The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Fatia Cerulean burned with excitement, despite the bland and uninteresting nature of the report coming from Homewell’s scouts.

“...the much-needed break due to Cerulean’s victory has given morale an invigorating boost,” The dour Turtleline spoke in a slow gait that made Fatia want to reach down his throat and rip out the information. His life would be a worthy sacrifice, in exchange for expediency. “Our forces are stronger and more dedicated than ever. However… reports do indicate the worst have come to pass; the old Nether lines, dormant these last few hundred years with the rise of the Nether Arbiter, are moving again.”

The constant prattle about his victory against the Nether Leader irked Fatia. It was a burr underneath his skin. He felt unwilling to cut himself open and reveal he had very little to do with any of it. Yet as it lingered, the wound began to fester.

“Cowards. Perfectly willing to move now that the Arbiter is unaccounted for,” One of the individuals from the free area to the Northwest sniffed. Fatia wanted to chuckle at that. He wished he had time to investigate what had shifted, suddenly boosting their confidence to such a degree.

“Yet those threats are still a ways off,” The female Turtleline spoke, dragging the attention back to her. “I want to suggest, again, that we gather together and mount an offensive against the recovering Nether force that drove toward Cerulean’s land. If we weaken them now, we won’t be so outnumbered when the old lines move.”

In response to her suggestion, all of the others fell silent. The idea was a good one; Fatia would voice his support if he thought it likely they could reach a consensus. But even her own people would hem and haw, delaying the attack past the point of usefulness. If they wanted an advantage, they needed to strike now.

The yawning hesitation revealed the aborted likelihood of any immediacy from this group, so freshly flush with the scent of victory.

“...I cannot speak to an offensive at this time,” Westrisser interjected, finally breaking the uneasy pause, “However, I am harkened to say that my experiments have achieved stability; my Dungeons now can support more warriors, for longer. The first batch you all sent are en route to report to you as to the effects, I’m sure. Now, I think we can all agree the… trainees dispatched were not of the highest quality. However, all have no maxed out their potential by reaching Level 100. Of the thirty sent into Dungeons, only two suffered any sort of mental damage, and those only because they did not follow the guidelines. If we continue to produce high-quality fighters at this rate… it won’t matter how many Nether Warriors are thrown against use; we will overcome our foes.”

The other Aether leaders engaged in some polite congratulations. Fatia Cerulean felt his lips twist. Sure, they would send more warriors to be trained up, but they would still be very cautious about their selections. They didn’t want their brightest to fall under the influence of Westrisser, no matter what benefits it could bring.

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I have further good news to announce. The process is different, but I have developed another method that will greatly help our forces. A way… to hunt the very universe, not boosting our average fighters to strong, but giving life to the Paths of our oldest and most reliable individuals.”

The silence in response to Fatia’s announcement felt like coy and more confused. Fatia didn’t follow up for a few seconds, allowing the tension to build. Because he understood their hesitation. For the longest time, Aether individuals would blaze brightly up to the apex of their power and then have their growth slow to a crawl.

The idea for how to break the cycle had been inspired by Cerulean watching Nether King Hungry Eye cow the entire universe, but the truth was that, as he began considering the process seriously by consulting experts in Engraving, one day he simply woke up with the answer in mind, nearly fully formed. It felt like the echo of an old thought and Fatia could see his own insight in how the solution had been constructed.

It was brutal and vicious and his. Yet he had not come up with it, or at least he couldn’t remember doing it.

What unnerved him most of all was the prospect of the original version of him having developed this. Yet that made even less sense. If that flawed being had the creativity and insight to develop this method, why remain a trophy for so long?

“I don’t quite understand what you mean, Lord Cerulean,” Finally, the Turtleline female spoke up. “Giving life to our Paths?”

“A way to Level past a hundred,” Fatia chuckled, almost bashful. “A method to project Classes even further. Please forgive me for the vanity, but I like to call them… Fates.”

*****

Randidly left Devick and Lowanna heading for the edge of the city, needing to visit the Turtleline woman for the favor of the sham trial. Devick hadn’t spoken a word, but he had caught tears running down her cheeks several times as she packed, lips buttoned shut with teeth. Randidly had opened his mouth to try and speak to her about it but always hesitated.

He regretted hurting her, maybe for taking out some of his fear she would become a madwoman on the current Devick, who remained much too sensitive to be that version of herself. Yet he didn’t think he was wrong. Lashing out at the Colonel had been stupid. She let her emotions get the best of her and could have hurt several unrelated parties in the building, blinded by her rage.

He said a short goodbye and crossed the city to the core areas of Homewell. The Lifeseal continued to squeeze at him, quite peeved based on the activation of his Third Authority. Randidly soldiered through it, wrapping himself with the Cloak of Utter Night to shrug off most of the oppressive and also to slip past the Turtleline guards.

He traveled down into the tunnels below the city, with the silent footsteps of a barefoot ghost. He followed the scent of her significance to a deep grotto beneath the city, thrumming with the presence of the lifeseal. With a grimace, Randidly stepped into the chamber and looked around. Several stone pillars stood around a shallow pool of water. Both the pillars and the bottom of the pool were lined with Engravings, channeling energy in the environment and strengthening the power in this place.

The Turtleline woman opened her eyes and blinked. “Ah, you came, Nether King Hungry Eye. I noticed a recent… ah… disturbance in the lifeseal and wondered if you had decided to simply skip town.”

“If only,” Randidly replied, only half joking. The Turtleline woman quirked her head to the side and he waved a hand. “Nevermind that. Before anything else, what’s your name?”

“Kethope. Well met, Nether King Hungry Eye,” Kethope nodded three times to herself, apparently satisfied. “I will not waste any more of your time: I need some information on Faelmac Westrisser and his recently created Dungeons. Now, more than ever, considering recent developments. I understand you spent quite a lot of time near Malloon. And with the required ingredients to create a Dungeon… your opinion will hopefully be illuminating.”

Randidly blinked. “I’ve sensed the Dungeons, understood something of their limitations. What do you want to know?”

“Considering the mental damage some of the early testers experienced, there was quite a lot of worry that some portion of the Engraving involved brainwashing those warriors sent into the Dungeons,” Kethope steepled her fingers. “There is also the matter of this… sickness associated with their usage.”

This… is a lot easier than expected, Randidly hummed to himself and then explained Dungeons as best as he could. He hadn’t been paying close attention to Westrisser’s struggles, but he had encountered the finished product and using a Nether King’s Core was much less stable than what he would experience in the future. Therefore, he felt very confident some sort of brainwashing system hadn’t been implemented.

The real problem was properly stabilizing the space, both in terms of time and energy. Most of the damage to the testees could be attributed to the seal being not quite tight enough, leading to confusion and Aether Sickness before they even left the Dungeon.

After the explanation, Randidly couldn’t help but ask a follow-up question. “...I understand wanting more information, but why ask me?”

Kethope released a dark chuckle. “You broke into Homewell and slaughtered Westrisser’s right-hand man in our streets, or had you forgotten? There was a possibility you wouldn’t know much about his experiments, but as a Nether King, I figured you had been keeping tabs on the process. Hehe, now while most of my fellows send their ancillary fighters, I will just send my best. Considering the war that is to come… I’ll need the influence. Thank you for the tip, Nether King Hungry Eye.”

Without much more fanfare, the two bade each other farewell. Randidly quickly moved through the tunnels of Homewell and headed directly toward the limits of the lifeseal. Once he moved outside of its influence, he heaved a sigh of relief- it was easy to forget how integral Nether had become to his functioning until its flow had been stifled. Then Randidly circled around the city and picked up Devick and Lowanna.

“Let’s head to my farm,” Randidly said as he looked at the two women. Devick nodded but continued to avoid his gaze. Lowanna folded her arms across her chest but didn’t disagree. With a small sigh, Randidly produced his Alchemist’s Passport and carved a tunnel through space and time to the destination.

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