The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Randidly sat in a meditative position with his eyes closed. With the window for his confrontation approaching, he tried to squeeze every ounce of productivity he could out of the day. Aside from a few half-hour naps he took to replenish his mental energy, he constantly honed himself.

At dawn and dusk, he manifested the World Tree. When the light turned thin as it peaked over the horizon, he created a giant spectral projection. His veins burned emerald in his body. He focused on Dawn Opens the Sky and Reality Stirs and Darkness Wither the Horizon and the Waiting Carrion Grins, which were two Skills he intended to push up to Level 1000 to accomplish his 25th Mille.

Light, waxing and waning. He intently watched each progression of radiance, fixing the details in his mind to capture the details later, while unleashing his Skills. Most of the force of his images came from corralling the proper emotional notes, but his powerful emotions also needed the proper vehicle to shine.

During the day, he created an onerous physical suppression system which the Dread Homunculus could handle with ease. His muscles glistened with sweat as he worked his way through spear forms, Sulfur and Acri humming with pleasure. While the solid foundations of his body endured the strain and Homuncului’s Monstrous Tenacity ticked up, he mentally prowled the limits of what was possible for him to accomplish, seeking an answer to solving all his problems.

He would advance, grabbing any tools he could find to carve a Path forward. To refocus his Fateset. To rejuvenate the Egg of Depression. To heal his Class.

To make Deganawidah and the universe pay, for refusing to permit the impossible.

To tear down the System and erect a framework not so predicated on death and oppression.

In the dark of the night, Randidly’s attention turned to the Stillborn Phoenix almost entirely. The wounded event horizon howled and wheezed when he conjured it, still somewhat limping after sensing what it could be and them being undercut in the transition. Randidly didn’t mind its weakness as he manipulated gravitational fields. He manifested the image through the ache, causing even darkness to turn runny and insubstantial before the pull of the abyss which constituted its body.

The eye of the Stillborn Phoenix opened, warping all that had the misfortune to fall within its purview. Part of it was the hunger that animated all of the Stillborn Phoenix’s actions, but whether he had intended it or not, Deganawidah had drawn a stark line with his attempt to hurt Randidly. The universe shivered in the presence of that wide eye, sensing that lurking beyond it was a possibility it was unwilling to stomach.

Congratulations! Your Skill the Hypothetical Gaze that Consumes the Universe (T) has grown to Level 971!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill Diffracted Corruption of the Avaricious Impossibility (P)(U) has grown to Level 981!

Congratulations! Your Skill the Hypothetical Gaze that Consumes the Universe (T) has grown to Level 988!

Occasionally over those frantic days, he met again with Lowanna after his near-impossible request to find a unifying pattern. They didn’t speak of it, instead focusing on the movement of Nether between them.

Despite her ominous words on their previous meeting, Lowanna would continue to field large currents of Nether when they clashed By the beads of sweat that dotted her brow by the end of their sessions, she had pushed her limits as far as they would go. And each day, she smashed his resistance to pieces, even as he began to incorporate more organically the lessons he had learned from others.

Randidly had assumed he would rapidly narrow the distance between their masteries of Nether, but he had thoroughly underestimated the depth of her experience. Each conflict she would shift her methodology, once creating choppy waves of frigid Nether, other times unleashing pattern spears that sizzled through his defenses. In the breadth of Nether she wielded, he could almost hear her constantly reminding him, there would be no convenient answer, no methodology to address Nether.

Yet he refused to give up hope. He advanced, trusting an answer would present itself.

After each spar, Lowanna would leave without a word, not bothering to lecture him on his flaws or revel in her victory. Randidly watched her go, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Each time, you can wield just a little bit more Nether without relying on those bonds locking you in place, can’t you?

What’s your limit, Nether Arbiter?

Surely not here. And we can’t be certain of the broad character of Nether until you truly have reached your wit’s end.

At the beginning of this four-day stretch, when he had first stumbled across the shape his actions would take, he had believed the time had been too short to pack in all the preparations he had needed. But at the very least, the constant improvement in both images and Nether-related Skills made him confident that he could reach the requisite 25 Skills reaching a Mille to trigger a Hierarchy when he defined his word.

He might even go beyond that.

Just as Randidly was about to transition to his newest project, he felt a shift in the flows of significance. One particular portion, the weight of history pushing for the creation of Alymian in the future, began to cut through some of his carefully laid plans. A frown settled across his face as he followed the thread to the source, Beigon.

It was inevitable that he wasn’t the only one making preparations.

To Randidly’s surprise, he hadn’t been alone in noticing Don Beigon’s actions. Already, Charlotte Wick stood in front of him, her fists clenched as they stood at the edge of Homewell’s slum. Glaring at Don, she shouted. “What have you done?”

“I’ve just made an investment,” Don Beigon in his young form looked smug and bratty. He still possessed the usage of his legs, standing with arms akimbo. However, he possessed the same surety as he smiled over at the bear-woman. The air crackled with his image, spreading veins out that sunk into the ground, that even had begun to scratch at the careful image of life running through the vines until it began to corrode. “All this land around Homewell… considering its occupants, no one ever thought to bother with ownership. Obviously, had the Turtlelines cared, you would have been shoed away a long time ago. But now, I think the potential of this place is very clear. I bought it all. You all live here as my tenants.”

The same image he possessed in the presence, albeit without the vicious edge of the truly powerful, seeped out from his body. A young image, without the insidious bite Randidly had encountered in the present. While Charlotte’s shoulders trembled, Don Beigon laughed. “Now, I don’t want to change everything about your lives, but certainly, we need to come to a new agreement. As my tenants, you can either capitulate or leave. Because those who remain here after the day is over… are mine.”

Charlotte clenched her fist.

That was all the warning both Randidly and the Don had, although Randidly realized mid-motion her true intent, before she whipped her arm around and broke his jaw. His head snapped back, a small gush of blood squeezed out of the unfortunate lip between knuckles and teeth.

Don Beigon fell back with a yelp, his image faltering. The process of him infiltrating the slums continued, but at a much slower pace. Before he could recover, Charlotte stepped forward and towered over him. She leaned down, her eyes bright. “Where I come from, greedy fingers get cut off when they touch things they shouldn’t.”

Despite the physical differences between them, a smug smile returned to Beigon’s face. His front teeth were coated in blood. “What, do you plan to kill me? Despite your relation to Nether King Hungry Eye, you cannot simply behave like a brute. This is Homewell, a wondrous city built on the foundation of laws. No one, no matter their power, is above the law.”

Randidly observed with interest as Beigon tried to weaponize the laws of the city against Charlotte. Truly, he couldn’t help but admire how versatile an image it was. Beigon created physical pressure and tightened it around her, hoping to make her bow her head. However, the physical training regimen demanded by Randidly Ghosthound meant that the only response was narrowed eyes.

Her image exploded from her person, seeping into the ground and the air, transforming the area into a holy place, a place of unending life and possibilities. Despite Beigon’s ‘hold’ on the land due to his new ownership, Charlotte’s image had enough raw force to shove him off of it, at least for a time. Randidly couldn’t help but be impressed.

While he hadn’t been paying attention, she had been honing her talents.

“You will not do this,” Charlotte growled. He watched her image trying to trigger some change within the area, making it inviolable. His eyes flashed with interest, as she reached into the void for alchemy. However, her image became feeble and listless when not based very close to the thousands of bacteria variations on physical surfaces. The pulses of energy she released came to nothing. She tried to create a dome, akin to the Lifeseal, but her increasingly desperate attempts failed. Her jaw clenched. “These people deserve to be safe in their homes, they deserve peace.”

“I already have done this,” Don Beigon chuckled. “And I’m surprised I need to be the one to tell you this, but peace has a price. And these people are too poor to pay.”

Randidly smiled a wicked smile and floated his consciousness down to Charlotte’s shoulder. The Moiraes leaned forward with him, flexing their hands in anticipation. Randidly could see the shape of something here.

If the people of Alpha Cosmos wanted to strike a bargain and warp the world, Randidly Ghosthound would always answer.

Significance spun through his body, his efforts and his instincts working together on information his conscious mind hadn’t quite yet fathomed. His Nether Core began to pulse, falling into a particular sort of rhythm in its rotations. Fast-fast and then slow. Nether of a particular consistency began to spin through his body.

A Nether for the particular individual he was, or was becoming.

Charlotte stiffened at his presence, before relaxing as the brilliant energy roots of Yggdrasil sunk into her Primal Ground image. Randidly chuckled softly. Don’t worry, I can foot the bill for these people. You are right; they deserve safe zones in which to exist. We just might need to become a bit creative to give it to them.

What do I need to do? Charlotte replied immediately. Most of her image turned itself over to him, offering him the humming life of her bacteria. She completely opened herself up to his influence.

Randidly’s lips twitched, even from afar. Sensing the constant wiggling and oozing of the miniature organisms across Charlotte’s whole understanding was a bit… uncomfortable at first. You would grow used to the constant awareness after a while, he was sure, but the first brush left him slightly uncomfortable.

Still, he took the power offered to him. The conversion of energy through his body accelerated, his Nether Core finding its chosen pattern. He felt a flush of fondness through him, sensing her pure emotions. So he brushed her lightly again. …you just need to continue being my Knight. These people are worth defending.

Randidly cracked his knuckles and raised his hands. He reached out for the super vine that had been created when Yggdrasil, the history of the Homid people, and the Lifeseal brushed up against one another. His eyes were bright emerald discs, more lime paint than natural pigments as power coursed through him. He used his body, all the Stats improved beyond the limits of the System, to corral and soften the energy.

In his body the lava could rage freely, smashing against his muscles and skin and finding no purchase. The new Nether refined in the particular pattern acted as strainer, withstanding the violence and seeping out the pure life. And after a few minutes, relaxing and warm hot springs of energy could traverse his body and blossom through the slums and nourish the transition. The energy formed protective bubbles around the population, so faint they probably didn’t even notice as they paused in their basket weaving and berry picking to frown at the strange ripple that went through the whole vine.

Congratulations! Your Skill the Aureate Arteries of Yggdrasil (T) has grown to Level 940!

The ground began to tremble. The universe growled and Randidly’s Fatepieces released unwilling twinges. Randidly couldn’t help but roll his eyes. His Nether Core hummed, fast-fast-slow. “Haven’t you been with me from the beginning? You’ve forgotten who I am if this is enough to surprise you. I’m going to be the one to tear it all down.”

The roots of the vines thickened in the ground, growing strong and sure. Don Beigon paled, sensing the shift in energies. However, he clearly misinterpreted the source. “You would consider destroying all this, just to spite me? Truly, you are a more bitter female than I-”

“He’s not destroying it,” Charlotte Wick replied with wonder in her voice. Then she laughed. “Really, Ghosthound? You are such a creature of habit.”

The ground began to truly shake now, as the vine’s consciousness came alive, guided by the gentle hand of Yggdrasil. The roots flexed again, once and then twice, testing the power they could wield. And then with a groan, they pushed until the entire vine slum stood up, the usually drooping fronds scooping down into the ground and taking two meters of dirt with them as well, so the dug-out dwellings weren’t partially left behind.

While Don Beigon goggled at the display, the slum began to march West and South, creating some distance between itself and Homewell.

Considering its presence at the edge of the Badlands, it couldn’t move entirely to safety. But at the very least, the people of the slums would be given a chance to develop without being squeezed dry by Don Beigon.

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