Faelmac Westrisser stood at the window of his personal quarters, his hands folded behind his back. Pale sunlight filtered down through the light cloud layer. A cup of soaked mint and chicory lay forgotten on the table beside him. Emotions crackled in his heavy gaze as he looked to the Southeast, unable to look away. “These… undisciplined, foolish children.”

Yet he couldn’t deny something stirred in his blood to watch them so thoughtlessly throw themselves into conflict. Both possessed immensely powerful bodies, so they exchanged blows freely. There was no hesitation or artifice in them. Even within Westrisser’s own guarded and scarred heart, he could remember what it was to be young and enjoy strife just for the wild exhilaration of conflict.

Now he controlled a city. His heart had frozen against frivolous pleasures. Or rather, he recognized them for the weaknesses that would result.

Of course, his attention had fixated on his daughter as soon as she had returned to within the sphere of his influence. Despite their spats in recent years, mostly over the radical ideas of Elhume, she was his only blood relation worth a damn. The rest were as sniveling and conniving as Undersecretary Swacc. Useful, but only when rather constantly reminded of the threat hanging over their heads if they failed. Without proper guidance, they were snakes that would eat their own tails, dreaming one day of how large and strong they would become.

The constant grind of Malloon’s barrier blocked all sound, but Westrisser could almost imagine the thunderous blows exchanged.

In the distance, the Nether King continued to wallop on Elhume. Like a door with long-unused hinges, a stiff smile creaked open on his face. Seeing the wounds across the uppity fist-user’s body did bring him a small measure of joy. Yet what gave Westrisser pause was the Nether King himself.

In their short meeting, he had seemed surprisingly direct and focused. There wasn’t a shred of youthful exuberance in him. And his deft maneuvering to target the Undersecretary had been masterful. Was there some history between himself and Elhume that now had him seemingly possessed by fury? Or some long-standing feud?

His attacks were sharp and vicious but diffused. And he hadn’t really activated his true Nether powers. The longer the spar went, the more confusing it became.

Westrisser watched for a while longer musing on how simple life must be, to so freely flaunt your strength, without fear of others plotting against you. Clicking his tongue, he turned away from the window.

Hopefully, your confidence is well founded, Nether King. Westrisser returned to his desk. Because if I am watching, you can be sure the Undersecretary is as well. If this is all you amount to… Swacc will hang you within the week.

*****

They eventually stopped, mostly because the fight had carved canyons beneath their feet. Even for powerful individuals, fighting on ground that had been repeatedly pulped into sand was annoying.

Plus, the inflection point passed and he could no longer release as much of his power.

Randidly stood over the shattered form of Elhume, his body trembling with the wild pounding of his heart. Despite his sorry state, Elhume grinned cheerfully up at him. “Quite a good spar. I haven’t had fun like that… heh, I can’t remember when. But I really do have a ways to go, don’t I?”

“Don’t we all,” Randidly said, torn between the remnants of his fury and a strange bitterness. By the end of the fight, the satisfying heat of fighting had completely drained from his body. He turned away from his foe.

This wasn’t the Elhume he needed to overcome. Randidly had been too volatile, lashing out at this Elhume. The inflection point had passed and his Nether Core’s revving became increasingly dire. The memory trembled around him without pause. In the end, it hadn’t even been very cathartic. Still, Randidly didn’t regret the fight.

He had gotten a glimpse of the true memory by breathing through the exercise.

Toward the end of the fight, as Elhume’s image gathered momentum and they traded blows more evenly, he could see its flickering shadow and make out some details. In the original dream, Elhume should have come to Malloon and found a Patron of the Deep wounded and on his deathbed. In this reality, Jotem had been eliminated by Swacc weeks before. Discovering this, he really had tried to storm his way into Malloon and Westrisser had dealt with him personally.

Seeing how easily his ally and peer had been defeated, Elhume had realized how weak he was on the grand scale of the Nexus. It was a moment of focused resolve, where he had thrown himself into his own preparations.

Part of the reasons for his current bitterness was that Randidly had taught this version of Elhume the same lesson he had learned from Elhume’s brief glance, so long ago.

The only confusion… Randidly forced his eyes away from Elhume’s bloody lips and enthusiastic smile; even now, he irritated him. He glanced to the side, where the Patrons prowled, surly at watching him beat up Elhume. Is Mae Myrna. You weren’t in the information I could glean. So what insight did you have in both of these inflection points?

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Asking probably wouldn’t get him an answer, so Randidly nodded to the Patrons. Right now, he wanted some space. “Since we are finished here, I have other business to take care of. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

“Let’s do this again,” Elhume replied cheerily. His teeth were stained with blood.

Pressing his lips together, Randidly jumped away with enough force to tear space. He returned to Jotem’s farm, finding his room and sitting down to meditate. He needed to take time to allow the memory to recover. As always, the constant tremors aggravated him. And also he needed a chance for his Nether Core to bridge the distance between this memory and the next.

It took about twelve hours for his Nether Core’s revs to return to acceptable levels. During that time, he felt both Jotem and Devick come and go from the farm. Devick left after standing in front of his door for almost fifteen minutes and not knocking on his door, her shoulders slumped and muttering to herself about how he probably wasn’t even here. Jotem took a little longer, facing the wooden paneling and going into a long rant about the Patron of the Deep claiming to have received Randidly’s permission to spend their money to acquire better materials for the skyislands.

Apparently, the Origin Beast used their money quite liberally.

After thoroughly cursing his ancestor and complaining for a full hour, he finally departed while looking oddly refreshed. With a stomach full of lingering embers of rage, Randidly stayed in his meditative trance and simply breathed. His emotional sea crashed with waves of vindictiveness and frustration.

However, one thing was clear; rather than exhausting him, the spar with Elhume had given him a weird surge of emotional invigoration. It refocused his efforts. So, when the memory no longer strained his Nether Core, Randidly slipped within his inner world. He woke up in his bedroom projection and pushed himself to his feet. He walked out into the cavern.

It was time to face his fourth and final core of negative emotion.

The cavern had changed. All the other doors had faded. The edges of the room had vanished, leaving Randidly in a vast, dark space. As opposed to doors, he saw a series of three little islands of light and shape within the vast darkness. Based on how the previous clearing of the emotional cysts, they would be memories.

Memories of his mother, Emilee.

But first, he had other business. He flicked his wrist and produced a dream version of Acri. From the shadows, hordes of Grey Creature clones rushed forward, their eyes burning with the negative desires absorbed from the Alpha Cosmos. Before choosing to combat his own darkness, he needed to clear this area out of bottom feeders.

His strikes were quick and vicious. He ripped open their bodies and sent limbs tumbling through the air. More and more poured forth, but the emotional force he had already absorbed gave him a heavy edge. There was no amount of small darknesses that could swarm and overwhelm him. His Discretion of the Apostate Moirae was too advanced a Stat to allow that to happen, not now that he had strengthened his emotional foundation to such a degree.

At some point, the clones broke and scurried back into the darkness. Lowering Acri, Randidly didn’t pursue. He blew a long breath out through his nose and spent a bit of time calming himself down. What came next would be much more difficult than

Right as Randidly took a step forward to enter the void, he felt a presence next to him. “Are you sure you wish to proceed?”

A floating wisp drifted next to him. After shaking for a few moments, it resolved itself into a clone version of Randidly, this one with grey hair and black eyes. Its expression was surprisingly neutral, considering it was an ego built out of his repressed emotions and negative subconscious. “If you start opening these emotional wounds, you won’t always grow stronger. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.”

“I would think you would push me to face these fears,” Randidly spoke with squinted eyes, trying to read the intentions of this projection. His perception told him very little about it.

The grey Randidly shrugged, almost looking bored. “Do you know, in social science questionnaires, the group of people who think they are the happiest? The most unreasonable. If they believe they are happy, they are happy. Those who know better often make themselves sad.”

Randidly just stared at his clone.

The clone scratched his cheek. “All four of us are a part of you, you know. We protect you. I’m telling you to turn back. You should listen to me.”

Randidly lifted his chin. “Are these memories of my mother really so difficult to bear?”

“Not really. But they serve as a key that will unlock everything else. A truth you’ve been avoiding for a long, long time.”

He thought about that, his mind scrambling to figure out what he was dealing with for this last emotion. He had dealt with self-pity, jealousy, and wrath thus far. These were the greatest of his vices. They had steadily escalated the violence of each emotion, which made this fourth iteration certainly a deviation. “So what are you supposed to be? Depression? Hatred? …or even loneliness?”

The clone just grimaced as though being labeled made it uncomfortable.

Randidly sighed. “Would you at least tell me if I was right?” The clone didn’t answer, but its inert features seemed to indicate the negative. Randidly shook his head. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. For the power you carry, to unite my emotional sea… I need to look into those memories.”

“Who possesses more power, a dying man tied to the front of a train or a young man carrying a wooden spear?” The clone asked.

Randidly stared at the clone for another few seconds. He really wasn’t sure what to make of the philosophical responses from this core of negative emotion. “...You realize I’m not going to stop, right?”

“That’s the trick, isn’t it?” Finally, a change came over the clone’s features; it looked almost mocking. “What would cause Randidly Ghosthound to stop?”

Maybe it’s cruelty? Randidly scrunched his face together. But still, he put one foot in front of the other and walked toward the first memory.