Ebonheim fell to her hands and knees as she let out a long sigh of defeat. She'd just finished her ninth attempt at the gambling spectacle, and her luck had continued to plummet since the legendary item had manifested from the void. Not one rare-quality artifact or higher had emerged from the last five sets she'd purchased. Only unremarkable items had been added to her growing pile.
[You can purchase one additional set of artifacts for 250 Quintessence. If you do not acquire a legendary-quality artifact from this set, the System will award you a random legendary-quality artifact as compensation. If you do not wish to continue, you may stop the acquisition process at any time. Would you like to purchase another set? Yes/No.]
Why stop now? Why not go for broke? But even the words sounded hollow and bitter.
She eyed the heap of uncommon artifacts—haphazardly scattered around her like so much litter. At least she could recycle them into shards. She managed to get five rare artifacts, and another epic-quality one too. Oh...but why did everything feel so disappointing? Why had she let herself believe that luck would continue to smile on her?
Syntris cackled like a madman in the distance—cackled at her misfortune! It takes one to know one! His luck was just as bad as hers so he had no room to laugh.
Ebonheim clenched her teeth, feeling more than a bit disgruntled at this development.
This sucks. Seriously sucks. Come on...just let me get the last legendary item. Even if it was some sort of pity prize, she'd take whatever she could get.
She pressed the 'Yes' option again and another set of ten artifacts manifested around her. Ebonheim regarded the pile with growing disinterest. Here she was spending five thousand Quintessence from her town's residents on an absurd—
With a melodic flourish of brightening radiance and a sonorous fanfare that rattled through the celestial abode like a mighty thunderclap, the tenth artifact came into view. A beam of golden light shot down from the canopy above, haloing the object in a radiant corona of swirling colors.
Despite the extravagant manifestation, the joy of acquiring the legendary artifact didn't feel as euphoric as she'd imagined. It was a guaranteed result, so maybe that explained her lukewarm reaction. No, she needed to pull herself together. She did this for her people! What more could she ask for?
As the item floated before her, a display screen popped up, summarizing its effect.
Artifact Draw #10:
Item: Between de Reu (Legendary) - Part of a pair
Description: A Twin Mask formed from the splintered remains of a Divine Judge's fractured personality. One half, the mask known as 'de Reu,' lies dormant, waiting for its mate. Its spirit rests within the mask and is neither aware nor capable of influence. Bound to the wielder's face. May be summoned or dismissed at will. Whilst worn, grants resistance to corruption, illusions, fear effects, and deters emotional influence. Any attempt to remove the mask without the wearer's consent results in harm. When the Twin Mask is awakened, it will transform into its active form, and the wearer's divine abilities will be enhanced. The mask can only awaken when combined with its other half.
The list of powers surprised her. She turned the mask over in her hands. A frightening face stared back at her—not menacing or sinister, but blank and neutral. Yet something in the mask's frozen stare seemed so profoundly sad...or perhaps even heartbreakingly lonely. Or perhaps it was the baleful emptiness lurking behind the stony gaze.
What a disquieting item.
It had been carved from pale ivory and depicted a sharply angled male visage with sunken cheeks and sharp features. Despite its gaunt and ill-proportioned appearance, its construction appeared solid and sturdy. Strange script and designs had been carved into the backside, intricate symbols etched deep into the polished surface.
Ebonheim wrinkled her nose in distaste as she stared at the mask for a few moments longer before finally casting a glance around.
Ariastra busied herself jotting down the statistics of Ebonheim's tenth acquisition. Beside her, Aetheron observed silently, his eyes half-closed and serene. Nephri appeared to have lost interest in Ebonheim's current predicament and instead wove between the nearby onlookers, eyeing them intently. Syntris had stopped his gambling spree and was now greedily ogling her newly acquired artifact.
[You can purchase up to forty more sets of artifacts before reaching the limit of ten thousand Quintessence spent. Do you wish to continue? Yes/No.]
No. No! NO! No more. Seriously. No more. Her pile of uncommon items stood as a testament to how things went downhill. She'd experienced a streak of good fortune—no—an epic rush of luck at the beginning, but now her luck seemed to have run out. There were better things to spend Quintessence on, like more powers and abilities.
Ebonheim mentally declined the next offer and turned to check the final tally: One hundred uncommon-quality, six rare-quality, two epic-quality, and two legendary-quality artifacts. A modest stack. Yet the pile mocked her greed and indulgence with its mountainous bulk. It felt more like a jumbled mess than an organized collection.
The disparity between the impressive light show and her lackluster haul...how disheartening.
She let out a loud sigh before moving the items into her divine armory. "Well...that's enough gambling for today. Let's call it quits," she said to no one in particular.
Her ponderous gait carried her to a spot beneath one of the overhanging platforms, away from everyone else. The earlier fanfare had died down—some deities had left the Sanctum of the Divine Mandala to take care of their own affairs while others milled around in small clusters, sharing stories and gossip.
Now alone with her thoughts, Ebonheim stared glumly at the empty space before her. The immense glamor and spectacle of the event now felt hollow, more than ever. Was she not satisfied with what she had? Why did she covet more? Greed and vanity could corrupt so easily.
She shook her head in dismay.
"Hey, fledgling." Syntris' booming voice and thundering footsteps interrupted her maudlin reverie. He appeared behind her with a stomping salute, which he ended by crossing his arms over his broad armored chest.
"So, how'd you enjoy the gambling?" His deep voice held a hint of mockery and something else she couldn't quite identify. She turned to face him as he continued. "After your little haul...how're you feeling? Upset that you weren't lucky enough to get anything good?" He didn't bother hiding the snide tone in his question.
Ebonheim glared at him.
"Shut up." She really didn't need this right now. It took everything in her not to say something truly unkind. He hadn't done anything wrong...not exactly.
Syntris placed a massive gauntleted hand on her shoulder. "Ahh...the disillusionment of fantasy meeting reality." He leaned down slightly to peer at her with eyes that flashed red from within his helmet. "Everyone who gambles eventually gets burned. Welcome to the club."
She swatted his hand away. "Your luck was just as bad as mine—no, even more so since you spent twice as much Quintessence and still came away with only a few more rares and epics. Maybe next time you'll learn how to curb your impulses."
A wheezing laugh escaped Syntris as he threw back his head in amusement. His armored form clanked loudly with each movement. "Hahahaha! It's fun to have dreams...to yearn for things you don't have. To dream that your next draw might bring something spectacular—even if it seems unlikely. I mean, I could've stopped after I got an epic or two but where's the fun in that? Hm? Where's the thrill?"
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"That's your business, not mine," Ebonheim snapped irritably. "I'm done with gambling for a while."
"Ha! That's what they all say!" Syntris countered. He crossed his arms over his massive chest again and leaned back slightly. "Someday you'll understand how addictive it is. To risk everything for something big. To strive for the next big hit." He made a sweeping gesture with his hands before him, emphasizing his point. "The buzz of success—that intoxicating high after winning—it never gets old."
Ebonheim pursed her lips but said nothing. Her eyes remained fixed on the giant armored deity. She didn't want to argue with him right now. Didn't he have anything better to do than taunt her? Perhaps the realization that his own addiction was what had caused his loss—a reminder of his lack of control over his craving—soured his mood. His reason for seeking out others was probably to mock them in order to compensate for his own shortcomings.
"What're you two talking about?" Aetheron's inquisitive voice broke through Ebonheim's contemplation as he strode towards them. The sea of colors swirling around his form glowed softly. "Do I need to intervene? You seem agitated, Syntris."
The armored deity laughed and held up both hands in a placating gesture. "Nahhhh, just teasing this little fledgling." He gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Just curious if she'll ever partake again. She seems upset over her haul—well—more specifically about what she didn't get."
"Hmm..." Aetheron peered at her. "One's mood can affect how one perceives one's successes or failures. Do not let such emotions fester or taint your judgments. Reflect upon what you've gained. Better days await, so don't let any disappointment take hold."
Ebonheim smiled faintly. His words lifted her spirits a bit. "Thanks for the advice. I'll try to remember that."
The trio stood together in silence for several minutes before Ariastra and Nephri joined them.
Ariastra approached with a graceful glide, the musical tones emanating from her form subtly harmonizing with the ambient hum of the Sanctum. Nephri slithered alongside her, the bioluminescent patterns on her serpentine form casting a soft glow.
"Ebonheim," Ariastra's melodic voice sang as her eyes, two brilliant musical clefs, fixed on the goddess. "I see the auction has left you with mixed feelings."
Ebonheim nodded, her earlier frustration melting somewhat in the soothing presence of Ariastra. The patron goddess of Byllais always had a way of making one's troubles seem smaller, more manageable. "I did gain a lot of nice things...I'm thankful for that. I guess I just wanted to get more, even though my initial win already filled my needs."
Nephri slithered into the circle, her four eyes gleaming in the ambient light. "Verily, the shadows of discontent do oft lurk amidst such festivities. Yet, it behooveth us to gaze beyond the mere trappings of fortune, for deeper currents do swirl beneath our divine congregations."
Ebonheim gazed at Nephri thoughtfully. What did she mean? Was there something more going on here? Something she hadn't realized? Or perhaps missed entirely?
Before she could ask, Aetheron interjected. "Did Ariastra inform you of what has recently transpired? Or did you come to realize it yourself?"
Nephri gazed back impassively. "Both. The conundrum of ascension—or rather, the lack thereof—didst present itself to me soon after our last discussion." She flicked her tongue twice and then turned her attention towards Ebonheim. "'Tis best if we enlighten the fledgling about her own quandary."
Ebonheim regarded them with confusion. What did Nephri mean by this? "What quandary? Did something happen? Please tell me! I'm really curious!"
Aetheron's form shimmered with a deeper hue, his voice assuming a somber tone. "It seems, despite the abundance of quintessence we've gathered over the cycles, many among us find the doors to higher divine ranks firmly closed. Of those who have sought ascension to the next stage, most fail time and again, no matter how many resources they invest. No matter how much faith-derived Quintessence pours into their divinity cores."
Wait...what? Ebonheim blinked rapidly at this revelation. That couldn't be right. She had already ascended twice over the past few years.
"When did this start happening?" Ebonheim's mind reeled from the implications. She hadn't encountered any issues when she'd made her first two ascensions. Both times, she'd simply gathered enough Quintessence and applied for the next Divine Rank, and the Akashic System accepted it. Had something changed since then?
Aetheron shook his head. "I'm not entirely certain, but I suspect that something in the celestial realm has shifted just seven years ago—perhaps a new rule or regulation governing our divine progression."
Ebonheim looked around nervously. Seven years ago? Wasn't that time when they...
"Indeed," Ariastra chimed in, "The celestial mechanics that once assured our ascent now falter under unknown weights. We suspect not all is as transparent in the Akashic System as it should be." Her gaze bore into Ebonheim. "There must be an element of obfuscation within the system's workings. One that has managed to escape our scrutiny so far."
"Prithee, consider the possibility of foul play, or mayhap, a deeper malaise within our divine hierarchy. There are murmurs of corruption, and dissent percolates in some circles," Nephri added cryptically. Her tail undulated back and forth across the floor, sending ripples through her aquamarine body. "And therein lies the rub. For what profit a god to gain the Quintessence yet forfeit the rise? Something foul weaves its way through the tapestry of our fates."
Syntris broke his silence with a harsh laugh. "Hah! I thought it was just me! I've already spent over a hundred thousand Quintessence into my ascension, and I'm still stuck in the Ascendant stage of Intermediate Rank!" He clenched his gauntleted hands together so hard they clanked audibly. "Just so you know...for me, that's ten whole years' worth of faith-derived Quintessence gone."
"Yikes..." Ebonheim gasped at this revelation. "Has anyone sought to understand why? Or get answers from the Akashic System itself?"
"I have attempted to question the system about the situation," Aetheron explained. "However, thus far, I've received no satisfactory responses. Whatever is transpiring, it seems hidden from us. Only a handful of us have begun to suspect such irregularities within the Divine Realm."
Ariastra hummed softly in agreement. "I'm afraid you'll have to make do with your current Divine Rank until further notice, Ebonheim. It may take many years—or perhaps decades—for this anomaly to pass. That said, if there's anything we can help you with as your fellow deities, don't hesitate to let us know."
Ebonheim smiled awkwardly at the others. Guess they haven't realized that she had already ascended beyond the Dawn and Ascendant stages of the Lesser God Rank. Fortunately, it seemed like the Divine Sight ability was blocked while inside the Sanctum. Otherwise, they would've probably picked up on her Rank status right away. Hopefully, they'd think she hadn't even begun her first ascension yet...
"Thanks for letting me know," she offered after a brief pause. "I'll try not to stress too much about it. I'm just a goddess of a small, remote town so there shouldn't be any trouble heading my way. But it would be great if we could find out what's going on."
Syntris laughed loudly and slapped his massive gauntlet against his breastplate. "HAHA! Of course, the little fledgling won't worry about such things!" He crossed his arms over his armored chest again. "Well, now that you know the news, I suggest you focus more on building your city—err...town, heh—instead of gambling your time away. And with that...farewell for now!" With a thunderous salute, he stomped off into the distance.
"What he said." Aetheron chuckled lightly. "Take care on your journey home." He inclined his head slightly before vanishing in a flash of golden light.
"May fortune follow thee until we meet again," Nephri gave Ebonheim a small nod before departing in a puff of inky smoke.
Ebonheim nodded towards Ariastra as she watched her depart. The last remnants of the glittering particles dissipated into nothingness. Her eyes lingered on the empty space where the other deities had once stood before turning to the side, finding herself alone once more.
Seven years ago...that was close to when Engin and the other elders enacted their idea to come up with a deity of their own—her—after moving into the valley and settling there. Perhaps this irregularity could be related to them somehow? Did their faith play a role in the problem? But how could such a small group of people affect something on this scale?
Ebonheim wasn't entirely sure about this line of reasoning, but she'd keep it in mind. Maybe ask Th'maine about it later on.
After spending the next few days meandering around the Sanctum, socializing with other deities, and familiarizing herself with the place, Ebonheim approached the portal that would take her back to her town. She'd enjoyed her time here, but she'd missed her followers too.
As she was about to enter the portal, an unfamiliar voice called out from behind.
"Ebonheim..."
She turned around to see a hooded figure approaching her. His robes billowed out behind him like a cloud of smoke. He stopped several meters away from her and slowly reached up to lower his hood. Beneath the cloak, a leathery face with iridescent patterns on its skin and large, pitch-black eyes stared back at her.
Ebonheim saw this deity a couple of times before? Who was it? Syntris had mentioned him once, and she briefly spoke with him at the last auction. His name was...Xellos? A vagrant god.
"I would like to speak with you before you leave," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Come with me. Please." He gestured towards a nearby hallway leading to a separate chamber.