Massive sheets of ice covered the entire shattered peak of a volcano on the 50th floor of the Tower of Aetherius. The ice held a sheen of red otherworldliness to it, for one did not find Ethereal ice naturally. An abandoned altar of ice lay dormant now. No sign remained that a mere hour ago it had been the sight of powerful summoning and resurrection magic. A dozen meters away, a large, elaborate tent had three individuals inside. All three sat around a gorgeous wooden table, although with one, they sat on the table instead of on a chair.

The individual sitting on the table was a black house cat with yellow eyes. Arkaziel, the black cat, was a race called a StarMane. The shapeshifting feline was a draconic cat whose true form exceeded 50 meters. Additionally, the cat was an Ethereal light and shadow cultivator (one well into the 3rd tier), who possessed the genetic memories of its predecessors and an appetite for nearly everything. The combined arrogance of a cat and a dragon instilled a natural belief in him he was the main character of the universe.

Arkaziel lapped at a bowl of milky alcohol gained in the tower city of Nivathar between bites of ambrosial fruit salad.

“So, are you ready to start now, blue?” Arkaziel impatiently asked.

“No, yeah, I can talk while you two eat, I guess.” Aetheria answered.

The aqua haired woman sat next to the feline. Occasionally, she pets him. The woman’s hair glows unnaturally, with an internal luminosity that defies the natural order. Her eyes also glow, although they are red and emit and glow that leaves those who witness it questioning the natural order of the universe. Although the only woman in the room, she is the tallest. Her full height measures 188 centimeters, although that changes on her whim. Like the cat, she, too, is a shapeshifter. Aetheria wears a long red trench coat, an aqua blue scarf, a black tank top, black canvas pants, fingerless black gloves, and dark reddish black boots made of dragon scale.

Like the cat, she is a 3rd tier cultivator of the Ethereal, but her specialty lay with ice and freezing.

“Unless you want me to wait?” Ria asked the man who sat across from her.

Werylin Amaryllis, once Imperator of a kingdom, former ghost, nodded eagerly.

“Please, I’d like to hear what has happened since you stumbled into my tomb.” Werylin, an elf, had long purple hair, lavender eyes, pale skin, and the awkwardness of someone freshly resurrected after thousands of years spent as a specter.

“So polite. You could learn a thing or two, Ark.” Ria chided her companion, who hissed at her in annoyance.

“Alright, so I guess my story starts on planet Earth. I grew up in a wonderful place called Minnesota. It’s not entirely relevant, beyond saying my gaming hobby brought me into the spotlight of some gods. When I died there, two Primordial’s offered me the chance of slipping the samsara and remain myself if I toppled a goddess for them. Seemed like a great idea to me. Live the life I’d spent my entire life on earth reading, playing, and dreaming about? Who wouldn’t say yes to that?”

“So, I got reincarnated into a new body in the world of Grief, an ancient world ruled by Oizys, Goddess of Misery. I reincarnated in the lost city of Nova Azura, original galactic home of the Aetherial race. I technically qualified to be born there, as an adopted child of Nyx and Aetherius, although I’m still human.”

“Are you still human?” Werylin inquired softly.

“Evolved human? I think of myself as human, and that’s the important part, maybe? Anyway. A god called the Trickster apparently talked Oizys into terms that the Primordial’s used to make me, and once she realized she got swindled, she got pissed. After millennia of trying to destroy Nova Azura, she succeeded, but only after I escaped. I found myself on the island with the Tower of Aetherius, learned I could regenerate from almost anything, found your lodge, met you, then entered the Tower.”

“Wait, you aren’t going to tell him about getting eaten by a lizard?” Arkaziel asked sweetly.

“It isn’t important. The Tower is.. Well, the Tower. I got to the fourth floor to find a training city. I learned a lot during the years I stayed there. Basic cultivation techniques, a few Arts, alchemy, blacksmithing, dancing, and a whole slew of languages. It was my first time meeting an Ethereal cultivator too, when the Soul Witch took me under her wing.”

“Yeah she did.” Arkaziel snickered.

“Shut it. Ignore the cat. Although yes, I bound my soul to Aoibhe’s, and we’re committed to one another. She’ll be joining us when I become at least an Ethereal Scion.”

Werylin coughed, looking slightly nervous.

“Just what tier is she?”

“Oh, Aoibhe is on the fifth tier. She’s an Ethereal Lord, well, Lady.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Werylin sputtered a little.

“She could destroy a planet on her own!”

“Well, yeah. I probably could myself, even just in the third tier. I am the Etherfrost Asura, after all.”

Arkaziel snorted. “No destroying worlds until I’m big enough to eat them. That’s my food!”

Ria bopped the kitty on the nose. “No eating worlds.”

“Anyway, oh yeah, I ran into your great grandkids on the second floor. They were doing well, although your great-grandson Tasmin had some Nether curse, so I removed it. Also, maybe I slept with your great-granddaughter, Ithyrra. Don’t look at me like that. I had just started cultivating Aether and you know how new power feels. I was high on power, super horny, and things just happened. Anyway, moving on. Oh, it turns out Tasmin’s curse went back to your daughter, Alora. She turned to necromancy inside the Tower, turned herself into a Lich.”

Werylin sighed.

“She was a wonderful little girl but had always had a dark twist to her thoughts. She had the most amazing skill with pastels.” Elven lifespans being what they were, Werylin’s response to the death of his daughter struck Ria as off. Maybe his time as an undead left him with no sympathy for someone who turned to it willingly?

“Sorry. I destroyed Alora on the fourth floor, along with a lot of Death Knights and other powerful undead.” Ria said the destroyed part a little reluctantly.

“The only outcome for a lich.” Werylin’s sadness shone through clearly there. Ria gave him a few moments of silence to come to terms with things before she continued. After a few minutes, and the positive energy infusion of the ambrosial fruit, Werylin nodded for Ria to continue.

“After that, it was a lot of loneliness and violence until I came across Ark here. I helped fight off some nasty insects, we forged a bond, and climbed the tower as partners. We kept running into encounters Aetherius set up in the tower. A goddess once called Thalassa, or Aetheria, ended up being my first mercy kill, but she gave me her Flame. We met Ymir, the Ice Giant, and he gave me his Flame, too.”

Arkaziel laughed at the simple glossing over of their adventures.

“After that, it’s a lot of violence. I bridged into tier two and then three. I got the Flame of Khaos and made a few mistakes. I created a conduit inside my soul to the Origin, the source of Ethereal energy. Turns out people don’t do that for a reason. I keep getting bombarded with emotions and desires from the Origin that are really a pain in my ass. Beyond the normal climb the tower, my priorities right now are to figure out how to make a working Core, and to fix the emotional bleed through.”

“You connected your soul to the source of Ethereal power?” Werylin’s lavender eyes expressed grave incredulity every bit as thoroughly as his voice did.

“Humans, right?” Arkaziel laughed, to the discomfort of the human and elf. Cats laughing felt unnatural. The judging look Arkaziel gave both, however, was perfectly in line for a cat.

“Cripes, can’t a girl make a minor mistake here and there? I acted rashly and made a mistake, maybe. If this works though, I’m giving you both a massive I told you so. Now I must figure out how to move forward. Themis said it was possible. I just need to figure out how to make a new type of Core. Since I have pretty much unlimited power to draw from the Origin, a regular Core won’t help me, so I need to think up a specialty core that could be useful and still cover the requirements to hit tier four.”

“Basically, I’ve joined the most ridiculously overpowered climbing party Grief has ever fielded, because I helped you? You didn’t even think, hey, I bet he’s great in a fight if he fought off an Orc Tide?” Werylin’s offended pride seemed liable to break if someone didn’t answer right. Arkaziel, strangely, stayed quiet.

“I’ve met a lot of your clan; they were all competent and mostly awesome. Karieth, however, sold me on your capabilities. I might have unlimited power from the Origin, but I’m still a third tier and can’t manifest nearly as much as I can draw. I’m a brawler, a tank, defender, whatever term you want to use. Arkaziel is a ranged skirmisher with close quarters capabilities because of being a StarMane. Another close quarters fighter with magical support is a perfect complement to our party, especially since Aoibhe is a Witch.”

That Ria had put at least some thought into things seemed to mollify the elf.

“How did you get my sword, by the way?” Werylin hefted the sheathed blade.

“I don’t know how it got there, but a collector in Dragon’s Roar, the Arena City, had your sword. I had to trade some Nidhogg scales, some rare alchemical ingredients, and a whole pile of demonic cores for it. Did I overpay?” Ria honestly did not know, but once she heard the merchant had Harmonious Tempest, she had moved quickly to gain it.

“It is hard to say. On Grief, Harmonious Tempest is an unparalleled blade forged in the earliest days of the world. It is a legend not just in Clan Amaryllis, but across all of Grief. They forged the blade from a fallen star and quenched it in the donated blood of an ancient silver dragon. They made the hilt from a branch gifted to our clan by the Lord of the Forests, and they crafted the guard from fragments of armor from the first Imperator. On top of all the unique components, every wielder of Harmonious Tempest adds an ability to the blade. Every generation to wield it makes the sword more powerful.”

Ria whistled appreciatively.

“Money well spent then.” She smiled.

“More than you know. I entwine part of my soul to the blade. Your summon may not have worked without it.” Werylin laughed.

“So, can you tell us a bit more about your exact abilities?” Arkaziel inquired.

“Well, as I informed Aetheria in the Tomb, I started my path as a Minstrel and Spellsinger. Familial responsibilities forced me to abandon that direction and walk the path of a warrior mage. Cultivation wise, I am a 3rd tier Cultivator.”

“Which path?” Arkaziel pushed.

“It is a bit of a mess, but I walk a Path called the Aria of the Ever-changing Tapestry.”

“Never heard of it.” The StarMane sounded unimpressed.

Not offended in the slightest, Werylin nodded.

“I named it myself. In short, I practice the sword style of Clan Amaryllis, and mix the power of the Words of Creation. The Words of Creation are a creation myth among my people, that the Gods brought the universe into being by Speaking it. Think of spellsong, but with less emphasis on music. Much of my magic still resonates with the harmony of the universe, but I do not use spellsong the way I did as a minstrel.”

“That sounds sweet. So, you’re just muddling through on your own path? That’s awesome. Welcome to the club.” Ria gave Werylin a big, encouraging smile.