“I’ll become a Bounty Hunter,” Yvette answered without hesitation.

“You needn’t make concessions out of misplaced gratitude,” Winslow said, surprised. “This man deserves no leniency. A lesson in humility might temper his arrogance.”

“With allies like Winslow, who needs adversaries?” Ulysses spread his hands. “A prudent choice. Virtue does reap rewards.”

“Everything’s unfamiliar since my awakening. Formal membership would overwhelm me. Working under your guidance seems wiser.” Yvette paused. “You saved me from those cultists. Alone, I’d never have escaped. If becoming a Bounty Hunter helps repay that debt, I’m grateful.” And keeps mind-readers from discovering I’m an interloper, she added silently.

Noting Winslow’s protective demeanor, she offered him a reassuring smile.

“Mutually beneficial—no losses incurred,” Ulysses declared triumphantly. “Now, the origins and rules of Transcendence.”

Yvette straightened, committing every word to memory.

“All Transcendent power stems from deities,” Ulysses began, firelight gilding his features. “Whether you revere them matters not. Engaging with gods rarely ends well.

We inhabit a cold cosmos—planets, natural forces, nameless ancients lurking in shadows. Legends speak of half-divine kings and priestly castes communing with greater beings: Sumerian rulers interpreting dream omens, Theban pharaohs harnessing underworld forces, Dionysian maenads devouring sacrificial flesh… Though these gods have departed, their legacy corrupts modern Transcendents. Some even carry their tainted blood.

Today’s fools dig up forbidden lore, begging vanished gods for power. Most reap catastrophe. Deities care nothing for mortals—their gaze alone can shatter minds. Few survive such ‘blessings.’”

He explained two Transcendent types: descendants of ancient bloodlines (like himself and Winslow) who might inherit ancestral gifts, and those like Yvette—ordinary humans transformed through rituals or divine whims. The latter’s powers varied wildly, their sanity often crumbling under the strain.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Now, Transcendence’s hierarchy.” Ulysses handed her an aged vellum tome.

The illuminated page depicted a familiar glyph—a golden Tree of Life, ten sephiroth arranged in three columns, a serpent coiling through its branches.

“The Sephirothic Tree—humanity’s crowning metaphysical blueprint. Ten emanations from Malkuth(Kingdom), the earthly realm—” he traced the lowest sphere “—to Kether (Crown), divine perfection. The serpent’s path marks our ascent from mortality to godhood. You stand at Malkuth’s threshold.”

“Where do you and Mr. O’Connell reside?” Yvette eyed the Hebrew inscriptions.

“Both at Tiphareth (Beauty), fifth sphere. Beyond Yesod (Foundation), Hod (Splendor), Netzach(Victory).”

A five-tier gap… Wise not to resist earlier.

“Malkuth—gateway to death, shadow, and Eden. Crossing it severs you from humanity. Power brings blessings… and curses.”

“Curses?”

“Transcendents transcend mortal laws. Many revel in depravity, evading consequences until…” Ulysses’ gaze darkened. “…their humanity erodes. The power twists them—like Thomas Simon’s forked tongue. Final corruption leaves them monstrous.”

“How do we resist?” So gods here are all elder horrors, Yvette realized.

“Anchors preserve sanity—religion, codes, rigid lifestyles. Some adhere to stricter morals than mundanes.”

“Religion? But deities here are—”

“Not worshiping them. Established faiths—” Ulysses waved dismissively “—Anglicanism, Catholicism. The latter’s unpopular here.”

“The Holy Trinity exists?!”

“Few clergy truly believe. The Trinity reflects human virtue—a mirror against the void. Many Transcendents adopt it successfully.”

Create your own god? Clever.

“Paths vary,” Winslow added. “My code follows knightly virtues: humility, valor, compassion…”

Fits his character.

“…while Sir Ulysses adheres to the Mortal Path.”

Yvette blinked. This peacock?

“The Noble Path requires integrity and duty—qualities beyond some.” Winslow’s eyes glinted. “Maintaining baseline morality already strains certain parties.”

???

He struggles with basic decency?!

“Gods differ from Frenchmen in one regard: Gods don’t presume themselves French.” Winslow’s dry jab hung in the air—a dig at Gallic arrogance.

Ulysses smirked, unperturbed.

As they debated, Yvette pondered her own anchor. Religion? Never. But what else…?