The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Once Randidly withdrew from the process, Claudette felt herself given the spark of momentum but bound within the confines of her own image. She moved back and forth, the whole of her reaching the delineated limits of the details Randidly had given her until she impacted the edge and rushed back through her image with slightly more intensity.

In her accelerating passage, the shape of her personality warped the work that Randidly had done. Not that there was anything necessarily wrong with it, but it wasn’t her image. Not truly. Now, as she crashed back and forth without fear or judgment toward the changes she was making, the image became her own.

The constant motion relaxed her. Claudette felt her consciousness turning blurry at the edges. So even while her image buzzed with pent-up force, she fell asleep.

Her focus turned inward. In her dreams, Claudette rebuilt herself.

Even with the assistance of Randidly Ghosthound, Claudette still experienced a strange unease whenever the possibility of her own existence occurred to her. So she smelted herself a suit of dark blue armor, to give her the solid hands to interact with the world. The armor had no helm and no body within its confines, but its hands could wield the desolate blade Clarent.

On her left hand was a dull red glove, the color worn away by long years of use. Occasionally a spark of a half-forgotten intensity was prodded into existence, but those violent displays quickly extinguished themselves. On her right, Claudette wore a pitch-black gauntlet with ridges along the knuckles that leaked a sludge-like black material.

She held the sword in front of her, the blade filled with swirling darkness, and tightened her grip. The dream began to change around her. The buzzing in her image threatened to sunder all the work they had done to empower her.

Yet her attention was elsewhere. With her body created, Claudette fought across the sky, cutting through faceless enemies that were more often than not her own fears and insecurities given vague, amoeba-like bodies. But these foes were indestructible; as she bisected their flexible shells, they simply split into smaller forms. As the dream stretched, Claudette had to wade through a sea of bodies, adopting a style of dispassionate butchery to advance.

She fought until she returned to the gloomy kingdom ruled by her father. Even when her fears became as small as ants, biting at her ankles when she wasn’t paying attention, she moved through the hollow world once that was once so bright underneath the stewardship of the four Skykings.

Claudette used Clarent to cut through the high, abandoned gates and stormed through to her father’s throne room. There he sat, waiting for her. Her energy rushed back and forth through her image at such a high speed that she was completely filled by her energy. Her image began to swell to avoid cracking open like a dropped egg.

Her father’s smile curled outward as he looked at the thick, black drops falling off of the gauntlet on her right hand. “You’ve returned. As I always knew you would. And it seems you’ve grown quite a bit since I’ve last seen you. I’m so proud of you.”

For a split second, Claudette wavered. But as she looked at her father, she recognized the same greedy gleam in his eyes; her expression hardened and she raised Clarent. “I refuse to be a tool any longer. You cannot control me, father.”

“Will you kill me, then?” He regarded her with a serpent’s smile. “Have you changed to the point that you are willing to kill to get what you want? Truly, you are my daughter, through and through.”

This time, his words did not affect her mentality. Her image continued to balloon outward, struggling to endure until she laid this last detail to rest. She stepped forward and held her blade horizontally across her body, without any intentions to speak. Her father laughed and gathered two fistfuls of shadows. “Come, then. Show me what you’ve become.”

*****

“You-” Randidly licked his lips and tried again to decide what he wanted to say. At the moment, he had too many questions jostling for his attention.

His gaze hopped back and forth between the slyly smiling Don and the bound Frost Matriarch. His thoughts remained jumbled until he forced himself to ignore the Don and frowned at the Frost Matriarch. “You knew this attack was going to happen, and that Pinnacle Seekers were working with Nether forces to liberate the Nether King?”

Inwardly, Randidly’s thoughts were much less civil. You brought me here while Don Beigon was torturing you, but not because you wanted my help to escape? Shit.

The Frost Matriarch tilted her head to the side, a sad smile on her face. “Yes, I was aware of their actions. Supported them, even.”

“But why?” Randidly blurted out. Not that he had any particular prejudice against Nether forces, but he had a strong suspicion that the Nether King currently at large was the same one that he had freed from the frontlines, due to his careless experiments when he first started playing with Nether. When would the Frost Matriarch would have had time to make contact with the Nether King and then hatch this plot?

“Because I still remember the true goal of the Nexus, the one which the orthodox factions no longer respect.” The Frost Matriarch’s softness disappeared as she spoke. She speared Randidly with a regal glance. Despite the restriction of Don Beigon’s threads, first crept across the ground around her throne. “And I’m sure that you can figure out the rest on your own if you ever bother to come findthe answers.”

Randidly stiffened. Because when their gazes were locked, he felt the slightest echo of that howling invitation to “come find me” at the bottom of the Shaft from the Frost Matriarch.

Don Beigon rolled forward and interrupted his spinning thoughts. “This is all lovely, and I am so glad you will be joining us Mr. Ghosthound, but we don’t have time for the coy revelations of the particulars; we are on a time limit. Frost Matriarch, please just surrender the rendezvous location you had with the Nether King. Someone as meticulous as you wouldn’t have loitered around to be caught by the dunces in the orthodox factions, if not for my interference.

“And you,” The Don wheeled around and looked at Randidly. “When she gives us the location, use your unique method to teleport us there. Oh, don’t give me that look; anyone who bothered to monitor your movements would notice you never use the Nexus Teleporters unless you are moving with someone from Military High Command. And now that the Nexus Ways are down, you will give us plausible deniability.”

Not that Randidly thought he was being particularly sneaky, but he was almost insulted by how condescending Don Beigon was about his Philosopher’s Key. That annoyance, at least, gave him focus to cut through his exhaustion and the whirling march of events around him.

Electricity crackled from the thin red threads binding the Frost Matriarch, forcing a grimace across her translucent features. Randidly could feel the undulating power of the Don’s image; suddenly it seemed that helping Claudette stand up to her father was an endeavor doomed to failure.

Even as Randidly tried to decide what he should do next, the Frost Matriarch released a breath and bowed her head. The red thread flowed away from her, carrying with it a glittering mote of light. Randidly’s Dreamcatcher of the Long Night recognized that extracted essence as a memory. The Don offered it to Randidly with an elaborate flourish.

Randidly spoke to try and slow down the rapid development of events. “Why should I help you? Even if we catch up to the Nether King, do you have the confidence in fighting against it? Especially in its current form. You weren’t there, but something fundamental about its power has changed-”

“Ha! Boy, I believe I am much more familiar than you are on the difference between crowned and uncrowned Nether Kings,” Don Beigon winked at him. “Please, leave the matter of the Nether King to me. And in exchange for your transportation assistance, I offer you two things: first, a bound Frost Matriarch that you can turn in at your leisure, earning significant merits to your name. Second, you will receive a favor from me. Imagine, you could open the packet of information on Commandant Wick without any qualms. Or you could keep it for any other occasion of your choosing. Ah, anything not related to Claudette. In the matter of my precious daughter, I will not compromise.”

Randidly pressed his lips together. Truly, he just wished for a couple of seconds to take several deep breaths and force the defeated expression of Shal’s out of his head. But somehow, he knew he wasn’t going to get that.

So he did his best to weigh his options. The second offering was a welcome one. He would appreciate having a leg up over this dangerous and unpredictable individual. But the first ‘reward’ given to him for his assistance struck Randidly as somewhat sour. Because the Frost Matriarch was his most powerful independent associate. All the goodwill that he had built with the other Pinnacle Seekers would likely vanish when word got out that Randidly had captured her. And Claudette herself-

Did the Don somehow orchestrate all of this? Randidly briefly wondered as he studied the older man’s bright eyes. Arrange for a situation where I would need to choose between my hidden agenda in the Nexus and my relationships with her teacher?

A dangerous possibility, but one that seemed extremely unlikely. Besides, he would not need to make the decision about the Frost Matriarch immediately. And Randidly admitted to himself that he held a lot of curiosity about the Nether King. If he could witness that crown one more time-

His Nether Core whirled excitedly just at the thought.

So Randidly nodded to the Don and held out a hand for the memory. If he was going to get swept up in this situation, he at least wanted to get as many benefits as he could. The Don chuckled and flicked the gleaming item, sending it drifting over to him. After accepting it, Randidly paused and said. “One question, before we go. Why do you want to pursue the Nether King?”

“I believe you are aware of the reasons that I am handling Claudette’s situation in such a callous manner. I need more power to protect her; I am making my own preparations to ascend to the Pinnacle. The Skull of Truth is an object that I want very much, for the assistance it will give me.” Don Beigon wheeled himself over to Randidly.

Randidly shook his head, unwilling to accept that. “But Elhume has killed everyone who has gotten too close to the Pinnacle, right? So what’s the point?”

The Don’s smile turned sharp as he regarded Randidly. “Heh. Maybe you should waste your favor on that sort of question if you truly care about the answer.”

In the face of this rare glimmer of genuine antagonism from the dramatic individual, Randidly pressed his lips together and nodded. His attention turned inward as he examined the memory passed to him by Don Beigon. The visual provided was somewhat blurry, but Randidly easily got a feel for the Aether and Nether of that place.

For Randidly, that would be enough to create a portal.

It was a desolate place at the edge of the Nexus, beneath a luminous grey nebula. Randidly produced his Philosopher’s Key and felt through the air, trying to capture that particular sensation.

Should I really be helping the Don…? Randidly wondered idly as he tasted various locations. But when he found the match, he still slid the key forward. Once they met up with the other Pinnacle Seekers, they would still need to find out information about where the Nether King was hiding. He could obtain this favor and withdraw later.

Although Randidly worried that he might need to cash in the favor just to force Don Beigon to let him go.

When the portal opened, the Don cheerily rolled himself forward through the fluctuating hole in the world without any doubt in his mind. As he moved, Randidly watched as a thin thread stretch out from the wheelchair-bound man toward his body. Just like earlier, he reflexively flared his Nether Weight to resist it and nothing happened; the thread ignored the layers of Nether and established a connection between the two of them.

However, Randidly immediately felt a bit of sway that he now had over Don Beigon. This was the downside of the Don’s influential image, Randidly realized. For internal consistency, the hooks in himself had to be just as effective as the hooks in others.

Pondering how he could use this favor, Randidly walked through the portal. Almost immediately, the density of Nether on the other side snapped his attention forward. There, waiting for them as though he wasn’t the most infamous individual in the Nexus, the Nether King floated in the gloomy light of the Nebula. That crowned being turned slowly, with the Pinnacle Seekers around him following his gaze to look at the new arrivals.

If I had known the Nether King would be on the other side of the portal, Randidly’s skin was crawling. He cursed himself for not noticing the difference in Nether, then realized that it was probably just the difference in their manipulation of Nether that had left Randidly fooled. I wouldn’t have followed the Don so easily-

Congratulations! Your Skill Nether Sensation (L) has grown to Level 361!

“Ah good,” Don Beigon didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest by the shock and suspicion aimed in his direction. “You are all already here. That makes things easier. Mister Nether King, would you like to make a deal with me?”

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