"So now you know," Richter said, his voice steady. "Now you know the 'grand' life story of Richter, the man who apparently shouldn't exist. What now?"
The figure leaned back, the stool of shadows morphing to accommodate its languorous sprawl. “What a dreary tale," it sneered, the contempt thick in its voice. "I expected it to be pitiful, but this... this is another level of mundane. To think that you, of all people, could defy the very heavens that sought to squash you like the insignificant bug you are. It's laughably absurd!"
Richter's jaw clenched, but he kept his composure, refusing to give the shadow the satisfaction of seeing him riled. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you with my lack of drama," Richter retorted, "But just because it didn’t meet your expectations, doesn’t mean it was a bad life. Maybe it's not about the excitement of the story, but the spirit powering through it—and for the record, I've had worse reviews" Richter dryly said.
A hollow, mocking laugh escaped the shadow, its form rippling with amusement. "A will strong enough to overcome the wrath of the heavens? Please. Don't embarrass yourself with such platitudes," the shadow retorted, its voice filled with disdain.
Richter fought the urge to scoff. "Jeez, what do you want? I don't know what else to tell you! I’ve held your hand and brought you through every memorable experience I've ever had. You've heard it all! Maybe I'm just lucky, or I really am a mistake.” he offered.
"Lucky?" The figure's laughter was sharp, mocking. "If that's what you call it, sure. Let's go with luck. But trust me when I say your history would struggle to entertain even the particularly dimwitted gnats of my domain.”
Richter swallowed hard, his throat tight with frustration. He knew arguing with the figure was pointless, but he couldn't help himself. "You really get a kick out of this, don't you? Berating me, acting as though you're some sort of god."
The shadow spread its hands wide, a grandiose gesture that seemed to mock the very heavens. "A god? No, I don't claim to be such. But I am powerful, Richter. More powerful than you can imagine. And that power gives me the right to pass judgment as I see fit."
Richter's eyes flashed with anger. "And what judgment have you passed on me, then? That I'm a fluke? A mistake?"
"A nuisance," the figure corrected sharply, before chuckling and turning towards Richter. The figure leaned in close, its face mere inches from his. "I don’t believe you’re a mistake," it whispered, its voice cold and calculating. "You’re an opportunity. The more I stand in your presence, the more confident I feel about something. It’s impossible to truly say, as I’ve never remotely had an encounter with such a prospect but… perhaps you might not be the cosmic fluke I originally thought.’
Richter regarded the shadow with a wary eye, skepticism lacing his brow. "Is that supposed to make me feel special?"
"Hardly," the shadow began, its voice shedding its earlier mockery for a tone of something akin to reverence, "I came to this desolate sphere with a purpose, chasing whispers in the cosmos about a... a presence. I have scouted countless worlds, sifted through the auras of being after being, and yet—"
The shadow paused, struggling to find the words that eluded its tongue. "It is not easy for me, or my people to admit when we do not possess the knowledge of what we seek; it is even harder when we do not know what form that thing might take. But I know what I seek lies on this planet. But… finding out where is what still eludes me."
Richter shifted uncomfortably under the shadow's penetrating gaze. Despite his resentment for his uninvited guest, he couldn't suppress his curiosity.
"Despite your mundanity, there is something about you, Richter," the shadow murmured with an intensity that belied its earlier mockery. "Call it an anomaly or a miracle; it makes no difference. Your aura, your ability to stand here despite your circumstances and the paths you have chosen till this point—it all caught the interest of someone like me. And believe me when I say that not much does anymore."
A tense silence enveloped the room, the weight of it almost tangible in the dimly lit space. Both Richter and the shadow were lost in thought, with Richter contemplating the strange sequence of events that had led to this confrontation.
Then, without a preamble, the shadow shattered the silence like a glass dropped upon stone floors. "You've done as promised," it spoke, its voice slithering across the room like smoke coiling around embers. "You have bared your soul to me and satisfied my curiosity. Now it is only proper that I extend you the same courtesy. Ask your questions, Richter."
The sudden break in tension caught Richter off guard. He had prepared for sarcasm, for contempt, but not this sudden forthrightness. “Wait… really? No grand speech about how you’re ‘too high and mighty’ to bother with my peasant-level questions?”
Lazily draped over the throne of shadows, the figure examined its nails with nonchalance, “Yes, we made a deal, didn’t we? You tell me your obnoxiously lousy life story, and I will answer some of your questions to the best of my abilities. I'm at your service for a grand total of five questions. So hurry up before I die of boredom.”
Richter hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing upon his chest. This was his chance, this was the moment where he could finally get answers to all his questions. The days of being left in the dark, without guidance, with no goal to work towards, it was finally going to end. But as Richter looked at the silhouette, and the mystery surrounding it, an unease settled in his chest.
“Before anything else,” Richter finally said, the words cutting through the remaining tendrils of silence still clinging to the air. “I need to know who you are, for my own sake moving forward. You can’t stay as a silhouette cloaked in mysteries and shadows when my entire life has been bared to you. Who are you—truly?”
The figure’s nonchalance wavered, a flicker of emotion danced across what little could be seen of their obscured visage. Then, out of nowhere, the figure began hysterically laughing as it boomed throughout the chamber, echoing off the walls as if the very foundations of the world trembled at his mirth. He toppled over, chair and all, clutching his sides as if Richter's question was the finest joke he'd heard in eons. Legs flailing in an undignified manner, the shadowy being was looking like a toddler who was being tickled by his parents.
Richter glared at the figure, his annoyance etched into every furrow on his brow. "You done yet?" he asked, his voice dripping with exasperation.
The figure, finally composing himself, righted his chair and sat back down, wiping a nonexistent tear from the corner of his eye. "Oh my," he gasped between lingering chuckles, "Out of all the enigmas that plague your quaint little existence - all the secrets of life and death that dance upon your consciousness - you wish to know my NAME?" An enormous grin spread across its features, clearly finding the situation absurdly entertaining.
Rictor's glare was hard enough to chip diamond. "Yes," he said curtly. "You know mine."
Leaning forward slightly, the figure continued. "Oh Richter… Imagine, if you will, standing before two promising doors neither barred nor guarded—one room filled with ancient wisdom and the other future fortunes—and all you asked for was to know the name inscribed upon the carpenter's tool! Ohhh," it chuckled softly again but more subdued this time, shaking what could be assumed to be its head in gentle reproof.
Drawing himself up to his full height with an air of self-importance that seemed almost ingrained in his being, the figure dusted off his clothes and said, "But I suppose it is only fair. For someone whose world has been shaken as yours has... I suppose it would comfort you. Besides, names have power. So then," The figure said, pressing his fist against his chest as he stood proudly. "Know that you stand in front of one almighty, known as Nazareth."
As the revelation of the name sunk in, Richter scoffed. "Nazareth? What kind of two-bit, melodramatic—" but his voice cut off as Nazareth's amusement vanished like mist under a scorching sun. Suddenly, the air in the room grew denser, and Richter's laughter died in a choke as the figure's eyes bore into him with an intensity that froze his blood.
"The ignorance of you humans never ceases to amaze me," Nazareth said, his voice suddenly hard as steel. "You mock something you do not understand. Prepare for an education, because you’ve stumbled onto the first lesson. Names are not something to mock, and are more than just labels for ease of reference in the multiverse; they carry weight, power, and a legacy. Especially amongst the creatures of the wilds; any creature that has been bestowed a name, either by the system or a generous, powerful being, becomes an extraordinary and unique entity with no other quite the same.”
“Understand this: Names transform a mundane encounter in the woods with another everyday swine into an audience with The Swine Emperor himself—the difference is the immeasurable power vested within a title.” Nazareth sprawled back into his chair, clearly getting into the groove of storytelling. Richter wasn’t surprised in the slightest, honestly. The man loved hearing himself talk more than anything.
“For example, consider that insignificant twig you so tenderly nurtured—what was it? Jim?” he continued with an insufferable smirk, brushing an invisible speck from his robe of shadows.
“Charles.” He corrected dryly.
“No matter. Its actual name is trivial.” Nazareth dismissed with a curt wave of his hand.
“I thought names weren’t something to mock” Richter interrupted, his tone dripping sarcasm.
“They aren’t, but that doesn’t mean I’ll remember something insignificant as a stick.” Nazareth said, waving his hand in dismissal. “What does matter is that you gave it a name. Have you never pondered why the System revered your wooden trinket with such seriousness? Even dignifying it with an item description?” Nazareth asked, looking at his shadowy nails without a care.
“It’s simple really. Merely by branding it with an identity, you cloaked that object in rarity and vigor. This feat often demands one be powerful with not much to lose – extraordinarily powerful should one aspire to name a creature of pure latent strength—consider a dragon for argument's sake. That is because giving a creature or even object a name permanently takes away a part of your strength and power– giving it the creature you named, strengthening it. How much is taken depends on the scenario, but luckily for you, you just named a stick. I’m doubtful any stats were even taken from you.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Holy shit, seriously? So you mean to tell me I could have slapped a name on some random hog I stumbled across in the thicket out of sheer boredom, only to buff it up and hand over my hard-earned stats too?” Richter exclaimed with a mix of horror and incredulity.
"Yes, that is precisely correct. However, it takes focus and attention, it should never happen by accident. While there is the possibility of gaining a name through the system or a powerful being, the opposite could be said in the act of losing one's name. Sometimes, in rare scenarios, the system will dish out its punishments by removing one's name, resulting in a type of exile and reduction in status of power. However, such a thing is exceptionally rare for enlightened beings such as us. That is a more common scenario amongst the beasts of the multiverse. For an enlightened being to have their name revoked… well, they must have angered the very heavens themselves.” Nazareth stared at Richter after the last comment, causing him to squirm under the uncomfortable gaze.
"And if one's name is taken by the system, do they stand any chance of reclaiming it, or is it forever lost along with their standing?" Richter asked tentatively.
Nazareth's expression softened slightly as he leaned back, "To lose one's name is to lose a part of oneself. Reclaiming it... yes, it's possible but not without great cost. Redemption or restitution in some grand scale might persuade the system to return what was once lost. But for that to happen," he paused, fixing Richter with a meaningful look, "one would have to perform feats bordering on the legendary."
As the weight of Nazareth’s words settled heavily in the stifling air, Richter attempted to lighten the mood with a small smile. "So you suggest using names sparingly then? Interesting rules for an interesting place."
Nazareth regarded him silently, the previous fervor diminishing as the conversation shifted. “Indeed. Names are a tool and a weapon. But let us not dwell on such topics. You're here seeking answers to far more pressing questions, correct?”
Richter nodded, eager to steer away from the unsettling discussion of names and their untold potency. “Right, more pressing questions...” he paused, gathering his thoughts. A myriad of questions danced on the tip of his tongue but choosing the most important one proved challenging. Finally, he settled on one that seemed to be the core of all his problems so far. "All right Nazareth. Since you keep bashing me for my ‘stupid questions’, how about I ask one that has caused me the most grief and suffering out of them all? I want to know about the system. What's its deal? Why does it do what it does?”
Nazareth snickered in response. “Ah, the age-old question. What is the system?” Nazareth’s smirk was edged with contempt as he reclined with conceited nonchalance. “Delving into the details of such history is beyond your capacity at this elementary stage, it will do you more harm than good. Besides, such an unrestricted flow of information is unthinkable in a recently initiated world like this. However, I suppose I can go over the basics that everyone in the multiverse knows.” Richter nodded his head. I’ll take what I can get, I guess.
“To go over what the system is, I must go over what the multiverse is first. You're familiar with your planet, how it was its own, separate universe, correct?” At Richter’s affirmative gesture, Nazareth’s lips curled into a sneer. “Fortunate that you grasp at least this much. Your universe – merely cataloged as Universe 587 in our records – has been conscripted into the grand domain.”
Richter sat with rapt attention, soaking up every word like a sponge. “Envision the system as this omnipotent overseer; infinitely cunning, yet bestowing its wisdom selectively. It forges you into a hardened prodigy by imparting its values, toughening you up, and leading—or rather dragging—you down the course it deems fit.” Nazareth paused, ensuring Richter was following along.
“The basic nature and principle of our system is that it wants you to become stronger, nurturing you in every way it can… no matter how unorthodox it may seem to you, our system wants you to survive and develop as a person.”
The shadows' hollow eyes seemed to glitter in the dimly lit cavern as it continued to explain. "As you navigate through life, our system presents you with various trials and tribulations, challenging you to learn new skills, adapt to new situations, and grow both mentally and physically. Each experience you gain can be seen as a step towards becoming the person – or perhaps, the being – that our system envisions for you. Every creature within the multiverse eventually stumbles upon these 'lessons' designed by the system, forcing them to evolve and adapt."
Richter attentively soaked up every word the figure spoke but couldn't suppress the growing list of inquiries within him. "So if the system aims to make us tougher... Why'd it kill my family and wipe out everything I cherished? That doesn't feel like growth material - more like fueling my vendetta." he said darkly.
The figure stood up slowly from its stool, tendrils of darkness slipping away like smoke. “Your so-called vendetta,” Nazareth scoffed with an unabashed condescending attitude, “is little more than a temper tantrum in the face of universal laws. Be grateful that the system has deemed you worthy of a trial by fire. Consider this—would an ordinary rock ever become a diamond without monumental pressure?”
Richter winced but Nazareth pressed on, relentless. “Survivors like yourself should be thanking the system for its tough love; it purges weakness and cultivates excellence. I would advise you to cast aside your petty grievances and recognize this opportunity for what it is—a chance bestowed upon you to rise from your ashes and embrace a destiny far greater than any mundane existence that previously bound you.”
"Also," Nazareth added with a sneer of disdain far from concern, "Let it not be forgotten that our beloved system is not flawed in its perfection– unlike its puny counterpart. Its trials and tribulations are often brutal and merciless—catastrophic for some unworthy lives that falter under its discipline, but the results are clear.” It stated coldly, “Survival is reserved for those who prove their worth. The creed of ‘natural selection’ reigns supreme within these ancient rules set forth by the system—the unfit merely perish in its cycles, while the strong become stronger."
“Wait, back up for a second. Counterpart?” Richter said, confusion etching his face. “What is that supposed to mean? Like, there's another system besides this one?”
At that moment, Nazareth transformed; the former eloquence vanished as if swallowed by the very shadows that once danced at its feet. An overwhelming stillness seized the cavern, each breath seeming to hang suspended in the air. The figure stood motionless, a statue crafted of enigmatic secrets and untold stories. A profound silence stretched between them, so dense that Richter could almost feel the weight of unsaid words pressing against him.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity trapped within a single heartbeat, Nazareth released a heavy exhale the sound softly breaking the stillness. "I have misspoken," it reluctantly conceded in a murmur, "I should not have breached that topic; such knowledge is scarce among the lesser beings of the multiverse." It paused again, eyes shuttering as if to shield its inner turmoil from view. “I admit that was something that slipped from my lips at the moment, that was not information you should have heard, this early in your development. I… I apologize.”
Richter's head swirled with disbelief, his mental focus completely going off the rockers with what he had just heard: Nazareth had just apologized. The shock of it was like cold water splashed across his face, completely distracting him from the current dilemma.
Of all the people, Nazareth had always exuded an air of smug invincibility, an arrogance so dense it was tangible. He had never met someone who was so full-headed, narcissistic and arrogant as this dickhead. For someone like that to issue an apology—to Richter, no less—was quite literally the last thing he would have expected from this encounter. It was as if the very rules that anchored his expectations had suddenly shifted, revealing a hidden layer in the game he thought he was beginning to understand.
But there it was, that word, 'apologize', hanging between them—a dripping testament to something profound. This wasn't merely about ego or acknowledgments. For Nazareth to concede such a point (or anything, actually) meant that whatever was at stake went beyond personal grudges or power plays; it touched something fundamental about their lifes. If Nazareth could apologize for accidentally unveiling forbidden knowledge too soon in his journey, what did it imply about the importance of this information? What did it say about Nazareth's role and the system itself?
Richter sensed an opportunity—to pry open the tightly closed box of secrets Nazareth was guarding. He leaned in, feigning disappointment with a twinge of excitement lacing his tone. "Nazareth, I understand the system is complex and I don't wish to overstep, but if there's something as crucial as the existence of a counterpart to the system, it would mean a world to me—literally and figuratively—to hear about it. Not as a demand, but as a plea from someone thrusted into this world against their will and seeking understanding."
He paused, giving weight to his appeal before continuing. "You see patterns and designs I can only dream of comprehending... but isn't a basic knowledge of all elements at play fair? Especially for those expected to survive the trials placed by the system itself? Think of it as equipping a soldier with understanding rather than sending them blind into battle. You are well-versed and hold a wealth of knowledge that surpasses most—if not all—beings I will ever encounter. To not learn from you would be a disservice to both of us." He softened his gaze, allowing his eyes to convey his earnest desire.
For a split second, Richter thought he saw a gleam in Nazareths eye, but it was gone as soon as it came. After a moment of silence, Nazareth stood from his stool, looking around warily as he exaled heavily. “I suppose I already unveiled the information. Perhaps my punishment will be less if I guide you in the right direction.” Nazareth said, his voice barely audible as he tilted his head, almost as if he was trying to hear something.
“We made a deal, and if this is one of your questions, then I will do my best to uphold my part of it. But know that this is an extremely sensitive topic, so I can only share the most basic knowledge I can reiterate.”
Nazareth lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as if the very walls might be listening for the dangerous truths about to be unfolded. “The multiverse, you see, is not governed by a singular force. Contrary to belief, the multiverse is split under two grand domains, each half governed by one of the overseeing systems. As our system holds dear the virtues of power and resilience, crafting warriors out of life’s unyielding challenges, so does there exist its antithesis—a mirror, if you will.”
"There is a counterpart to our mighty system," Nazareth said, the word hanging heavy like an omen in the cavernous space. "A disgusting, worthless use of space and power that should have been eradicated long ago. Our system believes in iron fists; it cradles perseverance and metes out punishment with equal eagerness to those who fail its tasks. It teaches through ordeal and fortifies through strife—an ever-tough master that molds its subjects under the crushing weight of discipline."
Richter’s brow furrowed as he tried to keep up with the influx of information he was receiving.
"In stark contrast," continued Nazareth, "This 'counterpart' is... different. It sees the world not as a battleground for survival, but as a garden ripe for nurturing. Where our system enforces, it guides. Where ours demands submission, it offers encouragement.” Nazareth’s eyes narrowed. “And it dares to represent the biggest weakness one could have in this reality – mercy."
“This counterpart stands against everything that ours stands for; a true antithesis and a plight to our grand domain in the multiverse,” Nazareth added, his tone urgent yet foreboding. “In the counterparts domain lies potential untamed by order; a place where randomness is woven into consciousness, and learning pivots upon chance encounters rather than planned trials. Our system and those under its domain consider this counterpart as frail and worthless.”
With urgency seeping into its cadence, Nazareth cast a wary gaze around them; shadows seemed to churn restlessly at the fringes of the chamber. “It’s strange, though. Despite the difference in ideology, throughout all the recorded history in the vast age of the multiverse… not once have we managed to defeat them in a battle for domain. In fact, after the loss of our systems True Chosen, our system and all those under its domain were nearly eradicated under the might of this counterpart. Their champions are powerful and so numeral that our system is struggling to keep up. Yet… the strangest part of it all is-”
Just then, something shifted in Nazareth's demeanor—a subtle tilt of the head or maybe an almost imperceptible stiffening at something sensed but unseen.
"We mustn't discuss this further," he said abruptly and stood up from his dark stool, effectively severing the thread of conversation with an acute end.
“Wait, what?” Richter said, standing up as well, “You can’t just stop there man, what the hell? You were in the middle of the story, you can’t just-”
“Enough!” His command sliced through Richter’s complaints like a dagger. The stool dissipated into smoke as Nazareth began pacing. “Your ignorance continues to baffle me. We speak no more of this now; the walls have ears and even shadows might betray secrets best left buried. So, for your own preservation and mine," Nazareth hissed, "Forget I mentioned anything about this topic.”