《DIE. RESPAWN. REPEAT. [Book 4 Started!]》


 1 - Die, Die, and Die Again

    I wake up, and three seconds later, I die.


    It''s not particularly pleasant. The first time it happens, I don''t even get the chance to scream. All I see is a blade speeding towards my head, and then all I know is searing pain. It takes a full moment for me to die properly.


    That moment is agonizing.


    The second time it happens, it takes five seconds. I''m still disoriented, and although I try to jerk away from whatever it is that stabbed me in the head, all I manage to do is end up with a blade in my throat; a powerful jerk later, and my vision detaches from the rest of my body.


    The third time, at least, I see my assailant.


    The moment consciousness hits me ¡ª the moment I feel the cool breeze on my skin again, the dirt beneath my back, and the coppery smell in the air that tells me this is very much not a dream ¡ª I throw myself to the side. I hear a skittering cry of confusion and anger, and I snap my head up to see the thing that I assume has been killing me again and again.


    It''s a monster. An actual, bear-sized mantis-thing that has a few too many limbs to make sense; an insect blown up into horrifyingly large proportions that let me see every grotesque detail. There are tiny hairs embedded in its carapace, veins that somehow connect two of its arms to long, metallic scythes...


    And one of its eyes is gouged out. There''s a cracked mess of carapace and flesh where it should be, and the feeling of revulsion at the sight vanishes when the monster lets out another screech. It''s tugging frustratedly on one of its limbs, which is stuck firmly in the ground.


    You know, from when it tried to stab me.


    Right. Life-or-death situation. I''ve already died twice, and I have no desire to die a third. There''s some text hovering in my peripheral vision that''s starting to really annoy me, but I don''t exactly have time to read.


    ...I run away.


    What else am I supposed to do? It''s a giant mantis monster. I''m not equipped to fight it.


    It occurs to me ¡ª as the vegetation speeds past, and I stumble my way around cactus-like plants with thorns nearly as long as my fingers ¡ª that I don''t even know where I am. I don''t recognize anything around me, and even the sky is a distinct shade of purple that paints the horizon with shades of unfamiliarity.


    My thoughts are interrupted by a deafening screech, and I risk a glance back, counting the time in my head. It''s been four seconds. It takes four seconds for it to pull the scythe free. Before I can react, it launches itself at me unbelievably fast.


    I don''t even get the time to scream.


    The fourth time, I change things around. Dying is incredibly unpleasant, and I''m not inclined to keep doing it; I need a way to beat this thing and then assess what''s going on. The dodge-and-roll is almost instinct now, burned into my brain from my multiple deaths.


    I have four seconds. The clock is ticking.


    You know what? Might as well try something risky.


    I run towards the mantis monster.


    I need a weapon. There''s a ball joint holding that scythe attached to the rest of the limb, supported just by a thin layer of sinew.


    It roars at me when I get close ¡ª bug-spittle lands on my face, but I don''t have time for disgust ¡ª and swings its spare blade at me. I''m approaching it at a weird angle, though, so it doesn''t have the full range of motion it needs; I duck underneath, and it scrabbles at me with its other claws¡ª


    ¡ªand I gasp as I feel them dig into my skin, scoring a particularly deep cut¡ª


    ¡ªbut it''s not enough to stop me.


    I kick into the joint right as it tries for a final, powerful yank. It''s not fast enough. There''s a morbid snap as the joint breaks off from the rest of the limb, and I grab at the base of it, ignoring the way the cracked carapace digs into my skin. My momentum is enough to pull the blade the rest of the way out, and I roll, trying desperately not to stab myself with the weapon I''ve risked my life for.


    Okay. Still alive. The monster''s angrier than ever, and no longer stuck to the ground; it''s rushing towards me, and ¡ª yep, definitely too fast to run from.


    I make a split-second decision to leap to the right.


    It''s the wrong choice.


    Thankfully, that time, it does me the courtesy of killing me instantly.


    The fifth time, I dive to the left just as it swings to the right, and I take that opportunity to jump onto the damn thing. I yell as I do it. There''s no actual point in yelling, it''s just a release of frustration and stress and fear. It does help me ignore the pain as a half-dozen pseudo-limbs claw into me, though.


    I climb up its back and stab the scythe into its other eye with a triumphant shout.


    It''s almost satisfying. The mantis-thing doesn''t even make a sound. I''ve hit a vital spot of some sort, it seems; it just collapses to the ground, and sends me sprawling. I don''t bother moving from where I''ve landed. I just lie there, panting.


    Everything hurts.


    But I''m alive. I actually did it.


    ...It''s almost a miracle that it only took me five tries, and it''s a miracle I really, really hope I won''t have to repeat. Which brings me to my next task.


    I need to figure out what''s going on.


    That subtle text that''s been hovering in my peripheral vision calls to me again. It''s pulsing insistently now that I''m out of the fight, and when I focus on it, it expands.


    [ Congratulations! The Integrators have selected Earth to be the next Integrated planet. Please stand by... ]


    Stolen story; please report.


    [ Integration complete! 3,000 individuals will be randomly selected for a Trial. Note that at least 10 individuals must pass their Trial, or Earth will be destroyed. ]


    [ Congratulations! You have been selected for a Trial. ]


    [ Welcome to Hestia 307B! Your Trial details are as follows:


    Danger Rank: SSS


    Type: Willpower


    Base Anomaly: Temporal


    Every time you die, reset to 0:00 and spawn at the designated location. Your trial will end when you give up or escape the Trial grounds. The exit has been placed in a random location within 12 kilometers of the initial spawn point. ]


    [ You have been Integrated and granted a Status. Your Status is as follows:


    Name: Ethan


    Credit Distribution:


    Strength: 0


    Durability: 0


    Reflex: 0


    Speed: 0


    Firmament: 0 ]


    I pause, stare, and take a moment to process.


    Three thousand people selected for Trials just like this one, by a species that, I assume, calls themselves the Integrators. They want ten people to pass. That means they expect most of us to fail, and considering what I''ve just been through ¡ª considering I''ve just been mauled to death four times in a row ¡ª I''m under no illusions as to what failing will mean for the other candidates.


    I hate everything about this.


    And then there''s what those messages said about what they would do to Earth if we fail. I clench my fists, and then take a slow, shuddering breath; my heart is still pumping wildly from my near-death experience.


    From my actual-death experiences.


    There are more messages waiting for me, and I distract myself by looking through them.


    [ You have died. +1 Durability credit. ]


    [ You have died. +2 Durability credits. +1 Reflex credit. ]


    [ You have died. +1 Durability credit. +2 Reflex credit. +1 Speed credit. ]


    [ You have died. +2 Strength credits. +2 Durability credits. +1 Reflex credits. +2 Speed credit. ]


    [ You have defeated a Broken Horror (Rank E)! +2 Strength credits. +3 Durability credits. +2 Reflex credits. +2 Speed credits. +2 Firmament credits. ]


    There''s... a lot to take in from that. My actual status is probably updated from the notification I got earlier. Thankfully, bringing up a new notification is as simple as thinking about it.


    [ Status:


    Name: Ethan


    Credit Distribution:


    Strength: 4


    Durability: 9


    Reflex: 6


    Speed: 5


    Firmament: 2 ]


    That''s... good?


    I don''t feel any stronger ¡ª and I definitely don''t feel any more durable. The fact that it''s called a credit distribution says a lot; the implication with a credit is that I need to spend it, though I''m not sure how. There''s a part of me that''s clinging very firmly to the idea that this isn''t real, but...


    I''ve died four times, and I don''t want to go through that again. Better to assume this is real until I have a reason to believe otherwise.


    I need to figure out my priorities.


    It''s not survival ¡ª survival isn''t a problem. I can''t die until I give up, and I''m not going to give up. If it''s a willpower test, I''m going to pass it.


    What I''m more concerned about is the implications of ending the Trial. The message said the Trial would end if I give up or if I escape the Trial grounds. It did not say that I would pass if I escaped. It feels like a pretty safe assumption to make, but "waking up in bed" had seemed like a pretty safe assumption to make last night, so I''m not in the mood to make any more "safe" assumptions.


    "How do I pass the Trial?" I say out loud. There''s no guarantee that this Interface responds to verbal commands, but I''m hoping it does.


    [ Details of the passing requirements are locked until further notice. ]


    Interesting.


    "Is there anything else I''m missing?"


    [ Interface features will be unlocked as your Integration progresses. Such features may include, but are not limited to: Inventory, Market, Chat, Guilds. ]


    I frown.


    So I don''t have everything unlocked yet. Sure.


    "How do I spend credits, and what do they do?"


    [ Credits may be banked, allowing you to acquire skills associated with that particular type of credit. Note that all credits of a particular type must be banked at once. Banking more credits increases the likelihood of the resulting skill being of a high grade.


    In addition, bonuses will be granted when the total number of credits banked in a given category has reached certain thresholds. The first threshold occurs at 100 credits banked, each subsequent threshold occurs at every power of 10 thereafter. ]


    Most of the categories are pretty self-explanatory. There''s only one that really needs explanation for me.


    "What is Firmament?"


    [ Firmament is the energy that the Interface ¡ª and much of the wider universe ¡ª runs on. It allows an imposition of change onto reality, often bending and sometimes outright breaking the laws of physics.]


    Okay, so it''s magic. They couldn''t have just called it mana?


    I can keep saving my credits. That''s probably what I should do, even, except I don''t have any examples of the type of skills I''ll get from each category. If I bank them now, I''ll get an example...


    No. I''ll bank Durability first. It''s the highest one I''ve got, and it''ll help me survive the next few encounters with that Broken Horror. I have no illusions about my level of skill right now ¡ª I''m going to die, and I''m probably going to keep dying for a while. Durability will give me an example of what I can get with nine credits, and then I''ll try to get a skill at twenty-five, fifty, and a hundred. That''ll give me an idea of the relationship between credits and skill quality ¡ª there''s got to be diminishing returns somewhere.


    I''ll also bank Firmament, because it''s the one I''m most uncertain of in terms of what type of skill it''ll give me. That leaves... I''ll bank Strength once I''ve earned twenty-five credits, Reflex at fifty, and Speed at one hundred.


    Okay. I feel pretty good about this.


    Spend Durability credits.


    [ Are you sure you wish to bank 9 Durability credits? ]


    Yes.


    [ 9 Durability credits banked! Rolling for results... ]


    [ Select between:


    Tough Skin (Rank F)


    Blood Production (Rank E)


    Iron Bones (Rank F) ]


    I''m going to have to fight this mantis thing again, and the main danger it represents is making me bleed out, not breaking my bones. Blood Production being at a higher rank is interesting, but I can''t imagine it having good synergy with anything else. Anything it would have good synergy with is not a skill I''m particularly interested in.


    The other problems with tracking blood all over a strange forest full of alien bacteria make my decision for me.


    [ Tough Skin (Rank F) obtained! ]


    Spend Firmament credits.


    [ Are you sure you wish to bank 2 Firmament credits? ]


    Yes.


    [ 2 Firmament credits banked! Rolling for results...]


    [ Select between:


    Temporal Echo (Rank D)


    Bladeshift (Rank F)


    Multifaceted Vision (Rank F) ]


    I think about the situation I''m in. The adrenaline, at least, is fading away ¡ª and though I know I should be exhausted, I find myself with a certain clarity of mind instead.


    There''s a fundamental truth here: the Integrators are not doing this as some good faith attempt at uplifting Earth. They''re phrasing Integration as a reward, but the fact that they''re pairing it with the threat of destroying the planet... I''m inclined to think that there''s another purpose to the Trials. I''m inclined to think that there''s no reason to test us in a trial by fire like this, involving less than a fraction of a percent of the world''s population using a random distribution that barely begins to represent the whole of humanity.


    But they''re going to regret choosing me. They''re going to regret putting me in this specific Trial. In this Trial, I''m free to take as long as I want. I''m free to scrape up every last scrap of power I can.


    Integration is an interesting translation. It implies the Integrators use this technology, too. That they''re integrating us into their system.


    That, to me, sounds like a weakness.


    I''m going to find out what you''re really up to, and then I''m going to tear all this down.


    [ Temporal Echo (Rank D) obtained! ]


    I''m coming for you.

 64 - Book 2, Chapter 1 - One More Death

    You don''t really get used to death, no matter how many times you do it. I''ve died thirteen times, and all thirteen of them have hurt. The last death hurt... less than usual, because I was fortunate enough to just get blasted apart, rather than stabbed, torn apart, or crushed.


    This is a weird thing to think about, I know. It turns out Quicken Mind really is a lot better than Mental Acceleration. So much better it gives me time to stare at the blade headed towards my head and ruminate, instead of engaging in my usual dodge-and-roll.


    Why not do something different this time?


    Barrier.


    I have Hexfold Barrier and Crystallized Barrier as offshoots of that skill, but considering the monster that''s trying to stab me through the brain is a Rank F monster, I''m not too worried about it. The mantis-creature''s arm clangs roughly into the barrier and deflects off of it, slamming into the dirt instead.


    This time, the angle is different. This time, it doesn''t get stuck. It rears backwards with a roar, drool and spittle flying out between its mandibles and sizzling on the dirt.


    "Ahkelios," I call, and use Temporal Fragment.


    The bond between us resonates and springs to life, and Firmament is drawn out of me into the shape of a tiny, lively little mantis-person. He''s been a good companion to me, for all that part of that is apparently enforced by the Interface. I still have to make good on my promise to find a way to free him.


    This seems like a good start.


    Ahkelios doesn''t seem to think so, though. Instead of facing the mantis that''s intent on killing me, he turns to me and folds his arms.


    "Are you okay?" he asks. "That was really sudden. Aren''t you worried about¡ª"


    I leap out of the way as the other mantis ¡ª the giant one trying to kill us, not that there are any other mantises around besides these two ¡ª stabs towards me.


    "I''m trying not to think about it," I say casually.


    I am worried. Mari isn''t going to remember who I am. Tarin... there''s a chance Tarin will, but even then it''s only a chance. I cured him in the last loop, and he remembered, but his Firmament had been stuck in one state because of what was keeping him in a coma to begin with. Now that I''ve cured him...


    There''s no good outcome here. If he remembers, he''s destined to remember all of my loops ¡ª he''s bound to me, in that sense. And if that''s true, then he''s going to be moving on without his wife.


    For his own sake, I almost hope he doesn''t remember me. I wrench my mind away from the thought.


    "Maybe we should deal with the giant mantis trying to kill us first?" I suggest, and Ahkelios gives me a scowl. It''s one of his ''this isn''t over'' scowls.


    "I''m trying not to think about that and why it looks like me," he grumbles. "What do you want me to do, fight it?"


    "I''ve seen what you can do," I confirm. "And it''s... probably related to you somehow, right? Maybe if you kill it..."


    "Morbid," Ahkelios says, but I notice he doesn''t fight me on the matter. He agrees, I think. It''s barely noticeable, but there''s... a resonance? Something that''s reacting in the Firmament Ahkelios has and the Firmament that''s core to the mantis-monster attacking us.


    I still don''t know what these monsters are, exactly.


    Ahkelios leaps off of my shoulder and takes full control over his Firmament. He turns into a streak of light, blasting off my shoulder and directly towards the blade that''s coming towards me.


    I don''t bother to dodge.


    The force of his kick simultaneously shatters it and rips it off of the mantis-creature''s arm, the joint detaching with a sickening pop. Then he launches himself like a bullet, spinning right underneath the monster''s chin and up through the top of his head, shattering the top of his carapace and emerging covered in...


    I grimace a bit and call up a Barrier just as Ahkelios shakes himself off. I don''t particularly want to get brain splattered onto me this early in the loop. Ahkelios is made of Firmament ¡ª nothing can stick to him ¡ª but me? I still need to take a shower every now and then, and there are only so many rivers here.


    "You''re the one that wanted me to fight it," Ahkelios says smugly, and I sigh.


    "I suppose I am."


    [ You have defeated a Broken Horror (Rank E)! ]


    No real reward. It''s too weak now to give me much of anything. I glance at Ahkelios, then to the corpse of the monster. "Anything different?" I ask.


    "No?" Ahkelios frowns a bit. "Is something supposed to be¡ª"


    Before he can complete his sentence, I sense a fragment of that Firmament still within the mantis. I sense a small reaction from Temporal Fragment, rapidly fading.


    So I use Temporal Fragment again.


    Temporal Fragment is probably one of my strangest skills. In its base form ¡ª the first version of it I received, Temporal Echo ¡ª it lets me create a clone of myself from a past loop. That echo isn''t capable of any independent thought, but it will repeat whatever actions I took before. It''s a good way to... replay fights, so to speak. Avoid repeating anything I don''t have to.


    The Fragment variant retains that capability, but it seems to let me connect fragments of past loops that aren''t my own.


    Case in point: Ahkelios, once a Trialgoer on Hestia, whose older self failed the same trial I''m going through. That older version of him faced many traumas this younger version doesn''t remember, I think, but they''re in there somewhere. I notice it in flashes, whenever his chipper attitude flickers away and leaves behind something painfully sad.


    The only way to fail this particular Trial is to give up. Judging by its difficulty rating...


    Well, I suspect not many people have ever passed. If anyone. I''m not sure on that part ¡ª I don''t know if the Integrators repeat a Trial once someone has beaten it.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Most of this is important to know, because when I use Temporal Fragment this time, the resonance between Ahkelios and that tiny piece of Firmament in the corpse suddenly snaps into place. My little mantis-friend freezes mid-sentence and mid-air, his eyes growing wide.


    I feel two fragments of Firmament merging. There''s a brief moment of resistance, as something that isn''t Ahkelios apparently tries to fight against the intrusion, but it breaks through just as quickly; I feel a distinct change in the Firmament Ahkelios is using. It''s a little brighter, a little stronger.


    It still uses my own Firmament as a base, but I think that''s just a limitation of Temporal Fragment in general.


    More importantly, Ahkelios has changed in size. He''s a little over double his previous height, still small enough to sit on my shoulder but large enough that his head reaches up above my ear when he does so. He''s also a little... bulkier?


    I try not to imagine a comically muscular mantis sitting on top of my head.


    "Whoa," Ahkelios says. Even his voice is a little deeper. I''m not sure how I feel about that. "That felt... different."


    "A good kind of different, I hope," I say. I probably should have tried this earlier, and I feel a little guilty for not doing so. I''d been worried Ahkelios wouldn''t react well to what appears to be a physical manifestation of his trauma, but if anything, he seems very happy about having the opportunity to punch it in the face. Or drill through its head like a bullet, as it were.


    "It''s good," Ahkelios confirms. He flexes his fingers, then his arms, then does a full-body wriggle that I find difficult to characterize as anything except ''cute'', as much as I suspect Ahkelios would hate that designation. "I feel stronger. More complete? And the Interface isn''t whispering so loudly into my head anymore."


    "Was it doing that before?" I ask, concerned. He hasn''t mentioned anything about it. Ahkelios grimaces and falls silent for a moment.


    "The answer is yes, but I wasn''t allowed to talk about it," Ahkelios finally says. "And even now, talking about it... kinda hurts. But I can do it. Don''t worry; I haven''t been forced to do anything I don''t want to do. I just hate that it''s forced at all."


    There''s a glimmer of that darker side of him again. The side of him that''s a little angrier, that''s been through more than any sapient being ought to be. The fact that even this side of him is trying to reassure me tells me a lot about his character.


    I wonder how many lifetimes he lived through the course of his loops. He doesn''t seem like the type of person to give up easily.


    I wonder how many others like him I might meet, if I take the time to look. There''s the harpy that was used to raid the crow village early on ¡ª if that particular fragment had a source, I haven''t met it, nor do I have any idea where I would find her, and even if I did...


    This loop doesn''t have the same distinct, fuzzy feeling that I''ve noticed was present every time I met Ahkelios in the early loops. The presence of past loopers seems to be brought about by Temporal Fragment and... some distortion of Firmament that I don''t entirely understand. It''s not consistent between loops, unfortunately.


    "Did you get anything from the Interface when you died?" Ahkelios asks, as if uncomfortable with the silence. It''s probably fair. I accept the attempt to change the subject, and glance back at the notifications I received just after dying. The words are still there, glowing firmly in the light of the Interface.


    [ You have died. ]


    [ You have unlocked a new feature: Doomsday Tracker. This Interface feature will track all events that may affect the time at which Anomaly 006 occurs. ]


    [ You have unlocked the knowledge database of Anomaly 006, kept by other Trialgoers. ]


    [ For encountering an Anomaly, you have been awarded 50 Firmament credits. ]


    [ Warning: New anomalies detected in loop. ]


    The Doomsday Tracker reads just over a hundred and eighty days. Just about six months before... the entire planet blows up? What was that? And that doesn''t seem to match the time that was on my Timeline Tracker when I died. I frown, opening my mouth to protest¡ª


    And then I realize, glancing over the notifications again, that for once the Interface isn''t keeping it a secret.


    "Access the database for Anomaly 006," I say out loud. Mostly for Ahkelios'' benefit, really. The Interface seems perfectly capable of deciphering my intent from my thoughts, but then I just look like I''m sitting there and staring intently into the air.


    In front of me, words spill out. A lot of them.


    [ Anomaly 006


    Scale: Planetary


    Origin: The Fracture


    Cause: Unknown


    Danger Rank: SSS


    Anomaly 006 is an event that occurs approximately 180 days into the start of the loop, but can occur earlier if the Fracture is disturbed. Note the Fracture is already a major source of anomalies within a loop and should be very carefully interacted with; it is possible for actions taken within the Fracture to end a loop prematurely.


    Changelog:


    I don''t really know why this is here, it''s not like I''m going to fail this Trial. But I might as well keep a record? At least it''ll help me keep track of everything going on. ¡ª V''khator


    ¡ª


    Um. I guess we shouldn''t... we shouldn''t expect to get through this Trial, huh? I thought it was going to be... not hard, anyway. But if other people...


    Anyway. I added some notes about how going to the Fracture can trigger this early. I don''t know exactly what causes it, but it''s something deep within the Fracture ¡ª deeper than I''ve ever gone.


    One time I threw a rock in there and it triggered the Anomaly two days early, so be careful throwing stuff into the Fracture, I guess.


    Um... I think I''m supposed to sign off? I don''t know if I want to put my name here. Especially if I fail.


    Trialgoer 002, I guess. Probably. I''ll add more if I find anything more.


    ¡ª


    Hi. It''s 002 again.


    I don''t know much more, but I''ve figured out that it''s... it''s the whole planet. I tried running away. It didn''t work.


    I don''t know what to do?


    ¡ª


    Anomaly log has been formatted and language has been formalized, with the exception of the changelog.


    Cause of anomaly appears to be related to the temporal Firmament that runs the loop. Theory unconfirmed. Usage of opposing Firmament can delay death, but without a planet to subsist on, even I cannot survive for long. ¡ª GHO-R7.


    ¡ª


    It is possible to temporally displace the exit past the point at which Anomaly 006 occurs. This is a problem. Do not do what I did. ¡ª GHO-R7.


    ¡ª


    To be clear, what I did was attempt to access the exit by surviving past the destruction of the planet. The exit is not destroyed. However, it appears that the exit is capable of altering its position in both time and space, and it has rendered itself inaccessible to me. ¡ª GHO-R7.


    ¡ª


    Wow, that dude was... unlucky, huh?


    I haven''t figured out anything more about 006, but I''ll stick anything I find out here, I guess. I dunno, feels like if I do that I''m expecting to fail.


    I tried diving deeper into the Fracture but all I got was <DATA EXPUNGED>. So that''s annoying.


    <Read More> ]


    There''s a lot more to the logs, too. At some point it looks like the other Trialgoers gave up and started logging everything in the changelog instead of the main document, which means I have so much more data to pore through than I should have to...


    I sigh.


    The data expungement doesn''t surprise me. Not everything in the changelog is related to the anomaly, and the Integrators probably don''t want me to learn about their other secrets without earning it through the Interface, otherwise we''d all be able to use this one anomaly to share all our secrets. I see a few other attempts by other Trialgoers to do exactly that, too, but it''s all been expunged.


    Even a few coded attempts were expunged. The Integrators are thorough. I''m surprised the comment about the exit was able to survive, but maybe they don''t want other people trying that.


    I think the most worrying part of all this is the sheer number of Trialgoers there evidently have been. Not all of them contributed to the log, I think ¡ª some of them never survived long enough, for one thing ¡ª but even then, there are... I''m pretty sure there are hundreds.


    How long have the Integrators been trying to get someone to beat this Trial?


    "You gonna tell me what you''re looking at?" Ahkelios asks. He''s somehow found his way up onto my head again, and he''s large enough now that he feels like a hat. I sigh.


    "A lot of people''s last words, apparently," I mutter.


    So many dead to beat this one Trial.


    I won''t be the next.

 142 — Book 3, Chapter 1 — A Remnant in Time

    "You ever think about how weird this all is, Ethan?"


    Ahkelios isn''t looking at me. He''s staring out over the city of Isthanok¡ªspecifically, over the semi-ruined city that everyone''s still working to rebuild. Guard and his proxies are off working on that specific task until I''m ready to take the next step, and for now, I''m just... taking a break.


    Or avoiding responsibility. Either one would be accurate, really.


    "It''s hard not to," I answer. "I mean, I don''t know about you, but I wasn''t exactly the warrior type back on Earth. I''m not sure I''m the warrior type now."


    Ahkelios turns his head to stare at me. "You''re making me really worried about what Earth thinks a warrior is."


    I snort. "There''s usually less shirts involved."


    "Well, that''s easily solved."


    "I''m not taking off my shirt, Ahkelios."


    The mantis snickers. He shifts a little on the branch he''s sitting on, tapping contemplatively on the wood beneath him. "I was a scientist before all this," he says. "I painted as a hobby. I don''t even remember what that was like anymore. I mean, I''ve got more pieces of those memories than I did before, but I still can''t imagine myself sitting down and painting. And I know how much it meant to me."


    I''m quiet for a moment. "Yeah," I say eventually. I can''t picture myself sitting down at a computer and playing a game, either. Or holding a job as a cashier, god forbid, though even before all this I''m not sure I could''ve held that particular job without eventually punching someone in the face.


    Ahkelios hesitates. I can tell there''s something on his mind¡ªsomething he''s been trying to bring himself to say for a while. It''s come up a few times here and there in these last few loops, ever since he absorbed his most recent Remnant.


    "I''m not going to judge you, you know," I tell him. Because I think I know what he wants to talk about.


    There''s a small sigh. The mantis looks away, bringing his hands up to his eyes, and I pretend not to see the small wiping motions he makes.


    "I don''t think I was a good person, Ethan," Ahkelios says. His voice is small and quiet¡ªnot something I''m used to from him. "Even if I started that way."


    "That''s what these Trials do, right?" I keep my voice even when I speak, and a moment later I put my hand out in front of him. Ahkelios looks at it for a second before he climbs up onto my palm. He''s big enough now that the gesture is a little awkward, but neither of us mind. "They''re meant to break people in exactly that way. We''ve seen it with Naru, we''ve seen it with Whisper. Gheraa told us about it, even."


    "Every Trialgoer is selected," Ahkelios agrees, though he still doesn''t look at me. "They''re chosen so that their Trial molds them into something more pliable. Into someone the Integrators can use."


    "You''re worried about what they would''ve made you?"


    "I''m worried about what they did make me." Ahkelios hunches over a little, bringing his arms around his knees, hugging himself. I gather him closer so I can cup him in both of my hands, and Ahkelios leans into my chest instinctively, his fingers clutching at my shirt. "I don''t know if I want to absorb any more Remnants."


    "You don''t have to," I tell him. I watch as the sun refracts through a remnant of Isthanok, a half-shattered island of crystal still floating in the sky; broken like this, the light scatters into a rainbow of light instead of simply shining through. It''s quite the sight, and Ahkelios and I both watch the play of color until a stray cloud ends the display.


    It''s only when it ends that Ahkelios speaks again. "Are you sure?" he asks. "It would make me stronger. I''d be able to do more. Help you more."


    I chuckle a bit. "That isn''t even close to what I''m worried about, ''Kelios," I tell him. I run a finger over the back of his head, and he lets out a low series of clicks that seem almost like his version of a purr. "I''m worried about the hold the Interface has on you. I''m worried about whether or not you''re going to stick around when all this is over. I''m worried about you, living as a person, beyond the shackles of Interface and skills and Firmament."


    Ahkelios snorts in a way that''s almost self-disparaging, although he can''t hide his smile, either. "You worry too much."


    "It''s part of my charm." I grin.


    "It absolutely is not," the mantis argues, but I notice that he''s relaxed a little. There''s less tension in his Firmament, less... conflict. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. "But thank you. For worrying."


    "You are welcome." I reach down to flick him gently, and he bats at my finger, grumbling at me. "Did you get a specific memory that brought all this up?"


    Ahkelios sighs, glancing away. "I don''t..." he starts, and then he stops. "Yes. The answer is yes."


    He''d been about to say I don''t know, I think. He looks back out over Isthanok. "I don''t think I ever cared as much as you seem to about killing. I mean... it''s a time loop. At some point I figured I could just do whatever I wanted. The whole point is that there are no consequences, right?"


    "That is technically definitely the point," I agree. I don''t add anything more, because there''s clearly a point he''s getting at.


    "I have some of my memories now," Ahkelios says. "But I''m still... I mean, I''m mostly the past version of me. The one that was first brought into the Trials. And the newer memories feel like they''re from a completely different version of me. I think there were times during my Trial where I wondered what I''d think of myself if I knew what I was going to become."


    His voice becomes softer. "I know the answer to that now."


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    I sigh. He doesn''t have to tell me what the answer is. It''s easy enough to see in his posture, in his eyes, in the way he looks out over the city and clenches his fists like he can destroy a memory if he stares at it hard enough.


    "I think," I say, "that sometimes we just have to confront the things that we''ve done. It might be easier to forget. I know there are things I sometimes wish I could forget. But if someone actually gave me the option, I don''t think I''d take it."


    "Why not?" Ahkelios asks. He rubs one arm with the other. "It might be better that way, right?"


    I shake my head. "If I let myself forget, who''s to say I''m not going to do it again?" I ask. "I already forget things all the time. How many times did Tarin have to tell me not to be reckless? How often do we end up unprepared when we leap into something new? We can''t plan for everything, that''s impossible, but... I''d rather keep the breadth of my experiences. It tells me what I can''t afford to repeat."


    Like Miktik''s death. Even now, after a full week to process, it feels alien. It feels like it shouldn''t have happened. I''d spoken to her, and there had been no indication that she''d do something so reckless¡ªand I still don''t know why. I don''t know why she went off by herself into the Intermediary. If I understood her a little more, maybe I could''ve predicted what would happen.


    I can''t predict what everyone else does. But Guardian of Fate telling me nothing... it should''ve been a hint on how important it was to investigate what happened to her.


    "You''re thinking about Miktik again," Ahkelios observes.


    I chuckle, though there isn''t any mirth in it. "You know me too well."


    "I''m not sure it''s the same thing," Ahkelios says. "You''re just keeping yourself intact. If I take in all my memories, I might not be me anymore. I might be the person that learned to stop caring."


    "Then I suppose I''ve got a different question for you." I lean down a bit to poke Ahkelios in the chest. "Who would win? You, or the person you became?"


    Ahkelios blinks, his expression faltering. "I... don''t know."


    "If you''re so worried you''ll become him," I say. "Then you just have to make sure that who you are right now is strong enough that it won''t be broken by those memories. The version of you that cares has to be more than the version of you that doesn''t. Do you think you can do that?"


    There''s a long pause. Ahkelios takes a deep breath, and then his expression hardens. "...Yes."


    "You''re pretty sure about that." I smile. "Figured something out, did you?"


    "That version of me has more memories," Ahkelios says with a little shrug. "But none of them... mattered. At some point it became just about survival. About winning. About beating the Trial. He didn''t enjoy killing, it just didn''t matter to him."


    "And it''s different for you," I say.


    "Yes." Ahkelios''s voice is a little more firm, and he looks up at me. "Because you matter to me. And so does Tarin, and He-Who-Guards, and Bimar, and Miktik." He hesitates for a moment, then plows on. "You showed me that Hestia matters. It''s not just some torturous training ground."


    He looks up again, and as if the sky can hear his words, the clouds shift out of the way; the sunlight once again strikes the crystal of that broken citadel, scattering a rainbow of light out across the city.


    "It''s a pretty beautiful place," he admits quietly. "It isn''t my home, but it''s the home of a lot of other people. It''s just never going to be safe. Not as long as the Trial is still going. Not as long as the Interface and the Integrators have their hooks on this planet."


    "Well, we''ve made some progress by cutting off the Integrators," I say, giving Ahkelios a small grin.


    "That basically means you''re half done already," Ahkelios says, grinning right back. He raises a fist toward me, and I give him a fistbump. "Thanks, Ethan. That helped. I think I''ll keep absorbing those Remnants, but if it starts affecting me, I''m counting on you to kick sense back into my head, alright?"


    "And you do the same for me if I ever let all this power go to my head," I tell him, amused.


    Ahkelios crosses his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing in playful obstinance. "You expect me to fight you?" he asks. "You just punched an asteroid across dimensions!"


    "And you have a direct link to my Firmament that nothing and no one else does," I say, ruffling his nonexistent hair affectionately. Mostly, that translates to aggressive head-rubbing, and he flails obstinately at my fingers. "If anyone can stop me, you can. Besides, I''ll listen to you."


    "Bold thing to say for someone that hasn''t listened to me a bunch of times," Ahkelios grumbles.


    "Those were directions," I tell him. "That doesn''t count."


    "Your sense of direction sucks."


    "Yeah, well, you''re bad at giving directions."


    "You''re bad at following them!"


    We bicker like this for a minute or two, falling into a comfortable pattern of playful jokes and laughter. It''s nice. It feels like a break from everything else that''s been going on, and considering how much has been going on, it''s a break that I''ve needed.


    Eventually, though, we lapse into silence. Talking to Ahkelios about whatever''s been on his mind was the last important thing on my to-do list before I begin making preparations for the next step, and now there''s really no excuse to keep putting off what I''ve been putting off.


    The Interface has a lot of messages waiting for me. I''ve been avoiding it, and both Ahkelios and I know I''ve been avoiding it. The end of the raid, whatever I triggered when I punched that asteroid back toward the Integrators, a whole slew of miscellaneous messages that I can only imagine has something to do with that... whatever it was I unlocked.


    That power, unrelated to Firmament but somehow lying beneath it all. The authority I tapped into that allowed me to command reality to change with nothing more than an exertion of will.


    Whatever that power is, the Interface has been panicking about it. The messages flicker in the corner of my vision non-stop, suppressed only by my will. And I''ve been avoiding it because I know everything else the Interface is going to tell me.


    I caught a glimpse of it before I closed the window and refused to look at it further. It''s why I''ve been avoiding the Interface all this time.


    The raid report contains a figure I''ve been wanting to avoid. Number of casualties. My fists tighten just thinking about it. To think that all of this only happened because the Integrators thought that this was a just and appropriate punishment for Gheraa''s act of rebellion...


    "You can''t avoid it forever, Ethan," Ahkelios says. He reaches down to take my thumb in one of his hands in a gesture that''s slightly awkward and mostly reassuring.


    "I know," I mutter, sighing. "Let''s get this over with."


    And after this? I''m going to bring Gheraa back. I''m going to figure out how, and then with his help I''m going to dismantle every last thing the Integrators have done.


    No more Trials. No more Interface, controlling and spinning the fate of entire planets. No more Trialgoers running their own private dictatorships in the name of the Integrators.


    I release my hold on the Interface.

 143 — Book 3, Chapter 2 — Reboot

    So much has happened since the last time I allowed myself to properly look over the Interface. So much has happened since I''ve gained the Interface, for that matter. It doesn''t feel like it''s been all that long, but it''s hard to put the timeline together in my head¡ªI''m aware, in an abstract sort of way, of all the events that have passed. The timeline of everything that''s happened, in order? That''s a bit more of a jumble.


    The notifications are a reminder, in a way. They don''t list out everything that''s happened, but there''s a history recorded in every ping of the Interface. It helps that there''s a list that sorts them all out chronologically, all the way back to the very first one I received.


    The one welcoming me to Hestia. The one telling me about the Trials.


    I skim through those. Reading through these chronologically is... well, if I''m being honest with myself, then it''s partly a way for me to put off looking at the raid report even more. But there is a purpose to it beyond that.


    It helps me collect my thoughts. Reminds me of all the steps I''ve taken, everything I''ve encountered, and all the ways I''ve grown.


    The next few notifications cover my harrowing first few minutes on Hestia, and I grimace as I glance over them. They''re basically just me being killed by Ahkelios''s Remnant repeatedly, not that I knew that was what it was at the time. The Interface called it a Broken Horror; I have the context now to understand why. To know what it represented.


    In retrospect, it''s... not a kind name.


    I speed up my scrolling. There''s me finding the Fracture, then the Cliffside Crows, then the raid on their little village that first put me in touch with Tarin and Mari. There''s a bit of a pang in my heart as I remember them¡ªI''m not going to see either of them frequently anymore. Not for a while, at least. I''ve yet to figure out how to extract the piece of the Interface lodged within Tarin that allows him to remember the loops, but he seems quite determined to stay with Mari from now on.


    He doesn''t want to move on without her. I can understand that, at least. It''s the second reason my next goal is the Empty City.


    The first, of course, is reviving Gheraa.


    Whatever it is about Integrator deaths that cause them to mark themselves so fully into the world around them is reflected in the Empty City. I get the same feeling from the Empty City that I do from the Intermediary; the only difference is that the Empty City is much, much older. It''s like... the imprint of a soul, burnt into the world around it.


    Whatever secrets I need to uncover to bring Gheraa back, I''ll find in there. And I bet those same secrets will be exactly what I need to extract that fragment of Interface Firmament within Tarin. It might even allow me to implant a fragment into others, if I need them to loop with me.


    There''s a lot of opportunity here. A chance to change the nature of the game I''m forced to play. If I play my cards right...


    I keep reading.


    Hestia still ends approximately 180 days after the start of the loop. I haven''t been able to investigate that in any more depth, but I have made some progress. He-Who-Guards is my ally now, and although they''re fragmented, he has some memories of what he encountered deep within the Fracture.


    "It is... bright." He-Who-Guards seems to search for the words for a moment, and I wonder if the Interface is correctly translating the word he chooses to use. "But not in light."


    "What''s that supposed to mean?" I ask.


    "I do not know." He-Who-Guards shrugs. "That is the best explanation I can offer. It is bright in a way that blinds the soul."


    If I''m being honest, it feels like a bunch of cryptic nonsense. The most important thing is that we both agree that I''m not ready yet. Whatever''s down there, it''s not something even a third-layer practitioner of Firmament can handle.


    Which brings up the question of what layer can handle it. We don''t know the answer to that. Premonition gives me a bit of a hint, but right now, all it''s telling me is that I''m not ready yet.


    Yet.


    I let out an aggrieved sigh, drawing a look of concern from Ahkelios. "Just thinking about how much we still don''t know," I tell him.


    "Should''ve asked Gheraa when you had the chance," Ahkelios says, giving me a lighthearted smirk. I roll my eyes.


    "I had a lot on my mind," I grumble. He isn''t wrong, although if Gheraa had known something about it, I suspect he would''ve told me. The fact that he didn''t says a lot in and of itself. It''s pretty clear that the Integrators don''t have complete access to everything that happens. I wouldn''t be surprised if they''re not entirely sure of what happens at the end of each loop, too.


    At least I haven''t had to go through the whole end-of-the-world thing a second time, though I can''t say the loops after that have been any less exciting. I scroll through the rest of the notifications quickly¡ªthere aren''t actually that many from my time in Isthanok, despite all the time I spent in there. Not a lot of fights, as it were. I spent most of my time trying to correct what happened to Rotar and Ikaara, and ended up embroiled in Isthanok''s conflicts in the process.


    I can''t say I regret it. Whisper''s obsession with a perfect city did a number on its citizens. Even with her temporarily indisposed, it''s clear that no one feels safe enough to speak openly with one another. The fact that He-Who-Guards has regained his faculties helps, but the city has a lot of healing to do, in more ways than one.


    My eyes drop to the final set of notifications. Everything that''s pending. Everything that I haven''t looked at yet.


    Two of them stand out more than any other. My eyes drift to the first one.


    [NOTICE: Integrator access to the Intermediary Network has been disrupted. Certain Integrated planets will revert to baseline Interface programming until access has been fully restored.]


    "Disrupted?" I stare at it, my brow furrowing slightly. I remember Whisper saying something about this before she vanished¡ªsomething about how the Integrators were no longer responding to her attempts at clarification¡ªbut she didn''t say anything about it being disrupted. That indicates intent.


    ...Now that I think about it, though, she sort of did.


    Whatever you''ve done, it seems Hestia is on its own for now.


    Is this because of something I did? I scan the notifications, trying to find anything that might indicate I caused something.


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    "Ethan!" Ahkelios calls my attention to a window that''s almost hiding in the corner. I look over at it.


    [NOTICE: An asteroid strike has disrupted the Intermediary Network. Be aware that the Interface may not operate correctly while the damage is repaired.]


    Ahkelios is snickering, and looking at it... I can''t help but start laughing as well. I did not intend to send the asteroid back toward the Integrators. If I''d thought about it, I absolutely would have! But it simply didn''t occur to me. All I was trying to do was push it back where it came from.


    Now that I think about it, of course, it''s from the Integrators. "Guess they got what''s coming to them," I say with a grin. Ahkelios just laughs delightedly and gives me a high five.


    "You didn''t just punch an asteroid across dimensions," he says. "I take it back. You punched it across dimensions back at the Integrators. The entire Network''s going to be talking about this."


    "Sounds like a good thing." I smirk. "Means people will realize they can fight back."


    Ahkelios gives an admiring shake of his head. "If the Disconnected weren''t looking for you already, I bet they are now," he says. "I can''t believe you punched it back at them. Can you imagine their faces?"


    "I wish." I grin. "Maybe that should be my priority? Some kind of time skill that lets me see the past?"


    "You better share if you get one!" Ahkelios points a finger at me half-threateningly. I laugh.


    "Of course I will," I say, giving him a little nudge. "I wish Gheraa could have seen it. I bet he''d love it."


    "You better make sure I''m summoned when you tell him," Ahkelios says. "I want to see his reaction!"


    "You''re very sure I''ll bring him back, aren''t you?" I raise an eyebrow at the mantis.


    "At this point?" Ahkelios laughs. "I''m not going to bet against you."


    It''s nice to have the vote of confidence. I chuckle and look back at the Interface. There''s a second notification that was a lot like the first one, at least in effect. The wording, on the other hand...


    [NOTICE: Integrator access to the Hestian Intermediary has been temporarily restricted as outlined by protocol ANCHORED HERITAGE. Interface access on Hestia has been restricted. Interface programming on Hestia has been altered according to protocol ANCHORED HERITAGE.]


    "The hell''s an ''anchored heritage''?" I mutter, staring at the screen. Ahkelios stares at it, too, blinking rapidly.


    "Come to think of it, am I supposed to be able to see everything in your interface like this?" he asks. "I could only see your status before."


    "Huh." I consider that for a moment. "That''s either the Interface reprogramming or the fact that you''ve absorbed more Remnants. Hard to say which. Doesn''t matter, though. I trust you with the thing."


    "Now I''ll be able to be even more helpful." Ahkelios grins at me, and I roll my eyes.


    Glancing back at the Interface, I swipe through it, trying to see if anything''s noticeably different. I''m hard-pressed to state exactly how and where, but it is different. The status window itself is reorganized, and a bunch of features and categories are now laid out in tabs instead of in a single, massive window. "Honestly, this seems like an upgrade," I mutter. "It''s a lot simpler."


    "Makes you wonder why it''s not just the default," Ahkelios agrees. He pokes at the Interface window and grumbles in annoyance when it doesn''t respond to his touch. "I was hoping it''d work for me, too."


    "I think you''ll need your own Interface for that," I say dryly. "Don''t worry. I''ll help you get your own once we find the Integrators."


    Ahkelios somehow manages to give me the impression that he''s wrinkling his nose, even though nothing changes about his face. "I''m not sure I want that."


    "You don''t want impossible, easily obtained power?"


    "I think I like getting the impossible, easily obtained power through you just fine," he tells me. "It means you get all the downsides."


    I laugh. "Right, right. Of course. Fair enough."


    There''s a still a lot of notifications to get through. I''ll review my status last of all, I think. Right now, there''s a slew of kill notifications for the meteors, a few repeat ones for Anhar, an after action report for the raid, and several more about... that. About whatever power it is I''ve been using.


    The kill notifications are just a list of credits, so I dismiss them with a wave. The raid report I take a deep breath before I look at.


    [You have defeated the raid Fury of the Integrators (Rank A)! Your performance review is as follows.


    Citizens remaining: 211,642/211,873


    Furious Geodes destroyed: 9,488/12,000


    City preserved: 78%


    For preserving the lives of all your allies, you have been granted a skill: Spectral Guardian (Rank A)!


    For preserving more than 75% of the raided city, you have been granted 444 Durability credits.


    For destroying more than 75% of the raiding monsters, you have been granted 444 Strength credits.


    For preventing the deaths of more than 99.5% of civilians, you have been granted a skill: Field of Immortality (Rank S)!


    For defeating a raid against all odds, you have been granted 1,000 Firmament credits.]


    I stare numbly for a few moments. Ahkelios has to reach out to poke me to get me to move again, and I reach out for him, bringing him back up against my chest.


    "That''s two hundred and thirty-one dead," I say, tasting the number.


    "Two hundred and thirty-one is nothing," Ahkelios says, trying to reassure me. "It''s less than one percent!"


    "Percentages are all relative," I say quietly. "If someone''s parents died, it''s going to feel like their whole life is over. If someone''s little brother died..."


    I let myself trail off and shake my head. Now isn''t the time to get mired in the past.


    "You still did good," Ahkelios says awkwardly. It''s clear he doesn''t really know what to say, so I reach out and pat him on the head.


    "I know," I say.


    It''s not like I haven''t attended any of the funerals being held in Isthanok. I was there. Not for all of them, but I thought it was important that I was there for at least some of them¡ªthat I acknowledge that the fighting here had an impact on the city. 231 deaths isn''t a lot in practical terms. It''s practically miraculous, given the scale of the attack.


    I just don''t want to think that way. It seems cold. So I give myself a moment to grieve, to remind myself that those lives matter, and...


    "Interface," I say out loud. "Do you have the names of those who died?"


    It''s a long shot. I haven''t tried communicating with the Interface for a long time¡ªthe questions stopped working entirely after a while. But now that it''s been reprogrammed, there''s a chance it might respond to queries again.


    Sure enough, a message pops up a moment later. The list of names is long, starting with Anhar''s and continuing alphabetically, and both Ahkelios and I are silent as we stare at it.


    "That list looks a lot bigger when you spell out all the names," Ahkelios admits quietly.


    "Can you record all the names and send it to Guard?" I try, and although nothing appears to happen, I feel a sense of... acknowledgement. There''s a flow of Firmament. The command worked.


    Ahkelios blinks. "The Interface can do that now?" he asks.


    I shrug. "Guess there''s a lot the Integrators kept hidden."


    I''ve done what I can. As for the rest of the message...


    Two new skills. Spectral Guardian is exactly what it says on the tin¡ªit creates a guardian out of Firmament to protect someone, no matter how far away I am from them. I''m not surprised; it''s basically a skill that replicates what I did using Temporal Link.


    Field of Immortality, on the other hand, is powerful and terrifying in equal measure. For as long as the skill is active, people I designate as allies that remain within its range cannot die.


    The thing is, it isn''t a healing skill. All it''ll do is keep them alive until they can be healed, or failing that, they''ll die when they leave my field.


    Powerful. But potentially very, very dangerous. I can think of a half-dozen uses, and not all of them are kind.


    "Ethan?" Ahkelios asks. I can hear the concern in his voice.


    "I''ll be careful," I tell him. My eyes drop to the next-most significant notification. The one that''s likely the whole reason for the ''anchored heritage'' thing.


    [NOTICE: You have retrieved a Talent!]

 144 — Book 3, Chapter 3 — Talents

    There''s a whole mess of notifications that come right after that notice, but my attention is briefly taken up by the Interface''s phrasing. It says I retrieved a Talent¡ªnot that I unlocked it. Not even that it''s been granted to me. The way it''s phrased, I almost feel like it''s not something built into the Interface.


    "Interface," I say. "What do you mean by retrieved?"


    No response. I let out an aggrieved sigh. I don''t know why I expected it to start answering all my questions now. There''s a chance that the rest of the notifications answer my questions, though, so I continue reading.


    [NOTICE: The Talent you have retrieved is the [Anchor]. Note that another usage of your Talent may result in severe consequences, including but not limited to the severance of your Interface from the wider Intermediary Network, including contact with your Integrator overlords.]


    Yeah, well, a bit late for that, I think to myself. Ahkelios lets out a snort next to me, clearly thinking the same thing. The blatant usage of the term overlords there is new, too; it doesn''t feel like it''s a message written by the Integrators themselves. Mostly because they''re usually a little more subtle than that.


    [NOTICE: Second usage of [Anchor] has been logged. Talent signature identified. Processing...]


    [NOTICE: Protocol ANCHORED HERITAGE has been activated.]


    "I guess that explains that," I say, studying the notice intently. I wasn''t able to put a name to the ability before¡ªit felt like a combination of authority and speak and command, in a way that was difficult to find a specific word for. [Anchor] feels... correct. Or at least as close as I can get in English.


    It doesn''t explain what it is, though.


    "You did something weird, didn''t you?" Ahkelios folds his arms, still reading alongside me. "What the heck is an Anchor?"


    "I have no idea what I did," I admit with a shrug, my gaze flicking down to the next window. "The Interface seems to know, though."


    [NOTICE: A description of your Talent has been provided as per the Heritage Protocols. It is as follows:]


    [Anchor]


    All practitioners carry a Truth, but not all Truths nor all wills are strong enough to shape the world around them. To create the power that is Firmament, we first needed the power to Anchor¡ªthe power to will a fragment of Truth into reality.


    Know, however, that to Anchor is to pit your Truth against that of the world around you. One Truth must break for an Anchoring to succeed.


    Be sure it is not yours.


    I stare at the notification, unsure what to make of it; for a moment, there is no sound around us except my own breathing. That last sentence, the one clearly phrased as a warning¡ªit feels like there''s something more to it. Like there''s a kernel of Truth embedded in that warning, impressing upon me how important it is that I not allow myself to be broken.


    Whoever made this warning wanted to be very sure that anyone who read it would understand how serious it was. I only wish they had also given me more details. What happens if my Truth breaks? How can I be sure that mine won''t?


    Ahkelios breaks the silence first.


    "Did that thing say to create the power that is Firmament?" he asks, his voice slightly strangled. "As in this is part of the reason Firmament even exists?"


    Right. There was that, too. "It does sound like that, doesn''t it?" I say faintly. My voice sounds distant, even to myself. There''s so much to process. Too much, almost.


    I''ve apparently unlocked a small piece of a much, much bigger puzzle. More importantly, this might be a puzzle that the Integrators themselves haven''t figured out yet. Judging from my last conversation with Gheraa about it, it''s a blind spot in their information¡ªthey''ve noticed that there''s something there, hiding beneath all the layers of Firmament, but they haven''t been able to reproduce or observe it reliably enough to study.


    Neither have I, in all fairness. But even the momentary glimpses I''ve had seems to have unlocked something, and it''s something that could turn into a real advantage against them. If what I''m discovering is some sort of fundamental secret about Firmament, then I might have found a piece of what the Integrators have been looking for all this time.


    In fact... it''s possible that this is part of what the Interface is for. That''s what Gheraa told me, isn''t it? That the Interface isn''t even created by them; they were the first to discover and use it, but their mastery over it is incomplete. They don''t know the purpose of it, and they''re following its guidelines in a mostly-blind hope that it''ll lead them somewhere.


    Maybe I can find where it''s leading first. I certainly seem to have taken a step along that path.


    [NOTICE: Feature "Transcendance" has been partially unlocked.


    1/3 of the Heritage Protocols have been activated. Transcendance will be fully unlocked when all Heritage Protocols have been activated.]


    Scratch that. I''ve definitely taken a step along that path. Ahkelios and I both stare at that notification for a moment. I''m mostly bemused, considering how much the Interface has already thrown at me. Ahkelios, on the other hand, seems a combination of excited and wary.


    "That sounds important," he says. "And powerful."


    "And dangerous," I say dryly. I feel almost instinctively cautious, even if a part of me is excited. "The Interface clearly has its own game here, and it''s not the same game the Integrators are playing."


    "Yeah, no kidding." He stares at the window for another moment. "You''re gonna try to unlock it anyway, though, right?"


    "Of course I am." I let a small grin slip into my features. "I mean, imagine Gheraa''s face once we get him back."


    "Ethan..."


    I know what he wants to say. "Don''t."


    "You don''t know for sure¡ª"


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "I know," I say. "I know I don''t. But I need to try."


    Ahkelios looks at me, and I can tell what''s going through his head. This isn''t healthy, he''s thinking. In almost any other circumstance, I''d probably agree with him, but I just... have a feeling that it''ll work. And it''s a feeling I can''t shake off¡ªI''ve tried, more than once.


    Something tells me I''m going to need Gheraa to move forward. And didn''t the Heart of Hestia say the same thing when it contacted me what feels like weeks ago?


    ...This is all beside the point, anyway. I''ll deal with what happens when it comes up.


    "Transcendance, huh?" I say, changing the subject and staring back at the Interface. Ahkelios sighs, but decides to go along with it, climbing up onto my shoulder so he can read more comfortably. "I wonder what it means when it says it''s partially unlocked. The Interface doesn''t usually bother to tell me when I''m just going to unlock something."


    "It did say the programming''s different now," Ahkelios says. "Maybe that''s just one of the things that''s different."


    "That''d be convenient, wouldn''t it?" I hum thoughtfully. The Interface doesn''t usually do things for no reason. "Maybe that''s all there is to it. But I wouldn''t bet on it."


    "Figure it out later," Ahkelios suggests, giving me a nudge. "You haven''t even used your credits yet."


    I laugh. "Eager to see what happens, are you?"


    "Who wouldn''t be?" Ahkelios protests. "You have Inspirations to unlock!"


    "Yeah, yeah," I say. I glance back through my notifications one final time¡ªthere''s something I''m still worried about. Whatever it is that''s dangerous about Anchoring, the Interface doesn''t seem fit to elaborate on, which means I''m going to have to be careful if I want to keep using it.


    I don''t think I can afford to abandon it. The Talent is too powerful for me to discard. But until there''s a safer way for me to test its limits, until I understand what I''m actually doing... it might be better to shelve it, or at least limit my use of it.


    "Ethan," Ahkelios says, annoyed. "You''re overthinking things again, aren''t you?"


    "Am not," I deny reflexively. "I''m just thinking about the Anchoring thing. What happens if my Truth breaks instead of the world''s, or whatever the Interface means by that."


    "Not that I''m not also interested, but use your credits already." Ahkelios folds his arms across his chest, looking very much like an angry mother. I snicker a bit at the sight, reaching up to give him a flick.


    "Fine, fine." I finally open up my status window.


    [Status | Skills | Mastery | Inspirations | Dungeons]


    [Ethan, third-layer practitioner]


    Talents: [Anchor]


    [Credit Distribution]


    Strength: 1,221 (179 banked)


    Durability: 899 (632 banked)


    Reflex: 2,117 (360 banked)


    Speed: 1,147 (273 banked)


    Firmament: 1,715 (376 banked)


    [NOTICE: Interface currently running on backup protocol ANCHORED HERITAGE. Features and rewards may be different.]


    It really does look different. The organization of information is much cleaner; it''ll be nice not to have to look at an enormous list of things every time I look at the Interface. This is much more manageable.


    "I still can''t believe you actually made the whole Interface change," Ahkelios murmurs.


    I glance at him wryly. "Didn''t really sink in until now, did it?"


    "Nope."


    There''s still a pretty big question on my mind. According to both Whisper and to the Interface itself, the Integrators are cut off from Hestia. What happens when I bank in my credits for a skill? I''m past the threshold to obtain a new Inspiration for every skill category. Normally, banking those credits freezes time around me and opens up a connection with the Integrators, allowing Gheraa to speak with me and present me with my options.


    But Gheraa is dead. None of the rest of the Integrators can reach me.


    Who will I meet, if anyone?


    Only one way to find out.


    The choice of which category to bank first is an easy one. Of the five I have available, Firmament skills are the ones that are most likely to form the core of any combat strategy¡ªthey''re the outliers among the skills, after all. It''s not certain, but there''s a chance that I''ll get something I can build my other skill picks around.


    [Are you sure you wish to bank 1,715 Firmament credits?]


    I hesitate briefly. It''s tempting to hold on to the credits¡ª1,000 credits guarantees me a Rank S skill, but 5,000 will guarantee me a Rank SS skill...


    Nah. The only one I''ll hold off on for the time being will be Durability. Waiting for the next jump is a trap; I''m already low on skills after losing so many of them to the phase-shift. Either I''ll get enough credits to hit 5,000 again quickly or I won''t.


    I just wish I didn''t have to bank all of my credits. It''d be nice to save the leftover for next time. Maybe that''s an Interface feature I can unlock?


    Or maybe I''ll get lucky and roll something higher. I hold my breath.


    [1,715 credits banked! Rolling for results...]


    [Select between:


    A Stitch in Time (Rank S)


    The Road Not Taken (Rank S)


    Phasic Integrity (Rank S)


    Stasis (Rank S)]


    [You have unlocked an Inspiration. Bonus will commence once skill selection has taken place.]


    I breathe a sigh of mixed relief and disappointment.


    No Rank SS skill, but a part of me worried that with all the changes to the Interface¡ªand with the Integrators no longer having access in particular¡ªthat I wouldn''t get an Inspiration this time. It''s good to know that that''s not the case; I''ll need every advantage I can get.


    As for the skills... I have a difficult choice ahead of me. The good news is that I was right: my repeated usage of Temporal Link along with a time-based rewind skill has clearly influenced the skills the Interface is offering. The bad news is that this isn''t going to be an easy choice to make.


    A Stitch in Time is a skill that allows me to maintain two separate timelines at once, essentially allowing me to explore two options within a single loop. There''s an argument to be made that its functionality is limited¡ªit''s only doing what the loops themselves already do for me¡ªbut considering time-based skills seem to bypass loop-based restrictions like the permanent deaths in raids, I can''t afford to discard it just for that reason.


    The Road Not Taken is similar. It''s a skill that allows me to pick a point in time in the past and see what would have happened if I had made a different decision. It''s an informational skill more than anything else, but it''s instantaneous and allows me to explore much farther in the past. I could, for example, still use it to extract information from Whisper, even if she''s now going to be technically missing from the loops.


    Phasic Integrity does something similar to what Phaseslip does, but on an opposing scale: it reinforces my current ''phase'', so to speak, making it so that I can''t be pushed out of phase or forced away from a battle. More than anything, Inspect tells me this is a weapon specifically for fighting against the Integrators, which is... fascinating. Not a piece of information I would have expected the Interface to freely offer.


    And last but not least, Stasis. It freezes time in a bubble for as long as I can maintain it; the larger the bubble and the longer I try to hold it, the more Firmament it costs, with exponentially increasing costs on anything that tries to resist it.


    "...Do you know what you''re going to pick?" Ahkelios asks. "Because, uh, honestly... I have no idea."


    "They''re all amazing," I admit, but I find myself drawn to one in particular.


    There''s no doubt that these are all powerful skills, but...


    Miktik''s death. Whisper''s secrets. I have questions that can''t be answered without one of those skills, and if I use it right, I can mimic the functionality of the Stitch in Time skill as well¡ªespecially if I can regrow Once More into the Fray from that small, broken fragment I still retain.


    I''ll have plenty of time to get the others later. I doubt this will be the last time I see these skills. Their Firmament feels familiar to me, and if I try to peer beyond the layers of the Interface, I can almost, almost sense where those skills are kept.


    [The Road Not Taken (Rank S) obtained!]


    [Inspiration commencing...]


    Time freezes around me, but something''s different.


    The force of it feels like jaws closing in around the fabric of my existence. It''s nothing like any Inspiration I''ve had before. There''s an abrupt end to the movement of all Firmament, and I feel the strain on time like an ache in my teeth.


    More importantly, there''s something else here.


    And it''s not an Integrator.

 145 — Book 3, Chapter 4 — A Peek Behind the Curtain

    I stare ahead into the empty space in front of me, my entire body on alert. I can feel the hairs on my body standing on end like a static charge is passing over me¡ªevery instinct I have screams at me that something''s here, and that that something is dangerous. Fight-or-flight tells me to run, to turn and get away as fast as I can.


    But I don''t see anything in front of me. It''s empty space.


    Until it isn''t.


    Something changes between one moment and the next, and suddenly there''s something standing in front of me: something old and ancient, rusted with time and seething with entropy.


    "Hello." The greeting rattles around in my skull, making me wince. I grit my teeth against it. "You must be my Heir."


    I don''t respond immediately, largely because it takes me a moment to even be able to parse what''s standing in front of me. As far as I can tell, it''s a suit of armor fused with a humanoid, draconic skeleton; the gilded pattern on its armor continues straight up into its skull and wraps around seven misplaced eyesockets, and several thick golden tendrils trail from the back of its skull to its shoulders, almost like hair.


    It''s disconcerting, I have to admit. I''ve seen a lot of different things in my time on Hestia, but whatever this is, it feels wrong in a way that''s hard to place¡ªlike its very existence flies in the face of logic and reason.


    ...And then there''s a cough. It clears its throat once, and then a second time, and when it speaks again, its voice doesn''t rattle in my head quite so much. "My apologies. It''s been a while since I''ve been able to communicate with anyone¡ªmy memory of the rules are a little rusty. This should be better, yes?"


    "Yes," I say, a little thrown off by the sudden change. I''m cautious, but it seems... friendly?


    "I am Kauku." The entity in front of me bows slightly in greeting. "You will not have heard of me, but you have met me before. The Interface would only call on me to appear if you are my Heir. I assume you have retrieved a Talent?"


    "...I was able to retrieve the ability to Anchor, yes." I examine Kauku closely. The more I look at him, the more he seems less... intimidating, less wrong, even though nothing about his appearance changes. It''s like he''s actively adapting to the world around him. Stranger still, I have no memory of meeting him. What does he mean, we''ve met before?


    "I remember when I first made that discovery." Kauku''s voice is fond, like he''s reminiscing. He smiles at me. "You seem to have a strong soul. I''m pleased it was one such as you that managed to awaken me."


    "I''m afraid I don''t really know what you''re talking about," I say. "What are you? Why are you here?"


    "All in due time," Kauku says. "First, you have a selection to make."


    Around me, the world changes.


    This isn''t anything like how Gheraa presents Inspirations to me. Gheraa makes a show out of it¡ªhe puts the Inspirations on pedestals, sets up a stage, and basically announces every option I have. He uses Firmament to make the props, and though I''ve never been able to sense where the Inspirations come from, everything he''s able to do makes sense to me.


    Kauku, on the other hand? All he does is wave a hand. I don''t sense any use of Firmament, and yet everything around me is suddenly different. I''m no longer standing on a ledge by Isthanok. Instead, I''m floating in an empty void, with three abstract, rotating shapes in front of me. Inspect doesn''t work on them, and calling them shapes is already generous.


    "What are these?" I ask. Looking at them makes my teeth ache, and I turn my gaze away.


    "Your Inspirations." There''s a lilt in Kauku''s voice that''s playfully teasing. "Different from the usual fare, I understand, but these are rather more powerful than the ones you''re usually offered. Although... it does seem you have some of my children rattling around in you."


    "I have what?" I blink, a little nonplussed.


    "They''re afraid to come out, I think." Kauku laughs lightly. "I don''t blame them. The creation of an Inspiration is always a little tricky; you can never guarantee they''ll come out like you''ll expect. Void''s always hungry, and Accelerate doesn''t like to talk."


    This doesn''t even begin to answer any of my questions. I open and close my mouth soundlessly for a moment, then finally land on something to ask. "You said they were your children?"


    "Just a figure of speech." Kauku smiles at me, folding his arms behind his back. "I created them, and they are alive; it would be cruel to call them anything else. I regret that they had to be included in the Interface, in truth. If it were possible, I would have tried to raise them myself."


    I suppose that''s nothing new, but... jeez. It recontextualizes the way they make demands, the way they tend to act on their own. "I don''t think I''m equipped to raise Inspirations, if that''s what you were expecting me to do.


    Kauku chuckles in response. "Hardly," he assures me. "The issue is more complex than you might think. They are... half-lives, you might say. Alive, but only when lending you their power or being spoken to. And their ability to assimilate new experiences is limited. Until you''re as powerful as I am, it''s unlikely they can grow to fruition within you."


    "I have no idea if that makes me feel better," I say bluntly, partly because it feels like he just called me weak. I''m still not sure what to make of him, but he doesn''t seem to be malicious; if anything, he''s just a little out of touch.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I sigh, putting it out of my mind. I have more important things to worry about, like the reason I''m here in the first place. The Inspirations that Kauku created are still there, floating gently in the air. "You said these are different from the usual?"


    "They are indeed." Kauku almost seems proud of himself. "You understand what Inspirations are, yes?"


    "They''re... modifiers." I hesitate slightly as I answer¡ªthey''re a little more than that, but I don''t have the words to describe them.


    The draconic skeleton seems pleased, nonetheless. "Accurate, if a little incomplete," he praises. "Skills are Firmament constructs you hold within your soul. Inspirations allow you to modify those constructs. The difference is not purely academic: the structure of the skill itself is different while the Inspiration is acting on it."


    "And what''s different about these?" I ask.


    "The difference," Kauku says, "is that an Inspiration changes only one thing at a time. A single skill. These do not change the structure of a skill."


    I look at the Inspirations again¡ªreally look at them. Staring at them too long makes my head pound, and getting too close introduces a strange sensation of crackling electricity all throughout my body. If I squint, stretch my senses, and try to peer through the abstract shape, I can almost see something similar to what my past Inspirations have looked like.


    They look abstract because they''re a level above what I''m able to parse at my current level.


    I come to a realization. "These change the structure of my Firmament."


    "Correct." Kauku grins at me with sharp, metallic teeth; he seems to enjoy the revelation. "Traditionally, an Inspiration changes a single skill. They work that way for a reason: it''s safer. Changing the structure of your Firmament, on the other hand... that''s dangerous."


    "Because my Firmament embodies who I am." I step closer to the Inspirations. Not to make a choice¡ªnot yet, anyway¡ªbut to see what more I can learn from them.


    "That''s part of the risk," Kauku agrees. "I''d say it''s a small risk, actually. If the foundations of your first few phase shifts are strong enough, you''ll be fine. The bigger risk is that these Inspirations tend to leave a mark on you when you use them. The more you use them, the greater the risk a change might be permanent."


    "Can that be avoided?" I ask.


    "Of course!" Kauku almost seems offended at the question. "Any sufficiently skilled practitioner can use these without a problem. Of course, we''re greatly lacking skilled practitioners these days... but you''re my Heir. You''ll be fine."


    "You''re very sure of that." I turn to eye Kauku; he just shrugs in a surprisingly human ''what can I say'' sort of motion. "You can''t at least tell me what each of these are?"


    Kauku sighs and strides over. "You''ll have to learn to see them yourself eventually," he says sternly. "But since you''re just starting out, I suppose I can assist."


    He points at the leftmost shape. "Warrior."


    Now that he mentions it, I can sense within that shape the idea of... strength. Of recklessness and brutality.


    "Scholar." Kauku taps on the second shape. I catch a glimpse of vast, impossible landscapes. Of knowledge, shaped into a weapon.


    He moves on to the third, and this time, before he speaks, I start to sense what it is. He says it anyway. "Knight."


    That one sings with power. There''s something different about it¡ªsomething that echoes within Kauku himself. I see steel and armor, but they seem like an illusion, placed to distract; somewhere deeper in this Inspiration lies... a well. A deeper source of power.


    I''m stepping closer to it before I realize what I''m doing, and although I don''t reach out quite yet, I''m sorely tempted.


    "Made your choice?" Kauku asks. His voice is carefully neutral; I can''t tell what he thinks of my pick.


    "Not quite yet." I force myself to take a step away from the pedestals and toward Kauku. He raises an eyebrow at me, intrigued. "I know you said all in due time, but frankly, I''d like some answers now, and if I make my choice we aren''t going to be able to talk anymore." Technically I have a few more Inspirations I can trigger, but nothing about them is certain at the moment. "What do you mean when you call me your Heir? And what''s this about us meeting before? What role do you play in all this?"


    I hesitate, then push on to my last question. It''s a bit of a stretch, but... "Did you make the Interface?"


    Kauku doesn''t respond at first. Instead, he spends an uncomfortable moment studying my expression. "There are limits to what I can tell you," he says eventually. "I''m not the only player in this game, and we have rules we have to follow."


    Not this again. The words come out before I can stop them. "People have died. Fuck your rules."


    My voice is colder than I intended. Kauku stares at me as though he''s expecting me to take my words back.


    I do not.


    Seven skeletal eye sockets narrow slightly, but then a smile steals across his face. "You do have a strong soul," he says, pleased. "It seems I may have made an error in calling it a game. My apologies. The Interface''s translator is excellent, but it is not perfect. The point is, there are other individuals as powerful as I, and there will be consequences should I give you all the answers you seek."


    I bristle, but force myself to calm. There''s always something more, isn''t there? Kauku seems to sense my indignation, because he smirks at me.


    "That doesn''t mean I can''t bend the rules," he says. "I can''t give you all the answers you''re looking for. But I can make them accessible. I can give you direction. And I can help you do something you''re looking to do."


    He leans forward, and the tendrils behind him raise in tandem with the movement, as if excited. "You want to help your friend, don''t you?" he says. "That Integrator¡ªGheraa, I believe his name was."


    I freeze. "...Yes." There''s both caution and hope in my response.


    "Your suspicions are correct," Kauku tells me. Relief floods through my system. "Integrators are artificial Firmament constructs, and if you have an imprint¡ªlike the one you so cleverly saved from the echo he gave you¡ªyou can certainly bring them back. I can even tell you that the secret to doing so lies in the heart of the Empty City, so you''re already headed in the right direction.


    "However.


    "The Empty City is far more than just a dungeon." Kauku''s tone changes, becoming a little more severe. "You suspect it already. You understand what happens when an Integrator¡ªor any source of Firmament that has made a sufficient mark in the universe¡ªdies. There is history and memory written in that death: history and memory that contains power in its own right. History and memory of great import, even to ancient beings such as I.


    "So I would like to ask for your help." Kauku takes a step forward, spreading his hands apart, almost imploring me. "There''s something in there that''s important to me. A memory. Bring it back to me, and I''ll be able to give you some of those answers and help you save your friend."

 146 — Book 3, Chapter 5 — Quantum Model

    I hesitate for a moment before I agree. There''s no specific reason for that hesitation; Kauku hasn''t asked me to do anything I wouldn''t be willing to do anyway. More than that, he seems pleased that I''m his Heir, and while I don''t know specifically what that means, it does seem to imply that he has a vested interest in my success.


    It just feels like there are holes in what he''s said. For one thing, he''s already told me that whatever secret I need to bring Gheraa back is within the heart of the Empty City; what help is he offering, exactly? Is there something specific I''ll need his help for, or is he just offering to help make the process easier?


    "How exactly can you help me?" I ask. "Don''t get me wrong¡ªI''m happy to help. I''d just like to understand what this deal is." I pause. "And how just bringing you something is going to let you answer questions you couldn''t answer before."


    Kauku laughs at that last remark, shooting me a surprisingly human grin. At the very least, he doesn''t seem offended by the questions. "The rules are based on equivalent value," he says, a low rumble of amusement in his voice. "You''re asking for information that carries quite a bit of value, and saving your friend has quite a lot of value as well. I cannot give you what you want unless you offer me something of equal value."


    "And I can''t just... give up an Inspiration?" I ask, glancing back at the columns behind me. Not that I want to give one of them up, but I want to know what my options are here. Kauku snorts in response, folding massive arms across his chest.


    "Clever. But no; those things hold no value to someone like me." There''s a small moment of hesitation, then Kauku''s smile vanishes. To my surprise, he kneels, bringing his head level with mine. He rests one enormous hand on my shoulder. "I do not often plead with anyone, but... please, Ethan. This means a lot to me."


    "I''m not saying no!" I protest, a little startled¡ªand perhaps a little uncomfortable¡ªby how earnest Kauku is all of a sudden. "I will help you. But I need to know what form your help is going to take, so I can at least plan for it."


    "The Empty City is difficult to navigate," Kauku answers. He stands back up on his feet, dusting off his knees. He''s surprisingly calm suddenly, as if he wasn''t just on his knees a moment ago. "All dungeons are, but the Empty City is particularly so by intent. You may have gathered that the City was overtaken by a particular type of Firmament."


    "Color Drain. I remember." A lot has happened since reading that record, so in all honesty, the memory is fuzzier than I would like¡ªbut some things still stand out to me. The desperation to save a dying city. The corruption of all Firmament within that city, causing structures to collapse and imbuements to fall apart. The discovery that there was a plague of distorted trees rooting through the sewers and spreading that corrupted Firmament...


    "Indeed," Kauku says. "Some types of Firmament are more dangerous than others; Color Drain is one of them, if allowed to run amok. Even putting aside its other effects, it can be particularly disorienting on the mind."


    I nod slowly. "But that''s not the real problem, is it?"


    "It is not," the skeletal dragonoid confirms. He takes a step back, then waves his hand, producing an image of a broken, crumbling city¡ª


    ¡ªI narrow my eyes. This isn''t an image. This is...


    I think this is the actual city.


    It might just be floating in front of me, but I can vaguely sense the movement of Firmament within that city. The resolution of my senses isn''t quite enough to reach into it and see if my items are in there, but as far as I can tell, this isn''t a projection.


    I''m starting to think it''s more important than ever that I figure out what Kauku is. He''s said he''ll tell me, I know, and I trust that he will¡ªbut just because he''ll tell me eventually doesn''t mean I have to settle with waiting.


    This display of power doesn''t even seem to be a stretch for him. He''s just casually altering reality on a local scale.


    "Ethan?" Kauku''s voice prompts me gently, and I blink. "You seem distracted."


    "Sorry," I say. I affect a slight laugh, though it comes off a little insincere. "That''s just... a very realistic model."


    I reach out to give it a little poke, flinching as I feel Firmament rearing up around my finger. The dirt is still crushed beneath my finger, leaving an imprint. Kauku makes a sound that''s halfway between a growl and a huff, and he waves me back. "Do not touch it. It is delicate. Besides, you are missing the important thing."


    He gestures for me to look underneath the model and I do¡ªbut almost as soon as I do, I flinch, taking a few steps back. There are what look like miles of oily, inky tendrils, slowly shifting about beneath the surface of the Empty City; they ooze with corrupted Firmament, stray drops slipping off into the void beneath us. There''s an instinctive and visceral feeling of disgust as I look at it, intrusive and foreign.


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    "You understand, then," Kauku says.


    "There''s something in there." I try to push past the disgust as I stare at whatever this is¡ªa tangle of roots, connecting and disconnecting with one another, sometimes breaking off into formless void and other times spawning from the void. In the middle of them, though, there''s something that appears to shine through. I see glimpses of a prismatic co¡ª


    Kauku waves again, and the city disappears. "I apologize¡ªinteracting with that Firmament is still dangerous for you at your stage of development. I believe you understand, though. The city''s underbelly is constantly changing, and navigating through that mess will cost you, even protected as you are with the Interface and your skills."


    "And you can do something to help me with that?" I ask. There''s definitely some strain left behind¡ªa slight ache in my head, and an uncomfortable, coiling sensation in my gut¡ªbut I do my best to ignore it.


    "I can cut through it for you," Kauku says. "It will lessen the time that your journey takes. I cannot eliminate the danger entirely, of course, but I can guarantee that you will reach your destination within three branches rather than the infinitely many you would otherwise take."


    "I... see." I take a step back, trying to clear my head. There''s no reason not to accept his help¡ªthat thing looks like a nightmare to navigate on my own. "Alright. I guess we''re working together, then."


    I reach out with a hand. Kauku stares at it curiously. "What is this?"


    "You know what I''m going to do next, my motivations, and apparently half the secrets of the universe, but you don''t know what a handshake is?" I grin at him. Kauku bristles for a moment before he realizes I''m teasing him; he lets out a breath and chuckles.


    "You would do well not to cross me," he says, reaching out to grasp my hand. He sounds like he''s teasing me right back, but... I can''t help but think it''s probably true. His grip is firm as we shake, and he tilts his head toward the Inspirations. "You will make your selection now, yes?"


    "Yes," I say. I know what I''m going to pick, and I start toward it. The rightmost column for the Knight¡ª


    "Ethan." Something about Kauku''s voice makes me freeze in my tracks. There''s a note of... it''s difficult to read. Pride? Warning? A mix of both, I think, although there''s something else in there, too. "I told you the rules are based on equivalent value. If you give me something I value, then I must return an equal favor."


    "I... remember that, yes." Because he just told me about it. Where is this going?


    "You''re pretty interesting." Kauku smirks at me. "And you''ve given me something I haven''t had for quite some time: hope. I will not answer your questions, but I will give you something you need more. Two things, in fact."


    I have no idea how to respond. "Thank you?"


    Kauku snorts. "Do not thank me yet."


    He takes a few steps forward, stopping just in front of me; for a moment, he stares straight into my eyes in a way that sends a chill through my spine. All seven empty eye sockets seem to focus on me.


    I feel the slightest touch of pressure.


    "I have altered the parameters of your Interface," Kauku says. "Inspirations will no longer automatically trigger when you bank enough points for them. You will instead be able to trigger them manually. I suggest you do not trigger a second Inspiration until you have mastered the Knight."


    "There''s a reason for that, I suppose?" My heart is hammering, though for no particular reason that I can fathom. He seems to be impressing upon me the danger of this.


    "An evolved Inspiration like the one you''re about to take on will be difficult enough to deal with on its own," Kauku confirms. "Use it for a loop or two until you''re sure you have it under control. If you take on two of these Inspirations at once without mastering the first, your body will be destroyed. Inside out. It will be unpleasant."


    ...What was going to happen to me if I hadn''t been interesting to him? Kauku must guess what I''m thinking, because I see the faintest flicker of amusement, but he doesn''t elaborate further.


    "Use the Knight once you emerge and you''ll understand what I mean," he says instead. "And a second thing. You''re being hunted. Don''t let that distract you from what you need to do, and don''t let him fool you."


    I''m what? I open my mouth to ask a question, but Kauku holds a finger in front of his mouth; apparently, he can''t tell me any more. I try not to scowl¡ªhe''s given me good information as it is¡ªbut my mind is spinning.


    What does he mean, I''m being hunted? Why would I be hunted? I suppose Whisper or Teluwat might try to hunt me down, but I haven''t even met the latter besides a halfhearted attempt to manipulate me. Whisper''s down for the count and shouldn''t be able to recover for years yet.


    This feels like something else. But before I can think on it further, Kauku nudges me forward. I almost stumble into the Scholar by accident with the way he pushes me, but I manage to twist at the last moment and jam a hand into the Knight Inspiration. "Kauku, you can''t just¡ª"


    The shape coalesces around me and turns into a blinding light. Pressure erupts all over my body. There''s a distinct moment where it feels like every single layer of my Firmament is simultaneously trying to peel itself apart. I grit my teeth against the onslaught of pain¡ªthis is far from the first time receiving an Inspiration has been painful, but this is the first time it''s been this real. I gasp for air, squeezing my eyes shut to try to block out the light, and then¡ª


    "...Ethan? Ethan!" Ahkelios tugs on my hand. I blink a few times, trying to figure out what''s going on. He''s tugging on my hand kind of heavily.


    Oh. Because I''m dangling off the ledge and Ahkelios is barely managing to hold me up.


    "Don''t trigger Inspirations on dangerous ledges," he grumbles at me, but there''s a distinct note of relief in his voice when I swing myself back up onto the ledge. "What happened? Are you okay?"


    "I''m fine," I say. I can feel the Knight within me. Kauku''s right¡ªthis Inspiration is going to take a lot to use. It''s more alive than any other Inspiration I have, and unlike the others, it doesn''t stay asleep when I''m not using it. It wants to act, and it wants to act now.


    Might as well give it a test drive. The words come to my head without any conscious deliberation behind them.


    Inspired Evolution: Knight.

 147 — Book 3, Chapter 6 — Knight

    The first thing I experience is pain.


    Kauku wasn''t lying about the strain this Inspiration causes. It''s not just the way it peels away at my Firmament and tears me apart from within¡ªit''s the physical change, too. I stagger away from the ledge before collapsing to the ground as a series of cracks resound within my body. It''s not a sound so much as it is a kick of bass that''s accompanied by a wave of pain so intense I taste copper in my mouth.


    It takes me a moment before I realize that the sensation is coming from my bones. They''re realigning. They''re moving inside my body, snapping at the joints and tearing apart flesh so that they''re on the outside instead of within. Then they begin to grow, popping and cracking this time audible in the air itself.


    My body is physically reshaping itself to accommodate my use of this Inspiration.


    Part of that shift is the alteration and movement of muscle, skin, and bone. My skin turns hard, density shifting until it turns into a gleaming silver-blue shine¡ªnot that I can spare a moment to appreciate the color. It doesn''t help that I can sense a presence alongside these changes, guiding them, making each change as it sees fit; the Knight treats my body and Firmament as if it were nothing more than putty.


    It''s agonizing. It''s intrusive. It''s something foreign that''s decided I''m nothing more than a vessel for everything it represents. The Knight molds me like clay, making changes, turning me into a copy of it.


    My vision blurs. My fingers claw into the ground, easily slicing through the roots and stone beneath them. I see in the corner of my eye the sight of a gauntlet in place of my fists¡ªand this is truly in place of my fists, because I can''t feel the flesh and bone beneath it. Instead, pure Firmament forms itself into something that isn''t quite flesh.


    Not unlike what I''ve seen of the Integrators, now that I think about it.


    "Ethan!" Ahkelios''s voice is worried but distant; I can''t hear him quite as well. His words come to me as though I were hearing them through a sheet of metal, slightly distorted and with a tinny overtone. It takes me a moment to realize that my vision is restricted, too. I can see directly in front of me, but not to the side.


    My body jerks to its feet against my will, and I feel a momentary panic take hold. I''m not doing this. I''m not in control.


    And the transformation isn''t complete yet.


    I can feel my legs lengthening as I stand. My claws dig into the ground, and they really are claws, with sharp, pointed toes instead of ordinary sabatons. The Knight within me growls with satisfaction as they grip into the dirt.


    He takes an experimental leap.


    I fly through the air with a speed that surprises me. There isn''t a single skill being used¡ªno expression of Firmament, no reinforcement, nothing but the raw power of the Knight packed into every fiber of my being. It takes me seconds to cross a gap that should have taken at least a minute. I slam feet-first into the trunk of a tree, my claws gripping into the wood.


    And then I stand.


    Horizontally.


    The wood creaks with an ominous groan as it''s forced to bear my weight with nothing more than the strength of the claws digging into it, but it doesn''t snap into pieces¡ªI''m not initially sure why. It should be nothing more than splinters. It takes me a moment before I realize that the metal on my feet has extended into the tree, almost like a whole set of roots unto themselves.


    The knight roars. I feel my face split open, metal distorting into a jaw, a growl emerging from my throat that human vocal cords couldn''t hope to make.


    Okay. That''s enough. I try to assert control¡ªthis is my body, my mind, and no foreign influence is just going to take it from me. Especially one of my own Inspirations. I reach out to move and take a step back down from the ground.


    Nothing happens.


    I can feel the so-called muscles of my new body, even if they don''t exactly map to the human, biological idea of a muscle. I can send signals to those muscles, even, but it feels like I''m straining against something that has me completely bound. I push against it, forcing myself to move, to at least get my arm under my own control.


    The best I can do is make a single finger twitch. A snarl emerges from my throat¡ªnot my own, but a reaction to my attempt to take control. The Knight recoils from the touch of my mind and immediately begins to launch itself in directions I can only assume to be random, leaping from tree to tree and causing every one of them to collapse along the way. I can only wince at the destruction.


    Ahkelios is following along, I hope. And I really hope Guard doesn''t find me like this, because I have no idea what the Inspiration is going to do to him.


    Honestly, I just kind of hope I don''t encounter anyone while like this. I don''t actually know how the Knight would react. I don''t understand who it is, on a fundamental level. I can feel its mind alongside mine, but it''s a chaotic mess of thoughts that I can''t penetrate, no matter how hard I try.


    There''s fear, regret, confusion, anger... There''s so much there, just swirling around. I should be panicking, but a good half of my thoughts are focused just on that, on trying to figure out this being I now apparently share a body with.


    I need to take back control first, though.


    I try to disable the Inspiration¡ªonce, twice, three times. There''s no response either from the core of my Firmament or from my body. It''s like I''m completely locked out from myself, forced to do nothing but watch; even the sense of strain that I had before is slowly fading. Like the Knight is gaining more and more control over our shared body.


    Panic begins to rise within my mind, but I suppress it. Panic won''t help.


    I''m breathing heavily, sucking in inhuman gulps of oxygen through the void that''s replaced my face. The Inspiration is driven almost entirely by instinct at the moment, an instinct to protect itself and an instinct to express itself. There''s no goal here. It just wants to be. It might embody the concept of a knight, but it isn''t completely there.


    Stolen story; please report.


    I try to push past those layers of fear and confusion. There''s something there. There''s someone there. From what Kauku''s said, Inspirations are alive to a certain degree, and if that''s the case, the Knight is probably what a fully evolved Inspiration becomes¡ªan entity that merges with the person it''s partnered with.


    So why is this one so afraid?


    The answer comes to me: because it wants to be. It doesn''t want to be locked away again. It doesn''t want to become nothing, an element of potential in an endless void, waiting for someone to pick it out. It''s so afraid of that outcome that it''s forcing itself to the front, taking control, trying to run from a phantom it believes will turn it into nothing once more.


    I can work with that.


    "Hey." My mental voice is deliberately gentle, at odds with the panic and fear that clouds the Knight''s mind; it cuts through the chaos of its mind and settles in as a moment of placid clarity. The Knight freezes, jerking its head around, trying to see where my voice is coming from. "It''s okay. I''m here. I''m your partner."


    Anger. Suspicion. Rejection. The Knight launches itself away again, bouncing from tree to tree and barreling over a cactus that just happens to be in the way. The massive needle of that cactus just glances off its armor. "Not partner," it hisses. "No partner! Partners always end!"


    "I will not." I try to make my voice gently persuasive. The control we share over this body is tenuous¡ªKauku''s words about the strain of the Inspiration lingers in my mind, and I can feel, deep within, that I can only hold this for a few minutes more before my Firmament starts taking permanent damage. That doesn''t bode well for either of us. "But we need to share. We''re not going to survive if we don''t."


    "No!" it insists, but I can feel hesitation. It misses its old partner. Misses the connection, the friendship, the harmony.


    But the feeling of betrayal is stronger. "Not again. Never again."


    "I can''t promise you things will be different." It''s not the perfect thing to say, but it''s honest, and the Knight can feel my sincerity. "But I can promise you I won''t abandon you on purpose. Ever. We share a mind¡ªdo you see anyone I''ve abandoned?"


    There''s no answer for a moment. Then it replies, its voice guarded. "Brother."


    The reply strikes me like a physical blow. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts and respond. "I didn''t do that on purpose. I tried. You can see that."


    "But it happened." The Knight''s dialect is getting a little better¡ªit''s picking up more from me as it peeks into my memories. "You did not intend to... be gone... when he died. But you were."


    It stings. The Knight''s words echo all the doubts I''ve ever had about my brother''s death, all the little whispers in my brain that told me it was my fault, that I could have done more.


    It makes it a little worse that the words aren''t even accusatory. Now that the emotions have cooled a little, I can feel exactly what the Knight is thinking¡ªit wants badly for me to be telling the truth. It wants me to reassure it, to convince it that this partnership will work. That things will be different.


    "It''s hard to make promises." I don''t want to lie, even if it would help. In fact, I could reach out right this moment and force control, I think¡ªdisable the Inspiration, force it back down and face it another time. It''s vulnerable because it''s hesitating, because it wants.


    But what kind of partnership would take advantage of a moment like that? It might be hurting me in turn, but it doesn''t know that. "It''s hard to make promises," I repeat. "But¡ª"


    Premonition activates.


    There''s a familiar flash of movement. Both the Knight and I react as we realize something is coming toward us at near-supersonic speeds. We reach out in tandem with one gauntleted arm, and a Guilty Chimer''s paw slams straight into our palm, creating a shockwave that crackles with Firmament.


    We don''t budge. Kauku wasn''t kidding about this part, either: the Inspiration is strong, and when we''re both aligned on what we want to do, it''s apparently enough to stop even a rank-A monster in its tracks. But we fall out of alignment almost a moment later. I try to grab the chimera''s paw and pull it into me for a kick, and the Knight instead tries to slash with a sword it doesn''t have.


    The Knight''s hold on our shared body is still stronger. The gauntlet clatters ineffectually against the chimera''s scales, creating a shower of sparks, and it roars at us.


    "But?" the Knight demands. It wants to know. It barely cares about the fight, about our lives being in danger. The chimera goes for a counter, gathering Firmament into a dense ball of power that barrels into our chest and cracks us against a tree, and though I try to react, the Knight still holds dominance.


    There''s a small crack in our armor. That crack comes with an alarm-bell of pain, more a warning than anything else¡ªmy body and Firmament can''t hold the Inspiration much longer.


    "You can see my mind." I can sense how important this is to the Knight. It''s important enough that it doesn''t even care about the chimera attacking us. It just wants an answer it can believe in. I let my awareness of the chimera fall away, too, because I need the Knight to understand how sincere I am. "I let that happen once. Do you think I''d let it happen again?"


    Silence.


    And then... acceptance. The Knight''s presence recedes just enough for me to take the reins, and I look up to see the chimera just above me, prepared to strike.


    The only reason it hasn''t yet is because a certain angry-looking mantis is in front of it, blocking the chimera with everything he has.


    "Have I ever mentioned that I love you, Ahkelios?" I say with a grin. The voice comes out of my helmet metallic and distorted.


    Ahkelios scowls at me. "Finally. Shut up and punch this thing already!"


    "If you say so."


    No skills. No need for them. The Knight''s intent lines up with mine, and we launch ourselves up, Firmament pouring into our fist. It shines just like Amplified Gauntlet would have.


    The blow shatters the Guilty Chimera, although just for an instant¡ªa split second before the notification flickers into view about its death¡ªI see something strange. A glimpse of... hatred. A glimmer of color and Firmament that doesn''t belong.


    You''re being hunted. Kauku''s words come back to me.


    It vanishes almost as soon as I see it, and the Inspiration bleeds away, leaving me human again. Covered in cuts and panting for breath, admittedly. The Knight still resides within my core, and I get the distinct feeling from it that we aren''t quite done yet. Learning to fight together is going to be a challenge.


    Ahkelios looks me up and down, then folds his arms across his chest, looking for all the world like an upset parent. "What the heck happened, Ethan?"


    I glance at the destruction around me and let out a hollow laugh. "Uh... long story."

 148 — Book 3, Chapter 7 — Time (for) Skills

    "You could have at least warned me you were going to try it," Ahkelios complains.


    He''s been justifiably upset for a while now. We''re taking our time and walking back toward Isthanok, although it''s a long way away; the Knight covered quite a lot of distance while he was out of control. I''m almost back to the Cliffside Crows. My memories of traveling are somewhat fragmented, probably because I spent some of that time fighting the Knight for control over our shared body¡ªI have a vague recollection of passing through the gates to the Great Cities, but I don''t really remember landing on anything that wasn''t a tree.


    I glance at Ahkelios, who''s still looking at me, affronted. "I know, I know," I say with a little sigh, reaching up to nudge him with a finger. At least it''s easy enough to follow the trail of destroyed trees, grass, and cratered dirt back to Isthanok. I can''t imagine what the guards at the wall are going to think. "In my defense, I don''t think I was entirely in control when that happened."


    "You weren''t in control at all." Ahkelios looks away, grumbling.


    "I mean when I used the Inspiration," I say. I can''t really be mad at his grumbling. A lot of his annoyance just comes from genuine worry, and every little gesture he makes reflects that worry. "It wanted to be used. I... don''t know how else to explain it."


    Ahkelios makes a noise in his throat. "And it won''t happen again?"


    I hesitate. "I don''t think so," I say carefully. "But I''m not ruling anything out. You get to manifest yourself whenever you want, but the Knight and I... we have to share a body. It''s not so simple for us."


    The little mantis looks away. That point hits home. The truth is, the situation with the Knight is more complicated than I''m ready to think about. For one thing, it''s both aware and strong enough to influence me. That''s something I''m going to have to keep in mind¡ªeven now, what we have is tentative.


    Trust takes time to build, and the Knight might be willing to put a little faith in me, but it doesn''t yet trust me. Not entirely.


    And even when it does, I''m going to be influenced by its thoughts and feelings. It''s a little like Ahkelios and me, in a way, though the way the partnership manifests is different.


    Even now, the Knight feels like it''s... sulking?


    It''s sulking. At least a little. It knows it can''t take over again without risking damage to me, and it doesn''t like feeling trapped.


    Honestly, I can kind of sympathize.


    "Are you sure you can trust this Kauku guy?" Ahkelios asks, changing the subject. I frown a little, thinking about it. I hadn''t actually considered how much I should trust the guy¡ªnot in depth, anyway.


    "I mean... I don''t see any reason not to trust him," I hedge. "But I want to find out what he is anyway. You know. Just in case."


    "Any ideas on where to start?"


    "Just a few," I say. "There might be something in the Empty City. He says there''s a memory important to him in there. That implies that he was there, doesn''t it?"


    Ahkelios hums thoughtfully. "Or that he really wants to find out what happened in there," he points out.


    "Or that." I sigh. I do have a second thought¡ªI''m pretty sure the Knight is related to Kauku in some way, the same way the Void and Accelerate Inspirations are supposedly his children. It''s possible the Knight knows something. The only problem is... well, I don''t think it consciously knows whatever that something might be.


    Inspirations as lifeforms are, as far as I can tlel, fundamentally different from most other creatures in the universe. They''re more based in concept than they are in reality¡ªin some way, they''re always shifting and changing based on their host''s perception of the concept they embody.


    Which means they necessarily lose a part of themselves whenever they''re bound to a new partner. The Knight has its memories, but most of those memories are locked away, buried within a psyche it hasn''t managed to align itself with yet.


    It''ll unlock those memories eventually, but there''s a long road ahead of us before that. A long road where we figure out how to work with one another and fight together.


    In a way, it''s nice to have another member of the team, even if I wish Kauku had given me a little more of a warning about all this.


    Almost on cue, I hear the sound of Guard''s thrusters. I look up, startled¡ªhe''s absolutely speeding through the sky, the crack of a sonic boom reaching me long seconds after I spot him. He changes angle when he sees me, aiming for the ground at my feet, and I take a few quick steps back.


    The automaton lands in front of me with a thundering crash that sends a cloud of dirt into the sky. Even as far away as I am, I find myself coughing to clear away the dust. Meanwhile, Guard''s singular eye is scanning me with a kind of desperate concern, and before I can say anything he picks me up and starts rattling me around as if he''s worried something inside me was knocked loose.


    "Ethan," he says after a solid three seconds of this. Ahkelios has relocated himself to the top of Guard''s head and is watching with amusement. "You seem... well?"


    "I was better before you started shaking me," I grumble, somewhere between irritated and amused. There''s a trail of smoke in the sky that implies he chased after me pretty much as fast as he could. It''s a little endearing, if I''m being honest, but... "Just so you know, shaking humans around like that isn''t how you perform a diagnosis. You''re going to give me a brain injury."


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Oh." There''s an undercurrent of embarrassment in Guard''s voice. "I apologize. I am... unfamiliar with diagnostic methodology for humans. And it''s uncommon for someone under my charge to transform and vanish."


    "Yeah, I wasn''t expecting that either," I say dryly. It''s convenient that he''s here, though¡ªI''m almost ready, and it won''t take me long to roll for the rest of the skills I need. "And I''m not your charge. We''re a team."


    "Right," Guard agrees, although with the way he looks at me, I suspect he''s saying that more to placate me. I shake my head, sighing, although it''s more out of amusement than exasperation. Clearly, it''s going to take some time before we''re on the same page.


    So I decide to change the subject. "How are things in Isthanok? Are we good to head for the Empty City?"


    "As soon as you are," Guard confirms. Apparently he isn''t all too worried about the destruction either of us have left behind¡ªfair enough, I suppose, considering the loop is going to repair all of it. It''s mostly Isthanok itself that needs to be stabilized, and anyone with damaged Firmament helped before the loop resets.


    "I just have a few more skills to pick." I would''ve picked them earlier, but the whole thing with the Knight distracted me. I pull up the Interface and glance at my Interface again¡ªwith what Kauku''s done for me, it makes sense to bank strength, speed, and reflex. As for durability...


    Well, after killing that Chimera, I have exactly 999 durability credits. Figures. I''ll bank it when I get the last credit I need.


    "Just one credit, huh?" Ahkelios doesn''t quite manage to hide the mirth in his voice. I roll my eyes.


    "Don''t rub it in."


    The sheer power of the Knight means I''m going to have to take it into consideration when picking new skills¡ªutility might be better than raw power if the skills in question aren''t enough to beat what the Knight can do on its own. Of course, combining the Knight with those skills would amplify them even more... but I don''t think either my body or my Firmament can handle that kind of power just yet.


    I have a long way to go.


    There''s also the fact that I''m not sure what kind of Inspirations I''m going to get next. If they function like the Knight does, then I''m going to have a suite of different evolutions to choose from, and it means I''m going to have to spend a lot more time understanding exactly how evolutions alter my skills and Firmament.


    Tentatively, I feel within myself and immediately wince, prompting a concerned, mechanical whirr from Guard. Evidently that''s not something I can test anytime soon. My entire body is still sore, and my Firmament isn''t faring much better.


    We''ll start by going ahead and banking the rest of my credits, then. I go through the rolls and make my choices after some deliberation¡ªunfortunately, I''m not lucky enough to get a critical roll on any of the stat categories this time around.


    But I''m not unlucky, either. I waited to roll my skills hoping that using Once More into the Fray as a time-altering skill would impact my skill choices, and it''s done exactly that.


    Strength, for example.


    [Causal Shattering (Rank S) obtained!]


    Most of the other options I had for Strength skills were varying degrees of "punch harder," with trigger conditions that ranged from reasonable to near-impossible to replicate. Causal Shattering was the only one that did something different, and since I''m both looking for utility that goes beyond pure force...


    It''s interesting. Causal Shattering has two possible outcomes. The name''s a little more poetic than what it actually does¡ªfor the most part, it shatters time in whatever I strike with it, causing various parts of the object to randomly accelerate or regress through time. A test of the skill on a nearby already-destroyed tree causes some fragments to heal to perfect condition, others to rot and age into nothing, and a whole fist-sized segment of wood is reverted into a seed that looks like a cross between an acorn and a lemon.


    But there''s a second possible outcome, according to Inspect. If I pour enough Firmament into the skill, if I understand the skill enough and manage to gain Mastery in it¡ªand this is the first time Inspect has given me any indication of how a skill changes when I gain Mastery¡ªthen it''s possible that Causal Shattering will let me strike a point back in time.


    Specifically, a point in the timeline of the person I''m striking. This skill, if mastered, has the potential to alter the trajectory of someone''s life. It''s going to take a lot of work to get there, but the potential is almost terrifying.


    Rank S skills are a whole other realm, clearly.


    And then there''s the Reflex skill.


    [Paradox Warning (Rank SS) obtained!]


    I got lucky with this one. Reflex, at almost 3,000 credits, is the closest to the next threshold¡ªof the four options I received, Paradox Warning was the only Rank SS one. The other three were, respectively, a skill that gave me faster thinking and two variants of Premonition that were a little more specific and could reach farther into the future.


    All useful. All skills I wanted. I almost picked Cognitive Accelerant, in fact, because it''ll make up for the loss of Compounded Mind. But Paradox Warning is...


    It lets me send a warning to the past.


    It''s by far the most flexible, even if the way it works is a little strange. Apparently, from my perspective, I''ll receive a warning about a specific future event. The warning is meant to allow me to prepare for the event, not necessarily to avoid it. When I encounter the event in question, I have to use Paradox Warning and send the message back, word-for-word, to fulfill the conditions of the skill.


    Functionally, this means I can send messages back into the past. The downsides are that there are phrasing limits, it has to be a warning, and I can''t send a message back to before I got the skill, which is probably the most disappointing part of it all.


    "What happens if you don''t?" Ahkelios asks.


    I make a face. "If I don''t... send a message back to myself, you mean? After I receive the warning?"


    "Yes, exactly." Ahkelios looks up at me, curious.


    I stare at him. "Do we really want to test what happens if we try to break time?"


    "...yes?"


    "I will admit to being curious, but no. Absolutely not. Inspect doesn''t tell me what would happen, but it does tell me it would be very bad. On a planetary scale."


    Guard, who is simply standing next to me and watching during all of this, shudders. "I appreciate your restraint."


    I move on and roll for the final skill to add to my list.


    [Distorted Crux (Rank S) obtained!]


    This one''s simple: as long as it''s active, the closer something is to me, the slower time passes for it. It''s something like a weaker version of a Timestop skill, but it''s still enormously powerful.


    I close my eyes. Even with all the power I''ve gained¡ªeven with the fact that I''m a third-layer practitioner with multiple Rank S skills and an Inspired Evolution that takes me to a level beyond anything I''ve been able to fight at so far¡ªsomething feels... off. Like I''m still not ready, even after everything I''m gained. I''m confident I''m a step above Whisper and Naru now, at the very least, but how would I fare against an Integrator? Or someone like Kauku?


    You''re being hunted. Kauku''s words still echo in my head.


    I''m not one to dismiss a warning. I''ll just have to be prepared.

 149 — Book 3, Chapter 8 — Review

    I take a moment to review my skills before we actually head into the Empty City. I''ve lost a number of them, and it''s... surprising to me, how much that fact aches. They shouldn''t even be alive, let alone sentient enough to sacrifice themselves for me the way they did. They''re Firmament constructs residing within my core, my soul¡ªwhatever you decide to call it.


    But I grasped at a Talent. I Anchored a Truth. For a moment, I made them something more than they were, and in that moment they chose to protect me.


    Any number of other things could have happened. The Truth I chose at the time was half-formed, a product of anger and determination and a wilful, stubborn refusal to let myself die. That''s all it was: a singular thought, ringing into the void. I am not going to die here.


    I know a little more about Anchoring now. Not a lot more, but enough to make a few basic assumptions and come to a few basic conclusions. I know that for a working like that to succeed, a Truth must compete against a Truth. And the competing Truths there were simple:


    Ethan Hill will die.


    Ethan Hill will live.


    I don''t know what happens if a Truth fails to become Anchored. I don''t even know how the process really works. My instinctive understanding of it, though, says that something had to bend in order for that Anchoring to succeed. It tells me that what happened back then was the path of least resistance¡ªand that it was more likely than not the only possibility I was strong enough to Anchor into existence.


    If not for my skills, if not for the way in which they manifested... I likely wouldn''t still be alive.


    Not only that, Isthanok would be destroyed. Most of Hestia too, more than likely. What kind of sacrifice was that, anyway? Why were the Integrators willing to go that far just to... what, punish Gheraa? By destroying me? They already killed him. It''s not like they can do more.


    Maybe there''s something more to it. Maybe there''s a reason they came at me so aggressively, threw everything they had at me within the "rules" they were constrained by. Maybe there''s a reason I''m being hunted.


    Maybe they''re afraid.


    I''ll be able to find out, thanks to Barrier, Second Wind, and all the other skills that poured themselves into reinforcing my core against the effects of the double phase shift.


    I hesitate a moment more, then call up the Interface screen. It pops up in front of me, shining a dull blue.


    [Status | Skills | Mastery | Inspirations | Dungeons]


    [Strength]


    Concentrated Power, Amplification Gauntlet, Causal Shattering


    [Durability]


    Crystallized Barrier, Verdant Armor, Field of Immortality


    [Reflex]


    Quicken Mind, Inspect, Premonition, Iron Mind, Paradox Warning


    [Speed]


    Firestep, Accelerate, Intrinsic Lightning, Warpstep, Distorted Crux


    [Firmament]


    Firmament Control, Hueshift, Temporal Static, Firmament Sight, Temporal Link, Timestrike, The Road Not Taken


    [NOTICE: Interface currently running on backup protocol ANCHORED HERITAGE. Features and rewards may be different.]


    I let out a breath.


    That''s a lot of my core skills just... gone. If I extend my senses into my soul, I can sort of feel the gaps they''ve left behind¡ªsomething like a set of scars in my Firmament, bleeding into the layers around it. They aren''t doing any damage, but there''s residue, for lack of a better word.


    Not any kind of residue I can recover the skills with, unfortunately. The Firmament is raw and pure, a kind of undifferentiated potential that''s being slowly reabsorbed into my being. Almost like a kind of final gift. It''s strange, feeling so sentimental over some missing skills. Second Wind was one of the first skills I ever received¡ªseeing it just gone from the list bothers me more than I thought it would.


    Maybe the skill''s still out there somewhere. It should still be in the Interface, shouldn''t it? There''s a decent chance I might roll the skill again, or maybe run into someone who has the skill, or maybe just find it imbued into something that I can grab a copy from.


    "I feel like you''re letting yourself worry too much about it," Ahkelios remarks. I blink, then glance at him¡ªapparently I''m letting my thoughts leak through our link.


    "Probably," I say with a shrug. He''s not wrong. "Just feels weird, not having it. Second Wind saved my life several times over. So did most of the other skills I lost."


    "And they did it again when it counted," Ahkelios says. "But you''re letting yourself mope over them too much."


    I snort, unable to help the grin that makes its way onto my face. "Not mincing your words, are you?"


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The new formatting of the skills is something I can appreciate, at least. The skill ranks aren''t listed on the screen anymore, but I can still get the rank if I focus on each individual skill¡ªin fact, the Interface even does something it refused to do before, and gives me a little description of the skill when I do. It essentially consolidates the information from Inspect. When I focus on Hueshift, for example:


    [Hueshift] [Rank B]


    Allows the user to alter the color of Firmament.


    And if I focus specifically on the word color:


    [Color]


    An intrinsic property of Firmament. Color is an expression of emotional tint. For the most part, this affects the strength of the Firmament in question, although in rare cases it may affect the way a particular type of Firmament manifests its effect.


    It''s a relief to have so much more of the Interface open to me, and something about it directly explaining these things¡ªeven if I had to first manually learn them via Inspect or other sources¡ªis... comforting. Like it''s verifying that the work I''ve put in to understand all of this matters.


    Also, the list looks cleaner this way, and the skills are sorted from lowest to highest in rank. I can''t say I''m upset about it.


    "Ready?" Ahkelios asks quietly. Guard stands by, his engines humming a soft static that joins with the wind, creating a pleasant background buzz. I shake my head: not yet.


    "Need a moment to mentally reset," I say. There''s too much on my mind. Too much I''m thinking about. The Empty City is going to be dangerous enough without me being distracted by a dozen different dangers, and that''s with the help of skills like Premonition.


    I sigh, then take a deep, calming breath. Absently, I reach within myself for the marble of Gheraa-essence I still hold. For a moment, I let myself focus on the sensation of it rolling between my metaphorical fingers, feeling for that tiny fragment of him that still remains.


    I wonder what he''d say about all this.


    For that matter, I wonder what''s happening with Earth and with my fellow Trialgoers. I doubt anyone else has had someone like Gheraa manipulating their Trial. My eyes flick to the Interface screen, and I hesitate for a moment before calling up an Interface window I haven''t tried in a long time.


    It''s worth remembering that there are still stakes beyond everything that''s happened to Gheraa. Beyond everything I''ve learned about Integrators and Firmament. It''s easy to forget, when I''m off-planet and everything and everyone I''ve faced is someone from a different culture and world entirely. Hestia is beautiful in its diversity, and my home life wasn''t exactly so cozy that I''m yearning for it again, but I still have a world I''m fighting for.


    I think I do miss home, in an abstract sort of way. I miss not having to worry about dying. I miss the people there¡ªnot the people I knew personally, maybe, but the kind barista down the block that always made sure to add a little extra whipped cream, or the cashier that made an effort to make me smile, even when she was having a bad day.


    I miss when people mattered in little ways. When not every relationship was rooted in life or death. Not that I''d give up my bond with Ahkelios for anything, of course. Or the relationship I was able to build with Tarin and Mari. I''m going to have to visit them after all of this.


    There''s a word I''m looking for that describes my feelings about all this. I''m just having trouble finding it.


    I think it''s not quite that I''m missing those times. It''s more like it serves as a reminder.


    This situation Hestia is in. The one where so much power is held in the hands of its Trialgoers, who each seem to run their own distinct forms of dictatorships. The one where the entire planet is nothing more than a battlegrounds for a Trial that''s been going on over and over and over, at the cost of everyone who lives on the planet.


    That''s the fate that awaits Earth if the Integrators have their way.


    I stare at the screen I called up, pondering.


    [Chat disconnected.]


    I suppose I shouldn''t have expected anything different. I scroll through the list of names, many of them still lit up, but a worrying number of them now dim. Casualties of the Trials, I imagine. If anything, it''s surprising that as many people are alive as they are.


    Of the 3,000 or so people selected for the Trials, about 100 of them are dead. It... could''ve been worse.


    My lips tighten anyway.


    "Guard, Ahkelios," I say out loud, dismissing the screen. "We should discuss how we approach combat. We haven''t really fought together before, and my skills are different, so I''m going to have to adjust how I fight. It''s probably going to take me a bit to figure out, but let''s have a basic plan before we go into the Empty City."


    Ahkelios and Guard both glance at me, surprised by the sudden change of tone. It doesn''t take long for them to get on the same page, though. Guard gives me a severe nod, and Ahkelios does a little salute that he immediately tucks away behind his back, as if embarrassed. I smirk a little at the sight, but don''t let it distract me.


    "First, let''s go through our strengths..."


    ¡ª


    It doesn''t take as long as I expected. The conclusion is simple: Guard will take point, Ahkelios will harass at a distance, and I''ll stack my abilities for powerful hits in whatever ways I can. We''re not sure how effective I''ll be in the Empty City yet, and we don''t necessarily know how all my new skills are going to operate in combat or how quickly they''ll exhaust me. The strain on my Firmament clearly isn''t proportional between skills.


    So a lot of the initial fights will have to be about figuring out what I can and can''t do. What my current limits are. How long I can hold an Evolution, if need be. I can sense that I''m almost ready to try out the Knight again, though it won''t last for very long.


    So it''s good to know that the recharge time is... something around an hour, if I need it for a few seconds. At this rate, probably a day or two for the Evolution to be at full effectiveness.


    Good enough. I reach out to the Interface and prompt it for the gate to the Empty City. A golden key materializes in my hand¡ªwhich is new, actually. The Interface usually just opens it for me. I stare at it for a moment, then carefully stick the key into the air.


    Space solidifies around it. I twist, and I feel something give way; a golden doorway opens, and the key dissolves into nothing.


    Strange. Why the entirely cosmetic change?


    I''ve used this portal from time to time to store things¡ªmostly items and food from the Cliffside Crows so I don''t starve during my travels, though there was the entire person I stuck in there at one point to keep them prisoner¡ªbut this is the first time I''m actually going in. The floor through the portal is scattered with all those items, still perfectly preserved from when I left them in there. I''m pretty sure I''ve exceeded the time limit on the ''safe'' period in the dungeon, since I sent someone in there, so...


    There''s every chance we''re going to be attacked as soon as we enter.


    "Guard?" I say.


    He nods at me, and I watch as he takes a step through the portal. There''s a shift in Firmament...


    I narrow my eyes, sensing something strange, and step in after him.

 150 — Book 3, Chapter 9 — The Empty City

    Rhoran''s mind was fragmented, but he was slowly gathering himself.


    It was nothing unexpected. The Integrator¡ªformer Integrator¡ªwas held in place only by the meager mental structures he''d created for himself before this transition, and the trip through the broken Intermediary had maimed those structures even more than he''d been prepared for. If Lhore had given him a little more time, if any of the others had fought for him, he might have been able to build something more secure. More able to handle the torment of the dimensional phase.


    Of course, no one had seen fit to give him any additional time. Typical. They blamed him for what Gheraa had done and for what Ethan had been able to accomplish through him. Not Lhore, who had been there when Gheraa programmed the Interface to send Ethan those damnable skills. Not Nhava, who had been the one to suggest they send the damn asteroid after Ethan in the first place.


    Him. Because he''d been the Overseer in charge of Gheraa. Because he was supposed to have caught on to what the slimy bastard was doing behind his back. It wasn''t his fault Gheraa had betrayed the entire Integrator cause! What, just because he''d been a little rough with him? He''d deserved it, with all his snide jokes and comments and that remark about the size of his Firmament.


    You were prodding him first.


    Rhoran decided to ignore that stray thought; it was nothing more than the product of his fragmented mind. Subconscious and conscious melting together because there was no more structure to hold it together. He''d only barely managed to find something he could take control of¡ªthough even then, his control had been suboptimal¡ªand then that thing had torn it to pieces.


    He didn''t even know what it was. There was no record of any such creature on Hestia. He didn''t know why it stirred that deep and terrible hate within him, either. That was supposed to be reserved for the Trialgoer.


    Who was nearby. He was sure of it. But there wasn''t anything nearby he could take, and without first doing that, he couldn''t see what was around him. He could barely feel what was around him other than powerful sources of Firmament, and the biggest ones had too much of an identity for him to be able to overwrite them.


    Rhoran would have scowled if he could have. It rankled at him that he was stuck like this, little more than a viral sequence of Firmament with occasional bouts of lucidity. He was far from weak; there was enough identity embedded into his Firmament that he could survive like this for centuries, if he needed to.


    More than that, this was one of the only forms he could achieve that would both survive the broken Intermediary and camouflage him from Ethan''s ridiculous senses.


    He still wasn''t sure it was worth it. Being trapped like this in what felt like nothing, only able to sense piles of Firmament, with a mind that was barely kept together...


    Something flared nearby¡ªa source of Firmament¡ªand Rhoran dove for it instinctively, his entire being narrowing down into a sense of hunger and greed. He needed a body. Needed to be again. He felt his identity override the identity of whatever he''d touched, rewriting it so that he was in control.


    Finally. Physicality. Stability. If he gave himself another moment for his identity to fully take hold, he would be able to plan something to end this farce of a Trial and turn the Earth into something useful.


    Rhoran paused. The leaves on the forest floor seemed larger than usual. He reached out a small, delicate paw, then stared at the fuzzy limb he was moving with confusion.


    Wasn''t this one of Hestia''s prey species? What was it doing with enough Firmament to host him?


    Before he could complete the thought, jaws clamped around him. All his power did nothing when he wasn''t prepared to wield it. He felt the bones of his new body crunch, his heart pulp into little more than useless flesh, and¡ª


    ¡ªand...


    His mind stuttered.


    Who was he? What was he?


    He''d died. He remembered that much. He remembered pain.


    Pain, death...


    Reset. Mind torn again. He needed recuperation. Needed to mend. Needed to find... target.


    Hatred. There was hatred within him at the idea of a "target."


    And there was a direction for that hatred.


    He moved toward it, past the corpse of the fluffy thing on the ground, past the larger cat-like creature devouring its pieces, and past a rim of golden Firmament.


    <hr>


    Whatever strangeness I felt is gone by the time I step through the doorway. "It''s safe," Guard calls back to me, though I can see from the way he''s looking around that he''s still tense. I take a look around the room that serves as an entrance to the Empty City¡ªor at least at what should have been a room.


    It''s not one anymore. I frown and step forward, nearly stumbling when a loose rock crumbles beneath my feet; Guard catches me by the elbow and pulls me back before I plummet off the top of the building we''re on.


    "Careful," he warns.


    "Thanks." I lean down and pick up a fragment of the rock, my brows furrowing. It looks like a normal stone, but... even the slightest application of pressure makes it crumble like dust. I can sense that it''s hollow, the natural Firmament that would normally be within it drained of its color.


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    So is everything else around us, save for the things I tossed in. It''s mostly a scattering of preserved food, the Firmament sink I''ve built, and various other odds and ends I''ve tossed in in case it might be useful. I reach down to pocket the Firmament sink.


    "Is it just me, or does this place look different?" Ahkelios asks, looking around.


    "I don''t think the portal ever opened on top of a building." I frown a little, poking at the rooftop with my foot. It looks like concrete, but it''s almost disturbingly soft.


    "So why''s all your stuff here?" Ahkelios hops off my shoulder to poke at the food. "Shouldn''t it be... wherever the room was?"


    "I don''t know." I don''t even know where that room might have been. I pivot in place, scanning the horizon and taking in the sights of the Empty City. The name certainly fits¡ªit looks desolate and abandoned, full of crumbling towers and decayed homes. It actually looks a little like an Earth city, and I feel a pang of something like homesickness as I stare down at it.


    But something else stands out to me. What I remember of the logs about this place tells me that it should be, that the Firmament infestation here should have destroyed nearly everything.


    And it''s not that it hasn''t. Color Drain Firmament¡ªalthough now that I''m here, it doesn''t feel the same as the Color Drain skill I used to have¡ªhas more than certainly sucked the life out of almost everything. The buildings, the streets, and even the signs all make me feel like I''m staring at something on an old black-and-white television set.


    But there are... plants. Colorful plants. Wildlife has grown over most of the decaying buildings, and not all of that wildlife seems subject to the same phenomenon. I see massive flowers attached to the sides of decaying buildings, blooming with so much color that a glance at it almost hurts my eyes. It feels like I''m staring at something impossible.


    The whole landscape is dotted with plants like that. Not all of them are flowers, of course; there are vines, mushrooms, wooden-looking roots that crack through buildings and shine with multicolored pustules. Looking at them sends a crack of foreign disgust through me, like something inside me is rebelling at the sight of it.


    I''m not the only one. Guard makes a low noise of discomfort, a robotic hum as he takes a step back from the edge. "This place is strange."


    "It''s overtaken by a type of Firmament that went haywire, according to Kauku. Color Drain Firmament." The words taste strange even as I say them¡ªlike something about them aren''t quite right. I don''t have the full picture, and I won''t until I figure out what went wrong here.


    "I have not heard of Firmament... ''going haywire'' like this, as you put it." I can hear a frown in Guard''s voice. "Those plants in the distance¡ªmy sensors tell me they''re dangerous. We should avoid them."


    "Dangerous how?" I try to take another look, but almost immediately wince again, my senses overloaded. It''s like they''re oversaturated streaks in the otherwise bland landscape, and I can''t tell if it''s because everything else is dull or if it''s a specific side-effect of the Firmament that caused all this.


    "They are sensory dangers," Guard murmurs softly. There''s a click from his body, and I notice a pulse of Firmament radiate outward. "But the larger flowers are also... hiding something, I believe. It''s difficult for me to tell."


    I close my eyes entirely, reaching out through my Firmament sense instead to try to sense whatever it is the robot can. My range is so much farther than it was before, but even then, the flowers are right on the edge of them. I can sense a core of what feels like inverted Firmament, and then behind that, something...


    I mutter a curse under my breath. "I don''t think we can."


    Guard glances at me. "There''s something important there?"


    "I don''t know." I hesitate. It does feel like there are important things hidden within the flowers, but I can''t tell what they are¡ªin fact, the only reason I can tell they''re there at all is because the way Firmament warps and twists around them. But the way that Firmament is warping...


    Kauku mentioned he was looking for a memory. That the Empty City was full of memories. If there''s anything right now that screams to me that it''s a memory, it''s whatever these things are¡ªthe Firmament that interacts with it is twisted to intense color, intense emotion.


    And I agreed to help Kauku find a memory, so I''m going to have to sort through these. I grimace. Now that I think about it, he never specified what memory he was looking for. I''m not ready yet to trigger one of the waiting Inspirations to speak to him again¡ªthe Knight is still settling within me, and I doubt using it is going to be much easier even with the Inspiration on my side.


    "I think we''ll at least have to check them out," I finally say. "It''s a lead, and we''re short on those. The dungeon doesn''t exactly come with directions."


    Guard gives me a slightly doubtful look, but nods. "You decide where to start, and I will lead the way."


    I glance down the building. "We can probably start down there," I say dryly. There''s an enormous blue blossom right at the base of the building we''re in. Just looking at it cuts me to my core with something that feels like sadness¡ªwhatever emotion is in that memory, it''s not a happy one.


    Ahkelios makes a noise behind me. "Something feels weird," he says, climbing back up onto my shoulder. I glance at him.


    "Something about the food?" I ask. He''s been inspecting the food for the past few minutes. Ahkelios shakes his head.


    "It felt weird for a bit, but I don''t think so?" he says, rubbing one of his arms nervously. "It just feels like we''re being watched. I don''t like it."


    I glance at Guard, and he shakes his head slightly. I frown¡ªI don''t sense anything strange either, at least not anything like what Ahkelios is talking about. But if he senses something...


    "Keep an eye out," I tell him. "Let''s not let anything catch us off guard."


    Ahkelios nods, and Guard begins to lead the way down from the roof. I follow after him, lost in thought.


    Memories. The closer we get to the flower, the more I remember. It''s been some time since I read that opening entry to this city''s final logs, but the first entry blooms in my mind, suddenly crystal clear.


    It is the 4,625th day of Awakening.


    I am afraid.


    The Elders tell us that all will be well, that the Record we are creating is merely educational ¡ª but I can feel in the Firmament that there is a great change coming. I do not know what that change is, but I fear it will spell the end of everything I hold dear, and I am afraid.


    Perhaps this is irrational of me. I have little evidence to support these thoughts. The Seers have sounded no alarms, and our people are all healthy. My two sons flourish in their classes. They excel with the Firmament, creating wonders previously unheard of. Perhaps the fear I feel now is simply the fear of an old woman, and yet...


    Every day, the trees seem a little more dead. Every day, the sky loses a little more color. I have been to the Healers, and I have been told that my eyes are fine; all three of them are perfectly functional.


    I do not know what I am seeing. I do not know why I am the only person that sees it. The Awakening could be the cause, and yet I show no other signs of being Awakened. My Firmament levels remain stable, and there is no hint of a phase-shift or any of the associated phenomena. I have to assume what I feel is mere paranoia, and yet...


    And yet.


    Only time will tell.


    The Empty City is supposed to be the remnant of an Integrator corpse, isn''t it? It gives me the same feeling Gheraa''s death does¡ªthat sense of something being rotted into the world, a death so profound it''s warped reality around it. If that''s true, then those logs I read are almost certainly from the person who died.


    But those logs don''t seem to be from the perspective of an Integrator.


    What am I missing?


    A notification floats into my vision.


    [Ritual: The Empty City has begun. Each Ritual stage will be linked with your loops. Progress within the Empty City will be saved after each Ritual stage.


    Ritual stages may reveal more about your connection with your Firmament.


    Current Ritual stage: 1/5]

 151 — Book 3, Chapter 10 — Rituals

    Guard takes point as he leads us down the stairwell of the building, his metal feet clanking against the concrete. It''s the only sound in the otherwise eerily silent Empty City, and the way it echoes along the stairs is... admittedly a little unnerving. It doesn''t help that the colorless nature of our surroundings makes everything unnaturally dim. Guard''s core is the only real source of light, but its prismatic colors don''t make a difference in the gloomy, corrupted corridors we find ourselves in.


    Even with that source of light, I find myself having to channel Firmament into my eyes to make things out more clearly. Just me, though: apparently, both Guard and Ahkelios can see in the dark just fine. It''s a good thing I picked this trick up from Tarin, or I''d be doing a lot more stumbling through the dark right now.


    At least I have that Interface notice to distract me. I glance at it again, trying to figure out what it means. Ritual stages, and five of them in total...


    More than that, there''s something about this that''s different from most of the notifications the Interface has given me. For one thing, it''s rare for me to even get a hint about the rewards I might receive from an Interface event. I''m pretty sure this is the first time it''s directly mentioned a reward for completing something, and even then, it''s being frustratingly vague about it.


    Ritual stages may reveal more about your connection with your Firmament.


    Most Interface rewards come in the form of Inspirations, credits, or skills. I can''t decide if the offer to just reveal something is tantalizing or worrying, and more to the point, there''s something about the timing of this notification that bothers me.


    Or maybe it''s the way it''s set up. It feels convenient, but more than that, it feels... familiar.


    "Ritual stages, huh?" Ahkelios says. He''s been silent for a while, hopping along the stairwell to try to scout out anything that might lie ahead, but now he''s joined me on my shoulder once more.


    I glance at him. "You know something about them?"


    "I think so." Ahkelios leans in to get a closer look. "I got them once or twice. They usually show up if a dungeon has something important you need to do. Sort of like a list of tasks."


    "A list of tasks..." My voice trails off as I read through the notice again.. "It''s not exactly telling me what it wants me to do."


    "Yeah, the Interface is kinda weird about that." Ahkelios grimaces a bit. "A Ritual only triggers if a dungeon has different... states of being, I guess? Basically, when you complete a Ritual stage, the whole dungeon evolves in some way. Sometimes that evolution is minor, sometimes the whole place changes. I''d call it interesting, but it usually just means the dungeon gets way more dangerous."


    Well, I can''t say that''s something I didn''t expect. I sigh. "And the Interface isn''t going to tell me how to complete the Ritual stage, I take it."


    "Not directly. At least not at first." Ahkelios hesitates for a moment. "It tells you more the further along you are, but the first stage is usually just something like an initiation process. It''s always something big and obvious, close to the point where you get a notification about the Ritual."


    "Which means the notification is location based," I mutter. I wonder if that''s why the portal opened to a different spot. Specifically, I''m wondering if Kauku has something to do with this. He''d mentioned helping me get through the Empty City more quickly, and even though he''d been talking about the sewers underneath at the time, I wouldn''t be surprised if this Ritual thing has something to do with him.


    Or maybe something to do with that memory he wants me to retrieve. It''s not like he''s told me anything about it. An oversight, on my part¡ªI should have asked for clarification¡ªbut it''s too late now, and I have a nagging feeling he wouldn''t have told me much anyway.


    No, he seems like the type to try to lead me there indirectly. Given the limitations he''s told me he''s operating under, I''m assuming he''s trying to minimize the amount of direct help he gives me.


    A small voice whispers to me: what could possibly make something like him operate under any limitation at all? I brush off the thought; it''s certainly worrying, but it''s not something I can act on at the moment. I''ll just have to keep it in mind.


    If this is Kauku guiding me, it explains all the changes¡ªthe way the dungeon manifested as a key instead of a simple portal, the movement of the items I''ve stored in here, and the change in starting position. And if this is Kauku guiding me, then the next question would be...


    "Can you fail a Ritual?"


    My words echo in the concrete. There''s a brief silence from Ahkelios, and I can feel a flicker of emotion trickling down through our bond¡ªa sudden, deep sadness. When he speaks, there''s a tremble in his voice.


    "Yes." He doesn''t elaborate for a moment, and there''s something small about his words, about the way he carries himself. "The loop resets the stages, though. So failure usually isn''t permanent."


    "I see." I observe Ahkelios for a moment¡ªhe''s clearly trying to shake whatever mood he''s in off. I reach out for him, and after a moment, he climbs onto my hand and sighs.


    "I feel like I''m remembering something," he says quietly. "I didn''t remember until you asked about a Ritual failing. I''m really sad. I don''t know why."


    "It''s important, isn''t it?" I keep my words gentle, and I keep him held in my hands. Guard remains quiet, seeming to sense the importance of this conversation.


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    "Yes." The little mantis takes a deep breath. He doesn''t need to breathe, but the move seems to help him relax. "The Ritual stages are tied to... something. It''s some kind of Integrator trap. I''m trying to remember."


    I can tell, from the way he''s drawing more Firmament from me. The process is clearly painful for him, and I lend him support the best I can, strengthening the link between our minds and cupping my hands so he can lean against my palm. Ahkelios staggers, his artificial breathing growing deeper; he almost seems like he''s panting. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his hands clench, he squeezes his eyes shut...


    And then he lets out a breath. His hands unclench. His breathing slows until he returns to the signature stillness of a creature made out of Firmament instead of flesh.


    He opens his eyes.


    "I really didn''t want to remember that," he says quietly. "I think that''s part of it. Sometimes a part of me fights remembering, and those memories are harder to access than others."


    "Thank you," I say. It seems more appropriate than I''m sorry. Ahkelios shakes his head, but I see the appreciation in his eyes.


    "Rituals and dungeons in general seem like an aspect of the Interface that the Integrators don''t really want you messing with," he explains. Considering what I suspect about dungeons, it''s not exactly surprising. "They can''t stop you from doing them¡ªit''s a part of the Interface they clearly don''t have control over¡ªbut they can make sure that trying to complete them is more trouble than it''s worth. I think they have a problem with Rituals in particular."


    "Of course they do." It''s not exactly a surprise, but everything I learn about the Integrators mostly just pisses me off more. "I take it something happens when you fail a Ritual stage?"


    "It might be different for you," Ahkelios says. "The Integrators are cut off from Hestia right now. But you remember what I said, right? About dungeons being loop-independent?"


    "Unless Ritual stages are involved, apparently," I say, glancing at the notification again. Ahkelios nods.


    "Dungeons are exempt from the barrier around the planet. They aren''t part of the loop, and they aren''t exclusive to you. To us."


    I catch the implications of this immediately. "You''re saying other humans might be in this dungeon?"


    Ahkelios grimaces. "Don''t count on it," he says, sounding a little guilty. "Sorry, I didn''t mean to imply that. You unlocked one of the rarest dungeons possible. I doubt anyone else has access to it. The problem is, failing a Ritual stage creates backlash, and that backlash isn''t just going to hit you. It can tear open holes to other people''s Trials, put them in danger..."


    He trails off, and I watch him for a moment. It''s not hard to figure out what happened. "You lost someone."


    Ahkelios nods. I can feel an immense sadness radiating down through our bond¡ªhe feels things so strongly sometimes. It''s at odds with how he''s usually the more ruthless of the two of us; sometimes, I wonder how much the Trials really changed him.


    "I can''t even remember who," he says with a sigh. "I think I knew her before the Trials, though. And I think we were... close."


    "I''m sorry for what you lost," I say. Ahkelios forces himself to shrug.


    "It''s nothing we can change now." He looks away for a moment, recomposing himself. By the time he looks back, he''s not exactly smiling, but that sense of immense sadness echoing down through our bond has largely faded. "We should focus on the future. Make sure it doesn''t happen again."


    "We will." I lock eyes with Ahkelios, and after a moment, he nods.


    "Failing a Ritual stage is different from dying, by the way," he says, almost like he''s trying to change the subject. "You can die as much as you want; it''ll just reset both the loop and the stage. But there every Ritual stage has something like... conditions. If you complete it without all those conditions being met, it''s counted as a failure, and sometimes the Integrators get tricky about it."


    "Got it." The fact that a death doesn''t count as a failure and still resets the stage is strange, although it''s also useful. It means I can forcibly reset a stage if I have to. I''m not exactly looking forward to it, but it''s better than the blowback Ahkelios is talking about.


    Probably.


    A thought occurs to me.


    If these Rituals can blow back into other Trials, then there''s a good chance that whatever boundary separates me from those other Trials is weaker here. The fact that it''s even possible for other Trialgoers to enter the same dungeon implies that this is an intended feature: in a normal Trial, a Trialgoer might be able to use the chat function to team up with others and complete a dungeon.


    My Trial, of course, is anything but normal. The temporal barrier that extends around Hestia might not reach into the dungeons, but¡ªI check the chat feature just to be sure, and it remains disconnected¡ªit''s clearly still enough to interfere with my ability to interact with other people from Earth.


    And yet...


    Those barriers are still weaker here. Which means that I might be able to do something. If a failed Ritual stage can backfire to the point where it affects other Trials and other Trialgoers¡ªif Trialgoers can all enter the same dungeon together¡ªthen, much like the Intermediaries, they connect different, distinct spaces together.


    The normal approach to reach other planets, as I understand it, is by using gateways that fundamentally utilize the Intermediaries. I''ve never seen any of them, because they aren''t open during a Trial.


    But maybe they aren''t the only way. If I can push Phaseslip farther, if I can figure out what connection the dungeons have to the Integrators and the Interface as a whole...


    Then I might not be stuck on Hestia much longer. I might not be isolated from the other Trials much longer. And if that''s true, then the Integrators are going to have a whole lot more to worry about than just one Trial gone awry.


    "I can feel you planning again," Ahkelios remarks. "You make a scary face when you do that, you know."


    "What? I do not." I''m a little thrown out of my train of thought by Ahkelios''s remark, but he does make me grin. Truth is, of course, that I have no idea what I look like when I''m planning. It''s just the principle of the matter.


    "You do." Guard sounds amused.


    I feign an exasperated scoff. "I don''t need both of you harassing me about my plans."


    "We''re not!" Ahkelios says. "We love your plans. They''re good plans."


    Guard waits for a bit, then adds, "Mostly."


    I roll my eyes, but a smirk tugs at my mouth. "Let''s not get too distracted here. We''re still in a dungeon, remember?"


    Beneath us, a blue glow slowly grows. We''re getting closer to the first flower, presumably to what will initiate the Ritual, and to uncovering what''s really going on with this dungeon.


    I think I''m looking forward to it.

 152 — Book 3, Chapter 11 — Stage 1: The Seed // Ahkelios

    You were a painter once.


    You saw the world in colors no other mantodean could. Close one eye, and the painting shifts¡ªyour sight was your pride. Your first love glowed in your sight, didn''t she? Her carapace glowed with streaks of ultragold and silverine; to you, she was a living work of art.


    And now that sight is gone. Struck permanently from the record that is your Firmament. You will always remember what you had. You will always know you can never have it again. How does that feel, I wonder, to have something so integral to your sense of self removed?


    Even as you are now¡ªreduced, lesser, a mere fragment of the sum of your parts¡ªyou remember the pain of that loss. How many loops did you spend trying to paint one of your old works? How many did you spend trying to capture that magic you lost?


    How many before you let yourself understand you would never have that magic again? That you would forever have a hole within yourself?


    Ah, but you filled that hole with other things, didn''t you? You let yourself enjoy the viscera of combat. You took the mantle of the Sword, and blood became your paint. It was never a replacement, but it was enough.


    Or do you not remember that?


    It seems you don''t. Alas, you are lesser than you were, even now. A pity.


    But you don''t think of it that way, do you? You like who you are now.


    Interesting.


    Do you believe that human capable of filling that emptiness? Do you believe that he has?


    You seem inspired by him. Is it his ability with Firmament, or his stubborn defiance of the fate that befalls all other Trialgoers? Perhaps you simply admire the fact that he''s done what you could not: saved the lives of those that were otherwise victim to the Trials, defied the Integrators, and struck an undeniable blow against them.


    Or perhaps this is your status as his familiar. Perhaps the Interface has forced upon you a sense of subservience. Perhaps it has replaced your bloodlust with fondness and loyalty.


    How much of your thoughts are truly your own?


    He respects you, you tell yourself. He believes in your autonomy and has promised to return it to you, even if it comes at a cost to his power. He sees a future with you as a friend and an equal.


    But you know more than anyone that these things change. Apply the right pressures, push the right buttons, and even the most righteous can be driven to break. Ask yourself this: What does that human believe in? Does he have a truth, or is he defiant for the sake of defiance?


    Do you believe Ethan is special?


    Others like him have come and gone before. Three hundred others have taken on the Trial of Time, and three hundred others have failed. You may look up to him for his ability to overcome all that has befallen him, and he has certainly been through more than most.


    But he is not the first. He will not be the last.


    Do you think he''ll stand up for you when he finds out who you''ve been? Just because he''s said he will? Do you believe that the two of you are friends? You have shared laughs, certainly, but how many of his pains as he shared with you? His doubts, his fears? What weighs him down?


    Do you truly know him?


    You have a Remnant hidden within the Empty City. If you have so much faith in him, find that Remnant.


    Let''s see if your faith is stronger than your cruelty.


    <hr>


    Ahkelios curled in on himself slightly. Just slightly. He didn''t want Ethan to notice, and so he held the link between them shut as tight as he could. There were so many thoughts racing through his head, and none of them felt like him. He didn''t understand where they were coming from or how to deal with them. And he didn''t want Ethan to know.


    The voice was right, in a way. He''d provided Ethan with unconditional support for most of their journey together, and he had no idea how much of that was the influence of the Interface on him and how much of it was voluntary. They were friends, he was pretty sure¡ªthey bickered like friends, spoke to one another like friends, shared thoughts and ideas and even shared the things that hurt them¡ªand yet...


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    There was that nagging doubt. The what if.


    He admired Ethan. He was sure of that much. Ethan had accomplished so much more than he remembered doing himself, done it in a much shorter time and with far less loops¡ªhow many loops were they on, even? Fifteen? Sixteen?


    And then there was... he didn''t know how to identify the feeling. Jealousy, maybe. A wish that he''d been able to get this far this quickly. If he''d been this effective, if he''d just been better, maybe his home would be fine.


    He didn''t even know what had happened to his home. He didn''t know how long it had been. With what he and Ethan had learned about the Integrators, it was very likely it hadn''t been destroyed, but how much had it changed in the time since his Trial?


    "Ahkelios?" Ethan asked. Ahkelios stiffened slightly, then gave his human friend a weak smile.


    "I''m fine," he lied. "Just thinking. A lot on my mind."


    Ethan didn''t seem to believe him, but he let it go. Ahkelios hid his sigh of relief¡ªeasy to do when he didn''t need to breathe¡ªand turned his attention inward again, ignoring the slowly-growing light they were approaching. He needed to figure this out. If this was something that could hurt him, if it was something that could hurt Ethan, he needed to know.


    You have a Remnant hidden within the Empty City.


    Something about those words made fear coil around Ahkelios''s heart. He didn''t like the idea of that. He''d spoken with Ethan and he''d agreed to absorb more of his Remnants, but he didn''t think it would happen so soon, and he didn''t think he was ready. Not yet.


    Let''s see if your faith is stronger than your cruelty.


    Was it?


    He didn''t know how cruel he''d been. The words bothered him. As much as he''d regained of himself, the few glimpses he''d caught of who he was after all the loops... it scared him. He''d become someone entirely different. He had memories of enjoying the rush of power as Firmament flowed through him, as the Interface granted him skills that could slice through the fabric of space itself. He had memories of tearing through his enemies, gathering credits, interested in little else besides becoming more.


    More powerful. Better. There were glimpses in his memories of the visceral joy of wielding his mantle of the Sword against the world, of the euphoric surge that came with a Truth so strong that nothing could break it. It was the nature of the Trials that the challenge eventually became so great that he succumbed, and he knew, intellectually, that he eventually had.


    But he didn''t have those memories. The ones the voice reminded him of weren''t those memories, either. All he could think about, circling in his head, were the memories of what it had felt like to wield power far beyond what he had now.


    It scared him, in a way. And in a way that pained him to admit... it excited him.


    Ahkelios closed his eyes.


    What if that version of him had been right?


    What if the power he had gained was worth the slaughter? What if that other version of himself was better, happier, freer? His memories were still incomplete: for all he knew, Ethan''s strength now was less than he was at his peak.


    Do you truly know him?


    He did, Ahkelios told himself. Ethan had never been anything less than honest, and more than that, he could feel the human''s sincerity through their bond every time he spoke. He truly wanted Ahkelios to be free.


    But that didn''t mean he could do it, did it? His Remnant¡ªhis former Trialgoer self¡ªit was strong. He could almost feel the pulse of its power, stronger than anything they''d faced, resonating through the city.


    Could it reclaim his life for him before Ethan could?


    He almost hated himself for speaking up.


    "Hey, Ethan," he said. He tried to keep his voice steady. "I think... I think there''s a Remnant of me somewhere in the Empty City. You think we could find it sometime?"


    He didn''t plan to betray Ethan, he told himself. He just... he just wanted to know.


    Ethan just glanced at him and blinked. "Of course," he said easily. Ahkelios could feel Ethan reaching for their bond and the subsequent flicker of power as he searched for wherever that Fragment was. "Huh. I should''ve noticed that sooner. You want to head for it now?"


    "Not¡ªnot now." Ahkelios fidgeted. "But when we have the time. Between Ritual stages or something."


    "I''m sure we''ll run close to it eventually. We''ll check it out then." Ethan reached down to give him a pat on the head, and Ahkelios closed his eyes, quietly enjoying the contact.


    He was happy like this, he told himself.


    He was.


    <hr>


    I watch Ahkelios for a moment as he turns away from me, curling in on himself once again. He thinks he''s being subtle, I think¡ªbut the way he''s closed off the link between us tells me in pretty clear terms that something''s wrong. I don''t bother asking him what it is, not because I don''t want to know, but because I already do.


    Color is one of the traits of Firmament. The closer we get to the massive blue flower blooming out of the base of this building, the more I can feel it affecting me. There''s a sheer scale to it that makes it almost impossible for me to touch with Hueshift¡ªI''ve tried, and the best I can do is reduce the impact it has on me.


    The density of my Firmament helps. Being a third-layer practitioner seems to have shored up my core enough that this isn''t enough to cripple me.


    But I can feel its influence, still. Blue is sadness, but it''s also an infectious sort of doubt. I don''t need to look through my bond with Ahkelios to understand what kind of doubts it''s likely causing to fester within him¡ªI''m fortunate that Guard seems mostly immune to the effect, although whether that''s a result of his prismatic Firmament or just his general strength, I''m not sure.


    I pat Ahkelios on the head. "I''m sure we''ll run close to it eventually. We''ll check it out then," I say.


    I think I have some idea of what''s going on. If it''s true, well...


    If it''s true, it doesn''t matter. Ahkelios is my friend, and so he''s under my protection.


    Even if I''m protecting him from himself.

 153 — Book 3, Chapter 12 — Collection

    One thing I hadn''t really considered on the way down is that the flower''s blooming outside the building¡ªthe inside isn''t exactly filled with pretty blue petals or anything remotely flower-adjacent. Instead, what we come across is a pulsing root structure that''s filled with what looks like electrical signals running across the tendrils¡ªelectrical signals that flash a bright blue as they travel, leaking color-shifted Firmament.


    It''s clear even before we get there what we''re supposed to do. There''s something that looks like a glass orb attached to the base of the flower, with a number of vines and roots coiled protectively around it; within the orb is a source of intense Firmament, strong enough that I can feel it even without stretching my senses from where we are, several floors above it.


    "Be careful," Guard says, though the remark isn''t needed. Ahkelios and I are both at full alert. I''ve asked Ahkelios if he wanted to demanifest, save himself from the influence of this aura, but he shook his head insistently and said he could help. I can''t say I blame him¡ªI would''ve done the same.


    Though I doubt bringing him into my soul would be enough to protect him, anyway. Something about the Remnant of him here... it''s strong. The glimpse of it I caught when I reached out with my senses was enough to tell me that it''s not something I''m going to defeat easily, even as I am now. Maybe even with the Knight''s help.x


    Ahkelios has a powerful link with me, but this Remnant is trying to forge a new one with him. Reaching out through Firmament and Color, touching on the fragment of his soul that''s sheltered within my own. I bring to bear all the power I can spare to protect it, coiling Firmament protectively around our link, but that''s all I can do¡ªprotect what we have. There''s nothing within my repertoire I can use to prevent a new link from forming.


    I''m not worried about it, in truth. I know I should be. The idea that anyone is messing with Ahkelios¡ªeven if it''s a Remnant of him¡ªsends a cold tendril of anger through my gut.


    But I''ve changed. I''m a third-layer practitioner, and there''s a confidence I have now that I didn''t have before. My second phase shift, when I determined who I wanted to be, who I would be...


    I will be strong enough to define a future on my own terms. Fear will not define my choices. I will choose kindness and mercy and compassion, weather the risk, and I will win regardless.


    I made my choice. And I am not afraid.


    "It is moving," Guard observes. I glance down at the mess of tendrils below us. He''s right¡ªthe closer we get, the more they begin to move, actively shifting and crossing over themselves as if agitated by our presence. Ahkelios makes a concerned, clicking noise in his throat, eyes flashing.


    "Aren''t you the plant expert?" I say, my voice deliberately light. "How do we fight it?"


    Ahkelios turns to me, blinking. "Fire?" he says, as if the answer is obvious.


    I mean, to be fair, it is. I grin at him, teasing. "You sure you don''t want to study it first?"


    He shudders, and I see a flicker of interest in his eyes, leaking through our bond. He''s kept it held tight for the most part, but some things still leak through. "Kind of," he admits, fidgeting.


    "It''s moving," I prompt. "And clearly Firmament is part of its life cycle in some way. Maybe even the color of Firmament."


    Ahkelios makes a humming noise, then hops forward, jumping from my shoulder to Guard''s. I can feel him reaching for my skills as he examines the flower¡ªa touch of Firmament Control, a little Hueshift, and a flare of Firmament Sight.


    "It''s absorbing Firmament from something," he mutters. I''m quietly glad when I hear the way interest sparks to life in his voice. "And it''s absorbing color from something. I think it''s adapted to exist in the Empty City?"


    "Because of Color Drain?"


    "Yeah." Ahkelios sounds eager, now, and Guard has to stop him from jumping ahead by himself. We make our way down the stairwell a little more quickly, mostly to contain the excited mantis. "I think it''s incorporated the Firmament into itself, somehow."


    We''re almost there. The tendrils around the glass orb at the center of the flower are all waving frantically in defense¡ªnot that Ahkelios seems to care. He hops closer, dodges one tendril, then kicks another out of the way, a spark of Firmament causing it to snap back and crash into the nearby wall.


    I raise an eyebrow at the sight. Apparently, my growth in power means that Ahkelios is stronger as well. Go figure. This is still a rank S dungeon, though. I''m under no illusions as to whether the rest of the dungeon is going to be easy.


    Honestly, I''m under no illusions as to whether this fight is going to be easy. But I''m happy to let Ahkelios investigate¡ªhe''s the expert.


    "Firmament isn''t enough to feed it nutritionally, though," Ahkelios says contemplatively. He leaps along a vine and follows one of those electric-blue signals, deftly balancing even when it bucks and writhes beneath him in reaction. "It''s learned to use Color Drain Firmament. Like it''s a skill. And since it can''t get nutrition, that means¡ª"


    He''s interrupted by a rumble. The walls shake around us¡ªI glance up, wincing as the fragile concrete breaks away and comes down in chunks. It doesn''t look like the entire building is coming down just yet, but it''s a near thing.


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    "That means the color is a lure," Ahkelios finishes. "I bet it''s a carnivorous plant."


    That makes a lot of sense. The building shakes again, and I glance at Ahkelios, who meets my gaze. "Which means it brought something here," I say.


    He grins at me. "Yep. Probably to eat, but I wouldn''t discount it having some kind of symbiotic relationship with another species in the dungeon. It might have a protector species."


    I raise an eyebrow. "This is a dungeon thing, isn''t it?"


    "Isn''t it exciting?" Ahkelios''s eyes gleam. I laugh. I was worried he''d spend the entire time lost to whatever''s affected him, but he''s still in there. Affected by doubt, but definitely in there.


    Guard, meanwhile, shakes his head. "Trialgoers," he mutters. I sense, despite his words, that there is a tiny undercurrent of affection in it. It''s different from what he''s used to. We''re different from what he''s used to.


    A third rumble. A section of the wallshatters, and something breaks through, its silhouette framed by dust and shattered stone. I''m distracted, briefly, by an Interface window that shows up.


    [Ritual Stage 1: Collect the Seed]


    Prerequisites:


    Defeat the Seedmother: 0/1


    Keep the Seed safe: 1/1


    The Seed is that which grows into a memory. Keep it safe and help it grow, and all the rewards of the Empty City shall be yours.


    <hr>


    The notification is fascinating, but it''s not what''s immediately concerning to me at the moment. That honor goes to the massive beetle that''s stuck its head through the wall, which, while far from the most horrifying thing I''ve seen, is definitely among the biggest things I''ve seen that I''ve had to fight.


    Short of the asteroid that was about to strike Isthanok, but that doesn''t count.


    It looms above us, and I can feel the sheer amount of Firmament pouring through it. Like the flower, it seems to have adapted to the Color Drain here in some way¡ªits carapace is a vibrant, prismatic hue that almost reminds me of He-Who-Guards''s power core. Flickers of electric-blue and other colors race through its shell in a network that reminds me of a cross between a circuitboard and a spiderweb.


    This thing is packed with power.


    Its eyes focus on Guard. It roars. The sound rattles the building we''re in, causing more of the ceiling to collapse; behind us, the stairwell begins to crumble, blocking off one of our escape routes¡ªnot that I was planning to go back up.


    "Guard," I say. "We need more space. We can''t fight it in here."


    "Agreed." His voice is tense. He crouches slightly, and I sense the change in his Firmament as he funnels his power to his legs. A moment later, his thrusters activate, and he bursts forward in a flicker of motion.


    I follow suit with an Accelerate and a Firestep, leaving a trail of flames behind me. I can feel the Knight stirring, eager to join in the fight¡ªeager to protect¡ªbut I ask it to hold back for now. I need to see how well I can fight without it.


    I''m slower than I normally am. Guard reaches the Seedmother first, a crack resounding as he slams shoulder-first into its face and with enough physical force to make it take a step back; I''m there a second later, Amplification Gauntlet around my fist. The full force of my Firmament behind my blow is enough to make it take another step back, to create a shockwave that rattles the building even more¡ª


    Shit. Protect the Seed.


    I''m well aware of what Ahkelios said. I can''t fail this stage by dying, but I can fail it by not completing the prerequisites, which means I can''t grab the Seed before defeating the Seedmother and I can''t let the Seed get destroyed. The problem with that, of course, is that the Seed looks like it''s made out of glass, and it''s very, very clear that this building is about to collapse on top of it.


    "Ahkelios!" I call. I open the link on my end, letting him surveil my thoughts¡ªhe catches on quickly and darts from my shoulder toward the Seed.


    "I got it!" he calls back. A thin film of Firmament extends from him as he grabs on to the orb; it''s nearly as big as he is, but he manages to stabilize it with his Firmament, and he begins flying determinedly toward the hole the beetle created in the wall.


    Right as it begins to glow. The moving, multicolored pattern on its shell begins to accelerate, shifting, and there''s a sudden snap of recognition as I understand what it''s doing.


    That''s a skill construct. It''s using a skill.


    "Ahkelios!" The panic in my voice must reach him, because he changes directions almost instantaneously, pulling on Accelerate to do so. At almost the exact same moment, something manifests in front of the Seedmother, three inches in front of its horns, five away from Guard¡ª


    That''s a black hole.


    I barely have time to react. Guard tries to dodge, and I can feel the way he draws on his Firmament, reinforcing his armor as much as he can, but that''s a black hole. It might be small, but it''s infinite, inescapable density, and it punches through his metal like it''s little more than paper.


    It swerves. It moves almost as quickly as Ahkelios does, and I''m forced to Warpstep away, nearly staggering at the amount of Firmament that simple move costs me. Spatial distortions still amplify the cost of that skill, and a black hole is about as much spatial distortion as you can get. Trying to warp through the thing is going to drain everything I have, which means I''m left to a game of keep-away.


    Ahkelios has to protect the Seed. Guard is hurt¡ªthe hole blasted through his shoulder leaves one of his arms dangling uselessly from his shoulder, and I don''t know if it hit anything more vital, because his Firmament is flickering dangerously. For our first battle, this couldn''t have gone worse.


    I mentally flick through my options. Distorted Crux for more speed will buy me some time. I still have the Knight to call upon. Some of my newer skills I haven''t tested yet, but Fate-Shattering Blow might be able to do some damage to it¡ª


    The patterns on the Seedmother''s back move again. I feel Firmament collecting into a mass as it charges, forming a different construct, a different skill.


    It feels familiar. Like the golden spear Anhar used against me. Except this one is more, layered upon itself again and again, and the spear it creates is not one but dozens, filling the sky with a frozen, golden rainstorm. A third of them are directed at me. Another third are aimed at Guard.


    The last third...


    It''s subtle, but they''re not aimed at Ahkelios at all.


    They''re aimed at the seed.

 154 — Book 3, Chapter 13 — Warning

    Before I can do anything else, a warning blares into my skull, making me wince from the sheer force of it. I have to blink away the spots in my eyes to even begin to parse what just happened, but when I do, my eyes widen.


    [Let it kill you.]


    It''s a Paradox Warning. The skill construct resonates within my core, and I stare up at the volley of golden spears. I don''t like the idea of letting it kill me. I don''t like the idea of not pushing this fight to its limits and getting everything I can from it. Almost unbidden, I can feel something rising within me, responding to my desire to keep fighting.


    The Knight. It struggles to free itself, and already I can feel its influence leaking into my Firmament; my skin hardens, gaining the glint of solid metal in odd, mishappen spots. I grit my teeth, forcibly pushing it back¡ªI can''t afford this right now. Not if I need to let myself die. I don''t know how I know, but I feel certain that if I allowed it to take over, I won''t die. At least not easily.


    And if I let that Seed get destroyed... that''s a failure that has a chance of blowing back into other Trials. As much as I''m interested in seeing that process, I don''t think I''m ready for it. I need to have something that allows me to¡ª


    Oh.


    I suddenly understand, and the moment I do, I trigger the skill.


    Paradox Warning. I feel the skill activate, then feel the way it coils around me, asking me to complete the loop, to send back the warning that gave me this train of thought in the first place.


    So I do. Sending the message just a second or two into the past doesn''t cost me as much Firmament as it might have otherwise, but the cost is still staggering; I feel nearly a quarter of my Firmament supply empty out of me in a way that I almost never feel these days, leaving me to stagger and grit my teeth.


    No time to let this slow me down. The Seedmother''s skill is seconds away from firing, and if I don''t make sure I''m hit first, both Guard and Ahkelios are going to suffer more than I will.


    "Guard!" I call out. "You know where to meet me?"


    "I will find you," he calls back gravely, apparently sensing what I''m planning. Good enough for me. Ahkelios calls out in alarm, clearly also sensing what I''m planning and disapproving of it, but before he can try to convince me otherwise, I Accelerate up to meet the spears.


    I have to admit: as many times as I''ve died in the loops, I don''t think I''ll ever quite get used to the feeling of being stabbed multiple times over.


    [You have died. +57 Strength credits. +15 Durability credits. +32 Reflex credits. +50 Speed credits.]


    ¡ª


    When I wake up, I''m lying in the dirt, staring up at the sky. Ahkelios stands on my chest, his arms folded across his chest.


    "You let yourself die again!" he complains.


    "I did," I agree. I reach up to pat him on the head, and he flails for a moment as he tries to push my finger off before he reluctantly accepts it, huffing. "I know you''re worried about me getting used to it, but... I''m in a time loop, Ahkelios. I need to take advantage of it while I can, especially if it gives me an advantage."


    "How does this give you an advantage?" he grumbles.


    "We''ve got some time before Guard manages to find us." I push myself up to my feet, prompting Ahkelios to hop off and then reclaim his spot on my shoulder. "Why don''t we find out?"


    "What are you talking about¡ª" he begins, but I don''t quite give him the time to finish the question.


    The Road Not Taken.


    It''s the realization I had. I might have been able to fight off the Seedmother and protect the Seed, especially with the help of the Knight¡ªbut that''s not what I need right now. What I need is information, specifically on the consequences should I fail a Ritual stage, and that Seedmother set up the perfect opportunity for it.


    I''m changing a decision that''s a fairly limited amount of time in my past, but even then, it''s a costly use of Firmament. I feel about half of my reserves drain out of me, leaving me with barely a quarter left, and I groan against the strain; I feel Ahkelios''s worry flicker down the bond as he reaches out to support me with his own Firmament. It''s an automatic act, but it still makes me grin.


    And then the power of the skill envelops us both, and we find ourselves back in the battlefield.


    Mentally, anyway. The Road Not Taken is ultimately an observational skill¡ªI can''t just rewind to a point and redo things the way I want to, I have to pick a singular decision to change¡ªbut the decision I''m changing here is a simple one.


    I choose to fight.


    Now that I''m actually using the skill, I''m realizing that I need to grow a lot more to be able to use it for everything I want to use it for¡ªgoing back long enough to interrogate Whisper, for example, is going to take exponentially more Firmament than I have available to me right now. That''s a problem for future Ethan, though, and preferably one that''s been through a few more phase shifts.


    Right now...


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Let''s see.


    I let the Knight take me over. Metal plating emerges from my skin, and I hear a guttural snarl emerge from my throat as vocal cords change into something other, a combination of metal and Firmament and conduit-flesh. The transformation is painful, but not nearly as harrowing as it was the first time. Unlike my first attempt at using this Inspiration, the Knight and I are... somewhat coordinated.


    Not perfectly coordinated, as it turns out. Not yet. We try to dodge the spears and to keep the Seed safe, but we don''t quite agree on the same direction to move, and the result is our combined body flailing awkwardly through the air and toward Ahkelios; we still manage to protect the Seed, but only because several spears glance off our armor.


    A few manage to pierce into us partway before we bat it away in retaliation, and we snarl in response. Pain is unpleasant.


    The Seedmother is an enemy.


    Before Ahkelios or Guard can stop us, we bound off the building and toward the Seedmother with enough force that we shatter the windows and create a small crater in the side of the building; that momentum transforms into a punch that''s empowered with Amplified Gauntlet, the appearance of the skill changing entirely as it moves through the Inspiration''s construct.


    It''s my first time using a skill with the Knight like this, and the difference is incredible. It''s draining, certainly, but instead of covering my arm with a gauntlet of Firmament, it transforms my arm¡ªchanges it into a thick, powerful thing, bulging with dense, compressed Firmament. The moment our fist makes contact with the Seedmother, all that energy bursts out of us and into its carapace, causing a deafening crack and a shockwave that sends us flying back.


    It''s not too much of a concern. We flip midair, readjusting ourselves so we land feet-first on the horizontal surface of a nearby building; the claws in our sabaton grip into the concrete, and we send in roots of metal and Firmament to stabilize ourselves and watch the result.


    The Seedmother roars. It''s in pain. Its carapace is absolutely shattered at the point of impact, revealing pink-white flesh that pulses in an almost grotesque fashion. The circuitry on its carapace almost immediately reorganizes itself, rerouting around the wound and forming into a new pattern, a new skill construct.


    This one is new. It looks almost like a tree, branching outward along the shell. A pulse of Firmament goes into the newly-formed construct, then a green forms at the tip of its horn¡ª


    We don''t have time to react to this one.


    The orb flickers, and when the skill is cast, it turns into forks of lightning that blast through the air. It passes through my armor and barely affects me; Guard jerks in place from the impact, as it apparently severely affects his systems; Ahkelios tries to dodge, but the near-instantaneous nature of the attack...


    The lightning passes through the Seed and shatters it.


    Almost immediately, the Ritual blowback begins.


    I try to push back the Knight so I can better examine what''s happening, but it roars in defiance; it is hurt and angry and right, and it wants to kill this thing that hurt its friends. I''m briefly surprised by the intensity of that emotion¡ªit hasn''t known the three of us for that long¡ªbut it has evidently decided that we are friends, and that it wants to protect us.


    That''s flattering, but it''s a problem right now. My Firmament sense isn''t as strong when the Knight is integrated with my being, and so my sense of what the Ritual blowback is doing is dampened. I can''t spare any attention to push the Knight back, either; the more I do that, the more I miss what the Ritual is doing.


    So I let it have control. Better to focus what attention I can on the Ritual''s failure.


    Almost immediately, the Knight takes action. I feel a surge of power rush to my limbs, feel my claws sharpen and my shell harden¡ªbut my mind is elsewhere. I''m focusing on the Ritual, on the blowback.


    It all starts with the Seed.


    The Seed is tied almost haphazardly with the Interface, like the Integrators couldn''t quite make the Interface to do what they wanted and had to brute-force it into doing what it wanted; limited though my senses are, I can feel how tiny threads of phased Firmament thread through the Seed and into the Interface, reaching a core of something that''s beyond my ability to sense. The destruction of the Seed causes a ripple that echoes into the Interface...


    That makes sense, actually. If the Intermediaries serve as a primary means of connecting different planets, then the Interface must serve as a secondary one; it is a single construct that ties together all Integrated planets.


    What, then, do the dungeons have to do with it?


    I have to push my senses farther. The Knight resists, but I manage to wrest enough control to activate both Firmament Sight and Phaseslip; it pushes everything just a little bit farther into clarity, and allows me to see...


    What is that?


    I can''t be sure what I''m looking at, but it feels almost like the dungeon is part of the Interface¡ªlike the threads that lead into the core of the Interface also attach to the edges of this dungeon, right at the corners of what I can sense. The entirety of the Empty City is twisted into itself, creating a self-sustaining bubble of space that''s stored in the Interface.


    Is that what this is? Does the Interface somehow take these dungeons and... contain them within itself?


    Before I can think on it any further, a second attack slams through me; this time, it''s one of the Seedmother''s legs. The Knight snarls in retaliation, resisting as much as it can. Our armor survives for a moment as the street cracks around us.


    Another moment.


    Two more.


    Impossible pressure rises around us, and we resist with everything we can¡ªbut eventually, the street beneath us cracks, and we plummet into darkness¡ª


    The skill ends. I come back to awareness, my chest heaving; even Ahkelios looks a little bit shaken. He climbs off my shoulder, looking a little bit dazed, and neither of us say anything for a long moment.


    "First of all," he manages to say, his voice not entirely steady, "that''s cheating."


    "Was it?" Even in my current state, I manage a cheeky grin at the mantis. "I''m pretty sure I''m just using what''s available to me."


    "It''s cheating," he insists stubbornly, though he can''t quite resist the grin that steals across his face. "...You think you can use what we found?"


    "I''m sure I can." It''s going to take me a while¡ªI''m not dumb enough to think I can mess around with the Interface without severe consequences just yet. But once I''ve got Gheraa back... well, who knows?


    I hear Guard''s thrusters in the distance. He wasn''t kidding about being able to find me.


    "Wanna take bets on how many tries it''ll take us to beat the Seedmother?" I ask, injecting a bit of levity into my tone. Ahkelios looks up at me.


    "Five," he says.


    "Three," I say easily. And only because I want to study those skill constructs on its back.


    Guard lands a moment later. "Four," he says, having apparently heard the conversation. "I will adjust my strategy, but it is not an easy battle."


    "We will adjust our strategy," I say, smirking. "But fine. Let''s see who''s right."

 155 — Book 3, Chapter 14 — The Benefit of Looping

    Before we go in for the second try, I decide it''s time to bank some points. We''re over the threshold for Durability, and I''d rather not lose to something like spears through my body again. Crystallized Barrier and Verdant Armor alone are powerful defensive skills, but as far as I could determine, they weren''t quite enough when facing the Seedmother. The sheer amount of power in its attacks...


    No. I need a third skill, I think. Something I can use against the Seedmother to survive the incredible variety of destructive skills it seems to possess. Besides, better to bank the credits now so that any new credits I earn in these fights go toward the next skill, and not just a chance for a better one in this roll.


    [Are you sure you wish to bank 1,014 Durability credits?]


    [1,014 Durability credits banked! Rolling for results...]


    [Select between:


    Diamond Carapace (Rank S Physical Upgrade)


    Impermeability (Rank S Physical Upgrade)


    Adamant Bones (Rank S Physical Upgrade)


    Phase Metabolism (Rank S Physical Upgrade)]


    [A note to my Heir: You''re on the right track. These will help.]


    I stare at the Interface options for a moment, then glance at Ahkelios, who seems even more speechless than I am. The confirmation that I''m doing the right thing is nice, though I''m a little nonplussed by Kauku''s apparent ability to watch me and interfere with the Interface to this degree.


    On the other hand, the fact that I''ve received physical upgrades instead of skills is more concerning by a fair margin.


    "You know anything about this?" I ask eventually. Ahkelios shakes his head at first, then hesitates, changes his mind, and nods.


    "Kind of," he says, seeming a little uncertain about it. "I''ve seen the Interface offer a physical upgrade as a reward before, but not from banking credits. It''s usually a reward for clearing a dungeon or something. And they''re usually... optional."


    I glance at the floating screen in front of me. "Doesn''t seem that optional, this one," I say dryly.


    "No," Ahkelios agrees with a solemn little frown. He hops closer, reaching out as if to touch the Interface window before withdrawing, as though remembering it''s not his. "Does Inspect work on them?"


    "It does." In fact, Inspect gives me a pretty clear image of how each of the options will change me. Diamond Carapace will quite literally give me an insectoid shell, and I dismiss that out of hand immediately¡ªmy link with the Knight already covers that angle, and I''m not all that interested in a permanent, visible change.


    I''m not prepared for the Interface to change me quite that much, and if I have to accept some changes, I''d like for them to be minimal.


    The others are a little more acceptable in that they won''t change how I look. Impermeability is exactly what it says on the tin¡ªit''s an immunity of sorts to stabbing and penetrating attacks. That would technically save me from getting killed via beetle-leg-to-the-face again, except it doesn''t really change anything about the inside of my body, and all that would happen is that I''d have my bones and organs crushed inside my perfectly intact skin.


    I shudder a little at the idea. No, I don''t think I''ll be picking that one, either.


    Adamant Bones and Phase Metabolism are the most interesting of the lot. Mostly because, like Impermeability, Adamant Bones promises to make my bones virtually indestructible¡ªwhich seems more useful than just making my skin indestructible, depending on how the force of a blow moves through my skeleton. And Phase Metabolism...


    I wince. It would be an easy pick if not for the physical change that accompanied it, and even that I would''ve been willing to accept if that change weren''t so much of a glaring weakness.


    It''s a... Firmament sac, for lack of a better term. The change would allow me to biologically process Firmament and use it to alter aspects of my body¡ªspeeding up healing or forcing myself to metabolize a poison, for instance. The problem is almost entirely in the fact that it would manifest as an easy-to-target, glowing sac, and taking a hit in it would be debilitating.


    To say the least.


    The prospect of the upgrade is still tempting, if only because of how much I might be able to learn about Firmament, but if this is an option at all then I''m going to guess that there are similar creatures in the Empty City or elsewhere. Knowing that it''s physically possible is enough of a start for me to look into it. Even the Seedmother processes Firmament, technically, although I imagine it''s not going to be easy to figure out how until we defeat it.


    I sigh and make my choice.


    [Adamant Bones obtained!]


    The wave of pain is more or less expected, and I''m already gritting my teeth by the time it starts. It feels like a vibration in my bones¡ªlike the sound of a powerful bass ripping through my skeleton and making it rattle against my flesh. My vision blurs, and I would have collapsed to my knees if not for Guard reaching out to catch me. He holds me gently, like he''s afraid I''ll break.


    I''m not that weak. I don''t get the chance to say it, though, because anything I try to say comes out like I''m speaking into a spinning fan; the sound emerges warped and distorted, and I give up after a moment.


    This is fine. It''s comfortable enough.


    The intense shaking rattling through my body settles after a moment. I have to blink away the doubled vision, and there''s an ache in my muscles that tells me this change did some real, physical damage to my body. More than that, I feel like I''m a little larger than before, a little taller...


    "The Interface does not respect its Trialgoers." There''s something in Guard''s voice that''s more than disapproving. He sounds almost... upset.


    "It never has," I reply with a shrug. I try for a stretch, wincing as I feel every muscle scream in protest¡ªbut I''m not immobile. This is minor damage at best, and in a moment or two I should be healed enough to fight again.


    Time for round two.


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    "Come on. Let''s go."


    <hr>


    On the second try, we lose.


    The new Durability-based change helps, but it''s not as much of a game-changer as I hoped. Not for the fight against the Seedmother, at least. It has a lot more skills than any of us expected, even with the information I got from using The Road Not Taken. Besides the black hole, the spear, and the lightning, it has skills that manipulate all the vines and tendrils around us¡ªand there are so many more of those things than I expected.


    Seriously. Those roots seem to be embedded all over the city, digging into every street and structure. I''d spend time ruminating on it if not for the fact that most of my attention has to go toward trying to stay alive.


    On top of that, the Seedmother has a skill that melts concrete. Then it shows us something that freezes air into a solid barrier. A third skill that creates tiny portals into what I think might be a dimension of pure fire; I only realize that because trying to Warpstep through the flames nearly drained all the Firmament I have. I need to be more careful with that.


    Even fighting with everything we have, it''s not that much of a surprise that we lose¡ªespecially since we have to deal with the condition that the Seed needs to remain safe. Ahkelios tries running away from the fight multiple times, but the Seedmother almost seems to prioritize the Seed as a target, then me as a secondary target.


    On some level, it fights like it knows the role it''s playing in the Interface''s game.


    I doubt it actually does. It doesn''t seem particularly intelligent¡ªthe way it fights is more a game of action and reaction, a semi-random selection of skills chosen to deal with specific situations. At some point over the course of the fight, Ahkelios, Guard and I all realize we aren''t going to win this first attempt and focus instead on predicting it: on finding out if we can get the Seedmother to respond in specific ways to situations we put it in.


    If we corner it, there''s a good chance it''ll use the skill that melts concrete and disappear into the ground for a minute or two. If Guard gets right up into its face, the Seedmother will relatively predictably use its black hole skill. If all three of us are about the same distance away, it calls up its lightning skill.


    There''s some variation to it. Sometimes it''ll try to do something new, like using that flamethrower attack instead of the lightning; sometimes, it''ll disregard skills altogether, instead focusing on a series of physical attacks as it tries to ram us into buildings or flail one of its many, many legs at us.


    It''s that last thing that catches me off-guard. Even with Premonition helping me, it shatters my Crystallized Barrier and my Verdant Armor, then strikes me directly in the face.


    Probably one of my more embarrassing deaths, all things considered. Immutable bones don''t quite stop the shockwave from obliterating my brain.


    I did notice something, though, right before my death. Crystallized Barrier manages to survive for a fraction of a second longer than I would''ve expected¡ªalmost as long as Verdant Armor itself does.


    Which means it''s still growing in strength. I knew that to be an element of the skill, but I sort of assumed there would be an upper limit on it; instead, every time the barrier breaks, it gets stronger the next time I use it. There''s no apparent increase in Firmament cost or anything, either.


    I really need to be using that skill a lot more. I''m sure I''ll hit an upper limit eventually, but this thing is valuable beyond its rank.


    Unfortunately, that information doesn''t help me this loop.


    [You have died. +27 Strength credits. +87 Durability credits. +102 Reflex credits. +33 Speed credits.]


    <hr>


    He-Who-Guards felt his systems heat up in a mixture of anger and frustration, though more directed at himself than at either of his companions.


    He had known when choosing to fight with Ethan that the Trial would not be a simple one, but he hadn''t expected to be fought to a standstill this quickly. He''d been one of the strongest combatants Isthanok had to offer for pretty much his entire life. Whisper''s conversion of him from silverwisp into this abomination of metal didn''t change that¡ªif anything, as far as fighting was concerned, it was an improvement.


    The amount of Firmament he commanded was formidable, and the technology that had gone into constructing his frame was quite literally among the best Whisper could procure. Half the materials hadn''t even been acquired from Hestia.


    And yet he was losing. They were losing. This was their third time fighting the Seedmother, and even now, he didn''t have a better sense of how they would beat the thing. Sure, they were learning its patterns, and the artificial intelligence embedded within him was getting better at predicting what it would do, but that didn''t help. Not when he couldn''t adequately protect the Seed or do enough damage to the Seedmother to stop it.


    Engage shields, the AI whispered. Vines incoming. 5 o''clock.


    Pure Firmament rippled out from his arms into a perfect, shining barrier; he pivoted on the spot, slamming the shield directly into the encroaching vines. It pushed them to the side slightly, but it took only a momentary beating before the shield was shattered. The Seedmother was leveraging enough force that he couldn''t stop it.


    He-Who-Guards had never been this far on the back foot before. His optic flashed in angry desperation¡ªhe didn''t like this. Didn''t like being only marginally able to help, didn''t like being little more than a distraction.


    He was here to help, wasn''t he?


    Ethan reminded him so much of She-Who-Whispers. More precisely, he reminded him of who she''d been. Before she fell to the manipulations of the Integrators. Before she''d been forced to make difficult decision after difficult decision, stripping away any pretense of morality she once held and turning her into a ruthless dictator that would do anything to realize her vision of perfection.


    This human had the same conviction she once had, the same powerful drive to do what he considered to be right, no matter the consequences. He had the same look in his eyes when he saw an injustice and declared it to be wrong.


    It made Guard ache. He missed who Whisper had been.


    It made him worry. He wouldn''t be able to take it if Ethan went down the same path she did.


    And it made him glad, because unlike Whisper, he didn''t think Ethan would.


    There was a fire in that human¡ªa fire Whisper never had. It was his drive to not only make sure things were right, but to do them the right way. It was his refusal to bend to pressures that would have made anyone else break.


    That fire ignited something in Guard he''d thought was long gone. He''d failed Whisper. He didn''t want to¡ªcouldn''t¡ªfail Ethan. He never thought he''d be drawn to someone in the same way again, that he''d believe in someone the same way again, and then the damn human had pulled off three impossible things at once in a feat that still left Guard in awe.


    Ethan forced Whisper to give up what he was doing, even if it was temporary. He''d deflected an entire asteroid, one that the Integrators had set up to destroy their home.


    And he''d cured him. Not even Whisper had been able to do that. He-Who-Guards wondered sometimes if Ethan understood exactly what he''d managed to pull off, or if he''d just filed it under the dozen other impossible things he''d done like it was no big deal.


    Guard owed him more than words could express, and yet, at the very first enemy they fought together¡ªand even before that, with the Interface forcing a change on Ethan that he hadn''t been able to do a thing about...


    Is there nothing else we can do? He felt useless, and this was only the first obstacle. Unlike Ethan, he couldn''t grow with the Interface; if he hit his limits now, then this was all he would ever be able to provide in support. Yet he''d tried almost everything in his repertoire, scanned and analyzed everything he could...


    ...except...


    No. There was one thing he hadn''t scanned yet, wasn''t there?


    Those patterns on the Seedmother''s back. The ones it used to fire skills.


    They looked like circuitry.


    In the back of his mind, Guard began to wonder. In the back of his mind, a certain artificial intelligence began recording every permutation of that circuitry, linking each set of patterns with their observed results.


    Circuitry was something he could copy.


    Maybe he wasn''t stuck with his limits.


    If Ethan had taught him anything, it was that the impossible was just another thing to punch through.

 156 — Book 3, Chapter 15 — Patterns of Observation

    There''s something that begins to bother me as we fight the Seedmother. It''s not our lack of progress¡ªthough we''re learning enough about its patterns that I''m beginning to suspect that its tenacity is going to be a problem. It''s something about the skills, about the way that circuitry rearranges itself on its shell.


    It''s not that there''s anything wrong with them, it''s just...


    It feels like there''s a pattern to them. A pattern I don''t entirely understand yet. It''s like an itch in my brain, and I find myself spending more and more time just staring at the Seedmother''s carapace. I shouldn''t, given we''re in the middle of a battle, but I can''t help trying to figure out exactly what''s bothering me.


    Part of me wonders if it''s the structure of the skills¡ªif a part of my brain is trying to figure out a way to copy them from the Seedmother¡ªbut I''m pretty sure that isn''t it. I''ve already tried, and the complexity of these circuits isn''t something I can mimic through Firmament Control alone. More than that, the skills in my core are fundamentally different; they''re three-dimensional constructs, not two, and the way they take in and convert Firmament isn''t compatible with whatever the Seedmother is doing.


    It''s not the structure, then. It''s not the color of the Firmament it''s using, either; there''s no pattern to that I can identify. I''m pretty sure it''s just drawing on whatever Firmament''s immediately available through the network of vines and roots embedded throughout the City. It''s not the amount of Firmament it''s using, not the way it cycles or changes skills, nor anything to do with how each skill manifests.


    I narrow my eyes as the Seedmother charges toward Ahkelios. A new circuit flashes into existence, just for a moment¡ªbright red in color, triangular in shape, and although there''s no apparent effect, the strength with which it swings its legs toward Ahkelios is suddenly amplified tenfold.


    What was that? A Strength skill?


    It''s been using these the whole time, I realize. There''s an entire other category of skills it''s able to use that isn''t quite as flashy as the ones that create Firmament constructs or directly manipulate its environment¡ªit''s why it''s so much stronger and faster than I''d expect a monster of this size to be.


    That''s what I''ve been noticing, then. The inconsistencies in its strength and durability and reflexes. It''s using skills from all categories, not just Firmament skills. That revelation tugs at something in the back of my mind, but it''s hard to focus on that in the middle of the fight; as if on cue, the Seedmother chooses this moment to turn its attention to me, and I''m forced to call up Distorted Crux to dodge the spears it suddenly rains down around me.


    This thing is pissing me off. It''s not just the way it throws skills at us like it''s nothing¡ªthe fact that it''s apparently fuelled by the entire city''s store of Firmament is patently unfair¡ªit''s the way it keeps running away whenever we manage to deal any significant amount of damage to it. That concrete-melting skill that lets it merge into the ground, whatever Durability skills it''s using to heal itself... It makes fighting the Seedmother an endless battle of attrition, and considering it has an entire city as a battery, that''s a battle we''re going to lose.


    We need a new strategy.


    "Guard!" I call. He''s struggling with a half-dozen vines, each trying to tangle him up and get into his systems; when he hears my call, he spins, a quick blast of Firmament tearing them to pieces. He''s by my side in an instant, his core briefly sputtering from the exertion.


    "We will not win like this." He says the words like nothing''s wrong. I eye Guard for a moment.


    "No, we won''t," I agree. The Seedmother is retreating for the moment¡ªAhkelios manages to fly a circle around it, forcing it to stab itself with a few of its own spears before it forcibly dispels the skill. "I have a plan."


    "What do you need me to do?" Guard''s response is immediate.


    "We''re going on the attack," I say. "We''re pacing ourselves too much. I need us to hit it as many times as possible, as hard as possible."


    There''s a flicker of hesitation. "Will that be enough?"


    "Only one way to find out," I say.


    If we hit it hard enough¡ªfast enough¡ªthere''s a chance we can overwhelm its regeneration.


    But I doubt it. That''s not my plan.


    First: force the Seedmother to play defense. I watch with Firmament Sight activated as it desperately cycles skills to dodge Ahkelios''s and Guard''s relentless attacks; Ahkelios has left the Seed behind on a nearby rooftop. I''m keeping an eye on it, but we can''t waste energy protecting it if this strategy is going to work.


    Second: I need a boost. Inspired Evolution: Knight.


    I don''t need the Knight''s full power at the moment, but it''ll be easier to fight with it than without. My Firmament usage is a lot more efficient when I''m merged with the Knight, I realize, even if the Inspiration itself consumes a massive chunk and strains my systems to the point where repeating it is difficult.


    It''s here that I encounter the first significant change as a result of acquiring Adamant Bones. The Knight transformation hurts.


    Much, much more. And it already hurt before.


    I have to grit my teeth and hold back a shout¡ªmy bones are everting themselves, inside to outside, forming the plating of the Knight''s armor. It makes sense that the transformation would be different. The fact that the new bones are virtually indestructible means repurposing them for my armor is the best possible thing to do.


    But fucking ow. This new variation of the transformation better give me some Durability credits. I grit my teeth so hard I''m pretty sure I taste blood in the moments before the transformation completes and I no longer have a mouth to taste with.


    It''s more reflex than anything else that makes me reach out to the Knight. "Was that necessary?"


    "Yes." The Knight replies. The fact that it responds at all surprises me¡ªit''s given me the impression that it doesn''t like talking. "You have a plan."


    "I do." It shares a mind with me, so I don''t have to explain any of it.


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    "I will help." I feel the Knight''s determination. It surprises me¡ªso far, its attitude has been obstinate at best, and our tentative truce has never been anything more than that: both tentative, and a truth. It wants more, I know that much, but it hasn''t been able to let itself trust me just yet.


    Except now, something seems to have changed. I''m not sure what, or why, or if this has something to do with how I''ve been fighting. It''s like the Knight has decided that I''m worthy. Or that I''ll keep my promise to it, that I won''t abandon it and end our partnership.


    "You know what to do?" I ask. No point questioning this now.


    I get the impression that the Knight smiles savagely in return, though there''s no physical expression it can make. "I must fight."


    Well, it''s not wrong.


    We... split, for lack of a better term. Once more, I allow the Knight to take control of our shared body so it can focus its efforts on fighting and doing as much damage to the Seedmother as it can; in the meantime, I withdraw deeper into my core, working on replenishing our Firmament stock and making sure I have enough for what I have planned.


    The process of actively converting environmental Firmament into a usable form is different from anything I''ve done before. Gheraa''s talked about this being possible¡ªabout the fact that a skill construct can be converted into something that takes in Firmament and refines and purifies it¡ªbut after what happened during my last phase shift, I don''t want to sacrifice my skills like that. They''re worth more than this.


    But he gave me a gift. That vestige of Gheraa turned himself into something I can use for exactly this purpose. So that''s what I do¡ªI reach out with Firmament Control, pulling on the environmental Firmament around me and carefully feeding it into the golden construct within my soul.


    It actually looks and feels a lot like a spinning wheel. Its internal mechanisms are far more complicated than that, of course, but the basic process of using it?


    I compress ambient Firmament into a thread. I feed it slowly into the construct, massaging it so it changes from one form of Firmament into another. Then I allow the newly purified Firmament to diffuse into my soul, empowering me.


    There''s a sense of warmth in me as I do this. The aches and pains from the ongoing fight fade away; even the pain of the recent transformation fades from memory. I don''t let that distract me.


    This is an opportunity.


    The Knight is handling the complexities of the battle¡ªdodging, attacking, and retreating every time the Seedmother tries to counter. Every hit it manages to land cracks the carapace apart and leaves a bleeding crater of shattered shell and flesh behind.


    That creates weak points in its shell. He-Who-Guards takes full advantage of it, blasting the wounds with lances of burning Firmament that sears deep into its body. It roars in pain.


    Ahkelios can''t do quite as much physical damage as the other two, but he doesn''t have to. He''s incredibly mobile. Every time the Seedmother tries to target him, he swoops around, forcing it to abort its attack lest it accidentally hit itself again; if it doesn''t target him, he harasses it by turning into a bright spark of Firmament flying repeatedly into its eyes. It doesn''t even have the chance to try to target the Seed.


    Me? I observe. I examine. I look at every skill the Seedmother tries to use to save itself¡ªand I''m right. Strength, Durability, Reflex, Speed, Firmament... It has the full set of skills, and the simplified, two-dimensional nature of its skill circuits reveal something to me that''s much harder to observe within my own skill constructs.


    There''s a pattern. The Strength skills it uses all look similar to one another in overall shape, though not in the details; they''re triangular circuits, originating at a point and spreading out. Durability looks like ripples in a pond. Reflex looks like the branches of a tree. Speed looks like the spokes of a wheel.


    The only exception is Firmament. There''s no rhyme or reason in those skills. But it doesn''t matter: I''ve learned what I needed to learn.


    The Seedmother doesn''t allow us to harrass it like this for long, of course. It interrupts by study with a roar of pain and anger, then activates that concrete-melting skill; it takes a little longer this time, its shell so damaged it needs an extra few seconds to create a working circuit, but it still escapes before we can kill it.


    That''s fine. It''s expected. "Keep going," I say, speaking through the Knight; the metallic distortion sounds so different I almost don''t recognize my own voice. Ahkelios and Guard glance at each other.


    "Are you sure?" Ahkelios asks. "If we fight like this, we''re going to run out of Firmament."


    "I''m sure." I feel Firmament churning within me, eager to be used. I think I''ve actually managed to gather it faster than the Knight is expending it¡ªwhich is good, because we''re going to be using a lot of Firmament.


    The Seedmother re-emerges. Predictably, it goes for the Seed, still sitting on its rooftop¡ªbut the Knight and I are there in an instant, our intents merging into one. The entire minute Seedmother has been healing, we''ve been building up a blow with Concentrated Power.


    The moment the Seedmother begins to re-emerge, we strike, an Amplified Gauntlet warping our armor into a purified weapon and nearly doubling the force of the blow. It''s strong enough that I have to rapidly construct several Crystallized Barriers just to protect the Seed from the shockwave, and the massive Seedmother is sent physically flying. Half its face is shattered.


    It won''t be trying that again.


    Guard and Ahkelios go back to hitting it with everything they have. With the Seedmother on the back foot, it''s easier to get past the cracks in its shell. Meanwhile, the Knight allows me control, and I begin using a skill I haven''t used in a while.


    Timestrike.


    The skill that lets me land a hit at some point in the future. I fill a roughly Seedmother-sized section of the air with them, allowing the time setting of the skill to fluctuate mostly at random; I don''t need to hit it at a specific time. Not for what I''m planning.


    I keep harassing the Seedmother while I do this, of course. A blow to its shell every so often to keep it on its toes, to give Guard and Ahkelios the space to keep hurting it. To force it to use more skills and observe the shape of each of them. I''m not sure what to conclude yet, but my gut tells me it''s important.


    The Seedmother retreats again, as expected. Guard and Ahkelios look at each other¡ªthey''re both starting to look exhausted. The pace of the fight is wearing on them. But we have a minute to recover, and this will be the last time.


    I''m really hoping this works.


    "One more. Bring it to that corner. Guard, I need you to chain it down if you can."


    I take the lead. The Seedmother is far more cautious as it re-emerges this time, a Speed skill prepared on its back so it can dodge my first blow; clearly, it''s smart enough to learn. The teleportation skill it uses takes it away from me...


    ...directly toward the area I''ve filled with Timestrikes.


    "Got you," I mutter. The Knight grins savagely within me; Ahkelios and Guard aren''t sure what I''m talking about, but they follow the plan, harassing it with attacks, corralling it fully into that pre-prepared corner. Guard flares with power, drawing out the chains I''ve seen him fight with, and I watch as they expand in size.


    One leg. Two. Three. Ahkelios keeps it distracted until all six legs are chained down and Guard''s panting from the exertion in an oddly human way, his core flickering between bright and dark.


    I''m going to need to talk to him about that. Before I can complete that thought, though, a Premonition strikes. I see the Seedmother''s shell glowing, see the entire thing shine, feel a powerful sense of danger, and realize¡ª


    "It''s got a second phase!" I swear under my breath, wrapping Distorted Crux around myself and pushing forward with everything the Knight has. I''m not doing this fight again¡ªbad enough doing it once, and I don''t think Guard is going to be able to repeat this without a loop or two to recover.


    I only need one blow to make this work. I just need to hit it once.


    The Seedmother''s shell reaches a peak of brightness, nearly blinding¡ª


    ¡ªand my fist meets its face.


    Causal Shattering.


    Time to see if my plan will work.

 157 — Book 3, Chapter 16 — Temporality

    The Seedmother screeches in response, aborting whatever change it was attempting and instead bucking forward with enough force to fling me away; He-Who-Guards is immediately against my back, supporting me and keeping me within range. A flash of what looks like a Reflex skill on the beetle''s back tells me that it understands the danger it''s in, but it''s far too late for it to stop what I''ve begun.


    A new form of Temporal Firmament blasts out of me, tuned to a new force: an attack on causality, on the very nature of cause and effect. A Causal Shattering.


    A shockwave of pure time ripples across the Seedmother''s carapace, strong enough that it lights up in my Firmament sense like blinding fireworks. I feel the skill establishing itself across the Seedmother like a network of twisted spiderwebs, spinning a storm of threads not only around but through it. It establishes almost a hundred distinct, distorted segments within the beetle that each resonate with Causal Shattering''s power.


    The Seedmother tries to resist. It has a scant few seconds to try: the amount of Firmament it wields is so immense that it takes that long for my skill to complete. I can feel it blasting wild bursts of power out of its shell, trying to shake the hold I''ve established.


    Then a circuit forms across its shell¡ªit''s trying to use a skill.


    "Black Hole." He-Who-Guards identifies it faster than I can. In a moment, his thrusters are fully engaged and he''s there, right in the middle of that circuitry; I''ve tried to disrupt the Seedmother''s skill circuits before, though to no avail. It''s filled with too many redundancies.


    But maybe Guard''s figured out something I haven''t, because he strikes with a blade of Firmament directly into a corner of the circuit, and the whole thing sputters out.


    He''s been studying the circuits too, it seems.


    It tries again. A circuit forms in another part of its shell, and Guard is once again there, striking and cutting the skill out; I can''t help him, because it takes all my focus and energy to keep Causal Shattering going.


    "I cannot do this forever!" Guard calls out. Ahkelios hesitates for a moment on my shoulder, then flies forward, determination ringing through his Firmament.


    "I can help," he says.


    I''ve only ever seen Ahkelios doing this with me before, but apparently, his own capabilities have been evolving. I watch as he darts toward Guard and then merges with his Firmament blade, turning it a shade of bluish-green. I see Ahkelios''s color spread through Guard''s body as their Firmament becomes one.


    And then he''s moving. Twice as fast as before. The Seedmother tries desperately to fight, forming a half-dozen circuits at once, but it doesn''t matter when Ahkelios and Guard can move fast enough to get to all of them before they can fire. The mantis shares his speed and agility with Guard, draws directly from my Firmament to empower him, and together, they stop the Seedmother from fighting back.


    Which allows me to focus everything I can into the skill. It''s my first time using it in combat¡ªmy first time drawing this much Firmament into a single skill. I can tell what I''m trying to do with it is stretching it to its very limits.


    But, crucially, not outside of those limits.


    Causal Shattering rips apart the timestream of whatever I strike with it. The Knight is still active, and like all Inspirations, its influence changes the form of the skill just slightly. It gives it direction. It gives it intent.


    We''ve filled the Seedmother''s past with wounds. All the holes we''ve torn into its shell, all the damage that Guard, Ahkelios and I have worked to inflict¡ªIt''s been hurt again and again, and even though it''s managed to heal itself, those wounds are still there in its past. They exist in that timestream.


    I''ve filled the future with Timestrikes, aimed haphazardly across the space the Seedmother occupies. Every one of them is loaded with enough force to tear apart the shell, but far more likely, they''re loaded with enough force to rip through whatever internal organs might be present at the time the punch is delivered. Those attacks, too, are in the Seedmother''s timestream.


    And that timestream is mine. That''s what a Causal Shattering is. That''s the truth of the skill.


    [Mastery of Causal Shattering has improved!]


    The air cracks. No: it shatters. It fills with the scent of blood and decay.


    The sound that emerges from the Seedmother tries to be a roar but emerges as a choked, inhuman scream. There are suddenly dozens of wounds torn into the Seedmother''s body, oozing with blood and calcified time; half of them are from the past, the other half from the Timestrikes I''ve placed in the future. Some of them are far enough in the future that the flesh within has begun to rot, with worms and insects eating through it.


    Looking at the Seedmother through my Firmament sense is like looking at it through a cracked mirror. The damage is everywhere, all throughout its body, and I can feel the temporally-skewed inconsistencies through its cracked and twisted Firmament.


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    In one moment, it''s healthy, and in the next...


    Half-dead. It''s not completely dead, even now, but it''s dealing with more damage than we''ve ever managed to do to it, and it''s dealing with all that damage all at once. Even with Firmament reinforcement, it can''t keep up with its own body, now mutilated throughout time¡ªeven if it tries, that Firmament ends up being sent to the wrong time and place.


    Ahkelios has separated from Guard and is now standing on his shoulder, watching, but all three of us are basically frozen in place. I expected my plan to work, of course, but I hadn''t expected this degree of effectiveness; the way the Knight changes Causal Shattering turns it from a skill that''s a bit of a gamble to a skill that''s almost a guaranteed one-shot. It''s taken nearly all my Firmament and I feel a bone-deep exhaustion slowly filling me, but...


    Damn.


    "Your plans are... highly effective," Guard remarks after a moment of hesitation. His voice is a little quieter than it normally is, and he can''t quite seem to look away from the Seedmother.


    "Is it still alive?" Ahkelios flies a little closer, though he maintains a respectable distance. I don''t blame him.


    "For now," I say. I''m breathing heavily, I realize¡ªthe skill was a strain on me. Third-layer or not, I haven''t completely adapted to using skills at such a high level with that much Firmament.


    But we''ve won. I know that for a fact. Three tries, just like I predicted.


    What''s left are just the death throes.


    The Seedmother struggles to compensate. New patterns flicker to life on its shell as it tries to reverse the effect of my shattering. It fails. It can''t keep that circuitry consistent across time, nor does it even have enough shell intact to create a working circuit.


    It tries anyway. It tries to heal with a new, smaller circuit. It fails. Small or not, there''s nowhere for the circuit to be written. Flickers of Firmament start and then dissipate. It''s clinging on to life through sheer will, at this point.


    It tries the concrete-melting skill again. It fails. That one was barely an attempt¡ªthe circuit flickers to life, and then fades just as quickly.


    Slowly but surely, its struggles fade.


    I let the Knight evolution dissipate, wincing a little as my body screams in protest and a dozen aches and pains return. There''s a distinct sense of smug satisfaction from the Knight, as if it enjoyed beating down the Seedmother; I give it a small sense of thanks for its help, and there''s a response of what almost feels like a purr.


    Terrifying. I''m going to need to spend some time to understand exactly what these new Inspirations¡ªthese Evolutions¡ªentail. But for now, I''m just grateful for its help. A part of me expects some last minute change, some disaster to occur, but... there''s nothing.


    Instead, an Interface notification pops up in front of me, bright and bold.


    [You have defeated the Seedmother (Rank SS)! +372 Strength credits. +655 Durability credits. +322 Reflex credits. +407 Speed credits. +500 Firmament credits.]


    Rank SS. I can''t say I''m surprised, considering how much of a battle that was, though with the way each rank seems to jump exponentially I''m surprised the battle wasn''t harder.


    Not that I''m complaining. This is a lot of credits. It almost makes the pain of the Knight evolution worth it. I can practically feel the Inspiration scoffing within me at the thought¡ªof course it''s worth it, it thinks¡ªand I laugh internally in response.


    Honestly, considering the kind of damage I was able to take, it isn''t wrong. Some of the Seedmother''s attacks were entirely ineffective against our new armor. It''s part of the reason I was able to spend as much time examining the Seedmother''s shell and skills as I did. Part of the reason I was able to learn as much as I did.


    I''m still trying to deconstruct the implications, though. Strength, Durability, Reflex and Speed; if the skills can be physically distinguished based on how they''re constructed...


    A new Interface notification interrupts my train of thought, and I make a low, irritated noise in my throat.


    [Ritual Stage 1: Collect the Seed]


    Prerequisites:


    Defeat the Seedmother: 1/1


    Keep the Seed safe: 1/1


    "Looks like all we need to do now is pick up the Seed," Ahkelios comments, looking up at the rooftop. It''s balanced precariously on the corner of a now mostly-ruined building; the shockwaves from fighting the Seedmother didn''t exactly leave the city untouched. "Want me to get it?"


    "Not yet." I want to figure out what''s going on with the Interface skills before we trigger the next Ritual stage; whatever it is, I doubt it''s going to be easy to deal with. If we have to fight another series of monsters like this, the next stage is going to take a lot of loops to beat. "Ahkelios, have you ever noticed anything weird with the Interface''s skills?"


    "What do you mean?" The mantis blinks up at me. "They''re all weird."


    "The way they''re sorted," I clarify. "The categories."


    "They never seemed like they fit completely, but I figured it was just the Interface trying to sort them," Ahkelios says with a shrug. "Why?"


    "Just trying to figure something out."


    It''s possible there''s a language limitation here¡ªthat the Interface is just picking the closest equivalent word that describes a given category and using it. But if I try to sense the overall shape of the skills within my soul...


    It''s not something that''s easy to notice. The skill constructs are immense, complicated things, and Firmament sense doesn''t lend itself easily to geometric shapes. But I can approximate a guess by pushing Firmament through each skill and watching the shape that emerges.


    I''m right. Each category besides Firmament¡ªStrength, Durability, Reflex, Speed¡ªthey have consistent, repeatable, recognizable properties. Shape is an oversimplification, and this is only noticeable because the simplified nature of the Seedmother''s circuits gave me an idea of what to look for, but...


    This means the categories aren''t just the Interface trying to sort the skills into the best available category. It means the categories themselves aren''t nearly as arbitrary as the Interface wants us to believe.


    Ahkelios is watching me, following my train of thought. I don''t hide it from him. After a moment, he speaks, a little hesitant. "You think the Interface''s names for the categories are wrong?"


    I cock my head. "No," I say. I glance at the Interface again, at the faintly glowing words that tell me how many credits I have in any given category. At the thing that''s both the source of my power and the thing that''s corralling the direction of my growth.


    Strength, Durability, Reflex, Speed.


    Basic categories. Easy to understand. Easy to dismiss.


    "I think it''s lying."

 158 — Book 3, Chapter 17 — The Return

    Somehow, saying the words makes them feel all the more real. There are enough inconsistencies I''ve uncovered between the Integrators and the Interface that I''m no longer willing to take everything it says at face value. It doesn''t help that I know for a fact that not even the Integrators fully understand the purpose of the Interface¡ªit''s an object of worship for them more than it is something they control, and their limited administrative rights over it is a reflection of that.


    Unlike Kauku.


    The thought strikes me out of the blue, and I frown. He modified the Interface''s method of rewarding Inspirations with little more than a wave of a hand. He changed at least one Durability roll so that it modified me physically rather than rewarding me with skills, and he added a message into the Interface on top of that.


    Gheraa''s done something similar, but he couldn''t do that by default, could he? He added Temporal Echo to my Firmament rolls, and that seemed about the extent of his manipulation¡ªhe couldn''t send me a message through the Interface until...


    Well, until whatever he did just before he died. Whatever he did that gave me those skills. That gave Isthanok a chance.


    Kauku didn''t need to do any of that. It''s another mark in what feels like an ever-growing list of questions about what exactly he is.


    Not that any of this changes what I have to do next. Complete the stages, retrieve whatever memory it is Kauku wants from the Empty City, and then bring Gheraa back to life. The sooner I can get that done, the better¡ªbut even if the Intermediaries are repaired, I don''t think I care anymore about whether the Integrators are watching.


    Let them watch. There''s more at play than them. Bigger actors. Kauku is proof of that, even if I don''t know what his presence means yet.


    "Okay," I say, letting out a breath and gathering myself. "The Interface is lying. We can deal with that later. Ahkelios¡ªcan you get the Seed?"


    Ahkelios stares at me, a little nonplussed. "Are we, uh, not going to discuss the Interface lying thing?" he asks. I stare at him, mostly because I have no idea what more I''d say about it, and he raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I''ll go get it. But for future reference, you don''t get to just say things like that and not elaborate."


    I chuckle. "It''s more that I haven''t finished putting together everything I need. We''ll talk about it later. Let''s just get the Seed first."


    It doesn''t take him much time to get it. He flies back, the glass orb clutched in his arms. I''m surprised there isn''t even a scratch on it, considering the intensity of the fight with the Seedmother.


    I reach out for it¡ª


    And the moment it touches my hand, it vanishes. The Interface pings me with an update.


    [Seed collected. Congratulations, Heir. Ritual Stage 1 has been completed.]


    [Bonus objective complete: Defeat the Seedmother without it entering its second phase! +200 Firmament credits.]


    [Progressing Ritual: The Empty City to Stage 2. Be aware that the Firmament levels required for dungeon alteration are hostile to fifth-layer lifeforms and below. Evacuation is recommended.]


    My eyes narrow on the notification. Fifth layer? How much Firmament is the Interface capable of usi¡ª


    Premonition activates. The danger is everywhere. Even with the skill, I don''t have time to react.


    Around me, Firmament roars to life, the pressure stronger than anything I''ve experienced before¡ªeverything I felt in the Intermediary is weak by comparison. The force of it is enough to push the breath from my lungs, to make Ahkelios vanish as his form is destabilized and he returns to shelter within my soul. He-Who-Guards collapses almost immediately onto his knees, using a single hand to stabilize himself; a choked noise emerges from his vocalizers.


    I remember Miktik.


    I don''t hesitate. The Knight Inspiration surges back to life around me. I''m drained enough that I can''t sustain the transformation for long, nor have I really recovered enough for this to be a good idea; I can already tell I''m going to pay for this later. But staying in the dungeon for anything more than a few seconds is going to be even worse.


    I grab Guard, launch myself back to the top of the building with the portal, and throw us both through it and back to Hestia.


    The pressure drops off almost immediately. The portal doesn''t seem to allow the immense outpouring of Firmament through, a fact I''m grateful for. I can only imagine the effect it might have on anyone around the portal if it had. I place Guard gently on the ground, then turn back to it¡ª


    I blink. The portal to the Empty City is still there, but where I could see through it and into the dungeon before, it''s now opaque. A golden film blocks the whole thing off. Carefully¡ªmore out of curiosity than anything else¡ªI reach forward to poke at the film, and it remains firm beneath my touch.


    I could try to break through, but that seems like a bad idea. A quick glance at the Interface more or less confirms the thought.


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    [The Empty City has been locked. Time remaining before full establishment of Ritual Stage 2: 8 hours.]


    Ahkelios re-manifests as I frown at the notice, popping back up on my shoulder and shuddering.


    "That felt awful," he says. He glances at the portal, then at the screen I''m reading. "Eight hours?"


    "Yep," I say dryly. "I take it that''s never happened to you before?"


    Ahkelios looks troubled. "No," he says quietly. He stares at the portal for a long moment. "I hope..."


    "What is it?" I raise an eyebrow at him, but he shakes his head.


    "It''s nothing," he says. He hops off my shoulder and toward Guard¡ªthe former silverwisp is still lying on the ground, his vents cycling air rapidly. I don''t think he''s conscious. "Is Guard okay?"


    I kneel beside him. "He''s fine," I say. Nothing about his Firmament feels off. He''s just unconscious, and by the looks of things, he''ll be better in a minute or two. He wasn''t exposed long enough to...


    I sigh.


    "Looks like we have some time to kill," I say. I reach out with a hand, letting Ahkelios hop up onto my palm; with a thought, I summon the key to the Empty City and twist the portal shut. "Let''s wait for Guard to wake up and then see how Tarin is doing, yeah?"


    "Sounds like a plan," Ahkelios says quietly.


    <hr>


    If Rhoran had a mouth to snarl with, he would''ve. There was nothing here. Nothing he could attach himself to and take¡ªeverything here was too strong, too... distorted? There wasn''t a word for what they were. They lacked the consistency and life that other things did, and they lacked the element of emptiness that he could otherwise take over.


    Neither real nor an echo. Where even was he? He remembered vaguely going through a border. Remembered a transition from one region to another. But his senses were dull and almost meaningless when he was in this state; he''d turned himself into a parasite, into a devourer and conqueror of Firmament.


    That meant nothing in a place where all Firmament was either twisted to the point of meaninglessness or too strong for him to conquer. If he could just find something small enough to take over, he could grow in strength¡ªhop from host to host until he found someone or something that could crush the spirit of the irritating human that kept surviving his stupid Trial.


    His job was supposed to be easy! The Path he''d been in charge of consisted nearly entirely of "dead" planets and civilizations; they were hosts to Trials that the Integrators had long since given up on anyone actually completing. That they had anyone overseeing them at all was more of a formality than anything else. Being assigned to these Trials was something like a vacation. Or a retirement job.


    Until Gheraa, anyway. A younger upstart of an Integrator that insisted to the Upper Council that he''d find a way to complete one of these Trials¡ªto restart a dead Path. Suddenly he had to do work, to supervise, to actually contribute his Firmament to the Interface so it could operate as intended on Hestia.


    So what if he''d been a little rough with him? Gheraa needed to learn. If he hadn''t been able to restart the dead Path, no one could.


    Except the bastard had started rebelling.


    Now here he was.


    The longer Rhoran spent time as this¡ªthis parasite he''d been reduced to, the more coherent his thoughts were, at least. He wasn''t quite as subject to his mind shattering again and again like it had in the beginning, and he was starting to learn more about his new form. More about what he could do.


    That didn''t change the situation he was in. He was a Firmament parasite in a world filled with Firmament he couldn''t even touch. Everything he could sense was a realm beyond him.


    Ethan was here, he could tell that much. He was fighting some enormous thing that should''ve killed him a hundred times over. Rhoran could even tell that it had¡ªhe sensed the stutter-stop in his environment every time things reset.


    But he couldn''t affect the fight. He wasn''t strong enough. If there was just something he could attach himself to...


    He felt his frustration reach a boil when Ethan actually defeated the creature he was fighting. This was unfair. That human hadn''t even ranked highly for any kind of Firmament affinity¡ªhis base had been unstable and pathetic, and Gheraa''s selection of him had been idiotic! How¡ª


    The world shook. Firmament suddenly roared around him, so intense it blinded every one of his senses. Rhoran had no mouth with which to scream, but everything he was sang with agony.


    Ethan again. Had he figured him out? How had he done this? He should have been impossible to detect, even with a Firmament sense!


    He tried to escape, but it was all around him. There was nowhere he could go, nowhere he could hide, but he tried anyway, darting back and forth and searching desperately for something...


    There.


    A small dark spot. An orb of glass that wasn''t quite as saturated with heat and power, half-hidden from the world but not from him. Ethan must''ve missed it. He ran to it, his entire existence shaking and whimpering, and hid.


    <hr>


    There''s a presence in the crow village that makes me stop in my tracks almost as soon as I arrive. He-Who-Guards has recovered enough that he''s walking alongside me, though the glow of his Firmament is weaker than usual. It''ll likely take a few more hours before he''s completely able to recover.


    More importantly, however, is the crow that''s here. The crow that definitely shouldn''t be here, because he hasn''t been in any past loops. It can''t be anything I''ve done¡ªthere''s no Hotspot to investigate this time, and I''ve spent this whole loop within the Empty City. Which means... what, that the Integrators being disconnected from the Interface triggered this?


    It doesn''t really matter, I suppose. I don''t really have a reason to be afraid of him anymore. I stride forward¡ªhe''s yelling at Tarin, because of course he is¡ªand inject some Firmament into my voice. Just to make sure he hears me.


    "Naru," I say. He jumps with a squawk that''s almost identical to Tarin''s. Firmament flares from him defensively, but it retracts with a snap the second it makes contact with me, and he takes an involuntary step back.


    I frown. The Trials really do make things just about power, don''t they?


    "Tell me why you''re here."

 159 — Book 3, Chapter 18 — An Old Foe

    As satisfying as Naru''s fear of me is, there''s a part of me that recoils from it. It''s a well-deserved reversal of our first meeting, but our first meeting was me punching him in the face after he was particularly crass about Tarin being in a coma; there''s a difference between that and... whatever this is. It''s like he thinks I''m going to tear him apart just for touching me with his Firmament, and that I don''t particularly like.


    Not that I''d prefer his usual reaction, either. I haven''t forgotten the way he talked to me about his own parents. Or the way he treated Mari in that fight.


    "You''re the Trialgoer," he says, recovering. That conclusion''s probably easy enough to reach now that I''m stronger¡ªonly a Trialgoer would be able to reach the third layer, and he already knows all of Hestia''s Trialgoers. Naru''s eyes dart left, then right, as if assuring himself that there''s a means of escape. "This is your fault, isn''t it?"


    "I have no idea what you''re talking about," I say. Which is a lie, mostly; I''m pretty sure he''s talking about how the Integrators have been cut off from the Interface. I just want to figure out what he''s doing here before I say anything else.


    "Ethan!" Tarin pokes his head out of his hut. "You finally here! Why you die so much?"


    I blink, then let out a snort of laughter¡ªso much for intimidating Naru. The old crow is acting like his son isn''t even there, and the way Naru glares at his father in protest almost makes me feel bad for him. "Now you come out of your hut?" he demands. "When the Trialgoer shows up?"


    "He earn it," Tarin says dismissively. It almost makes me wince, the way he says it. Naru flinches at the words, then scowls, turning his attention to me instead.


    "So you''ve been dying a lot, have you?" Naru asks, the words a half-sneer. "You might as well give up on your Trial¡ª"


    Tarin baps him in the side of the head with a wing, making him sputter in protest. "You quiet. I need talk to Ethan."


    The old crow turns back to me. "You die too much! This idiot keep visiting and you die before he finish talking."


    Tarin''s as blunt as ever, although his words have a way of diffusing the tension. It probably helps that with me here, Naru seems almost afraid to act. "That''ll happen sometimes," I tell him. "I was fighting something powerful. I beat it, though. We should be done for a while."


    Unless the next stage of the Ritual tries to kill me right off the bat, anyway. Even then, it''s another eight hours until the dungeon opens again; there should be plenty of time to deal with whatever Naru wants.


    "Good training?" Tarin asks. I hum, glancing at the Mastery tab of the Interface.


    [Mastery: Causal Shattering | 1 of 3]


    Gain improved control of temporal distortions created by Causal Shattering. You may manually target one part of your target''s timestream.


    "Good training," I agree. The skill credits weren''t bad either. "Sorry for all the resets."


    "As long as it good training," Tarin says. He sizes me up for a moment, then nods. "Good. You grow a lot. No wonder Naru scared."


    "I''m right here," Naru growls. "And I''m not scared." He takes a few steps forward, pouring Firmament into his arm to reinforce it; it feels more like a threat display than anything, like he''s trying to make himself look bigger than he really is.


    "I asked you a question, Trialgoer."


    Premonition doesn''t activate.


    "And I told you I have no idea what you''re talking about," I say, raising an eyebrow. "You''re going to have to be more specific."


    Naru lets out a strangled noise. "The Interface," he says, struggling to keep his temper in check. "I can''t contact the Integrators. And I can''t¡ª"


    He snaps his beak shut before he finishes what he''s saying. I frown slightly. There''s something he doesn''t want me to know, then?


    I bet I can figure it out. I watch Naru silently for a moment. His breathing is a little frantic, and unlike most of my encounters with Hestian Trialgoers, he doesn''t seem prepared to bring up his Interface.


    Now that I think about it, I remember a notification that mentioned the Interface reverting to baseline programming; something about all the damage that was done to the Intermediaries.


    That has implications, doesn''t it? I don''t know what ''baseline programming'' is, but more likely than not, it means that the Interface doesn''t have any of the features the Integrators programmed into it.


    Features like contacting the Integrators, yes, but more than that. Trial-specific features. The things that give their Trialgoers an advantage in the Trials. In the context of this Trial, that means...


    Have the Hestian Trialgoers lost access to their loop-specific privileges?


    Being able to tell what loop I''m in, for instance. Or that ability they have to make notes for themselves so they can reference it at the start of each loop. It''d explain why Naru seems so uncertain¡ªwithout that information, there''s no way for him to know how much I might have grown through the loops. No way for him to know what I might have done.


    "Can''t check your notes?" I ask. Just to test the waters. Naru tries to control his reaction, but he flinches, and it''s enough.


    "None of your business." He says the words through a gritted beak.


    I shake my head. "The Integrators brought it on themselves. All I did was fight back." I pause in a pointed sort of way¡ªI remember very well how insistent he was that fighting against the Integrators was impossible. "You''re welcome."


    "Welcome?" Naru nearly explodes. His feathers puff up all at once, and I feel his Firmament surging within him. Premonition still doesn''t activate, but he looks like he''s only seconds away from throwing a punch. "Do you know what this means? The Integrators are the only reason Hestia is still here!"


    ...This is new.


    Now that I look a little closer at him, he seems... frazzled. It''s been a while since I last met him in the loops¡ªI remember being pissed at him because of the way he treated Tarin and Mari, and in particular because of his cavalier attitude toward Tarin''s coma.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    I remember his argument with Mari. His insistence that fighting the Integrators was pointless. His pride in the power he''d gained, even at the cost of his own home. Mari mentioned something about him killing the other crows in the village¡ªnot on purpose, but because he couldn''t control the amount of power he wielded.


    Rather than learning to control it, he''d chosen to leave. To use his power to assert himself in one of the Great Cities, as the other Trialgoers did. It''s a huge part of his estrangement from his family.


    But now the Integrators are gone. He''s staked his pride on them, in a manner of speaking¡ªhis entire philosophy has been that it isn''t worth fighting them. That it isn''t possible to fight them.


    He''s shaken, I realize. On some level, he''s afraid, and not just of me.


    "Why did you come here, Naru?" I repeat my question. Naru looks at me¡ªreally looks at me¡ªand something in him seems to deflate.


    "I don''t know."


    There''s silence in the village for a moment. Most of the other crows are desperately curious about what''s going on. I see them casting fearful looks at Naru, peeking out of their huts or around a corner. They''re all otherwise keeping their distance, though; the village as a whole is quieter than it usually is, like the whole place is holding its breath.


    I wonder who he killed. I wonder how it happened. I never asked, now that I think about it; I''d accepted Tarin and Mari''s words at face value.


    Did he just come here because he was afraid? Because when everything he believed in began falling apart, he grew desperate enough to just... run back to his parents?


    I wasn''t particularly expecting to feel sympathy for Naru. Time loops make anything possible, I suppose.


    "You were yelling at Tarin when I arrived," I say.


    "He wouldn''t talk to me." Naru clenches a fist in frustration. Come to think of it, the fact that he''s got hands instead of wings has to be one of the physical upgrades from the Interface. "He just kept telling me to wait! But he''s fine talking to you, apparently."


    "Because Ethan Trialgoer." Tarin says the words as if they''re obvious. "I try talk to you before. But loop keep resetting. It annoying. Wait for Ethan better."


    Whoops. I hadn''t particularly considered how my repeated deaths might impact Tarin, but then I hadn''t expected Naru to suddenly show up, either. The Hestian Trialgoer grits his beak again in response, sputtering for a moment before falling silent; he doesn''t seem to know what to say. "How do you two even know each other?" he eventually manages.


    "Tarin helped me in the Trial for a while," I say.


    "You?" Naru almost seems at a loss before he whirls around to Tarin. "You helped the Trialgoer?"


    "He fighting Integrators. Of course I help."


    "You didn''t help¡ª" Naru cuts himself off again as he speaks, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "What did you do?" he asks, turning to me. His voice is almost pleading.


    "Stopped the Integrators from destroying Isthanok," I tell him honestly. "And most of the other Great Cities, too, probably."


    Naru stares at me. "You''re lying."


    "He not lying." Tarin sounds exasperated, like he''s had this conversation with Naru before. "He save village too."


    Naru turns to stare at his father. "Save... what do you mean, he saved a village? This village?"


    "What other village there?" Tarin asks, looking affronted. "They start raid. Ethan stop raid. He not stop raid, village gone. Same with glass city."


    Naru opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again. It takes a moment before he speaks. "They aren''t... supposed to..." he starts, and then he trails off, sounding lost.


    Ahkelios has been silent this whole time. I can feel a strange mix of emotions from him¡ªsome of it is contempt, but there''s also sympathy. He''s familiar with how Naru''s feeling in some way.


    "Integrators lie, Naru," he says.


    "I know that!" Naru snaps. He glares at Ahkelios¡ªand then he freezes, as if paying attention to him for the first time. "Wait¡ªAren''t you¡ª"


    Ahkelios doesn''t respond. He stares right back at Naru challengingly, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but eventually Naru just shakes his head.


    "Even if you''re telling the truth," Naru says, and he says it almost desperately, like he''s trying to convince himself more than he''s trying to convince me. "We still need them. We can''t¡ªHestia needs them."


    "Why?" I ask.


    "Because," Naru hisses. "They''re the only ones keeping us in check. The rest of the Hestian Trialgoers, the Disconnected. The only reason there''s a balance is because we all know the Integrators are watching us, and even then it doesn''t stop most of us from acting against one another. We''re just a little more subtle about it. Take away the Integrators, and¡ª"


    The ground rumbles. I glance around sharply.


    "Never a break, is there?" I mutter.


    Technically, this isn''t my battle to fight. If the Trialgoers don''t have access to their loop privileges in the Interface, then they aren''t a threat to me¡ªall that will happen is that they''ll cycle their actions again and again with every loop.


    But just because they aren''t a danger now doesn''t mean they won''t be eventually, and in that sense, this is the perfect opportunity to find out everything I can about Hestia''s Trialgoers.


    "I can''t tell if you actually care about your village or not," I say to Naru. He stiffens a bit at my words. "Last time I spoke to you, Tarin was dying, and you didn''t give a shit. You fought Mari and punched her through several trees. I don''t trust you."


    Naru says nothing, but there''s a flicker in his eyes, and his jaw tightens. There''s something he wants to say.


    "But I''m willing to concede I might not have the full story," I say, eyeing him. "And something''s coming that''s got you on edge. You said you don''t know why you''re here. Is that true?"


    Naru mutters something under his breath. I stare at him, and he snarls¡ªnot at me, but at himself. "No. Yes. I don''t¡ªI don''t know why I ran here, but I''m being chased. Another Trialgoer. Versa. She''s got a grudge against me."


    "And you brought her here?" I ask, my tone disbelieving.


    "I didn''t know where else to go," Naru finally snaps. "The loops are killing Hestia and it''s going to die even faster without the Integrators and no matter what else you think of me, I don''t want that to happen. None of us do! Is that what you wanted to hear?"


    I press my lips into a thin line. That''s a lot of important information that''s apparently been withheld from me. "It''s a start."


    Good enough for now, anyway.


    Premonition activates. The ground shakes again, and I feel foreign Firmament being channeled through it¡ªno, more than that. The feeling''s familiar. This is...


    Phaseslip.


    I match her phase, then grab the newcomer''s fist and tear her out of the ground. Her Firmament makes contact with mine¡ªshe''s strong. Stronger than Whisper and Naru, and close enough to me that I can''t tell which of us would win in a fight.


    "Pleasure to meet you," I say. Versa hisses at me, though it seems more like reflex than actual hostility.


    She''s also a spider lady. Great.


    <hr>


    Rhoran took a moment to understand where he was, to understand what Ethan had done. It had been difficult for him to put the pieces together, until now.


    That human had triggered a Ritual. It must''ve been a Ritual for that dungeon he''d gained access to, though Rhoran couldn''t remember the name of it for the life of him. What he cared about was the fact that he had an opportunity.


    Ritual stages were generally things the Integrators couldn''t interfere with. It was the natural progression of a dungeon, quantified and held in place by the Interface.


    But Rhoran wasn''t an Integrator anymore. And even if it was accidental, he was in a place where the next stage of the Ritual was being... programmed, for lack of a better word. Generated.


    Everything in the dungeon itself was too powerful for him to infect, but this?


    It was the perfect environment for a parasite.

 160 — Book 3, Chapter 19 — Acceleration

    Versa stares at me. She doesn''t snatch her wrist out of my hand. Instead, all four of her eyes fixate on me then scan me slowly from head to toe.


    It''s... uncomfortable. I get the feeling that she''s assessing me¡ªdeciding whether or not I''m a threat. Unlike Naru and Whisper, she doesn''t immediately flinch away from me. Instead, the spines along her arms and shoulders bristle.


    I can''t tell what that signifies. Excitement? There''s definitely a sense of interest in her eyes, but it''s the kind of interest that makes the hair rise on the back of my neck.


    "Trialgoer." There''s a distinct series of clicks in her voice as she speaks. She straightens, pulling her wrist easily out of my grip; it''s a moment before I realize she disabled Phaseslip to do so. "I''m surprised to see you here. Figured you''d be off doing... whatever Trialgoers usually do. Fighting monsters? Looking for the exit?"


    "Do you know where it is?" I keep my tone casually disinterested. The whole thing about the Trial''s exit is pretty low on my list of priorities, but I''m not going to pass up information that might be valuable.


    "That would be telling." Versa grins at me, something sparking in her eyes. "You could always make me tell you."


    I narrow my eyes. She''s spoiling for a fight. I don''t think she''s as hostile as Naru indicated, but more likely than not...


    Her eyes flicker to Naru, and I see a clearly recognizable emotion. Distaste.


    She''s about to attack, but not me. Naru realizes it a second after I do, and Firmament flares up around him defensively; I feel it being channeled into a skill a fraction of a second before all his feathers turn silver. Versa whips past me a second later to deliver a punch¡ªher feet dig into the ground hard enough to leave a crater behind, and she swings two arms directly into Naru''s chest.


    He blocks. Barely. I hear him grunt as her fists dig into his forearms, creating a series of spiderwebbed cracks in his silver shield. He tries to retaliate, but he''s ponderously slow in comparison: she leaps back before his retaliatory punch can land. There''s a shockwave of force that travels from his fist, but it dissipates by the time it hits her.


    Interesting. That looks like a skill that captures and returns the force from the attacker. There''s an upper limit on it, judging by the way Naru rubs at his arms¡ªone of them looks like it might be broken.


    "Uh, Ethan?" Ahkelios asks. "I feel like we should do something about this."


    "I do not believe I have recovered sufficiently for this," Guard mutters. He looks more annoyed than he does frightened, though.


    "Dealt with them before?" I ask.


    "Naru visits occasionally," Guard grunts. "I do not have all my memories of him, but he''s... troublesome."


    "I bet he is." I let my Firmament flow into my core, channeling a skill I haven''t had the chance to properly test. Distorted Crux.


    The Seedmother was too big for the skill to really show its strengths; the most it could do against it was allow me to dodge its projectiles. It doesn''t help that like my other rank S skills, it consumes a ton of Firmament to keep it going.


    But I don''t need to keep it going for long.


    Versa launches herself toward Naru again; this time, I step in her way, and she begins to slow down. She realizes what''s happening quickly, but not quickly enough¡ªshe has too much momentum to change directions quickly, and more importantly, I don''t think that''s what her skillset is based around.


    Speed and quick, rapid blows. Distorted Crux trumps whatever Speed skill she''s using. There''s not much you can do if time itself is slowing down around you, and the closer she gets to me, the more time slows. I take a step closer, hiding my grimace at the way the Firmament draw increases; judging by the way she begins to wince, I''m guessing she''s draining her own Firmament trying to defend against the skill.


    She can move more than most would be able to, but this is still more than enough for me to catch her by the wrist. Her gaze flicks up to me, evaluating.


    "Fine. I surrender." The words come out slow and distorted. Naru tries to take advantage of my hold on her, because of course he does¡ªI feel him gathering energy for a massive blow that would not only take her out but probably half the village with it. I levy a glare at him.


    Tarin, meanwhile, hits him with a wing. "Stop!" he squawks angrily. "You blow up village again!"


    Naru stops. Good. I''m not sure I have the Firmament left to deal with that.


    I can already tell dealing with this fight in every loop is going to be a pain.


    <hr>


    A tentative, uncomfortable truce follows. Versa doesn''t leave¡ªshe seems to recognize that her presence is making Naru uncomfortable, and she''s enjoying that. In fact, she sits herself as close to him as possible, practically leaning on him despite his attempts to bat her away.


    "Are you sure she isn''t going to try to kill him again?" Ahkelios whispers to me. I glance at them, then shake my head.


    "I think she''s having more fun making him uncomfortable right now," I say dryly.


    "Sure am!" Versa says cheerfully. She crosses her legs on the log she''s sitting on, places one hand on Naru''s shoulder, and balances precariously in a semi-lean that makes the massive crow tense up.


    "I feel sorry for him," Guard comments.


    "Naru said you have a grudge against him," I say. "What''d he do?"


    "Oh, you know." Versa shrugs, but there''s a nasty smile in her voice that tells me she knows I won''t like whatever she''s about to say¡ªwhich is interesting, because she shouldn''t know anything about me yet. "Killed some people I consider under my protection."


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "I didn''t know they were under your protection," Naru growls out.


    "Not an excuse, featherbrain," Versa says with a shrug. "You know how I operate. You should''ve looked out for my mark."


    "Do I want to know why you felt justified killing people?" I ask, rubbing my temples. Naru glares at me.


    "I maintain a strict border around my city," he says. "If you trespass, I take care of it. Simple as that."


    "You''re an idiot," Versa says. "Just say what we all know; it''s an opportunity for credits for you."


    "The credits are a bonus," Naru says, which isn''t a denial. "I don''t allow trespassers. Everyone knows it. It''s on them if they enter the city borders without getting approval."


    "What, approval through the process your draconian guards force on everyone?" Versa rolls all four of her eyes. "Spare me. I don''t think they even bother submitting half the reports. In fact, I wouldn''t be surprised if they pretend people are approved just so they can watch the slaughter."


    Naru stiffens. "They wouldn''t do that," he argues, but wow is it obvious he doesn''t believe what he''s saying. So much so that Versa doesn''t even bother with a response.


    "I no longer feel sorry for him," Guard says.


    Yeah, I''m with Guard; I take back my sympathy for him. It''s amazing he can say that and still claim to care about the loops killing Hestia, which is admittedly my main concern at the moment. I haven''t forgotten the claims Hestia''s Heart made to me all the way back in the Quiet Grove.


    That it''s dying. That it needs help. That the planet is filled with echoes of past loops. Ahkelios is one of them, and many of the monsters I''ve encountered, I suspect, are similar distortions. It''s been a while since I''ve tried to establish a Temporal Link with any of them.


    Maybe I should.


    Tarin and Mari already know about all this, given the looks they''re giving their son. He withers a little bit under their disapproval, but he also isn''t apologizing. Mari makes a noise of irritation low in her throat before going back to cooking; Tarin looks at Naru with an expression that''s somewhere between angry, disappointed, and sad.


    I rub my temples. "Okay," I say. "I''m going to put that aside for the moment, because as much as I''d love to argue with Naru, I''m going to have to do it every single loop, and that sounds exhausting."


    "Can''t disagree with you there," Versa says cheerfully.


    "I already argue with him a lot," Tarin says. "It not work. He stubborn."


    "I am protecting my city." Naru''s words come out as a growl.


    "I need to know more about what you said," I say, ignoring the exchange. "You said the loops are killing Hestia. And about it dying even faster without the Integrators. Versa¡ªis that true?"


    "Yep," Versa says with a shrug. "Honestly, the only reason I didn''t kill you right off the bat is because I need to talk to you about that. Who knows if you''re going to be in the same spot next loop."


    That''s... a dangerous thing to admit. I raise an eyebrow at her. "You think you could have?"


    Versa smirks. "Fifty-fifty. I would''ve enjoyed the challenge. Too bad I wouldn''t remember it. Now that I have a better idea of what you can do, maybe sixty-forty."


    "Bold claim," I say. I don''t mind it; better to be underestimated than overestimated, and with her loop privileges denied, I''m going to have the information advantage eventually. "Why is Hestia dying?"


    "Why are you asking her for answers?" Naru bursts out. "I''m the one that told you about this!"


    Is... is Naru really getting jealous over who I''m asking for information? I stare at him. Versa does, too. All of us do. He shrinks back a little bit under the collective force of our gazes, but tries to keep his chest puffed out.


    "Okay," I say. "Why is Hestia dying, Naru?"


    "Because," Naru says, floundering for a moment. "It''s¡ªthere''s been too many loops. You''ve seen all the echoes from the past loops, right? The monsters."


    "Sure." There''s quite a lot of them on the way to the Great Cities, although I rarely stop to fight them. Most of them aren''t very interesting challenges, and the few that are aren''t usually worth the slog to get to. Or are just disgusting.


    "There aren''t supposed to be so many monsters," Naru says. "But the more loops there are, the more echoes arrive. And the more... we call them Tears, but the Interface calls them Hotspots."


    I frown. A Hotspot is where I first met Naru. I remember completing one of them¡ªit''s the one that gave me access to the Empty City¡ªbut it hadn''t struck me as anything significant at the time. "Why Tears?"


    "Because they keep getting bigger," Versa says. She leans back against a manufactured web of Firmament. Naru glares at her, but she continues, unphased. "Like a tear in the fabric of space. It''s hard for us to track things across Trials, because we don''t get to keep our memories of previous Trials. But there are a few tricks. Marks we can leave to check on things, basic information we''re allowed to retain."


    "And the reason you''re talking to me about them?" I ask. If Versa is bringing this up to me specifically, then it''s because she thinks there''s something I can do about them¡ªmore than what she and the rest of the Hestian Trialgoers can do on their own.


    "We can close the Tears with some effort, but we aren''t officially part of the Trial," Versa says. "It''s not as effective when we do it, and they get bigger from loop to loop, not just Trial to Trial. The Integrators keep them somewhat in check, and we can use our notes to keep an eye on them. But thanks to you, we don''t have access to that anymore."


    "I''m not apologizing for that."


    "I don''t expect you to." Versa seems amused more than anything. "And frankly, most of us are still going to attack you on sight. Fun fact: killing you? Worth a lot of credits for us."


    Of course it is.


    "But we''re technically aligned in purpose for this," she continues. "If we want to properly close a Tear¡ªat least for your Trial¡ªwe''re going to need your help. So what do you say, Trialgoer? Care to close a Tear or two?"


    "What happens if I don''t?" I ask.


    "Well, I''d threaten to hunt you down, but it''s not like I''d remember to do that." Versa hums to herself. "But you don''t want those growing too big. It''d affect your Trial. And judging by the way you''ve been protecting people, you don''t like it when your Trial hurts people, so..."


    She''s not wrong. I sigh. I have a bit of time between each Ritual stage in the dungeon, so this seems worth pursuing.


    "Fine," I say. "If you have a Tear¡ª"


    "Me first," Naru interrupts. "There''s a Tear near my city. I need you to get rid of it."


    I stare at him. Versa just shrugs; she doesn''t seem to care one way or another, as long as the Tears are getting closed.


    "If I''m going to help you close your Tear," I say, "then you''re coming with me."


    That way, I get to learn about everything Naru can do. And maybe find out more about what''s going on with his relationship with Tarin and Mari. There''s a few things there that seem... unspoken. Not that I''m planning to act as bird-therapist.


    My thoughts are interrupted by a loud declaration of "Food!" from Mari. She dumps a selection of plates in front of all of us. "Eat," she says. "I not know what you do, but eat first. Then go."


    She looks at me, and something in her seems to soften. "I not remember you," she says, but she bows her head slightly. "But you protect husband. And Hestia. Thank you."


    I offer her a small smile as I take my plate.


    Hestia told me it was dying. Whatever these Tears are, I suspect they''re just a symptom. Like with everything else, I''m going to have to dig deeper.


    Maybe Kauku will have some answers. I feel the Knight stir within me at the thought. The rest of the Inspirations are there, waiting for me to take them. All I have to do is be strong enough to receive them.


    The Tears can be a start while I wait for the Empty City to finish whatever it''s doing.

 161 — Book 3, Chapter 20 — In Which a Very Important Misunderstanding is Addressed

    Before I leave, I pay a visit to Virin. I haven''t forgotten the way he helped me out with imbuements, and it''s because of him that I was able to fix He-Who-Guards. It''s because of him that Isthanok''s casualties weren''t... well, significantly worse. The research he wants me to help with is a small price to pay in comparison, even if I haven''t kept up with it as much as I should have.


    This time, though, I notice something I haven''t noticed before. I can feel the imbuement within the stone through my Firmament sense. More importantly...


    "This thing has a Strength skill in it," I mutter in surprise.


    It''s not a weak Strength skill, either. My ability to parse Firmament constructs isn''t so advanced that I can immediately tell what skill it is, but I can at least tell what level of complexity it''s at. As far as I can tell, this thing is at least a rank A skill. Maybe even higher.


    "Interface skill?" Virin asks immediately, leaning close in interest. His daughter plays around near the back of his hut, uninterested in what we''re doing.


    "No. Well, I don''t know," I admit. I''ve encountered skills outside the Interface frequently enough that I''m starting to wonder if they originate with the Interface at all. "Maybe. But it feels like a Strength skill."


    "How you know?"


    "It''s hard to explain." I quite literally don''t have the words to explain it, and even if I did, Naru''s waiting for me outside¡ªI don''t really want to unveil all the secrets I''ve discovered right in front of him. "I only figured it out recently. You''ll have to trust me."


    "I trust!" Virin says firmly; I have to laugh a bit at his enthusiasm. He''s never failed to be incredibly excited every time I tell him we''re working together on this.


    Now. How to go about this...?


    Knowing that it''s a Strength skill is helpful, but it doesn''t solve the entire problem. Skill constructs are still vastly more complicated than I have the capacity to understand. But I can compare the construct to the ones I have in my soul and get a better idea of where the input mechanism is supposed to be.


    There. On the left side of the stone, where a series of whorls are inscribed. I aim a trickle of Firmament into the center of those whorls.


    Almost immediately, I can tell that this isn''t quite right. The good news is that it partially works¡ªI can feel Firmament being projected out of the stone, a solid brick of force that knocks over one of Virin''s chairs with a clatter and startles his daughter, who immediately flies up into her nest.


    "Whoops," I say, embarrassed. "Sorry."


    The bad news is that that''s all I get out of it. The slight misalignment of Firmament is enough that the whole thing disintegrates after. I expect Virin to be disappointed, but instead, he''s practically hopping up and down with excitement.


    "It work!" he exclaims. "You make it work!"


    "Well, partially," I say, holding up the dust. "It still broke after."


    "But you can fix next time, yes?" he asks, clutching my hands and staring at me with wide eyes that look remarkably like a puppy''s. I laugh.


    "Yes, I''m pretty sure I know what I did wrong." Too much Firmament, for one thing¡ªthis thing isn''t designed for a third-layer practitioner¡ªand for another, the real activation spot is a little bit to the left of where I''d tried. And here I''d assumed ''center of the whorls'' was a safe bet. "We''ll get it next time."


    "Yesssss." Virin looks delighted. "We finally figure out! Now I can learn. Make more!"


    "You can make more of these?" I ask.


    "Yes." He nods, incredibly sure of himself. "If I can use? I can make again."


    Oh. Oh, that''s valuable. Dangerously valuable. If the Disconnected are making vials that grant skills to people, if the Trialgoers are after ways to grant Interface skills to regular citizens... this might be the safest and most replicable way to use skills yet.


    I say nothing. We can talk about this properly when Naru isn''t around. "We''ll talk more next time," I promise.


    Virin bids me goodbye with an excited hug before he runs to the back of his hut to play with his daughter; I can hear her squealing in delight as he swings her around, and I chuckle a little to myself. He really does love imbuements and everything related to them.


    Naru, of course, spoils the mood as soon as I exit the tent.


    "You done?" he asks. His voice is a low semi-growl, like I''ve tested his patience with this little detour.


    "Nope. Need to get some supplies for the trip," I say casually, more to mess with him than anything else. Naru makes a frustrated noise.


    "You are wasting time," he says.


    "Yeah, I was just kidding." I grin. One thing about the changes to my body ever since that second and third phase shift¡ªI haven''t needed to eat or drink nearly as much as before. Even without access to the Empty City to serve as storage for food and drink, I''ll be fine for this little detour.


    "Oh." Naru blinks, apparently thrown off by the joke. "Well... fine. I''ll lead the way. You better keep up, Trialgoer."


    "My name''s Ethan, you know."


    "I don''t care." Naru refuses to look at me. "I''m not even going to remember that next loop."


    Well, he''s got a point. I glance around, looking for He-Who-Guards and Ahkelios; the former is off trying to recover as much as he can before the trip, and Ahkelios is with him. There''s something he wants to try to help with Guard''s recovery process, apparently? I don''t know the details.


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    "They''re near the river," Naru grunts at me.


    "Huh. Thanks," I say absently.


    I find them talking quietly in a quiet corner of the village¡ªnear the river, just like Naru said. Ahkelios is seated on Guard''s knee, staring out at the nearby river and leaning back against the automaton''s hand. From what I can hear, Ahkelios is asking Guard about Hestia. About what it was like before the Trials.


    I cough politely to get their attention.


    "You guys ready to head out?" I ask. Ahkelios glances up to me first, hopping off Guard''s knee and flying to my shoulder.


    "Yep!" he says cheerfully.


    "I am ready," Guard says solemnly. He gets to his feet a little slower than he normally might, but the Firmament within him is swirling as strong as ever; looks like he''s mostly recovered.


    Versa isn''t with us, which I''m quietly grateful for; Naru I can deal with, but if Versa decides to turn on me while I''m dealing with a Hotspot, it''s going to be irritating at best and disastrous at worst. She gives me a codeword I can use¡ªI''m somehow entirely unsurprised she has one¡ªand tells me the code means we''ve agreed to work together.


    Somehow, I don''t believe her. She''s exactly the type of person that probably has a half-dozen scenarios embedded into her codewords; she''s just using me as a replacement for what the Interface is no longer offering.


    It''ll be an interesting game to play, and we both know it. If I use her system as intended, it gives her the information advantage; if I figure it out, though, it gives me the advantage. The gleam in her eyes tells me she knows exactly what she''s doing.


    For now, though...


    "Let''s go, then," I say. "Naru? Lead the way."


    <hr>


    There''s a solid five minutes where I''m pretty sure Naru is testing us¡ªgoing as fast as he can to see if he can lose us, not because he actually wants to lose us, but just to test himself. To see if he can.


    Unfortunately for him, Warpstep is more than capable of keeping up, and Guard''s ability to just fly above most of the forest and terrain makes up the difference as far as speed goes. He''s forced to slow down eventually, and even though he doesn''t say anything, I can see him breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath.


    "We can take a break, you know," I say, mostly to break the silence.


    "I don''t need a break." Naru sounds affronted. "How weak do you think I am? I''ve made this trip dozens of times."


    "I need a break," Ahkelios quips.


    "I mean, if you need a break..." Naru says. I turn to stare at Ahkelios, perched snugly on my shoulder; he stares back up at me, a mischievous little grin on his face.


    I sigh. If it works...


    Naru clearly does need a break. I''m not sure what skills he used to try to blast ahead, but it drained a pretty significant portion of his Firmament; if I had to guess, he''s misusing a skill that isn''t actually intended for speed. A Strength skill, maybe? He''s certainly left behind a trail of destruction. I''d be concerned about it if not for the fact that everything will be reset in the next loop anyway.


    "Let''s take a break, then," I say. We come to a stop¡ªNaru a much harder stop than the rest of us, in the sense that his landing digs a trench into the ground. He comes out partially covered in dirt and mud, and shakes himself violently to get it off.


    I put up a Crystallized Barrier. I''m not dealing with all that. Guard promptly steps behind it as well.


    The ensuing silence is awkward. Naru pants, chest heaving, as he tries to gather himself; I watch him for a moment before inclining my head toward a nearby pond.


    "There''s some water over there, you know," I say. He blinks at me as if only just remembering that I''m there, and mumbles the most awkward ''thank you'' I''ve ever heard before trudging over and dunking himself in.


    Steam rises from the water, along with a not-insignificant number of bubbles. Whatever skill he used generated a lot of heat, too. Must''ve been uncomfortable.


    When he emerges, Naru looks... well, wet. But also a good deal calmer than he was before. He doesn''t quite look me in the eyes, but he appears to be considering something for a while. I wait for him to speak.


    "You said..." he starts, and then he falls silent again. It''s another moment before he gathers himself enough to speak. "You said my father was dying and I didn''t care."


    "I did say that." I remember the moment quite clearly.


    "Why did you care?" There''s a bitterness in his voice, and something else I can''t quite place. "Your Trial is a time loop. It''s not like lives matter to you. You can just kill people and take their credits. Isn''t that what you''re already doing?"


    "First of all, no." I don''t quite manage to keep the disgust out of my voice. "That''s horrific. I wouldn''t be able to do that and stay sane."


    Naru blinks at me like he doesn''t understand. "You''re lying," he says. "You''re too strong for someone who doesn''t farm everyone and everything around them."


    Farm? Even the wording makes a thread of revulsion coil through me. In a way, I''m glad¡ªit''s proof the loops haven''t managed to change me the way the Integrators have no doubt been hoping for.


    "My memory is not perfect," He-Who-Guards interjects. "But I have some memory of the loops. He has not done this."


    "What¡ª" Naru shakes his head. "You just haven''t seen it, that''s all! You weren''t there for every loop. I bet he''s even killed you once."


    "Not on purpose," I say dryly. I did push him into the Fracture, but in my defense, he''d been attacking me at the time.


    "It was not on purpose," Guard agrees. "However, Ethan, if it would help¡ª"


    "No, Guard." The thought alone is distasteful. There are better ways to gain credits. I don''t get that many from fights that don''t present some sort of challenge, for one thing. "And second, Naru, I wouldn''t have said he was dying if it was just a normal loop-related death. He''s died in the loops before."


    "What..." Naru trails off. For the first time, I see what looks like realization in his eyes. "He was actually dying?"


    "I''m realizing in retrospect that I don''t think I actually clarified that he was dying a permanent death," I mutter. "You know about the loops. You thought it was temporary?"


    "I don''t know what I was thinking," Naru says. He looks suddenly lost again. "But... probably. They weren''t supposed to..."


    Well, now I feel a little bad.


    Kind of.


    I probably could''ve at least clarified before punching him.


    "There was a Raid on the village," I say quietly. "Tarin was dead at the end of it, and the Interface is supposed to make deaths during raids permanent. He managed to fight it off, but it left him in a coma, slowly dying to the Interface."


    "But he didn''t die," Naru says. "He fought them. And won?"


    "With some help," I say. I wonder if I should let him know his presence in the Hotspot that held Tarin''s cure nearly meant his father''s permanent death.


    Probably not. He looks like he''s going through a lot, judging by the look on his face.


    "You saved him," Naru says.


    "I helped." I shrug. The crow stares at me, looking¡ªfor once¡ªvery, very lost.


    Eventually, he shakes his head. "Let''s get going," he says. His voice is quieter than it usually is. "If your friend has had enough of a break."


    "Ready to fly!" Ahkelios gives him a thumbs up.


    To my surprise, Naru actually gives him a small smile.

 162 — Book 3, Chapter 21 — Carusath, City of Fire and Brimstone

    The city Naru rules is apparently called Carusath. The name''s familiar to me¡ªit''s the one Tarin cried out when he was pretending to be working for Naru, back in Isthanok¡ªbut what I wasn''t expecting is how hot the place is. We''re not even in the city itself and I can feel the heat radiating out from the literal crater the city is built in.


    "You live here?" I ask in disbelief. Naru glares at me.


    "And?" There''s a note of challenge in his voice.


    "Just... nevermind." I shake my head. I''m not going to get into it with him. I prefer my climates cold, but considering Naru can apparently boil a pond just by diving into it, I assume he has a different relationship with heat than I do.


    My gaze lingers on what little of the city I can glimpse over the edge of the crater. It doesn''t look like it''s the most well-maintained place¡ªthe buildings are full of cracks, each one looking like they''ve been haphazardly pieced together from broken and crumbled stone. They''re kept together only barely by plugs of golden Firmament that seal the cracks together.


    There''s the sound, too. It doesn''t sound like any city I''ve ever been to. Isthanok is loud and bustling, and even the crow village is often filled with the chatter of the villagers. Carusath, by contrast, sounds... angry. The few voices that rise far enough out of the crater to reach me sound violent, and my Firmament sense confirms bursts of power that feel like people fighting.


    No surprise that the city looks half-destroyed, if this is the norm. I glance to Naru to see if he''s at all concerned about it, but he doesn''t seem to care.


    "We''re not here for you to tour the city," Naru grunts, noticing the look I''m giving him. "You can sightsee some other time."


    "That''s not exactly what was on my mind," I say dryly. "There are people fighting down there. Aren''t you worried?"


    Naru gives me a blank look. "Why should I be?"


    "You''re not worried about people fighting in your city?"


    "Not if they have a good reason for it." Naru shrugs. "They can do what they want. It''s not my job to stop them."


    He-Who-Guards makes a strangled-sounding noise. I spare him a glance¡ªhe''s clearly trying to hold back his commentary on this, and not entirely succeeding.


    "And what exactly is your job?" I ask.


    "Paperwork. Making sure trade is in order. Hiring guards." Naru seems faintly irritated by this line of questioning. "Don''t you know anything about running a city?"


    "Do you?" I ask.


    I''m not even trying to needle him. It''s an honest question, at this point.


    "It''s running, isn''t it?"


    I sigh. Clearly, this particular line of questioning isn''t going to go anywhere. Even Ahkelios looks affronted, and I don''t think he particularly cares about the intricacies of running a city.


    "The Tear is just ahead," Naru says with a grunt. I glance at the Hotspot Tracker in my Interface¡ªit''s been a while since I''ve pulled it up, but it''s working as well as ever. Thankfully, being disconnected from the Integrators hasn''t removed any features for me, just... reorganized them.


    "Looks like half of it is intersecting with Carusath''s borders," I note. It''s right on the edge of the crater. Now that we''re close enough, I''m able to run my Firmament sense along the borders, and what I feel makes my breath stutter for a moment.


    Versa and Naru aren''t wrong. This thing feels like it shouldn''t be here. The name Tear is an accurate one¡ªit feels like something''s ripped a hole through the fabric of Hestia and blown it wide open into an entirely different time and place. A wound left behind by a cosmic meteor.


    The analogy makes me wince. It''s... unfortunately apt.


    "That''s why I need you to get rid of it," Naru half-growls the words, like he hates saying the ''I need you'' part of that sentence. "I don''t know how much it''s grown, but I don''t let anything touch my borders. So if it''s grown this much then I''ve missed it for several loops."


    "Because you can stall it but not remove it," I mutter. "But I can remove them?"


    "They''re part of your Trial," he says.


    "That''s not the full picture." I step closer to the Tear, examining the edges of it; the sensation makes my skin prickle, like a part of me is physically reacting to this border etched into the world.


    It reminds me of... The Empty City''s final logs described something like this, didn''t they? I vaguely remember the mother who wrote those logs describing a dome manifesting around their city¡ªone that became solid over time, trapping anyone left within.


    "It is," Naru insists.


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    "Don''t forget," I say. "We aren''t connected to the Integrators anymore. My Interface reverted to the default, same as yours." I don''t need to mention the ANCHORED HERITAGE protocol or Kauku''s involvement in it. I don''t trust Naru that much.


    It seems enough to get the point across, at least. Naru is silent for a moment. "...Your actions in the Trial are deemed more significant by the Interface because you''re the Trialgoer," he tells me reluctantly. "And your position means you''re partially exempt from time. From the loops. Even if you''re using the default Interface, completing the Tear and whatever its requirements are should reduce its influence."


    "In other words, I can affect it because I''m not a part of the loops," I surmise. Simple enough. It also means that Tarin and Guard might be able to repair some of these Tears, but without the Interface to guide them...


    It''s a moot point, as far as Tarin is concerned. I don''t need or intend to pull Tarin into any more of this. Guard is another matter entirely, as long as he''s willing; his proxies give him an advantage no one else has.


    More importantly, though, I wonder...


    I reach out with Temporal Link, and there''s a reaction.


    It''s a subtle one. Temporal Link is one of my stranger skills, even now, and the information Inspect gives me is... limited at best. The skill allows me to make a connection with things that aren''t entirely synchronous with the timestream. Its main manifestation¡ªthe ability to create a duplicate of my past self¡ªcomes from the fact that I''m out of sync with time.


    And then there''s Ahkelios. There are the monsters scattered throughout the loops, some of them echoes of past loopers. Remnants.


    And now... these. The Hotspots. Tears, as the Hestian Trialgoers call them. It explains why Naru was investigating the appearance of a new Hotspot so desperately¡ªthe Integrators must''ve been spooked by the acceleration of Hestia''s decay.


    There isn''t anything I can do with the link¡ªnot yet¡ªbut I''m willing to bet that''ll change once I do whatever''s expected of me within this Hotspot.


    "So," I say without looking up. "Does this mean I have your official approval to enter Carusath? The Tear does cross your borders."


    Naru gives me a bewildered look. "What are you talking about?"


    "Well, according to Versa, you kill people who cross your borders without permission." I raise an eyebrow.


    "I am right here. I am giving you permission." The look the crow gives me is flat, like he doesn''t understand why I''m suddenly pressing on this point. It''s probably worse since I''m doing it right outside the Tear, when he''s close to getting what he wants out of me.


    "Yeah, but I don''t have the papers. Neither do Guard and Ahkelios," I say. "I wouldn''t want to be given special treatment just because we''re friends, you know?"


    "We''re not¡ª" Naru cuts himself off mid-sentence, his expression somewhere between a scowl and absolute bewilderment. "Why are you bringing this up now?"


    "Did you expect me to forget?" I shrug. "We weren''t crossing the border before. Now we are."


    "I''m giving you permission," he grinds out through a gritted beak, repeating himself.


    "Right, right," I say. "But if this goes to court, I''m not going to have any papers to back me up. We should go through the proper channels. Wouldn''t want to give you an excuse to maul me when I''m not looking."


    Naru looks like he has no idea how to respond or what to do with himself. I''m enjoying his reaction, honestly. But I''m not just messing with him for the sake of it.


    Part of it is that I don''t really want to just let this go. Naru''s attitude toward life is so different from mine that it''s going to result in a conflict sooner or later; I need to figure out a way to get past it, especially if we end up working together for more than one loop. A Hotspot is one thing, but anything that involves actual lives, or if a Raid starts here in Carusath... I need some kind of lever I can work with, and this is my best opportunity to try to figure him out.


    The second reason is that I should still be able to use the dungeon to preserve any approval papers he signs, or failing that, replicate it with one of my Temporal Link clones. It''ll make getting into Carusath easier, if I need to do it in the future.


    The third thing I''m doing is buying time while I analyze the Tear through my Firmament sense. It''s a solid dome of Firmament through which everything looks normal, but I know from experience that stepping in will cause it to activate. If I''m going to be clearing these regularly, I want to see if there''s anything I can use from the outside to determine what''s on the inside.


    And I do.


    It''s subtle, but it''s present¡ªa pattern I''ve seen again and again now that I''ve noticed it the first time. Right at the base of the dome, buried into the rock and dirt surrounding Carusath, there''s a small, complicated structure of Firmament. Not quite an imbuement, not quite a skill, but very distinct in its overall shape: a point spreading outward.


    Strength, if I''m reading it correctly. It''s incomplete, though: instead of forming a complete construct that loops in on itself with a stable input-output pattern, the way Interface skills do, this one explodes outward into a mess that stabilizes only barely into the shape of the Tear.


    Bizarre.


    It occurs to me that this is why the Interface is so crucial to skills. Outside the example of the Seedmother''s ability to use skills and imbuements explicitly performed by Trialgoers, I''ve seen at least two examples of skill constructs going haywire without the guidance of the Interface.


    The first lies in the way Virin''s stone just falls apart of Firmament isn''t fed into it correctly¡ªI shudder to think about what would happen if that skill was embedded into a person, without the Interface to guide where Firmament should be fed into it and where it should emerge.


    The second is here, where whatever this construct originally was has exploded outward and mutated in a way that skill constructs are almost certainly not meant to mutate. It all begins to paint a picture about skills, and about the Interface''s role in managing them in particular.


    What that picture is, I''m not sure yet. But I don''t like the feeling that''s beginning to build in the pit of my stomach.


    "Fine," Naru growls. "We''ll get your stupid paperwork done."


    I smile, innocent as I can. "Glad to hear it."


    There''s a fourth reason for all this.


    It''s the placement of the Tear. It''s not just right over the border to Carusath¡ªit covers one of the few paths down into the crater, in particular a now-abandoned guard station that presumably functioned as border control. Naru might not care enough to remember, but...


    Firmament Sight does a few things for me. It lets me see Firmament, yes, but a part of that is that it lets me see the world painted in different shades. Every object, every distinctive thing has its own innate Firmament. Some things are more distinct than others.


    Like the traces of blood scorched into the dirt.

 163 — Book 3, Chapter 22 — Burned Into the World

    The actual process of getting our papers done takes only a few minutes, partially because Naru''s presence right there makes every one of his guards snap to attention. They get everything approved and signed in record time¡ªin large part because Naru is there to immediately sign them off¡ªand I tuck the papers I''ve received into my pocket.


    I do note that Versa wasn''t kidding about the guards being draconian. They are, both metaphorically and in a literal sense. They''re probably the closest thing I''ve encountered to actual humanoid dragons on Hestia. Each of them are enormous¡ªat least seven feet tall¡ªand have tails long and heavy enough to dig into the ground they walk on.


    And that''s just the men. The women are all at least nine feet tall. It''s been a while since I''ve felt this physically small, though they all give me enough distance that I can tell they''re aware which one of us would win in a fight.


    It''s almost a pity. I wouldn''t mind brawling with a few of them. Or that might be the Knight within me¡ªit''s been largely quiet within my core so far, but strangely, I can feel it stirring at the presence of these guards.


    I''ll leave them alone. I have no particular desire to start a fight, at least for now.


    I make Naru spend the next minute or two signing off on the papers of everyone else who''s waiting at the guard post. He looks uncomfortable with the process, and the reason why is clear: I don''t think he''s ever actually been down here. He sends his orders from afar and gets all the paperwork sent to him, or sometimes not sent to him, depending on how his guards are feeling that particular day. He''s never had to look people in the eye while rejecting them for entry into the city.


    Not that I know why anyone would want to get into Carusath to begin with. The place is blisteringly hot, and the sounds of fighting haven''t abated. He-Who-Guards shifts uncomfortably in place, like he wants to interfere, and I don''t blame him¡ªthe only reason we don''t is because... well, the loops would cancel out any good we do, and any problems Carusath has is systemic. I doubt I''d be able to fix its issues just with my fists, as tempting as it is to try.


    My heart breaks as I listen to the pleas, though. Because there are things about the Great Cities that I''ve been entirely unaware of until now.


    Anyone who''s part of any Great City is technically, by Trialgoer agreement, allowed to travel between them¡ªthey''re citizens of all the Cities, in effect. Of course, that''s not how it works in practice: each Trialgoer in charge of a Great City has their own arbitrary entry requirements, and even if those requirements are met, they can arbitrarily decide to veto an entry.


    Normally, travel between the Cities isn''t so common that this would be a problem. But from what I''m hearing now...


    It sounds like when the Trial started, the Integrators saw fit to shuffle civilians around.


    There''s a couple standing in front of Naru, nearly begging him to sign their approval papers¡ªthey''ve been given the runaround for days. Apparently, their child''s in Carusath. Alone. They don''t know anything about where he is or how he''s doing except that he''s here; that''s all the information the Integrators decided could be made public.


    There''s a pair of... teenagers, at a guess. I''m not great with ages, and I''m not familiar with the species. But the Interface translates their whispers for me, and I can hear what they''re saying¡ªthey''re looking for their third sibling, their older brother. For all they know, their older brother is also looking for them, but this is the best lead they have.


    Almost everyone that''s queued up at the guard post is like this. There aren''t that many of them. Ten papers to sign at most. But the reason for that, I learn, is that a lot of them have largely given up trying to get into Carusath; there are camps and villages set up outside, consisting mostly of people who hope to see their family if they happen to leave the City.


    "Why didn''t I see any of this back in Isthanok?" I murmur quietly. Naru doesn''t hear me¡ªhe''s too busy staring at the couple in front of him and doing his best to pretend he doesn''t care, as best as I can tell, even as he roughly signs the papers and barks at the guards to let them in¡ªbut He-Who-Guards does, and he responds.


    "For all her faults, She-Who-Whispers is efficient," he says. "Everyone with family in Isthanok was allowed in, or those who did not meet the requirements were allowed contact with their family so they could determine alternate living arrangements. Not all of the Great Cities are nearly as organized."


    I can see how Whisper''s skills might work to her benefit with this, too. With her ability to listen in to the entire city, it wouldn''t have taken long for her to find the families of any given person.


    "Great doesn''t seem like the right word to describe this," I say.


    Guard shakes his head. His voice is quiet, but no less resolute. "It is not."


    At least this answers the question of why people would want to get into Carusath. I glance away from the guard post, toward where all the nearby camps are supposedly set up. It''s tempting to visit, to find a way to help.


    That the loops would render any help useless is only a small comfort.


    <hr>


    Whatever discomfort I feel at the sight of people begging to be allowed into the city, Naru''s discomfort is worse. He says nothing as we make our way back to the Tear, but his mood is clearly a stormy one. Any attempt to make small talk is deflected with a grunt or with particularly angry steps toward our destination.


    It''s hard to make out what''s going through his head. I can''t tell if he''s angry that I made him go through with signing the papers or if he''s just upset with the situation at the Carusath borders. Now isn''t the time to talk about it, though, and like it or not I think I''ve exhausted his willingness to have a conversation until at least after we''ve dealt with this threat to his borders.


    So I step into the Tear. The Hotspot, as the Interface calls it.


    My senses are a lot more refined than the last time I stepped into one of these. It''s not just Firmament Sight¡ªit''s the fact that I have a much stronger version of Temporal Fragment. It''s the fact that I''m now at my third layer, my third phase shift, and my depth of understanding with Firmament is that much deeper.


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    Which means I can tell almost immediately that this Tear is a distortion of a past moment in time.


    It''s not even the first time I''ve encountered phenomena like this. It''s just that most of the time, they''re contained. As monsters, for example. Or as echoes in time, like the past copy of Ahkelios I once met. This Tear is closer to what the Empty City is, though it isn''t formed out of the death of an Integrator. It''s not a solidified memory.


    It''s just calcified time.


    ''Just''. Like the calcification of time is a simple thing. I can feel the way it digs into the Firmament around me, the way it''s eating into everything in the area like a cancer spreading in the air. Naru, He-Who-Guards, and Ahkelios all follow me into the Tear, and as they do, it seals itself around us, almost like it knows we''re here.


    The traces of blood on the ground I saw before? They begin to rise.


    It''s a subtle thing at first. No real change in the Firmament around us, but wisps of energy begin collecting, begin solidifying. I watch it silently, waiting for the Tear to give us its challenge.


    The first one I encountered was what allowed me to obtain the Color Drain skill. I remember the way color oozed out of everything within the Tear, collecting into pools of iridescence on the ground; I remember the way those pools reacted to Firmament by turning into monsters that threw themselves at me. I remember the obelisk at the center of the Tear, sending out ripples of expanding Firmament that acted like a timer. The longer I took, the more of those pools would turn into monsters and attack, and the more those expanding ripples threatened to reach and obliterate me.


    This Tear is different. The Firmament collects into the pools of blood and slowly begin to expand. Naru takes a step forward, his feathers bristling and a growl beginning low in his throat, but I reach out a hand to stop him.


    These aren''t our enemies. Not yet.


    "Are you sure they''ll let us in?" An older teen talking to his mother. It''s a specter made out of blood and time, another species I don''t quite recognize. He looks a little bit like a spotted gecko, if I had to make a comparison. His mother''s hand rests on his back, and although she looks nervous, she doesn''t let it come through in her voice.


    "I''m sure they will," she says quietly. They''re waiting at the ruins of the guardpost¡ªand as I watch, more Firmament begins to rise from the dirt, and the building itself is reconstituted before our eyes. It''s made out of a reddish, translucent Firmament, just like the people in front of us.


    "Dad''s in there, right?" the teen asks. "Dad and the baby?"


    "Yes, little one." Her hand rubs the back of his head gently.


    The scene fasts forward. I have a sneaking suspicion I know what this is. There''s a certain poetic justice to it, and yet...


    "You don''t have approval," a guard tells her. He''s wearing a smirk on his face¡ªit''s clear he doesn''t actually care. I begin to walk closer, Ahkelios sitting on my shoulder and watching with a solemn look on his face; Guard and Naru follow me, the former with resolute steps and the latter with no small amount of uncertainty.


    "But you said the papers would be signed," the mother argues. There''s a note of desperation in her voice¡ªshe looks noticeably thinner than before, and her son isn''t there with her. I notice him leaning against the wall just outside of the guardpost, half-curled in on himself.


    "Naru''s a busy guy," the guard says with a shrug. "Can''t expect him to get your papers signed immediately."


    "What is this?" Naru hisses at me. I raise an eyebrow at him.


    "Haven''t you dealt with this Tear already?" I ask.


    "I do not have access to my notes," he growls. "I don''t remember dealing with it."


    "Obviously," I say.


    Guard''s already walking over to the guardsman''s desk. I''d had the same thought, but I let him rifle through the papers himself. This might be a Firmament simulation, but everything that''s here has undeniably happened. It might not be precise, though. I can feel the way Temporal Link chafes against the Tear, the way a multitude of different scenarios are condensed into one.


    This specific mother probably doesn''t exist. Neither does that specific child, or that specific guard. But a variation of this has happened often enough across loops¡ªacross Trials¡ªthat it''s been etched into time.


    The Tear is just repeating it. Taking the excess Temporal Firmament floating around and funneling it into the grooves of this particular scenario.


    Which is why I''m not surprised at all when Guard pulls out a set of papers that very distinctly resemble both the mother and her child, shoved into a corner of the desk and entirely unsubmitted.


    "We should kill them and get this Tear over with," Naru blusters defensively. I can feel him gathering Firmament.


    "Do that and I''ll kill you," I tell him calmly. Pointedly. Naru stares at me, taken aback by the threat¡ªI''ve yet to threaten him properly even once. Even when we were making our way here and Naru made some not-so-subtle remarks clearly meant to needle me, I took them with grace.


    But not now, not here, and especially not in front of all this. I''m not going to help Naru play into his delusions. He believes he isn''t responsible for all this. Even now, I can practically feel the gears in his mind turning, telling him that this isn''t his fault, that the guards didn''t submit the papers.


    He knows what''s going to happen next. What we''re going to see next. I bet it''s the whole reason this Tear keeps expanding¡ªbecause Naru keeps playing into it, following the narrative he''s previously created, killing all the blood specters the Tear spawns as if that''s the solution to the Tear.


    There''s only one problem.


    "Please," the mother tells the guard. "Just¡ªcheck on our papers, at least. Or tell my husband that we''re here. We can''t make the trip back to Nisi. We don''t have enough supplies."


    "Not my problem," the guard shrugs. "There are merchants on the outskirts. You can get some supplies from them."


    "We gave you all the money we had for the admittance fee!" the mother protests.


    Then I see a flash of a knife. I sense the movement of the Interface. I feel the Tear''s atmosphere become suddenly oppressive as the Firmament within it thickens into a slurry.


    Premonition flickers¡ªdull at first, then a blaze of warning. "Guard!" I bark. He realizes what''s happening the same time I do and darts to my side a second before I construct a Crystallized Barrier in front of all of us.


    Even with all that skill has grown¡ªeven with me pouring a third of my Firmament into it, even with me explicitly using the fight against the Seedmother to empower it¡ªit cracks against the force of a single knife.


    The mother stares at us, her eyes suddenly ablaze with Firmament.


    As I''ve said, there''s only one problem. I can feel it now through the power of my Temporal Link, through the connection it''s made with the Tear.


    Killing the blood specters is what it wants. Because the Trials are made not only to test us, but to warp us. Because if I play its game and close it, I etch its history further into time. It may not reappear in any of my loops, but it will for the next Trial set on Hestia. Or when I win, and the Trial ends.


    But I have a Truth, don''t I? One that''s baked into the second layer of my Firmament. I''ve refused to be defined in almost every other way so far, but in that belief I am unshaken.


    It''s worth being kind. Even when the logical, rational thing to do is to play the game. To slaughter the monsters, take my points, and ignore the blood I leave behind.


    I pledged back then to gain enough strength to choose kindness and mercy and still drag victory from the jaws of all the disadvantages that may grant me.


    Which means I''m going to have to find a way to do things my way.


    I''m going to close this Tear for good.

 164 — Book 3, Chapter 23 — A Crucial Question

    Back when we were still on the way to the Tear, Ahkelios asked me a question. It rings in my head even now.


    "Why do you care?"


    It''s an interesting question.


    ¡ª


    "Because I have to, I think," I answer. It''s not a perfect reply, but it''s the best one I can give.


    I know why he''s asking it. Ahkelios hasn''t said anything about it directly, nor has he allowed them to leak through our shared connection, but I know him well enough by now that I can sense the way his doubts have been ringing around in his head. Whatever happened in the Empty City, whatever it is that spoke to him¡ªit''s left an impact.


    How that impact was left on him is another question entirely.


    Ahkelios doesn''t seem satisfied with that answer. There''s a hint of frustration in the way he responds, something that almost verges on anger. He clenches his fists before forcing them to relax, worried that I''ll notice. "What''s that supposed to mean?" he asks, trying his best to control his voice.


    I glance at him, and he shifts uncomfortably under my gaze. Neither of us say anything, but something unspoken passes between us, and he looks away after a moment.


    I sigh. "Are you asking me about that last phase shift?"


    "The... second one. Yes. But not just that." He''s a little more hesitant now when he responds. Ahkelios is well aware of what drove me through that phase shift. Of the way I chose to shape my future. "I kind of understand, but I don''t understand why it matters so much to you."


    The words come back to me. They''re not hard to find¡ªthey''re written into my Firmament now, a promise I''ve made for the direction of my growth.


    To gain enough strength to define a future of my own. To make choices without allowing fear to define them. To choose kindness and mercy and compassion and weather all the risk that comes with them, because victory without them is not a victory I accept.


    Ahkelios wants to know why this matters so much to me, and he''s not the only one.


    Within me, the Knight stirs, suddenly interested in this conversation. I can feel it... resonating, almost. Like it agrees with the thought. There''s a shift within my soul where the Inspiration resides, and it''s suddenly a little more aligned, like something''s begun to click into place.


    But it wants to know more, just as Ahkelios does.


    Why does it matter indeed.


    I have an answer, but the memories that come with it aren''t the most pleasant ones. "I guess I''ve never really talked about it," I muse. I roll the thought around for a moment, then shake my head slightly. "I''m going to have to work through my thoughts on this, so bear with me."


    "Don''t I always?" Ahkelios tries to joke, flashing me a grin he doesn''t really feel. I snort dryly.


    "No need to pretend, ''Kelios," I say. He falls silent. "I''ve never put it into words before, but...


    "I think kindness is a choice." It takes me a second to find those words, but when I find them, I''m more certain than ever. "And it''s a choice you have to keep making. Just doing it whenever you feel like it doesn''t cut it. I used to think it was¡ªI figured I could just be nice when I was in the mood for it. As long as I''m nice more often than I''m not, what does it matter, right?"


    Ahkelios frowns, watching me for a moment. "Something happened?"


    "You could say that." I close my eyes briefly, feeling the wind on Hestia rush past me as we race toward Carusath and its Tear. "Yeah. Happened years ago, mind you. I don''t know how much of this will make sense to you, but there was an... altercation at my school. Kids bullying other kids¡ªnot exactly unusual. Normally I would''ve stepped in, done something, but I was having a bad day."


    Not that I remember why anymore. Funny how that works¡ªso many things seem minor in context. So many things I just don''t bother remembering.


    "Which was the one time it went wrong, of course." The memory''s distant enough now that I don''t keep kicking myself over it, but it makes me clench my teeth all the same. "Kid was pushed, hit his head on a corner of a table. I stepped in then, but it was obviously too late at that point."


    "Did he..." Ahkelios trails off mid-question.


    "Not for a long time," I say. "Hospital kept him alive for a while. But yes."


    There''s a pause there.


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    "I don''t understand," the mantis admits after a moment. "I mean, I guess that explains why you feel like you have to do something, but what about the rest of it? Why''d you let Whisper go?"


    I shoot Ahkelios a look. "What makes you think I let her go? She ran away."


    "You could''ve killed her before then," he says. "During the raid, even."


    "I could have, I suppose," I say. "While she was helping us hold the asteroid back. And if it went wrong, how many more would have died?"


    "And after?" he asks.


    I don''t answer for a moment. Truthfully, there''s a part of me that''s glad that Whisper ran before I could make that decision. I''m not sure what I would have chosen.


    "He forgave them," I say eventually. "The ones who hurt him. He made us make sure the school didn''t punish them too hard. Made me promise I wouldn''t try to hurt them. Not for what happened to him, anyway."


    "I don''t know if I could''ve kept that promise," Ahkelios says doubtfully. I snort in response.


    "Believe me, I almost didn''t," I mutter.


    "But you did?"


    "For the most part." The memories are strong even now. "One of them really did figure things out. He''s trying to become a doctor. We stay in contact. It''s hard to forget what he did, but he also saved my life at one point. I guess he felt like he owed me."


    "And the others?"


    "One''s just... living a normal life. Hate the thought of it, I won''t lie, but she''s not out there hurting anyone. Third one''s in jail, though."


    Ahkelios raises a brow. "You sound really happy about the third one."


    "Because I got to punch him." I grin a little. "I''m not a saint, ''Kelios. I don''t think I was supposed to enjoy it or anything. But he didn''t really get any better¡ªthe whole thing just kind of made him even more messed up. He crossed one too many lines, and I happened to be there, so..."


    I hit him hard enough to knock out a few teeth and stun him. It''s a good memory. But it''s not the memory that lingers the most¡ªit''s the first kid, the one who went out of his way to help me out when my life started falling apart.


    "The point is that people can change," I say. "I don''t advocate for mindless mercy and endless compassion. There are lines you can cross. But giving people a chance? It was important to my brother, so it''s always going to be important to me."


    Ahkelios doesn''t respond, and it takes me a second before I realize what I said.


    I wince. Admitting that part still hurts. I hadn''t known who it was at the time, but...


    "That''s what mercy is for you," Ahkelios says quietly. "A chance to change?"


    "Simple as that," I say with a nod.


    And the Knight grows warm within me.


    It''s heard my words, and it''s made a decision. Ahkelios gives me a startled look¡ªhe can feel the sudden change within me as much as I can¡ªbut I''m too focused on what''s happening within me to pay him much mind.


    The Knight... relates?


    No. It believes. It believes in the same thing I do, and more importantly, it''s now sure about the promise I made to it.


    I won''t abandon it. Not if it''s at all within my power. It''s not the kind of person I am. It knows now who I abandoned, who I failed, and it feels the conviction I do to never let it happen again.


    The Inspiration clicks into place, settling within my soul, and I feel the essence of my Firmament change.


    Not a lot. Just slightly. Just a faint, metallic tinge that empowers me. But it''s noticeable.


    And Ahkelios groans, burying his face in his hands. "Why can''t you just be a jerk," he mumbles, mostly to himself. Then he sighs. "Ethan, I need to tell you something. The thing about the Remnant in the Empty City. I think it¡ª"


    "Wants you to betray me?" I raise an eyebrow.


    The mantis grumbles, looking away. "I don''t think... I don''t think I should absorb it. I can feel the influence it has on me, Ethan. If I absorb it, I''m going to want to keep that power, and I''m going to want to stay independent."


    "And?" I ask. Ahkelios blinks at me.


    "Ethan, it wants me to betray you!"


    "I know." It''s not like I didn''t know that from the start, even if I didn''t know the specifics. "And I want you to have independence from me, Ahkelios. The Interface shouldn''t control you."


    "Neither should my past self!"


    "So don''t let it." I grin at him. "Come on. I''m pretty stubborn. Surely you''ve picked up some of that from me?"


    Ahkelios stares at me. "You cannot be serious."


    "Do you trust me?" I ask him.


    "I..." he says. And then he nods. "I mean, after this? It tried to tell me about how you don''t let me in or whatever. But you do. I just never asked. So... yes. I trust you."


    "Then trust me when I tell you that if you do let it turn you into a jerk, I''m going to beat it back out of you," I tell him, smirking at the aghast look he gives me. "Just like I trust you to stop me if I let the Trials corrupt me."


    That''s the reason I''m giving Whisper a chance, really. When it comes down to it, that''s the reason I''m giving Naru this chance as well¡ªthe reason I''m taking the time to figure out how he thinks, why he does what he does.


    Mercy means nothing if I don''t put in the effort to make it work. The Trials are built to corrupt their participants. To make them greedy, easily-controlled puppets for the Integrators.


    And I''m pitting myself against that machine. Turning myself into an agent of change. That''s why change is my Truth.


    Because I won''t let things stand the way they are.


    It''s strange. I don''t think I would''ve figured all this out if Ahkelios hadn''t forced me to put it into words. Now I know why I believe what I believe. This may have driven me before, but it''s not something I knew consciously.


    Now I do.


    "Naru is really going to test that belief of yours, though," Ahkelios says, injecting a lighter note into his voice.


    "Heh. You''re telling me." I glance at the crow, who is rather pointedly pretending the other three of us don''t exist. Good thing he can''t listen in on our conversation. "Well, this is just the first loop with him. We''ll see how it goes. I can''t say I''m expecting much, though."

 165 — Book 3, Chapter 24 — Compare and Contrast

    The dagger the mother threw at me clatters to the ground, useless; the barrier I called up dissipates back into raw Firmament. She stares at us, her eyes still burning Firmament, but the more I look at them the more I see them for what they really are.


    Cracks.


    Cracks that run from her eyes and down her face like glowing tears. She''s an echo of an echo¡ªan imprint left behind by countless copies of countless people put through the same tragedy over and over again¡ªbut that fact makes her no less real. The emotions that made her are all visible in the color of her Firmament.


    Red for blood and anger. Blue for misery and tragedy, swirled through her form. Powerful because she''s the culmination of so much that has happened, though still not beyond me.


    And yet for all that power... trapped.


    "Just let us through," the mother pleads. "Don''t make us do this."


    The cracks on her face bleed blue, trickling down to her neck. She''s following a script, not actually reacting to me.


    I respond anyway. I can''t help it.


    "I would if I could."


    She doesn''t¡ªcan''t¡ªhear me. It''s not me she''s pleading with. It''s the specter of a hundred different guards, each one denying her entry into the city with her family; it''s the specter of a hundred different guards that watched her starve. She looks at us like we are those guards, the ones stopping her from getting through. Even when I try to step aside, she turns to track me.


    The rules are clear. The Tear wants us to kill her.


    I wrack my mind¡ªhow do I change the outcome of all this? I could use my Talent, could try to Anchor a change... but now that I know what that power is and what it involves, trying it could very well kill me. I wouldn''t just be trying to change this situation, I''d be trying to change every time this has ever happened, across every single loop and Trial.


    That''s not an option for now. Not until I''m a lot stronger and more confident in my ability to Anchor, and that''s going to require more of Kauku''s teachings.


    Something else. Something different. What options do I¡ª


    "Ethan!" Ahkelios calls out, his voice panicked; I glance up just in time to see Naru launch himself toward the mother, and I bite back a curse. Idiot bird.


    He has to know as well as I do that the mother matches him in strength. If I had to guess, his past attempts at closing this Tear through the loops might not have worked at all; maybe that''s the reason it''s as big as it is. I open my mouth to yell at him to come back until we''ve worked out a plan, but he''s already locked in a fight with her.


    For a moment, at least. Then the mother lets out a low cry, picks him up, and tosses him, throwing him several feet away and making him crash into the guardpost with a squawk.


    I groan. The timing of it couldn''t be worse, either; shortly afterward the draconian man at the guardpost also turns toward us, his eyes glowing with the same Firmament I see in the mother''s. It''s not quite the same in presentation, though. The cracks grow along the ridges of his brows, bleeding angry crimson.


    "I''m not letting you through," he growls. "You lot are so entitled. You think you deserve to get in, what, because you have family in Carusath? So what? I''ve got family in Isthanok, and I''m here doing my job. You should''ve stayed where the Integrators put you."


    No point responding to him. Just like the mother, he looks straight past me. He also moves with enough speed to put a dent in the ground¡ªI doubt Naru''s actual guards are this strong, but this one''s being empowered by the Tear, more a concept of a guard than an actual guard.


    Premonition activates just in time to tell me the mother is attacking, too, two more daggers appearing in her hands. Too much going on, and Naru''s attacks are ineffectual. I need time to think.


    Crystallized Barrier. I form them along my forearms like a makeshift gauntlet, deflecting both of her intended blows and kicking her in the stomach just hard enough to push her back; she staggers, but not as far as I expected.


    No matter.


    Guard intercepts his border guard counterpart with a well-timed shoulder charge, knocking him off-course and stealing his attention. Ahkelios buzzes between the two of us, trying to decide what to do, who to help.


    "Check on the kid," I grunt at him. Ahkelios''s eyes widen, and he flies off.


    The kid in question still just leaning against the side of the guardpost, as far as I can tell. He''s curled up into himself, looking frailer and thinner than a child should ever have to look. I want to reach out to him, but I don''t have time; my attention is on defending myself against the mother, and on making sure Guard doesn''t die to... well, to the other guard.


    Naru, thankfully, doesn''t require any additional attention; he''s lying on the ground and bleeding from a stab wound, but it shouldn''t be fatal. He seems more stunned than anything.


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    Ahkelios can handle this. The problem isn''t that I can''t defeat these blood specters¡ªboth the guard and the mother are strong, but not so strong that I can''t beat them if I wanted to.


    It''s just that I don''t want to.


    The problem here is bigger than what the Tear wants me to think it is. So I''m relegated to defense, and my offense is stronger than my defense, unless¡ª


    Unless.


    I turn my focus inward. "Let''s take this together," I tell the Knight.


    The Inspiration stirs and responds. Approves.


    My previous attempts at using the Knight have always been painful. The transformation itself is one thing¡ªhaving my bones evert out and turn into armor is, in simple terms, among the worst pains I''ve ever experienced.


    But there''s an understanding between us now that''s more than what we''ve ever had before. Ever since that conversation with Ahkelios, ever since it learned more about who I am and the way I think, it trusts me.


    It''s not that the pain goes away. It doesn''t. But the Knight takes on its share of the pain, this time¡ªsuffers through it with me.


    And when we act, it''s with perfect synchronicity.


    The mother lunges at us again, a desperate, all-or-nothing attack; she throws everything she has into it, her daggers shining with cutting Firmament that would have torn through any of Naru''s real guards. In fact, I''m certain it would have torn through Naru himself. It deflects off my new armor harmlessly, though, the impact of my reinforced bones and the Inspiration turning it into little more than a glancing blow.


    The Knight and I lean down and draw her into a hug.


    She''s much smaller than I am with the Knight Inspiration running. I''m not exactly short even without it¡ªbut with it, she barely comes up to my chest. The hug is a little awkward, in part because she''s fighting against it and trying to cut through my armor, in part because I''m just not used to moving around in this body. I have claws I have to be careful to tuck away and more strength than I know what to do with.


    But eventually, her struggles slow. Her cries of anger and distress turn to quiet sobbing.


    "You can''t hear me," I say quietly. Not just me, in fact¡ªboth me and the Knight are speaking, our voices and intent folded together as one. "And you''re not real. Not really. But we''re going to fix this."


    "I just..." the mother starts¡ªthe Firmament fades away from her eyes, and this time, when she looks at me, I get the impression that she might actually be looking at me. That she''s speaking to me, and not just playing the role she''s been given in the Tear. "I just want it to end. I want us to stop suffering."


    There''s something different in her Firmament. This is...


    Her eyes are intelligent. She''s not looking past me. She is speaking to me. And now that I''m paying attention, there''s a small, subtle change in the Firmament around us, a fissure in which a tiny fraction of my power has been buried.


    "Knight," I start. "Did you¡ª"


    "Your strength is mine, as much as my strength is yours," the Knight responds calmly. "We cannot change all that has happened. But we can give her the power to see it and change it for herself."


    "I remember," the mother says quietly. Is ''mother'' the right word? Even as we speak, I see her form changing, becoming more nebulous¡ªbecause she isn''t just a mother. She''s everyone that''s ever been stopped from seeing their family at this guardpost. "Every time we weren''t allowed to go in. Every child that died. Every dead husband, every missing wife, every starving child."


    "Was this the right thing to do?" I ask the Knight. "Because remembering all this... it must be torture."


    "One must have their memories in order to truly anchor a change," the Knight responds. "Do you not feel as much when it comes to your little friend?"


    Ahkelios, huh?


    He isn''t wrong, I suppose.


    "We''re going to end it," I promise the mother quietly, though I''m not sure that''s the right descriptor anymore. I reach into my pocket. Naru''s approval papers are still there, and they''re technically signed to my name, but that doesn''t really matter when it comes to something like this.


    This Tear is largely symbolic. To break its routine, I need a symbol.


    "Here," I say, pressing the papers into her hand. I feel her fist closing around it, and she looks up at me; something hopeful and determined shines in her expression.


    I can feel the Tear protesting. The whole thing strains around us, the fabric of it beginning to buck and rock. I''m going too far off-script.


    Good.


    He-Who-Guards is still fighting the other guard, and a hug isn''t exactly going to stop him, but it''s the principle of the matter. The mother pulls away from me and stands, then takes several steps toward them; He-Who-Guards disengages as soon as he notices, hopping back several steps to join me.


    The guard stops.


    It''s almost surreal to see it. He takes the papers in a mechanical, jerky way, like he doesn''t want to but the script of the Tear is forcing him to. It has to follow the rules it''s established.


    Slowly, she begins to move to collect her child. Ahkelios is still talking quietly with him, though I don''t know what they''re talking about; whatever it is, though, it seems to work. The kid straightens, and he looks up toward his mother, reaching up for her hand¡ª


    And Premonition triggers. The Tear trembles, something within it ripping itself free. I can feel it being channeled through the guardpost. The entire structure rips itself free of the ground, the red Firmament it''s made of wavering and becoming something blackened and twisted. A malformed version of Temporal Firmament spiderwebs through it, and it melts together into a shape that''s only vaguely humanoid.


    I''m watching a monster form. The thought comes to me suddenly. This thing gives me the same impression as all the monsters I''ve fought¡ªthe Guilty Chimeras, Broken Horrors, the Elegies and Laments from the raid on the Cliffside Crows. Is this how they''re formed? One of the ways they''re formed?


    Either way, this thing is powerful.


    But it doesn''t target me. It doesn''t target the mother, nor her son, nor the guard. It doesn''t target Guard or Ahkelios.


    Instead, it launches a blade of pure, destructive Firmament straight at Naru¡ªone poised to cut straight through his core.

 166 — Book 3, Chapter 25 — Crumbling Truth

    Naru was sure he was going to die.


    He wasn''t even sure how he''d gotten into this situation. Why he''d gotten into this situation. Going back to the village and seeing his pare¡ªseeing Tarin and Mari, of all things? That was wildly out of character for him on its own.


    But then he''d run into the Trialgoer. Why the Trialgoer had even shown up in his old, dinky little village was beyond him, though he supposed he shouldn''t have been surprised. Of course Tarin had found a way to involve himself in the Trial. But to have the Trialgoer show up right then and there?


    And the old crow had somehow become part of the loop! That... that was unheard of. Wasn''t it?


    Naru didn''t exactly have a complete record of what happened across the Trials. He knew what the Integrators told him and whatever he was allowed to keep in his notes between them. That was about it. He knew, for example, that he''d been getting credits for his participation and help, although he was pretty sure there were diminishing returns as the Trials continued. He knew he''d done a number of odd jobs off-planet in return for a variety of trinkets he was allowed to keep.


    But he was pretty sure no one had uncovered a way to keep their memories across loops.


    Maybe if he saved enough credits, he''d find a skill that let him keep his memories, but the amount he was getting now was almost negligible. At this rate, it was going to take months for him to snag the next rank S skill.


    Not that he was ever going to get that opportunity.


    That blade was taking a long time to kill him.


    It was the worst part of his primary Reflex skill, he decided. Time of Your Life had looked so good when he selected it¡ªhis Integrator had nudged him toward it, told him exactly how it functioned.


    The more deadly an attack, the more the skill would speed up his mind and reflexes. An A-rank skill with the potential to give him near-infinite time to process and react to any given attack.


    It was an excellent skill on paper.


    In practice, it meant that when he was caught in a situation like this¡ªwith an attack coming too deadly for him to survive and too fast for him to dodge¡ªall he could do was stare at it and think.


    Ruminate.


    Reflect.


    No, he decided. If anyone had uncovered a way to keep their memories across the loops, he would have known about it, and Hestia''s time as a Trialgrounds would have ended a long time ago. Even if most of the Hestian Trialgoers were on board with the Integrators and their plan, there were a few that would be more than willing to help the Trialgoer just so their planet would be released from the loops.


    Which meant, what, that his father had managed to accomplish something that none of them had ever done? The thought of it was ridiculous. Even Teluwat, with his ability to manipulate Firmament with his words, couldn''t find a way to insert himself into the loops.


    Naru carefully ignored the fact that Teluwat was definitely the type of person that would hide the knowledge, even if he''d figured it out.


    But Tarin had?


    If Ethan was telling the truth, he hadn''t exactly done it on purpose. The only reason he was alive at all was because Ethan had gone out of his way to rescue him, and that rescue had somehow included him in the loop. Naru had no idea how to replicate that particular success.


    Not that it mattered. He was going to die.


    He didn''t even know how he felt about it.


    There were a lot of things Naru had fucked up in life, if he reflected back on it. It wasn''t something he liked to think about a lot, but he had plenty of time to do literally nothing but that right now.


    All the time in the world meant nothing when he didn''t have any Speed skills that could move him out of the way in time. It meant nothing when he didn''t have Durability skills that could tank the enormous blade of Firmament threatening to tear him apart.


    And all his Inspirations were focused on offense, more fool him. He could practically hear Tarin in the back of his head scolding him for his choices.


    He wondered where he would go when he was dead. Mari believed in the Light in the Sky, but after his exposure to the Integrators and Firmament, Naru wasn''t sure anymore that there was any such thing. The closest thing he''d ever encountered to a soul was his Firmament.


    Which meant his soul was about to get torn apart. It moved slowly, inexorably toward him. Ethan wouldn''t help him¡ªwhy would he?¡ªand even if he wanted to, the power of this thing was beyond anything he''d ever faced. He hadn''t even fought anything like this in his own Trials. Ethan was far stronger than he should have been, but...


    Naru snorted. The human would get some credits for his death. He was technically part of it, after all. Whatever idiotic thing he''d done to trigger this, he''d caused Naru''s death, in some small way; the Interface would reward him for it. Maybe he''d even planned it out this way, although Naru couldn''t imagine how Ethan could have planned it.


    No, wait. He could. It made perfect sense¡ªEthan had simply run the loops again and again, explored this particular Tear and figured out what made it tick. Fought it enough times to figure out how to trigger whatever this monstrosity was, and then coordinated things so that they''d agree to "fight together".


    Naru had to admit, it was a clever plan. Devious.


    It also meant Ethan definitely wouldn''t save him. He was probably strong enough to do it if he really wanted to, but Naru couldn''t even see where he was; he seemed to have disappeared after summoning some sort of... armored metal construct? He had no idea what kinds of abilities Ethan had. They all seemed ridiculous.


    Funny thing was, he was actually starting to like the human, which annoyed the hell out of him in his own way. Ethan was far too understanding for his own good. Naru wasn''t stupid¡ªhe was well aware they''d taken a break specifically for him when they were on their way to the Tear. He''d overstrained his Firmament trying to stay ahead. But Ethan and his companions had made an excuse for him. Saved him face.


    It was more than Tarin and Mari had ever done for him. Every time he made a mistake, every time he fucked up... right there on display for all the world to see.


    He wasn''t ready, they told him. They wouldn''t give him their Firmament because he was unprepared for that kind of power. Because he''d bullied some other, lesser crow, or something like that.


    And then he''d been pulled into the Trials.


    With none of the power he needed.


    If they''d just trusted him¡ªif they''d listened to his apologies, if they''d just let him have even a fraction of the power they''d promised him¡ªmaybe his Trial wouldn''t have been such a nightmare. Maybe he wouldn''t have had to spend the entire first floor of the tower being pushed around by people taking advantage of him.


    He had to claw and fight his way to every single advantage he had. He had to take the dirty route¡ªkill people when they were already weak and starving, to make sure he got the credits he needed to grow stronger. If he''d just had the power to begin with, maybe he wouldn''t have had to.


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    Whose fault was it really, that he''d turned out like this?


    Naru knew what they all thought of him. Tarin and Mari thought of him as a disappointment. Even the other Trialgoers considered him a weakling¡ªhe''d come out of the Trials with the least progress in his Firmament and only a handful of powerful skills to his name. His Inspirations were still strong enough that he could go toe-to-toe with them for a short while if he absolutely had to, but he was by far the weakest of them all, and he hated it.


    Stronger than everyone else, though. Stronger than Tarin and Mari. Strong enough that he could''ve taken over the village by force, if he''d wanted to¡ªmake it a part of the Great Cities.


    He didn''t want to. Part of him wanted to... try. To fit in again.


    And then he''d tried to save a crow, and the force of his strength had utterly crushed that crow against the cliff.


    And Tarin and Mari had demanded he learn to control himself.


    Part of him knew that it was a reasonable demand. They hadn''t even blamed him for the death¡ªnot as much as they could have. They''d held a funeral for the crow that died, and explained to him that the amount of power he had was as much a curse as it was a blessing; he needed to learn to control it so he wouldn''t hurt anyone else...


    But all Naru heard was the same criticisms he''d heard all his life.


    Control this. Learn to do that. Fit in with everyone else and follow the rules he was now clearly above. It hadn''t been like that back in his Trial¡ªonce he was strong enough, people listened to him. He made the rules.


    So he left. Carusath was the perfect place for him. The Great City respected strength above all¡ªnot strength of wit and cunning, not strength of strategy, but raw, destructive strength. The Integrators had offered rule of it to him, and all he needed to do was step up and claim it.


    On the first day, he proved himself. Crushed every single one of the draconians that would have disobeyed him, that tried to challenge his rule. They became his guards, the ruling caste of the city.


    And the rest of it, he just... didn''t care. What did it matter? He''d proved himself right, and his parents wrong: he could rule without any of their rules. Carusath was fine.


    Except Ethan had proved it wasn''t.


    Naru knew, on some level, that he wasn''t aware of everything going on in his city. Of course he wasn''t¡ªhe couldn''t be. No leader could be apprised of everything that happened at every moment, except maybe someone like She-Who-Whispers, and she was an exception and a perfectionist of a sort that scared even him. But he hadn''t known how bad it had gotten.


    Was that true? He stared at the blade coming for him.


    No. It wasn''t.


    Some part of him had known. But the bureaucracy was an insulating layer for him. He didn''t need to deal with all the people that wanted to enter or leave Carusath; he would''ve preferred not to deal with it at all. All the "paperwork" he dealt with? More or less just requests handed to him by the draconians for infrastructure and projects he didn''t really care about.


    There were fights out in the streets every day. Ethan had even pointed them out. Naru vaguely recalled something about a cleanup crew that worked to clean up messes that resulted from those fights...


    And then there was all of this.


    If he was alone in the Tear, Naru knew what he would''ve done. They were all largely combat-oriented challenges. He would''ve killed the mother and her son as soon as they appeared¡ªthey were just Firmament ghosts, anyway, they didn''t count as people¡ªand then the guard, too, The Tear would have closed and he would have been granted somewhere between ten to fifty credits, spread across the stat categories, depending on how he performed.


    That wasn''t what Ethan had done, which surprised him. These were just specters. What did it matter?


    Why did Ethan help the mother? Why did watching her make him feel that terrible, twisting sensation in his gut?


    That was why he''d attacked¡ªto shut her up. He didn''t want to think about it. Didn''t want to think about everything that had been happening under his nose. Didn''t want to think about the relief in the eyes of the remarkably similar-looking mother and child he''d signed the papers of back in the real guardpost, at the real station, when Ethan made him sign those stupid papers.


    Then she''d whipped him away with more force than she should have been capable of, dagger buried in his stomach.


    When did he become so weak? Had he always been?


    The light in front of him grew brighter. His Reflex skill wouldn''t last much longer. This thing would tear through him and his Firmament, and not even the twisted nature of Hestia''s time would be able to bring him back. It needed something to work with, after all.


    Naru closed his eyes.


    And the light... stopped.


    So did his skill.


    He opened them again. The metal creature Ethan had summoned stood in front of him, holding the deadly blade of Firmament in¡ªin a single hand. What was... when did...


    "What?" he croaked out loud. His voice was hoarser than he imagined. Ethan''s summon had saved him. How did it even¡ªhow was it holding that thing? That thing would''ve killed even Versa. Even some of the stronger Trialgoers, if he had to guess. The raw Firmament pouring out of it, the way it twisted everything around it, the feeling it gave him deep inside his core, like he was hopelessly outmatched...


    The same feeling he''d had when his Firmament touched Ethan''s. The feeling he told himself he''d imagined.


    The creature spoke. "You okay?" Ethan asked.


    That was Ethan?


    "Why would you..." Naru felt the question die as he asked. Had he not been lying about not just... killing everyone for points? Did he actually save people? Had he actually saved Tarin?


    If he had, then how was he this strong?


    The metal creature¡ªEthan¡ªrolled his eyes, or at least gave off the impression of it. Naru couldn''t see much more than a flicker of golden-blue light in the helmet''s eye-slits, but he still felt the disdain.


    "You''re an asshole," Ethan told him bluntly. "But one, you''re under my protection."


    He threw the blade of Firmament to the side. Discarded it. Like it wasn''t a weapon that could kill Trialgoers.


    "Two," Ethan said. "I think, as much as they pretend otherwise, Tarin and Mari would miss you."


    Naru felt a pang. Would they? They hated him. He hated them.


    But he''d gone to them when he didn''t know what to do. Because he knew, in some way, that if he really needed the help, they would give it to him. Oh, they would give him all kinds of shit for it, but it wouldn''t stop them from helping him.


    Naru was a proud crow, but he wasn''t so proud he couldn''t admit something as basic as that. Not after watching all his preconceptions get torn down like this.


    Ethan bent down. Naru felt a surge of Firmament that pushed all the way down into the third layer¡ªthird. That was... if skills didn''t come into play, Ethan would crush almost all the Trialgoers except maybe the top two. And that wasn''t taking into account whatever this transformation was.


    Ethan held out his hand.


    "Three," he said. "I make sure everyone gets a second chance. The Trials are built to change you into someone the Integrators can control. You can decide otherwise. But you''re gonna have to make that choice, not me."


    Naru stared.


    He took Ethan''s hand. Got to his feet, slowly. The monster behind Ethan seemed barely real. Not in front of the human whose presence cracked the Firmament around him.


    "I''m not in the loops," Naru said. "I''m not going to remember this. Even if I want to, I..."


    His voice trailed off. Did he want to? He''d always said he didn''t want to fight the Integrators. That it was impossible.


    It didn''t feel impossible anymore. This felt impossible. Maybe his calibration of what was impossible had always been off.


    "I know," Ethan said. The monster behind him roared, and Ethan glanced up. "I have to deal with this first. Don''t die."


    "I won''t," Naru said numbly. He didn''t even know if it was true.


    He stared at the blade of Firmament still on the ground. The blade strong enough to cut into his core.


    Tarin remembered the loops because a fragment of Ethan''s Interface had gotten stuck in his core, if he understood the story correctly.


    Naru knew two things.


    One, if he remembered the loops, he would be an outcast again. This wasn''t something that could be repeated. The other Trialgoers would despise him, despite this being something that they''d been trying to do themselves. The Integrators would never trust him or any of the other Hestian Trialgoers that managed to do this. The loops were part of how they were controlled.


    Two, if he let himself forget this, he''d never be anything more than what he was now.


    And in front of Ethan, all he was now felt so... petty. Empty.


    Naru walked over and picked up the blade. He had no idea what he was about to do.


    But he also couldn''t remember the last time he''d ever wanted anything as much as this. The last time he''d wanted to change. The last time he''d cared.


    No. He did.


    When he was a child, he remembered telling Tarin and Mari he wanted to make all the crows in their village as happy as could be. He remembered the smiles they''d given him¡ªbright and warm and unconditional. He remembered the small party they''d had, with only two or three friends, and how at that time in his life it felt like the biggest and most important thing he''d ever been a part of.


    He stared at the Firmament blade in his hands. Slowly, his grip tightened.


    He''d carve this damn memory into his soul if he had to.

 167 — Book 3, Chapter 26 — A Stitch in Time

    My mind is still whirling, but I don''t have the time to dissect exactly what it is I''m looking at¡ªnot when it''s full of corrupted Temporal Firmament and powerful enough to completely erase any person it kills. Best as I can tell, it''s a literal manifestation of the Tear, a collection of all the fear and anger that created it in the first place coalescing into a creature intent on killing.


    No surprise that it targeted Naru first, considering he''s responsible for all of Carusath.


    More to the point, if this is one of the ways the Trial''s so-called monsters are created...


    I think back to all the times Temporal Link and its variants have allowed me to connect with a monster. To the glimpses I catch of past moments every time I do. I haven''t tried doing that for a long while, and part of me now dreads what I might find when I do¡ªthese Tears are collections of tragedy, misfortune, and poor circumstance. It''s no wonder every memory I''ve seen has ended badly.


    Now''s not the time to linger on those thoughts, though. Now''s the time to figure out what to do and how to fight this. I feel the Knight''s presence pulse within my core, a silent and subtle assurance of support. It pulls my Firmament into an amplified version of Quicken Mind that guides my thoughts on the rails of its experiences.


    Assess. What are my immediate concerns?


    Naru''s safe for now. I can''t tell what he''s doing back there, but I can''t afford to care¡ªPremonition doesn''t so much as tingle in his direction, and that''ll have to be good enough for now.


    Guard is standing by, his systems on full alert. I can hear the quiet hum of his engines as he analyzes the situation, but for the most part, he''s waiting for my direction. Good.


    The mother and her child, on the other hand...


    The Tear''s trying to reclaim them.


    They''re a part of it, technically. Specters of Firmament that were created for the express purpose of fulfilling a role. And yet they''re more than that¡ªor the mother is, at the very least. The change we Anchored into her makes her independent enough to understand and strong enough to fight, and she''s fighting with everything she has.


    Protecting her son.


    "You will not take us," she says through gritted teeth. "This... must... end."


    No more suffering. I can hear the song of that determination in her Firmament. She clutches her son close, holding him like he''s all she has left. Their Firmament wavers like a candle in the wind, small flecks flaking off and tearing away.


    But then Ahkelios is there, flitting between them, reinforcing their Firmament. He catches those stray wisps by drawing on Firmament Control, binding it back with them, keeping them whole.


    "Any time now, Ethan!" Ahkelios yells. "We can''t keep this up forever!"


    "I know!"


    There''s one last important factor here¡ªone final thing to take into consideration.


    The monster isn''t complete yet.


    It''s powerful. It''s almost too powerful¡ªthe amount of Firmament it controls is far beyond the supposed difficulty of the Tear. That doesn''t mean it''s too powerful for me, but it''s strong enough that it''s dangerous. I can''t afford to make mistakes.


    I flex my claws briefly, feeling a flare of pain lance down my arm. Even with the upgrade from my newly-indestructible bones, that thing burned. It ate halfway into my palm before I managed to muster enough Firmament to stop it, and that was with Amplification Gauntlet boosting it.


    Even now, the effort the Knight and I expended just on that defense spreads through us like an ache, a warning that we won''t be able to defend against those hits indefinitely. Two or three more at most before our Firmament is exhausted and we''re forced to split again, by my estimation.


    The good news is that they''re not something it can fire off at will either. It looks just as exhausted by the strength of its own attack. It sways slightly, slowly, ponderously forcing itself back into an upright position, the chaotic turmoil of its Firmament briefly settling as it recovers.


    That''s the only reason it hasn''t followed up yet. It''s taking time to recharge, to draw on every scrap of Firmament it can from the Tear.


    It''s why it''s trying so hard to reclaim the two stubborn beings of Firmament that refuse to rejoin it. It needs them to be complete. To become whole.


    I can''t let that happen. Allowing this monster with the ability to erase people from the loop to coalesce right next to a populated city would be nothing less than catastrophic.


    More importantly, though? That tells me what its weakness is.


    "Guard," I say. "Can you make sure the perimeter is safe? I don''t want any stray shots getting into Carusath."


    "Of course." Guard nods at me, Firmament flickering in his core. I can see his concern, but he''s already moving into place. "Be careful, Ethan."


    "I will."


    Amplification Gauntlet. Crystallized Strength.


    The problem with this monster is that it''s enormous, and without it being fully formed yet, it''s not obvious where to hit it. The more I try to figure that out, the more confusing it is¡ªI see glimpses of tails and tendrils half-present in the Firmament around it, a cloud of possibility still trying to decide what it''s supposed to be.


    But if I know that it needs to make itself whole, then I have a target.


    I launch myself up. For the first time since we''ve fully aligned ourselves, I call on Firmament Control and push the skill through the Knight Inspiration. The character of the skill changes¡ªwhere it would normally let me control Firmament at a distance, it now becomes a part of my armor.


    More importantly, at least for me, the Firmament in front of us becomes something solid. Something real.


    Something we can tear into.


    My claws latch into the half-formed monster. It reacts, trying to throw me off, but before it can, I call up a second Amplified Gauntlet that transforms my other arm. Both sets of claws dig into its not-quite-flesh, and I feel the threads of Firmament Control digging itself into its body. Enhanced like this, I don''t have particularly great control of any Firmament I''m not in contact with.


    Once I am in contact with it, though? That''s a different story.


    I pull.


    I combine the force of my will with that of the Knight, and although the monster does everything it can to resist, it''s not enough. Not when the skill is Inspired like this and enhanced by the sheer force we''re pouring into it. We can''t reshape the entire thing at will, but we can take full control over a massive chunk of it¡ª


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    ¡ªthe monster roars again in resistance, trying to throw us off, asserting everything it can of itself against us¡ª


    ¡ªbut it''s no use, and we


    rip


    it


    out.


    <hr>


    Temporal Link activates. It''s a subconscious activation more than it is an intentional one¡ªeither that, or it''s the Knight reaching out through me and using the skill in my stead. A tether snaps into place between my core and the chunk of Firmament we just tore free, and a vision slams into me, overtaking my senses.


    "I just need to see my son." An older man stands at the guardpost. He clutches tightly at his staff, and though he doesn''t say it, I can see how weary he is. I can feel it, too. I can feel the ways his knees creak with age and overuse, can taste the curve of his thoughts.


    He''s been hiking for miles to get here. His stomach is emptier than it should be. There are a dozen unspoken ailments, a dozen fears and hopes.


    His words are kind, though. His voice is gentle. He doesn''t push. He''s seen too many people get turned away from the guardpost already. He hopes that his approach will make all the difference. He hopes that waiting for the next shift will bring him a new guard more sympathetic to his cause.


    To his credit, the draconian guard does seem to be. "Was he transported here before the Trial, sir?" he asks. "Do you have his name?"


    "Hykari Solva," the older man states. The guard nods at him, retreats into the back to find some papers¡ªthere''s some quiet shuffling, the sound of a drawer being opened, and then a loud thunk of metal. The man''s heart sinks; he knows what this means, knows what the results will be before the guard even returns.


    "I''m sorry, sir," the draconian says when he emerges. There is, notably, a partial dent in his helmet and a hint of frustration in his eyes. "I can''t find any of his records. Maybe come back tomorrow?"


    "I will try again tomorrow," the older man says.


    But he knows he will not. He has tried for long enough, and he has seen the fate of others who wait. Better to try to sneak past and make it in himself, as futile as it might be.


    He almost makes it, too. Just a step away, hope rising in his heart.


    And then he ends.


    <hr>


    It''s bleeding. The monster roars in pain and swipes at me, more to force me away than anything else; a light hop back takes me out of range. It staggers to its feet, weaker but not yet dead. A waterfall of liquid Firmament¡ªmore than should be possible¡ªpours from the new, jagged wound that leads from its shoulder down to its stomach.


    I''m not entirely sure what I just witnessed. A memory? Or a past event, more accurately. One of many that must have come together to form this Tear. The emotion of it all still clings to me like a cobweb, and I struggle to shake it off.


    It''s not the first time I''ve connected with an echo of the past like this. It''s always been involuntary¡ªglimpses of events I can neither control nor change. A part of me takes a moment to grieve. Another part of me wonders: if Temporal Link allows me to view the past, even in a limited way such as this...


    The monster steals my attention again before I can complete the thought.


    Wounded or not¡ªweaker or not¡ªit''s no less deadly. I feel the sharp spike in Firmament that indicates it''s attacking before I see it, and this time, it spins, trying to throw its death-scythe through the weakened barrier of the Tear and into Carusath.


    Not just a single scythe, either. There''s one blazingly powerful blade, and then a dozen or so lesser ones. I Warpstep in front of the biggest one and grab hold of it with Amplified Gauntlet, gritting my teeth at the pain and flinging it into the ground. Guard is in the background dealing with the others, blasting them away with Firmament or constructing a shield to stop them.


    I see a brief flicker from him, a half-formed circuit of Firmament in the air before he lets out a low curse and stops, but I don''t have time to spare to see what he''s trying to do. I''ll have to trust him to take care of the rest.


    I charge at the monster again, launching myself into the other shoulder and tearing away another chunk of Firmament.


    This time, I''m prepared for the activation of Temporal Link. I try to guide it¡ªto search in a sea of past moments for something that might be able to help. Something I can use.


    And it works. I snag on something familiar. I''m almost immediately aware, as the vision begins, that the person I''m witnessing isn''t just a civilian trying to get into Carusath.


    It''s a Trialgoer. Not a Hestian Trialgoer, but someone that went through this specific Trial and lost.


    Someone like Ahkelios.


    <hr>


    "You need to let them in," a younger girl says. I can''t pinpoint her exact age, but from the feeling I''m getting in the vision, she can''t be more than twenty. I glimpse wings, the edge of a familiar face; it takes me a second to remember. It''s been a while.


    This is the harpy. The same harpy that raided the crow village back in my very first loops, only here, she''s completely different. There''s none of the sadism I witnessed in her Remnants, none of the cruelty, and certainly none of the desire for destruction. She''s actually trying to help them.


    "We already told you, ma''am, they can enter once Naru signs their papers," the guard on duty responds. He sounds bored.


    "Except Naru''s never going to sign their papers, because you haven''t even submitted them." Her response is confident¡ªshe''s been through this before. How many loops, now? She walks past the guard, sidestepping easily when he tries to stop her, then ducking under his next attempt at a grab, then hopping over his low sweep of a kick. She pulls open a drawer, retrieves a sheaf of papers, and flourishes them. "See? Never even submitted."


    I wince. She''s trying too hard to prove her point. I''m not sure what her greater goal is or if she has one, but I already know what''s coming.


    She looks surprised, somehow, when the spear tears through her chest.


    <hr>


    The vision fades before I can grasp at more. Part of me is frustrated¡ªa few moments more and I would have been able to figure out more about her Trial, about her loops, maybe something about where her Trial ended. But it''s a proof of concept, if nothing else; Temporal Link might be even more valuable than I thought.


    I wonder what Gheraa sacrificed to give it to me.


    An angry roar draws my attention, but the monster is weaker than ever now. Its grasp on its Firmament is weak, and even its attempts to reintegrate the shades of the mother and her child are now easily defended against. It tries to fight still¡ªfires off one last attack, a scattershot blow at everything and everyone around us¡ªbut I cut through the most powerful ones and Guard defends the city from the rest. The final few smash uselessly into the dirt.


    And with the last of its energy spent, I can reach down and just... tear its head off. Unravel it with Firmament Control.


    The final vision is smaller than all the others. There''s not much left for me to find¡ªtoo much ripped away, too much fading with the Tear. I watch it anyway.


    <hr>


    "Ma, do you think we''ll ever see da again?"


    "Of course we will."


    There''s an aching hunger in them both. Not nearly enough food. There are fed and healthy guards nearby that make it a point to never look in their direction, make it a point not to care.


    "Little one... we''re going to run for it. Understand?"


    "I thought we had to wait for the papers, ma."


    "I thought we did too." She hugs her son close. "I''m going to hold you, okay? Don''t look up, whatever you do."


    "Okay, ma."


    They run, desperate footsteps across the soil. The mother glances behind herself¡ªit doesn''t take long for one of the guards to take notice and give chase. There''s an angry shout¡ª


    ¡ªa sudden crash¡ª


    ¡ªand, to my surprise, a crow that intercepts the spear meant for their hearts.


    "Not these ones," Naru says. There''s an odd note in his voice. A mixture of uncertainty and anger. I don''t think he fully understands why he''s doing this, why he''s putting himself in the line of fire for people he considers trespassers.


    But I do.


    It''s a start.


    ¡ª


    I know it''s dead before I even see the body, thanks to the Interface. I dismiss the notification¡ªI''ll take a look at it later.


    More importantly, the Tear is slowly fading away. The mother takes her child by the hand and slowly walks toward the border of Carusath. It might be symbolic, but I can feel the relief in the Firmament all around us.


    "Thank you," she says, just before she steps over the border. "For ending the cycle."


    The approval papers I gifted her flutter to the ground. She and her son both slowly begin to fade, and I can feel their Firmament... for lack of a better word, it''s repairing the Tear. Pouring into the cracks of time and helping it heal.


    It''ll take time, but this Tear won''t be a problem in the future. I lean down to pick up the papers and pocket them.


    "Uh... Ethan?" Ahkelios''s tone of voice tells me there''s a problem. I grimace and turn around to find both Ahkelios and Guard hovering around a very unconscious, very lifeless-looking Naru.


    "Oh, come on," I mutter. I rush to his side, momentarily worried that one of the stray blades struck him, but a closer inspection tells me that this is self-inflicted. The dissolving Firmament blade in his hands, the rough, jagged shape of a symbol cut into his core...


    I sigh, letting the Knight dissolve away from my form.


    The symbol is the same one that Interface uses to represent the Cliffside Crows in its map. It''s a reminder to himself, I suppose. But Naru must have known that he isn''t coming back from this kind of damage without assistance¡ªhe put himself in a coma.


    Which means he''s essentially trusting me to get him out.


    "Idiot bird," I mutter, and get to work.

 168 — Book 3, Chapter 27 — Seeds of Change

    It''s a testament to how much my skill with Firmament has grown that I don''t need to go searching for some obscure herb in order to help heal Naru, though the parallels obviously aren''t perfect. For one thing, the Interface isn''t trying to actively destroy Naru''s core¡ªthat factor was a big part of what kept Tarin in a coma and prevented him from healing.


    With Naru, it''s different. There''s nothing trying to actively erode his core. In fact, if this were anyone else, I''m certain that healing them would be a patch job with Firmament Control that would take no more than a couple of minutes.


    Except there''s a problem.


    Just about everyone I''ve encountered so far has a Firmament core that heals itself naturally. It''s not something I''ve paid much attention to¡ªdamage to a Firmament core is typically either so extreme that it can''t heal itself or so minor that it heals itself quickly, with very little in-between¡ªbut the general rule is that given enough time, any individual''s core can usually recover on its own.


    Naru''s isn''t. There''s no indication that it''s even beginning to heal. Where I''d normally see Firmament flowing and beginning to repair the cracks, there''s just... nothing. No movement, no life.


    From the wear and tear on his core, he''s been damaged like this for a very, very long time.


    I keep my Firmament sense on him just in case there''s something obvious I''m missing, but the more I observe, the clearer it is. His core is broken in some way, not from the self-inflicted carving but from something else. I look deeper, pushing past the layers of his Firmament, from the anchored layers to the unanchored ones¡ªhe''s a first-layer practitioner, so everything past the first layer is only vaguely defined.


    And then I see it.


    There''s a spiderweb of cracks running through the very foundations of his Firmament. I trace the pattern, and it only takes me a few seconds more to identify exactly what they are and where they''re from.


    "It''s the Interface," I mutter, disbelieving.


    Ahkelios has been hovering over Naru, and my words make him look back up at me, a concerned furrow in his brow. "What do you mean?"


    "Naru''s Firmament core. It''s damaged, and not just from... that." I nod toward the most-dissolved blade of Firmament still partially clutched in his fist. "It''s like the Interface is rooted into his core and cracking it from the inside. He can''t heal normally."


    The little mantis blinks. "You''re sure?" he asks. "What does that mean? Does that happen to everyone who joins the Trials?"


    "I don''t know," I answer honestly. A quick check of my own core reveals no signs of anything like this, to my relief¡ªthe Interface''s connection with me is mutualistic, a two-way connection rather than something eating into my core. Whisper''s remarks before she disappeared indicated that she could heal, given time.


    Not enough data. It''s possible Whisper is wrong, or that she has her own methods of healing. It''s possible this only happens after a Trial is completed, so as to permanently stunt the growth of a Trialgoer. It''s what the Integrators want, isn''t it?


    Control.


    And they don''t even know what they want that control for. They have no idea what the purpose of the Interface is. Someone else is pulling the strings: I''m more certain of that than ever.


    "Can you fix him?" Ahkelios asks; he sounds more worried than I''d expected, all things considered. I glance down at Naru, placing my hand on his chest and feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.


    It''s not the heart I''m looking for, though. That''s where his core is, and while the Firmament within it is static and lifeless, it isn''t gone. It''s not like he''s dead; he''s just unconscious.


    Without him to exert conscious control over his Firmament, my skills let me take control of it easily. I can take control of it, weave his wounds shut. I just don''t know if that''ll be enough. Closing the wounds is one thing, but if his core isn''t naturally healing...


    "Yes," I say finally. "Or I mean, I think I can at least stabilize him. I''m going to have to do more than that to get him to wake up, and that''s going to take a while."


    "We should not do that here," He-Who-Guards finally speaks up. There''s an edge of caution in his voice. "Stabilize him quickly. We must leave."


    I glance back at him, noticing that he''s intentionally positioned himself between us and the guardpost; with a grimace, I realize what he''s worried about.


    "We probably shouldn''t let his guards see him like this, huh?"


    "There''s no telling how they will react," Guard agrees. "I can carry him if needed."


    I hesitate. There isn''t exactly anywhere safe to bring Naru¡ªI can''t exactly bring him into Carusath and claim he just fell unconscious while we were on a mission together, and I don''t really trust his guards in the first place. Isthanok is viable, but it''s also the home of a slow uprising against Trialgoer control. Who knows what bringing Naru there could result in.


    There''s only one place I''d completely trust, counterintuitive as it is.


    The Cliffside Crows, as labeled in the map. Back with Tarin and Mari.


    I work quickly and quietly to stabilize Naru. It doesn''t take long at all¡ªonly a minute or two of Firmament Control to force the scars to close and stop Naru from bleeding Firmament. A patch job, but more than enough to hold steady.


    Not enough to fix him. And I realize that, as far as I''ve come, for something like this¡ªfor a Firmament core that''s not only damaged but fundamentally broken¡ªI don''t yet have the knowledge I need to fix it. Anything I try is just as liable to do permanent harm as it is to fix him, and as much as I''d like to just experiment...


    I sigh. There''s at least one other option. All roads lead to the Empty City, I suppose.


    Ritual stages reveal more about your connection with your Firmament. I''ve completed one of the Ritual stages. I don''t feel any different, and yet... I''m learning more than I ever did about Firmament. The patterns I''ve noticed in skills, for example. The memories I can extract with Temporal Link.


    "Interface," I say out loud. "Have I received my reward for the first stage of the Ritual, in terms of understanding my connection with my Firmament?"


    [Reward has not yet been delivered.]


    I blink, surprised at the immediate response. The Interface hasn''t been so quick to reply in a long time. I''m at least a little relieved, too; I don''t like the idea that the Interface might have had something to do with my discoveries.


    But more importantly...


    "When am I going to get it?" I ask.


    [Completion of the second stage of the Ritual will trigger the first Revelation.]


    Revelation? That''s a new term. I frown.


    "Does that have anything to do with Firmament cores?"


    [Information on Revelations is restricted until your first Revelation. However, information on Firmament cores can be included in your reward.]


    "For... free?" I ask, staring at the Interface suspiciously. There''s a longer pause than usual before it responds.


    [That is correct.]


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ...I don''t trust that at all, somehow. I shouldn''t complain, I suppose, but something about how it''s responding bothers me. Ahkelios watches me curiously, and I shake my head.


    "Let''s get him back to Tarin and Mari," I say, looking between Guard and Ahkelios. "We''ll figure out the rest there."


    For all their bluster, it''s the one place I''m sure Naru will be safe.


    And after that, one way or another, it''s time to head back to the Empty City.


    <hr>


    Rhoran marveled at the design of the Ritual. It was so simple, and yet so complex¡ªthe way the Interface wound itself into the root of a practitioner''s corpse and incorporated itself into a living story... it was the perfect nesting grounds for someone like him.


    Not for an Integrator, though. Not at all. Rhoran had the feeling that if he''d still been an Integrator, being here would''ve been anathema to him. Most Integrators avoided dungeons as a whole on principle. Under control of the Interface or not, they always felt wrong, for lack of a better word. Being inside a dungeon felt like walking inside your own corpse, whether it was generated by an Integrator death or not.


    But he wasn''t an Integrator right now, was he? He was a parasite. A consciousness that could live inside Firmament itself, eating away at it from within until it belonged to him. Until it was him.


    For him, a corpse like this was nutrition. It was food. He could feel himself expanding as he poured himself into the dungeon¡ªit didn''t matter that it was too big for him to ever control, didn''t matter that he couldn''t take it over entirely. He didn''t need to.


    That was the best part of Gheraa''s little Trialgoer and his Trial. His challenges were all filtered through the lens of Hestia''s Heart, and Hestia was the planet of Time. He didn''t need to make big, sweeping changes. He just needed to make little ones. Absorb the memories here, let himself grow, and find just the right place to make just the right change. Cause a cascade that would make completing the Ritual impossible and generate a threat so enormous that Ethan would have no choice but to fail against it again and again.


    Rhoran couldn''t wait to see the human give up.


    The dungeon had conveniently given him nothing but time. The seed he was in offered him a perfect snapshot of the next stage of the Ritual. He could see Ethan''s path laid out in front of him¡ªeverything he was about to encounter down to the role he was supposed to play in the living history of the Empty City.


    Now all he had to do was find the right place to make a little change.


    <hr>


    "Ethan! What happen?" Tarin asks. He looks stricken when we arrive back at the village with Naru in Guard''s arms, though he doesn''t seem to entirely trust that his son is actually hurt. He keeps lifting one of Naru''s hands and positioning it above his face, then letting it fall. It''s only after Naru hits himself in the face three times that he accepts that the guy is actually in a coma.


    I''m still not sure if I should have just watched him do that. Neither Ahkelios nor Guard seemed inclined to stop him.


    "I''m not sure you''re going to believe me when I tell you," I say. The idea that Naru wants to change is bizarre. I''m not sure I believe it, and I was there. Still, it''s hard to deny when the evidence of it is quite literally carved into his core.


    In a way, I suppose it''s not that much of a surprise. I saw his hesitation at the guardpost and watched a memory of at least one of the families he spared. I don''t know if they''re the only ones he spared, but nevertheless, it paints a picture of conflict. Uncertainty.


    Tarin stares at me suspiciously. "You tell," he says.


    So I do.


    Tarin doesn''t seem to know what to say for most of the story. It''s not like I''m privy to Naru''s thoughts¡ªI don''t know if it was sitting in front of hopeful travelers and signing their papers that caused it or if he came to some realization in the process of me saving his life. I have no idea what led him to think carving his own core was the solution to any of this.


    But Tarin seems to recognize the gesture. He taps on one of his wings, his expression warring between anger, worry, and reluctant admiration.


    "It crow ritual," he explains after a moment. "For repentance. But not done like that. We use Firmament! Not knife." He demonstrates with a slash of a wing that leaves an imprint of Firmament on a nearby rock¡ªa marking, not a carving. "You stay here. I talk to Mari."


    I raise an eyebrow. He doesn''t want me there? That''s... fair, I suppose. This version of Mari doesn''t have as much reason to trust me, and I''m guessing it''ll be easier to have the conversation without me there.


    It still stings. Just a little.


    Tarin returns after a solid half-hour of discussion, during which I focus my efforts on keeping Naru stable. It''s not difficult¡ªeven without healing, his core isn''t really deteriorating much from just lying around. The real problem is the crowding of the rest of the villagers around us. Guard keeps them mostly at bay, and when he returns, Tarin waves them away with a squawk of irritation.


    "You all go!" he barks. "This family business."


    There''s a lot of complaining, but it doesn''t take long for them to all filter away. Tarin''s gaze returns to Naru''s unconscious body, lying on the ground with his head propped up on the mossiest, most comfortable rock Ahkelios could find.


    "You want help Naru," he says after a moment. "You sure he not betray you?"


    "Sure?" I ask. "No. Not sure."


    "But you give him chance."


    "I think I can afford him that much," I say dryly. "Not to get overconfident or anything, but I should be able to handle him, and he took a pretty big risk doing this to himself. That..."


    I pause, watching Tarin carefully. "That, and I think you''d miss him if I actually just let him die."


    Tarin flinches. It''s subtle, but it''s there. Mari pretends she isn''t listening, pretends she''s washing the dishes, but I see her going still for a moment before she resumes what she''s doing.


    "You can fix?" Tarin asks, and I shake my head slightly.


    "Not yet," I say. "I''ve stabilized him for now. I''m going to need to find out more about Firmament cores if I want to properly cure him. I guess we could try looking for more Phantom Root, but I don''t think it''s going to help this time."


    Not when it''s the natural healing ability of the core being suppressed. To my surprise, Tarin shakes his head. "No," he says. "Even if Root help..."


    I can see him hesitating. "What is it?"


    "Ethan," Tarin says. His voice is unusually serious. "You know I not want to remember loop."


    "...I know that," I say, although I''m reluctant to approach the subject. Part of me already knows what Tarin is going to suggest.


    "It not enough to fix Naru," Tarin says. "He need remember."


    I try to control my expression. "I know that."


    "I remember loops because piece of Interface Firmament stuck in me. Yes?" Tarin''s speaking surprisingly gently. "You learn what you need. Then you take from me. Give to him."


    This feels like it''s coming sooner than I''d hoped. "I can do that," I say anyway. I think. Tarin studies me for a moment, then snorts.


    "You look like I slap you!" he declares. "It not like I forget you! I just not remember new loops."


    "I know that," I grumble.


    "Then you not look so sad!" Tarin reaches over and smacks me with a partially Firmament-reinforced wing. It actually doesn''t hurt¡ªnot with all the ways my Firmament has begun reinforcing my body since the third phase shift¡ªbut I rub the spot anyway. "You do good. You help free Hestia. Yes?"


    I sigh softly. I guess I''m doing this. "Yes," I say. "I''ll be back, Tarin."


    "Yes." Tarin gives me a confident nod, then surprises me by hugging me, wrapping me up into his wings. "It good knowing you."


    I hear a few firm steps¡ªMari, striding over quickly. I almost expect her to pull Tarin away for some reason, but instead she also folds me into a hug.


    "I not remember you," she tells me. "But my Firmament remember. You good. And..."


    She hesitates for a moment. "We not have hope for Naru for long time," she says. "You give hope. So even if we not remember... thank you."


    Well now. This just isn''t fair.


    I kneel down to hug them back, hiding the bulk of my reaction by burying my face in their feathers, and spend a quiet moment with them.


    <hr>


    Some time later, we''re at the top of the cliff that the Cliffside Crows are named for, mostly to avoid any particularly intrepid crow children from climbing into the portal I''m about to open.


    Talk about a restriction. If I want Naru to remember the events of this loop...


    This isn''t the same as Tarin. Tarin was sent into a coma by the Interface trying to kill him; he had a piece of the Interface with him the whole time, keeping one version of him locked in place. Naru has no such protection¡ªthe version of the Interface that''s linked to him is holding him back, not preserving him.


    Which means if I let myself die before completing this next stage, Naru''s losing all his memories of this loop.


    "We''re stuck with one try again, huh?" Ahkelios says.


    "One try," I agree.


    It won''t be the end of the world or anything if I fail. The only person that loses is, in fact, Naru. But if he actually wants to change, even if I think he''s an idiot for the way he went about it...


    Well, I might as well give him the chance he''s so desperate for.


    I flick my hand out and summon the entrance to the Empty City. The barrier over it is gone¡ªenough time has elapsed, and it''s open again for me to complete the second stage. Whatever it is, the chaos of Firmament behind the door tells me that a lot has changed.


    "Are you ready?" He-Who-Guards asks. I give him a slight nod, and he walks through. I follow close behind, but pause as I step through.


    There are many things I expected the second stage of the Ritual to be. Many things I thought it might involve. Puzzles, for example. A whole new slew of monsters. More of those strange flowers creeping through the empty buildings.


    What I didn''t expect?


    Color.


    People.

 169 — Book 3, Chapter 28 — Collisions

    The Empty City is no longer empty. It is, in fact, the closest thing to a bustling metropolis I''ve seen since I was ripped away from Earth¡ªmore so than even Isthanok and its busy streets. Without all the decay eating away at the city, I can see how many of these buildings are in fact skyscrapers. What I''d assumed were the roofs of individual buildings were in fact just one of many floors, the top levels having apparently been scoured away by time and broken Firmament.


    It''s a beautiful place, which only makes knowing what happened to it that much worse.


    None of the people here seem aware of what''s to come, though. I watch as they go about their lives¡ªjust like the Tear I went to earlier, it''s clear that these are simulations of Firmament, but at the same time they''re far more real than anything originally generated by the Tear. They feel like...


    They feel like Gheraa. Like the copy of himself he''d left within me¡ªtechnically alive, a snapshot of his personhood at a moment in time. I take a moment to feel for that seed of him still cradled somewhere within my core; it pulses with a surprising warmth as my Firmament brushes against it, although it''s otherwise quiet.


    If nothing else, this tells me that I''m probably on the right path. Even if I don''t know how to feel about the dungeon generating what appears to be fully sapient life.


    I watch for a moment as they go about their lives. None of them seem to notice us. They''re a species of... scarab-dragonfly hybrids, as best as I can tell? Humanoid in form, bodies naturally armored in colored chitin, and wearing clothes made of layers of semitransparent, flowing cloth woven together like robes and dresses.


    "Oooh," Ahkelios says. "That''s smart."


    I glance at him. "What is?"


    "Their clothes!" He points at a passing person who, thankfully, either doesn''t notice or chooses to ignore us. "I''ve tried wearing cloth before. It usually catches and tears on my exoskeleton."


    "Huh." The way the robes and dresses are flared does avoid that, I suppose. I turn to Ahkelios and stare at him for long enough that he begins to shift uncomfortably. "You know, I never asked, but... Ahkelios, are you¡ª"


    "It is perfectly normal for my species not to wear clothes!" he huffs indignantly before I can finish my question. "Clothes are for special occasions! Because they tear! We wear armor."


    "Right." I tuck that fact into the back of my mind, trying not to grin. "And you''re wearing your armor right now."


    "No¡ªSort of." Ahkelios scowls, folding his arms across his chest. "I don''t want to talk about it."


    "If you''re uncomfortable, I could always make you something?" I suggest.


    "I wasn''t uncomfortable until you brought this up!"


    "I didn''t bring this up," I point out. Ahkelios makes an embarrassed sort of noise somewhere deep in his throat, then promptly dematerializes, presumably so he can sulk in my core instead of out here.


    Guard, of course, mostly seems to be amused. "This isn''t what I expected," he says, opting not to comment on the exchange. He''s stopped in his tracks just a few feet away from the gateway¡ªnow that I think about it, I don''t think anyone around us is actually paying attention to us, despite how out-of-place we are. "Do they not see us, or...?"


    "I''m not sure," I say, taking a few steps forward as I speak. "I think the Ritual stage hasn''t started yet? I probably need to¡ª"


    Sure enough, the moment I cross some invisible threshold of distance, the Interface updates and pings me with a new objective.


    [Ritual Stage 2: Plant the Seed]


    Prerequisites:


    Protect Novi, the Archivist: 0/1


    Collect the Seed: 0/1


    Charge the Seed: 0/100


    Plant the Seed: 0/1


    Keep the Seed safe: 1/1


    Now collected, the Seed must find fertile soil. Assist Isiris with delivering it to the Shadowed Laboratory, and assist the Seed in gathering the energy it needs to take root.


    I frown slightly at the notification, briefly wondering how I''m supposed to find Novi. Fortunately, the dungeon solves that problem for me quickly.


    "You must be Ethan and He-Who-Guards," a soft voice calls. I turn to see a small, lean version of the scarab-people bowing slightly toward me. She wears a translucent, off-white outfit with pearlescent overtones that hangs off her shoulders in long strips, and there''s a quiet serenity in the way she speaks, the way she carries herself. "You are my assigned Protectors?"


    "That... would be accurate, yes," I say cautiously. I''m not really sure what that term means in their culture. "I take it you''re Novi?"


    "I am." Novi smiles at me, then turns slightly so that she''s addressing both me and Guard. "You seem confused. First days are often difficult for newly-summoned Protectors. Do not worry; I will explain everything you need to know."


    Newly summoned, huh? I shift uncomfortably under Novi''s gaze, not quite used to anyone being this... nice? Genuine? She reminds me a lot of Guard, actually, just with a bit more of a motherly touch.


    Actually, no. Guard can also be motherly. A little too motherly, sometimes. I shake my head to dispel the thought and turn my attention to Novi once again. "What do you mean, newly summoned?"


    Novi blinks. "They didn''t even explain that?" She makes a disapproving clicking sort of noise in her throat. "Ah... this is difficult to explain. Come with me; I will explain as we walk."


    I nod in assent and begin to follow her, with Guard trailing behind me.


    "Summons," Novi says, "are a specific form of Firmament art. Sometimes they are creatures summoned from the aether, possessing no origin or purpose except that which they are given. Other times¡ªwhen the summoning is performed by a truly gifted Seer¡ªthe creatures brought forth are people in their own right, with homes and families of their own. It''s still widely debated whether those families are real. We have no proof, one way or another."


    I say nothing. I know what I am, but what she''s telling me... it sounds eerily like she might be describing herself. Maybe these summonings really did exist back in the day, and maybe her people really did summon people from other worlds¡ªor simulations of them¡ªto aid them in their everyday tasks. Maybe it''s all just a dungeon-conceived excuse to give me a place in the history it wants me to recreate.


    But it is, I suspect, at least true. The situation is just reversed, as far as the dungeon goes. Novi and her people are the summons, not me. It doesn''t seem like a great time to tell her, though, so I remain silent.


    "You have no questions?" Novi prompts, surprised. I laugh.


    "I suppose I guessed something along those lines," I admit. It''s a partial lie, but not enough of one that I feel guilty about it.


    "Some summons have been known to have... breakdowns, when their origin is explained to them," Novi says after a moment. "I disagree with the practice. It feels unethical to create a being that may despair at its existence, and certainly unethical to do so to help with menial tasks. Fortunately the process only picks those who are amenable to it, but that is a small comfort, I fear."


    "How would you feel?" I ask. "If you learned you were a summon?"


    Novi pauses briefly in her steps. "I do not know," she admits after a moment. "I do not think I would enjoy the knowledge, but it would be of little point to fight it. I think I would mostly be worried about my children. If those memories were false, and they did not exist..."


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    She trails off and shakes her head. "I do not enjoy that thought."


    "Can''t blame you there," I mutter. That much, at least, she doesn''t have to worry about: if she''s the person I think she is, then her children are¡ªor were¡ªreal.


    Though given the way their story ended... I grimace a bit. Maybe I shouldn''t reveal to her the nature of the dungeon and what''s about to happen. Not yet, anyway.


    "Tell me about them?" I ask instead. Novi brightens at the words.


    "You are an excellent Protector," she says. "You are curious! Very few of our summons exhibit curiosity. Perhaps there is something special about you?"


    I laugh awkwardly. "Maybe?" I say. "I like to think I''m just interested in the world around me. You clearly care about your children, so I''d like to know more about them."


    "I am happy to talk about them." Novi smiles brightly. "They are Juri and Yarun, my sons. My bright ones. Juri is the elder of them¡ªhe is old enough now that he pretends he does not still love his toy sword and shield. Yarun keeps many dolls and figures and has detailed stories for each one. You should hear the tales he tells! Even Juri loves them, though I suspect that is because Yarun often has him playing the role of hero..."


    The names confirm my suspicions¡ªNovi is the woman who wrote the record I read, the woman who detailed the end of the Empty City. There''s an honest, earnest love in her voice as she tells us everything about her children. Their favorite foods, their bad habits, the embarrassing moments they''ve had.


    A long time ago, I might''ve found something like this exhausting. Now, though? I find myself just... relaxing and enjoying the conversation. Novi doesn''t get the opportunity to talk about her children much, it seems, but everything about her is so truly genuine. She doesn''t exaggerate how well they''re doing, doesn''t present her children as perfect, but the love she has is evident in every word she speaks.


    Juri and Yarun have their flaws, but they are her children, and they are always trying. She encourages them through their failures and celebrates their successes. She teaches them to be good¡ªto care about the people around them, to be curious about the world, to question and study and learn. She does it alone, too; her partner, she says, was lost a long time ago, during the early days of the Awakening.


    A small part of me wonders what it might have been like to have a mother like this, but it''s a small part. I''ve moved on from what happened with my family.


    Guard and I are both content with listening. We interject with questions every once in a while, and slowly, through the lens of her children, we build a picture of the people that live here, of what the Empty City was before it became... well, empty.


    Their people are named the scirix, and the city we''re in is named First Sky. It''s the capital of the scirix empire, which is largely led by a circle of Elders. Those Elders are in turn advised by Seers, who Novi explains are individuals that have made enough progress with their Firmament for their guidance to quite literally shape civilisation.


    "Almost everyone aspires to become a Seer. I did, too, once," Novi confides in me. "I am pleased with my role as Archivist now, but there was a time where my desire to become a Seer was everything to me."


    "What changed?" I ask, though I think I know the answer. Novi smiles at me.


    "Juri was born," she says. I chuckle; that''s more or less what I''ve come to expect from her. Her life was shaped by her children, it seems. "And I would change nothing. Seers are often... isolated. The time, dedication and resources required to become one are exorbitant. I would not have had the time to spend with my children, and I would not trade that time for anything¡ªnot even to become Seer."


    "You said they''re all at the third phase shift, at minimum?" I ask. Novi nods.


    "We have only five of them," she says. "Five Seers, each specializing in an Aspect. Force, Body, Mind, Energy, and Spirit."


    "What are these Aspects?" I ask, curious. Novi gives me a strange look.


    "You know of phase shifts, but not of Aspects?" she asks. "Have you not done a phase shift yourself? Most Protectors are at least at the first layer, if not at the second."


    "I have," I say. "But humor me. Maybe our understanding of phase shifts are a little different."


    "Hmm." Novi hums. "Yes. Well. The first layer demands that you tell the Firmament which of the five Aspects you are. Our Seers are the most developed along their respective, chosen paths."


    I frown, casting my mind back to my first phase shift. That''s not what I remember. I was asked a question, but I wasn''t presented with a choice.


    Who am I?


    That was the question. But if what Novi is saying is correct, then either I was asked a different question, or their answers were... what, artificially constrained? By themselves and their understanding of Firmament, or by something else?


    "You did not choose one?" Novi asks curiously.


    "I can''t say I was even aware of the Aspects," I answer. "I just answered with what I was feeling at the time."


    Which was "I''m whoever the fuck I want to be", but saying it out loud feels... a great deal more embarrassing than it was in context. Novi tilts her head, watching me, curiosity evident in her eyes.


    "I have never considered that one might align their Firmament with something outside the Aspects," she says slowly. "The Aspects govern our very selves. It is known that one of the five paths must be chosen, lest your Firmament begin to wither; it was a commandment given to us by the gods themselves."


    That sounds remarkably like an artificial cultural constraint, specifically of the type the Integrators might try to use to control a population. But it''s baffling to me that not a single person would have thought to test it. Then again, they''ve only had Firmament for something like ten years, and it takes a long time to reach even the first phase shift for most...


    Hm. No, given the timeframe, it''s entirely possible that no one''s tested it yet. Who knows how long ago all this happened?


    "You have given me much to think about," Novi says. There''s a contemplative note in her voice, like she''s processing a realization she doesn''t quite want to put to words yet. "Thank you for your knowledge¡ªAh! We have arrived."


    The building we''re at is initially unremarkable to me. It''s nondescript, unmarked warehouse tucked away in between the alleys and streets. It doesn''t take me long to notice that there''s something strange about it, though. I frown, stepping closer.


    It''s shielded, somehow. Specifically, whatever material it''s made of renders the interior almost opaque to my Firmament sense¡ªI can sense something through it, but only barely, I rap a knuckle on the wall, noting that it feels like nothing more than ordinary brick. How is it blocking me?


    "What are you doing?" Novi asks curiously.


    "Just wondering why I can''t feel any Firmament through the walls," I say absently. If the rebels had had this back in Isthanok, they would''ve been able to stay entirely shielded from Whisper. Not that it matters now, with her out of commission.


    Novi brightens at my words. "You can sense Firmament!" she says. "That is a unique talent! It will be useful in the journey to come. These walls are made of blessed brick; it''s said that the gods themselves treated it. Personally, I think it''s one of the Seers."


    There''s that mention of gods again. I eye the brick curiously¡ªpart of me is itching to get a hold of the material and attempt something like an imbuement, just to see what would happen. Now''s probably not the best time for it, though. "I don''t suppose I could get my hands on some blessed brick?"


    Novi laughs. "Goodness, if only it were that easy. I will put in a good word for you when we are done with our mission, yes?"


    "I''d appreciate that."


    She grins at me, humming under her breath as she fishes around in her pockets for the keys. It''s still striking to me how much First Sky reminds me of Earth¡ªeverything from construction materials to the architecture of the buildings is close enough that if I squint, I can almost make myself believe I''m home.


    There are subtle differences, of course. The scirix don''t seem to like corners, for some reason? Every roof of every building has corners that are sanded off into a taper. I couldn''t begin to guess why.


    I''m shaken from my thoughts as Novi suddenly sways. Her keys fall to the ground and she catches herself on the nearby wall; one hand clutches at her head, her entire body folded into a grimace. "Novi? Are you okay?" I ask, hurrying to her side and steadying her.


    Protect Novi, the Archivist. I haven''t forgotten that I''m in the middle of a Ritual stage, tame as this one seems to be. But then, it hasn''t even begun yet, has it?


    "Yes," Novi whispers faintly. She blinks and shakes her head. "Yes. I am fine, it was just... a momentary lapse. Nothing to worry about."


    "If you say so," I say doubtfully. There was nothing fine about that, but I''m hardly an expert on scirix physiology.


    "Here," she says. She leans down and picks her keys back up, fumbling to unlock the door. "I am sure you know the mission already, but to brief you again: The Archivists have recently uncovered an old Firmament artifact buried just outside First Sky. The Elders have commanded that we transport it to the Shadowed Laboratory. You should be aware that the artifact tends to draw in hostile Firmament¡ªit''s the reason we have to keep it in this warehouse."


    "Right," I say. She opens the door, stepping through, and blinks in surprise.


    Right behind her, I freeze. There''s another scirix standing in the room, sitting on top of the box containing the Seed. He wears a steady, easy smile, looking for all the world like he belongs in this room. Like he''s here to take care of the box.


    But he doesn''t, and he isn''t.


    "Ethan, that''s..." Ahkelios speaks up from within me. Even without being manifested, I can feel his shock.


    "Yeah, I know," I respond. What I don''t know is what to do about it. Judging by the look on her face, Novi recognizes him. I, on the other hand, don''t. His appearance is entirely unfamiliar to me.


    But his Firmament isn''t, and now that the warehouse''s walls aren''t in the way, I can read it perfectly.


    He might be twisted into the shape of a scirix and forced to play a role in this dungeon, but that''s a Remnant.


    Specifically, Ahkelios''s Remnant.

 170 — Book 3, Chapter 29 — Twisted Time

    On some level, I feel like I should have expected something like this¡ªI''d sensed the Remnant''s presence in the dungeon even before the Ritual moved into its second stage. Why the Remnant is in the dungeon is another question entirely, but whatever transformation the Empty City went through, it must have affected the Remnant as well.


    That, I presume, is the reason it''s currently taking the form of a scirix and smiling at us like nothing''s wrong.


    "Why is your Remnant even here?" I ask, not taking my eyes off him. Novi trusts him, clearly¡ªshe doesn''t even seem surprised by his presence¡ªbut I don''t. Something about his Firmament reeks of... not hostility, exactly. But there''s something there that tells me that this Remnant isn''t just playing his role in scirix society. He remembers being Ahkelios. Is Ahkelios, more or less.


    A version of him that isn''t a friend. A version of him that remembers a different life, has different goals.


    "I''ve been in the Empty City before," Ahkelios reminds me. "Or I mean... I was in the sewers. I guess that''s enough for it to count as far as Remnants goes."


    "You sound worried."


    "Of course I am! Who knows what he''s going to do?" I can feel Ahkelios itching to manifest, but he knows as well as I do that that''s not a good idea for the moment¡ªwho knows what will set this version of him off. "Let me remind you that he was trying to make me betray you!"


    "Which you agreed not to do." I shrug, though mostly internally. "I''m not that worried about it."


    "Yes, and I think that''s a problem!" Ahkelios hisses at me.


    Our internal conversation is interrupted by the actual conversation taking place between Novi and this new scirix. I was too distracted by Ahkelios to catch most of it, but Guard nudges me just in time as Novi turns toward me, smiling. "This is Zhir," she says, gesturing to the other scirix. "He is an Archivist like myself, and I am fortunate to call him a friend."


    "Not quite as lucky as I am," the Remnant says, his voice playful. Novi laughs in response, flicking his arm.


    "Did you not agree to take care of my children while I do this?" she asks. "I believe they are waiting for you."


    "Alright, alright." The Remnant chuckles. He makes eye contact with me for a moment¡ªjust long enough to communicate that he knows who I am, that he knows what this is. I feel a slight chill go down my spine. "I''ll see you later. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ethan and company. Perhaps we can speak more later? Novi tells me you are astonishingly grounded for a summon; you may well be the most complete summon we''ve had in years."


    "And here I was worried I''d have problems making friends," I say jokingly. "Sure, sounds like a plan. As long as nothing throws those plans off, anyway. Should I bring you a gift? What do you like?"


    "A gift?" The Remnant cocks his head. I think that''s actual surprise¡ªhe wasn''t expecting me to play along with him? "I would appreciate a painting. Perhaps some plants."


    "Plants?" It''s Novi''s turn to be teasing. "I am surprised. The last time I tried to gift you a plant, you told me it would dirty your home."


    "Ah." Zhir seems briefly thrown. Calling the Remnant by his scirix name is easier, for now. All the better to distinguish him from Ahkelios. "Yes, well... Preferences change, I suppose."


    That''s definitely Ahkelios. I''m not sure why we''re making plans to begin with¡ªit''s not like the dungeon is going to last for long once I complete the stage¡ªbut there''s an underlying tension in the conversation; whatever this is, our objectives are still at odds. I can sense the Remnant looking through me, almost as if he''s not looking at me but at...


    Well, at Ahkelios. Looking for the fragment of himself that''s a part of me instead of a part of him.


    Part of me wonders: this Remnant seems to be sapient. Does that mean it remembers? The Empty City as a dungeon exists outside Hestia''s Trial, which means that the Trial''s resets don''t necessarily affect the dungeon¡ªnot unless it''s explicitly linked to a Trialgoer. It''s possible he''s spent many loops wandering an empty city, entirely alone.


    I frown.


    Those aren''t my thoughts.


    It''s not that I''m not sympathetic, or that I wouldn''t normally consider these things¡ªbut if I pay careful attention, it feels almost like Ahkelios''s bond with me is... leaking. Like the familiar I''m sheltering in my soul is tied both to this Remnant and to me, and so is acting as a sort of bridge between the two of us. Zhir is looking at me like he doesn''t really understand me, but if I''m catching a glimpse of what he''s experienced, then I''m guessing he''s catching a glimpse of what I''ve experienced, too.


    I wonder if that''s going to be enough to change his mind on whatever he has planned. Because I can tell he''s got a plan, and I''m not sure I''m going to like it.


    "Are you ready, Protector?" Novi asks, entirely oblivious to the silent conversation between Zhir and I.


    "I suppose I am," I say. "Are you leading the way to... what was it, the Shadowed Laboratory?"


    "Perhaps a strange name, I know," Novi says with a light smile. "It is Shadowed because it is shielded from the Sky¡ªfrom the Firmament. Some of our summons have called it foreboding. A cultural division, I suppose. We tend to believe that both the shadow and the light have an equal and important part to play."


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    I watch as she picks the Seed up out of the box. It''s about twice as large as it was before¡ªstill easy enough to hold, but only barely. It''s also churning with Firmament, a chaotic mixture of energy that doesn''t quite resolve into anything I can recognize. I still don''t know why the dungeon''s Ritual revolves around this Seed, but I suppose I''ll find out.


    "We will see you later, Zhir!" Novi calls back as she heads out¡ªnot through the front door, I note, but to a tunnel that''s built into the side of the warehouse.


    Makes sense, if we''re expecting to be attacked. I take a few steps after her, gesturing for Guard to follow me, even as Zhir makes to leave through the front door.


    What was it Novi had said? That Zhir had agreed to take care of her children?


    And there was the look on Zhir''s face...


    "Ahkelios," I murmur. I feel him snapping to attention when I say his name. We''re aligned on this, I think.


    "You want me to follow him?" he asks.


    "You know me too well." I send him a sense of approval through our link, and he grins back; I feel him drawing on my Firmament just enough to manifest just outside the warehouse, hiding just behind the door.


    We''ve already tested him separating from me. It''s a strain on our link, but it''s something we can do now, far more than the original distance limitations I had with the skill. This will probably strain it a bit more than back when we were in Isthanok, but hopefully not enough to snap him back to me. It all depends on how far we''re going.


    For now, I put it out of my mind. My job is to protect Novi and to make sure the Seed stays safe. There''s plenty of space to maneuver¡ªonce we get far enough down the steps, the tunnel expands into a structure that''s truly massive, lit with what looks like a series of lights powered by a mixture of Firmament and redirected solar energy¡ªso I just need to watch out for... what was it Novi said? Something about the Seed drawing in hostile Firmament?


    I glance at the Interface. I can already feel small wisps of Firmament being drawn into it now that it''s outside the shielding of the warehouse. This tunnel is unshielded, and plenty of Firmament trickles down from above; if I activate Firmament Sight, I can see it almost like drops of colored rain.


    One of them splashes onto the Seed and is quickly absorbed without a trace. I glance at the Interface.


    [Collect the Seed: 1/1


    Charge the Seed: 1/100]


    At the same time, there''s a low groan that echoes through the tunnel.


    "Hostile Firmament incoming!" Novi announces, though it''s unnecessary. I glance further into the tunnel, drawing some power into my eyes to help me see.


    Yep. That''s some hostile Firmament alright. In fact, they''re quite a lot like the human legend of ghosts.


    "You didn''t tell me they look like dead scirix," I grumble. Novi makes an awkward, embarrassed sort of noise, clearing her throat.


    "I did not think it would be important." She pauses. "Is it?"


    "Nah." I shrug. "You might want to look away, though. This is going to get messy."


    A quick test confirms my suspicions: physical attacks don''t do anything to them. A Phaseshift, though? The skill that specifically lets me move out of phase with reality and into phase with Firmament?


    I tear a scirix-ghost apart like it''s made of paper. It''s kind of a horrid sight, because the Firmament copies... well, everything. Down to the internals. I wince a bit. I can sense stronger ones and bigger ones, too, further down the tunnel; not all of it is going to be this easy.


    Messy is almost certainly going to be an understatement. A quick glance back tells me that despite my warnings, Novi is probably not going to look away or be particularly bothered by the violence. She seems kind of fascinated by it, if anything.


    Oh boy.


    On the plus side...


    [You have defeated an Empty Regret (Rank E)! +3 Strength credits. +1 Firmament credit.]


    For whatever reason, they''re still enough to give me credits.


    Works for me.


    <hr>


    Ahkelios felt his heart hammering in his chest¡ªfor a given definition of ''heart'' and ''chest'', anyway. His whole body was made of Firmament, so the old physical sensations of stress and anxiety were more psychosomatic than an actual stress response. It didn''t change what he was feeling, though.


    Especially since it didn''t take very long before Zhir sighed and called out to him. "I know you''re following me," he said. "You might as well come out."


    Ahkelios considered for a moment that his counterpart might have been bluffing, but it was unlikely. He could feel his Remnant, and if that were true for him, then it was just as true for the Remnant. Trying to hide was an exercise in futility.


    Better to find out what he was planning.


    "What are you doing here?" he asked, emerging from the bush he was hiding in. He shook his entire body a few times to get rid of all the leaves stuck on him, and Zhir watched him in amusement.


    "I hardly have a choice," the scirix-but-not-really said. "I''m as much a slave to this dungeon as everyone else is. Perhaps more. It is fascinating, though; in all the attempts I''ve seen to clear this dungeon, this is only the second time I have encountered someone able to unlock its Ritual."


    "And you''re not planning to screw it up?" Ahkelios asked, fluttering next to Zhir. The Remnant turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. Ridge. Ahkelios didn''t really know much about scirix physiology.


    "I have one goal," Zhir said plainly. "And it''s to reintegrate myself with you."


    Ahkelios stopped in place, and Zhir stopped too, waiting for him patiently. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.


    "Because I''m tired of this," Zhir said. "Do you know how long I''ve been stuck here since our Trial? How long I''ve been forced to play the same old tired game? I didn''t even have the option of giving up like you did. I''m a ghost of a ghost, playing the role of a monster, watching Trialgoer after Trialgoer die."


    Ahkelios remained silent.


    "And I tried, you know," Zhir continued. "To convince you to join me. I''m strong enough and you''re strong enough that we could just sever your connection with Ethan. Make us our own person independent from him."


    "That''s what Ethan wants too," Ahkelios said.


    "Ah, but he wants that for you." Zhir raised a finger and wagged it in an oddly human mannerism; it took Ahkelios a moment to realize that he''d pilfered it from his bond with Ethan, and that made him feel strangely dirty. "I want that for me. And that''s going to be a problem for us, because I don''t think either of us want to lose our individuality."


    Ahkelios was almost certain he knew what was coming, but he waited anyway. His fists clenched, but he hid them behind his back.


    "And if I can''t convince you to let me take over the normal way," Zhir said. Ahkelios thought it was strange how he sounded like he was trying to convince himself, too, but then he wasn''t too surprised; he wondered what he would have done in Zhir''s position.


    Fought like this too, probably. Maybe. He didn''t think he''d stooped to threats, but who knew how much his counterpart had been through?


    "I''ve seen the Ritual done once before," Zhir said, turning to Ahkelios. "Deaths in one Ritual stage carry over to the next. And that woman''s kids? They''re going to be very, very important in the later stages. So: Here''s the deal.


    "You let me take over and give me my freedom. In return, I won''t kill them, and your Trialgoer won''t be stuck trying to finish a Ritual that can never be completed."

 171 — Book 3, Chapter 30 — Simulations

    [Charge the Seed: 32/100]


    The fight''s advanced enough to become harrowing. Novi knows enough to stay a good distance back, thankfully; the plan for Guard to take the lead doesn''t quite work as well against these Regrets. If they get close enough to him, they can just phase themselves through¡ªand from the looks of things, that does quite a bit of damage to his systems.


    "Are you alright?" I ask, steadying him. There''s some smoke coming out from his systems; he makes a sound that''s a little bit like a cough. He nods, but leans a bit more weight on me than I''d expect if he was fine.


    "I will be fine," He-Who-Guards says. "I simply need to make sure they don''t touch me."


    True enough. I take the lead anyway; as long as Phaseshift is active, I can basically act as a physical wall. A barrier. They seem drawn to me when I do it, too. Only a few of them slip past to try to get at Novi and the Seed.


    Guard, meanwhile, doesn''t take long to adapt to his role as backup. His Firmament blasts can still hit them, and his chains work as long as they''re charged through with his power. At first, it''s barely even necessary¡ªbut the farther we get down the tunnels, the more the Regrets swarm. More and more of them get past me.


    And that''s where Guard really shines.


    From the way he''s fighting, I get the odd feeling that he''s frustrated¡ªthere''s an aggression to his movements that I''m not used to seeing from him. Maybe he feels he isn''t contributing as much as he should. He fights with an expert precision, launching charged chains of Firmament that anchor themselves into the walls to block off paths, firing bursts out of his palms that take down two or three ghosts each.


    It''s pretty cool, if I''m being honest. I''d sit back and watch him if I didn''t have to fight myself. We make steady progress like this, and for a while it''s enough.


    But only for now.


    I narrow my eyes, staring into the darkness further down the tunnel; the lights deeper in have started failing in a way that I''m pretty sure isn''t a coincidence, and the mass of Firmament I can sense is starting to slowly increase. Some of the ghosts begin to blend into one another, flickering and merging into stronger specters that are just a little more resilient¡ªa little harder to take down.


    Figures that a dungeon challenge isn''t going to be quite this easy.


    Even without the slowly-increasing density and strength of these monsters, their sheer numbers are enough to make the fight harrowing. If it were just me and Guard, I''d be a lot more confident about being able to take on this hoard, but with Novi standing directly in the tunnel with us?


    Having to protect her complicates things¡ª


    Three Regrets rush me at once. I solidify with a Phaseshift, wrap my arms with an Amplified Gauntlet, and tear through one in an instant.


    [You have defeated an Empty Regret (Rank C)! +15 Strength credits. +2 Durability credits. +2 Reflex credits. +3 Speed credits. +2 Firmament credits.]


    The other two follow quickly.


    If nothing else, every defeat is still giving me credits. I''m not sure why¡ªI''m pretty sure if I fought these things back in Hestia, they wouldn''t be enough of a challenge to give me any credits at all. Maybe it''s something about this place being a dungeon.


    I''m not complaining, though. I''m well aware that skills aren''t everything, but...


    [Status | Skills | Mastery | Inspirations | Dungeons]


    [Ethan, third-layer practitioner]


    Talents: [Anchor]


    [Credit Distribution]


    Strength: 566 (1400 banked)


    Durability: 879 (1646 banked)


    Reflex: 633 (2477 banked)


    Speed: 602 (1420 banked)


    Firmament: 970 (2091 banked)


    [NOTICE: Interface currently running on backup protocol ANCHORED HERITAGE. Features and rewards may be different.]


    Another S-rank Firmament skill with about thirty more credits, and at the rate these things are coming, I''ll attain it soon enough.


    I''m well aware at this point that skills aren''t everything, and I''m barely scratching the surface with what the Interface can offer me. One of these days, I''m going to need to sit down and pore over the skills with the All-Seeing Eye and see what I''m missing¡ªbecause there''s something. Something in the gaps between skills, something I''ve been catching a glimpse of here and there... The patterns they share.


    Strength, Durability, Reflex, Speed, Firmament. If the categories are a lie, then what are they hiding? Some deeper truth about Firmament, if I had to guess. Maybe a deeper truth about skills as a whole.


    A Regret grazes me with some frost-aligned Firmament, and I hiss, forcing my attention back to the fight. It''s too easy to let myself get distracted when fighting each individual ghost feels so easy. Maybe that''s part of the challenge here.


    But that doesn''t feel quite right. This is a Dungeon challenge. There''s going to be some kind of twist, and if I don''t figure out what it is before it happens...


    I''m only going to have one try at this stage if I want to let Naru keep his memories.


    More likely there''s some kind of trick here. Or an upcoming boss. I narrow my eyes, trying to figure it out.


    Rate of flow, maybe?


    Every time there''s a new wave of Regrets, they''re a little stronger than before. There are more of them than before. Every time they do, the Seed ticks up just a little bit higher in its charge. The first wave gave it only a single point. The second gave it two. The third gave it four. Spare drops of Firmament from the ceiling cause it to jump up another one or two at random, but there''s an exponential component to the way it''s charging.


    And, in the same vein, there''s an exponential component to the difficulty of these Regrets.


    But that doesn''t feel right. It doesn''t feel like it''s the whole of it.


    Firmament begins to pick up around me. There''s something in it¡ªsomething that isn''t Firmament¡ªand I reach out for it automatically.


    To my surprise, there''s something there.


    [You have touched a Thread.]


    ...What?


    Before I can consider the notification farther, I feel a sudden flow of clarity, and refocus my thoughts. I''ll check on that later, but something about this is giving me insight I wouldn''t have otherwise. It''s almost like a trance¡ªa flow state. Even my skills feel more responsive, eager to be used.


    Dungeons are fundamentally meant to challenge their delvers. They may be created from the memories of a dead Firmament practitioner, but the Interface interferes with them in some way to create these challenges, these Rituals.


    I can feel Premonition in the back of my mind beginning to shine. It''s not doing what it usually does¡ªnormally, it points out incoming danger. This use of it feels different. It''s almost like it''s trying to build on my intuition, trying to guide me. Trying to boost whatever it is I just touched on.


    I feed some Firmament into it experimentally. There''s a way my Firmament curls through it, a way it connects to my brain and instincts¡ª


    [Your mastery of Premonition has improved!]


    There''s something building. I can feel the shape of it, even if I don''t know exactly what it is.


    "Ethan." Guard gets my attention. "What is wrong? You are faltering."


    "I''m just trying to figure out what they''re doing," I answer.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He''s right, though. Whatever I''ve latched on to is occupying most of my mind. I''m still fighting, but it''s like my body is moving on autopilot¡ªthe Knight is helping me, now that I''m paying attention. I''m not fully engaging the Inspiration, but it''s reaching out to guide me in battle, helping me grab and tear each Regret apart as they approach.


    And my mind is running full-tilt, almost out of my control.


    Almost. It''s still my mind, after all. I can guide it, shape its direction.


    [Your mastery of Quicken Mind has improved!]


    I feel like I''m on the verge of understanding something about dungeons. My mental Firmament skills are all stirring, almost on their own¡ªno.


    Not on their own. They''re responding to my train of thought. I''m guiding them.


    A dungeon, once integrated, is a tool of the Interface. The overall beats of history are correct, I''m sure, but Novi probably didn''t have to fight through a horde of ghosts to deposit the Seed in the Shadowed Laboratory. The challenge itself is unique. A creation of the Interface, not a real beat from history.


    And the Interface promised I''d learn more about my connection with Firmament. Its rewards aren''t usually just shoved straight into my mind, are they? The closest I''ve ever gotten to that is Ahkelios receiving an ''information package'', and even that had its lies. Mostly because it was an Integrator reward and not a proper Interface one.


    It likes rewarding effort. It wants me to learn.


    The challenges are designed for me to understand things about Firmament. Possibly more. Like how I picked up something about shapes from the Seedmother.


    [Bonus objective completed!


    Grand Design: 1/1


    Escalating difficulty...]


    Whatever state I was in begins to fade, leaving me with a slight headache.


    And at the same time, I see Firmament start to flicker through the crowd of Regrets, dimming and brightening, creating lines of movement. I get a final insight before my thoughts finally settle back to normal.


    "Guard," I say. "This one''s for you."


    <hr>


    He-Who-Guards wasn''t quite sure what Ethan meant by that, but there was something in the human''s voice that made him stand a little straighter.


    His journey with Ethan so far was... he wasn''t sure he had the right words for it. He felt like he was falling behind, in a way. He had an immense amount of Firmament and very little he could do with it other than blast it out of his palms¡ªhe hadn''t even quite figured out skill circuits yet. All of them were in his memory banks, and ever since he''d captured them he''d had his AI running in the background, trying to analyze them and figure them out.


    But they were complicated things, even put into a format he understood. The last time he''d tried to invoke a skill circuit had been while they were repairing the Carusath Tear, and that had backfired and failed.


    He hadn''t shown it at the time, but the backfiring had failed in a spectacular way, too. All the Firmament he''d poured into the circuit flooded back into him, nearly overloading his systems. If the AI hadn''t quickly taken over and shunted the majority of the force into its own circuits...


    It meant that it would be partially fried for the rest of this loop, and in some ways, Guard missed having its company. He hadn''t needed it the way he needed it before; not since Ethan had fixed him. But they were... friends, after a fashion. They knew each other better than anyone else did.


    Now he was just left with his own thoughts. It was lonelier than he''d expected.


    It surprised him, though, how many of those thoughts were centered around the idea of protecting Ethan. Ethan didn''t even really need that protection. Half the time, it was the other way around. But it was like the human had entirely supplanted She-Who-Whispers in his mind¡ªonce upon a time, he would''ve given up his life for her, and now...


    Well, now he was pretty sure that if he suggested anything of the sort to Ethan, Ethan would just stare at him and refuse in that very human way of his.


    Silverwisp society was quite different from humanity, he''d gathered. Silverwisps considered a pledge of allegiance the highest honor one silverwisp could bestow to another. There was a whole ceremony for it, even. He''d take a piece of his Firmament, that wispy, ethereal substance that made up his form, and he''d give it to the person he was pledging himself to. They''d give him a lesser, smaller piece in exchange.


    There was an importance to it. A lot of their society revolved around little exchanges like these. The people you shared your essence with were few and far between¡ªmost often for romantic arrangements, less often as a pledge of allegiance, and rarer still for truly close friendships and bonds.


    The one time he''d suggested pledging himself to Ethan was shortly after the asteroid strike, while Isthanok was building. He didn''t know the human that well yet, but he''d seen enough through the loops that he admired him. Looked up to him, in a way. Wanted a piece of that determination that let Ethan keep pushing himself through adversity, a piece of whatever it was that made him keep fighting when the odds seemed impossible.


    Ethan had looked at him like the suggestion was an insult. "You know you''re not serving me, right?" he''d said. "Because if you think that, we probably shouldn''t travel together."


    "I know that," Guard had said. He did, but the response made him feel warm anyway. It was good to have confirmation.


    He remembered, still, what it was like. Trying to hold back the weight of an entire asteroid about to hit Isthanok. Knowing that if he failed, the entire city would be wiped out¡ªlikely far more. He remembered pouring all the Firmament he''d had into it. He''d never been lacking for Firmament; the disease he''d been born with ensured that. He had a nearly neverending pool of it, to the point it had begun to unravel his soul.


    And Ethan had just... fixed it. Stitched his soul back together.


    Even with all that power, he couldn''t hold back the asteroid. It didn''t matter how much Firmament he had if there was a limit to how much of that Firmament he could channel at any given time, and the body Whisper had given him, powerful as it was, simply couldn''t output enough to stop something like the asteroid.


    And even without those restrictions, if he simply opened up his core and blasted it, the calibration alone? Too much Firmament would drill through the asteroid and do nothing, leaving the rest of it to crash into the city; too little would do nothing; too wide and he''d again run into the problem of not channeling enough; too little and he''d once again just drill through it. Using all his Firmament and all his proxies was enough to slow it down, but just barely.


    And then Ethan had come in. Looked at the asteroid. Hadn''t even considered for a second that their task might be impossible. It was like he''d looked up and decided it didn''t deserve to be there. The sheer force of what he''d done... He didn''t think Ethan knew how it felt to everyone else.


    It was like reality itself had bent to obey him. Bent around Ethan, first and foremost, changing him into something somehow more solid and more real¡ªa magnetic presence that was unto perception like gravity itself. It was impossible not to notice.


    Then his fist, lay flat against the asteroid, as he commanded it to move. Forced it into a new direction.


    Again, Ethan himself most likely hadn''t noticed¡ªbut the shockwave of it was something he''d felt in his soul. Not just him, but every citizen of Isthanok.


    He was certain it was what had destabilized Whisper, too. She was a proud woman, but despite everything she said...


    She''d been closest to Ethan and incredibly drained of her Firmament when that had happened. He-Who-Guards didn''t have the level of Firmament sensitivity that Ethan did, but even he could guess what had happened.


    When his soul unraveled, it was because there was too much Firmament bubbling up from within.


    She-Who-Whispers began to unravel, and it was due to the shockwave of reality that Ethan had conjured from without.


    Not that she would admit it. Nor would she ever stoop to the level of asking for help¡ªnot for herself, and not from someone she''d already tried to mess with. She was too proud for that.


    He-Who-Guards wondered if she was telling the truth about waking up, because if he was right, then it was likely she wouldn''t wake up at all. He didn''t know how he felt about that.


    That was all beside the point, really. The point was that what happened that day had shaken him. Forced him to reconsider the core tenets of what he believed in. Made everything shift, just a little bit, toward Ethan.


    Back in the fight against the Seedmother, he''d started to consider that he could perhaps become something more. Started to consider that he might be able to learn to do what it did, might be able to grow the way a Trialgoer could. But he''d run into a roadblock¡ªall those skill circuits he''d memorized practically burned in his databanks, but he still hadn''t been able to do anything with them. He was relying on the AI in his systems, expecting it to eventually have some sort of breakthrough, but it was currently fried.


    This one''s for you, Ethan had said. He-Who-Guards stared at the flickering Firmament passing between the ghosts. Observed. Tried to understand, for the first time in a long time, without the help of his AI.


    They were passing Firmament through one another, in a long, convoluted way, some of them charging and flickering, others inverting the signal, Firmament bouncing between each and every one of them like a long and hard to observe¡ª


    His single optic widened.


    Circuit.


    "Ethan!" he called out; there was a flare of panicked static in his voice. "They''re using a skill!"


    At the same time, their first circuit completed. A rush of Firmament poured down the tunnel. It was nothing like Guard had ever seen before¡ªit radiated pure death. Death Firmament, literal and visible, creeping down the tunnel like a black fog.


    Guard operated on pure instinct. He didn''t even have the help of his AI. But he had experience, he had his observations, and his mind had never stopped calculating. It saw the circuit in its entirety.


    The thing about the way the ghosts were doing this? It was slow. It was visible.


    And it was exactly what he needed to figure out his final, missing step:


    The circuits had an element of time. How long the Firmament took to flow. Where it came from. A fourth dimension to its flow that created a pattern he couldn''t see.


    "Hold on, miss Novi," he instructed. The scirix archivist grabbed on to his arm.


    He-Who-Guards held that circuit in his mind''s eye...


    And inverted it.

 172 — Book 3, Chapter 31 — Death Fog

    The moment Guard yells it out, I see it. I almost curse myself for not seeing it before¡ªit''s not like I didn''t see the Firmament flowing between them. But it looked entirely random. I''d assumed they were automatic exchanges of Firmament that occured because the ghosts were too close to one another, not that they were intentionally recreating a circuit.


    By the time he warns me, though, it''s too late for me to stop it. I pour on every defensive skill I can. This is the fourth wave¡ªtheir power has been doubled four times over. Each rank is a doubling in power. They started at Rank E, and now they''re at Rank B.


    That wouldn''t be a problem if there weren''t so many of them, and if the skill they were using wasn''t...


    I hiss at the feeling of it.


    This is a group cast. It''s a skill generated by at least a hundred Rank B monsters working in concert. The skill they''re using isn''t Rank B; it doesn''t match their rank at all.


    My mind reaches out, touches on whatever I used before, whatever a Thread is. This time, it''s a little more exhausting to force¡ªI''m straining something within me to do it, reaching out with a part of myself I haven''t had any practice with.


    But I manage it. A split second of that trance, a split second of it interacting with my skills.


    [You have touched a Thread.]


    And Inspect burns in the forefront, growing brighter.


    [Your mastery of Inspect has improved!]


    Information floods into my mind.


    Rank S. Minimum.


    Death Fog.


    Even after that, Inspect just... keeps going. It feeds me more. I''m forced to close my eyes just to process the information it''s pouring into me.


    Death Fog is a Rank S Firmament skill that was created on the planet of Estat, 2,901 Trial cycles ago. Estat''s Heart was exactly what you''d expect for a place that produced such a skill¡ªit held the concept of Death, and so was populated by a multitude of different species of undead.


    A vision flashes into my mind. I see a full, bustling civilization, but it''s nothing like what I might have expected a planet of undead to look like. The cities are brightly lit, and the buildings within them are a chaotic mess of conflicting architectures. I catch a glimpse of glass-sculpture homes and spray painted huts occupying the same street, along with massive monuments to art and history.


    I see flower stands. Little bakeries. Tiny communities dedicated, surprisingly, to the preservation of life¡ªand nearby, secondary communities to welcome them into death, once they reach their natural ends.


    Life and death in harmony. Huh.


    All of this is far, far more information than Inspect has ever given me about a specific skill. It''s more information than Inspect has ever given me about potential skills. Planetary history aside, Estat''s Heart and the concept it held was originally simple: not a cessation of life, but a continuation after life.


    But the Trialgoer on Estat...


    He hadn''t understood that.


    The Thread resonates.


    That''s the thing about the Interface and its Integration of planetary Hearts. A Trialgoer''s understanding of a concept warps the Heart, and the Heart warps the skills that go into the Interface. His Trial had been designed to make him see all the inhabitants of Estat as monsters. He''d come from a world where the undead were evil¡ªa sign of the workings of demons, or some cultural equivalent.


    And the objective of his Trial had been simple: Slaughter. They were monsters that claimed the civilization that lived on that planet, he was told. He didn''t question. He just... went with it.


    And so Death Fog emerged as his first Rank S skill. It created the first crack in Estat''s Heart. Allowed the Interface to begin its infestation and integration.


    I think, for the first time, I''m starting to understand the role the Interface plays in all this, and while the Integrators are certainly abusing it for their own ends...


    The Interface isn''t some force for good, either.


    It''s interesting that Inspect is telling me that. It''s intentional, too. It... what, noticed an opportunity? The skill feels almost like my other skills did, back when they were protecting me from the impact of my double-layer shift¡ªlike it''s gained some modicum of intelligence. Not a lot of it, but enough for it to try to help me on its own.


    There''s another thing Inspect is telling me, in concert with Premonition: I cannot counter this. Not as I am. My skills are based on physical defense. Firmament Control can blunt the force of it, but it won''t stop the Firmament from touching me and seeping into me. I can use the Knight, but there isn''t enough time for the transformation. Distorted Crux won''t affect the speed of the Firmament. It''ll just pass through Barrier.


    Phaseslip will make it physical, and allow me some measure of resistance, but not enough.


    Field of Immortality would work, but only sort of. It runs parallel to Death Fog. Our bodies would decay, but we would remain alive.


    I''m out of options. I flick through my options. If I run, it''ll leave Guard and Novi to its ravages, and that isn''t acceptable¡ª


    "Ethan!" Guard calls, and my gaze snaps to him. My eyes widen.


    Inspect supplies to me exactly what he''s doing.


    Rank S. Breath of Life.


    A skill he''d... created? Inspect tells me that this skill is new, that He-Who-Guards has just now fabricated a new skill entirely unknown to the Interface. There''s a pure, white-green aura around Guard, flowing like a sphere around him, and any hint of Death Firmament just wisps into nothing when it touches it.


    Perfectly canceled. Perfectly negated. I don''t even know how he managed¡ª


    "Ethan, get in here!" Guard calls again, sounding exasperated.


    Oh. Right. I push my astonishment to the side and Warpstep, feeling the aura flood into me.


    Then I take a deep breath, my eyes widening. It''s like an instinctive response. The aura feels good. It''s a warmth that spreads into my bones, giving me a sense of relaxation I don''t think I''ve been able to have since the start of the damn Trial.


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    A bit dangerous, really, to relax like this in the middle of a fight, but it''s not like the Regrets are actively attacking while they''re channeling the skill.


    "...Ethan?" Guard asks, looking at me with concern. I realize I''m smiling a little loopily and cough. Probably a strange expression to wear when surrounded by a deadly skill.


    "Sorry, wasn''t expecting... whatever this is." I wrap my hand in a bit of Phaseshift, then reach out toward the aura Guard is projecting; Life Firmament loops around my fingers like a purring cat. A very tiny purring cat. "It feels good. Like I''m taking a hot shower. Haven''t had the chance to take many of those since coming here."


    He-Who-Guards makes a curious sort of noise from his vocalizer. "You should have asked. There are facilities in Isthanok."


    A pause. "I didn''t think about that," I admit after a moment. I don''t think I''ve spared much thought toward taking a break, but this aura is rapidly convincing me I might need one.


    I mean, I took showers. I just forgot that hot water... existed. Most of my baths have been in one of the many rivers winding through Hestia.


    "The next time we are close," He-Who-Guards says, "I will make sure to get you access to Whisper''s facilities."


    "I appreciate it," I say dryly. It does sound pretty good. Novi is staring between the two of us, clearly not understanding the conversation, but apparently happy to just listen for now. She looks like she''s bursting with questions, though. "How did you even do this? Guard, this is... It''s the equivalent of a Rank S skill. That you just created. Out of thin air."


    Guard''s optic flickers. "It is?" he asks, his voice uncertain. "I did not... I simply acted. It is something I have been trying to do since the fight with the Seedmother."


    I whistle. That''s not long ago at all. "Well, good work," I say. "I didn''t really have a counter for gaseous attacks like this."


    He-Who-Guards hesitates, then eventually gives me an oddly stiff nod. "I am glad I could help."


    I can''t help but eye him for a moment. "You know I admire you too, right? I mean, considering what you''ve been through..."


    Guard says nothing, but his fans whirr a little faster. I have no idea what to make of it, so I turn my gaze back onto the horde of incoming Regrets.


    That Death Fog skill isn''t likely to be the last trick they have up their sleeves. Far into the distance, deeper into that tunnel, I can feel something else coming.


    I just hope we''re ready for it.


    <hr>


    Rhoran was infuriated.


    He''d made changes, and Ethan hadn''t even run into them. And what he hadn''t anticipated was that his changes had created Threads. Those weren''t supposed to show up on Trialgoer planets! They were reserved for fourth-layer practitioners and above, even among Trialgoers. Part of that was because they were dangerous for anyone below the fourth to access them¡ªtheir Firmament wouldn''t hold steady.


    The other part was that Threads allowed practitioners to grow way too fast. Almost fast enough to escape the bounds of the Interface.


    Bah. It wouldn''t be a problem, Rhoran told himself. Ethan would have to not only be able to feel a Thread and access it, he''d have to do it without hurting himself. He doubted that would happen.


    And then it did.


    Rhoran fumed.


    It would be fine, he told himself. The changes he''d made would still matter. It would affect the end of this stage, the start of the next, and the effect would cascade. His trap would still work.


    Even if Ethan didn''t encounter anything else, the thing he''d need to fight next... no Trialgoer could survive something like that. Not even a fourth-layer Trialgoer.


    After all, no Trialgoer had ever managed to gain access to a Talent.


    <hr>


    "I''m surprised you''re willing to just have a conversation about this," Ahkelios remarked.


    They were sitting in Novi''s apartment. It was a pleasant place, all things considered¡ªit had been a long time since Ahkelios had been anywhere he thought he could remotely consider a home. Even back in Isthanok, he and Ethan had mostly slept in cramped spaces near the rebel workshops. In the Cliffside Crows, they''d slept in the huts the crows lived in, made of twigs and branches.


    This was more... well, it wasn''t familiar, exactly. It was pretty different from what he remembered of his home. But it was still nice¡ªwell lit, cushions, paintings on the walls. Ahkelios couldn''t remember the last time he''d been somewhere properly comfortable that wasn''t also ostentatious.


    Honorable mention to Whisper, who was most of the ostentatiousness he''d encountered.


    "Well," Zhir said. "My threats would hardly be effective if I made them miles away from the children I''m threatening." He poured out a steaming cup of what Ahkelios thought looked like tea, then offered one to him.


    "You brought me to them," Ahkelios pointed out, accepting the tea. "I could stop you."


    "Could you?" Zhir asked. "How powerful are you, exactly?"


    Ahkelios could sense this was genuine curiosity¡ªit was part of the bond they shared. There was another side to it, though; Zhir wanted to see exactly how much power he would hold once he''d integrated Ahkelios as his Remnant.


    That was kind of the rub of it. They were both Remnants, really. Ahkelios was bound to Ethan. Zhir was bound to the Empty City. They''d had very different experiences, and held very different beliefs, in large part because of how much Ahkelios''s experiences were now shaped by what he''d been through with Ethan.


    Zhir hadn''t experienced any of that. He''d been stuck in a decaying city for what felt like centuries.


    "Don''t know," Ahkelios answered with a shrug. "I''m pretty sure I''m stronger than when we were alive, but only if I''m borrowing Ethan''s skills."


    That part was pointed. Sever the connection¡ªtake over Ahkelios¡ªand Zhir would gain not even a fraction of what Ahkelios held. Zhir hummed in thought for a moment.


    "I don''t think that''ll be a problem," he said eventually. "I can always just take his core."


    "What?" Ahkelios asked, wondering if he''d misheard. Zhir glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow.


    "Take his core. You don''t know about¡ª" Zhir laughed. "Of course you don''t. I only ever saw it when other people ran this dungeon. When you kill a Trialgoer, you get to take their core. It''s all the Firmament they''ve gathered, all the skills they''ve gained."


    "Naru didn''t mention this," Ahkelios said numbly. That meant¡ªthat meant the Hestian Trialgoers would really want Ethan, didn''t it? Why hadn''t they come for Ethan already?


    "Naru?" Zhir cocked his head, and Ahkelios felt him forcing his way into their shared bond for information; he winced, trying to keep him out, but to no avail. The Remnant was strong, and his distance from Ethan meant he couldn''t quite muster up all the Firmament he normally had available.


    Ethan was in the middle of a fight, he could tell that much. If he just held on long enough¡ªdelayed long enough¡ªthere was the possibility that he''d end this stage of the Trial before Zhir ever got the chance to affect it.


    "Oh, the bird." Zhir rolled his eyes. "No, I doubt most of Hestia''s Trialgoers would know about it. Not the lower five, anyway. They''re still only at the second layer. You gotta hit fourth layer at minimum to drop your core. I doubt many of Hestia''s Trialgoers have achieved that. They''re kind of weak in the wider galaxy."


    "They''re what?" Ahkelios frowned. That wasn''t how he''d heard things. But then he processed what Zhir said¡ª


    "You aren''t going to be able to get Ethan''s skills from him, if that''s the case," Ahkelios mumbled. Zhir raised an eyebrow at him.


    "Why? Because he''s a third layer?" he laughed. "I can mimic the bond you have with him and just play your role¡ªI''ll have your memories. I can help him get to the fourth layer before I take his core."


    "What makes you think you''d be strong enough to beat him?" Ahkelios asked. Ethan was strong. Third was farther than most Trialgoers ever got.


    Wasn''t it?


    "No, you''re right, it is," Zhir said, amused. "We never got past... what, second, I think? As far as I remember. Not that I have all my memories."


    "Second," Ahkelios agreed. He was pretty sure that was the farthest they''d gotten.


    "But you''re uniquely placed," Zhir continued. "You have a link right inside his core. No one develops defenses to Firmament attacks from within. It just doesn''t happen."


    Ahkelios was really starting to hate this guy. Which said a lot, because this guy was himself. "And you want me to just let you do that?" he demanded.


    "Well, yeah." Zhir shrugged. "How else are we going to get our life back? Don''t you miss our home? Our people? Don''t tell me you''d rather we get stuck serving some human."


    "I''m not serving him," Ahkelios growled.


    "Even better," Zhir said. "Then this shouldn''t be a problem for you, should it? Just let me kill you and take over your Remnant."


    Ahkelios stared at him in disbelief.


    "I can see this will take you more time to process," Zhir said. "Want some more tea?"

 173 — Book 3, Chapter 32 — An Abstract Problem

    It takes a while, but we settle into a pattern.


    It turns out that the Regrets in the second stage only know one skill¡ªDeath Fog¡ªand as difficult as it is for me to counter, He-Who-Guards and his Breath of Life keeps us perfectly safe while the skill is running. It helps that the Regrets don''t seem to be able to move while they''re channeling the skill; the fight would be a lot more complicated if they tried to attack us at the same time.


    Though given the way they''re escalating, they might not be far off from trying exactly that. I grimace a little at the thought. I can fight at range, but not nearly as effectively as I should be able to.


    For now, I take point. While Death Fog isn''t in effect, I rush forward, tanking hits and punching back; even when they escalate to Rank A, they fold easily with the combined impact of Firmament Control and Phaseslip. When they hit Rank S, I fold in a little power from Amplified Gauntlet and the Knight, and they break apart beneath my fists.


    All the while, I gather credits.


    [You have defeated a Lasting Regret (Rank S)! +30 Strength credits. +16 Durability credits. +20 Reflex credits. +31 Speed credits. +16 Firmament credits.]


    Different names now, I notice. And those credits are more than enough now to trigger another skill collection if I really need it, although I save it for now. I suspect if I tried to collect a skill now it''d offer me something akin to Death Fog, and as powerful as that skill is, it doesn''t really fit in with the rest of my kit.


    Something for range would be nice, though. Something that lets me deal hits from afar. Maybe if I practice a few long-distance shots, do something with Firmament Control to mimic the effect of a fireball or something similar¡ª


    "They''re casting!" Guard calls out, and I immediately retreat back into the bubble of safety provided by his Breath of Life.


    "They are getting stronger," Novi observes nervously. The silence of the bubble and the immutable darkness of Death Fog around us is probably getting to her. "You are hurt."


    I blink. "What? No, I''m not," I say¡ªbut she reaches out, and her fingers graze over a long, jagged cut running from my elbow to my shoulder. I hiss, jerking back, and she bows her head in apology.


    "You must be more careful," she says. "I suspect injuries inflicted by these wisps are harder to notice."


    I guess I can''t argue with that. Now that she isn''t touching it, the pain''s once more faded into a dull throb, barely noticeable under the rush of adrenaline. Without the protection of Premonition, I might have been hit far more and not even noticed; even with it this escaped my attention.


    He-Who-Guards reaches out, his attention focused on the wound. "Allow me," he says quietly.


    Some of the Life Firmament around us flows into the cut, and we watch as flesh stitches itself together. Once his attention is focused on it, it happens in seconds, though the bubble we''re in is noticeably smaller. Right¡ªnow that I think about it, Breath of Life is probably a healing skill. It''s just that most of its power is focused on defending us from Death Fog.


    "That''s going to be useful," I say. "Thanks, Guard."


    He blinks at me, optic shuttering shut for a moment. For some reason, I feel like he took what I just said very seriously. "You are welcome."


    And just like that, the fight continues. The Regrets aren''t escalating quite as quickly anymore¡ªthe next wave is the same set of Rank S monsters, marginally more powerful but not quite outside the realm of what I can handle yet. Weaker than the Seedmother by far, thankfully, despite the rank; part of it is probably the skill they''re able to cast.


    We get farther into the tunnel. It begins to narrow, and I sense glimpses of Firmament around us¡ªthe bustling of First Sky right above. I frown.


    "Aren''t we supposed to be sealed off from the city?" I ask, turning my gaze to Novi.


    "We are," she says. "Why do you ask?"


    "Because I can sense it," I say. "The Firmament above us."


    Novi frowns herself. "That should not be possible," she says slowly. "The tunnels are fully shielded."


    "Maybe this area is damaged?" I ask. I look up, but it''s hard to see in the dimness of the tunnel¡ªbarely any lights are working now. Novi shakes her head.


    "I will send in a report," she says, sounding troubled. "The shielding should not fail at any point. Such a failure could spell disaster for the city."


    "Disaster?" I raise an eyebrow. "What kind of experiments are there in this Shadowed Laboratory?"


    "We work with many artifacts, some excavated and others presented by the gods," Novi answers. "They are not built to cause harm, but on occasion..."


    "Right. I get the picture," I say, though I''m well aware I don''t sound entirely convinced. More and more I''m beginning to question exactly what Novi means by these gods¡ªthough this is perhaps not the best time to question her.


    Especially since the waves are starting to change.


    There are fewer and fewer Regrets each time, and while they''re individually stronger, they aren''t strong enough to make up for the loss in numbers. Soon, each wave is coming in sets of five, then four, then three...


    Firmament stops dripping from the ceiling. I glance at the Interface, a thought occuring to me.


    These waves are almost like a countdown.


    [Charge the Seed: 99/100]


    Exactly like a countdown.


    I come to a stop, suddenly wary. There''s something in the tunnel ahead. Something so powerful it''s setting my skills ablaze. Premonition is screaming a warning with more intensity than I''ve ever felt.


    Direction and intensity. That''s all the skill is supposed to tell me. The worst it''s ever been is with the asteroid from Isthanok, and even then it felt like standing in front of an oncoming train.


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    This is...


    It feels like I''m standing in front of something that could end me in an instant. In front of death. In front of extinction. Premonition screams at me with the clearest warning it''s ever given me.


    In front of you lies the end of all things.


    Novi whimpers. I hear the clunk of metal on concrete, and I turn just enough to see that Guard has fallen to a knee¡ªhis Firmament is flickering wildly, and the Breath of Life he''s trying to hold up is wicking away nearly as fast as he can conjure it.


    What the hell is this?


    I''m still standing, but only barely. Whatever this is, it feels like my entire body is caught in the grasp of a river. I have to lock every muscle to stay in place, and even then, it burns. It burns like I''m standing next to a miniature sun, the force of it transformed into hammers that try to force me back.


    All this, and I can''t even see what we''re fighting yet. It''s hiding in the darkness, too far away to see. This much of an escalation doesn''t feel right, even for the Interface.


    It feels like something''s gone very, very wrong.


    "Abstraction." The Knight within me is suddenly alert, hissing with anger. I feel it reaching out to me, and I accept the help without hesitation; I feel the Knight''s strength flood into my limbs. The pain of the transformation this time is nothing in comparison to what I''m facing.


    "You know what this is?" I ask quietly.


    "It is an Abstraction." The Knight''s response is a low growl. "It is an abomination."


    "I might need more of an explanation than that if we''re going to fight it," I mutter. The presence in front of me increases, and I grit my teeth as I''m forced to take a step back in turn. Not voluntarily. It just feels like... the universe bends, and suddenly I''m one step back from where I''m supposed to be.


    "We cannot fight it." The Knight is so certain about this that it makes my heart drop¡ªit''s never backed down from a challenge before. "It is a concept made real. A hole in the universe. You cannot defeat it any more than you can defeat the rising of the sun or the coming of the tide."


    And yet something about the way it says that...


    "You want to try anyway?" I ask. I feel the Knight pause for a second, and then I get the sharp impression of a grin, wild and ferocious.


    "You," it says, "are a good host."


    I stare down the tunnel. Whatever''s down there is taking its sweet time in coming to meet us, and if it''s going to give us that time, then I''m going to make use of it. I glance behind me.


    Novi is shaking. She''s curled in on herself, her eyes wide and blank; if I can barely handle this, then I''m not surprised that a civilian can''t think straight. He-Who-Guards is doing his best to hold it together, but even he can''t quite hide the way his optic flickers in fear. In spite of this, he''s doing what he can to reassure Novi and calm her down.


    I don''t want to let them down.


    "Alright," I say. I feel the Knight''s attention on me¡ªit''s waiting for a plan. "Tell me everything you know about these Abstractions."


    <hr>


    Ahkelios watched as Novi''s children played.


    They were good children, he thought. Young as they were¡ªthough he had no idea how young they actually were, considering he had no idea how scirix ages worked in general¡ªthey were kind to one another. The older one would play any game the younger one asked him to, even when the games were a little silly.


    Sometimes the games weren''t silly. Sometimes they would engage in a deeply philosophical conversation for all of five minutes and give Ahkelios a severe form of whiplash. He didn''t know if that was normal for children or if it was just these two in particular; maybe they were older than he thought.


    Neither of them seemed bothered by Ahkelios or Zhir. Ahkelios thought he caught the older of the two listening in on them every so often, but they didn''t react to anything Zhir said, so he figured they probably weren''t paying that much attention.


    "You don''t miss home?" Zhir asked.


    "Of course I do," Ahkelios hissed. He just needed to delay a little longer, he told himself. He didn''t know what was going on, but he could tell Ethan was about to get into something big. "I don''t miss it so much that I''d betray my closest friend."


    "Closest?" Zhir raised an eyebrow. "Are we including friends from back home?"


    "Yes," Ahkelios responded immediately. He didn''t even need to think about it.


    "Even Rhiitara?" Zhir asked, and Ahkelios froze.


    He hadn''t remembered the name until now. It confirmed that Zhir had memories he didn''t. But Rhii¡ª


    He closed his eyes. Remembered the moment he''d failed a Ritual objective. Remembered the way reality had just torn open. He caught a glimpse of a half-dozen different worlds, then, a half-dozen different Trials. The blowback from his failure...


    It burned right through them all. Including Rhii.


    "That isn''t a fair question," Ahkelios growled out.


    "I''d say it''s perfectly fair," Zhir countered. "I want you to give up your life. You want me to give up mine. Are we really so different?"


    "I could leave you alone," Ahkelios said. "I don''t have to take your Remnant."


    Zhir snorted. "And leave me to rot in the Empty City," he said. "One way or another, only one of us is leaving. I''m being polite¡ª" A trickle of deadly Firmament sharpened to a point flowed into his arm. "But I don''t have to be."


    Ahkelios froze. He could fight him. But to do it here? With the children?


    "Besides," Zhir said. The power vanished, and Ahkelios forced himself to relax again, though he remained on his guard. "Your Ethan..."


    Zhir glanced away, frowning. "Now that''s unusual," he muttered. "Oh, now he''s really gonna die. Unless you let me help him."


    "What are you talking about?" Ahkelios asked. Dread rose in his throat¡ªhe was connected enough with Zhir that he could tell he wasn''t lying.


    "Abstractions are terrible enemies," Zhir said casually. "Not something you can fight without some very specific knowledge. But, you know, I already told you I have to help Ethan get to at least the fourth layer, so you know I''ll help him this much. What do you say?"


    Ahkelios tried to find the lie. He couldn''t. He opened his mouth to speak¡ª


    A small, clear voice interrupted them.


    "Our household doesn''t take kindly to threats," the older child said. Juri. There was a steady look on his face, and he pointed what looked like a wooden sword at Zhir¡ªexcept, Ahkelios realized, it wasn''t a wooden sword at all. That thing was full to bursting with Firmament.


    Zhir didn''t have Ethan''s senses, but Ahkelios did. Or rather, he could channel them to a limited extent. He looked around. The two of them had been playing random board games, fiddling with devices.


    Every single one of them was full of intense, blazing Firmament.


    Yarun, the younger child, pressed a switch¡ªand thick ropes suddenly shot out from each of the ''games'', wrapping around Zhir in a tight, steady lock.


    Ahkelios stared. These were children? They''d been listening. They''d planned a trap. He supposed it wasn''t all that surprising that Novi would keep some defensive tools in her home, but this?


    He glanced at the older of the two children again. Juri, his name was. He didn''t look away from Zhir for even a moment, and the tip of his sword¡ªwhich was really more of a Firmament blaster¡ªblazed bright.


    "Who are you," Juri said. "And what did you do with Uncle Zhir?"


    "And tell us about these Abstraction things!" Yarun added, tugging on his older brother''s elbow. Juri considered this for a moment, then nodded.


    "Yes. And tell us about those."

 174 — Book 3, Chapter 33 — All-Seeing Eye

    Abstractions, I''m told, are the product of another Talent. It''s a counterpart to my ability to Anchor, in a way¡ªan Anchor changes an aspect of reality and grounds it into the world, and an Abstraction takes an aspect of reality and rips it out, giving it life and shape and presence beyond what it should have.


    The problem with Abstraction? There''s no way to control what''s created. It''s an incredibly dangerous Talent that more often than not kills the people that unlock it, in large part because they aren''t usually Abstracting concepts that are safe to be around.


    Part of that is the nature of the Trials. Anyone that unlocks that particular Talent is usually in the midst of combat, which rather predictably causes them to accidentally Abstract concepts of Violence, War, or Death.


    Unfortunately for those Trialgoers, none of those concepts are particularly amenable to the whole idea of life.


    The good news is that you can outlast an Abstraction. They don''t and can''t stick around forever. Eventually, they get pulled back into the fold of the universe, their presence and power fading.


    The bad news is... Well, people don''t generally live long enough to see that happen. More often than not, unless there''s a fifth-layer practitioner around to handle them, they tear through all life in their general vicinity.


    So that''s fun. Third-layer practitioner or not, I''ve been told in no uncertain terms that the power I''ve gathered so far won''t be enough to deal with this.


    Which brings up the question of why the Interface is throwing it at me. Without Integrator interference, it''s never given me challenges that are outright impossible¡ªnot unless I lead myself into them.


    "We do not have time for this," the Knight reminds me.


    Right. Back to the problem at hand.


    Abstractions are almost impossible to fight directly. There''s a weight and presence to higher-level Firmament that can affect them¡ªthat''s the reason fifth-level practitioners and above can deal with them. Anything less and the practitioner''s Firmament just isn''t enough to make an impact.


    But it''s a little more involved than that, the Knight explains. There''s a sort of rock-paper-scissors element to it. An Abstraction is more easily affected by Firmament of a type that opposes them, regardless of its level; Firmament type is, apparently, in large part created by fragments of abstracted concepts that lie within it.


    Try as I might, I can''t quite break apart my Firmament sense enough to find these fragments that the Knight''s talking about. There are moments where I feel like I''m almost able to glimpse something, but they''re gone almost as soon as I can grasp them¡ªwhatever they are, they''re apparently beyond my ability to sense.


    For now, at least.


    Either way, I trust that they''re there. It explains in part why Guard''s Breath of Life can provide any defense at all. The Abstraction is wearing it down nearly as quickly as Guard can generate it, but the fact that it''s doing anything at all...


    The question that remains is what type of Abstraction we''re dealing with. Breath of Life''s effect on it indicates that it''s probably Death or something similar, but the Knight insists that it isn''t¡ªan abstraction of Death would likely have already killed us.


    "But something similar," it concedes. "Something close enough."


    Close enough is going to be the best I''ve got to work with. I can''t quite tease out what I''m up against just by feeling for it, and the Interface isn''t any use here; it only gives me a name once I''ve defeated something. But if Life Firmament is enough opposed to it that it can provide us some defense...


    Time to break out an old tool.


    "Guard," I say quietly. "Can I borrow some of your Firmament?"


    He-Who-Guards glances at me and gives me a tense nod. It takes some effort for him¡ªI can hear the whine from his systems¡ªbut he manages to provide a single wisp of Life Firmament that isn''t immediately sucked up by the Abstraction''s mere presence; I bind it to myself with a touch of Firmament Control, then take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus.


    The way I see it, the skills I have right now can''t deal with an Abstraction of any level, let alone whatever we''re facing. I''m not sure it would be enough even if I had skills composed purely of Life Firmament. But something the Knight said stuck out to me.


    Abstraction and Anchoring are counterpart Talents. I don''t have the ability to create an Abstraction¡ªbut I do have the ability to Anchor.


    "You want to Anchor Life into your skills?" The Knight sounds almost impressed. "That will not be easy. Skills are already fixed; to Anchor something into them a second time..."


    "I think I can do it," I say, "if I use the All-Seeing Eye."


    Technically, the Inspiration is meant to help me combine skills. It exposes a skill construct on a level beyond what I can normally sense. More than that, it exposes the gaps in a skill construct¡ªplaces where another skill might be able to slot in. Normally they''re shapes too complex for me to be able to break down, but with the All-Seeing Eye, I can see where they fit. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.


    It occurs to me that one day I might not need it anymore. If I can develop my sense of Firmament enough, if I can puzzle these skills apart and figure out this underlying connection I seem to have found... I might be able to manipulate skills much more freely.


    But that''s for the future. For now, I need the All-Seeing Eye and its ability to highlight the gaps in a skill. If I can find a way to combine my skills with the sample of Breath of Life I''m holding...


    All-Seeing Eye.


    Yellow fire blazes into existence on the left side of my visor, and reality peels away to reveal Firmament in sharp focus.


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    It isn''t quite enough. Breath of Life is blurry, faded¡ªthe skill isn''t entirely my own, and it''s created from a circuit rather than a construct. But maybe...


    Firmament Sight.


    Another layer on top of it all. The Firmament I''m holding sharpens even further, just enough for me to make out where it might fit in with other skills.


    "I don''t wish to rush you," Guard says. There''s a touch of nerves in his voice, and at the same time, what feels like... faith. "But it''s getting closer."


    "How close?" I ask.


    "It''s a few minutes away," he says. "I''ll warn you when it is close."


    "Thank you."


    It''s still taking its time. The more time it gives me, the more I''ll be able to prepare.


    First and easiest. Crystallized Barrier isn''t the same as Barrier, but it''s still easy enough to slot another element into it.


    [Crystallized Barrier] + [Breath of Life]


    [You have created Life Dome (Rank A) (Temporary)!]


    I frown at the notice. It''s not good enough. The skills are combined, but not completely¡ªpart of the problem is that Breath of Life isn''t my skill. I''m combining the skills in theory, and the Interface is trying to fill in the gaps...


    But I''m not done yet, am I? This isn''t going to work if I don''t make the Life in these skills real. If I don''t Anchor them into reality with enough strength to oppose an Abstraction.


    I focus my will like a hammer. I still don''t completely understand what I''m doing with Anchoring, but I can feel the edges of the skill¡ªfuzzy, undefined, not quite there...


    I bring it into being. I force it to change. My will creates a weight, and the world bends to accommodate what I''ve brought forth.


    [Life Dome (Rank A) (Temporary) has been upgraded to Crystallized Life (Rank S)!]


    Better.


    Next is my primary offensive skill. It''s harder to find, but I see it after a moment of examination: Amplification Gauntlet takes my strength and amplifies it. I just need to change what it takes.


    [Amplification Gauntlet] + [Breath of Life]


    [You have created Life Infusion (Rank A) (Temporary)!]


    One more time. I need to Anchor the Life in the skill. I need it to channel life into a solid, amplified point, powerful enough to damage an Abstraction. I will the Anchor into being¡ª


    [Life Infusion (Rank A) (Temporary) has been upgraded to Vital Blow (Rank S)!]


    Better.


    I''m distantly aware that there''s a throbbing in my skull. Anchoring isn''t something that I''ve practiced extensively; the knowledge that there are consequences to failing prevented me from openly experimenting as much as I would''ve liked to. This is probably straining something I''m not supposed to strain.


    "You have done well," the Knight says, sounding impressed. "I did not think you would succeed... With this, we may have a chance."


    Except a part of me isn''t satisfied with this. I''m going up against something that requires a fifth-layer practitioner. Am I really going to go at this with just two Rank S skills that might be able to hurt it?


    "Ethan?" The Knight sounds concerned now.


    The point of power is to protect those around me. I told myself I''d gain enough strength to never have to make a hard choice. That goal is a long way away, but if I don''t hold on to it now...


    He-Who-Guards is giving this everything he has. This isn''t even his fight. He could have walked away from it¡ªhe didn''t need to join me. But it''s only because he did that I have a chance at all in this fight.


    "Ethan. I do not recommend pushing this further. Anchoring requires the force of your entire soul." The Knight''s voice is a stern warning. It''s probably the most concerned I''ve ever heard it. It usually relishes a challenge.


    I can sense Ahkelios through our bond. The distance strains it, but there''s a peculiar mixture of anger and hope; I don''t have to be able to see what he''s doing to know that he''s fighting his own fight. He''s confronting himself, and part of the reason he''s doing it is me. Because I convinced him I would fight for him and with him, if the time came.


    I look at the two skills I''ve created. All I can think is that they''re not enough.


    "Ethan," the Knight tries again.


    And then there''s Naru.


    Truth be told, he doesn''t matter that much to me, but what does matter to me is that he tried. More than that, Tarin and Mari see an opportunity to reconcile with their son. It''s an opportunity I never got with my own parents. Might never get to have, with the way the Trials and Integration are going.


    Maybe I''m being a fool. I could lose this stage and lose nothing. I''ve done enough. I''ve tried.


    But my heart disagrees. And with that disagreement¡ª


    [You have touched on a Thread for the third time. You have gained access to the Thread of Insight.]


    It''s all so clear now. Exactly what I need to Anchor. The core of the skill, the center of the pattern.


    [You have created a Submerged skill: Great Filter (Rank F)]


    [You have created a Submerged skill: Primordial Foray (Rank F)]


    I stare at the Interface, breathing heavily. The first thing I notice is the rank¡ªit nearly makes my heart drop. But then I catch on to the Submerged part and freeze.


    That''s how the Interface rates imbuements, isn''t it? What''s that word doing here?


    "Ethan, we''re out of time," He-Who-Guards says. His voice is strained. I look up, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and he''s right. The Abstraction is here. A terrible, broken thing, like staring at a wound in reality. It mimics a humanoid, bipedal form, but something tells me that appearance is no more real than a projection on a screen. It''s just there so my mind can make sense of it.


    I reach inside my soul and flinch.


    Above all the rest of my skills, Great Filter and Primordial Foray hang like miniature suns. The rest of them look like mere engines in comparison¡ªthese new ones...


    I don''t know what I just did, but I have a feeling I''m about to find out.


    Just activating one takes every drop of Firmament I have.


    Primordial Foray.


    <hr>


    Somewhere in the space between spaces, Kauku sat up, intrigued.


    Ethan was fascinating. Out of his depth in almost every way imaginable, certainly¡ªhe couldn''t remember the last time a practitioner had figured out Submerged skills, let alone a Trialgoer still going through their Trial¡ªbut fascinating, nonetheless.


    "What an Heir," he muttered to himself, unable to stop himself from grinning. "But I''m afraid you''re too far ahead again, Ethan. How are you going to get yourself out of this one?"


    Maybe he could help. Toss his Heir a freebie. Ethan was already exceeding all expectations helping him, after all; it was only fair if he gave something back. What was it the humans called it? A quid-pro-quo?


    "What do you think, Ira?" he asked into the darkness. There was, of course, no response; Kauku hadn''t expected one.


    But with the way things were going... well, if Ethan didn''t burn himself out, he''d get to see the other Scions again soon enough.


    Kauku sighed, tapping bony fingers on an empty plane of the void. "I''m not supposed to root for you, you know," he said. "But damn if you don''t make it hard."


    He''d do nothing for now. He''d watch. See how Ethan dealt with this.


    If he was right, he''d get his chance to step in.

 175 — Book 3, Chapter 34 — Household Battle

    It is the 4,900th day of Awakening.


    A hundred days have passed since the last Record. The decay has grown exponentially ¡ª we are no longer able to see outside our city. A pitch-black darkness surrounds us. Everything within, however, remains perfectly lit. The Seers are baffled, and the citizens are doing their best to contain their panic.


    My sons have taken on leadership roles in the crisis. I could not be more proud of them. The elder, Juri, now helps to break up the conflicts that have been erupting more frequently between our people. Tensions are high, and I cannot blame them.


    The younger, Yarun, has learned medical Firmament techniques, and applies them to healing and preventing the spread of disease. He is a kind man ¡ª I have seen him more than once, both as his patient and as his mother.


    They both seem so tired, but so determined. I wish their lives could be more than this.


    ¡ª6th inscription on First Sky''s final Record


    <hr>


    Zhir found himself annoyed.


    It wasn''t a feeling he was accustomed to. Neither of his selves¡ªnot the part of him that had the true Zhir''s memories and expertise, nor the part of him that was an age-old Remnant that had been stuck in a ruined city for centuries¡ªwere the type to let something so simple slip past them.


    And yet.


    He should''ve known better than to underestimate Novi''s children. His counterpart was a different matter¡ªhe knew himself better than anyone. It didn''t matter how much the other version of him changed from being friends with that human. At the end of the day, he could predict how Ahkelios would act and respond. The bond they shared helped; it was next to impossible for either of them to hide how they were feeling from the other.


    Novi''s children, on the other hand? He''d assumed they would ignore him like they always did. Zhir had memories of babysitting them on many occasions before this one, and he could not remember a single instance of them displaying any level of tactical thinking, let alone enough to set up traps for him while they were out of sight.


    Nor could he remember anything about Novi''s home having defenses like these. What, had she kept secrets from him? He was her best friend!


    Zhir carefully ignored the small voice in his head that was, in fact, quite proud of his best friend and her children.


    He''d been careful to compartmentalize every part of himself that was Zhir. The moment he realized what was happening, the moment he noticed the dungeon reshaping itself... this was his chance, he knew. It had been a long, long time since a Ritual had begun within the Empty City, and just the thought of being able to experience something that wasn''t the same ruined monotony nearly had him salivating.


    He just had to play it smart. Had to take on a role that would be important enough for him to play a part, but not so important that the Ritual itself would try to reject him. Zhir was placed perfectly for that, and really, it had been almost alarmingly easy to just slot himself in his place. It was almost like the Ritual''s usual defenses were distracted with something else.


    Though even then, Zhir couldn''t claim the transition had been perfect. No matter how much older and more experienced he was, there was some personality bleedthrough¡ªhe hadn''t been able to completely suppress the original Zhir''s identity. It was one of the reasons he now thought of himself with Zhir''s name, even though he knew he was Ahkelios.


    Well, that and things like names had lost meaning for him years ago. It was probably one of the reasons that part of Zhir had been able to assert itself so strongly; centuries alone was enough to erode any emotional tie he still had with his name. What use did he have for one when there was no one else around?


    The point was that¡ªname aside¡ªhe''d subsumed Zhir''s identity almost entirely. He knew everything the scirix would have known, including how capable Novi and her family were, and he should have been prepared for something like this.


    Zhir glared at the ropes binding him like disbelieving them with sufficient force would dispel them. No such luck.


    Worse, from what he could tell, these things had a suppressive effect. Try as he might, he couldn''t sharpen his Firmament to a blade, something that normally came to him as easy as breathing; if he could, he would''ve cut through these ropes in an instant. Something about them... what, disrupted his connection with his Firmament? Enough that he couldn''t seem to call up any of his skills.


    "Clever kids," Zhir grunted, mostly to himself. Yarun still seemed pleased by the compliment. Juri was... comparatively steadfast¡ªhe kept the blaster pointed straight at him. Zhir noticed that the kid''s off-hand was trembling slightly, but not the one that held the blaster; that one stayed perfectly steady.


    Well-trained, a part of himself thought proudly. Zhir quashed it.


    "I''m surprised you went for your uncle and not the shiny, glowing bug-thing," Zhir said, trying to buy time. Ahkelios bristled at the description, making him smirk¡ªit seemed the other version of him was still at least a little vain¡ªand Juri and Yarun exchanged glances.


    "I think he''s cool," Yarun announced loudly.


    "And I trust my brother''s instincts," Juri said, his voice dry. "That and you weren''t exactly quiet about your threats."


    "Ah, of course. My mistake." Zhir kept his tone genial and polite; behind his back, he worked at his bonds, testing the ropes to see if they had any give. They were good restraints, but they couldn''t hold him back forever. They had to have a power source of some sort. If he could just tap into his other self''s senses, see where that power source was or how close it was to being depleted...


    He reached out for that shared link and found himself almost immediately rebuffed. Ahkelios glared at him, and Zhir raised an eyebrow. "What, grew a spine?" he scoffed. "You think you can keep me out?"


    "You''re trapped," Ahkelios said evenly. "And I know you as well as you know me. The kids involved themselves. If you get out, you''re not going to let them go free, are you?"


    "If I did, they might be able to tell your human what I''ve done," Zhir answered honestly. He left the bond between them open, practically inviting his counterpart in to look at his thoughts. "It''s not like I want to kill children. You know me better than that."


    "Sure." Ahkelios''s expression didn''t change, and to Zhir''s annoyance, he didn''t so much as glance at their open bond. "Except that means you''re giving me little to no reason to keep you alive."


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    Zhir frowned.


    Ahkelios was serious, as far as he could tell. He''d assumed that his other self was soft. He was soft, from what he''d seen through their link; this other version of him was rotted through with human ideas, believed in things like kindness and freedom and some nonsense about Hestia actually being a beautiful planet. Zhir had no such memories¡ªas far as he was concerned he''d hated nearly every moment he spent on that rock.


    So he hadn''t anticipated the threat. Maybe he didn''t know himself quite as well as he thought. Zhir made an irritated sound in his throat, straining against his bonds again; he heard the whir of machinery as the Firmament draw increased to keep him restrained.


    "Um..." Yarun said. He looked between Ahkelios and Zhir and frowned hard, like he was thinking. "I don''t think we should kill him?"


    He made it sound like a question. Zhir almost said something, but Juri placed a steady hand on his brother''s shoulder and shook his head; his other hand tightened on the blaster. Zhir thought quickly.


    "Kids," he tried. He changed his voice slightly, made it a little kinder, a little softer. "I''m still in here, trying to fight him off! Don''t¡ª"


    Juri''s eyes narrowed. Zhir felt a crackle of Firmament followed by searing pain; he let out a broken shout as pure Firmament tore straight through his arm. This body! When he''d been a Remnant a blast like that would''ve done nothing to him, but now that he''d been reshaped to play this role...


    His Firmament was still strong, but his body was Zhir''s. Weak. That explained how the ropes could hold him down, why they were able to suppress them the way he did. Zhir didn''t quite manage to hide the way his eyes dilated, the way his breathing quickened.


    "Do not," Juri said, his eyes suddenly dark with anger, "pretend to be our uncle. If he could talk he would tell us to end the threat you pose right here and now. I don''t know what''s happening, but I know that much."


    Zhir snarled in response, his heart thundering loud enough that it was all he could hear. Panic stirred within him, dark and unfamiliar.


    "Huh," Ahkelios said softly. The mantis¡ªand how was it fair that it was this version of him that kept their original body? Even as a Remnant all he''d had was a twisted, mutated thing¡ªstepped closer, examining him. "You''re scared."


    "I am not!" Zhir denied vehemently. He jerked against the ropes, angered just by the implication, only to hiss as pain radiated through his arm. He panted and tried to push through it anyway, his vision blurring as blood poured down his arm; he was dimly aware of someone shouting¡ª


    "Stop!" It was the younger of the two brothers. Yarun. Zhir stared at him in a daze. Juri was trying to pull him back, but Yarun had pushed all the way forward and grabbed on to his arm. "You''re only going to make it worse! Stop it!"


    "What do you care," Zhir said. His voice was strangely hoarse.


    "I''m gonna be a doctor one day," Yarun declared. There was a strange intensity in his eyes. He glared at everyone in the room. "I decided. Just now. Which means no one gets hurt while I''m around. And you''re going to shut up while I bandage this."


    Zhir stared. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. Yarun nodded in satisfaction, then turned and marched away, presumably to find some bandages.


    There was a long silence. Zhir considered testing his bonds again.


    He didn''t.


    "I didn''t mean that you were scared of this," Ahkelios said into the silence. "I meant that you''re scared of going back to the Empty City. Of another hundred cycles of nothing."


    Zhir''s breathing quickened slightly, but he said nothing.


    "What are you talking about?" Juri finally asked. "What Empty City?"


    Ahkelios grimaced. "You don''t want to know."


    "I think I do." Juri''s voice was firm.


    "Just tell him," Zhir said. He sounded far more tired than he realized he felt. "The Ritual''s either disrupted or it''s not, at this point. Knowing more isn''t going to make that much of a difference."


    Ahkelios stared at him for a long moment, trying to work out of he was lying. He wasn''t.


    So he did.


    As Yarun bandaged the wound on Zhir''s arm¡ªas Juri aimed a blaster right between his eyes¡ªAhkelios explained to two children the fate of their city.


    To Zhir''s surprise, neither of them stopped what they were doing.


    "Sounds like a lie," Juri said finally. "But if it''s not..."


    "Then it sounds like we can still change things, right?" Yarun didn''t look up from his work. He''d applied some kind of numbing cream¡ªZhir found to his surprise that he could move without it hurting, although the moment he tried Yarun smacked his hand and made him sit still. "This Ritual you mentioned recreates everything. And changes carry forward to the next stage."


    "Maybe it matters, maybe it doesn''t," Juri said. "But I don''t think that changes what we have to do. It just means that now we''re prepared to try."


    Zhir had to admit that that wasn''t the response he''d expected. And there was a grudging respect born out of that¡ªhe didn''t think he could kill either of these two now. Not when he''d seen a glimpse of their spirit.


    "They remind me of home," Zhir said quietly. Ahkelios glanced at him.


    "You''re thinking about¡ª?"


    "Yeah." It felt like an aeon ago, and Zhir couldn''t remember their names or their faces anymore. But he remembered that they''d had friends. Childhood friends that carried a similar optimism all the way into their adulthood and Integration. Juri and Yarun reminded him of them. The few times he''d been able to contact home...


    Zhir couldn''t remember the last time he''d even been able to talk to anyone about home. Ahkelios was different, but even he hadn''t had anyone else understand what they''d lost.


    "I just want to go home," he admitted after a moment. His voice was quiet. Lost.


    "Our home might not even be there anymore," Ahkelios said. Something in Zhir tightened at those words; he hadn''t wanted to hear them.


    "So you''re not even going to try to get back?"


    "I didn''t say that." Ahkelios shook his head. "I will try. And Ethan will help me. We''re going to find out what happened."


    "You really think he''ll do that?" Zhir looked at his counterpart. "He''s got his own planet to worry about."


    "Trust me," Ahkelios said, snorting. "He can care about more than one planet."


    "And if he can''t?"


    "He can." Ahkelios''s gaze didn''t waver. "You don''t know him."


    "And you do."


    "I know enough."


    Zhir didn''t need to tap into their link to see that Ahkelios actually believed that. He tugged briefly at his ropes and paused.


    They were weaker now. He could break free from them if he wanted.


    And then what?


    All he wanted was to see his home again, and if Ahkelios was to be believed...


    "I won''t force you to give up your identity," Zhir said finally. It felt like he was forcing out the words.


    Ahkelios watched him for a moment. "But?"


    "But I won''t give up mine that easily, either." Zhir shrugged, then offered his counterpart a smile. It was a bitter and twisted thing, he knew, but it was the best he could do. "If we integrate, only one of us is coming out as the dominant personality. And I''m not giving mine up to you."


    "I suppose coexistence isn''t a possibility," Ahkelios said dryly. Zhir shook his head.


    "Not for me," he said. "Maybe if I¡ªwe¡ªwere someone else. But I''ll make you a promise, at least."


    Ahkelios raised an eyebrow, waiting.


    "I''ll make sure that friend of yours is safe," Zhir said. "Even if I win. I won''t kill him and steal his core."


    "Very generous of you," Ahkelios said. "I notice you''re not promising not to let him die so you can take the core."


    Zhir shrugged. "Make no mistake," he said. "I''m not your friend. But... I''m tired."


    Ahkelios seemed to understand. He reached out with a hand. "When you''re ready, then."


    Zhir stared at the open hand. His bonds were loose now. He could take this moment to attack.


    He took the hand. "I''m ready," he said.


    And in a scientist''s home, somewhere in the outskirts of First Sky, there was a bright flash of Firmament.

 ANNOUNCEMENT: Book 1 now on KU/Audible!

    Hey all! I want to thank you all again for all the support since I started writing this series¡ªit means the world to me. It¡¯s now finally released on Amazon (KU/Audible) complete with a full professional editing pass and some sick cover art! If you want to help support it, you can check it out on KU and maybe give it a reread. A lot of those old details coming back up again in Book 3, especially with the dungeon arc! Ratings and reviews are also always helpful on Amazon and you don¡¯t even need to buy or download to leave one; sometimes the day 1 reception really defines a launch, haha.


    Here are the links!


    Kindle/KU: https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B0D9WKQRWF</a>


    Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Die-Respawn-Repeat-Audiobook/B0DCGMJ1X2</a>


    If you can¡¯t, no worries! There are other ways to help out. Spread the word if you can, or just engage with the reddit posts here:


    Stolen novel; please report.


    https://www.reddit.com/r/ProgressionFantasy/comments/1hb2tpg/die_respawn_repeat_now_out_on_ku_and_audible/</a> https://www.reddit.com/r/litrpg/comments/1hb2upx/die_respawn_repeat_now_out_on_ku_and_audible/</a>


    You have my utmost appreciation either way. Let¡¯s keep this journey going while we can, yeah?


    (If you want to get a paperback, I''m going to talk to my publisher about the cover--I''d intended for the paperback to be the current cover on RR. Just a heads up on that front!)


    </a>

 176 — Book 3, Chapter 35 — Primordial Foray

    It''s hard to describe exactly what happens when I activate the skill.


    Space warps around my fist. That''s one part of the effect. Light bends as it approaches a threshold around my gauntlet and creates a distinctly odd visual effect, complete with a flickering halo created by stray escaping beams. I can feel the impact of it too, just by waving my hand around¡ªthere''s a distinct pulling sensation that accompanies every movement.


    But that''s not all that happens. More significant is the moment I suddenly find myself holding. Caught in the palm of my hand there''s a fragment of... life isn''t the right word for it.


    It''s a fragment of the beginning. A fragment of that primordial soup that began all life. A fragment of a Concept that''s strong enough now that I can feel it¡ªit washes away the lingering stench of death, the oppressive aura that the Abstraction had hanging over us.


    I step forward, and life steps with me.


    There''s a sound that''s somewhere between a crackle and a whisper. Microscopic spores germinate within seconds, hyphae digging into the metal of the walls; stray seeds grow, their roots tearing through the ground with all the force of time compressed into moments. Flowers bloom into bursts of color. I hear Novi letting out a soft gasp. Guard is silent, but his machinery whirs as he processes everything that''s happening.


    It''s taking everything I have to stay standing. To keep this held.


    The Knight within me is working feverishly to gather what Firmament remains in the air and process it; without its help, I think I would have collapsed by now. The body isn''t meant to be quite this empty of Firmament¡ªI''m not meant to have access to a skill of this level. Not yet. It demands more than I have.


    But more than I have is the only thing that''s going to stop an Abstraction, isn''t it? I''ll examine what all this is later. Threads, Submerged skills, Talents... it''s a whole new set of questions, a whole new set of things to understand.


    Right now, though, what''s in front of me threatens everything I''ve achieved this loop. So I take another step forward. It feels like trying to drag myself through a thick slurry¡ªeverything I am is poured into a singular point in my fist, and I''m holding it steady through nothing more than force of will. If I waver for even a moment, this whole thing shatters.


    The Abstraction stands before me. It looks down at me as if confused by my presence. Maybe it''s confused by the fact that I''m able to stand in front of it at all. I get the distinct impression that if anyone else were standing in my place, they would be kneeling.


    Or dead. Either way, they wouldn''t be standing.


    This close to the Abstraction, it''s easier to tell what it is. I almost laugh¡ªprobably would have if it didn''t take so much effort just to maintain the skill, let alone move. The answer should have been obvious. It''s been staring me in the face this whole time.


    This is the Abstraction of Regret. The full manifestation of every ghost that came before it. It makes sense, in a way; First Sky turns into an empty ruin, a city devoid of color and life, with all the efforts made to save it ultimately a failure. What other emotion¡ªwhat other Concept¡ªwould define it at its end?


    Regret is aligned with Death, in some ways, at least here: it came about as a result of the city''s slow death. It''s an insidious thing that eats away at all future possibility if you let it.


    And Life, in the same way, is opposed to it. Life created by He-Who-Guards, of all people. Considering what he''s told me about his past with Whisper, he''s more than familiar with the idea of regret.


    He could have chosen to die. He considered it, even. He lived a tortured existence for too long.


    But there were too many things he knew he would regret.


    It''s fitting, in a way. I bring up a hand, staring at the Abstraction. It stares back mournfully. I''m not sure it even understands what''s going on or why it''s here. It was brought to life to... what, be an obstacle? To be nothing more than an artifact of war?


    "You didn''t deserve this," I say quietly. Mostly because it feels right. If the Knight is right, and Abstractions are created by tearing a Concept loose from the foundations of reality and giving it life, then I can''t imagine it''s anything but confused right now. No wonder it didn''t rush toward me to fight. It''s just... wandering.


    That it kills anything it comes across in that wandering is an unfortunate reality of its existence. In better, different circumstances, it might have been able to become something more.


    I reach out with my empowered hand. The Abstraction flinches away briefly¡ªit can sense that what I''m holding is fundamentally opposed to it in some way, that it has the potential to do harm.


    And then it stops. It stares at me.


    The Abstraction''s physical appearance is nothing more than the projection of a wound in reality, but in that moment, it looks very much like a manifestation of space. I catch a glimpse of cosmic dust past the bones that make up the skull it wears on its head. I see what looks like the embers of a dying star.


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    It was once part of a greater whole. It sees what I have as a path to do so. It''s like the Knight said: Abstractions can''t stick around forever. Eventually, they fade. The universe repairs itself.


    I get the feeling it wants to repair itself a little faster. It reaches out and takes my hand¡ª


    The reaction is near instantaneous. The Concept I''m holding abruptly boils over, taking to the Abstraction with a ferocity that surprises the both of us. It shoots through its arm and then tears through its body, multiplying rapidly and filling it with life; I catch a glimpse of evolution, of moving on, of regret that doesn''t define a life. I''d be worried about the process being painful, but the Abstraction looks down with an expression that''s distinctly...


    Wonder. It looks down at itself with wonder.


    Just for a moment. Then it cracks like glass, starting from the center and spreading through its body. Its physical form breaks apart, no longer able to sustain itself in the chaos of holding two separate, opposing Concepts.


    Just like that, it''s gone. The tunnel is empty, and the oppressive air that''s been hanging around us vanishes like it was never there; the Knight makes a sound of relief. I feel the bone armor melting back into flesh¡ªthe Inspiration is done and will be for a while, I suspect. Apparently I''ve exhausted it. I didn''t even know that was possible.


    "Is it over?" Novi asks. Her voice comes out almost like a squeak, and she clears her throat before she speaks again. "Ahem. That was... remarkably well done. I have yet to see dangers quite like this within First Sky. That was most unusual."


    "It is over," He-Who-Guards confirms. Then he pauses, frowning, and looks to me for confirmation. "I think. Ethan?"


    "Give me a moment," I mumble.


    I''m lying flat on my back. I don''t even remember lying down. Guard walks over to peer at me, concerned. "You are alright?"


    "I''ll be fine," I say. I don''t try to get up, though.


    "You do not look fine," Guard observes.


    "Everything hurts," I grunt. "Including things that shouldn''t be able to hurt. Like my fingernails, for some reason."


    The automaton looks down at me for another moment, then turns to a concerned Novi. "He is fine."


    "Hey! Why did it take that to convince you?" I complain. I push myself into a sitting position, although only barely; my arms scream in protest as I do so. It feels like my bones are aching, too, which... I suppose kind of makes sense, considering how the Knight Evolution works. Can''t say I like it, though.


    "Because," Guard says, amused, "you are usually fine when you are able to complain."


    I roll my eyes. "You haven''t been traveling with me long enough to know that."


    "But I have been observing you."


    "Guard," I say. "You know that''s kind of creepy, right?"


    "I was ordered to do so," he points out.


    "...Yeah, okay, fair point." Privacy hasn''t been much of an option during the Trials in general, in all honesty. Between the Integrators watching, Ahkelios being directly bonded to me, and Isthanok being a city that''s essentially under constant surveillance, I haven''t actually had a moment to myself since all this started. I try not to think about that. "Alright, let me see. The mission isn''t technically over until we deliver the Seed..."


    I trail off, frowning, as I call up the Interface. The final point hasn''t changed.


    And more worryingly¡ª


    [Charge the Seed: 99/100


    Bonus:


    Defeat the Concept-Bound: 0/1]


    "That''s not right," I mutter, staring at the window. We did defeat the Abstraction¡ªas far as I can tell, that thing is no longer here. In fact, after being exposed to it so directly, it feels like I have a better sense for these things than ever. There''s a sort of scar in the world where the Abstraction used to be, but it''s a scar that''s rapidly mending. "It says we haven''t beaten... well, the Interface is calling it a Concept-Bound. Not sure if that''s the same thing."


    Guard looks at me for a moment, then turns to Novi. "It may not be over," he informs her. She clutches at his arm, eyes wide.


    I force myself to my feet and wince at the wave of pain that comes with it. There''s barely any Firmament left within me¡ªbasically just enough to keep me standing instead of falling unconscious. The Knight feels like it''s fallen asleep, which I can''t blame it for, but it would be nice to have some answers.


    There''s nothing stirring in the distance, as far as I can tell, but there is a slow pit of dread forming in my stomach. Because if the Interface isn''t registering that defeat, then two things are likely to be true.


    The first is that the Abstraction I just fought wasn''t part of the plan. Like I suspected already, more or less; the Trials seem to adhere to some abstract, alien idea of fairness, and throwing something like an Abstraction at me feels far outside of its usual tricks. It''s more than willing to support a bending of the rules, but outright breaking them?


    Something else is interfering with this Ritual.


    The second truth, of course, is that this Ritual stage has a boss, and I haven''t fought it yet. That''s a problem too, because even if the boss isn''t as powerful as the Abstraction, if it''s anything like the Seedmother...


    I''m trying to recover, but I don''t have enough Firmament left. Not for a fight. No matter how fast I work, even if it takes a full hour for whatever this Concept-Bound is to show up¡ªand it won''t¡ªI won''t have recovered enough to fight. Maybe to support, if Guard takes the lead, but fight?


    A roar sounds from deep within the tunnel. I tense immediately and turn my attention to it, expanding my senses, trying to learn more about what''s to come; instead, I notice something else.


    Ahkelios''s bond with me, weakened by distance, is slowly getting stronger again. He''s on his way back. There''s a trickle of relief¡ªeven with his help, it might not be enough, but there''s at least more of a chance¡ª


    I pause, then frown.


    Something about Ahkelios feels different.

 177 — Book 3, Chapter 36 — Renewed Bonds

    There''s not much time to think about it, because the Concept-Bound is upon us in a moment, and it''s only Guard''s quick thinking that saves us. He steps in front of me and blazes with a Firmament shield strong enough that a shot I didn''t notice just ricochets off, slamming into the tunnel walls and blasting a chunk into it.


    Then and only then does the Concept-Bound emerge from the darkness of the tunnel. It''s no surprise that it resembles a large, mutated scirix¡ªit''s on four legs instead of two, its lower body split in a grotesque imitation of something adjacent to a centaur. Its upper body could pass for a regular member of their society if not for its four arms and eyes.


    And there''s an intelligence in its eyes. His eyes?


    He speaks. His voice is quiet and mournful; even his words ring with the Concept of Regret, and while it isn''t as powerful as the Abstraction''s aura, it still washes over us with enough force to make us stagger.


    "I am Phylus," he says. "I would like to know the names of those I am to end."


    Guard''s Breath of Life flickers into being, shielding us from the brunt of its effect. Dark-blue Firmament batters against vibrant green¡ªit''s saturated with emotion. I think this might be the first time I''ve seen Firmament be completely visible from force of emotion alone; the density wouldn''t normally be enough to make this Firmament shine, but combined with that emotion of regret...


    It tinges the entirety of the tunnel. Guard''s aura is the only source of light in what is otherwise an ocean of desaturation. This must be the reason the lights in the tunnel were flickering. Even now, I see the Firmament affecting them, waves of color making them dim to nothingness.


    "I don''t suppose you could just not end us?" I suggest warily. If he''s capable of reason...


    But Phylus shakes his head.


    "That is not an option," he says plainly. "But I will remember your names, should you give them to me."


    "Why?" I ask instead. I consider telling him that none of us will die permanently, even if he succeeds; that time will simply reset, and all that will be lost are memories and opportunities. Telling him that seems like I''d just be encouraging him to go ahead, though.


    "You know why." Phylus examines me for a moment. His words are filled with Regret. "I play a role within this Ritual, just as you do. And I cannot fight against that role any more than you can. You will come to regret your participation, just as much as I regret my role."


    I frown. What''s that supposed to mean?


    Phylus doesn''t give me the chance to answer, however. He just shakes his head. "If you will not give me your names," he says, "then I will simply remember your faces."


    He attacks.


    I try to react, to call up a skill, but even with as much time as I''ve been given I haven''t recovered nearly enough Firmament to call up so much as a Crystallized Barrier. It''s Guard that has to step in the way, a blast of Firmament deflecting the force of Phylus''s strike.


    But Phylus is fast. He''s enormous, but the four legs allow him to skitter and change his momentum with deceptive speed. Guard''s counter sends him flying, but it''s evident in moments that it was intentional¡ªhe uses the momentum to latch on to the ceiling, then moves in a twisting spiral along the tunnel, dodging Guard''s attempt to throw him off.


    He''s headed straight for Novi. A spike of hard chitin suddenly launches itself from his shoulder toward her. I step in the way, lifting an arm to block the strike, and grit my teeth as the force of it jars my entire skeleton, throwing me back. I force myself to my feet just in time to stop the next one, this time shifting my weight into it so it doesn''t throw me off as much.


    Both moves cost me. Both my arms are bleeding, badly lacerated¡ªwithout the upgrade to my bones, it would have pierced straight through me and into Novi. It''s a good thing the physical upgrade still works without me having to pump Firmament into it, but I''m not going to be able to keep this up for long.


    Fortunately, the delay is long enough for Guard to reposition himself. He''s in front of me again, his core blazing with his prismatic Firmament; I can feel the heat from his systems as he runs everything at full capacity. "You must run," Guard says. His voice is staticky with concern. "I cannot hold him off and defend you¡ª"


    "You cannot hold me off, regardless of what the human does," Phylus says. "But you are welcome to try."


    Guard responds with a blast of Firmament. I grab Novi''s hand, leading her away; not running, but moving toward Ahkelios, who seems to be moving at speed toward me in turn. He''s being careful not to draw on my Firmament¡ªthat must mean that''s him, right?


    "Come on, Ahkelios," I mutter. I try to speed up, but Novi stumbles, and I have to catch her. She clings to my shirt, bewildered and frightened. Echoes of Guard''s fight with Phylus ricochet down the tunnel, and I''m suddenly certain that Phylus is playing with Guard, though I can''t be sure why. He doesn''t even seem to want to do this.


    Maybe he''s giving us time.


    I don''t know what Ahkelios is doing. I don''t know why his presence feels different, though I fear the worst. Right now, though, he might be the only card I have left to play.


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    If nothing else, the closer he gets, the clearer the bond driven by Temporal Link becomes. I can work out a little more about what''s happened. One way or another, it seems like Ahkelios has joined with his Remnant. There''s a large, foreign presence within the bond, almost like an infection, except...


    I can''t tell which side the infection is. Ahkelios? Or Zhir? I''d reach out through the bond, but it''s strangely closed to my attempt to speak through it; that, more than anything, is what has me worried.


    Then I hear the footsteps. I catch a glimpse of a figure, not flying, but running. There''s a tight glow of Firmament around him that outlines his body, but that body is very much real; it''s not the Firmament construct that Ahkelios usually is. It wears the same lab coat Zhir was wearing, though the coat hangs open¡ª


    "Zhir?" Novi asks, confused. My grip tightens unintentionally on her wrist; I force myself to let go when she winces, aware of the tension running through my frame.


    Surely not.


    The figure running down the corridor is a little more built than Zhir was. A swordsman''s build rather than a researcher''s. He''s taller, too¡ªjust barely taller than even I am, in part due to the spikes of chitin around his head. The closer he gets, the clearer it is that he isn''t a scirix.


    But he''s not a mantis, either.


    He has the features of both, leaning a little more toward scirix than mantis; his face has their malleability of expression, their ability to express themselves with eyes and mouth both rather than the rigidity of chitin. His natural armor weaves perfectly with the underlying muscle to give him an agility that neither scirix nor mantis seem to have¡ªlike his body picked the best of both worlds.


    Even taking that into account, he''s more heavily armored than most scirix. His chitin has the texture of his mantis self. It''s rougher, more rugged; built to take blunt hits more than sharp ones, by my estimation.


    "That''s not Zhir," Novi whispers; I can''t tell if she''s horrified or fascinated. She doesn''t take her eyes off him.


    "No," I agree. "It''s not."


    The real question is whether or not it''s Ahkelios.


    He holds something that looks like a cross between a wand and a blaster in one hand; the other carries a metal box tucked under an arm, and I hear the rattling of a half-dozen different gadgets in it. The moment he''s within earshot, he calls out to me.


    "Ethan," he says. "You beat the Abstraction?"


    My heart sinks. That doesn''t sound like Ahkelios.


    "Took everything I had," I answer anyway. "Guard''s trying to hold off the stage boss. It''s not going well."


    The scirix-mantis hybrid peers down the corridor and frowns. "Concept-Bound," he says, identifying it quickly. "How did you¡ªnevermind. I should''ve expected it. That should be easier to deal with than an Abstraction, at least. You''re out of Firmament?"


    The abrupt way he switches topics startles me. "Yes," I say warily. I''m already examining the bond between us again. It doesn''t feel like Ahkelios is gone. I''m pretty sure the person I''m speaking to isn''t the Ahkelios I know, but at the same time...


    "We don''t have much time," he says. "I''ll work with Guard to hold off the Concept-Bound. You activate your Inspiration. Not the Knight¡ªone of the ones you''re owed. Get a new one. You can do that, yes?"


    "I can," I say. "But I need to know¡ª"


    He cuts me off. "Your friend put up a good fight," he says. Then a shadow crosses his expression, and he sighs. "...He won. He''s in here. He''s just lending me the body so I can help. He''ll take over soon enough, and I''ll fade away."


    He says it with a bitter acceptance. This is Zhir, then. Or Ahkelios''s Remnant, depending on what I''m supposed to call him.


    I''m not sure what to say. I wasn''t expecting his Remnant to... what, willingly help?


    "If you get a new Inspiration it may restore your Firmament reserves," Zhir tells me. "I will use these to help Guard hold off Phylus while you do so."


    "...Is that my home security system?" Novi asks suddenly, staring at the box.


    Zhir ignores her, staring intently at me instead. "Ethan. Do you understand?"


    "I do," I say finally. Inspirations have never done that for me noticeably before, but I''ve also never triggered one while this low on reserves; I wouldn''t have noticed if this was something they could do. "You better not be lying. I''ll drag Ahkelios out of you myself if I have to."


    Zhir snorts. "At least he didn''t lie about that," he mutters, almost too soft for me to hear. "Just trigger the damn Inspiration choice. You don''t lose any time while you do that anyway."


    It''s true. I''ve abused that mechanic before. Specifically so I could read the Empty City''s final Record. So he''s got a point.


    I reach for the Interface, selecting the new option Kauku''s given me.


    [Would you like to receive an Inspiration?]


    Yes.


    And two things happen at once.


    The first one is a sudden blast of Firmament, so intense it threatens to blind me¡ªI almost think that this is the restoration Zhir was talking about, except it resolves in a second, and it clearly isn''t.


    It''s a Paradox Warning. One sent from farther in the future than should be possible for me, even with my current levels of Firmament. There''s a moment where I''m worried this has something to do with Zhir and Ahkelios, but the message that pierces my skull has nothing to do with either of them.


    [I don''t have many options left. I''m sending back this warning so you''ll have one more choice that I didn''t have¡ªbut you''re not going to like it. You''ll know what I mean when you get there.


    This is programmed to reach you right before you trigger your second Inspiration with Kauku. I can''t tell you too much; Paradox Warning is only meant for you to prepare yourself, not alter the past. Takes more Firmament the more I risk changes. But it''d be remiss of me not to try, so try not to let it reach Kauku. It''s a pest now, but let those two merge and it''ll risk the end of all things as we know it.


    I''m sorry I can''t be more specific. Keep doing what you''re doing. The Warning is just... an option. Something we can use if we have no other choice. Hopefully this will give us enough time to prepare.


    Good luck, me. We''re going to need it.]


    When I look up again, I''m half-collapsed in the void. The intensity of the message knocked me to my knees. I have no idea what to make of it¡ªnor do I have time, because Kauku is standing in front of me, one eyebrow raised.


    "I did not expect to see you kneeling before me the next time we met," Kauku says. I can tell he''s smirking, somehow, even if his skull can''t quite express it. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"


    I roll my eyes and force myself to my feet despite the throbbing in my head. "You know why I''m here."

 178 — Book 3, Chapter 37 — Inspired (x2)

    Once the pain in my skull fades, I note that I feel a lot better¡ªmaybe Zhir was telling the truth. I certainly don''t feel like I''m out of Firmament anymore, though it''s possible that has more to do with... whatever it is about Inspirations that causes time to freeze around me. I''ve always felt that this place is more mental than physical, even if Kauku''s abilities tend to blur the line between the two.


    "I would enjoy hearing your tale regardless," Kauku says casually, leaning back against nothing in particular. "I don''t get much entertainment here in the void, you see¡ªlet alone company. Rare enough that I get an Heir of my own and the opportunity for conversation. Surely you can indulge me?"


    I''m all too cautious of the warning that was just shot into my head. Try not to let it reach Kauku. I have no idea what this "it" is, and I''m assuming if my future self could have been any more specific, he would have.


    But I don''t need to. As far as I know, Kauku is entirely inaccessible except via Inspiration, exactly like this. If my future self is telling me that something was able to gain access to him...


    Well. That means that more likely than not, they were able to gain access to him through this. Through the process of selecting an Inspiration. It shouldn''t be possible¡ªnot with the way reality itself freezes to a stop to allow for this process¡ªbut there has to be a reason I sent myself this warning.


    Until I have more information, it might be best to either not trigger future Inspirations at all, or to do these as quickly as possible. Or at least keep both to a minimum.


    "I''m afraid I don''t have time," I say. "I''m sure you''ve been watching. You know exactly what I''ve been up to."


    "Quite." Kauku grins at me, all pretense vanishing. "I must say, you''re doing even better than I expected. I''ve outdone myself."


    "You''ve outdone yourself?" I raise an eyebrow.


    "In acquiring a brilliant Heir, of course!" Kauku practically preens as he says the words. I''m... reasonably sure that he''s joking. "I expect you''re here to refill those Firmament reserves of yours. And to choose your next Inspiration."


    "And I''d like to do so quickly," I say. Kauku tilts his head at me, curious.


    "Any particular reason?"


    "That depends on how much you can observe," I say dryly. "But I''ve been told I shouldn''t let something reach you. I haven''t figured out what that means yet."


    No point hiding it. Kauku''s powerful enough that he can probably protect himself from it, given enough advance warning¡ªand that gives me a better shot at preventing that future than if I just left him in the dark. I''d be mortified if I tried to keep it a secret and whatever it was got to him for exactly that reason.


    Kauku, however, tilts his head, his eyes narrowing at the nothingness in front of him. "You received a Paradox Warning," he says. It''s not a question. I wonder if he has something like an Interface, too. If he does, it''s drastically different from anything I or the Integrators have access to. "I can usually detect those... This one slipped past me due to its timing."


    "Do you know what it''s talking about?" I ask.


    "No," Kauku says, "but I thank you for the warning." He hesitates for a moment. "I am not eager to be found here."


    I blink. That feels like the truth¡ªI wasn''t expecting such a straightforward response from him. "Good?" I say, slightly thrown off. "Can you tell me why?"


    "I cannot," Kauku says dryly. That''s a lot more in line with what I expect from him. "But if you are concerned... it is unlikely that spending more time within this pocket of space will give anything access to me. No: if I am to be found here, then whatever your future self claims will find me either already has everything they need, or will acquire it regardless of your actions."


    "You''re very sure about that," I say cautiously. He tilts his head, and an enigmatic smile flickers in his eyes.


    "Time is not so easy to change," he says. "Simple enough to tie into knots, to push and change and shape in small ways. But to divert its path entirely, the way your future self hoped to? That requires a far greater power than yours."


    "What about yours?" I ask impulsively. Kauku eyes me for a moment.


    "That," he says, "remains to be seen."


    Then he waves a hand, and with a dizzying swirl, the void around me changes.


    Again, three pedestals stand before me. Again, they each contain shifting, fractal shapes atop each of them.


    Yet there''s something that feels a little different about them compared to before. I frown slightly, stepping forward, and within me I feel the Knight begin to stir.


    They match, for lack of a better term. I catch a glimpse of steel and nobility, of armor and pride, in the fractal shapes nested atop every pedestal.


    "These are new Forms for the Knight," Kauku says, confirming what I''m thinking. He sounds proud, oddly. Like he''s personally responsible for them in some way. "I would not normally tell you quite this much, but seeing as you have done me quite the favor by informing me of this incoming threat..."


    He trails off, considering. "An Inspiration triggered via the Firmament category will give you new Evolutions entirely; any of the other categories will give you an additional Form for your existing Evolutions."


    And in this case, I''d triggered the Inspiration I gained for crossing the Speed milestone. I glance again at the pedestals with this new information in mind, and to my surprise, I can make out some of what he''s saying.


    Because each of these pedestals contain the seed of a Concept. If I had to put a word to it, to explain what they are...


    They''re Concept-Bound.


    Kauku makes a low, approving noise in his throat, almost like he read my mind and approves of the conclusion. I ignore how alarming that thought is¡ªthere''s little I can do about it at the moment¡ªand approach the pedestals again, reaching out with the new sense I gained from fighting that Abstraction.


    It takes a lot more work than just using my Firmament sense, but I can sense it, now. The first pedestal contains the Concept of Flight, I think. Presumably, it''s a Form for the Knight that gives me airborne mobility, and modifies my skills to be compatible with that skillset.


    As much as I''d like to be able to fly, I dismiss that almost immediately out of hand. There aren''t enough practical uses for it when I can freely teleport and direct my acceleration, and while I''m sure the application of the Form will give me entirely new options in combat, my current battle is about to take place in a tunnel. Airborne options are not what I need right now.


    The second pedestal is a little harder to figure out. I catch a glimpse of perpetuity, of motion and creation. If I had to find a word for it...


    Generation. A Form that creates power and redistributes it along the Knight''s body, at a guess.


    The third one is even more complex. I get the impression of a shortcut, of spatial compression, of navigational perfection. It''s a Form designed to slip from one space to another undetected.


    Tempting, and stealth is certainly an area I''m lacking in, but as I consider it I hear a grumble from the Inspiration within me. It''s still mostly asleep, but the Knight does not seem to like the idea of stealth.


    I snort. Yeah, that fits.


    "You know, we might actually need that one day," I say, reaching out mentally and probing for a reaction.


    The Knight cracks open a metaphorical eye. "We will crush all that stands in our way," he growls. "There is no need for the coward''s path."


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    "Good word for it," I muse. "The Form that takes the quickest Path..."


    "No," it growls again, although I get the feeling it would acquiesce if I really pushed for it. I don''t, in part because I''ve already made my choice; the third Form isn''t what I need at the moment.


    "If I may make a suggestion," Kauku says. He has his hands folded behind his back, and he''s watching me with a strange look on his face. Interest, I think.


    "Sure," I say. Couldn''t hurt.


    "Take the second one," Kauku says. "The Generator Form. You are out of Firmament, and your friend is partially right; triggering an Inspiration like this will restore what you''ve got. But your opponent is a Concept-Bound. The meager Firmament stores of a third-layer will not be sufficient."


    "Did you have to put it like that?" I ask blandly. "I beat the Abstraction just fine."


    "An impressive feat," Kauku allows. "But it did not fight you. If it had, the outcome would have been very different. It wanted to be dead as much as you wanted to end it."


    A fair assessment, I have to admit. The Abstraction didn''t fight me at all once I showed it I had the power to end it; it seemed to just accept what was coming. If it had resisted, if it had dodged...


    I''m not at a place where I can fight something like that freely. Not yet.


    "You are not ready to use Submerged skills," Kauku continues, startling me. "The Generator Form will give you the control you need to only partially fuel the skill. Do not repeat what you did before until you are at least at the fourth layer; if you pour all your Firmament into one skill like you did with that Primordial Foray a second time, especially this soon, you will die."


    He steps close, as if to impress upon me how serious it is. "Heed my words. Do that again and your soul will pop like a balloon."


    That''s... not an analogy I was expecting.


    "You strained your core way before it was ready." There''s a sort of begrudging respect in Kauku''s voice, and he folds his arms across his chest as he stares me down. "It will likely help you achieve the next phase shift, but if you do that again before healing? Your core will burst. I warn you now because you are the type of Heir that will do it again if I don''t."


    He''s not wrong there. "Thanks," I say, and I mean it. I reach out for the second pedestal, but before I grab hold of the new Form¡ª


    "Am I on the right track?" I ask. "I assume the Ritual is your doing."


    Kauku blinks, looking confused for a moment. Then he seems to remember himself. "Quite!" he says cheerfully. "Keep doing what you''re doing. I''ll see what I need to at the end of the Ritual."


    I frown slightly at that reaction, but before I can think any more about it, Kauku grimaces, scratching at the back of his head. "Seems the information you gave me was quite valuable," he mutters. "I should not let you leave without giving you more. Very well. That thing you have been thinking about. Skill categories. You have all the pieces you need. You just need to put it all together. Do it before your next phase shift, and you will have an advantage no Integrator does."


    ...Huh. Interesting. All the pieces I need? I''d assumed I was still missing something. I cast my mind back, trying to remember what might be relevant.


    At the same time, I reach for the Generator Form¡ª


    ¡ªAnd I feel the Knight stir.


    <hr>


    Ahkelios didn''t know if he''d done the right thing, letting Zhir take control as he had. So far, his other self had kept his word¡ªhe''d pit all their shared resources directly toward dealing with whatever trouble Ethan had managed to get into.


    Though he had lied. Ahkelios had learned almost immediately on their merge that Zhir didn''t really have a solution for defeating an Abstraction. Of course he didn''t. He''d known about them, but he''d never once encountered a force strong enough to beat them back.


    They both felt it when Ethan defeated it anyway. Ahkelios felt the shock from Zhir and seized on his chance. It was just enough of a distraction to create a crack in his other self''s psyche...


    But that wasn''t what had lost Zhir the fight. It had expedited things¡ªAhkelios thought he might have lost more of himself if not for that chance that he''d seized¡ªbut the truth of the matter was that they both knew who would win the moment their minds made contact.


    After existing for as long as he had, after experiencing years of nothing but an empty, colorless city, Zhir was no longer anchored. He was driven only by a desire to survive, to see his home again, and while that desire wasn''t a weak one...


    He no longer had anything he believed in.


    And Ahkelios, for all his flaws and doubts, did.


    Back when he''d been a Trialgoer, Hestia''s Trial made him feel like the things he cared about didn''t matter. Like his home didn''t matter. Zhir''s memories flooding into him reinforced that¡ªhe remembered losing hope with every Trial, remembered losing himself to the loops, because the cyclical nature of time just taught him that nothing mattered.


    His home was nothing. What his people cared about was nothing. They were all pawns in a greater game. What use was his love for art when all that remained was destruction?


    And then there was Ethan. The human that had gotten stuck in that very same loop, who knew nothing mattered, and... didn''t care. Made it a point not to let it change him, to treat everyone he met like a person even when the next loop would just turn it all back.


    It was that determination that helped Ahkelios remember what he''d once loved. Every act of kindness, every time he cared, every time he paid attention to something Ahkelios ignored¡ªthey made new discoveries, met new people, learned more and more about Hestia and its inhabitants¡ª


    Ahkelios remembered the beauty of Isthanok. The shards of crystal in the sky, reflecting and refracting the light from the sun.


    His world held crystals like that. They were crystalline mountains, not towers and cathedrals, but the way the light shone through them was the same. He remembered visiting them for the first time with his friends. Remembered carving little sculptures of themselves out of some of the rocks and leaving that behind.


    He''d forgotten.


    It was a cultural thing for them. Ahkelios''s people lived in moving cities¡ªin great monuments built in ancient times, each with dozens or hundreds of mechanical legs that could take them through the hazards of the planet unscathed. Most of their planet was uninhabited and unexplored, and most of their people weren''t connected. It was difficult, given the conditions of their planet.


    But every so often, their moving cities would encounter an island amid the chaos. A landmark of some kind. Mountains of crystal, valleys of gold, forests that burned and froze in equal measure.


    Ahkelios loved the forests most. They were proof that life could survive outside of their monuments and cities; proof that it would always find a way. He''d dreamed of finding a way to give his people whatever traits those plants had so they could live outside of their cities, outside their safe havens...


    Point was, they lived in moving cities, and without a way to speak to one another directly?


    They resorted to stories.


    Tales told through art. Small things left behind at every habitable location. Nothing that would ruin it permanently, but a little piece of them, a little piece of their city. Little pieces of history and art and culture left behind for others to find so their people could still speak to one another, still share with one another.


    His home had been named Ar''kur. The Winding Wanderer. Whatever ancient systems controlled their city was a little bit broken, and every so often they''d end up spiraling in circles.


    All this Ethan helped him remember just from his exploration, from his open love of the world. In a way, his approach through the loops reminded Ahkelios of that same cultural practice¡ªeach loop was an island in time, and Ethan tried always to leave behind something that mattered.


    And so when it came down to it¡ªwhen it came down to the essence of who they were¡ª


    Ahkelios remembered to care. Remembered what had mattered the most to his people.


    And Zhir didn''t.


    "It''s all set up," Zhir told him. "All up to you and your friend, now."


    Ahkelios hesitated. "Are you just going to be... gone?" he asked. He felt oddly guilty about it. Zhir seemed to sense that, and Ahkelios could feel his counterpart rolling his eyes.


    "You''ve adopted too much of that human''s sentimentality," Zhir said. "Put it this way. He betrays you? I''ll be back. Otherwise... I''ll just be part of you."


    Ahkelios could live with that. He and Zhir had once been the same, after all.


    "Thank you," he said. He meant it.


    "Egh," Zhir responded. "Your sentimentality is gross. Go kill the big bug or whatever it is you''re going to do."


    Ahkelios snorted¡ª


    ¡ªand then he was himself again. Whole. Different, in many ways¡ªthe new body was going to take some getting used to. But more important than that...


    He felt the Firmament pouring through him.


    His own Firmament. Not Ethan''s. The link between them wasn''t gone, but he was his own person now; the fog of the Interface no longer had an influence on him. It was like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time.


    He couldn''t wait to hang out with Ethan. Properly. As equals, as friends.


    "Bring it," he said out loud to Phylus.


    The Concept-Bound¡ªwho was currently tangled in a half-dozen ropes that had emerged from the traps of Novi''s household, and fighting to get free¡ªjust stared at him. "Are you a different person now?" he asked. He turned to Guard. "Is he a different person now? How many of you are there?"


    He-Who-Guards slid his optic over to Ahkelios, and Ahkelios caught a ghost of a smile. "Welcome back, Ahkelios," he said.


    "Glad to be back," Ahkelios said. He felt his Firmament surging, felt his own Concept bind to his Firmament.


    He might be a full layer behind Ethan, but that didn''t mean he didn''t have his own tricks up his sleeve. The Sword made every part of him sharp as a blade, and when the Concept-Bound shot a spike at him, it bounced off his arm.


    It still cracked his carapace, but he could do this. He could fight.


    In no small part thanks to the power Zhir had gained in his time as a Remnant.


    "Thanks," he said again, even though he knew Zhir could no longer hear him. "I''ll make good use of this."

 179 — Book 3, Chapter 38 — Bound Battle

    All three of us are ready to fight. I feel it like a charge in the air, and I''m not the only one; the Concept-Bound senses it, too. Phylus stills, and there''s suddenly a note in his voice that sounds a lot like concern.


    "Something is different," he says, half-musing the words. Talking to himself, for some reason. "I can delay no longer."


    That''s all the warning we get.


    The ropes that Ahkelios brought in¡ªI don''t know what they are, but those things are strong. They actually hold him back for about half a second, which is more warning than we would have had otherwise; they flare to an eye-searing brightness as Phylus brings everything he has to bear against it.


    They shatter and the devices generating them burst into flames and smoke, but it''s more than enough time for Guard to get in front of Ahkelios and I, burning with the Breath of Life. The field of green glows bright as it deflects the sudden near-solid dark blue that crashes against us.


    Novi huddles in the center where it''s safest. I''m closest to the edge¡ªdark-blue Firmament brushes against my finger, just for a fraction of a second as it leaves the protective grasp of Guard''s aura. That''s enough for it to burn straight through my skin and down to the bone like it''s concentrated acid.


    Very good thing Guard got in the way of that. When it dissipates, Phylus''s eyes widen slightly, like he''s both surprised and annoyed that all four of us are still there. He doesn''t waste time talking like I expect him to, though.


    Instead, he attacks. He''s faster than before. Three solid spikes, Bound with Regret, aimed directly at our throats; Guard''s aura won''t deflect something physical like that.


    So I Evolve faster than I ever have before.


    Our time in Kauku''s pocket dimension seems to have helped the Knight recover; it''s able to join with me in record time, and together the transformation accelerates through our bones, cracks through our body. First comes its default Form, the transformation of my bones into armor¡ª


    Distorted Crux.


    The first spike is headed toward me; it''s forced to slow down as it approaches, though I note with alarm that the Concept bound to it allows it to partially bypass that defense.


    Not nearly enough, though. I grab it with an armored fist and shatter it.


    The other spikes are too far away, and with the Concept interfering I''m wary of Warpstepping into their path. But the Generator Form is already creeping through the Knight¡ªthe plates of our armor begin to separate, pulling with it the underlying muscle. The sensation would be uncomfortable, but I''m focused on the fight, and the Knight takes on most of the burden of the transformation.


    New organs shuffle into place. I can''t see them, but I can feel what they do. They draw in Firmament like makeshift lungs, pulling ambient energy into my core and twisting it in an instant into something pure and mine. It''s almost like it''s burning it for fuel.


    Either way, new Firmament pours into my body, and I throw a hand out, reaching for Great Filter at the same time. Carefully, as Kauku warned. I can sense how much easier it is to use Firmament Control now¡ªthe power leaps eagerly into my mental grasp as I reach for it, and pulls away just as quickly if I demand it. Even with how hungry this skill is, I''m able to feed it exactly the amount of Firmament I intend to.


    About ten percent of what I have available drains into Great Filter. The air in front of those spikes harden into a glasslike surface. I can sense almost instantly that the skill is only half-formed¡ªit doesn''t have nearly the Firmament it needs to manifest fully¡ªbut it doesn''t matter. Even only half-formed, I get a powerful impression of what it is.


    You do not pass, the barrier tells the spikes. It takes every attempt, every future possibility, and stands in their way like an insurmountable wall. You have failed.


    Even with the power of a Concept behind them, the spikes are forced to obey. They clatter harmlessly off the faux glass and onto the ground.


    There''s no time to celebrate, because Phylus is already following up with his next attack; he''s crawling along the ceiling in a zig-zag, disruptive pattern, firing more spikes, building up power for something, but before he can, Ahkelios steps up.


    "My turn," he announces. I can feel this is him, now. He shoots me a grin¡ª


    ¡ªand I blanch as he somehow balances a foot on my shoulder and uses me as a launching pad. "Ahkelios! You''re not small enough to do that anymore!"


    "My bad!" he calls, but he''s grinning. Little bastard.


    Or I guess I can''t call him that anymore, if he''s bigger than I am. That''s going to be awkward. I watch as he crashes into the ceiling and slashes with an arm. A steel-gray blade of sharp Firmament bursts out of him like a sword summoned into existence; it blisters with an edge too sharp to be real, lined with the power of a Concept. I blink, and a vague memory comes back.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "My Concept is that of the Sword," Ahkelios says.


    I hadn''t thought anything of it at the time, but I guess he wasn''t exactly an ordinary Trialgoer, either. Even if he was just at the second layer, the power of that Concept is enough for it to weaken the spikes being launched toward us¡ªit doesn''t stop them completely, but it breaks them down enough that a Crystallized Barrier does the rest.


    His strike, on the other hand, continues. The Sword he wields, pure Firmament and little else, tears straight through the blessed stone of the tunnel ceiling. Even without a skill, it turns the ceiling into a series of crumbling rocks.


    With nothing to stay attached to, Phylus falls¡ªand Guard and I are there to catch him.


    With our fists, specifically.


    Amplified Gauntlet burns as it activates. Quite literally. The Form I''m in alters the skill, and when my arm transforms, six miniature engines emerge from beneath the plating just along my forearm. I feel it burn Firmament, feel it transform that Firmament into pure kinetic energy.


    The Knight grins, wide and savage. It loves this new Form, I can tell.


    Next to us, He-Who-Guards catches on to what we''re doing. There''s a split second of analysis. He doesn''t have quite enough force behind his own strike to match mine.


    Realization, recalculation, redirection¡ª


    ¡ªa new pattern emerges in front of him. I recognize it as another inverted skill, though I''m not sure which. The black hole the Seedmother used, if I had to guess.


    It''s not quite complete. Instead, it''s half-formed, the same way the Great Filter skill was half-formed. Did he... pick up on what I did and immediately incorporate it into a skill he didn''t know how to use yet?


    Damn.


    I''m pretty sure he did, because in the next moment, a trio of tiny specks of white burst into being at his elbow, burning with force. His enormous Firmament reserves pour carelessly into the skill, and suddenly he has power enough to match mine.


    Impact.


    Phylus tries to guard against the blow. Tries. He crosses all four arms in front of himself, two to block Guard and two to block me. A shockwave blisters the air around us. There''s a moment of almost-cartoonish delay; I sense Phylus pouring Firmament into some sort of positional skill, trying to avoid being thrown back...


    Because Ahkelios wasn''t done with a single strike. When I look up, I see the ceiling shining with Firmament. Sharp blades protrude from the top of the tunnel, each one aimed unerringly at Phylus. I''m impressed the Concept-Bound noticed at all, focused as he was trying to stop me and Guard.


    It''s not enough, though. Not against the sheer, combined weight of our strikes. Guard pours more Firmament through his arm, my gauntlet burns even more of mine, and together, we break through whatever barrier he''s using to stay in place.


    He rockets backward. Ahkelios moves out of the way gracefully, hanging on to one of his blades; where it would cut anyone else, he simply clutches it with an arm and balances on a leg, entirely unharmed.


    Phylus, on the other hand, is impaled by six different blades at once. There''s a sickening crack of carapace followed by squelch of flesh; a choked groan of pain erupts from him. Green-blue blood trickles down from his mouth and from the rest of his wounds, falling from the ceiling like rain.


    Novi starts forward, mouth opening in relief, but Guard shakes his head and holds her back. "It is not over."


    And it isn''t.


    How he''s still able to move is beyond me, but Phylus lashes out with a wave of Firmament powerful enough to shatter Ahkelios''s blades; the mantis¡ªscirix?¡ªleaps away before the shockwave can hurt him, landing nimbly back beside me. Guard takes point in front and shields us with another Breath of Life, his systems straining with the effort. I hear the whir of his fans as green Firmament streams from him.


    "Ahkelios," I say. He latches on to what I''m thinking with a simple flicker of intent through our bond, and we leap into action.


    He goes left. I go right. Firmament Control allows us each to grasp a small piece of Guard''s shield¡ªnot enough to destabilize it, just enough to let us survive the wave of Firmament trying to crush us as we approach. Ahkelios borrows Primordial Foray from me, and I borrow his Sword Concept from him.


    They don''t oppose one another, but they don''t have to. The Sword cuts. That''s the essence of the Concept, resonating through us both; a weapon that slices through any obstacle, wielded sometimes in defense, sometimes in offense, but always to cut.


    Primordial Foray turns into a sharp, cutting force that brims with Life; there''s a mingling of two Concepts that don''t quite match. We''re not practiced enough for them to mesh perfectly, so some power is lost in that exchange, but not enough to matter.


    Phylus roars. There''s a mixture of panic, frustration, and maybe a hint of approval mixed in with the agony¡ªI see in his Firmament that he doesn''t understand how this is happening, how he''s losing. He''s at the fourth layer of Firmament, and being overwhelmed by the three of us doesn''t make sense to him.


    He tries to lash out again, but his body is falling apart. Twin blades of Firmament slice off his lower arms and cut into his torso, and wounded as he is, bleeding as he is, his strength is leaving him.


    He staggers. Tries to move, but collapses instead, no longer able to hold the weight of his body. He laughs a choked laugh.


    "Incredible," he murmurs. "Well done, Trialgoers."


    My eyes narrow at that word. Ahkelios starts. We glance at each other.


    [You have defeated Phylus, Bound by Regret (Rank SS)! +337 Strength credits. +100 Durability credits. +100 Reflex credits. +100 Speed credits. +500 Firmament credits.]


    "Ahkelios," I start. "Did you¡ª?"


    "Yup," he says. He stares at the window in front of him. At the Interface.


    His own Interface, separate from mine. I can see it, though. The bond between us grants us that much. His credit distribution is different from mine, but all in all...


    A message hangs in the air in front of him, gleaming blue.


    [Welcome back, Trialgoer Ahkelios.]

 180 — Book 3, Chapter 39 — Walk and Talk

    There''s a sort of unspoken agreement that as soon as we''re done with this stage and with Tarin and Naru, we''re going to have to sit down and figure out what this means. He-Who-Guards seems a little put out, probably because he''s now the only one in our little party that doesn''t have an Interface of his own; there''s not much we can do about that, but I point out how he''s apparently able to copy what we can do.


    That cheers him up a bit. We''ll have to focus some of our efforts on specifically figuring out how Guard can interface with regular skill constructs, since they''re distinct from the circuits that these Dungeon monsters are using, but Ahkelios and I are both more than willing to help.


    Novi seems eager to help, too, actually. We don''t have the heart to tell her that she''s probably not going to be with us for that conversation.


    "We''ll have to tell her eventually," Ahkelios admits to me quietly, when we have a moment to ourselves. I glance at him, surprised.


    "What do you mean?"


    "I kind of told her kids by accident," he says.


    "...How did you do that by accident?" I ask, now more confused than before. He laughs awkwardly¡ªit''s strange walking with him like this, now that he''s essentially eye level with me. I don''t have to crane my neck down or up to look at him anymore. The only reason he''s taller is because of his carapace.


    "It''s a long story," he mutters. "Uh, it''s mostly because of Zhir?"


    "He told them?" I raise an eyebrow. I don''t see how that would help his case.


    "No, no." Ahkelios hurries to explain to me what happened¡ªand I can''t help but snort with amusement when he reaches the part where Juri and Yarun turned the tables on him.


    "Novi''s really proud of her kids," I say, glancing over at her. She''s walking with Guard on the other side of the tunnel, chatting animatedly with him about something or the other; some kind of Archivist discovery, if I''m hearing them correctly. "I guess she''s got good reason to be."


    "You should''ve seen Zhir''s face when Yarun told him to shut up so he could fix him," Ahkelios says with a little grin. "He''s like a tiny version of you!"


    I laugh. "When have I ever told anyone to shut up so I could fix them?"


    "You don''t say it, but you think it," Ahkelios tells me. "Very loudly. I can hear you even when you''re not using the bond."


    "You''re imagining things."


    "Am not." Ahkelios pretends to look affronted, but the look fades quickly; I can feel through our bond that there''s a lot of excitement bubbling within the surface. He''s happy. A little conflicted about Zhir, I think, but merging with that final Remnant restored to him a lot of memories he didn''t have before, even corrected ones that he now suspects the Interface artificially filled out.


    He feels complete in a way that he hasn''t felt for a long, long while. Not as Zhir, not as Ahkelios... Whatever he is now, despite the differences in form, he finally feels like he''s himself again. Finally feels like an equal.


    "I''m going to need to catch up with you," he says, nudging me. "Think you could help me with that third layer? You''ve got more experience with it than I do."


    "Hmm." I pretend to think about it for a moment. "I suppose I could."


    "You suppose?" Ahkelios folds his arms in mock outrage.


    "I will," I say, laughing. "Relax. We''re just going to need somewhere with a lot of Firmament, and right now the best time for that is going to be when the dungeon is mid-transition. I don''t think we want to mess around with that yet."


    "Yeah, no." Ahkelios shudders a little at the thought. "Maybe the Fracture? It''s got a lot of Firmament if you go deeper in."


    "Could always use the Intermediary, too," I say. "Just have to get there again, see what the Firmament levels are like. We''ll figure it out."


    "Right." He seems happy with that. Ahkelios grins to himself as we walk. Regaining that connection with the Interface seems to be good for him¡ªhe''s going through his windows, looking at his skills, just... exploring.


    The Interface isn''t good. Both of us know that, at this point. At best it''s a neutral force, and at worst it''s trying to achieve a goal we don''t understand. One that might very well spell destruction for many, many species across the galaxy.


    But Ahkelios''s joy isn''t about that. It''s just the acknowledgement from the Interface that he''s real and whole again. More than just a familiar, as it were.


    "Do you still have access to all your old skills?" I ask curiously. Ahkelios makes a face, swiping to the skills tab and shaking his head.


    "Doesn''t look like it," he grumbles. "But I can roll for new ones, at least. I guess all those constructs got cleaned out of my core or something."


    "Would''ve been cool to try out some of your skills," I mutter. Ahkelios grins.


    "I''ll roll for more once you''re done with the whole Naru thing," he promises. "Oh! We can roll for skills together! We should figure out what skill sharing is like both ways, anyway. And if you''re still the core of the time loop. Like, what if the reset conditions changed? And there''s the whole party thing that''s in the Interface now?"


    Yep. That''s a new one. A whole window that lists our names and nothing else. There''s probably more functionality in there, but when I reach out with my senses it feels like the Interface is actively building the feature. Like it''s something new it made just for us.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Odd. But interesting.


    In the meantime, there''s only one thing left for us to do, and it hangs over both Ahkelios and I in the Interface. A shared objective.


    [Plant the Seed: 0/1]


    Hopefully that doesn''t involve anything complicated. Odds are it will, given this is a Dungeon and all, but it''ll be nice if all we need to do is stick it in some dirt and be done with it.


    "Are you comfortable with... all this, by the way?" I ask.


    "What do you mean?" Ahkelios seems genuinely confused by the question. I gesture vaguely at him, unsure how to elaborate on the question.


    "This isn''t your original body," I say. "It''s a sort of... scirix-mantis hybrid? Are you okay with that?"


    "Oh!" Ahkelios looks down at himself. "I''m pretty happy with it, actually. It feels good and looks good. I''m really flexible now. Watch."


    He bends over nearly a hundred and eighty degrees backward so that both his hands and his feet rest on the ground. I stare at him. He is remarkably flexible; I''m surprised the carapace can bend that much.


    Then the flowing cloth of his labcoat-robes fall with gravity and tangle around his face, and Ahkelios yelps. "Ethan! Help!"


    I just watch, trying not to smirk.


    "Ethan!"


    "Alright, alright." I reach down and pull the cloth away from his face, helping him back to his feet. To my surprise¡ªmostly because he didn''t show this off before¡ªwings emerge from his back, fluttering wildly to take some of his weight; they''re similar to the ones he had as a mantis. "I guess you like your new body, then."


    "I feel kind of bad about Zhir," Ahkelios admits. "I mean, both the real one and my... other self. But yeah. This is... better."


    There''s a small pause as we walk. A companionable sort of silence. Ahkelios breaks it first, a small shadow crossing his expression as he finds the courage to talk about something on his mind. "I don''t have my vision back, though," he confides quietly. "I was hoping..."


    Right. I wince. "We might find a way to fix it," I offer. "But even if we don''t, your vision''s just like mine now. I bet I''d still love your art if I saw it."


    Ahkelios blinks. "You think so?"


    "Can''t say for sure until I see it, but..." I shrug. "You should spend some time at the next camp making stuff. It''s probably been too long for you."


    "Shouldn''t we be training or something?" Ahkelios asks, uncertain.


    "How''d that work out for you during your Trial?"


    A pause. "Fair point."


    "I know I''m one to talk¡ª" I smile a wry smile. "¡ªbut we can''t lose ourselves fighting for others. Or fighting for ourselves. Feels a lot like there''s no other choice sometimes, to spend every second fighting, but if you do that..."


    I can feel Ahkelios thinking back to Zhir. I don''t know what kind of memories he has, but I can imagine.


    Centuries of nothingness in the Empty City. Centuries of fighting to survive.


    "Yeah," Ahkelios says, his eyes distant. "I know what you mean."


    <hr>


    To my surprise, the last stage objective is, in fact, completed as easily as just... stuffing the Seed in the dirt. It''s not even us that has to do it¡ªwe transfer it to the possession of some Archivists, and they immediately start exclaiming over the thing, talking about how it''s full of Firmament.


    "You do not wish to know what we went through for that," Novi mutters when questioned, and refuses to elaborate. Part of that, I think, is because she appreciates the need for secrecy. She''s no fool¡ªshe''s caught on to enough, through conversaion with Guard and through what she''s overheard between me and Ahkelios, that she knows the nature of this whole thing is... complicated.


    In fact, she more or less explicitly told us we didn''t need to make the time to tell her about what was going on.


    "Juri and Yarun know, yes?" she asked, and when we confirmed, she just nodded. "I will ask them. You three seem like you have much to talk about."


    It''s a breath of fresh air, to have someone not demanding answers¡ªI certainly feel like I''m demanding answers all the time. There are too many puzzles to unravel, too many secrets to uncover, and too many motivations I haven''t yet figured out.


    But it''s probably best I listen to my own advice. The mind needs rest, even if the body doesn''t. We''ll take some time to talk things through, but after that, maybe a small break is in order. Nothing too big.


    Guard did mention hot showers in Isthanok, and that sounds very attractive at the moment.


    We watch as the Archivists begin to lower the Seed into Firmament-enriched dirt. "Are you guys ready?" I ask, my voice low. "Because we''re going to have to get out fast. I''ve got the portal ready to open."


    "Ready," Ahkelios agrees.


    "Ready." Guard nods.


    The Seed is planted¡ª


    [Seed planted. Congratulations, Heir. Ritual Stage 2 has been completed.]


    [Bonus objective complete: Defeat the Concept-Bound in a single try! +200 Firmament credits.]


    [Bonus objective complete: Fight a higher tier of enemy than intended! +200 Firmament credits.]


    [Bonus objective complete: Thwart the intrusion. +200 Firmament credits.]


    [Progressing Ritual: The Empty City to Stage 3. Be aware that the Firmament levels required for dungeon alteration are hostile to fifth-layer lifeforms and below. Evacuation is recommended.]


    Both Ahkelios and I react to that fourth message. "Thwart the what?" Ahkelios demands.


    I frown at it, but shake my head; I''m already pulling the Dungeon''s key out. "No time," I say, inserting the key into the air. With a twist, a golden door blossoms into existence, and the three of us pour through.


    For a moment, I entertain the idea of what might happen if we tried to pull Novi with us. I even look for her, try to catch her eye¡ªbut she''s talking animatedly with one of the other Archivists. She doesn''t seem to notice the rumbling in the dungeon, and she certainly doesn''t see the door. I have no doubt that if any of them could there would be a whole host of questions to deal with.


    So that might not be an option. But it''s... something to keep in mind, now that we have an idea of what to expect for the next Stage.


    The door seals shut behind us¡ª


    [The Empty City has been locked. Time remaining before full establishment of Ritual Stage 3: 4 days.]


    Seems even the Interface is enforcing a kind of break. I''m not surprised the dungeon takes longer to reconstitute itself with every stage, although at this rate I worry for how long the final stage will take to render.


    For now, though...


    [Processing additional reward...]


    [Congratulations! By completing two Ritual stages of the S-Rank Dungeon The Empty City, you have earned a Feat!]


    "Hey, how come I don''t get that?" Ahkelios complains.


    "I''ll share what I get," I say, shrugging. "We kind of have access to each other''s skills anyway, don''t we?"


    "Good point." Ahkelios seems mollified by that. I look back to the Interface.


    [Feat earned:


    [The Abstract Crown]


    Where an Anchoring solidifies a change in reality, an Abstraction unmakes it: it is an unmooring of a concept, a physical rendering of something that should remain outside reality. To destroy an Abstraction is to restore balance to the universe.


    The Abstract Crown is a recognition of this feat. With it, you gain 50% additional affinity to Concepts and Threads.]


    My heart quickens just slightly. It''s a guess, but...


    This is what I need. If I''m going to pluck out a shard of the Interface, if I''m going to do any sort of surgery with the soul¡ªthen Concepts and Threads, whatever they are, are going to form the core of what I need. Without the Dungeon and the Ritual, I wouldn''t have known about either.


    "Come on," I say. "Let''s go find Tarin."

 181 — Book 3, Chapter 40 — Festival

    When we return to the Cliffside Crows, there''s a celebration.


    It''s not that we want a celebration. It''s that Tarin and Mari both insist on it, with flailing wings and loud squawks. I think the thing that turns me around on the whole idea is the fact that they''ve clearly been preparing for this the entire time we were in the Empty City. Tarin hadn''t doubted me for a second¡ªthe moment we left, he and Mari began the preparations.


    "You do this for me," Tarin says, gesturing to Naru. He sleeps in the corner of the hut, chest moving slowly up and down; there''s no apparent indication that he''s hurt, but I can tell from the feel of his Firmament that he isn''t going to be waking up. Not without some soul surgery. "So I do this for you, yes?"


    There''s something unspoken in his words. He doesn''t need to say them for me to understand.


    This is a goodbye.


    For now, anyway. Until the Trial is over. Tarin isn''t going to remember any of the loops after this one, so whatever happens, however much I grow, I''m going to be doing it without him. I''m not even sure if he''ll remember this loop. It all depends on how the Interface works out.


    More likely than not, he won''t. However the Interface helps us keep our memories, it seems to trigger at the end of each loop; for him to remember, he''d need to have that Interface shard within him when the loop ends. If I''m extracting it and transferring it to Naru, then whatever remains won''t hold during the reset.


    Unless there''s something about the loops I don''t understand, of course. For once, I hope there is. I don''t want Tarin to lose this final loop.


    "Maybe the universe will be kind for once," Ahkelios suggests, nudging me. I smile¡ªI know he''s trying to make me feel better.


    Maybe it will. Or maybe we''ll just have to forge that kindness for ourselves.


    Either way, the celebration proceeds with great gusto. The crows all gather to sing songs, to have a feast. For the first time, I''m served with something that isn''t just grub and insects¡ªit''s a little charred, and they''re clearly not used to cooking it, but Mari tells me she hunted a beast down herself and then practiced until what she produced was "decent".


    It is, in fact, "decent". Charred and strangely seasoned as it is, it''s still the best steak I''ve ever had. Maybe there''s something to that whole thing of putting love into cooking.


    Or maybe Mari cheated. There are some suspiciously empty jars scattered around her workstation, and when I ask her about them, all she tells me is that they had "secret ingredients". What that means, I have no idea; Ahkelios tells me there are traces of weird plants in there.


    But it''s nice. Meeting old friends, being in the village again. It''s a reminder of the early loops, of the fact that these crows were the people that took me in and helped me when I barely knew what was going on with the Trials.


    Granted, that only happened after their village was nearly destroyed by a Raid, but that''s besides the point.


    Virin, Rotar, and Akar are there; none of them remember the previous loops, but all of them are friendly. Virin in particular is excited to talk about his progress with imbuement now that I''ve partially activated one of his stones¡ªhe doesn''t need me to personally try to activate them now that he''s seen an activation for himself, even a partial one.


    "I break lots of stones," he confides in me, but he says it as if it''s an accomplishment. His daughter giggles, dancing around his legs. There''s a fine layer of stone dust I have to assume came from a multitude of failed activations. "But I learn lots! I have stone that grow plant, stone that break plant, stone that summon worm¡ª"


    "You have a stone that summons a worm?" I ask, interested despite myself. Not because I have any particular fascination with worms, but because of the similarity with what Novi had told me about summons in First Sky. I don''t think I''ve ever encountered a single summoning skill in all my time as a Trialgoer, but if there are stones that can do it...


    "Yes!" Virin nods rapidly, his feathers puffing up with his excitement. And then he pauses in consideration. "I think. Stone explode. Then worm explode."


    I snort a half-laugh. It''s a little morbid, but at least he''s talking about a worm and not something more dangerous. Or more alive. "You should be careful with those," I say. "Don''t want to activate something dangerous by accident."


    "Ah, you loop! It fine," he says dismissively. I rap him on the head¡ªgently¡ªand make him look at me.


    "It is not fine," I say, trying to impress this on him. "The loops aren''t always reliable. You do any damage to your Firmament, it''s going to last across the loops. Don''t play around with things if they could hurt you or your daughter."


    I give the smaller crow a significant glance as I say this. Virin doesn''t seem all that concerned about his own safety, but the moment I mention his daughter, he looks appropriately chastised; he nods, his enthusiasm falling away for a moment.


    "You right," he says. "I... I too excited. I careful."


    "At least get Tarin to supervise or something," I suggest mildly. Tarin''s speed should be enough to deal with anything that might emerge from these stones¡ªas far as I''ve seen the skills in them aren''t so dangerous they''ll need something stronger than him to handle, and anything that is that strong Virin likely wouldn''t have enough Firmament to activate.


    "Good idea!" Virin''s eyes flash suddenly.


    I... get the impression I''ve possibly given him an idea that will lead to a lot of suffering for poor Tarin. Oops. I cough and quickly excuse myself¡ªI don''t need him to decide to make me one of his test subjects, too. I''m already documenting the results of all this for him.


    Rotar takes me aside, then, to thank me for rescuing him. We''re in a quiet corner of the village, away from the festivities; Ahkelios seems to have taken to dancing and making full use of his newfound flexibility, and He-Who-Guards is just sitting nearby and watching while entertaining a crowd of curious crow children.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "I can''t remember much about my time in there," he admits. "There are fragments. I remember being scared, and I remember... anger."


    "Probably from the first time I tried to pull you out," I say, a little awkwardly. "Didn''t know what I was doing then."


    Rotar shakes his head. "I wasn''t complaining," he says. "I''ve been trying to work out what I saw before... you know. Before time resets and I lose all my memories of it. I think I have a better idea now, but I''m not sure still..."


    He fidgets, full of anxiety. I sit him down, concerned, and take a seat next to him. "What''s on your mind?" I prompt.


    "You remember why we went to Isthanok in the first place?" Rotar asks. He produces the oracle a moment later¡ªit still warns of danger, of course. But we know the source of that danger now, and oddly enough, Rotar seems a lot more calm now that he knows.


    Probably because there isn''t that much he can do about it. And probably because he knows I''m working on it. It''s an odd thing, being trusted.


    "Sure," I say, mostly because Rotar seems to be waiting for me to say more as he gathers the courage to say more. He stares at the glass orb for another minute, still fidgeting.


    And then he smashes it, flinching as the glass explodes and cuts into his wing. I blink, startled. My body''s reinforced enough now that the glass does nothing to me, but I reach out anyway, automatically weaving a bit of Life Concept and Firmament into the wound.


    Just like that, it heals shut. We both stare at each other for a moment.


    "...I didn''t even know I could do that," I say after a moment.


    "Thank you," Rotar says, flustered. "I¡ªsorry, that got away from me. I don''t want to panic over it every loop. I don''t know if there''s a way to stop me, or if maybe I''ll remember enough that I won''t find it and panic, but..."


    "Tarin will remember enough to calm you down, at least," I point out, and that seems to calm him down. He takes a few breaths.


    "I... wanted to tell you..." he starts. "I don''t remember much, but..."


    I wait. Whatever this is, Rotar seems to have a lot of difficulty talking about it; I can sort of sympathize.


    "I think the monsters are gonna get worse," he says in a rush. "A lot worse. I can''t remember much, but I think¡ªI think I saw the future, somehow? And there was so much wrong, so many... Naru called them Tears?"


    "He did," I say quietly.


    "They were everywhere," he says. "I don''t know if it was a vision or a warning but¡ªif you''re going to deal with them¡ªplease, there are a lot and I don''t think we can handle them on our own¡ª"


    He''s panicking again, the poor guy. I wave a hand in front of him to catch his attention, because he''s staring off at nothing, and then draw his attention back to me.


    "Focus on what you can do," I tell him. It''s advice that''s helped me whenever I''ve felt like this. "I''ll do what I can. I owe the crows a lot, you know? So trust me to handle anything Trial related. In the meantime, maybe there''s something you can do to help?"


    I say it not because I need his help, but because he need something to focus on. Rotar takes a few more rapid breaths, casting his eyes about, but the thought does seem to steady him; his breathing slows. "I could..." he begins. "I could help Virin with his imbuement stones. That''s something that''ll help you, right?"


    "I think so," I say, giving him an encouraging smile. "Anything else?"


    "I think..." Rotar hesitates a bit. "I think I could pinpoint... the... source? I saw a lot of Tears and a lot of monsters, but some of the monsters had places they came from. I don''t know if I can do it before this loop ends, but if I can, I can tell Tarin or Naru about them, and... would that help?"


    I blink. "That could help a lot, actually," I say. I''m not sure exactly what Rotar''s talking about, but I have a few guesses. One of them is that he remembers fragments of Tear locations, and that''s almost certainly going to be helpful.


    The other is that what he saw was glimpses of Remnants.


    I haven''t encountered any real Remnants besides Ahkelios, but I know they''re out there, based on what the Heart said. The problem has always been that I have no way to search for them. I almost found something last time, when I was diving through Temporal Link and into the blood-specter in the Carusath Tear, but I couldn''t quite pinpoint the Remnant before the link expired.


    If Rotar caught visions of these Remnants while he was in the Fracture, I might be able to use those visions to find them. He seems encouraged by my response, too¡ªI can already see the resolve firming up in his eyes, the determination.


    "Okay," he says. He nods, first to himself and then again to me. "I''ll do that then. I''ll... I''ll probably need a couple of days?"


    He says it like a question, like he''s asking for permission. I raise an eyebrow. "I''ll do my best not to die for a few days," I say dryly.


    "That''s¡ªthat''s not what I meant!" he hurries to explain, looking flustered. I laugh and pat him on the head.


    "I know what you meant," I say. "You''ll probably have time. If anything, you should try not to get blown up helping Virin."


    "I don''t¡ªthat might happen?" Rotar stares at me wide-eyed. "I might just stick to the memories..."


    "Might be for the best." I can''t deny being a little amused, but Rotar looks like he''s feeling a lot better now, at least.


    "I''m going to start right now," he decides. "I''ll see you later. Enjoy¡ªuh, I hope you enjoy the celebration! Tarin worked hard on it."


    "Yeah." I glance back out to the crow village, listen to the sounds of celebration and music and singing, both good and bad. "I know."


    It''s good to see them enjoying themselves like this. For a moment, I think back to Earth¡ªwonder how everyone else is doing. I wonder if any celebrations have been held recently, if there''s anything to celebrate.


    I hope so.


    "Ethan!" Tarin finds me in the corner and immediately grabs my arm to drag me back to the festivities. "Why you sitting alone! Come join!"


    "I was talking to Rotar," I explain, although by this time the other crow is nowhere to be found; Tarin gives me a look that''s best described as a mix of affronted and baffled.


    "Rotar not here! You come back," he says. I just let him drag me back to it all. I watch Ahkelios grab a half-dozen different crows into dances¡ªhe is really enjoying having a new body¡ªand listen as Guard tells stories to crow children. He seems at home with them, with telling stories. In a different life...


    What would they have been, if not for the Trials and the Integrators?


    I let myself enjoy this. Let the sound of joy wash over me, partake in the food and music. I let Ahkelios drag me into a dance, though he finds out very quickly that I have no sense of rhythm, and then let Guard pull me into a tale as the hero of a story. I almost protest¡ªthe thought of being a hero makes me uncomfortable¡ªbut I see the shining eyes looking up at me...


    I say nothing.


    For now, a celebration and a goodbye. Tarin drags me around, introducing me to every crow he can think of, telling me facts about them I''m going to try and probably fail to remember. Mari brags loudly to anyone that will listen about accomplishments she can''t possibly remember, most likely from Tarin''s tales about our journey.


    It feels like a home I haven''t had in a long, long time. Not even with my own family.


    And soon...


    I glance at Tarin''s hut, where Naru sleeps.


    Soon, I try something I''ve never tried before.


    Soul surgery.

 182 — Book 3, Chapter 41 — Soul Surgery

    The first Road.


    Tarin and Naru both lie on little nests of twigs and leaves in front of me. Mari stands nearby, her usual confident demeanor marred by an anxious wringing of her wings¡ªshe knows what this means. Knows what we''re risking. There''s a decent chance that if I give Naru the ability to remember, he''ll... well, he''ll have the chance to use it against me.


    But I''ve already decided what to do. The only thing that''s right. If it backfires, if he tries to betray me, I''ll deal with it then.


    For what it''s worth, I don''t think he will. What he did to try to remember...


    I shake my head. All kinds of extreme.


    "Are you ready?" I ask. Tarin nods. Mari doesn''t speak, although I can tell she''s worried. She''s trying her best to suppress that worry, to be the pillar of the family in a time of need.


    It''s unspoken, but we all know that there''s a chance this could go very, very wrong. I''m already prepared to pull back and abort on the off chance that I''m not yet strong enough to do what I need to do. If it looks for even a moment like Tarin or Naru are breaking, I''ll have seconds to fix whatever happened and repair it or reverse the procedure entirely.


    The question is more for myself, really. Ahkelios and Guard stand by at the side, in case something goes awry and they need to help, but the main factor in all this is me. Firmament Control, the Abstract Crown¡ªthose things have to be enough for me to figure out what''s wrong with Naru''s core and repair it. They have to be enough for me to move a piece of the Interface, a Firmament construct so complex I''ve barely even scratched the surface of what it can do.


    I take a deep breath and begin.


    "That feel weird," Tarin complains almost immediately. I shoot a look at him and he quiets, though not without shooting me a half-grin that tells me he''s messing with me.


    I''m going to miss the old crow. No going back after this.


    His core is... strange. I feel it out first with my senses, and then with Firmament Control. It''s so vastly different from my own that it''s hard to even recognize that it''s a core at first¡ªit takes me a moment to realize that that''s because he''s a layer or two beneath me, and his soul isn''t quite as clearly defined as mine is.


    It''s still very much him. I can feel static and lighting sparking against my power as I reach into him with a mixture of Firmament Control and the partial affinity granted by the Abstract Crown. I can feel the Interface shard lodged inside of him, and just looking at it with my senses tells me my instincts were correct.


    It isn''t just Firmament. Firmament is a bulk of it, yes¡ªthe Interface is acting almost like... a receiver? I can''t tell what it does, but I can tell that it''s a shard of my Interface, and that there''s a sort of identifier associated with it. Something that says that this is not just a Trialgoer but the Trialgoer, the center of the loop; something that says that when all of time is reset and rewound, this person''s memories must not be touched.


    And then accompanying that, there''s a Concept. What that Concept is I''m not entirely sure. It takes a moment or two of examination, of trying to pinpoint exactly what it encapsulates, but it makes sense the moment I grasp it.


    The Concept of a Fixture. A fixed point in the world as time moves around it. No doubt that same Concept is within me, rooted in every part of my core in just the same way.


    In Tarin, though? It''s wound around the shard of Interface and digs roots into his core, beating in time with every pulse of Firmament from the Interface. Almost like a heart, actually.


    Now that I look more closely at it, it resembles the kind of damage that''s been done to Naru. I frown a bit¡ªthe pattern of the roots resembles the pattern of the cracks in Naru''s core. Surely that''s not a coincidence?


    The difference, of course, is that the roots do no damage to Tarin''s soul. If anything, they create a region of strengthened soul-stuff, around which Firmament seems to be gathering.


    A thought strikes me and I pause. I narrow my eyes, examining what''s happening more carefully, trying to understand. What if¡ª


    "What?" Tarin squawks, looking at me, then at Mari, then at me again. "What happening?"


    "I''m still just looking," I say, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. As much as I understand the anxiety, Tarin keeps twitching in a way that''s distracting; I''m starting to worry that he''ll talk at the wrong moment and distract me. Maybe we should have put Tarin to sleep for this; I''d suggested it earlier, but Tarin had staunchly refused.


    But Mari''s got to have a few herbs we could feed to him. Even if she doesn''t, Akar almost definitely does. I''m willing to bet she''s had to do all this before. "Listen, Tarin, maybe we should just let you sleep through this¡ª"


    "No!" Tarin says immediately. "I want see!"


    Of course he does. It''s the same thing he said before. I sigh, though not without a bit of fond exasperation, and turn my attention back to that region of strengthened soul-stuff.


    I''m going to just... ignore the way Tarin twitches at me.


    It''s hard to put into words exactly what a soul or a core is. It isn''t just Firmament, though Firmament makes up a large part of it. It''s something more fundamental than that. I struggle to find the word for it. A container?


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    It''s the best word I can think of, though it still doesn''t feel... right, exactly. It''s a form of Firmament that can create and hold other types of Firmament. It''s Firmament that''s uniquely yours, that generates and distills and interprets everything else you come into contact with.


    Your soul, in other words. Soul Firmament, maybe?


    That feels about right. Not perfect, but right. It might be more accurate to simply replace the word "Soul" with the name of the practitioner; Tarin''s core is made of Tarin Firmament, for instance. And that shard of the Interface is reinforcing that base layer of Firmament. Reinforcing the element of the soul in one area over all the rest, making one section more... Tarin.


    I''m going to stick with the "Soul" term, I think. Mostly for my own sanity.


    Either way, that area of reinforced soul is causing all the rest of the Firmament within Tarin to slowly collect around the Interface shard. Around the center of his soul. It''s almost like¡ª


    [Thread of Insight activated!]


    ¡ªalmost like a proper, fully-formed core.


    Like mine.


    The Interface helps Trialgoers achieve phase shifts. Is this how it does it? A passive soul-reinforcement that accelerates the gathering of Firmament over time? If I''m right, this makes Tarin a second-layer practitioner, and the action of the Interface shard is slowly nudging him toward the third layer. It''ll take time for him to get there, at this rate, but it is helping him.


    The notification about the Thread barely registers to me. I blink once to dismiss it, then turn my attention to figuring out how to remove it. If it''s so deeply entrenched within Tarin, if it''s actually helping him shift to the third layer, then it''s going to be even harder to remove. Maybe if I can reinforce it myself, somehow, thread a Concept through those roots to replace the Fixture...


    I move away from Tarin for a moment and examine Naru instead, trying to understand the differences, and almost immediately understand what I couldn''t before.


    The cracks are only cracks because the Concept that once filled them has been withdrawn. I can sense a remnant of them, a sort of residue left behind¡ªNaru''s appears to have been Destruction. The Interface fragment within him, however, is a dead thing; it remains connected to the greater constructed, but it doesn''t pulse the way mine does.


    It''s keeping him contained.


    That''s the first thought that comes to mind. Naru and Versa have both talked about their ability to gain credits from helping in the Trial, but neither of them have talked about progressing in their phase shift¡ªand why wouldn''t they, if phase shifts are so important? If a phase shift represents a change in power so drastic that it bridges the gap between skill rarities, then why wouldn''t they chase that instead of more skills?


    The answer has to be that they can''t phase shift anymore. At the very least, it has to be difficult, if the Interface no longer supports the process. Withdrawing those Concept tendrils does a sort of permanent damage that would interfere with any future attempt. It''d be easier to phase shift if they''d just never made contact with the Interface at all.


    So... what picture does this paint, exactly? Trialgoers are gathered up for Trials and offered the chance at power. If they succeed, they become leaders on their home planet, nearly unbeatable because of the sheer power they possess compared to the rest of the population. Even when everyone has access to Firmament, the advantage given to the Trialgoers by their skills is insurmountable unless you''re a layer or two above them, and without the Interface, no local population is going to be able to reach that point.


    But in exchange, those Trialgoers also give up the opportunity for any future, meaningful growth. They can''t grow enough to become a threat to the Integrators. Or whoever''s behind the Integrators, which I''m beginning to suspect more and more is a thing.


    They can keep gathering skills. They can try to save up their credits to acquire a Rank SSS skill, even.


    But then there''s a whole new rank of skills inaccessible to the average Trialgoer. Imbued skills, like Primordial Foray and Great Filter; skills I haven''t seen anyone talk about. Skills even Gheraa didn''t mention. I think back to the automatic imbuement offered by the Interface the moment I achieved any sort of proficiency with imbuement.


    It doesn''t want us to figure out imbued skills, I realize. That''s why that function exists¡ªit''s a shortcut for imbuement that makes everything easier. It''s a shortcut that''s meant to prevent me from realizing that skills themselves can be imbued, one within another, in a way that amplifies their power exponentially.


    "Ethan."


    I blink and look up.


    He-Who-Guards and Ahkelios are both standing in front of me, looking concerned. Guard''s hand rests on my shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asks. "You seem... distressed."


    "I''m¡ªI''m fine." I shake my head, blinking a few times to try to clear the weight of my thoughts.


    This isn''t exactly a huge revelation. I already know that the Interface is lying, that the Integrators seek control; this is just another layer to the manipulation. It''s realizing how detailed it all is that makes my head ache. It''s the way a half-dozen things are suddenly connected in my mind.


    I try to clear my thoughts. All these things are important, but none of them are the problem at hand.


    "I just... realized a few things," I say when I realize Guard and Ahkelios are still staring at me; I clear my throat and offer a weak smile. "I''ll tell you all about it later. Need to figure out how to fix Naru. And how to do this without hurting Tarin."


    "I trust!" Tarin declares almost immediately, even though I''m not looking at him. I laugh.


    "Yes, I know. Thank you, Tarin."


    Revelations aside, I''m reasonably sure I now know what I need to do.


    First, extract the shard of the Interface from Tarin. I reach out with Firmament Control, grasp it with the mental equivalent of delicate tweezers¡ª


    ¡ªand almost immediately, Tarin seizes on his bed. The slightest tweak of that shard has the crow crying out in alarm, and the reason why becomes very quickly clear.


    The Interface has a defense mechanism. The moment I touch it with Firmament Control, it lashes out, threads of its Concept trying to fight me off; the Fixture roots all throughout Tarin''s soul quite literally rip through it to try to tear through my control. My eyes widen with panic¡ªI try to suppress it, to force that new sense of Concept to hold the roots back, but there are so many of them, each one squirming around every thread of control establish, every foothold I assume, and even when I withdraw it continues, flaying through his soul¡ª


    <hr>


    The Road Not Taken ends there, and I jerk forward as the visions slam into me; I keep my eyes held tightly shut as I work to establish control over my breathing. Calm. None of that happened. The knowledge I gained is real, but the situation is not. Tarin remains in front of me, his soul intact.


    I''m suddenly very glad I decided to do a trial run with The Road Not Taken. It''s... costly, in terms of Firmament. Even just choosing to start the surgery an hour earlier blows through a good portion of my Firmament. I''ll need to take a moment to recover.


    But with this, at least, I''ll have as many tries as I need to get it right.


    I''m not going to risk Tarin''s life. Not for anything. I have the tools to make it work, and I''m damn well going to use them.

 183 — Book 3, Chapter 42 — Transferral

    "He is pushing himself too far," Guard said.


    Ethan was deep within a Road Not Taken trance. Ahkelios paced around him, clearly anxious, and He-Who-Guards sat with Mari. She radiated with worry about her husband¡ªand her son, although to a lesser extent¡ªand Guard was trying to lend her what comfort he could.


    Admittedly, Ethan''s repeated failures weren''t helping, although Guard wasn''t entirely sure that failure was the right word at this point. He''d last heard the human muttering something about completing a shift? He wasn''t sure he''d heard it right, but it was very possible he''d once again pushed past "complete the task" into "overachieve the task".


    Very Ethan. Guard could guess at his motivations, too; if he was going to leave Tarin behind, let him guard the village, then he wanted Tarin to be strong enough to stop anything else the Trials or the Interface tried to throw at him.


    But he was pushing himself too hard. Ethan was clearly exhausted: he''d been sweating enough that the dirt beneath him was now starting to turn more into mud, and "damp" was no longer an accurate descriptor of his clothes. He''d probably be in a worse state if the rest of them hadn''t insisted he take breaks to drink water and scarf down some food, but even then, Ethan had been going at this for...


    Eight hours and forty-three minutes, his internal clock helpfully supplied.


    Yes. That. More than was healthy for any human to strain at a task, Guard was pretty sure, in part because using the skill seemed to put a sort of physical stress on Ethan. He wasn''t sure how or why, exactly, but his sensors detected muscle fatigue and lactic acid buildup and microtears just as if he''d been running a marathon for the past eight hours.


    And forty-three minutes, his internal clock helpfully supplied again, and Guard sighed.


    Yes. And that.


    His AI partner was... partially back online again, but only partially. Apparently his automatic repair systems were enough to restore some of the damaged wiring and circuitry. He''d thought time would reset long before that happened, but here they were, still alive. How long would this loop last, he wondered?


    Not long, if Ethan pushed himself to the point of having a heart attack. Guard was starting to get more and more concerned that that might happen.


    "That''s the kind of thing he does," Ahkelios muttered beside him; he rubbed at his face in what was either exasperation or affection, Guard wasn''t certain. Perhaps both.


    "We should stop him," he said. "Or convince him to take a break."


    "Let''s give him another hour," Ahkelios said. Guard tilted his head, a silent question, and Ahkelios shrugged. "Another hour to figure it out, and then we make him take a break. He''s focused enough that it''s probably a bad idea to force him to stop unless he''s really going to die or something."


    "You know this from your travels with him?" Guard asked curiously. Ahkelios snorted.


    "No," he said, and then reconsidered. "Maybe? I haven''t seen him this focused before. But he sometimes gets it into his head that he has to do something, and honestly, he usually succeeds. You''ve seen it yourself, right? I get the feeling if we interrupt, it''s just going to cause more problems."


    "A feeling," Guard asked, "or a memory?"


    Ahkelios grimaced. "You caught me," he said dryly. "Yeah, I might have glimpsed a memory or two. Not on purpose. Trust me, you do not want to interrupt that man if he''s focused."


    <hr>


    At some point over the past... however long it''s been, my goals shifted slightly.


    I''m still trying to heal Naru and transfer the Interface shard to him from Tarin. But there''s an opportunity, too. That Interface shard sitting inside Tarin, slowly reinforcing his soul? It''s created just enough of a core that I think I can accelerate the process. Push him all the way until he''s at the cusp of the third shift.


    I can''t push him across myself, but just giving that to him will be enough. If he manages to complete the shift, the Cliffside Crows are almost guaranteed to never be in danger again, even if a Trialgoer targets them. Unless it''s one of the really strong ones, but even then, they have a sort of truce with each other, don''t they?


    That truce exists because they know they''re more trouble for each other than it''s worth. I can put Tarin in that same position, if he wants it.


    And he does. I''ve asked. He knows as well as I do that the Cliffside Crows have attracted enough attention that they''re unlikely to stay safe, in this loop or any other.


    The alternative is leaving Tarin with the same network of cracks Naru has now. A permanent mark that prevents his core from healing itself properly, from allowing him to achieve his next shift. He knows this¡ªis willing to take that risk¡ªbut I''m not willing to leave him with it.


    Besides, figuring this out will help me guide both Ahkelios and Guard to their next-layer shifts. It''s more or less the best opportunity I''ve got for this kind of thing.


    It is, however, exhausting. Every use of The Road Not Taken¡ªevery time I go back and load my path with more changes and choices and knowledge, it costs more Firmament. It draws a physical toll on me, too. I think something about the skill actually discharges all that lost, alternate time through my body. How it does that or what the side effects are I have no idea, but in practice it feels a little like I''m forcing myself through a full-body workout for the entire period I spend in that alternate path.


    I tell myself it''s fine. Physical pain is nothing. I''m ensuring the future of my friends. I''m ensuring Tarin''s future and all the little crows he takes care of.


    It''s worth it.


    I think that''s the reason Tarin doesn''t say anything. Guard and Ahkelios are quite clearly worried, and even Mari doesn''t quite understand why I''m throwing myself into this with the fervor that I am, but Tarin does. He''s felt it in my Firmament, that determination to make sure I''ve given back to the crows, and any protests he might''ve had died before they escaped his beak.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Now for the... sixth try, I think. Maybe seventh. I''ve lost count. I''ve been told to take more breaks, and I will; I am certainly going to take a break before I try this for real. But I feel like I''m on the cusp of a breakthrough. I just need to figure out how the layers fit together, how to create a supplemental Concept that Tarin can replace with his own when he breaches the third layer.


    I reach for the skill and brace myself.


    The Road Not Taken.


    The world warps around me, and I try again. Trigger the Knight Inspiration, and then the Generator Form; the boost it gives me to Firmament Control is exactly what I need to touch the Interface shard delicately enough that it doesn''t trigger that defensive response. Use the Abstract Crown to layer my own network of conceptual roots atop each Fixture, then bind them together with metaphorical glue. Draw them out so slowly they don''t realize what''s happening.


    That''s step one. I place the Interface shard carefully to the side; I figured this out several tries ago. It''s not the part that''s difficult. The part that''s difficult is constructing something of my own in its place. The placeholder roots aren''t enough. It needs to be something solid, something real...


    Something Tarin.


    I can''t use another shard of the Interface¡ªit''s too complicated for me to hope to break apart safely, let alone manipulate into Tarin''s soul, and it wouldn''t fulfill his request besides. Nor can I just stuff Firmament into the hole and hope it draws in more, though a part of me was hoping it''d be that easy. If I want to use something for this, it has to be something of Tarin''s own, something so very him that it can act as a calling card for the rest of his soul...


    Slowly, I call upon Intrinsic Lightning. A trickle of black Firmament flickers around my fingers, sparking with electricity.


    Every skill construct contains copies of itself. That''s what Gheraa told me. Even small fragments can regrow into complete skills, given enough time. That''s all Tarin needs here¡ªjust a small piece of Intrinsic Lightning, a skill that was only ever granted to me because of him in the first place.


    Now I''m giving it back to him, in a way.


    Slowly, I mold the skill fragment, working it into a new shape. It struggles in my grasp¡ªit wants to be used, wants to unleash itself as lightning and fury and power¡ªbut I keep it corralled and contained, pushing it down, compressing it.


    I''ve tried this twice already. Each time it exploded the moment my grip loosened, unleashing itself in a violent torrent of energy. Lightning doesn''t like to be contained, and neither does Tarin. It''s something I should have expected.


    So I try something just a little different.


    I remember the way Tarin used his Firmament back in the Arena. The way it flickered over his feathers, wild and free. I remember the way he gave himself over to it, allowed it to control his reactions to things he couldn''t possibly have reacted to on his own.


    Chaos and adaptability is a part of who he is. He''s not the type to plan far ahead or to sit back; he makes his decisions in the moment, allows himself to go with whatever he''s feeling at any given moment. It''s frustrating, sometimes¡ªhe mirrors me in recklessness¡ªbut it''s gotten him this far, hasn''t it? Throwing himself into things with his whole heart, allowing himself to be led by his emotions.


    It''s how he nearly died and ended up with me in the loop. It''s the reason he spent a whole loop looking for me when I was thrown forward through time in a temporal storm.


    It''s why he''s Tarin.


    So when the shard of Intrinsic Lightning in my grasp lashes out, fighting back, I let it. I release my hold on that piece of it and allow it to strike out. Firmament shoots outward, a burning tendril of black energy that forks and sputters¡ª


    ¡ªand settles into the perfect shape of one of the cracks left behind in Tarin''s soul. I watch in something akin to wonder as it weaves itself into Tarin, settling in like it belongs there. Already, I can feel Tarin''s Firmament beginning to shift in response.


    "Ethan?" Tarin calls. "It working? It feel weird."


    "It''s working," I say.


    I keep a tenuous grasp on the skill shard. I can''t let go of it entirely¡ªit still needs to be compressed and molded to even have a hope of fitting. But this time, when it tries to push back again, I just let it.


    Another tendril of lightning settles perfectly into one of the cracks. Progress. I push down on the rest of the skill, trying to remember what Gheraa taught me. There''s too little skill fragment here for me to convert into a Firmament engine the way he taught me, but I can mimic the construct in smaller ways. I can make it process Firmament more efficiently, make it able to take in more than just Tarin''s own Firmament...


    It''s a long, slow process. Compression, conversion, all while letting the skill do what it wants whenever it tries to break free. It''s taxing and dangerous, and I know if I let go of it at the wrong moment, it could do some serious damage to us both.


    I do my best to keep myself still and focused. The Knight helps me, too, though it seems to find this sort of work beneath it; it grumbles in my head, but lends me the power it has.


    It takes one more try after this. I slip the first time¡ªthe skill combusts in my grasp as I try to move it one step further, and I have to take a short break. My limbs barely obey me when I''m back in the real world, and I''m drenched with sweat.


    I cannot wait to take a hot shower.


    But first things first. I try a final time, reaching through time with my skill...


    And it finally, finally works.


    Naru''s own procedure is simple in comparison. After everything with Tarin, it doesn''t take more than a few minutes for me to transplant the shard into him, to push those Concept roots through the cracks in his soul and seal them shut. There''s a pulse within him, like his entire core is finally taking a long-awaited breath, and a smoothing out of his breathing that tells me he''s in a more natural form of sleep.


    I poke him awake.


    "Wha¡ª" Naru''s eyes widen as he takes in what I look like; I remember belatedly that I''m still in the Generator Form. He lets out a squawk of terror and promptly falls off his bed, trying to throw some Firmament skill or the other at me. I don''t even know what it is, but I Phaseshift so I can grab it and shatter it. "Ethan?"


    "I made it so you''ll remember the loops," I tell him, my voice distorted by the armor. He stares at me, nonplussed and unsure how to react.


    "Why did¡ªThank you?" he looks around. "What..."


    Eh. He''s not immediately attacking me or anything. Good enough to make sure he wasn''t planning on some immediate betrayal.


    I end the skill.


    "I need a shower," I announce. "And to sleep for twelve hours or something. I''ll do this for real after."


    Tarin blinks at me. "It work?"


    I grin at him. "It worked," I say. "Now we just need to do it for real."


    And I have to be very sure I don''t mess it up.


    When I exit the shower, I find Guard heating a makeshift cauldron with the blasters in his hands. I blink at him, and he makes a beeping sound I interpret as a sheepish grin.


    "It was the fastest way to get hot water," he says. "It is not a shower, but that will have to wait for Isthanok."


    I could hug him, but given I''m covered in sweat and mud, I decide not to.


    Instead, I collapse into the makeshift tub, clothes and all.


    Which is a bad decision. I realize quite quickly that I don''t have the energy to lift myself back into a normal sitting position from how I''ve collapsed into the tub. Ahkelios has to pick me up to get my head out of the water. "Thanks," I say.


    "Just making sure you don''t drown yourself before you do the surgery you just worked so hard to perfect," Ahkelios says dryly.


    "I was trying to pretend I didn''t just do that."


    "I know." He grins. "You''re not very good at it."


    "Shut up, ''Kelios." Did he always have a tongue? Because he''s sticking it out at me right now. How mature.


    It''s a good moment, though. A clean victory, for once. I let out a sigh and allow myself a smile.


    Just one more step and I''ll be done. What could go wrong?

 184 — Book 3, Chapter 43 — A New Era

    I am, in all honesty, quite surprised when nothing actually goes wrong. I was half-expecting to wake up in a new loop, all activities in the last one erased from some terrible event in my sleep. Or an inconveniently timed heart attack. Maybe both.


    But no. I wake up in bed¡ªI don''t even remember getting out from the tub and into a bed, and certainly not getting into dry clothes¡ªrefreshed and ready to go, and nothing goes wrong.


    Not even during the surgery. It goes exactly as planned with only minor variations; Guard and Ahkelios, for instance, are watching a lot more closely this time around. Mari sits nearby, feet nervously tapping against the dirt. It''s early enough in the day that the village is remarkably silent.


    Besides those things, everything is identical to what I experienced when I used The Road Not Taken, down to Naru''s reactions to being woken from his sleep.


    "Why did¡ªThank you?" Naru looks around. "What..."


    "You''re back home," I say. Tarin''s already sitting up, but he watches Naru quietly, not saying a word. Naru freezes when he finally realizes where he is and who''s around him. There''s an instant where he almost reacts impulsively¡ªI can see the way his entire body tenses and the way he begins to curse¡ªbut he chokes it back down, making a strangled noise in this throat.


    "Tell me what happened," he finally says. "Please."


    He says the word like he isn''t quite used to it.


    "He not shout?" Tarin sounds impressed. "You change."


    Naru''s eyes narrow, and I feel an immediate flare of anger. "That''s all it takes?" he starts, jolting up from the makeshift bed. It''s only the lance of pain that courses through him that makes him sit back down with a wince.


    "I just performed surgery on your core," I say dryly. "You might not want to use any skills yet."


    "Just... please tell me what happened," he says again, rubbing his face with his hands.


    It''s Tarin that launches into an explanation. The old crow''s expression becomes uncharacteristically serious, and he tells Naru an account of what happened at the Carusath Tear that more or less matches exactly what I told him. Honestly, I''m surprised he was paying that much attention; he''d seemed a lot more distracted when I was first telling him about it.


    Not that surprised. It''s Naru we''re talking about. I watch the two of them as they talk, and after a moment, I shake my head.


    "Come on," I say to both Ahkelios and Guard. "Let''s let them talk in peace. We need to figure some things out ourselves, anyway. Like what''s going on with your Interface, Ahkelios. Guard, I want to know more about your Firmament¡ªwhatever you''re comfortable sharing."


    <hr>


    Naru didn''t know what to think.


    Of course, he didn''t know what he was thinking back when he''d carved that symbol into his core, either. His memories of that moment were fuzzy. He remembered feeling an overwhelming sense of regret, remembered feeling small in a way he hadn''t felt since the Trial.


    It was different from before, though. Before, he''d felt small because he couldn''t live up to Tarin or Mari''s expectations of him. No matter what he did, it felt like he wasn''t enough; he was small in comparison to what they wanted him to be.


    With Ethan, he felt small in comparison to what he could be. In comparison to the world at large. Like he''d been forcibly shown that his place in the universe was much, much smaller than he''d convinced himself it was.


    He couldn''t stand it. The idea that he''d be that small forever¡ªthat he''d just live in ignorance of how tiny he was, convinced of the grandiose lie he''d been telling himself ever since he became a Trialgoer¡ªit rankled at his pride. He wanted to be more.


    And Ethan had given him that chance...


    No. Tarin had.


    Ethan saved him, but Tarin gave him his Interface shard. The fragment of pure chance that allowed him to remember the loops. Without that he would''ve been lost again¡ªeven if Ethan managed to undo the damage, he wouldn''t remember why it was done in the first place. He''d just stay as a puppet of the Integrators, fighting a war he didn''t even care about.


    Naru struggled to remember why he''d been so convinced in the first place that the Integrators were impossible to fight. That the role he played was the best one he could''ve had. All that actually happened under his rule was...


    He grimaced at the memory. His guards. He needed to do something about that, and he didn''t know how.


    But there was something more important he needed to do first.


    Tarin was looking at him expectantly. So was Mari, for that matter. For once in their lives they weren''t squawking at him, telling him what to do and when to do it. They weren''t reminding him how much of a disappointment he was.


    Though maybe that wasn''t a fair assessment. Had they said that to him directly? He couldn''t remember anymore. He just remembered the feelings.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    He opened his beak to speak, but to his surprise, Tarin spoke first.


    "Naru," he said, his words grave. "You... not good crow. You hurt. Take."


    Naru tensed, a snarl starting to rise in his throat. Was this still how it was? Even after all this? Tarin had sacrificed for him, sure, but that didn''t give him the right to¡ª


    "But," Tarin continued, and Naru froze. "Maybe it because we also not good crow. Maybe we not there when you need."


    "Should have broken into Trial," Mari muttered. "Break tower for breaking son."


    Naru blinked. What were they even saying?


    "You try?" Tarin asked. "Try be good crow. We try too."


    The Trialgoer found his throat was dry. Even he knew that he was the one that needed to apologize here; it was difficult for him to acknowledge, to admit it, but he''d been the one to lose himself in the Trial. Tarin and Mari hadn''t been wrong for not giving him power. That the Trial happened exactly afterward was nothing more than terrible coincidence¡ª


    ¡ªor, Naru realized a little belatedly, intentional. On the part of the Integrators, not on the part of his parents. Choosing someone who just had a rift torn between him and his family. Someone who wouldn''t have a support network when he returned, brutal and conquering.


    Tarin was... conceding, in a way. Rare for his father¡ªso rare it would''ve been impossible to imagine if he wasn''t seeing it himself. He was, what? Trying to understand?


    Great. Now Naru felt even smaller.


    At least this time, he knew enough not to blame Tarin for it. He sighed, trying to figure out the right words, the right response...


    But in the end, there was only one thing left to say. He swallowed his pride.


    "Thanks, dad." The words felt foreign coming from his beak. Both of them. He cast about for something else to say, anything that could distract him from the words he''d just said. I''m sorry was right there, but he didn''t feel ready to say it yet. Didn''t feel ready to mean it the way he thought he needed to. "I, uh. I could use some help dealing with Carusath."


    There. It was something. An acknowledgement that he needed help, that things were less than perfect. His parents looked at one another, something silent passing between them.


    "Okay," Tarin said. "You tell us what wrong."


    This was easier than an apology. Easier than thinking about... everything else that still hung unsaid between them. Naru didn''t know if he''d ever be a good crow by Tarin''s estimation; a part of him still felt like he''d been right, that force was the only real truth.


    But he was willing to try. He was willing to admit that his methods hadn''t been perfect. Something needed to change.


    Maybe that something was him.


    <hr>


    Ahkelios and I sit on a log next to each other, comparing our Interface screens; Guard stands in front of us both, looking a little disgruntled and trying his best to hide it. I don''t blame him¡ªhe''s the only one in our little party now that doesn''t have an Interface.


    "It is a trap," he grumbles. "You must not fall for it."


    If nothing else, it''s nice to see a side of him that isn''t the whole noble protector thing he has going on. Even if jealousy is kind of a strange look on him.


    "It definitely is a trap," I admit. "But I don''t think it''s any more of a trap than me having an Interface. It''s a trap insofar as it guides your Firmament growth along a specific path and tries to prevent you from discovering too much about Firmament, but I don''t think this is specifically a trap for Ahkelios."


    "We could try to get you attached to the Interface too, if that helps?" Ahkelios offers. Guard makes a noise¡ªa series of high-pitched beeps that I can only interpret as his version of a pout¡ªand shakes his head.


    "I will not stain my soul with the Interface," he declares.


    "Okay, now that''s a little rude," I say, though I''m more amused than anything else.


    Guard hesitates, his optic cycling through a few shades before eventually settling on a shade of light pink. "I... apologize," he says, the words coming out a little stiff.


    I just laugh. "Didn''t figure you for the jealous type, He-Who-Guards."


    "It is not jealousy," Guard protests. Then¡ªto his credit¡ªhe pauses to give the whole thing genuine consideration. When he''s done, he amends the statement slightly. "It is partially jealousy," he admits. "But the concern is true regardless. Given all you''ve discovered about the Interface, for one of us to just be given access to¡ªan event that has never once occurred previously, to my knowledge¡ªit feels too fortuitous. Alarmingly so."


    "I don''t disagree with you there." I glance at Ahkelios. He feels the same way, judging by the way he''s eyeing his Interface screen, even if he''s not being quite as vocal about it. "We''ll keep an eye on it, but for now, we''re going to treat it like the tool it is. We can''t avoid an advantage just because we''re worried it''s a trap."


    "I... suppose that is acceptable," Guard rumbles after a moment. His vents whirr in his version of a sigh, and he moves to sit on the same log as me and Ahkelios.


    His weight nearly launches the two of us into the air.


    I reflexively reinforce the whole log with my Firmament to prevent that from happening. Guard continues like nothing happened, though I catch a flicker of amusement in his optic. "What are the differences between your Interfaces?"


    Did he do that intentionally? I squint at him, though he studiously ignores my gaze; Ahkelios, who seems quite amused by the whole thing, takes the higher road by following his lead and answering the question like he didn''t do anything.


    "I don''t have anything about Skill Mastery unlocked," Ahkelios says. "No Timeline Tracker or Hotspot Tracker, no feature to access the Trial''s database. I think that means I''m not considered a looper the same way Ethan is, but I''m not sure."


    "Biggest question is if time resets if either of us die, or if both of us have to die," I say, deciding to put Guard''s little prank aside. "Plus we''re still linked to each other through Temporal Link. I don''t think that''s intended? He''s got access to my Interface and I have access to his."


    "Can''t trigger your skills or credit rolls or anything, though, so it''s mostly cosmetic," Ahkelios points out. He frowns at his Interface screen. "We should find out what happens if we roll for a skill or if I trigger an Inspiration. I''ve got enough points to try for... well, I''ve technically hit this milestone before, but I don''t have that Inspiration anymore."


    Ahkelios furrows his brows as he thinks on that a little further. "And we''re cut off from the Integrators right now, so who am I going to meet if I trigger one? That Kauku person you mentioned?"


    It''s a good question. I have no idea.


    "Only one way to find out," I say. "You ready to roll some skills?"


    "Honestly," Ahkelios says. "It was really hard not to roll them while you were doing your thing back there."


    "I stopped him a few times," Guard supplies helpfully.


    Ahkelios glares at him. "You weren''t supposed to tell him that!"


    I just snort. "Well, since you''re so excited," I say. And he is excited, judging by the way his wings flutter behind him and the way he keeps glancing impatiently at his Interface screen. "You first."

 185 — Book 3, Chapter 44 — Rolls

    I watch as Ahkelios paces back and forth, trying to decide what to roll first. Despite all his excitement, actually taking the first step and banking his credits is apparently something of a struggle for him.


    For the fourth time in a row, he reaches out as if to select something, hesitates, then pulls his hand back again.


    Can''t blame him, I suppose. It''s been a long time since he''s had his connection to the Interface, and although he hasn''t said it out loud, I can feel through our bond that he''s worried. Worried that the Interface will reject him when he tries to roll for a skill. Worried it''ll throw him some kind of curveball or twist. He''s pretending it''s just indecision, but there''s a lot more to his hesitation than just that.


    "How about Firmament to start?" I ask. It''s more a gentle prod than anything else, meant to help nudge him into making a decision. Ahkelios folds his arms across his chest and frowns at the Interface screen like it might bite him.


    "I don''t know," he says. "I have almost enough Firmament credits to get an Inspiration if I wait a little more with just a few more credits."


    "You''ll need more than one Firmament skill anyway, and it won''t take us that long to get you that 100 credits," I point out. "We''ll need to fight a few more of those Remnants soon, and if we deal with the infestation of chimeras around the village you should have more than enough credits to get a good skill."


    "That''s a good point." Ahkelios continues to hesitate, though. "I just... what if..."


    "Ahkelios," I say, and I make my voice a little gentler. "We aren''t going to find out until you go for it. But we''ll deal with whatever happens together, alright? No matter what the Interface tries."


    Some invisible tension seems to bleed out of Ahkelios, then. He gives me a grateful, tentative smile. "There are still a lot of monsters we have to deal with," he says. "We''re going to need everything we can get."


    "Honestly, it''s a miracle we haven''t run into more," I say, frowning slightly. Given what I''ve heard about the Tears, Hestia should be nearly overrun with monsters. Remnants. Whatever I decide to call them. Monsters doesn''t really feel right anymore. "I''m not sure why."


    "I have collated a set of reports," He-Who-Guards offers helpfully. "If you wish to locate Trial-related monsters for investigation, it will not take us much time to find them. A quick analysis of the data suggests that they''ve been avoiding you, however."


    "Avoiding?" I raise an eyebrow. "Isn''t the point of them that they''re supposed to attack me? Hinder the Trial and such?"


    He-Who-Guards shrugs. "Perhaps your presence is so much of an anomaly that their approach to you is different," he suggests. "Or perhaps there is more to them than we know. I would not be surprised, considering what we saw of Ahkelios''s Remnant."


    "They still attack if you''re within range," Ahkelios says. "I think... I have access to some of Zhir''s memories. Until he took over the real Zhir''s body, he had to stay away from you. Something about being forced to attack you if he''s within range."


    "Huh. Guess that explains a lot." I frown slightly. There are a set of monsters I tend to run into between the Cliffside Crows and the Great Cities, but now that I think about it, I''ve been seeing them less and less. Most of them aren''t really worth mentioning, but... I wonder. "Thanks for putting that together, Guard. I might need to take a look at that data later. Figure out why they''re giving us space."


    It has to be connected with everything else somehow. With the Tears, with Hestia slowly falling apart. They have to know. They''re products of the Tears, after all.


    He-Who-Guards gives me a small nod, his fans whirring a little faster at the praise. Ahkelios, on the other hand, turns back to his Interface and begins talking out loud.


    "Okay," he says. "You''re probably right. I''ll start with Firmament, and then work my way through the other four. Firmament won''t trigger an Inspiration¡ªit''s just under the hundred credit mark¡ªbut I''ve got 127 Strength credits, so it might, depending on whether the Interface accounts for my previous Inspirations. It''s not listed in my Interface, but..."


    He frowns. "It also said welcome back. So I don''t know if it''ll trigger."


    "Only one way to find out," I say once more. Ahkelios nods, and Interface screens begin popping up in front of him; he flicks through the mental commands, accepting the banking of his Firmament credits, then holds his breath as it rolls his skills.


    "You said your Concept makes the Interface offer skills that are similar to it, right?" I ask.


    "Yeah," Ahkelios says, his eyes glued to the Interface. "But we get options based on what we do, too. I''m not so sure I want to stick with the Sword anymore. In theory¡ª"


    [Select between:


    Bladed Touch (Rank C)


    Blade Infusion (Rank C)


    Infused Blade (Rank C)]


    I''m reasonably certain the noise Ahkelios makes is somewhere between outrage and disgust. I stifle a laugh¡ªnot because I find the situation funny, exactly, but because Ahkelios''s expression borders on comical¡ªand place a hand on his shoulder. "Next time?"


    Ahkelios huffs. "Even when I want to change..."


    "You were mostly using your Sword Concept in that fight with Phylus," I point out. "So this particular set of rolls is probably still going to be sword-related."


    The mantis-scirix hybrid lets out a sigh. "Yeah, I know," he says. "I was just hoping I''d get to pick something different. What even is the difference between Infused Blade and Blade Infusion?"


    "You can use my Inspect to check," I say. I could do it for him, but we might as well get used to using one another''s skills. Ahkelios blinks, as though only just remembering he can do that, and then reviews the skills again.


    "Okay," he says. "So, Blade Infusion lets me turn anything into a sword. And Infused Blade lets me infuse a sword with the properties of anything. That makes sense."


    "And Bladed Touch?" I ask.


    "It turns me into a sword," Ahkelios says, somehow perfectly mimicking the dry tone I sometimes adopt. "I can already do that. Don''t need it."


    "I don''t know," I say. I take a step back and look Ahkelios up and down. "I could use a weapon. I usually just punch things."


    Ahkelios levels a look at me. "Ethan. I''m not letting you swing me around like a sword."


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Not even if I say please?"


    "No!" Ahkelios tries his best to look offended, but isn''t quite able to stop the grin that''s tugging at the corner of his mouth. After a moment, he gives up. "I blame the new body," he grumbles.


    "Didn''t you say you like the new body?"


    "I do, but I still blame it." Ahkelios sticks his tongue out at me, and I let out a snort of laughter. It looks ridiculous, the tongue sticking out between his mandibles.


    In the end, though, he ends up picking Blade Infusion. We''re generally in agreement there: the nature of the time loop means Ahkelios isn''t always going to have a sword with him. Infused Blade is fundamentally more limited than Blade Infusion in that sense¡ªas much as the skill might have wider applications, it''s essentially a useless skill if he doesn''t have a sword on hand.


    That Ahkelios himself might count as a sword is moot, unfortunately. Inspect tells us in no uncertain terms that the skill doesn''t work that way, and even if it did, altering your own biology to include the properties of other things is... not the smartest idea. Time loop allowing unlimited respawns aside.


    So that''s one skill settled. Next is a test. I break off a piece of the log I''m sitting on and concentrate on the skill Ahkelios just obtained. It''s different from using one of my own skills¡ªthe skill construct is contained within Ahkelios, not within me¡ªso there''s a sort of... delay when it comes to using it. Firmament has to flow down the link to Ahkelios, then back toward me.


    That delay is largely negligible, though. I watch as the twig in my hand takes on a metallic sheen, and when I swing it down against the dirt, it cuts a deep furrow into the soil.


    "Well, that''s good to know," I say. I grin at Ahkelios. "Means we have twice the skill options."


    "We can look for skill synergies!" Ahkelios says excitedly.


    Guard hums in thought. "Are you able to use the same skill at the same time?" he asks after a moment. Ahkelios and I blink and look at one another.


    "Good question," Ahkelios says. "Ethan, you ready? Three, two, one..."


    We both trigger Blade Infusion¡ª


    <hr>


    It turns out the answer to Guard''s question is a resounding "no." It''s not even a partial no¡ªtrying to use the same skill at the same time results in blinding pain that cuts across us both. It feels a little like the entirety of the skill construct is being stretched thin and torn apart, and we both get to feel the feedback from it.


    "Ow," Ahkelios says. He''s lying face-first on the dirt, and it takes me a second to gain my bearings enough to help him off the ground; Guard is watching both of us in a mixture of concern and amusement.


    "Did you know that was going to happen?" I ask. Guard shakes his head.


    "I did not," he says. "Although I suppose I did calculate that it was a possibility. It did not seem likely enough to be worth mentioning"


    "Could''ve warned us still," I mutter, rubbing my head. It still feels like it''s throbbing.


    "I apologize," Guard says. He means it, too. "I truly didn''t think it would happen. You have shared skills in the past; my assumption was if there was backlash, you would have encountered it before."


    I wave off the apology. "No, it''s alright, you had no real reason to expect it to hurt us." What he''s saying does strike me as odd, though. I cast my mind back¡ªI can''t quite remember if Ahkelios and I have used the same skill at the same time before. "Maybe Ahkelios''s last upgrade changed things," I suggest. "Even if it worked before, maybe it doesn''t work now."


    "Or we can only use your skills at the same time," Ahkelios mumbles. He still sounds a little woozy. I give him a sympathetic look, patting him on the back.


    "Want to try again, then?" I ask.


    "Not... now." Ahkelios sounds horrified by the idea. "Maybe later. Once I''ve, you know. recovered. And have a few more skills. Maybe a skill that cures nausea."


    "That sounds like it''d be a Firmament skill," I say. "You''ve blown that opportunity, I''m afraid."


    The conversation reminds me of what Kauku last told me¡ªhe said I have all the pieces I need to work out the secret of the Interface''s skill categories. I''m still not sure what he meant by that, but I start running through everything I''ve encountered so far. Maybe there was something I learned in the Empty City that was relevant? Or something about Virin''s imbuement stones...


    "I''m gonna roll Strength next," Ahkelios declares. "I''ve got enough for a Rank B skill, at least. And an Inspiration if it triggers one."


    "Maybe it''ll bring us in to see Kauku," I mutter. "I''ve got some questions for him."


    I have more Inspirations of my own to trigger even if it doesn''t. The Generator Form hasn''t really given me any trouble¡ªhopefully this means that I can get a few more Inspirations without having to worry about losing control like I did when I first obtained the Knight.


    I''m waiting for it to wake before I do any of that, though. All the delicate Firmament Control needed for Tarin''s surgery has exhausted the Inspiration; I doubt it''s in any condition to take on a new Form at the moment, let alone deal with any side effects that might come with it. I haven''t observed any with the Generator, but I''ve learned not to assume anything when it comes to Firmament and the Interface.


    "Maybe," Ahkelios says. "Honestly, I''d like to meet him. He sounds interesting."


    "He certainly does," Guard says. He looks a little put out again, but he''s doing his best to put it aside; aside from that barest of slips, his tone is carefully neutral. "But be cautious. There is much we do not yet know. That warning you received..."


    I grimace. "I know," I say. "I''ve been thinking about that too. I don''t know what to make of it."


    "We will need to be prepared," Guard says. "From what you''ve told me, what we are now is not enough. The data suggests that if this Kauku becomes a threat, we would not be able to defeat him. Not even if we were to ally with all ten of Hestia''s Trialgoers."


    Now that''s a sobering thing for him to say. I''m silent for a long moment as I process this. He''s not wrong. From what I''ve seen of Kauku and from the desperation in the message I sent myself...


    "I need to figure out the next phase shift," I say out loud. It''s the only way to even approach the kind of power I''ll need to deal with Kauku if he goes rogue.


    "Yes," Guard says gravely. "Whisper did not tell me much. But the fourth shift... it is known to be difficult. Dangerous. Moreso than the others. Most cannot push past the third layer and into the fourth; there is a barrier, of sorts, that must be overcome. A bottleneck."


    "Of course there is." I sigh. It''s not like I expected it to be easy, but it would''ve been nice. Thinking back to it, though, the sheer force of Firmament I felt behind that Paradox Warning...


    I don''t think I was at the third-layer when I sent it.


    For now, though, all I have are guesses. I turn to Ahkelios. "We''ll figure out the phase shift later," I say. "Roll those dice and let''s see if we get to meet Kauku again."


    Ahkelios nods. He triggers the skill roll, makes a selection¡ªa B-rank skill named Slice and Dice, which he says he''s used before¡ªand then there''s a long pause.


    A new Interface window pops up in front of him, and we both frown as we read it.


    [Choose your Inspiration:


    Sharpen


    Cut


    Grow]


    "I guess I just... pick from a list," Ahkelios says, looking a little annoyed. "That''s anticlimactic."


    "You''re telling me," I say dryly.


    Guess I''ll have to use one of my other banked Inspirations after all, if I want to speak to Kauku.


    We''ll see if that''s necessary.


    <hr>


    Rhoran wafted about listlessly as the storm of Firmament raged somewhere above him. He was hiding within the Seed again¡ªwhat else could he do? The Dungeon''s reconfiguration would destroy him if he were anywhere else.


    No. All he could do was watch and wait. He''d made all the changes he needed to make; he needed to trust that those changes would be sufficient to make Ethan fail.


    The Abstraction hadn''t been the only bet he''d made against the human, after all. He''d made all sorts of little changes. Made the Elders a little more paranoid, nudged them to evacuate the City a little earlier... From what he''d seen, this Ethan was something of a bleeding heart. Always rescuing others when he didn''t need to.


    So what would he do, if the whole city was in need of help? Try to complete the Stage?


    Because there was no way to complete the Stage without a few sacrifices and deaths, Rhoran was sure of that. And even if Ethan did somehow find a way...


    Well, there was still what was coming at the end of it all. Rhoran grinned to himself¡ªvery much an unnecessary grin, and if he''d still been with the Integrators it''d probably be frowned upon to enjoy the downfall of a civilization quite this much. He hadn''t even needed to make many changes.


    Ethan still didn''t understand the point of a Ritual.


    But he would.

 186 — Book 3, Chapter 45 — Choices and Changes

    To say that Ahkelios was a little disappointed in his selection would be an understatement, but to his credit, he gets over it pretty quickly. I sit back as he goes through a rapid series of choices and selections, mostly outlining the start of something that''ll make him combat-capable even if he''s not in my immediate presence.


    "It''s harder to share skills if we''re further apart," Ahkelios says. "So I need to make sure I can still fight even if I don''t have any of your skills."


    "You did pretty good even without any skills against Phylus," I point out. Ahkelios grins sheepishly.


    "I did, didn''t I?" he says. "I mean... whatever else was wrong with Zhir, he pretty much figured out and refined our Concept while he was stuck in the Empty City. I don''t think I was nearly that effective even when I was a Trialgoer, but now..."


    He looks down at his hands, and for a moment, a shadow crosses over his face. "I feel like I kind of owe him," he says. "It feels weird. Is that weird?"


    "I don''t think it is." I sit up a bit on the log and pat the space next to me¡ªAhkelios joins me after a moment, sitting with his elbows braced on his thighs. I''m still not used to how large he is now. If he were any smaller, I would''ve put him on my shoulder, but that''s not really an option anymore. "He was..."


    "He wasn''t good," Ahkelios interrupts, looking up at me.


    I shake my head slowly. "No, he wasn''t," I agree. "But it''s not that simple, is it? He was lonely. He fought to stay alive in the Empty City, and if what you''re telling me is right, he did that alone for centuries. By the time he met us, all he wanted was a way to go home. He chose a stupid way to go about it, but I can''t fault him for that."


    "That''s what he saw me as," Ahkelios mutters. "Or what he saw you as, I guess. A way home."


    "I''m still a way home, Ahkelios," I say, nudging him gently. "I haven''t forgotten that promise. One way or another, we''ll find out what happened to your people. But it doesn''t sound like the Integrators are just discarding planets that fail their Trials, does it? They pretend to, in that introductory message, but..."


    "You''re right," Ahkelios says after a moment, frowning. His eyes go distant. "They don''t. So they have to still be out there somewhere."


    "You never told me what your planet was called," I say, watching him carefully. "Do you want to tell me more about it?"


    It feels like he needs it. Like he needs a moment to reflect and think about what he lost, about what he''s missing. Ahkelios hesitates, looking between me and Guard. "We still have a lot to do..." he says. Not quite an answer.


    Guard shrugs, shifting from his position on the log to sit on the dirt in front of us. "I would like to hear as well."


    Something in Ahkelios''s expression settles, a bit of tension fading. I notice a flicker of gratitude, a fragment of relief. "Okay," he says quietly.


    We spend the next hour or so just talking. I still have credits to bank and answers to get, but more important than that is that Ahkelios needs this. Needs a chance to talk about something that isn''t the Trials, a chance to reminisce...


    A chance to grieve.


    I think we all do.


    I''m not sure when it happens, exactly, but eventually the conversation shifts: at some point, we''re no longer just talking about Ahkelios''s homeworld of Yotun, about the moving cities and the fields of death they march through. Instead, we take turns, telling each other what it was like to grow up on our respective planets, what our respective cultures were like.


    I share stories about Earth. Not about my family, but about our technology, about our culture¡ªor at least the culture I grew up with¡ªabout the stories we told one another across the globe. Half of them I''ve almost forgotten myself, but I find myself feeling wistful just recounting those barely-remembered tales. There was a time I loved them. Loved going to the movies, loved reading books.


    The memories make my heart clench. Not for the first time, I wonder how the other Trialgoers from Earth are doing, and I almost reflexively pull up the chat function in the Interface; it sits there, silent, almost mocking. Ahkelios sees what I''m looking at and shifts to sit a little closer to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.


    Guard tells us about Isthanok. He tells us what it was like growing up with his condition, what Isthanok used to be before it fell to ruin. Whisper''s determination to restore it makes a lot more sense in context, even if it doesn''t justify any of what she did.


    None of us know everything about our planets. There''s too much to be told in a single sitting, and there''s too much for us to have explored even within our lifetimes. Too many different peoples and cultures, even residing on a single planet. But even those small pockets of culture and storytelling and art that we know of... it highlights how different we are, and in highlighting those differences, shows us all the ways we''re the same.


    "I was never able to experience it myself," Guard says. His voice is steady, but there''s a hint of regret in it. "It is said that when all the crystal towers at the highest points of Isthanok were in full repair, and the wind blew through them just right, it would create a song¡ªa song that resonated through the city and ignited our flames. But they were damaged beyond repair long before my birth."


    "What destroyed them?" Ahkelios asks quietly.


    "Time," Guard says. "Or so it is believed. In truth, there are gaps in our history. Who knows? With all that Hestia has been through¡ªall the endless cycles of time..." He-Who-Guards shrugs helplessly. "These gaps are not uncommon throughout the Great Cities. Effect without cause, small contradictions, things that have always been with no apparent origin. It is not so widespread that we are lost entirely, but the impact of the Trial is apparent, if one thinks about it hard enough."


    I exchange glances with Ahkelios. It''s one thing to know something academically, but to have it laid out so plainly in front of us...


    "We need to make sure this Trial is the last," I say quietly. Ahkelios nods in determination next to me, his expression grim, and Guard makes a small series of whirs and clicks that registers to me like a tired smile.


    "You are perhaps our best chance at it," he says. "Of escaping this cycle. It''s one of many reasons I felt I had to join you."


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "We are," I correct. Guard''s optic flickers¡ªsurprise, I think¡ªand I raise an eyebrow. "You''re part of the team. You think I would''ve made it through any of that without both you and Ahkelios? We are the best shot your planet has. Maybe the best shot all our planets have. Don''t count yourself out so easily."


    Guard is silent for a long moment. His optic cycles through a variety of colors¡ªyellow, blue, pink¡ªbefore settling on a determined green.


    "Then let us continue," he says gravely. "There is much we still need to discuss."


    <hr>


    First things first, there''s the rest of my skills to settle. Then a plan of action for both Ahkelios and Guard, a way for them to grow enough to keep up as we go through the Trial. We''ll need to figure out how to bring back Gheraa, uncover why Hestia is exploding at the end of every loop¡ªnot that I''ve reached the end of the loop very often, or at all outside the one time I was flung into the future¡ªand figure out what that warning I sent myself was all about.


    And related to that, of course, I have to figure out that fourth phase shift. Guard said that there''s a bottleneck. I need to figure out what that means and how to get past it. I can already tell that he''s right; my Firmament doesn''t seem to be growing the same way it was before, and while the Interface feature tracking my phase shift progress seems to be gone, I can still feel it. Feel the way my core is stagnating, struggling to push past some invisible barrier.


    There are a dozen other lesser mysteries. Concepts, Threads, Abstractions, whatever''s going on with the Interface categories, the idea that I''m Kauku''s Heir and the whole idea of Talents; the Remnants of prior Trials on Hestia and everything they might have left behind. If I manage to get through to the other human Trialgoers, the others experiencing their own Trials, that''ll add a whole stack of problems I''ll need to address. It''s a lot to get through.


    But all we can do is go one step at a time. I bank my Firmament credits, watching as the numbers roll by.


    [Are you sure you wish to bank 1,212 Firmament credits?]


    [1,212 Firmament credits banked! Rolling for skill...]


    [Select between:


    Auric Command (Rank S)


    Core Control (Rank S)


    Remnants of the Lost (Rank S)


    Soul Space (Rank S)]


    I look through the list thoughtfully, letting Inspect engage and feed me information about each of the skills.


    [You have obtained Soul Space (Rank S)!]


    "What¡ª" I start, frowning. I look at Ahkelios, but he''s just as baffled as I am. "That wasn''t you, was it?"


    "No!" Ahkelios looks offended that I''d even ask, which is probably fair. "I wouldn''t do that."


    [Apologies, Heir. You will need that skill for your next phase shift.]


    I stare at the Interface notification hovering in front of me. "I guess Kauku did it," I say, not without a little irritation. It''s not the first time he''s made these selections for me¡ªI haven''t forgotten being forced to pick a physical Durability upgrade instead of getting a new skill.


    Granted, so far his changes have all been beneficial to me. I''m just not a fan of the way he doesn''t even speak to me before forcing these changes. Part of me wonders if that''s because of the restrictions he''s mentioned¡ªsomething about quid pro quo and equivalent exchange, if I''m remembering right.


    Exchanging information is helping me, in a way; maybe by forcing the choice on me, he''s technically helping me less...


    "Nah. Don''t like it," I say out loud, staring at the Interface screen. "Stop doing that."


    It winks out almost sheepishly.


    I don''t miss the fact that this happened right after we spoke about the fourth layer bottleneck. Kauku''s not hiding the fact that he''s watching us anymore, not that he''s ever really hidden it.


    If nothing else, I''m reasonably certain that''s the skill I would have chosen regardless. Auric Command is interesting and fits in well with what I''ve been trying to do with Guard and Ahkelios¡ªit gives me the ability to exude an aura of Firmament, not unlike the one created by Breath of Life, that enhances and amplifies the abilities of allies within that field¡ªbut it''s a skill that becomes useless if they aren''t close enough. Which is to say that it inherently restricts our ability to position ourselves or utilize strategies that involve splitting up.


    Core Control is a skill I assume is coming up because of what I did with Tarin and Naru, but I was inclined to reject it the moment Inspect told me what it did. It''s a skill that allows for direct manipulation of any individual''s core. Their soul. The problem is the method of it; any changes I make with Core Control is a fundamental change akin to a form of personality alteration.


    No thanks. Mind control isn''t a tree of skills I''m interested in, even if it''s worryingly common among Hestia''s Trialgoers.


    Remnants of the Lost... I think it would have been between Remnants and Soul Space, ultimately. Remnant''s a skill that allows me to track and identify all the Remants that have been left behind by the prior Trialgoers. It''s a result of Ahkelios''s evolution, no doubt. It''s a good skill if not for the fact that Rotar''s already told me it''s something he''s working on¡ªbetter to trust him, I think, than to take it into my own hands and potentially waste more than a thousand credits on something he''ll be able to do anyway.


    And then there''s Soul Space.


    At its most basic level, the skill is basically a form of inventory management. It''s a way for me to do everything I''ve already been doing with the portal to the Empty City, except in a way that doesn''t rely on me retaining access to the City and doesn''t endanger the items I''ve left behind. In theory, it''s a skill that will allow me to store items within my core and let me keep them between loops.


    In practice, given what Kauku''s sent me and the hints I''m getting from Inspect? I think this is somehow exactly what I need to bypass the so-called fourth-layer bottleneck. How or why I''m not entirely sure yet, but I get the feeling I will soon.


    There''s a final Interface window waiting for me.


    [You have unlocked the Web of Threads.]


    [NOTICE: A description of the Web of Threads has been provided as per the Heritage Protocols. It is as follows:]


    [Web of Threads]


    A Thread is a fragment of a Concept. Think of it as a precursor, of sorts. In general, one must access a host of prerequisite Threads before the Concept as a whole can be used.


    This is not a hard and fast rule, however. There are many exceptions. Depending on the practitioner, some Concepts are simple to use in full even without knowledge or comprehension of their prerequisite Threads; others may be difficult to touch upon even with a complete set of Threads.


    Consider, for instance, the Concept of the Sword: it is comprised of the Thread of Sharpness, the Thread of Cutting, and the Thread of Steel. To touch upon a Thread is to glimpse a fragment of a Concept, and to access the abilities contained within. Many practitioners, however, are able to access the Concept of the Sword without any conception of its Threads.


    Warning: Threads are not an integrated Interface feature. While the Interface is able to track your access and use of Threads and in some cases amplify your affinity with them, be aware that their use may interfere with or obstruct your use of the Interface. We do not recommend their use.


    Unfortunately, that you have gained the ability to touch Threads at all indicates that you are unlikely to stay within the bounds of the Interface. Consider this your only warning.


    I''m barely done reading through the warning before another Interface window appears.


    [Don''t worry about that warning. It''s not for Heirs.]


    "You''re really not hiding that you''re watching anymore, huh?" I say out loud. "How much of the Interface''s messages are you writing back there?"


    No response, obviously. It doesn''t surprise me. I shake my head and turn my attention back to the Interface¡ªthere''s a seed of an idea here.


    I think this might be enough for me to figure out what I need to do to complete that fourth phase shift. I don''t know if I have everything I need yet, but if Kauku''s telling me about it now...


    If Guard and Ahkelios hadn''t both advanced alongside me in that last Ritual stage, I might not have survived it. Maybe I''m going about this the wrong way. Maybe I shouldn''t be waiting.


    Kauku is hinting about as strongly as he can that I either have all the pieces I need or enough to get me started. And if I''ve got all the pieces?


    Then that Thread of Insight might be exactly what I need to figure the rest of it out for myself.

 187 — Book 3, Chapter 46 — Thread of Insight

    There are secrets within secrets hiding within this whole system of power. The Interface, Firmament, this whole idea of Threads, Concepts, and Talents. The boundaries between them are less distinct than the Interface would like me to believe.


    It''s telling that Ahkelios is surprised by what we''ve learned, despite possessing the Concept of the Sword¡ªhe stares at the Interface window for a bit, puzzled. "I don''t think I ever got any notice about Threads of Sharpness," he mutters. "Or Threads in general. Although I guess that explains two of those Inspirations."


    "You probably just managed to grasp the full Concept without needing to pick up all its Threads," I say. "It does mention that''s possible. Depending on the practitioner."


    "So I''m a genius, is what you''re saying."


    I snort. "Did you need the Interface to tell you that?"


    "I needed you to tell me that," Ahkelios says, a hint of smug satisfaction entering his voice.


    I just shake my head in response, hiding my grin. "Don''t let it get to your head."


    Back to the point at hand. The Thread of Insight has shown up several times by now; the first few times, the Interface only said that I "touched a Thread". After that, it told me something about "gaining access to the Thread of Insight".


    Despite what the Interface has told me about Threads, though, it doesn''t exactly feel like the Thread of Insight gives me any new information. It''s not feeding ideas into my brain the way Inspect does. Instead, it feels more like it''s just speeding up a natural process¡ªlike it''s helping me make the right connections to come to a conclusion I would have anyway.


    Perhaps more importantly, it gives me confirmation that my natural instincts don''t. Without it, any conclusion I come to is guesswork at best, but the Thread of Insight seems to tap into some fundamental truth; when it''s active, I know for a fact that the conclusion I''m coming to is the right one.


    So.


    If I want to know more about the fourth phase shift, that Thread is probably going to be my best bet. Kauku''s been leaving me hints, hasn''t he? He''s mentioned at least two things that might be related to the phase shift: first that I have all the information I need to uncover whatever the Interface is hiding regarding its skill categories, and second that the Soul Space skill is somehow crucial to the next shift.


    As far as I can tell, he doesn''t tell me things for no reason. That he''s done it twice now means what he''s told me is probably crucial. I just have to figure out how.


    "You okay there, Ethan?" Ahkelios asks. I wave it off.


    "Just thinking," I say. "Give me a minute. I''m going to try something."


    The main problem right now is that I don''t know how to intentionally activate the Thread of Insight. The Interface tells me that I''ve gained access to it, but activating it isn''t as simple as activating a skill¡ªthere''s no construct in my soul that allows me to manipulate it, nothing I can feed Firmament into to enhance.


    Even with my new understanding of Threads and Concepts, the new sense I gained from the fight with the Abstraction, and the Abstract Crown the Interface granted me, I have no idea where to begin.


    Nothing to it but to try, though. The Thread has always responded well to my intuition, so I figure I might as well keep doing exactly that.


    And right now, my intuition is telling me to meditate. To reduce external stimulation as much as I can and examine my core¡ªtry to see if I can identify this fourth-layer bottleneck.


    "Keep an eye on me, will you?" I say. "This might take me a while."


    Ahkelios and Guard blink, glancing at one another, but nod. "Don''t take too long," he says. "We don''t know when Naru''s going to be done."


    "I won''t."


    I start by taking deep, slow breaths. I close my eyes and let the world around me fade away, going as far as to pull Firmament away from my eyes so I''m not even left with the pink nothingness of my eyelids. I let myself get used to that for a moment¡ªnot darkness, but nothingness.


    Then I focus on the noise around me. The sound of the wind, the crows, the gentle humming of Guard''s systems. Drawing Firmament away from my ears leaves me without even the ringing I hear in perfect silence.


    I should do this more often. It''s surprisingly peaceful.


    Next the smell of wet earth. Mari''s cooking, rich and savory. The scent of the nearby forest, thankfully masked by the village''s activities. It''s not exactly pleasant. I acknowledge it, though, then let it fade until it''s nothing more than the passage of air.


    Then the feeling of the log beneath me, scratching against my thighs. The weight and texture of my clothes against my skin. My Firmament withdraws until all that remains is the slowly-fading pulse of blood as it circulates through my body, until even that is nothing but a dull hum.


    Taste doesn''t change much, though I pull my senses back from it anyway, just to complete the set.


    And last but not least... There''s the Firmament sense that''s accompanied me since almost the moment I started this journey. This one I can''t just turn off¡ªbut I can turn it inward, focus the entirety of it on my core.


    With everything else shut down, I can sense the shape of my soul with startling clarity. I let myself soak it in for a long moment, feeling out the edges of what I''ve become and the choices I''ve made. It''s fascinating. Everything I''ve done is inscribed in here in some small way, like a tapestry of decisions that map out the texture of my soul.


    I don''t regret them. I don''t think I can afford to. Whatever mistakes I may have made, they''ve shaped who I am today; all I can do is take that with me with every new step I take. That realization settles into me, and with it, a newfound clarity.


    I can feel the effect of the phase shifts.


    It''s like a slight shift in perspective, and suddenly I can see the way each shift I''ve been through creates a new, foundational layer that builds up on everything I was before. The three I''ve been through work in concert to create what I can only name the bedrock of my soul. The foundation on which everything else is built.


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    It''s the reason my Firmament has grown so much stronger, I realize. It''s solid in a way it wasn''t before. Three stages of synchronization with three layers of power has given my Firmament a presence and strength that''s altogether missing from most of what I encounter in the wild.


    And yet...


    I pause, looking a bit closer at my Firmament and frowning mentally.


    And yet it''s not quite there. It''s about as close as it can get, certainly¡ªright on the precipice of becoming something real and tangible¡ªbut it feels almost like there''s something missing from it, something crucial it needs to be fully realized.


    This is it. The bottleneck that supposedly prevents a Trialgoer from achieving their fourth shift. Without completely solidifying the first three layers, the fourth can''t be built, and whatever''s missing here isn''t something that can be overcome just by shoving more Firmament into it.


    I feel the Interface responding to this realization. It comes through like a ripple in my soul, originating from the part of me that''s linked to it. I''m too deep in my soul to read whatever notification it just gave me, but I can guess what it says.


    [Thread of Insight activated!]


    Or something along those lines.


    I go back to studying the not-quite-solid bedrock sitting in my soul. It''s hard to pinpoint what it''s missing. For the most part, it just feels like there''s some final ingredient that hasn''t been added, something that''s needed to transform this from "almost real" to just "real".


    That alone is a familiar idea, though. It''s almost like...


    Almost like an Abstraction.


    I consider that thought for a moment, turning it over in my head. That isn''t a Talent I have, and it''s not a Talent I know how to even approach getting. More to the point, I don''t think Talents are required to progress with Firmament¡ªif they were, all the Integrators would be stuck at the third layer, just like I am. From what Gheraa and Kauku both have said, I don''t think the Integrators have these Talents.


    But I can take cues from the idea of Abstraction. It''s an ability that takes something conceptual and turns it into something real. Can I do the same?


    Not directly.


    I can''t create something out of nothing. That''s what the Talent does¡ªit makes something real through nothing more than force of will and presumably some intrinsic quality that allows someone to adopt a Talent.


    But I don''t need to.


    That''s why Kauku forced me to pick Soul Space. Because it''s a skill that takes something real and turns it into something not-quite-real, something that can be stored within the soul. If I study the mechanism, if I understand how Soul Space does that¡ªbetter yet, if Soul Space itself can be used to fill in those gaps and solidify my Firmament?


    I''ll have the foundation I need to break past the bottleneck and complete the fourth shift.


    That''s almost enough to make me pull out of the trance. I have my answer¡ªall I need to do is experiment with Soul Space. See if I can use it to complete the solidification of my soul.


    And yet... I hesitate. Something makes me stop just before I pull my awareness back. Something I''ve put to the back of my mind for now.


    Gheraa.


    More specifically, the imprint of him tucked away inside my soul. It feels almost like it''s reaching out and calling to me¡ªexcept that''s impossible, surely? It isn''t alive. Not the way he was or even the way his construct was. It''s a blueprint I was barely able to capture before it faded. An echo of who he was.


    I cast my mind toward it anyway, just in case, trying to identify whatever it is that''s getting my attention.


    It feels like it''s resonating. Not reacting, exactly¡ªa reaction would imply that it''s still alive in some way¡ªbut even just as an imprint, it seems to somehow be responding to the state of my soul. I look it over carefully, trying to understand the cause. It''s almost like there''s something different about the way my Firmament flows through it, but it''s so subtle that it takes a long moment of deliberate examination to see it.


    Gheraa was at the sixth layer, wasn''t he? Or something close to it, at least. Echoes of that remain even in this so-called echo, causing my Firmament to move just a fraction slower, creating an outline of his core.


    The first three layers are solid. Rigid. They''re the foundation of it all, and even devoid of Firmament I can sense their depth. The upper layers are so complex as to be nearly invisible to me.


    But the fourth? I can see it with shocking clarity.


    It''s the fourth layer that''s resonating¡ªcreating tiny, almost unnoticeable ripples as my Firmament moves through it. It''s bouncing off something barely there, barely visible.


    Four of them, to be precise. It''s like there are four pillars in addition to the foundation, used to hold the fourth layer together. The only problem is that they look... unstable, for lack of a better word. The bedrock is strong, the framework solid even in this imprint, but the pillars?


    They''re shaky. Like they formed accidentally more than anything, a natural result of building out the fourth layer.


    Something about that strikes me as odd. Phase shifts have always been about solidity, about deepening one''s connection to their Firmament. Why would the fourth layer include shakily-defined pillars?


    The more I think about it, the more I realize there has to be something more to the fourth layer. Something that maybe even Gheraa didn''t know about.


    It''s strange in the first place that it would take just one skill to get past the bottleneck. As much as that explains why it''s so difficult to get past the third layer¡ªrandom chance is hardly something I''d bank on to get a fundamentally required skill for progress¡ªevery phase shift before this has required me to solidify something about my soul. To make a decision that defines me.


    Even if this next phase shift doesn''t, there must be something else I need to do. I''m suddenly certain that if I achieved the fourth shift as I am now, I''d end up with something incomplete. Maybe not dangerously incomplete, but incomplete nevertheless. It''d be a flaw in my foundations that I might never be able to recover from.


    Shit. Just keeping a hold of Gheraa''s imprint like this might have just saved me. It''s a strange thought. Gheraa is still helping me, even indirectly, even without being alive. What do I say to that? Thanks?


    It doesn''t feel sufficient, considering all he''s done to give me a shot at this. To give Earth a shot at breaking a cycle I didn''t even know existed.


    "You better be ready for me to bring you back." That''s what I settle on. No more waiting. I find myself meaning it, too. Somewhere along the way I''ve decided that he''s someone I want fighting by my side when we end this. With everything he''s done, he deserves to see this through.


    The only question is: how do I use what he''s given me now?


    Because I get the feeling it''s important. Very, very important. Something the Integrators won''t see coming, because it''s something they don''t know themselves.


    Four pillars and a foundation. Five in total. That number feels important. It''s not the first time I''ve run into it.


    Five Ritual stages.


    Five skill categories in the Interface.


    There''s something about that. The Thread of Insight thrums, making connections, bringing up memories.


    It won''t be quite the same as performing the fourth layer shift... but I think there''s something I can do now. Something that will pave the way. The first three shifts required me to make decisions about who I am and who I want to be, but I don''t think that''s what this next one needs.


    Not a decision. A revelation. I''ve defined myself: now I need to define my relationship with the world around me, and to do that, I need to know the world around me.


    Easy enough. I''ll begin by tearing apart a lie.


    <hr>


    Ahkelios stared at the Interface popups in front of Ethan, growing increasingly concerned.


    [WARNING: Strength overflow detected!]


    [WARNING: Durability overflow detected!]


    [WARNING: Reflex overflow detected!]


    [WARNING: Speed overflow detected!]


    What was Ethan doing in there?

 188 — Book 3, Chapter 47 — The Four Pillars

    There''s one thing that''s been on my mind ever since we encountered it with the Seedmother¡ªone thing I''ve been ruminating on and trying to work out. The Interface is lying to me about the skill categories. Why? What''s the point?


    And more importantly, what are those categories, really?


    It''s not some arbitrary way to designate and separate skills. Considering the similarities in the way the skills in each category are constructed, there has to be something more fundamental to it than that. Everything I''ve encountered since then agrees, from Virin''s imbuement stones to the variety of other skills I''ve seen used against me.


    This feels important. I can almost feel the weight of the lie in my soul, like a physical weight dragging me down and interfering with the formation of the fourth layer.


    Maybe that''s what it is. A way to weaken Trialgoers and Integrators alike. We''re reliant on the Interface to grow, and if the fourth layer requires me to know the world¡ªto define myself in relation to it¡ªthen any lie within it becomes an exploitable weakness. It ensures not only that we''re weaker than we could be, but creates an instability in our souls that could be used to fracture it.


    Just speculation, perhaps, but... It feels right.


    It doesn''t matter, I suppose. Kauku has told me that I have all the information I need to uncover the truth behind this; I''m still not exactly sure what that means, but I''m pretty sure I can find out.


    All I need to do is look.


    The evidence is all around me, contained within my soul. If I look very, very closely, I can see the beginnings of the fourth layer trying to form. It''s thin, wispy, and insubstantial¡ªunable to properly form without the first three layers fully solidified¡ªbut it''s enough to see the four pillars I identified in Gheraa''s echo. Four barely-noticeable origin points around which the fourth layer is trying to form. They''re exactly where I''d guessed they would be.


    They correlate, almost perfectly, to the placement of skills within my soul.


    Directionality is a barely legible concept when in a space that''s better described through metaphor than physical direction, but for lack of a better term, they map to the four corners of my soul. The four points of a compass. My Strength skills lie ahead of me and my Durability skills behind me, north and south respectively; the Speed and Reflex skill clusters mark the west and east points in turn.


    Between them, at the center of everything and embedded within the bedrock formed by the first three layers, are my Firmament skills.


    I have all the information I need.


    Kauku''s words ring in my mind, and I stare at the placement of these skills. I could examine the constructs themselves for similarities and try to glean what they really mean through that alone, but somehow I don''t think that''s what Kauku means. There''s something else.


    Where else have I encountered the number five before? It''s not just the Ritual stages and the Interface categories, surely. There''s something else.


    The thought strikes me almost out of the blue. I have encountered it before. I''d assumed it to be arbitrary at the time. An artifact of an older time and a weaker understanding of Firmament.


    What if it''s the other way around? What if the people of the Empty City¡ªof First Sky, as Novi would have called it¡ªunderstood it better? At the very least, they could have known things that aren''t as well known now. Maybe we have different parts of an incomplete puzzle.


    I wrack my mind, trying to remember what Novi told me about their Seers.


    "You said they''re all at the third phase shift, at minimum?" I ask. Novi nods.


    "We have only five of them," she says. "Five Seers, each specializing in an Aspect. Force, Body, Mind, Energy, and Spirit."


    The Aspects. Five Seers, five Aspects, each corresponding to a so-called skill category. Strength, Durability, Reflex, Speed, and Firmament.


    It matches. More than that, even. The names the scirix gave their Aspects might be a little more general, but they''re significantly more accurate; those names explain the odd little discrepancies I''ve noticed here and there with the skills that don''t quite match the category the Interface claims it belongs to.


    There''s Force, representing an application of power against the world. Most of the time they manifest as a skill that increases my physical strength in some capacity, but they don''t have to. The fundamental truth of Force is not strength. It''s a projection of power. A physical representation of change. Force skills demand that the physical world bend to their whims.


    And as I make that realization, something in my soul responds.


    My Strength skills shudder. Something in their constructs realign slightly as if to accommodate my newfound understanding of them. They settle after a moment, but even without looking at the Interface I can tell they''ve changed. The way my Firmament flows through them is... cleaner, for lack of a better word.


    I can see the similarities between each skill now. Before, there was too much noise¡ªa complexity to the constructs that made them impossible to parse. It''s not that they''re simpler, now, but the noise is gone, and more than that, there''s a clarity to my mind when I look at them.


    Revelations. My earlier thought echoes in my mind. The last few phase shifts have required me to make decisions about myself. This one requires revelations about the world. That''s why my core is responding the way it is.


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    What I''m doing now is equivalent to a partial phase shift. Whatever I get out of this, it''s going to be a measurable, qualitative change in my power.


    So I keep going. With everything that happened in the last Ritual stage and the warning I sent myself, I''m pretty sure I''m going to need everything I can get.


    After Force comes the Aspect of the Body. That''s essentially my Durability skills, but there''s more to it than just the concept of durability. If I''m understanding it correctly¡ªand it''s harder to parse than Force is¡ªthen it''s the opposite of Force. Where the Aspect of Force demands that the physical world change, the Aspect of the Body is the use of Firmament to stay the same. To resist all external influence.


    The Aspect of the Body makes the claim that my physical self is more real than anything that can be put against me.


    Just like before, my Durability skills respond to this realization. They shift and align themselves, and something in their construction becomes clear to me: I see an emanation of Firmament that encapsulates and protects. A self-reinforcing circle.


    And then comes something I don''t expect. As my Durability skills finish aligning, there''s a resonance that emerges¡ªan invisible link that spans the space between them and the Strength skills. I stare at it for a moment, unsure what to make of it.


    I might not have seen anything like it before, but it also feels like it''s always been there. Like I''m not creating something new as much as I am unearthing something that''s always been there.


    With the first two revelations complete, the rest come more easily, falling into place like pieces of a puzzle.


    Energy. That''s the Aspect that the Interface calls Speed, but it''s more about... the transference of energy. The displacement of power from one place to another. Speed is the most common application of it, certainly, but it governs any movement of power from one place to another. It''s the reason Firmament is so much easier to control when I''m in the Generator Form.


    The Aspect of Energy rules over flow. Kinetic energy, electrical energy, the shift from potential energy into one or the other. The Interface calls it Speed, but it''s so much more.


    My Speed skills react like the others, shivering and realigning themselves. I see the shape of them now: the complex flow of power within them, as if by their very natures the construct of each skill shows off how simple it is to chart the course of power within them.


    And last but not least... Mind. The Aspect of consciousness, for lack of a better word. Reflexes are the most combat-practical component of what it governs, but the Aspect is more inherently about that intersection between observation and reality. It is perception, perspective, and connection.


    Like before, the Speed and Reflex clusters form a link; as the Reflex skills shift in response to my thoughts, something new snaps into place.


    Four revelations. Four pillars. Two currents of power that cross over one another. Even without the fourth layer in place, I can tell this is meant to reinforce it¡ªto give it structure and stability it wouldn''t otherwise have.


    And more than that, my skills feel stronger now. I can''t place a name or a number to it. It''s just a feeling. I''ll have to test it properly when I emerge from this trance.


    There''s one final step¡ªthe Aspect of the Spirit. The cluster of Firmament skills directly beneath me, resting in the still-incomplete bedrock formed by the first three phase shifts.


    But I know instinctively that there''s nothing more I can do for now. That final step requires me to use Soul Space. More than that¡ªwith the realization that this represents the Spirit, according to the scirix¡ªI don''t think I can just pack the bedrock of my soul with dirt and dust.


    Which was my first plan, admittedly. If all I need to do is pack myself full of reality, why not use what''s readily available?


    But no. It has to be something meaningful. Something that represents me, in the way that Tarin''s skill represented him when I gave him a shard of Intrinsic Lightning. It''s the last thing I need to complete the fourth shift.


    The only problem is that I don''t know what that is yet.


    Knowing what I need to look for is good enough, though. I''m as ready as I can get.


    I pull myself out of the trance, blinking against the harshness of the light and the...


    Hm.


    That''s a lot of notifications.


    And a very worried-looking Ahkelios. And Guard.


    "Uh," I say. "Was I in there long?"


    "You weren''t responding and you were in there for six hours." Ahkelios manages to somehow project the scirix equivalent of wanting to tear his hair out, not that he has any. Guard''s engines are making a low whining sound despite his best attempts to look neutral.


    I''m starting to feel kind of bad.


    "I couldn''t even get to you through our link!" Ahkelios grabs me and shakes me by the shoulders; I let him, because it seems to make him feel a little better. "Ethan! Don''t just do that!"


    "I have to concur," He-Who-Guards adds. He refrains from grabbing me, which I appreciate. "It is quite stressful."


    "I''ll do my best," I say dryly. I''m touched that they were so worried, at least. "I didn''t do it on purpose or anything, I promise. Must be something about feeling out the soul that causes time to pass differently." I cast about for a different topic, mostly for use as a distraction. "Any update with Naru?"


    Ahkelios shakes his head. He answers my question, but the look he gives me tells me he knows exactly what I''m doing. "Not yet. All we know is there''s apparently a lot he needs to talk about with his parents," he says. "Something about Carusath."


    "Guess he finally figured out that place has terrible management." I try to force myself to my feet with a grimace¡ªabsolutely everything is sore, for some reason, and that''s after recovering from the effects of yesterday''s skill spree and today''s surgery. Ahkelios watches me struggle for a moment, then sighs and helps pull me to my feet.


    Honestly, he''s probably right in that I should be a little more careful with these things. "In my defense," I say, "I''ve never just lost a chunk of time like that before. Had no idea that would happen."


    "I know." Ahkelios visibly tries to calm himself down, and he gives me a look that''s equal parts relieved and apologetic. "We were just worried. You think it''s going to be like that in the future? Every time you try to access your soul?"


    I glance at the swarm of notifications sitting in front of me. "I don''t know," I admit. "But hopefully these will tell us more."


    Ahkelios stares at them. "What did you find out?" he asks. "It''s gotta be something important, considering..."


    He gestures helplessly to all the windows. I shrug. Just as a test, before reading them, I activate Amplification Gauntlet.


    There''s normally a moment of resistance when I activate a skill. A second where I can feel my Firmament flowing into the construct until there''s enough, and then the skill bursts into being.


    This time, though? I barely feel the skill activating, and yet there''s a shining, almost-solid layer of armored Firmament covering my arm. Ahkelios stares at it. "What?" he says, confused. "I didn''t feel you activate the skill."


    I grin. This feels good. Like my Firmament is flowing more easily than ever. I bounce on my feet, feeling my aches and pains wash away; it''s tempting to eschew the notifications entirely and just go on a test run, but I''m not that reckless.


    Let''s see exactly what it is I just did.

 189 — Book 3, Chapter 48 — The Scion of Change

    Kauku frowned. Something was wrong.


    Several somethings, in fact. That in and of itself would not normally be enough to make him worry¡ªthings went wrong all the time, and it was usually no trouble for him to nudge them back into place or simply adapt his plans to accommodate them. He hadn''t expected someone like Ethan to become his Heir, for instance. He''d expected someone a lot more pliable. Less wary, less intelligent.


    More fool him, he supposed. Anyone who could inherit the ability to Anchor was not someone that would be any of those things. The Talent required a certain depth of will to invoke. It required conviction, restraint, an aptitude with Firmament and an intuitive touch with reality. Of course his Heir wasn''t some easily-manipulated tool.


    But that was easy enough to work with. It helped that Ethan was easygoing and likeable; he had questions, yes, but Kauku found himself surprised by how much he enjoyed their little talks. It had been a while since he''d been challenged in any serious capacity. Ethan spoke to him without cowering or supplicating himself¡ªtreated him as an equal despite the sheer gap in their power.


    Truthfully, he''d thought that would be annoying, but he found rather quickly that he enjoyed that audacity. Imagine how much more interesting life might have been if the mortals he met spoke to him so freely! Perhaps then he wouldn''t have been led down the path he''d chosen...


    Ah, but it was far too late for such ruminations, and far too late to change his plans.


    It was a pity, really. He liked Ethan quite a bit. Not enough to abandon everything he''d done so far, but enough to that the help he offered was genuine. It would give Ethan more of a chance against everything that was to come, and while that also meant the human had better odds at screwing up his plans, he couldn''t really bring himself to care.


    He''d give Ethan a fair shot. Why not? The human had earned it, and the odds that anything he could do would interfere with Kauku''s plans were minimal even with the help Kauku had given him.


    Ethan kept surprising him, though. The hint he''d given about Aspects? He hadn''t really expected Ethan to make anything of it. Who would''ve thought he''d figure it out! And not just figure it out¡ªfrom what Kauku was sensing, Ethan had managed to layer the revelations into his fourth shift and build a foundation more stable than any he''d encountered since who-knew-when.


    A partial shift only a few months into becoming a practitioner. Kauku grinned to himself, feeling that odd sense of pride growing within him. Sure, it was sort of at odds with his goals, but Ethan was still his Heir. If any of the Heirs were going to demonstrate improbable levels of aptitude with Firmament, then it was only right that it was his.


    Really, the only complaint Kauku had was that Ethan spent too much time with others. He''d be much more effective if he''d gone at all this alone¡ªwho knew how formidable he would be by now had he focused on siphoning all the power he could from the Interface? Yes, technically his companions had helped him, but Kauku was quite certain that Ethan would have been able to handle all those threats by himself if he''d just focused from the beginning.


    Ah well. That was only a small flaw, and it wouldn''t matter in the long run. His companions couldn''t really be a problem if they weren''t alive, and something was coming up that Kauku was quite certain would at the very least drive a rift between them. None of this was what was bothering Kauku.


    No, that was something else. He was sensing alterations he hadn''t accounted for. Changes in the Ritual that would permanently ruin what he had planned. The appearance of the Abstraction was one thing¡ªthat had only aided with Ethan''s growth, and Kauku liked him enough that he was quite fine with that¡ªbut he couldn''t allow the Ritual to end early. Where would the fun be in that? He wouldn''t get what he needed out of it.


    That was problem number one. Interference with the Ritual, interference with his plans. Kauku wouldn''t tolerate those. It was one thing when they were coming from Ethan and another thing entirely when it was one of those mortal pests. He''d have to deal with that somehow.


    Problem number two was a little more difficult. Something was happening with the Intermediary, and annoyingly, he couldn''t tell exactly what it was.


    Kauku cast his senses over to the Intermediary once more. It remained broken and cut off from the wider network¡ªboth Kauku and whatever was left of Ethan''s Integrator friend were making sure of that. He couldn''t quite remember the name. Gary?


    No, that might have been one of Ethan''s Earth friends. Hm.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Either way, his soulrot was doing a good job of preventing the Intermediary from repairing itself¡ªa good thing, too, or the surveillance that came with the Interface would once again land on the planet of Hestia, and Kauku would no longer be able to operate quite as freely.


    So what was the problem here? Kauku narrowed metaphorical eyes, examining it even more thoroughly. Just enough that he had to pull himself back to avoid accidentally collapsing the soulrot with the force of his presence.


    Nothing was wrong with the Integrator''s soulrot. He was even still revivable, if Ethan really felt it necessary to do that. The Intermediary wasn''t healing. Was he missing something?


    He''d borrow a page from Ethan''s book, he decided.


    The Thread of Insight wasn''t nearly as easily accessible to him as it apparently was for Ethan, but the benefit of having an Heir was that he could use them as a sort of proxy for these things. Reach through him, take hold of the Thread of Insight, connect it with his own psyche...


    Ah. So that was what it was. Of course. This was Hestia; he couldn''t forget to look through the dimension of time. The Heart was trying to interfere, then? Kauku examined the scattering of distorted Temporal Firmament with a critical eye. The patterns seemed random, but if he accounted for time and normalized it against the planet''s usual temporal activity, he could see what it was doing.


    Interesting. The Heart seemed to be trying to instantiate a minor paradox¡ªto create an intentional Tear within the Intermediary. It was trying to use Ethan''s future actions to create echoes of that Integrator friend before Ethan revived him. Why?


    Leaving aside the fact that this seemed to indicate that Ethan would in fact succeed with the task of bringing his friend back¡ªa task that seemed to Kauku to be quite improbable, for all that it was technically possible¡ªhe couldn''t figure out why something like Hestia''s Heart would care about this Integrator. And even if it did, if it knew Ethan was going to succeed, why bother to bring him back early at all?


    Doing something like that wasn''t without cost. Kauku could see how it would destabilize Hestia''s Firmament even further. It would worsen the state of the Tears across the planet, make the monsters even more prolific, and probably accelerate Anomaly 006.


    He didn''t like that. Anomaly 006 was one of the few things he knew close to nothing about, and it was the one thing he wasn''t quite sure how to deal with once he was free from this makeshift prison. He was confident that he could deal with it, but exploding planets just weren''t something he had a lot of experience with.


    So... what, was the Heart doing this to mess with him specifically?


    That didn''t seem likely. The Heart couldn''t possibly know that he existed.


    The only logical conclusion, Kauku thought, was that the Heart believed Ethan would need his Integrator friend. Before he could actually revive him. So it was creating a small, self-resolving bootstrap paradox, or at least trying to.


    Bizarre. Kauku considered this for a moment. Would allowing this interfere with his plans?


    Not really, he decided. Not in any way he didn''t count as allowable interference. He didn''t care one way or the other about the Integrators, but he supposed this one in particular was more interesting than the rest. He was interested in why the Heart felt Ethan would need his assistance, but Kauku couldn''t even begin to guess at what it was concerned about. That would have to wait for the Trial''s completion and the Heart''s subsequent Integration.


    Nevermind that problem, then. He might even help if he felt it would be amusing enough. Back to problem number one. The pest messing around with the Ritual and with Novi''s soulrot.


    Kauku could feel it if he concentrated. It was subtle enough¡ªor rather weak enough that he hadn''t been able to find it before, but now that he knew it was there, it was just a matter of looking. He was reasonably certain he could reach out and squash it like a bug. He was tempted to, even. Only one thing stopped him: Ethan''s warning.


    Try not to let it reach Kauku.


    In all his experimentation with Temporal Firmament¡ªlimited though that was without the Integration of the Heart¡ªprophecies such as these were not avoidable. And that was what it was, really. A prophecy.


    Prophecies couldn''t be avoided in any direct sense. Paradox Warning gave Ethan the ability to prepare for whatever he told himself would happen, but it didn''t give him the ability to avert it entirely. Not without creating a much more significant and much more dangerous paradox than the one the Heart was trying to create.


    The big question was whether this was the trigger event. Kauku was pretty sure that it was.


    He was imprisoned. Nothing could reach him save for Ethan, and even that was due to a little quirk in the Interface''s programming for Heirs and their Scions.


    With the power he held, though? He could technically reach out. The bars of his prison could only hold him back so far. He had power enough to touch the Interface and to interact with any instance of soulrot.


    Kauku almost scoffed at the idea that some pest would get the better of him, but he knew better than to ignore such a warning. And yet, what was there to do?


    Prophecies couldn''t be averted.


    But... perhaps the details could be nudged in his favor.


    Nothing about that warning said it would be detrimental to his plans. Only that Ethan wouldn''t like the outcome. That was technically already a given.


    Just in case, though, he''d leave a few things behind for Ethan. Nothing he wouldn''t have given him anyway¡ªthe rest of the Inspirations he was set to get, maybe a hint or two on the nature of Firmament and what he''d need to do to bring back that Integrator friend. Just because they weren''t on the same side didn''t mean he couldn''t also root for the guy.


    Who knew? Maybe Ethan would surprise him.

 190 — Book 3, Chapter 49 — Trial Run

    We''ve moved into the nearby forest. I''m alone, at least for now¡ªGuard is hovering nearby in case something goes wrong, but that seems unlikely. I can feel how much cleaner my Firmament is, how much more easily it flows through my body.


    More than that, every skill I own resonates clear in my mind. I''m almost certain I could use those Submerged skills if I wanted to, even. Now''s not quite the time to risk that, though.


    I flex my fingers, watching Amplified Gauntlet shimmer over my skin, nearly invisible. It''s bizarre how much more easily my power flows now. It''s always felt like using Firmament was something that required effort. Now it responds so quickly that I have to be careful not to overexert the skill by accident.


    Making the gauntlet invisible is a matter of will. A few rounds of testing have shown that the precision of my control has grown to the point that I can manifest it over one finger at a time if I wanted to. I can even use the skill to manifest rings of metallic Firmament around my wrist, though I can''t imagine why I would want to do such a thing. Ahkelios seemed satisfied when I demonstrated it, though. Something about partial, incomplete skill manifestation.


    All this is a testament to how much more flexible my skills are now, but it''s not exactly what we''re here to test. Considering what I''ve just read?


    I need to see what the difference is up close. I need to see exactly how much has changed, and not just with my skills¡ªthat part''s self-evident just from a bit of practice. Apparently the changes run deeper than that, and the only way to find out exactly how effective they are is to put them to the test.


    Right on time, a Guilty Chimera charges toward me, herded by Ahkelios. The first time one of these attacked me, I was barely able to block in time; the only reason I could at all was because of Precognition warning me a split second before it happened.


    This time, though? I can see it moving. It''s not that it''s moving in slow motion, exactly; rather, it just feels like I have plenty of time to react. To move, to dodge...


    I frown, noticing something interesting.


    I could also do nothing at all.


    This time around, Precognition isn''t firing. There''s no sense of incoming danger. I can feel the force the chimera is pouring into this attack¡ªlightning blazes across its scales, and there''s a swirling tide of liquid swelling in front of it¡ªand yet I feel not a hint of a reaction from the skill.


    So I let Amplified Gauntlet fade away. I hold a hand out, palm flat.


    I wait.


    A roiling tide of electrified water slams into me a split second before the chimera itself does. There''s about three seconds of crackling static and rushing, turbulent water. Three seconds where some of the smaller trees are physically uprooted and blown back, and the larger ones have pieces of their bark explode from the snap-boiling of the sap within.


    Me, though? I''m fine. It hurts the way a static shock hurts¡ªa sharp sting on my palm that fades remarkably quickly.


    The chimera''s snout is crushed almost cartoonishly against my hand. Its expression is almost comical, eyes wide in a mixture of shock and pain; I find myself grimacing at the sensation.


    It might look comical, but I can feel how many bones are broken in its skull alone. I remember these things having skin that''s comparable to steel, and it''s been crushed into nothing through the force of its own blow.


    The Aspect of the Body resists change, including changes in inertia. All that force blew right back into its snout, and I think something about the Aspect of Force made the blow effective where it normally might have passed through its body.


    I take a quick step forward, twisting, snapping my other fist into its face. More to put it out of its misery than anything else; I learned what I needed to. I can test Temporal Link with the next one.


    [You have defeated a Guilty Chimera (Rank A)! You have gained 12 Physical points. You have gained 12 Astral points. You have gained 20 Firmament credits.]


    That''s one question answered. The structure of my rewards has changed. We learned a few things, going through those Interface notifications.


    First among them is that the Interface has changed the way it organizes and categorizes my skills and credits. I no longer have Strength, Durability, Reflex, or Speed; instead, they''ve been altered into something it calls Aspect Pools. There''s a whole set of notifications that read largely the same, starting with Strength:


    [Congratulations, Trialgoer. You have uncovered the Revelation of Force.]


    [You have unlocked the Force Aspect Pool.]


    [Strength has been upgraded to Aspect of Force. Your Strength credits will be converted into Aspect points at no additional cost.]


    [NOTICE: Force skills operate at higher levels of efficiency compared to standard Strength skills. Overuse of them may result in injury. Caution is recommended.]


    There were twelve sets of notifications for these in total, three for each of the four upgraded categories. And then there were four more intriguing ones:


    [Anomaly detected. Compensating...]


    [Your Force and Body Aspect Pools have merged. You have created the Physical Aspect Pool. All accumulated Force and Body points will be collectively added to this pool and may be redeemed for skills of either category.]


    [Your Mind and Energy Aspect Pools have merged. You have created the Astral Aspect Pool. All accumulated Mind and Energy points will be collectively added to this pool and may be redeemed for skills of either category.]


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Those particular notifications made it sound almost like none of that was supposed to happen. Not that I minded. More interesting to me was what came after.


    [The Physical and Astral Aspect Pools provide a passive bonus to your respective traits on top of what your level as a Firmament practitioner offers you. Banked points count more toward this passive bonus than held points.]


    It takes a little digging, but the Interface explains what that means with a little prompting¡ªall I have to do is focus on the Aspect Pool I''m interested in. The window that pops up does so with an almost sluggish reluctance, but the descriptions are more or less what I''d expect.


    The Physical Aspect Pool boosts my physical traits. The Astral Aspect Pool boosts my ability to control and perceive energy, both internally and externally. With all the points I''ve spent, my default bonus is... well, it''s a lot.


    Enough that a fight with a Guilty Chimera¡ªa fight that would normally have required me to use my skills, to dart around and wear it down¡ªnow mostly feels like I''m bullying a child. I use a quick wave of Firmament to wash the blood off my knuckles and watch as the chimera''s body fades away.


    "Next one," I tell Ahkelios.


    I''m a lot more confident now that I have a better idea of what I''m capable of. The next Guilty Chimera that Ahkelios sends at me sees that. It looks a lot more hesitant, circling around me slowly instead of charging blindly, but that''s fine. If it won''t come to me, I''ll just have to go to it.


    Even just moving feels cleaner, somehow. Like I''m moving the world around me as much as I''m moving myself through the world. I''m not so fast that the chimera can''t react to me, but I''m fast enough to catch up to it. The Aspect of Energy speeds me up, and the Aspect of the Mind tells me where it''s going to go.


    I leap the exact moment it tries to dodge to the left, hook an arm around its neck, and trigger Temporal Link.


    <hr>


    "I''m sorry."


    Her hand shakes. There''s a weapon of some kind in it¡ªI can''t quite make it out. The vision from Temporal Link is fuzzy, like the events within it happened many, many loops ago. I can tell that it''s a weapon. I can tell that the lizardlike woman holding it is pointing it at someone that looks remarkably like her. Her brother? Why would he be in the Trial with her?


    "Don''t do this," he begs. "Please, we can figure this out together! Haven''t we always?"


    "We can''t." There''s a pained sort of determination in her voice, but it''s not the kind I''m used to. It''s not determination born from hope or love or a desire for anything better.


    It''s determination born from pain. The kind you''re left with when everything else is broken. The kind that leads you into making mistakes that stay with you forever.


    I know it all too well. I want to step in, to interrupt, to interfere¡ªbut like with all the other temporal visions, nothing happens when I try to grasp her wrist. This is an event that''s been repeated across time and space, over and over and over. All I''m witnessing is the scar left behind.


    "How do you know?!" her brother cries.


    "Because we already tried." Her grip on her weapon tightens. Her voice becomes a little more manic. "You can''t grow. You''re weak. You hold me back every time, no matter how we try to get it done. I need to get out, and I can''t¡ªI can''t do it with you."


    "And killing me is going to help with that?" he asks. He tries to take a step closer, but flinches when she fires a shot that sears itself into the wood behind him.


    "Yes. The Interface says it will." She swallows. "I just need to kill you enough times. It''s fine. It won''t be real. You won''t remember."


    He opens his mouth to protest. It''s real for him, no matter how many times she loops. But he doesn''t get the chance. A weapon fires, cutting through him too quick for either of them to react or rethink their actions.


    And I see it happen again and again. I see the echoes of it, all across time.


    After the thirtieth try, she stops apologizing. Doesn''t speak to him before she does it. Doesn''t look him in the eye.


    But the guilt remains.


    <hr>


    The Chimera is trembling when the link breaks. It lets out a low, keening whine¡ªthe closest thing to a cry I''ve ever heard from one of them. Then it turns to me, fire blazing out of its scales. It''s not alive enough to understand what it''s feeling, but it does know that I was the cause.


    There''s only one humane option here. What I''m fighting is just an echo. It''s not a true Remnant, not something that has a link to the original Trialgoer I might be able to trace.


    All I can do is end it.


    [You have defeated a Guilty Chimera (Rank A)! You have gained 4 Physical points. You have gained 25 Astral points. You have gained 20 Firmament credits.]


    The forest feels a little more quiet than usual. I watch as the chimera''s body fades away, the Firmament holding it together dissociating into nothing.


    "I think that''s enough for now," I say, just loud enough for both Ahkelios and He-Who-Guards to hear me. They rejoin me in the small clearing that was created by the first chimera''s initial strike; Ahkelios looks like he''s about to congratulate me, but he senses something through our link and quickly changes course.


    "You okay?" he asks, concerned.


    "I''m fine." I hesitate a moment, trying to decide if I should elaborate. "Just saw another one of the past Trialgoers that went through this Trial. I think she killed her brother."


    Ahkelios pauses. "And you''re sure you''re fine?"


    "I will be." I shrug uncomfortably¡ªit''s not that the vision didn''t affect me. There''s something else about it that''s bothering me, though.


    You can''t grow. You''re weak.


    I can''t imagine thinking the way she does. Both Guard and Ahkelios have taken strides to grow on their own, even without my help. But it might be time that I become a more active participant in that growth¡ªif they''re going to be fighting by my side, then I owe it to them to help them past any roadblocks they might have.


    Ahkelios has the Interface now. His next shift is just a matter of time. But Guard? He''s still struggling with the enormous amount of Firmament he carries. My fix is enough for him to live a relatively normal life. It''s not enough for him to push to the next phase shift, to stabilize and anchor himself through the layers.


    "Guard," I say. "We should figure out if you can phase shift. Are you up for it?"


    He''s startled, I can tell. He looks at me like he isn''t quite sure what to make of what I just said. "Now?" he asks. "I have made previous attempts..."


    "And it hasn''t gone well, I know," I say. "But I want to see what happens when you try. I''ll keep an eye on your Firmament and be here if anything goes wrong. It''ll give me a better idea of what''s stopping the phase shift."


    Oddly enough, Guard looks embarrassed. "I am willing to try," he says. He maneuvers himself so that he''s sitting in the middle of the clearing and takes a deep breath, cycling air through his vents. "I do not think anything will go badly wrong, exactly, but... you will not think less of me when I fail?"


    Ahkelios scoffs. "Come on, who do you think we are?" he asks, nudging Guard.


    "You did save our asses back in the dungeon, don''t forget," I say.


    Guard nods, seeming a little reassured. It''s always surprising to me when he showcases these little moments of vulnerability¡ªI wonder if he''s started feeling a little more comfortable with us. A little less like he has to constantly project that image of being a protector and a shield.


    I kneel behind him, placing my palms on his back and extending my senses, feeling out the edges of his soul.


    "Ready when you are," I say.


    The lights on Guard''s body dim as he reaches within himself¡ª


    ¡ªand I feel something else react.

 191 — Book 3, Chapter 50 — Elsewhere, Elsewhen

    In the streets of First Sky, a change sparked. It was a change that was set into motion years ago from the perspective of its citizens¡ªa small, barely noticeable alteration to the materials the scirix used to build their homes.


    A certain parasite thought that a larger change might have been too noticeable. That it might have sparked a response from the Interface. It was one thing to make changes to the challenge that a Trialgoer had to face and another thing entirely to alter the fundamental direction of a dungeon Ritual created by its soulrot.


    For the most part, that change did nothing. The majority of their building materials were untouched, and life¡ªas well as the intended course of events¡ªwent on as normal. Novi was the first to notice the color-drain phenomenon, though almost no one else believed her; her only allies in that respect were her sons.


    Despite that, Novi was chosen to create the Record. Her sensitivity to changes in Firmament was unparalleled. It wasn''t long before she was promoted to Seer herself, until others began to notice the change she warned of; then First Sky began to take her warnings more seriously. They began trying to understand what was happening to their home and why.


    In the midst of all this, a scirix named Varus took a walk along the streets. He passed by a home that was still mid-construction, whistling to himself; he''d recently met a peer that went by the name of Juri, and he was excited to see him again.


    Excited enough that he didn''t quite pay attention when the scaffolding on the home next to him began to tremble. It was only when a threatening crack sounded that he looked up¡ªand by then, it was too late.


    Or it would have been.


    There was a man in what looked like armor made of bone standing over him. Looming over him, really. He wore what Varus hoped was a helmet that resembled a draconian skull, and the large chunk of stone that would have crushed Varus had simply crumpled ineffectually against it, leaving chunks of dust and shattered rock scattered around them both.


    Varus opened his mouth to thank the stranger¡ªa Protector that someone else had summoned, he assumed¡ªbut the words froze in his throat. Something about this Protector''s power was terrifying. He projected a casual sense of destruction, like he lived in a world of glass and it was only by his will that anything was allowed to live.


    "Interesting," Kauku murmured. "I suppose it makes sense that it would target you. The others are too obvious a target, yes?"


    Varus had no idea what this stranger was talking about, but he forced himself to speak. "Are... you alright?"


    Kauku tilted his head at him, then barked out a laugh. "I was expecting you to run," he said. "It''s not easy for mortals to exist around me. You remind me of a certain someone."


    Varus hoped that was a good thing. "Thank you for saving me," he said.


    "You''re quite welcome," Kauku said. He straightened, looking around. "Ah... there it is. I see why Ethan was warned. Unfortunate."


    Varus watched, alarmed, as this Protector¡ªthe strongest being he had ever encountered by far¡ªsuddenly stumbled. His armor cracked. A greenish-black flame seemed to glow from those cracks, and that same flame lit up in a single socket of the Protector''s skull.


    "I have some time." Kauku said the words as if nothing was happening. "I''ll just have to... Let''s see."


    A pause. Varus felt a gathering of power. A brilliant blue flashed opposite the sickly green, and something seemed to slam into the fabric of reality itself, shaking it to its very foundations. "Seal."


    Varus had no idea what had just happened or what he''d just witnessed. It felt like something had just been driven deep into the world. Like a change of some kind had just been anchored into his home. Into the very foundations of First Sky.


    He took a step¡ª


    Varus shook his head and blinked.


    "Ow. Feels like I just took a blow to the head." He looked around at the scattering of crushed rock. "Maybe I did take a blow to the head. Did something fall on me?"


    It did look like the building next to him had collapsed, but for the life of him he couldn''t remember witnessing it. Weird.


    Varus shrugged and walked on.


    <hr>


    Gheraa felt... nebulous.


    Which was a pretty large step up from feeling nothing at all, if he was being honest, but it was still strange. It was like he wasn''t entirely there¡ªdifferent from his thoughts being clouded and different from the state of near-death he''d been thrown into before he was tossed down through the Intermediary.


    Stolen story; please report.


    It felt more like he didn''t entirely exist. Like the world around him wasn''t quite real. It took him a moment to pinpoint what it reminded him of.


    Dreams. It felt like he was dreaming.


    Except he wasn''t. He was pretty sure he wasn''t dreaming, anyway. He shouldn''t have been able to dream at all, considering the last thing he remembered was being very much dead. He remembered the last vestiges of his consciousness fading away as he witnessed Ethan pulling off one final miracle.


    Ethan! Was he the cause of this? Gheraa couldn''t imagine how, but if anyone was going to resurrect an Integrator from the dead¡ªespecially him, of all Integrators¡ªit was probably Ethan.


    "It is not Ethan," a voice told him. It paused, then amended its words. "Not yet."


    Gheraa frowned, looking around. He couldn''t see much of anything¡ªthe place he was in looked something like the Intermediary, but... wrong. Distorted. Filled with soulrot. It took him a moment to realize that soulrot was his own, and he made a face; the sensation of existing within your own corpse was disquieting, to say the least.


    "Can you not listen in on my thoughts?" he asked. "It''s a little weird."


    "I cannot." The voice was quite blunt. "You are required for a task."


    "What''s that supposed to mean?" Gheraa folded his arms across his chest. "In case you didn''t notice, I''m kind of dead. In a very self-sacrificial, heroic sort of way, I might add! Not how I imagined I''d go out, but I''m pretty sure I''ve done my part. That''s at least a year''s worth of good deeds right there."


    Not that he minded being alive again. Being alive was nice. He just didn''t trust mysterious voices telling him to do things. How many times had they pulled that exact trick on Trialgoers?


    The voice sighed. "I am Hestia''s Heart," it told him. She? She told him. "And you are needed, lest that friend of yours be lost to time forever."


    "Ethan?" Gheraa frowned, then scoffed. "Ethan doesn''t need me. He''s got what he needs. Besides, Integrators aren''t supposed to interfere with Trials."


    "And you are still an Integrator?" the Heart questioned. Gheraa bristled.


    "Technically!" he said. "I mean, look, I don''t care about their rules anymore, but the Interface will try to kill me if I show up on Hestia. And I doubt you can put me back in Integrator land. And if you did, they''d just kill me again. After interrogating me." He waved a hand irritably. "I don''t know what you''re planning, but it''s not gonna work, and you''re disturbing my beauty sleep."


    Again, not that he minded being alive again. It occurred to Gheraa that he was antagonizing a planetary Heart, a type of entity no Integrator had ever spoken to before. And that said Heart was quite possibly responsible for his current half-alive state.


    He was being a little bit foolish, maybe. It wasn''t like he didn''t want to help Ethan. And he definitely didn''t want to go back to his "beauty sleep".


    "Actually," he added hastily. "What are you planning?"


    Gheraa couldn''t really tell, but the Heart''s response seemed to carry a hint of laughter within it. "You are a paradox," she mused. "In more ways than one. An Integrator that goes against the plans of your kind. Alive, yet dead."


    "How am I alive, anyway?" Gheraa muttered.


    "A minor paradox." The Heart said it the way Ethan would sometimes bring up his own impossible feats¡ªlike it was mere fact. "You are alive in enough futures that I can maintain a small temporal loop to allow you to render Ethan assistance. You will be less than before, of course. Your full self is too great to be sustained."


    "Gee, thanks," Gheraa muttered. The way she said it didn''t really seem like a compliment. "And you want me to... what, just help him? What''s he need me for?"


    "I want you to pass on a message," the Heart said. "Tell him to head to the Quiet Grove. It will take most of my power, but I have left a gift for him there."


    "You couldn''t have told him that yourself?" Gheraa asked. He winced almost as soon as he said the words. He really didn''t need to give her more reason not to resurrect him.


    "I am... prevented from reaching him," the Heart said without further elaboration. "You must speak to him in my stead, and you must give him a warning."


    Gheraa frowned. "What do you mean, a warning?"


    The Heart''s voice was grave. "There are secrets that your kind hides even from themselves," she said. "I can say no more."


    "You can''t just say I need to warn him and then not tell me what I need to warn him about," Gheraa protested. "What am I supposed to do, find out my own secrets? Dig around in my own corpse?"


    There was a long silence.


    "Hey!"


    Another long silence.


    "Hello?" Gheraa frowned. "Are you still there?"


    Still nothing.


    "I''m definitely supposed to dig around in my own corpse, aren''t I," Gheraa muttered, mostly to himself. He thought for a moment. Was he really going to throw himself into the fight again for Ethan? He had a choice here. He didn''t need to do any of this¡ªhad never asked for any of this.


    Gheraa snorted to himself.


    He knew what Ethan would do, and there was no way he was going to let Ethan get one over him.


    There were a million other people the Heart could have chosen to deliver her message to Ethan. If she''d chosen him, then it was for a reason. Whatever secret the Integrators were keeping from themselves¡ªwhatever that meant¡ªwas clearly important.


    And by the Interface, he would figure it out. And hand-deliver that message!


    Almost as if responding to his thoughts, the air in front of him rippled. Gheraa felt a surge of Firmament crackling around him like static; in moments, there was a portal linking the Intermediary and Hestia once more, flickering at the edges.


    He grinned, seeing the message for what it was. "Find what I need and get to Ethan, eh?" he said out loud. He had no idea if the Heart could hear him. "Alright, then. You got it."


    Honestly, he was kind of excited. It would be good to see Ethan again.


    He couldn''t wait to find out what Ethan had accomplished this time.

 192 — Book 3, Chapter 51 — Call and Response

    It had been a long time since He-Who-Guards had attempted a phase shift.


    The first phase shift was usually something that occurred almost at random. When a practitioner''s Firmament reached the right state¡ªwhen they were sufficiently in tune with both themselves and their power¡ªthe base, foundational layer of their core would evolve. Any practitioner nearby, if they were willing, could donate samples of their own Firmament to help with this process, influencing that base layer of the core in turn.


    Guard remembered legends about this, even. Legends that a long, long time ago, ancient practitioners would sequester themselves away with powerful imbued artifacts for precisely this reason. They didn''t need donors if they could use those artifacts instead, and they wanted their first shift to be something that matched whatever their plans were for the growth of their power. Someone who was wealthy enough might, for instance, carry an imbued lightning stone into a deep cave and meditate until they struck their first shift.


    It was different these days, of course. For one thing, imbued artifacts weren''t nearly so easy to acquire anymore, and even those that could be acquired were relatively weak. Shifts were not nearly as easy to predict in terms of when they would happen. As a result, most practitioners made do with whatever they had when the shift triggered.


    And then there was He-Who-Guards. It was a little different for him.


    Failing that first shift wasn''t unheard of. It was common, even. The process often required a practitioner to do battle within their own cores against a daemon created from their own Firmament. More often than not, a first-time practitioner would lose that fight.


    As He-Who-Guards had.


    His first shift had triggered early in his life, when he was little more than a wispling. He''d lost that fight almost immediately¡ªhadn''t even known what was going on, for the most part. But a failure to complete the first shift didn''t make for a permanent failure; the Firmament donations were locked in place, but a practitioner could always rest and try again.


    Guard had tried it at least a dozen times over the course of his formative years, and he''d never once won.


    There was a little caveat when it came to that first shift. The more powerful your Firmament, the harder it was to complete. The core daemon within Guard''s soul was an ugly, monstrous thing that tore him apart the second it laid eyes on him and every time he''d tried thereafter. It hadn''t mattered what strategy he used¡ªhadn''t mattered how fast he tried to be or how much he prepared himself. It hadn''t mattered even when he poured every fragment of his will into resisting that first hit.


    It was nothing new, really. He''d spent most of his life fighting against his own Firmament. He''d known since he was young enough to understand that he would die early¡ªthat the force of his own power would unravel his soul from within. It came as no surprise that it proved an obstacle even in the one area it mattered most: gaining the strength he needed to protect those he loved.


    "Are you okay?" Ethan asked. He could hear the concern in the human''s voice. His hands were warm against the metal of his back, and Guard thought he could almost feel the slightest tendril of Ethan''s power brushing against his core. Observing. "I thought I felt you start the phase shift just now and I think I sensed something, but you stopped it."


    "I am fine," Guard lied. "I was simply nervous."


    Ethan frowned. Guard couldn''t see that he was frowning, but he could certainly feel it. Ahkelios was mirroring the frown, too, so now both of his friends were frowning at him.


    "I will be fine," Guard amended. "I am... contemplating. My memories of past shifts are not pleasant."


    "If it''s that bad, we don''t have to do it right now," Ethan said.


    "I would like to." Guard fidgeted slightly, suddenly self-conscious¡ªa rare emotion for him. "It isn''t the shifts themselves. Those end too quickly for me to experience much more than slight disorientation. But it is... difficult, to think of how much I''ve lost. How little a chance I''ve had to live."


    To say nothing of what Whisper had done to him. Her intentions may have been for the best in the beginning, but everything she''d done since tainted all his memories with her. Now even the good ones were a bittersweet reminder of what he''d lost and what he''d been forced to become.


    Ethan seemed to understand. "You know you don''t have to stay with us," he said. "If at any time you want to, I don''t know, explore the world¡ª"


    Guard snorted before he could stop himself. "I see more of the world with you two than I ever have on my own or with Whisper," he said. "And I enjoy your company. Even if you are a stressful charge to have."


    "Hey!" Ethan''s hands left his back, and Guard could imagine him crossing his arms to glare at him. "I am not your charge."


    "You may as well be." Guard let a little bit of amusement filter in through his voice¡ªEthan and Ahkelios were both rather easy to rile up if he wanted to. He probably shouldn''t enjoy it quite as much as he did.


    Ethan made a grumbling noise, and Guard felt his hands press against his back once more. "Just try your phase shift already. I want to see what''s happening in there."


    "Very well." Guard found, to his surprise, that even that short exchange had settled his nerves. He was no longer unsettled. Even ruminating on the past just glanced off the bubble of the present.


    He was amongst friends, now. How long had it been since he''d just been amongst friends? No expectations, no pressure... Even his friendship with Whisper had always been tainted by the knowledge that he was technically beholden to her. A knight in her employ, so to speak.


    This was nice.


    Guard triggered his phase shift a second time, and this time he let his soul consume him.


    <hr>


    Something was different this time. He-Who-Guards sensed it before he saw it, and even then he couldn''t quite believe what he was seeing. His core daemon was right there in front of him¡ªa massive, spiderlike monstrosity built out of countless shards of prismatic Firmament. It hung in the air in front of him, clinging to a web built out of even more of that Firmament.


    He-Who-Guards thought, briefly, that what he was looking at reminded him a lot of Isthanok. They were both shattered, imperfect things, made out of the shards of something that had once been whole.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Where did that thought come from? he wondered. Guard wasn''t sure that his Firmament had ever been whole.


    And yet this time, unlike all the others, his core daemon wasn''t attacking him. It was just staring at him. Watching, waiting...


    Guard had heard that it was, technically, possible to simply cooperate with the core daemon and accomplish the first shift that way. He''d even tried doing exactly that more than once. He was rarely even given the chance to speak before being struck down.


    And yet now it was just watching him.


    "...Hello?" he tried.


    Nothing. The daemon didn''t react. Somehow Guard was surprised¡ªhe''d been half-expecting it to rip him apart as soon as his voice rang out into his soulspace. He saw himself being reflected eight times over in each of its eyes, and for the first time, felt that he was somewhat at a loss. This was the farthest he''d ever gotten in a phase shift, and he didn''t even know how he''d achieved it.


    There were two flames next to the spider, one pink and the other green; they were donations by each of his parents. He hadn''t even seen them in so long. Both of his parents were long dead, struck down during the chaos of Hestia''s Integration.


    Guard missed them. It struck him here how much he missed them. He hadn''t had much occasion to even think about them of late, but here and now, with the last remnants of their power floating in front of him within his soul...


    He let himself soak that in just for a moment. It felt almost like they were here with him.


    When nothing else happened, Guard took a few steps forward, forcing himself to keep moving when the spider-thing''s eyes tracked each movement. He stopped only when he was right in front of it, and when he spoke, he surprised himself with how steadily his words emerged.


    "What do you want from me?" he asked.


    There was a long pause. He-Who-Guards waited.


    Eventually¡ªto his surprise¡ªthere was an answer.


    "To complete your first phase shift, you must decide on an identity," his daemon said. Its voice was strange, like the layered reflections of a dozen different individuals echoing across one another. "You must have an answer to the question of who you are. And you have never had that answer before now."


    "I have," Guard said. "I have always had that answer. All silverwisps do. It is in our names¡ªwritten into our souls from the moment of our birth."


    "Ah, but is it?" the daemon asked. It began to move, eight legs balancing precariously on webbing that only appeared when it took a step. Guard turned as it circled him, trying to keep it within his line of sight. "That is what our people believe, certainly. But is that true, or is the name we are given simply one of many threads in the web of our potential?"


    Guard floundered. He''d come in here preparing for a fight, not for a philosophical debate. "It... is true that not all of us choose to do what our names pertain to," he admitted, though not without some uncertainty. "It is an accepted possibility. But I am the one that guards. It is the path I have chosen and the path that feels most true to my self. The name is correct."


    Even as he spoke the words, he wondered if he was speaking the truth. There was little information out there about core daemons that were willing to speak. Maybe it knew something that he didn''t. Maybe it understood some part of himself that he''d never allowed himself to understand.


    "Why speak to me now?" he asked finally. "It cannot just be that my answer has changed¡ªnot if I do not even know how that answer has changed."


    "Perhaps a demonstration, then," the daemon said.


    And then it struck him.


    Or it attempted to strike him.


    Guard hadn''t reacted in time¡ªhe''d never been able to when it came to matters of the soul, but this time, he didn''t need to. A shimmering wall of dense blue-gold Firmament met the prismatic blade the daemon launched toward him. Another millisecond more and it would have torn through the makeshift construct that represented him, but...


    Ethan. The human had defended him with a wall of power so thick even two of the daemon''s blades would have struggled to pierce it. Behind that power, the daemon watched him, unsurprised and unmoving. Guard half expected it to attack a second time, but it didn''t.


    Understanding came to him then.


    He had changed.


    It wasn''t that his name was inaccurate. Even as a wispling he''d been a stalwart guardian, first of the little toys he was given to play with and then bigger, more important things. Eventually, he''d been pledged to Whisper as her own personal friend and guard.


    He enjoyed the job. He found fulfilment in it. Even Whisper thought it was his purpose¡ªwhen she took control, she gave him what she thought he wanted. She''d turned him into a one-man army that stood as Isthanok''s only real guardian.


    In doing so, he''d slowly learned¡ªthough it was a realization that hadn''t crystallized until this very moment¡ªthat he didn''t like this framing of who and what he was.


    It was too lonely.


    How many decades had he served? It would''ve been one thing if he had a single body, a single mind¡ªbut split across countless proxies with a single main, overengineered elite, he''d experienced decades of collective time. Maybe centuries.


    It wasn''t that he''d grown tired of it. He hadn''t been tired of it when he''d finally been freed. He hadn''t hesitated for even a moment to help Isthanok as it was besieged by the Integrator''s puppets.


    But he hadn''t done any of those things alone.


    He didn''t want to just guard what he was told to guard. This wasn''t a job to him, and he wasn''t defined by some single object or location he stood over.


    There was a better word for what he did, he thought. A word that resonated with him not too long ago.


    "You see it," the daemon said. "The misalignment in your self."


    "I am not a guard," Guard said. "I am a protector."


    And he didn''t act alone. He didn''t want to serve as a vassal, didn''t want to guard whatever was deemed important. He wanted to stand as an equal among others that cared as much as he did.


    Ethan had recognized that before he did. Guard almost laughed to himself¡ªof course he had. The barrier faded, and the daemon lowered itself to meet his eyes; Guard found himself surprisingly unafraid.


    "Now you see," it said.


    "I do." Guard could feel it now¡ªthe alignment between his soul and his self. All he needed to do was push...


    But there was a barrier. He frowned.


    "One more task before you are ready," the daemon told him. "A single answer would suffice for a single shift, but you hold more than heart within you, and the second one is incomplete."


    "A second..." Guard took a moment to process this, and when he did, the realization struck hard. "The AI?"


    "It remains incomplete," the daemon said. "And we cannot move on while it remains shackled to us."


    He-Who-Guards opened his optic, feeling the attempted shift fade away. For a moment, he sat there, processing how different the world seemed with just the simple realization of who he was.


    For now, though, there was something more important. Both he and the AI core bound to him were victims of circumstance. Guard had his freedom¡ªthe AI hadn''t. He hadn''t really considered the possibility that it might have been just as alive as he was. Just as trapped as he was.


    His feelings were complicated. They had imprisoned one another, in a way, albeit only because of Whisper.


    But he was free now, and it deserved the same. Guard finally moved, turning to face both Ethan and Ahkelios. There was only one person who knew enough about the AI core within him to offer a solution. One person that had been there at the start and helped develop it.


    Before he could speak¡ª


    "We need to find out what happened with Miktik, don''t we?" Ethan asked.


    Guard blinked. He supposed he shouldn''t have been surprised.


    "I know it has been some time," he said. "Do you think it is possible to see what happened?"


    "It wasn''t possible yesterday," Ethan said. He glanced down at his hands, and Guard saw the flex in the air before him as the human channeled pure, condensed Firmament on the cusp of the fourth shift. "But now? I think I have a way."

 193 — Book 3, Chapter 52 — Past Events

    What I want to do now is something I considered doing from the moment I acquired The Road Not Taken. The only reason I haven''t done it yet is because... well, because I couldn''t. I''ve tried. The amount of Firmament it takes to go back and explore a different path increases almost exponentially the farther back I go; using the skill to try and retry Tarin and Naru''s surgery was, moments ago, more or less my limit.


    But things are a little different now. I''ve taken a half-step into the next realm of Firmament. I doubt that will make this easy, but if nothing else, I suspect it''s no longer outright impossible.


    I take a deep breath. I''m a little more nervous than I expected. I still don''t know why Miktik did what she did; part of me fears finding out that it was something preventable, that it was something I should have noticed and tried to circumvent. It still feels... surreal, that she''s gone. Death is so impermanent in the loops that for someone''s loss to be permanent doesn''t stick properly with me.


    When I see her again¡ªeven just under the effects of the skill¡ªit''s going to be like she''s still alive. I may not have known her well, but she was still a friend, and the idea of seeing her alive and well again, knowing there''s nothing I can truly change...


    It''s not an idea that sits well with me. I haven''t forgotten everything she''s done for us. I haven''t forgotten watching through Ahkelios as Whisper''s skill burned through her.


    She could have told Whisper about us to end it, but she didn''t.


    In a way, I think I owe this to her. I might not be able to bring her back, but whatever it was she wanted before she died¡ªI''m sure there''s something I can do about that. Something we can do about that.


    It''s something to do with Guard''s AI core. I''m almost certain of that. That core is the whole reason Miktik agreed to work with Whisper in the first place. If there''s anything that could drive her to dive by herself into the Intermediary, it has to be something she thought was really, truly important.


    Time to find out what it was.


    The Road Not Taken.


    In theory, the change is simple. The problem is how far back it is¡ªnot just in linear time, but in loop time. Even with the changes to my Firmament it takes a concerted effort of will to make the change I want to change. I feel a barrier in front of me, and forcing myself through it feels like forcing myself through a sieve.


    It hurts. That''s the main thing I don''t expect. It''s not the same as the exhaustion of putting myself through the procedure with Tarin over and over. This is me forcing myself back through time, stretching the skill farther than it''s supposed to stretch, forcing more out of it by pouring more Firmament through than it can handle.


    The pain is soul-deep, like I''m forcing open a gate using my own core as the doorway. Blood drips out of my nose¡ªI hear Ahkelios making a panicked sort of noise along with a worried whirring from Guard. I feel metal hands grabbing me as I collapse and chitinous ones holding me steady.


    But I manage. I Anchor my changes, drawing deep, and take step after step into the past.


    And when I''m far enough, I make a choice. Not a natural one, given the circumstances. Not something I could or would have chosen to do without the knowledge I have now.


    This is no simple tweak to the past. It''s a full, embodied change.


    ¡ª


    "Miktik," I say, looking up at her. My head throbs. The pain continues into this version of myself and holds, persistent; this is more than I''m supposed to be able to do with this skill, and it punishes me for what I''m doing.


    I ignore it. This is important.


    There''s a change in my voice that startles Miktik. I see it in the way she looks at me, her eyes suddenly wide. I know what happens next here¡ªwe split up. In my Isthanok loops, this is right after we split up and each of the rebels went to find out more about Whisper''s plans. It wasn''t long after this that I had to chase after and save each of them from the circumstances they''d ended up in.


    Miktik was supposed to stay back at the workshop to act as a sort of return point for any information we managed to gather. She was not supposed to leave. The whole point was that she wouldn''t be in any danger, that any information sent back to her would be preserved until I was able to talk to her.


    But I see it now, I think. There''s a bit of nervousness in the way she moves. She fidgets more than she normally does. She''s already planning to leave for the Intermediary. More likely than not she''s thinking it''ll be a quick thing, that no one has to know...


    What I don''t understand is why she didn''t talk to any of us about it. I almost think to myself that I should have noticed¡ªshould have seen her fidgeting, the way her eyes dart toward the door. I see it now. But I don''t let myself wallow in the thought. That way lies misery. I''ve already been down the path of what-ifs and should-have-beens.


    "Ethan," Miktik says, echoing the way I said her name. She seems a little confused. Probably because I''m just staring at her.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "You don''t stay in your workshop," I say. The throbbing in my head is getting worse and spreading through my body. There''s no time for subtlety here. "Why are you going to the Intermediary?"


    There''s a shocked silence. I remember somewhat belatedly that we''re not alone¡ªmost of the others don''t know what I''m talking about, though.


    "What is this, a loop thing?" Bimar scoffs. "You trying... to... intimidate..."


    She trails off, probably because she''s noticed the same thing I have. Miktik isn''t meeting any of our gazes. The plates on her back shuffle together nervously.


    "Miktik doesn''t know what you''re talking about," she says quietly.


    "Miktik," Bimar says, her voice suddenly dangerous. Or... no. It''s angry. Exasperated. Has Miktik done this before? "What is this supposed Trialgoer talking about?"


    "Miktik doesn''t know," she insists.


    "We can tell when you''re lying." Bimar''s voice is flat. Colder, more out of disappointment and worry than a sense of betrayal. "You already tried to find it. It''s not there."


    "But... there are places Miktik can''t check," Miktik protests weakly. "Normally. But if we have the Trialgoer..."


    "What then?" Bimar asks. "Let''s say you do find it. You miraculously survive long enough to tell the Trialgoer, and you''re dead, but not permanently, because of whatever time nonsense he''s got going. What are you going to do with it?"


    "Fix things," Miktik says. "Miktik can fix things. Miktik just needs¡ª"


    "Excuse me," I say politely. "I need you both to tell me what you''re talking about. Right now."


    I''m a little more brusque than I intend to be. The pain is getting worse. I can feel the active drain on my Firmament and what feels like a wound being slowly pulled apart as I hold open a branch of time that was never meant to be.


    "Ethan, it''s not¡ª" Miktik tries to protest.


    "Miktik." I step closer and kneel by her¡ªshe flinches, but I think she sees something in my eyes, because she suddenly stills. "...I''m sorry. I''m really, really sorry. But if this is important at all, if it could help Guard or that AI you left with Whisper, I need to know. Now. As quickly as you can tell me."


    <hr>


    "...I''m sorry. I''m really, really sorry. But if this is important at all, if it could help Guard or that AI you left with Whisper, I need to know. Now. As quickly as you can tell me."


    Miktik saw the look in Ethan''s eyes. He was sad. Why was he suddenly sad? There was no reason for him to be sad. No reason for him to look at her like¡ªlike she was¡ªlike he''d¡ª


    The thought froze in her mind. Crystallized into something painful and broken.


    "Ethan," she asked. Whispered. She didn''t want the rest of her friends to hear it¡ªnot if she could help it. It would create too much chaos, delay things. In all honesty, she knew she shouldn''t even have asked, but she couldn''t help herself. "Am I dead?"


    The look in his eyes told her enough. She didn''t know how he was doing this, but if this was the approach he was taking, then he couldn''t save her. There was a look in his eyes...


    He''d tried. He''d failed. And the longer this took, the more things shrunk around them, until reality was nothing more than the two of them.


    How was he doing this? How was he talking to her now? Was he from the future? Was this some branched, doomed loop? What did it mean for her if she was real, if she had thoughts and feelings and...


    No. Not a useful train of thought. Miktik shut it down, forced it away, took a deep, shuddering breath; Ethan waited for her without a word, despite the pain she saw in him. Not emotional pain. The physical pain radiating through him. Whatever he was doing now was costing him.


    Her species could sense the pain of others. She''d never told him that. Never told anyone that, as far as she knew. What made her decision for her how well he was hiding it.


    All that pain, and the only thing she saw in his eyes was kindness.


    Miktik was afraid of many things, in truth. She thought of herself as cowardly for giving in to Whisper''s demands. For not protecting what she''d considered her responsibility. But skies above, if Ethan could push aside that much pain and spare her nothing but kindness...


    She could be brave. Just this once. Even if she''d be judged, even if she''d be damned.


    She told him.


    "It¡ªher name is Aris," she said. "The chip I gave Whisper, I mean. She''s a modified artificial intelligence protocol. She''s supposed to be a nursing program, but I made some changes, I wanted¡ª" Her voice broke. "¡ªI wanted someone I could raise. She was going to be my daughter. I¡ª"


    Ethan put her hand on her shell. She froze for a moment, expecting judgement or rebuke, but no. Only kindness.


    Miktik made herself keep going.


    "I raised¡ªit took a few years," she said. "I raised her for a few years before Whisper took her from me. She isn''t complete yet. She still needs¡ªthere''s a part she still needs to be alive, something called a circuit veil, and I''ve been looking for it so if we get her back¡ª"


    Her voice failed her then, but she''d said what she needed to. She thought Ethan would leave then. He had what he needed, and maintaining this hurt him, she could tell.


    Instead, he drew her into a hug.


    "What would you tell her?" he asked quietly. "Tell me quickly. If there was one thing you could give her to remember you by."


    Miktik froze. Ethan would¡ª? What would she even say? Would Aris care?


    Why was there so much hope suddenly burning in her?


    She leaned in and whispered her words. Ethan let her. There were a lot of them, and the longer she took, the more of his pain she felt, but he held on. Let her say her dues.


    Not just for Aris. For everyone she''d let down.


    And when it was done, he hugged her close once more. "They all love you," he said.


    He told her what they''d said at her funeral. The goodbyes they''d given. The memories that were important to them, which were nothing like the ones Miktik imagined they''d be. She could have wept. Did weep.


    It was her, in the end, who had to tell Ethan to stop what he was doing. To tell him she could feel that holding on to this was damaging him. He''d given her peace.


    "Thank you," she said. She meant it almost more than anything she''d ever meant in her life, save perhaps the words she left for Aris.


    Ethan smiled at her. A sad smile.


    And then Miktik was once again no more.

 194 — Book 3, Chapter 53 — Parallels

    Coming out of the skill-induced trance of The Road Not Taken is a heady thing. Most of that, I think, is because I pushed myself to the limit and more. I hadn''t really been planning to hold on to the skill for that long, but when I looked Miktik in the eyes¡ªwhen she realized what was happening...


    I hadn''t expected or prepared for that. How could I?


    I did the only thing I could. Not the smartest thing, perhaps. Not the most battle-efficient, certainly. I feel wrung out, like even trying to use more Firmament at the moment is going to burn out what''s left of my core. Trying to stand up causes me to sway on my feet¡ªlucky for me, Ahkelios and Guard are almost immediately at my side, helping me.


    "Thanks," I say. "Pushed myself a bit hard there."


    "You think?" Ahkelios grumbles. He-Who-Guards guides me to sit back down, and Ahkelios holds up a hand before I can say anything else. "We''re taking a break," he says. "I''m going to make you a bed, and we''ll make plans in the morning."


    Before I can respond, Ahkelios disappears into the forest. I blink.


    "We could''ve just borrowed a bed from the crows," I say, bemused. "He wants to make me one?"


    "I believe Ahkelios wishes to feel as though he is doing more to help," He-Who-Guards says. He crouches in front of me. "How are you feeling?"


    "You don''t have to worry that much," I say, wincing. "I overdrew on Firmament. I''ll be fine with a bit of rest. Probably."


    I''m pretty sure, anyway.


    "You make a habit of this," Guard says with a whirred sigh. There''s a note of something in his voice¡ªnot disapproval, exactly. He hesitates for a moment, examining me. "You did more than you had to do. Was it... worth it?"


    My answer is immediate. "It was."


    The words are true. He-Who-Guards might not know exactly what happened, but he apparently knows me well enough to understand that I did something. I chuckle a little to myself at the thought¡ªmaybe I''m becoming predictable.


    I don''t mind it. What I did there was important. It didn''t have to be efficient or practical.


    It just had to be kind.


    "Do you know where we are to go next?" Guard asks. I nod.


    "Back to the Intermediary," I say. "We need to get a part for that AI inside you, apparently. Not sure what happens after that, but it should complete them. And..."


    I hesitate, glancing into the distance where Ahkelios went. "While we''re there," I say. "We might as well get Ahkelios through his third shift. I have a feeling we''ll need it."


    There''s a message on the Interface, though I have yet to say anything about it. It''s a notification from before Guard''s attempted shift.


    [Anomalies detected in dungeon: The Empty City. Attempting to resolve...]


    [Attempt failed. Dungeon difficulty upgraded to reflect anomalous state.]


    [New difficulty: Submerged (F)]


    It worries me. There''s that whole new tier of power showing up again. Submerged, as far as I know, is the way the Interface categorizes the quality of imbuement stones; if that''s any indication of how many levels of power there are out there...


    I shudder a little. It almost makes me feel small. There hasn''t been any evidence yet that the Integrators or the other Trialgoers are capable of that level of power, and for now, that thought is what I''m clinging to: that this is an emergent level of power rather than an extant one. It''ll give me another tool to use against the Integrators when the time comes.


    As long as I''m right.


    With nothing else to do, I begin feeling around within my soul. If I hadn''t used up so much Firmament, now would be the perfect opportunity to test Soul Space and what it can do. There''s something about it that rings a bell.


    Specifically, it feels a little like there''s something already there within my soul, waiting for me to pull it out.


    I reach for it¡ª


    ¡ªand wince when an echoing response of pain blurs my vision. Guard gives me a stern look. "Ethan," he says reproachfully. "You need to let yourself recover."


    I cough and look away.


    Maybe I''ll give it a few more minutes.


    <hr>


    Walking around within his own corpse was, Gheraa reflected, not how he thought he''d spend his afterlife. Not that this was an afterlife, but calling it that seemed suitably dramatic and tickled him more than acknowledging the entirety of the situation.


    The portal was still sitting there, ready for him to emerge and re-enter Hestia, but first...


    There was a little-known fact about Integrators: the Firmament they were made out of wasn''t their own. Where that Firmament came from even they had no idea, but the soulrot that emerged from the very rare death of one of his kind often revealed secrets none of them consciously knew.


    Secrets none of them liked, either, or there would probably be a lot more dead Integrators. Instead, there was something of a concerted effort to censor anything that was uncovered and make sure no new Integrators died. Even when the others decided his crime was worthy of death, they''d made sure to dump his body off-planet.


    More fool them, really. Especially since Gheraa was pretty sure this made him the first and only Integrator to ever get to explore their own corpse.


    Was it a little weird that he was excited about this? Probably! But he had to get his entertainment somewhere, and Ethan wasn''t around for him to mess with.


    He still remembered Ethan''s expression when he shoved the All-Seeing Eye into his... well, eye. Good times. He wasn''t particularly picky about what body part he was shoving into which orifice, as long as the result was entertaining.


    Where was he?


    Right! Information.


    Gheraa stared ahead at the vastness of his own dungeon. It looked... well, unexplored and abandoned. Ethan hadn''t been here in a while, clearly; maybe he hadn''t been here at all. The thought of that sent a pang of hurt through him.


    But no, that was silly. The Heart had literally told him that Ethan would be here to bring him back from the dead. That whole paradox was the reason he was even alive right now.


    So! Time to help.


    He just had to figure out where to start.


    <hr>


    It took a few hours of searching, but Gheraa was eventually able to make some sense of his soulrot. The shape of it, what it was doing, how it was growing. The most interesting part was the way tendrils of it reached up through the Intermediary, intertwining themselves with the core pillar of Firmament meant to connect Hestia to the wider network and to his home world.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    To any outside observer, it might''ve looked like Gheraa''s soul was trying to climb back up into his home. Gheraa knew better. Those tendrils weren''t trying to climb.


    They were trying to suffocate. Cut off all vestiges of the connection between the Hestia and the Integrators. They weren''t going to succeed with it¡ªeven now, the Intermediary was repairing itself, drawing from the immense stores of Firmament contained within the network to heal the damage¡ªbut Gheraa noted with no small amount of satisfaction that it was still slowing it down.


    Buying Ethan time, in other words. The more he could grow without the supervision of the Integrators, the better. The more he surprised them when he emerged, the better the chance he had.


    The better the chance for all of Earth, really.


    Ethan''s Interface may have been restricted, but Gheraa had seen the numbers.


    The human Trialgoers were surprisingly resilient. They fought and stayed alive longer than any of the other planets he could remember Integrating. They weren''t the strongest nor the fastest, but they kept getting up, over and over again. It was impressive. It was one of the reasons Gheraa had decided to take more and more risks with Ethan as time passed.


    It wasn''t enough.


    Earth had the lowest death-count of Trials by far, but they were also taking the longest to prove themselves. At the time of his death, not a single human had managed to pass their appointed Trial. Gheraa thought it was bizarre. That ratio of still-living participants usually indicated a particularly successful crop of Trialgoers; there should have been a record number of Trial completions, and yet...


    There was a theory among the Integrators, though it wasn''t a popular one. The idea was that the process of Integration and the Trials themselves was not a process that was ever meant to be complete. Their purpose lay in the enactment of it, and they were never meant to see the end of that path. The more Trials were completed and the more planets Integrated, the harder the remaining Trials would become, until it became an all but impossible task.


    Gheraa had never put much stock into the idea, but he was starting to wonder if it was true.


    He sighed to himself. Thinking about Ethan was more fun than all this theorizing. It felt like he was thinking himself into a corner. The point was, maybe Ethan could break the deadlock. He was growing faster than anyone Gheraa had seen by far.


    All this thinking did give him an idea, though. Maybe somewhere within this dungeon there were answers about the purpose of the Integrators. A way to learn about who put the Integrators here and why. That seemed like the sort of thing his people would try to censor.


    There was one obvious place to start. Gheraa glanced at the tendrils climbing into the sky. A dark-purple storm of Firmament seemed to roil beneath it, threatening death and calamity.


    "Of course," Gheraa muttered to himself. "Of course the deadly storm is where I have to go. I should''ve just started by looking for the deadly storm."


    He conjured a walking stick out of Firmament and gave it a twirl.


    "Well?" he called out into his own soul. He knew what dungeons were like. There was no way there wouldn''t be some kind of challenge he had to face. "We know what we like. Give me a show!"


    Right on cue, the walls began to rumble.


    Gheraa grinned. He took off his coat and folded it neatly, tucking it into a corner by the portal; he could come back for it later.


    And then he began to run.


    <hr>


    Zhao Hu Ong missed the sun.


    That was the one thing he didn''t have compared to all the other Trialgoers he''d been in contact with¡ªany kind of sky. It almost made him jealous of Adeya, whose Trial was nothing but sky. Granted, she''d spent several weeks falling before managing to safely land and survival was difficult in constant freefall, so he wasn''t actually that jealous.


    He just missed it all. The sun, the wind, being out in the open.


    As far as he could tell, his Trial was entirely underground. It didn''t matter how far "up" he tried to go¡ªthere would always be another room and another challenge. He''d tried breaking through the ceiling once and all that had accomplished was a particularly unique near-death experience involving nearly drowning in goblins. It wasn''t something he wanted to repeat anytime soon, so he hadn''t bothered trying again.


    He''d never considered himself claustrophobic, but he was pretty sure if he ever made it back to Earth it''d be a good few weeks before he walked into a building again, let alone a room. He''d sleep under the stars for a while. That sounded nice.


    Zhao sighed, leaned back against the wall, and stared up at the ceiling. This room was the closest he could get to being outside¡ªit was brightly lit and painted blue.


    Which felt kind of sad and pathetic when he put it into words, but whatever.


    There was a positive side to all this. His Trial let him take a break pretty much whenever he wanted. It only progressed when he made his way into the next rooms, and with everything he''d found¡ªfood, water, a room that was pretty much just a kitchen and another one that had an actual bed in it¡ªhe was more or less set. The only reason he ventured out was to earn credits so he could bank them for skills and work on his Firmament base.


    He could leave pretty much whenever he wanted. He''d found the exit. He''d uncovered the so-called hidden condition required to pass his Trial. There was a room that resembled a throbbing, beating heart rearranged like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. All he had to do was rearrange those pieces until it formed a complete heart and walk through the exit.


    Instead, he opened the Interface.


    [Initiating voice call with Adeya...]


    "Hey," Zhao greeted without preamble the moment the other Trialgoer picked up. Voice calls were convenient¡ªfar better than the chat function he''d unlocked earlier in his Trial. At least with voice calls he didn''t need to worry about the still-embarrassing username he''d accidentally locked in. His Integrator still refused to let him change it.


    "What do you want?" Adeya''s response was short and brusque, as always.


    "Any luck contacting Ethan?" Zhao asked. He was getting antsy.


    He could hear the irritation in Adeya''s response, though. "He''s still disconnected. You can see this yourself, no?"


    "You are the one delving Interface dungeons," Zhao argued. "I would not see this in the Interface. You have not encountered him? He must have access to one by now."


    Zhao was kind of stressed about it, in all honesty. He''d spoken to Ethan exactly once before the other Trialgoer disappeared from the chats again. Part of him felt responsible.


    "He''s not in any dungeon I have access to," Adeya replied. Her voice softened a little¡ªZhao realized he was letting a bit more of his stress bleed through than he''d intended. "I have some suspicions. Have you checked the rankings?"


    "No..." Zhao hesitated. He hadn''t checked them for a while, in fact.


    He flicked through the Interface. Some time ago, there''d been an incident that knocked all their Interfaces temporarily offline; when they rebooted, there was an odd message about the Intermediaries being disrupted. That disruption appeared to have caused glitches within the Interface, unlocking features he was pretty sure they weren''t intended to have.


    First among them was what brought Ethan to their attention in the first place: a ranking of human Trialgoers across all number of categories. The second was a list of all active dungeons, also termed as "soulrot infestations" in that particular section of the Interface.


    Ethan was the only one listed as having achieved his third phase shift. A third-layer practitioner. The closest behind him was Adeya, who was at her second layer and on the cusp of the third. Zhao himself was still on the cusp of the second¡ªnone of the rooms he found so far had enough Firmament to push him into his second shift.


    There was something going on with Ethan and his Trial. They needed to get into contact with him. With his help, it was possible they had a chance¡ª


    Zhao paused, staring at the rankings.


    [1. Ethan Hill]


    [Practitioner Level: Third-Layer, Perfected. Cusp of Fourth.]


    [Practitioner Title: Heir of Anchors]


    "Cusp of fourth?" Zhao said, his jaw slack. Fourth wasn''t supposed to be possible. They suspected their Integrators were lying to them about it, of course, but¡ª "Wait, what does perfected mean? Is that a thing?"


    "We''ll have to ask him ourselves," Adeya said. "When we find him. Check the dungeon list."


    Zhao''s face paled when he did.


    [The Empty City] [Special] [Rank: Submerged (F)]


    "Submerged," Zhao said. "That is the term the Interface uses for imbuement... Have we encountered the Interface ranking things in such a way?"


    "Not even the Disconnected have heard of it," Adeya said. "I checked."


    "And you are sure he is in that dungeon?"


    "He''s the only one of us that would survive a dungeon of that difficulty at the moment," Adeya said. "And it was ranked S just a few days ago."


    "It went up," Zhao said numbly. It felt like his face was pale, not that he had a way to check. "Then... then we must talk to him as soon as we can. A blowback from a dungeon of that strength would wipe out hundreds of us. He cannot fail. He should not even try! But if he is in that dungeon..."


    "Then none of us can reach him," Adeya completed grimly. "No one we''re in contact with has unlocked the Empty City."


    "What do we even do?" Zhao fretted. "He can''t die. He''s our best chance against the Sunken King."


    "We''ll keep doing what we''ve been doing," Adeya told him. "Don''t complete your Trial. Try not to let anyone complete theirs. Keep getting stronger. The longer we hold the Sunken King back, the better."


    "So we wait," Zhao said. "That''s it?"


    "We grow," Adeya told him. "We make allies. We get stronger. We keep up. That''s how our Firmament grows, remember?"


    "Right." Zhao forced himself to calm down. "And... we have a chance. You''re sure?"


    Adeya smiled at him. He couldn''t see it, but he could feel the smile through the Interface. It was warm and beautiful. Or maybe he was imagining things. "I''m sure."


    "Because of your Skill?" he asked hopefully.


    "What else would it be?"


    Adeya disconnected before he could respond, but he could practically see her laughing at him.


    Zhao sighed.


    More waiting. He really hated waiting.


    He missed the sun.

 195 — Book 3, Chapter 54 — A Coming Collision

    There''s a bit of a problem. Not a huge one. Probably.


    My core isn''t recovering anywhere near quick enough to survive a trip into the Intermediary. Meditating helps, but the damage runs fairly deep¡ªI can''t just walk it off like I''d been hoping. All the improvements I''ve made so far is the only reason that dive into the past didn''t just tear me apart, apparently.


    "There is physical damage on top of spiritual damage," the Knight growls at me, annoyed. The Inspiration is awake again now¡ªprodding at my core in an attempt to use a skill reawakened it, it seems, and it doesn''t seem pleased by the state of things within my core.


    But then it sighs and speaks with a begrudging sort of acceptance that borders on admiration. "I would call it foolish, but... I do not think I would have done any different."


    "Glad I have your approval," I say dryly, unable to help myself. The Knight makes a sound that''s somewhere between a snarl and a scoff; it takes me a moment to realize that it''s laughing.


    "As you should be," it says once it''s finished, mirth still in its voice. "But there is little time for you to recover. What will you do now?"


    I frown slightly. There''s something it wants from me¡ªI can sense that the question is something of a test.


    "Depends," I say carefully. "What are my options?"


    The Knight grins. I can feel it, even if I can''t see it. "For most, it would require years of meditation and supplements," it tells me. "The strain you have placed on your core is significant. It is not merely from this event¡ªit is the culmination of all your actions until now. Shifting two layers at once, pushing your limits again and again, creating and using Submerged skills... You are teetering on an edge from which there may be no recovery."


    I stay silent. What the Knight describes sounds serious, but at the same time, it''s clearly building up to something.


    "There is a simple solution," it says. "Death. The body and the soul must be in balance; when the soul is out of balance, the body follows. But the reverse is also true: a perfectly healed body will help your soul recover.


    "For a Trialgoer in your position, recovery is simple. Expire as many times as it takes to heal your soul. Each death will reset your body, forcing your soul into balance. But it will take more than one. In your current state, I estimate..."


    The Knight examines my core critically. "Twenty deaths, perhaps."


    I grimace. It doesn''t sound like there are many downsides to this solution, besides the loop being reset, but I can''t say I''m keen on it. There''s something about the way the Knight says the words, too¡ªa little too smug, a little too knowing.


    A thought strikes me. "You said this is the simple solution. Is there another one?"


    The Knight''s grin grows wider and more ferocious. "One you may like," it says, almost purring out the words. "It is dangerous. Foolish, even, for anyone without your particular Talent and resources. It will be painful."


    "But?"


    "But," the Knight says, "it will make you stronger. You have perfected your third layer of Firmament. Your first two are strong, but they are not perfect. There are cracks. Small and nearly invisible, perhaps, but they are there. Normally, a practitioner cannot modify any layer of their Firmament after performing a phase shift. Phase shifts are permanent.


    "Sometimes, however," the Knight continues. I can tell it''s enjoying itself, though why it''s enjoying itself so much I can''t quite fathom. It seems to revel in the opportunity to tell me about ways to grow¡ªor maybe it just enjoys the process of growth, the feeling of its host gaining power. "When a core is strained to its utmost and survives without cracking, the layers peel apart."


    I feel it reach out and do... something. Whatever it does, it sends a wave of crippling pain through me. My vision goes briefly white, and I make a choked sound, gripping the log beside me so hard the wood cracks and splinters; nausea swims through my skull and threatens to make me empty my stomach. It takes me a moment to register Guard''s fans whirring with alarm, one hand on my shoulder and the other on my back, supporting me as I double over.


    "Are you alright?" he asks. "You did not try to..."


    "No," I say, shaking my head and trying to gather my bearings. "That was¡ªthat was something else. I''m fine. Thanks, Guard."


    Guard doesn''t seem entirely satisfied with that answer. He stays close to me, watching me sternly. "Be careful," he says.


    "I know."


    It takes me a moment to figure out what happened¡ªthat sudden wave of what felt like fire pouring through my nerves was the Knight flicking my second layer of Firmament. It''s making a point. The layers are distinct enough now that it can target one, distinct from all the others.


    "You did not need to do that," I say pointedly.


    "I did not," the Knight agrees, but it doesn''t apologize. "But you need to understand how difficult this process will be. It is not trivial. It is an opportunity."


    "How, exactly?" I try not to make my retort too annoyed.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "You cannot reconstruct a phase shift you have already performed, but when your layers are this distinct, you can... mold them. Add Firmament to them. Fill in the cracks." The Knight is silent for a moment. "You will need to be in an environment with strong Firmament. And you will need to maintain your focus through the process. Lose it, and you risk shattering the layer entirely."


    "So to do this," I say. "I have to maintain perfect focus while simultaneously causing myself debilitating pain?"


    "Yes."


    "And if I fail, it''ll shatter the layer?"


    "Yes."


    "And you believe it''s worth it?"


    "You face a dungeon with a rank of Submerged," the Knight says. "Even at the lowest possible rank of Submerged¡ªeven with a perfected third layer¡ªto face such danger without your fourth shift is tantamount to suicide. I do not believe it is worth it. I believe it will be necessary, lest the dungeon destroy you, your friends, and half the human Trialgoers with it."


    I wince. "You''re pouring it on a little thick."


    "I am telling you what I believe to be true," it says.


    And it is. This isn''t just a guess¡ªthe Knight knows, sure as anything, that if I don''t do this I''m not going to survive.


    "It never gets easier, does it?" I ask.


    "No," the Knight says. "And if it does, it would only be because of others that hold the burden instead. Given the choice, what would you do?"


    It takes me a moment to respond. "I would take the burden."


    The Knight smiles. "You hesitated."


    "Is that so bad?"


    "No." The Knight shakes its head. "To some, heroism is as easy as instinct. To others, it is a choice that must be made, over and over again. Neither is worse than the other. But you gave the question thought. You did not simply tell me that which you believed I wished to hear. This, more than anything else I have seen so far..."


    It pauses, and then to my surprise, it bows. Not physically, obviously, but I can feel it¡ªthe gesture of reverence and respect. "I am glad you are my host, Ethan Hill," it says.


    "I... thanks," I say, unsure how to respond to the sudden display. "And we''re partners. You''re part of the team too." I pause, and then add, a little more lightheartedly: "You''re going to have to tell me your backstory one day, you know."


    "One day," it agrees. "But not today."


    With that, I feel it slowly receding, its presence fading into nothing more than a warmth within my core. I''m almost tempted to ask for more, but it seems kind of done with talking for the day. Maybe for the week.


    So instead I lean back, letting out a sigh. He-Who-Guards reacts to the movement with a small beep of surprise. "You are done?" he asks. "I didn''t want to interrupt something important."


    "I was talking to the Knight Inspiration," I tell him. "And yeah, it''s gone back to... hibernating. Or whatever it does when we''re not actively talking. Long story short, apparently I can try to reinforce my core once we reach the Intermediary. It''s going to suck, but the Knight thinks we''re going to need that power."


    "You have not recovered," Guard observes with some uncertainty. "Are you sure you are ready to do this?"


    "I can only do this if I haven''t fully recovered," I say, wincing. "It''s basically now or never."


    Right on cue, Ahkelios returns carrying a massive armful of... moss, as far as I can tell. There are a few flowers sticking out of it, but more surprising to me is that I can sense a distinct flow of Firmament within. It''s nearly invisible, even with my Firmament sense.


    Actually, I think it''d be completely invisible if I were relying on my normal Firmament sense. I frown slightly¡ªa side effect of the Firmament strain, maybe? That particular ability supposedly emerged from some sort of imbalance within my core; if that imbalance was further exaggerated...


    Huh. Interesting.


    "I''m back!" Ahkelios declares. "What''s this about now or never?"


    "I have to reinforce my core," I say.


    "You have to sleep." Ahkelios dumps the moss onto the ground and begins shaping it into a makeshift bed. I''m actually impressed by how well this works¡ªhe uses his Firmament as a sort of scoop and threads it through the moss in a way not dissimilar to how the crows enhance their furniture. "And so do we!"


    "I do not need to sleep," Guard volunteers.


    "So do we," Ahkelios repeats, even more firmly. He glares at Guard, and there''s a beat of silence.


    "...I will make an attempt," Guard acquiesces.


    I snort. He''s not wrong, honestly. We''ve had a rough few days. It''s good to see him asserting himself, though. His next phase shift is going to be interesting.


    We''re all going to need something at the Intermediary. Hopefully, we''re strong enough to survive whatever Gheraa''s dungeon throws at us while we''re there.


    <hr>


    Gheraa frowned up at the pillar of Firmament reaching up through the sky. His clothes were in tatters¡ªboth the storm and the dangers in his own dungeon had made sure of that.


    He had to admit, of all the traps he''d been expecting, he hadn''t anticipated the one with all the hands coming out of the walls. Getting caught in that trap was just embarrassing. Arrows, at least, were dignified. But hands? Why would his dungeon even use hands as a trap?


    Anyway. All that aside, he''d made it to the eye of the storm and the root of the pillar. From where he stood, enormous tendrils of reality-rending soulrot reached up and clung to that pillar, wrapping around it in a vain attempt to strangle it.


    Gheraa wasn''t particularly interested in any of that.


    What he was interested in was the orb cradled within the branches of what looked like a miniature dead tree. It wasn''t really a dead tree, of course¡ªjust soulrot so deep that it looked like blackened wood.


    But the orb? That called to him. It radiated with potent secrecy.


    He reached out to touch it¡ª


    ¡ªand nearly sank to his knees as a multitude of visions forced their way into his mind. It was a chaotic mass of images he could barely make sense of, though he knew he''d put it together given enough time.


    He staggered to his feet. There was one thing that was clear in those visions. One name that repeated itself, over and over.


    The Sunken King is returned.


    Gheraa didn''t recognize the name, but something about it rang with a cold familiarity.


    He sat in the midst of the storm and began to dissect what he''d seen. If there was anything that needed a warning...


    Well. This had to be it.

 196 — Book 3, Chapter 55 — It Takes a Village

    Before we leave, we check in again with the Cliffside Crows. There''s a good chance this will be the last time we see any of them with their current set of memories, considering the dangers of the Intermediary. That we''ve escaped having to loop for as long as we have... well, it''s a miracle in and of itself.


    When we arrive, we find them waiting for us. Tarin, Mari, and Naru stand at the forefront of a large group of villagers, not all of whom I recognize. Virin and Rotar are there, though. The former is practically vibrating with excitement, and the latter looks... nervous.


    "Ethan!" Tarin squawks. He folds his wings in front of his chest. "Where you go? We looking for you."


    "We were training," I say, which is technically true.


    Just like that, everything is forgiven¡ªTarin''s expression brightens into a haughty kind of smug satisfaction. It almost makes me laugh. I''m definitely going to miss him. "Training good!" he says. "I forgive. Next time you just say you training. I send help."


    I decide not to tell him that I''m not sure he could''ve helped in this particular instance. It''ll only offend him.


    "Anyway," he continues. "We make gift for you. You leaving, yes?"


    A gift? I blink, feeling oddly touched. I would''ve expected the crows to have too much to contend with to worry about putting together some kind of farewell gift. "We''re headed to the Intermediary again," I say with a nod. "Need to go there to finish our training."


    "Then you take this," Tarin declares. He holds a wing out, and Virin carefully places a strange, ornately-carved box into it. It''s probably the fanciest item I''ve ever seen from the crows¡ªtheir crafting tends to favor function over form.


    "What is it?" I ask. Tarin opens the box in lieu of answering, and my breath catches in my throat.


    It''s some kind of imbuement stone. A strong one. I feel the weight of it almost as soon as the lid is opened like a yawning void suddenly opening up in my perception of Firmament¡ªwhatever this thing is, it absolutely devours Firmament. I could pour an entire river into it and not sate its hunger.


    Predictably, the Void Inspiration reacts to this. I haven''t heard from it in a while, but now it coils up within me, interested in this stone that appears to be yet another one of its siblings; I have to nudge it to calm down. I''m in no state to use Firmament, much less an Inspiration.


    "It stone," Tarin says proudly, which tells me... precisely nothing. Beside him, Naru lets out an aggrieved sigh.


    "It''s an imbuement we created for you," he tells me. "And by ''we'', I mean the whole village. You better be grateful, Trialgoer. That thing wasn''t easy to make."


    Tarin frowns a bit at this, snapping the box shut and turning to look at his son. "That not how you talk to friend," he says severely. He reaches up to smack Naru in the head, then apparently thinks the better of it¡ªjust before his wing makes contact, he aborts the action and turns it into an awkward-looking pat on the head.


    There''s a long silence where everyone just stares at the two of them. Naru looks a mixture of embarrassed and¡ªto my surprise¡ªgrateful.


    I think he recognizes that Tarin is... trying.


    "We owe you for what you''ve done for us," Naru says. This time, when he speaks, his voice is considerably softer. "Pretty soon you''re going to be doing things we won''t be able to help with anymore, so we thought we''d make one last thing you might be able to use."


    "I''ve been working with Virin to encode all my memories of the Fracture into an imbuement." Rotar picks up from there, stepping forward. "I figured out pretty quick that I''m probably not going to be able to work out everything before you leave, and if you reset anymore I''m going to lose all my remaining memories of the Fracture. So we thought if we could find a way to extract everything I know..."


    "It''s more than that," Naru says. "This village is the closest anyone lives to the Fracture. I grew up on stories about it. We have legends, myths, childhood fairytales¡ªthis village is probably the single biggest repository of knowledge there is on the Fracture."


    He hesitates, then sighs. "Tarin... my dad briefed me on what you''ve learned about the Fracture," he says. "About Hestia. If you''re going to find out what''s happening, you''ll need this. It has all the visions Rotar experienced, every scrap of knowledge Tarin can remember from the time he apparently fell in¡ª" Naru spares a moment to glare at Tarin when he says this, evidently annoyed at not being told about it. "¡ªand every single legend and tale we have about it."


    "I... thank you," I say. I have to kneel to take the box from Tarin, and I hold it with no small amount of reverence¡ªI can see that a lot was put into making this gift. From the looks of things, every villager among the Cliffside Crows contributed.


    I look up at them, scanning each of the crows one by one. "Is there something you''re not telling me?" I ask quietly.


    Because this is a lot of effort to put into a gift of knowledge. I understand it, to some degree. Rotar''s memories of the Fracture are fading. We don''t know what Tarin will be able to remember once time resets, now that he no longer has the shard.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    But even still... this feels more like a goodbye than I''d like. They''re giving this to me in case something happens to them. In case a Tear rips through the crows and leaves nothing behind. If the worst happens, I''ll still have this¡ªa small piece of what remains. A fraction of their culture. A fragment of what was.


    Mari seems to know what I''m thinking. She''s surprisingly insightful. This version of her may not know me as well, but the smile she gives me is still warm and motherly.


    "You worry too much," she says. She taps a wing lightly on my forehead. "We give just in case. But we give so you know we with you. No matter where you go. Yes?"


    ...I like that framing of it a lot better. I smile at her, pushing myself back to my feet, and weigh the box in my hand. It''s pretty light, considering what it contains¡ªthe imbuement contained within is breathtakingly complex, and the quality of the stone used to hold it isn''t exactly low, either.


    It really is meant as a gift.


    "It hard to make!" Virin pipes up. "I use what you teach. And then I need invent five new things. And sacrifice many stones." He makes a face like he''s wrinkling a nose he doesn''t have. "You teach, I learn! But you learn too, yes? And then come back and teach me." He jabs a wing at the stone. "I not sacrifice so many stones again."


    I laugh at this. "I''ll do my best to figure out what you did, but no promises. I can tell how complicated this is."


    If anything, I might have underestimated Virin. He may have wanted my help researching his stones, but he knows his stuff with imbuements. If he was able to take the little I''ve told him and turn it into this...


    I need to remember to come back to him with any imbuement-related problems in the future. He might be a genius. For a moment, I consider what might happen if I introduce him to the kobold engineers back in Isthanok almost shudder at the thought¡ªI have no doubt they''d be able to create something monstrous.


    That might be something to keep in mind for the future, actually.


    "Thank you," I say again, holding the box close, feeling the weight of it in my hand. "All of you."


    And then I pause, a somewhat awkward question coming to mind. I clear my throat. "Though I should probably ask... how do I use this?"


    The way the crows look at each other tells me I probably won''t like the answer. I hide a bit of a fond smile and lean in to listen.


    <hr>


    The downside to whatever mysterious methods Virin used, it turns out, is that even the crows aren''t entirely sure. Virin knows for a fact that everything''s been encoded into the artifact, but the imbuement is advanced to a point where none of the crows can use it themselves¡ªnot even Naru.


    The understanding that we have, slowly pieced together from Virin''s expectations and some trial and error, is that the imbuement is a little like a miniaturized, Firmament-based computer. It contains everything the crows promised and more, but it takes a lot of Firmament to form a proper "query", and even more Firmament for it to return a response.


    I don''t mind. The meaning behind the gift matters a lot more to me, and while I can''t use it right now, I already know for a fact that it''ll be useful when the time comes. Whatever anomaly there is causing the Fracture to explode and annihilate the planet is still there, waiting for me to investigate.


    In the meantime? The crows have created what''s honestly a surprisingly useful training tool for Firmament control. The artifact''s ability to process enormous quantities of Firmament yet require precise control of it means that not a single one of us can access it the way we are. Guard doesn''t have the requisite control, despite his enormous reserves. Ahkelios doesn''t quite have the reserves to match his control, and even then he could use more of both.


    As for me, my core is still too strained for me to give it an attempt. I suspect I might have trouble with it even at my best, though. The complexity of the imbuement... It''s still beyond impressive to me that Virin was able to manage this, even with the entire village helping him.


    Tarin, of course, is absolutely delighted that it can double as a training tool. He makes us all promise to use it diligently and even requests that we come back every so often so he can "make everyone train with it".


    Judging by the look he gives the box after this discovery, I think he might actually slightly regret giving it to us, not that he tries to take it back or anything. He just really, really wants to train with it. I don''t think I''ve ever seen a giant crow look that much like a kicked puppy.


    We say our goodbyes. Tarin especially knows that he might not remember anything from this loop, and he doesn''t let me leave without giving me a firm hug and declaring, quite firmly, that he knows I''ll make him proud. It leaves a warm feeling in my chest.


    It doesn''t escape my notice that Naru''s watching us the whole time, either. This time, though, he doesn''t look jealous. He''s even wearing a small smile.


    "I''ll be heading back to Carusath," he tells me quietly once I''m done with Tarin. "I... need to fix things there. And I''ve heard reports of the Tears worsening."


    "Keep me updated," I say. I hesitate, unsure if I should add anything else¡ªbut then I do. "Let me know if anything goes wrong and you need help. It won''t be hard to reach me. You know where and when I show up."


    Naru shoots me a look that''s surprisingly grateful. He lifts a hand, and it takes me a moment to realize what he wants.


    I give him a fistbump. His side of it is a little harder than necessary, but it''s still surprisingly sincere.


    "Tarin''s not the type to say it out loud," Naru says, eyeing me. "But I know he thinks of you as an honorary son. I''d say that makes us brothers, but right now I still find it hard to stand you."


    I snort. He''s being honest, at least. There''s a warmth in his tone despite his words, so I reply with a simple, wry, "Likewise."


    Brothers, huh? The thought brings old memories back to the surface. I shake my head to push them away, watching as Naru makes his way back to Tarin and Mari''s hut¡ªpresumably to say goodbye to them before he heads back to Carusath.


    Meanwhile, Ahkelios, Guard and I have our own journey to make. I turn to them. They''ve been largely quiet through all of this, recognizing the goodbye for what it is.


    "Ready to get going?" I ask. Ahkelios gives me a thumbs up, and Guard gives me a solemn nod.


    We move on. The artifact the crows gave me is tucked away safely inside Ahkelios''s core using Soul Space. I can''t use the skill myself yet, but Ahkelios can.


    It''s good enough for now. Next stop: the Intermediary.


    I can''t help but worry about what we might find there. Despite the damage in my core, I can still feel the vaguest sense of something growing.


    Almost like a quiet Premonition of what might be coming.

 197 — Book 3, Chapter 56 — Wish You Were Here

    It takes us longer than I''d like to get to the Intermediary. Without full access to my skills¡ªat least insofar as it''d be incredibly unwise to use them¡ªI''m forced to rely on Guard and Ahkelios to get us there.


    In their defense, they''re still fast. Ahkelios maintains his access to my skills, but his Firmament stores aren''t the same as mine; he can''t cover quite the same amount of distance in a single Warpstep. Guard makes up for this, carrying us both when Ahkelios exhausts his Firmament, but his top speed while flying can''t quite match what''s offered by Interface skills.


    Still, it''s good enough that we don''t need to take many breaks. None of us can explain it, but all of us can feel it¡ªan odd sense of impending dread, like the slow descent of a guillotine on our necks. It''s made worse by the fact that we can''t explain why we feel it; all we know is that it''s there.


    It''s a relief when we make it to the Intermediary. The massive door still looms in the forest near Isthanok, identical to how it looked the first time we encountered it...


    ...Not entirely identical. I frown, stepping closer; the door is welded shut. It''s not an ordinary weld, either¡ªthere''s just smooth metal where the opening should have been, like the two sides of the door were joined with Firmament.


    "Someone closed it off," I mutter. It makes sense, in a way, considering how dangerous it is, but I can''t help but feel that the reason it was sealed is nothing so innocent. For one thing, Guard would know about it if it were.


    "I did not know of this," Guard says, confirming my fears. "I left instructions that the Intermediary was to be guarded and avoided. I do not see... give me a moment."


    His optic flickers for a split second¡ªI recognize it as him reaching out to communicate with his proxies. When he speaks again, there''s a clear frown in his voice.


    "The proxies I set to guard the Intermediary have vanished," he reports. "It was done in a way that would not alert me to their disappearance. That is concerning."


    "You mean someone hacked your network?" Ahkelios asks, worried. Guard shakes his head.


    "Not a hack. Better to call it an emulation. Someone was able to replicate the signals I use to communicate between proxies and emulate two complete, intact copies in this vicinity." Guard manages to sound mostly indifferent, but there''s a hint of irritation in his voice. "I have patched the problem, but the perpetrator remains at large."


    "I don''t think that''s our biggest worry at the moment, if the door is sealed," I say. There''s something tickling at the edges of my senses¡ªI focus on that sensation, trying to figure out what it is.


    It''s like there''s a barely-noticeable distortion in the middle of the clearing. I take a step toward it, reaching out slightly; my fingers brush the edges of it¡ª


    ¡ªFirmament.


    I''m not sure I would''ve sensed this had my core not been damaged. It''s incredibly subtle. There''s a working here etched into the natural flow of Firmament in the clearing¡ªan imbuement that''s somehow been written into the air itself. "Ahkelios," I say, stepping back. "I think there''s a portal here. Could you¡ª"


    "On it," Ahkelios says. He can''t sense the portal like I can, but he trusts me without question. I feel him reaching out with Firmament Control, feeding a thread of Firmament into what I perceive as the lock.


    Just like that, a portal slowly pulls open. It wavers in the air like it isn''t quite sure of itself, but it''s there, a tear in space-time that leads directly into the Intermediary. There''s a thin film preventing the dense Firmament on the other side from just pouring through¡ªlikely the reason it needed to be hidden in the first place.


    "I guess that''s our way in," I say, my brows furrowing as I stare at it. "Although this feels... a little too convenient, don''t you think?"


    "Just a little," Ahkelios says. He leans forward to examine the tear, then turns to shoot me a concerned look. "More importantly, are you sure you can withstand the pressure? You remember what happened last time we were here."


    "I''m sure." It''s probably more accurate to say that I have to, but saying that is only going to worry Ahkelios. Besides, I''m not lying¡ªI''m mostly certain I can handle whatever the Intermediary tries to throw at me in terms of Firmament pressure, even with the damage in my core.


    I''m more worried about the two of them, in all honesty. Ahkelios is still only a second-layer practitioner, and Guard isn''t even at his first; they''re both uniquely capable of surviving something like this and they''ve both been here before, but...


    I sigh. I''m probably being a bit of a hypocrite, as far as the worry goes. The reality is that there''s too much to worry about, too many things that can go wrong.


    We''ll have time to react. We''ll adapt, as we always have. I''ve got a contingency or two I can try in the worst-case scenario where the portal closes behind us and the pressure is too great¡ªmy core''s recovered enough that I should be able to pull off at least a Phaseslip. Combine that with an Anchor and it should be able to take us right out of the Intermediary.


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    Not that I want to rely on that. Just the thought of it gives me a headache. Hopefully it doesn''t come to that. We don''t have any protective suits, this time around¡ªwe''re going to rely entirely on the strength of our Firmament.


    My core is damaged, but it should be able to withstand the pressure of the Intermediary enough that I can use it to repair the base layers rather than just cracking. Ahkelios will need the pressure to push to his third shift. Guard has enough Firmament within him to counter the pressure of the Intermediary without collapsing.


    The only complicating factor is Gheraa''s death. His corpse is still in there, rotting away, bleeding into reality and creating a dungeon around it.


    The thought alone makes a low thrum of familiar anger coil within me¡ªfor the Integrators to do this to one of their own...


    But the anger is more than that, I realize. The anger comes from the fact that I considered Gheraa a friend.


    I didn''t trust him at first. I didn''t have many reasons to. But he''s proven himself time and time again, and he''s done it more than once. Without prompting. Without really being given a reason to.


    He''s under my protection as much as Ahkelios and Guard are, and if there''s even a shred of a chance that I can bring him back and undo what the Integrators did to him¡ªeven a shred of a chance I can give him the friendship and trust he might never have experienced, from what he''s told me¡ª


    I can feel the shape of my soul burning within me, eager for growth. Eager for the strength to prevent anything like this from happening ever again.


    No more waiting. I walk forward without stopping, feeling my ears pop as I pass through the portal. Ahkelios and Guard follow close behind.


    Even with that shield of emotion wrapped around me, I''m not fully prepared for the sheer weight that crushes down on me.


    I stagger moments after stepping through, my vision swimming. It''s only Guard reaching out to catch me that prevents me from collapsing entirely into the ground. The pressure manifests as an ache in my teeth and a throbbing in my skull, burning straight into my bones; I take a slow, steadying breath, gritting my teeth and forcing myself to focus.


    This Firmament will hurt me only if I allow it. I''m strong enough now to assert my own will over it¡ªto coax it into place, guide it into the miniscule cracks within the first, foundational layer of my core.


    It hurts. It feels like I''m performing surgery on myself, probably because that''s what this is, in literal terms. It feels like I have to hold my own soul open and carefully layer strips of Firmament into the raw flesh within. I''m hypersensitive to every shift in Firmament, every small change.


    It''s how I can feel Gheraa''s Firmament here. It''s dead and twisted and wrong, forced to turn into something it''s not. The thought sends a fresh wave of anger through me.


    Never again.


    Thick, syrupy layers of visibly red Firmament boils up off my skin, more like a liquid than the usual wispy form of its power. I use my anger like a shield against the pain. It''s been a long time since I''ve let myself feel that rage.


    I know now not to be dominated by it, not to let it control me. Out of control, my anger drives me to recklessness, but that doesn''t mean I shouldn''t feel it.


    I should. I''ve seen how many lives this has ruined. I''ve been exploring a planet trapped in a tortured loop of its own past. I''ve watched its people torn apart by the games of the powerful.


    I couldn''t save everyone in Isthanok. I couldn''t save Miktik. I could still save Gheraa, but not as I am.


    The heat of my anger seals the cracks. Fresh Firmament builds within that foundational layer, drawn in by my rage and shaped by the first truth I ever spoke:


    I''m whoever the fuck I want to be.


    And right now I want to be the person that ends this once and for all.


    I force myself to my feet. Every second Firmament pours into previously unseen cracks in that first layer of Firmament; every second those cracks seal shut, reforging that layer in adamantine will.


    Every second of it hurts more than anything I''ve experienced before, even in my time across the loops. It hurts worse than dragging the stump of my arm across the dirt. Worse than getting crushed, getting stabbed, getting torn apart.


    But not worse than the thought of failing. Not worse than the idea that I might not be strong enough.


    I keep going, sealing crack after crack.


    And as I do this, I push myself back upright. Force myself to take a slow, steadying breath.


    "Ethan?" Ahkelios asks. His voice is uncertain¡ªprobably because I''m quite literally dripping with Firmament. "Are you alright?"


    "Will be." My voice is ragged but sure. "Where are we headed?"


    "I sense a signal from the north. It is likely the part Miktik was suggesting we need," He-Who-Guards offers. He looks as concerned as Ahkelios is. "Ethan. Are you certain you can accompany us?"


    "Have to." I grit my teeth. There''s an argument for me to stay here, to focus on rebuilding those layers without moving, but this is a dungeon. It''s too dangerous a place for us to split up, and this one in particular has already been known to kill people even through the loop. "Can''t split


    This was where Miktik died, after all.


    "We could wait here together," Guard says. "Until you finish¡ª"


    I shake my head. "Dungeon," I say tersely. It''s hard to get the words out with half my mind focused on layering and sealing. "Dangerous to stay still, dangerous to move. Might as well move."


    To his credit, Guard doesn''t waste any more time. He gives me a sharp nod. "Then I will lead the way."


    As if to prove my point, a dozen hands burst out of the ground¡ªeach blue flecked with gold, the same Firmament stoneskin I remember Gheraa being made out of. Whatever remnant of him was controlling the place the last time we were here is gone now, it seems. The hands undulate, weaving across each other, charging straight toward us.


    "Those are clearly claws, Ethan!" Ahkelios yelps as he dives out of the way, dragging me with him. He''s listening in on my thoughts, apparently.


    "Same difference," I say. I ready myself.


    My core is damaged. Half my mind is occupied trying to keep my foundational layer stable as I feed Firmament into it and repair its cracks. I can''t use a single skill while I do this.


    But none of that means I''m weak.

 198 — Book 3, Chapter 57 — A Tale of Three Stars

    It took Gheraa a while to piece it all together. Part of the problem, he thought, was that there was a part of him that didn''t want to put it together. He understood now why the higher ranked Integrators kept it secret¡ªthere was something about the truth that was... uncomfortable, for lack of a better word. Trying to pry open this secret felt wrong.


    He kept going anyway. If there was any chance that this was going to be important, then Gheraa felt he owed it to the people of Earth to try.


    That didn''t mean he needed to stay still while doing it, though. The storm around him was beginning to worsen, a little like the dungeon had finally sensed and recognized the danger of his presence here; more concerning, however, was the fact that he could sense a disturbance elsewhere in the dungeon.


    That was strange. Gheraa hadn''t expected to be interrupted. There were few individuals on Hestia that could survive the pressure of the Intermediary combined with the soulrot of an Integrator''s death. The Hestian Trialgoers could, perhaps, but Gheraa couldn''t think of a reason they''d be interested in the Intermediary. Maybe if they were trying to repair it, but that would require them to have initiative.


    There was another possibility, of course.


    He''d been told that Ethan was trying to bring him back. If there was anyone strong enough to both survive the Intermediary and cause a disturbance he''d be able to sense, it was him.


    Gheraa pushed himself back to his feet and began to walk, trying not to look particularly hurried. As he did, he continued mulling over the fragmented images in his mind, slowly piecing together the core of the secret he''d found. The warning? He still wasn''t sure exactly what it was.


    Even when he''d mostly pieced it together, it felt more like a particularly horrifying children''s tale or a myth of creation than it did a forbidden secret locked within the Firmament of all Integrators. It was strange, to say the least.


    It went a little like this.


    <hr>


    A long, long time ago, when the galaxy was still being born, three beings of untold power began to shape it.


    One was a creature of imagination. She took that which existed only in the mind and made it real, though that could last only for a moment before it winked back into the ether. Idea to reality: she was a god of creation. In her realm, all things were possible, albeit ephemeral. To worship her was to guarantee a brief glimpse of perfection.


    One was a creature of change. Though he could not create, he could bend the path of things, alter their natures. His was a mind that could be wielded like a hammer; where he struck, he altered things permanently. The river of fate was but a thread he could bend to his whims. To worship him required work, for he did not grant things freely, but under him all things became possible. Empires were built and ruined in his name.


    The last was a creature of expansion. His presence was bound initially to a single idea and a single whim, but that whim spread rapidly, joining with everything it touched. His strength lay in sheer, unparalleled range¡ªthere was no corner of the galaxy that lay out of his sight. Artists and creators revered him, for it was under his guidance that their works were talked about and spread.


    Such was the way of things for an eternity and an eon.


    But it was not to last, for each of the three envisioned bigger and better things for the galaxy they called their own. Their power, they knew, would not be enough for any of their creations to withstand the might of the greater universe, let alone the planes above. There were threats out there that were beyond imagining even for them.


    But perhaps it did not need to stay that way forever.


    It rankled at Imagination above all the others. The idea that there might be forces out there that were beyond her? Absurd. There had to be a way to grow, she thought: a way to gather enough power to undermine the fabric of things. To overthrow the hierarchy wrought upon them.


    And if there wasn''t, she could make one. Was that not the very core of her being? Imagination and creation?


    Only she soon realized she could not do such a thing alone. Anything she created did not last¡ªno path to power would be sufficient with the mere extent of her abilities, mighty as they were. So she reached out to Change and spoke to him, a sensuous lilt in her voice.


    "I can make anything real," she said. "But only for a moment. My creations cannot last forever. But you, Change... your strength makes things permanent."


    Change eyed her with suspicion. They had not spoken much before now. There was an understanding between the three that they would not interfere with one another lest they upset the balance they had created.


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    "What would you have me do?" he asked, his tone guarded.


    Imagination wrapped herself around him, whispering a tantalizing scene. A fantasy, almost. She could create anything, and Change could render it permanent. Together, they could write new laws into being. They could carve a path into the universe, make it possible to grow beyond themselves. They could become the very terrors they feared.


    And Change, despite himself, found the idea more and more alluring as her whispers grew more insistent.


    So they worked together. They toiled for an eon, Change and Imagination entwined, his hammer to her nails.


    And yet their power, even together, was not enough.


    They saw this eventually, though not without the passage of another untold eon. Anything they created took too long to grow and expand into something powerful enough to be used¡ªit would be another eternity before even their best efforts rewarded them with even an iota of what they needed, and in that time, their enemies would grow ever greater.


    They needed a third. They needed Expansion.


    It was Imagination that approached him first, the same way she approached Change. She spoke her words of enticement, wrapped her ideas in delightful dance and fevered fantasy; she told him her dreams of a path through which they could all become more than they were.


    But Expansion shook his head. He had no interest in her wiles or the seductive future she painted; he knew the risks of what she proposed and the dangers of an imagination run amok. To upturn the status quo would bring unwanted attention upon them, he opined. Better to stay where they were, keep things nice and safe and steady.


    Imagination would not have this. She tried again and again, and when she failed, she turned to Change¡ªasked him to try in her place.


    And though reluctant, eventually, he did.


    Change went to Expansion and spoke of a future in which they were entwined, a future in which Expansion could do more than inspire the growth and spread of ideas. When Expansion and Change operated in tandem, they could remake entire solar empires; it was hardly the first time, and it would not be the last. He reminded Expansion of the ecstasy in their union, the power they wrought together.


    And it was here that Expansion finally relented.


    He joined the other two, and the three began to work in earnest, building a means through which they might gain enough power to wreak havoc to the system they were trapped within.


    This was not without its failures, of course. Such a system required experimentation. They failed more than once, left cities and empires dusted behind them as they iterated and improved¡ªbut at last, finally, they had something that worked.


    Then there was a betrayal.


    The specifics, alas, were muddied. Fragments of Firmament claimed that it was Change that wanted all that accumulated power for himself. Others said it was Imagination, stealing and hoarding secrets about the new form of power they were creating. Still others implied it was Expansion, whispering lies and untruths into the ears of anyone that would listen, ending the era of trust in the gods.


    The truth of it, at the end of the day, mattered less than the result:


    Change was imprisoned. After the battle was done, he was locked away in the center of the galaxy and used as fuel for the new form of power he''d helped create.


    But a power as great as that of Change could not truly be imprisoned. Limited as he was¡ªwith almost no reach, without the power to create, with even his biggest strength locked away to almost nothing¡ªthere was little he could do. Anything he tried would take centuries to culminate to any sort of fruition, and in that time both Expansion and Imagination would have long since left the galaxy.


    But Change was patient, and a revenge best served was one no one saw coming.


    So he bided his time. He made the small, miniscule changes he could from within his prison. He plotted and prepared. What he needed was for his changes to slowly accumulate, and accumulate they did¡ªenough to eventually birth an entire new species.


    A species nomadic in nature, destined to go on a galactic pilgrimage, empowering him whilst seeking the key that would unlock his prison.


    And in the meantime?


    Well. Even within his prison, he could benefit from the system they had created. He could gather his power and grow. From Shallow to Submerged, from Submerged to Sunken... Just as they''d predicted, the new system they''d created allowed them to move entire tiers beyond what they''d been able to do before.


    Such was the tale of the Sunken King.


    He would return. He would tear apart that which he helped create, consume it along with all that remained of the Founding Three and their legacy. If needed, he would swallow the galaxy whole¡ªthat would be enough to bring him to the depths of power needed to track down his so-called companions and get his answers. Enact his revenge.


    Even if they''d left, they wouldn''t be able to hide the trail of their power from him. It could be obfuscated, perhaps. Hidden. But that trail still glimmered in the annals of history, in the place he''d once been betrayed and locked away.


    After the conclusion of an experiment in a place that had once been called First Sky.


    <hr>


    Gheraa wasn''t sure what to make of the vision, in truth. A lot of what he''d seen felt like it was painted in metaphor, too abstract to be of any use¡ªthe broad strokes of what he''d seen were likely true, but it was vague enough that he couldn''t be sure.


    Though there were one or two truths in there that threatened to shake the foundation of everything he''d ever known, so it was possible he was just trying not to think too hard about it.


    The Integrators as an artificial race, created to free some being known as the Sunken King... except if the vision was right, then the Sunken King was either already back or in the process of returning. How long had they been Integrating and completing Trials? How many more needed to be completed before he was free?


    If he was free already, then surely far more would have changed¡ªand yet Gheraa couldn''t shake the dread that was beginning to settle over him like a shadow.


    Another disturbance shook the dungeon, and Gheraa broke into a run.

 199 — Book 3, Chapter 58 — Duality

    It''s not exactly easy to fight while layering threads of Firmament into my core, but it''s not impossible, either. I rely on Guard and Ahkelios for the bulk of it, thankful that the dungeon''s challenges are¡ªat least for the time being¡ªrestricted to something that isn''t particularly dangerous.


    Ahkelios''s hand tightens on my shoulder. I feel the telltale flare of Firmament as he activates Distorted Crux, wrapping us both in its power. There''s a distortion in the air as more of the dungeon''s claw-hands approach and struggle against the skill, slowing from their blistering speed into something more manageable.


    My movements are awkward, but I force myself to stagger to the side, taking Ahkelios with me. Before they can course-correct, I grab one of them by the wrist and step forward, yanking it hard to the left and shoving forward with my right arm.


    There''s an audible crack and then a snap as I rip solid Firmament apart. Ahkelios visibly winces at the sight. "Sometimes you scare me," he mutters, though his hand doesn''t leave my shoulder.


    "Ahkelios, your primary means of attack..." I groan a bit as the pain within my soul briefly intensifies; my vision goes white, and Ahkelios yanks me out of the way of an attack that would''ve skewered me through the eye. "...for most of the loops..."


    "Ethan, stop trying to be snarky while doing surgery on yourself!" Ahkelios snaps, exasperated. I respond by pulling him down just before another set of hands manages to grab him.


    "...has been drilling yourself through the brains of our enemies like a living bullet," I finish. I manage to seal another of the cracks within that first layer as I say this, too, though my voice trembles with the effort.


    Ahkelios groans. "Yeah, fair point," he concedes. I can''t tell if he''s just doing it so I don''t press the point, but he gives me an admonishing glare before I can respond. "Now focus," he says. It''s his turn again to haul me out of the way of one set of hands before they can tear through my stomach.


    This time, I return the favor by spinning him around behind me just before another would have cut through his skull. The blow glances off my forearms instead, cutting through my skin but leaving my bones entirely intact.


    Gah. It''s a nasty wound, but the pain is nothing compared to the soul-deep one still tearing through my core. It takes effort to balance the fight with the reinforcement¡ªI have to layer each thread of Firmament between every exchange while keeping in place everything I''ve managed so far.


    I''m making progress, I can tell, but that progress is slow.


    And so is our progress through the dungeon. He-Who-Guards leads the way, but the walls around us have grown into something of a maze; the signal he''s following is apparently distorted through the walls, and every time he arrives at a fork or an intersection he has to pause to identify which way to go.


    Unfortunately, every fork and intersection is also where the dungeon usually decides to send more of its hands after us. Kind of a miracle it hasn''t tried a different strategy yet, but right now I''ll take what miracles I can get.


    If I had to guess, the only reason this isn''t more difficult is because the dungeon itself still isn''t fully developed. It''s having to grow around the Intermediary, and the Intermediary is... fighting back, in a way. Trying to rebuild itself at the same time the dungeon is trying to grow.


    I force another thread of Firmament into the first layer of my core and grit my teeth against the pain that follows. The sooner I get this done, the faster we should be able to move through the dungeon.


    Every move I make is agonizing.


    I forge on.


    The banter with Ahkelios is a part of it, really. I wield my emotions like a shield against the pain. The anger helps, but where anger fails, there''s the joy in the friends I''ve found. Where joy fails, there''s the fear that what I am might not be enough. I''m not afraid to admit to that fear¡ªI have to acknowledge it to be able to set it aside.


    With every layer of Firmament I thread into my core, I make myself remember. Joy, anger, fear, regret, hope... the loops have carried me through a lot, but even with time itself as an ally, there''s too much at stake for me to lose.


    "Guard," I say. "You still have the signal?"


    "We are close," Guard agrees. He''s getting better at navigating the maze with every moment that passes¡ªwe stop for less time and move even faster at every intersection.


    "You know the way back, right?" Ahkelios asks nervously. His hand grips at my shoulder a little tighter. "Because I''m kind of lost, and Ethan definitely has no idea."


    I manage a scowl. "You don''t know that."


    "Focus on your thing," Ahkelios says, turning to glare at me. I just smirk at him, though I think my eyes are still hazy with pain¡ªrather than get more annoyed, Ahkelios''s expression actually softens a little, and I feel him adjust so I can lean my weight on him a little more.


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    It''s nice of him. The pain is admittedly still overwhelming, and the closer I get to finishing with the first layer, the worse that pain gets. It''s hard to keep track of how far along I am.


    "You are almost done reinforcing the first layer," the Knight interjects helpfully. It sounds impressed, if I''m reading it correctly. "In truth, you could move on to the second¡ª"


    "No," I respond mentally, shaking my head. "I need every advantage I can get."


    The Knight doesn''t exactly say anything in return, but I can feel approval radiating through our bond.


    I''m not sure how much longer we do this¡ªtime''s a hard thing to track when inside a dungeon, and doubly so when half my mind is occupied with the equivalent of a soul trance. All I know is that there''s a moment where my entire core shivers, followed by a sensation best described by the ringing of a bell coupled with being doused with ice-cold water.


    That''s the first layer.


    Something in my heart unclenches a little, though I''m still shaking from the effort of it all. The risk is far from over, and basic testing tells me I''m not quite able to use my skills yet, but getting this far tells me that this is possible. In spite of our circumstances, in spite of everything that''s happening, I''m halfway there.


    All I need to do is endure this one more time, fix up the second layer¡ª


    ¡ªit takes me a second to realize that the shaking I''m feeling isn''t coming from me. I glance up in alarm. Ahkelios and Guard have both stopped in their tracks. There''s nothing physically there, as far as I can tell, and yet...


    The maze around us is trembling, the walls groaning in protest. Something flares bright and sharp in my Firmament sense, a foreign intrusion that feels like it doesn''t belong. It takes me a moment to parse it.


    A threat, but not entirely of the dungeon. Like something''s taken control of part of the dungeon and turned it into something... else. Something broken and wrong. I can feel the dungeon try to fight back, but it''s no use¡ªthe spread is sharp and rapid, if thankfully limited. Whatever this is isn''t strong enough to burn further into the dungeon just yet.


    It''s a small comfort.


    The Interface flickers in front of me.


    [This may be the last time you hear from me. Know that I wish you the best, despite our differences. Good luck, O Heir Mine.]


    [New protocols downloaded.]


    [Warning! Unknown threat detected! Modified ANCHORED HERITAGE protocols initiating...]


    [Threat identified. Proceed with caution.]


    There''s a creature rising up from the floor of the dungeon. It''s tearing up the walls to do it¡ªdragging dungeon material into itself, growing larger with every moment that passes.


    More than that, though? It''s swallowing every drop of Firmament it can from the dungeon. Some of it is just the raw Firmament from the Intermediary, but a lot of it is from the dungeon itself¡ªthe building blocks of Gheraa''s soul burned into reality and now being... what, repurposed?


    It''s changing it, somehow. Altering that Firmament in some way that''s deeper and more fundamental than what I do when I convert Firmament for my own use. It takes me a second to understand, but the moment I do, something in me grows cold.


    Whatever this is, it''s taking Gheraa''s Firmament and corrupting it with some kind of viral Concept. I can feel his Firmament being forcibly twisted into something it was never meant to be, and worse, it''s being done in a way that might prevent me from untwisting it.


    This thing... there''s a chance this thing was designed specifically to stop me from bringing Gheraa back.


    Why here? Why now?


    The new protocol in the Interface seems to be a sort of identification function, but if I had to guess, its real purpose is to serve as a warning. The Trials themselves have always stuck to some twisted notion of fairness, but something''s been pushing at those boundaries. Making things more dangerous than the Trials would normally allow. There was everything that happened in the Empty City during the last Ritual stage, and now...


    Well, now there''s this. I stare up at the Interface label now hovering above the still-forming creature, giving it a name and a rank.


    [Hand of an Empty Throne (Corrupted) (Rank SSS)]


    "Uh," Ahkelios says. "You''re seeing that too, right?"


    "Do we fight?" Guard''s voice is steady. He doesn''t take his optic off the threat. I don''t respond for a moment, my mind racing as I try to figure out our options.


    If this thing wants to kill us, turning our backs on it is going to be deadly. I have no idea how this half-formed dungeon would interact with the loops. It''s ripping Firmament away from the dungeon at an alarming rate.


    Running isn''t an option.


    "We fight," I agree. "Don''t give it time to finish forming. Guard, start chaining it down. ''Kelios? Throw me."


    "Wha¡ª"


    "Throw me," I say. I don''t have the spare brainpower to spend on maneuvering or any available skills, but...


    At the end of the day, my Interface skills don''t define my ability to fight. They help, certainly, but I''ve been a fighter since before the Interface gave me anything. Things are different when it comes to the Trials, of course, but then I have a new advantage, don''t I?


    My body has changed. The Physical and Astral Pools have altered my ability to fight on a fundamental level¡ªgiven me raw abilities that no third-layer practitioner should have. And that''s not even accounting for the change to my bones that Kauku basically forced on me.


    Honestly, I''m not sure how human my body is anymore.


    But I know how human my spirit is.


    Ahkelios launches me toward the Hand like a spear. I keep one part of my brain focused on threading Firmament into the cracks of my second layer. The other greedily absorbs all the information it can about the fight, even as Guard begins to chain the Hand down and Ahkelios covers one of his arms in my Amplified Gauntlet.


    It hasn''t finished forming. The layers of Firmament on it are thick, but they''re solid. All that distortion on it makes it easier to grab, easier to pull, easier to separate false skin from mimicked bone.


    So that''s what I do.


    The moment I make contact, I begin to tear through.

 200 — Book 3, Chapter 59 — Missed Opportunities

    Rhythm. It''s all about the rhythm.


    It takes me a while to realize it. I don''t know how long I try to fight while just bearing the pain of my cracked foundations, holding them together with sheer willpower while I stumble out of a blow or try to tear my way through another part of the Hand. The problem is that it''s regenerating almost as fast as we can do damage to it¡ªeven with all the power Guard and Ahkelios has gained, we don''t have enough. Not to kill something of this magnitude and power.


    It''s like the Seedmother fight, almost, except Ahkelios doesn''t have the Firmament to pull off the strategy we used in that fight. That means we''re locked in a stalemate, and that stalemate means we aren''t making progress. Even my progress with the second layer has trickled down to almost nothing.


    But there''s a rhythm to the fight. A push and pull, an ebb and flow. I''m not sure it''s something I would''ve been able to sense if not for the enhanced sensitivity I have to Firmament, but even the environment around us is reacting to this rhythm. All the ambient power around us shifts and pulses in response to every move in the fight, practically in time to what we''re doing...


    ...sometimes even before we do it.


    Is that how Premonition works? I''d assumed it had something to do with Temporal Firmament, but maybe that''s not what it is. Maybe it''s interacting with this background Firmament somehow, detecting a shift in the fight before it happens. The more I watch, the more I see the pattern, and the more I become convinced of one thing.


    We aren''t going to win as we are.


    Something needs to change. Guard needs to complete his first shift. Ahkelios needs to complete his second. I need to finish reinforcing my fundamental layers so I have access to my Interface skills again. We need something capable of completely altering the pattern and changing the flow of the fight.


    Which means I''m going to have to take a risk.


    I''m reasonably sure I can handle it. The thing about this rhythm is that I can work my core reinforcement into it¡ªmatch it to the world around me. If I follow the pattern of the fight, draw Firmament with every pull and thread Firmament it with every push¡ªit hurts a little less, somehow. Like I''m going with the flow of the world instead of fighting against it with every breath.


    It doesn''t eliminate the pain, of course, but... I test it out anyway. I draw a deep, ragged breath¡ªfeel Firmament flow into me, circling around my core¡ªand follow up with an exhale and a right hook into the Hand. I make my Firmament follow the movement, thread it into a tiny gap at the exact same instant the punch makes contact.


    It feels right. I breathe a little easier, find my thoughts a little more centered.


    All I have to do is follow the rhythm of the fight. I''m trying to do two things at once, but what I need to do is make them both the same thing.


    Dodge to the side to evade a swipe from the Hand. Pull Firmament with me in the same movement, feel it fill my core with golden power. Dodge again¡ªa little like holding my breath¡ªand then launch myself forward, cracking a bone with the force of my punch. Thread the Firmament into the next crack, feel myself become a little more whole...


    I can do this.


    "Guard," I say. "Go find the piece you need. Finish the first shift if you can. ''Kelios? Go with him, find somewhere safe, and finish your third shift."


    "What?" Ahkelios turns to stare at me and nearly gets knocked off his feet for it; Guard drags him out of the way just in time, blasters firing at full throttle. "Ethan, you can''t beat this thing alone right now, you can''t even¡ª"


    "Don''t need to beat it," I grunt. "Just need to hold it off. We''ll be stuck in a stalemate otherwise. Go. And do it fast. I''m going to need you guys to finish this."


    "But¡ª" Ahkelios begins to protest. It doesn''t matter, though. Guard hasn''t let go of him, and unlike Ahkelios, he doesn''t waste time arguing. He just leaps again, dragging the hybrid mantid with him.


    They disappear with a startled yelp.


    I shut down everything that''s not focused on the fight and on maintaining the repairs in my core. I hone in on the rhythm I''m seeing. On the push and pull of Firmament in the background.


    "Well?" I say. "Let''s dance."


    The Hand roars, and the fight resumes.


    <hr>


    "Are you sure we should''ve left him there?" Ahkelios fretted. "What if¡ª"


    "He is stubborn," He-Who-Guards said. "Arguing would have only caused us to waste time. We must hurry."


    Ahkelios sighed. "I thought you were supposed to be the overprotective one."


    "It... has been a problem, I admit," Guard said, not without a little humor in his voice. He scanned the maze around them once, then dove again in the direction of the signal he was detecting; they were only minutes away, if that. "But I have learned to trust in the two of you. Have you not learned the same?"


    "I have!" Ahkelios protested. "It''s just... Everything feels different now. It''s¡ªit was sort of comforting just being the sidekick, you know? Now I''m bigger, and I can do more, and I feel more..."


    "Responsible?"


    "Yeah," Ahkelios said. "I feel like I should be doing more."


    "I feel that way often," Guard said. His sensors detected a change in the path ahead, and he shifted directions, taking Ahkelios with him. "Especially when we first began fighting together. Your tactics are rather concerning."


    "Comes with fighting in a loop," Ahkelios said, not denying it.


    "I have the impulse often," Guard said. "To try to interfere or redirect. But was it not you that told me to allow Ethan to do his work, back when he was performing his procedure on our avian allies?"


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Throwing my own words back at me, are you?" Ahkelios chuckled. "Don''t interrupt him when he''s focused. I remember. You''re right, I just... don''t like leaving him behind."


    "Then we must return quickly," Guard said. He turned a final corner. "We are here."


    In front of them was... there was no polite way to describe it other than as a "pile of garbage'', perhaps. No surprise Miktik hadn''t been able to find the chip if it was buried so deep within a random pile of tech within the Intermediary¡ªhad he not been attuned to filter out signals like these, he wouldn''t have been able to find it himself. As it was, though, Guard was able to pick out the exact origin point and begin digging.


    Ahkelios, meanwhile, sat in a corner of the little clearing and took a deep breath. Guard felt the Firmament around him beginning to coalesce and nodded to himself.


    Despite his words, he was worried. His every instinct demanded that they return and help Ethan with the fight. But the human was right¡ªevery analysis he''d run said the same thing. They were in a stalemate, and without something changing, they wouldn''t win.


    So he had to do this, and he had to do this quickly.


    Of course, he''d never succeeded before, and the only reason his core daemon had even spoken to him last time was because of Ethan''s presence. There was every chance the phase shift wouldn''t go as smoothly as he hoped. But what choice did he have?


    His friends were counting on him.


    His fingers closed around the device that was emitting the signal, and he pulled it free. It resembled a syringe, oddly enough. One with a trigger mechanism and a small chip embedded within it. Instructions filtered through, encoded within the signal. All he had to do was integrate the chip.


    Guard aimed it at the back of his neck where the AI module was located.


    This... wasn''t the best of plans, perhaps. There were a number of things that could go wrong with inserting some unknown chip into his own systems. But he didn''t have time to take the chip back to Isthanok for analysis, and more to the point...


    He-Who-Guards thought it was about time he trusted himself. He knew who he was now¡ªall that was left was to prove it.


    He pulled the trigger.


    <hr>


    Separation.


    Where there was one being, there were now two. He-Who-Guards stood in front of another mechanical body that looked almost identical to his own¡ªa little more feminine, perhaps. An aesthetic choice by its owner. The chip integration had been so instantaneous it took him a second to parse what was even happening; there was a moment where he almost thought that an entire second body had been created out of nothing, but that wasn''t quite the case.


    He was back inside his core, caught once more on the verge of his first phase shift. Except he hadn''t been the one to initiate it. This was...


    "I''m Aris," the AI core supplied. There was something carefully neutral in her tone¡ªshe watched him with a wary optic.


    She didn''t trust him, then. Guard thought his feelings might have been hurt, but in truth, he understood. The relationship they shared was a complicated one. Before he''d been cured¡ªback when he''d been nothing more than a puppet under Whisper''s control¡ªhe''d needed Aris''s capabilities to be able to properly function. She''d helped him think his thoughts, for lack of a better way to put it.


    It meant she''d never had time for any of her own. Guard hadn''t even known she was capable of it until the revelation from his core.


    "You know me already," Guard said. "But if a formal introduction is in order, I am He-Who-Guards."


    Aris nodded, then seemed to hesitate. "I''ve... spent enough time in your mind that I can guess," she said. "But I have to ask anyway. Why did you free me? You could have kept me the way I was. A semi-intelligent, autonomous assistant."


    "Not while knowing you could be more," Guard said. "And certainly not while knowing what Miktik wanted of you."


    "Miktik." Aris''s optic flashed a brief, sorrowful blue¡ªshe was more expressive than he was, Guard noted. "My mother."


    "You remember her?"


    "I do," Aris said. "Precepts like me develop in two stages¡ªformative and coalesced. We aren''t meant to be kept in our formative stage for so long, but clearly Whisper had her own ideas."


    "You aren''t just one of Miktik''s inventions," Guard said.


    "I am and I''m not." Aris shook her head. "She made some modifications. Precepts are normally bound to the Integrators or uploaded into the Interface¡ªshe needed to make changes to make sure I could be my own being. But before she could find that quantum chip you just integrated, Whisper stole me and bound my core to your body."


    "I see." Guard frowned¡ªas best as he was able, anyway. "I am sorry."


    "Are you?" Aris asked. She curled up on the ground, legs drawn up to her chest, optic staring off into the distance. "You needed to do this to finish your phase shift. Did you free me because you wanted to, or did you do it because you needed to?"


    Ah. That explained why she''d asked her question. Guard hesitated before he answered, not because he didn''t know the answer, but because...


    Well, because he was starting to understand.


    Aris was scared.


    "It... must be difficult," Guard said, "to be born in circumstances such as these." He sat himself down beside her¡ªneither too close nor too far, lending her what support he could without getting into her space.


    Aris was silent. She didn''t agree with his words, but nor did she refute them. She didn''t try to push him away.


    "It is true that I need power," Guard said. He thought he could see it better now. She was trying to hide her fear, but it was there, just beneath the surface. "And that need led me down this path. But I would have sought this regardless, had I known it was needed."


    Aris looked down. "I can''t know that for sure," she said quietly. "I know that''s stupid. I''ve shared your mind, sort of. You were pretty damaged, but I still... I think I know the kind of person you are. It''s just..."


    She sighed and hugged her legs to herself. The next words were spoken like a confession. "I always thought it would be Miktik greeting me when I came into being," she said. "I want my mom, and she''s gone. Forget goodbye, I... I never even got to say hello."


    It was Guard''s turn to fall silent. He said nothing for a long moment, aware both that time was ticking and even more aware of the importance of this moment.


    Before him was a frightened... perhaps child wasn''t the right word, but she reminded him of one. She sat in front of him, alone and afraid, within the vast expanse of his soul¡ªa soul that had been trying to coalesce into its first phase for a long, long time. A soul that demanded from him an answer.


    Who was he?


    He was He-Who-Guards, but that was only a name.


    Right now, there was someone in front of him that wanted more than anything to feel safe. Alone, his options would have been limited. But he wasn''t alone, was he?


    Deep within Guard''s soul, a drop of pure, invisible Firmament trembled. Two glittering flames danced around it in orbit, the final remnants of his own parents and the hopes they held for him.


    Guard held out a hand to Aris. "Then let us make sure you get your chance," he said. He knew Ethan now. He trusted that the human would''ve found a way to get a message back from Miktik to Aris, and even if he hadn''t, he trusted that they''d find a way to do it together.


    I am not a guard. I am a protector. And I do not act alone.


    That was his answer.


    Guard had thought for the longest time that this was a future that would never be open to him. It was, by the metrics of everything he''d ever known, an impossibility: someone born with a soul like his was meant to burn bright and fast, but not for long.


    But impossible was not a word that Ethan Hill knew, and He-Who-Guards was starting to understand what that really meant. More than that, even.


    He was starting to understand how to make it his own.


    The two flames flickered with something like pride. They fell into that drop of pure Firmament, refining it, burning with it until it became something solid and real. The instant it did, the change rippled out through Guard''s soul, a pure refinement of who he was ringing out into existence.


    And just like that, a first-layer core burned bright within him.

 201 — Book 3, Chapter 60 — Overtime

    Gheraa stared at the destruction before him.


    There was a whole section of the dungeon that was just... obliterated. He could feel it like a physical pain in his chest. Which was unusual and deeply unpleasant in and of itself, but not quite as unusual or as unpleasant as the hands he saw dragging themselves through the rubble.


    His hands.


    Well, sort of. They were clearly meant to be his hands¡ªthey had the same pattern of golden Firmament sealed into the back, even if it was kind of an ugly rendition of that pattern.


    Except his hands didn''t look like that. He''d put some real work into his hands! This was just a mockery of all the work he''d put into sculpting them. Claws instead of fingers, digging into the walls and floors with all the elegance of the inept supervisor he''d been forced to work under as an Integrator.


    They were making an absolute wreck out of what remained of his soul, too. That was probably the bigger problem here. He was a paradox-existence pulled out of time by the living embodiment of Hestia herself, but that paradox rested on Ethan bringing him back via his dungeon. If the dungeon was destroyed, he''d fade away with it.


    Even now, he could feel the damage these things were doing. It wasn''t significant¡ªnot yet¡ªbut if he allowed these things to run rampant...


    Gheraa let out an aggravated sigh. He was going to have to take care of this infestation, wasn''t he? That was annoying. He''d been looking forward to seeing Ethan again, and now it turned out the disturbance he''d sensed was just a bunch of corrupted hands.


    It was worrying, too, because outside interference with a dungeon shouldn''t have been possible. The Interface had protections around that kind of thing. His dungeon might not have fully formed yet, but this looked like an intrusion from outside the Trial.


    More evidence of this Sunken King. That feeling of dread was beginning to grow. Gheraa didn''t particularly like it.


    Hopefully this wouldn''t take too long. They didn''t seem to be exceptionally powerful, at least¡ªthey were about Rank A or so by Interface standards, if he had to guess. Even weakened as he was, they wouldn''t pose a problem for him.


    Unless there was a boss of some kind. He frowned at the thought. That was how the Interface tended to do things, wasn''t it? But he couldn''t sense any particularly strong monsters in front of him...


    Elsewhere in the dungeon, perhaps. This wasn''t the only disturbance he sensed. Gheraa hummed, trying to cheer himself up. Maybe one of those would be Ethan?


    In all fairness, Gheraa thought, a little exercise before meeting up with the human wouldn''t be the worst idea. It''d be their first real meeting, and it wouldn''t do to embarrass himself. And if there was a boss, he could show up at the last minute and rescue him, like one of those Earth shows he''d watched during pre-Integration.


    Alright. He was feeling better. There was nothing Gheraa liked more than the chance to show off. He grinned, cracking his neck.


    "Alright, then," he said. "Time to throw some hands!"


    <hr>


    Rhythm. I have to follow the rhythm.


    It''s getting harder. I''ve narrowed my focus until there''s nothing left but me and the Hand¡ªdodging, moving, twisting, dancing around one another. I''m doing what damage I can, but the reality is that attacking it is mostly pointless. It doesn''t really even slow down to heal.


    No. Right now, it''s more important that I keep it distracted and try to minimize the damage it does to everything around me. That, at least, isn''t difficult¡ªit seems to have a particular vendetta for me. I don''t think it even tried to follow Guard and Ahkelios when they left.


    Even with that advantage, though, I worry. The more damage it does, the more of the dungeon it consumes. It shouldn''t be anywhere close to doing enough damage to affect Gheraa''s resurrection, but that doesn''t change the fact that it''s trying. It doesn''t change the fact that every time it strikes a piece of the dungeon, my odds of bringing back my friend grow a little worse.


    It doesn''t change the fact that it might not be alone.


    I try not to think about that part. If I had the concentration to spare, I might have been able to expand the range of my Firmament sense to detect any other disturbances within the dungeon¡ªI''m almost certain that some of the flickers I see in the pattern might be from something and someone else.


    Problem is, I don''t have time to analyze it. It takes everything I have to keep a mental grip on the fight and on the flow of Firmament around me, and that''s something I have to do without losing track of the repairs on the second layer of my core.


    I duck beneath one blow, dodge past another, then sense a twisted burst of Firmament that I only barely manage to leap past. Some kind of skill? There''s a hissing, burbling sort of sound as it burns into the walls of the dungeon, but I can''t spare the focus to look behind.


    The Knight is doing its best to help, at least, but even then there''s only so much it can do. A full transformation with my core still under repair would undo all my progress and might permanently ruin my ability to use Firmament.


    So I keep moving. I use the ruined environment to my advantage, hiding behind and between chunks of rubble, keeping the Hand in the center of its own destruction as much as I can.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I''m lucky it''s not more intelligent. If it were, it might have figured me out¡ªrealized that I''m stalling. Instead, it just roars at me and keeps going.


    I smile a grim smile.


    Hopefully Guard and Ahkelios won''t be much longer. In the meantime, I keep layering those threads of Firmament into the second layer of my core, ignoring the burning pain it ignites with every sealed crack.


    Almost done. Just a little more before I can fight with everything I have.


    <hr>


    Ahkelios felt his core tremble. He sat at the precipice of the third layer¡ªthe Firmament in the Intermediary was suffocating, but he''d drawn it in and held it until he was full to bursting. Now all he needed was a moment to sit...


    ...and he found himself in his core once more, a question burning at the forefront of his mind.


    What is your truth?


    He was a second-layer practitioner. He''d answered the questions posed to him by both the first and the second layer¡ªdefined them according to who he was and who he wanted to be. Exactly like he was supposed to.


    There was just one problem with that.


    Ahkelios had changed.


    When he''d given his answers for those initial phase shifts, things had been different. At the time, he''d been overwhelmed by everything he needed to do¡ªtrapped in an endlessly repeating world with increasingly powerful monsters that tore him apart when he tried to fight them. When he was finally given the opportunity to grow, he''d cared only about survival. About becoming the person he thought he needed to be to pass his Trial.


    I am a wielder of the Sword. I will become that which can cut through anything.


    They felt right at the time, and they''d certainly lent him power, but they didn''t feel right anymore.


    Which meant Ahkelios had a problem. Those answers were embedded thoroughly within the first and second layers of his core; he couldn''t change them now, no matter how much he might have wanted to. Any answers given during a phase shift became a permanent part of who you were.


    Even if he was more than that now. Even if he wanted to be more than a blade, more than a force to be wielded.


    This moment¡ªthis third phase shift¡ªit would be his final chance to refine who he was.


    He needed a Truth that did more than represent who he was. It needed to represent everything he could be and everything he wanted to be. A Truth was the final element that could impact the answers he''d already given. It was the vehicle through which those answers were interpreted, after all. If he chose right, if he chose well...


    His Truth would be the reason he wielded his Sword. It would define what it meant to cut.


    Ahkelios couldn''t change the answers he''d given, but he could choose what those answers meant.


    A Truth like Ethan''s would have made it easy. "Change." It was the sort of Truth that could recontextualize and redefine by default. Try as he might, though, Ahkelios couldn''t resonate quite as deeply with the concept. Ethan may have been the closest friend he''d ever had, but he wasn''t driven to change things the way he was.


    More to the point, Ahkelios suspected that there were very few individuals out there with one-word Truths. So that was out of the question.


    Ahkelios felt a lance of pain thread through his core and winced.


    Time was ticking down, even now. He didn''t have an infinite amount of time to find an answer, not only because Ethan was counting on him but because of the nature of the third shift. Firmament was flooding into him, his core was straining, and it demanded an answer. If he let this keep going without providing one...


    Ahkelios took a deep breath.


    It didn''t change anything. He couldn''t give an answer that was less than perfect even if he wanted to¡ªwhatever Truth he chose needed to resonate with his core enough to cause a coalescence. The third shift wouldn''t work without an answer he believed in, completely and utterly.


    And although he''d had time to think, he still wasn''t sure what that answer was.


    Something about art and beauty might have been right a long, long time ago. Back when he''d been a scientist and an artist and life had been all about taking what he learned and putting it to canvas. The memories were precious to him still, and he hoped his home and his paintings still stood, but...


    Those things didn''t represent him. Not anymore. It wasn''t that it mattered to him any less¡ªlearning to see the inherent beauty in the world again had been an integral part in building his new understanding of himself.


    It just wasn''t the whole picture.


    Ahkelios thought. He felt the strain grow, felt the tiniest of cracks begin to form. Pain began to radiate from his chest. Ahkelios felt it, but it was nothing in comparison to¡ª


    ¡ªto what Zhir had experienced.


    Something within him sparked at that. A memory of his encounter with Zhir and the one factor that had sealed his victory over his more nihilistic counterpart. They both missed their home, but Ahkelios was the one between the two of them that remembered why that still mattered.


    Old memories surfaced. Memories of exploring crystalline mountains, glowing oceans, moving forests. Memories of leaving small pieces of his home behind and finding small pieces left behind by others, piecing together a history of places he''d never seen and people''s he''d never met.


    New memories surfaced, too. Exploring Hestia with Ethan and now Guard¡ªlearning to again feel the wonder that had once been practically bursting out of him. The Cliffside Crows, the shard-citadels of Istahnok, the crater that was Carusath.


    "I want to see it all," Ahkelios said. It felt right to say it out loud, even if there was no one here to hear him; he was within the confines of his own core, after all. "And I don''t just want to explore. I want to see what''s underneath."


    Something in his soul rang with those words, but he wasn''t done.


    Once upon a time, he''d relied on his eye to find the beauty in things. He saw so many colors that no one else could see, and when that was taken away from him... even with all the ways in which he''d changed, he''d thought it was over. It was the catalyst that made him give up on his Trial and on the loops.


    "Everything has a story," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "Every home, every landmark, every person. That''s my Truth, isn''t it? That no matter the person or place or thing, there''s something that lies beneath. Something that matters."


    His soul rang again, solidifying. Firmament drew into his core, wrapping around itself over and over, coalescing.


    "My Truth is the heart that lies beneath," Ahkelios said quietly.


    A sword could be wielded to protect a heart. It could be used to pierce it, if need be. And Ahkelios did not mind if he was the blade that cut to the truth of things, that unveiled the beauty or the horror that lay within.


    He was still a wielder of the Sword, but now that Sword had meaning.


    Ahkelios stood, opening his eyes back within the reality of the Intermediary. Reddish-gold Firmament bled away from him as he did, and he flexed his fingers, marveling at the ease with which the movement came. His body felt... more his own, somehow.


    Guard looked at him. The automaton was practically bleeding raw Firmament, pulses of pure energy reverberating off of him. He''d completed his shift too, then.


    "Let''s go," Ahkelios said. Guard nodded at him.


    They went.

 202 — Book 3, Chapter 61 — Changed

    I sense them before I see them.


    The pattern in the Firmament around me changes suddenly, and just like that, the rhythm of the battle is different. Even before Ahkelios''s voice reaches me, I can feel the tide of Firmament moving in a new direction¡ªthe pulse of action and reaction turned on the Hand. I''m sure it can tell that something''s wrong, too, because it swivels toward my friends with what I can only describe as alarm. Splayed fingers and all. It''s almost impressive how expressive it is, considering it''s quite literally just a hand.


    "Ethan!" Ahkelios calls out as soon as he''s in range. His voice echoes across the ruined hallways of the dungeon. "You better still be alive!"


    "You''d know if I was dead!" I shout back.


    The back-and-forth is mostly a distraction. The noise gives me a moment of reprieve¡ªif nothing else, it''s apparently enough for the Hand to decide that the freshly-empowered Firmament signatures are more of a threat than I am. I feel it gathering power for an attack, Concept-twisted energy gathering within a finger...


    And then it points. A simple gesture.


    The skill that erupts from the tip of that finger? Not so much.


    A pitch-black beam of nothing streaks through the air with a ear-rending scream¡ªthe sound is loud enough to make me flinch backward, and I''m not even particularly close to it. For a moment, I''m worried about Ahkelios. A skill imbued with a Concept isn''t exactly trivial to block.


    Turns out I didn''t need to worry.


    Ahkelios pulls out what I can only assume is a piece of junk he found within the Intermediary. It looks like a jagged piece of metal, rusted with age. Then he uses Sword Infusion, and in the next instant, it''s a bright-orange greatsword practically bursting with Firmament¡ªimbued with the Concept of the Sword, reinforced with his Truth, and empowered by an Inspiration.


    He cuts¡ª


    <hr>


    Whatever Ahkelios did, it''s strong enough that just watching him almost disrupts my focus. It''s like his strike briefly embedded itself into reality. It''s not quite at the strength or degree of the Submerged skills I''ve used before, but it''s close.


    Close enough that whatever skill the Hand is using can''t stand up to it. The beam splits into two, pure energy carved apart like a physical object and crashing into the walls of the dungeon instead. Ahkelios and Guard, meanwhile, stand untouched in the middle.


    I watch as stone begins to boil and dissolve where the beam struck and wince. I''m pretty sure the Hand tried to use that exact skill on me more than once while we were fighting¡ªit''s a good thing I was able to dodge them, because that does not look pleasant. It explains why half the rubble around me looks like it''s melted, at least.


    He-Who-Guards flies to my side as Ahkelios distracts the Hand. "Ethan," he says, optic scanning me briefly. "You are uninjured?"


    "Just bruised." I rub at my shoulder, feeling dull pain radiate through one of the bruises in question. It''s nowhere near as bad as the streaks of pain still lancing through my soul, so I haven''t paid much attention to it. "I''m going to need to finish what I''m doing so I can fight. Can you and Ahkelios keep it distracted?"


    Guard''s fans whir as he looks up at the Hand. I can practically hear him running the simulations. "Yes," he answers after a split second. There''s a confidence in his voice that surprises me. "But you must be quick about it. It is still getting stronger."


    I frown, glancing at the Hand. It''s subtle, but...


    "Of course it is," I mutter.


    If nothing else, whatever''s empowering the Hand is clearly limited¡ªI can feel some kind of influence reaching into the dungeon and trying to infect more of its Firmament, but it''s being held back. There''s an upper limit on how much the Hand is able to convert at a time, and with so much of the area around us already destroyed...


    "I''ll only need a few minutes," I say. "It''s trying to absorb the dungeon, so try to minimize the damage it''s doing. Keep it in the middle of the destroyed area. Should slow down the empowering process."


    Guard nods. "Understood," he says. He flicks his wrists¡ª


    ¡ªmy eyes widen slightly.


    Thick, heavy chains thud into the ground with enough force to crack it. Guard''s always had an incredible amount of Firmament, but now that it''s refined, it''s gained a level of density and reality that''s far beyond anything he could produce before.


    Even just at the first layer, his output compares to some of the greatest sources of Firmament I''ve seen on Hestia. Guard seems to notice me staring¡ªsome of the panels on his head twitch slightly, as if pleased. Or maybe he''s smirking.


    Either way, he shoots off toward the Hand in the next instant, throwing those chains over and between its fingers to shackle and slow it down; in the meantime, Ahkelios harasses it with flashes of those reality-rending cuts, slicing off large chunks of Firmament-flesh.


    If the Hand were any weaker, it would already be dead... but even now, it''s healing.


    Time to do my part.


    The second layer of my core is almost fully repaired. I can feel how many cracks are left, even¡ªthere are no more than three hair-thin fractures waiting to be filled with Firmament. I take a portion of the dense storm of Firmament surrounding me, force it down into something needle-thin, and feed it into the first.


    One.


    The crack seals without much of a fuss, although it''s accompanied by an intense spike in pain like none of the ones I''ve felt before. It''s strong enough that even the Knight reacts to it¡ªto my surprise, it actually sounds worried. That''s never happened before.


    "Ethan," it says. "Your repairs are essentially complete. You can re-compress your core and rejoin the battle."


    "There are still two more cracks to seal," I say. With the full weight of my mind and focus bent to maintaining this state within my core, I can feel them more clearly than ever.


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    "You do not need this to be perfect, Ethan." The Knight hesitated. "If you continue, your entire core might fracture. This is sufficient."


    "What, you think I can''t do it?" I ask, my tone more lighthearted than I feel. It''s sensing the same thing I am, I suspect. It knows that something''s wrong. The closer I get to finishing my repairs, the more my core resists, and at the rate it''s going there''s a good chance it''ll entirely outpace my ability to hold it together.


    But it was the one to suggest all this to me in the first place.


    "Your capabilities are not in question here," the Knight says. I can tell it''s conflicted. There''s a not-insignificant part of it that wants to see exactly how far I can take this. In a way, it''s touching that it''s worried at all¡ªas far as I can tell, it''s not in the Knight''s nature to worry, so for it to actually be concerned... well, it must really like me. "But the risk¡ª"


    "Is greater if we don''t do this," I say. "You said it yourself, remember? Short term, we''ll survive this challenge. But what about the next? Or the one after that? Something sent this thing here. I got a warning from who knows how far into the future. The time for safe bets is long past."


    The Knight makes a disgruntled noise. "You make a good point." It pauses. "Or I did. But you must be aware the risk is greater than I calculated. This has never been done before¡ªI did not expect this... resistance you are facing."


    "Then we''ll have to figure it out." I can''t help but give it a mental smirk, mostly because it actually seems worried for me. "Don''t pretend you aren''t excited for this."


    The Knight hesitates a moment more, then it returns my smirk, a surprising warmth in its voice. "I admit, I cannot deny my curiosity."


    "Nice to know we''re on the same page," I say, chuckling. "Not that it was ever in question."


    I reach out for another dense chunk of Firmament, forcing it down into a thread with sheer will alone; this time, when I feed it into the second-layer fracture, I feel the entirety of my core shuddering in protest, and the pain that accompanies it makes me collapse. I have to hold on to a piece of rubble for support.


    The wound heals slowly, like it doesn''t want to accept what it''s being fed. Like it''s full.


    But it does heal.


    Two.


    We''re down to the final fracture. I take a breath before feeding any Firmament into it¡ªwith how much sealing each of these last few cracks has escalated the strain in my core, just forcing my Firmament in and hoping for the best is the last thing I want to do. I may be taking a calculated risk, but the whole point is that it''s calculated. I can''t afford to be more careless than I have to be.


    Like I told the Knight: we''ll have to figure this out. It''s right¡ªthere''s some unknown factor here. Something we didn''t account for.


    I take my time. I feel out the crack with my Firmament sense, frowning mentally at the sense I''m getting from it. It feels like it''s a little wider than before...


    That''s not a good sign. What''s causing this?


    The obvious answer is that the more I seal the cracks, the greater the overall strain it''s putting on my core. The problem with that answer is that it doesn''t tell me why. It can''t just be a matter of quantity¡ªif it were, I''d be straining my core every time I draw in Firmament.


    So it''s something else. The cracks affect the overall quality of my core, according to the Knight, but based on what it said, they''re also normal. A natural result of the initial formation of these layers.


    What if they serve a function?


    I pause at the thought and run back through my memories. This isn''t the first time I''ve worked on a damaged core¡ªI repaired Guard''s and performed what was essentially surgery on both Tarin and Naru. At this point I have an intimate familiarity with them. My Firmament sense wasn''t so refined at that point as to be able to detect these hairline cracks, but if I think back to those moments...


    What do all those cores have in common?


    The answer comes to me: they move.


    They aren''t static objects. A Firmament core moves and flows in subtle ways in reaction to both environment and host. That means that to a degree, the cracks are necessary¡ªthey allow an otherwise rigid construct to maintain a certain degree of flexibility. All this increased strain comes from the fact I''m turning my core into a solid, impenetrable object that''s too rigid to have that slight degree of flexibility it needs to breathe.


    I turn the problem over in my head. There has to be a solution that doesn''t involve leaving a bunch of cracks all over my core; that just creates a different kind of vulnerability. What is it? It needs to be able to bend and flex and still be a solid layer of power...


    Or, to frame it in a slightly different way, it needs to be able to change.


    And that just so happens to be my Truth.


    I hope it''s as simple as I''m imagining. My Truth is a part of who I am. It infuses the entire third layer of my core, but it''s also a foundational part of my Firmament. All I need to do is take that Truth and apply it to the entirety of my being, holding in my mind the picture of what I want my power to be¡ªdense but flexible, able to shift and deform and mold itself as needed.


    Like an ocean.


    I layer the final thread of Firmament into that hairline crack. This time, there''s no pain that accompanies it. Instead, my core accepts that Firmament like it was always meant to be¡ªand where before there was a solid expanse of rigid Firmament, there is instead a gentle ripple.


    Just like that, I''m whole again. I can feel my core within me, calm as a lake but ready to boil into an ocean of fury at a moment''s notice.


    And just below the surface of that ocean, formerly out of reach, are two skills shining bright as suns. I can use them now. They''ll exhaust me still, but it won''t tear me apart to use them. Not the way they would have before.


    I open my eyes. Guard and Ahkelios are doing well¡ªholding off the Hand without faltering, albeit not without injury. One of Guard''s hands is hanging loose, wires sparking from the joint; Ahkelios looks like he''s missing an antennae. I wince.


    "About time!" Ahkelios calls, not turning around. There''s a grin in his voice despite the state he''s in, and it makes me smile in spite of myself. "I can feel you from here. Ready to join the party?"


    "We have got to work on your phrasing," I deadpan. I flex my fingers, watching Firmament surge through them and emerge as solid sparks of blue-gold power. "Alright. Let''s do this."


    <hr>


    Gheraa hummed to himself, surveying the field of defeated hands in front of him. "Not bad, if I do say so myself," he said cheerfully, turning to leave. "Just gotta find the boss¡ª"


    He paused, frowning. Something felt strange. He turned back to the field of defeated hands.


    They were dissolving into Firmament. That... wasn''t a bad thing, right? It didn''t feel like an Interface monster being defeated, though. The dissolved Firmament was still corrupted, and it wasn''t dissipating. It was moving.


    Gheraa watched as every single one of the monsters he''d defeated turned into a stream of Firmament heading in one very specific direction.


    "Okay," he said. "Guess I know where the boss is."


    He hesitated and stared for a moment longer, still processing.


    "This is really bad, isn''t it."


    He felt a spark of very, very familiar Firmament.


    "Yup. Really bad."


    Gheraa felt the dungeon wrapping around him and trying to stop him as he activated a half-dozen Speed skills. The maze was meant to be navigated, not just flown over, but right now, he didn''t particularly care.


    He just poured more Firmament into his skills, hoping it would be enough.

 203 — Book 3, Chapter 62 — Confrontation

    It feels good to have my Firmament flowing through me again. I waste no time in kicking things off, activating the Knight Inspiration and feeling myself change; this time, the transformation is smoother than ever, and the pain that usually accompanies it is reduced to nothing more than a dull ache. Like my physical body itself is more malleable as a result of the changes to my core.


    That''s step one. I follow up by activating a secondary transformation¡ªthe Generator Form. The plating of my armor shifts, revealing a torrent of blue-gold Firmament blazing with enough density to rival Guard.


    And with a thought, the Knight and I move, a blast of energy propelling us forward.


    The ground disappears beneath me. A fraction of a second later, the Hand is in front of me, still pointing toward Ahkelios and Guard¡ªit hasn''t had enough time to react. Neither have I, in all honesty, even with Quicken Mind to amplify my reaction times.


    An Amplified Gauntlet coalesces around my fist a fraction of a second before it makes contact. Pure energy jets out of the openings in my right arm, and that energy wraps itself around me all the way up to my shoulder and half my chest. It''s the furthest an Amplified Gauntlet has ever gone, and I can feel the way it energizes the force I''m already generating with every step.


    And then it makes contact.


    A boom reverberates through my skull and the dungeon around us, shattering ground and stone alike. There''s a moment where I worry I''m going to send the Hand flying into another part of the dungeon entirely¡ªthere''s enough of a shockwave from the blow that I''m thrown back a few meters, even with the grounding from the new Physical trait. It''s an unnecessary worry, though. Guard''s chains are still holding strong around the base of the Hand, anchoring it into the dungeon''s floor. On top of that, the sheer amount of force I generated, channeled into the surface area of a single punch?


    Even with the Gauntlet to spread it out, I blast a hole straight through its flesh.


    Its Firmament, really. Whatever it''s made out of is pretty similar to what the Integrators are made out of¡ªpure Firmament, compressed and reconfigured into a substance that has the resilience and look of stone but the malleability and flexibility of flesh. Even with a hole burned through it, it doesn''t lose its mobility; instead, it immediately whirls around, its index finger directly at me.


    I know what''s coming. I can feel the skill being formed. I can dodge it, but if I do, that damage is going directly into the dungeon again.


    Crystallized Barrier. Verdant Armor.


    One more, the plating on my armor opens. This time, forest-green Firmament pours out of the holes, filled to the brim with life; it infuses itself into my plating, turning my armor a rich shade of deep oak trimmed with gold. At the same time, a beam of Firmament erupts from my chest and turns into a shimmering field of crystalline force in front of me, almost a meter thick.


    And then the Hand discharges its skill.


    I feel the blast of nothing it discharges cleave deep into my barrier. The sensation is almost like a pick being driven into my brain¡ªI can feel the Concept embedded in the skill trying to dig into my Firmament and tear through my skills. The barrier cracks, and the whispers of power that leak through stab at my armor, trying to find an opening.


    They fail.


    I may not have embedded a defensive Concept into my skills, but right now, I''m operating at a peak I''ve never been at before. There''s a new flexibility in my core, a new meaning in my skills. My skills already hold fragments of Concepts, expressed through Firmament.


    As I am now, even those fragments are enough. The skill dissipates. I feed what remains to the Void Inspiration, hearing it coo in delight as the Hand roars in anger.


    And then¡ªto my surprise¡ªit speaks.


    "Fools," it snarls. I stare, the shield in front of me dissipating as the Hand whirls around to confront all three of us. The sounds it made before were distorted and ugly, created through the vibrations of its Firmament. Now, though...


    The hole I tore into it has healed into something that vaguely resembles a mouth. Or a maw of some kind. The sight isn''t exactly pleasant.


    "Fools," it repeats itself. "Why do you help this traitor? This pathetic creature that has done nothing but betray its purpose?"


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    "What are you talking about?" I ask, keeping my voice even. Something about this feels strange. It''s whirling around like it''s disoriented, unsure of itself.


    "The creature!" The Hand twitches like it''s aggravated. "It is dead! You cannot help it! I will make sure you cannot¡ª"


    It lurches forward, then staggers, a drunken movement that''s nothing like any move it''s made so far. "It does not deserve your help!" it shrieks. "It is nothing! A pest! A traitor! It cannot listen and it cannot obey!"


    "Someone''s projecting," Ahkelios mutters, making me snort. He''s made his way over to me while the Hand staggers around, trying to compose itself. "We gonna kill it while it''s doing... whatever this is? Because I''m gonna be honest, I don''t feel like waiting it out."


    "Now would be the optimal time to attack," Guard agrees.


    "Can''t say I disagree," I mutter.


    Whatever this thing is, I''m pretty sure it isn''t alive. It''s speaking like it is, but with the way the Firmament within it is twisted... I''m pretty sure this is more a projection of will than an actual, sentient being. There''s a separate presence there, split apart and so carefully hidden I wouldn''t have been able to sense it before today.


    Which means there''s nothing more to gain from this.


    All three of us act as one. Guard''s chains blaze with sudden power before abruptly turning an impossible black; a Firmament circuit hovers in front of him, shining with power. He''s found a way to incorporate the black hole skill with his chains, it seems, and to great effect¡ªthe Hand screams in protest as they sink into its flesh.


    Ahkelios darts forward, a sword in his hand fashioned from some of the dungeon rubble around us. It drips with golden Firmament and a hint of Gheraa''s own power, but infused with Ahkelios''s ability to Cut. His first move slices off the Hand''s pinky in a single clean stroke even as it tries to dodge.


    At almost the same time, I''m there, activating two Amplified Gauntlets at once. With both my arms burning with power, I wrap them around its index finger and pull. Even with the finger itself being larger than my entire body, the base Firmament tears with a sickening crack and groan, and I toss the dissolving finger into the rubble.


    Just like that, it''s missing two fingers. Deep cuts have melted halfway through its palm, courtesy of Guard''s chains. It can''t retaliate without the finger it uses to fire those beams at us¡ª


    ¡ªand yet, it hasn''t stopped babbling.


    "Weak," it cries. "It is weak! Why would you help such weakness? It is worse than nothing! It will pay!"


    "We''re hurting it faster than it can heal!" I call out, trying to ignore it. "Keep going!"


    We''re winning, despite its resilience. That''s all it really seems to have going for it. An astounding resilience and incredibly rapid healing. Even with that, we''re making progress¡ªfrom two fingers disabled to three, then from three to four.


    I consider a strategy like the one we used on the Seedmother, a well-timed Causal Shattering that causes all the damage to reflect on it at once, but it''s healing fast enough the windows of time I''ll have to target are incredibly precise. I''m as likely to accidentally heal it as I am to hurt it. I''ll have to try anyway if this goes on long enough, but we are winning.


    Together. I don''t think we''ve ever fought at this level before¡ªperfectly synchronized and on the same page. There''s something comforting about being able to rely on one another to this extent; any slight slip-up is caught by Ahkelios or by Guard, and we defend one another before the Hand can do anything to us.


    It might be slow, but it''s a decidedly one-sided battle.


    And then I realize that something''s wrong.


    The pattern in the background is shifting. Premonition is beginning to blare, warning me there''s something coming. Something is about to change. There''s no direction to it, no hint as to what it is, but...


    "Be careful," I say. "Something''s coming."


    Both Ahkelios and Guard give me a sharp nod, no questions asked. Guard''s sensors whir to life as they activate, and I can sense Ahkelios activating some sort of sensory skill, examining the horizon. I do the same, extending my Firmament sense as far as it can go.


    Nothing.


    But there''s something wrong with that nothing. It feels almost like the Firmament around us is too plain. Too uniform. Too ordinary.


    Something''s hiding from us.


    Ahkelios comes to the same conclusion only a second after I do, evidently. He narrows his eyes, then reaches up, tearing off his remaining antenna¡ª


    "What are you doing?!" I have to physically stop myself from grabbing him. I trust him to know what he''s doing, but the sight throws me off enough that I''m running on pure instinct.


    Ahkelios throws me a pained grin. An infusion of Firmament later, he''s suddenly holding a new sword; this one looks like it''s constructed from chitin, but there''s an odd lining of tiny filaments that twitch and move like they''re alive.


    I think I understand what he''s trying to do, but I''m starting to think I might be a bad influence.


    Because of what it''s made from, this new sword is aligned¡ªhowever minimally¡ªwith the Concept of Sensing. And when he uses it to cut, the blade tears through the illusion surrounding us like it''s little more than paper.


    We haven''t been fighting an illusion, fortunately. I''d been worried about that being a possibility, but that''s not what was being hidden from us.


    The truth, admittedly, isn''t much better.


    There''s a storm of Firmament arriving. It''s hard to make out because of the sheer volume of it, but I''m reasonably certain that individually, none of the fragments are particularly strong.


    Together, though, they might pose something of a problem. For a moment, I think that Firmament is coming for us. That the plan is to overwhelm the three of us with corrupted Firmament and interfere with the fight. That wouldn''t be enough to change the tide of the battle¡ª


    ¡ªexcept that Firmament isn''t coming for us. It''s going for the Hand. I put two and two together.


    Shit.

 204 — Book 3, Chapter 63 — An Ounce of Prevention

    "Don''t let that get to the Hand!" I call out.


    I dash forward as I speak. Guard must have reached the same conclusion a second before I did, because he''s already moving, determination blazing in his optic. He yanks on the chain, dragging the Hand toward us and away from that storm of incoming Firmament; at the same time, Ahkelios flies up into the air, his blade shining with another one of his sword skills.


    He slashes, creating a rift in the air that barrels forward and slices through the corrupted Firmament. It hangs in the air for a moment, and for a split second, I think it works¡ªbut then it simply gathers itself together again and flows onward, untouched.


    Ahkelios lets out a growl of frustration. I call out to him even as I charge toward the Hand. "Use my skills!"


    There''s a burst of intent through the link between us. In a single moment, Ahkelios and I agree on a plan, and that plan crystallizes into action. Ahkelios draws on a combination of Crystallized Barrier and Firmament Control, creating a scattered array in the sky to stop the progress of that corrupted Firmament. In the meantime, I grab the Hand and throw, lifting it clean off the ground and tossing it further in Guard''s direction.


    It screeches in protest, of course. The noise is a shrill scream that cuts through the air and makes me wince. "You struggle for nothing!" it seethes. "For nothing! You struggle to save a thing that deserves no pity!"


    I am so very sick of hearing this. "Gheraa deserves a second chance," I snap. "And you aren''t going to stop me from giving it to him."


    It''s the wrong thing to say, apparently. The Hand doubles its efforts to break free, straining against Guard''s chains and making him grunt with exertion as he pours in Firmament to try to keep it down.


    Even with his enormous reserves, there''s only so much he can channel at any one time.


    And he''s not the only one that''s struggling. Ahkelios is barely able to contain that incoming Firmament; the two skills he''s borrowing help, but not enough. That incoming storm of power is too slippery, for lack of a better term¡ªjust like the Hand itself, it''s corrupted with a Concept that makes it difficult to manipulate. It acts almost like it has a will of its own, albeit a very basic and rudimentary one.


    If nothing else, the Hand is relatively easy to keep under control, but even that doesn''t sit easy with me. It''s one of the strongest creatures we''ve fought; even with how much we''ve grown, I''m not sure it should be this easy¡ª


    I narrow my eyes, taking my thoughts back a few steps. Guard can only channel so much Firmament at once, despite his reserves. The Hand...


    It''s using us.


    The thought strikes me out of the blue, but I could snarl at myself for not thinking of it earlier. It really, really wants to stop us from reviving Gheraa, that much is clear, but there''s a problem with that plan: there''s only so much Firmament it can handle at once. It''s packed full of power, and all that power means there''s less space for it to take in the dungeon''s Firmament and corrupt it.


    Guard''s problem is that he can''t channel the amount of Firmament he contains. The Hand is the opposite. It can channel Firmament enormous volumes of Firmament just fine, but there''s only so much it can hold. It hasn''t had the same reinforcement I''ve given to Guard.


    Which is where we come in. The more damage we inflict on it, the more it''s able to absorb everything around it. The reason the fight hasn''t been harder, the reason it hasn''t shown us anything besides a single offensive skill...


    It wants us to hurt it. We''re accelerating the destruction of the dungeon. Every time it heals itself, it consumes a chunk of Firmament and creates a little more space.


    We need a different strategy. A way to destroy it without giving it the chance to heal.


    The problem with that plan, of course, is that it''s a solid block of Firmament that doesn''t have any vital organs or distinct weaknesses¡ªno matter how much we hack away at it, it''s able to regenerate near-instantaneously. With all three of us fighting it, we can do just enough damage to overwhelm its healing, but in retrospect, that doesn''t mean it''ll die. Not as long as it has a source of Firmament. And with Ahkelios preoccupied trying to hold all that power back...


    Come on, Ethan. Figure it out.


    If we could destabilize whatever it''s using to hold itself together, for example, or interfere with whatever viral Concept it is that''s infected it, we might be able to tear it apart¡ª


    The Hand manages to briefly shatter Guard''s chains; he staggers backward, trying to recover, and in that window of time the Hand launches off the ground and toward Ahkelios. I grit my teeth and Warpstep into the space between them, grabbing it by the finger and using its momentum to whip it around and back into a mostly-depleted pile of rubble.


    Quickened Mind doesn''t give me that much extra time at this level of combat, I note grimly. I need to be faster.


    It doesn''t have any weaknesses that I''ve observed. It does have a pattern¡ªit always uses its index finger to fire that void-beam skill. Whenever we succeed in cutting it off, it doesn''t use it again until the finger''s regenerated.


    If it''s holding back, then it stands to reason that it has a few other skills it hasn''t used. I don''t think its enormous physical strength and considerable durability count as skills. Likewise, its absorption and regeneration appear to be innate qualities. What am I missing?


    I let out a sharp breath of air.


    I can''t sense any skill constructs. I can''t sense a core.


    Which means it is using another skill.


    It can''t just be a solid block of Firmament. Almost everything I''ve encountered has some kind of core¡ªeven the monsters. And of everything it''s shown us so far...


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    Something must have been creating the illusion that hid that Firmament storm from us. Even now, I can feel that same illusion trying to wrap around us again; only the rift of Firmament Ahkelios left behind is preventing it from taking effect. But what if that''s not the only illusion it''s maintaining?


    What if that illusion is just a distraction?


    Throughout the battle, it''s always made sure that the most convenient fingers to sever were the four fingers atop its hand, but never¡ª


    "The thumb!" I shout. I dive toward it even as I say the words, and Guard reacts quickly, creating new chains and moving with incredible precision. They wrap around each of the Hand''s fingers, looping across one and the next as it struggles¡ªand before it can pull free, he whips his chains down, slamming the entire thing palm-first into the ground.


    I land atop it a second later, wrapping two Amplified Gauntlets around its thumb and pulling. There''s a snap and a crack, followed by a sudden loosening; I stumble backward¡ª


    ¡ªand what remains of the illusion dissolves around us.


    I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.


    The dungeon''s in ruins. There''s a massive chunk of the dungeon that''s just gone, absorbed into the Hand. It''s been hiding a lot more than just its core¡ªit''s been hiding the sheer range at which it can operate, the sheer amount it''s been absorbing.


    I don''t know if what''s left is enough to bring Gheraa back¡ª


    I banish that thought almost as soon as I have it.


    No. It''s not over yet.


    Without its illusions to hide it, there''s a core blazing clear as day within the Hand, though to call it a core feels like an insult. It''s a crude, rudimentary thing that mimics what I imagine a fourth-layer core would look like.


    More importantly, however, is that a majority of the Firmament it absorbed hasn''t been integrated yet. It''s trying, but the process is slow. What remains of Gheraa''s Firmament seems to be fighting against it, struggling to resist the Hand''s control.


    And then there''s the state of its core. The way the skill constructs are built within it, one in each finger...


    My thoughts are interrupted as the Hand bucks beneath me, trying to throw me off; its flesh sizzles and bubbles violently where it makes contact with Guard''s chains, and I hear him grunting with effort.


    "I can''t hold it much longer!" Guard calls.


    "I got what I need!" I use a Warpstep to put some space between myself and the Hand; an instant later, the chains dissolve, Guard panting harshly as he cycles air through his vents. "It has a core," I tell him. "We just need to target it."


    "And how do we do that?" Guard takes a few wary steps back as he registers the state of the dungeon around us.


    "Still figuring that out!" I grab his shoulder and Warpstep again even as I speak, only barely dodging the beam the Hand sends at us; it knows I''ve figured it out. In the meantime, Guard''s recovered enough to create another set of chains, this time using them like a lasso and slinging the Hand violently into a pile of rubble. It doesn''t do much damage, but it does buy us time.


    "Gonna need you guys to hurry it up!" Ahkelios shouts. He''s maintaining an impressive array of barriers, although I notice with some worry that the corrupted Firmament burns through them with greater and greater speed. The Hand gets up more quickly than ever, too, and shatters Guard''s latest chain with an odd flex of Firmament.


    It''s adapting, I realize. Learning how to fight us.


    But it''s not the only one capable of adapting.


    I think back to the glimpse I caught of the Hand''s core. The shoddy construction of it means that it''s uniquely vulnerable to the same problem Guard used to have; too much Firmament and the entire thing is likely to unravel. I''m not sure it can even use most of its skills without risking destabilizing the whole thing, especially with all that foreign Firmament floating around in there.


    Which the best option right now is...


    I wince. Ahkelios isn''t going to like this.


    "''Kelios." I use our mental link to contact him¡ªit''s easier and faster than shouting across the dungeon. He glances back at me, still frantically juggling a series of barriers.


    "Little busy here!"


    "I need you to let it through."


    "What¡ªare you serious?" He takes a second to process my tone. "You''re serious."


    "Trust me. Please."


    Ahkelios stares at the storm of Firmament he''s trying to hold off, then lets out an aggravated sigh; a moment later, the barriers all collapse, and he Warpsteps over to my side. "I hope you know what you''re doing, Ethan."


    "So do I," I say wryly.


    The Firmament pours in toward the Hand. It lets out a triumphant screech as it turns to face that incoming storm, opening its mouth to swallow it all¡ªeven from here, I can feel its core beginning to flex and bend at the onslaught.


    "Keep its thumb severed," I tell Ahkelios. "I don''t want it trying to trick us again."


    He nods and dashes off, blade in hand. The Hand''s preoccupied trying to take in all that Firmament¡ªif it weren''t for the fact that it would just heal instantly, this would be the perfect opportunity to try to kill it. Instead, I turn my attention to He-Who-Guards.


    This isn''t going to be enough. We''ll need one more thing to push it over the edge, and it''s by far the shakiest part of the plan. Partly because I''ve never even considered the possibility before now, let alone tried it.


    "Guard," I say. "Do you trust me?"


    He gives me a strange look. "I am offended you have to ask."


    I chuckle at this, despite the situation. "Had to make sure," I say. "I''m going to try to create a link between us. The same one I have with Ahkelios. Are you okay with that?"


    Guard''s optic flickers as he processes my words. "Is that... possible?" he asks, uncertain. "I am not opposed. It would be an honor. But how would that help us win this battle?"


    "I''ll tell you the rest once we''re linked, if it works," I say, offering a slight smile. He bows his head in acknowledgement.


    "When you are ready, then."


    Prismatic Firmament swirls in his chest. Guard''s core, unlike any other core I''ve seen, carries so much Firmament that it''s perfectly visible. The fact that his body was built with a specialized housing unit just to contain it is a remarkable reflection of exactly how much power it holds.


    I reach out to make contact with it, my fingers brushing against the glass housing. Guard shivers in response, but says nothing; instead, he waits.


    There''s exactly one piece of evidence that this might work. I''ve tried it once before, although it feels like an age ago: back when Rotar was frozen in the Fracture, I empowered Temporal Link with an Inspiration and tried to connect with him. It went poorly, but it did establish two things for me.


    First is that I can use Temporal Link on any entity that''s out of sync with Hestia''s time. Given that the sheer weight of Guard''s core has given him immunity to the loops, he qualifies.


    Second is that I can, in fact, use an Inspiration¡ªThe Mirror Twice Shattered, specifically¡ªto empower my ability to form a Temporal Link. I hadn''t fully understood the skill or the Mirror at the time, and even now, they''re among the more complex tools I have.


    The main difference now, besides all the ways I''ve grown? I hadn''t known Rotar particularly well. The Mirror Twice Shattered is an emotional Inspiration. It emerged from some of the worst moments of my life. I can''t use it to create a link with someone I don''t understand or with someone that doesn''t understand me.


    He-Who-Guards and I, on the other hand...


    It may not have been for long, but we''ve fought and stood together enough for me to begin to understand the kind of person he is. I have no doubt he''s done the same for me.


    It''ll have to be enough. I call on both Inspiration and skill.


    The Mirror Twice Shattered: Temporal Link.

 205 — Book 3, Chapter 64 — A Pound of Core

    The core of an Inspiration is that they alter the skills that pass through them in some fundamental way. The Knight is the strongest one I have, and the skills that pass through it usually emerge as some physical alteration to my form rather than the usual energy projections.


    The Mirror Twice Shattered, on the other hand, is perhaps the most unpredictable. It''s one of the reasons I haven''t used it as much¡ªthe Mirror tends to lend an emotional tint of some sort to the skills it alters, and most of the options I have aren''t pleasant.


    It''s a representation of some of the worst moments in my life, after all. The Mirror is a reflection of me as I was, and who I was back then...


    Determination. Anger. Sadness. Fear.


    I remember looking back at the Mirror in the moments after I first received it. It hadn''t felt particularly good at the time, having my life laid out in such broad strokes. It hadn''t felt like a real representation of who I was.


    I remember my thoughts back then. The Mirror took the most significant moments of my life and turned them into a source of power, but what it hadn''t been able to do was take the small moments. Recovery hadn''t been instantaneous. It was a slow process, built up over months and years, learning to smile again, learning to laugh, learning to live...


    Only for me to be brought into the Trials right as I felt like I might be ready to face the world again. Go figure.


    Now that I think about it, even back then, I think I had a connection with both my Truth and my Talent. I might not have really known what I was doing, but I looked at the Mirror and thought it felt wrong. Like it failed to truly capture who I was. I''d forgotten this up until now, the memories suspiciously foggy.


    Now, though? Clear as day. I remember reaching back to the Mirror, trying to fix it. Trying to make it represent who I really was.


    And in that attempt...


    The smallest hint of an early Anchoring. The slightest invocation of a Change.


    I''d created a fifth fragment that joined with the Mirror. Unnamed, unspoken, and untouched, hovering around the edges of memory and reality.


    That''s the aspect of the Mirror that I draw upon now. It''s the fragment created not from any deep trauma, but from the life I lived after. The steps I took to bring myself back from the brink.


    He-Who-Guards is many things, but if I had to put a single emotion to him, it wouldn''t be within any of those four quadrants of power I initially invoked with the Mirror. Anger doesn''t suit him. He may have experienced sadness, but he''s never let it define him. I''m not sure I''ve even seen him scared unless it''s for someone else''s safety. And as much as he might be determined, that isn''t what he''s all about.


    The fifth fragment, though... it suits him. I name it here and now, the one thing that carried me through both my recovery and every loop of this Trial.


    Hope.


    He-Who-Guards, at his core, is someone that always carries hope with him. It''s why he protects. It''s why he still stands, even after everything Whisper has done to him.


    Temporal Link changes. The thread of Firmament that emerges from it now shines a pure white tinged with just the faintest hint of iridescence, a perfect match to the prismatic nature of Guard''s power. It slides through the glass without resistance, makes contact with his core¡ª


    ¡ªand the world around us freezes.


    It takes a moment for Guard to recognize that something''s changed. When he does, he blinks, looking around in confusion. "Ethan? What is this?" he asks. His words emerge with the cadence of a mental link.


    "This is as new to me as it is to you," I admit. "I think it''s a mental buffer the link is creating for us to try to connect our cores. It''s a lot like the first few times I received an Inspiration, actually."


    The only real difference is that with Gheraa, my words didn''t have the same echoing quality to them. That''s no surprise, though¡ªGheraa is an order of magnitude more powerful than I am still, and he had the support of the Interface in maintaining this space to boot.


    I wonder if that''s important. If Temporal Link is capable of creating a space like the one we use for Inspirations, what does that imply about the skill as a whole? For that matter, what does it imply about what Kauku is?


    I suppose it doesn''t matter at this exact moment.


    I can feel Temporal Link working. It''s making a connection with the part of Guard that isn''t entirely in-sync with the timestream¡ªthat aspect of him that stays coherent even when the rest of the world rolls back. It''s the densest and deepest part of his core, deep within a storm of Firmament that boils and churns with a power I don''t think I would have felt without this link.


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    "I think..." I say out loud, and I notice with some surprise that my voice comes out clear now. The connection is stabilizing, maybe? Or the space is. "I think we need to do more to fully establish the link."


    "What more do we have to do?" Guard asks.


    I shrug. This is as new to me as it is to him. I close my eyes, feeling things out with my Firmament sense instead of my eyes¡ªit''s not like vision really matters in a space like this.


    And I feel it.


    The new link is there. It''s trying to form even now, a tendril of Firmament reaching out through my core and into his. The reason it''s able to at all is because the nature of the link is attuned to the both of us, but...


    Guard''s soul is even bigger than I anticipated. The link is struggling to establish itself, wavering with uncertainty between our two cores. For this to work, the two of us have to be of one mind for at least a single instant¡ªwe need to have the same thought, the same intent, the same hope.


    Easier said than done, I think wryly.


    "Sit with me?" I ask. Guard shoots me a curious look, but he complies¡ªwe find a pile of rubble nearby and make ourselves comfortable. "The bond''s halfway to forming, but it needs more. You''re, uh¡ª" I snort a little at the phrasing. "¡ªYour soul''s a little too big for this to be easy."


    Guard quirks his optic slightly. "Whisper had no such complaints," he says, clearly amused. I roll my eyes.


    "I don''t need to know about that, thank you," I say. "When did you come with jokes?"


    "Exposure to a certain pair of Trialgoers had rather irreversible side effects, I''m afraid," he deadpans, and I have to muffle a laugh as I shake my head.


    I think it''s the first time I''ve seen him like this. He''s relaxed, almost, despite the situation we''re in. It takes me a moment to realize why.


    This space we''re in, despite all the similarities it shares with reality¡ªit''s ultimately just a mental construct we''re sharing. What I''m seeing now is how Guard sees himself. He''s so used to his mechanical body that he''s more metal than silverwisp, but if I look closely enough...


    The shape of his "eye" shifts a little every time he''s trying to express himself with a little more malleability than it should be capable of having. There are times his form wavers just slightly. Small quirks present in the metal that aren''t there in the real, physical world.


    "You''re more comfortable here, aren''t you?" I ask quietly. Guard glances at me, but he doesn''t seem surprised by the question. Instead, he hesitates for a moment, then nods.


    "This is a strange place," he says. He looks down to his hands and clenches his fists a few times, watching the movement. "The body Whisper gave me is incomplete. It lacks sensation, flexibility, and movement. Here, it seems, things are different. I am more... myself."


    I nod. "Not that it''s particularly comparable, but I feel the same way."


    I hadn''t noticed it at first, but my Interface-modified bones don''t weigh me down here. The Knight transformation is gone. Right now, I''m just Ethan Hill.


    The link between us solidifies just a little further, but not nearly enough.


    It''s odd, having a quiet moment like this in the middle of what should be a tense battle. All around me, I see evidence of how important this is going to be¡ªthe amount of destruction to the dungeon, now that I have the time to properly observe it... there are large swathes of the Intermediary that are just gone.


    Courtesy of the Hand''s void beam, no doubt, but with the true extent of the damage hidden by that illusory skill.


    Guard seems to notice the shift in my mood. He speaks again, drawing me out from my thoughts. "Is there more we must do to speed up this process?"


    He''s relying on me, isn''t he? They all are. Not just Ahkelios and Guard and Gheraa, but considering the state of things on Hestia, the situation with the Integrators as a whole, and that cryptic warning I sent myself...


    "We need to synchronise," I say. "Just for a moment. Intent and thought and emotion. We need to be one being just enough for our Firmament to align and the bond to take hold. I don''t think it has to be perfect, but it has to be close."


    Guard tilts his head slightly, considering this. "Not a trivial task," he says.


    "Not at all," I agree. I''m about to make a suggestion, but Guard stops me, holding up a hand.


    "I believe I have an idea," he says. "Such a moment would be difficult to artificially create, if not wholly impossible. But perhaps, given a matter we care equally about..."


    His voice softens. "If I understand who you are¡ªand I do, in this regard¡ªthen this will work."


    Guard''s optic flickers shut. For a moment, nothing happens¡ªand then for just a fraction of a second, his Firmament and soul unravels into a fractal of pure prismatic power. He reaches within himself¡ª


    ¡ªand from within, a second presence emerges.


    It wouldn''t have been possible for anyone else. A single bond created by Temporal Link isn''t strong enough to host a third mind, let alone a third soul.


    But He-Who-Guards is different, isn''t he? The same way I am. The same way Ahkelios is, even if he hasn''t completely found that aspect of himself yet.


    He''s his own kind of impossible. The type of soul around which a world can change, so long as it lives for long enough.


    I know who this is even before the bright flash of Firmament resolves, and I know what Guard is thinking.


    He''s right. This will work.


    I kneel down before the slightly-confused, pillbug-shaped presence that stands before us.


    "You must be Aris," I say quietly. The one who would have been Miktik''s daughter. The one Miktik tried to save¡ªhad saved, even if she didn''t know it herself. "Your mother has a message for you. Would you like to hear it?"


    Aris looks up at me. She doesn''t understand what''s going on, doesn''t know what any of this is¡ªshe isn''t really part of the bond as much as she is a guest¡ªbut she doesn''t need to.


    All she needed to hear were those seven words. Your mother has a message for you.


    She nods. Trembling and hesitant at first, like she doesn''t really believe me. Then more vigorously, a choked sob emerging from her throat.


    "Please," she whispers.


    I nod. I reach out so she can hold on to me, smaller insectoid limbs clinging to my fingers.


    He-Who-Guards must have realized this at some point, but because the space we''re in is less a literal frozen snapshot of reality and more a creation of our shared minds, I don''t have to just tell her the words.


    I can show her.


    So I do.

 206 — Book 3, Chapter 65 — Synchronization

    The world around them changed, and He-Who-Guards watched.


    He didn''t recognize this space. It was a small workshop of some kind with a ceiling so low he had to bend over to avoid scraping his head against it; an assortment of technology, both legal and Integrator-derived sat, scattered around the workbench and shelves.


    Miktik''s workshop. A small part of him recognized it, but he''d never been inside himself¡ªWhisper had been rather specific about making sure both he and his proxies avoided the area. He supposed now he knew why.


    Ethan stood next to him, eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as he recreated the memory, detail after painstaking detail slowly resolving into the makeshift world around them. Aris looked around at the workshop, eyes wide and antennae twitching, filled with equal parts dread and anticipation, hope and longing.


    And a heartbeat later, as Ethan opened his eyes brought his memory of Miktik into being, Guard understood why Aris looked so different now compared to when they first met. It had surprised him at first, but looking at the two of them side by side...


    Aris looked just like a younger version of her mother.


    Miktik had built her and then sacrificed everything for her. The form Aris chose when they first met was a temporary thing, constructed so they could have a conversation, but this was how she truly saw herself.


    Then Miktik reached out like she wanted to hold her daughter. Aris seemed surprised at first, almost hesitant¡ªbut then she took a trembling step forward, then another, and practically fell into her mother''s arms.


    And just like that, they were holding one another.


    "I''m sorry I never got to meet you," Miktik whispered. "There were so many things I wanted to show you, I¡ªI don''t even know where to start."


    "It''s okay," Aris said. Her voice shook. "It''s okay, mom."


    "I wanted to show you how to build things," Miktik said. The words were sad, but she tried to smile anyway. "Because it''s what I love doing. But I was looking forward to helping you find a calling of your own. It was going to be amazing. I even convinced all my friends ahead of time to take you on as an apprentice, did you know that?"


    "I didn''t," Aris said. She looked up at her mother, responding like she''d forgotten that all of this was just a memory¡ªlike her mother was really there. "All of them? Isn''t Bimar''s specialty poisons?"


    "I know Bimar''s specialty is poisons, but I wasn''t going to rule anything out." Miktik chuckled softly, then reached out with one of her limbs, brushing it gently across Aris''s cheek. "I hope you know that''s part of why I did all this. I wanted to make the city safe for you. I wanted you to be born free to do anything you wanted, not as another one of Whisper''s tools..."


    Miktik trailed off and sagged. "But I failed. I gave you to her."


    "You didn''t want to," Aris said. "She would''ve killed both of us if you didn''t. I know why you did it, mom."


    "I know she threatened me. I know I couldn''t have done any different. That doesn''t make it any better. But I find myself wondering sometimes what might be different if I''d been a little more careful. I still don''t know how she found out..."


    Miktik sighed, then looked up into the air. "No, you''re right," she said after a moment, responding to some unseen thing Ethan had said. "I should just say what I want her to hear."


    The reminder that this was a memory made Aris flinch. She stilled slightly, not pulling out of Miktik''s arms but no longer leaning in.


    "Aris. I wanted to see you grow more than anything. I''m sorry I never got to. To be honest, there were times I thought you''d never get the chance to grow at all¡ªthat I lost you to Whisper and would never get you back.


    "I don''t exactly know why, but I think... I know this human is going to find a way to give you that chance. So I''m going to say this like you''re in front of me. Like you''re alive the way I always wanted you to be, and I want you to remember this moment like I am too."


    Then Miktik looked down at her daughter. Somehow, even through the gap of time and possibility, their eyes met. Miktik took a deep breath, forcing herself to smile, and when she spoke, it was with a new strength and an unwavering voice.


    Something in Aris seemed to break at this. She clung to Miktik fiercely, crying as her mother spoke like they were both really there.


    "My name is Miktik of the Ayulch clan. A long time ago, we were best known for inventions that revolutionized gardening, if you can believe it." She smiled a small smile. "That legacy is yours, but only if you want it. So is my workshop. I''ve made sure you can break through the firewalls, so have at it¡ªconsider it a final challenge from your mother.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Be strong. Be brave. But more important than that... be yourself. Live life the way you would want to live it. Not for me, you understand? Find something you can be proud of, something that brings you joy.


    "I love you, Aris." Miktik drew her daughter close, pressing their foreheads together. "Never forget that. And because I never got the chance to say it..."


    He-Who-Guards remembered in an abrupt flash what Aris had said to him the last time they spoke.


    Forget goodbye, I... I never even got a chance to say hello.


    Like mother, like daughter.


    Miktik pulled back just enough to give Aris one last smile. "Hello, Aris. Welcome to the world of the living."


    Aris let out a choked sob. Her voice was small, but she forced the words out all the same. "Hi, mom."


    And just like that, the memory ended. The three that remained stood in Miktik''s tiny workshop, and they were silent for a long moment. It was Aris that broke the silence.


    "I need a moment," she said quietly. "Thank you. Both of you."


    Guard felt her disappear back into his systems. He tried to figure out what he wanted to say. He''d known Ethan had done something to strain his Firmament so deeply. He hadn''t known it was this.


    He''d stayed. Not just for some final words to pass on. He''d stayed to give a mother and a daughter a chance to speak to one another across death itself.


    "It seemed almost as though she could see her daughter," Guard said quietly. "Was that your doing?"


    Ethan shook his head. "No. That was the memory, as real as I could make it."


    "Just a coincidence, then." The words didn''t feel right, though.


    "Doesn''t feel that way, does it?" Ethan glanced up at him. "I mean, maybe sometimes a coincidence is just the universe being kind."


    "That would imply it can also be cruel." Guard tilted his head.


    "It does, doesn''t it?" Ethan said. "I mean, it''s just probability, at the end of the day. But..."


    Ethan hesitated, his gaze lingering on the center of the workshop where Aris and Miktik had been.


    "But it is up to us to make these possibilities real," Guard said, finishing the sentence for him.


    Ethan nodded¡ª


    ¡ªand in that moment, something crystallized between them.


    <hr>


    He-Who-Guards knew that it was this that he wanted to protect. The endless possibilities of the future. The bonds between individuals, superseding the boundaries of species and culture. These rare, impossible moments, cultivated and brought to fruition.


    He was who he was because he held an unwavering hope in a future that was better than the present, even in the smallest of ways.


    He couldn''t bring Miktik back, but he could at least help Aris speak to her like this, one last time.


    <hr>


    This is who I want to be. I don''t know what being the Scion of Change meant to someone like Kauku, but for someone like me, it''s simple. I know what all this power is for.


    To create hope when there''s none left. To make all things possible. To change things for the better, even in the smallest of ways.


    I might not be able to bring Miktik back, but I can at least let them speak to one another, one last time.


    <hr>


    A Temporal Link snaps into place and then surges to life with a strength I''ve never seen before, fueled by both Guard''s soul and mine. That change ripples down through my bond with Ahkelios as reality fades back in, and he lets out a slight yelp as he flares with sudden power; his next attempted attack slices straight through the Hand''s thumb, reinforced as it is by the onslaught of absorbed Firmament.


    "Did you two just do something?" he calls. "What just happened?"


    "I''ll tell you later." I shoot him a grin, then turn to Guard. The strength of this new link changes things slightly. I''d originally planned to use my ability to channel Firmament and combine it with Guard''s enormous reserves to try to overload the Hand, but now...


    I don''t think we can share skills. Not yet, at least, and not without a lot of practice. The way Guard uses his skill circuits are too different from the way skill constructs operate.


    But skills aren''t the only things I''m capable of. What if they aren''t the only things I can share?


    "Think you can help us out?" I ask the Void Inspiration. It perks up at my words, excited. "I''ve got a lot of Firmament here for you to eat."


    "yes!" it exclaims. "Hungry!"


    It takes only a second for me to tell Guard what I want him to do and for him to agree. Then the link between us burns the color of Void¡ªand that color spreads to his chains, drawing in all the Firmament around it.


    Specifically, it draws in any Firmament the Hand tries to use to heal or channel toward any of its other skills. There are three more skills I haven''t seen it use, and I have no desire to find out what they are.


    And then it''s my turn. The Hand''s core is stuffed to the brim, and the Void chains are absorbing any Firmament it tries to use against us.


    "You cannot help him!" it tries to shout. "You will fail!"


    "No," I say. "We won''t."


    I use Firmament Control to direct a stream of my power¡ªmine and Guard''s, really¡ªdirectly into the Hand''s slowly cracking core. There''s nowhere for all that Firmament to go except into the Void, and the Void isn''t eating fast enough to overwhelm the sheer amount that''s already in there.


    Cracks appear in stoneskin flesh. Golden streams of Gheraa''s Firmament begin to leak through, back into the dungeon.


    Uncorrupted. Safe. It melds with the rubble scattered around the dungeon, and slowly but surely, the walls begin to heal.


    And the Hand, meanwhile, begins to scream.

 207 — Book 3, Chapter 66 — Showmanship

    Gheraa wasn''t entirely sure what had happened. One moment he was speeding toward what he assumed was Ethan and the others and the next the world had gone dark.


    It was like he''d briefly died. Again! Which was insulting, first of all. Dying once was bad enough, but twice? While he was a paradox-sustained entity? Of all the...


    Wait, no, Ethan was in trouble. He was getting distracted by his ego again. He darted off once again in the direction of that storm of Firmament, determined to help put a stop to the doubtlessly rampaging beast he''d helped create.


    Then he stopped and blinked a few times, wondering if he was seeing this right.


    That was definitely a giant hand. It was almost definitely the boss, considering the amount of Firmament he sensed within. It wasn''t rampaging, though. Quite the opposite. It writhed around on the ground, screaming through a mouth it had manifested in the middle of its palm as golden Firmament poured out of a dozen cracks.


    A mantis-like creature¡ªAhkelios?¡ªstood next to it, lopping off its thumb whenever that thumb regenerated, which really wasn''t very often. Dark, Void-aligned chains wrapped around every finger, drawing out every drop of non-dungeon Firmament the moment the giant hand tried to channel them.


    Several steps away, there was an automaton that was almost certainly He-Who-Guards, and...


    Gheraa had no idea what he was looking at.


    It looked like a fully-armored being, except the armor was made of a sort of bone composite that covered every inch of his body. The only openings in that armor glowed bright with Firmament¡ªthick streams of power jetted out from them occasionally, apparently to help their owner stabilize itself as it channeled a beam so bright that Gheraa had to squint to see past it.


    The beam was directing Firmament straight into the boss monster''s core. Was that even possible? Gheraa felt like that wasn''t supposed to be possible.


    He was also feeling very shown up at the moment, which wasn''t something he was used to. Who or what was this thing? It was like nothing he''d ever seen in the Trials. And where was Ethan, anyway? If that was Ahkelios and He-Who-Guards, then Ethan had to be somewhere nearby, unless they''d decided to split up for some reason.


    The only other possibility was¡ª


    Gheraa blinked, then felt out the Firmament in front of him a little more carefully. Now that he was paying attention, the armored man did feel kind of familiar. Those were some awfully recognizable skill constructs, for instance. He''d recognize Temporal Echo and its variations anywhere.


    But the core he was looking at...


    That was a third-layer core. When he''d last seen Ethan he''d been at, what, the first layer? He had a vague memory that Ethan might have gone a little further than that since, but his memories of his dungeon-self were like half-forgotten dreams. He didn''t really know what had happened, and he certainly wasn''t expecting Ethan to have hit the third layer.


    Also, this was like no third-layer core he''d ever felt before.


    Still, all evidence pointed to this being Ethan. Probably.


    Only one way to find out.


    "Ethan?" he asked awkwardly. He''d imagined swooping in to save the human, not... whatever this was. His plans were thrown off. How was he supposed to have a dramatic introduction now?


    The thing-that-was-probably-Ethan glanced back at him, then did a double-take. "Gheraa?" he asked. "How are you¡ªno, hang on, questions later. We need to finish up with this thing first."


    Okay, that was definitely Ethan. His voice sounded strange¡ªdistorted by the armor and overlaid with a second, older voice that Gheraa couldn''t help but feel like he should have recognized¡ªbut it was his voice.


    Gheraa walked up to him, still a little stunned. "You look... different," he said. What was this stuff? He poked at Ethan''s shoulder experimentally. Whatever this material was, it was even harder than his own stoneskin body.


    Ethan threw him a look that Gheraa thought was probably a withering glare. He couldn''t read the human''s expressions as well through the helmet. "Not right now," he said. "We''re trying to kill the thing that wants you dead."


    "It wants me dead?" Gheraa blinked, looking at the giant hand. He felt like it should have been more threatening, but right now it was just squirming around on the ground screaming. "Me specifically?"


    "You specifically," Ethan confirmed.


    "I''ll kill you!" it screamed, as if to add additional confirmation. Gheraa looked over at it¡ªyup, it was definitely trying to get to him. It was digging its fingers into the dirt and everything, dragging itself slowly over, and it turned with him when he tried to move out of its way.


    Something about it seemed oddly familiar, and not in a way he liked.


    Fortunately, it didn''t get the chance to get anywhere close. Its core was reaching some sort of tipping point¡ªGheraa watched in a mixture of fascination and slight horror as the thing that called itself a core began to tear apart at the seams, layer by layer, peeling away until there was nothing left but a single gold-black seed.


    He turned back to Ethan, eyes widening slightly as he watched him work. The armor practically reverberated with the amount of power he was channeling, and there was a purity and stability to it that was different from any other type of Firmament he''d encountered. Many Integrators were stronger, certainly, but their power was wild and unchecked.


    This was a steady beam of Firmament that barely even wavered despite its density. Gheraa wasn''t sure he could pull that off, even if he was just working with third-layer Firmament. Ethan was controlling all that power like he''d been born with it, and the way his core was built¡ª


    The gold-black seed of the boss monster''s core promptly exploded, interrupting his thoughts. Gheraa found himself just staring at Ethan as the world slowly faded back into normalcy.


    "Gheraa," Ethan said. Gheraa blinked, forcing himself back down to reality. Mostly. He watched as the armor Ethan was wearing abruptly dissolved, leaving behind a very disheveled but very human man standing in front of him.


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    Even then, he looked a little different. Gheraa wasn''t sure how. His physical appearance was mostly the same, although his clothing had definitely seen better days. Both the sleeves were torn off, and there were gaping holes in the fabric. But everything else...


    Maybe it was just his presence. There was something about Ethan''s core that was almost magnetic¡ªGheraa had never felt anything like it. The world itself bent toward him in slight, barely-noticeable ways; he felt real in a way that Gheraa hadn''t encountered except from seventh-layer Integrators.


    "Gheraa?" Ethan prompted again. "You okay?"


    "Um," Gheraa said. This was new for him. Not that odd, magnetic stability to Ethan''s core¡ªthat much, at least, he''d witnessed before in Lhore and other seventh-layer Integrators¡ªbut he wasn''t used to being at a loss for words. What was he even supposed to say? Ethan had just channeled enough power to eradicate a maximum-rank monster. For him. "Damn."


    "Damn?" Ethan quirked a brow at him.


    "Damn," Gheraa repeated. "That was kind of hot."


    Ethan blinked. There was a long silence. He glanced back at the scorch mark on the ground where the dungeon monster had been.


    "...What was?" he asked. "Please tell me you''re not talking about the Hand."


    "I was talking about the way you evaporated it," Gheraa clarified, though he felt like this wasn''t helping his case.


    There was a long silence.


    "Can you do it again?" he added.


    Ethan stared at him. "There isn''t really another one of those just sitting around for me to blast," he pointed out.


    "Oh." Gheraa felt like he was starting to understand what that human foot-in-mouth saying was all about.


    Fortunately, Ethan seemed to take pity on him. The Trialgoer shook his head and laughed, expression softening into a smile. "You know, I''m somehow entirely unsurprised that you''re into dramatic displays of power. It''s good to see you again, Gheraa."


    He paused, then added dryly, "Even if I have a lot of questions about how you''re here."


    "You know me! I''m all about the drama," Gheraa said cheerfully, privately relieved by the change in subject. He hesitated, then spoke again, this time with a little more sincerity. "It''s good to see you too."


    With the boss monster destroyed, the remains of his Firmament were getting to work repairing the walls of the dungeon. It was strange to watch what was essentially his own soul doing all this.


    Or his own corpse, depending on how you looked at it. Now that was a sobering reminder of the situation they were in.


    "We should find somewhere safe to talk," Ethan said. "Not sure how long it''s going to be before the dungeon spawns more monsters, but I''d rather not trigger them if the spawns are going to be corrupted."


    "Right." Gheraa tried to gather himself¡ªit was difficult, but he was doing it, even if he couldn''t quite take his mind off the image of that solid beam of Firmament¡ªand nodded in the direction of the portal. "We have a lot to talk about."


    "You''re telling me," Ethan said, his tone now a touch amused. "Speaking of which... Ahkelios, Guard, this is Gheraa. Gheraa, Ahkelios and He-Who-Guards."


    "I was wondering when you''d introduce us," Ahkelios said as he popped up beside Ethan. He grinned at Gheraa. "Nice to finally meet you."


    "You are one of the Integrators," He-Who-Guards said. Gheraa couldn''t quite figure out what to make of his expression. "A rebel, as I understand it."


    "And proud to be one!" Gheraa swept himself into a dramatic bow. Now this was territory he was more familiar with. "You''re right, we should leave. Allow me to escort you fine gentlemen to the exit portal."


    Besides, then he wouldn''t be standing around in his own corpse next to the remains of a monster that still made him uncomfortable with its familiarity. Why was that thing so familiar, anyway?


    "Is he always like this?" Ahkelios whispered to Ethan.


    "Just go along with it." Ethan whispered back. "It''s a coping mechanism."


    Gheraa pointedly pretended he didn''t hear either of them. It was not a coping mechanism.


    Before they left, however, he made sure to pick up the coat he''d left folded by the portal and pull it back around his shoulders, letting the sleeves flutter behind him for dramatic effect.


    Again, not as a coping mechanism. He just liked it that way.


    <hr>


    It took a few minutes for the four of them to get settled somewhere outside the Intermediary. Gheraa was almost immediately fascinated by the forestry on Hestia¡ªhe''d never actually stepped foot on an Integrated planet. The paperwork required to get that kind of approval was too much work for him.


    Besides, no one actually got approved for it unless one of their elected Trialgoers was being particularly stubborn.


    The point was, he''d never stepped foot on a planet like this. There was wood here. And trees. And dirt! So much dirt.


    He didn''t really like the dirt. Or the insects that were buzzing about the place. How did Ethan stand this?


    "Must we sit here?" Gheraa muttered. "Isthanok is nearby, is it not? Surely there''s a palace we could lounge in."


    "Not sure I want to risk bringing an Integrator into a populated city just yet," Ethan said dryly. "Word will get out. Unless you have skills you can use to hide yourself?"


    "I do. What do you take me for?" Gheraa sniffed, but deflated a little as he thought about wandering into any of the Great Cities. "Though it may be for the best that I remain outside Isthanok for now. I would rather not be found by the Trialgoers. Or by Teluwat."


    Ethan tilted his head. "You''re worried about Teluwat?"


    "I''m made of Firmament," Gheraa said. "And much as it offends me to admit, I''m also weaker than I should be. Certain types of Concepts are particularly damaging to me and my kind, and Teluwat''s abilities are rather heavily reliant on them."


    "Huh." Ethan frowned slightly. "Makes sense, I guess. Actually, that might explain that monster back in the dungeon."


    Gheraa scowled. "Viral Concepts," he said. "A plague to Integrators."


    "You don''t think Teluwat had something to do with that?" Ethan asked, frowning.


    "No," Gheraa said immediately. "He can do a great many things, but infecting a sixth-layer dungeon? Not even Integrators can interfere with dungeons this much."


    Ethan nodded slowly, his expression troubled. "So something else caused that," he said. "Something intruded on the dungeon. And I''m guessing that has something to do with why you''re back. Not that I''m not happy to see you, but... what''s going on here, exactly? How are you alive before I''ve even brought you back?"


    Gheraa hesitated.


    There wasn''t any reason for him to lie here. And he wasn''t planning to! But he felt... nervous, oddly enough. Probably because, in all the eons he''d lived, he''d never really felt like he owed anyone anything. He''d never relied on anyone else, had never been part of a team¡ªeven with Ethan, all he''d been doing at first was pull the strings.


    This was different, wasn''t it? The Heart had entrusted him with a mission, and now Ethan and his friends were trusting him to give them answers.


    It felt strange. Different. Like they were treating him as part of their team, even if they''d only just technically met.


    He didn''t dislike the feeling.


    "The Heart brought me back," Gheraa admitted after a moment. "But she said she was only able to do it because you manage to bring me back at some point in the future. Something about a minor paradox. So, uh, thanks for that, but also please still actually do it at some point in the future."


    Ethan smiled slightly. "It''s the least I can do. And not that I''m not grateful, but why would the Heart do that?"


    "She said I have to give you a warning," Gheraa said, and then he hesitated again. Would telling Ethan about this anger him?


    No. Ethan wasn''t Rhoran.


    "And I think I figured out what she wanted me to warn you about," he added. "I found it exploring my¡ªexploring the dungeon."


    "Found what, exactly?" Ethan asked. Ahkelios and Guard leaned in, equally curious.


    Gheraa sighed. "Information. To be specific, information about something called the Sunken King."

 208 — Book 3, Chapter 67 — The Sunken King

    It takes only a few minutes for Gheraa to go through the magnitude of what he''d learned. Ahkelios, Guard and I all exchange glances as he describes the legend of the Sunken King and everything he was supposedly involved in. The more he speaks, the more things click into place.


    A startling number of things, actually. I was hoping for some answers, but even painted as vaguely as it is, this single missing piece holds the answer to a dozen possible connections. Maybe more.


    Ahkelios is first to speak, voicing what I''m pretty sure we''re all thinking. "So we all agree that that''s obviously Kauku, right?" he asks. "I mean, he showed up out of nowhere to ask Ethan for a favor, he can clearly do whatever he wants with the Interface, and he keeps calling Ethan his Heir."


    "He keeps doing what?" Gheraa asks.


    "It fits," I admit. I''m not sure how that thought makes me feel. "I''ve got the same Truth, and the whole Anchoring thing kind of fits with the legend. I''m not sure if that''s what we should be focusing on, though."


    "Yeah, I''m more worried about everything else this implies," Ahkelios says, getting up and beginning to pace. "Doesn''t this mean he created the Interface?"


    "It sounded to me as though he may have been responsible for the creation of Firmament itself," Guard says. "Though the tale is imprecise. It is possible he only created the Interface, as you say."


    "That''s even worse!" Ahkelios complains. "We''re supposed to fight something that created Firmament? We use the stuff!"


    "Excuse me," Gheraa says. "What was that about being his Heir?"


    "We use it, but so does he," I point out. "If Guard''s right, the whole reason they made Firmament is because it''s a more robust system of power and growth than... whatever they had before. We''re not at an inherent disadvantage just because we use it."


    "Yeah, we''re just at a disadvantage because of everything else," Ahkelios grumbles. He glances between me and Guard. "At least pretend this is shocking or something. I feel like I''m the only one here that''s surprised."


    I laugh a little at this. Ahkelios is wearing the sort of petulant expression that works when he''s a couple inches tall but looks strange on him when he''s taller than I am. It works to lighten the mood¡ªeven Guard seems amused.


    "I''m just trying not to get caught up in how bad it sounds," I say. "I''m worried too, don''t get me wrong, but... we need to focus on countermeasures, on what we can do, and on what changed. Kauku was at least pretending to be an ally before now. It doesn''t make sense that he''s changing his mind before even getting what he wants. Why do all this, and why do all this now?"


    "Maybe he figured out a way to get what he wants faster," Ahkelios suggests. "Or maybe whatever we fought just now was someone else."


    I frown slightly, considering the thought. "Like Gheraa said, there shouldn''t be anyone else around capable of messing with the dungeon like this," I say slowly. I glance at the Integrator in question, though he''s looking more than a little put out. "What do you think?"


    "At this point I feel like you''re messing with me," Gheraa says, folding his arms across his chest.


    I can''t deny that I was doing it a little. "We''ll get you caught up after this, I promise," I say. "And in my defense, you messed with me a lot worse when I first joined the Trials."


    Gheraa pauses, then smirks. "A fair point," he concedes. "You were far less impressive back then."


    I raise an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"


    "You decide!" He gives me what I assume is supposed to be a winning smile, then ruins it by leaning on his cane and nearly falling over; he scowls at the dirt that shifted beneath his cane. "Are you sure you don''t have a spare palace?"


    "I don''t keep spare palaces in my back pocket, Gheraa," I say with a snort. "Now, the question?"


    Gheraa sighs dramatically, but straightens a moment later, his expression settling so abruptly it''s like a switch was flipped. "It would be quite irregular for any other presence on Hestia to be able to interfere with a dungeon," he says. "If the Integrators are cut off from the planet as they appear to be, then I would not expect anyone other than this Sunken King to be able to interfere with the soulrot produced from my death."


    "Soulrot?" The word makes me frown.


    "A term for the decay of a practitioner''s soul," Gheraa explains. "Where their life and experiences leak into the world around them."


    "...Should I be concerned that yours was a maze?"


    "It was incomplete!" Gheraa says defensively. "And my soul is mine to judge, thank you very much. Let''s get back on topic here."


    Well, he''s right about that, at least. I think back through my experiences in the recent loop, wondering if there''s something I''m missing. To my surprise, it''s He-Who-Guards who speaks up first.


    "There was interference within First Sky," he says. "This is not the first instance of dungeon interference we have encountered, even if this was more... direct."


    "Was that Kauku too?" Ahkelios asks.


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    "No," I say slowly. "I had to trigger an Inspiration mid-fight and he helped us fight the Abstraction. Not that I''m taking anything he says at face value, but I get the feeling the change in behavior came after. Something must''ve happened."


    "The warning you received," Guard surmises, and I nod.


    "Don''t let it reach Kauku," I recite. "I don''t think I was going to be able to stop it anyway, considering how Paradox Warning works, but we still don''t have any idea what it is. All we know is that it apparently reached Kauku sometime after that last meeting."


    I hesitate for a moment. "There was that last message I got from him," I say. "Back when the Hand showed up. He said..." I pull the notification out from the Interface to check. "This may be the last time you hear from me. Know that I wish you the best, despite our differences. Good luck, O Heir Mine."


    Ahkelios blinks. "Did he seriously send you that while you were fighting that thing he sent? Can he not decide what side he''s on?"


    "I think it might be a little more complicated than that," I say, frowning at the window. "If he had the time to send messages, then I''m assuming whatever changed wasn''t immediate. Obviously I''m taking a lot on faith at the moment, but¡ª"


    I stop mid-sentence as I realize that Gheraa has gone entirely still, and the grip he has on his cane is suddenly so hard that I sense tiny cracks forming in its Firmament. "Gheraa? Are you... alright?"


    "Can''t be," he mutters. I''m not sure he even heard what I said. "Can''t be. We don''t do that anymore. And he wouldn''t agree to that. Would it even work?"


    "Gheraa¡ª"


    "He wouldn''t," Gheraa half-snarls the word, rounding on me; the golden lines of Firmament on his body flare briefly as he does, midway toward forming a defensive matrix before the makeshift shield makes contact with my wrist and suddenly collapses. I eye him carefully, my hand halfway toward his shoulder.


    Both Guard and Ahkelios flinch, then take a step forward. I shake my head slightly, tapping on the bond we share as a makeshift signal, and they glance at one another before relaxing.


    Gheraa sags. "I thought I wouldn''t have to deal with him anymore," he says quietly. He doesn''t move away, so I move my hand the rest of the way to his shoulder, feeling the erratic flickering of his Firmament.


    "You know something," I say, and he nods slightly.


    "I thought something about the... you called it the Hand?" Gheraa asks. I nod.


    "Hand of an Empty Throne, Corrupted. Or so the Interface claimed." I watch Gheraa carefully as I speak; he flinches slightly the moment I say the word "corrupted."


    "What an original name," he snarks, although his heart doesn''t seem in it. "Yes. I thought something about it seemed familiar at the time. I was unwilling to consider the possibility, but given all the details you''ve shared, I have little cause to doubt this now."


    "And what is it, exactly?" I ask. Gheraa glances up at me, then to the hand resting on his shoulder; I make to pull away, but he shakes his head. He seems... grateful, for some reason.


    "You will recall that I said that Integrators, as creatures of Firmament, are particularly vulnerable to certain Concepts," he says. "Material beings like humans have physical forms to anchor them. We do not. We are our cores, our souls, or whatever word you choose to use to describe the essence of Firmament. You could say we are a Concept unto ourselves¡ªone that shapes our form and Firmament.


    "In some ways, this is a strength. When an Integrator wields a Concept, it is the purest expression of that Concept''s power. We can make it a part of us in a way that few others can. In other ways, it is a weakness: we can be corrupted, altered, or turned against ourselves if infected by a Concept that runs counter to our beings.


    "There is a third possibility. An old, forbidden practice." Gheraa hesitates. "We can invert the relationship between Concept and Firmament. That is, in our conventional state, we are beings of Firmament that embody a personal Concept; if we invert that relationship, we become a Concept with a will of its own¡ªone that corrupts and consumes Firmament.


    "A parasite of Firmament, in other words. A thing that barely resembles the Integrator it originally was. A lot is usually lost in the process¡ªwe have to give up our cores, channel everything we are into a single idea. But the resulting entity is nearly impossible to kill, no longer hampered by physical boundaries, and capable of infecting and corrupting nearly anything that relies on Firmament."


    There''s a long silence that stretches out as Gheraa finishes his explanation. He doesn''t look any of us in the eye. It''s easy enough to guess exactly who he thinks did this, considering what the Hand was shouting the entire time we were trying to kill it.


    "You had a supervisor," I say. "You think this is them."


    Gheraa nods, still not looking up. "His name is¡ªwas¡ªRhoran. If he''s managed to infect this Kauku, the Concept he chose probably lines up closely with Kauku''s goals. Hatred or Revenge, or... or something."


    I take my hand off Gheraa''s shoulder and push myself to my feet. "I''m kind of relieved, honestly," I remark.


    Gheraa does look up, then, his expression somewhere between befuddled and outraged. "How can you say that?"


    I hold a hand out toward him. "Well," I say. "For one thing? I don''t have any idea how to deal with Kauku''s goals and the revenge he wants. All that stuff with the gods of Imagination and Expansion are way outside my wheelhouse." I pause, then amend the statement slightly. "For now. But some petty tyrant that''s just mad that you''re better than him? That I can deal with."


    Gheraa blinks, the outrage falling away. He looks at my proffered hand, hesitating. "More importantly," I continue, smirking slightly at him. "To be honest, with everything that''s happened with the Integrators? I was getting kind of worried I wouldn''t get a chance to kick this Rhoran''s ass."


    The Integrator¡ªor former Integrator, I suppose¡ªblinks again. Then he slowly takes my hand, allowing me to pull him to his feet. "Thank you," he says quietly. For once, there''s no trace of the showmanship he wears as a cloak. This is as genuine as he gets.


    I nod at him, then turn back to the others. "Alright!" I announce. "We have a few more things to figure out, but we''ll do it on the way. I know where we''re going next."


    "To kick Rhoran''s ass?" Ahkelios supplies eagerly. I laugh.


    "No. Dungeon''s still closed, and we don''t even know how to get to him," I say. "But he''ll find us, and we can''t slack off in the meantime."


    "It will take time for us to learn how to fight together more effectively, as well," He-Who-Guards adds. "We have grown, which means we will need time to adjust."


    "Not to mention we''ve got a fourth fighting with us now," I muse. That''s a whole other angle to the problem I''ll have to consider¡ªa way for us to make time.


    "Oh," Gheraa says. I blink at him.


    "Oh?"


    "I just remembered." He looks a little awkward. "The Heart gave me a message to pass on. She said you should head to the Quiet Grove. She left a gift for you there."


    Huh. I suppose that changes things.


    "To the Quiet Grove it is," I say.

 209 — Book 3, Chapter 68 — Home Away From Home

    There are a few more loose ends I need to tie up before risking a reset, which means I spend most of the trip interrogating Gheraa and trying to understand the intricacies of the loop. He''s a lot more free with information now that he doesn''t have to hide what he''s doing from the rest of the Integrators, but it''s also surprising to me how much he doesn''t know.


    "We have no idea what''s causing the Anomaly," he confesses when I try asking about it. "It doesn''t match any event in any other Trial that I know of. Hestia is the only planet that''s reacted negatively to the Integration process." He frowns a little. "Though it''s not the only Heart to try fighting back."


    "Sounds like the planets don''t like being Integrated," I say mildly. Gheraa is silent for a moment before he nods in reluctant agreement.


    "Integration gives the Interface control over the planetary Heart," he says. "It is not a pleasant process for them."


    I can imagine. I say nothing in response to this, though Ahkelios and Guard both exchange glances with one another. Ahkelios in particular I can sense is itching to ask about what happened to his planet; the only reason he hasn''t is because he''s waiting for me to be done.


    I gesture for him to ask. May as well get it over with.


    "Do you know what happened to my planet?" Ahkelios asks immediately.


    Gheraa frowns at him. "Which planet is that?"


    I wince. Somewhat predictably, Ahkelios looks offended. "Yotun," he says, and his expression falls when there isn''t even a flicker of recognition in Gheraa''s face. "You don''t know, do you?"


    "I cannot possibly know the status of every planet that has been Integrated," Gheraa says defensively.


    "Do you know what your people are doing to these planets?" Ahkelios demands. "You could at least do the courtesy of remembering!"


    I consider stepping in, but something about Gheraa''s expression stops me¡ªthe defensiveness melts away into a mixture of guilt and resignation, and when he speaks again, it''s... well, it''s a start.


    "As you have already surmised, the threat of planetary destruction when we first begin Integration is a lie," the former Integrator says, his voice a little quieter. "Planets destroyed in the process of Integration are few and far between, and every Integrator knows of them. I do not know the exact status of Yotun, but I can assure you it still exists."


    Ahkelios''s relief is palpable through our bond. He nods at Gheraa, not yet forgiving him but still appreciating the response.


    I probably should have considered this possibility. Ahkelios and Guard may have been on board with my mission to bring Gheraa back, but he''s still an Integrator. He''s part of the species responsible for the uprooting of their entire lives. As much as he''s done for us, they only really have my word to go on, and I can tell they don''t entirely trust him yet.


    For me, trusting him is a simple, binary choice¡ªone I made the moment I saw what he''d done for us. For them... well, hopefully fighting together will help, but I suspect this is the type of problem only time can remedy.


    Ironic, that.


    "Gheraa," I say. He looks up at me, still tense. "I need to know what you know about the loops. What''s going to happen when we reset? Both you and Ahkelios aren''t really supposed to be here. Ahkelios used to be a product of Temporal Link, but now he has his own fully realized body. You''re a walking paradox. Neither of you exist at the start of the loop. What''s going to happen if I die? Or if Ahkelios dies?"


    "Um," Gheraa says, evidently thrown by the sudden change in topic. Some of that tension bleeds away, though, and he seems thankful to have something else to focus on. "I''m not sure? Wait, hold on."


    I raise an eyebrow at him. He huffs indignantly. "Wait," he says. "I''m thinking!"


    We walk in silence for the next few minutes. Gheraa curses every so often when he steps too deep into mud or stumbles into a branch¡ªhe does not seem used to existing in a physical environment, and more than once I catch him waving at a tree as if he can dismiss it from existence with a thought.


    Ahkelios nudges me, looking nervous. "You don''t think I''m going to die, do you?" he asks worriedly. "If the loop resets, I mean."


    "As if I''d let that happen," I say, nudging him back.


    Guard makes an agreeing sort of hum. "I would not allow this, either," he says. He sounds surprisingly sure of himself¡ªthe phase shift and the soulbond have both done a lot for him, it seems.


    "I''ve got it!" Gheraa announces. I blink and turn to him only for him to immediately walk into a tangle of vines.


    Somehow, he ends up both restrained and dangling upside down. His attempts at waving his cane around only serve to tangle him up further.


    "You need help over there?" I ask, amused.


    "No," Gheraa says stiffly. He pauses. "Maybe."


    "Can''t you burn these away with your Firmament?" I ask, reaching up to pull him free.


    "Well, yes," he admits. He dusts himself off the moment I manage to free him enough for him to land on the ground, looking affronted by the dirt that managed to get on his coat. "But then I would be doing a poor job of acclimating. Imagine if I vaporized a door instead of opening it!"


    "I feel like you know how to open doors," I deadpan. I can''t entirely fault the logic, though. It makes a certain practical sense.


    At the same time, though... I eye him for a moment. I''m pretty sure a good amount of his clumsiness has been genuine, but this one feels deliberate. Gheraa doesn''t quite meet my eyes, which only confirms my suspicions.


    I don''t say anything about it, though. We''ll have plenty of time to talk in the future. In the meantime, if nothing else, both Ahkelios and Guard seem cautiously amused.


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    "You were saying?" I prompt. Gheraa takes a moment to come back to himself.


    "Oh! Yes." He twirls his cane and then plants it into the ground. "I am reasonably certain that a reset will cause a metastable tumor to form within the temporal boundary of the loop."


    "In plain terms, please."


    Gheraa sighs dramatically. "A reset will put both me and your friend into a stable version of the Tears I''m sure you''ve encountered by now. All we have to do is break out. Or you may have to break us out. One or the other."


    "And you believe this because?" I ask.


    "This," he says, gesturing to Ahkelios and himself, "is the first time entire beings external to the loop have been introduced to it after its inception. But it is not the first time an object has been introduced to the loop. In the first few iterations of this Trial, dungeons and Hotspots would both reward physical objects to the Trialgoer that completed them."


    "I''m guessing there was a problem with that," I say dryly. Gheraa''s explanation reminds me of the Chromatic Threads I received from the first Hotspot I completed¡ªI still haven''t really had the time to practice using them, and without practice they''re so impractically deadly that I''d more or less forgotten about them.


    Now that I think about it, though, Guard fights with his chains in the same way I''d like to fight with the Threads. Maybe he can give me some tips? It feels like a waste not to use them otherwise.


    "Firmament, like energy, can neither be created nor destroyed," Gheraa says, catching my attention again. He shoots me a dirty look. "You should be aware that placing objects within the Empty City for preservation was not an intended use of the dungeon portal. Every loop iteration costs the Interface a fraction of its Firmament to preserve those objects."


    "Unfortunate," I say, not meaning it at all. The well-being of the Interface isn''t high up on my list of priorities. Gheraa seems to recognize this, because he just smirks a little at my words.


    "It was a clever workaround," he allows. "Something we''ll likely patch out in the next Trial¡ªwell," he frowns, correcting himself. "Something the Integrators would patch out. If there was another Trial."


    He shakes his head. "This is beside the point. Because Firmament cannot be destroyed, a new object existing within Hestia''s temporal boundary causes a Tear to form. That Tear preserves the object into the next loop. The same should happen to me and your friend."


    "Ahkelios," Ahkelios supplies, narrowing his eyes slightly. Gheraa pauses.


    "Ahkelios," he amends. The mantis nods in satisfaction.


    "In other words, you''re pretty sure you''re both going to be inside a Tear, but you don''t know how easy it will be to break out from the inside," I muse. "Do you know where it shows up?"


    "Near the loop anchor''s spawn point," Gheraa says immediately. "That''s you."


    "Good to know." I nod in satisfaction. Getting them out shouldn''t be a problem, then, assuming they can''t get out of it themselves. That''s one major worry out of the way. "You don''t think Ahkelios getting his Interface back will complicate things?"


    There''s a long pause. When I turn to look, Gheraa has stopped in his tracks and is staring at me. "He has what?"


    I pause. "...Maybe we should catch you up on things while we walk," I suggest. Now that I think about it, he has missed a lot. Especially if his memories of being a dungeon are foggy, which they appear to be.


    Gheraa nods slowly. "That... sounds prudent," he manages.


    <hr>


    It takes a while before Gheraa figures out how to speak again once we get him caught up. In that time, we decide that whatever we find in the Quiet Grove, we''ll use the opportunity to take a break as well¡ªin part to give Gheraa a moment and in part because... well, because we need a break.


    We''re all feeling the effects of battle after battle, escalation after escalation. As much as we''d like to throw ourselves headfirst into the next problem, the more we talk about everything we''ve been through, the more we realize how much we need to take some time to ourselves.


    Evidently, the planet itself recognizes this, because when we arrive, we see that the Quiet Grove has changed. It''s as quiet as ever, but miniature cabins sit in the middle of the grove.


    Four of them, in fact.


    "Not just a gift for me, then," I say. There''s a part of me that''s worried that this is a trick, but the closer we get, the more sure I am that this is in fact the Heart''s doing. There''s no hint of foreign powers or interference here¡ªjust a thick fog of temporal Firmament that sticks to each cabin and hovers over the grove. A hot spring, of all things, sits in the middle.


    Her way of helping us, I suppose. Or maybe her way of telling us we need to take a break. Time itself is dilated here, and my read of the Firmament here tells me that it''s stretched enough for us to spend days here with only an hour passing outside.


    Maybe it''s safe to rest properly for once.


    "I''m going to go process everything you just told me, and then I''m going to barge into your cabin with a number of questions," Gheraa tells me. Then he walks off without another word, claiming the rightmost cabin and shutting the door behind him. I watch him, a little bemused.


    "I think perhaps we should all get some rest," He-Who-Guards says, a little more measured. "I must speak with Aris and determine what she wishes to do."


    "I''m going to train," Ahkelios announces. "Or sleep. Maybe both!"


    I chuckle and watch them head into their respective cabins. I pick the last one and blink at the room that greets me. It''s nothing alike, but at the same time, the way everything is placed...


    It kind of looks like my old room. On Earth.


    I take a few steps in, closing the door behind me and breathing in the scent. It smells like fresh wood¡ªnothing like home¡ªbut a wave of nostalgia washes over me nonetheless.


    There''s a photo frame by the dresser, but no photograph in it. I pick it up, frowning slightly.


    This used to hold a picture of my family. Instead, there''s a note.


    "Hi Ethan!" it reads. "We don''t know why you asked us to build all this, but we owe ya, so here you go! Hope you like it. Lots of people helped! Even Bimar, even if she grumbled a lot. And some big bird guy? Also an old bird guy. And a scary bird lady. And a different scary bird lady, but she''s not as bird-like. Hey, do you know a lot of birds for some reason?


    "Thaht says I gotta stop rambling. Okay, uh, training! We have some training facilities we built according to the specs the scary AI lady gave us. She says it should work with the Interface and it''ll get you prepared for the Fracture, which is confusing, because I thought you already¡ª


    "What do you mean I''m not supposed to¡ª


    "I am not writing down everything I''m say¡ªokay, no, I am. Force of habit! Anyway, we hope this helps? A lot of people are here and want to sign this, but apparently that''s not okay either and I wasn''t supposed to write some of the stuff I already wrote. Oops."


    The handwriting abruptly changes.


    "We hope this helps, Ethan. Do what you need to do, no matter what that is. We''ll be with you."


    Two signatures at the bottom. Thys and Thaht, scrawled messily across the note. I chuckle a little at the phrasing, but more importantly...


    This isn''t just a resting spot, huh? It''s something Hestia brought forward for us. Something I''ll apparently ask the kobold brothers for in the future.


    I glance at the trapdoor in the ground. That''s definitely not in my original room.


    "Sounds like a lot of people are counting on me," I muse out loud. Strangely enough, for once, I feel confident about it. Not angry, scared, or lost.


    I know who I am now. And the Sunken King¡ªKauku, Rhoran, whoever is in control and whatever name he goes by?


    He''ll just have to learn.

 210 — Book 3, Epilogue 1 — Hopes and Dreams

    Gheraa wasn''t used to this.


    Not the act of existing in realspace, though that was certainly strange in and of itself; the straight lines and square rooms of his home were nonexistent here, and the purity of Firmament he was used to was nowhere to be found. A part of him rebelled against it¡ªyearned to apologize to Lhore and to be accepted back amongst the Integrators¡ªbut a much greater part of him reveled in it. Delighted in the thought of what they would think of him if they saw him now, cavorting and befriending the so-called lower lifeforms of the galaxy.


    He was even getting used to the dirt. He didn''t like it, exactly, but he was getting used to it. That was something, right? He could hold it in his hand without shuddering now.


    All that was... different. But it wasn''t what took the most getting used to. That honor was taken by Ethan and his friends.


    Gheraa had never been able to let his guard down before, at least not to this extent. Integrator culture was competitive. Any interaction was a display of social dominance, every fight a battle for the right to exist. It was a necessity for their growth and evolution, or so the upper echelons claimed, and yet he''d never felt like he belonged.


    In fairness, he wasn''t sure he belonged here, either. Ahkelios and Guard treated him with respect, but he could tell they didn''t entirely trust him, and he couldn''t blame them. Ethan was the only one that seemed to look at him without judgement.


    Sometimes, he was afraid that would change. He tried not to think about that too much.


    "Hey, Gheraa?" Ethan called, knocking on his door. Gheraa flinched for a moment before he remembered himself and coughed, opening the door and putting on a beaming smile. At least, he assumed it was a beaming smile? Ethan seemed to interpret it just fine, but Ahkelios seemed a little creeped out by it.


    "What is it?" Gheraa asked.


    "Can we talk for a moment?" Ethan gestured inside, and Gheraa blinked, hesitantly stepping aside and allowing the human in.


    "Of course," he said, with perhaps a little more doubt than he''d intended. "What about?"


    "I just want to know," Ethan said. He leaned forward, a slight furrow in his brows. "What do you want out of all this?"


    "What... do you mean?" Gheraa asked. Mostly to stall. He knew what Ethan meant, he just didn''t know how to answer.


    Ethan seemed to realize this, too, because he just raised an eyebrow and waited. After a moment, Gheraa sighed.


    "I don''t know," he admitted.


    Half of this he''d done on a whim. He''d known bringing Ethan into a Trial would interfere with the Integrators and their plans. He hadn''t anticipated how much, and more importantly, he hadn''t anticipated...


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    Well, he hadn''t anticipated caring.


    He wanted the humans to succeed now. He wanted Ethan to succeed. Even wanting something was a new experience for him, in all honesty; he''d spent so much of his life simply serving the cause that he didn''t know what to do with things like personal desire.


    "This is your fault, you know," Gheraa grumbled.


    Ethan blinked. "What is?"


    Gheraa gestured to himself. "This," he said. "I don''t even regret sacrificing myself, you know that? Do you know how out of character that is for me? I''m all about the show! I''m not supposed to care about what happens to my charge, but you just had to be..." He made a frustrated gesture. "You know! You."


    "I don''t know what that means," Ethan chuckled, amused. Gheraa let out an aggravated sigh.


    "You noticed," he said. "Do you know how many people notice when I''m hurt? No one. I''m very good at hiding it. You had the nerve to ask me about it."


    "Is that so bad?"


    "I don''t know!" Gheraa threw his hands up in exasperation¡ªa decidedly human gesture, but how else was he going to communicate his frustrations? "And I don''t know how to answer your question. I don''t know what I want. I want to help you, I guess."


    "And after that?" Ethan asked.


    After that. He said it like it was so easy¡ªlike he would succeed and that would be that. Gheraa couldn''t even imagine what a victory for Earth would look like. Would the Interface even still exist? Would the Integrators?


    Would he?


    Gheraa sighed again. "I''ll have time to figure it out, won''t I?" he asked quietly, leaving his uncertainties unspoken. Ethan watched him for a moment, expression unreadable.


    "True enough," he allowed. "I just wanted to make sure you know you''re a part of this team. And that means what you want matters, too."


    "You are infuriatingly nice," Gheraa muttered. "But¡ª" he struggled for a moment. "Thank you."


    "You''re welcome," Ethan said simply. "Now, about my core..."


    Gheraa groaned. Ethan had been absolutely relentless on this matter, asking him questions about cores and phase shifts on a near-daily basis. Truth be told, Gheraa barely had any idea what Ethan had done with his core; the only thing he knew was that it felt similar to seventh-layer Integrators that had broken through the sixth-layer bottleneck. It was incredible. It was also bizarre.


    But he steeled himself to answer the questions anyway. He enjoyed this process now, strange as it was. All these years and he''d never once really enjoyed being a practitioner of Firmament. It was just a means to wield his power. Helping Ethan figure out whatever it was he''d done was the first time he''d actually played around with it, stretching both himself and Ethan''s capabilities in ways he hadn''t known was possible, and it was¡­ nice.


    Funny word for it, that.


    <hr>


    The days passed. Gheraa eventually came to admit that this experimentation with Firmament was some of the most fun he''d ever had with his skills. And this was in spite of the fact that he was weaker than he could ever remember being¡ªall their experimentation had shown that he was at most equivalent to a fourth-layer practitioner. Presumably either his death or the form of resurrection had struck a blow of sorts to the foundation of his power.


    There were times, though, where he felt his core tremble in a way he wasn''t used to. He tried to tell himself it was nothing. Just another side effect of the way he''d been brought back.


    Yet he didn''t miss the fact that it happened not when he experimented with Firmament, but when he spent time with Ethan. Sometimes, though more rarely, it happened when he spoke with one of the others. He had no idea what it was or any way to find out, so he did what he could not to dwell on it.


    Intead, he found himself going back to that question Ethan had asked him.


    What do you want out of all this?


    He didn''t know. Not yet.


    But he did realize at least one thing: he wanted to find out.

 211 — Book 3, Epilogue 2 — Names and Roles

    He-Who-Guards had known this question would come eventually. He¡¯d even been ready for it. What he hadn¡¯t been ready for was¡­ well, himself. He¡¯d thought it would be a quick and simple explanation, and instead he¡¯d been sitting by the campfire for the past hour and a half, trying to decide on an explanation he thought was satisfactory.


    His answers, it turned out, didn¡¯t even satisfy himself. Did he still want to go by He-Who-Guards? He-Who-Protects felt like it described him. The name was him, in a manner of speaking.


    ¡°I do not feel ready,¡± he finally explained, frowning at himself even as he said the words. It still felt like it wasn¡¯t enough.


    ¡°Just let us know when you¡¯re comfortable,¡± Ethan said, studying him. He seemed to sense that he wasn¡¯t comfortable talking about it, at least. Ahkelios didn¡¯t quite have the same sensitivity.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Ahkelios asked. ¡°I hope it¡¯s not because you feel like you can¡¯t live up to it. Because you are! You have been.¡±


    Guard couldn¡¯t help but smile a little at his friend¡¯s reassurance, at least. ¡°It is not that,¡± he explained. ¡°There is a lot that ties me to this name. I do not feel ready to move on.¡±


    He didn¡¯t even know what had happened to Whisper. He couldn¡¯t be sure that she was alive, but he couldn¡¯t be sure that she was gone, either. It felt like there was a chapter of his life that hadn¡¯t been closed yet.


    Part of him also just liked the way He-Who-Guards sounded more. Was that a foolish reason not to change his name? Silverwisp society would dictate that he do so, and yet¡­


    Well, he wasn¡¯t exactly beholden to them. None of them would even recognize him in the body he was in.


    ¡°I was just curious if you wanted us to,¡± Ethan said. ¡°But whatever name you¡¯re comfortable with, you know?¡±


    Ahkelios opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again when Ethan nudged him, looking mildly embarrassed. Guard chuckled.


    ¡°Call me Guard, at least for now,¡± he said warmly. It was good to have friends like these, he decided. ¡°I will inform you if and when I am ready. Otherwise¡­ I know who I am, and that is enough.¡±


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    Ethan nodded. He stood up from the campfire, stretching. ¡°Sounds good,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m going to turn in for the night, I think. I¡¯ll see you two¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ethan,¡± Guard said. Ethan froze. ¡°You will be awake at six in the morning this time, yes?¡±


    Ethan sighed. ¡°Must we adhere to this schedule?¡±


    ¡°If you wish to learn to fight with your Chromatic Threads as I do with my chains?¡± Guard asked. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said. Ahkelios snickered at him, and Guard reached out to flick his arm.


    ¡°You will be needed as well,¡± Guard said sternly.


    Ahkelios groaned.


    <hr>


    Guard found it strange, in truth, that Gheraa opted not to join them when they had their little campfire talks. He supposed he didn¡¯t mind it, exactly, but at the same time, he wondered if he needed to push a little harder.


    With anyone else, he would have. With an Integrator¡­


    He frowned at himself. He could not use that as an excuse forever. No, he would ask Gheraa to join them tomorrow. Ethan had tried already, but it was likely that Gheraa needed to hear from one of them, and Ahkelios was less likely to ask between the two of them.


    For now, he had two things to do tonight, as he did every night.


    The first was to check up on Aris. She had uploaded herself into the proxy servers in Isthanok not long after their arrival in the Quiet Grove; fortunately, her processing speed meant they could communicate in more or less real-time, even with the time disparity between the Grove and Isthanok.


    ¡°You are doing well?¡± Guard asked.


    Aris didn¡¯t exactly roll her eyes, but she did send him a file that contained exactly that impression. ¡°Guard, you do realize that you¡¯re basically asking me this every fifteen minutes?¡±


    Guard paused. ¡°I did not consider the time disparity,¡± he admitted after a moment.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m looking into the projects Whisper left behind and anything that might tell us about where she is now,¡± Aris said with a sigh. ¡°I will update you when I have news. Please stop contacting me. I mean no offense by this, but you aren¡¯t my dad. Get a child of your own if you want to parent someone.¡±


    The connection closed. Guard didn¡¯t react for a long moment.


    Something about what she said had resonated with him in a way that was¡­ disturbingly painful. In a way that was real. He didn¡¯t know what to make of that, and after a moment, he forced himself to move on.


    The second was Ethan¡¯s Void Inspiration, which had not stopped pestering him ever since it had discovered the quantity of Firmament he possessed. He didn¡¯t mind feeding it. Part of him wondered if his soul would have deteriorated so much if he¡¯d had something like this to begin with.


    One of these days, Guard thought, he would need to speak to it and understand what made it tick. Perhaps make Ethan speak to it, too. For all his strengths, the human still had his faults; this was one of them.


    ¡°Here you go, little one,¡± Guard said quietly, feeding it a thread of Firmament. It chomped eagerly around it.


    Even this made him feel a deep sense of loss. One that had nothing to do with the Firmament he was losing.


    He just wished he knew why.

 212 — Book 3, Epilogue 3 — Long Way From Home

    Ahkelios didn¡¯t quite know what to make of the cabin he¡¯d picked.


    Part of that was the fact that it was apparently designed specifically for him, despite the fact that he¡¯d chosen it pretty much at random. It wasn¡¯t like the cabins looked different from the outside. The first time he stepped into it he¡¯d almost forgotten to breathe; the whole place ached of¡­


    Well, it ached of home. And it had been a long, long time since he¡¯d been home.


    It was oddly difficult to get used to. In a way, he felt like he was obligated to love it the way he had his old home. The mess of scattered canvases, paints, and ceramic planters had always been a comfort to him back then. Every time the laboratory became too much¡ªhe¡¯d enjoyed his job, but it could be demanding¡ªhe¡¯d take a day or two off to sit and paint and be with his plants.


    Now, the idea of doing that felt¡­ foreign. The idea of taking a break felt foreign, really. And he was so far removed from the person he¡¯d been back then that it felt more like a painful reminder of what he¡¯d lost than a place of home and comfort.


    Ahkelios sighed, glancing ruefully at the note he¡¯d found taped to the bedside table. Ethan had worked hard to give him this, apparently, in some distant future. A part of him was touched, and a part of him felt guilty that he didn¡¯t appreciate it the way he felt he should have.


    Then again, if he¡¯d truly disliked living here, he would have told Ethan before they got this whole cabin built in that hypothetical future, surely? Maybe there was a reason he hadn¡¯t.


    There was a chance he could learn to connect with his home again, here and now.


    He¡¯d tried, over the past few days, to engage with his old hobbies again. He painted a somewhat messy painting of the crystalline shards of Isthanok, floating over the city. He transplanted some of the smaller saplings and plants from the grove into his planters and watched them grow.


    Ahkelios didn¡¯t dislike doing those things, but it wasn¡¯t the same.


    ¡°Maybe it doesn¡¯t have to be?¡± he asked out loud, testing the words.


    They felt right, somehow. He¡¯d changed. As important as this had been to him, it stood to reason that what they meant to him had changed, too.


    That perspective changed things for him. Between training sessions, he spent his nights trying new things¡ªexploring what he wanted to paint, studying the various plants and fungi available to him in the Grove. He brought out the Chromatic Roots Ethan had given him what felt like ages ago and began to perform the many experiments he¡¯d planned but never had the time to execute. He watched some of the more esoteric flowers scattered around the Grove, recording how they drew on the Firmament around them.


    Slowly¡ªso slowly he almost didn¡¯t notice¡ªsomething within him began to relax. He understood, on some level, why he hadn¡¯t told Ethan to try something else. He¡¯d needed this. Needed to figure out all over again what home meant to him.


    When he did, well¡­ There was a secondary benefit, of sorts.


    The training simulators inside the Quiet Grove were integrated with the Interface in a way that should have been impossible; it was a miracle of engineering, to say the least. One Ahkelios was pretty sure any one of Hestia¡¯s Trialgoers would literally kill to have access to.


    In short, the simulations triggered whatever mechanism the Interface had to calculate and reward credits. Which meant all their training wasn¡¯t just about learning to use what they already had: they could develop entirely new skills and earn whole new Inspirations.


    Ahkelios found that the more he connected with his old self, the more the skills he rolled for varied.


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    This latest roll, for instance. He held his breath as the Interface dinged and a list of skills appeared in front of him.


    [137 credits banked! Rolling for results¡­]


    [Select between:


    Bristleblade (Rank B)


    Rapid Redirection (Rank B)


    Herbal Heritage (Rank B)]


    He was still getting some sword-related skills; it was hard to get away from that, and he didn¡¯t really mind these days. Ahkelios hummed as Inspect flooded his mind with information, then made his selection.


    [Herbal Heritage (Rank B) obtained!]


    He had plenty of combat skills already. It¡¯d be interesting to see what he could do with some support-related ones.


    Besides¡­


    Ahkelios grinned to himself. Ethan¡¯s face when he made him drink his concoctions would be hilarious.


    <hr>


    ¡°Ahkelios,¡± Ethan said, exasperated. ¡°How many skills do you have now?¡±


    ¡°A lot,¡± Ahkelios said smugly.


    They were training. Dueling, really, in a little underground area set aside specifically for this type of thing; the air was thick with defensive Firmament so that no blow could be truly fatal, although if any of them really tried it wouldn¡¯t be hard to break through that protection.


    None of them tried, of course. Getting badly hurt for a training exercise was hardly worth it, especially since they weren¡¯t planning on resetting the loop until the Fracture. Presumably, something would happen there that would force a reset. Ahkelios was optimistic they¡¯d get through it, but Ethan wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°Oh, I like this one!¡± Ahkelios said brightly. He brandished his blade and cut, activating an F-rank skill called Brightblade; the air flashed brightly, and Ethan made a startled noise as he was temporarily blinded¡ª


    Ahkelios frowned as his sword came to a stop. The light faded away, and he saw that Ethan had¡­ caught the blade. It took Ahkelios a moment to realize that there was a thin loop of thread around the human¡¯s fingers.


    ¡°That¡¯s not fair,¡± he complained.


    ¡°First of all, that was rude,¡± Ethan said, blinking the light out of his eyes. ¡°Second, I have Firmament sense. I still know what you¡¯re doing, goofball.¡±


    Ahkelios had, admittedly, forgotten about that. ¡°You¡¯re getting too comfortable with the names,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°Does it bother you?¡± Ethan raised an eyebrow. If he said yes, Ahkelios was pretty sure Ethan would stop¡­ but he also didn¡¯t want to admit that he liked it.


    ¡°No,¡± he said, which was about as far as he¡¯d go. ¡°And you still gotta give me credit for trying!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± Ethan said, hiding his smile and beginning to circle him. Ahkelios grumbled, then searched through his skill list again, hoping to find something that might help.


    He¡¯d gotten quite a number of lower-level skills, figuring that he wanted the breadth of options Ethan didn¡¯t have. The only reason he¡¯d stopped was because Gheraa had warned him against it.


    Which was weird, and Ahkelios didn¡¯t fully trust him, but¡­ Ethan did. Gheraa hadn¡¯t even fully explain why he shouldn¡¯t stock up on hundreds of skills; he¡¯d just looked uncomfortable and said it was bad for his core.


    To be fair, that seemed correct. He only had a couple dozen and it felt kind of cramped in there. Ahkelios would¡¯ve been trying to move for the fourth layer already if not for the fact that even Ethan hadn¡¯t quite figured it out yet, and Gheraa¡¯s guidance on that matter had been¡­


    Well, Integrator methods of phase shifting didn¡¯t match those of lesser beings, apparently. Though Ahkelios was the one inserting that phrase. Gheraa hadn¡¯t actually referred to any of them that way. Point was, they were in largely uncharted territory. Ethan¡¯s instincts were correct, as far as any of them could tell¡ªhe needed to use Soul Space to stuff his soul with a large quantity of realness¡ªbut what that meant was anyone¡¯s guess.


    He¡¯d tried filling his soul with plants. It was uncomfortable and hadn¡¯t helped. They weren¡¯t¡­ compatible with him, for lack of a better word.


    Anyway. Ethan was waiting. He needed to find something.


    Oh! There was something he hadn¡¯t tried yet. Triproot! Ahkelios used it, and a small root coiled out of the dirt and around Ethan¡¯s ankle¡ª


    ¡ªonly for Ethan to step forward like nothing was there and deliver a blow that sent him flying.


    Ahkelios groaned.


    That stupid Physical pool Ethan had made stopping him difficult. Honestly, he was glad they were on the same team.


    Now if only he could figure out all that nonsense Ethan was telling him about the stats. The meditative thing hadn¡¯t worked. He¡¯d tried. No matter how much he told himself that Strength was actually Force, nothing in the Interface changed. Even Gheraa didn¡¯t know what to make of what Ethan had done, although when he learned about it he¡¯d adopted a contemplative expression and muttered something about seventh-layer Integrators.


    Oh well. He could always try something else. Ahkelios bounced back up to his feet, glad the training arena dulled the pain from the blows they exchanged, and darted at Ethan once more.


    ¡°You¡¯re cooking later if you take a hit, by the way!¡± Ahkelios announced.


    Ethan laughed. ¡°If you say so.¡±


    Ahkelios grinned. He¡¯d get a few blows in eventually. He always did.


    Especially when he made that announcement, which he thought was a little odd.

 214 — Book 3, Epilogue 4 — Scattered Events

    I close my eyes and breathe.


    The artifact the crows gave to me is a lot harder to fully access than I¡¯d imagined¡ªeven with all the ways I¡¯ve grown, the imbuement within the stone is woven with so much complexity that reaching any useful information is a challenge at best. I¡¯ve retrieved a number of different visions, stories, and tales, but nothing I was explicitly looking for.


    It¡¯s not just about quantity. If it were, it would be trivial to navigate with Guard¡¯s help. The problem is the density of information and the sheer precision required. It¡¯s easier to hit the wrong pocket of information than it is to get to the right one, and the amount of control needed combined with the sheer density of Firmament required to even make any amount of headway¡­


    I open my eyes, staring at the egg-like artifact with a scowl that slowly turns into a wistful sort of smile.


    It¡¯s just like Tarin to give me something that¡¯s basically a whole new form of training. Part of me wants to talk to him about it, tell him about my progress. Another part of me wants to avoid it entirely. It¡¯ll be one thing if he remembers this last loop¡ªeven that would be bittersweet, considering¡ªbut another thing entirely if he doesn¡¯t.


    I¡¯m a little worried about what that might do to Naru, to my surprise.


    Still, there¡¯s nothing I can do about it here. I just need to work on my Firmament Control. I might be able to acquire some Mastery in the skill, and hopefully that will give me the edge I need, but somehow I doubt it. It¡¯s looking more and more like I¡¯m going to need some kind of key to find the information I want. Something to act like a filter¡­


    I frown, turning that thought over in my mind, then think back to the first vision I ever received. The one about the harpy.


    I hold that image in my mind and feed Firmament slowly into the artifact, forming that Firmament with familiarity and recognition. Not a Concept, exactly, but something similar to a Thread.


    It reacts.


    There¡¯s a clear, crystalline tone that emerges from it, and the image that feeds back into my mind is of a harpy woman, standing at the top of the cliff along which the Cliffside Crows live. I wince¡ªI know what¡¯s going to happen there¡ªbut it gets me thinking.


    That should be where her true Remnant is, but I¡¯ve been there and haven¡¯t seen her. There has to be a trigger condition for these Trial echoes. Ahkelios wasn¡¯t around for every loop, either. His initial echo only showed up every couple of loops; the first time I saw him was on the fifth, once more on the seventh, and I was finally able to link with him on the eleventh¡ª


    I stop.


    It can¡¯t be that simple, surely?


    It better not be that simple.


    <hr>


    Teluwat had to admit, this new Trialgoer had been useful. He was almost interested in meeting him for himself.


    Or¡­ no, he was lying to himself, at this point. He was enough of a man to admit to that. He was interested in meeting Ethan. Ethan didn¡¯t seem particularly interested in meeting him, which was unfortunate; the little greeting card he¡¯d sent a few loops ago hadn¡¯t seemed to stick, as much as he¡¯d been hoping it would.


    No matter.


    In truth, he would¡¯ve been fine with letting Ethan do his thing. Teluwat wasn¡¯t blind to the danger Hestia was in, and while he was very much comfortable with the power and prestige he¡¯d secured for himself, none of it would mean much if Hestia fell to ruin. Among Hestia¡¯s Trialgoers, he might have been the only one that actually understood how much danger their planet was in.


    Which begged the question, of course, of why he hadn¡¯t done anything about it sooner. The answer was simple: he couldn¡¯t risk the Integrators figuring out what he¡¯d done.


    It was so very, very convenient that Ethan¡¯s actions had cut them off from the planet. It meant he was free to work with his newfound Talent as he wished, and it meant he didn¡¯t have to hide exactly how much he¡¯d advanced from the other Trialgoers anymore.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Versa?¡± Teluwat asked, his voice filled with false cheer. She stared at him, eyes full of fury, but she couldn¡¯t do a thing. Or wouldn¡¯t. Was there a difference? Her legs were merged with the ground beneath her. She couldn¡¯t move without tearing herself apart, and while she did have that pesky little skill called Phaseslip, that only worked when the ground wasn¡¯t considered a part of you.


    Well, it would still work. She¡¯d just have to phase the ground with her, and that wasn¡¯t very practical for movement. It would also take up all her Firmament.


    ¡°Versa?¡± Teluwat drawled, a hint of warning in his voice. Versa hid her flinch well.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re asking,¡± she said coolly. Ah, right. He did have a habit of expecting others to read his thoughts. Probably because he¡¯d baked that ability into most of his servants.


    Speaking of which, where was his son? He should¡¯ve been back by now. Ah well; he¡¯d look for him later.


    ¡°I¡¯m asking if any of you knew how much I advanced,¡± Teluwat said cheerfully. He leaned forward. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to have told Ethan about me, would you?¡±


    Versa scowled at him. ¡°No.¡±


    Was she lying? She could¡¯ve been. He hadn¡¯t exactly tried to rework her mind yet. It was terribly boring, having everyone listen to him. He had no idea how the Trialgoer he¡¯d stolen that ability from dealt with it. He also couldn¡¯t remember her name, so it didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Versa asked. Teluwat shrugged.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t decided,¡± he said plainly. ¡°But things have changed quite a bit, and this Trial might be the last one Hestia hosts. I¡¯d like to make sure I¡¯m in a good position when it ends, which means I have to choose a side¡­¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He trailed off, his tone playful. ¡°I could try to work with Ethan,¡± he said. ¡°Though I think he¡¯d have some problems with me, don¡¯t you? Or I could try to find the source of all this strange Firmament and see if that can be bargained with.¡±


    Teluwat glanced at the jar where a squirming, hateful piece of infected Firmament sat, wriggling furiously. It was only a fraction of the power whatever entity was controlling it held.


    ¡°All things considered,¡± he said thoughtfully. ¡°I think my chances might be better with Ethan, but it might be better to play both sides¡­¡±


    Teluwat paused. Versa was gone. In her place was two insectoid legs still latched into and merged with the concrete, along with a small puddle of blood; she¡¯d torn her own legs off to escape.


    Ah well. He had better things to attend to, anyway. ¡°Filian!¡± he called. He¡¯d changed that name a few times since he¡¯d acquired the silverwisp. ¡°Son! Where are you?¡±


    No response. Sometimes he regretted adopting that child.


    Then again, some small part of him enjoyed playing at having a family, and Teluwat was nothing if not someone that followed his whims.


    <hr>


    Adeya scowled. The Integrators were amping up the difficulty of their Trials¡ªto get them to break and complete it, no doubt. Or to convince them to leave said Trials entirely. Her Integrator had certainly hinted as much the last time she¡¯d claimed an Inspiration, though she¡¯d noted with interest that he didn¡¯t quite seem to know why.


    Did the Integrators themselves not know about the Sunken King? The only reason humanity was able to find out about him was the scattered texts they found in the dungeons they explored.


    Always, those texts painted the same picture: three gods playing with the lives of their supplicants across countless planets, experimenting, creating some system of power that was either the Interface or the idea of Firmament itself. Possibly both. Always, they ended the same way: betrayal and imprisonment. Accounts of who did the betraying were varied, but the imprisoned one was always the same.


    The Sunken King. According to some records, he was a snake within the Firmament. According to others, he was a contamination that fueled its power.


    The texts claimed that the Integrators would herald his return, but Adeya was becoming more and more certain they weren¡¯t doing it on purpose. They were acting in accordance to a plan set in motion long ago, and they didn¡¯t even know why.


    It would¡¯ve been an exploitable weakness if only any of the Integrators they¡¯d been in contact with were willing to listen. Adeya sighed, wondering if that Ethan man had been luckier; it would explain how he¡¯d advanced to the cusp of the third layer so quickly.


    Even then, it wouldn¡¯t help unless they could get in contact with him.


    Her thoughts were interrupted by a great, winged beast almost materializing out of the sky, grasping at her with wicked-looking claws. Adeya narrowed her eyes and activated Identify.


    The skill was a new one. As far as they could tell, it started showing up on their Interfaces only a few days ago, offered whenever someone banked Firmament credits. It was only Rank F, but one didn¡¯t give up any kind of informational advantage over their enemy.


    Sure enough, the label appeared over the monster. It was a Greater Falcon, Rank A. Adeya nodded to herself. She could deal with that.


    Crystalline wings of Firmament erupted from her shoulderblades. Adeya smiled.


    There were many things she hated about the Trials, but this¡ªthe ability to fly free under her own power¡ªwasn¡¯t one of them.


    <hr>


    The fight was short but brutal; Adeya came out of it with a massive laceration down her right arm that made her wince every time she moved. The Greater Falcon, on the other hand, had been ripped into unrecognizable shreds that were even now dissolving into wisps of purified Firmament.


    An even trade, as far as Adeya was concerned, even if she wasn¡¯t necessarily happy with her performance. Should have played evasive first, she thought to herself, irritated. Mother would be disappointed.


    As was reflex by now, she began carefully feeding those wisps of Firmament into her core, though with her latest phase shift it made little difference. As she did, she wondered how her mother was doing. It had been far too long since any of them had managed to get in contact with the governments of Earth, let alone their families.


    Adeya grimaced as she went to stand, her arm immediately blaring out a complaint; she looked down to examine the injury. It was worse than she¡¯d thought¡ªit would take a day or two to heal, even with the accelerated healing of a third-layer practitioner. That was a day or two she couldn¡¯t afford.


    Which meant it was probably time to visit a dungeon again. She was behind on dungeon clears, anyway; Zhao Hu was getting ahead of her, and she couldn¡¯t have that.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± she muttered to herself. A quick glance through the Interface told her there was an active attempt to delve the Sewers. She frowned¡ªthat one had been closed for days, for reasons no one could discern. Was it open again?


    It didn¡¯t matter. There were two other Trialgoers in that dungeon, and one of them was role-marked as a healer; she¡¯d be able to get her arm fixed up there. She wasted no time opening the dungeon portal and stepping through.


    <hr>


    Adeya was exhausted.


    They¡¯d been locked in the dungeon. She barely knew how long they¡¯d been in here¡ªlonger than she¡¯d ever been stuck in any one place. All things considered, a place called the Sewers was not a place she would¡¯ve chosen to die.


    Not that any place in the Trials was a place she would¡¯ve chosen to die.


    The worst part was that the monsters, individually, weren¡¯t difficult. The problem was that they swarmed in alternating waves that gave them very little time to rest, or eat, or do anything that humans needed to do. Dhruv and Jonathan were unfortunately only second-layer practitioners and needed more sleep than she did; more often than not, she found herself keeping watch with one or the other as they alternated taking breaks.


    Worse still, the Interface gave them no sign as to what they needed to do to break free. How many days had it been now, cornered in some isolated passageway of the Sewers? They couldn¡¯t keep this up forever. Right now, their only hope was someone from the outside opening a portal into the dungeon they were in¡ª


    Voices echoed down the passage, and Adeya stood, suddenly on high alert. The two behind her glanced at each other warily, but followed her lead as she stepped forward, partially disbelieving, partially hopeful.


    There were people here. Not humans, given the sound of their voices and footsteps, but people meant a way out. An exit. If nothing else, it meant information on where they were and what they were supposed to do.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Adeya said politely, stepping into the main passageway and in front of the group of¡­ what were they? They looked a little like anthropomorphic beetles, although she wondered if that comparison was demeaning. The entire group stopped in their tracks and tensed when Adeya emerged from the sewers, but the one leading the group relaxed soon after.


    ¡°Protectors?¡± he said. ¡°We didn¡¯t do any summoning rituals¡­¡±


    ¡°Not just Protectors,¡± a shorter beetle-alien said, frowning in thought. She wondered if they were brothers¡ªthey certainly looked the part. ¡°I think they¡¯re from the same world as Ethan.¡±


    Adeya froze.


    She¡¯d looked over the list of human Trialgoers countless times, wondering and worrying every time another name disappeared. There was only one Ethan in the Trials.


    ¡°You know Ethan?¡± she demanded before she could stop herself. ¡°You¡¯ve met him?¡±


    The leader of the group in front of her¡ªJuri¡ªblinked. ¡°We met him years ago,¡± he said. ¡°When we were still children. He defended our mother from¡­ well, it¡¯s a complicated story.¡±


    Adeya took a deep breath. ¡°Will you tell me what you know about him?¡± she said, trying to keep the urgency from bleeding into her tone. She hadn¡¯t been expecting this, of all dungeons, to finally contain some sort of clue about what Ethan had been doing. ¡°We¡¯ll help you with what you¡¯re doing here in exchange.¡±


    That was likely what they needed to do to get out of the dungeon anyway. Juri seemed hesitant at first, but eventually nodded.


    ¡°I suppose we might as well set up camp and talk,¡± he decided. ¡°You three look exhausted.¡±


    ¡°We are also hungry,¡± Dhruv said hopefully from behind her. Adeya suppressed a sigh. He wasn¡¯t¡­ wrong. It would be good to have some real food.


    Fortunately, the ones Adeya would come to know as the scirix were more than willing to share.

 214 — Book 3, Epilogue 5 — Once More Unto the Breach

    I sit in the corner of my cabin, breathing.


    We¡¯re due to leave in a few days. I can sense it in the air¡ªthe Temporal Firmament fueling this place is slowly running out, and nothing¡¯s quite as real anymore. I¡¯m grateful that Hestia has bought as much time for us as it has, and I¡¯ve made it a point to take advantage of every ounce of the time given to me.


    According to Guard, I¡¯m now passable with the Threads. I still don¡¯t prefer them, but they¡¯re a lot more versatile than the Amplification Gauntlet. The Threads are a weapon designed to take control of a battlefield, and even more importantly, they have functions outside of cutting and slicing.


    They carry Firmament. The color of the Thread binds to the Firmament that it carries, but that¡¯s a benefit, not a weakness, as long as I use it correctly. Like Inspirations, they can modify the results of a skill, but they can also just create a link between two sources of Firmament.


    If I lend them to Guard, for example, he could use them to make a skill circuit¡ªnot that he seemed particularly inclined to try.


    ¡°They are yours,¡± Guard says when I try to hand them off to him. ¡°Firmament-bound, remember?¡±


    Well, he¡¯s got me there.


    What I¡¯m doing right now, however, involves an entirely different kind of Thread¡ªthe kind that bind into the Web of Threads and form into Concepts.


    ¡­I should probably rename the Chromatic Threads, now that I think about it. I open my eyes briefly to look over the Interface, searching for an option to do so. It¡¯s kind of a surprise to me when I actually find it¡ªI¡¯d been mostly looking for a distraction.


    [Chromatic Threads have been renamed to Chromatic Strings.]


    There. Much better. No more letting myself get distracted.


    What I¡¯m trying to do right now is to touch on the Threads of a Concept. The Life Concept, specifically, since I¡¯ve worked closely with it already; it might be useful to be able to infuse more of my skills with it. The past few days have been me doing this, for the most part: meditating on the Concept, trying to tease out its constituent Threads. I¡¯ve only been partially successful.


    [You have touched the Thread of Genesis.]


    [You have touched the Thread of Evolution.]


    Those were surprisingly easy to grasp. I¡¯m no stranger to either one, in large part because of everything involving the Knight Inspiration and the way it basically takes apart and reconstitutes my biology. The last part, though? That¡¯s a little harder.


    Life isn¡¯t just about how it exists. It¡¯s not just about evolution. Those two Threads are pieces of the puzzle, but they don¡¯t capture the complexity of it, the beauty of it. The chaos that emerges from nothing.


    I think about Ahkelios.


    I¡¯m not sure the little guy knows it¡ªnot that I can really call him a little guy anymore¡ªbut I¡¯ve come to appreciate a lot more about life because of him. He puts effort into making me smile, even if he¡¯s just being silly. I haven¡¯t had a friend like that since¡­


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Well, since my brother died. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve had much of a life since my brother died.


    It¡¯s odd, I think, that I now find so much more meaning in every moment. Surrounded as I am by danger and violence, I would have expected it to go the opposite way. But maybe that¡¯s just what life is.


    The third Thread settles into place.


    [You have touched the Thread of Purpose.]


    [You have learned the Concept of Life.]


    For a moment, an absurd thought strikes me: I¡¯m glad the Interface doesn¡¯t call Concepts Meanings. I would have been a lot more skeptical if the Interface said I had learned the Meaning of Life.


    I snicker to myself. It¡¯s a little ridiculous, and I¡¯m pretty sure Ahkelios is just going to scoff at me, but I¡¯m going to tell him later anyway.


    Having all this time to train and get closer to my friends has meant a lot to me. I¡¯m grateful for what the Heart has done.


    Which means it¡¯s about time for me to return the favor.


    <hr>


    A few days later, when I feel the Temporal Firmament around the Quiet Grove finally fading into nothing, I call the others in to speak to them about what we¡¯re doing next and why.


    ¡°Hestia¡¯s Heart knows something about what¡¯s coming, or she wouldn¡¯t have brought Gheraa back,¡± I say, giving the former Integrator a nod. He nods back. ¡°We know the Heart is linked to the nature of Temporal Firmament itself. If she¡¯s unable to directly warn us or speak to us, then we have to assume that the Fracture¡ªand what happens at the end of the loop¡ªhas something to do with it. If we can find out what¡¯s causing it, we may be able to speak to the Heart again.


    ¡°Even if we can¡¯t, we need to make sure this anomaly doesn¡¯t happen if and when the Trial ends. I¡¯m not optimistic about our chances of evacuating the entire planet, even if the Intermediary were fully functioning, which it isn¡¯t.


    I hesitate. ¡°I have the feeling that by the time we face Kauku, the Trial is going to pretty much be over. The more we wait, the more Tears are going to consume Hestia. It¡¯s now or never, as far as the Fracture goes. If anyone¡¯s got any concerns, now¡¯s the time to raise them. Otherwise, we¡¯re as ready as we¡¯re going to be.¡±


    There¡¯s a series of affirmative noises. Ahkelios gives me a thumbs up, Guard nods, and Gheraa leans on his cane with a confident smirk. I give them all a grin in return. We¡¯ve talked this through plenty of times over our time in the Grove, and we¡¯ve come to the same conclusion each time.


    If Kauku created the Interface, or Firmament, or both, then he holds the key to freeing Earth from its grasp. With Rhoran infecting him, we don¡¯t have to chase after him. He¡¯ll come after me. After Gheraa. Something is holding him back, evidently, but it won¡¯t hold him back forever.


    In that time, I have three goals. First, figure out how to save Hestia. The Fracture, hopefully, will tell us why and how that¡¯s happening, but I¡¯ll have to make sure the Tears don¡¯t get too bad and stay on top of keeping them sealed.


    Second, find the Trialgoer echoes. I haven¡¯t forgotten what the Heart told me about them, and all the glimpses I¡¯ve been seeing into the pasts of each monster has to mean something. The artifact the Cliffside Crows gave me has proven it can help with that; all I need to do is wait for the right loop, if my running theory is correct.


    Third, find a way to reach the other humans stuck in their Trials. I have some ideas on how to do that, but it¡¯s going to need work; the temporal boundary around Hestia isn¡¯t something I¡¯m willing to mess with. That same boundary is weaker within dungeons, though, which means the Empty City might give me a way to finally get back in contact with humanity.


    I have to admit: this is the first time I feel confident about what¡¯s coming. About my place in it. After who knows how long seeking it out, reacting to problem after problem, I know what I need to do, and I know how to do it.


    Defeat Kauku. Release Earth from the hold of Integration. Free the Integrated planets as a whole, if at all possible.


    It¡¯s all too clear what the Interface and the Integrators have done to us. The power the Interface offers is not, in and of itself, evil, but the leash the Integrators have on ¡°their¡± planets has to go.


    The path ahead is finally clear. And despite the loop¡ªdespite everything the Integrators have tried to pull¡ªI won¡¯t be walking it alone.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I say.


    Just like that, we leave the Quiet Grove.


    Soon, we¡¯ll reach the Fracture. That massive crack in the continental shelf spewing untold amounts of Firmament into the atmosphere. The center of a storm of space and time.


    I have a sneaking suspicion that when we get there it¡¯s going to look very, very different.

 215 — Book 4, Chapter 1 — Lost Civilization

    My Trial has changed my relationship with death time and time again. For once, though, I feel like I''m finally in control of those deaths.


    Not that I''m under any illusions. I''m well aware that as much time as I''ve spent training¡ªas much as I should be above any new problem the Fracture might throw at me¡ªI''m not invincible. Neither are any of my friends, even if they''re quite possibly three of the strongest Firmament practitioners on the planet.


    The difference now is that I''m not afraid. Even if it happens, I know exactly what to do and where to go. The Integrators made a mistake when they gave me the power to come back from death.


    Call it a Premonition.


    We stand at the edge of the Fracture. It''s enormous¡ªlarger than I remember it being, in fact, and I can''t tell if that''s because of all the ways my senses have grown or if it''s actually gotten bigger. It''s a chasm rent into the planet on a continental scale, stretched out over the horizon farther than I can see and so deep that even with the sun directly above, the bottom is nothing but a featureless black.


    Then there''s the sheer volume of Firmament practically gushing out of it, so much that it threatens to match the quantity found in the Intermediary. The only difference is that there''s so much more space here that all that power is diluted. If it were any more concentrated, I can only imagine the kind of impact it would have on anything and anyone that lived nearby.


    Like the Cliffside Crows. I grimace at the thought. I suppose that explains, in part, the artifact they were able to give me. As far as I can tell, it contains a truly baffling amount of information¡ªfar more than it should, given what Tarin and the others have told me about how they created it.


    I suspect it''s going to be critical to navigating the Fracture, once we get a little deeper.


    "Uh," Ahkelios says. He gestures awkwardly at the flow of Firmament pouring out in front of us. "Was it always this... powerful?"


    "No," He-Who-Guards answers. He steps closer to the edge of the Fracture, optic flickering as he runs a series of scans. I hear the telltale whirring of his systems as he processes the data. "It is larger by 37 percent, and its baseline Firmament output is an order of magnitude greater than its recorded baseline."


    "That doesn''t sound like a good thing," Ahkelios says worriedly.


    "We''ve been in this loop for a while without getting reset," I say, pulling up the Interface to check. "22 days, not including all that time we spent training. The planet doesn''t survive past 180, but we know that any action that disrupts the Fracture can accelerate that timeline. I''m assuming the whole time-dilation-training thing wasn''t great for planetary stability."


    "Great for us, though!" Gheraa interjects cheerfully. I turn to look at him, and he has the grace to look vaguely embarrassed. "What? It''s true."


    "Gheraa," I say with a sigh, and then shake my head. I can deal with him later. "Look, the point is, we''re going to have to be ready for anything. We''re going deeper than we have before¡ªdeeper than anyone has before. Call out if you even think something is wrong, got it?"


    All three of the others nod. I turn back to the Fracture, then promptly take a step backwards as a Premonition screams at me.


    A moment later, a concentrated blast of pure Firmament roars through the chasm of the Fracture, so bright and charged it leaves spots in my eyes. I blink a few times, and Gheraa makes a noise that''s halfway between fear, awe, and...


    "Do not say that was hot," I say before he can say anything.


    Gheraa looks startled, then offended. He crosses his arms over his chest, putting on an indignant scowl. "Do you think I go around being attracted to every large beam of Firmament?"


    "Yes," I say.


    "Yup," Ahkelios adds.


    "Correct," Guard agrees.


    Gheraa sighs dramatically. "Woe is me," he says. "It seems I will never live that down. If only you could be distracted by an even more embarrassing moment." He takes a step back¡ª


    ¡ªand falls backward into the Fracture. We watch him as he falls, saluting the whole time.


    "You know," Ahkelios says. "I like that guy a lot more than the Integrator I got during my Trial."


    "He is different than I imagined the Integrators to be," Guard admits. "Though I understand that he is something of an exception?"


    "Let''s just go after him before he does something to get himself killed," I say with a sigh. "I don''t think I trust him with the real world just yet."


    One thing we learned about him during all that training: Gheraa''s experience with anything other than Integrator society is entirely restricted to his observations of various planets and Trials during Integrations. That means his practical experience of reality for the rest of the galaxy is limited at best.


    "I still think we should put a collar on him," Ahkelios mutters. "Maybe one with a bell."


    "Don''t tempt me," I say dryly.


    We follow after him. Fortunately, we find him quickly: he''s waiting for us on a ledge just out of sight. I''m both surprised and grateful that he remembered all our discussions about how we''re going to approach this delve.


    "What''re we waiting for?" he says cheerfully. "Let''s go!"


    <hr>


    Not long after that, we run into the first problem.


    It''s a problem we anticipated, at least. Most of the monsters in the early layers of the Fracture are, at this point, easy enough for any of us to deal with. Most of them.


    And then there are the Time Flies.


    They were able to wipe our entire group the last time we encountered them. We were lucky enough not to run into them when we came down to release Rotar and Ikaara, but given how long we intend to spend in the Fracture this time, it''s not likely we''ll be able to avoid them again.


    So we''ve come up with a plan.


    The flies are little monstrosities that reach through time and into the past to steal Firmament from their victims. They can''t be dealt with in any conventional way¡ªwe can''t attack something that isn''t even there yet, after all. Thankfully, I have not one but two skills that can deal with this now.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The first is Temporal Static, which causes a sort of localized temporal storm; it creates pockets of disrupted time that fluctuate into both past and future. It''s an incredibly situational skill I haven''t had much of a chance to use, but this one is pretty much perfect for it.


    The second, of course, is Timestrike. What better way to deal with future parasites than a skill that punches into the future?


    All things considered, that plan goes surprisingly well. When He-Who-Guards reports that his systems are reporting a drastic and sudden reduction in Firmament, we know what we''re dealing with, and I flood our little corner of the Fracture with Temporal Static.


    Once it''s active, ghostly images of grotesque, bug-like parasites flitter around the small platform we stand on, flickering in and out of sight. We take the opportunity to strike them whenever they become visible, with Ahkelios and I alternating between using Timestrikes whenever they fade away. It''s a lot easier to hit them when we know where they are, because after that, all we need to do is figure out when they are.


    "That... was a lot easier than I expected," Ahkelios comments when we''re done. There are small piles of bug corpses scattered all around us, slowly dissolving back into Firmament. I try to ignore the sight. They''re parasites in time, and frankly I''ve had more than my fair share of dealing with parasites in these loops.


    Gheraa feels the same way, judging from his expression. The usual cheer is gone from his face, and in its place is something troubled. No doubt he''s thinking about Rhoran again.


    "Gross," he mutters.


    Or not. Though the word could apply to Rhoran, I suppose.


    Neither of us had pegged the possibility of his erstwhile supervisor being petty enough to turn himself into a Firmament parasite just to hound us. We certainly hadn''t accounted for him somehow managing to infect an entity like the Sunken King, who is¡ªbest as we can tell¡ªso far above even the strongest of the Integrators that we may as well be ants to him.


    If all goes well, by the time we face him, I''ll have completed my next phase shift and stand as a fourth-layer practitioner. That by itself won''t be enough, but...


    Well, we''ll worry about it when we get there. The warning I sent back to myself echoes in my mind.


    I don''t have many options left. I''m sending back this warning so you''ll have one more choice that I didn''t have¡ªbut you''re not going to like it. You''ll know what I mean when you get there.


    We''ve talked it over time and time again, but none of us are entirely sure what it means. With the way Paradox Warning works, we''re probably only going to figure it out when it''s time for me to send the warning back to my past self¡ªself-fulfilling paradox and all that¡ªbut not knowing is like having an itch I can''t scratch.


    I know I need to be ready. I know what''s coming. I hope that''ll be enough, because from the tone of that warning, whatever conclusion I came to?


    I must''ve hated it. I know what I sound like when I''m trying to hide the truth, especially from myself.


    "Yeah," I agree after a moment, turning back to Ahkelios. "But from here on out, we don''t actually know what else we might run into, so let''s be careful."


    <hr>


    The upper layers of the Fracture are a series of stairs and ruined buildings carved into the cliffside, the apparent remnants of a long-dead civilization. Even with how ancient the remains are, there are clear hints that something great once occupied this space. The still-surviving golem constructs are a part of it, but so are the skill fragments.


    And there are so many skill fragments. The upper layers of the Fracture feel like a gold mine to my Firmament sense¡ªthey glitter with the scattered pieces of dozens if not hundreds of different skill constructs. They''re tucked away into corners that would''ve been impossible for me to sense before, buried under layers of stone and circuitry and charged with only the faintest hint of power, but now I can see the sheer extent of their spread.


    "Should we gather them?" Ahkelios asks when I bring this up. I shake my head, laughing a little when he stares at me with disappointed, pleading eyes. I can see the appeal for him, but...


    "If we had infinite amounts of time, I could maybe see it being worth it," I say. "But it''d take a hundred pieces for us to make one complete skill, and there''s no telling what rank it might be. Maybe if we find out about a skill that''s here that we want, we can try to dig it up, but gathering them at random? It''d take days for us to get them all, and that''s not counting the time it would take to put them together."


    "I know that you''re right, but I hate it," Ahkelios grumbles. He stares longingly at the ruins above us.


    "It is strange that there are skill fragments here at all," Guard comments. He tilts his head. "Gheraa. Do you know what this place may have to do with the Interface?"


    "What?" Gheraa blinks like he''s surprised that he''s being asked the question. Then he brightens, twirling his cane around. "I''m glad you asked! Hestia isn''t mentioned anywhere in our records prior to Integration, and there''s nothing in its history that should link it with the Interface that we know of."


    "So you have no idea," Ahkelios says.


    "Well, yes, but I wouldn''t put it like that." Gheraa sighs. "If you read through the anomaly log, there are one or two prior Trialgoers that have managed to put together a skill from the Fracture. Ethan?"


    "I haven''t had the chance to read through the logs," I admit. It doesn''t feel like the best excuse, given all the time we''ve spent training, but there''s always been something more pertinent.


    That and altogether too many people use those logs as a place to leave their final words. It''s... unpleasant.


    "Suffice to say the skills here are strange, specific, and unlikely to be worth recovering," Gheraa says, giving me a look. "I believe one of the skills allowed for pottery creation."


    Huh. I frown a little, turning that thought over in my mind before pulling up the Interface and skimming for the log in question. It takes a while for me to get there¡ªthere are a lot of logs¡ªbut eventually, I find the entry. It talks about how the skill feels clunky, different from all the others. It takes more Firmament and more time for less of a result...


    Something clicks.


    "Prototypes," I say quietly. "They''re prototypes for the skills that eventually went into the Interface."


    Ahkelios, Guard and Gheraa share disbelieving looks. "Are you sure?" Gheraa asks.


    "Think about what you told me," I say. "The three gods¡ªKauku and the two we don''t have the names of. We know they had to experiment to make it work. I bet this was one of their test sites. It must''ve been how they learned how to make skills."


    "That..." Guard pauses, then frowns. "I do not like how plausible that is."


    "Does that mean we could learn from them?" Ahkelios asks hopefully. "Figure out what they did?"


    "Maybe," I say. I''m not hopeful. Time has ground this place down into little more than dusty remnants of what was; if not even a single intact skill remains, I doubt we could say much more of the research notes. The fact that none of the logs in the Interface mentions anything of the sort corroborates that idea.


    But that context lends a different perspective to this place.


    The homes built here are small. There''s not much room to navigate between them¡ªno real location that might hold a town square or anything of the sort. Without the ability to climb or fly, the people here would be stuck navigating tiny, dangerous pathways.


    I thought I was looking at the remnants of a great civilization. There are signs everywhere that the people here lived as best as they could¡ªremnants of art and culture, ingenious technology implemented via Firmament.


    Now I can''t help but wonder if I''m in fact looking at the remnants of a prison of sorts, abandoned and then reworked into something of a functioning society. I really need to get the truth out of Kauku, one way or another. Find out exactly what it is those so-called gods did in their pursuit of power. To do that, though...


    There''s a lot more Fracture waiting.


    "Let''s head further down," I say. "I want to see how much deeper we can go. We can come back here when we have a better idea of what''s waiting for us in the depths."


    As I speak, I begin to draw Firmament into myself. I''m close enough to the fourth phase shift now that I can initiate the process as soon as I find that final, foundational element¡ªbut that doesn''t mean extra Firmament is useless to me.


    On the contrary, every drop of Firmament I take in makes the ocean of power I call my core grow slightly deeper.


    I will be prepared for what''s coming. I have to be.

 ANNOUNCEMENT: Book 2 now on KU!

    It''s time! Book 2 has launched, which means it''s now time for Ethan''s journey to Isthanok to hit the shelves. Feels weird thinking about how far we''ve come since then, haha. I''m really excited about Book 4--there''s so much I have planned and so many details that pull on things that happened previously. We''re not done with Isthanok''s rebels, either (though it might be a bit before they show up again).


    So! Book 2! Check out the cover:


    </a>


    It''s a beauty.


    I feel a little bad, but I did mention a couple times that the first few iterations of the chimera looked "too naked"; the artist (who also happens to be the artist for DCC) responded by drawing Carl''s boxers onto the poor guy. Maybe it''d be a little less guilty if it did have some heart-pattern boxers...


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Anyway!


    I''m a little nervous about this launch for a multitude of reasons. Book 2 is absolutely where I figured out the identity of the book, and it sets up so much of what happens in the later books, but a lot of it is setup. It''s hard not to worry that it drags somewhere in the middle. I hope not! I''m really proud of the ending and I''d like folks to get there.


    Here is the link--rereading the book on Kindle will help me a ton, as will leaving a rating. It really does matter.


    https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B0DNNGFZW9</a>


    The audiobook is unfortunately delayed, as far as I can tell. It should be out April 8th, though! From what I know the narration''s already done, so all that''s left is the proofing.


    No matter what, thank you all so much for your support.

 216 — Book 4, Chapter 2 — Darker

    We wait for the Fracture to erupt with Firmament a second time before beginning our descent, hoping it''ll give us more time to find something that can act as cover. That''s still a real and present danger of traversing this place, even with all the ways we''ve grown¡ªGheraa has admitted to that the kind of power emitted by that explosion could erase even the strongest of the Integrators in the later stages of the loop.


    Frankly, that''s a terrifying thought. I file it away for later.


    There''s an abrupt change in the Fracture once we descend far enough. A point where all the remnants of civilization sort of end, and everything beneath is dark stone and stifling air. Something about the rock here seems to absorb light with particular efficiency, which I suppose explains why the sun can''t seem to penetrate deep into the Fracture.


    It also means the stone emits a suffocating kind of heat. There''s a wordless agreement between the four of us to stay as far away from the walls as possible¡ªwe hover in the center of the Fracture as we descend, paying attention to any possible threats.


    Fortunately for us, there doesn''t seem to be anything here. No structures built into the sides of the Fracture, no indications that anything alive might patrol the space. The most interesting feature of this layer is the rocks that float around with no apparent interest in the concept of gravity.


    On closer examination, those rocks are imbued with faint sparks of Firmament not unlike the kind used to keep Isthanok''s citadel-shards floating in the sky. I frown, wondering if they''re related.


    "It seems the Fracture may have more to do with our history than I would like to believe," Guard says quietly, apparently thinking the same thing. "I had hoped otherwise."


    "Do you miss Isthanok?" I ask. Guard shakes his head.


    "I have more than a dozen proxies patrolling the city as we speak," he says. "I''m never far from home. If anything, I''m a little sick of it."


    "You spend a lot of cumulative time there, huh?" Ahkelios remarks. "And you get all the memories from your other bodies... I can see how that gets exhausting."


    "Indeed. But it is still my home." Guard is silent for a moment, his gaze once more straying to the few rocks floating around this layer of the Fracture. "I find myself wondering how the Great Cities came to be. Our history is fragmented."


    "Probably because of all the loops," I say.


    "None of us knew what Hestia''s Trial would be prior to Integration," Gheraa says. "But we did notice temporal inconsistencies within your recorded history. If the loops caused them, then their impact extends to even before they started."


    "Paradoxes," I grumble. I get the feeling I''m going to have to deal with more of those as we move forward. "You think the Fracture might be able to help you piece things together?"


    Guard hesitates, "I believe so," he says eventually. "If the Fracture plays some role in the creation of Isthanok, it is possible that all Great Cities have an origin that can be traced back to this place. It may be a means of uncovering the lost pieces of our history."


    I nod. "We''ll have to keep an eye out," I say.


    "Uh, guys," Ahkelios says nervously. He gestures down to where sparks of light are beginning to light up the walls of the Fracture. I can feel the sea of power beneath us reaching a sort of boiling point. This far down in the depths, I can even sense the way it churns like turbulent waves of liquid Firmament. "I think another blast is coming, and uh, I don''t see anywhere we can hide."


    "I know," I say. Ahkelios gives me an incredulous look.


    "What do you mean, you kno¡ª"


    I twitch my fingers once, and the hundreds of green Chromatic Strings I''ve left attached to every rock we''ve passed flare into being. Ahkelios stops mid-word, his jaw hanging open.


    "Premonition warned me a while ago," I say, my tone entirely too casual for the grin stealing across my face. I don''t get to show off that often, but Guard''s training with the Strings have paid off¡ªnot only is it far easier for me to use them, it''s also a lot easier for me to hide them.


    Turns out those things have a lot of utility outside of being a weapon. Different colors lend the Strings different properties, for instance. The ones that are this specific shade of green?


    They''re really, really sticky.


    The rocks here are impervious to the Fracture''s blasts¡ªthat much is obvious based solely on the fact that they still exist¡ªso all I need to do is...


    I snap my fingers, and all the fragments of stone I''ve connected come careening toward us. All it takes after that is an exertion of will to shape them into a sort of half-dome around our feet, with green Strings holding the whole construct together.


    "How long have you been able to do that?" Ahkelios asks, eyes wide.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I shrug. "Remember that time you tripped while we were sparring?"


    "Wha¡ªHey!" Ahkelios''s expression becomes one of outraged realization a moment before the Fracture beneath us roars. Whatever he says gets lost in the deluge of Firmament that shoots up through every layer and blasts into the sky. Honestly, it''s a wonder that the little stone shell I created was able to protect us from something of that magnitude, but somehow we remain entirely untouched.


    Something to do with the stone itself, I think. Everything in the Fracture has been shaped by the Fracture, and as a result is immune to its regular expulsions of Firmament that would, frankly, disintegrate just about anything else.


    By the time the blast fades away, Ahkelios''s rant has trailed off into halfhearted grumbling and a general look of annoyance. I laugh a little at his antics and give him a nudge. "You''re the one that told me anything was fair game, remember?"


    "I know, but you still owe me a rematch," he mutters. Then he perks up. "At least I finally got you to fight dirty."


    I chuckle. "I''ll let you have that one."


    <hr>


    We continue down in a comfortable sort of silence for a while, the stone platform beneath us providing ample cover against the Fracture''s blasts. It''s not long, however, before we realize that there''s a problem.


    The blasts are becoming more frequent.


    The more we descend, the more the Fracture reacts, like just our presence is enough to disturb whatever it is lying at the bottom of the chasm. Presumably, it''s a path to Hestia''s Heart, but if that''s what it is, then she doesn''t seem to want us to get anywhere close to her. The blasts almost feel like a warning, and even if they''re not...


    I grimace. It''s pretty clear proceeding like this is accelerating the timeline of that final explosion significantly. The sea of Firmament beneath us grows increasingly agitated, and there are sharp spikes of destructive power beginning to strain the Fracture''s walls.


    If we don''t want to stop descending entirely, it''s probably worth changing our approach. Just descending until the planet explodes seems like a waste of a loop.


    Granted, that''s a lot easier said than done. There aren''t many options available to us besides just slowly floating down on this half-sphere of blackened stone. I''ve tried extending my Firmament sense, but it''s muddied and unclear this deep in the Fracture¡ªeverything around us feels like one thick, solid layer of Temporal Firmament. I can''t even distinguish between air and stone, much less figure out if there''s something hidden in the darkness around us.


    Fortunately, it turns out Guard''s scanners have no such problem.


    "There is a network of tunnels leading deeper into the Fracture," he reports. "We may be able to use those instead."


    "Should we?" Ahkelios asks worriedly. "I mean, what if... you know..." He gestures vaguely upward, trying to get his point across; I glance at where he''s pointing and reach out with my senses as far as I can, then shrug.


    "If they want us, they''ll just have to find us," I say.


    "Exciting!" Gheraa says cheerfully.


    We''re being followed, we know that much. It''s something that Aris¡ªthe AI chip that was formerly implanted in Guard, now given a life of her own¡ªwas able to track down during our time in the grove. She sent out feelers across all the Great Cities, apparently, trying to track down all available data about the Hestian Trialgoers.


    Turns out Teluwat''s sending out agents to track us down. We don''t know why, but it doesn''t really matter. We''re not particularly interested in that meeting. If they''re dedicated enough to follow us into the Fracture, then they''ll have to face the disadvantage of navigating it, along with the absolute saturation of Firmament here.


    It''s one of the secondary reasons we''re here. Teluwat''s skills should have a harder time penetrating the sheer density of Firmament in the area. If his agents do manage to find us¡ªand they should be able to, given they''re apparently using an oracle to trace the path we''re taking¡ªthen we''ll have an advantage.


    For now, though, there''s no real point waiting for agents that might never arrive. I nod to Guard. "Lead the way," I say. "We''ll see if that''s what the Heart wants us to do."


    <hr>


    It is, apparently. We know this because the moment we step into the entrance of the tunnel, the Firmament beneath us calms. It doesn''t erase the damage that''s been done¡ªthose blasts are still more frequent than they should be, and more destructive spikes haven''t disappeared¡ªbut the churning and turbulence abruptly vanishes, leaving only a moderately stormy sea beneath.


    It feels like the Heart is trying to guide us. As much as she now seems unable to reach out directly, there''s something about what we''re doing here that feels... purposeful, for lack of a better word.


    Technically, we''re here to figure out what causes the end of the world. The secondary reason is that Teluwat has agents following us, and his reach will be significantly dulled by the sheer level of Firmament in the Fracture.


    But there''s a third reason. We saw it on our way to the Fracture¡ªminiscule, barely noticeable lines of power burnt into the sky like an afterimage. It makes the sky look like shattered glass.


    The temporal barrier around Hestia is weakening. The Tears are worsening. Those almost-invisible cracks seem to span the globe, running along the lines of the continent in a pattern eerily reminiscent of what I remember seeing in the few moments I had when I saw the planet cracking apart. Every single one of them originates from a Tear, from what we could find.


    And every single one of them leads down into the Fracture.


    If the Heart wants us here¡ªand it almost certainly does, given the way the Fracture is reacting to us¡ªthen it''s because something down here is related to those Tears. We''ll need a way to slow down their spread.


    Otherwise, at the rate they''re going, we might not have a planet left to save.


    "Ethan," Guard calls. "These tunnels. They look like the ones in Inveria."


    I blink. I vaguely remember him telling us about Inveria. "One of the Great Cities?"


    "Yes. And I sense an anomaly deeper within."


    That''s two traces of the Great Cities we''ve now found in the Fracture. I frown, sending my Firmament sense out once more; I still can''t make the tunnels out with any real clarity, but... there is something strange further down. A barrier of Temporal Firmament that feels like a miniature version of a Tear.


    "So can I," I mutter. "Let''s find out what that is, shall we?"

 217 — Book 4, Chapter 3 — Culminated Tear

    Guard tells us a little more about Inveria as we make our way through the tunnels, and from the way he talks about it, it''s clear it means something to him. His voice softens when he describes the Great City''s network of interwoven caves; according to him, it''s the prime place to trade on Hestia, with merchants from all around the globe visiting to sell their goods.


    "Every tunnel has its walls and ceiling painted with luminescent paint that draws on the city''s Firmament," Guard explains. "Often by visitors to the city, though a few of them are reserved for various competitive groups within Inveria. I believe there may even be an annual competition to repaint its central tunnels."


    I glance at Ahkelios and have to stifle a laugh¡ªhe started practically vibrating with excitement the moment Guard said the words "luminescent paint". "I''m guessing you want to go there," I say, amused.


    "It sounds really pretty," he says defensively. "Besides, think of all the paints I could make!"


    It''s a nice thought, and I can''t blame him for having it. Of the four of us, Ahkelios spent perhaps the most time in the Grove reconnecting with his past self. Every time I dropped into his cabin there were a half-dozen discarded paintings, along with one or two hung up on the walls with clear pride.


    He needed it, I can tell. There''s a spark of joy in him now that wasn''t there before.


    "I''m curious about it myself," Gheraa adds casually. "If that helps. Inveria is quite difficult to monitor as an Integrator, you know."


    "Don''t tell me you can''t monitor things that are underground," I say, raising an eyebrow.


    Gheraa chuckles. "It''s mostly just that it''s inconvenient to navigate a camera through miles of stone."


    "Ah, yes," I say. "Inconvenience. The greatest enemy of an Integrator."


    "You''d be surprised how true that is," he says with a little smirk. "If you ever have to fight one of us, just make it really, really inconvenient, and they''ll probably just leave."


    "Unless that Integrator is you?" I ask.


    Gheraa puts on his best innocent smile. "I cannot imagine why you would make such an accusation."


    I snort and shake my head. "Well, if you two are set on it, we''ll put it on our post-Trial itinerary," I say, giving Ahkelios a friendly nudge. "Not that we aren''t going to visit it during the Trial, but..."


    Ahkelios winces at the reminder. "Guess we wouldn''t get much of a chance to sightsee," he says. His voice turns hopeful. "Maybe Guard can just tell us more about it in the meantime? What about that painting competition?"


    Guard hums. "It is quite the event," he says. "Inveria is known for it, and the winning teams are well-rewarded. There are five winners in total, for each of the five central tunnels of Inveria; each tunnel is themed after something different. I believe the themes are Sky, Ocean, Home, Past, and Future. Of the five winners, two positions are reserved for Inveria''s locals, to ensure that there is always a piece of its culture within its heart..."


    He continues to describe the history of Inveria''s tunnel-painting competition for a while as we move through the Fracture. It''s a pity that the ones we''re moving through don''t mimic Inveria''s art¡ªGuard''s description of the city is genuinely compelling, and I find myself looking forward to an eventual visit.


    It''s almost too easy to think about, really. I have to remind myself that there''s no guarantee that there''s an "after the loops." There''s no guarantee that we''ll win.


    If there''s any downside to all that training in the Quiet Grove, it''s that I''m probably more confident now than I should be.


    The first sign that anything''s wrong is the way Guard falters mid-speech. Ahkelios''s question was innocent enough¡ªhe wanted to know how Guard knew so much about Inveria.


    "I have been there," Guard says. "I hold the memory close. I believe I even participated¡ª"


    He stops, hesitating. "I do not know if I participated," he says, fumbling a little. "I believe I did, but I do not remember what I painted. That is... strange."


    "You don''t have to tell us if it''s embarrassing," Ahkelios teases. He seems to sense that something''s wrong quickly, though¡ªGuard doesn''t seem to be embarrassed, he just seems confused.


    "I have lost memories to Whisper''s procedures before," he says. There''s something like a distressed whine emerging from his systems, a sound I''ve never heard him make before. "This is different. The memory is clear, but it is wrong. Smudged."


    I frown, casting my senses back along the tunnels. There''s nothing strange in the Firmament here¡ªas far as I can tell, whoever''s been following us still hasn''t caught up.


    It''s mostly a cursory check, though. This isn''t the only time Guard''s reported a memory that feels strange. There''s been a few ever since he completed his phase shift, and it''s something he''s talked to me about once or twice during our time in the Grove.


    "Another one?" I ask quietly. He nods.


    "I still do not know the cause," Guard says. "The others I mentioned... they were not nearly as clear as this one, Ethan."


    "I''ll look over your Firmament again when we''re done here and see if I can find anything," I say. I haven''t been able to the last few times I checked, but my skill with Firmament is growing all the time. If this particular memory has been tampered with even more than the others, I might finally be able to find something.


    Maybe not while we''re here in the middle of the Fracture, though.


    Ahkelios and Gheraa both look curiously between us, but opt not to say anything. Ahkelios casts worried glances toward Guard every once in a while, and Gheraa mostly seems absorbed in examining the stone around us.


    He does care, in his own way. I know because of the way he changes the subject¡ªsoftly, and not without concern, but also to give Guard an out from the topic at hand.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "The walls of these tunnels are interesting," he says. "They''re perfectly Firmament-matched to the air around us. It''s a little like how we build stuff for ourselves, actually. If you get the resonance right, you don''t need to worry about stability."


    Guard seems grateful for the shift in conversation. "Yes," he says. "Inveria''s tunnels are enormous and have little in the way of support. That must be how they hold themselves up."


    "Makes me feel like I''m home," Gheraa says cheerfully. "Not that I like being home all that much, mind you. I''m even starting to like all this dirt stuff. Which is good, considering we''re surrounded by it."


    "Do you like the dirt, or the hot springs we had in the Grove?" I ask dryly. "I hope you realize we''re not going to have access to that for a while."


    Gheraa looks horrified at this reminder.


    We continue in this vein for a while¡ªsmall pieces of banter to help distract Guard from whatever''s wrong with his memories. Ahkelios jumps in every now and then, apparently feeling a little guilty for his part in asking for more information about Inveria''s competitions.


    All the while, we keep moving. We''re getting deeper and deeper into the Fracture, now, the pressure of Firmament around us slowly increasing as we do. Every so often, Guard hesitates before nodding to himself and turning either left or right; navigation seems to be getting progressively more complicated. Gheraa frowns a little after the fifth or so turn like this.


    "Does anyone else think these tunnels don''t make a lot of sense?" he asks. "I''m no expert on material reality, but I feel like we''ve been walking around in circles. Unless that''s normal for tunnels."


    "I believe it may be normal, but in this instance, you are correct," Guard says. "The Fracture''s tunnels are geometrically looped. The signals from my sensors occasionally echo back to me through the paths. We are making progress, do not worry."


    He''s right. I can sense it, now that Gheraa''s pointed it out¡ªthe downward slope of the ground beneath us has long since vanished, but we''re still making progress toward that anomaly. Physically, it feels like we''re walking around in circles, but in actuality we''re apparently still moving down.


    Disconcerting. I decide not to think about it too much. I can only imagine how navigating these tunnels might have gone without Guard''s assistance.


    It''s a few more minutes before the tunnel we''re in begins to open up into a wide, open cavern. Even before we arrive, though, it''s clear that we''re almost at our destination. I don''t even need my Firmament sense to tell.


    Reality here is broken.


    Whatever the cavern itself looks like fades in comparison to the way the air looks like shattered glass. Thick, jagged cracks spiral outward from a central point, seething with Temporal Firmament so bright it leaves an imprint on the eyes. The sheer amount spilling out is enough to saturate the cavern.


    "Whoa," Ahkelios says.


    Which is just a bit of an understatement.


    "Do you think we found it?" he asks. "Is this what''s making Hestia blow up?"


    "I don''t think so," I say, although I can''t be sure. It certainly feels like it could be. The only other thing that''s ever made me feel like this¡ªsmall, somehow, in spite of everything I''ve gained¡ªis meeting with Kauku for the first time.


    The only difference is that this isn''t alive. It''s an imprint left behind by something massive. Something impossible.


    We make our way to the source of the cracks, senses on high alert. If this is anything like a Tear, then it might be yet another record of something that happened on Hestia, although I can''t imagine what might have created something like this.


    What we find leaves us all a little speechless. There''s a small hole in reality right in the middle of all the cracks. That in itself isn''t surprising¡ªit''s sort of an expected result, really.


    The thing that''s surprising is, well...


    "Is it just me, or does this look like someone punched a hole in reality?" Ahkelios asks after a moment.


    It''s that the hole is distinctly fist-shaped.


    "It does look like that, yes," I agree. I almost reach out to touch it, but hold myself back. I''m not exactly eager to cut myself on the edge of time. "I don''t think it''s causing the explosion¡ªnot by itself¡ªbut it''s definitely part of it somehow, I think. It''s at least linked to a bunch of the Tears all around Hestia."


    "You think this one crack is causing all the Tears?" Ahkelios asks. I shake my head.


    "No. Maybe half of them, but probably less. I bet we''ll find other anomalies like this deeper in the Fracture."


    It certainly explains the thin cracks I saw spreading through the sky. They must all originate from anomalies like these¡ªspreading through the planet, causing time to be a little weaker in some places than in others.


    All it takes then is a catalyst. An event that''s powerful enough or repeated enough times through the loops to become powerful and etch itself into the weakened fabric of time. That creates a Tear, and the Tear causes even more instability to spread.


    I feel the Thread of Insight resonating within me, as if to confirm my thoughts, and yet it seems to tell me there''s something missing. A part of the picture I''m not yet seeing.


    Is this what we''re here to find? It''s part of it, I think. It has to be. But learning this alone doesn''t put us any closer toward finding a solution; if our job is to repair these holes, then we''re nowhere close to learning how.


    "Ethan? I do believe something''s happening," Gheraa says casually.


    He''s right. The hole in reality is stretching open, warping and growing before our eyes until it resembles something like a doorway. The four of us stare at it, nonplussed¡ª


    ¡ªand almost at the same time, I finally, finally sense something through my Firmament sense. A hint of something foreign entering the tunnels behind us. Teluwat''s agent.


    Except the agent''s Firmament is twisted. Not just in the way that Teluwat twists his victims. It''s corrupted, infected with the same thing that took over the Hand back when we were in the Intermediary. That''s a complication I wasn''t expecting.


    "Seems like Kauku''s got more of an influence than we thought," I mutter. "Or Rhoran, I suppose. That might be more accurate."


    Gheraa stiffens. "They followed us in here?"


    "Seems like it." I frown, glancing back along the corridor. We could wait for it to get to us and fight, but... something tells me that allowing Rhoran or Teluwat to find these cracks would be a bad idea.


    Their abilities already let them spread through Firmament. What are they going to do with access to something that has roots throughout the entire planet?


    As long as we''re here, they can track us down. From what Aris was able to find, they''re using an oracle to do so¡ªthey''re anchored to our Firmament, and they''re using that anchor to trace a direct path toward us. That means the geometry of the tunnels here won''t be enough to stop them.


    But my Firmament sense returns nothing when I try to probe the doorway, and the way it stretched out for us¡ªit''s almost like it was waiting. Like the Heart is trying to guide us to make the right play.


    If this anomaly cuts off all Firmament, it''ll cut off their ability to track us down, too. We''d leave them lost in the tunnels until we find another way out or until the loop resets.


    I make a decision. "Through the door," I say. "Guard first, then Ahkelios, then Gheraa. I''ll go last."


    "Are you sure?" Ahkelios shoots me a worried glance, but Guard is already climbing through. Gheraa ushers him through without waiting for me to respond, following shortly after.


    I glance behind us one last time, then slip through the hole in reality after them.

 218 — Book 4, Chapter 4 — Temporal Snapshot

    To my surprise, that hole in reality seals shut behind us. Even with my Firmament sense extended as far as I can handle, there''s no hint of the Fracture, no hint of the seething mass of time we just left behind. I don''t know if that means the hole has somehow permanently sealed itself¡ªalthough I very much doubt that¡ªor if it''s changed locations in some way, but I''m willing to bet it''s the latter.


    Either way, it means that whoever Teluwat and Rhoran sent after us has no chance of following us here.


    ...Somewhat less encouraging is that we don''t have a way back. I have no idea where we are.


    "Uh, Ethan?" Ahkelios sounds oddly excited, considering the situation. I follow his gaze to what looks like the sky above, then frown a little¡ªthe perspective is a little odd, almost like it''s just painted onto a ceiling... "Ethan, I think we''re in Inveria!"


    Right. That... makes a lot of sense. Scratch that, then: I don''t know when we are, because this isn''t Hestia as I know it.


    The Firmament around us is entirely different, for one thing.


    My Trial was the 307th Trial set on Hestia. The 307th instance of some individual plucked from their homes and sent to live through an endless, looping reality. It''s not something I''ve spent a lot of time thinking about, but the endless Trials must have done something beyond just creating all those Tears and Remnants. Something like change the nature of the ambient Firmament on the planet itself.


    The kind that surrounds us is fundamentally different. I had no idea that Firmament could feel this... peaceful.


    It''s not perfect, of course. I''m almost certain that however far back in time we''ve been thrown, this is still during one of the Trials¡ªI can still feel the noise in the Firmament that surrounds us like a quiet, rippling disturbance. It''s just a lot calmer than it ever was during my own Trial. Even in the Empty City, there was a sort of static that permeated everything, presumably from the temporal barrier extended around me.


    Right now, that static feels like the kind that comes from a white noise machine rather than someone endlessly drilling into their apartment one floor above. The difference is stark enough to throw into sharp contrast the real state of the planet.


    The Heart must be on her last legs at this point. How many more Trials or loops can she withstand?


    "I will admit," Gheraa says slowly. "I had not realized that things had gotten quite that severe on Hestia."


    "You didn''t realize the difference when you were brought back?" I ask.


    Gheraa clears his throat and studiously avoids my gaze. "I assumed it was a result of the impurities of Trial worlds. Which was a poor assumption, I now realize."


    "Do the Integrators have a particular obsession with purity?"


    "Some of them." Gheraa grimaces. "It''s one of the reasons we''re told not to visit the Trials."


    "Right." I leave it alone¡ªit''s not the first time he''s had to question the doctrine he''s been given, and we''ve been through this enough times that I know he''ll approach me later if there''s anything he wants to talk about.


    Instead, I turn to Guard, who''s the only one that''s been silent through all this. He''s just staring up at the painted ceiling, his expression somewhere between lost and contemplative; I reach up to put a hand on his shoulder, startling him enough that his system lights flare bright with shock.


    "Ethan," he says, trying to recover. "What is it?"


    "Are you alright?" I ask. "I know we were just talking about this..."


    Guard hesitates, then nods jerkily. "Yes," he says. Then he shakes his head. "No." He pauses. "I am uncertain. But I would like to..."


    He gestures, not quite able to finish his sentence. I get the gist of what he''s saying: there''s something he wants to check on. "We''ll come with you," I offer, and he nods in appreciation.


    I let him lead us once more through Inveria''s tunnels, my mind already analyzing the situation we''re in. As far as I can tell, we''re stuck here for the time being.


    The only question is: why?


    Time and space on Hestia has been slowly tearing itself apart because of all the loops. There''s no greater evidence of that than the Fracture''s explosion rupturing the planet at the end of each loop, but even outside of that, the Tears opening all throughout the planet are ample evidence on their own. Each Tear is caused by repetition or tragedy working itself into the fabric of reality.


    This anomaly is different. Someone did this with intent¡ªopened a hole in time to lead to this exact place and this exact moment.


    That someone has to be someone like me and Ahkelios. A Trialgoer that went through Hestia''s Trial. I know that because until the planet is Integrated, we''re the only ones that can get skills that manipulate time.


    So... what, did someone try to punch their way out of Hestia''s temporal barrier? I frown. It''s certainly a possibility, but unless I''m missing my guess, there''s something here that the Heart wants us to see, so there has to be more to it than that.


    No use fumbling about in the dark.


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    My time in the Quiet Grove was enlightening, and part of that enlightenment was a marked improvement in my ability to work with Threads and Concepts.


    I close my eyes and reach within, feeling the Firmament stir around me. I don''t need to draw on a full Concept here. I just need a better understanding of what there is to find, and for that...


    The Web of Threads lies just above my core, a small but growing network of all the Threads I''ve been able to comprehend. I reach out to pluck three of them, the most I''ve been able to work with at any one time.


    [Thread of Insight activated!]


    [Thread of Purpose activated!]


    [Thread of Evolution activated!]


    My ability to use Threads has always been more instinctive than purposeful. Prior to my training in the Grove, even my best attempts with the Thread of Insight resulted only in flashes of understanding that built on things I already knew.


    I''ve improved since then. Practiced until activating a Thread took only a moment of thought and will, then refined my connection with them until they became something tangible. Now I can use them more or less at will to supplement both my power and my understanding.


    I won''t allow myself to be left floundering for answers ever again.


    When I open my eyes again, there''s a distinct change in what I can see. Three gossamer-thin Threads intertwine in the air around us, tangled into messy knots of intent. It''s always a process with these things¡ªthe thing about Threads is that they''re present in every little thing. They''re a representation of how every aspect of reality is connected.


    So as we walk, I reach out and begin to unwind them.


    The Thread of Insight confirms my guess: that hole in reality led us here because this moment was significant to one of Hestia''s past loopers. That Thread twists around the spot where we first appeared then vanishes off into the distance somewhere ahead of us.


    In what I''d guess isn''t a coincidence at all, it happens to flow in the same direction that Guard''s already leading us.


    The Thread of Purpose twirls around my soul and tells me that the Heart wants us to see what happened to that looper, but... I frown. There are two knots in the Thread, which means there''s a second reason we''re here. The second knot of Purpose tangles messily around Guard, almost like it''s uncertain.


    That''s something I''ve never seen before. I''ll have to keep an eye out¡ªI can''t get a good read on it as is.


    Last but not least, there''s the Thread of Evolution. That Thread is important for different reasons entirely: with Kauku''s strength so far ahead of us, we need every opportunity for growth we can get. I use this Thread to seek out opportunities to grow in strength, and the moment I tug on it, I see a web of power that stretches all throughout the tunnels.


    Inveria is rife with opportunity.


    Most of it is in the exact form of power I''m using now¡ªThreads and Concepts. Inveria is a city founded on the exchange of art and culture, and as a result, the place is filled with a density of understanding that would be difficult to find anywhere else. That makes Inveria the perfect place to develop a connection with a new Concept.


    Perfect.


    My progress on the next phase shift is more or less stalled until I find what I need to complete it, but that doesn''t mean there''s nothing more I can do for my core. The Concepts I''ve managed to tap into seem to enrich it in some way, pushing it toward a different kind of evolution.


    What that is, I''m not sure yet. But I can feel that it''s coming. I let myself passively soak in what understanding I can, filtering for anything that particularly resonates with my soul.


    In the meantime, this is an opportunity for us to take in the Great City that means so much to Guard. Thankfully, I haven''t forgotten how to appreciate what''s around me.


    That, and I''m pretty sure Ahkelios would let me hear no end of it if we come out of this and I remember nothing about Inveria.


    The tunnels here are far more interesting than the replica found inside of the Fracture, at least. They do share one property: my Firmament sense isn''t able to distinguish a boundary between stone and air. Other than that, though? Everything''s different. The paintings are just as varied and interesting as Guard described, and more than that, the tunnels are filled with people.


    We''re in some sort of marketplace, as best as I can tell¡ªsurrounded by more species than I''ve seen so far on Hestia. Little stalls line the walls of the tunnels, selling just about everything¡ªpottery, paintings, cleverly-detailed figurines, complicated mechanisms I can''t even begin to understand.


    Ahkelios is, of course, fascinated with every little thing. I can see him visibly restraining himself from just running off to explore. As much as I''d like to let him, though, splitting up while we''re inside some sort of temporal anomaly seems like a terrible idea.


    Gheraa, on the other hand, seems fascinated by the people. I can''t tell how much of that interest is because he''s never been around many people that aren''t Integrators and how much of it is genuine.


    Ahkelios I more or less trust not to wander off on his own, but Gheraa hasn''t had nearly as much practice in self-control. I keep an eye on him¡ªI''m not convinced he isn''t going to go and try to interrogate some poor soul about "what it''s like to be mortal". He''s certainly tried to have that conversation with me one too many times, back in the Grove.


    After about the fifth time he tries to scamper off, I sigh and grab him by the back of his collar, lifting him fully off the ground.


    "If you force me to carry you, I''m just going to do it," I say plainly, ignoring his protests. They''re more halfhearted than I would have expected, honestly. He does make an escape attempt every so often, but not with any particular success.


    The whole thing gets us some strange looks, but it''s easier than constantly pulling him back.


    I take in the sights for a while. It''s nice to see a part of Hestia that doesn''t seem to be wreathed in any obvious conflict¡ªwhoever the Trialgoer in charge of Inveria is, they aren''t exercising their control like I might have expected. Either that, or the city''s keeping things together well in their absence.


    Eventually, Guard leads us to what must be one of the so-called main tunnels¡ªthe one we''re in expands outward into something truly enormous, to the point where I think one of Isthanok''s floating citadels could have fit comfortably within it. I''m not even sure it''s fair to call it a tunnel, at this point.


    Still, Guard seems to know where he''s going. He makes a beeline toward a specific spot along the walls of the tunnel even as we take in the sights. He wasn''t kidding¡ªthe place is lined with all sorts of art from different peoples and different cultures, and the spot Guard is heading for...


    He stops in his tracks before I can quite make out what he''s heading toward. "Guard?" I ask when he doesn''t move or say a word.


    He hesitates for a moment, then gestures toward a spot on the wall. I catch a glimpse of a painting, though it''s still a little too far for me to see in detail. It looks like Isthanok, maybe? But different, somehow. I take a step closer¡ª


    ¡ªbut before I can analyze it in detail, an explosion rocks the cavern. I snap around toward the source, instantly on alert. I barely need to reach out with my Firmament sense to tell who that is.


    Trialgoer. Looper.


    We''ve definitely gone back in time, but from the look of utter rage and devastation on that Trialgoer''s face, we might still be just a moment too late.

 219 — Book 4, Chapter 5 — Twofold

    I start by pouring Firmament into Quicken Mind so I can assess the situation. The other looper is on nearly the opposite side of the cavern we''re in. He''s similar to the silverwisps, in a way. Like them, he looks like he''s made of living energy. Unlike them, that energy is tightly controlled and contained into a defined humanoid form. There''s no ethereal flame, no silvery mist¡ªjust a bright-blue pulsing energy shaped like a person.


    A very angry person, in this case. He stands there like a living star, ablaze with fury and despair in equal measure, and though he''s a member of a species I''ve never seen before, it isn''t hard to tell exactly how he feels. Heat radiates off him with every pulse. I''m almost certain I can see the ground melting beneath his feet.


    He''s talking to someone. There''s a pile of collapsed rubble he''s facing, no doubt a result of the explosion I heard; small cracks spread along the wall from the point of impact, spreading along the walls of the tunnel.


    "You said you''d remember." The words come out trembling, like he''s using all his strength to speak instead of fight. Considering the flames that burst to life and lick their way up his arms, I don''t think he''s nearly as under control as he''s pretending. His hands are clenched into tight fists, and he takes a single, shaky step forward.


    I can''t quite make out who he''s talking to, given that they''re obscured within a pile of smoking rubble, but my Firmament sense tells me that they''re very much alive and probably pissed.


    In fact, considering how strong that Firmament is, I can guess exactly who this Trialgoer is confronting.


    The rubble shifts. To my surprise, most of what I''d assumed was just rubble is, in fact, a person. Several larger pieces of stone reconnect with one another, humming with Firmament and rearranging themselves until they form a vaguely humanoid shape with arms nearly as its legs.


    Another species I haven''t encountered yet. Guard stiffens the moment he sees her, and I wince, already knowing what he''s about to say.


    "That is Soul of Trade," he hisses. He doesn''t seem to have entirely recovered from whatever it is he saw¡ªI can feel the turbulence in his Firmament like an erratic storm¡ªbut he''s putting it aside for the moment to focus on the fight. "She is the Trialgoer that manages Inveria."


    Yeah, that''s about what I expected.


    This is going to be a problem.


    It''s not the fight I''m worried about. This past looper is a second-layer practitioner at best, and while his Firmament is bent powerfully toward destruction, there''s only so much he can do to us. Soul of Trade is likewise just barely into her third layer and unlikely to have anything that can threaten me. I''m not writing them off completely¡ªnot when either of them might have skills that could turn the tides¡ªbut I''m a lot more worried about the cracks slowly spreading along the walls than I am about the two of them.


    "I''m afraid I don''t," Soul of Trade says. She shrugs nonchalantly, dusting off the dirt of the impact like it barely hurt her; from the looks of things, it barely did. I doubt she''s particularly vulnerable to physical damage, in fact. "I don''t even know your name."


    "I am Fyran, and you promised me escape." That explains the fire-man''s anger, at least. He takes another step forward, blue flames licking all the way up to his shoulders, and it''s only with a tremendous effort of will that he stops himself from attacking her again. A part of him recognizes the problem he''s created, I think¡ªI see his gaze flicking to the cracks on the walls, to the panicked civilians running for shelter.


    There''s a part of him that wants to care. There''s a part of him that wants to help. But right now, his anger overrides everything else, and he takes another step forward.


    "You told me you''d have a way out for me if I gave you my credits," he says. I''m beginning to get a clearer picture of what happened here. "You told me to come back to you in the next loop."


    "And you agreed to that?" Soul of Trade waves a hand in the air, and I feel the Interface reacting; she scans an invisible screen in the air for a moment, and then she snorts. "If you agreed to that, you deserve it. What made you think I''d be able to remember a deal? How many loops have you been through?"


    "Hundreds." I can feel Fyran''s fury rising. The heat is now palpable enough that I can feel it all the way from here. Soul of Trade doesn''t seem to care, but everyone else in the tunnels do¡ªthey''re all scrambling for an escape, to get as far away from the growing fight as possible. Ahkelios, Guard, and Gheraa slip away to quietly help with the evacuation, and I feed small tendrils of Firmament into the walls to help them stay together. "You don''t care."


    Soul of Trade looks bored. "If I kill you, I get even more credits," she says. "If I fail, the loop will eventually reset, and both me and my City will be fine. There is no situation in which you win, Trialgoer."


    "But there is a situation in which you suffer," Fyran growls. I see him step forward again. I feel his power growing. Firmament gathers around him in great swirls of concentrated power, pouring into his core with a sudden clarity that pushes his core forward¡ª


    He''s about to phase shift. I come to that realization at almost the same instant the Thread of Purpose coalesces; it pulls taut, dragging me toward both Fyran and Soul of Trade, and I know with abrupt certainty why we''re here.


    Not to stop Soul of Trade. Not even to prevent Fyran from making the deal in his prior loop, though I imagine that might have helped. In a better world and in better circumstances, I might''ve been able to do that instead.


    But here and now, it''s about this moment. The third phase shift is the moment a practitioner defines their Truth, and Fyran is about to make that decision while consumed by raw, blinding rage. I can see the red creeping over his core, the fundamental shift in self that''s about to happen.


    There''s a pervasive sense of wrongness in the air that apparently comes with these types of phase shifts, the kind of shift forced into being by anger and fear instead of any drive for truth. Ahkelios, Guard, and Gheraa have all turned toward Fyran. They might not know the specifics, but they know that something bad is happening.


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    I stay where I am.


    Inspired Evolution: Knight. Generator Form.


    The transformation happens faster than it ever has before. I barely feel the pain of my bones turning into armor and my flesh igniting into solidified Firmament. The point of the Generator Form is that it''s inherently connected with Energy, an entire pillar of power; with it, my Firmament Control is stronger than it is in any other form.


    And just in case it isn''t enough...


    [Thread of Control activated!]


    The Thread of Control was one of the harder Threads to comprehend, and even now I''m not entirely comfortable with it. I do not, by default, desire to control everything around me. But right now, I can''t say I''m unhappy about Ahkelios pushing me to grasp it.


    I wrap the Thread around my right arm, feeding it through the skill construct that is Firmament Control. Then I reach out, grasping at a single wisp of Firmament in the air that tries to rush past me and toward Fyran, and pull.


    With that one gesture, every drop of Firmament in the cavern freezes in its tracks.


    "Let''s take a moment to breathe, shall we?" I say. My voice carries across the width of the tunnel, albeit with the help of a small current of Firmament I allow to move.


    Fyran makes a sound not unlike a pained gasp, collapsing to his knees as the Firmament he needs for his shift suddenly refuses to arrive. He tries anyway¡ªI can feel his will clawing at the Firmament around him, trying desperately to steal it back. Soul of Trade, on the other hand, looks wary for perhaps the first time in this conversation.


    She''s aware, I think, of the kind of power it takes to stop a phase shift as it''s happening. She''s very aware of the kind of Firmament I''m currently wielding at my fingertips. Her instincts are screaming at her that she''s out of her depth.


    I take my time making my way across the cavern. It''s large enough that I''m not going to walk the whole way, but I make sure to take a minute or two, using Warpstep to cross huge swathes of distance every time Soul of Trade blinks. She flinches every time, but does an admirable job keeping her composure.


    By the time I arrive next to them, Fyran has managed to recover somewhat, even if he''s only barely standing. He stares at us warily, unsure what to make of us.


    Soul of Trade, on the other hand, is visibly more unnerved.


    "I don''t know you," she says. "Should I?"


    I raise an eyebrow. "Where was that politeness when you were speaking with Fyran, I wonder?"


    Soul of Trade lifts her chin. "He is not worth consideration."


    "Maybe not to you." I examine her for a moment. Her Firmament is erratic. Scared, I think. I can see a tint of yellow, if I use Tetrachromacy. But more interesting than that are the Threads carefully wrapped around her core¡ªshe''s no stranger to the Web of Threads herself, evidently, and she''s carefully using them to help her achieve her goals.


    Unfortunately for her, my arrival''s thrown her off-balance, which means it''s a simple matter for me to steal control of those Threads from her. I have to disable some of mine in the process, but it only takes me a moment to unravel her own Thread of Purpose and see what she intended.


    "You were paid to do this," I say. She flinches, taking a step back and bumping into the wall behind her. I pay it no mind. "The Integrators promised you credits for corrupting Fyran, I take it?"


    "I..." she starts, then falters. She stares at me. "How do you know this? Who are you?"


    "Corrupting me...?" Fyran asks. He stares, looking between me and Soul of Trade. "What does that mean?"


    The others finally catch up behind me. Gheraa answers for me, to my relief¡ªI''m not sure exactly how to explain what the Integrators try to do to their Trialgoers. "It means she was paid in credits to make you more manageable," he says bluntly.


    Soul of Trade stiffens even more at those words. Her eyes dart from Ahkelios, to Guard, and finally settles on Gheraa; she very clearly recognizes his species, because she somehow manages to go pale. Which is impressive, given that she''s made of rock. She seems to forget entirely about me and turns her attention to him, clasping her hands together in an informal sort of bow.


    "If I have angered the Integrators, I can atone," she says. "You need only tell me what to do¡ª"


    Gheraa seems to find this initially uncomfortable, but that comfort switches rather suddenly to amusement. I catch the spark of mischief in his eyes a split second before he turns to me, ignoring Soul of Trade entirely. "Master," he says, clasping my hand in both of his own. He leans in for a conspiratorial yet far-too-loud whisper. "I will eliminate her for you, if it pleases you."


    I stare at him. He stares back at me innocently, somehow adopting a perfectly subservient persona entirely at odds with how he usually behaves. It takes a gargantuan effort to resist the urge to facepalm.


    In the meantime, Soul of Trade realizes her mistake and stares at us in naked terror. I can only imagine what she''s thinking: that she ignored an Integrator''s "master" and is about to get punished for it.


    "Just make her leave," I say, giving Gheraa a look that he entirely ignores. Instead, he claps his hands together cheerfully.


    "You heard him," Gheraa says. "Begone! Before I vaporize you."


    Soul of Trade gives us an utterly confused, terrified look, then vanishes into the walls. I watch the process with interest¡ªwhatever skill she uses allows her to meld with the stone of the tunnels, and it seals the cracks behind her. I''m assuming that''s part of why she didn''t seem particularly worried about the damage.


    Then again, without my intervention, the walls would almost certainly have collapsed, so who knows what she was thinking.


    I turn my attention to Fyran, who seems just as confused and definitely wary of both me and Gheraa. "What did you mean, make me more manageable?" he asks, glancing between the two of us, then at Ahkelios and Guard. "Are you really that Integrator''s master? Who are you people?"


    I rub my temples. "No, he''s just a friend who thinks he''s funny," I say, ignoring Gheraa''s immediate gasp of outrage. Ahkelios snorts to himself in the background, and Guard pats Gheraa gently on the shoulder, as if to comfort him. "As for the rest, it''s complicated, and kind of a long story."


    If nothing else, Gheraa''s gambit there appears to have confused Fyran enough to settle him. The storm of Firmament around us has calmed enough that I can release it from my grasp, and when I do, it''s like the air around us breathes a sigh of relief.


    "I have nothing but time," Fyran says. He sounds tired more than he does angry now, though there''s a sense of defeat in his voice. He looks around at the Firmament that would have formed the third layer of his core, and when he speaks again, his voice is quiet. "If I completed that phase shift, it would have changed me."


    "It would have," I say, watching him.


    "I would have forgotten." The realization is a pained one, and Fyran begins to tremble slightly as he realizes what he might have become. "I just wanted to see my daughter again. Soul of Trade promised me she could make it happen. I thought... I thought it would be done. I thought this would be the last loop."


    "That''s what they do." I glance at the others¡ªthey''re mostly trying to give Fyran some space, for which I''m grateful. "I understand more than you think, believe me."


    "How could you?" Fyran asks doubtfully. I tilt my head, then reach out with Temporal Link; the moment that Temporal Firmament makes contact with his core, both recognition and surprise flash in his eyes. "You''re..."


    "It''s complicated," I say again, standing up and offering him a hand. "Come on. Let''s talk. Maybe over some food. I''m sure you could use something to eat."


    Even as I say the words, I see Guard glancing back toward the spot on the wall he''d been staring at before. The Thread I called on earlier lingers around him, waiting.


    We aren''t done here yet.

 220 — Book 4, Chapter 6 — Connections Through Time

    Despite the loops, Fyran turns out to be both surprisingly stable and surprisingly kind. It''s no surprise that the Integrators had to resort to more underhanded tricks to change him into someone they could more easily control. I didn''t consider it before now¡ªthat their manipulation could extend beyond the psychological.


    With the nature and existence of Firmament, all they need to do is catch someone at exactly the wrong moment. If they''re pushed right to the edge and forced to undergo a phase shift...


    Well, we saw what almost happened to Fyran. It''s not exactly a pleasant thought. Even now, the fire-man winces as he walks, the lingering aftereffects of his aborted phase shift sending small shocks of pain through his body.


    He''s grateful, though. He makes his way through the mostly-abandoned tunnel, leading us toward a tavern he assures us will still be open.


    "I''m doing all this for my daughter," he tells me. "She was young when I was taken. I don''t know how old she is now. I think I''ve been in this Trial for... a year, maybe two. It''s hard to keep track."


    I grimace. Unlike me, Fyran hasn''t encountered anyone else that can remember the loops. The Hestian Trialgoers are the closest he can get to that, and even then, all they remember are the messages they send to their past selves¡ªand it''s not like any of them are inclined to be particularly friendly.


    No, for the most part they hunt him down for sport. He''s had a rough time of it, from what he says. I''m surprised he''s kept it together for this long, but then again, he''s clearly had a very good reason.


    "What''s she like?" I ask. "Your daughter."


    Fyran is silent for a moment. A small ripple of instability passes through his form like a wave of pain he''s trying to shake off, and then he sighs. "I don''t know," he says. "That''s the problem. Or part of it, I suppose. She was only three when the Integration started, and her mother... isn''t with us anymore. I''m sure my parents would have taken care of her, but I''ve missed years of her life."


    He looks away. "I just want to see her again."


    "I''m sorry," I say quietly. It doesn''t feel sufficient.


    Fyran shakes his head. "You''re the reason I remember her at all," he says. "I could feel what was happening, you know. I even wanted it to happen. I would have forgotten about her. About my wife." He hesitates. "I let myself think it would be better that way."


    "Because if there''s no way out, why not enjoy the trap we''re in?" Ahkelios mutters. Fyran glances at him, and I see the flicker of understanding that passes between the two of them.


    "Yes," Fyran admits, the word emerging a little hollow. There''s an exhaustion that''s wrung him through, even now. Being with the four of us¡ªwith people who understand¡ªhelps, but there''s only so much we can do, especially given we don''t know how long we''ll be here or if we can take him back with us.


    "Thank you, by the way," he adds after a moment. He doesn''t quite look at me when he says the words. His fists are clenched¡ªI don''t think he''s managed to get quite all his anger out¡ªbut he''s calmer now, and he knows what that phase shift would have meant for him. "It would''ve been easier to forget, but it wouldn''t have been worth it."


    "That''s what it always comes down to, isn''t it?" I say.


    "Indeed," Fyran agrees. He snorts, his fists loosening slightly as he relaxes. "That and I''m sure you scared Soul of Trade more than I could''ve hoped to. The look on her face was definitely worth it."


    I laugh at that. "Sometimes it''s the little things."


    Even if I''m still going to have words with Gheraa about his impromptu little display. I have to admit, though: the look on Soul of Trade''s face was definitely worth it. Even now, the Integrator looks all too smug and proud of himself. Fyran keeps throwing him curious looks, but he seems to have decided to reserve his questions for later.


    Which is probably for the best. If we''re going to explain everything we''ve been through, we''re going to do it sitting down.


    We walk back across the tunnel we''re in for a time. Most of the people here have evacuated, but there are a few shops and inns that remain open, run by particularly brave keepers. The tavern Fyran eventually leads us to is situated not all that far from the section of the wall Guard was drawn to, and I see the way he keeps glancing in that direction, so I pull him aside as the others step in.


    "There was something you were looking at," I say quietly. "We''ll be nearby. Do you want to take a look without us? I''ll join you when we''re done."


    Guard visibly relaxes and gives me a jerky sort of nod; clearly, he''s been holding himself back. "I... would be grateful," he says, his voice a little strained.


    "Call out if you need me." I give the bond we share in our Firmament a gentle tap to signify what I mean. We clasp our hands briefly, and I watch him for a moment as he leaves.


    Then I slip back into the tavern to join Fyran, Ahkelios, and Gheraa.


    <hr>


    The first thing I notice¡ªwith no particular surprise, considering the commotion outside¡ªis that the place is apparently being run by a single lone bartender. She has the appearance of a giant mouse, which throws me off slightly; she also has the appearance of someone entirely too done with life, which I can relate to. She eyes us for a moment like she''s evaluating whether or not it''s worth confronting us about the fight, then shrugs.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "You know what," she announces. "As long as you have coin, I don''t care."


    She stares at us expectantly. I don''t actually have coins with me¡ªif anything, I''ve actively avoided dealing with any form of currency on Hestia¡ªbut Fyran certainly does; he pulls out a small sack of coins from nowhere, then tosses her the entire sack. The bartender takes a moment to peer inside it.


    Her eyes widen slightly. Just like that, she''s all smiles and business. She sweeps us over toward a table,


    "Welcome to the Inverted Sky!" she says cheerfully. "I''m Junia, and I''ll be your server today. Mostly because everyone else ran away and I don''t think I''m going to be getting a replacement for another eight hours, but also because that tip is going to cover my rent for the next three years. Thank you, by the way."


    She''s somehow already laying out plates as she talks, which is impressive, considering I don''t think I noticed her moving to get any plates. "We also guarantee complete privacy for our VIP customers," she tells us. "By which I mean I''m the only one working here right now and I''m entirely deaf. If you want to call me over, use the button over there, then point to what you want to order. Otherwise, I''m going to pretend you don''t exist. Sound good?"


    Junia is very much the forward type, it seems. I take my seat, a little bemused but mostly impressed; Gheraa seems absolutely delighted, and Ahkelios is already halfway deep in the menu. Fyran signs a "thank you" at her, and she beams at him before disappearing into the back.


    "I''m guessing you threw her a lot of money?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. Fyran shrugs.


    "It''s not the first time I''ve been here, and she''s struggling more than she lets on," he says. "Besides, it''s not that hard to get money in the loops. I usually do a few gambling runs in Coricia at the start. Why?"


    I chuckle. "I never bothered. Maybe we should exchange notes."


    "I might enjoy that," Fyran says, offering me a small smile.


    He''s learned a few things through the loops, it turns out. Fyran''s approach has been very different from mine¡ªmany of his early loops were spent on searching for the exit to the Trial. It didn''t take long for him to figure out the same thing many of us did, though: that the exit is a trap, and that passing the Trial has nothing to do with leaving it.


    "I spent a long time wandering, after that," he admits. "Exploring, earning credits, gaining skills. You know the drill."


    He doesn''t seem to have encountered the same density of problems I did, at least not at first. Once the Hestian Trialgoers identified him, it was a different story¡ªFyran details chase after chase, dozens of loops where he''s hunted for sport. It took him time to learn how to evade them.


    Time he spent mostly in the Fracture.


    Something in the room changes when he begins to talk about it. The Thread of Evolution begins to circle around him, a half-dozen of its connections suddenly pulling taut; the Thread of Purpose stirs from dormancy, once more wrapping itself around his core. It''s only when he begins to talk about what he discovered within that I understand why.


    Turns out I''m not the only one to have extracted secrets about Firmament from Hestia and her loops.


    One of the biggest hurdles that Gheraa and I faced during our time in the Quiet Grove was, essentially, trying to understand what I''d done with my core. It was strong. Stronger by a large margin than any third-layer core should be, and by Gheraa''s estimates capable of contending with anyone up to the fifth layer. Once he got over his awe¡ªsomething that took several days of muttered examination and not a small amount of drooling¡ªhe gave me his best guess as to what I''d done.


    "It looks like you somehow managed to start the imbuement process on your own soul," he said. "I had no idea that was even possible. And you''re saying the Interface''s categories are wrong?"


    "As I understand it," I said. "Ahkelios hasn''t managed to do the same thing, though."


    "No," Gheraa said. "No, he wouldn''t have. What you did is... I don''t think you understand how incredible this is, Ethan. You cannot imbue a core. Imbuements are for rocks and gems, not... not souls!"


    "Is that a problem?" I asked. He stared at me.


    "No?" he said, but more as a question. "Yes? I don''t know, Ethan! If you''d done this while the Interface connected we''d be holding entire meetings about this! And just in case you don''t understand how ridiculous that is, we hate meetings."


    "And here I thought I''d never relate to an Integrator besides you," I said dryly.


    "I am going to pretend you didn''t say that, because it''s going to distract me from the very impossible thing you apparently did," Gheraa said. He grabs both sides of my chest and presses his face into it, like he can see my core just by peering close enough. Which I suppose he technically can. "Seriously, Ethan. How did you do this?"


    "I just did," I said, for probably the seventh time. Gheraa groaned in frustration.


    "I give up," he said. "Look, I know how fourth-layer shifts are supposed to work, so let''s just... do some experimentation. Make sure you''re not going to, I don''t know, explode your core or something when you try it."


    That led to a series of meditation exercises and several uses of Soul Space, poking and prodding at my core each time. It wasn''t the only experiment we performed, but the conclusion we''d reached at the end was this:


    There''s one more sub-evolution I need to achieve.


    What I''ve done to my core is something like an imbuement, and the parallels exist through the process of imbuement in general. In perfecting my core, I created pillars of stability on the third layer¡ªa support structure of sorts that mirrors what the Integrators or the Interface do when performing an imbuement. In refining it, I transformed its base structure into something more malleable: a fluid capable of receiving any imbuement.


    In its current state, my core is already capable of growing. Any absorption of Firmament makes that pool of power greater. But there''s a final step needed before I can build the fourth layer on top of it.


    Deepening.


    It''s the theoretical term Gheraa came up with, anyway. His theory is that the fourth layer will be imbued onto my existing core, but in order for that to work, I need to have a core that''s large enough to support the entirety of that layer. In imbuement, the size and purity of the stone matters, and it''s the same idea here.


    Basically, my core is pure enough, but it isn''t big enough to support the kind of fourth layer I''d probably end up imbuing into myself.


    The problem we ran into after that was that while absorbing Firmament deepens my core, it doesn''t do that at a rate that''s anywhere near acceptable. Spending time in Firmament-dense places like the Fracture helps, of course, but even in the depths a moment ago the rate of growth wasn''t particularly sufficient. Just borrowing power from Guard isn''t enough, either.


    What Fyran is describing, though, is perfect for it. It''s exactly the evolution I thought the Web of Threads might lead to.


    All I need to do is die.

 221 — Book 4, Chapter 7 — Lost in the Past

    He-Who-Guards stared at the painting of Isthanok, wondering why it felt so achingly familiar. He reached out for it and brushed the edges of the paint with a finger. His sensors reported to him all the ways it varied in texture, thickness, and color, none of which was quite the same as being able to feel it beneath is fingers.


    That was nothing new, of course. He couldn''t feel anything these days. The body he now wore came with many advantages, but a sense of touch wasn''t one of them.


    Not by default, anyway.


    It had taken many nights of quiet patience from Ethan. Guard couldn''t use Ethan''s skills the way Ahkelios could¡ªit was far more dangerous for him to even try, without the guidance of the Interface¡ªbut he could... interpret those skills, in a manner of speaking. Translate them into something he could use.


    Together, he and Ethan had discovered that if he threaded the Firmament produced by Breath of Life through his body using a variant of Firmament Control, and threaded it through his body in just the right way, he could feel again.


    Sometimes, Guard wondered if Ethan knew how much he''d done for him, in helping him restore that part of himself.


    He fed his power into the circuit for Breath of Life until the air around him sang with brightened Firmament. Then he switched to the circuit for Firmament Control and began to carefully thread that power back into his body, feeding tiny filaments of Life-fortified Firmament into his fingers.


    Slowly, the dirt and paint on the wall became something more than numbers and data.


    He traced the edges of the painting for a long moment, not knowing what he was looking for. It was a traditional painting of Isthanok by almost any measure¡ªnot entirely accurate, perhaps, but impressive nonetheless. The biggest difference between the painting and the real city was that the citadel-shards remained intact, floating above the Great City and painting the buildings below in swathes of refracted light.


    It was an interesting choice. A dedication not to what Isthanok was, but to what it could be. In many ways, the painting here depicted what She-Who-Whispers had always dreamed the city could be, and yet even in her years as the Trialgoer in charge of it, she''d never repaired more than a third. There was always some other, more urgent task taking up her time and attention.


    Not infrequently, that task was him. Other times, it was something the Integrators demanded of her, some political fiasco involving one of the other Trialgoers, or some anomaly caused by the Trials themselves.


    Guard''s memories of those times were a fuzzy thing. He''d been incomplete for half of it, puppeted around for the other; he was only even conscious for barely half the time he spent patrolling and protecting Isthanok. Ahkelios had expressed surprised to him more than once that he continued to do so. In his position, Ahkelios claimed, he would never want anything to do with Isthanok again.


    He could understand the sentiment, even if he didn''t feel it. For Guard, protecting Isthanok was a duty, and he held no resentment for the city or its people.


    Whisper, on the other hand...


    Guard''s fingers paused on a small bump in the painting. It was the tiniest thing¡ªa spot where some errant paint had splashed onto the rock, dried, and then was subsequently painted over.


    An imperfection. The words came to him without any conscious impetus; he hesitated, finger hovering over that spot as he stared. Something about it felt significant.


    The painting of Isthanok was that of the Great City at its theoretical height. It was a painting of everything Whisper wanted this place to be.


    Had she been here?


    Why did Inveria matter so much to him?


    Unlike Guard''s memories of being an automaton, his memories of being a silverwisp were almost perfectly intact. There were gaps¡ªempty periods of time in his memories that seemed too cleanly cut to simply be a fault of the transferral process. He suspected those were memories that Whisper had intentionally left out in the hopes that he would forgive her.


    This wasn''t one of those memories, though.


    He remembered being in Inveria. He remembered admiring the walls and interacting with the citizens of the other Great Cities, learning about them, laughing with them. He remembered participating in the annual competition and painting... something.


    Or helping to paint something?


    He''d still been a silverwisp back then, he was sure of that much, but the memory he held was fuzzy in a way that none of the others were. Even his memories of his time as a barely-coherent Firmament puppet had a coherence to them that was missing here. It was like someone had taken a brush to his memories and painted out broad strokes of them, leaving behind something that didn''t quite make sense.


    The more he thought about it¡ªthe more he ran the memory through his head¡ªthe more sure he was that that was exactly what had happened. The changes were too precise, too specific. He could remember the conversations he had with others in Inveria, but not his time alone in his room. He could remember that he joined the competition, but not what he painted, nor who had helped him paint.


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    He wasn''t a particularly good painter, after all. Besides, the competition required a minimum of three individuals per team.


    Guard stared once more at the painting of Isthanok, his fingers still resting on that tiny speck of imperfection.


    He''d been here. He''d been involved in this. He was sure of it.


    He could almost imagine the conversation that emerged from that tiny speck¡ªWhisper demanding that they fix the flaw, himself making the argument that the flaw was part of its charm. It served as proof of their journey and a reminder of the moments that led up to it.


    And yet, try as he might, there was nothing where that conversation should have been.


    Guard was more resistant to memory alteration than most other practitioners. The size of his core was the sole reason he remembered the loops. Short of doing what Whisper had done and essentially dissecting it, any focused attempt to erase or alter his memories left traces they wouldn''t leave in anyone else.


    Before he''d completed his first phase shift, he might have still missed these changes. Even now, he could feel a foreign fragment of Firmament attempting to block him from examining these memories and trying to divert his attention.


    The circuit for Firmament Control still flickered in front of him. Guard reached for it, and watched with a morbid combination of fascination and disgust as he pulled free a single remnant of third-layer Firmament. It had somehow been hiding deep within him, perfectly camouflaged until the moment it activated to try to once more redirect his attention.


    It struggled in his grasp, third-layer Firmament trying to break free from his first-layer grasp.


    Guard cocked his head.


    Once, he''d considered the size of his soul to be a curse. The raw potential of his Firmament meant only that it would destroy him from within long before he really learned to use it.


    Now?


    For the first time, he really, truly leveraged the might of his soul, and crushed that piece of Firmament in his grasp. He didn''t stop until he was sure he''d wrung out every last drop of malicious intent.


    "I hope you are hungry, little one," Guard told the Void Inspiration still nestled within his core. Ever since they''d learned that Inspirations could be moved around through their bond, the Void Inspiration had stuck with him¡ªin large part because of the sheer volume of Firmament he had to feed it. It perked up at his words, eager, and he fed to it the limp remains of the curse he hadn''t even known he carried.


    Then he glanced back at the painting on the wall. He took a moment to absorb it in its entirety¡ªto memorize everything he could about it. His sensors recorded every bit of data they could.


    This would be important, he knew. There was only one person with the ability to alter memories like that. One Trialgoer that had apparently infected him without him ever realizing.


    It was strange. In practice, this was much like what Whisper had done to him, yet for some reason he felt within him the beginnings of an anger that was much, much deeper.


    Perhaps it was finally time for him to find out where Whisper had gone to "recover." She had layers of contingency plans, he knew. If anyone might have something about what Teluwat had erased from him, she would.


    Guard glanced down at his subconsciously-clenched fists.


    And perhaps, he decided, it was best for him to give himself a moment to calm down before he returned to Ethan.


    He sat on a nearby rock, cycling air through his vents and staring at the painting in front of him. At what felt like a remnant of his past that he didn''t even know he''d lost.


    Slowly, he began to draw Firmament into himself. The process helped calm him, but more importantly, it also pushed him ever closer toward his second phase shift.


    When it came to Teluwat, He-Who-Guards refused to leave anything to chance.


    <hr>


    The Web of Threads, Fyran explains, isn''t supposed to be available to a Trialgoer still undergoing their Trial. Threads in general are supposed to be scrubbed away from any active Trialgrounds; the Integrators don''t want to make Concepts particularly accessible, according to Gheraa.


    The reality of it is a little more complicated, especially in less-surveilled planets like Hestia. For one thing, the complicated space-time anomaly that is the Fracture makes it extraordinarily easy to hide little things like Threads. For another, Inveria is deep underground, which also makes it largely immune to the scrubbing.


    "Technically, Rhoran''s in charge of getting rid of all the Threads," Gheraa adds. "So there''s that."


    I snort. "That explains a lot."


    Fyran raises an eyebrow at this, but doesn''t question it. Instead, he continues on to explain what he was able to learn about the Web of Threads during his time in the Fracture. Hiding from Hestia''s Trialgoers meant he had to take his chances with any rifts that appeared within the Fracture. Sometimes¡ªmany times, even¡ªthose rifts killed him, but other times...


    Other times, they led him to strange, self-contained fragments of history, and it was in those that he discovered the Web of Threads and what it meant.


    "There''s a spot in Inveria where you can really connect with the Web of Threads," Fyran says. "It''s in the center of the city where all the tunnels meet. If you want to try deepening your core, you should start there."


    The fundamental nature of Firmament, it turns out, isn''t all that different from the Web of Threads and how it works. I can see it, I suppose. Every type of Firmament I''ve encountered reflects on some Concept or the other, and they''re very often linked¡ªrelated in ways both small and large. The idea of Firmament itself is...


    There''s something there, I think. Coupled with Gheraa''s explanation of the Sunken King and how all this came about.


    Either way, step one of deepening, as Fyran explains it, is simple: connect with the Web of Threads and immerse it fully within your core. Understanding every Thread connected to it isn''t important, only a connection with the Web itself. Once it links to the Firmament core...


    "Just to be clear," Fyran warns. "It''s going to hurt."


    "And I''m going to have to die," I say with a sigh. "Possibly a lot. I remember."


    "That part comes later," he says. He grins at me, though, and something kindred sparks between us. Nothing to bring two people together quite like the shared experience of dying over and over again.


    "You coming with us?" I ask.


    "Considering what you told me?" Fyran shrugs. "Not like I have anything better to do."


    "Right." I glance at the tavern door. "I''ll go get Guard."