The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Randidly Ghosthound froze, halfway through sprinting across the intervening distance to Deganawidah, who sat upon the stone mound and watched him with cruel eyes. The vast weight of the Nether Deganawidah assembled across his lifetime hung between them, an intimidating gulf. Bits of crimson dust glittered out through between his fingers. Randidly swayed, struck by a sudden sense of weakness.

Since the first moment he had obtained his Fateset, the Paradox of the Alchemist he had been sliding inevitably toward a goal. Inevitably, as though dragged down a slope by gravity, he had proceeded toward the moment all six of the Fatepieces were assembled together into a superform and his Fateset could burn with the resonance between all the pieces. He would have achieved a perfect balance.

His eyes caught on more flecks of broken crystal, caught in the wind and whisked away to oblivion.

Yet now, with the casual flex of Deganawidah, the important piece had been removed. The crown had been broken. Already, Randidly felt reverberations traveling through him. His Nether Core revved to even faster speeds, but all those hidden pockets of potential he had accumulated began to deflate. The sense of momentum and direction he had maintained vanished, leaving him adrift.

“Wait-” Randidly coughed, an ache emerging in his chest. The coughing grew worse and he bent over, spitting out a thick chunk of black gristle.

His head whipped back up, suddenly making a horrifying connection. He stirred his own seething Nether and used a rough approximation of Deganawidah’s earlier technique to peer at the subtle connections. He saw flames of hungry black Nether eating their way through the lines of significance, through the whole of his body.

Through the framework of meaning that kept his body suspended above the abyss.

Deganawidah continued to regard Randidly with intensity. The act did not simply destroy the Fatepiece, but also ravaged its existence and its possibility. The Philosopher’s Stone, or the Tear of Allinne as it had been called, could no longer be connected to him. If Randidly tried to force the issue, the connections would be shallow and surface-level.

All that he had been building toward suddenly began to sag. Randidly hesitated, the process being not as painful as he expected but a great deal more alarming.

“To live, is to choose, is to fail,” Deganawidah’s eyes darkened, gazing down at his own hands for several long seconds as Randidly struggled to regain his breath. After a stretch of silence, the hunched form seemed to come to a decision. His eyes flicked sideways to Randidly. “The feud continues, Nether King Hungry Eye, between our two peoples. None of our interactions now affect that. Feet must always follow a Path, even if it is not a Path. Common beings run pointlessly in circles, even while our debts have been settled. But know this; I will not be as forgiving if you disturb me again.”

Deganawidah the Thrice-Drowned turned away and vanished, his business accomplished. All at once the ferocity of the Nether storm faded, the clouds degenerating from a looming promise to just the possibility of an impending drizzle. With their leader’s departure, the Nether army began to turn around and march away in an organized retreat. They didn’t withdraw a far distance, but just providing Randidly space.

Randidly sank to his knees, trembling. His head spun and he felt oddly dizzy. So much had been thrown at him too quickly; Deganawidah truly had been the most casually powerful individual he had been able to observe close up. His methods would help Randidly refine his own use of Nether for months. Yet for now, he had more pressing issues.

Now, Randidly felt the hot flames of rage licking up his throat from his stomach.

“Both my Class…” Randidly narrowed his eyes. “And Muse’s Reverie. Sealed away, until I find a way to heal them- Seriously, fuck!”

Randidly glared up at the clouds, his emotions simmering. Yet he quickly clamped down on the vicious surge of energy, channeling into more productive pursuits.

He dove into his internal space and sensed the extent of the damage to his Class. The resemblance he found there did not ease his grim mood. The wound occurred for a very different reason, but the effect was similar to being glanced at by Elhume, all that time ago. And afterward, Randidly painstakingly gathered so much meaning in order to heal his Class. Which would require time he didn’t have, especially if he wanted to follow his budding instincts regarding Lowanna’s ideas about rethinking Nether bonds.

Even worse, his Class had changed and evolved to suit his body; the sort of materials required to patch up his Class were so much more rare than what had been sufficient the first time it made his head spin. Hell, at this point, it would take him all of five minutes to generate energy and ideas of sufficient qualities to heal the first wound in his Class.

The current him had incorporated so many more quality influences, requiring both a powerful idea and a relevant history to ground the connection. And if he didn’t figure out how to fix this, the looming threat of Elhume-

Just as the first threads of anxiety began to push their way through the anger, Randidly felt three slim hands touch his back. Thoughts flowed into him, steadying him.

The Dove Moirae spoke first: The situation is not as negative as you seem to believe. We can reinforce the Class.

From the Moirae of Minute Repercussions came the wafting impression of smugness. Your reaction is too literal. Having the entirety of the foundation scrubbed away… we now have a blank canvas with which to work, no? Liberating. And a blunt method like this will leave such messy ripples with which we can work.

Finally, the Apostate Moirae stretched and straightened in the back of Randidly’s mind. Is not this for the better? It was clear the future Nether King had a plan for us. A use which we had not been consulted over. Now… we will forge our Path without any interference. Compared to the haphazard mess in which we received our Class, now we might go alone to forge a new shape.

Congratulations! Your Skill Nyx’s Successor Births Fate (GD) has grown to Level 1012!

For several seconds, Randidly stood still and rubbed his chest as he considered their words. Both fury and anxiety began to fade as he considered their advice. His brow furrowed. Well, if nothing else, the Moiraes were correct he needed to take a few breaths and think.

Still, his thoughts immediately soured when he considered the subject of the attack. Yggdrasil sent out tentative feelers toward his Class and ascertain the extent of the damage. Yet even the thick lines of energy from the World Tree could not rid the Class of the sensation of dead, rotting flesh. Randidly’s lip curled upward and he released a slow breath. “How do you mean for me to use this? We don’t have time for this.”

If you truly do not wish to make use of the possibilities this offers you, there is a quick fix, The Dove Moirae’s voice was cold against Randidly’s skin. Plunder the memory. We lose further insight into the past, but the materials are present.

The other two Moirae’s remained silent for several seconds, seeming to commune with one another. The Apostate Moirae cleared his tongue. A blunt method. One without any true proficiency. The Dove Moirae exists in a dour hellscape and wishes to drag us along for the ride. No, better to incorporate the advantages of Deganawidah’s meddling, use it as a backstop, so we can expend ourselves fully and take advantage of the resulting chaos.

Use the Inevitable Ripples, The Moirae of Unintended Consequences whispered. Unravel the energy of our foe and incorporate it all.

Congratulations! Your Skill Nyx’s Successor Births Fate (GD) has grown to Level 1019!

Randidly blinked several times. “What are you talking about? What advantages have we acquired?”

Deganawidah left an imperative in his work, one which would be very difficult to remove of break. But necessarily operates with a great deal of force. The Moirae of Unintended Consequences responded. We throw ourselves at the imperative, rebound, use the extra momentum we stole to heal the Class.

Randidly’s jaw began to ache; he had been gritting his teeth for too long and began to wonder if talking to the Moiraes was a waste of time. “But… we agree that this will not solve the problem of the Fateset, yes? And also, my identity as an Alchemist. It will need to change. Having the Class be related to that choice isn’t exactly necessary, but the resonance we would gain-”

Why change? The Apostate Moirae asked.

With a twist of his lips, Randidly spat out his sentences like each word seared his tongue. “Deganawidah, that bastard, essentially firebombed all the roads we had to success as an Alchemist! I can’t quite be sure until I’ve had some time to do some very delicate observation, but I also think a deep taboo was laid across me, underneath the bedrock on which my Class was built. Deganawidah works at depths that leave me leery. So long as I remain an Alchemist, seeking to accomplish the impossible, to create something from nothing, I will never succeed.”

Randidly Ghosthound, The Apostate Moirae cackled. The Third of Randidly’s Moirae’s released the same wild glee he had when the creation of the new body had almost failed… and this Moirae plucked up the strings to tie it together. Obviously, you will need an entirely new sixth Fatepiece. The Philosopher’s Stone…. Would indeed be nearly impossible, and dangerous to incorporate again into your being.

But you are not listening. This imperative… this destined failure is exactly the benefit we received. As we learned with Nether Penances, from restriction can come great benefits. And also I think… You underestimate the power one may wield when you become very, very familiar with failure.

For a second Randidly just looked up into the middle distance, his eyes thoughtlessly tracing the edges of clouds. Then his eyes widened and he understood.

Congratulations! Your Skill Nyx’s Successor Births Fate (GD) has grown to Level 1020

…

Congratulations! Your Skill Nyx’s Successor Births Fate (GD) has grown to Level 1041!

Success has always been such a fickle Path forward. The Moirae of Minute Repercussions added. It is almost a relief to be severed from it.

Finally, it was the Dove Moirae that spoke, his voice as soft as feathers against the skin, that made him truly believe this was possible. Especially when you consider… the sort of changes we want to make, the sort of fundamental shifts we seek… no agent of the System would ever consider them successes.

A grand attempt we make, on the same day we next encounter Deganawidah and his vast quantities of Nether. The Moirae of Minute Repercussions sounded excited. Borrow his strength. An attempt of this nature will require prodigious amounts of resources. The beginning of a more permanent Ghosthound’s Deviation.

He could see it, the wild chaotic storm that it would be. Randidly’s lip twitched, imagining Neveah’s reaction to the idea. “Wait and Level Up during a fighting, you mean.”

In all things, timing is critical. Even the Pinnacle, yes? The Dove Moirae gave his assent to the other two’s plan. Yet we need many aspects to be in our favor.

More than aspects, we need Weight, The Apostate Moirae hissed. Even in a predestined failure, there must be mass. Weight enough to dig and reinforce the foundation of the Class in one fell swoop. Yet I think the timing is perfect; so long as we are prepared within six days, the opportunity will come. Deganawidah might have settled his business with us, but not with Fatia Cerulean.

Randidly’s lip twitched. Now that he had an idea of how to proceed, the rest of his anxiety had left him. Yet the Moirae’s jumped around too quickly “You know, I admire the theory, but what sort of massive Alchemist attempt will we be making-”

We have Illia’s pattern. With the proper improvements, it will render the force of that ancient monster at our fingertips. And once the energy is up for grabs- The Moirae of Minute Repercussions licked his lips. In response, a pulse of certainty came from Randidly’s Nether Core. His Second Authority, the Hollow Needle, buzzed in agreement.

Randidly allowed his eyes to unfocus and his mind turned the idea over in several directions, testing it for flaws. Take advantage of the imperative left within him in a grand attempt. Wait for Deganawidah to move against Fatia Cerulean. Deploy Illia’s pattern, those lovely whorls that disintegrated organized Nether and left the chaotic soup she had used to teleport through the air. Make the attempt, an alchemic experiment to great something from nothing, figuratively generating a Philosopher’s Stone.

Fail, butting up against the way he had been broken. Gather up all the energy, the conflicting ripples between the forces and the chaotic wash from smashing against a natural law, and use the Hollow Needle to weave all those broken shards into life within his Class.

Randidly pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “This is reckless. We will have so little time to accomplish what we are trying to do. Moreover, it is difficult to predict the effect incorporating so much foreign Nether would have on my Class-”

Temper it with Nether from the Alpha Cosmos. It will act as a counterweight, The Dove Moirae responded in a serene tone. I have already consulted with Lucretia and the Pantheon has agreed to stage a special event, a wild battle against… well, they will be condensed Nether Beasts, born of the foreign Nether. The greatest champions of Expira and the other worlds of the Alpha Cosmos will fight against them, purifying the energy so you can focus your attentions elsewhere.

Randidly blinked. “You… can communicate with Lucretia?”

We are actually quite close, The Dove Moirae said defensively.

The Moirae of Minute Repercussions hummed in agreement. The less you think about the particulars of how the different aspects inside of you interact, the easier it is to just accept. But if you want to hear my current theories-

No one wants that, The Apostate Moirae snorted. But you’ll need Aether and images too. Or at least kinetic force. The people of Homewell will need to be involved. The Lifeseal… incorporating its elements would be a great boon.

“I sincerely doubt that Cerulean would consider danger to the town reason enough to move away,” Randidly gritted his teeth. “No, he will remain and use it as a screen as best as he can. And Charlotte Wick can be there, stabilizing the situation. And we… we just need to decide what we will be attempting. What transfiguration are we seeking, Moiraes?”

Isn’t there only just one? The Apostate Moirae snorted. We try to change the world.

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