100 System Hours until the end of the world

The Northern Everfrost.

The singular region that had still rebuffed the many attempts to inhabit its godforsaken lands. It was a cold and inhospitable continent, left as the only place bereft of the telltale marks of civilization.

As the point of convergence for the world’s ice-attuned mana, it was not a continent in the traditional sense. Rather, it was more so an ocean in the appearance of a landmass that consisted of densely packed chunks of ice. Though, even the smallest among them averaged miles in diameter and boasted a strength and durability far higher than that of steel, veritable magical materials in their own right.

It was in this desolate place that an opulent tower of gold, fitted with all manner of wards and enchantments, stood. Grand and imperious, in stark contrast to the pristine white that surrounded it. Any onlooker fortunate, or perhaps misfortunate, enough to chance upon such a sight could only ever describe it as otherworldly.

And, unknowingly, they would have been right.

Yet, that was a nigh impossible event. Even directly beside it, the vast majority of beings in this world would have concluded that there was nothing there at all.

The magic here was subtle, yet potent in its ability to ward off any would-be intruders. Hence, the only visitors were the occasional migratory animal. Granted, they made for poor guests. As these creatures, guided by their instincts, never stayed long. Birds flew over in a hurry without roosting, and fish fled quickly if they ventured too close.

In spite of the chilling storm outside, a window at the peak of the tower was open. Within was a brilliantly decorated room filled with antiques and magical contraptions, yet none of them could have compared to the hunchbacked old man in loose-fitting robes who sat right beside the window.

Eldridge Von Haueter.

A name that had not been heard or spoken of for a long, long time.

The robe that adorned him was a rather simple piece of clothing, one of pure white without any extra embroidery or embellishments. Though perhaps this very attribute made it unusual; being banal in a room filled with such luxurious excess was noteworthy in its own right. Perhaps he felt no reason to dress opulently. As, unrefined was not the same as uncomfortable.

This could have been the case. The man's slouched posture belied no sign of discomfort at all.

Though, rather than the dress being the source of his comfort, perhaps something else contributed more. Indeed, the inside was mild. Not too hot and not too cold, a perfectly comfortable environment for any human. The place had been magically tuned to a temperature that would be pleasant for most people, but that was also not quite the reason the sole inhabitant was content.

After all, he’d long passed the point where a little cold could bother him.

Yet, that did not mean that the temperature had not been soothing in some capacity. The environment inside was tailored towards the aesthetics of non-transcendent humans out of a deep sense of nostalgia. Everything in this room, in fact, brought to mind the past.

The transcendent being inside the tower was old. Very old. Old enough for him to have accumulated an unfathomable level of knowledge, yet that was not enough. He was human. He'd chosen to remain human all this while, even after that withering weakness known as age showed its fangs. It ate at him unceasingly - only ever growing stronger as the days passed.

Yet all this time, his knowledge and ability were able to keep up. His ever-growing strength was a testament to that fact. But everything, save for the [Detached], had a limit. And his limit coincided with his death.

Only, that was then, and this was now. Everything was in place, and he would soon put all this behind him.

This strength.

This frailty.

Meaningless, before what came next.

In this place of comfort, Eldridge sat unperturbed. His eyes wandered lazily about the room, though focused on nothing in particular. At certain moments those cold, black eyes would glaze over, as if something deep within had suddenly stirred.

Silently, he sifted through the memories of this life. Haphazardly browsing the [Soul Archive] he’d created back when he was only 50 years old, a time that seemed almost an eternity ago. His attention was drawn to the path that brought him to where he was now.

Looking at his earlier works with the knowledge attained after thousands of years of progress, he reflected on how much he had improved.

Even in those moments, he could see a spark.

A spark that would become a passion that blazed and burned to this very day.

One example was perhaps the [Soul Archive] itself. It was a patchwork mess when first made, but it had served its purpose well enough. That it was still storing the wealth of knowledge he’d accumulated over the years was enough to give his past self praise. The foundation had to have been laid well for the framework to have been able to accommodate such drastic improvements over time.

Sure, it had been retooled to fit a new niche where its original purpose had become obsolete, but that was the case with pretty much every skill of his. Every part of him was alive, after all; each an ever-evolving, ever-changing organism in their own right. What mattered was that, while surpassed by other creations in even its primary focus, it had the capacity to become useful in another.

Having analyzed those meticulously cataloged memories deeper, the [Soul Archive] seemed an even more curious creation. It's a wonder that he'd finished it without inflicting irreparable damage to his soul. As a scaffold of a soul-based library, it had laid the foundation for the processing system that would be the lynchpin for the ritual about to take place.

He’d ruthlessly experimented with himself to create it - only after he'd had plenty of practice operating on others that shared a close enough likeness to him, of course. But, knowing what he knew now, he was certain his technique hadn’t been polished enough to have proceeded with a surgery like that.

My most ill thought out experiment. My most fortunate one as well. Fate... is fickle like that, right? One small misstep, and I'd have either died miserably or become a blubbering fool.

Arrogance and recklessness were the domain of youth, after all. Ignorance bred fearlessness, and few could claim to be more fearless as he was back then.

Perhaps his callousness and general deviance were sequelae of this inadequate procedure, but so much time had passed since then that such traits have long become a bedrock of his character. Plus, he was able to reach this height thanks in no small part to his deviancy. Most that reached his height could be considered insane in one way or another.

Taking in a deep breath, he plunged further into the [Soul Archive], and dragged to light memories held within in its deepest recesses. Memories from his childhood that hadn’t been viewed for centuries.

The Golden Empire. His homeland. It had long been lost to the pages of history. The people he once had more intimate ties to had passed all too early. His life, thusly, might be summarized as a series of connections made and broken as he jumped from world to world. No one proved capable of keeping up with his footsteps.

How different would I be if someone were to follow me? If I were to follow someone else?

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I could be completely different. Though I’d probably still end up here. But does any of that matter? All of this is merely a prologue. Yet now that it's coming to an end… What am I even supposed to feel at this moment?

These were thoughts that came to him increasingly often as he approached this point.

I'm alone.

Alone to stew silently with only my thoughts, without anything else to ground myself. Without anyone to ground these emotions. And, perhaps most of all, without anyone to ground my sanity.

“Bah”, he snorted.

What am I thinking? My mind is perfectly fine. It scores highly in every metric I can find.

But the memories of the people he’d met, of the friendships and comradery fostered during his travels, remained as clear as an icy stream.

Time and again, even at this indescribable height, fragments of those moments would replay in his mind. Moments that reminded him of different times.

Simpler times.

Times when it was not strange to hear him laugh or boast boisterously with those he’d recognized.

It's too painful to remember… It’s a pain unlike anything else. But I just can't seem to bring myself to wipe them all away. Now even just the emotions surrounding them so that I can view them without these tinted lenses that I have now.

Yet, I do not regret outliving them all. This dream of mine. This dream that I’ve pursued all my life... was, and still is, worth all sorrowful partings - past, present, and future.

Though that was not to say that such partings had hurt any less. Perhaps this pain was why he decided to hide away in his old age.

He became hyper-focused on his work and dream and distracted himself from those messy thoughts and emotions inherent to humankind.

Humans.

Mortals.

He still counted among their number, having not yet crossed the threshold into immortality. His withered form served as an ever-present reminder of that fact.

Despite having possessed strength far greater than most beings that would call themselves gods, he still had a finite lifespan.

However, this wasn’t too rare. It’s not like there weren’t precedents of mortals shattering the heavens as they tore deities from their lofty heights. There were too many to count, really.

Heroes.

Legends.

Champions.

Sons of Heaven.

Protagonists.

Their names and titles ranged wildly from world to world, but their lives’ trajectories were ultimately quite similar.

Fate was a funny thing. With the authority divested upon an individual by the heavens, the vast resources of a world were concentrated onto their small, seemingly fragile frame. Great change followed their every move, which often resulted in an end and beginning of an era.

Their time in the limelight was short, but they more than made up for it with their potential and ambition. Great and lengthy epics could be written from their lives - deeds that took but a few decades to accomplish.

Mere decades or not even that. A time frame that might as well be in the blink of an eye for those on high.

That potential was inversely proportional to age was something that was well-known across every world he’d visited.

This was why he hadn't taken the step into immortality all this time. A mortal's mindset. A mortal's malleability. A mortal's potential for growth. All of these things proved far too precious to give up until he’d truly found a path of immortality that suited him.

To rush into this kind of thing was folly. And towards those that make such a shortsighted decision, Eldridge only had one thing to say to them:

The paths towards true [Detachment] are not suitable for you.

This was to be expected, really. Without a high enough vision, longevity and power were the obvious pursuits for all.

Worthless illusions. Bait thrown out for the greedy and foolish alike.

Accordingly - ironically - strength, eternity or authority sought in this manner never lasted long. This included the fragile "immortality" many believed themselves to have achieved. Until [Detachment] was attained, death was and always will be an inevitability. A few passing millennia at most, and these prides of a generation were gone. As dead as those that they trampled upon to reach their height.

The marks they so valiantly carved were doomed to be transient, quickly eroded by the unwavering march of time.

Indeed, death was the greatest equalizer of all.

In death, Gods and Heroes proved equal.

In death, Heroes and civilians proved equal.

Yet there was no afterlife to cherish that equality. What awaited beyond was only an eternal cycle of Samsara.

The pattern that once made up one's existence consigned to oblivion, leaving behind only a trace—soon to be washed away by the sea of countless lives, past and future. The present was ever diluted, becoming more ephemeral with each cycle passed.

An eternity of reincarnation.

Of breaking and reforming.

Of breaking and reforming.

For those that do not jump out of the chess board, fate is doomed. Just one among the many who inevitably waste away until nothing, until eventually not even the stories of their deeds remain...

Indeed, even those are forgotten.

And though he, Arcanist Eldridge, lived on to the point where even those legends had become lost, like most other mortals, he was also a once brilliant inferno that had burned through all its fuel. Now, dwindling and dimming, only embers remained.

But his fire was not yet extinguished.

Embers, too, could ignite a new inferno—this time a different, enduring blaze.

A fire ever-burning.

How else could he pursue the truth? How else could he see the world in its entirety, in a way devoid of the lenses that bound his cognition to a flawed perspective?

He was one among an enlightened few, blessed to see what true [Detachment] meant. Eldridge saw a zenith, a height that he still failed to completely comprehend.

Living paradoxes, the lot of 'em. Are they even alive? To become infinite and everlasting. To exist not as a result of matter, energy, information or even form. Rather, beings beyond all - existing for the sake of existence.

“Haaah,”He let out a weary sigh.

What an enviable thing...

Through that encounter, he'd seen the chessboard in all its dispassionate, interweaving complexity. And by recognizing the game’s existence, he had already taken the first step toward transcending it.

But he knew one crucial truth: a pawn should remain a good pawn until he finds the opportunity to become a player, lest he himself be played to death before he even realized what was happening.

It was with this glimpse, this direction, that he set out to build a road that led to a true eternity.

Now, as his lifespan teetered on the edge, the first meaningful step towards [Detachment] was but a few steps to being realized. Yet the next step would be one of no return. If he took that leap, the question of his humanity would become a foregone conclusion…

Even more than it already was.

With a tired sigh, Eldridge lamented raspily,"Eternity. It seemed so simple at the time, but nothing seemed to click."

Back in his original world, countless races boasted inherent longevity.

Naturally gifted races like the illusive lithoids or even common elves - beings that could be found within or bordering his birthplace - could handily surpass his current lifespan by a magnitude and then some. However, their longevity dulled their pursuit of growth, something he strongly disdained.

Fortunately, it wasn't the case that longevity had to be an inborn trait.

Stories of humans turned vampires or lich were commonplace, though tales of these profane transformations served more as cautionary tales than targets of aspiration. After all, despite the allure of an undying body, it was made abundantly clear that madness was all that followed. Numerous recorded instances of blood-starved vampires or insane and unstable liches who acted against their own interests were more than enough to prove the pitfalls of such paths.

However, while those immortal creatures had some messy qualities, they certainly weren’t the only ones. Blessed with the standing to see the plethora of examples in the world and, more importantly, the prowess to bring them to an operating table before him, he’d felt that it was only a matter of time before he found one that fit his preferences.

As such, back when he was still the crown prince, he’d come to study many instances of immortality and longevity.

The earliest experiment started in his teenage years, though it was executed with none of the finesse he had now. In all, things were quite… messy during those years.

In the end, he would come to discover that all immortal species were like those mentioned before in some way or another. They all had at least one trait that made for a horrible template. Splicing together different species also proved unfruitful. The fusion of differing aspects of immortality made only grotesque abominations; their incompatibility touched upon some esoteric Law that even now he had no ability to break.

Dissatisfied with the writing on the wall despite having combed his world several times over - and gaining a number of displeasing titles as a result - he sought new options. And by luck, he would find new options.

Options that would lead him to the ineffably infinite multiverse…