[Sage Sword Disciple, you've been going through the length and power of Levandis Temple] A stone-cold male voice said, speaking with clarity and rather surprising power. He completely disregarded Mindarch. It was a much-expected fix, which Mindarch imminently figured. Someone clever was fixing the situation by directly basing their interest on what mattered. They were taking the reigns over this mess like in the Old World.

This right here, was a Divinity that Razmund felt quite a few times. Not Will of the Battlworld, that Razmund would always recognize. His Voice was always there.

“What is going on?” Razmund demanded, but the voice of this God had limited power and time. He didn't talk back. He was just here to voice its rules and message.

[Due to the various problems, there is a flood of information overflowing the Voice. Boosts have been temporarily disabled across the board, but not the way of the Order. Be fit for such chance, mortal, for it is us, Gods, who allow such existence and transparency of this world. It shall be noted that it didn't disappear completely and that the world shall take its appeal by us]

[Thus, there is a new source of reason]

[Promises shall grant you clarity, as your current suggestions, readings, and Encounter act as important sets and pieces in the Sky. It needs some touch, and you shall continue doing what you've always done. Stick to what you know and your reward shall be guided to new heights. On Gods, we promise to fix the current problems and you shan't forget it either. Continue and get stronger and you will be greatly rewarded, for we are watching]

Razmund didn't like where this was going.

Had he heard it right? Boosts ceased to exist and Will of the Battleworld ended up... lost. Disabled? “Wait, this is a joke, isn't it?” He mumbled.

Then, he began to shake, but no voice came out of his mouth next. Anger, disappointment, and bewilderment all spread over his body and face. He could barely hear the incoming voice that spoke of nothing but empty promises that weren't fine to take for power or something insane yet. They held no power over the Boosts. Promises made by Gods were fine, but not for him. It didn't mention any Blessing either, as those were quite personal and often different from Boosts.

The overview of his achievement in Gate 2 was relatively simple. Promises involved a Level Up, various improvements to his core abilities in terms of Levels or efficiency, and... Sword Intent. Nothing clear was granted. Just empty promises. Most of his abilities were of high Grade, so they were very sensitive to any improvements.

Razmund depended on his achievement and Boosts a lot, as he couldn't bother with the Voiceless approach and train without it. Like many, the means to grow without Voice was possible. Razmund knew it since training and his Path delved into this possibility in numerous ways, but Centralis Kingdom didn't. Frankly, he thought it was absurd how someone could refuse a gift.

But this world was different and its beings were various. Its Boosts was something that Razmund loved to see and feel. Leveling his abilities without it was a burden that would take dozens of times longer. Lastly, he barely heard some notion about increased attributes by a couple of dozen points. At that point, it felt more like a slap to his face because he was tired and it wasn't something like reading.

He did get stronger, sure. The thing about attributes was that they could often mean a blessing, whereas readjustments to normal growth were also possible. The difference was apparent. One would happen gradually with an individual feeling it personally, while the other was a true Boost. Murai felt it in some ways, but his circumstances were kind of unique. Ever since he was a young duckling, he felt both approaches, albeit one was stronger than the other, or they might feel the same.

Razmund was similar, thus he knew he wouldn't gain anything out of Islands of Greatness and the mess he endured. Nothing. Emptiness.

Razmund almost wished to cry as Lint suggested; he still felt creeping exhaustion, while this news truly shook him. He couldn't stop taking this messenger as a reminder of his hopelessness. There was nothing useful about it. Even the talk about the Will was futile, similar to the comments about the acquisition of Sword Intent that was akin to a Law of Sword that treated all kinds of Paths in a Sword Pathway.

Will attributes stemmed from his sheer desires and stubbornness, as well as his Path and soul in general. Razmund was a strong-willed individual, but he wasn't like that when he came here. He grew into this with life in this world as his remedy. It went without saying his Will was as strong as the rest of his attributes. He... got promised a whopping 23 points to his Will. Now, it should've been 584. A number that was fairly normal for his past and age.

The second important promise came to his Vitality, which mattered to his Physique, which wasn't mentioned at all. It was no surprise.

At this point, Razmund slapped the shelves with his fist and pushed the sturdiness of some tables to their limits. His anger seeped and hopes were crushed. There will be nothing to push his fatigue away with this sort of mess. He no longer heard a thing out of desperation, obvious to Lint who watched him grow bold and crazy in a blink.

Soon, the messages filled with promises ended, acting as the vague Order that Razmund hated to his bones.

Alas, for Mindarch and Lint, these messages were interesting confirmation that things were yet to make sense. They both calmed, taking Razmund's readings onto Mindarch's Codex.

Razmund ended up furious and crashed the table after some smashing and kicks.

Most of his attributes should've gone up by a dozen points, as each was nearing the numerical value of 400. That was fairly impressive, considering he was quite a young human, whose attributes held different meanings to beasts.

Mindarch took most of this interest for good news, albeit some readings were taken by his surprised and silent confusion. Out of his attributes, Vitality was the highest thanks to his Physique, reaching 390. His Dexterity was second highest with 359, followed by Strenght at 370

He had a couple of other mentions, but this was about what was important to martial artists like Razmund.

Also, not a whole lot was that clear, since Razmund didn't reach a proper reading of anything that the Voice would do, thus most of his core abilities weren't mentioned at all. He bet he would get some Levels to his Flying Steps and his Raging Bull was the same. Dances were difficult. They held no Levels but considerable heaviness that acted by his endeavors. In that case, they were outside of the Voice and acted as his own achievements thanks to the Manuals he owned. It was similar to the Heavenly Shaping that Murai got.

Working with his sword and mana techniques still acted with them in mind, since Razmund was always the strongest when he was using numerous things all at once. It was like layering things together. That was his strength.

Overall, the reasons and his power were still largely unknown by Mindarch, but his acts were not. His time in Gate of Suffering and Islands of Greatness gave enough clarity on what sort of madman and mess this Blessed was. Some of that will go to the Hellscape and become purchasable goods in the Network. Some won't because there wasn't enough clarity.

Razmund didn't hear anything. He was far too detached in his anger, as his day had been ruined, and his disappointment was immeasurable.

For Mindarch, this went in expected fashion, unlike Murai, who held an even younger age, so he was prone to clear progress and growth. He even got his Boost right when they ended, so that was wonderful.

Razmund held the firmness of a human, thus his basic readings and their meanings held their value when one saw him as a whole. From within, that was. Most of what mattered was obvious thanks to things that needed no readings.

Mindarch watched him enough. His Codex and character were ready. Ever since he stepped onto the Death Valley and faced Thar, all was under his watchful spirit.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

As for the Mana Core, it wasn't something crazy, albeit it was a potent Revolving Core filled with Awakened Sharpness. He had nothing else. No Flame, nothing. It was a death-set core filled with the meanings of a Sword Sage. It also seemed artificial and fake, but that was an incorrect judgment.

This was that sort of core that truly followed its rightful premise and set teachings. Razmund ensured it, or something else did? Boosts could mend and change a lot of things, help understand Laws, and change the cores in a heartbeat as long as there was enough validity to do so, or if some techniques or meaningful manuals were set in place.

Ridiculous accomplishments were mostly what allowed such changes.

And as someone who walked Sword Sage Path, even though he had yet to go that far in it, he was powerful. Far more powerful than being allowed to hunt Murai down.

Lastly, his points towards his Gate came out of Lint's mouth, reaching quite a few tens of thousands of points. That wasn't a lot, but not little either. It was well below the average for those in his level and third-time status. As expected, some burdens and deductions happened and he won't reach hundreds of thousands.

With these points, he should be able to purchase whatever he wanted, but he held no mind for them whatsoever. Razmund stood there, fists bearing into some shelves. He cracked them apart in under a few seconds.

“What was that? WHAT!” he shouted and swung his arms around. The Dice in his left palm squeezed a weird laughter. “What sort of mess is this, Lint?!”

The godly Divinity was no longer around the room, so he aimed his anger at the sole soul of this place.

Lint took this to his mouth. “It means that something changed this world, Razmund. Take that to your head or give up. That is all to it.”

“Give up!?” Razmund hit the shelve again and stepped toward him. “Without the Order of Voice, the world has turned to shit. Do you even have any idea what it means? Not only to me... but...”

“You crazy?”

[Yea. He seeps of disappointments. What a poor fella.] Mindarch joked.

Razmund loosened his fist and lightly chuckled.

“What is so funny?” Lint asked. “Have your head hit its limits already? No wonder. No wonder!”

“Nah,” Razmund felt the world turned to an utter shitfest, but catching his prey was still evident, wasn't it? If this messenger deemed it worth to continue, he shall do that. It meant something was still watching over him. The one who allowed him this chance. Mending his course of action and watching over his failure or success.

This large setback won't change his side, even if Boosts won't come at him after what he had endured. At the moment, he had enough power to go through everything. Halt of Boosts and Voice was just a small hurdle to his path to greatness.

His anger and everything subsided, as his breath and mind changed. He accepted this world. He changed his heart accordingly in just a moment. Something crashed it completely before it calmed like a raging storm hit by some nasty things.

Razmund took a deep breath and calmed down completely. “What were my points again?”

[Quite far from average. 60 349.] Mindarch stated.

Razmund smiled, thinking about what to do with these. The prices in the Silver Room were more costly, but his points were quite bigger than before. It was no wonder. Gate of Suffering wasn't all that much about his points as it had fixed rewards.

“Not even six digits...” Razmund clicked his tongue and smiled. Oh, such a weird smile. It looked forced on him, Lint believed in silence.

Watching the room, at the end of the madness and sudden discovery of the worst things this planet could get beside Murai, Razmund decided on the simplest solution.

Without speaking, he went ahead and put good use to his Spatial Equipment. He refilled all of the potions regardless of price. He had no choice, so he also got some essences and some healing items up to his level. Some were expensive but since the Boosts could no longer happen, he had to rely on his flesh or external items. Well, he always relied on them, so it was nothing new since they were much quicker and his choice.

In a sense, it was time to go back to the core roots of the universe. Back to the Old World.

In most worlds, there was no clarity and order like the Will of the Battleworld depicted.

Universe was more ruthless for that kind of idea, which made Battleworld kind of unique, yet not less ruthless.

Nothing should go wrong with his considerable purchases, and he sure bought a lot of stuff that should be helpful for his cause. He didn't consider reselling anything any longer. With the world in shambles, it was time to think about the bigger picture, so he took quite a few minutes to think and consider what he should be doing and buying.

He wasn't any craftsman, so in terms of mana material, he purchased nothing. But he sure saw quite a few things that would resell for immense value if one considered the points as a form of easy currency.

Unfortunately, Razmund underwent a massive shift and his head was straight like his priorities, which Mindarch and Lint took by surprise. They both underestimated this Blessed.

Razmund went over this shock lot quicker, or did he hide it so deep, he was looking for an outlet in Gate 3? That could be possible.

With plenty of Spatial Pouches, and thanks to his focus on what mattered, Razmund purchased everything he needed.

Now, he held a roughly estimated power to get a small battalion going on a killing spree without any care for their health.

Besides that, with his killings in the past Gates, he took quite a lot of things from fallen foes, so he wasn't losing all that much. Which was one of the reasons he thought this non-killing rule was bullshit. The highest degree of loot was weapons since armor ended up mostly cut or destroyed.

Silent, Razmund was considering the facts of his logic and choices. He doubted he could take his actions far too high at the moment, so his plans for the Hellscape were bound to shift. It was time to moderate his acts and words while taking the upcoming Gate much more seriously than ever before, or even differently, sounded fair even if it meant his plans changed.

There were no rules set in place, nor did he hold some shackles of his Voice. But Levandis could pose as one, and frankly speaking, he should be happy that fewer things would restrict him, for this place could not possibly shackle him enough. The last Gate hadn't done so. The next one won't do so either.

Still, there were no doubts that Gate 3 sounded much more dangerous than ever with Will of the Battleworld being gone. Well, he was also a part of danger, as he was bound by his eyes and head to make mistakes and whatnot.

He had a lot of enemies after all, so it was time to think twice before acting, or thrice? Hundred of times? At least in terms of valuables, his pouches should give Extremes a lot of interest, but his mere reputation stemming from the Centralis Kingdom and human race warranted for many to look at him funny. He feared that some nasty devils or demons would make their move out of spite of lacking rules.

Without anything in the way besides the potential words of Levandis or acts of Mindarch, they could do that. And without any Helpers by his side, Razmund wondered if this incoming situation would end up worse or terrible.

For him, it could be both. For others, it could be worse.

If he played his cards well, the situation could be interesting. Not terrible. He overlooked the military for the time being. They weren't a problem, as with enough power, the individual prowess of such an Order in Hell provided a surprising amount of importance. They won't move unless they have to.

Razmund planned to give them no such privilege.

Thus, his biggest concern was his value. It could force someone on the path of greed that would undoubtedly disregard anything, even if Levandis expressed some force or rules.

Sword Sage Path mentioned the way of power, individuality, and pain or weight that went with it. It was no ordinary Path, for it was something that validated many swordsmen in ancient times. Now, across the universe, few would call it renown. It was quite similar to many other Paths, but like many, it bowed to one thing alone: Sword Pathway.

Power. It allowed crushing the opposition, or rules or the lack thereof. No improvements came with some price, similar to acts or plans. Before Razmund was a concept of time about the Old World, a time where training mattered, talents rose to prominence by stepping over the weaklings, and putting on effort was neverending if one wanted to go far. Everything about it was slower than relying on the Boosts, yet Razmund still smiled.

“You sure are taking a lot of interesting things. You go to a war, hm?” Lint spoke aside from him, but Razmund didn't care for his remarks.

He was going to a war, he felt.

Worth ran deep, but not enough to become something that could crash the power and balance to pieces. Perhaps it was exactly the opposite, as power was everything for Gods anyway, though politics and many places relied on large-scale interests due to difficulties God handled in their powerful ways.

But at the top, everything but power was just an addition that even mortals stuck to.

It didn't work like that for everyone, although a little bit of rules always changed everything in certain or unfamiliar ways. Not in good ones, sometimes.

Material and purchased equipment or Artifacts from that hut could improve one's power, or change a person to a certain degree. That was a fact that most beings in the Hellscape understood.

Broadly, after what came with things one could steal, came the skill and hard work, that, under the pursuit of the Battleworld's ways, was an undeniable stability that validated Boosts. It mended weaklings to get them higher, so the thresholds that some worlds possessed were much narrower in this world, yet still difficult. Even for the likes of the past Old World, it was true that power judged the weakness.

Will of the Battleworld was an undeniable source of martial arts, powers, abilities, opportunities, and, clarity filled with countless other things. It was a chance that Gods created for many purposes. For most, it was a treasure made for mortals, who took it for a work of art and their livelihoods so they would reach for them for more.

So for it to flee under their noses, it was more than laughable and terrible.

That was the Battleworld. A place where battles and power reigned supreme, and it was true to mortals and near-immortal figures alike.

Soon enough, walking out of the Silver Room, Razmund looked significantly better and calmer than anyone close to him would ever expect. Lint took his face and calmness for slowly creeping disaster since he was silent.

He was hiding it, though Lint had no way to know how wrong he was. His fatigue was still apparent from the way he was carrying his body or steps. Everything will wait for Gate 3.

It changed for the better when he saw the corner of no return. Razmund felt how his personality shifted, or he simply accepted the way this new reality worked. Perhaps it would've turned worse if he hadn't owned Sword Sage Manual.

In Gods, Lint thought. Has he turned insane at last? Human and all, his demeanor changed for the worse for sure.

He followed behind him after engulfing the room back in fog. Then he turned and heard a sharp sound.

Razmund smacked his face with clear and accurate slaps. Lint looked at him with a questionable gaze. One should never be clear about the heads of lunatics like him.

“Oh, that calmed me down,” Razmund said, his face red and his arm hurt. “Shoud've done that sooner. Crashed some shelves there, haven't I? Apologies.” Razmund scratched his cheek and smiled at Lint, which sent shivers down his spine when he saw his smile and unblinking eyes.

Lint couldn't answer. He watched how Ramzund returned to his walk to the end of the tunnel. He believed Mindarch should seriously reconsider and handle what was to come into Hellscape. For now, he flew onward, reaching the light in no time.