Sorin had never been to Universitas Phantasia, but he was struck by a sense of familiarity the moment he stepped off the stairs and into the sprawling lane leading to the quad.

The university was a peaceful place despite the troubles in the outside world. Young students and old professors comfortably sat on outdoor stone furniture as they discussed ancient history, the latest historical findings, and recent developments and their historical context.

The ancient pre-cataclysmic buildings were proof that the university was far older than Olympia’s current power structure. In particular, the ribbed pillars stood out and reminded Sorin of other similar constructions.

“This is a temple,” said Sorin, running his hand along a cracked pillar to feel the hints of divinity. “An original Olympian temple.”

“To my predecessor, the Goddess of Knowledge, whose power I was lucky enough to inherit four hundred years ago,” said the Wise One. “A power I have been refining ever since.”

Sorin pondered this as they made their way into one of the buildings adjacent the quad. The building’s title, the Athen Librarium, was deceptive, as the building contained many glass cases with ancient artifacts. Original tomes and their copies were a minority.

“You said combat was never your strong suit, but if I recall correctly, Athena was also the Goddess of War.”

The Wise one grimaced. “The emergence of Strife had far-reaching effects, including, but not limited to the destruction of the Aegis of the Wise and its corresponding authority.

The unranked demigod-tier God Seed led their sorry group past crowds of gawking students and stern-looking professors. Without exception, their eyes widened upon seeing the Wise One; their altered their courses and cleared the way.

Their motley group passed through a pair of warded double doors at the back of the main Librarium into what could only be called a museum. Thousands of warded display tables were splayed out across the spatially expanded room. Just the sight of the treasures on said tables provoked an intense reaction from Gareth and his companions.

“I will say this once, and only once,” said the Wise One. “These items have been painstakingly collected by the university, and therefore rightfully belongs to the university. In the interest of knowledge and returning artifacts to their intended inheritors, you will all be given a single chance to walk through this room. Should you resonate with one or more artifacts, you will be allowed to take one, and only one.”

“Many thanks for your understanding,” said Gareth, inclining his head to the Wise one. “Jeffrey,” he snapped. “You will go first. See what you can discover.”

A young man, the weakest among them, walked slowly through the assortment of weapons, armor, shields, and artifacts. Only a few of the artifacts stirred as he walked past them. Fewer reactions occurred the further he walked.

“You’ve managed to provoke a reaction from four nameless artifacts,” said the Wise One when he finished the circuit. “Sword, helm, shield, or pendant—take your pick.”

“I’ll take the sword,” said Jeffrey. He walked up to a tarnished bronze short sword covered in potent runes. The greenish-blue coloring on the weapon faded as golden energy travelled from the man’s hand into the weapon, forming a link between them.

“Interesting,” said Sorin as he noted the details of the reaction and the nature of the short sword.

“Isn’t it?” said the Wise One with a smile. “From what I understand, it was a weapon forged for one of the many god bastards roaming the world in ancient times. You’ll notice that its source runes are extremely compatible with the boy, regardless of the weapon’s intriguing power source.”

“Bradey! Doyle! Marsh!” shouted Gareth. The next three weakest of the newly minted Order of the Ancient Ways moved through the tables. Each of them secured lesser artifacts, and it was the same for all who’d reached early Flesh-Sanctification.

The mechanism of choosing doesn’t seem to be related to cultivation methods, noted Sorin as the middle Flesh-Sanctification users trickled through. Instead, the mechanisms are honed to elemental compatibility and the wielder’s ability to handle the weapon’s energies. Because in the end, these artifacts are simply channeling a small thread of power from an otherwise potent power source.

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Sorin’s analysis changed, however, when those who’d reached the late Flesh-Sanctification realm passed through. Whereas before, it was the runes that reacted to these individuals, now, it was the core source of their power that reacted. Without exception, all provoked a reaction from the lesser weapons, but only a few managed to provoke a reaction from the more potent weapons protected by increasingly simple frameworks.

Finally, it was the Night Watcher’s turn. He ignored the lesser weapons and instead proceed to a small bundle of folded cloth at the very end. This artifact, Sorin noted, had no channeling runes. Instead, it was a composite lump of power that hummed as the archer approached it. And when he reached it, the artifact crawled up his arm and onto his back, shrouding him in utter darkness. The weapon and the cultivator were perfectly compatible.

“This artifact was one of our most precious finds,” explained the Wise One as the Night Watcher walked back. “The wielder’s name is long forgotten, but the artifact itself was known as the Cloak of Starless Night.”

“A well-deserved name,” said Sorin. “Though I’m concerned about the source of its power.”

“Like finds like,” said the Wise one with a mysterious smile. “Just because their cores differ slightly, this needs not stay the same indefinitely.”

Finally, it was Gareth’s turn to proceed through the tables. And unlike the Night Watcher, there was no specific artifact that he was destined for.

Instead, virtually all the weapons hummed in response to his presence. Several of the medium-rated artifacts even seemed to fear him.

In the end, he set his sights on an orb of metal that absolutely loathed him. Despite this, Gareth reached out and forced a connection.

The item struggled for many minutes before letting out a pulse of submission. Its aura flared and filled the room with an unbearable weight.

“The Sphere of Atlas is a resentful artifact that has never resonated with anyone possessing a divine bloodline,” said the Wise One as Gareth walked back. “It resents divinity in all forms, as it has always been a slave to powerful deities.”

“Many thanks for your gifts to the war effort,” said Gareth, bowing deeply to the Wise One. “The Order of the Ancient Ways will not forget this kindness.”

“Think nothing of it,” said the Wise One. “The upcoming conflict concerns the future of humanity.”

“What now?” Sorin asked Gareth as he made to leave.

“Now?” said Gareth, looking back. “Now, we try to carve out a piece of this wretched world. We find more people like us that possess potential without power.”

“I wasn’t referring to that,” said Sorin. “But rather our relationship. Aren’t you or are you not my watchman?”

Gareth closed his eyes. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Sorin. None of us are strong enough to fulfill the role. You’ll need to watch yourself going forward.”

“Reee!” screamed Lorimer from Sorin’s pocket.

Gareth chuckled. “You’re just as bad as he is, Lorimer. But I suppose you can keep an eye on each other.”

With that, Gareth swept his cloak dramatically and led his order out of the museum. Their expressions were grim despite the new weapons they’d armed themselves with.

This was his true answer to Sorin’s question. Gareth now had his own path to follow and would not be turning back.

“Lawrence,” said Sorin to no particular person in the room. “Why don’t you show us what you took?”

There was an uncomfortable cough as Lawrence stepped out of the shadows looking completely unapologetic. “The short sword asked me to take it, alright? It’s not stealing if the weapon is sentient.”

Sorin looked to the wise one, who shrugged. “The Primordial Key Blade is one of five unsealed titanic artifacts we’ve recovered,” said the Wise One. “These artifacts are notoriously hostile to bloodlines, such that even the slightest hint of a divine bloodline will lead to rejection.” She gave Lawrence an amused look. “That someone so untalented could climb to such heights… it’s no wonder the blade practically threw itself at him.”

Lawrence let out a sigh of relief. “It’s hard to be so desirable, you know. By the way, did you see the look on Gareth’s face? You’d think he was martyring himself, the way he was leading his group out of the university.”

“He’s got a difficult fight ahead of him,” agreed Sorin. “It’s a pity he doesn’t know those former Nighthawks very well.”

“He needs someone to watch his back,” said Lawrence. “Someone he trusts.”

Sorin nodded. “Will you be protecting him openly or in secret?”

“In secret for now,” said Lawrence. “It’ll add to the sombre air of mystery he’s cultivating.”

The rogue held out a hand, and Sorin took it. “Take care, Lawrence. I imagine the next decade will be a rough one.”

“Hey, no reason to be all mopey about this,” said Lawrence. “We’ll be seeing each other around, right?” Lawrence vanished into a portal of thread before Sorin was forced to lie to him.

Sorin sighed and turned to the Wise One. “I sensed a tugging in the Web of Strife. Astley has awakened.”

“So she has,” said the Wise One. “I notice you didn’t correct that young man. You don’t intend to see him again at all, do you?”

Sorin shook his head. “He has his path, and I have mine. He simply doesn’t have the strength or the potential to make it up the mountain.”

“You seem so sure of yourself,” said the Wise One.

“You wouldn’t be the first person to accuse me of hubris,” said Sorin.

“Your phrasing leads me to believe you’ve independently cracked the puzzle that’s been stumping me for the past four hundred years,” said the Wise One.

“It’s only a guess,” said Sorin. “What I need now is confirmation.”

“This I can give you,” said the Wise One. “Just know that when some Truths are known, turning back is not an option.”