Scott stepped out of the nihilistic portal, returning to the first territory he had claimed. Chilling winds whipped through the thick fog that perpetually blanketed the domain. He walked forward with deliberate steps, the mist curling around him as his mind wandered.
Far in the distance, the silhouette of the gas-spewing void abomination prowled aimlessly, but Scott paid it no attention. His thoughts churned as he planned his next move.
If what Orion said is true, then we don’t have much time. I need to conquer as many territories as possible before those bastards start invading the Endless Bridge, he mused, his gaze piercing through the haze.
The fact that Orion’s variant had managed to send such an urgent message suggested one thing: he’d pinpointed Scott’s location long before now. And if the variant could achieve that, there was no telling what the gods had planned.
The others won’t awaken for at least a month, Scott continued to ponder. Even when they do, I doubt they’ll be in the right frame of mind to fight—especially when they hear about Ember’s death.
As the thought crossed his mind, Scott’s form flickered, distorting briefly before reappearing beside a massive gelatinous black mass streaked with shimmering silver.
His gaze lingered on Fi-Fi’s transformed form. She really consumed them all... Is she undergoing another evolution? he wondered. Shaking off the thought, Scott studied the pulsating form more closely. Although subtle, he could tell she was still active—but immobilized, likely due to the overwhelming nature of what she had absorbed.
Orion’s clones went after the other summon instead of watching over her, Scott thought, glancing toward the region the gas-spewing abomination lingered. Just how many samples does he plan to collect?
Scott turned his attention to the area where the invaders had breached earlier, but the rift had long since vanished.
Instead of worrying about what I can’t control, I should focus on what’s within reach, he reasoned, his brows furrowing. Conquering territories remains the priority. Once I’ve earned the right to find the link housing the Tree of Life, reviving Ember will take precedence. Everything else is inconsequential.
Scott placed a hand gently on Fi-Fi, causing ripples to course through her gelatinous form.
“Don’t be greedy,” he murmured softly. “It’s okay not to absorb it all. We’ll be waiting for you.”
The ripples intensified, a subtle acknowledgment of his words. Scott withdrew his hand and turned his gaze aimlessly through the mist.
Now that I have a clear plan, I should prepare for what’s ahead. But there’s still the matter of the Nihilithians’ inheritance...
Scott glanced down at his own form. Physically, he looked no different, but he could sense the profound changes coursing through him since receiving the inheritance.
This might be the perfect time to extract—
Scott’s thoughts halted abruptly, his brows creasing with sudden interest.
“Hmm… this is unexpected,” he muttered, a faint hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “I should go say a proper hello.”
A wicked smile flashed across his face as his form vanished into another portal.
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Elsewhere on the Endless Bridge...
In a territory dominated by verdant vegetation, towering mountains, and pristine rivers, thousands of champions from various races moved about, their features bright and content. The atmosphere exuded peace, tranquility, and an almost unnatural sense of safety.
Amid the bustling crowd, a group of newly arrived elves stood together, their eyes filled with a mix of relief, anxiety, and caution.
The five-strong party wore leather armor and loose keffiyeh, their emerald eyes the only part of their faces exposed. Dust and sand clung to their clothing, marking them as strangers to the lush, tranquil land. Compared to the inhabitants, whose clothes were clean and bright, the elves seemed painfully out of place.
Leading them was a young centaur, his warm smile radiating charm and confidence.
“So, that’s everything you need to know about this place,” the centaur said, his tone cheerful and welcoming. “I know it might take some time to adjust, but trust me, life here is far better than in most other territories,” he added with certainty, his gaze traveling across the group.
His eyes lingered on one elf in particular—a woman being supported by another party member. Her emerald eyes were clouded with delirium and anxiety, darting in every direction as if searching for something—or someone.
Unlike her companions, whose battle-hardened gazes were sharp and focused, hers brimmed with an unsettling fragility.
“So,” the centaur asked, his smile unwavering, “do you have any questions?”
The leader of the group loosened his keffiyeh, revealing a weathered, scarred face. His piercing emerald eyes locked onto the startled centaur.
“I’m Vulluin,” he began, his tone calm but commanding. “Thank you for the detailed explanation and the hospitality you’ve shown my companions and me.” His gaze shifted momentarily to the vast, verdant expanse around them before returning to the centaur. “I do have a question, though,” he continued, his voice sharp. “What laws govern this place? You’ve described it as a sanctuary for those weary of endless battles, but surely there are rules imposed by the territorial lord you mentioned. Correct?”
The centaur took a steadying breath, regaining his composure. His smile returned, though it lacked its earlier ease. “I don’t know what rules existed in the timelines you came from,” he began, “but here, there’s only one absolute rule: live peacefully.”
The centaur paused, letting his words sink in.
The elves exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of confusion and skepticism. All except for the female elf, who remained absentminded, her gaze unfocused.
“It might sound vague,” the centaur continued, “but that’s the foundation of everything here. Stealing, murder, abuse of power—anything that disrupts the peace is forbidden. Violators are either banished or severely punished, depending on the crime.” His voice grew firmer. “And if you remember what I told you earlier, no one in their right mind would want to be cast out of a haven like this.”
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One of the elves raised an eyebrow. “So even those with violent tendencies are forced to live in harmony?”
The centaur nodded. “Exactly. That’s what I’m saying.”
Another elf, skepticism clear in his voice, asked, “Just how powerful is this territorial lord for him to maintain control over so many people without backlash?”
It was a fair question. Those who climbed the tower of champion, or who found themselves on the Endless Bridge were ambitious, driven, and fiercely independent. For a single ruler to command such absolute authority spoke to a power far beyond ordinary comprehension.
The centaur hesitated; his expression thoughtful. “I honestly don’t know the full extent of his strength,” he admitted after a moment. “But I can say with absolute certainty that even if all the thousands of champions here joined forces against him, we’d stand no chance. If he wished to, he could annihilate us within minutes.”
The elves’ faces hardened, doubt mingling with a dawning respect for the figure the centaur described.
After a brief silence, Vulluin posed another question. “If there’s no opposition from within, what about threats from outside?”
The centaur’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second—a reaction none of the elves missed. Taking a deep breath, the centaur relaxed his features and replied, “As I said earlier, this place is a haven—a paradise, even. But the same can’t be said for what lies beyond its borders. Outside this territory, bloodshed and massacres are commonplace. Territorial lords constantly vie for power, expanding their domains with aggressive tactics, while new arrivals fight amongst themselves to claim a spot on the rankings.”
His gaze grew steely as he addressed the group. “If you’ve ignored everything else I’ve said, don’t ignore this: never overestimate your abilities. I don’t know what positions you held in your timelines or how powerful you were there. But here? God-like beings from every conceivable timeline have gathered, all eager to dominate and overwhelm their enemies. If you stand against them recklessly, you’ll be reduced to bones before you even realize it.”
His tone softened, though the intensity of his message lingered. “If you want to survive here, learn to live quietly. Peacefully.”
A heavy silence fell over the group, the weight of the centaur’s words pressing down on them. The guide’s expression softened, and his smile returned.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gently. “But I won’t lie to you or leave you unprepared. This place is—”
He stopped abruptly, his brows knitting together as laughter erupted from among the elven party.
The sound came from the female elf, her delirious eyes now filled with manic glee. Her companions scrambled to calm her as her laughter grew louder, drawing the attention of passersby.
“Damn it,” one elf muttered, making a series of hand seals with practiced precision. “Of all times for her to have another episode...”
“Siora’s losing it again, Vulluin!” another elf called out frantically, wrapping his arms around the convulsing woman.
Runes materialized in the air as the elf performing the seals completed his incantation, the glowing symbols wrapping themselves around Siora’s trembling form. Her laughter turned maniacal, her voice cutting through the peaceful atmosphere like a jagged blade.
The centaur’s smile faltered, concern flashing across his face as more bystanders began to notice the disturbance.
Vulluin moved swiftly, summoning a small vial from his inventory. The murky green liquid within sloshed as he snapped the cap off and forced its contents down Siora’s throat.
The final member of the group retrieved a small bead from his inventory. Without hesitation, he bit down on it, cracking it open. A fragrant mist spilled from his mouth as he placed his index fingers on Siora’s temples. The mist wafted into her nostrils, and her body jerked violently as the scent filled her lungs.
The laughter began to subside, though Siora’s body still trembled as the runes around her flickered and held her in place.
The centaur watched silently, his previously welcoming demeanor now replaced by unease.
The centaur and the curious onlookers watched intently as the elves worked in unison. Slowly, the convulsions wracking Siora’s body ceased, and her delirious laughter subsided into silence. Her breathing was heavy and shallow as she fell limp in the arms of her companion.
“Is your friend okay?” the centaur asked, a mix of concern and curiosity flickering in his eyes.
Vulluin straightened, his voice measured as he replied, “I apologize on her behalf. She suffers from a rare condition. It has been years since her last episode, so we weren’t fully prepared for this. I sincerely apologize for the disturbance.”
“No need to apologize,” the centaur said with an awkward smile, taking a tentative step closer. “You’re in luck, though. Of all the places you could’ve entered, it had to be here.”
The elves turned their sharp gazes toward him, the weight of their unspoken questions hanging in the air. Sensing their need for explanation, the centaur elaborated.
“Our lord has a subordinate—a healer—who excels in her craft,” he said with confidence. “Thankfully, she doesn’t charge for her services. I’m certain she could cure whatever condition afflicts your companion.”
The elves exchanged glances, their guarded expressions betraying a glimmer of hope. Noticing their hesitation, the centaur pressed on.
“I understand your skepticism,” he continued, his tone reassuring. “But trust me, I speak from experience. I once suffered from what I thought was permanent blindness.” He paused, gesturing to his clear, unclouded eyes with a broad smile. “As you can see, I’m not blind anymore.”
“And it’s thanks to this healer?” Vulluin asked, his tone tinged with skepticism despite the faint optimism in his expression.
The centaur nodded. “Absolutely. I can introduce you to her. I’m certain she’d be willing to—”
A sudden, thunderous laugh cut him off mid-sentence. All eyes turned to Siora, whose unconscious form began to shake with unnatural laughter, louder and more frenzied than before.
Her companions froze, shock rippling through them as they tried to comprehend the impossible. Though unconscious, Siora was laughing again. But more alarming was the fact that her body was levitating, her boots hovering just a few inches off the ground.
An insidious aura seeped from her form—a baleful, oppressive energy that caused the verdant grass beneath her feet to wither and blacken.
The onlookers recoiled in fear, retreating to a safer distance. Even the centaur stepped back, his warm demeanor replaced with unease as he stared at the elf in confusion. “What is going on?” he demanded, his voice sharper now.
“I have no idea,” Vulluin admitted, his eyes fixed on Siora. “This has never happened before.”
Moving quickly, he retrieved another vial from his inventory while his companions began to repeat the earlier ritual. But before he could act, Siora’s eyes snapped open.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as they noticed the pitch-black void overtaking her irises. Within the darkness, a flickering yellow sigil pulsed ominously, mesmerizing and terrifying all who saw it.
Before anyone could process the sight, Siora’s mouth parted, and her voice echoed with an otherworldly fervor.
“He sees us!” she cried, her tone filled with both ecstasy and dread. “He that would sit upon the empty throne beckons! The Unspeakable One sees us!”
Vulluin and his companions scrambled to subdue her, but the aura emanating from her body surged violently, knocking them off their feet. They tumbled away, their forms skidding across the ground as Siora’s levitating body loomed over the earth.
She turned her gaze to the onlookers, her voice growing louder, more fervent. “He comes! Prepare yourselves! He, blessed with Madness, comes!” Her voice echoed, the crowd transfixed in a mix of awe, confusion, and growing terror. Siora’s voice echoed once more. “Oh, Madness! Eternal you are!”
As her words echoed through the air, the shadow beneath her began to darken and shift, becoming unnaturally dense. It expanded outward, pulsing and roiling like a living pool of ink.
The brave few who stayed watched, frozen in fear, as a figure began to rise from the inky void. The figure’s form was indistinct at first, but its presence radiated a chilling, overwhelming power that sent shivers down their spines.
At that moment, a deafening gong reverberated through the entire territory, shaking the ground and silencing the crowd. A voice thundered from the heavens, commanding and absolute.
“No one will be permitted to invade my territory!”
The words carried the weight of undeniable authority, silencing even Siora’s delirium. The aura leaking from her form wavered, though her levitation did not cease.
The territory fell deathly silent, save for the residual echoes of the gong.