I couldn’t tell how much time had passed before I felt the tug of Sylphine asking to enter my truesoul. I accepted willingly, activating my skill, Truesoul Focus as well. Normally, I wouldn’t have minded the sensation of a god entering my truesoul. I’d experienced it countless times with Sylvanus, even before I’d gained a class. But now, it felt different—unsettling. Sylphine’s presence felt alien, like a foreign object my truesoul was instinctively trying to expel.
“Try to calm yourself,” Sylphine’s voice echoed, smooth and patient, resonating through the vast space of my truesoul. “Your truesoul reflects your deepest feelings, and it seems your distrust in Sylvanus runs deep, and it's being projected toward me as well. That’s fair—most of us Divines haven’t exactly been known for our honesty when dealing with mortals.” Her tone carried a hint of understanding, as if she’d expected this reaction.
Sylphine paced slowly, hands clasped behind her back, her gaze sweeping over the landscape of my truesoul. “Beautiful,” she murmured, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “I didn’t even know you had the time affinity as well.”
I rolled up the sleeve of my jacket, exposing the intricate bloodmark etched into my forearm. “It was kind of easy to get,” I admitted, keeping my tone neutral.
Her eyes widened briefly before a sly grin spread across her face. “Full of surprises, aren’t you? It’s good you kept it hidden. Did you tell Sylvanus about it?”
I nodded, though the motion was reluctant.
“Less good.” Sylphine tilted her head, studying me with a mix of amusement and concern. “I’m honestly surprised he didn’t order your father to kill you the moment you refused to become Flora’s chosen. Or perhaps…” she trailed off, shrugging lightly as if it were no more significant than a passing thought, “he did, and your father just hasn’t grown the balls to follow through yet.”
Her casual dismissal of the possibility sent a cold shiver down my spine. It wasn’t a comforting thought, but Sylphine carried it like it was just another part of the game.
"Would becoming your chosen protect me from that possibility?" I asked, the question carrying more weight than I wanted to admit. I needed reassurance—needed to know that this was truly beneficial for me, and by extension, Erica.
“Of course,” Sylphine replied, her tone carrying the confidence of someone used to wielding authority. “Aurathis and I have already announced her separation from the Triumvirate to all the major players in the multiverse. There’s no turning back now.” She paused, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Aurathis was a bit reluctant to accept Erica, but I had a favor to cash in. Let’s just say I called in the right debts.”
Her posture straightened as she continued, her voice taking on a formal edge. “We haven’t coined a name for our faction yet, but everyone already understands the gravity of what’s happened. Two paragons making a major move together isn’t something to take lightly. Not even another Paragon would dare upset either of us—not without risking a cascade of consequences they can’t control.”
Her words were steady, deliberate, and authoritative, yet the smile she directed at me felt strangely warm, as if to assure me that her confidence wasn’t misplaced. It was a rare moment where Sylphine’s playful veneer peeled away, revealing the strategist beneath.
“Okay, one thing though,” I began carefully, my tone measured. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m not particularly fond of the whole idea of being ordered around like some subordinate. I need to know that this arrangement isn’t going to trap me in a deal that makes my life a living hell.”
Sylphine’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes softened, and I could sense she appreciated my honesty. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied smoothly. “The entire reason we’re doing this is to expand our shared ideology of freedom. That’s the core of everything I stand for. I just have to act a little more... businessy sometimes to drive the point home. And, well, you’re as good a practice partner as any.”
Her tone shifted again, the casual warmth giving way to something more firm but not unkind. “That said, let’s be clear. By no means are we equal forces right now. Maybe someday, but not today.” Her expression was calm but unwavering, the weight of her eons of experience evident.
“You do need to understand,” she continued, “my word holds significant value, and I’d strongly suggest you take my advice seriously—even if you don’t always agree with it. I’ve got billions upon billions of years of wisdom on you, especially when it comes to the System. That perspective doesn’t just come with age—it comes with surviving the multiverse and shaping its tides.”
Her voice softened again, a reminder that while she spoke with authority, she wasn’t here to crush me under it. “This isn’t about control—it’s about making sure we all survive and thrive in this together.”
I nodded in understanding, though my mind lingered on her words for a moment longer. There was weight behind them—a subtle reminder that, despite the apparent partnership, the balance of power was decidedly uneven. But her sincerity made it easier to trust her, at least for now.
Sylphine’s voice shifted, taking on a curious, almost playful lilt as she gestured around us. “Sooo, can you show me how you built your foundation? I see you haven’t added the fae affinity quite yet,” she said, her eyes glinting with a mix of intrigue and admiration. “And I have to admit, I’m very interested in how a Rank H human managed to craft such a stunning world inside themselves. Seriously, this place is gorgeous.”
Her tone was light, but her gaze was sharp, studying every detail of my truesoul’s structure. It was clear this wasn’t idle curiosity; she wanted to understand what I’d done. A Paragon taking genuine interest in my work? That was a new one. I felt a flicker of pride, tempered by the knowledge that any mistake I made here would be glaringly obvious to someone of her caliber.
I nodded once again, this time lowering myself to sit cross-legged on the ground. Closing my eyes, I focused inward, letting the external presence of Sylphine fade into the background. It wasn’t about blocking her out, but about tuning in to myself, to the intricate web of affinities woven through my truesoul.
The threads came into view almost immediately—a luminous network shimmering with potential. Time, Lunar, and Lightning affinities were tightly intertwined, their movements fluid and harmonious. They pulsed like a heartbeat, connected yet distinct, a testament to how naturally they worked together.
But then there was the pink thread. Fae. It hovered at a distance, entirely separate from the others. It didn’t weave or pulse like the others; instead, it swayed softly, as if caught in a gentle breeze. Its energy was wild and untamed, resisting the order and rhythm the other affinities shared.
The Fae affinity swayed in the distance, its energy vibrating with a wildness that seemed unready to be tamed. But I wasn’t looking to tame it—not this time. The memory of forcefully resonating with it before left a bitter aftertaste. Commanding it had worked in the moment, but it wasn’t sustainable. Fae energy didn’t respond well to control—it thrived on freedom, expression, and harmony without boundaries.
I exhaled slowly, releasing any lingering tension. This wasn’t about domination; it was about coexistence. The affinities already intertwined within me—Time, Lunar, and Lightning—had come together naturally, each one amplifying the strengths of the others. There was no reason the Fae affinity couldn’t join them. Each thread was part of a larger tapestry, a foundation I hoped would eventually create something entirely new.
I reached out, but instead of tugging at it, I extended an invitation. With curiosity, I opened myself to it. I focused on the energy pulsating from it, sensing the ideals it carried—untamed Fae with boundless freedom and creativity. I imagined how it could add depth and unpredictability to the already structured harmony of my affinities.
The pink thread quivered in response, still hesitant, but this time it didn’t shy away from my touch. I could feel its energy brushing against mine, like it was testing the water, dipping its toes to gauge the comfort level.
With each passing second, it grew bolder, gradually submerging itself deeper into my energy. Eventually, it accepted me. It twirled around in my hands, a sense of joy radiating from it. It was strange—none of my other affinities had ever felt like they carried true emotion.
I opened my eyes to find Sylphine’s face just inches from mine, her gaze fixed on me with intense focus. I flinched back slightly.
“Little close there,” I muttered, calling on the fae affinity. It surged toward me, coiling down my right arm in the shape of a dragon, while on my left, dozens of butterflies fluttered into existence, one gently landing on the tip of my finger.
“Why a dragon?” Sylphine asked, her curiosity piqued.
“I relate fae to the mythical stories my mother told me when I was young, before integration. I’m not entirely sure why dragons came to mind, but that’s just what felt right, instinctively,” I explained, glancing at her for reassurance, unsure if I’d overstepped with the dragon.
She shrugged with a smirk. “The fae affinity is all about creativity, so you do you, man.”
I guided the dragon and butterflies, both born of the fae affinity, through my truesoul. I envisioned a large hilltop where the dragon could perch, its scales shimmering under the moonlight. Below, a vast field of flowers bloomed, perfect for the butterflies to dance among. My truesoul shifted from its previous void, with only a clockwork moon, stars, and crackling lightning, to a breathtaking landscape. Green plains stretched beneath the dark night sky, with a translucent pink dragon perched on a tall hill, watching over the scene as the butterflies flitted around the blossoms.
“Wow, that’s amazing…” Sylphine watched in awe as my imagined scene materialized, coming to life before her eyes. “My truesoul is just a huge void with threads of my affinities weaving together.”
I smiled and willed the landscape to fade, letting the void return. I then reshaped my truesoul to show her what she described, the vast emptiness with the threads of my affinities.
“Mine too,” I said, “but when I give them a place in my mind, something that feels harmonious, I can connect with them better.”
“Huh… cool.” Sylphine studied the intertwined threads for a moment, clearly intrigued, before I returned the scene to the fantasy I had created.
“Alright, down to business,” Sylphine said, taking one last glance at her surroundings, clearly appreciating the view before continuing. “Before I make you my Chosen, may I ask what profession you're pursuing? It won’t affect anything, I’m just curious.”
“Runescribing,” I shrugged. “I like drawing.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Sylphine nodded. “Good choice. You could’ve just been an artist, but Runescribing will let you use it combatively, which is always a plus.”
“Kay! Are you ready?” Sylphine asked one last time.
I nodded, and Sylphine nodded back. She closed her eyes, and all of her affinities were put on display. Her wings became more visible, and I could finally pick out the hues I hadn’t been able to before. Lunar, Fae, and Lightning, of course, but now I could see black, blue, a muted light blue that was almost white, and a faded green. I could guess the affinities based on their colors—shadow, water, air, and the last one, which reminded me of the nature affinity, though it wasn’t quite the same. Maybe the life affinity?
The colors slowly turned into manifestations, small threads weaving together into a rope, extending toward me. As it reached my chest, a System notification dinged in my head.
Sylphine the Wanderer has offered you a blessing
Chosen of the The Eternal Wayfarer
This is the highest blessing a God can give. A god may only have one chosen at a time. A Chosen is given a portion of the god's records that they can use to feed off of and learn. The death of a god with a Chosen will not affect the Chosen. The death of a god’s Chosen will come with a significant cost to the god.
Accept?
Yes / No
I mentally accepted, though I didn’t really feel any different afterward. I was curious about the title the System had given Sylphine. “Why did the System call you ‘The Eternal Wayfarer’?” I asked after opening my eyes.
Sylphine waved me off. “A story you’re not quite ready to hear yet. Now, just give it a second. You’re going to be slammed with my records in a moment.”
“Okay? Why am I—” I was cut short by an immense pressure descending onto me. I struggled to keep myself from being crushed, firming my stance. I kept my eyes open to watch the colorful, tiny sphere descending from the sky of my truesoul. It was majestic—an orb of liquid light, its colors entangling but never mixing. Pink, crackling lightning blue, the shimmer of the Lunar affinity, black representing shadow, blue representing water, the whiteish-blue for air, and the faded green I still hadn’t identified.
As the sphere settled, it floated in the center of everything. “What is that?” I reached out to touch it, but nothing happened—it just shifted slightly.
“That’s the representation of my records,” Sylphine answered curtly.
“Ah, and what is that faded green? I recognize the colors of everything else, but not that one,” I asked, pointing at it.
“That’s the Life affinity,” Sylphine said with a smile.
“Oh, cool.” I watched the colors swirl and dance around each other for a while, entranced.
Sylphine’s eyes drifted off, as if she was looking at someone far in the distance. When I turned to look, there was nothing there.
“Aurathis has finished with Erica and held up her end of the deal. You two should flaunt this to everyone important that you meet—it’ll spread the word quickly and protect you from the dangers that might come,” Sylphine said, smiling at me. “I’m off. I won’t be back on Earth for a while. Lots to do, lots of gods to meet with.”
I smiled back. “Figured. We’ll be fine.” A huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I still didn’t fully trust Sylphine yet, but this gesture was a significant step in the right direction.
I slept as long as my body would allow. The past few days had been a blur of little to no sleep, and I was utterly exhausted. In the faint haze of half-consciousness, I could hear Erica moving about, likely practicing her professions. We'd need to book a delve spot in Umbraeth when I woke up, and I still had to send the letter to Christian.
I slowly swung my legs over the edge of the bed, rising with deliberate sluggishness. The fog clouding my mind had lifted slightly. My eyes drifted to my bag, where the paper for a letter to Christian awaited. I wanted to send it soon, but I knew better than to act impulsively—I’d make sure Erica had a chance to weigh in first. Her perspective might catch something I’d missed.
“Hey, do you think we should send a letter to Christian?” I asked, breaking the silence and inadvertently startling Erica. She turned toward me, clearly surprised to see me awake.
“Absolutely not,” Erica replied firmly. “If you explain what’s happening in Sylvanel, there’s no telling what kind of chaos Christian might cause out of some misguided sense of moral obligation. It’s better to build alliances outside of Sylvanel without risking any leaks. Besides, we’re probably still better off staying quiet until word spreads that we’ve left for good.”
“Alright,” I said with a sigh. “But I still feel bad about leaving him in the dark like this, especially after we got his hopes up about doing delves together. He’s going to have a hard time finding even one other person to team up with. Best-case scenario, he makes the decision to travel to Umbraeth and expand his options.”
I sighed again, the weight of guilt settling over me. Strangely, I welcomed the feeling—it was a relief to feel something, especially after last night when even guilt had felt out of reach.
“No point dwelling on what we can’t control,” Erica said, her tone steady yet reassuring. “I know you feel bad about leaving without being able to do more, but trust me, Jack, this is for the best. We’ve gotten a significant head start, all things considered. It’ll take time, but we’ll have our chance to liberate Sylvanel.”
She smiled softly as she walked over, leaning her head against me. It was her way of showing understanding and offering comfort. Erica was never one to sugarcoat things, but she always found subtle ways to express her empathy.
“For now, Aurathis officially made me her Chosen. Annnd something pretty cool happened,” Erica said, her tone brimming with pride. “I figured out the whole truesoul thing, and I even managed to grasp the Life Affinity when I woke up.” She punctuated her statement with a playful wink, clearly pleased with herself.
My eyes widened and I shot up, picked up Erica and spun her around in a hug, I was ecstatic for her. We both now had access to a foundation in our truesouls that would bring a significant amount of power to the both of us as we gathered experience.
“But she also told me not to rush into delving. We should focus on gaining a profession first,” Erica said, her tone light but resolute. “She mentioned it’s smart to have something productive to do during downtime in the dungeons. It’s a simple plan, but if we execute it correctly, we could maximize efficiency while delving and get the best gains.”
“In that case, I’ll start etching runes into the metal sheets from the kit,” I replied. “After that, I think I’ll try to sniff out a couple more affinities before getting to work on my bloodmark.”
“What do you mean by work on your bloodmark?” Erica looked perplexed.
“What do you mean by ‘work on your bloodmark?’” Erica asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.
“I mean, I can evolve it,” I explained, lifting my sleeve to reveal the changes she hadn’t seen yet. My bloodmark, which had previously only displayed the Lunar and Time aspects, now crackled with streaks of lightning and shimmered with specks of pink that fluttered like butterflies.
“My theory is that if I can connect to the rest of Sylphine’s affinities, I can evolve my bloodmark into something completely unique and probably insane,” I continued. “All I need to do is try to connect with water, air, life, and shadow. And honestly, all of them should be pretty easy to access in this room. We’ve got running water, we’re breathing air, we’re alive, and we’re in Umbraeth.”
“Interesting…” Erica said, her eyes gleaming with that mischievous grin she always wore when she was cooking up something outrageous. “Do you think it’s possible to replicate a bloodmark with runescribing? Like, could you make me some sort of knockoff version of your bloodmark if you studied its symbols and the power behind it?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to figure out something that, as far as I know, no one has ever done before. There are plenty of talented runescribes out there, sure, but nothing I’ve read or heard about comes close to what you’re imagining.” I scratched my head, deep in thought. “That’s all assuming I even manage to get the profession in the first place.”
“Well get on it! I’ve already got alchemy this morning, now we’re just waiting on your slow ass.” Erica rolled her eyes playfully, “I’m gonna read up on some class evolutions that interest me.”
I nodded at her and pulled my runescribing kit from my bag. I hadn’t explored it much before, but I knew it contained an etching pen and a few metal plates that could hold up to five runes. The kit also included a small guide with ten of the most basic runes.
These basic runes were stat runes—strength, agility, intelligence, perception, and so on. Interestingly, the specific design of a rune wasn’t rigid; it depended entirely on how you envisioned the stat. For instance, strength could be represented as a massive boulder for one person, while in my mind, it was a giant bear. Agility was often depicted as a cat, but to me, it felt more fitting as a fox.
The guide illustrated each stat rune with the most common representations found across the multiverse: strength as a flexing arm, agility as a cat, perception as an eye, intelligence as a brain, wisdom as an old man, vitality as a heart, and endurance as a horse. Willpower, however, wasn’t classified as a basic rune, as there was no universal way to depict each individual’s unique source of willpower.
I began etching the runes into the metal plate, knowing I wouldn’t be able to imbue them with power until I officially gained the profession. With runescribing, repeatedly practicing the act of etching runes increased the likelihood of earning the profession. Erica’s case with alchemy was different—while anyone could perform basic medical alchemy using herbs, water, and heat, she would have needed to create a functional item recognized as an alchemical product to gain the profession.
Professions like alchemy, tailoring, or any craft that could be done sloppily were relatively easy to gain, as long as you had a recipe or basic instructions to follow. Runescribing, however, required talent—specifically, a steady hand and the ability to etch a rune that precisely matched the one envisioned in your mind.
As for me, I considered myself an above-average artist—not a prodigy by any means, but skilled enough to stand out. That said, true prodigies in art usually pursued more prestigious paths than runescribing. Many dedicated their lives to creating magical paintings, works of art that served no practical purpose but were breathtakingly beautiful and commanded exorbitant prices.
After a couple hours of tirelessly etching the same five runes—strength, agility, intelligence, perception, and vitality—over and over, the System finally delivered the long-awaited notification.
You’ve gained a profession!
Runescribe (Rare) - Create runes using creativity, precision and magical understanding. Specializes in engraving runes, symbols imbued with power. Runes channel magical energy, providing stat enhancement, triggering skills, or altering physical and metaphysical properties. Runes may be applied on, armor, weapons, gemstones, parchment, or living tissue.
Stats gained per level: +2 Int, +2 Wis, +2 Per, +4 Free Points
Would you like to learn this profession?
Yes/No
I smiled to myself, pleasantly surprised. I had half expected it to take most of the day to gain the runescribing profession—if I was even skilled enough to achieve it at all. To have earned it after only a few hours of working on basic runes felt like a small victory. Without hesitation, I mentally selected yes.
You have selected “Runescribe”
Profession Level up!
+2 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom, +2 Perception, +4 Free Points
Race Level up!
Human (H) - +2 Free Points, +1 All Stats
My mind went blank as the familiar, yet blissful sensation of stats being injected into me washed over me. I tried to savor the feeling, holding onto it as long as possible, but as my body adjusted to the new stats, the sensation slowly faded. I couldn’t help but think of the free points I’d accumulated, teasing at the back of my mind. I had decided to hold off on using them for now, though. If we were heading into a dungeon with just the two of us, I’d need more vitality to survive a few hits. On the other hand, pumping it all into agility might ensure I never got hit at all. Perception would be key as well, since even now, my senses couldn’t keep up with my body’s speed.
I had some important decisions to make before our delve, particularly regarding how to allocate my stats. Vitality was a crucial stat for every being in the multiverse. I’d heard of a guy who had once achieved godhood, only to die instantly afterward. His story had a promise of greatness, of being the most powerful being in the multiverse—even surpassing the Paragons—but his overconfidence proved to be his downfall.
He had somehow managed to merge all his resource stats—wisdom, endurance, and vitality—into his health. Every action he took would cost him health, luckily he was a healer. His skills were designed around attrition, healing more than they cost him, and with a few powerful damage-dealing abilities, he could simply outlast anyone. He would run around, healing himself while his enemies wore down, unable to keep up. It would’ve been terrifying if he was still around. He had the potential to be the pinnacle of power, perhaps even ruling the multiverse, but he wasn’t smart enough to play it out. As soon as he achieved godhood, he went straight for Odin, who casually swung his forgehammer and ended him instantly.
Yeah, I didn’t buy any of that nonsense. It sounded like a cautionary tale designed to teach kids about the dangers of overconfidence in the multiverse. If it was real, then that guy was a supreme idiot who had somehow gotten unbelievably lucky just to reach godhood in the first place.