Chapter 60
Tainted Accord
Roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and a garlic salad on the side... Asher could hardly contain himself from wolfing it all down like a starved beast. Though it cost him a whole 8,000 Souls, and though he felt regret immediately upon finalizing the purchase... biting into it destroyed that regret instantaneously. For a moment, he felt human, something he hadn’t truly felt like in a long time.
Watering it down with a tankard of ale further solidified that though it was expensive, it was also cheap. Even if he could have used those 8,000 Souls to improve his stats in a somewhat meaningful way, he still had over 30,000 leftover.
Even if his daily meal had been upgraded a decent amount--a fresh loaf of bread with a slathering of jam, which was randomized for every meal between strawberry, cranberry, and apricot, was a rather delicious combo--it was no substitute still to a proper, fully-fledged meal.
He took as long as he could, though still finished it within ten minutes. Drinking the last of ale, he remained seated by the window, looking out into the vastness of the plaza where life thrived all the same. He settled into a particular routine already--even if he couldn't quite capture the passage of time properly, he did the best he could, sleeping in three-hour intervals twice a day, holding workout sessions before the first and after the second 'nap', visiting the plaza at least once a day if for nothing else but a jug of mead in the tavern just so he could feel like a part of a living city.
Stretching lazily as he stood up, he left the tavern, feeling quite a few eyes on his back. It was the second day in a row where he could feel himself being watched. Though a familiar sensation, it was still uncomfortable nonetheless. He'd already deduced it probably had something to do with Sarah, though there was also a chance it was just an extension of his visiting El and the smithy shutting down for the duration of the visit.
He paid them no further heed beyond simply etching the faces into his mind so that he could be prepared, heading over to the Adventure Center, another part of his daily routine. He regularly checked the Daily and Weekly runs in hopes of finding something relatively easy, but thus far his luck had been rather bad.
Furthermore, he had to keep in mind the fact that the next Stage would be excessively chaotic, both in part due to the numerous Blessings that would activate, but also the two Curses. This was especially the case for the Harrowed Lethargy which would all but cripple him. If he got unlucky with the Stage and the enemies therein, he’d have to burn the Scroll to escape.
In fact, he’d already considered using the Scroll to ‘reset’ the Curses and make them go away, but it felt like a bit of a waste especially because he’d also be resetting some of the ‘Blessings’. Though most Blessings were almost imperceptible in their impact, such as increasing DoT defense, or even something like Halcyon Boon which increased Dodge Chance by 20%, but Asher couldn’t even really recall ever ‘dodging’ an attack outside his own movement, so he didn’t even grasp the validity of the Blessing.
“Right, I also have that thing that will increase the speed by 100%,” he mumbled into his jaw, recalling another Blessing he’d just obtained which would double his movement speed for the first 3 minutes of the Stage. Though that will offset some of the Curse, it'd still just set the Movement Speed to a lethargic 0,6 and it would still be capped at horrid 1,0.
“Did you hear that Houit apparently killed Edin in an invasion?” Asher picked up on some interesting nearby chatter.
“Wait, that was true? I thought somebody just made it up.”
“No, it’s true. Apparently, there have been more and more offers of invasion as of late.”
"Ah, right. Yeah, it tracks. It should be around the time of the Festival. It always happens around a month or two after new arrivals."
“Wait, you don’t sound bothered? Aren’t you worried?”
“He he, nah. I got lucky and got Te’hah’s Protection. It has six uses.”
“Shit, you lucky bastard. Wanna trade?”
“Pfft, hell nah. Oh, it’s my turn.”
Asher frowned ever so slightly, internalizing the words. The Festival. A rather magical noun now stood coated in the grease of undercurrents. It wasn't difficult to extrapolate that which Asher already predicted to some extent--a 'PvP' system of sorts. Though he was a bit confounded as to why it was nowhere to be seen, his questions were finally answered--the 'grace' period was over.
Even if he was worried slightly, it wasn’t by much; clearly, there would be some massive ‘Yes--but!’ notions in terms of the 'invasions'. Otherwise, not only would this entire place descend into madness, but there wouldn't be nearly as many people since they would have been hunted down by the 'high-leveled' ones.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
There were many things in this world that Asher feared but other people attacking, surprisingly, wasn’t one of them. He’d spent a lifetime facing precisely that and though this side of the coin was entangled with magic and suffused with supernatural, the core nature of struggle and conflict did not change. Bitterly, it was all more of the same. Blind leading the blind, as it were, souls deposed from their hubris.
A quick glance through the offers in the center yielded little and thus he left, deep in thought. The smartest option was to just select one of the repeatable Stages to easily cull through the Curses and get their bonuses as it mentioned nowhere that he couldn’t do that. Even if he would burn through the Blessings at the same time, it would be worth it. However, as all times before when there was an easy choice, he hesitated--precisely because of how obvious of a choice it was.
Nothing of this world ever let him believe the Lords and the Ladies and whomever else would offer an accord so easy it would hardly register as a challenge. There would be a wrinkle, undoubtedly, pulling and pinching the confines of his choices. His gut feeling was that opting into the 'easy choice' would yield a harder challenge ultimately, even if the feeling itself wasn't necessarily founded on some profound logic.
He stopped outside and looked up; it was always day, clear and grand, though sunless. He couldn't quite fathom where all the light was coming from, but it was irrelevant; perhaps there was no 'light' as he knew it, and his eyes were simply impregnated with the ability to see regardless of it. Magic suffusing the world overrules the reasonable and makes the impossible regular.
A blink later, he found himself back in the cabin that was growing cozier with each passing challenge. The goblin had already been here today, it seemed, prompting Asher to shrug. Ever since the earful he was served and the warning offered, the goblin seemed to have started avoiding him.
Sighing, he grabbed the jug of water and took a swig, stretching afterward in preparation for the workout. However, just as he swallowed the last of the water in his mouth, a flashing pang of pain electrocuted him, tossing him into the swaying darkness for a moment before he was ripped back into the light.
Opening his eyes, he found himself in an entirely unfamiliar place. It was hot and humid and wet and his throat almost immediately felt parched. All around he saw overgrown jungle, tall, branching trees whose canopies seemed at war with each other over who would reach the furthest toward the sun. The branches were thin, like sickly fingers, fruitless though filled to the brim with strange, triangular leaves. Every graze of the wind would cause them to flutter, producing strange sounds.
And yet, the jungle wasn’t even the strangest thing there--rather, it was the structure of barren stone in front of him. It was shaped somewhat like a pillar, with a wide foundation, with shaved sides as it reached toward the top. There was a staircase leading there, cracked and worn down with vines and weeds and grass overgrowths overcoming the ashen gray of the stone.
At the zenith of the ‘pyramid’ was a stranger thing still--a diminutive, inverted replica of sorts that seemed to defy gravity, hovering just above the apex. The miniature counterpart appeared to be crafted from enigmatic materials that shimmered with an almost otherworldly luminescence, and it rotated ever so gently in place. Unlike the colossal pyramid beneath, whose weathered stones bore the scars of countless eons, the inverted replica exuded an aura of pristine newness, as if untouched by the blades of time.
As it rotated, it hummed--it was a low and pleasant hum, almost serenely calming, occasionally dipping and rising. Asher had never seen anything like it, be that on Earth or here, and his lips parted into an expression of awe.
“Fascinating, is it not?” a voice awoke him from the gentle lull, alarm bells ringing inside his mind repeatedly. He quickly found the source of the voice--it was a figure standing to his right, some ten feet away, looming over him like a statue. The figure was at the very least fifteen feet tall, garbed in dark, silken robes with golden edges and with a hood covering their face. A wooden staff, as tall as the figure, sat embedded in the ground next to them as the long, sullen fingers clutched it, aged and wrinkled skin almost like ash.
“What? Oh--the structure,” Asher mumbled the words. “Uh, yeah.”
“...”
“Who are you?”
"We discovered it over two centuries ago," the figure ignored Asher's question, the aged and deep voice booming softly through the air, almost perfectly in tune with the hum. "We know not who built it, when it was built, or how it was built. Any time we tried to wrestle away that relic... we were rejected. A force beyond our measure guards it, shields it from our yearning. We know only one thing, in fact," the figure's head finally shifted away from the pyramid and toward Asher, the wind blowing sideways lifting the hood up and revealing the face.
It was old.
Scarily old.
The skin appeared dry and sickly gray, as though someone slathered a handful of ash across it, with the wrinkles and creases so deep and overcoming that the figure’s eyes could not be seen. The cheeks were sunken and sallow, more bone than flesh, and the lips were thin and almost invisible. Long and thin nose fanned out over them, almost like a dagger; a finishing touch to an unseemly face. And yet, Asher held it all from showing on his face.
“No... rather than declare that we know, it is better said that we believe we know," the figure continued. "The legend among the local tribes of barbarians says that the inverted pyramid is a coffer of Ma-ga'thu, the Sunken God of Creation. Long, long ago, at the beginning of time, gods waged wars of supremacy, and only the two remained--Ma-ga'thu and the Nameless One. They fought endlessly, with no victor in sight. In the end, the Nameless One split the world in two--one for itself, and one for Ma-ga'thu. The legend says that the coffer is the entrance to this other world, a pure, untainted paradise where the rivers of gold flow out into the oceans of dreamsprite. But only those chosen may ever cross." Asher remained silent as the aged figure looked away once again. "Fancy tales, just like most. If ever there were so many Gods as the virtuous scripts of history claim, there would be no life beyond them, I'm afraid."
“...”
“I have a quest for you, nascent journeyman,” the figure broke a rather lengthy silence, once again turning toward Asher. “A quest to twist the binds of your fate. Dost thou dare?”