Razmund was tired. Too tired. Sleeping would suffice, gifting a couple of hours of bliss. These last fights were tough and beyond his level. A pair of enemies with Laws of Chaos was a disaster when the time was relevant, power held limits, and his potions were empty. He hurried forth ever since he felt the itch to hurry. Thus, he was always on the edge for the sake of catching his prey.

He wasn't sure how close he was, but that changed not that long ago.

Now, it backfired as he realized how misplaced his beliefs were. His target was gone, yet he kept going onward because that was what he had always done. It wasn't that crazy to think that he almost caught it, but he was too late by a few hours, which were still many hours of fighting in the best estimation.

It ended up worse because his progress in the Ending Isles was worse and he had to recoup his stamina between every fight if he wanted to crash them all.

What was the right thing to do? Destiny Dice was more than met the eye, as it was more potent and sensible than any Guide, but it showed some limitations. The blood and essences it ate weren't cheap, but it could take anything at any capacity. The hunt would be already over if he had a bucket of blood or Grade 4 Mana Essences. Those would charge the Dice to another level, giving it a completely different feeling.

Razmund wondered what it would do. From the stories of its past users, it held... weird voices and reasons that always ended up as poison. In smaller doses, Razmund wondered if it would've given him a different path than the one Murai pursued. Via many bridges or islands, the Dice would gift him the quickest route that would overtake Murai so he would catch him sooner.

Speed and ease aside, Razmund had no such possibility. He already wasted enough resources that would buy him Grade 4 essence anyway. Even the Centralis Kingdom wouldn't afford to spend that much for this sort of thing.

Passing by Murai was no longer a possibility. But he could've caught him, ambushed him, hunted him down like he wanted. It sounded so easy in his heart. So easy...

Would Mindarch or Lint helped him? That sounded like a sorry excuse for help, but his Dice would find the way anyway.

“D-don't worry, Razmund. You can rest for as long as you want,” Lint floated down, noticing that Razmund clearly collapsed.

Begrudgingly, he crawled to a sitting position. His breathing wasn't good, as fatigue took a major turn for the worse. That was what he deserved after many sleepless days of fights. His claymore even stayed on the ground, free from his touch but still close.

“Oh... Really?” Razmund suddenly moved, overcoming the fatigue as his eyes blinked and Lint swore they turned pitch black for a moment.

Lint was too late to move away. Razmund clutched him by his temple, holding him between his smallest finger and thump. The rest of the fingers wanted to gouge his Soul Flames, but Razmund was still sane enough to not touch them with his flesh. Not now. Not yet.

Killing a Guide was a stupidity that he couldn't afford right now. It also posed as a ridiculous thing, because no Challenger wanted to be without a Guide. Secondly, it would anger Levandis, or her family would change the challenges or Gates to a storm.

Lint grimaced with his bony mouth, cluttering his teeth as he was screaming in horror. “C-calm down. Don't do something you would regret. Levandis is watching.”

Razmund didn't believe him, which Lint realized.

“Fine. She would never seek you out. Mindarch does.” he argued, watching the pissed face that Razmund had on his face. It was the face of a killer who had nothing to lose. Fear and anxiety shrouded Lint's Soul Flames.

“Got the gist of the rules. So be a good Guide and tell me what I need to do to get into the next Gate quickly,” Razmund calmly said, sounding like a death reaper to the death.

“W-what... exactly? Way ahead is around the corner, have you forgotten what is Island 99?”

“My destiny is already in the Hellscape, planning and bearing the politics or plans ahead of me. It is my time to take this seriously, it seems.”

Lint doubted he hadn't taken this Gate seriously at all. Razmund was an utter monster that was no longer as tame as in Gate 1. Right now, he would challenge Thar's whole palm, or even both of them if he tried enough.

Lint discovered how massive of a shift this Blessed endured since his last visit. New Readings felt confusing and riddled at the same time, but Mindarch was sure about many things. The depths of this human were hard to seek, or... they weren't fine at all. Curiosity killed many Gods after all, let alone some mortals.

Mindarch was slowly uncovering that the limits that Razmund held were turning unsightly, but he was still Level 65, so it wasn't as terrible as Murai, who was growing and changing at a rapid pace. Well, and that soul of his. It was hard to figure out.

In that idea, Razmund was much simpler in his desires.

“Considering the originality of what those assholes that run this place have, I wouldn't be surprised that I could skip unnecessary stuff when my prowess long exceeded the requirements for success. You don't want me to be a killer, but you should hope or fear for that. I get it. I will go to the next Gate anyway, so unless you want me to run and turn Helltrim to pieces, you will get me there right now. ”

He sounded wonderful in his assertion, which Lint took as a good reminder.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yesss. Of course. I can do that. Skipping is fine. Fine, I say. I just didn't need to proceed with that before, as you didn't need it. Sure enough.” Lint said awkwardly, summoning his courage and his connection to Mindarch.

Way to the rewards was around the corner, but it was better to no longer question Razmund and his threat.

With the way rules and Order were, it wasn't a good idea to crash the already tense situation to further pieces.

Mindarch was silent, but bearing witness to this situation through Lint gave him numerous ideas and worries. Still, he summoned a small portal in the middle of this Island. It was a simple way to solve this situation, even though the last Island was supposed to be very impressive and important.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

It was a shame Mindarch could no longer crash this Blessed, but perhaps it wasn't a bad idea to send him away.

Hellscape could survive this madman anyway. It had to take it. Mindarch planned to ensure that, although Levandis will do so instead, or Lisa would? Those Helpers that Murai got were quite peculiar after all, and also unexpected. Most of all, Lisa was finally taking the reigns over Murai's time, which Mindarch noticed.

A swirling vortex of space led to a dubious location. Razmund watched it with suspicion, but Lint ensured everything was supposed to be fine. “Here you go. In we go, right? It goes right into the place for Keys, I swear.”

Razmund remained clutching Lint as he stood on his own. It was problematic, so he retrieved his claymore before walking to the portal, where he did not hesitate anymore.

Time was ticking, and it seemed his prey could've arrived at Hellscape long ago. Specific time wasn't important, but the Dice was still there. His limited supply of essences and blood were still in his pouch. He could do it. He wanted to get out of this damned Gate first. It ate far too much onto his pouch.

Razmund should've done this long ago, wait for Murai before the Helltrim Castle or inside of those tunnels and doors.

It was too late for regrets, even if it meant a precious time that he wasted, but what was wasteful? He finally uncovered the truth behind the Sword Intent, while his Dances all improved by leaps and bounds amid his struggles. It was a blessing concealed in a difficult and crazy time.

Now, he couldn't wait for his Boosts and discoveries that would crash his mind apart, solve all fatigue, and give Intent a proper point.

Too bad it could no longer happen. Razmund was clueless and didn't know that his Voice was gone. If he knew, he wouldn't be only this much angry. His fury would truly reach his limits, as Boosts were a major part of his power since many martial artists need powerful attributes and a steady source of stability. He was someone who depended on his Voive very much, similar to many Blessed of the Centralis Kingdom.

Leaving the latest pair of undead bones alive pissed him off for sure, but thankfully, he managed to quench his anger as he twisted Lint away and tossed him to the portal first. In a moment, he stepped forward and disappeared as well, traveling to the unknown distance that followed the web or lines of Chaos Space.

Chaos Space swirled, space twisted in an unknown time and place. Razmund followed his desires in speed and unlikely fashion, glaring at Lint from behind.

In the end, not only did he solve his reward in less than a few minutes, he didn't care for that hut anyway. After getting what he could, he fell into yet another portal, following the ride, and met the stone ground of the familiar castle walls.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, or how long it took him to get here. Traveling through Chaos Space was always weird, and one was never sure how long they lingered for. There were tales that one could get lost there, emerge after years in reality, or remain there stranded, emerging in the present as an old person or straight-up skeleton. That deepened on stability of the portals and whether the lines through Chaos Space were correct.

Chaos Space was undoubtedly a dangerous place, but not with the established portals and old lines of interest.

Razmund felt confused after he endured these travels back to back, but that quick bath in that cave helped cover some of his concerns. It wasn't as fitting for his heat or anxiety, so he still felt tensed and exhaustion gripped his heart. Clutching the claymore's handle, he glanced at Lint aside. He panicked when Razmund grasped him again.

“Was that Pool proper?” Razmund asked, feeling that it barely helped to quench his core. All that exhaustion and powers of his Physique didn't work that well with that.

“Yes,” Lint said quickly, “it was fine, but you were there far too little time. It wasn't as if it was poisonous but...”

Razmund cracked his skull a little bit. “You want to try me? That thing felt like a joke.”

“Well, it isn't meant for living things, dipshit,” Lint laughed and forgot he was feeling as if he was on top of his palm.

Razmund grunted, feeling that some exhaustion never killed a Sage. Nothing that some sleep couldn't solve, or so he believed.

“That hurt. That hut and those fucking crazy space vortexes,” Razmund mumbled, cursing and realizing his travel was fine. Lint in his hand wasn't that happy with how he handled him; it wasn't as if he could complain. He feared for his Flames not only because of this clutch but because of the Dice touching the side of his skull.

Its pinky sheen prevailed, and Lint swore he was hearing whispers of Fate that he didn't like at all. He was straight-up terrified.

Aside from that, Razmund also held a long dagger and sword that he got from his Keys. Those were special privileges, followed by no Influence Items, as he held no need for that, nor did this place grant him that chance.

His Keys were much simpler and acted as money. He got a single Law Artifact and one powerful Relic Artifact that was close to Relic limits.

Unsurprisingly, he no longer met Amelius. If he did...well, it would be an interesting development that Mindarch doubted would make sense. In that hut, be it the numerous Artifacts or Influence Items, nothing was weak. Each treasure inside of it was an appeal to those seeking those Keys.

All successful Challengers eyed this hut as the first sizable reward because getting Keys was a big deal. Gate 1 was rather tame in that sense.

Razmund picked a dagger even if it wasn't an interesting weapon to him. It held the most value within the limits of his Keys. Mended into it were shards filled to the brim with Laws of Wind. It made the dagger into a weapon that wanted to cut things on its own. The sword was a Relic, but its quality was great. It should be worth exchanging it for something in Gate 3 or letting it go into a fitting hand in Centralis Kingdom.

With them in his hands, Razmund couldn't wait for Boosts and his time at the next Gate. He knew what to do there; he spent many weeks there in his last times, so he was familiar with how the Hunts could turn the tides, or how that Gate was wide open. Catching Murai there should be much easier.

Storing his new Artifacts in his pouches, the dagger wasn't that precious to call it a sword, but for some races, it was no different than that. It was elvish in origin, named Elvelin Dagger according to the lore that Mindarch described to air alone. Razmund wasn't that interested in his words, but he still listened.

“Fuck you,” Lint scowled. “Stop and release me already, you f...” His words were cut short when Razmund tossed him to the wall, cracking it in return. Unfortunately, the Guide survived unscathed, so Razmund grunted in disappointment.

Lint was far too sturdy for a mere wall. He ended up free, so he floated away from him with open hatred in his Soul Flames.

Razmund sighed, believing that Level 72 Law Artifact wasn't a bad reward. Shame he can't use it. His heart and hands were for claymores alone. He could forget it once or twice, but his manuals and Path strictly prohibited any use of different weapons. His choice was a lone one.

But it didn't mean Razmund wasn't interested in other weapons. Taking their value and styles was something he liked. All sort of swordsmanship should hold their appeals to a Sword Sage.

Elvelin Dagger was an excellent weapon from the past because it was in top-tier condition. It was perhaps part of the elven royalty, or it held some connection to the current elven tribes. From his memories and ideas, Levandis had some trading connection to some elves hiding in some portions of this world. It was fitting for Hells to touch such things because elves were hated in this world.

Razmund knew why, but not as if he found anything weird with it. Hate was kind of popular in this world which was filled with power and prejudice. Racial issues were the same, similar to slavery and problems that came with powerful individuals. Gods or not, even mortals had their hierarchy.

Thousands of years in the past, such a dagger could've numerous killings, but now, it was a mere tool for him to sell.

Razmund thought little of it as with most of things that no longer concerned the present, or himself. He took this dagger for a worthy treasure of at least a few Low Grade 4 Essences.

The sword was not worth mentioning. Artifacts had their worth, but not everything was worth the same. It was true that the differences between Relics and Law Artifacts were vast, but some special Relics could be worth a lot to some specific individuals. Those, however, were extremely rare.

Law Artifacts held a simpler ideology of higher power. They were far too valuable from their name alone, as they depicted powers and potency that were hard to find or create. For mortals, they were very precious and some of them were much more valuable than Divine Artifacts that might be far too wild for them to handle.

Razmund had his beloved claymore. That was all that mattered.

Straightening his back, he noticed a familiar tunnel that led to the next course of rewards.

Right. He completely forgot about the points and his suffering of not killing his foes. That fact still stung his heart and mind, but he was somewhat glad that he didn't reach that unknown line of no return. Unless it existed and he reached it, of course. It could be a joke.

“Why in the world you took that cursed sword?” Lint asked him aside.

“Because it was curious. It wanted to be taken,” Razmund answered with a chuckle and didn't elaborate further.

“You won't be able to use it anyway. Never. No one should've wanted it either.”

“Oh, I know. That was why it was there, ready as a "reward"? Fuck off with that logic. I know some fools who would take worse things than that. Now, lead me to my Room, Guide, or whatever toy you are,” he barked at Lint when he walked towards the light at the end of the tunnel. He could already sense the Hellscape and higher intensity of mana in that Gate.

Lint cursed this lunatic in his mind, knowing that the world was full of idiots who didn't know what was better for them. He wondered why they were all like that. It wasn't worth it. He knew it himself.

The situation was about to change. For better or worse, Gate 3 was all open for everything, though it wasn't ready. Razmund was about to turn it into his own playground, Lint feared. It was no longer about the agonizing pain of absolute dominance and battling in limits. It could take some time, but Lint believed that Murai was as good as caught.

Lint could do nothing besides swallow his anger and follow him along. It was his Fate too.

Flying to a silvery door, Lint gestured for Razmund to stop. “That one is yours,” he pointed with his bony finger, forcing a small chuckle. “Before that, just so you know. The world... is in pieces. You might start crying. No need for jokes or being tough. Go on.”