Chapter 67

Hitherto, Light

“Caleb! Caleb! Caleb!”

Chants were deafening–the light in their eyes mesmerised by the horse rider, by the visage of a valiant soul, by him. They were devout to him, they loved him, and they worshipped him. The masses bowed in awe and in love and in devotion.

“Caleb!” They sang his name.

“Caleb!” They prayed.

“Caleb!” They loved.

“Caleb!” They desired.

He was a man of valour, of honour, of strength and holiness beyond compare. Even the Emperor acknowledged as much–for when the armies of the Empire valiantly raided the lands beyond their borders, Caleb led the charge. His sword was the brush that inked the expansions of the Empire’s borders. He was the salvation, the Holy One of their lands. The world beheld him and feared him.

“Caleb!” Those were not songs of awe; they were songs of terror, for when his foes saw him ride, they ran and fled and begged. He was beautiful, he was desirable, he was the Empire’s canopy. The dome that shielded it from all. He was the Chosen One.

“Caleb!” The Princess doted on him; she loved him, she desired him, she wanted him.

“Caleb!” The Empress fled her Emperor’s chambers and lain with him instead.

“Caleb!”

“Caleb!”

“Caleb!”

There was neither a man nor a woman in the Empire, young or old, who did not know the name Caleb. Who did not mumble the name toward the Sky and thank the Gods for gifting them the Knight beyond Knights? The Guardian beyond Guardians. The Incomparable. The Unbending. The Chosen.

"Huh?" Caleb awoke from a deep slumber, sensing a disturbance in Mana. The first thing he saw was a flash of crimson light flattened against the domed ceiling of his chamber; a silhouette of a man flashed as he unfurled something from between the splayed fingers. Shouts accompanied the man, but they were distant.

Suddenly, Caleb felt something strange–within him. Within him, a desire arose; at first, it was numbing and dull, but it rapidly grew, ascended, and began to belt like a war drum. He swiftly tried to use Mana to suppress it, but it was too late. It devoured him, the desire. It awoke fire within him.

The world, oh-so-brilliant with colours, dimmed and dulled for a moment before it all turned red. He was mad. Angry. Filled with rage. Unjust! The world was unjust! He deserved more. Better. Regal! He should have been the King! He should have been the Emperor! He should have it all, the riches and the fame and the devotion and worship! He was the greatest the world had ever seen! So why?! Why was he in servitude with another?! Why did he bow and kneel to another man?! A puny, weak, daft old man?! No! No more!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” The Knights stormed his chambers–they wanted to hurt him, stop him, prevent him from obtaining what was rightfully his. He was the Chosen! What right did the Emperor have to stifle him? To keep his head bowed?! No right! He was not a man chosen by Gods! Caleb was! He was chosen! He was beloved! He was worshipped!

“Ser Caleb?” The Knights would stomp him–no, they can’t. He won’t let them. He will take what is rightfully his.

“TO HELL WITH ALL OF YOU!!”

Ethan watched in shock as the young-seeming man took out a golden sword from the apparent nowhere and swung it like a bat. An array of golden light flew off like a missile, thin like paper, cutting through the entire Palace in a swift motion. Over ten Knights had their heads immediately chopped off as blood sprayed out in droves.

“I AM THE HOLY ONE!!!”

The rampage thus began.

‘The Holy One’ truly did go Berserk–he discerned not between a friend or foe, chopping his way through everyone who tried to stop him. It was also then that Ethan realised he was incomparably lucky–the ‘Guardian’ may not have been Level 60… but he was Level 59, just a breath shy of understanding the First Law. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for him to usher a scene such as this.

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The Palace began to collapse like a house of cards, its pillars shattered by the repeated blows of the golden light. The Knight wielded the sword masterfully, each stroke a cascade of brilliance; no one was his match, but they came out in droves, anyway. Hundreds, soon, swarmed him and he battled them all. Despite mowing down battalions on his own, he was just one man still–wounds accumulated, and by the time 60 seconds ran out, he was on his knees, his left arm cut off, his face scarred and marred by the edge of a blade.

Caleb awoke.

The nightmare was over. He was in pain–his body ached from head to toe, but that was not the pain that cradled his soul. He recalled. He recalled it all–what he had done. He’d killed his brothers and sisters, sullied the name of his Emperor, and took the name of the Goddess in vain. He was a sinner. A mad, mad sinner.

“No…”

Who was it?

“No…”

Who would do something like that to him?”

“I’m not…”

He was the Chosen.

“It can’t be…”

The Beloved One.

“Brothers…”

The Enlightened One.

“Sisters…”

The Reprehensible One…

“Forgive me…”

Caleb Lancel Foyer the 8th ushered the last vestiges of his Mana directly into his heart… imploding it. Blood poured out from the Knight’s eyes as he defiantly looked at the sky, weeping for his sins. He was driven mad, but madness was not the armour against his evils.

The City… roared.

Ethan had retreated and watched from the distance as the Palace began to fall apart, with even magic incapable of holding it back. Collective voices wept and cried and begged for answers–a golden surge of light appeared in the shape of a man who immediately proclaimed Martial Law. A vestige of a beautiful woman held the armless, bloodied body of a Knight, swearing vengeance. The people of the Empire wept… for their saviour was gone.

“Jesus…” Ethan mumbled under his breath, frowning. This all had escalated just slightly beyond his expectations. Not only did the Scroll work, it worked. The Guardian had practically crippled the Order of Knights, leaving behind only very inexperienced infantry. In fact, a quick sweep showed Ethan that there were fewer than 10 Knights above Level 30 remaining. The highest level was the Emperor himself, but he was 'only' Level 45. The vast majority of the army was now composed of ordinary soldiers, all between Levels 10 and 15, with some reaching 20.

Furthermore… the Guardian himself was beyond Ethan’s expectations. In a direct duel… Ethan would have lost, most likely. The gap in levels and raw output was simply too large to overcome. It was no wonder that Altukeens were wiped out so quickly in the past–they simply stood no chance against that man. Few did, really.

This time, too, if they’d simply marched on the city, not just Altukeen but soldiers as well, would have all been wiped out without a trace.

“Hm?” A notification suddenly appeared in front of him.

[You have woven a complete collapse of Thoyn]

[The City grieves the loss of its Hero–stats of all Empire’s citizens are reduced by 60% for 24h.]

[Stats of all Empire’s soldiers are reduced by 50% for 24h]

[Stats of all Empire’s remaining Knights are reduced by 40% for 24h]

[Stats of the Emperor are reduced by 30%]

[The Emperor has suffered a mental collapse! Stats further reduced by 20%. The ability to think rationally has been removed.]

[Due to the deviousness of your actions, you have unlocked a new Title, ‘Chaos Sower’]

[Chaos Sower (Unique) – the ability to sow discord amongst allies increased massively. Options of subterfuge may present themselves to you. All stats increased by 50% if fighting in the midst of a 'Chaotic Battlefield']

Ethan stepped back.

Another anomaly. Another unexpected change. This… didn't exist. None of this existed. There was no such thing as 'debuffing' monsters by creating chaos and discord. There was no such thing as effectively nuking the boss' stats by 30% for 24 hours. It didn’t exist. And yet… it was there.

It wasn't that nobody discovered it in the past–it truly did not exist. Ethan himself had sewn chaos and discord countless times before and collapsed entire Kingdoms without so much as taking out his blade, but he’d never gotten these notifications before. Nobody did. Until now.

Another change.

Another aberration.

Despite it being in his favour… it left a bad taste in his mouth. The reason was simple–if it worked on the ‘monsters’ in the Tunnels… it would work on humans from Earth as well. And it would impact them far more.

What was the cause? What was the reason? Not just for this, but for all the anomalies thus far? Despite the logical conclusion being ‘him’... he didn’t think it was him. He’d done nothing to cause such massive changes. If anything, he went out of his way to cause as little deviation from the previous timeline as possible… but the first Tunnel still appeared. And the second. And now this. Was it truly just him? If that were the case… Ethan would be relieved. But his gut feeling was telling him that it wasn’t just him. Not even close.

**

Cold winds blew incessantly, carrying with them the harrowing news of the fall. The snow-laden lands wept with sorrow and yet laughed with glee at the same time.

In a valley bereft of light for thousands of years, the thick canopy of darkness was finally lifted–rays of sun swiftly pierced the lands of shadows, birthing the earth anew. Those who suffered in darkness, the outcasts and the unwanted, fell to their knees and clasped their hands toward the sky in prayer.

In their midst, a solitary figure remained standing, her ebony-black hair fluttering, scrying green eyes wondering in silence. She sheathed her blade and glanced back whereupon a shift in the dimension occurred–the Tunnel’s exit appeared.

“Saviour! Must you go?” They asked.

“...” she remained silent, her face expressionless.

“At least, take this food with you! It isn’t much, but we must give you something!”

“I have beer!”

“I have silk!”

“I have this old, ancient, mystical figurine!”

“I have…”

“I have…” Soon, her arms were swollen with the weight of the gifts unwanted. No, rather than gifts, it felt more as though they were simply unloading their garbage on her. Her eyebrows twitched for a moment, but she simply shoved it all into her inventory. She remained stoic and silent as she stepped forth and through the spinning vortex. Fourth, she thought. Now for the fifth…