Murai knew that a need to fear for life was a necessity to grow in many instances. For him, it spoke of fewer problems since he could brute force through them with his experience. Usually. Steady progression or training was worth a surprising amount of care. Some things required much more than that, true, while some resolutions needed considerably more attention.
Slow and calm progression was the embodiment of magic. Many worlds thought of it in good manners, taking sources of magic as a source of knowledge and timeless light. It should be something that could shake the world or people depending on talents and mana. Countless cultures worked with that ideology on many levels, which was something Murai saw and lived through personally many times.
For him, his lives went beyond that scope, presenting him with no regular experiences. Thanks to seeing and living throughout the deaths and risings of many worlds that didn't want his existence, he grew in ideas that few would fathom.
Battleworld was quite a massive headache because of its unique approach to everything, as it wasn't like many worlds. It wasn't filled to the brim with some limiting factors or shackles like some worlds would be due to limiting mana or flow. Here, there were some boundless boundaries if one was brave enough. If one wasn't, taking limiting rules as power was more than fine.
Still, there was a surprising depth into the way one could grow if one knew how to look for it. Training and knowing things on a fundamental level was that. Finding a nice line in the spectrum of pain, misery, battling like a maniac, clarity, calmness, and training were differences between fools and masters.
Murai long ago considered his memories as crucial tools, hence he always took his training with traces of his pasts, while his body was something else. Right, His body hadn't required too much of his head, as if was new and unfamiliar, and intense in many forms. Mana was with him for less than two weeks, while he was still adjusting to his experience. That was bound to improve or end at some point.
He needed to crack his body into the proper fighting shape of his experiences. The previous Gate helped with that like nothing ever did so far, giving him enemies, time, and considerable capacity for errors. He experimented in the first half of the Islands a lot, which made the further half much smoother and validating.
This world and life needed more than that, like every other one, he believed. But some ideas were still fine to seek even if they came from the ancient worlds or long-forgotten cultures. He held them in his heart. Somewhere. Who else would do that?
He required or almost preferred it.
Magic was a type of power that was typically stoic and unlike some wild Bloodlines or other powers like finest swordsmanship and various martial arts. Well, the swords or pinnacle of such arts often required calmness, and unnatural steadiness to reach some heights. Alas, with Chaos in the way, it was fine to seek insanity in that as well, since the boundless arts of Divides were essentially limitless.
There were sides to everything, similar to coins while seeing them both might be possible.
For Murai, that wasn't possible to handle any martial arts, or... anything wildly special. He was Anatidae, a duck, so he should look for something new and old at the same time. Combining his current position with some former one was his long-term goal.
Seeking the charm of magic and secrets of the mana meant containing many experiences to many holds. A cool head and a figured heart acted as catalysts. It wasn't all about power, or ideas. Strategy, skill, and experience were also part of it.
It was how sides of Divides were a natural course of living and unliving things. The universe deemed what it created.
But living didn't. Even a calm mage could be an utter killer, while the living things were like bearing forces against the Divides.
Murai preferred that kind of attitude not only because of his past lives but because he didn't like being a monster. He was a literal one anyway, so he took his head for his preference and decided to take this life to another side.
It was time to abide by the magic of his past. His body and acts had already given him enough proof. It was time to seek remedy from experiences to other things. Relying on his beak all the time might have been fine... well, the Peak Layering sounded promising as it stunk of how magic was often performed. Layering mana over one another, wasn't it how many mages created and handled their techniques? It was common sense to seek power in more numbers. More sticks on top of one another were harder to break after all.
Glancing at Murai, Lisa figured he settled on his stubbornness, even if she wanted him to do something else. “If you are sure about what you want, let's do that,” Lisa said as she gave up, gesturing to Ultium to calm down and let David deal with the rest.
This was the end of their discussion, so the group separated into two camps. Everyone had things to do.
Murai left with Marthosh to the upper floor where the Last Brothers had room for his problems or issues. Lisa tossed him the ring David had, barking at him to figure out how to handle it by himself. It was a little petty, but Murai snorted and caught it to his beak before leaving.
He didn't leave his Token unattended. He secured it in his other pocket below his side and close to his belly. Unbeknown to him, he wasn't aware of what it could do. Lisa either forgot it or deemed it unimportant.
With him gone, Lisa, David, and Ultium had their respective worries that needed some solving and planning. Lisa had fewer expectations from that devil, but David argued that all jobs and insecurities were fine to go into his head. She shrugged and figured that trusting them was a better start than arguing to leave Ultium aside.
Since Murai left in his stubborn steps, she figured he could be left clueless. Giving him the full plan later sounded easier in her head anyway, as it was still doubtful how to approach this Gate.
From the start, traveling hundreds of kilometers through this Hellscape didn't sound easy or fast. It wasn't some sort of resort, unless they would use already established portals with some fees, or they could use some mounts or carriage, or carry powerful protection and reputation. Fewer of these things were available, while one of those things was out of the picture. Portals were prohibited for Challengers to use since it was a rule Mindarch validated. Now, Lost Brothers were included in this picture,e even if they were outsiders to the Challengers.
But with the Pledge, they become part of Murai's Challenger status.
For now, the means of travel wasn't as crucial because they had to figure out how the Ip'ur Mounted poised as their target. How to approach it would collide with this Gate, mining, and something sensitive that Lisa had yet to catch.
Part of some doubts was still the Pledge and what occurred a while ago. Will of the Battleworld spoke to them, so Lisa had to be sure it was right, yet how to confirm it?
She didn't know how, so it was a good time for her to learn and figure out the situation around the Hellscape for a better start. Ignoring problems out of her reach was a good choice. The second thing was figuring out the politics, and interests of Mindarch and purchasable information from the thing called the Network.
Military and gangs were also problems, but David promised to deal with them. His decades-long experiences in this Gate sounded much more important than Lisa thought they would be. It didn't matter if she spent in this place quite a long months. It was a drop in a bucket if he lived here the majority of his life.
Throughout their discussion that resumed the moment Murai left, Ultium was left in the room, half dozing off on the sofa without hardly speaking. But he listened. A lot, Lisa believed, acting as a guard, son, friend, or whatever he was for David. She had yet to ask him about him, or what even happened to him or her forces or friends from ages ago. That will wait.
Planning and seeking remedy in the current timeline seemed weird. Everything had many effects and connections, so more questions entered their conversation than steady plans.
It later turned better, much to Lisa's acknowledgment that David had a surprising amount of ideas.
But the facts were still before them
They didn't know about their portal.
With their time ahead of them, the situation in the Hellscape concluded with surprising calmness that few beings expected. Mindarch was yet to be ready with his statements, thanks to Manager Kil and Levandis who weren't sure what was happening either, or what they should be even doing. Something that hadn't occurred ever, occurred.
Denizens weren't happy that the source of wonders was gone, nor did the others around the whole planet seem that calm. Many storms were brewing in many spheres, giving politicians or insane people and beasts free reign. Many beings were understandably tensed up, and many small skirmishes or even Mortal Wars had started around the five continents.
All caused by a single thief of a goddess.
Without rules and Order to clutch the hearts, it was expected that taking advantage of those lacking rules would happen.
It was an inevitable chance that Vermillion had created, while her plans and ideas were just starting. With a piece of Ravine in hand, she had a position and close certainty she could keep this up for at least a week.
A week that would crash and create such a mess in this world, she was wondering how it would end up. She wasn't sure how bad the repercussions would be, but she didn't care. This was for her anyway. It was time for her to act while some Ruler of this planet—that was too comfortable for too long—didn't entertain her mind. If she was clever about it, nothing dangerous would come out of it.
It wasn't as if she did something lawless. Stealing what was under Lordis's hands or this planet wasn't under any laws after all. Most of it was quite private. However, it was a deal that affected the whole planet, and taking advantage of it was harder than anyone would assume.
Vermillion did something that no one thought was possible because it reeked of a quick End.
Then, the idea of shattering the status quo around the Sky or Depths alike—with the Surface taking it the worst—acted as hundreds of nails into a coffin. One would wonder if there would be room for more blunders. That was up to Gods to decide and for the Ruler to fix this mess that he failed to prevent. It made sense. The thing that he thought was his betrayed itself and him.
Problems that occurred were part of cause and effect, and thanks to the billions of mortal lives that depended on everything on many levels, one could imagine the consequences. It was like the sudden disappearance of rules of Divides that never disappeared from the various cultures.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
It was essential, so with such a heavy loss, Vermillion became one of the biggest villains in the eyes of the Gods, but that was about it. Mortals were unaware.
There was no way that Lordis was fine with stating that he was robbed by a Rank 2 God. He promised to fix it in the Lawful Halls, where his words were heavy.
***
Down in the Depths, for the temple that bore Levandis's rule, it was funny. For her, it was an entertainment of the highest caliber. Her little palace bore the Soul Construct of quite a value and treasures, so the terrible situation for her was yet to become a complete and utter shitfest. Levandis still held final words over her subjects, which many Gods did as well. But many places in this world had no such treatment or possibility, since people and mortals were savage, while Gods had limiting freedom over them.
It was giving places disorder and danger. Managing this mess was required, but so was waiting to make a proper statement.
With her iron fist and interest, Levandis didn't fear the safety of her Hell Haven. She spent far too much in validating her armies in this world to lose any advantage, while the most important factor was Mindarch himself.
He wasn't Ravine, nor he could send a Boost away, but Levandis could change the course of Order by promising rewards not one bit worse than Boosts themselves. It was a statement stemming from the Old World. From a time that held no Will of the Battleworld.
Mindarch could act like Will of the Battleworld anyway, so it wasn't a bad idea. He was seen through her Hell Haven in a similar view as Will of the Battleworld, albeit smaller, cheerful, and less stoic and enduring.
He was often mischievous like his creator, or current owner.
In a way, Gate 3 was similar, yet vastly different in some ways from Islands of Greatness, Gate 2, which had no city or denizens to cater to. Mindarch was enough to handle such places with a speck of his plausible calculation or his spirit.
It was a place that honed Razmund in his Sword Intent and Path, and his way with the sword definitely turned sharper and stronger. He outgrew his expected pace, seen by Mindarch and Lint alike, yet he met many problems.
He still kept going, reaching the Ending Isles faster than a lot of third-timers ever did. Ending Isles was supposed to be the toughest, and they were as he expected. It was the highest horror for many beings, but it was also an opportunity and place where his Intent finally bore the results he craved.
At 98th Island, he managed to defeat a pair of Level 71 Knight Generals by force and cuts, forcing them to give up in cracks. Those bones wouldn't crash his Path. They would never do such a thing. Razmund wouldn't allow that, but they sure stopped him for a good while, forcing upon him hours of effort, where he opted for strategies and careful cuts, rather than depending on unhinged tactics. It was a battle of attrition and stamina.
He positioned himself with much more careful moves, which was unusual for him, who was always savage and brutal to him like his enemies. It developed and stabilized what he lacked, surprisingly. It was the calmness and dangers that birthed the Intent, while the slower and dangerous pace increased his stability and patience.
Since he lacked his potions, and his opponents didn't help with that either, he had no choice.
His position was different from Murai's, where his Dances were expensive, often stressful, and his pouches were running low in essences. His Destiny Dice was happily eating, glowing in a fervent pink color that seemed clearer than ever.
Razmund fed it far too much already, so he hoped it wouldn't eat his Fate or curse him. He feared it would... but he also didn't care if it did. He had few things to lose anyway, which someone took advantage of. He managed his journey through these Ending Isles with slower speed and vitality. He had yet to lose any limb or bleed too much, so he continued.
Thus, the road to the Last Island was closing, and his time was pending.
Panting, he let his claymore scrapping the ground as he walked around a rather sturdy ground. Lint appeared from the Space Cage, bearing witness to yet another successful Ending Isle, so he hurried towards him with a smile on his bony face. It wasn't that good or notable, considering muscles and skin made up most smiles. Not the bones; at least his teeth were still there, shining like gems of metal under rare angles of light.
“Aren't you even least tired? How about a break?” Lint argued, knowing that the situation in the outside world wasn't one bit calm, but Razmund wasn't aware of it at all. He battled like a maniac, knowing that his cherished Voice and Boosts would come at him after this Gate.
“No break for me, asshole. My life is on the line with all these deathless battles. You forced that. You all did. No need... to end it,” Razmund said weakly, panting and clutching his claymore.
“No line is there for you. You are just a lunatic who battles and takes things into far too high proportions. Nothing else.”
“...”
“No counter? How rare. No argument? How sad,” Lint was shocked to hear nothing after he mocked him so openly. He wasn't your average Guide of this temple, so it made sense he was also unhinged in his voice and reasons. He didn't fear his End as he was already finished with it once, but even he feared some things in this world and his rather weird life.
“None to give to someone like you,” Razmund stated his truth as if nothing mattered to him whatsoever. He had more bones to beat. That mattered. “Now, piss off. I have a duck to hunt.”
Clutching his Destiny Dice, he unwrapped the threads that wrapped it around his fingers and inner palm.
Pink color flared up and a soft voice cheered.
Then, he tossed it onto the section of the bridges that had a lot of choices. It was the same decision as always. Just one mattered, or so he thought. He forgot about the crucial problem of the next Island because his head was filled with Sword Intent and sleepless days that were full of battles and swords.
In a sense, he never felt sharper and broken at the same time.
Destiny Dice flickered in the air, deciding on the course of its actions, smelly Fate, and angle. Once again, a weird thing happened.
It was at least half a dozen times where the Destiny Dice was hesitant, and a few times ago, it couldn't decide at all before he fed it one additional blood droplet. Then it decided on its path forth, giving Razmund a weird time.
One should never rely on the treasures of the Fate, yet he relied on it far too much.
Lint understood it, so he was half cursing this cursed Dice and half hoping Razmund wouldn't die a sorry End. Now, it wasn't as bad, but it had some trouble deciding the course of its Fate, or its wielder and target was far too detached from it? That could be the case. Murai was far too detached from the norm anyway, whereas Razmund was relatively normal Blessed, forgetting the Path he carried.
Then, he had sudden shifts in his soul that were unlike his past life, giving him a nasty reality in an even nastier new world. His history and heart were following his steps and memories, as not all Blessed fell into the same bucket. It wasn't fine, similar to how no God was equal.
Every one of them held up some unique past, experiences, and mind. Some Blessed were lustful, hoping for a new life, revenge, or a life that would have no stops or no problems at all. Most of them were weirdos that were hard to tame or ignore for good reasons.
Razmund kept his eyes open as always, not blinking and looking at the Dice. It was a strange sight to look at Fate. It should hold meanings that one would wonder about, yet he felt nothing at all. He was tired.
Waiting for some moments before Dice flickered around the ground and doors in craziness, it acted as if the ground killed its predecessor. As if possessed, it then hovered in the air, pointing down, while sometimes striking the ground straight down. It shouted and screeched in a soft voice as well, as if possessed or angry, yet its tones were huffed.
“Is it broken? You've used this cursed Dice hundreds of times! No such Artifact should allow this sort of usage for that long unless you seek the End or problems far too mighty for your little head.” Lint argued, chirping and laughing like usual.
He was oblivious to the fact that he was wrong. Divine Artifacts weren't meant to be that weak, but they were dangerous and weird in many ways.
This one might be heavier than some Extremes or Gods would bear, as touching Fate was a decision few would take. Could this Dice fly and be tossed thousands, or tens of thousands of times? Sure. It didn't matter for it, as long as its meals would come its way and the Fate would remain.
It was a fine Divine Artifact with an unknown maker and the past, bearing crests and origin that hadn't come from this world for sure, yet it was found here. In a long-forgotten past. Razmund didn't fear this Dice in the slightest. He hoped instead.
Divine Artifacts held their Ranks, rather than in Levels. Not only their rarity was important, but their premise was different from the Relic or Law Artifacts. Each Divine Artifact was a treasure of old times, ancient techniques, massive undertakings, or insane value that went through the hands of great makers.
Most held secrets to rare Laws, secrets to many Paths, or hidden materials long lost or far too mysterious or precious. That was what Artifacts meant in their fundamental ways, but divine was a word that held a significant substance.
Some could be even older than the current way of the Divides, possessing unfathomable power. It was about the Epochs.
Thus, such tools acted as opportunities and power held by Gods mostly, while this Destiny Dice wasn't even that powerful, it was still considered a Divine Artifact. For mortals, it was fine to use as long as they cared, or didn't.
Razmund didn't even respond to Lint's unnecessary remarks. He watched the Dice hit the ground, before hovering back in the air, before it slammed down again.
[Fucking little shit...] He heard a soft voice curse.
Walking towards it, Razmund figured out the truth and his prey straight away. It could no longer take its path that well, or... something happened?
His target was no longer in this Gate, but he figured that in the last toss too, so why had he tossed it again? Had he forgotten the common sense, or was he too flustered and tired? His head turned a little weird for sure in this Gate, battles, and his heart seemed to show some instabilities. Wavering, he ought to not think about it. Perhaps he was tossing this Dice far too much that it started to melt his brain or Fate?
Grunting, he watched how the Dice hovered in mid-air, its surface flickering in pink light that made it special. Whatever it meant, Razmund didn't know its meaning, nor did he question it, but something in him told him to fear it and toss it beyond the edge of this Island.
[Hmmm.... Shit!] the voice hesitated.
[Yum.]
[Toss me more. Feed me more.]
[Gimme it all...]
[That one is far... It's Fate splendid and changing in times of old and new.]
[Go on. Feed us. Feed the Fate until you meet your End! Fight the Old! Find your FATE!] The Dice insisted but Razmund shut such thoughts.
He only needed to know how to use it. Nothing else mattered more than that.
Ignoring the voice that pestered him from time to time, forcing his head or hands, something in his mind moved. It mattered to take this Dice seriously, as it was pointing down in fervent light and not to the following bridge. It happened again.
“You said nothing to me about it, Lint,” Razmund glanced at the Guide. “Why?”
Lint laugehd and scrached his chin. “Why would I do that? If you know your prey is down, what matters to toss it more than once or twice? Pehraps you should toss it again, eh? Perhaps it would make your prey appear right before your face.”
Razmund sighted. Destine Dice always marked Murai's path, so when it became unclear, or weird, things turned even weirder. Unknowingly, it even grazed the route that Amelius changed and forged.
Razmund could no longer process in a normal way. He wouldn't bother with it. It should point to his path regardless if his target was down, or up, yet he forgot some things again.
“Lint,” Razmund said as he eyed the Dice.
“What? Ready to cry?”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“I would dare if I could.”
“Oh, you want to go that way?” Razmund turned back to the floating half-skeleton, his gaze skipped a beat as he was serious. He clutched the Dice back to his hand where it stopped glowing under his tight squeeze. The soft voice screeched and calmed. Razmund was considering some new things right now, as well as going over the rules of his current status and this Gate.
The worth of Fate was powerful enough, or so he believed. Perhaps it was time to act.
He had no time to waste with the Last Island anyway. He needed... something else right now.
“Now, tell me. I could've gone to Gate 3 long ago, wouldn't I? Rules or not, you don't want to lose your pets, yet if enough power goes around this place, I wouldn't mind touching something Taboo.” He threatened a good topic, scratched his temples, and asked a really good question.
Lint turned serious after a long time, his Soul Flames flickered and calmed. “Are you sure you would go that far?”
“Wanna try me?”
Razmund wasn't certain if he met the qualifications to be like that. For a while, he felt like he was exterminating some unkept fools for Levandis anyway. Those were unfilial soldiers or experiments gone wrong. Sometimes, it was possible to skip ahead if it was worth it for the Mindarch, but other times, it wasn't needed as rules could change, or the premise of the temple shifted. This Gate was thought and whether one could skip ahead wasn't always fine.
Now, it shouldn't be far from that point, even though Razmund didn't know about the happenings or the earthquake that shook this world. He didn't even register it, opting to battle and take his knowledge for rules. He would realize many things, but so far, Mindarch and Lint had never mentioned anything about it, even if it was possible.
Perhaps it was a good thing he hadn't skipped ahead, because the Dice wouldn't like that, and he needed to go with its direction. He always focused far too much on it, or so Lint and Mindarch believed. That was no mistake; Razmund focused on a simple idea to go forward, so he wasn't set on skipping ahead.
Now, it changed. Something did, or the Dice decided on it. It didn't talk that well very often.
Being too keen on his hunt was important, but being too fervent and uncertain wasn't that good either. Lint would sweat like a runner amid the desert if he could. Seeing Razmund like this always put some fear into his Soul Flames and he wasn't even sure if it was respectable.
Fortunately, he was a skeleton, so fear didn't affect his appearance. Only his Soul Flames flickered, posing as his core; his everything.
“Well, I suppose skipping was a possibility, but you would never take it. I mean... the Dice wouldn't. I get that Dice. Poor... thing. It wanted to go on, so it went on. You followed it like an unhinged idiot.” Lint forced some words, uttering excuses rather than great ideals. He appeared fearful of Razmund's deadly expression from his Soul Flames alone, while his stance was lofty.
Before he wanted to put his deathly gaze into action, Lint had to act.
“D-do... Not. No! Bad Blessed!” Lint slapped the top of his head, watching the claymore move but it was unusually slow. Lint dodged him in time, yet he still felt how a part of his rib left his body.
“Razmund,” Lint trembled as he flew away, watching how Razmund staggered in a weird stance that was no longer fit to be described as fine, “You had your Destiny Dice, so you continued through the Islands to find your enemy. Right. Skipping is possible. Why wouldn't it be the case for these Islands? We always honor powerful people, but skipping means lower points and rewards. We didn't want such losses anyway, you dumbfucking killer. Right? Your case was different. There was no need to consider the fact that you wanted to get to Gate 3. Your prey wasn't that far away from you anyway. You saw that Guide, right? I saw him too. That little head is hard to forget. I figured the facts and logic long ago, yet your head, eyes, and Dice always put it aside. I do things for you too, you lunatic. My life as a Guide depends on you!” Lint shouted and argued with him for a good reason.
Razmund knew why he was like that, yet he didn't care for facts or logic. He didn't care for well beings of anyone but his Path and his promise.
“Lint, your excuses aren't necessary,” Razmund mumbled as he stepped toward him. “I accept them instead, so fuck me...” He collapsed to the ground, feeling like his hands were a step away from falling off of his body, while his knees gave up after enduring far too many Flying Steps. Even his core felt like crying.