Niven was almost quick to refute what the ‘holy one’ was saying, but he caught himself. To do so in such a manner was tantamount to admitting it directly.

He reasoned that ‘following the observances of a higher power’ wasn’t a dead giveaway into his unique situation, as there were countless beings that could be considered higher than humans, minor deities among them. Niven had heard of stories about them, and it made sense for them to be more personable than those that reigned from on high.

As such, it wasn’t too unheard of to be blessed by one of them, nor was it illegal for someone small like him to fall under their gazes. Even if the being that he hosted was not recognized by Othos’ pantheon, it did not matter. All that mattered was that they still prayed to a recognized deity along with them.

Albern likely only recognized him as hearing the voices of others during their conversation after Niven froze up upon having Apollyon's sudden warning being projected into his mind. A surface level observation. It could mean all manner of things, and the less suspicious he behaved, the less likely they were to come to the truth that the being he communicated with warranted more attention than normal.

Who would instantly assume he had contracted an otherworldly being that could survive an attack that destroyed a world? They'd have to be insane to jump to such a conclusion and their ravings would likely not be entertained by those whose opinions actually mattered.

Thus, Niven felt that he hadn't been immediately exposed as having a pact with an otherworldly entity that was potentially malicious to the world they resided in.

Furthermore, he wasn’t the one that had to worry even if he were exposed. It shouldn’t even be Apollyon that was afraid, either.

Albern would be the one that had to worry about his own wellbeing, as Niven doubted Apollyon wanted to be in the limelight so soon. He wouldn’t be surprised if it took matters into its own… tendrils?... should things come down to it. Silencing someone who still deigned to hold a conversation with him shouldn't be too difficult, right?

Apollyon was the one that had directed him here, anyways.

Niven didn’t think it would make as major a mistake as leading them towards something neither of them could handle. And if it did… then Niven wouldn’t believe it can stay as indifferent as it was right now.

With this understanding, he quickly calmed down. He blinked slowly and then walked down towards the other party. Pulling a seat out, he joined Albern at the table.

“You’re right. About all of those things.” Niven stated. It was better to say he was a follower of something since denying it was useless. Being more upfront about this relatively harmless fact about himself could allow him to steer Albern away from the less palatable truths.

He then continued, “We do have a lot in common… if you are telling the truth about yourself. But that has nothing to do with what I stopped here for.”

Niven nodded towards the window at the stiff looking residents, “Since you are not a local, you should accept coin, right?” Turning his gaze back inside, he directed them to the bags that he assumed were Albern’s belongings. He asked straightforwardly, “Do you have any spare clothing, food or drink? And if not, would you be willing to help a fellow traveler by giving me an introduction to the people outside?”

Not the least fazed by Niven’s change in demeanor, Albern replied, “Gladly. Though I’m sorry to say that I won’t be able to spare anything. I have only the barest necessities. However, the villagers here should have some. Since I’ll only act as an intermediary, I won’t be needing any payment. You can stay here with me, as well. I’ll speak for you about your needs. These people are truly quite welcoming and won’t mind another person here.”

Without waiting for Niven’s thanks, he got up and left. Niven watched as he slowly picked himself up and exited the room, giving him some much needed alone time.

Niven stayed put, deciding against following Albern. It would probably be best for the priest to vouch for him before he interacted with them.

He considered his options. While he was a little unnerved at Albern’s nonchalance, that was all. They were not hostile, and it was easy to say that they will likely never cross paths again after this brief intersection.

Yet, he was a little unsure about his judgment. He hadn’t come into enough contact with other transcendents and didn’t have a suitable reference for their actions. His past had been relatively mundane, after all.

After sitting a while in silence and believing Albern to have gone far enough away, Niven asked, “Why did you warn me?”

“Because he’s early into Tier 3 along with being a sentient being, which is entirely different from what you’ve fought before… and you need practice being given information midway into a conversation. I’ve always advocated for more knowledge. You can’t let something like this distract you,” Apollyon provided a vague and unhelpful answer. It then changed the topic, “You really need to start conversing with me silently. Otherwise, we will continue to have situations like this.”

Niven wanted to nod in agreement, but learning how to spiritually project his thoughts, even with their soul-link as an intermediary, was not as simple as just saying so. He had tried multiple times according to Apollyon’s instruction, but he failed to achieve anything even remotely close to it.

This wasn’t something it could demonstrate to him, either, since it was something deeply linked to the self and soul. At the very least, Niven felt that even if Apollyon could accomplish this it wasn’t willing to tip its hand for something so inconsequential.

“So by saying he’s beyond what I can handle, you mean I can’t kill him head on?” He asked. Given Apollyon’s rather absurd attack power, it was unlikely for the fault to lie with it. More likely than not, it was him who would be the one dragging them down.

“Correct. Even if you throw me, he is likely to make a successful counterattack before I impale him. Unless you catch him unawares, the best-case scenario would be the death of both of you,” It analyzed.

Niven considered this for a moment. Indeed, someone like that was beyond what he could kill here.

But… wasn’t he thinking in the wrong direction?

Why was he even trying to find a way to kill the other party in the first place?

This wasn’t the Divide or a place beyond the reach of civilization and humanity. Things didn’t have to instantly devolve into conflict. There was nothing to prove in doing so.

People each had their own objectives, and so long as they didn’t interfere with one another, it was unlikely for a fight to begin. Why should he simply assume they were malicious? However…

“We can’t trust him?” Niven still sought counsel. Since Apollyon thought it wise to warn him during their conversation, it must have other thoughts as well. Maybe it had picked up on something he hadn't.

“It’s all up to you. Whatever you finally decide to do, I’ll support you, even if you go and slaughter everyone here. Know I am by your side.”

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Niven blanched at the thought then exclaimed, “Why would I want that?!” Noticing he had perhaps been a little too loud he covered his mouth, hoping no one else heard him. Then, in a lowered voice akin to a whisper he condemned, “Are you crazy?”

Why would he even come close to subjecting others to the same fate as he? There didn’t even seem to be a reason to do so. It was completely unprompted. He wasn’t callous enough to perform a massacre like that supplicant… or Apollyon. Once again, he was reminded of his partner’s utterly alien ethics and that their ideas weren’t necessarily good to follow to the letter. He wasn’t in the mood to humor a joke like that.

Niven meditated at the table to calm down, savoring the atmosphere of civilization. Perhaps he had been too harsh in his outburst. Was what Apollyon said not necessarily unprompted?

Feeling a bitter taste in his mouth at the idea, Niven shook his head thoroughly, cleansing his thoughts. It had been wandering in an unpleasant direction - one he didn't want to go down. He didn't want his humanity to be nudged further and further until his past self could no longer recognize him. How could he properly give the people he promised to bury rest if he had become an entirely different person?

Why would he need to do something like that?

Society worked because people gave others the benefit of the doubt. To assume everyone else was an adversary would be too tiring on the mind and soul. He wasn't willing to become so paranoid that it would be directed towards everyone he met. Suspicion needed to be controlled and logical, and pointing it every which way was actively detrimental, as it diverted attention away from actual threats.

Taking a deep breath, Niven looked once more to the people outside. It had been a little while since he had entered, and some people had come out of hiding and continued on with their lives. They were still a little incongruous with what he had pictured the rural life to be, but he chalked it up to both them still being somewhat nervous from having a newcomer they knew nothing about barging in and Niven having no idea what that even entailed.

Yet, he felt a sense of peace from them. Simple and pure, existences that had been untainted by the horrors he had experienced.

At times in the past he had wondered whether it would have been better to live in the outlying settlements rather than in a populous city. Perhaps in a place like this, it wouldn’t even matter if one’s parents were missing. There was a saying that it took a whole village to raise a child.

Although he had only been in the wilderness for a week, seeing other living people was a welcome reprieve.

Granted, he’d already recognized this whole situation to be a little off. The man who professed himself to be a ‘priest’ was the most suspicious, but Niven couldn’t quite pin down the feeling he had.

However, he wasn't allowed to think about this for too long. After what seemed to be only half an hour, the ‘holy one’ returned, holding what looked to be a new set of simple clothing and a blanket. They were a little oversized, but it should be easy enough to use string to bind them. Niven himself had worn something similar back at the orphanage, as they were rather hard to outgrow and didn’t require frequent replacement.

“They were able to spare some things for you.” He gestured vaguely to the outside, “I have already thanked them in your stead.”

Niven accepted them warmly. Even if the other person was strange, at least they were willing to help him. It was rude to pry into other people’s lives, as well.

He set the gift aside. Even if what he was currently wearing was close to tatters at this point, he was still uncomfortable shamelessly changing in front of other people. Apollyon didn’t count, but he wanted to wait until Albern had left.

The ‘priest’ took the hint and left the room for Niven to change.

As he delicately took off the tattered armor and removed the equally tattered underclothes, Niven’s fingers traced along his smooth skin. They used to be much rougher. There were scars and other signs of wear and tear that were now gone.

Whatever Apollyon had done to heal him had also removed all traces of his hardship as well. He had caught glimpses of this change through the gaps of his armor and his heightened sense of touch, but it was different when everything was laid bare before him.

As Niven looked at his new self, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be happy or sad about it. Everything about him was an indication of the clean break from his past.

Shaking his head, he put on the simple clothing that was identical to the ones worn by the people he had seen outside. He patted them down and then tied the strings. While dressing himself, he thought about asking for more sets, but decided against it. They should do for now until he got to a larger settlement. His current style wasn’t really prone to getting what he wore damaged, anyways.

Yet, just as he was about to call Albern in, his pupils shrank as he felt threads pierce his skin.

Startled, Niven attempted to rip them apart, but was unable to do so, as they proved too numerous and resistant.

The clothes themselves started to cling to his skin, and he wasn't able to get a good grip to tear them off. All over his body, from the shirt and pants and even the string that bound those together seemed to unravel and dig into him.

“Sharpen!” Niven commanded. It was so sudden that he couldn’t give something more complicated.

He had Apollyon become claws, as anything larger would be too unwieldy with him getting swarmed so much. Scratching all around, he was not reserved in his attacks and made numerous gashes along his body as a result but was still unable to keep pace. The threads just kept on splitting without end.

Even torn to shreds, they still wriggled back into him from somewhere else and connected with other threads seamlessly.

After only a few moments of struggle, he felt his control over his body slip. The string that had made their way into him solidified and resisted any movements he made.

How quickly things turned for the worse. It hadn't even taken a minute for things to change.

Now bound, Niven turned his mind, reviewing how he had lost so miserably. The signs for Albern’s treachery had been there, but he had ignored them. Or rather, he hadn’t thought that there was a reason for them to attack him. And even if he were to be attacked, it would not be in such an insidious way.

His guard was down due to a number of factors.

They had no intersection before, and had no reason to fight each other, at least according to Niven’s understanding.

Albern styled himself as a priest, nothing related to clothing or string.

He was reminded of his need for a change in clothes by Apollyon itself long before their encounter.

He was the one to make the request.

The request was fulfilled by Albern using what he believed to be from the villagers, who were unlikely to cheat him.

And, most importantly, Apollyon had not warned against him putting them on.

His partner could be said to be sabotaging him at this point. But it had made itself abundantly clear that it would only make suggestions if it felt like it. If it suddenly decided not to cooperate at a critical time like this... Well, his current state was enough of an answer to that. His partner had been too helpful, and Niven felt that it should have a vested interest in his survival, so he had unconsciously offloaded too much of his decision making onto it despite it constantly saying it wasn't no be relied upon.

Perhaps this was its retaliation for him getting too sloppy.

It was probably waiting for his instructions. But, as he was now, Niven couldn’t even move his mouth. It hadn’t taken the initiative to do anything thus far, not helping him more than it had been directed.

Fully pacified, the culprit came in calmly.

The priest commented as he walked, “Ah, you’re still conscious? My, what strong resolve.”

The mask had been taken off, but Albern continued with his old gentlemanly demeanor, holding that slight smile on his face. Only, Niven now felt that it looked far more sinister than kind.

His movements locked, he could only watch as the man sauntered closer and closer.

Stopping right before Niven, Albern patted down the wrinkles on Niven’s outfit and admired what he likely believed to be another addition to his puppet show. Such a casual dismissal showcased the level of threat Albern regarded him at the moment.

“A level 11 Weaponmaster? That’s a new one. I haven’t seen such a class before.” the ‘Holy One’ muttered to himself. He then turned to Niven’s right hand, “It’s pretty special. I can’t make contact with it through my threads. So you found an artifact somewhere and got yourself a fancy class? How lucky. Is the thing you're talking to also in there?”

The fog of war had been lifted, and Albern seemed to think he had everything in control. Where [Identify] should have failed despite the priest being a far higher level thanks to Apollyon, he was now able to see Niven's 'true' strength somehow through the threads. He no longer treated Niven like an equal, more so as a specimen to be studied.

Niven wanted to resist, he wanted to scream and shout, but the wriggling tendrils that were now deep within him forbade any of that. Knowing any physical struggle was useless at this point, his mind focused on the one thing that could break the current dead end: Apollyon. With his enemy so defenseless, it was simply the perfect time to strike.

Yet, it was refusing to act on its own.