their very Celestial War that had spurred his ancestors'' rivalry. Yet he wouldn¡¯t be alive or breathing without their intervention either. This messy conundrum was precisely why Edmar loathed philosophy.

    There was one part in all of this that Edmar couldn¡¯t quite wrap his head around. If he was emperor, and Enos the serving deity of the Paladins ¨C not to mention spearheading the Unbounded ¨C what spot did that leave open for Ash? Enos was far closer to godhood than Ash could ever hope to be. Acting emperor of the only populated planet in the cosmos sounded like a pretty great trade-off, however ¨C a near second. Not something you bargained away so easily.

    ¡°Why not be emperor yourself?¡± He posed the question, intending to thwart Ash¡¯s pyramid of lies like blowing down a house of cards. ¡°Why me? Why not gut Damosh on your own accord? I¡¯m sure you can envision yourself as a fine ruler.¡±

    Ash wrinkled his nose. ¡°You must think so little of me, to suggest I¡¯d ever accept such a lowly position. Descent will be one grain of dust in a sandstorm once this is all over.

    ¡°The Paladins have an entire universe of Infinity to spread across, to paint a beautiful artwork upon the blank canvas of existence. One that will expand and expand and expand, like wet paint seeping through a page. I don¡¯t know about you Edmar, but I consider myself an artist. The Mortal Realms are a mere drop of ink, in the masterpiece Enos has revealed to me. I am no measly emperor Edmar ¨C I fear you have me mistaken. I am a god. And I will change the face of reality.¡±

    He stabbed Edmar¡¯s chest with a finger, sharply. ¡°You are a little lowsome creature so intent on your revenge that nothing else seems to matter. But you¡¯re no pushover either ¨C and I like that about you. Enos and I both know you¡¯ll lead well, and grant no quarter to any enemies who dare encroach upon our dominion. So I hold no qualms with you possessing the leadership position. I¡¯ll be preoccupied elsewhere, an architect of the heavens.¡±

    Edmar was stunned into silence. It was at times like this that he usually fell deep into a well of bubbling emotion. Those roiling waves would sweep him up, and the gods so help the poor soul that had pestered Edmar enough to invoke his wrath. In that moment, however, the turbulent tides were as still as could be. Only one repeating thought rippled across those psychic waters.

    He¡¯s a lunatic. A complete and utter lunatic.

    But he also read Edmar like a book.

    He¡¯s right. Emdar abhorred to face the truth that now confronted him, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to turn away from its ugly face. I''ve become complacent with just a taste of victory.

    In his mind¡¯s eye, a clouded image of the Wealth tower arose. He swore he could hear the mad babbling of its main occupant, so thin did the walls of the room that encased him appear. A thousand babies screaming would have been a sweeter sound.

    Who was he kidding? Edmar had been entertaining a delusion. Until his clothes were soaked in that bastard¡¯s blood, contentment would always be a thing out of his grasp.

    ¡°Without humanity working for them, a wrench will be thrown into the gods¡¯ schemes.¡± Ash said quietly, all the rising passion of his speech passing. Nothing was left but a quiet certainty. ¡°With enough of them together, they¡¯ll disregard and abandon the Divine Oath, and soon revert to their very nature as creatures of violence. Infighting will spark amongst them, and with the endless legions of Unbounded now guided by the newfound leadership of the Paladins, they¡¯ll perish. A dark chapter in the endless storybook of Infinity will have finally passed, heralding the dawn of a new age. An undying golden era will be upon us.

    ¡°The Paladins will abandon any last shred of humanity anchoring them still, being as malleable as metal to Enos'' will. Without the gods¡¯ interference, even I¡¯ll be able to spread my wings as a pure Unbounded, unhindered by any touch of humanity. All to become a true patriot of the Paladin¡¯s cause. A true peace awaits us yet.¡±

    ¡°You speak like this is a certainty. Like something that has already transpired.¡±

    Ash¡¯s glare shot daggers into Edmar. ¡°Do I look like a man of speculation to you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Edmar now realised "You don¡¯t look like a man at all.¡±

    ¡°Think this over Edmar. What I offer you is not a demand, or an inconvenient task for you to complete. It is merely a reward, and a reminder, for what you were already fated to do. Revenge your family, reclaim your destiny, and Enos and I will grant you riches beyond even the Wealth Clan¡¯s wildest dreams. You can enjoy your triumph over evil for the rest of your days. And I can get as far away from this floating rock as possible, never having to set foot on it again. With you taking on your grand task, I can take comfort in the knowledge that things are under steady leadership down here.¡±

    Finally, Ash said nothing more. Like a broker showing off his assets, he laid it all out on the table.

    The ball was in Edmar¡¯s court now.

    Ash didn¡¯t blink once, staring Edmar dead in the eye as he awaited a response.

    ¡°Not yet. Soon, but not yet.¡± He exhaled, suddenly noting how tense his body was. ¡°Damosh may be a maniac as of now, but he isn¡¯t completely lost from sanity yet. A glimmer of his past self remains. Only when that spark has dimmed out, can I be sure that no risk is involved if we found ourselves in mortal combat.¡±

    Ash sniffed the air theatrically. ¡°Is that cowardice I smell?¡±

    Edmar slammed a fist against the wall. Emboldened by his new sense of purpose, not even Ash¡¯s eerie presence could unnerve him. ¡°Avenging my bloodline is not something that can hinge on possibility ¨C I cannot play with chance. Damosh dying by my hands must be as inevitable as the sun rising anew.¡±

    Ash waited a few seconds longer, as if expecting Edmar to give in. When he did not, the fiend scowled. ¡°Do not dawdle much longer.¡± His form seemed to grow transparent, as if Edmar had been conversing with a ghost all along. ¡°A great reckoning shall befall us all soon. You would do well to be ready.¡±

    Ash disappeared, and Edmar found himself alone in the derelict building. He stood there for a moment, lost in thought, listening to the creepy whistling of the passing breeze.

    A little longer. Edmar breathed quickly. Just a little longer, and he¡¯s a dead man.

 134. Talking

    Like many of her friends, Violet found herself bedridden for several days, following the dance with death that was the battle of Gold¡¯s Bane.

    Part of her wondered which was uglier. The cold bodies of the countless Unbounded she had butchered on that fateful night, or the expression that scrunched up Koa¡¯s features as he pounded upon Remus¡¯ chest, mourning the loss of his deceased wife.

    Violet shook her head, tired of staring at the four blank walls that comprised her cabin. She wanted to be outside; away from this damn campsite. Back in the action, fighting the good fight, and with her heart fully aligned in the war effort. Not lying in bed all day, trapped inside an outpost possessing the highest rates of misery in all of Descent.

    She sighed. With over a third of their men butchered, the Talents of the Future¡¯s fighting spirit had been beaten out of them. Violet couldn¡¯t bring herself to blame them, her own resolve dampened.

    Most of their soldiers had been bright-eyed youths. The kind of people who saw war as some sprawling adventure. Akin to a holiday away from home, and a chance to advance to the next Rank. The hand of reality was unforgiving, and it had knocked some sense into all of them.

    In a world born out of havoc, there was only one constant. A law of existence they had all been forced to grow very accustomed to. Cold, sheer brutality.

    From head to toe, Violet ached. Dividing into hundreds of pieces, and then merging them back together again was not a fun process. She was proud that the majority of her Projections had survived the callous cruelty of battle, but cursed herself for the futility of it all. Not even her ace in the hole had been enough to turn the tide, and she could never have anticipated the agony that came with becoming whole once again.

    Somehow, Violet only felt more splintered. Tearing yourself into a mini-army of personalities tended to have that effect, but slowly, as she adjusted to solely occupying her one body and her Projected missionaries, Violet was grateful to find a peaceful reassurance rising to the surface. She was still scattered-brained, and headaches were a constant. But emerging gradually from the sea of hysteria were the words of Violet¡¯s diary ¨C or, the diary of human Violet. To avoid confusion, that was what she had taken to calling the younger version of herself: human Violet, or at least completely human Violet ¨C the girl whose mortal DNA she was a genetic clone of. She still wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to make of what she had read, but the words anchored Violet to some semblance of sanity. For that, she was grateful. Just another thing she owed human Violet for.

    With nothing to do, and feeling up to it today, Violet decided to venture outside.

    She hardly saw Remus, who was constantly in meetings, stressed and guilt-ridden out of his mind. Her heart went out to him, but there was little she could do other than pose a distraction. Their other companions would occasionally pop into the settlement, usually to receive orders from Remus about where to go next. The entire rebellion was up in a frenzy, weary of another attack being launched to finish off their last dregs of survivors. Speaking to Veida, Hadrian, Tanguy, or Aziel, when they briefly visited between chores, was the most socialising Violet could hope to get nowadays.

    Today, however, it was someone else she wanted to go see.

    Violet stalked her way through camp, trying to ignore the stares of weary men aimed her way. They looked fatigued, in a way that went past the superficial.

    The first two times Violet had knocked on Koa¡¯s door, he hadn¡¯t answered. As the outpost transformed from temporary to long-term, the remaining Carpentry clansmen had created a more permanent settlement for them all. In the Durations since the assembly of his own home, Violet didn¡¯t believe that Koa had left his house once.

    As she waited in the brisk cold of early winter, Violet didn¡¯t get her hopes up. People dealt with grief in different ways, and if Koa needed some time alone to recuperate-

    The groaning creek of a door opening caused Violet to jolt.

    ¡°Come in.¡± Koa said blankly. From the sounds of it, the man was some distance from the door, having used a lazy activation of his Mark to allow Violet to enter, from afar.

    The interior of Koa¡¯s chamber was humble, but the same could be said for every building the Carpentry Clan had erected. Violet had no cause to complain, and she was grateful for the expansions regardless of her own preferences. Her personal tastes towards camps were a luxury, and luxuries certainly weren¡¯t a thing Violet was in a position to hope for, let alone dare request. The memory of Remus¡¯ last gift to her, before Gold¡¯s Bane had been scattered to dust, of fulfilling that unspoken wish, brought a sharp sting.

    There was a small hearth nestled below a chimney, which was about the extent of how much they could hope for in terms of home decor. Koa sat morosely at a small table that took up most of the room, his bed resting in the corner, and an antique clock on the right wall. There was a full glass of wine resting on the table, which was especially odd. One, Violet had never seen Koa drinking, and two, it didn¡¯t appear to have been touched. It was like Koa was trying to look the part of a widowed husband, only to discover he wasn¡¯t much of a drinker.

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± That seemed like the right thing to ask, considering the circumstance, but Violet cringed even as the words left her mouth. How did she think he was feeling? The man certainly wasn¡¯t doing star-jumps and running giddy laps around his living room.

    ¡°Getting better.¡± Koa sighed, speaking in a way that suggested he wasn¡¯t, in fact, getting better at all. He stared at his reflection in the glass¡¯ curved surface. ¡°Do you like red wine? Hadrian smuggled some in for me during a recent visit. It¡¯s supposed to be a kind of expensive variety. While I appreciate the sentiment, I¡¯m not built like Hadrian ¨C I don¡¯t know how he can stand the stuff, let alone drink it by the gallon.¡±

    Violet declined the polite offer. ¡°My head hurts enough without being drunk. Thank you though.¡±

    A vacuum seemed to settle between the two of them, not the gentlest sound picked up by Violet¡¯s ears. What began as a few tentative seconds stretched out until a whole minute had passed, without either of them uttering a word.

    ¡°I-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not answering you.¡± Koa spluttered.

    Their voices were like two bulls butting heads, catching each other off-guard.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, really. I just wanted to make sure you¡¯re okay. I know what it feels like to lose someone.¡±

    Koa kept his eyes on his drink. In the dim lighting, the red liquid could almost pass for blood. ¡°Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?¡±

    Violet steepled her fingers. ¡°Anything.¡±

    He gritted his teeth, eyes looking at anything but her. ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t be asking about something like this, something so private; so personal . . . but how did it feel to . . . to kill your own sibling?¡±

    She tried to disguise the reflex, but Violet sprang in her seat.

    Koa winced. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I know that was too far, I¡¯m not thinking-¡±

    Violet raised her hand. ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Violet exhaled deeply, the tension flooding out of her body like puss from a wound. ¡°It¡¯s a heavy question, but if there¡¯s anyone who has reason to be asking it, it would be you.¡± Violet donned a weak smile. ¡°Family problems aren¡¯t too uncommon, eh?¡±

    Koa was sheepish, but he finally met Violet¡¯s eyes.

    Now she really saw Koa. Without his remote eyeballs currently in action, and not equipped with his intricate armour that seemed to squeeze and contain all of nature inside of it, the threatening warrior who had endured so much was gone. Now he was just a maimed man, and a man who had lost everything at the hands of darkness. Darkness. Violet scoffed. Their side of the fight wasn¡¯t exactly sunshine and rainbows either.

    So young too. Violet had to pause to wonder if he had even stopped growing yet.

    She inhaled deeply. As her lungs refilled with oxygen, so did Violet¡¯s mind resurge with a plethora of memories. Memories that suddenly seemed as vital as the air she breathed.

    And memories that, for the sake of her own sanity, Violet hadn¡¯t revisited in over a Rebirth. Not in any substantial way.

    The realisation made her skin prickle. She had never harboured some kind of ill-will, some intention to snip away that part of her family¡¯s history forever. It was just that . . . that she preferred not to think about her. About Verity. That sounded awful to admit, but it was true. Whenever the face of her sister did resurface, it was always a little harder to get up in the morning. The smallest tasks of her day transformed into impossible trials at the merest recollection of the shape of her nose, the sound of her voice, or any other seemingly bizarre, random detail.

    In the madness that was her day-to-day life, there was never the time to reflect on how she felt. As long as she was alive and breathing, away from the clutches of the latest entity that wanted her dead, then that was all that Violet could afford to ask for. Little time was there to check-up on her own mental wellbeing. Sadly, the dark machinations that threatened humanity would not accommodate Violet with some time to grieve.

    So out of necessity, and perhaps fear, she had left that part of herself unexplored. Always busied either by some more pressing misfortune, or the Celestial War that threw all of their lives into a frenzy.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    To breach that topic now was beyond uncomfortable. But for Koa¡¯s sake ¨C and her own ¨C she faced that fear head-on.

    ¡°The Verity I fought ¨C wasn¡¯t exactly the Verity I knew.¡±

    Koa nodded, as if that stuck a cord. ¡°Ash isn''t the man I once knew either. Or a man at all, really.¡±

    Violet put a hand over Koa¡¯s. ¡°You don¡¯t know that yet. You could still-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m far too late into this life, Violet, to still be relying on false hope.¡± Koa¡¯s voice suddenly hardened, and the glass wobbled between them ¡°I have to kill Ash. It breaks my heart, but the greater injustice would be to leave him out there, marring his legacy. I can only take so much, and I¡¯m sure he can¡¯t stand this much longer either.¡±

    Violet was going to protest, but stopped herself. Maybe Koa was the realist here, but curse her optimism, she still believed the boy could be saved.

    She quickly changed the topic. ¡°To feel a little better about the whole thing, to cope in some small way, I kept telling myself that this wasn¡¯t Verity I was facing. Just a genetic clone ¨C a soulless puppet in the shape of her body. But then, right on the cusp of death . . . I saw a glimmer of my old sister in there. I don¡¯t know if the cloning process had preserved Verity¡¯s memories as it had mine, perhaps in some more minor way, but . . .¡± Violet trailed off, not having much more to say.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what''s easier to stomach.¡± Koa held his glass a little more tightly. ¡°The pain of thinking they¡¯re completely gone from your grasp, or the pain that comes from hoping they might still be there, somewhere ¨C suffering.¡±

    That nagging silence laid in wait patiently in the corner. Forever determined to jump into the fray whenever the conversation came to a lagging pause.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard, you know.¡± Koa muttered, a little while later. ¡°To keep going. The only thing that motivates me to push forward is my duty as a brother. If nothing else, I must spare Ash from insanity. And we both know there¡¯s only one way to do that. But then,¡± he choked, ¡°once I put Ash to sleep, what¡¯s left for me? What¡¯s left?¡±

    His teeth chattering, Koa¡¯s leg bounced up and down under the table. His glass threatened to cast itself off the shaking surface, its ruddy contents about to spill over the checkered floor and paint an impromptu murder scene.

    Violet placed down a firm hand to stop the table moving, before forcing Koa to meet her gaze.

    ¡°I get that you feel lost right now Koa. I feel lost too. But when we¡¯re stumbling through the dark, without the slightest wick of light to guide us, what do we do?¡±

    Slowly, Koa ceased his trembling. ¡°I don¡¯t know. For the life of me, I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°We pave our own path. When the schemes of the gods, the Unbounded, and Infinity itself all fail us ceaselessly, we have no hand to hold but our own.¡± Violet didn¡¯t know where these words were coming from, but as she continued to speak, a fire was stoked inside of her. ¡°We have to decide for ourselves how we want to shape our lives. Despite what they want us to believe Koa, we are not merely tools in some war, or enemies to be eradicated. We are people. Reality may be set upon destroying itself, but we can choose who we are in the brief window we have here, alive and breathing. And that freedom is everything.¡±

    Koa considered this. ¡°What if I don¡¯t know what I want? What if everything I wanted has been stripped away from me?¡±

    Violet grimaced. ¡°That¡¯s the hard part. We¡¯re peas in a pod, you and I. I¡¯ve been chasing after this Unbounded thread all of my life, trying to undo a yarn of misery and mystery, hoping that it would grant me . . . I¡¯m not sure. Maybe contentment in the end? I¡¯m glad I got that justice, but once vengeance is reaped, life just continues. We have to find out what people we are without all of this strife, Koa. Who we want to be. It¡¯s hard, and I¡¯m only chipping at the surface, but there''s more to humanity than violence and bloodshed. More to life, I hope, beyond this Celestial War.¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t say anything. The blood rushed to Violet¡¯s face, and she had to wonder if all of those pretty words were a lie. The kind of thing you forced yourself to believe to feel better. She only stopped second-guessing herself when Koa mumbled her words under his breath, staring wistfully at the wall, and seeming to see beyond it.

    ¡°Who I want to be . . .¡±

    A solemn wind breathed against the walls of the cabin, slipping in through an open window. Some birds chirped, and the distant drizzle of an approaching storm made Violet rest a little easier in her seat. Nature itself whispering lullabies into her ear.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who I am.¡± Koa gritted his teeth. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to live up to my clan¡¯s expectations, to out-do my brother. I couldn¡¯t sleep some nights thinking about it ¨C about how, in every way I could imagine, Ash was better than me. All of them were. Everyone in the Wilderness Clan. To be someone I could be proud of, that was worthy of love, I had to show that I was capable. Now everyone I was comparing myself to is either dead or insane, and I . . . I don¡¯t know. I just don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re enough Koa. You¡¯ve saved lives; you¡¯re a role model to people. You¡¯re one of the kindest people I¡¯ve met, and Descent is not a world known for its friendliness.¡± Violet smiled weakly. ¡°You don¡¯t have to live up to anybody else¡¯s expectations.¡±

    Why was it so much easier to help other people, but when it came to herself, Violet found she was trapped? The right words to say to Koa came easily, but each time Violet tried to wade through her own storm of troubles, to emerge out of that maelstrom with newfound insight and self-assurance, those winds of turbulence would sweep her away all over again.

    ¡°But that¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever known. My entire world has been stripped away, Violet.¡± Koa clutched at his face. ¡°Gods, sometimes I can¡¯t stand myself. I lashed out at Remus like that, and even after all the terrible things you¡¯ve been through, I still insist that my own agonies are the most terrible. I haven¡¯t even taken a second to consider how all of this is affecting you.¡±

    Maybe a drink would have made this conversation a little easier.

    ¡°Pain isn¡¯t a currency you can measure and compare Koa. Your agonies are your own, and mine are mine, but one isn''t greater or worse than the other.¡±

    Koa shifted nervously in his seat. Violet got the impression he was mustering up the courage to say something else.

    ¡°Can I ask you another personal question?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think this talk can get any more personal.¡± She said wryly. ¡°But you can try.¡±

    Koa steadied himself. ¡°How do you feel about Remus?¡±

    Now that was a question that gave her pause. Not exactly the direction Violet had been expecting this conversation to go.

    ¡°I think he¡¯s a great person.¡± She responded automatically. ¡°Someone that gives me hope when I¡¯m losing faith. Despite the tragedy that¡¯s befallen Gold¡¯s Bane, he¡¯s an excellent lead-¡±

    Koa shook his head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t care what you think about him morally, or as the leader of the Talents, or as a person in any kind of way. What I want to know is how you feel about him. How you really feel.¡±

    Violet hoped to the gods that she wasn¡¯t blushing.

    ¡°What could you possibly . . . ¡° When he raised an eyebrow, Violet gave up the act, collapsing against the table in resignation. ¡°Is it really that obvious?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen the way you act when you¡¯re around him. You¡¯re the furthest thing from a touchy person there can be, but when you¡¯re with Remus ¨C all of that goes away.¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± She hissed. Curse Infinity, she was definitely blushing.

    Koa only laughed. ¡°I¡¯m most definitely overstepping here, and maybe I¡¯m not thinking straight with everything that¡¯s been going on. But I just keep thinking that there¡¯s something stopping you: from allowing yourself to be happy with Remus. When I remember Octavia and I . . . If I had never confessed how I really felt to her . . .¡± He grimaced. ¡°The memories we made together, they¡¯d just be possibilities. And there¡¯s nothing in this world, no jewel, no diamond, and no amulet, worth more to me than those. No matter the pain I¡¯m feeling now, I would bear that burden a hundredfold worse, before losing those times.¡±

    Violet felt a lump form in her throat.

    ¡°So, if you don¡¯t mind me asking . . . what¡¯s stopping you?¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°I want you to be happy.¡±

    Violet¡¯s mouth went dry. She made to speak, but stopped herself. ¡°Can I show you something?¡±

    Koa blinked, probably not seeing how this related in the slightest. ¡°Err, okay?¡±

    From a bag below her, Violet unveiled a sleek black notebook. She slumped it on the table between them. Koa looked at the book, then to her, then to the book again, his eyebrows rising steadily higher each time.

    ¡°This was left behind by human Violet ¨C the original girl that I¡¯m a clone of.¡±

    Koa¡¯s eyes widened, his fingers twitching as if he had to stop himself from jolting upwards. ¡°I thought any trace of her had been burnt away.¡±

    ¡°So had I.¡± Violet perused through its pages, savouring the satisfying flicker of thousands of words falling past. ¡°I expected to be guilt-ridden after reading through this, but the further in I get . . .¡±

    Koa leaned forward, nodding eagerly. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°. . . the more annoying I find its author.¡± Violet cleared her throat, ignoring Koa as his jaw dropped at the anticlimax. ¡°But the more liberated I feel too.¡±

    ¡°Liberated?¡±

    ¡°The girl I see between these pages is very clear in her convictions. She despises the Celestial War, loathes how pointless all this violence is, and detests anyone who will carry out that evil. It''s comforting to discover convictions so similar to my own.¡±

    The young man blinked.

    ¡°That¡¯s a remarkable discovery,¡± Koa took a sip of his wine, made a face, and put the glass back down. ¡°But excuse my bluntness ¨C what exactly does this have to do with Remus?¡±

    Violet scanned around the room for a moment, as if making sure there was nobody else in the vicinity that could hear her. Unless there was somebody hiding in the cabin walls, the coast was clear. ¡°I¡¯ve never confessed this out loud before, but part of me fears that if I¡¯m piloting a body that isn¡¯t mine . . . then to go on to date someone, with that body, is simply wrong. Immoral in a way. Like that¡¯s not my choice to make, you know? Why should I be able to experience love, when she never can? I owe her so much.¡±

    Koa¡¯s lips became a stoic line. ¡°In the hope that I¡¯m not being too harsh here, Violet, I feel like your worries are misplaced.¡±

    Violet¡¯s gaze lowered to the diary.

    ¡°You speak as if you killed and took that girl¡¯s body with your bare hands, but that couldn''t be further from the truth. You¡¯re completely different people. You and her may look alike, sound the same, style your hair in a similar fashion, and even share the same memories, but you are not the same person. Akuji gifted you with life, Violet, and it is yours and yours alone to do with as you wish. What happened to human Violet is a tragedy ¨C no doubt about it ¨C but it was none of your doing, and it is not your burden to carry. Never mistake your existence for something that is stolen, or not yours, or a curse. It is a gift, Violet, do you hear me? A gift. A gift you have used to strike back against the harbingers of darkness and misery, who seek to destroy Descent as we know it.¡±

    Koa met her eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t speak for the dead, Violet, but from the little I¡¯ve heard about that girl, she wouldn¡¯t be able to stand and watch you suffer either, after all you¡¯ve done to honour her memory. It¡¯s not my place to say, but I¡¯m sure human Violet would want you to be happy too.¡±

    ¡°I-¡± Violet swiped at her face, as something wet began to course down it. ¡°I¡¯ve been starting to think that way too. You¡¯re a good man Koa. I hope you know that.¡±

    For the briefest moment, a great burden seemed to be lifted from Koa. Wrinkles fading, the young man smiled. ¡°You¡¯re a good person too Violet. I think it''s about time you learnt that.¡±

 135. Who Are You Really?

    The city was in its death throes.

    Through a haze of avenues, pools of Ichor, and masses of human flesh packed tightly into burning streets, the man ran doggedly onward.

    A tilt of the head provided a reminder of the task at hand. Whenever his resolve faltered, or the pain got too much, one merest glance at the tyrant¡¯s abode dispelled any lulls in his conviction. There, like a ball of flame that had dethroned the sun, was a sprawling tower of gold and jewels. The false idol, dedicated to all things wrong with this world, was a monument of mockery, the very structure seeming to peer down and sneer at the attempts to reclaim its turbulent borders.

    He wanted to see its curvature twist at an ugly angle. No thought entertained him more, made his heart sing louder, than to envision the entire thing toppling over. Crushing every last guard and practitioner of greed that stalked its gloomy halls with it.

    Now, there was nothing else to be done. He would make that vision a reality.

    Guards stationed in abandoned streets were alive one moment and gone the next. A whirling vortex of flaming azure sent them back to the aether, and the man sprinted past before a snowfall of Infinity swept the avenue.

    Dashing ever closer, he ignored any physical discomfort that arose within. His adornments were lost beneath layers of congealed blood, and only some of it his own. The Infirnite fittings of his armour clung awkwardly to the man¡¯s skin, and in many places, the tender tissue underneath.

    A lesser man in his place would have already died, and three times at that. He could almost imagine the corpses trailing behind him. Echoes of fates that could have been. One finished by a stab wound to the chest that had made it impossible to breathe. Another left limping on legs cleaved of their inner meat, forced to stumble to his own grave as he was crushed by an oncoming stampede. The third chopped into pieces by a horde of bloodlusted guards that, in a moment of panic, had gotten the better of him.

    But here he was. His body was a patchwork of injuries, and pain was a clingy lover who wouldn¡¯t let him go, but never did he cease in his noble advance.

    Death wouldn¡¯t have him today.

    First Rite became awash with gore, a golem of flaming magma trailing a path towards the false King¡¯s tower. The scent of smoke deep in his nostrils, and his Mark burning its imprint into his flesh, the man steeled his resolve, as the doorway to the palace emerged into view.

    Following behind his titanic construct of wolfish vengeance, the man was only seconds away from breaching the tower¡¯s lower levels. Then, like a tremor tearing the world asunder, he saw his reflection in a golden puddle.

    The liquid shook, the entire street quaking. Gigantic fists of flame battered down Damosh¡¯s last line of defense, but the sweet taste of victory eluded him, displaced by a sour bitterness.

    That boy. That boy there, shimmering amongst a current birthed out of bloodshed.

    Dark ginger hair, youngish features. Navy blue irises that burned brighter than any star.

    Great links of chain slipped out of his fingers, and with rising realistion, a blood-curdling scream escaped his¨C

    <hr>

    Remus awoke with a start.

    He swatted away his bedsheets out of instinct, and it wasn¡¯t until several moments later ¨C still hyperventilating ¨C that he realised the reality of what he¡¯d seen. Recognised the blood-stained face, the snarling lips, the visage of hatred that was so painfully familiar. The demon positively dripping with blood-

    He stopped his thoughts right there.

    ¡°A dream.¡± He uttered breathlessly. ¡°You¡¯re here, relax. You¡¯re here.¡±

    A full glass of water awaited him on his bedside, always at the ready for nights like this one. As reliable as anything he had, nowadays. One gulp later and it was downed. Knowing full well that sleep would only elude him, Remus jolted out of bed, and began to pace around his private chambers. He walked in circles wearily, with all the practised neuroticism of a seasoned insomniac. The last few Durations had provided its fair share of practice.

    The monochrome stone of his walls was hidden behind maps inherited from Mason. They detailed territories Remus had and hadn''t visited, pins stabbed into various locales like the talons of some terrible beast. The advancing ranks of Enos¡¯ army of zealots. Remus tried not to dawdle his eyes too long on Ash¡¯s progressing forces, dreading having to update their progress each and every day, moving like a wildfire that refused to be contained.

    One of these days, and sooner rather than later, he feared, he would wake up to news of the first of Descent¡¯s cities falling.

    Charred books and notes that had survived the fire of Mason¡¯s headquarters were scattered across the floor. Apart from collecting dust, the articles served little purpose. Mason¡¯s legacy was reduced to a hundred glorified tripping hazards, brutalising Remus¡¯ knees. Part of him wondered why he bothered to keep them. Perhaps to honour Mason¡¯s memory? If that was the case, it struck him as a pretty lousy way to do so.

    Not like he ever had time to clean up after himself, anyway.

    Leading a rebellion had come with its fair share of problems. Leading a rebellion that had utterly failed presented new catastrophes with each passing day.

    Night should have been a sanctuary. A few precious hours where his head could hit the pillow, and all of his worldly problems slip away. A delusion, to be sure, but that made it no less comforting. Then, like invaders surging into his twilight realm, the dreams had begun. All of them exactly like the visions that dying Speed clansmen had shown to him. All of them more vivid than anything he¡¯d ever dreamt of before. All of them harrowing to the bone.

    And all of them ending with the realisation of the monster he had become.

    It was always the same sequence of events. A possibility he thought himself moronic to still hope for, or fear: the siege of First Rite.

    Remus shivered.¡°Stop it.¡± He told himself.

    He walked laps around the headquarters, shaken by the night terrors. His residence was near the infirmary; a place that was steadily transforming into Gold¡¯s Bane¡¯s successor. Remus suppressed another chill at the thought. History tended to be forgetful, but this time, he prayed that it wouldn¡¯t repeat.

    He refilled the glass with a nearby pitcher, hoping that a little hydration would settle his shaking fingers.

    You¡¯re just thirsty. He told himself. There¡¯s nothing wrong, you¡¯re just parched.

    A third drink, then a fourth, quickly disproved his hypothesis. His fingers wouldn¡¯t settle.

    For a few blissful seconds, the world went silent. Even the nightly breeze brushing in though his open window ceased its gentle ushering. Just Remus, alone, standing in a room he wouldn¡¯t have recognised a mere Passing or so prior. He had to wonder: was this really a home? He tried not to think of his personal quarters back in First Rite, lest homesickness settled in. The curious part of his mind lingered there, however, and Remus couldn¡¯t help but wonder if that place was still standing. If there was any token of his childhood remaining.

    Then, with all the inevitability of the moon rising anew, the thought returned. The one that came gnawing at the grey matter of his brain, always summoned at this terrible hour.

    Is any of this worth it?

    A fifth drink of water. His hands refusing to settle, Remus was about to pour himself a sixth, despite not being thirsty at all, when the shadows came to life.

    ¡°You remind me of him.¡±

    A black, gooey mass encased half of the chamber. Remus stumbled backwards, his eyes adjusting to perceive the shape¡¯s dark contours, and dropped his drink. The shattering of glass heralded the return of sound to the world, and the room was thrown into the heart of a tornado. Windows smacking, doors bashing against their hinges, it hurt to keep his eyes open as somebody entered his humble abode. And they most certainly didn¡¯t have an invitation.

    Hands pushed out of the darkness, as if imprisoned in slime and bursting out. A face soon emerged, the top half splattered in an inky blackness. His heart jolted when he recognised the motif: exactly the way Ash¡¯s features clouded when he adorned his cosmic form. But there was no trace of that boy here. No, the being invading his privacy, arriving to reap his soul at this late hour, was an altogether darker shade of sinister.

    Enos had arrived. Beneath his titled hat, oversized and casting a shadow over the darkness that was already the fiend¡¯s stolen form, Remus recognised the ransacked body of the Chaos god, Teviel.

    ¡°Consider yourself honoured, Remus.¡± An uncannily wide smile shook Remus to his core. ¡°It isn¡¯t often that I grace subjects with this particular shape.¡±

    His Mark activated on its own accord, and battle instincts drilled into Remus from years of sheer violence forced him into a battle-pose. Die fighting, or die cowering. Nobody would know the difference, but if Remus could salvage a tiny shred of pride in his final hour, then for the sake of everyone who had died for his fruitless, hopeless cause, he had no choice but to do so.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t come here to kill me earlier.¡± Remus hoped his fists weren¡¯t shaking, that his poker face was convincing enough. ¡°What, have you finally decided to take matters into your own hands?¡±

    ¡°Rest assured Remus, if I could swoop down to Descent and destroy the planet with my own hands, then we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation. In fact,¡± Enos took a cursory glance over their environs. ¡°All of this would be atoms, trailing separate paths through the cosmos. No, I¡¯m afraid I can only appear on Descent in the form of Projections. Though, a Projection powerful enough to reduce you to ash . . .¡± He shot him with that toothy grin again. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be so hard to create. In fact,¡± his face contorted wickedly. ¡°I may have just made one.¡±

    Remus had to wonder what was stopping Enos from obliterating Descent. In theory, any one of Infinity''s gods could destroy the planet. There was the Divine Oath to prevent that from happening, but that limitation didn¡¯t apply to the Originator. Enos was certainly on that level, and some horrified part of Remus knew the man wasn¡¯t bluffing. If it could have been done, Enos would have devoured Descent, rather than colonise it. The planet must have been the most well protected territory of the deities, a place they wouldn¡¯t dare allow Enos get close enough to poke with a stick.

    But Projections could slip through the cracks. At least, this one had.

    Taking a step backwards, Remus tried to gauge how strong this current Projection was. To so perfectly mirror its creator''s appearance, it must have been decently powerful. But when Remus attempted to level his spiritual senses onto Enos, to divine what Rank equivalence this unreal form possessed, he was left gritting his teeth. His senses became confused, at one second urging him to run, before a god reduced him to particles, and at the next, detecting a presence weaker than himself.

    Enos had fully emerged out of the wall now. He was a head taller than Remus, a sweeping robe and cape descending to the floor. Remus couldn¡¯t help but notice random articles around the room glitching in and out of reality. Changing locations and sometimes disappearing altogether. Just the presence of the Chaos god¡¯s vandalised body, or at least a lesser form, quarreled with reality.

    ¡°Let me reiterate exactly how futile fighting me would be. One, even this minor Projection of mine has a decent chance of killing you, to no real risk to myself, and two: you haven¡¯t heard my proposal yet.¡±

    Remus¡¯ body stopped trembling. It wasn¡¯t the water finally calming his mind, or some noble courage dug-up deep from the inner recesses of his soul. It was something altogether more cowardly. A paralysing, primal fear. But not one of death, though, certainly, that was a very real possibility. He wasn¡¯t sure why he couldn¡¯t move, or why all the moisture from the gallon of water he¡¯d swallowed was drying up. It was that unknown, that absence of reason, that quickened his pulse the most.

    Enos¡¯ ¨C or Teviel¡¯s ¨C teeth glinted beneath the brim of his hat. Like rows of daggers grinding against one another, lighting tiny sparks.

    ¡°You¡¯re not scared of me, are you Remus?¡± Enos strutted slowly in a loop around him, as if he was a museum curator, and Remus the latest addition to his collection. ¡°Logically, you must be a little frightened. Such is to be expected; you would be insane not to be at least weary: for every cell in your body to anticipate the climax of death. But there¡¯s something . . . else too. Something you¡¯re hiding from even yourself.¡±

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°You said I reminded you of him.¡± Remus changed the topic in one swift breath. ¡°Who is that?¡±

    ¡°My right hand in the shadows, and a man who isn¡¯t afraid to get the dirty work done. Though his drink of choice is something else entirely, Edmar isn¡¯t exactly discreet with his addiction to elixirs. Why, he doesn''t need to be, with all eyes on Damosh and Ash as they make an extravagant dance out of their conquest. I¡¯m sure you can understand my interest in having a few pawns that are a little more discreet in how they go about things. The tongue that keeps quiet never has to fear being cut off.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s it: he really is conspiring with you.¡± Remus kissed his teeth. He¡¯d known as much since the attack on Gold¡¯s Bane, but to have it finally confirmed, spoken from the tyrant¡¯s lips . . .  there was suddenly a horrible taste in his mouth.

    ¡°He¡¯s going to betray you ¨C you must know that ¨C and I¡¯ll take great pleasure in it when he does. To say I understand the psychology of a man like that would be a lie, but Edmar is as self-serving as they come. He¡¯ll stab a knife in your back at the earliest opportunity. He¡¯d kill you if he could.¡±

    ¡°And yet here I stand now, talking to you.¡± Enos inched closer. ¡°Let¡¯s cut to the chase, shall we? Why I¡¯m here, speaking, and why you¡¯re not yet a lump on the ground leaking Ichor. Indulge me, and chew on what I have to say before you spit out whatever rebuttal comes to mind first. I want you to become one of my recruits.¡±

    Remus physically recoiled. Flames were like ghosts hovering over each of his fists, and he was one hasty decision away from taking his chances in a fight. Bad chances.

    He spat at his feet. ¡°And what makes you think I would falter in my ideals so easily?¡±

    ¡°Your hands.¡±

    Remus raised an eyebrow. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Your hands.¡± Enos tilted his head, his facial muscle spasming in a constant rictus. ¡°They¡¯re shaking.¡±

    Enos crept too close for comfort. With a yelp, Remus swerved his arm at an angle, a line of fire searing everything in a diagonal line. He spared a thought of sympathy for the last keepsakes of Mason. Final mementos were only fuel for the fire, swarming light crawling up the walls in a mad rush of heat. Maybe it had always been the man¡¯s fate to set ablaze ¨C if not the hearts of his soldiers, then himself.

    The fiend remained motionless. Even as a wraith of blue feasted on the threads of his ragtag clothes, inching closer to the Projection¡¯s flesh, he stood absolutely still. Sparks of electricity zapped through the atmosphere, a prickling charge upsetting the air. All the while, Remus tensed every muscle in his body. It was no use ¨C he was trembling again.

    Enos endured the first kiss of flame that ravaged his skin, and in a glare of magenta light, erased the space separating them. Then, a stoic indifference disguising any trace of pain, he tapped Remus on the chest.

    Remus swallowed down a yelp, scattering backwards. So much force behind one touch.

    This is the man that has caused Violet so much pain. Who bestowed the Supreme Being with the strength he leveraged to rob your grandfather of his last years of life. Who transformed Koa¡¯s brother into a devil. This is the man upon whose death hangs all of Descent¡¯s future!

    If you looked closely enough, one would see thin streaks of yellow light flashing against Remus¡¯ blue irises. A phantom might reeling to be unleashed. Gauntlets of obsidian congealed around his hands, and Remus reached out to crush the skull of this Projection with his bare-

    His flesh beginning to burn, a flaming Enos rested his gaze on Remus.

    In mid-air, Remus felt his body freeze in place, the outline shining purple.

    Then the world fell apart.

    Light, sounds, and any telltale sign of reality slipped away from him. There was nothing, for one horrible moment, but darkness. Then in a great flood of energy, of life, Remus could see again.

    A quartz platform spanned across a great and dusty plain. The air was made thick with a perpetual sandstorm, like a grainy filter placed over each eyeball. Through the haze, a frenzy of movement took place below. Incorporeal, Remus was observing this all from an immeasurable distance, angled beneath the blinding luminance of the sun at its noon peak. Neat lines of soldiers were pressed tightly together in military units, all standing at attention, all of their gazes locked onto a figure at their head. As if connected by a hundred invisible threads hooked to their sweating brows.

    Remus focused down on what ¨C still reeling from whiplash ¨C took him a second to recognise as himself.

    It was him but . . . better.

    A more muscular frame than his own bulged beneath plates of intricately decorated armour. Contrasting shades of gold and white complemented one another as the main shades of the heavy material, the latter sharing the same hue as the platform they stood on. His irises had taken on a deeper navy, and, new altogether, plus an accessory Remus had trouble forming an opinion on, were two horns. Curving inwards, out of his forehead, and a greyish-blue. Something told Remus this was a far older version of himself. Advancing in Rank tended to make the aging process tricky to recognise, but where flesh alone betrayed no difference, an air of wisdom trailed behind his older self. There was a self-assurity that only life experience could bring, engulfing the man where present Remus only found hesitance; uncertainty.

    D¨¦j¨¤ vu smashed against his senses. This was all so familiar: exactly like time Nova had dug into his brain. When he had been seconds away from killing Remus, before Maris had intervened. While there had definitely been something wrong with that woman, he had her to thank for his life.

    But there was no Maris to save him now. Besides, Nova was a laughing stock compared to Enos¡¯s authority.

    ¡°You could be the strongest being to ever step foot on Descent. Everything you¡¯ve worked for, each grain of Infinity making up your being, every spark of Tanish¡¯s energy running through your Ichor: you could be made greater than it all!¡±

    The scene changed.

    In a frenzy of light and images, Remus saw himself in a hundred places at once.

    He was seven years old, hand cut open by a saw, which, to this day, he didn¡¯t know how to operate.

    The same age. Speaking with his parents, a Remus yet to be made jaded by life tried to understand what his mother meant. What exactly a Death-Marked was.

    He was sixteen, heart full of venom, and blood shot with ice. Edmar towered over his bleeding body. Chin split open against the rubble of the Labour District.

    Faster.

    Arguing with Briella and Aiden, taking his rage out on the wrong people.

    Months locked away inside of his family¡¯s library. Desperate to find some hope for a better future. Some way to free himself from his-

    Head-spinning, the images refused to slow down.

    Older now.

    Tal¡¯s mutilated body, sliced open by a thousand Inklings.

    The Tempest clanswoman, Iris, plummeting to her death.

    Andreas smiling for the final time.

    All of their sacrifices made for Remus.

    ¡°Stop it . . .¡±

    Violet¡¯s scathing rejection.

    Chained up and put on trial.

    And, possibly worst of all . . .

    Gold¡¯s Bane burnt to the ground.

    Thousands dead because of him.

    ¡°Stop it. I¡¯m begging you . . . stop it.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be this way, Remus. You¡¯ve been through so much struggle, and for what? When Descent falls to its knees, what will you have to show for all your hard work? What I offer you Remus, is everything you¡¯ve ever wanted.¡±

    The kaleidoscope of colours came to a stop. A panging migraine upsetting his thoughts, Remus struggled to focus on the images being projected deep into his consciousness.

    This was a memory he didn¡¯t recognise. Less a memory than it was a dream, where that older version of him, fitted out with sapphire blue horns, took the reins.

    Hundreds of thousands of Paladins followed at Remus¡¯ back as they stormed a hastily erected fortress. Unbounded were littered amongst their ranks, and a barricading wall of their monstrous flesh enveloped the army like an all-encompassing battering ram. Poised to smash through the bulwark and send stone scattering.

    Gazing over the parapets that lined their hold, beings resonating with the power of Warlords leered down at Remus and his advancing ranks. A battle cry boomed out of his throat ¨C or maybe someone else¡¯s ¨C and this last stronghold of humanity braced itself for one final attack.

    The wind blew in his hair, an endless swarm of beings obeyed his every order, and Remus cackled in glee as an absolute power made him inevitable.

    He extended a gauntleted hand. In the blink of an eye, the entire fortress was burning. A string of explosions were set off, each sparking the next like a chain of dominoes falling. There were flying limbs, crumbling walls, and the earth itself let out a terrible groan.

    What a rush!

    He was strong. He was powerful. He was someone to be admired, to be feared. He was never to be picked on, or belittled, or made to feel tiny ever again.

    But he was everything he hated.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want this.¡± He huffed, the vision becoming shaky at the edges, like a reel of film worn with age.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen what you¡¯re willing to sacrifice for power, Remus. Where were your morals back then?¡±

    Another scene. Lumi fighting desperately to protect the only home she had ever known, as Remus set himself to melting down an entire glacier, retuning its watery contents back into the sea.

    ¡°Where were your morals when you burnt down the Frost Clan? All so you wouldn¡¯t be thwarted in your campaign for self-improvement? Self-obsession, more like, and don¡¯t you dare suggest otherwise.¡±

    Dozens of battles played out before Remus, on screens of light emerging out of the darkness. He recognised each one. It was every fight Remus had ever participated in, no matter how minor his contribution.

    He hovered in the centre of the circus show, mesmerised by the sparks, the searing light; the capacity for rage and destruction that resided inside of him.

    ¡°What you¡¯re really scared of Remus, is yourself. Of what you can do. What you could become if you lost control.¡±

    Remus snapped back to reality. It took him a few dizzying seconds to catch his breath, the room, the night, the chaos of it all boomeranging back. The force of it swept out his legs from under him, and Remus was flattened against his burning floor.

    When his eyes cleared, Remus saw Enos towering over him. The armoured hand of a false god reached out for Remus, faint traces of a purplish energy billowing from his fingertips. The pair of them were bathed by hellfire, a ghoulish white in colour that blurred their features, muted their differences, until you wouldn¡¯t be able to tell the pair apart. Their histories were erased, the entire outside world was absent. All that existed was a decision to be made.

    ¡°You can stop all the pain. Find purpose in a universe hollowed of everything that makes life worth living by self-consumed gods. Take my hand, and you¡¯ll never hurt or want again.¡±

    Remus hated himself for it, but he was tempted. It would be so easy to agree . . . to let himself go. Why did he care so much?

    He had tried so hard, hadn¡¯t he? Exhausted every other option. Was he expected to just continue to suffer? To shut his mouth and let the universe tear itself apart?

    Remus wasn¡¯t sure how much longer that could go on.

    Slowly, he reached out to meet Enos¡¯ hand.

    ¡°This is the only way Remus. We¡¯re the force of good in this universe; Infinity is on our side. Once we undo the destruction the gods have wrought, the true peace you¡¯ve always longed for will be in reach.¡±

    Remus'' voice was coarse, but he managed to whisper something. His hand paused in mid-air, inches away from connecting with Enos¡¯ skin.

    Enos frowned with another god¡¯s face. He hadn¡¯t quite heard him. ¡°What was that?¡±

    Remus found the will, somewhere, to speak a little louder.

    ¡°At what cost?¡±

    The Originator paused. ¡°Whatever it takes.¡±

    A junction in the tunnel of fate. As far as Remus was aware, there were two futures available to him. Each as suffocating as the other.

    The path the Speed clansman has bestowed upon him. Covered in Ichor, the boogey-man of his own dreams, galloping into First Rite to free his city of a tyrant¡¯s rule. Hero of the Talents of the Future, but how many more people must he lead to their deaths, until their sacrifices weren¡¯t in vain? In freeing First Rite, would he soak the city in blood?

    There was another way.

    Horned, powerful, a presence of reckoning that would lead Descent to resolution. A peace  that could only be seized by abandoning his people. Leaving the gods for dead. The ones who had deemed him unworthy of the humble Mark. Who had upset the balance so much that they had forced Infinity''s hand, creating the very fiends they fought so desperately against now. They were diseases in the immune system of existence, and they had to be purged out. He could fix it all.

    But Remus would have to swallow up his soul in the process.

    ¡°You know there¡¯s only one true option.¡± Enos¡¯ voice echoed in the chasm of his mind. ¡°So make it.¡±

    Remus closed his eyes.

    Inside of that darkness, he wallowed. He was a ship in storm, tossed and turned by turbulent currents, and unable to control the vessel for the life of him.

    Destruction or destruction was all the freedom of his choice; the main course of his destiny, served on a silver platter by the Grim Reaper himself. There would only be death left in his wake; it was hard-baked into the DNA of his person to wreak havoc. If he was going to leave a trail of blood behind regardless, then why not choose the easier option?

    Why not give in?

    Remus gritted his teeth, and felt his morals slipping away.

    Felt himself become what he had always feared.

    That unspeakable feeling bore down on him again, and the demon on his back laughed.

 136. False Prophet

    ¡°Remus.¡±

    Remus was kneeling. An abyss of darkness surrounded him still, but Enos was nowhere to be seen. For that, if nothing else, he was thankful.

    He raised his head at the sound of his name, only to be met by a shapeless void. Whoever had spoken didn¡¯t seem keen to stay.

    Lapping waves of water wetted his trousers, and Remus could barely see his own hands extended out in front of him. He felt strangely calm, considering the circumstances. His head hurt a little, but that was next to nothing compared to the migraine that had been stabbing daggers into his skull ¨C Enos shovelling vision after vision down the feed of his mind left him woozy. His thoughts came in slow drifts, however, especially when he tried to remember back to what had happened.

    Whether or not he had taken Enos¡¯ hand.

    His surroundings, although shrouded in shadow, appeared to be nothing more than a stream of liquid a few inches deep. There were no walls to speak of. No air brushing ghostly fingers across his skin. Only Remus, and the rolling tide of the water. If he closed his eyes, Remus could almost imagine he was at some beachside. Coarse sand chafing against his skin, seagulls above cawing incessantly, and the strangled music of the ocean lulling him into a gentle . . . sleep.

    Gods, he was tired. Generals didn¡¯t get much rest ¨C who would have thought?

    Remus rose to his feet, swaying for a moment. It felt like he hadn¡¯t walked in Rebirths.

    What did I choose? The thought should have sent his mind into a frenzy; the cortisol zooming through his veins. Instead, Remus had never felt more apathetic.

    He dropped back to the floor, making a splash. Why bother getting up? Something told him there was nothing more to see: this was it. A fragment of eternity, all his own. It seemed to go on forever.

    Common sense told him he shouldn¡¯t be nearly as calm. He¡¯d been barely seconds away from making the most integral decision of life, and right on the cusp of settling on a choice, he¡¯d been whisked away here ¨C wherever here was. Now feeling altogether indifferent about the entire thing. Maybe Remus truly was the heartless, selfish man Enos painted him out to be. Or, perhaps, in equally as grim a thought, the choice no longer mattered enough to be of concern. Either way, there was no use worrying: no matter what, Descent was predestined for ruin.

    Remus had done a lot of things in his life. Remarkable things. But wrestling with destiny was one race with no finish line. He¡¯d been doing that all his life, and was yet to spot a final ribbon to sprint through.

    Ultimately, nothing had changed. Humanity and their not-so benevolent gods were doomed.

    What is this, anyway? Remus frowned, though felt distinctly unbothered. Purgatory?

    He hadn¡¯t believed in the afterlife. Remus had never really known what to think about death. It was simply an unavoidable part of life, the final checkpoint even the gods would one day cross. Ever since the topic had been brought up in conversation with Koa, it had been playing on his mind. Where were the soldiers who had died for him now?

    If there was a heaven, would Infinity have reserved a place for humanity there? He doubted it. If Infinity had created an entire race of warrior demons to destroy the deities ¨C humanity¡¯s very creators ¨C then it was pretty safe to assume humans weren¡¯t regarded too favourably either.

    Remus tended to think of Infinity as if it was some sentient being. An ultra-intelligence that encompassed all of life ¨C was life itself. He could call on it in battle, surge it through his Boundless Mark, but ultimately? He knew next to nothing about the holy essence. Maybe it wasn¡¯t self-aware. Maybe it was just power, existing for power¡¯s sake, with no rhyme or reason behind it.

    If the alternative was believing that existence itself was set out against him ¨C wanted him dead ¨C then Remus would gladly believe otherwise.

    But all the evidence was to the contrary. The Unbounded spoke about Infinity like it was a master they served. A maniacal villain that rubbed its hands together and sat back watching as their ultimate schemes unfolded. The universe was a board game, and only Infinity knew the end-goal, possessed the pieces, and understood the crude language of the instruction manual.

    For the very first time since awakening here, a shiver ran down Remus¡¯ spine.

    ¡°Remus.¡±

    Remus rose his head, away from his shimmering reflection in the sweeping waters. The first time he¡¯d heard that voice, he¡¯d been certain he was hallucinating. Maybe the prospect of being here, alone forever, stressed out a subconscious part of him. Enough that it had begun conjuring up imaginary friends to keep him company.

    ¡°Remus!¡±

    When the voice called for the third time, a tad more aggressively, Remus had the distinct impression their patience was wearing thin. Real or not, whoever this person was demanded his attention. Worst case scenario, and there were unreal voices taking residence inside Remus'' head, he didn¡¯t want to get off on the wrong foot with his new roommate.

    Remus returned to his feet. ¡°Yes?¡±

    Footsteps reverberated against walls that didn¡¯t exist, and though he couldn''t see through the cloying dark overhead, he doubted there was a ceiling for words to rebound against. Regardless, the figure approached enough for their silhouette to emerge into view. The atmosphere here carried a pressure to it, and Remus had to squint through the fog to catch his first glimpse of . . .

    Himself.

    It was him, seven years old, saw in hand.

    A trick. He thought immediately. Another ploy of Enos.

    Remus backpedaled, Mark revving into action. Blue crystalline light poured out of his shoulder and tricep, granting an otherworldly glow to the alien landscape.

    Young Remus¡¯ eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s . . .¡±

    For some reason, it was nigh impossible to call on his Mark¡¯s full power here ¨C like trying to traverse across a road of cement that was yet to fully set. He gritted his teeth, offering a silent prayer to Tanish. Perhaps the Ambition god would hear Remus, and bestow him with the power needed to vanquish this false-

    ¡°That¡¯s so cool!¡± His child self squealed.

    Immediately, like a chauffeur slamming the brakes of a carriage, Remus sealed his Ambiton.

    He lost his resolve to fight, and where cold determination had possessed him moments ago, Remus was now consumed by utter perplexity.

    ¡°A Mark, a Mark!¡± Young Remus contorted his face in a fabulous smile. ¡°I knew we¡¯d get one, I just knew it!¡±

    The child was now running laps around Remus, pulling at the material of Remus¡¯ trousers and laughing delightedly. ¡°Look how muscular we are! Gods, I got so strong! One kick with legs like that, and we¡¯d decapitate someone!¡±

    Remus rubbed his brow in dismay. If this really was an illusion, Enos was doing an eerily good job of impersonating him.

    He decided to play along. ¡°Who in their right mind taught you what decapitation means?¡± Remus had always known he¡¯d been something of an oddball, but this was ridiculous.

    His younger self ignored the question, instead spewing out an avalanche of enquiries all his own. All the while, he shadowboxed against an invisible opponent. ¡°How did we get a Mark if we¡¯re ¨C Pow! ¨C Death-Marked?¡± He kicked fiercely at thin air. Remus was sure in the boy¡¯s imagination, he was acting out some fierce battle. ¡°Boom!¡± He threw a punch. ¡°Did the gods realise their mistake, and finally give us a Mark?¡±

    Remus¡¯ throat dried up. ¡°Not exactly. I had to  . . .¡± How to word this? ¡°Earn their attention.¡±

    ¡°Do that thing again!¡± His younger self bounced on the balls of his feet. ¡°That blue fire you summoned. Almighty gods, I have fire powers in the future . . .¡±

    Remus, despite himself, allowed a wreath of fire to consume his arm. ¡°Be careful, it¡¯s hot. And for your information kiddo, it¡¯s not just fire powers.¡±

    Though, now that he mentioned it, Remus did tend to spout flames everywhere ninety percent of the time. It was his go-to move.

    Huh. He thought. Maybe I should switch things up more often. I don¡¯t want people thinking I¡¯ve only got one trick up my sleeve. Especially not myself.

    Remus banished the flames. Then, in their place, jagged lines of energy screeched through the air.

    ¡°Lightning!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right bud.¡± Remus smiled. He¡¯d long since accepted he was probably dying right now. Enos had torn his physical body apart, he was sure, and this was all some bizarre fever dream heralding his death. Whatever the case, if he was going to die anyway, Remus planned on enjoying the moment while he could.

    Speaking to him like he¡¯s my son feels pretty weird though. Remus tried to think of some better way to communicate, before shrugging. No way of acting would make this situation normal. Besides, thinking too deeply could risk shattering his false facade that everything was fine. For his own sake, he thought it best to leave that veil intact.

    ¡°How about I show you a few cool moves, huh?¡±

    Child Remus kept nodding along excitedly, like his neck was attached to a spring.

    ¡°Alright. Watch this.¡± Remus readied himself in a combat pose, took a deep breath, circulated Infinity around his body, and-

    ¡°Did we beat-up Damosh?¡±

    . . . paused in his tracks.

    He let both arms fall back to his side. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Did we beat up Damosh!¡± Younger him repeated. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that the point of getting the Mark in the first place?¡±

    Remus suddenly felt exposed, as if someone had flailed his skin off, leaving the tender flesh underneath subject to scrutiny. The surface-level bravado was nowhere to be seen, peeled away to reveal what really lay beneath.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    A rotting mockery of what he once stood for.

    He shivered. ¡°About that, I don¡¯t mean to disappoint you, but . . .¡±

    Remus frowned.

    ¡°But what?¡±

    Remus¡¯ instincts kicked in, and he dived to the side as a wave of water crashed over them. He shielded his younger self with his body, before glancing back to see what had caused the disruption.

    Curse everything, there appeared to be another uninvited guest in their midst.

    ¡°I¡¯m not normally one to judge, believe it or not.¡± A voice uncannily like his own billowed across the waters. ¡°But this really is pathetic.¡±

    Remus turned to see a stone protruding out of the water that he hadn¡¯t noticed before. For how inconspicuous the object was, he couldn¡¯t work out why. A man sat there, wiping a waterstone over a long and delicate series of chains.

    Supreme Steel chains.

    Then he noticed the blue horns.

    The man¡¯s musculature bulged beneath far humbler clothing than his previous set of heavy armour. Seeing his skin exposed under a thin white tunic, Remus tried not to stare at the litany of scars that were barely covered by the attire. The man seemed determined not to meet Remus in the eye, and the scraping of metal on stone was like nails digging across a chalkboard.

    ¡°You¡¯re from that vision.¡± Remus pushed his younger self behind his back. ¡°A future version of me.¡±

    A crooked smile disturbed the man¡¯s face. His face. ¡°Sorry to ruin the mood, Remus. Though really, I think if I watched any longer, I¡¯d be sick. Having to show-off to your child self to boost your own self-esteem really is a new low ¨C one I can¡¯t quite fathom the depths of.¡±

    ¡°What is this?¡± Remus mustered as much confidence behind his words as possible. Now was no time for feeling stung over petty insults. He finally had another person to speak to ¨C albeit an aspect of himself ¨C and however strange he was finding all this, Remus intended on finding out the truth. ¡°Why are we here?¡±

    The horned man said nothing. Instead, he simply pointed one finger upwards.

    Remus followed its direction and winced.

    A sanguine red abruptly displaced his reality.

    Through watery eyes, Remus observed a bright light. One he was certain hadn¡¯t been there mere moments ago. A crude crimson served as a jarring contrast to the empty void of this mind-space, illuminating the waters below eerily. As if he was entrenched in blood. He had to squint against the glaring lightsource, and even then his eyes hurt.

    Strangely, Remus felt as if he recognised the glaring power, though couldn¡¯t identify the source behind it. It was like, to some unspoken degree, he¡¯d always known it was there. In the same way that Ambition felt like an extension of himself, so did this resource: simply one that, like a shy friend, hadn¡¯t cared to show its face.

    Until now.

    Older Remus rose lazily to his feet. ¡°This is a shred of the Time god, Java. Implanted inside of you by that dying clansman you spoke to, at the Speed Clan base. It seems to have frozen time, and, to my great dismay, brought the three of us together to convene.¡±

    Younger Remus seemed frozen himself, not having the slightest clue what was happening. For all Remus¡¯ worth, he wasn¡¯t taking the news much better, biting down on his thumb. A growing, nagging feeling in his stomach was tearing him up from the inside out. It whispered into Remus¡¯ ear, that invisible demon that wouldn¡¯t leave him alone, ushering in a reality he dreaded to discover real.

    Those weren¡¯t dreams that had been haunting his sleeping hours. They were visions.

    ¡°So,¡± his younger self suddenly tilted his head, no longer smiling. ¡°You gained all this power, and haven¡¯t taken care of our family yet?¡± He crossed his arms, evidently not noticing that Remus wasn¡¯t in the mood for talking anymore. ¡°You mean to say that the Carpentry Clan are still suffering? How much longer are you going to leave things in Andreas¡¯ hands? Grandad doesn¡¯t have long left, does he?¡±

    Remus spluttered, the blood rushing to his cheeks. Of course, he couldn¡¯t have known. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, young man.¡± His older self strutted over before Remus could react, placing a hand on the boy¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It seems that Remus is still deliberating on doing the right thing. He¡¯s an awkward stage you¡¯ll have to go through, I¡¯m afraid. But don''t worry, after that misstep in our personal growth, a light awaits you at the end of the tunnel: me. The man you really want to become.¡±

    He stared Remus dead in the eye. ¡°You must join the Paladins. I don¡¯t know why Java¡¯s power stirred in you now, or why our subconscious felt it so important to hold a mother¡¯s meeting, right when Enos was getting tired of your hesitance. Maybe it¡¯s just self-preservation.¡± The towering man bounded over to Remus, impossibly tall. Now that he was so close, Remus couldn¡¯t help but gasp.

    Across his shoulder, visible though the faint cloth of his robes, he saw something unspeakable.

    His future self was Tainted.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why you¡¯re so disgusted.¡± The warrior sneered. ¡°I simply did what I had to. You think the Unbounded are the ones we should be fighting, but have you ever taken a moment to consider the bigger picture?¡±

    ¡°Don''t try to take the moral high ground on me.¡± Remus barked. ¡°Enos had never done anything good for us; for anyone..¡±

    ¡°And what have your gods done for you?¡± Older Remus smirked. ¡°Destroying everything to hold a monopoly over Infinity; raising a race of warriors out of the earth to do their bidding . . . call me idealistic, but that doesn¡¯t sound very moral to me. Listen to your heart Remus ¨C you¡¯ll find that my words strike a cord, for it is yourself that speaks them.

    ¡°All we ever wanted was some peace for our family; for our clansmen. Alas, the gods have forged a reality where we can never possibly seize what we want. We''ve fought so hard, and for so long, and for what?¡± He raised his head. ¡°A fallacy. By following the script the gods have written, you doom yourself. You fight for nothing.¡±

    ¡°What do you propose then?¡± Remus gritted his teeth. ¡°The Paladins stand for genocide. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever forgive myself for considering Enos¡¯ offer, even for the slightest second, but I certainly don¡¯t intend on becoming like you.¡±

    His future frowned.

    Then, like a boulder breaking every rib in his back, that presence returned. It was more noticeable than ever ¨C the swirling mass of fiendish black. The person he was so afraid to be, always only one step behind.

    ¡°Your destiny has been stalking you, Remus.¡±

    Remus collapsed face-first into the water below, nose smashing against the smooth stone underneath. The weight of that demon was greater than ever, and Remus had to strain every muscle in his body just to breathe.

    He could hear older Remus kneeling nearby. He whispered into his left ear, the one not submerged in the stream. ¡°Give. In. This is what you always wanted. To never be so weak and helpless again. So why must you resist?¡±

    Remus strained his neck, rising above the tide.

    ¡°If you won¡¯t fight for Enos, and if you won¡¯t fight for the gods, then what will you fight for!¡± The horned man screamed. ¡°This is one choice you can¡¯t escape from. Stop making things so much more difficult than they have to be.¡±

    Remus said nought. His younger self began to shriek, tugging at his compressed body, trying to free Remus from the weight of his destiny.

    ¡°Where has your resolve gone?¡± His horned self spat. Wrinkles across his forehead encapsulated centuries worth of frustration. ¡°You struggled and toiled for so much of your life to finally be transfused with the Ambition god¡¯s power, and now that same Ambition seems to be beaten out of you! I might despise Tanish for his part to play in all this, and I draw my power from a new master now, but to think a version of me could display such cowardice . . . you¡¯re a disgrace to even yourself. Past and future, you¡¯re an embarrassment.¡±

    Something in Remus broke. Mustering all of his strength, he erupted outwards. With both forearms bulging, Remus held back the inky black fiend intent on crushing him. Refused to merge with that darkness.

    He might not be able to win against fate, but that didn¡¯t mean he had to stop fighting.

    ¡°And where exactly has my Ambition gotten me!¡± His voice disrupted the water below, swatting droplets through the air. ¡°Every time I think I¡¯ve wrought some good into this world, something terrible undoes all of my hard work. A version of me as sick as you is evidence enough.¡± Remus suddenly felt like an idiot for ever considering Enos¡¯ offer. ¡°I may be a failure, but a peace achieved through the devastation of billions isn¡¯t a peace at all. I¡¯ll rather die here than die a tyrant.¡±

    He locked eyes with his younger self. The boy was teary-eyed, hugging himself desperately.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry champ.¡± Remus felt his darker desires bearing down more than ever. Soon, they would devour him completely.

    Remus dropped to one knee, the invisible demon ¨C the fate he could barely hope to escape from ¨C more intent than ever.

    He had to wonder, what was his younger self thinking? Behind those watery eyes, what thoughts were racing through that tiny head of his?

    While he hated to admit it, his older self was right about one thing. All Remus had ever really wanted, at the very core behind all of his motivations, was to be able to sleep at night, without fearing that tomorrow might be the day his family fell apart. The day that some tax-collector would beat his father to death in a fit of rage. The day a raging God-Graced lost their cool, and obliterated First Right and the Divine Ground it stood on, in a merciless display of godly authority. The day that all of Descent fell into anarchy, and they became no better than the Unbounded themselves.

    Strip away all of his worldly desires, and Remus wanted peace. Maybe that was why Armani had branded him in the first place. If not by the goddess¡¯ conscious whims, then by the remnants of the Peace god¡¯s soul.

    Resolution.

    Truly, it was all meaningless. Unbounded. The deities. Two sides of a fruitless war.

    He would have to rise above it.

    Screaming now, Remus pushed against the demon with all of his might.

    Someone seemed to be whispering into his ear. The same short mantra, over and over again. He turned slowly to face his horned counterpart, half-expecting his future self to be berating him, but they appeared just as bewildered as Remus. Instead, as the words grew louder, Remus could have sworn his breaths were coming faster; his posture rising a little straighter.

    Pain is just a catalyst for change.

    The words echoed in Remus¡¯ soul, and with his Mark surging at full power, Remus vowed never to lose sight of himself again.

    Whether that change is good or bad, is up to us.

    The engulfing darkness was suddenly illuminated by a halo of white. The howls of his future reverberated in Remus'' ears, and before the last of his vision faded out, Remus saw one last thing.

    His younger self¡¯s smiling visage.

    <hr>

    The light cleared, the dust settled, and Remus returned to a familiar scene.

    Enos¡¯ extended hand.

    ¡°So mortal.¡± The fiend-king offered his fingers. ¡°What will it be?¡±

    Remus didn¡¯t move a muscle. He kept his fingers a hair¡¯s width away from the Unbounded. The seconds passed by, and Remus didn¡¯t say or do a thing.

    ¡°Damn the gods, if you don¡¯t make up your mind soon-¡±

    The room was replaced by a gigantic fist, and Remus relished the sensation of his own hand colliding with the Projection¡¯s face.

    There was a sound Remus could only describe as a forest being crushed into shrapnel, and the hut ceased to exist.

    Remus rushed forward, meeting Enos¡¯ burning, searing grimace head-on. The outside wind suddenly swept against his face, and Remus had never been more thankful for the simple pleasures of nature. Of the world he loved so dearly.

    He grasped the Unbounded by the throat, and with all the force of his magma-titan bearing down, smashed the Projection¡¯s body deep into the earth.

    The fiend struck against a deep layer of stone at the bottom of a crater, reduced to a charred beast of smoking flesh. A figure that was already dispersing away. Remus pressed his leg into their chest, feeling whatever nightmare of anatomy that passed for this creature¡¯s spine compress.

    ¡°Thank you Enos.¡± Remus placed his palms together and bowed at the waist. ¡°You¡¯ve taught me more than you know.¡±

    The Projection spat Ichor at his face. ¡°You just threw away your last lifeline, Remus. The Unbounded will crush you, the gods only see humanity as pawns for their Celestial War, and Infinity ¨C reality itself ¨C is against you. What do you possibly hope to achieve?¡±

    Remus drew back a fist. Inside each knuckle, he implanted the swirling might of Eruptive Will. Infinity, Ambition, and every drop of his bodily energy were all imbued into the blow.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to do what I¡¯ve always done, Enos. I¡¯m going to be delusional.¡± Remus smiled wickedly, barely holding back a laugh of pure glee. ¡°You¡¯re looking at the man that¡¯s going to bring peace to the cosmos.¡±

    Remus launched forward.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to end this Celestial War.¡±

    As if Tanish was smiting the Projection¡¯s body with him, a shock of lightning arched down from the heavens. An electric rush purged all the fatigue out of Remus¡¯, and the ground below his feet rumbled as he pressed all of his weight downwards.

    There was one last hoarse scream. One last rush of scattering Infinity, and the Projection was no more.

    Remus wobbled on his feet, Ichor dripping down his brow and smoke rose from his body.

    Slowly, he turned his head towards a line of hills in the north-east. The direction of his birthplace.

    First Rite.

    Remus clenched his fist. All that was left of his headquarters was a black scar in the land. There was no point dawdling here any longer. He had affairs to attend to ¨C ones years in the making.

    Army or no army, it was time to make his younger self proud.

 137. Splinters of A Soul

    The lord of Shadows peered down at Blessing.

    Upon his throne, the bearded man sat silently at the front of the audience chamber. Rows upon rows of Shadow clansmen kneeled before the Old One, the raw strength of at least one hundred Foot-Soldiers permeating throughout the room.

    ¡°I hate to overstep, my liege.¡± Blessing put it as delicately as she could, her flame body a sheer contrast to the engulfing gloom. ¡°But have you considered adding some decorations to the place? You could really spruce things up with a painting or two. To tell you the truth, I didn¡¯t get the featureless black cube design at first, but we can totally work with that! If we just-¡±

    Four black tendrils spiked out of the floor. The Old One didn¡¯t lift so much as a finger, and Blessing had to lean back, one sharp point moving towards her nape. It stopped barely inches away from her exposed yellow skin ¨C normally protected by a fiery aura. The piercing light, clearly, didn¡¯t have the slightest effect on the God-Graced.

    He slumped backwards into his stone throne ¨C a position that couldn¡¯t possibly be comfortable ¨C and sighed. ¡°My advisors informed me this meeting was of the utmost importance ¨C and I wouldn¡¯t have bothered obliging your request, if not for the fact you originate from that girl Violet.¡± His voice took on a darker inflection. ¡°However, if you simply intend to criticise my home decor, then I see no purpose for your being here. And let me tell you, demon, I value my time very highly.¡±

    Blessing smiled, bowing at the waist. Even when threatened with death, she found it hard to not to grin wryly. As if the muscles in her face were paralysed.

    She took a second to try and frown and ¨C nope, it was impossible.

    ¡°Of course, your highness.¡± The man wasn¡¯t King of Eclipse ¨C that title went to the Lightning Clan ¨C but it wouldn¡¯t hurt to show courtesy. ¡°My thoughts got away from me. Though, if you just added a plant pot in the corner there-¡±

    The room rumbled.

    ¡°Enough!¡±

    Every muscle in Blessing¡¯s body tensed like a compressed spring.

    ¡°You have approximately ten seconds ¨C maybe shorter if I lose my temper ¨C before I pulverise your Unbounded form back into the Infinity it was birthed from. Speak your business. Now.¡±

    Despite the first trickle of blood now running down her neck, no unbecoming feelings stirred in Blessing. Sure, she was well aware of the immediate danger, and did have the basic self-preservation implanted into all living creatures. It was screaming at her to get out of here. But, to Blessing, negative emotions were like foreign capitals sown into a map. Sadness, rage, despair. Blessing could understand the concept behind each of those feelings. But like someone who knew enough geography to grasp the basic details of a faraway province, she couldn¡¯t grasp the culture, the thoughts and feelings of its people, without actually experiencing it for herself.

    And she never would. As Violet¡¯s heart magnified, Blessing was detached from the Warlord¡¯s darker self. Like excess fat cut from the meat.

    And Blessing liked it that way. Leave Violet¡¯s tumultuous side for Mystique and Ferocity to deal with. Besides, the fat was the worst part of the cut anyway.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare insult your intelligence by asking if you knew of the business in First Rite.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the delicate way of putting things. You mean the civil unrest? The King intent on eating his own city? The machinations of an Unbounded overlord infiltrating royal ranks?¡±

    Blessing nodded fervently. ¡°Quite the succinct summation! Now, your highness, I bring with me a humble request on behalf of the Talents of the Future. Help us challenge Damosh¡¯s authority over First Rite¡¯s Divine Ground, and bring the fight right to him! In return, you, of course, will have a seat on the table, as we decide how to govern the city after him.¡±

    When she finished, Blessing half-expected for the rows of clansmen to erupt in muttering. Maybe for a few of them to start brawling, or yelp out their pleas to deny or accept the request. Though, of course, the clansmen of the Old One were far too disciplined for all that ruckus.

    If silence had a weight to it, Blessing felt the pressure of the world crash onto her shoulders.

    The Old One rubbed his chin, and said nothing.

    He tapped his fingers.

    He rearranged his beard.

    He did anything but speak.

    Until, finally, like a cave forming in the face of a mountain, he opened his mouth.

    ¡°I was looking forward to dismissing whatever you had to say out of hand. Despite my scepticisms of Violet, killing the girl outright would only cause an outroar. To my great dismay, an Unbounded on humanity¡¯s side of the fight is considered by many God-Graced as quite the advantage.¡± The Old One clasped his palms together, the clap reverberating across the airy chamber. ¡°Not even I would get away with destroying her. But you! A fragment of Violet ¨C a Projection! I could crush you to ash, and no one would lift so much as a finger. Gods, I doubt even Violet would notice.¡±

    Blessing continued to smile.

    ¡°Your constant grinning sickens me, and allowing an Unbounded to stay alive so long inside of my palace brings a shiver down my spine. But.¡±

    That was what she had been looking for. That but.

    ¡°Putting my personal distaste for Violet aside, if there was one person who truly had to be destroyed, then it would be Damosh.¡± The old one locked eyes with Blessing. ¡°If you¡¯re rallying support against the Wealth Clan, it¡¯s inevitable that you¡¯ll gather up quite the force. Most of us God-Graced are looking for any excuse to crush that man¡¯s bones into dust, and even a spark as small as your humble rebellion will trigger a mighty blaze. You . . .¡± he paused, as if there was something lodged in his throat blocking the words. The Old One spoke through gritted teeth. ¡°. . . can trust the Shadow Clan to meet your call when the time comes. Our might alone will cast Damosh¡¯s heart into darkness.¡±

    The Old One rose in his seat, perching forward. His eyes widened unnaturally, his mouth elongating as if he was suddenly in terrible pain. Blessing flinched, wondering if the shadow-lord had somehow been poisoned. Yet the Old One continued for an uncomfortably long time ¨C long enough that she knew it was on purpose.

    ¡°What . . . what are you doing?¡±

    The Old one grunted. ¡°Trying to smile.¡±

    ¡°Please . . . ¡° Blessing wondered if this is what disgust felt like. ¡°Don¡¯t do that again . . . ¡°

    The man frowned.

    <hr>

    ¡°Eliane, am I hearing this right?¡± Christopher sipped on his tea, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the Unbounded sat on its hindlegs in the centre of the Hall of Thrones. The chamber had only recently been rebuilt after the travesty of Maris¡¯ death throes, and Ferocity was dribbling all over their crisp red carpet. The same carpet they¡¯d only just installed.

    Eliane sighed, regarding the two strange figures before them. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you are.¡±

    The first of Violet¡¯s Projections was peculiar indeed. It walked around on all fours, barking its head off, and by the very nature of its radiant glow, made it impossible to have any guards on watch. Not if they wanted any watchmen left with functioning eyesight. Only the unparalleled sight of a God-Graced allowed the two rulers to convene with the walking strobe; anything less would instantly be blinded by the light of a sun radiating from the fiend.

    And next to this creature was, arguably, a stranger sight still. An entangled mass of limbs, all with unblinking eyeballs placed in the centre of their palms. This Unbounded had introduced itself as Mystique, but how the thing spoke without any obvious sign of a mouth, Eliane hadn¡¯t the slightest.

    At least that Projection had the courtesy not to dribble over her carpet.

    ¡°We¡¯re planning an attack on First Rite, and never will a greater opportunity grace us. ¡° Mystique, at least, spoke some sense. ¡°We¡¯re set on uniting a force the likes of which Descent has never seen. By joining our coalition of champions, you not only guarantee yourself victory, but a stake in the prize of First Rite.¡±

    Eliane locked eyes with Christopher. The pair of them said nothing and everything with but a glance. For all his idiosyncrasies, and the disturbing alteration of webbed hands the man insisted on maintaining at all times, he was not a bad leader per se. Perhaps the greatest compliment Eliane would ever bestow the leader of the Amphibian Clan. All he seemed to care for was the protection of his sect in this age of madness, and for the most part, the two could agree on things.

    This proposal, however . . .

    ¡°No way.¡± Christopher said first. ¡°This is hardly a formal dialogue in the first place, and by joining this attack, we leave ourselves open for other enemies lurking in the dark. While I agree with the sentiment behind the Talents, I must speak on behalf of all of Hybrid when I decline-¡±

    ¡°Since when could you jump to decisions without first consulting me?¡± Eliane scoffed, shooting a leer Christopher¡¯s way. ¡°We both know First Rite cannot continue as it is. Hybrid is the closest city to the dying capital, and it would not bring good tidings for that settlement to collapse. Who¡¯s to say the chaos won¡¯t bleed over to here? No, we must defeat Damosh and, in the process, earn ourselves some political influence. Influence we can leverage to have a say in how First Rite will be governed during the fallout, and to guarantee our own kingdom¡¯s protection. The only way we can accomplish that is by lending a hand here.¡±

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Eliane must have been speaking the Unbounded tongue, for Christopher¡¯s eyebrows didn¡¯t drop the entire time she spoke.

    ¡°Do we rule over the same city? Hybrid is hardly a paragon for world peace! Must I remind you how we earned this throne? We¡¯ve already helped the Talents out tremendously by allowing any Foot-Solider in our city to join their cause, but participating in that conflict ourselves is very different indeed! You more than anyone should know that Hybrid is barely a step away from becoming as bad as Hell¡¯s Floor. Our political system hinges on royal upheaval! If we leave Hybrid without a monarch sitting on its throne-¡±

    ¡°Fine then.¡± Eliane relented. ¡°You remain here. I¡¯ll ensure there aren¡¯t any bones left of Damosh to bury. Then we¡¯re both happy. You¡¯re free to oversee our kingdom, and I¡¯ll take care of foreign affairs."

    Chrisptoper stared blankly at Elaine. Mystique shuffled gawkily across her many hands. Ferocity slobbered on the floor.

    The King placed down his teacup. The chink of china on china was like an avalanche in the otherwise silent room.

    Eliane was gambling here. Of course, she thought that she could trust him, but there was always the chance that the Amphibian Sect leader had tricks up his sleeve that she had not foreseen: that he could become the very usurper he spoke so negatively of.

    Stop that. She chided herself. It was Maris¡¯ more manic tendencies that led to her downfall. We must allow ourselves to trust.

    To tell the truth, putting her faith in others had never exactly been Elaine¡¯s forte ¨C it was something she almost prided herself on. While perhaps not the greatest asset when it came to making allies, suspicion was a trait she attributed much of her success to. But sometimes, even old dogs had to learn new tricks.

    ¡°I can trust you, can¡¯t I, Christopher?¡±

    Christopher struggled to detach the cup from his slime-ridden hands, before finally turning to Eliane. ¡°Civil unrest will most certainly grow with only one monarch on the throne, but something tells me you¡¯re not going to give this up, are you?¡±

    She shook her head.

    Christopher sighed, eying the Silver Throne seated between the pair of them. They had their own seats, specially created for their sects. Eliane¡¯s throne was almost intangible ¨C camouflaging into its background like the tricky skin of a chameleon. From a distance, it looked like Elaine was levitating.

    Christopher himself rested on a rather grotesque creation. Like the half-monarch seated upon its oily surface, the chair was enveloped completely in a layer of white-green slime. Eggs were nestled in the corners of the throne ¨C almost as if the thing was an incubation chamber, containing enough budding life to populate a small pond.

    But at that moment, Christopher stared down the seat that couldn¡¯t be split into two. The only part of their kingdom Eliane hadn¡¯t found a way to divide evenly between them. The greatest treasury of Infinity in all of Descent: the Silver Throne.

    A construct of Supreme Steel so pure, it had brought the Water God-Graced Maris to her fell end.

    A small part of her wondered what the man was thinking. If their truce really was only a superficial agreement to grant him a powerful political position. One that could easily be broken. Alas, Eliane espied no greed in that man¡¯s eye.

    Only fear of what was to come.

    How much longer could they call that throne theirs?

    Christopher sighed, and with his next words, Eliane felt the winds of fate blowing in a new direction.

    ¡°Do what you must.¡±

    <hr>

    Repose strolled through a sea of dust.

    Never ¨C not once in all of the front line¡¯s sprawling history ¨C could the place have been described as beautiful. That statement held especially true this late into the Celestial War.

    A moshpit of blood and demons was not picturesque, and though Repose hated to discriminate against her own kind by comparing them to devils, Unbounded like herself ¨C the kind that generally didn¡¯t advocate for genocide by principle ¨C were hard to come by. She was a diamond in the rough; a guardian angel amongst fiends of the lowest variety.

    Yet, like that same diamond refusing to crack under pressure, Repose¡¯s resolve was unshakeable. Despite the front lines having never looked worse, she trodded on.

    The sight of the earth cratered into portions, then stained golden by the blood of the fallen, hardly added a fault to her step. Even when strolling past carcasses dried and rotting in the humid air for days, she didn¡¯t slow, arm pressed against her nose to keep the stench of death at bay. She couldn¡¯t determine what species those bodies belonged to. Human or Unbounded, it mattered little. It was all just Infinity in different flavours.

    During her long travels, Repose refused to rest. No, the fiend marched stoically onward, for she had people to meet.

    Her spiritual senses were quite adept. Despite walking merrily straight across the bloodiest battlefield on Descent, the Projection kept well away from any actual fighting. Her instincts were like a net spread out in front of her, forewarning Repose of any Unbounded laying in wait, or, perhaps even more dangerous for a being like her, clansmen sick and tired of fiends cutting down their fellow men. Humans hungry for vengeance.

    At length, she came to a stop.

    One lone silhouette emerged through the shimmering sandstorm. Nowadays, there always seemed to be some kind of filth polluting the air over the front lines. Yet, even as Repose squinted through it, her body of stone resistant to the chafing effect of the atmosphere, she was disappointed to see one figure in place of the expected three.

    Only a single Pillar had deigned to show up.

    The figure disappeared, and the fiend flinched. Repose worried for a moment that she had mistaken the shadow for an ally, but it was far too late to move back now.

    There was the sound of a string being cut. With nothing but her Unbounded instincts carrying her, Repose tossed her body aside, landing hard.

    An arrow struck the sand inches away from her feet.

    And from that arrow, a woman sprang up into existence.

    A woman with silver hair, and a woman who had replaced that one arrow with two hundred.

    All hovering mid-air, points turned to Repose.

    Well. The Unbounded silently scoffed. That certainly escalated quickly . . .

    ¡°I came here agreeing to speak with a messenger from Violet. I sense your aura from her, but I just have to be sure.¡±

    Something about understanding the danger at hand put Repose at ease. No longer did she shiver with trepidation. You could send a thousand godlings to destroy her body of earth and rock, but as long as she was protecting someone else when putting her neck on the line, Repose could face down any known threat. It was the core of who she was: as if her own life didn¡¯t matter in comparison. The Unbounded silently reminded herself of what was at stake ¨C the people relying on her ¨C and steeled her resolve. Besides, from her access to Violet¡¯s memories of interacting with the God-Graced, Eshika appeared to be one of the better ones.

    ¡°I¡¯m a Projection of Violet¡¯s. She apologises for not being able to convene with you in person, but things have been a handful at our current base of operations.¡±

    With a pinch of reluctance, Eshika dispelled the projectiles. ¡°I heard about what happened to Gold¡¯s Bane. I¡¯m sorry for your loss. Glimat and Griffin also bring their condolences. The pair of them offer their sincerest apologies for not being here, in attendance with us.¡± Eshika frowned deeply, standing at an angle. Her silver hair was like a sheet of metal reflecting the desert heat, a gash of light blinding Repose in one eye. ¡°Leaving the front lines unattended at any time would be unwise, but now more than ever. It posed a great risk even for myself to come here.¡±

    ¡°We hope that you¡¯ve considered our request at least, God-Graced.¡±

    Eshika nodded. ¡°That I have. I¡¯m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll be unable to provide your forces with any support. The emergence of the Paladins has opened up a new frontier to this war we didn¡¯t foresee, and our enemies are more intelligent than they first appeared. There¡¯s no telling what tactics they could throw at humanity¡¯s armies in our absence. No, now more than ever, I must be with my clansmen.¡±

    ¡°I came here in person to show I cared about your fight. What¡¯s happening in that city is a travesty, but to leave my post would be negligent of my own responsibilities." The God-Graced bowed. ¡°We wish you the best of fortune with restoring peace to First Rite.¡±

    With that, and before Repose had a chance to reply, the God-Graced turned her back on the fiend.

    Repose balled her fists. In the span of a single second, the sediment that made up her body seemed to be replaced by a fiery igneous. The violet streaks through her rocky form began to boil, like hot rivers of lava burning her from the inside out.

    The faces of the common people of First Rite flew through Repose¡¯s mind. All impressions of people Violet had met, or seen, or merely been in the same city as. For all of them, from the very bottom of her rocky heart, a parental instinct of protection overwhelmed Repose.

    Eshika¡¯s footsteps resounded through the dusty plain, each footfall like the firing of a gun, and Repose couldn¡¯t afford to hold back anymore.

    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit!¡±

    The Archery God-Graced froze in her tracks. Without turning around, she leered over her shoulder at Repose.

    But she didn¡¯t say anything. Almost as if she were trying to find out how Repose had the gall.

    ¡°If you didn¡¯t want to fight for First Rite, you wouldn¡¯t have bothered coming here!¡± Repose disregarded her own safety, prepared to invoke Eshika¡¯s wrath. She pointed one stony figure at the woman. ¡°I know you care about the thousands of people huddled inside of that dying city. All they¡¯ve ever known has been turmoil, and their own home is intent on swallowing them up! There may be soldiers you need to look after Eshika, but the people of First Rite? These are innocent people, most of them not bred for war. Which ones really need protecting?¡±

    The God-Graced¡¯s lips twitched.

    If this had been the complete Violet speaking, and not her protective nature amplified, the very inconvenient things known as ¡®dignity, respect, and honour¡¯ would have probably kept her mouth shut. Shame to say, Repose was not Violet.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t believe for a second someone as noble as you could let that slip by without doing something about it.¡±

    She took a defiant stride forward. ¡°So do something!¡±

    Eshika stared at Repose dead-in-the-eye. The sand beneath their feet shifted, as if the great tectonic plates below Descent were moving a hair¡¯s width. The clouds above parted slightly, and the eruption of warring fiends and mortals was a sombre music to Repose¡¯s ears.

    At last, Eshika drew an arrow.

    So it had come to this. Repose sighed, raising a fist and taking a step backwards. She was going to die against Eshika ¨C some fights just couldn¡¯t be won ¨C but her erasure wouldn¡¯t be in vain. This death had meaning to it, for she intended on sending a message. Besides, by her very nature as a Projection, Repose was designed to be dispensable. If the fiend was lucky, Violet would manifest Repose again from another bundle of Infinity.

    And so, every muscle poised and ready to face the end ¨C at least for now ¨C Repose awaited for Eshika to throw the first blow. With any twitch of the wind, darkness would devour her reality.

    But, even as the God-Graced knocked an arrow upon her bowstring, and drew it back . . . something about her manner changed. Slowly, she lowered the bow, and it dispersed into dust.

    All the tension escaped Eshika¡¯s body. As if it had been a show she was putting on.

    ¡°Take me . . . take me to First Rite.¡±

    Repose paused. A smile spread on Eshika¡¯s lips ¨C the equivalent of a sun rising into view behind a mountain range. The truest omen of good fortune there was.

    And it was that moment, out of all moments, that Repose realised something very important. She had never allowed herself the liberty of believing. Of thinking for even a second that First Rite could really, well and truly, be saved. Sure, it was ingrained into her very being ¨C was her being ¨C to want to protect as many of that city¡¯s denizens as possible. Yet sometimes, you fought a losing fight. Not because you hoped to win, that was out of the question, but because of what there was to salvage.

    Yet now, with one of the very pillars joining their war efforts, not to mention the Old One and the city of Hybrid itself! Repose dared to believe.

    They could do this.

    You had better watch your back Damosh, she thought wickedly. For the world is coming.

 138. Call to Arms

    Remus stormed away from the burning remnants of his base. Smoke clouded his vision as he pulled himself free from the wreckage, pieces of wood and stone shrapnel blasting around the place.

    Oddly, he wasn¡¯t tired in the slightest. A giddy excitement coursed through his veins, providing enough energy to run a marathon, backwards, and blindfolded. Now that he had wrestled the claws of Enos¡¯ influence away from his mind, never had his thoughts been clearer without that poison to addle it. There was no hesitation left to burden Remus; only a fiery conviction that lit the way forward, burning a path through the woods of his destiny.

    Oh right. He stopped in his tracks, turning to face the wildfire. I should clean up my mess.

    His Mark flared, and the flames ¨C some of them already his shimmering azure, the others a natural crimson ¨C failed to resist his authority. Within the blink of an eye, the place was a blazing blue. Then, clicking his fingers, Remus dispelled the seething lightshow. Nothing remained of his headquarters but an ugly scar burnt into the earth, and the crater where Enos¡¯ Projection drew its last breath.

    No doubt, there would be half-asleep clansmen wondering what the hell he was doing. Remus put aside those concerns, instead jogging towards the largest building on this campsite, and where the maps, battle plans, and other documents ¨C the ones he hadn¡¯t burnt to a crisp ¨C were kept.

    Remus had learnt a lesson from the burning fate of his last base: never keep all of your war plans in one place.

    He reached out to the doorknob in the entrance of a wide hall, only to freeze.

    Remus¡¯ spiritual senses picked up on the impossible. It was difficult to differentiate the God-Graced from the lesser Ranks. Much like how the light of a torch is nothing compared to the blazing heart of a sun, engulfing the other, and he stumbled backwards at what his perception was telling him.

    A few of the beings inside were easily recognisable; these were people Remus had been around so often, that he knew the impressions they imprinted upon his spiritual senses like the back of his hand. Aziel, Koa, Veida, Tanguy, and Remus had to stop himself as he automatically started searching for Octavia. Alive one day, gone the next. It would be a while before he grew accustomed to Koa standing alone, fingering his wedding band.

    Holding more spiritual weight than all four of them, however, was Violet. But even she was only a pool of power compared to the figures that stood beside his companions. Their might possessed an unquestionable depth, and, like how the greatest explorers of Descent could still only speculate on the true extent of the world¡¯s one ocean, Remus could hardly fathom what drawing from such abundant power must feel like.

    Despite the excellent hearing of a Vanguard, their voices were muffled to Remus. Though, from the tidbits he could make out, it appeared to be quite the passionate conversation.

    God-Graced. Here. Remus frowned, unable to think of an explanation for why that would be the case. What business did they have at an infirmary full of recovering soldiers? Hoping that his friends weren''t being held hostage, Remus opened the door and took the first tentative step inside.

    The scene he was met with was something out of a fever dream.

    Veida was perched over a great map of Descent, seven faces huddled around her.

    Tanguy was placing counters across a detailed depiction of First Rite. Aziel was rubbing his chin, so engrossed in Veida¡¯s words, he didn¡¯t even raise his head as Remus entered. Koa was creating new counters out of thin air, before handing them to his blond friend. Each of the figurines were immaculately detailed, as good as any piece laboured and loved over by a master craftsman. Remus thought he recognised the bald scalp of one carving: Koa really had nailed Edmar¡¯s likeness.

    Violet stood before the last three people Remus had expected to see. Eshika, the Old One, and Eliane. What was stranger still was the fact that none of the trio were jumping for each other''s necks. God-Graced with self-restraint were hard to come by nowadays.

    Remus foolishly wondered for a moment what had made the trio put aside their differences, but the answer was obvious ¨C they had a greater common enemy to deal with.

    ¡°Our biggest issue is Divine Ground. Damosh has ruled over First Rite for centuries. And during that time, he¡¯s fostered quite the formidable hold on the locale. To challenge his authority, we¡¯ll need a team of God-Graced to focus their efforts against his will. Then ¨C and only then ¨C can our attacking force safely enter.¡± Veida lifted her head, finally locking eyes with Remus. ¡°Look who decided to join us.¡±

    All gazes were lowered onto the ginger man. He stood there meekly, feeling starkly out of place. Which was strange, seeing how it was him spearheading this rebellion.

    ¡°Looks like his mind has melted into mush.¡± The Old One said. ¡°To think I¡¯m fighting on the same side as this mope . . .¡±

    ¡°What is this?¡± Remus eventually spluttered.

    ¡°What?¡± Violet smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that your arrival at First Rite would cause quite an upset Remus, but taking on an entire Capital by yourself? Did you seriously believe for a second that we¡¯d let you go it alone?"

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Aziel offered that signature, toothy grin of his. ¡°I know you¡¯re an overachiever Remus, but that¡¯s beyond stupid ¨C suicidal, even! Hell, trying to dethrone Damosh in itself is pretty damn ridiculous, even with all of us helping you out.¡±

    ¡°Hey, stay positive.¡± Veida chided, failing to disguise her own smile. ¡°We have an army of God-Graced on our side. Damosh might be a tough nut to crack, but if that sight alone doesn¡¯t break him, then he¡¯s already lost his mind.¡¯¡±

    Remus wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d heard that right. ¡°Sorry, did you say an army of God-Graced?¡±

    Violet stepped forward. ¡°I knew eventually you would turn around Remus, and regain your fighting spirit. So I took the liberty of sending my Projections on a little excursion. They had their hands full with some very special recruiting.¡±

    She wrapped her arms around him. Remus tried his best to ignore the smug smirks on his

    friends¡¯ faces. Feeling her body heat against his own, Remus did the utmost to suppress the memory of Blessing¡¯s guiding words.

    That debacle was definitely something he would have to deal with, but he couldn¡¯t afford to get distracted. The fate of Descent¡¯s capital, and, depending on how this all went down, maybe the fate of the world, held far more precedence than the personal matters of his heart.

    For now, at least, he held her. And that was enough.

    ¡°Turns out Damosh isn¡¯t very popular.¡± Violet confided. ¡°Most clans are looking for any excuse to take that throne right from under him. And we¡¯ve provided it.¡±

    ¡°I know for a fact Ash will be there too.¡± Koa balled his fist and held it. ¡°I¡¯m not going to let Enos take anymore of my family. I don¡¯t care if I¡¯m the last person on this earth who believes: I¡¯m going to . . . I¡¯m going to bring my brother back.¡±

    The Old One frowned, as if he thought Koa was a hopeless idealist. ¡°Trying to save your wife¡¯s killer? You might not think that much news of your rebellion reaches us in Eclipse, but something that ironic was bound to catch our ears.¡±

    ¡°That was not my brother.¡± Koa snapped. ¡°That was not Ash. That was something . . . else, using his body. And I¡¯m going to bring the real him back.¡±

    Eliane looked at Koa in the same way you might a lost puppy.

    ¡°However you rationalise it, you¡¯ll have to confront the truth sooner or later.¡± The Old One warned. ¡°Don¡¯t think your brother is removed from responsibility so easily. There¡¯ll be justice to pay for his crimes.¡±

    Koa gritted his teeth, gaze lowering to the floor.

    ¡°Hey man.¡± Remus placed a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°¡°I¡¯ll send out a command that Ash is to be taken only as prisoner. Not to be killed unless absolutely necessary. I can¡¯t guarantee that request will be obeyed in the heat of battle, but I think he can be saved. I really do. I¡¯ve seen first hand that Enos¡¯ will isn¡¯t unbreakable. He can be fought against, and he can be beaten.¡±

    Koa wiped a single tear from his cheek. ¡°Thanks Remus. Sometimes I think I¡¯m crazy, and other times I feel like I¡¯m the only person around here who¡¯s making any sense. And, I know I¡¯ve already apologised, but about that argument we had-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry brother. It¡¯s water under the bridge. Nobody will kill Ash under my watch.¡±

    The Old One scoffed.¡°Throwing around commands so easily. Since when were you in charge of us?¡±

    Veida swivelled on her feet, facing the Old One head-on. ¡°Since he began this rebellion in the first place. Do you have a problem with that?¡±

    Remus had to give Veida all due respect. Standing up to a God-Graced, especially the Old One, took guts. He just wished she chose her fights more wisely.

    The Old One mumbled under his breath, but said nothing more.

    ¡°Okay then.¡± Eliane moved over to the map. ¡°I¡¯ll rally as many God-Graced as I can from Hybrid to form a team.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll call that group Team A.¡± Remus fell back into his leadership role with ease. It felt weird to be commanding around God-Graced, but as he¡¯d mentioned before ¨C this was his war effort. If the Old One had any grievances about that, he kept them to himself.

    Remus might not be the strongest soldier opposed to Damosh, or the one with the most battle experience, or the best military expertise. What he was, however, was the butter that held this whole operation together. A living symbol of hope for the Talents that, by the very nature of his past, and who he was today, implanted faith into the most disheartened. Fate may have written stories of tragedy for these people, but sometimes, flipping that script wasn¡¯t enough ¨C you had to burn it, and start anew.

    ¡°Team A?¡± Aziel frowned. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little boring?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Eliane scoffed. ¡°You think it best to waste time on showboating? How about we spend the rest of the meeting thinking of names that might impress our enemies! How splendidly productive.¡±

    Aziel placed a hand to his chest in mock pain. ¡°Now there¡¯s no need to talk like that, Mrs God-Graced. I was just thinking we needed something memorable. So that there''s no confusion of who¡¯s who.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°The Door-Breakers.¡± Remus smiled. ¡°It¡¯s about time we turned the tables on Damosh: let¡¯s see how he likes someone knocking at his doorstep and rudely making demands.¡±

    ¡°That has got to be the lamest name I¡¯ve ever heard in my life.¡± Violet said. ¡°But it does roll off the tongue.¡±

    ¡°Door-Breakers it is!¡±

    The Old One shook his head, and if disapproval had a stench, Remus would be nose-blind to it before the night was over.

    ¡°Okay, we have clan leaders heralding from each of the world¡¯s major cities coming to our aid. Let¡¯s assume that most of them keep their promise to come. In a semi-realistic scenario, that gives us about ten God-Graced or Godlings present to challenge Damosh¡¯s will.¡±

    That was more than Remus had ever hoped of spurring to join their war effort. A jaw-dropping number. Yet, for reasons he couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on, the blood drained from Eshika¡¯s face.

    ¡°It will take all of our combined effort to override Damosh¡¯s Divine Ground. Then, to keep him from reclaiming his territory, we¡¯ll need to keep challenging him. In other words, us God-Graced won¡¯t be able to enter the city itself. We¡¯ll sit at the threshold and keep the area free of control, as whatever forces you¡¯ve mustered in your rebellion launch their attack.¡±

    Remus gulped. ¡°Ten God-Graced just to break through? This is ten against one we¡¯re talking about! Couldn''t at least one God-Graced slip through to help us?¡±

    Eliane shook her head. ¡°Eshika¡¯s right. The moment our will falters, and Damosh regains control over his Divine Ground, your rebellion is destroyed. You¡¯ll be left helpless, unable to fight back as Damosh¡¯s forces slaughter you one by one, like lambs. We can¡¯t risk that. By the time any other God-Graced decide to join, if they ever do, the Talents will be blood decorating the streets. Nothing will be left.¡±

    Only the pattering of rain against a closed window could be heard, as the company let the weight of that statement settle in their bones.

    ¡°We can still win this.¡± Remus was almost envious of the conviction bleeding from Tanguy¡¯s voice. ¡°It will be difficult to kill a God-Graced with only Warlords and lesser Ranks, but the rest of the Wealth Clan will be easy pickings for our forces. And something tells me those lackeys will quickly lose their loyalty when push comes to shove.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re forgetting about Ash and Edmar.¡± Koa reminded them. ¡°We have no knowledge of their Rank equivalence, though I suspect each is at least as powerful as a Warlord in their own right. I¡¯d dread to think they¡¯re any stronger, but it¡¯s always a possibility. ¡°

    ¡°And those Paladins.¡± The Old One uttered that last word like it was something distasteful stuck in-between his teeth. ¡°If the Wealth Clan is conspiring with Ash and Enos, it would surprise me very little to discover that they have army reserves hidden away somewhere in the city. Those Tainted Marks are a pathetic mockery of the gods¡¯ benevolence to mankind, but I cannot deny the power they hold.¡±

    ¡°These are all hypotheticals.¡± Remus reasoned. ¡°But your worries are justified. We need to split our forces into groups. That way, we¡¯ll never be overwhelmed by more than one major threat at a time.¡±

    The room assented.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need captains then.¡± Veida reasoned. ¡°People to lead our separated clansmen. I think we can securely portion our rebellion down into thirds, before we risk spreading ourselves too thin.¡±

    She strolled around the room in a circle, inspecting each of them in turn. ¡°I say our captains should be the highest Ranked people we possess, but also the greatest symbols of triumph for our soldiers. That makes it obvious then, that Remus will be captaining our main attacking force.¡±

    He beamed. ¡°It would be my honour.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good.¡± Eshika nodded. ¡°They can be our most direct attackers.¡±

    Remus liked the sound of that. ¡°Each squadron should enter the city from a different direction, all eventually closing in around Damosh¡¯s palace in the Ruling District. I¡¯d think it best, however, that my forces scout ahead. I have a flare ready in case we need to abort the mission.¡±

    The Old One laughed. ¡°There is no possibility of defeat here Remus. Do not allow the seed of failure to be planted inside your mind. Would you water a weed that appeared in your garden?¡±

    Remus gulped. ¡°Well, no-¡±

    ¡°Then do not allow fear and uncertainty to soil the future! You must never let hesitation enter your heart, for it is the worst kind of poison."

    He was about to reject the words out of hand. It was the kind of dogmatic thinking that could only spawn from a mind as entrenched in pride as the Old One¡¯s. But the Shadow God-Graced had a point. If his men crumbled under the stress, then this entire operation would fall apart. To prevent that catastrophe, Remus would have to be someone they could follow. Someone whose mind remained clear while the world around him was clouded in chaos.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to fight by Remus¡¯ side, if it¡¯s no bother.¡± Tanguy stepped forward. ¡°I was a very lost man when I crossed paths with our rebellion''s leader. Intentionally or not, it was the mercy you chose to show me at my lowest point, Remus, that has made me the man I am today. It would be one of the greatest honours of my life to help fulfil your lifelong ambition.¡±

    Remus was touched. Yet, before he could even open his lips, Aziel joined Tanguy¡¯s side.

    ¡°The fire-based attackers.¡± Aziel smiled. ¡°We haven¡¯t fought together since the war against the last Divine-Right generation. I think it¡¯s about time we reunited on the battlefield.¡±

    ¡°Room for one more?¡±

    Remus jumped. Turning around, there wasn¡¯t a face he could have been happier to see than Hadrian¡¯s.

    The Mercenary-Rank was fully equipped in his battlegear, taking up half the doorway; a sheer giant of a man.

    ¡°Now you decide to join?¡± Veida lifted an eyebrow. ¡°When you get to set things on fire and blow them up?¡±

    Hadrian grinned doggishly. ¡°Two of my best students are here!¡± Hadrian placed both of his massive hands on the shoulders of Remus and Tanguy. ¡°And I¡¯ve witnessed the blue whirlwind that is Aziel on the battlefield! What makes you think I¡¯d missed the opportunity for us all to fight together?¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Remus thought for a moment. ¡°Would you like to lead us? You and I are on equal footing in terms of Rank now, but I lack the experience you possess Hadrian. If you¡¯d like to take the reigns-¡±

    ¡°Nonesense!¡± The burly man boomed. ¡°Now why would I ever wish to overtake our rebellion¡¯s leader? Look Remus: the Talents of the Future won¡¯t know who I am. I could be charging toward Damosh¡¯s tower, about to burn the whole bloody thing down, and in their eyes, I¡¯d still just be another soldier on the battlefield! What they need to see, Remus, is their chief leading the charge. They need you.¡±

    Remus nodded.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the Flames Sect either.¡± Hadrian smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve brought them with me.¡±

    ¡°All of them?¡± Aziel spluttered.

    ¡°All of them.¡±

    ¡°We need a name for this squadron too.¡± Aziel began to pace. ¡°I¡¯m thinking . . . Flamehearts.¡±

    ¡°I like it!¡± Remus cackled at the madness of it all.

    Veida was staring into space, as if trying to solve a puzzle that only she could see. Finally, she shook her head, and came over to embrace her husband.

    The God-Graced didn¡¯t look exactly pleased with their naming conventions, but the rest of them were too caught up in their fun to notice.

    ¡°That leaves us with two more captains for two more teams.¡± Eshika brought focus back into the room. ¡°May I suggest Violet?¡±

    Violet blinked. ¡°What?¡± She pointed to herself. ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°I agree that Violet would be a good choice.¡± Veida nodded. ¡°She is a Warlord equivalent, after all, and nearly as well known as Remus himself. An Unbounded fighting against mortals that align themselves with fiends: the Paladins. It will be quite the show.¡±

    Eshika seemed to notice the way the girl was shifting. ¡°Do you wish for someone else to be selected?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that.¡± Violet frowned. ¡°I¡¯m just not sure how people will react with me in my Unbounded form leading them. It''ll be difficult for the army to reconcile fighting with the very thing they¡¯ve been taught all their life to hate.¡±

    ¡°Screw what other people think.¡± Eshika stepped forward. ¡°Own who you are, Violet. Show those soldiers how strong we all know you to be. People follow power Violet, and once they see what damage you can deal on that battlefield, they¡¯ll be scrambling to be at your side.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Violet stood up a little straighter. ¡°Yeah, forgive me, you¡¯re absolutely right.¡±

    ¡°Name.¡± Aziel demanded brusquely. ¡°We need a name for your group.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s call us . . .¡± Violet thought for a moment. She raised her fist towards the lanternlight above, claws suddenly ripping out her skin. ¡°Talons.¡±

    Aziel erupted with laughter, but quickly penned the name down alongside the Door-Breakers and Flamehearts. Remus didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d ever seen the man having so much fun.

    ¡°One last captain . . .¡± Remus looked around the room at everybody present. Each and every one of them would make for a fantastic leader.

    ¡°It¡¯s your call.¡± Eliane said.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± The Old One stared at a wall, likely tired of the meeting and wishing for it to be over. ¡°You know your companions better than we ever could Remus. This once, I¡¯ll trust your judgment.¡±

    Eshika simply nodded.

    Okay then. Remus took a deep breath, eyes roving over the awaiting faces of his friends. I need to think carefully about this.

    He quickly realised that nearly all of them were already assigned to one team or another. Of course, his rebellion housed members in numbers over a hundred thousand. Remus could technically call up on any one of them to take on the position. His instincts had never failed Remus, however, and they wouldn¡¯t trust anyone outside of this room. The men and women who with he¡¯d suffered, and celebrated, and endured through so much

    There really was no choice, was there? It could only ever be one person.

    ¡°Koa.¡± Remus announced. ¡°You have more reason to be fighting tomorrow than many of us. I know you¡¯ll do whatever it takes to free Ash of Enos'' control.¡± He extended a hand. ¡°Be our third captain.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m only a Foot-solider . . .¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re well-respected amongst our clan. You¡¯re more pure of heart than a thousand men combined. No.¡± Remus was certain now. ¡°It can only be you. Besides, with how hard you¡¯ve been training Koa, you¡¯ll break through into Splintered Rank any day now.¡±

    ¡°You . . . You really mean that?¡±

    Remus pulled in Koa for a hug. ¡°Of course I do. Now, there¡¯s one last thing you need to do before you can properly call yourself a captain.¡±

    Koa raised an eyebrow, flushing at Remus¡¯ hold. ¡°And what would that be?¡±

    ¡°Name your team! Aziel squealed. When every God-Graced in the room looked at Aziel with disdain, he threw his hands up into the air. ¡°What, don¡¯t look at me like that! We¡¯re going to war tomorrow, this is the most fun I¡¯m going to have for a while!¡±

    The room exploded into cackles, and, to Remus¡¯ great surprise, not even the Old One could wipe a smile off his lips.

    ¡°Better to be merry than sombre before the battle of our lives, I suppose.¡± The Old One took a deep breath, staring through the window wistfully.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± Aziel repeated. ¡°What will it be?¡±

    ¡°Branches.¡± Koa raised his head, standing up straighter than he had in Passings. He stood like a King. ¡°I¡¯ve never been good at fancy names, but branches.¡±

    Aziel rubbed his chin, in much the same fashion as a master artist observing their muse. ¡°A little simple, but in an endearing way. The Door-Breakers, Flamehearts, Talons and Branches. I like it!¡±

    Remus took a moment to collect his thoughts. He looked at the quaint room around him, the parchment of the map of First Rite clinging to his clammy hands, the sound of his friends and companions excitedly conversing.

    Years of his life, all leading up to this.

    Remus froze. There, in the corner of the room, apparently not noticed by anyone else.

    His younger self, peering over the side of a back entranceway. An impish figure, like a visitor of dreams.

    Seven-year-old Remus grinned, and, before Remus could say anything, faded into dust. Remus felt as if something left his spirit, a shred of power not his own, and, mouth agape, he turned dumbly back to his friends.

    Still talking, not even the God-Graced seemed to have noticed anything awry.

    Thank you. Remus thought silently, turning his attention back to the battleplans. For reminding me of who I am. Of what I have to be.

    To protect everyone in this room; to salvage the future he knew only he could create.The reasons propelling him forward tonight were the same forces that pushed the blood through Remus¡¯ heart. That was the very oxygen he breathed.

    A whole life for this. And Remus could not bring himself to fail.

    It was time to get his hands dirty.

 139. Sunbreak

    Damosh felt the world fall asunder.

    The King woke up in a whirlwind of riches. He saw his face ¨C his golden skin, his lime green ducktail ¨C reflected a hundred times over in a dazzling lightshow. Inklings, jewels, goblets, crowns. All of them surrounded him, tearing apart the delicate threads of his four-poster bed.

    The Godling of the Wealth Clan collapsed to feet, cracking the marble flooring of his bedroom. He put a hand to his chest, as if trying to squeeze his racing heart to a stop. All the while, the shattering of glass could hardly be heard over his raging whirlwind. The temperature of the room suddenly fell, and harsh sunlight was like a knife stabbing into each of Damosh¡¯s eyes. Where great sheets of stained glass once stood, portraying previous leaders of the Greed and now Wealth Clan, only empty air swept against Damosh¡¯s face.

    And the sight that met him beyond that fragile barrier was no more comforting.

    Somehow, and arriving overnight without his noticing, an army laid in wait, at the very precipice of his city.

    The mass of soldiers was a continuous wave, sweeping back further than Damosh could see. The swelling of people was closing in from what felt to him like all possible angles. Effectively, that left no room for the Godling or any of his forces to escape, did they dare flee. And the Talents, as he now recognised them, didn¡¯t seem intent on backing out any time soon either.

    This was one fight that would be waged until the bitter end.

    Despite the all-encompassing nature of the tide, it was at three main directions where the bulk of the army were primed. Damosh gritted his teeth, squirming like a wild animal.

    I knew it! He screamed silently, the words stifled by a mouthful of froth. I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it IknewitIknewitIknewitIknewitIknewitIknewitIknewit¨C I just knew it!

    Damosh was no moron. Any old fool knew exactly the kind of things that were said about him when his presence was elsewhere. Though the Wealth Clan were the only people he could safely trust now, even they had their fair share of opinions about him. Most being of the colourful variety. The comments uttered behind closed doors were not as secretive as his men would like to assume. When his back was turned, or when they thought he couldn¡¯t hear their whispered conversations, they would openly . . . doubt the soundness of his mind. Snippets of heresy to be swept under the rug, without so much as an afterthought. Not any serious attempts at upheaval, but ruthless nonetheless.

    Mad King, they called him. Hysteric. Maniac.

    Mentally insane.

    ¡°I¡¯m right!¡± He screamed with glee, voice thundering over the rooftops of First Rite. The ceiling above him had been blasted apart, unable to withstand his golden assault. With no boundaries to dull the sting of his vocals, his voice resounded across every nook and cranny of the city. The sound seemed to rebound off every building it swept past, amounting in volume with each contact. ¡°You hear me? I¡¯m ¨C Right!¡±

    He rose into the sky, allowing his mountain of gold to drag him upwards. Damosh was a messiah, a golden river blazing garishly in the rising sunset. From his new viewpoint, he could finally take-in the outer edges of the army. A few hundred thousand soldiers, all in all.

    So many. Some quiet part of his mind calmed down. How did they have time to muster a force this large? I thought squashing Gold¡¯s Bane would have deterred them enough.

    Damosh has presumed every living being was gifted with the sense of self-preservation, but some people were all too eager to perish at his hands

    That same, teeny-tiny piece of his mind considered something. It seemed as impossible as the sky suddenly changing colour ¨C for the moon to switch locations ¨C but, was Damosh in the wrong? In fact, that tiny, almost non-existent voice was growing increasingly suspicious. Why was he so worked up all of the time? Why did he break out in sweat when nothing was the matter, and why on earth did his mind seem to see the potential danger behind everything? Perhaps something was the matter with him. Something terrible indeed.

    Then the wider part of Damosh snuffed that voice out, and he screamed until his lungs teared.

    ¡°Traitors!¡± The sound that emerged out of his throat was not a voice. It was not the strident assonance of piano keys being played out of tune. The thunderous squeal of a thousand explosives going off hardly captured its intensity. And neither did the howls of the damned, lined up at the chopping block by a stern executioner, quite encapsulate the audible violation Damosh unleashed. A horrid offense to all living creatures with the misfortune of possessing ears. Some horrors couldn¡¯t be described in words with any justice.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to slaughter you all! How dare you intrude upon my Kingdom.¡± Damosh was breathing heavily, great robes torn by the brilliance of his own gold-storm. ¡°First Rite is hereby property of the Wealth Clan, and its glorious people only! All of you . . .¡±

    He swept out his coins in a lethal storm. Damosh watched, mutely, as the four other towers of Ruling District came tumbling down. Juniper¡¯s homage to all things natural; Cyrus¡¯ blazing monolith; the Gravity Clan¡¯s reality bending attack on the laws of physics; and, in comparison, the Vitality Sect¡¯s rather boring totem.

    ¡°. . . no longer have your King¡¯s protection."

    It had been a long time since he¡¯d considered whether the positions of the coveted top five required changing. With Juniper no longer Queen of Hybrid, her position should have been taken up by . . . his mind drew a blank. Well, there was that Water God-Graced who had usurped the throne from under her, but ¨C oh yes, he remembered now. Eliane had crushed that woman Passings ago ¨C and with the Silver Throne no less! It was the funniest thing Damosh had ever recalled hearing, his chest aching with the humour of it all. Doubled-over and clutching his stomach, Damosh dedicated a few moments to wiping the tears out of his eyes, before any semblance of order returned.

    The Gravity Clan seemed like a strange pick too for the top five. While they did produce fearsome warriors, the Matter Clan was dominating any other sect coming out of Great Oasis. Damosh¡¯s mind was still boggled trying to understand some of their inventions.

    Though the top five were chosen for how much they contributed to First Rite, as far as Damosh was concerned, no clans had made any meaningful additions to the city for a long time now. First Rite suddenly struck him as being very similar to a burrow of rats. An infestation had stripped Damosh¡¯s city of its grandeur. Now, there was some pest-control in order.

    A wave of dust swept past beneath Damosh¡¯s feet, as the last of the rubble scattered across the ground below. The hearing of a Godling was quite adept, and Damosh tuned in to the agonised screams of his city¡¯s residents. More and more buildings were caught up by the tide of detritus, adding fuel to the proverbial fire as the avalanche quickly picked up speed. Like the earth itself becoming animated and reaching out for a quick snack, the entirety of the surrounding area sank into the ground. All in the time it took to brush your teeth, nothing was left to commemorate the district¡¯s existence but a corona of soot.

    Ruling District was no more.

    And soon, the Leisure and Labour Districts would cease to be too.

    All that remained of the fallen third was the Wealth Clan¡¯s tower. A great precipice, that, to Damosh¡¯s frantic mind, looked eerily like a candle; one sticking out a bulbous cake of human flesh and rubble. A cake celebrating the birth of a new empire.

    ¡°Your Majesty!¡± A familiar voice called out from behind and below.

    Damosh lowered his gaze, trembling with ire. Who dared to interrupt him now? But like a waterskin with a hole in the bottom, all the emotion seemed to slip away from him when he saw who it was.

    ¡°Edmar, my dear man.¡± The Godling swept towards his loyal servant. ¡°I need to tell you something.¡±

    ¡°Your highness, this is madness.¡± With no walls to impede their passage, Edmar¡¯s metallic body glistened in the sun¡¯s rays. ¡°Forgive my brusqueness, my Lord, but you¡¯ve destroyed our best line of defence. Some of our soldiers were situated down there! Many of them!¡±

    ¡°Quiet now.¡±

    ¡°But your Highness-¡±

    ¡°Quiet!¡±

    Edmar closed his mouth.

    Damosh took one of the living statue¡¯s hands. It was like holding a gauntlet, bejewelled above the fingers by the purest minerals the King had ever set his eyes on. ¡°You¡¯re all I can trust now Edmar. First Rite ¨C it¡¯s overflowing with rats, with thieves, with scoundrels! Liars liars liars! I need to flatten the entire place, and rebuild. Only the Wealth Clan can be allowed to continue. Everyone else has ulterior motives; everyone else thinks they know better!¡± He spat at the cracked marble below. ¡°I was right all along! Do you hear me? ¨C I was right! An army may be at my doorstep, but only I have the keys to let them in! No-one can attack on my Divine Ground. No . . .¡±

    A wicked grin distorted Damosh¡¯s face.

    ¡°Let the Talents sit outside my city: I welcome them! For there is nothing ¨C absolutely nothing! ¨C they can do about it. Let them watch their friends and family die! Let them see the beautiful purging of a city that deserves to rot, and with it, the beginning of my utopia.¡±

    ¡°Please my Liege!¡± Edmar screeched. Damosh wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d ever seen his servant so worked up. Coming from Edmar, this really was some strange behaviour. That flicker of sanity rekindled into life in the back of Damosh¡¯s brain, and he had to wonder if he was pushing things too far. Then all fires ceased once and for all, leaving only the ashes of cold certainty in their place.

    ¡°Think this through! There¡¯s something you don¡¯t know about-¡±

    ¡°Quiet now Edmar.¡± Damosh frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve humoured your complaining long enough. It may not seem like it, my servant, but this is for the best. A better future awaits us past the corpse of this one. But the present will not die lying down. Things are going to get bloody.¡±

    Edmar moved to say something more, but Damosh hadn¡¯t the time. He swept through the air, flashing past at what felt like the speed of light.

    I''ll soon be a god of my own. Damosh laughed. The prospect of godhood had always troubled Damosh. Ascension wasn¡¯t so easy as simply deciding to join the pantheon when you felt like it.

    That was, if you weren¡¯t already as powerful as a Godling.

    Technically, Damosh could ascend at a moment¡¯s whim. He wasn¡¯t sure what the exact process would be, but he certainly met the requirements. Damosh had clansmen to represent him on earth, all fueled by his subject of power; the word inscribed upon his very soul: Wealth. That was what differentiated a God-Graced from a Godling. While God-Graced simply used the word they inscribed upon their soul ¨C gained during the process of advancing from Warlord ¨C as a way to extend their arsenal of abilities, Godlings began to build up their own clans. They spread their Marks in preparation for ascension, where their followers would represent their godly will on earth.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Achieving godhood, however, left one susceptible to the shackles of the Divine Oath. According to that divine legislation, if all of Damosh¡¯s representatives on Descent were to die, the rest of the pantheon would be free to slaughter him. That was the entire point of humanity in the first place: to serve as the gods¡¯ weapons of war, their own hands proving too devastating to wield effectively. If the gods were blunt devices capable of obliterating planets, then humans were precise surgical instruments. Much more effective at getting things done on a small-scale, whilst avoiding making too great a mess.

    Though, inexorably, things on Descent had gotten messy. Messier than Damosh could have ever imagined the gods foreseeing when first writing the divine legislation.

    Case in point, if the Wealth Clan were to be wiped from the earth, he would perish with them. Unless, miraculously, he somehow fought every god alive, all at once, and won.

    See how complicated these things were?

    Not anymore. For some reason, his body refused to stop laughing. His abdominal muscles ached with the continued pressure of it. Now, things are very, very simple.

    Burn First Rite. Rebuild a utopia for the Wealth Clan on top, and in the process, expand his sect to include hundreds, if not thousands of members. Then, and only then, could he securely ascend to godhood. A clan the size of a city would be unkillable. It may take generations to cultivate, but Damosh felt that oncoming invincibility, at the very cusp of his grasp.

    He¡¯d be unstoppable.

    Damosh cackled madly, the rising sun casting twin swords of light across either side of the horizon.

    ¡°Bow down to your god! Bow down to your liberator, your destroy-¡±

    The King paused.

    There, hovering in mid-air. Too inconspicuous to have noticed any earlier, like a quirk of the light that was only now fading away, revealing what had been hidden underneath.

    A living absence of space. Damosh blinked, and he thought he recognised someone. Yet this was the final nail in the coffin of evidence, the last signpost by reality that not even his overworked mind could afford to ignore. Indisputable proof that he was well beyond the reaches of sanity. For there was no rational reason why the person ahead should, or could be present.

    Her name like a curse in itself: Aisha.

    Goddess of Greed.

    ¡°No . . .¡± Damosh pulled himself aside, the jerk-reflex pulling back his floating mountain of gold with him. Huge chunks of Inklings fell down to the ruins below. ¡°You¡¯re not real! You can¡¯t fight me, you can¡¯t-¡±

    Damosh blinked, and what felt like an invisible string, one split and connected to his every cell, suddenly snapped.

    Then he noticed the others.

    Together with Aisha¡¯s empty silhouette ¨C like reality carved out in the shape of a body ¨C there were ten figures floating before Damosh. On the very border of First Rite.

    A blast of spiritual aura swept across Damosh, rustling his clothes, messing his hair. All the oxygen was pulled out of Damosh¡¯s lungs ¨C an utterly foreign sensation. Like being slapped in the face by an old friend you hadn¡¯t seen in decades. It had been a very, very long time indeed since Damosh had last been winded.

    The power of ten God-Graced pressed in against him. His guts seemed to compress, as if spontaneously replaced by a bag of snakes wrestling amongst themselves. His teeth grinded, and every pour of his body dripped with perspiration.

    All of those tiny moments of paranoia he had been cursed with over the last Rebirth came flooding back. The inklings of suspicion that his underlings were plotting against him.

    At first the faintest quirk of an idea, his fear of city revolt had quickly expanded into an all-consuming obsession. The night terrors, the visions of his own demise running rampant in the free castle of his mind.

    All of them put together were next to nothing, compared to the fear that bestruck Damosh now.

    The King felt as if something as essential as an organ, perhaps a heart or lung, had been wretched out of his body. He recoiled backwards, and the feeling of a fever ¨C something alien to the formidable immune system of a Godling ¨C broke out all over.

    For he had lost something just as precious as any piece of anatomy.

    His Divine Ground.

    <hr>

    Edmar stood in the flattened remains of Damosh¡¯s throne room.

    ¡°Well, well, well, what have we here?¡±

    He didn¡¯t have to turn around to know who that irksome voice belonged to. Edmar¡¯s spiritual senses expanded behind him, and he knew Ash was learning lazily against the remains of a shattered pillar. The only one that hadn¡¯t been completely grinded down into dust by Damosh¡¯s maelstrom of riches.

    ¡°My plans seem to have taken on a will of their own.¡± Edmar bit his lip, then quickly stopped. Nervous tics were beneath him. ¡°Really now, I knew the poison I was feeding him was strong enough to work on a Godling, but this has been blown way out of proportion. At this rate, I may not be left with a city to rule.¡±

    Ash began to pace around the open area, the full view of First Rite stretching out below the lone platform. It felt strange to Edmar to feel the wind brush past his metallic skin in a room that had once been so efficiently insulated.

    ¡°It appears that Damosh mistook one of those God-Graced ¨C the Greed Sect Leader Gulliver ¨C for Aisha. The Greed Goddess hasn¡¯t held a very favourable opinion of Damosh since he deserted their people, traitors in tow, to found the Wealth Clan. Your poisons must have drawn that phobia out of him.¡±

    Edmar merely murmured in reply.

    ¡°My Paladins are at your beck and call, should you need them. All you have to do is ask. Help me take this city, then swear subservience to Enos. Truly, you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain.¡±

    ¡°If I had an Inkling for every time you¡¯ve tried to convince me to join your ranks,¡± Edmar began slowly. ¡°I could melt down enough metal to make quite the large bullet. Maybe if I shot that into your thick skull and was done with it, you¡¯d finally stop pestering me.¡±

    Ash grinned, like this was all one big game. ¡°Big talk for a man whose power is only at the benefit of my master¡¯s benevolence. Stop being a contrarian and join me already! In case you haven¡¯t cared to notice, your city is under siege. If you truly wish to serve as emperor for Enos, then you better start defending what¡¯s rightfully yours!¡±

    A vein bulged in Edmar¡¯s forehead, and a stubborn part of himself felt the need to delay Ash of his service a little longer. Then he took one glance at the landscape below.

    It was like some cosmic being had taken a bite out of the earth. The crater beneath him was the reigning king of all depressions, steadily increasing in size as eroded land seeped down across the ravine edges. Edmar¡¯s neck snapped north, and he observed blankly as a blazing frontier of clansmen burned their way past the city walls like a wildfire eating into a lush forest.

    Labour District did nought as Edmar espied the leader of the force paving the way forward. Remus. In fact, the residents were clapping and cheering as the roguish youth barreled past, his squadron in tow, before the Wealth clansmen on watch had the chance to intervene.

    They were making a mockery of him.

    Already, he could sense barrages with similar levels of power from the south and west. Their fortifications wouldn¡¯t last long, and Edmar knew with dire certainty that they would be fighting on three-fronts very soon. The Wealth Clan may be strong, and they were the ones with a Godling on their side, but one clan against an army wouldn¡¯t last.

    Edmar had always lived his life holding onto grudges, but this time, it appeared, he would have to put them aside. At the very least, he discarded any minor frustrations he harboured, and like knots becoming loose and undone, invisible weights were lifted off his back. Light on his feet, he now possessed the liberty to carry forward the heaviest burden of them all.

    The grudge he had dedicated his life trying to lift.

    Maso.

    He flared his Tainted Mark to full capacity, and like a butterfly emerging out of a cocoon, Edmar¡¯s statesque body only grew heavier; his collection of jewels ever the more expansive.

    All of those taxes Damosh had put on his people, draining them to the very bone. He¡¯d never needed any of the money ¨C hell, he could create as many Inklings as he would ever need at the click of his fingers. It was a miracle the Wealth Clan hadn¡¯t dipped the city into a constant state of hyperinflation. The taxes had never been about profits. They were an instrument to oppress the people. To keep Damosh in power. That was all the Ulan bloodline had ever craved: to rule no matter the cost.

    Edmar opened and closed his palm, the strength needed to crush a Foot-Soldier¡¯s skull at his fingertips.

    Finally, the metamorphosis was complete.

    Our bloodline was never meant to lay down idly at the feet of others. Prostrating while our true purpose lay hiding in their wake. Your blood runs through me Maso, and one thing has never been more clear to me.

    It is the blood of kings.

    ¡°Rally the Paladins Ash.¡± The sun shone directly over Edmar, making him a rising star in the limelight. ¡°I have an empire to build.¡±

    The second Edmar had spoken, Ash underwent his own transformation.

    That shimmering darkness swept from up his legs to the thinnest strands of his hair. No features of his face were left visible, the indents of his eyes flattened over. Ash was a living artwork, his skin and tissue a testament to the vastness of space. Edmar glanced at the few planets and stars and foreign objects far far away, and had to wonder how much time would pass, before they too fell into the Unbounded¡¯s grasp.

    It was none of his concern.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky Damosh doesn¡¯t possess as great control over his sewers as he likes to think.¡±

    Edmar stared out toward the Labour District. There, rising out of nearly every manhole, was an invasion of Paladins. A new wave of power crashed against the living statue, as what must have been thousands of fighters revealed themselves.

    There were so many of them, their bodies blurred together into one terrifying mass of flesh, guts, and fury. The residents who weren¡¯t already hiding inside their homes, or flattened in the carnage, or otherwise putting up resistance, were soon lost in the flooding mass of people.

    ¡°How long have they been hidden here?¡± He took a step backwards, then quickly steeled himself at the sign of weakness. ¡°Below us all this time, and all while someone as paranoid as Damosh was ruling over the city . . . impressive.¡±

    Ash smiled, putting a hand to his ear and leaning over. ¡°Huh? What was that?¡±

    Edmar rose stiffly into the air, shooting out coins to propel upwards. ¡°Don¡¯t expect any more compliments from me.¡±

    His neck jerked westward. An entire section of the city¡¯s fortifications had been moved.

    And that was no understatement. A beacon of purple light illuminated the city¡¯s contours, lasting for all of one moment, and the hundred tons of stone that served as the city¡¯s westward entrance reappeared in the vast fields leading up to First Rite. Without so much as a scratch.

    Violet had simply moved the wall.

    Now, in her Unbounded form, with claws crossed and her hairless head leaning into the air, she screeched a battlecry.

    As if timed, Edmar felt his heart skip a beat when the city¡¯s southern wall collapsed in tandem.

    Like the city was some ancient civilization long since abandoned and reclaimed by time and nature, great oak tendrils clung embedded into the wall. Piece by piece, sections of stone were wrenched away as a bombardment of techniques loosened them. Soon, stability was impossible, and Edmar could only observe with gritted, silver teeth as a wave of shattered stone swept into the city.

    Steam rose steadily into the air from all directions, and a cloud of smog clung to First Rite. Yet, through that fog, Edmar didn¡¯t fail to see a certain someone rushing into the fray.

    ¡°Your brother has arrived.¡± Edmar rose higher into the air. ¡°I¡¯ll handle Remus while you deal with your sibling troubles.¡±

    ¡°I have no brother Edmar, in that regard you are mistaken.¡± All humour departed from Ash like ships fleeing from a port on fire. ¡°That part of me is dead. But rest assured, I will take care of him. We¡¯ll leave Damosh alone for now, to stir up some chaos.¡±

    ¡°And Violet¡¯s squadron?¡±

    That smile returned to Ash¡¯s lips. ¡°Do not fear Edmar. I have just the person in mind.¡±

    Edmar wasn¡¯t sure if he liked how that expression rested on Ash¡¯s face.

 140. Together Apart

    Like a mountain toppling over, a thousand tons of stone descended from the heavens.

    Remus¡¯ body was a conduit of flame and magma, the ravenous heat eating through First Rite¡¯s northern entrance like an elemental demon. All around, his squadron of the Flamehearts revelled in the destruction: Ambition and Flame clansmen alike poured their hearts and souls into replacing the wall of brick with a precipice of flame.

    His Mark flared, and with a jolt of electricity, Remus zapped ahead, landing comfortably in the center of a very familiar place.

    The Labour District.

    Behind, smoke rising like a cluster of gloomy flags heralding their entrance, an oval abscess laid smoking in the northern wall. Already, the stone around the seared hole was crumbling away. Remus heard more than saw the rest of the structure collapse, what sounded like a thousand creaky doors splintering at once smacking across his body.

    It was all over within a moment. A blast of dust and detritus got into Remus¡¯ eyes and mouth, but it mattered little. Regardless of his coughing and spluttering, they were inside the city.

    ¡°That was almost too easy.¡± Aziel followed behind, a dancing kaleidoscope of ebbing reds and blues casting an impromptu lightshow on their backs. ¡°You would expect there to be more in the way of defences in case of a direct attack on the city walls . . . but nothing.¡±

    ¡°Maybe the watchguard quietly disbanded after Damosh held one too many public executions.¡± A giant of a man stepped abreast with Remus ¨C Angstrom, a Talent from the Magnetism Clan. ¡°Really now, spilling rivers of blood is hardly a way to win your people¡¯s favour.¡±

    ¡°Quite the astute observation you¡¯ve made there Angstrom. Why, is there any more wisdom you¡¯d wish to bestow us lowly peasants with?¡±

    Another figure seemed to materialise out of nowhere; the clanswoman to whom the voice belonged. This second Talent assigned to the Flamehearts was comically disproportionate to Angstrom¡¯s towering frame. Hina bolstered her petite size with pitch-black amour. Which stuck out to Remus as a walking contradiction to her birthright: the Mark of the Rainbow god.

    ¡°Shush.¡± Angstrom scoffed, though there was a subtle tenderness to his voice. ¡°Point is, breaching into First Rite shouldn¡¯t be this simple.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my concern too.¡± Remus frowned, eyes roving over to a weary-eyed Tanguy. Particularly, to what had elicited such a gaping expression from the man.

    The Flame clansman seized up. ¡°It appears that someone beat us to the punch  . . .¡±

    Remus stared at the shining beacon of brilliance that was Damosh¡¯s metal abode. The totem of riches shook on its foundations, dozens of miles away, as a storm of gathering waste congregated at its base. Remus watched as one by one, the rest of the Ruling District towers sank back into the earth ¨C structures that were said to last until the end of time reaching their expiry dates far too quickly.

    Fate and fantasy slipped and flowed into one another, and superimposed over this reality was Remus¡¯ recurring nightmare. Charging towards that tower, soaked in Ichor, shredding every layer of his humanity, leaving nothing behind but the rotten core of a stone-cold killer.

    Remus shuddered to think that he could ever lose so much of himself.

    Enough talk of fate. Remus unveiled his chains with a sparkling flourish. I decide who I am.

    The inhabitants of Labour District had gathered outside their doors. A raucous applause was well underway, one that only ceased when the townsfolk realised something was amiss.

    In addition to Hina and Angstrom, following at Remus'' back was a fabulous force. Tanguy, Aziel, Hadrian and a congregation of Talents mostly composed of clansmen from the Ambition and Flame Clans all marched along. They allowed the cheers and praise to seep past their skin and into the flesh, beckoning forth a certain warmth from the jaded recesses of their souls.

    It was a nice feeling. But the claps were growing increasingly spaced out, and more and more eyes were turning towards the destruction in Ruling District. Then there wasn¡¯t much left to be merry about at all.

    ¡°Stay inside!¡± Remus instructed, the stone pathway beneath his feet trembling wildly, like each flagstone was one bar of a rattling xylophone. It was the same nauseous sensation as walking across a precarious rope bridge; that feeling that any second now, they would all fall into the abyss. ¡°Keep safe while we reclaim the city! I repeat, stay inside, it is danger-¡±

    Like water flooding into every orifice of a porous rock, Wealth Clansman swarmed into the street.

    The townspeople required no more warning, and with haste slammed their doors.

    Remus whipped out his chains, metallic sparks flying across the street.

    Quickly, he took in the vast number of the Wealth Clan. There were more of the men than Remus could bring himself to count, all donning the same golden waistcoat, the same military-prescribed truncheons, and the same sneers of disgust.

    For the faintest moment, the most merciful corners of Remus could look upon these soldiers with nothing but pity. Damosh must have been a cruel dictator, and no one chose what clan they were born into. Would these soldiers have been good people, if not for their birthright? Hell, would Remus have forced himself to endure so much ¨C to become so much more ¨C had his Mark simply been that of his clan? Without that chip on his shoulder of being Death-Marked, it would seem most probable that he would have lived a simple life. He couldn¡¯t help but ponder if the same could be said for these folk. Did the man forge his life, or did the life forge the man?

    Then memories returned to Remus of his youth. Of having to stay vigilant when travelling anywhere in the Labour District, for fear of a Wealth guard beating you at the slightest irritance. The utter desperation that would consume the eyes of Labour residents whenever one of their taxmen approached. The painful exhaustion of an entire third of the world¡¯s capital; wrought by a single clan.

    Remus remembered all of that, and no longer felt so merciful.

    ¡°Advance!¡± He bellowed, launching into the first Wealth guard in sight.

    As fast as a jerk-reflex, the clansman materialised a shield of gold between them. Remus didn¡¯t blink at the summoning, instead planting a bundle of eruptive force into the sole of his foot.

    The man¡¯s body was sent flying backwards, shield crunched and discarded. Jagged lines of light trailing behind him, Remus reappeared in a blur of motion a few feet away, chains now entangling the arms of two more enemies. A flurry of golden projectiles were tossed Remus'' way, each burning to molten well before their jagged edges could reach his skin. Remus¡¯ Mark flared, and the pair of them could do nothing as lightning shot down from the heavens, into Remus, and through his Supreme Steel links, to finally pulverise them both.

    The remaining guards watched their unconscious brethren with caution.

    Remus held a hand out behind him, the Flamehearts stumbling to a stop.

    ¡°Show off.¡± Hadrian smirked, leaning into his ear. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have waited for us to join the fun, could you?¡±

    ¡°No rest for the wicked.¡± Remus mirrored the man¡¯s expression, and then, forcing his lips into the sternest frown he could muster, turned to regard the squadron of Wealth guards. ¡°If you all abandon Damosh and join us, we can settle things in a way that will benefit us all.¡±

    For some reason, most of the Wealth Clan halted.

    ¡°What has Damosh ever done for you? Open your eyes ¨C look at what he¡¯s made of your homes in the Ruling District! You¡¯ll be returning to a cemetery. What are you fighting for? What do you have to show for your blind devotion? A heap of rubble where your homes once stood?¡±

    His voice rebounded across every surface, seeming to somehow grow in volume with each violent clash.

    ¡°Remus.¡± Angstrom whispered. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Think about it.¡± Remus tried to speak without moving his mouth much, keeping his eyes locked on the enemy as they digested his words. They fact they hadn¡¯t already rejected the proposal outright was at least something. ¡°These guards have enough reason to leave Damosh. Who wants to work under a maniac with tendencies as explosively unpredictable as his? No, if we strip Damosh of his attacking force, it would be like disarming your foe in a sword fight.¡±

    ¡°So maybe Angstrom doesn¡¯t know everything.¡± Hina teased.

    Angstrom only grunted in reply, but Remus¡¯ attention was caught by something fastly approaching.

    It glittered in the air, flying over Remus¡¯ shoulder before he could realise what it was. It seemed to be . . .

    All other noise became muted.

    And a body thumped against the ground.

    . . . a coin.

    Remus turned his head at an angle, keeping the Wealth clansmen in view in case they planned on exploiting the chaos with a charge.

    A man from the Fire Clan laid limp in a pool of Ichor, unseeing eyes staring into an empty sky. Lodged deep into his brow, Remus recognised the signature engraving of Damsh¡¯s face, as he realised it was an Inkling piercing into the man¡¯ brains.

    And in that reflection, he saw something else smiling back at him.

    The real deal.

    ¡°Remus Remus Remus!¡±

    Remus turned away from Damosh¡¯s reflection, lashing out his chains at the flesh and blood Godling with a feral roar.

    Damosh hovered just out of range. He levitated high over the clearing, a searing source of molten light that put the entire street in sharp relief.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d show your face so early.¡± Remus spun his chains in both hands, staring daggers at First Rite¡¯s mad King. ¡°I thought I¡¯d be able to stretch my muscles first before finishing this little training exercise.¡±

    The King laughed a little too loudly, a little too long.

    Then there were two more flashes of flickering light.

    Remus sprang to intercede both, tendrils of flame bursting forward from his fingertips. Yet his aim was off, shooting over the approaching lights and allowing both to graze against Remus'' sides. A sharp pain erupted from his left and right, and, with teary eyes, Remus realised he had never been the intended target.

    Sprawled out behind lay two more corpses.

    ¡°Angstrom!¡± Remus gritted his teeth, not daring to tear his face away from Damosh. Another glance at those bodies ¨C another recollection of what had happened at Gold¡¯s Bane ¨C and Remus might just lose it. ¡°Block those coins!¡±

    Each Inkling was more deadly than a bullet. Remotely controlled by Damosh, they were like vultures launching down, carrying away both the bodies and souls of their victims to the afterlife. This was all some sick and twisted game to Damosh. Remus barely anticipated the next volley of metallic bullets, whipping his chains out to block their path. Only to hit nothing.

    The Flamehearts erupted into screams, another body hitting the floor.

    ¡°Hold!¡± Remus screamed, a vein in his brow bulging. ¡°Do not falter!¡±

    Yet the words were more of a reminder to himself than a valiant command.

    ¡°Remus.¡± Hina muttered quietly. ¡°They¡¯re fleeing.¡±

    Remus contorted his neck to glance behind, his heart sinking at the portrait of misery that met him. His clansmen were dashing away from the limp bodies of their past comrades, rushing towards the obliterated remains of the northern entrance.

    Charred stone was dyed golden as seeking coins found their targets. None of the fleeing Talents managed to reach the exit before they too became just another causality. A half-dozen men and women stripped of their life.

    One impulse of fear had driven them to destruction.

    ¡°I can¡¯t-¡± perspiration was dripping off Angstrom¡¯s massive bulk in a steady stream. ¡°I can¡¯t stop those coins. So quick. So this is the raw power of a Godling . . .¡±

    ¡°Hold!¡± Remus bellowed, his vocal cords transforming the command into a hoarse screech. ¡°If you flee you die! We need to work together to overcome Damosh. We need to-¡±

    ¡°Hush now Remus.¡±

    Damosh blurred forward, placing a single finger on Remus'' quivering lips. All of Remus¡¯ hate melted down into solid form, closer to him than ever.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Look at the men you¡¯ve gathered here. You¡¯re asking them to fight against me! A Godling without any inhibitions left. You ask your men to die. This isn¡¯t the valiant crusade you think it to be. This is a suicide mission.¡±

    Remus watched silently as tears poured down a Flame clansman¡¯s face, already evaporating in the swarm of fires that now occupied the thoroughfare. ¡°Sorry boss.¡± His legs were shaking, the sword slipping from his fingers to the cobbled path below. ¡°I know what I signed up for, but I don¡¯t want to . . . I don¡¯t want to die here!¡±

    ¡°No . . .¡± Remus spluttered, seeming to see the future before it was taking place. This was no power of prophecy, no remnants of the Time god placing a magical filter over his perception. Some things were all too obvious.

    The man swivelled round, and before he could take a single stride away, an Inkling sped into the back of his head.

    Remus flinched at the burst of gore. A drop of Ichor splattered against his cheek. He wasn¡¯t sure which was worse: the blood of his dead comrade colouring his skin, or the utter presence of self-absorbed evil that was so close to him. Damosh still hadn¡¯t moved his finger, his hot breath sweeping against Remus¡¯ hair. He wanted Remus to feel his power. To accept that with the slightest movement, Remus could just as easily join the rest of his deceased Talents.

    Something snapped within Remus, and like a cobra climbing up from the depths of his diaphragm to the heights of his throat, the command took on a life of its own. ¡°Attack!¡±

    Remus launched forward into thin air, Damosh having already blurred away.

    Faster than I can even see. Than my body can process. This is just like. Remus¡¯ body recoiled at the very thought. Just like when I first fought Edmar. That mountain of power between us.

    But Remus had made his bed. Or perhaps his coffin.

    A third of his force already dead and bleeding out, it was time to lie in it.

    ¡°The Talents are really a group of cowards.¡± Damosh reappeared far above, a dark angel hovering high over his devastation. ¡°Yet one must wonder: who is due more respect? The rabbit that knows his place, running well away from the big scary fox? Or-¡±

    A spinning collection of Inklings flared into existence around Damosh, the hanging threat of instant death lingering onto each one.

    ¡°The foolish rabbit without the gift of self-preservation, who¡¯d willingly throw himself into that fox¡¯s fangs? Tell me Remus, what do you think?¡±

    Remus screamed. Three years of hatred, of hard work, of blood, sweat, tears, and every emotion in-between. Every flavour of pain, shade of joy, and each variety of despair.

    He¡¯d felt it all

    And to kill Damosh, he¡¯d feel it all again.

    <hr>

    The wind whistled in Koa¡¯s ears as he clung tightly to a gigantic arm of oak. The construct erupted upwards with all the grandiose size of a fantastical beanstalk. The kind of beanstalk that would appear in one of the stories his mother would always tell to Ash and Koa before bed. Images of the impossible that would send him quietly adrift to sleep.

    Koa shook his head, throat constricting at the thought of past comforts. Of things he could no longer have. If he was getting sentimental already, he would be too busy drowning in tears by the time he encountered Ash to pose much of any threat.

    Get it together!

    Koa waited patiently as the rest of the Branches ¨C a name he was already beginning to regret ¨C arose on other pincers of wood, his Mark flaring to near its limits as his conjured overgrowth emerged over First Rite¡¯s boundary. He watched patiently as metres of stone flew downwards in a blur, before his natural elevator settled above a line of parapets. Fortunately for them, there seemed to be no-one on guard.

    I can¡¯t afford to burn out already. Koa huffed. Ash has proven time and time again that I¡¯m easy pickings for him. When we finally come face-to-face, I may as well throw aside my chances if I¡¯m not in tip-top condition.

    The only reasons Koa had agreed to this method of infiltrating the city, was, well ¨C because Diego was too bloody convincing!

    The Wisdom clansman sat with his legs crossed and eyes closed, his own tentacle-like branch carrying him upwards at a slight delay. From a distance, it would appear as though a gigantic wooden octopus was pressing in against the capital, a few pesky human stowaways clinging to its tentacular form.

    ¡°And why, exactly, is this a better approach than blasting through the wall?¡± Koa called down to the young man¡¯s shaven head.

    Diego frowned, as if Koa had interrupted his meditation seconds before the man was to reach enlightenment.

    ¡±We¡¯ll have the high ground.¡± He answered in a slow, uninterested drawl. ¡°Besides, economically, this drains the Branches of the least energy. The rest of us will be able to fight at full capacity without wasting our strength on bashing down a wall.¡±

    ¡°What about me?¡±

    ¡°What about you?¡± Diego frowned, finally snapping his eyes open. Like Koa was only the third most important thing on his mind.

    Something about that thought made Koa snap.

    ¡°I¡¯m the one who has the biggest fight here!¡± He snarled, immediately hating how that came out. ¡°Sorry. What I mean to say is, if I¡¯m going to knock some sense into Ash, I need to be ready. My fight isn¡¯t against a brick wall damn it. I shouldn¡¯t be over-expending myself here.¡±

    ¡°Just advance.¡± Diego frowned, his mouse-like face swinging to the side. ¡°You¡¯ll get a surge of energy.¡±

    ¡°Just advance?¡± Koa scoffed. ¡°If it¡¯s so easy, why don¡¯t you do us all a favour and advance to God-Graced? Hell, better yet, ascend to godhood and win us the celestial war. so we don¡¯t need to fight!¡±

    Diego flapped his hand in a talking motion. ¡°Yap, yap yap.¡± The man finally got up to stretch, buzzed scalp seeming to gleam in the early morning light. ¡°Maybe if you didn¡¯t complain so much you¡¯d finally make Warden. What¡¯s taking so long anyway? I can sense you¡¯re on the precipice of Splintered, but something¡¯s stopping you.¡±

    Koa frowned. Could a Wisdom clansman really sense something like that?

    Out of all the non-combat oriented sects, the Wisdom Clan was arguably the most powerful. At least that was how Koa had always seen them. If not for the technological prowess of the Matter  Clan and their emphasis on action above all else, the wise scholars of the Wisdom Clan would easily take their place as undisputed champion. As Koa had learnt from his brother all too well, inaction was the scourge of the talented. Why the Wisdom Clan hardly seemed to do anything at all was beyond Koa.

    Their contentedness to do nothing but sit around all day and think was, if anything, suspicious. As if their hundreds of followers were all willing participants in some kind of underground conspiracy theory to take over Descent. Puppetmasters pulling the strings behind the scenes. But he had to admit, despite his concerns, Diego was one of the greatest assets to his squadron. What Wisdom clansmen lacked for in physical prowess, they made up for tenfold in strategy.

    Diego was Koa¡¯s ace in the hole to win against an opponent that was, quite frankly, miles his superior.

    This is what we¡¯ve always done. Koa reflected soberly. Punched upwards. Now we¡¯re just punching higher than ever before. We¡¯re going to tremble the foundations of heaven.

    ¡°What are you two waiting around for?¡± A woman veiled in a dozen layers of cloth cried out. ¡°Is everything okay?¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t have to turn to know it was Daphne reaching the parapets too, more and more of the Talents rushing ahead and leaping onto the bulwark. They waited eagerly for Koa¡¯s next command.

    ¡°Everything¡¯s fine!¡± Koa called out to the Drug Clanswoman. ¡°We¡¯re just assessing the scene.¡±

    Daphne was a Foot-Soldier from the Material Congruity. One of the miraculous few to have escaped from Ash¡¯s colonies. Most of the inhabitants of Descent tended to speak in the same fashion, yet Koa couldn¡¯t quite place his finger on the woman¡¯s accent. Centuries had passed since the Material Congruity first fled from Descent on their rickety ships of bone, and it was a miracle the two of them could communicate in the first place with how prone to change language could be.

    But she didn¡¯t have to open her mouth to stand out. Daphne decorated herself with an abundance of make-up ¨C all the colours of the rainbow marked across her face in vibrant streaks.

    ¡°I have a plan.¡± Diego rose on both feet, placing his arm behind his neck in a sudden stretch. ¡°Though seeing how you¡¯ve responded to my last recommendation, I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯ll like it.¡±

    Koa crossed his arms. ¡°Try me.¡±

    Diego set his eyes onto the horizon. From his own remote eyeballs floating around the inside of the city, Koa¡¯s heart jolted to see so many Paladins pouring into the streets. He had expected their participation in this battle, but a riotous band of Destruction clansmen were fastly approaching. The stones beneath their thunderous feet withered to an eroded black, and the spiritual stench of their very corrosive nature was enough to make Koa¡¯s senses want to retire.

    ¡°If you¡¯ve cared to notice, when assisting in assigning clansmen to the Branches I recommended a plethora of fighters with powers based on nature ¨C or powers able to conjure up a range of wildlife. Together, we¡¯re going to do what the inhabitants of Hybrid have done for centuries ¨C only in miniature. We¡¯re going to get up to a little terraforming. Once we¡¯ve created our forest and populated it with some helpful creatures, things are going to get only a little morally questionable. With Daphne''s help, of course.¡±

    ¡°And what on Descent are you trying to imply by that?¡± Daphne pouted.

    ¡°Why, our helpful Drug clanswoman,¡± Diego said innocently. ¡°You¡¯re going to make your namesake proud and put all our animal friends on steroids.¡±

    ¡°You want me to burn out my reserves transforming the landscape and then fill it with a stampede of drugged-out animals?¡± Koa summarised. ¡°That¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°Brilliant, I know!¡± Diego launched onto the bulwark, joining the rest of the rejoicing Branches. ¡°We need to hurry too. Someone¡¯s taken notice of us.¡±

    Koa¡¯s heart sank even before laying his eyes on the approaching dot of black. The entity sped ahead, and honouring his Divine Right, the final fighter of Enos¡¯ warrior generations made like a comet.

    ¡°I¡¯m relying on you for this to work out Diego . . .¡±

    ¡°I should be saying that to you.¡± Diego bounced on the balls of his feet. Koa expected another snide comment to escape the bald man¡¯s mouth, but the urgency of the moment seemed to stifle even his fast wits.

    Koa looked upwards to wear Ash now hovered in the skies. None of his body was visible, completely consumed by that horrific costume of stars and black ¨C Ash¡¯s deranged persona. He was dressed like the jester in some sad play, mocking a reality which the essence of had been lost in the script.

    The two locked eyes, and Koa didn¡¯t know what to say. If his brother would even hear him from here. And, if he could hear, whether he would listen.

    Ash.

    Koa clamped his teeth.

    I¡¯m going to find you.

    He leaped from the crenellation in a flourish of movement, Mark surging into overdrive.

    I know you¡¯re in there-

    Ash mimicked the motion in a cruel symmetry, and then nothing seemed to exist but two brothers fighting. Clumps of stone materialised in the air around Ash, and the world bent and transformed under Koa¡¯s moulding will.

    Somewhere!

    <hr>

    Violet strolled through a world of mist. Yet she could see perfectly clearly.

    The powers of a Sight clansman were strange. Vidu channelled his oracular might through Violet¡¯s body, allowing her gaze to penetrate through the sifting currents of mist and fog. Through strange shapes of cloud Violet could see perfectly, as if only a slight grey filter had been placed over the surroundings.

    Their enemies, however, were totally blinded.

    Besides, even if Violet were subjected to that haze of vision too, the screams of Paladins and Wealth clansmen alike would have betrayed her enemies'' locations. The arrangements for her squadron ¨C the Claws ¨C had been planned out to great success.

    Vidu himself was an impish man. If Violet glanced a certain way upwards, she would gleam his goblin-like form: perched like a gargoyle on the precipice of a far-off building. There he watched her silently with all the forced nonchalance of a nighttime vigilante.

    A little creepy, but does his job well. Violet lamented. Now, as for the girl behind me . . .

    A few mere steps away, a woman with hair so long it reached her feet followed Violet. She brought a bundle of the strands to her face, clutching the brunette locks with the iron grip of a child holding onto a treasured pillow. She too was graced with Vidu¡¯s gift of sight.

    ¡°I feel so bad . . .¡± Marigold lamented, long hair together with her sprawling red gown a recipe for disaster. How she hadn¡¯t tripped up yet was nothing short of a miracle. ¡°I know they¡¯re not great people, but I can sense how much I¡¯m hurting them.¡±

    Marigold¡¯s Mark was in full activation. If Violet focused on her spiritual senses, she could feel sensuous streams of energy fluctuating through the atmosphere. Yet, remarkably ¨C and much to the relief of Violet¡¯s pain receptors ¨C none of those tortuous vibrations penetrated the air immediately around her. The same could be said for the rest of the Claws; Marigold¡¯s precision was absolute.

    ¡°You must be the most thoughtful Suffering clanswoman there ever was.¡± Violet reflected, teleporting them both a few metres ahead.

    A Paladin with a katana longer than his body held his weapon warily. He did his best to hide it, but Marigold¡¯s waves of pain rattled his body like it was a pile of sticks. Blinded and trembling with agony, a constant state of discomfort befell all within their foggy proximity. Violet made sure to time herself perfectly, before bursting forward. She erased the distance between her fist and the man¡¯s head, and with a disturbing crunch, he fell to the ground and moved no more.

    There was a yelp from up above. Violet kicked aside the Sword clansman¡¯s blade, trying to mask Vidu¡¯s eccentric outburst under the rattle. The man had a tendency to scream at any sign of violence.

    Both sounds were too distinct, however, only emphasising each other instead of covering the former, and Violet was forced to transport them all to new locales.

    Vidu settled down on a new rooftop after a burst of purple, and Violet dragged Marigold and herself to another passage of brume in the sprawling streets below.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a clansman of Vidu¡¯s expertise so jumpy in fights.¡± Violet muttered to Marigold, scouting out the territory. ¡°I thought anyone who lived on Descent would be desensitised to violence by now.¡±

    ¡°He sure is jumpy.¡± Marigold roved her eyes through the dark gloom.

    It was an artificial dusk, produced by the last finishing touch to Violet¡¯s discreet team: Nebula. The Cloud clanswoman conjured mist in the same way human lungs passively suffused carbon dioxide into the air. Violet could see her outline in the very centre of their obscuring storm. She served as the central eye to this rolling enterprise, with Violet carefully teleporting away any stray guards or paladins that stumbled too close to her.

    The rest of the Claws were crouched on top of the rooftops above, dispersed amongst the many nooks and crannies. They reserved their energy and waited patiently alongside Veida as Violet, Marigold, Vidu and Nebula all carried out their deadly trap. Only if things got out of hand would the rest of Violet¡¯s forces need to step into action.

    This siege would be a marathon, not a sprint. Conserving the energy of their forces could be what made or broke this operation.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting a bad vibe.¡± Marigold murmured quietly under her breath, that same frown not having left her face since first employing her Mark¡¯s agonising capabilities. ¡°I think something¡¯s-¡±

    Violet sprang into action before Marigold could finish. With the reflexes of a cat, she identified the approaching shape immediately, springing ahead, grasping the man by the neck, and shoving them into the stone floor.

    Vidu roared. ¡°It¡¯s me you moron!¡±

    ¡°Gods above Vidu, I could have killed you! I said not to jump out me like-¡±

    ¡°Nevermind!¡± The mousy man cut her off. ¡°Something¡¯s approaching! Something with a horrible aura!¡±

    Violet challenged Marigold for the squadron''s deepest scowl, gazing far into the shifting haze of smog. Nothing immediately appeared amiss, with only Nebula¡¯s constant silhouette and a few scrambling Paladins occupying the distance.

    Then the temperature dropped.

    Violet jumped backwards, Marigold joining in the movement whilst Vidu collapsed into a screaming ball of flailing limbs.

    With all the eerie approach of a severed hand crawling forward, a sheet of thin ice slid across the stone floor.

    Violet forced her eyes ahead. With Vidu so close, the boost to her vision was more potent than ever, quickly disarming the fog¡¯s obscurity like it was never there in the first place. Like folds of cloth being undone, she spotted the hideous sitch at their centre: a single Paladin.

    This newcomer¡¯s footsteps reverberated against the icy stone beneath their feet. The union of frosty crunch and fracturing stone was an ugly jumble of noise. Each step forward like the echoing clang of a funeral toll.

    Violet put her hands to her mouth as the remaining fog parted perfectly to reveal the woman. It was of their own doing, even Nebula¡¯s sifting powers withdrawing before the Frost Paladin.

    Lumi stood in sharp relief, an arm of ice clenched into a trembling fist.

 141. Neck of the Woods

    Koa¡¯s eyes snapped open, and he was being dragged across the skyline of First Rite.

    An arm stronger than it had any right to be launched his body into a wall of stone. Koa had barely slipped back into consciousness before finding himself flung inside somebody¡¯s living chambers.

    Dust suffused the air, and a stream of light projected down on Koa, crumpled beneath a pile of bricks. The furniture of the room would have been in no worse shape if it had been consumed and ejected from the heart of a tornado, and a corona of soot stuck to Koa¡¯s skin as he hastily flicked a chair leg off his thigh.

    His remote eyes stabilised with the return to consciousness. Two of the floating organs were placed on either side of the now trembling building, and Koa didn¡¯t like what they saw.

    In-between a maze of steadily growing branches ¨C as if all of civilisation had abandoned earth leaving nature behind to reclaim it ¨C a glowing tribute to the cosmos rushed to intercept Koa.

    Koa somersaulted upwards, pressing his legs deep into the ceiling and causing even more damage to the infrastructure. Hanging upside down, a new wave of dust obscured the interior.

    We never took a moment to consider the collateral damage to the city. Not on this scale. Memories were returning slowly to Koa now, of how he had gotten into this mess. He was bleeding and aching all over, and he was fairly sure he¡¯d spent the last five minutes being flung around as Ash¡¯s favourite ragdoll. We¡¯ll flatten the very capital we¡¯re trying to save . . .

    Koa¡¯s detached eyes saw Ash approach. His Mark flared, a jagged shard of stone erupting from his arm. His brother sped into the room, a phantom spectre on the loose, and with a scream, Koa cut down from above.

    A spurt of golden liquid erupted from Ash¡¯s shoulder, but the boy barely reacted. Instead of flinching, Ash leaned into the blow, pushing Koa through yet another wall and ignoring the tear in his muscle.

    Koa failed to stifle a yelp, time seeming to move two paces ahead of where his mind lagged behind.

    Don¡¯t pass out again. He could taste blood seeping between his teeth. He¡¯s trying to kill you! Don¡¯t pass out¨C

    Koa ignored how fuzzy his vision was becoming, gripping onto Ash¡¯s wrists as his brother dragged him yet again above the dying city.

    ¡°Stopp-¡± He spluttered, gargling Ichor. ¡°Ash, stop letting him control you!¡±

    No matter how solid Koa¡¯s grip, it was nothing to Ash. His brother discarded Koa with the same retired energy of an unamused parent putting down a clingy child. This time a blur of greens and browns smeared across the judging cerulean of the skies, as sheer force swept Koa along.

    All this time, Koa¡¯s Mark had been in play, following Vidu¡¯s order to expend a sun¡¯s worth of energy into creating the greatest nature reserve First Rite had ever seen. Now those entangled branches were turned against him, obstacles smashing into each one of his major limbs as he was left at the mercy of gravity.

    Flickering past, Koa saw his fellow Talents fighting with Paladins clad in all black ¨C stalks of oak their clumsy fighting place. His expansive forest became charred and withered wherever the Extinction clansmen made contact, painting an absurd tapestry of newly born nature next to freshly reaped death.

    Koa allowed himself to fall, instead focusing his efforts on commanding the oversized trees to move. They obeyed his call, first diverging open like the mouth of mother natural widening to swallow him whole, before snapping back into their original places. Koa surged an extra wave of energy through each branch, forcing them to spike out and expand into a ceiling of oak that covered him completely.

    In the dark, encased inside of some street alley, Koa collapsed to the floor.

    It was almost completely dark here, but Koa could see well enough to spot the blood running down the bridge of his nose. Now that his body had the chance to relax, all of the stress seemed to seize it in one violent push.

    He couldn¡¯t spot an exposed inch of his skin that wasn¡¯t scratched or bleeding to some capacity. His brow was split open, only a congealed lump of Ichor and dishevelled hair sparing his eyes from the downfall. A raging headache made it feel like there was a wildfire inside of his skull, every cell of his brain matter fighting for dear life. Koa had assumed it was only the once that he¡¯d been knocked unconscious, likely during the first few seconds of their fight. Yet judging on how cloudy the details were becoming, the contrary seemed more plausible.

    I¡¯m holding back. Koa slowly stood up, grasping onto an alley wall for support. He spat a mouthful of blood on the stone pathway at his feet, not totally surprised to see a tooth swimming in the Ichor like a lonely fish.

    There was a peculiar feeling starting to steadily rise within Koa. One that urged him to abandon all self-restraint, and pour his all into breaking every bone in Ash¡¯s body. To accept that his brother would never be saved; to make the boy suffer.

    For what he had to done to her. Octavia.

    The impulse swept him up like flotsam caught in a raging sea storm. He was a puppet fighting against the pull of his strings, but Koa knew for the sake of his brother ¨C for the promise he made to Juniper ¨C he would have to sever those connections. A quiet capacity for violence was bubbling inside of him, and he had to manually jam a plug over those ebbing streams before all other senses were drowned out.

    That wasn¡¯t Ash that killed Octavia.

    Koa was circulating as many natural remedies as he could summon throughout his body, hoping that none had any unexpected side effects when put together. This was a style of healing he¡¯d been playing around with since first concocting an antidote to Draven¡¯s poison, during their confrontation seemingly so long ago.

    Killing Ash will be no revenge at all. Enos will simply find the next pawn he can manipulate to his own ends, and I¡¯ll have lost the only family I have left.

    The herbal medicines were kicking in, and although drained, Koa didn¡¯t feel quite so on the cusp of death. His remote eyeballs were beyond the wooden barrier, and saw Ash hovering over First Rite, trying to locate where his brother was.

    Fighting on the backfoot had rewarded Koa with a rattled skull and a beaten body. Leaving the rest of the forest¡¯s construction to the Branches, it was time to focus his energies for a more direct attack. Koa took one last manual inhale to replenish himself, before launching upwards.

    The wooden ceiling parted for him, and, as his legs leaped ahead, so did a fanciful idea spring forth from the back of his mind. Bursting upwards, he summoned all of the creatures that populated his artificial forest. Each of them were provided by the Branches before being strengthened via the help of Daphne. Within seconds, a buzzing haze of insects, squawking birds, and other strange shapes covered by the flock dominated the skies.

    Suddenly, Koa felt the stubborn grip of gravity gradually slip away. Down below, he could spy a team of Talents heralding from the Gravity Clan keeping him airborne. He gave a thumbs up to the group, doubting they would even spot the gesture of goodwill that far down.

    This far up, on the other hand, the magnitude of the capital¡¯s fate finally settled into the marrow of Koa''s bones. Their third of the land was a sprawling jungle, Paladins, Talents, and berserker animals alike all duking it out over a stretch of wilderness ¨C a piece of mother nature that was baptised not by rain, but by thunderous dollops of blood.

    The buildings below were mostly covered by Koa¡¯s colossal branches. He¡¯d done his best to protect the main residents of First Rite by closing them in. Alas, there was enough rubble polluting his jungle that Koa knew all too many buildings had already fallen. Crushing who knew how many residents with them.

    A wave of guilt made Koa¡¯s chest a little tighter, his hands a little clammier, and he could barely imagine what it must be like for those cityfolk. Shrouded in darkness, hearing the chaos that was unfolding around. Unable to do anything but pray that it wouldn''t be their residence that came tumbling down next.

    Further away, a thick smog covered another portion of the city. Koa instantly recognised the obscured body of the Ruling District, yet even the aftermath of Damosh¡¯s avalanche was impossible to make out beneath the twilight veil. Over that fog, Koa¡¯s jaw only dropped lower at the sight that awaited him. The entire western section of the city wall had simply been . . . moved ¨C an unfeasible amount of stone, put aside as easily as a pebble in someone''s path kicked out of the way. Not a scratch or indent in the bulwark seemed to have been made, nor were there any signs that some brutish behemoth had wrenched the fortifications off their foundations. Through his spiritual senses, however, Koa could sense the remnants of Violet¡¯s Chaotic energy clinging to the site.

    The Unbounded Warlord had removed the wall like it was nothing.

    She might even be approaching a God-Graced¡¯s power. All of this observation was taking place in less time than it took to draw a breath, but Koa was stunned. When you put it like that, it becomes clear now ¨C she¡¯s been advancing even faster than Remus.

    The final third of the city hadn¡¯t been spared. Labour was set so ablaze that Koa could hardly make out what was happening. All he could sense was a frenzy of mad motion concealed beneath the sea of light. Koa had always thought of Remus as being a demon in a battle, and with the hellscape that was his battleground, that analogy was becoming far too literal.

    A third consumed by nature. A third dominated by a sun-defying fog and ravaged by its own King. And a third blazing with the brilliance of a million torches.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    First Rite was eating itself alive.

    Koa put aside his growing fear that there was no saving the city. A trail of buzzing insects and airborne creatures completely covered his body. Focusing on his spiritual senses, Koa did his best to mute the steady stream of power that was rushing out of his Mark. Like putting your hand around a torch to dim its light, Koa hoped Ash wouldn¡¯t be able to sense his location from his Mark¡¯s spiritual impulses.

    Ash levitated in the middle of this airborne flock. His body from the neck down didn¡¯t visibly move, only his gaze wandering from right to left at a glacial pace.

    ¡°You¡¯re right to hide.¡± He intoned, all the clamorous discord thousands of feet below seeming to dampen. ¡°It¡¯s the natural reaction for an animal cornered by a superior predator. When they know they can¡¯t possibly win. It¡¯s in our very DNA.¡±

    Koa didn¡¯t see his brother move, and yet a section of the flock erupted like they were nothing more than balloons filled with blood. The screams of an entire murder of crows drowned out Koa¡¯s ears with their fell omen, and it took all his self-control not to flinch.

    ¡°Do you know who else hid from me like this Koa? Right before I tortured her to death. Like husband, like wife!¡±

    Another streak of blood, and Koa could barely contain himself. The flying creatures were vying for control over Koa¡¯s command, to flee as fast and as far away from Ash as their wings could carry them. And yet Koa reaffirmed his power over each of the beasts with a pulsation of Wilderness energy. It was a delicate balancing act: trying to keep his physical and spiritual disguises under control, all whilst a fiery impulse was burning away his inhibitions.

    ¡°I killed her Koa ¨C I killed her!¡± Ash threw his hands up. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? This is who I am! Who I¡¯ve always been destined to become. There¡¯s nothing left of your brother. My rebirth was baptised by the very blood of the woman you loved, and not a single strand remains left of the Ash that was! I severed those ties; I shredded that skin!¡±

    More creatures were dying. Ash was screaming hoarsely, transforming the skies into a mad circus of raining blood. The sloshing was punctuated by the shrill wails of the flock¨C the sounds of his brother¡¯s strained vocal cords blending in until Koa couldn¡¯t tell apart one from the other.

    That feeling that something was tugging on Koa¡¯s emotions returned again, and suddenly his fingers trembled with the impulse to crush Ash¡¯s spine. Still, he stopped himself. He had to wait for the right moment to strike.

    ¡°How - much ¨C more ¨C convincing ¨C do ¨C you ¨C need!¡± Ash underscored each word with a punch to the dying animals, his celestial form painted red.

    Koa saw his chance and didn¡¯t hesitate.

    ¡°Ash exists no more!¡±

    The Right-bearer had his back turned to him, and speeding forward now, something heavy materialised between Koa¡¯s fingers. Ash didn¡¯t have the time of day to turn around. As sure as the wind sweeping through his hair, a gigantic hammer crushed the side of Ash¡¯s head.

    Koa followed close behind as his brother was sent hurtling feet-first. Ash flew through the squawking crowd of birds, blood smothering his body like he was being dragged through a pool of gore. As if it was a parasite planting itself inside of a new host, vines emerged from the hammer with wicked animation. The tentacles clawed at Ash¡¯s skin, drawing Ichor, and dragging him ever closer to Koa¡¯s wrathful clutches.

    Dazed, Ash was too stunned to fight back as Koa seized his moment, and the moment too seized his better inhibitions.

    His arms were no longer his own, and Koa became the plaything of his most abhorrent desires; the most vibrant shade of red the boy would ever see coloured his eyes. Koa could only process what was happening through the sensations of his body: the feel of the breeze sweeping against his raised arms ¨C the way the bones of his forearm rattled with every downward swing.

    Koa didn¡¯t have to see through his one functional eye ¨C neither his remote gifts from the Sight Clan ¨C to know one fatal truth.

    Ash was taking an ugly beating.

    Like the hand of a puppetmaster sweeping upward, and Koa felt the strings compelling him grow taunt. More and more, he abandoned any sense of self, channeling all the regret, all of the hurt, into each furious swing.

    Memory overlaid reality. One moment, all the world quietly slipped away, and Koa could register nothing but Octavia: he could smell her strange perfume, feel the impression of her body against his, and hear the cascading ripple of her laughter. The next, he would be beating furiously at Ash¡¯s features, arms compelled by a will that did not seem like his own, determined  to make the monster suffer with a will as hard as concrete.

    Koa¡¯s eyes finally seemed to clear, the impenetrable crimson softening to a waving haze of pink. The hammer was raised above his hair, droplets of Ash¡¯s blood running down from its bulk and onto Koa.

    This isn¡¯t . . .

    As if struggling against a will implanted inside of his very muscles, Koa pulled away.

    Right!

    Ash swept away by reflex, shivering in the air as Koa took in the destruction he had wrought. Against the cosmic imprint that was Ash¡¯s tainted form, purpled flesh and streams of Ichor stood out, like buckets of paint thrown against a master artwork.

    ¡°Look at this blood Ash!¡± Koa cried, grabbing his brother by one shoulder, holding up a fist covered by blood in the other. He left the hammer to drop far below. ¡°Your blood!¡±

    ¡°That gold is the greatest evidence there is. Undeniable proof of the reality I know you¡¯re suppressing: that you haven¡¯t abandoned your humanity yet!¡±

    Again, Ash didn¡¯t move. As slow as a statue, he turned his attention to the dripping steam of gold.

    ¡°You still don¡¯t understand.¡± Ash gritted his teeth. ¡°How can you not understand! I could tear apart an orphanage, burn everyone you love to the littlest shreds, and still ¨C you would call me your brother like this blood on my hands is not my own. ¡±

    The wounds on Ash¡¯s face began to patch up, and he lifted his head with a dreadful resolve.. ¡°Let me show you Koa who I really am.¡±

    Simultaneous to those words, two behemoths of stone floated into view.

    Ash¡¯s prisoners in tow.

    Diego twisted against stone confines, bound to the side of a meteor by a thick ring of rock. He seemed to be beating strategically against the material, noticing fracture points within the stone with the wits of his namesake.. But those tricks of the Wisdom Clan did him not good, and the gaps filled themselves as quickly as he chiselled them out.

    Not far away was Daphne in her own stone prison. She was frothing at the mouth, eyes feral like that of a wild dog. For all her worth, her body was tempered by a terrible concoction of drugs, bringing inhuman strength to her limbs as she provided the shackles much more of a challenge than Diego¡¯s flimsy punches. Alas, she achieved little else in return for their efforts than sending clumps of soot raining below. All the damage was reversed by Ash with but a flex of his Divine Right.

    Koa bellowed at his imprisoned companions, wooden projectiles flying out of his body and digging deep into their encasements. Still, that rock refused to crumble. Like horses pulling a carriage along despite the whippings of their coachman, Koa¡¯s body acted as if by its own accord.

    All Koa sensed was an impossible weight pressing against his cheek. Ash¡¯s slap sent him tumbling through the air, the force of the blow even testing the Gravity clansmen sustaining Koa¡¯s flight as they struggled to keep him airborne.

    Finally, like falling on-top of an invisible cushion, Koa oriented himself, half of his face stinging.

    His eyes settled back onto his imprisoned companions, aghast at the fate that met them.

    Spikes emerged from the inner section of their stone confines, pricking against both Daphne and Diego as their plight turned from disastrous to deadly.

    Again, Koa charged forward to intervene. Ash raised a hand, and a wave of projectiles hailed down from the heavens, as if it was raining spiked pebbles. Koa¡¯s skin had since healed from the beginning of their fight, but now, what felt like a million cuts reopened that tender flesh.

    And, more terribly, prevented him from reaching the two of them.

    ¡°Ash, if there is any good left in you-¡± A stone the size of Koa¡¯s head smacked against his temple. The utterance died uncompleted upon his lips.

    Again, Koa found himself kept at bay, a spectator to Ash¡¯s sick machinations.

    Diego was drenched in Ichor, like a balloon pierced in a dozen places and radically deflating.

    ¡°Koa,¡± he squirmed, the pale colour of his face hidden beneath a coating of bleeding gold. ¡°Someone¡¯s leading you along. You can¡¯t let yourself-¡±

    The stone walls crashed in, and Diego ceased to exist.

    Daphne and Koa screeched in unison. An indifferent Ash watched on as Daphne approached her own demise. Her screams hollowed out, as if distilled of her rage, and her body progressed from rattling trembles to no motion at all.

    Nothing seemed to exist. Koa could only sense the frantic beats of his racing heart, the perspiration dripping down his torn skin, and the all-consuming urge to purge Ash from this earth.

    He blasted forward, ignoring the avalanche of stones cutting past his skin and deeper into the flesh. With a flourish, Koa remembered the weapon once gifted to him by Donovan. The halberd imparted to Koa by the Shadow clansman took centre stage in his mind, each minor detail of its design recalled like a long treasured memory. Only a pole at first extended from his fingers, organic matter taking life from but a furious surge of Chantal¡¯s power.

    Before the halberd¡¯s curved surface had even fully formed, Koa was slicing and dicing through the miniaturised asteroid belt. He left a stream of blood behind, each drop like a little part of himself shredded and abandoned. Maybe there really was nothing human about Ichor. After all, wasn¡¯t that bestowed power the source of humanity¡¯s strife?

    Koa spun through the air before he could think of an answer, a flurry of creatures holding Ash in place as Koa threw his weapon.

    The halberd arced through the sky, and nothing in Koa¡¯s life had ever been more satisfying than the laceration it cut through Ash¡¯s chest. From that gaping cavity, a fountain of Ichor erupted forth like water from a facet.

    Ash looked down slowly to the hole in his body, then, as if he had all the time in the world to dawdle, and not a wick of pain to inconvenience him, raised his head back to Koa.

    He grasped the handle of the halberd before Koa could move, a freakishly wide smile spreading across his lips as he wrenched the weapon out of his body, like a sword from a sheath.

    ¡°Now you see me . . .¡±

    Ash held the halberd up towards the sun, admiring its glinting beauty.

    Koa¡¯s spiritual senses screamed out with all the raucous warning of a thousand ancestors rising from the grave to come to his protection. Or maybe they were more mortified about what the other prize of their lineage had come to.

    The natural vermillion gleam of the weapon underwent a horrific transformation. The colour dampened, first to an abhorrent grey, before a cloud of red seemed to gradually diffuse through its shape. The fern-like appearance was replaced by a squirming mass of gore. Like a healing wound was being mended by a body that had forgotten what a functional limb looked like, Ash conjured a splatter of fibre and muscle.

    Donovan¡¯s memory was left to rot and die.

    ¡°This is what I¡¯ve always been¡± Blood streamed from his bottom lip, and Ash pointed the halberd Koa¡¯s way.

    ¡°Little brother.¡±