Return of the Tower Conqueror

Chapter 301

Ascendance (II)

There were rumors rampaging throughout the Wilds--though a pretty active region, as its name implied, it rarely got inflamed as much as it has been recently. The rumors pertained to two people--both of whom wore strange, grotesque, nightmare-inducing masks depicting old people with large heads, and their actions lived up to the notoriety of their masks.

They would sweep in indiscriminately and clear the Gates as though they owned them all. It didn’t matter if there were other people already inside the Gates, or if a group reserved them, or even if there were dozens of guards protecting the entrance. The two people would simply kick everyone else away, occasionally even killing, and clear the Gates themselves, reaping all the rewards.

It’s gotten so awful, in fact, that leaders of the minor factions were forced to gather together and set aside decades of grudges and subterfuge in vain hopes of finding a way to fight the two people away, especially since their profits have been completely neutered due to the complete lack of potions.

“Just how is it possible that two people can do this?” one of the fourteen that had gathered for the meet asked.

“Did someone come from beyond the Crust? Just... to farm potions?”

“Doesn’t seem likely.”

“They’ve already been at it for nearly three weeks. They should have hundreds in stock. Why aren’t they gone?”

“Should we set up a trap? If a dozen can’t defeat them, we just gather everyone we can. A show of force not just for the two of them, but others who might be considering doing the same, thinking we’re weak.”

“Yes, I agree. I propose we do it at the Ardenfall--it’s fairly spacious and there are several gates being discovered daily there.”

“Agreed.”

“Same.”

“We’ll do it, then.”

In the meantime, perpetrators were enjoying some light breeze and booze, perched on top of a looming cliff overlooking vast, dry wilderness. They’d just... politely taken some more Gates in the last few hours and decided it was time to rest for a little while. Looking at the haul, Cain sighed; they managed to wring away over 800 potions. Unfortunately, only 60 of them were Mana Potions. Nonetheless, it was better than nothing.

“You’re one rich cocksucker now, ain’t you?” Cain looked at Aldar’s sheepish grin and spoke.

“Yes--I mean, no, no, not that rich. Mildly. Yes. You... you’re not gonna take them, are you?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Cain rolled his eyes aggressively at the man who merely smiled again. In the last few weeks, he’d come to realize that Cain was... mostly a goofball. Though he had his serious moments, for the most part he simply enjoyed cracking terrible jokes and puns and making lame entrances and exists. Though it helped him relax somewhat around the man, it never made him complacent; he was still very much aware that beneath that goofball costume lay a monster that could incinerate the entire Wilds if he wanted. “But our haul ain’t bad. Even 60 Mana potions... could last me for a while. Ah, but no. Others should be making a move right about now.”

“A move?” Aldar quizzed.

“What? Did you think they’re just gonna sit back and wank off to our antics?” Cain scoffed. “I imagine that one of the next Gates we visit... is gonna be swarming with very coked-out folk aiming for my pretty booty.”

“...”

“What? You don’t think my booty is pretty?”

“No comment,” Aldar sighed. “What do you suggest? Should I be more careful in which Gate I select?”

“Hm? Why? I’ll just squash them. That way, the entire place will know to just go the fuck away when they see the majestic Bush and Kennedy walking toward them.”

“... again. For the love of God. WHO ARE BUSH AND KENNEDY?!! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

“What are your plans with the potions?” Cain ignored the now-familiar outburst and asked. “You can’t just come out and start selling them like candy.”

“Plans? Honestly, I might just leave this place,” Aldar said, smiling bitterly. “I’ve been here for... many years now. More than I dare admit aloud. Hoping. Chasing. Expecting. But... nothing. I haven’t moved forward whatsoever in over a decade. I mean, would anyone who’s succeeding here pay attention to the fucking edges and some lame settlements? With the potions... I think I might just leave and open up a shop somewhere in the Tower. The potions there, last I heard, weren’t that widespread, so I might make some nice living if the stars align.”

“...”

“What? No grand speech about not giving up on myself?”

“... the hardest part of life is admitting that ‘this is it’,” Cain said, taking a sip of beer. “’This is as far as I go. My plateau’. Most people ignore that voice in their head, the one that tells them to stop, to slow down, to give up. There’s no giving up, they think. Only losers concede. True winners, they smash their heads against the brick wall until either breaks. But sometimes, there truly is something called ‘enough’. If you think it’s enough... then it’s enough.”

“... it is enough,” Aldar let go of a stiffened breath, one that seemed to hold all the reservations he had about returning home. “I’ve tried, right? I’ve given it my all. I just... can’t. I’ve done what I could.”

“Let’s drink to that, then,” Cain smiled. “You have anyone back home?”

“... no,” Aldar chuckled. “At least nobody who’s waiting, I don’t think. It’s been... long since I left.”

“Well, just remember--just because potions have holes, you shouldn’t--”

“Yes, yes, just shut up and drink,” Aldar interrupted quickly, sighing. How was it possible, he mused, that single man could switch paces that quickly? From seriously discussing limits of an individual to making a juvenile, sex joke? It was a mystery, but one that likely didn’t need answers.

The two spent around half a day just resting. Cain did it mostly to recover his Mana and top it off since he knew that he’d have to expend a considerable chunk soon enough. Though he could avoid fighting, a part of him... didn’t want to. The ground veteran of his first run hadn’t completely died within him. While in the Tower with the others, he often held back considerably, rarely, if ever, letting his inhibitions go. The time has come, he mused, he do exactly that.

Inevitably, the two found their way to the supposed ‘chunk of Gates’ that had just now been discovered and were all the rage. If there was a more obvious trap, Cain certainly wasn’t aware of it. Nonetheless, they headed over, masks in tow, stopping only when Cain suddenly sensed them.

“You should go,” Cain said, glancing to the side. “And watch my badassery from a safe position.”

“... anyone tell you your ego’s the size of a world?” Aldar questioned.

“Not recently, no,” Cain chuckled. “Go.”

“... stay safe.”

Cain briefly watched Aldar run off before tapering forward, hands in pockets. There were a lot of people, he realized, who’ve come to welcome him--over three hundred, in fact. The prints of Mana were evident everywhere, as they were forced to use the tiniest rocks to hide. Cain purposefully walked toward the center--surrounded by the jagged rocks, cliffs, and some dead trees, making for some fairly spacious battlefield all things considered.

He looked up at the gray, ashen skies--as was the case in the Fringes, darkness reigned supreme in the Wilds too. This world seemed to exist in that galactic void that Cain remembered hearing about, a spot in the universe that seemed completely barren of stars and planets comparatively speaking.

Shadows began emerging, one by one, seemingly cornering him. Rows and rows of them heaped toward him, their faces hidden by the darkness. But Cain saw.

“Quite a warm welcome,” he muttered. “But I’m obliged to warn. If you attack me... I will kill all of you.”

“You’re certainly a newcomer, with such a boorish behavior,” a voice bellowed back angrily. “Today... we avenge our fallen.”

“You mean, you avenge your profits?” Cain scoffed. “Don’t use the dead to validate your greed. Fuck, when I kill, at least I kill in good conscience--for instance, I will not be killing you because you are a bad dude or a greedy fuck, I’ll be killing you because the sound of your voice is making my anal cavity clench tighter than a dying man’s first.”

“...”

“...” Aldar didn’t go too far away--specifically because of this. Because he expected Cain to utter something so strange, something so bizarre, something so unfitting of the moment, and he wanted to know what it was. Few men, he knew, would be able to do the very thing he was doing.

“332,” Cain mumbled. “That will make it... 19,883. Still quite tame, no?”

“What are you--”

Wings of fire bellowed out like the slumbering dragons just awoken, alighting the world in their wake. Cain’s arms surged with Mana, glowing in the holy golden, his eyes shimmering in milky-white. Aglowed, he slammed his palms together, stirring the world into a pandemonium. The ground beneath him shook and ruptured, thousands of jagged spires protruding out like spears, all aflame, alighting the world even further. The eternal darkness was vanquished and with it some twenty souls.

Cain took to the skies, looking at the world below with cold, emotionless eyes. They shimmered still, their holy hue in contrast to the hellish intent. Raising his right arm, palm facing upward and open, a spherical glow of the fire appeared, dancing wildly, unbridled. Slowly it grew in size, from a tennis ball until it became the size of a small house. It was a sun alighting the world anew, turning the night into the day, the cold into the warm.

Down below, hundreds of souls froze in abject horror. But it was too late, they knew, to regret. They had to fight. They had to fight. They had to fight. That’s all they had at this point--to fight. To fight...

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