This can't be right. Once more, cloaked in illusion. Adam stood with his guardians-- hidden in his hood-- changed from leather to something more current. A grey hoodie with blue jeans.

Across the street stood a behemoth of reinforced glass and steel; one of the five skyscrapers, standing tall with its sharp edges and cut slopes. Climbing high like some of the faded memories, but it was not a place of business-- no-- it was a home for the prominent and "wealthy".

An icon of constraints and imagination.

The Veriet.

At least it didn't look sore after all these years.

"Well this'll be easier than I thought." Adam said, slightly disappointed.

A woman passed, giving him a crossed look, another huffed walking around him. Their fine attire aligned with sharp shirts of a solid color. Marked by a single flower, or leaf, their dress adorned with weaves of artistry. Prominent flowers, trees, and the mountain was the trend these days it seems. Mostly for the woman, and their garments.

The sparse crowd continued the same as he left all those years ago.

He hoped Link didn't go through too much of this crap. Double checking the address, then the poster. Was this really it?

A striking woman, with slightly larger ears, gave an aggressive if seductive pose. Her eyes, the wide grin, the confidence that oozed-- a far cry from the indiscreet mumbler he remembered.

'Lessons in Coalescence.' She barely spoke before, and now she was advertising her expertise.

"This should be interesting." Abe said, his gaze intent on the flier.

Yeah, right. This was grey zone in the agreement; if they left the land, then they were honored to keep their silence of their experience and time on the mountain.

But what if they left their post but not the land? Trouble, he thought.

"Top floor..." Adam trailed. "We're taking the tunnels." There were too many eyes, especially with the staff.

Androids didn't manage the nicer establishments, it was always some Ascendant or highly skilled laborer. Questions would be posed. By someone-- most of them very entitled with running the place-- a good thing, Link assured, but if he was found out... What was a simple walk, turned into a few days of remodeling his illusion. Just so someone didn't wise up, and connect some unknown dots.

It happened before-- it will not happen again!

He sighed, sometimes not having Intent sucked.

His steps turned to a nearby alley. The voices of the crowds dwindled as the buildings' shadows became deep. Making sure no eyes or senses were upon him.

A command was pushed, prompting a flurry of security questions.

He grumbled, taking his time, less the Swarm went on Red Alert. A necessary protocol. In a world of unknowns, security was worth more than any Crystal or Gold.

No matter how annoying it was.

The ground gave way beneath, closing with a new cover just as fast. The shaft illuminated as the air filled a hum of lights and gears.

It was a pleasant ride down to the small chamber.

A vault door loomed; it's circular frame shimmered with dull metal. A pin pad lit.

He coalesced a simple string of mana. Tapping the numbers.

The sizzling groan sucked a breath, taking it's first from the decades worth of slumber.

He let his hood down, the Guardians need not be cramped.

Abe on his head, with Lar and Regi on his shoulders.

They were on a small journey, yet he couldn't help it. He needed to know, if he was lacking. A weariness in his stomach-- he flexed his sense.

Copper and fiber optic wire ran with flux mana cables on the ceiling, as the high voltage wires filled the sides. Bellow, the second tunnel ran in parallel, carrying the necessary water for all in Halo's domain. And further down, in the deepest reaches of the cold earth, the last tunnel churned with machines carrying the sewage of all said occupants.

Mana flaked from the Flux Cables, but they did not lose their purpose. Pressure built, but the pipes didn't rattle, the machines kept on doing their work. At this rate, perhaps he didn't have to put a hand on this for another century.

He would have to set up a timer. Traveling was one thing, abandoning another.

Though thinking about taking these things apart; replacing them bit by bit... it made his heart mourn with the memory and the all consuming task.

"Fitting we are making our way through the underground." Abe floated, twirling his head around. Beside Link and himself, perhaps he would be the most knowledgeable about secretes that laid beneath Halo. But his senses did not reach out above his own.

The other Guardians?

He could feel them. Their curiosity taking in everything they could. He smiled-- reactivating the mana jammer.

Lar croaked. Regi squeaked. Adam laughed as they poked him with their mana. Even in jest he couldn't relent-- a thought drifted to the forefront...

"You're excessive, what cause could put forth a need for such debilitating security?... What is this city but a lavish slave pen that works with nothing but to fulfill your own needs?... What good have you done Adam-- really, but give false hope, that anything worth of value is purely for your own ends, the rest be locked in your own troves?!..." His brow creased, Batu...

The nosy man. One of the few that made him think the improved memory of each realm was not the boon most thought it to be. His lips creaked, holding off a frown as they arrived before a flat wall. The tunnel taking a hard turn on both sides.

A gentle hand, and the pass of mana clicked the mechanism. The stone gave, falling back, revealing the passage.

His face scrunched, waving his arms at the cloud of dust. He felt a tickle in his lungs.

Lar sang; a whirlwind of mist and dew. The stale ages sank, falling like rocks to water.

Adam grunted a cough, "Thanks."

Lar croaked, a soft smile on the amphibian.

"It might be wise to alleviate the pressure of these passages once in a while, less the disparaging ways of time unsettles whoever comes after us." Abe said, the lights flickering on with each step.

Adam scoffed. Arriving at the end to input another code, "Not in my lifetime."

The tortoise went silent, he could feel Abe contemplating. An old sigh left, "A shame."

What? Reggie flinched, and the elevator opened. No... this was not the time. He hardened his expressions and went ahead.

Tile laminated the floors as dark wood coated the walls and ceiling. Fine work, one of the best, but there would be no pleasant music, silence was the only answer.

His destination set, it just need the right...

The lift gilded backwards, up-- to the side, missing another descending elevator as it shifted into the private hoist way.

It didn't take much longer for the doors to open, absent of the normal shake and chime, to main hallway. Paintings, swords, and metallic ornaments decorate the place. Free of dust and cared for wholeheartedly.

This... is certainly a change.

Voices echoed from the main room, one instinctively familiar. He tightened the hold over his presence.

"...The gaff of the men-- asking me for my heart and hand! Do they still not teach manners in the outer rim?!" Grace huffed, lounging about one of the couches pointed towards the distant forest and far horizon.

"Don't remind me... I've been having this same conversation with Elias all week." The woman on the adjacent couch replied. Her form; professional. Her attire; cut and sharp, designed with flowers growing on a mountain. Taking a bit of time to make some notes on her pad of pen and paper.

Adam internally raised a brow.

"But could they just not--ugh-- If I could only bite them off like the bugs they are." The other woman began laughing-- she snorted and Grace's head whipped. Leaving herself more focused than Adam had ever seen here. "Why..."

Her whine came with a realization.

"I dare say that some of them would very much like to be "bitten" by you," the woman continued to chuckle. "Though you might get the Chancellor to come down and force your hand in cuffs." She wiggled her brows.

Grace scoffed, "Like hell he is." The other Guardians flinched. "I'm not going to be on the late night news. Besides, he's got his wings spread far as it is, I doubt it would be him anyway." Grace took her sip of juice, pleased. "Besides, things have become even more hectic these past few months, he's getting rather annoying-- I had to mute his incessant calls, a complaint won't matter."

"Still..." The other woman spoke with a tone of reproach.

The conversation was getting a bit too personal.

"Not of my concern, if--" Alright. Adam let himself be known. Grace shot up, Metal mana coalesced her extended arm. Reaching to claw forward...

A vein ticked, he communed with the Metal Law; thin strings formed from his finger tips. Attacking the space around Grace.

The woman groaned, her technique faltered. Her legs shook; feeling as though the world had been pressed on her shoulders.

"I wouldn't do that." He warned the other woman, taking a pose flayed out palms, her power was only in the Tempering Realm. Ready to fight, a gleam in her eyes. Commendable, but that was not his main concern.

He broke his illusion. Grace's eyes went wide.

"Still quick to jump the gun... guess, some things haven't changed." He said, the other woman looked scandalized. Retreating his power. "Sit down, the both of you."

A muffled squeak escaped Grace as she jumped to take a seat by the other woman. Grace's hand kept the both of them down. The Guardians took their place on the other couch, exchanging curious glances with Grace. Adam, however, strung his mana along, and plucked one of the chairs from the dining room for his own, blocking their view of the setting sun.

He messaged Link about the woman. Silence hung in the air as he wanted to chose his words carefully. Though, that didn't last for as long as he thought-- he got a reply.

"Grace... who is this man?" Angelina, apparently Grace's main and only assistant for her instructional endeavors.

Grace kept on steady; making no move. Her eyes locked past Adam. She wasn't here, not entirely. Like this was poised by her whole life. A foreign resolve flickered her form.

"Grace..." Angelina appeared stricken. If not for her hand tapping a message on her hidden Ruic.

He chuckled, startling the two. His eyes locked with Angelina's, a smile on his face. "You know, for a woman, you got some massive balls."

Angelina turned a offended-- he wretched the Ruic from her pocket, turning her a shade paler.

He laughed, "Too much? Maybe-- but your fine. Your Ruic might turn to a brick, but I am not here for trouble."

Angelina regained a note of indifference, staring at her unresponsive screen. Her tapping brought no such help. Yet Grace returned impassive, internally he frowned.

This... somehow didn't feel right.

"Who are you? Why have your trapped us?" Angelina spoke, a spark of fire in her eyes.

At least he didn't need to be blunt about it.

"Mmmmm... Maybe we'll get to that, but first, I need my answer." He turned to the, former Guardian? "Grace, why have you left your post?"

Grace took a deep breath, her body fixed her minor slouch. A chill tickled his spine.

"Do I not have the right?" She asked.

"This is a critical moment int the gathering process," his voice turning cold. "Lifetimes of work hang in the balance in your absence, if you do not return... then, it all might just collapse."

Grace's lip trembled. "After all those fail safes, you still think it would fall? You concern yourself over it like a moth to the sun, and leave us all to rot-- when everyone else I see got a choice; something I never had when I could barely think for myself.

"I want my freedom-- not your leash. Now. Because, it my choice to make. You hear me-- I'm done being a Guardian of my own prison. I have done enough!"

His head reeled back, mind whirling of the cascades of failures; of what could happen.

No... he wouldn't let go.

Abe hummed, "Poetic."

"Shut it." He reflexed. The tortoise looked between them, frowning, retreating to his shell. Lar's head drooped. Reggie could only look on, like he was fight a loosing battle. He saw them all; their hearts captured in the moment. Damn it!

"You know the agreement," He cleared his throat, gathering what he could of himself. "With your resolve I would ask you to leave and--"

"Wait, Wait. What the hells is this about?" Angelina chimed, her hand gripped Grace's tighter. The woman flinched, catching Angelina attention. "What deal did you sign?"

He raised a brow.

For once, Grace's eyes shuddered. "I, don't think I can say."

He nodded in approval.

"What do you mean you can't?! It's your right to speak-- Graci, please." Angelina's hand wrapped her shoulders, "You have nothing to worry."

Adam leered. His mana extended, breaking their hold. Angelina yelped. Sending her to the other end of the couch.

"I am warning you girl." His voice bellowed, a reminder of his dealings. "I will not have you coerce secrets of my private affairs."

"This isn't just your life!" Angelina sat up, remaining unfazed. "She has the right! I have the right! If you try to defile us anymore-- even if you kill us, every power in this city will be coming for your head.

"So I dare you to try-- see what nightfall brings. You steaming hunk of shit!"

The woman was out of breath, Grace and Reggie stared in horror. Abe peeked out, while Lar's mouth gaped.

Silence awaited Adam's word.

He wasn't not like this. Nor the woman. How did she even become Grace's assistant? With an attitude like that, why wasn't she stronger than Base?

But... It might be best; to dissuade more harm.

He turned to Grace, "This is your responsibility-- I will not tolerate word getting out. Do you understand?"

Grace meet Angelina's eye. A brief exchange, an all knowing out come. She returned with a nod.

"Good." He addressed Angelina, "From this moment on you shall be put on a Watch list. The Laws of no land will protect you if you choose to share Halo's secrets. So I will ask, one last time, do you wish to bear the consequences?"

She scoffed, "Try your worst."

He scowled. "[245] years ago, a [Silver Crested Bat] was asked to be a Guardian of Titian in exchanged for 5 [yellow crystals] worth of resources." Angelina was confused, before her eyes promptly bugged out. "Though there were a few conditions; one of which, if they chose to leave, was to give, ample time before hand, so we could protect the mountain." Adam leaned in, but Grace didn't budge.

Slowly Angelina's eyes turned.

"Grace," Her eyes sparkled. "Your an--"

"We are not getting side tracked," Adam interrupted. "You can talk about the revelation later-- I want to hear how breaking the contract is even remotely acceptable."

"I broke nothing! Because there is nothing more to protect-- after all your insight; don't you feel it? Titan can't rise anymore!" Grace stood. Radiating words practiced a thousand times. Shock on Adam's brow. It was asinine. "It doesn't need me, or any of us. Your formations and machines can only cultivate so much, unless you want to throw the mountain into some "Pocket Realm," you'll waste all our lives for nothing!"

What did she know-- A vein ticked.

Rage on the cusp of lashing out. His very dream; to reach the stars, he needed the mountain.

It was an attack at his very being. He wanted nothing more than strangle the bat. Nothing more than doubt, a hoax, a way to skirt her agreement. Yes-- that was right, he'll prove it, right here, right now.

His phone summoned connecting to the Network, elevating his access. The Repository! The Sensors!

They would be able to show the changes; the cumulative effort of the compounding Nodes were tracked and recorded on a secured server. Set to explode should anyone else access the information.

The averages of each week were calculated, the spreadsheet turned to a graph. Showing the end of an exponential curve; leveled off entirely. Well before their mark.

His teeth grit-- a swift command. Last time he check this information: 'Seventy-eight Years ago.'

No. No. NO-- FUUUCK-- His eyes closed. His phoned cradled, pressed against his drooping head.

Adam lapsed.

Reggie shouted something incoherent his squeaks blurred commands.

The room shook, its protections strained.

The Guardians surged; encircling Adam. Abe called forth his shell. Ingrained layers of arrays, flickering over one another, until the tortoise's eyes shone white.

"Now!" Abe yelled. Lar and Reggie pulled forth their power. A case erected around Adam's seat-- the pressure in the room vanished-- the cage shook as the air it's turned a haze.

Angelina threw up over the side. Grace stood to help her fellow Guardians, Adam sinking deeper into his knees.

The mana spiked, and the Guardians groaned.

He was wrong, his hypothesis was wrong. It was a third less than what his calculations showed; what he hoped to create. He failed to meet the threshold.

His foundation; his life's work, a failure. All that time... it was for not.

"ADAM...!" Grace's voice shook him, echoing within.

His head rose, seeing the thick shield of an array construct. Feeling his nodes leak a torrent. He activated his internal safety, tugging it back, but the flood would not close so easily.

Minutes passed before any clear sight returned. When the mana pressure leveled, only then did Abe let go. The shield dissipating into fine motes of light.

He stood without thought, silencing the whispers. Beginning his retreat, Abe, Lar, and Reggie rose to their spots on his head and shoulders. Making way to the elevator he called.

"Wait!" The screech was more a whisper. Seeing Angelina standing at the end of the hall. The look in her eyes, ask a thousand questions. Yet only one came, "Who are you?"

"Does it matter anymore?"

"Why? Because it's nothing special?" She smirked admits the sweat on her brow.

This woman... Grace found a good friend.

The elevator opened. He stepped through, their eyes met for the briefest moments. Once he thought moments like these would have been fun. But, now? He wasn't so caring of the consequences.

"I am the Founder."

Her jaw dropped. The elevator closed and zipped down without a word. He stepped out with an absent mind, reeling, staring straight ahead. Taking each step slow. Going passed where he came, as he gaze around the history of his long nights and endless plans.

Useless, with no hope of expansion. The end...

"Please, let's go home." A whisper came to his ear, as Reggie nestled his neck.

Lar croaked a faint song.

As Abe solemnly hummed.

Yet he continued, deep into the passage of tunnels. Drifting in and out of mind. The pressure continued, but allowed one lapse-- a single thought revealing into the dark, full of malice.

He began to recall some names. And it would be his end.

The Black List.

# # #

One Month Ago

[Sever]

The final blade cut into the spine of the Dark Hound. The mutt fell limp, the light of it's eyes fading. The ash flaking from it's wounds until there was nothing left but an empty room of dim light...

And a World Screen.

Quest Completed : Defeat the Hound of Exim Way!

Rewards:

* Experience

* Privilege Insight -- [Map]

* Dagger (?)

Delphine groaned. Falling onto her back, uncaring for the bruises and gashes upon her body. Death never came with euphoria. Where a memory would unfurl; the sight of her father's sullen eyes looking down at her, her mother followed with a frown. Chasing the man whom she will never wed, a man, after countless hushed affairs, still held a blind woman to scorn her.

Anger chased the thought away.

Gritting to stand.

They didn't deserve better. She deserved better, but the path remained shrouded; vaults were seal, knowledge taken, her training cast aside. Half thought Techniques and Cultivation methods would remain hazardous or empty. The moment her father decreed her banished, it was over. There was nothing to regain favor.

The only thing of value remaining was her name; one she had "no right" to bear.

But it served, if nothing else, cutting through the line to gain a Dungeon slot. Fighting on the brink, all for a simple chance at becoming more.

She called upon her rewards. The energy of the World seeped into her body. Finding their places in the far corners of her being. Her wounds began to close, and bruises set to return her lush olive skin.

Then, it stopped.

She hoped for more, and sighed-- it appears this was the limit for her body and this Dungeon. There no improvement to her foundation or energy, nor any sign that she was adjusting.

It had been four years since she deviated from Cultivating, and yet, the wall stood still.

She stared at the dagger in her hand, a fine blue sheen glided along the flat edge.

Perhaps this was something special? A Rare find? Maybe she would have enough money to finally afford some decent equipment?

It pained her in a way, relying on luck.

She sheathed her longsword, passing through end portal. A moment of darkness, and the world shone through. The morning sun blared over the crest of the shallow cavern. A man awaited at the edge. Decked in armor, spear in hand, and a sand dial in the other.

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

"Two minutes under," Dieter waved his spear to the not too distant clerk, seated in his own shed. Calling names of those who awaited further in the shadows of the forest.

Delphine stood by as party of four took their quick glances before they retreated into the dark. Her faint hand took back the dial.

"This your last?" Dieter knew the answer. If he didn't after two years of passing, he wouldn't be a Dungeon Guard.

"Yes," dissuading the group.

"Don't take too much to heart miss," He stood guard regardless. "You're far ahead of countless others your age."

Maybe for the peasants, but not her half-siblings.

A pause looming over them, she turned without a word, but she could not ignore the weight of each step; paces away, yet she could not leave without relief. A burning question within her heart, "Do you think I will live long enough to match my father?"

A tick shot his left eye, but that was enough-- the man would never say but...

"The world is vast and prosperous-- I wish you well, young miss." His voice and mana carried only to her, a lingering tone.

Perhaps she would not see him again? Tier 0 and 1 were his post, 2 was her ambition. She almost had enough nerve in her wears to make the attempt.

She sighed. Why was everything needlessly complicated.

Her feet left to trail through the forest, and to the subtle plains. The Capital's walls stood in the distance, she paused for herself-- knowing, someday, she prayed to need not look back to this place.

This last reward, was just another step. Tomorrow another, Marick would surely have more fetch quests-- the bastard-- him, the League, her father-- all of them could be damned to the hells, for all she cared.

This was her life, and no one else's.

# # #

The merchants of Berlemn quarried with faux smiles. Haggling and shouting to peasants young and old, careful with the Ascendants that came to gawk their wares. The ones that continued on-- the "young" ones; the newly Rebirthed were simple to spot.

Two fellows pasted her, their minds absent; eyes reading empty space-- doubtless on their ways to the more restricted markets, or the Offices of Dungeon Affairs.

Terrible habit.

How could you be so oblivious as to let your guard when a thousand eyes could track your ever move? No matter their newfound power, a peasant gang with some lower Ranked Artifacts was enough of a threat to them.

She shook her head. Too many whispers where trails went cold.

They knew-- surely they had to, the countless warnings by the guard and clerks weren't for nothing... or so she heard.

Yet the whispers continued, unknown to those of the Tempering Realm; snubbing the complaints of the scarcity beyond their power. And when the time came; when their luck would be their end, it was best to learn fast, or be done with the World of Ascendants entirely.

One way, or another... Naive souls, reaped by hollow eyes.

Her gaze lingered on the veterans in passing; those who had robust wears, weapons, armor, and the occasional ornate piece. All estrange, yet their attention seemed to pass over; a simple reminder, to keep her distance. Before they disappeared, into the thick crowd, or down the shrouded allies. Gone, without a trace.

Left alone, and unbothered.

Her grip tightened on her sword unconsciously as she arrived at the end of the line.

She looked over the man's shoulder to see the wait, and groaned. The gruff man turned his head and nodded in agreement. There were many Appraiser Cloaks in line.

It would be a long wait till the Obelisk today.

The line continued to trudge, as was the experience of all. Because it was decreed-- not by her father, but by the World's Law; 'no one shall block or favor access to the Obelisks of the Land, Seas, or Skies,' less they, everything and all around, be eviscerated; body and soul, the land buried to ash.

Knowledge of the Ugenki Capital was taught to all Ascendants. It's said that the land still smolders to this day, that not even the most prominent Druids could settle the destruction and return the land to green. Such is the threat that loomed over the city.

The queue continued as she saw the guards posted along the tops of an enclosed wall; wrapping around each of the four street corners. Branching with small bridges overhead as they all encircled the white Obelisk.

A placid resolve plastered on everyone of their faces. Determined to keep the line, to keep order, before the judgment of the World.

She didn't know if this was toeing the line as many scholars thought, "The Obelisks are not for us to command, they are meant to be free as the World, without restrictions of our ways, for all sacred Life..."

Never bar a man nor creature from their intent upon touching an Obelisk. But it wouldn't matter, now, those are for sovereigns to tussle with. Not her. The throne was but a dream, though a nightmare it may as well be.

A vein tick by the hour. Doing everything she could to not start grinding her teeth.

Another hour passed, before she arrived before one of overhanding bridges. A guard stood on and bellow the entry way. Enclosing a circle by the Obelisk, facing her lane, as did the other three; forming a circle around.

Her eyes wandered overhead, meeting a guards gaze with no contest.

Refinement Realm, fifth minor. She thought, his eyes left to survey down the line.

It wasn't long before she saw the lower guard motion her forward. The man before her returned with a sullen expression.

Such is the life, and rarities.

All it took was a single step to have countless eyes upon her. Entering the enclosed circle she controlled her pace, expressions, mana-- everything the best she could. Passing the guard to face the white marble towering three times her height.

There no trace of mana, no wisps of Insights, but every being knew what this was. Something deep in her soul told, 'This was the connection to the World.'

If only there wasn't company.

A migraine began to pulse as she felt the chaotic mana signatures from the adjacent face. As both were taken by Appraisers; minions and merchants more than not, their single profession resigned to taking unknown inventory and wading the line when others couldn't bother. Their brown robes covered them from head to toe, their enchantments sparkled; muffling the mana around them as they blocked all who tried to sense their origin.

Though sometimes, the stronger ones went further. And inflicted their defenses more than they should.

She frowned, glaring. These people were strong, or at least they carried under order of some of note.

Let it be worth it. She wanted to get this over with, a gentle hand touched the smooth surface.

A will was all that there ever was; a desire to uncover the truths of the items within her [Inventory]. The more exception, unique, powerful... the longer it took, it was a constant battle of focus.

It was all it ever was... all she had ever known to be.

There was no warning; no sound, no energy. She was there, trying to keep her head straight, and then-- the world went white.

She gasped, her heart jumped. Trying to call upon her mana, but... there was nothing. No matter what she did, all she could do was stare.

What... is this?! She didn't expect an answer, but the World replied.

A Choice.

A Life Your Own

Or

An Aid in Journey

Countdown: [2:58]

The Screens flickered to life without warning, unnatural; to each their own, floating free of her gaze.

An Aberration?! A new Dimension of the World?!

She had never heard of anything deviating the space of Dungeons, Rifts, or Zones. This... she didn't know what this was-- was she losing her mind?

Her gut churned.

There was a call, a whisper to her very soul. Ethereal. Omnipotent. Commanding. Caring. Judging.

"Choose."

Her being shuddered, and she knew; when the time went. She would be free, to continue as she had been. On her own; A Life of her Own.

But, against her fear, against the unknown. There was no quelling the desire; to be more.

It had never been easy, why start now?

The World hummed in reply, the Screens flickering off; one by one-- sucking in a breath, she felt a tug on her back. She blinked and the White space was gone-- returning to the noise of faint chatter, staring at her own assigned face.

Panic arose within her, trying as she might to keep control, she couldn't bring attention to herself. Not like this. Dungeons were one thing, but the Obelisk-- her mind paused. Catching the robes of familiar company, and further, the next people in line.

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds.

She retreated her hand, slowly, and by returned under the bridge with a sullen expression. Much to the surprise, and smile, of the woman next in line.

No one looked at her any different, trying as she might to keep her eyes forwards, her senses peeled. The itch to see her Screen left her internally whining.

Soon... Just keep it together. She repeated over and over, past the gate, and off the beaten path, till a road appeared out of nowhere. Leading to a broken stone arch.

Empty of guards, for what was there a need with a mighty formation?

Delphine passed through; the insignia in her [Inventory] gave entry. Accepting her, as the folds of reality bent and a view of diverging stone paths before her.

A towering castle stood in the distance. The main path transition from grey to pristine white. There was no gate at the end, but a woman seated in an ornate chair. Melonie; a clerk who divided the path of grey and white, and guided all those who entered into the hidden realm.

Those who were family and guests. That which she was not.

Melonie looked up from her musing, a book in hand. Giving a simple nod of her arrival.

She followed the encircled path, only for the journey to be a ways off, more towards the grass, the forest creeping into view before engulfing it all. Bare of any trails, she followed her heart; winding through the unnatural terrain to a small outcrop of flat ground. Where her home stood against its age, and growing moss.

There was little furnishing with the lodgings of an outcast. A bed, a dinning table accommodating a single chair, and bookshelves; lining every wall, nearly filled to the brim. Some of her own purchases, but most of this was here before she ever came.

Remnants of the forgotten.

She rested her closed sheath on the table. Taking a breath to calm her beating heart as she opened her World Screen. A numbered marker on her [Quest] label caught her eye, as she willed forth the only quest on her list.

Name : Redemption of the Abandoned -- The First Step

Type : Person -- Chain

Sequence : First

Description:

To the chosen few, fate is a perilous endeavor. Know that you are not one, but many, and many, are yet not tied to this one. But all lines are drawn, and promises placed, for the Legends known, and yet to be named. Learn, and Temper, the journey is not yet an end, but the first step, towards the far horizon.

Current Objective : Travel to the City of Halo on the Akes Continent

Optional Objective : Travel to Ostray City -- [??? : ?? : ?? : ??]

Main Objective : Ascend to Foundation Establishment (Peak)

Judgment : Death Or Dismissal

Punishment : Cultivation / Experience Locked - 20 Years

Reward: ???

She blinked, rubbing her eyes. And yet the Quest remained-- she closed them, focusing the mana within her. Tracing the old ways; to her mind and back again, she followed. Peering for any sense of decay or toxins. But she remained lost, nothing in the 'Dark Howl Dungeon' could result in such things. It's monsters long since deduced of abilities, affinities, and inflictions.

So when her eyes opened again, she couldn't quell her heavy heart.

Hundreds of quests. Thousands of hours. And for all that she knew, this... this was no illusion, "Impossible..."

Her words died a whisper of a million questions. Yet she focused on a single pressing matter, the 'Optional Objective,' and felt the return of urgency.

She couldn't let this slip away-- time was of the essence; there was no certainty that what she saw today would be there tomorrow.

Because... for whatever the reward maybe, there was a consistent truth amongst the World's Quests.

'The more you accomplish for the World, the greater reward it shall give in turn.'

She wasn't about to let this pass. Not in a billion years.

# # #

A thin gem rested in her palm, six sides adorned the grey mimic of ancient coins. It's smooth face bare of any discernible markings, and yet she had never known a Land to not use Crystals as currency.

It was the only proof that remained consistent.

Rewards from the Dungeon, and those callous merchants uniting the world over.

A small sack laid on the table half filled with such gems. But she returned the Grey and picked through her trove, flushing out three red Crystals. It's face swirling to the faint shimmering center.

Ninty-seven Greys. Three Roses... It was close. New equipment, armor, sharpening, rations-- a map if I can... and then, tomorrow...

Her hand twitched, the Crystal fell with a resounding ring. Off the table it bounced right by the lifted floor board. She rose with a heavy breath, her footing not as solid as she wanted. A knee touched the floor, as she reach-- it fell again.

"Come on," yanking the Crystal Rose. Brushing along it's glimmer, scowling.

Her mother's face overshadowed her mind, looking down atop her bronze throne. She remembered; for a moment she was sixteen again, but-- damn it, if she couldn't take the first steps-- when would she?!

She strapped her sword. Flushing worn coat from under the bed, laying to rest on her shoulders. Her hand clasped the hilt, the other closed around her sack. A shroud of mana protected it from the senses of would-be thieves.

Leaving as the sun was till high.

The Avatars would be out delving, the stores should be free. Better now than later.

Melonie didn't spare a glance at her passing, returning to the roads beyond the folded realm.

Along finer stones, she walked up to a small iron gate. Varied Refinement Realm Guards manned its passage. Peasants would not see it's sight; it's what kept this place quiet, less eyes to hound her passing. The few boons the name did bring.

It took but a glance, the insignia on display; a crest of a silver mace flared with light. The guards broke rank, quickly ushering her in through one of the personal entrances of the troop.

Many dissuaded her presence entirely; hiding behind helms and doors.

Fools. What could she do? Her father would probably take anyone of these men as another son than to have her. Always looking for power... the mood slightly sour.

Beyond the wall, there was no crowd. But the smiles of knights and dames, hand-in-hand, their fine wears and poise against gaudy merchants. The shouts of noble children passed, followed by some stressed servants, eager to end the day.

She paused. Finding the back alleys. What she needed couldn't be found here in her time. Not with her trove.

Away from the wealth, she kept to the small streets. Passing under a subtle arch, and a looming wall. The guards eyed her from above as below, but never stopped those from leaving.

The stone turned to cobble, cracked, chipped along the warped surface. The alleys became cramped, while the walls became thin, forcing her to take the streets.

Muddled voices of men and woman argued. Children crying through the harsh undertones. Absent of the peasants that parted, glimpsed her sword, giving way.

It seemed to be a constant within the walls of the poor. She didn't know why her senses drifted to such things. After the dozenth time finding a child bruised from a fall, or a lover cheating with another, it should have been done. Yet it stayed. As she found tired eyes from worn wears trailing the moment.

Here a second, forgotten the next.

Her steps didn't falter, but her mind lingered. Her heart lurching. Their plight evident, as she hated the aches of mourning, but her mana went along it's own way. While she could only follow within, continueing towards the edge. The only solace was that it hadn't become worse.

The people endured. Weathering the seasons at the turn of their lives, some for the chance at becoming a Cultivator or Avatar. But most simply lived, struggling, more; deeper in the dark alleys. And yet, people remained together.

Old couples passed, their arms locked supporting each other. Large families and orphaned caretakers took children to the brighter parts of the Capital.

Faces she did not know, yet faintly recalled seeing throughout the years.

Where she saw people disappear from the World of Ascendants, the World of Peasants remained. Together, bonds in the little homes she would never call more than a moment were a lifetime of some.

The same faces day by day, a smile every so often.

It was strange, a wonder through time.

Her mind gained a painful pressure. The dull colors became more vibrant, feeling an onset of a migraine. Her teeth clenched. Her mana accelerated, her control wavering.

She was losing... again, her Mana began to drift; seeping out to the world.

The peasants felt a shiver.

Today, of all days-- no she couldn't, she wouldn't!

Her grip tightened, as a snarl crept. Peasants departed in fright. Good.

Each step she felt her muscles burn, her mana pathways shaking in a turbulent course. Resigning to a dark alley, she slid down along an old building.

She had made a promise.

Never... She would never falter. Never fall-- never lose the years of endless toil because she lapsed. Control... Control. Control!

A creaking echoed through the rush of blood. Her veins popped, scalp tingled. She pulled, compressed, a desperate plea-- her body trembled, the World continued to sup on the flakes of what she could not contain. She fought, daring to dream of the next stage, of hope beyond this place. She just needed to hold on, and all will be well.

If not, then-- No-- She dared not question, only kept on cycling her mana.

The sun passed high above, a shallow breath let her see through the light of the mid-afternoon.

A taste of salt on her lips. Her weight supported by a wall. She dared not trust her legs. But she could not loiter, she promised. Mana reinforced her legs, pushing through.

The few continued to dwindle. As did the peasantry attire, found no pride. Where once pieces were uniform, became nothing but scraps. Pieced together by a myriad of different sizes, where color faded to time and coatings of soot.

She was weak, vulnerable. But fear was a valuable thing; with just a look, their dull eyes would widen, brake fast down to the broken alleys.

Soon it was, but a few moments. As the capital wall loomed overhead, seeing the chipped grain from the centuries. It's towering stature grand as Hovein Castle. Casting a looming shadow over the street come dusk, and the arrival of the "False Night".

The buildings climbing the wall still yet had light. But for many they would not stand a decade more, as their forms were weathered and broken.

Here, of all places, was her salvation.

Where the creeping rot eroded the walls, and stones chipped off their foundations, stood a building in mimicry. It's lopsided, cut form, made its dark wood hideous in symmetry, with nails a plenty; disorganized, some with no purpose, others crooked; sticking out of the wood.

She thought nothing of it-- years ago, she stood before the building in much the same way.

If anything changed, she knew to steady her breath and prepare. For everything was a battle to the end.

She entered, and a night of candle light came with.

There was no smell of rot, no lingering light of cracked wood. Only the sparse podiums of large candles adorned the space. Dripping in wax, overflowing their place and onto the floor.

The scent of candy tickled her nose.

"Are you ever going to clean this up?" She said. The clerk standing where he always was, shrouded in robes of shaded yellows. Resigned to a small desk blocking the dark curtain beyond the entrance.

"Ha. Ha-- HaHaHaha..." Marick's robs shook, waving without the wind. "Why?"

She sneered at his tone, useless.

Delphine approached the counter seeing the bundle of cloth stretch, he was certainly smiling. The prick. No doubt shrouding himself in high level enchantments.

"In this part of the Captial? Lady Dawspire, surely you jest." Probing her patience; she felt her annoyance start to overcome the pain. "But what can I do you for today?"

She wasted not a second, summoning her rewarded dagger to the table, accompanied by her longsword, and unbuckled armor.

Ready and poised. She was not leaving without something good.

"Do you think you can handle the repairs by morning?" She asked, as Marick took a placid expression. Showing no interest as the goods were brought.

"I'm assuming this is part of the deal," he asked. Lifting up the dagger, "May I?"

Delphine nodded, and the item disappeared to his [Inventory].

"Mmmm, Common." He summoned it in hand, imparting some mana that Delphine could not define.

It took to mimic, perhaps a variant of a shrouded technique of sorts? But such things were rare, confined in secret, even after all these years, she was no closer to finding out the truth of this man. Or his presence in this run down street.

"Oh, high conductivity... neutral alignment... yes," Marick analyzed, laying the dagger on the table. "An Advanced Common dagger. Not a bad haul, but it won't be near enough to cover all this." He motioned, "and be done by the dawn."

She tossed her trove onto the table, handing off a list of required items.

He hummed, "I see-- you finally skipping the prison you call home?"

She frowned. Marick was not known to tell his sources, "Can you do it or not?"

"No."

Her jaw dropped. Despite the ass, Marick always-- always pulled through, "What you mean you can't?!"

Marick held up a hand, "Lady, the smiths already have their queues in order for the next week at least. Unless you want your life in the hands of a novice, I suggest another course of action."

Her rage paused, "What?"

"A trade, we'll take your wears and give you something of equal value. Might not be the same style, or uniform, but it'll get the job done."

Leering, "And it will fit?"

"Are your fittings still the same for this armor?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"Then we can manage." Laying the list on the table, "The rest will be waiting with your new gear."

Marick attempted to reach for her trove.

She smacked his hand away, "Quote first."

Marick grumbled, "Come on. You know I'm good."

"Quote," she insisted.

"There are some days I wished I never taught a princess how to haggle," He said wistfully.

Now he was spouting lies!

"Or, taught her so much to give me attitude." Shaking his head.

"Attitude? This is not-- Marick, just give me the quote." She growled.

He sighed. "Very well, but you should learn to check your tone. Merchants are petty folk; sometimes your coin might be good, but not your business. Remember that." He said, taking out a pen for some calculations. "Let's see, this would be about... Two-Hundred and seventy-eight Greys, and four Flakes."

"Two roses and ten Greys," she countered.

"Oooo, we're dealing in Roses?" He looked to contemplate, "Very well. Two Roses, and ten Greys."

She gave half up front; a single rose and five greys.

"Not so hard? Was it Lady Dawspire." The wrapping upon his face stretched.

"You are a shrewd man Marick," glad to be nearly done with him.

The man gasped, leaning back. A hand overlapped a false would on his chest. "I am hurt, after all we've been through."

She had enough to this. Turning without care, trying her best to keep her heart steady. Feeling naked without her armor and sword.

"You know a Lady doesn't always have to be so col--" The door closed before another word.

The day was yet to be done, but would it be enough? After all these years, she had to face her mother again.

She hoped she was ready.

# # #

Three decades, give or take a few years. How time flies, don't it?

"Should be about time I head out this place?" Marick smirked. "Would have one less thing to worry about. Ain't that right, Margot?"

The wood creaked in protest, unfolding like paper along the left wall.

Draped in black, not even Marick could see her eyes. Her enchantments were silent, techniques near mastery.

It's a shame she had such few interests.

"Your jokes are not well received." Margot flicked a bug off her shoulder. Splatting it's black gooey insides on the wall.

"Why, don't you like company?" He hated cleaning the boards.

Margot showed nothing, "There will be no favoritism."

"Yeah," He scoffed at her one track mind, "Your policies are all over the place, you know. Especially your King, he really gets around like a--"

A heavy pressure fell on his shoulders.

The wood cracked. An aura of dark green shimmered her form. "I am warning your Marick."

"Jeez, always so serious." He poked, but the pressure did not let. A frown crossed his lips, "Fine. Fine, spoil sport."

Margot stood silent, releasing the pressure in an annoyingly slow pace. Still, his curiosity got the betting of him.

"The young Lady looks to be leaving you all behind, has the stallion been informed?"

The woman turned without a word. Shadows and wood caressed her form, as the building folded to her mana. Disappearing from his little informants.

Humorless crow. He looked past the door; reaching out with his own senses to follow the messy mana.

Struggling to keep her composure; stumbling every fifth step. Poor girl.

The road is far wider and longer than you might think Delphine. He thought, lifting the payment with his mana, trailing his steps into the backroom.

Candles aligned the walls with weapons and armor unfit from the notice of the World. Yet further he traveled, down to a set of stairs, to a junkyard of a basement. Filled with all sorts of unprocessed metals and wood.

An annoying hoard for any lackey, but it was never more than a show.

He traveled to a corner. With a wave, the black stone disappeared as ash to the wind. Returning upon his descent further, deep into the dark. Far, far bellow the city's wards.

And soon enough, a rousing slush echoed. Turning louder as his feet enter the wide room, standing before a pit big enough to swallow the house above.

His bond certainly could-- belch.

He chuckled, throwing her items in without care. Slipping the folds of his enchanted wrappings-- he tossed the Rose and Greys in; their light fading into the dark.

White Runes formed within the cytoplasm, morphing into countless rings. Swirling, exchanging the flow of the World's truth.

"The things I do for charity," he said. Fifty-three gifts, if he counted right.

Each time, raising his hands in an old motion. As the mana began to dance, he followed. Around the pit he trailed. His bond gaining a flux of an auburn haze.

A call resounded from the pit. Intent as one.

"Stay strong kid," he whispered. Because life and time will not be so kind.

# # #

The morning crest; the light shining through the briefest cracks of forest and fog. Dew dripped off the cabin window, refracted bits of dawn upon her.

She laid in bed, her heart beating the bellows of a hundred swollen drums.

What must to have been a thousand thoughts played the morning to come. The night spent with her eyes burned to the ceiling. Forgetting to blink. Forgetting to sleep. In the end, she forgot the plan... as she remembered, her mother's screams in childhood. Her eyes glaring on the day of exile, and the anger to come.

"...Leave this place, and never return. For nothing good will come to you on these hallowed grounds." Recalling her mother on the first anniversary of her exile. Speaking for two, and left just as quickly.

The last she bore the eyes of her family. Her brothers, and step-- whatever, none would give her a moment, barely a glance. Walking on their own paths, departing from the other entrance of the Hidden Realm just to avoid her presence.

Massaging her eyes. Tired, but the wheat sack on the table awaited.

It didn't take long, her clothes hung over the chair. With her boots laced, the last of her wantings came.

She hesitated with a great sigh, glazing over the collection of books. Drifting to the floor board below. She got on her knees and lifted, picking up the seal of the hidden cavity. Barren; but a dry hole in the ground. She flipped, caressing the board. Revealing the markings of others she had never known, their names long forgotten by scores of thick ink. Remembered by the remnants of structures that allowed her to live as she was.

By the well; on the far edge of the forest. When the drier seasons came, and the water levels dipped, the name 'Saxon' would appear on the deepest block of stone, touched by the light.

Tucked away, behind the rows of books, laying flat on the lowest shelf; the name 'Charlotte' appeared.

And, on the board, two more were written; 'Tanja' and 'Detlef.'

She clicked her tongue. Maybe she should have done this before going to Marick.

Her finger curved as she willed her mana to form a crude tip. Sweat beat down her brow, struggling as she carved her name. A small gasp left, standing on shaky legs.

Fishing her trove she took out fifteen Greys from the jute to the leather sack.

Tossing it into the hidden hole. She sealed the board; returning how everything was. How it all began, leaving her with a chance.

For the next person this rotten family think to judge.

She stepped out, the sun blaring down. A sack over her shoulder, closing the door as her heart wandered, looking around the forest; for a sign. Of things to come. Some... realization, some proof. She turned to the dawn; their most sacred crossroads of worship and honor, the source of eternal fire. The symbol of her life that reigned; the golden fire shinning from the silver mace. Together they were one, for one, and only. And soon, neither would be hers.

Delphine turned away, and for the first time since her Rebirth she threw the prayer away. Not a thought, no lingering wish for the sun. It was only her, and the road ahead.

One, at least a brief while, would not be new, but it would be the last one she would tolerate.

One last time. She would follow the grey stone and move in the shadow of Hovein.

Melonie sat reading, as always. Not paying her mind this early in the morning.

It was normally time for her to delve, but when her foot touched the white stone the woman's head wiped up, her gaze sharpened. Descending from her chair to meet Delphine part ways.

"So, today?" Melonie spoke, her eyes wandering her over. Glancing at the morning light with a frown. "She's not going to be happy about the time."

She scoffed. "I'll be out of her hair for good-- she'll get up."

Melonie sighed, but made no assumptions. Motioning her to follow.

The path of white; the final line of the prodigious line of the the Dawspire Royal Family. Knights and promising talents walked all the way to the great castle of Hovein, where they would be offered a hand; for a lifetime of service. Resources and gifts she once dreamed, now as distant and faded as her childhood.

Their travels did not come far, as they walked off the path to a road at the edge of the housing segments.

Her stomach churn. Her shoulder ached a long healed wound.

When they arrived to the house fit to look more like a fine inn, and knocked on the door-- her heart beat faster.

They waited, for how long? Trying to fight off the rising headache.

The door opened by a woman stewing in silent rage. Her hair was a mess, blood shot eyes told of her lack of sleep. And her clothes... she was still wearing her night gown, rather than the custom fine silk wears Delphine was use to.

Though they were stretched, cascading over a swelling bump.

She's pregnant, again. Delphine looked on, as her eyes rose to meet her mother.

The woman leered, without a word held out her hand. Courtesy demanded a brief ceremony... at least that's what she was told on the day of her ousting.

Melonie frowned, as her words didn't live up to the tale she told on her final day.

Regardless, she took out the insignia from her pocket. Tossing it over to the woman, catching it with a discerning eye.

Slamming the door.

Leaving them to silence. Delphine look on to Melonie, a vein throbbed her stoic appearance.

"I'm sorry," Melonie gave a small bow. "I hadn't thought she would be so brazen, but with your Crest no longer with you, I have to ask you to leave immediately... Are you aware of the departing practice?"

She nodded. No longer a Dawspire.

"Then, Delphine I wish you well in your life and fortunes." A hand placed upon her shoulder, "Be free. And don't look back."

Her lips thinned, biting her tongue. Holding back the pressure behind her eyes. She turned, steeling her heart.

The night was wasted; there wasn't even a word. An exchange to prop herself-- to prove that she wasn't just an afterthought. Yet none of it mattered, did any of it?

Past the gate, was a new world. A new path to take, she looked to the clear sky, finding it blur as her tears fell.

Be it happy or sad, what did she know?