‘From henceforth The Champion swears that they shall abide by each and every edict presented above to the fullest extent of their meanings. Any and all attempts to renege on this oath shall be penalized with The Sanction.’

Dalric had every word of the contract memorized. He’d scoured it likely more than ten thousand times in his search for loopholes and outs. It had not been a particularly long oath, but it was exceptionally tight.

‘The Sanction’ referred to the Gods ability to rip command of his own body from him. There were typically four conditions that called for it: he refused to eliminate another God, he refused to eliminate ‘heathens’, he refused to protect the ‘righteous’, and he refused to protect himself. They were the four key tenets of the contract. Refusing to meet his obligations in regards to those tenets meant the Gods could simply complete the acts directly.

The fifth condition to trigger The Sanction was not related to the tenets, but rather the contract itself. Though it was a condition that practically never came to pass, he had far from forgotten it. The first time he tried to ‘renege on his oath’ wrought greater personal destruction than any other moment in his life.

With hindsight, it made sense why he had triggered it last night. In the moment though, how could he have known simply raising a single Devil Glas piece to his head could be considered an attempt to annul the contract?

Dalric smiled.

He already knew he was on the right path, but that was the greatest confirmation he could have received. There was the tiny possibility that it was actually the fact that he moved to harm himself, but he largely threw that out. He was almost certain that the contract did not include his new body in its parameters. They could not interfere with him harming himself and they hadn’t even attempted to order him to stop. His near-folly with the Menos proved that.

Thinking about it even deeper, if not for the fact that the section of the contract that detailed The Sanction included ‘and all strengths and powers derived from the soul of The Champion’, being reborn could have in practice already freed Dalric. If it hadn’t, even if the contract remained untouched they would have had zero hold over him.

That realization led him to a new thought. Or rather an old one that he disregarded.

They didn’t plan for me to be reborn…

He had the inkling earlier. It didn’t make sense why they’d go through the trouble to bring him back but then choose to be absent from his mind when he awoke. In fairness, that still didn’t make sense. The contract was clearly still in play and they still sought to make use of him, but he still had yet to hear any of their voices. The orders he heard seemed to come from an emotionless automation. Compared to everything else that was odd since he’d awoken, it wasn’t worth a mention, but on this topic it was very noteworthy.

Beyond the location of his reawakening, right at the heart of a budding new God, nothing about his second life spoke of the Gods’ machinations. Obviously, he’d only been active for two days. It was very possible that he simply had yet to experience whatever it was that they had planned. It was also possible the plan had gone awry.

Once upon a time, there were embers of internal strife. Those could have finally manifested into flames. They could have sabotaged each other. Malicious intent aside, incompetence may have played its part. There could have been mistakes or complications. For all he knew, they even planned for him to return as the true Dalric, but failed somehow. Any number of things could have transpired before reaching this point.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

That all said, it was still an angle he had to consider seriously now. It could change everything about what his focus should be going forward. If he wasn’t reborn as a part of the Gods’ schemes, then who sought him? More importantly, who not only sought him, but could find and bring him back? What did they want him for?

Why did it summon the Dance?

Gods or no Gods, his rebirth had practically been heralded by a promise of calamity. If it was the Gods, then though his targets were out of reach the means to impede them literally rested within his hands. The moment he neutralized The Sanction, he’d immediately foil anything and everything they needed him for. If it wasn’t the Gods then… he wasn’t sure where to even begin.

Skybreak came to mind. It was the only thing he could think of really. As a global calamity already, it fit the boots, if awkwardly. Even though he surmised that there could be another Skybreak, why would he be necessary? Dalric had felt like he had a connection to the second sun somehow, but there was no real basis to that feeling. If anything, it was his connection to the Dance that would point in that direction. If the Gods weren’t responsible or related to either then it was all just nonsense.

He had nothing.

Hm. I have time. First thing I need to face is the Devil Glass.

He looked behind him. The six pieces still laid on a side table. His body was slowly working its way back to proper functionality, but he had no interest in getting up just yet. It wasn’t like being any closer would help anyway. What he needed to do, and could do from his spot on the carpet, was plan his next step. He had to purposely trigger The Sanction.

Further research on the whats and hows of Devil Glass was an of course. Creating his own variant was an of course. Both of those things were long term projects. What he needed right now was to create a reliable, consistent way to use Devil Glass as it was. To do that, he had to test it.

He had planned to use Blood Hunter to run tests, but he'd already passed the point where that could teach him anything. He wanted to test them in the context they'd be used, against pressure. Ordinarily, that would require waiting for an order. The only one they could feasibly give him at the moment was an order to kill non-worshippers. They had already used that though, so he had a few weeks before it reared its head again. Instead of waiting for that to become an option again however, he now had an endlessly repeatable method for summoning their vile presence. And a helper.

He’d—

“Hello?”

Three rapid knocks accompanied the feminine voice. Dalric had effectively shut of his ahjer sense earlier in his attempts to lessen his headache so he hadn’t sensed his visitor’s approach at all. Once he stretched it back out to its natural radius, he instantly recognized the woman behind the door as one of Ryku’s helpers.

That didn’t really inspire him to answer. He had a matter of great import to ponder, not a drop of him felt like addressing whatever issue she had come to inform him of. She responded to his silence with louder, more frantic knocking.

Dalric still wasn’t moved, but he thought about it for a moment and realized that Ryku would not have sent someone to disturb him for anything other than an emergency. That he hadn’t come himself spoke to that even further.

“Hello!”

That time she yelled more than asked.

Dalric took a breath and slowly rose to his feet, "Come in!"

She hastily swung the door open, "Ah!" And just as hastily turned around, "Sir Tai urgently requests your assistance at the front gate."

He wore only makeshift undergarments so the immediate reaction wasn't completely out of place, but he did find it a bit excessive. Humans were always overdramatic about nakedness however, so at least she carried on without a fuss.

"What happened?"

"A group of powerful panthers have demanded that they speak with you."

Dalric tilted his head a bit, "Panthers?"