“So what? My world will die and be consumed by the abyssal horizon like all the others?” Kal didn’t know how to take what he just learned.
“Yes…”
“What am I supposed to do with this information then?!” Kal’s confusion and shock became anger as his voice became a growl and his soul flared, “Am supposed to just wallow in misery?!”
“Do what you want…”
“What is wrong with you?” Kal said, more of his anger oozed into his voice.
Fyborh turned back to Kal but this time his eyes burned with a rage that rose with Kal’s. The locked gazes and the hairs on Kal’s neck rose.
“You aren’t the Fyborh I know. My memories are clouded but something is wrong with you,” Kal said as the dead gods gaze bore into. Behind the rage in Fyborh’s eyes Kal could see endless grief, “I saw it all, if you think it's your fault you're delusional.”
Fyborh’s frown deepened before one of his eyebrows flickered upward slightly, “You play a dangerous game Kalum Lesta. A god has killed for less.”
“I thought being a god wasn’t your thing?” Kal said remembering a line Fyborh had said in his final resting place.
Fyborh’s anger evaporated and a slight smirk appeared on his face, “Huh, I must have liked you…” Fyborh’s eyes focused on Kal’s chest, “I sense your tempering Kalum Lesta, perhaps your force of will can take you further than most.”
A moment passed while Fyborh simply stared into Kal’s chest before he finally met his gaze again, “Your soul is a savage thing, was it as it is now when I knew you?”
The question took Kal aback for a moment but he shook his head, “No, I don’t think so. You said something about tempering when I went to your final resti…” Kal paused mid-sentence as he realized he was about to a god that they were already dead.
Fyborh simply nodded, “Don’t worry, I assumed I would die from the moment Dhinir pierced my core. Your soulbound weapon is something I would only ever craft if that still appeared to be the case. Back to the tempering of your soul if what you say is true I am surprised to see you so young.”
“What do you mean tempering, when I spoke to you the system threatened you for even saying the word.” The chance to learn more about his soul urged Kal away from the likely death of his entire homeworld but he had to know.
“Ah, so I was forgotten too…” Fyborh shook his head sadly but continued, “The fact that you are unaware does not bode well for your world but I will give the simplest explanation I can in the short time we have.”
“Souls have memory to an extent and your soul has seen far more bloodshed and death than most. Tempering is the word used to describe the growth of a soul’s memory. Some individuals are lucky enough to be born with a soul that has already gone through some level of tempering. Most worlds call the phenomenon a birthright awakening, enough so that even the system defaults to naming them such now.”
“It appears you were not that lucky…”
Kal frowned, “Wait then how did I become like this if I wasn’t born with it?”
Fyborh shrugged, “No idea. Tempering only occurs naturally over a long time. Millenia at least to reach a level of tempering your soul has received.”
“What does it mean? Why does it have so much control over me?” Kal urged.
“Tempering on its own doesn’t grant power, it grants purpose. Purpose means more than anyone truly understands. Like the achievements of ascendants guide their path to power, purpose guides you to greater heights.”
Kal grimaced at Fyborh’s words. He had felt that exact sensation countless times within the abyss. Each deadly felt as if it was meant to be, his purpose was to rip, tear, maim, and slaughter.
“But…Your soul does not define you. It is as much a part of you as your body and mind but all things can change… But that doesn’t mean they should. I’m sorry we are out of time”
Cracks began to streak across the walls of the hut allowing rays of pearlescent light to shine through.
“Wait! What can I do for my world?!” Kal yelled as the cracks widened and he felt himself pulled away.
“My future self had faith in you Kalum so I will as well.”
The world around him shattered, pieces of reality like panes of glass flew everywhere while Fyborh’s form remained in place but similar cracks appeared all over his body.
“You will need to become stronger, stronger than your world's best, stronger than the fiends that will ravage your world, and stronger than me.”
Fyborh’s body broke apart but his voice still surged across the breaking world, “Break the ties that bind… And slay Fatebinder Dhinir, Lord of Conquest, Cataclysm of the 73rd.”
The pearlescent light vanished and Kal fell away from the last remembrance stone. He had to brace himself on the ground for several seconds while the disorientation passed and he processed everything he had just learned.
“Fuck…Oh hey there little human. I don’t know you but could you just take a second and go kill god!” The last turned into an exasperated yell before he rolled onto his back to look up into the void.
At the exact worst possible time for his mood, Kal’s stomach did a flip as it once again tried to devour itself. He had forgotten to ask about food…
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Kal slammed the ground with his fist a dull metallic thud sounded but the muting effect meant Kal barely heard it and apparently god metal is fucking hard.
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Skethzalak hissed at the hideous yellow sun hanging above him, its light burned but it was nothing more than an irritation. The wet click of an arm pulled from its socket easied his annoyance before he fed upon the feeble thing he had slain.
Nearby small structures burned and feeble dead lay strewn around the blood-soaked earth of the mortal village. Slaughtering the weaklings had almost been too easy, to think some did not even have cores yet… Pathetic was the only word.
Despite Skethzalak’s easy slaughter of the village, he knew too well that there were those who could slay him in turn. He would need to be patient, feed only when necessary, and grow strong. Soon more of his kin would join him.
He was chosen.
He was marked.
The black-purple display of a notification from the great lord flashed before his eyes and his fang-filled maw widened in glee.
Title Acquired: Forerunner of the Abyss [Mythic]
Forerunner of the Abyss [Mythic]
You have been chosen as the conduit to this world. Grow strong, assemble the arrays and your kin will follow you into war.
+10% All Attributes.
Skethzalak’s heart raced at his lord’s word but then a second notification came.
Quest Received: Manhunt
An enemy has revealed itself. Destroy its kin.
Darian Lesta 0/1
Jayne Lesta 0/1
Lillian Lesta 0/1
Rewards: Title, Abyssal Evolution, 5 levels
Blood poured down Skethzalak’s chin as he grinned once more. Yes, he was chosen.
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*Thud*
Dalen’s thundered in his chest as his mind sank into his chest. He felt himself fall backwards but at the very moment he thought he would strike the ground he instead found himself spiraling backwards through a black sky.
“What?! Wait, did I do it?” Dalen said his voice sounded strange in his ears.
No one replied but Dalen had forgotten about the question almost immediately, he already knew he must have succeeded. Dalen looked down at himself and his eyes widened, “I’m a bloody ghost! Kal didn’t say anything about this!”
Dalen’s body was almost completely translucent and had a slight pale blue tinge to it, a similar color to pure mana. He seemed so insubstantial… On a whim, he tried touching his own chest and with a horribly unpleasant sensation, his hand went straight through his own chest. The moment it was in his body everything felt wrong so he yanked it back out.
“Note to self, don’t put your arm where it doesn’t belong… Even if you’re a ghost.”
Out of nowhere, Jaliete’s voice boomed through his head like a gods damned trumpet, “Yes, Dalen you have succeeded.”
Dalen gasped, “Gods women! Take it down a peg, you just about burst my bloody ghostly ear drums!”
Dalen waited…
And waited…
“How long are you going to take?” Dalen yelled out into the void. Apparently, there were either some serious time differences or they were just too busy taking notes. Dalen couldn’t blame them, even he was surprised how fast he had gotten to his core space but there was still one problem. Where was his core?
Dalen scanned the inky black all around him but there was nothing that stood out to him. Shrugging his insubstantial shoulders Dalen started walking, well more like gliding through the void.
Eventually, Melisia’s voice came crashing down instead of Jaliete's. It still wasn’t pleasant but at least didn’t make him feel like his brain was going to squirt out his nose, “Sorry Dalen. The delay in your core space is even more significant than Kal’s probably because of your intellect attribute. We can’t see anything yet. Keep looking.”
“Sure… I’m assuming I’m looking for a sphere like yours?” Dalen replied but he didn’t waste time waiting for an answer and simply kept moving around keeping his eyes peeled.
Being in his core space was strange, the place felt so empty. Why have so much space if your core took up so little of it? Did a person’s core get bigger as they grew strong? Or was the space needed for something else he didn’t know about or couldn’t see? The whole idea sounded above his pay grade but for some reason, his mind clamped onto the idea.
He had the sudden feeling that he was confined and his frustration from the last few days rose up in his chest. Why it had returned he wasn’t sure but any further thought on the subject vanished when a pale blue light appeared in the distance.
Dalen continued his glide through the void until the light grew into a blue-white sphere. Ripples of mana coursed across its entire surface and long ropes of light occasionally came free to flash different colored lights, white, blue, and green for the most part.
It was beautiful but for some reason looking at it bothered him, his frustration became anger and his inspection became an angry glare. The emotion faded, and Dalen staggered in confusion, “What the fuck!?”
“Dalen, you found i- What’s wrong?” Melisia’s voice pelted him once more.
Dalen didn’t answer straight away but moved closer to look at the core. Its surface looked seamless at first glance but as he got closer he could web-work of cascading cracks that spread across every inch of the giant blue sphere before him. Phantom pain ran through him at the memory of the foreign mana boring into his body, he knew in theory what it was doing to him but seeing it in person was different.
His core had nearly been destroyed, regardless of how he felt physically he wondered how it was still intact at all. But then his eyes saw something else and his jaw fell open. It was hard to see at first but the moment his eyes focused in it seemed to flare up making itself known.
Between each crack on the surface of his core ran a stream of furious crimson flame. The flame pulsed with the beating of his heart and just looking at it made him grind his teeth. Even as the crimson flames burned Dalen could see it clasping to the fragments of core welding it together like cooling steel.
“Gods Kal… You continue to amaze me.” Dalen knew instantly this was Kal’s doing on purpose or otherwise he didn’t care. It had clearly saved his life. A notification flashed into being but its colors were different than the normal blue Dalen was used to. It was crimson and gold.
Mark of Wrath
Your core has been marked by Kalum Lesta the Slayer of Fate and Exemplar of Defiance. May you overcome your limits and sunder that which binds.
Even as he ground his teeth Dalen smiled, “Exemplar of Defiance huh? Sounds about right…”