The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

As the Savior had suggested, there was the slightest pulse of an image when the Lizakh group approached the gate of the fort. The slightest tang of pewter rang out. Yn’ulk released a slightly less refined pulse of his monstrous image in response, but it was by far the most well-developed of the group. Naturally, their speed lowered as they waited for a response. Each one of the Lizakh tightened their grips on their weapon.

There was no further response from the gate. D’min wondered if the humans had recognized that they had previously been trying to kill them as sacrifices to their Patron.

But neither did the invisible guards attack. The fort remained unmoving before them. Eventually, Yn’ulk grunted. “Keep heading forward. Trust in the words of the Savior.”

The group picked up their speed. Now that they were nearer, the smell of salt and rotting fish was overwhelming. And, true to the Savior’s words, the heavy metal doors swung inward as the group approached. Two bored-looking tattooed humanoids gave the group a couple of looks but otherwise ignored them. They were well-muscled, more in line with Yn’ulk’s physique than D’min’s. But their chests were bare, despite the cool air.

Past the wall as a short passage and then several stacks of wooden crates. Most of the Lizakh looked to Yn’ulk as they stood in the entrance, unsure of what to do. In response, the muscular lizard man cleared his throat. “We are proud members of the Lizakh, here to fight against the Calamity-”

“Head to the central area,” A guard spat to the side. “Tide is coming in soon; you don’t want to be wandering around when the monsters begin washing up onshore. Such a bother.”

Yn’ulk nodded, his eyes tight with irritation at being interrupted. But he gestured and all the Lizakh, D’min included, followed him. Beyond the crates were two squat grey buildings that looked to be an armory and mess hall. A few similarly bare-chested guards loitered around. D’min took some time to examine their intricate tattoos, done in either blue, green, or purple. These humans, too, only gave the group a few looks before returning to their task.

After squeezing between a narrow passage between the two buildings, they found the central area they had been told to seek. And once there, D’min’s scales tingled; he might only have a rudimentary ability to manifest his own, but he was quite proficient at sensing images. Each and every person already waiting in the clearing pulsed with potency.

There were at least a hundred of them.

The first horrifying image to catch D’min’s attention drifted out from a lanky man with long red hair and a massive saber by his side. His eyes opened briefly to scan the Lizakh group, but he apparently found nothing worthy of his interest. His attention turned inward again almost immediately.

Other than him on the left side of the open area, there a dozen ogres, with their three-headed leader releasing a crushing pressure. Opposite the ogres on the right were a score of strange cavalry. The mounts were strange, possessing chitinous armor and segmented joints. The riders sparred on the ground with their long lances. Based on their slow and steady movements, this was more for entertainment purposes than training.

The main area was occupied with more humans in the dress of the guards. Their bodies were the most heavily tattooed that D’min had seen. Grand swirls and harsh sigils add flashes of color to their bodies. They wore necklaces with shark teeth and sharpened heavy, brutal weapons. In addition, there were a dozen smaller groups around the size of the Lizakh that all wore different emblems representing various human organizations.

So many representatives from different areas… so this is the power of Expira. Could we really join them? D’min wondered as he looked around. Very quickly, two groups pressed against the far wall grabbed his attention. Because as soon as he laid eyes on them, he sucked in a breath. He hadn’t sensed them before, but once he tasted their image-

A muscular man with a shaved head cracked his knuckles. “Don’t even bother to join the final expedition. We will handle this ourselves, the old-fashioned way.”

“If brute force could really solve the problem, would we still be swimming in monsters?” A slender, dark-haired man made a long knife dance across his fingers. His eyes never let his rival. “Relax and leave this to the true professionals.”

The muscular man’s smile darkened. “The only profession you can claim is sous chef. How does it feel to always play second fiddle to me?”

In response to the provocation, the knife-wielder took a step forward. “If you mean to say that I have enough spare time in our spars to carve second fiddled into your body, you are entirely correct. Do you want a demonstration? Because-”

“Don’t you two ever get tired of bickering constantly?” A new figure stepped between the two of them and put his hands on their shoulder. This man seemed tired, but for a brief second as D’min looked at him, he witnessed a fraction of his image. It leaked out from his seemingly casual gesture. The man had hollow eyes that glowed with a ghastly light. On his head was a crown of glowing bones and behind him was a sea of screaming wraiths, demanding sacrifice to their liege.

Then the vision passed, leaving a slightly tall man. D’min turned away and hurried after his fellow Lizakh. Can we truly make a difference amongst these monsters…?

*****

Dreaming and wakefulness wove together seamlessly after a while. He did not question the process but instead embraced it. The current Randidly possessed a strange sense of flexibility in his outlook that allowed him to accept all the changes as they manifested. The layers were in constant flux; his work was constantly left unfinished or had to transition to an entirely new context.

However, he didn’t let it frustrate him. Instead, Randidly observed the developments seriously and responded appropriately. He continued to sharpen the horrifying storms that ravaged the planet. Small details about the way the Lizakh behave became larger forces within their culture. He poured himself into the dark blooms of frozen blood that covered some stretches of the Field of Talons.

Then he resolutely crushed everything but the desolation of eternal loneliness, when Clarent’s influence seemed on the cusp of reaching the core of this world and hollowing out the planet. Nothing remained for this world but to collapse beneath the burden that Claudette had brought to this place.

Congratulations! Your Skill Grand Perspective (R) has grown to Level 191!

Congratulations! Your Skill Conviction of the Celestial Cataclysm (T) has grown to Level 515!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill Grand Perspective (R) has grown to Level 219!

Cold, Randidly thought to himself as he walked along one of the beaches of the planet. One moment the layer beneath him had massive boulders along the shore and the next the stones had been smashed to jagged bits of sand. Waves crashed ceaselessly against the shore, irrespective Yes, this world is extremely cold. How could it not be? Desperation colored every interaction. Clarent just wished to escape her father and the fate of being the horrifying tool he had made of her.

Very smoothly, Randidly transitioned to dreaming. Some part of him wondered if he was actually dreaming or just imagining, but that generous acceptance in his chest told him it didn’t matter. This layer was exactly where he needed to be right now. Colors swirled and resolved themselves into the brilliant world of the Seraphim, filled with bold rays of sunlight and eternal warmth.

But one of the castles of the Skykings was surrounded by troops. A small army clustered around the vaulted gates. Within a deep room of that castle, Clarent’s father was slumped in a chair, his head in his hands. He remained that way for several minutes, until Clarent herself burst into the room, still twisted into the form of a horrifying sword by her union with the Limina.

Even then, she had already started leaking an aura of darkness.

‘Clarent!’ Instantly, her father was on his feet as he gazed at her. Clarent’s heart swirled with doubt, suddenly afraid that her father who had always praised her would look at this hideous form and finally turn away like all the others. Yet to her surprise, his features lit up with joy. ‘Finally! You’ve returned. Just in time too.’

‘Father, what’s going on?’ Clarent was too warmed by his welcome to notice the covetousness in his eyes. ‘Why are there troops outside of our home?’

At her question, the image in front of Randidly flickered. He saw the thick lines of the seraphim, holding their burning lances and standing at strict attention. They kept their wings folded at their back, the picture of military discipline.

Randidly heard the long sigh of Clarent’s father. ‘They lust for control, my pride. They come to oust me. Which is why your return is so important. Without you, I would be weaponless. But with your help, I can make these fools pay for underestimating me.’

The image faded back to the room where the Skyking licked his lips while looking down at the sword he had been anticipating for so long. Clarent was confused by his words, not even noticing his expression. ‘But I… what do you mean? I know the Limina did something strange to me, but I’m not a sword-’

‘Clarent, daughter,’ Her father shook his head sadly. ‘Look at yourself. Truly look at yourself. If you are not a sword, what are you?’

A mirror blossomed into place across the wall in front of Clarent. And she could not avoid looking at the black hilt with its curling veins, the transparent blade, and the gemstone of pure darkness that was her core. As Clarent stared at herself, she could not tell which portion came from the Limina and which came from her.

Somehow, on the journey back to her father, they had blended together fully. They were one.

She was speechless as her father took her into his hands and swung her experimentally. The sensation of powerlessness and weightlessness squeezed her confusion and worry into something tight and anxious. It lodged in her throat and she couldn’t breathe around it. But already her father was laughing with joy and striding out of the dark room in the corner of his castle.

That joy gave her pause. If its just for now, if it makes him happy, maybe it is alright to be a sword for a while.

They strode into the audience chamber and found the three other Skykings waiting for them. Each was flanked by two powerful guards, radiating the illuminating light from the sun. Perhaps due to the habits of the Limina, Clarent felt herself shrinking back from that exploratory light, afraid of what they could see of her. Of what too much exposure to the light would reveal.

However, her father’s hands on her hilt were warm and firm.

The central Skyking glowered at her father. ‘What have you done? What sort of monstrous creature have you made?’

‘Do not speak to my daughter in such a manner,’ Her father replied primly.

The Skyking on the right threw his hands up in the air. ‘Such a weapon is capable of severing light! What madness would possess you to nurture such a foul thing, in your home no less! We did not comment when you detached a portion of the Great Shadow and raised it within your own home. But now to reunite it with its power-’

‘If we control the Great Shadow, can you not understand how much our influence will expand?’ Clarent’s father took a step forward into the center of the room. Light slanted through the window a concentrated on that central point, making him radiant. ‘Why stop at the sky? With this weapon, we can expand to other planets! Our empire will reach across the whole of the universe!’

‘You are mad,’ The Skyking on the left spat on the ground. The guards raised their weapons and began to stalk forward.

‘Fine then, choose the path of destruction,’ Clarent’s father sneered at the three other Skykings and the expression transformed his entire face into something sinister and dark. Some portion of that strangeness lingered as he then smiled down at Clarent. ‘My daughter, it is time. For all my hard work I have given for you… sing for me. Make these ignorant fools pay.’

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