The composition of a Fictional’s being comes in six parts. Six parts that connect their beings to the rest of the Fathoms. They don’t consist of component atoms. Hell, their biology isn’t even consistent with our protein-based structures. They are, for lack of a more scientific way of describing things, shaped by the lores that spawned them.

The very grounding of their existence is how they interact with the world—the feats they can achieve. The Essence Level? That might just be the exaggeration capacity of a specific concept or narrative. The key word here is mythology: All things might be possible in the Fathoms, but they are made possible through the structure of a story. A consistent, coherent narrative.

You can’t just have someone destroy a multiverse because it would be “useful.” There needs to be grounding. Hence, achieving higher and higher feats through their Essence Levels and feeding their spirits greater challenges, along with Skills that allow them to manipulate the substrate of the Fathoms in a specific way.

All this is to say that you cannot apply standard logic to them. Understand them to be beings shaped by pillars of consistent fantasy. And the best thing is… we have the capacity to utilize all they have without their limits either, for we do have fundamental grounding beyond these supposed metaphysical pillars.

As for why Concept-Spawned attacks can still harm our physical bodies though… More research is required.

-On the Nature of a Fictional

II-51

Beyond Death

The world vanished in a swirling vortex of darkest midnight. It was like a choking screen was pressed down upon Wei’s Omniscience. All vanished from his noticed. The rivers and abyss were gone, as were Bishop, Agnesia, his disciples—everyone, truly. He was alone in the dark, surrounded by soul-hollowing coldness.

But then, there came a voice—a call that he knew oh so well from the times of his childhood.

“An Wei…” Wei Jing Quan, the former Matriarch of the Drowned Sky Sect, called out to her son. Her voice sailed in from places near and far, echoing through the darkness, sending chills down Wei’s back.

For so long, he wondered and hoped… Hoped that there was a possibility of seeing his family again, of taking back what was lost to the darkness. Now, she was close again. His mother; his sect. He could feel their spirits approaching him, but there was another quality there as well — another power that tethered them.

The abyss parted slightly before him, and a crevice of blinding light expanded before Wei. He witnessed a glorious horizon through the slit, and an ineffable instinct compelled him to step through. As he did, he found himself emerging from a place of coldness and numbing sorrow to a land he knew all too well.

A gleaming road, its dirt so finely pathed as to resemble a trail of roaming gold snaked onward into the horizon, toward a massive mountain. The fortress home of the Drowned Sky Sect greeted Wei, and the Everblossoms that crowned its apex and rose further to become an intricate weaving net in the atmosphere loomed overhead, causing the sunlight to fall in dappled patches on verdant farmlands and glistening patties.

A lump formed in Wei’s throat. It had been months and a lifetime ago. He never thought he would see this place again aside from in his dreams.

“It isn’t real.” The Shell materialized next to him, and with a single Sourcespear, stroked a ripple in the surface of this reality. The brilliant visage quivered, revealing a dark canvas behind. There, Wei also caught the shadow of a massive creature, its form greater than anything he witnessed thus far, watching his every move. “The Hound observes us. This is as much from them as it is for us.”

Wei didn’t care. It didn’t matter if this was an illusion or a deception. His heart was thirsting after so long, and even if this was saltwater, he would drink deep and relish the moisture. He trod the path, and took in his surroundings. It was all as he remembered. Every detail, every moment, every instant. Yet, there was also a dreamlike quality to this place, a vagueness he couldn’t quite place.

“Wei,” his mother’s voice came again. This time, Wei blinked, and he found himself standing just before the gate that shielded the inner dimensions of his home. It was closed to him. Closed as gentle winds whistled through the quivering grass. He didn't know when he arrived here—didn’t remember walking at all. But this was where he needed to be, where he wanted to be.

The gate, shaped from Everblossom, enchanted bronze, and Essence arrays, flashed once and began to untangle. Roots pulled two slabs of heavy metal back, revealing welcoming lights within, and scores of people gathered on the other side. There, at their vanguard, stood his mother alone. His mother as he remembered her. Not at the point of her death. Not beheaded and hollow of gaze. She was regal. Noble. And powerful. And here.

He could feel her spirit.

She was right there, right before it.

The moment was…

It was all he ever wanted these days.

“Do not debase us by weeping,” the Shell breathed. But even its characteristic stoic harshness melted before the sight. The Shell was Wei’s most idealized form, but even at his highest, he was still a son, still a child of his sect. It took more than Wei knew he had to keep himself together.

And impossibly, he saw a notification flash across his vision.

Ambition Advanced > [ErrorUnquantified]

His spirit burned like a boiling cauldron. He ignored it, just as he ignored his Core Ascension for now. What mattered truly was the sight before him—his family, his mother, and his past.

“Mother,” Wei said, his feet feeling heavier with every step. He came to a halt at the threshold of the gate, close enough that he could see the lanterns dangling along the cavernous ceiling and the first rows of housing where the outer sect disciples resided. “I have… I have returned home.”

Wei Jing Quan studied him without ever betraying her own feelings. Apprehension and shame passed through Wei. She was always a better leader, a wiser master, possessed of impossible control. He couldn’t see himself ever becoming her equal in spiritual fortitude.

And so, he never expected for her to stride, becoming as if wind as she crossed the gap of meters in an instant, only to wrap him in a tight embrace. The stone in Wei’s throat plunged, and his guts twisted into nodes of unbearable agony and delight. She was so close and felt her spirit, smelled her scent. Her hair flowed just as he remembered—her hairpin was glittering in the light; the jade piece his father got for her during their courtship.

Tears were streaming down her face. He sensed them through his Omniscience, and only then did he feel how paltry her spirit was, how fragile her spiritual signature burned compared to Mepheleon, the Hound, or even himself. The realization was like drinking acid. It burned him to understand, and he almost refused to accept it.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

His mother was always a titan in his mind, but with her before him, he felt how mortal she truly was, and it scared him more than even death itself.

“You’ve grown so tall,” she whispered, barely hiding a sniffle.

“Wei, do not—”

Ambition Advanced > [ErrorUnquantified]

But even the second advancement of his Ambition failed to keep his heart from collapsing. It arrived as a quiver of his lip, then a choked breathed, and soon, Wei had his arms around his mother as well. The rest of him crumbled after.

Damn strength.

Damn power.

Damn all the stars in the heavens and all the gods in the Fathoms. He just wanted this. He just wanted to be held. He just wanted to be with his family again.

He wept like he did when he was but a babe. Wept as he clung to his mother’s body, sobbing into her shoulder. True to her words, he had to lean down, for she was indeed shorter than him now, and that just reminded him of her mortality all the same. She was dead—still dead even though she was right in front of him.

In his heart of hearts, he also knew this moment was to pass, that he couldn’t stay here forever even if he wanted to. This was the Hound’s domain, and by scheme or mercy, he was granted this moment for the sake of a greater scheme between the true powers that ruled the Fathoms. But this was still his moment, his dream, and he would hold onto it for as long as he could.

Wei knew not if it took seconds or hours to master himself, only that it felt at once an eternity and not long enough at the same time. When he lifted his head, he faced the rest of his sect and winced. They were all looking at him, smiling at him with proud expressions. He didn’t understand why. Master Mouze was there, drinking his questionable brews. Little Falcon standing next to his older sister. Masters Wu Ming and Wu Zun… So many people he once knew, all lost to him now.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Wei breathed.

His mother reached out and cupped his cheek. The mere act nearly broke him again. The Shell shuddered in near outrage, but even he couldn’t muster the strength to chastise Wei in this moment. “Savor this. Burn this into your mind. It may never come again.”

“Why?” Wei Jing Quan said, her own emerald eyes red-rimmed and wet with tears. “Why do you apologize to us, my son.”

“I failed you. If—If I was faster, If I was better—” The cupped hand on his cheek turned into a light slap. The sensation stung his spirit more than his face. Wei blinked in surprise. “I… mother, I apologize—”

She slapped him weakly again, shaking her head with a snort. “You are a brilliant boy, but also ever so blind, do you know that, Wei? So much like your father.”

A sensation of nausea welled up in Wei’s stomach at those words. If there was anything he wished to never hear from his mother’s lips, such were the words. “I…”

“Do not apologize to me again.” Her words were final, but her gaze was soft. “You have nothing to apologize for. What happened was not your fault. It was mine.”

“Mother—”

“I was Matriarch. It was my duty to safeguard our sect against all threats. Ignorance is not an excuse.” And now… she sounded just like his Shell. Wei was unable to shake the realization. He turned briefly to glance at his Skill, and for the first time, the Shell looked away from him, unable to meet his gaze. Wei Jing Quan let out a quiet sigh. “I did not see my end coming. I couldn’t have known. And so, in such an impossible situation, what could you have done.”

Just hearing her admit that hurt him beyond measure. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew he was delusional, that there was nothing he could do. Powerless. That was what he was before the whims of the heavens. But how could he accept that and not go insane? How could he endure such a travesty and accept how worthless he was? It was better to hate himself, to hurt and pour salt on his wounds in the vainglorious assumption that he could have been enough, that there could have been some level of mastery that would allow him to overcome the powers above.

“Something,” Wei said, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he drew blood. “I could have done something.”

“All you could have done was die,” his mother said, her own voice thick with emotion. “You nearly did die, An Wei. You nearly gave yourself to the final end trying to avenge me and the others against…” She couldn’t even speak his name. Wei thought the hate he felt for his father was at the limit. He was wrong. “I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad you were blessed. Oh, my son, no one deserves more of this fate than you.”

He tried to speak, but no words came. Nothing came, like he was being torn apart from the inside out. “I… I…”

She placed her hand on his. “You father… how is he? The God of Death… he has only offered me glimpses of your present life.”

Her inquiry caught Wei off guard. Why did she want to know about his father? Did she wish to hear of his death, of Wei’s successful revenge? He hesitated to tell her the truth, worried about how she might respond, but in the end, his admission leaked through. “I… I avenged you. But only partially. I defeated him. I broke him. But I did not kill him. That would be too gentle, too kind of a fate.”

The words left Wei as bestial snarls now. He only tempered his rage down when he saw his mother flinch.

“I didn’t kill him,” Wei breathed. “I wish I did. But I don’t know if I can. And I hate him. And I hate myself. And I—”

He was wrong— “I’m glad you didn’t,” his mother interrupted. She looked uncharacteristically burdened, her own features strained by age and sorrow. “I would not have you stain your heart with such a thing. It is an ill omen for a son to bloody his father.”

“I took him as a slave,” Wei said, the words slipping out from him without him even knowing.

This wiped away the smiles he saw on the rest of the sect. A look of absolute horror flashed in his mother’s expression. “What?”

“I… the conditions of our duel. Victory would see him free. Defeat would see him made a Karmic Slave. His life is bound to me. Everything he is, all that he suffers, is at my volition.”

“Wei…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, a tear escaping him again. He shook slightly, even as he tried not to. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t face him. It was so hard to face him even when I fought him. I… I have been avoiding him. I hadn’t the will or urge to inflict pain on him even if I hate him. I can’t make him suffer—”

“Oh, you stupid, foolish boy! I don’t want him to suffer. I don’t want you to suffer this.”

Again, Wei was near speechless. “What?”

“But… what he did—”

“I would not have that man’s sins twist your heart. You’re the best thing born of me and our sect. You are my treasure. Do not sully yourself this way. Cut your father loose. Give him to someone else. You must live.”

Her request was impossible and her mercy—this was entirely unlike her. “I can’t—”

Wei Jing Quan’s expression hardened in an instant. “I am still your mother, An Wei. The old rules remain even in my death. I am not asking you to forgive. I am telling you to release him so you can stop poisoning your heart and live.”

“It’s not done,” Wei growled, anger breaking through his torrent of misery. “There are others—the ones he was working for.”

“Working for?”

“They are called the Inheritors. They destroyed our world to claim what I now have. The System. All of you died because of what lingered at the heart of Evernest. For nothing! For someone else’s war, someone else’s game!!” Wei raged, and his mother’s expression paled.

“I—I see. And these Inheritors… They will never stop coming for you, will they.”

“Nor I them.”

She nodded. Now, her demeanor became one he was familiar with. “Good. Kill them. Spare none of them. Kill their children too. Burn their own and defile their names. You have my blessing with this.” And she closed her eyes. “But let your father go.”

A disbelieving intuition slipped into place. How could she be so casually cruel to the fate of the Inheritors while wishing for him to let his father go? The answer was ultimately simple.

“She’s still in love with him,” the Shell moaned, mournfully.

Wei couldn’t believe it.

“Jing Quan.”

And to make matters worse, another voice sounded from behind him. The last voice he wanted to hear right now. The Hound brought his father here as well.

His mother stepped past him, and she bit her cheek as well. Bit it in the same way as her son—bled in the same way as well. “How dare you.”